Words from the Heart

Norman Rockwell - Freedom from Want Each year at this time, I have written about the holiday we know as Thanksgiving.  In the past, I have discussed how special our traditions are and how, if we try, everyday can be Thanksgiving.  So, this year, I wanted to write something different; something no one else had written; something that didn't have to do with Pilgrims, or feasts, or even the history of Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. Trouble is there isn't anything that I could write that hasn't already been said.  I would just say it differently.  In saying it differently, I wouldn't take anything away from what had already been said, right?  It would just be different. Once again, I am faced with the truth that keeps repeating in my life.  We can use different words to say the same thing.  It doesn't mean one person is wrong and the other is right; it only means that they arrived by different paths. It reminds me of the last time I took the train to Maine to se

A Sick Child Brought Into The Temple Of Aesculapius by John William Waterhouse Before I was a young mother, I worked for a pediatrician.  He was the quintessential Norman Rockwell physician, complete with messy desk and rotund figure.  He "knew" his patients in a way doctors today never do.  If he needed to spend an hour with a family, he did.  Everyone else waited, understanding that when it was their time, he would do the same for them. I learned a great deal from this man.  The most important thing I learned was to trust my own instincts, as a health professional as well as a mother. When my girls were school age, I knew intuitively when there were issues that needed to be dealt with concerning their health.  For instance, when one of the girls was struggling with reading and writing, I knew she had a learning disability .  Also, when one of my girls kept having difficulty keeping up with class or conversations, I intuitively knew she had some sort of neurological prob

The sentiment of our nation has changed greatly over the past 50 years.  Back in 1960, I attended my first Veterans Day service.  The Girl Scouts, my troop and others,  marched in line with the Boy Scouts, the Fire and Police.  We hung wreaths on street signs along the way to the old graveyard, which dating back to the Revolutionary War. The streets along the way were lined with people who clapped, taking off their hats and covering their hearts as the flag passed by.  At some point, someone read a Veterans Day poem.  I think it was, "Flanders Field." Everyone got red poppies to wear. Then, the 70's hit, dividing our country and splintering families, communities and lives.  For each advance we made during that time, we lost something, too.  Assassinations became commonplace, war could be fought from the comfort of the couch, death tolls were the appetizers for evening meals.   Veterans Day was still celebrated.  Sometimes, my Dad and only a few of his comrades were pr

  " Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -- I took the one less travelled by, and that has made all the difference"                                   The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost The Poem-A-Day challenge has just completed its first week!  Wow!  Time does fly when you are having fun.  Truth is, it IS fun to write poetry each day.  I am enjoying getting up as early as I can to write, post and comment on the work of the other writers. This morning at 5 a.m. I came up with a great idea.  Throughout the month, I challenge readers to post a line of poetry that really touches them. Make sure you give the title of the poem and the author's name so others can read the entire poem if they wish. There is a joy of writing that can also be found in the reading.  Words heal, words encourage, words are balm for the soul. Share you favorite words.  At the end of the month some lucky reader will win a signed copy of my book, Winter of the Soul . Namaste! Related art

Once again, I am taking the Poem-a-Day (PAD)Challenge.  If you don't know what that is, visit Robert Lee Brewer . This is the third year I have participated in the PAD challenge. What I like about the challenge is the task of writing a poem to a prompt within 24 hours.  Of course, you don't have to write the poem in that time, but I have chosen to do it as a way to hone my craft. For years, I thought I could only write poetry when I was inspired, rather like Divine intervention. Poems would come to me without my consciously working to write.  I would literally get the entire poem in my head, scramble around to find a pen and paper and then write the poem down in its entirety. Taking the PAD challenge has given me another viewpoint. Last year when I finished the challenge, I pulled together the poems I had written, weeded out the so-so ones and published my second book of poetry.  Gogo's Dream: Swaziland Discovered is a fundraiser for Possible Dreams International (