After Euphoria, Defeating TYRANNY

Tonight ties up the Democratic Convention. Speakers have speechified, banners have waved, some are disappointed, but many have unified where no unity was expected. Key names of Republican figures have wound their way before the Democrats. Bloomberg says he knows a con when he sees one. Bernie Saunders, once again a liberal independent, has linked his wagon to Hilary’s. Retired military admirals, generals, lawyers, all conservative, all standing before Hilary Clinton, and why? Because there is a greater danger before us, just a man, but a man who manipulates, uses, robs and abuses with no moral compass. A man with money, charisma, and the power to inspire evil to flourish in his name. His followers beat people into the ground. He urges them to do so. He denies that he has done so. He sets men of great power before us and tells us they are models to aspire to, but they are men who start wars, rape women, starve their country’s children, admonish that the truth is only what they say it is and destroys the world’s ecology.

He lies. This man lies. He urges people to buy his products, but even his myth of business is a lie. He steals from the poor, the widowed, the middle class, the independent business man, and he stands there saying he is a wonderful person.

He uses repetition to make his points, his sound points, so that he can literally brainwash those who feel left out and defrauded by society because others have things that they haven’t. This is a technique that is used to convince people of sound points. Hitler used this technique in the 1920s. He made sure that his followers inspired others out of fear. Russian leaders over the last century have done this. ISIS does this. Kim does this.

Is this who we are? Impolite, dishonest, afraid, violent, BULLIES, VICTIMS? Is this the generation who will go down in history as spineless, hating humanity?
Will we choose to divide, lose our identities, and lose our identities in search of something we cannot have?

I have trouble understanding that our government hasn’t filed charges against Trump for corrupt business practices. I don’t understand people who haven’t filed against Trump in civil court as a class action suit. No one person is a victim of his business policies, no, where there is one, there are many of you. Why has no one found these followers of his that are guilty of threatening to rape children of women who stand up to the man? How can we have him on film spouting his hate, his anti-semitism, his corruption, his joy at filing bankruptcy so he can make millions while the people who did the work lose their jobs, their businesses, their families and eventually their hope.

Trump must never reach the White House. He must never ever become the person who makes the decisions that our children and grandchildren will suffer under. He must never be allowed to set policies that return us to a world of racial, sexual,financial and classist abuse. The days of the KKK are over. The days of women not being whole educated people who work every day of their lives for nothing are over. The days of education being out of reach are over. It’s time for humans to act together from all of their different perspectives to make the world of the US a place where success is not beyond the reach of all of us.

Forget the euphoria, it’s time to act to make sure we have a world left.

The Leibster Award

The Liebster Award
Posted by Whiteawjwords@wordpress.com Image 7-28-16 at 3.12 AM
Imagine my surprise this morning/late night, when I was cleaning out my spam folder which wordpress so kindly fills for me, to see myself nominated for the Leibster Award. Writtrace.wordpress.com  has been one of the writers that I enjoy on a daily basis. Her writing intrigues me. So, I’m very happy to let her know that I accept her nomination. I’d also like to thank all of the new people and the old people who come and read what I write. Thanks so much.

WritTrace left me 11 questions to answer.
If you could give one power to every human being, what would it be?

The power to be kind.

According to you, which five countries should everyone visit?

Oh, so many places. Costa de Maya Mexico, Prague Czech Republic, Budapest Hungary, All cities in Germany, London England but there are so many more. Tokyo Japan, Vietnam, Barcelona Spain. I love travel and think it is the best way to open your eyes and heart to new people and traditions. I’d love to go to South Africa too.

What is your favourite animal?

Shiba Inus, the smallest breed from Japan and one of their National Treasures

Which period in history would you love to live in?

Here and now

What is your favourite story of all time?

Anne of Green Gables

Who is your role model and why?

My mother, Dr. LEBJohnson is my role model. She was the perfect mother for a small child, nurturing the four of us with attention and love. She let me be independent and make mistakes, but was willing to help me if I needed help. She pursued an education when I had entered high school, earning her BS, MS, and PhD in six years total. She supported my father after a series of strokes and did it with love. She ran Marathons starting in her late fifties and only giving up when the doc wouldn’t give her a warranty on her hip replacements if she went back to running. She’s still working and volunteering at age 80 1/2. She’s a great photographer. She’s a supporter of LGBT, women’s rights, civic responsibility. I can never reach her level, but I know I won’t give up. THat’s the most important thing she taught me, never giving up.

Where do you draw your inspiration from?

Things I read influence me a lot. Things in photographs, things overheard in public transportation that make your mind twist. I also belong to a Writing to be Published Class. They inspire me to give things my highest level of attention. They also keep me honest about editing. I haven’t posted any excerpts yet, but I will in the future.

What is the craziest thing you hope to do in future?

I want to publish a book that is well received by the public. I have two in the works and a poetry book sitting on the side of my mental percolator. Then I want to drive from Virginia US all the way to the bottom of Argentina taking photos and writing all the way.

What do you hope to accomplish in life?

I’ve been a musician, soldier, banker, mother, teacher and day care provider. I’ve worked sales. But all of these jobs have infused me with a desire to leave the world a better place than I found it by being kind and loving. So now, to keep the brain going and the enthusiasm full charge, I am writing 5 to ten hours a day. I want to take any extra proceeds after I pay off my debt load and buy up student loan and medical bills and forgive them so others can have a second chance.

What is your favourite quote?

If a messy desk is the sign of a creative mind, what is a clean desk the sign of. Einstein

How would you change the world for the better?

I would buy up bills that have been sold for a minimum price and forgive the debt so that young families who are overwhelmed, students who have to move home so they can pay off the horrid debt, and medical bills from those suffering from medical bills that are causing them to lose everything. I’d send a lovely card, with a paid in full/keep for your future records. I’d sign it, “From one human to another”

I’m supposed to nominate up to eleven other bloggers that I admire:

diespringerin@diespringerin

MSNubutterflies@beautifulbutterflies75

Springstart@life : Kamakhya@thenewleaf2016

homehugshuskies@homehugshuskies

sarahngima77@sarahngima77

Elan Mudrow@skillreader

ninefolddragon@ninefolddragon

MissKymmiee@misskymmiee

catastrophiccoffee@catastrophiccoffee

Aishwarya@aishwarya148

Sissh@heartsearcher

If you choose to accept the award…
Thank the blogger who nominated you
Answer the 11 questions I gave you
Nominate up to 11 other bloggers yourself (preferably those with fewer than 500 followers, this is more of a newbie award)
Provide those bloggers with 11 questions of your own for them to answer
Don’t forget to put the Liebster Award sticker on your blog!
And here are the 11 questions for my nominees!

1.What is your favorite thing to create?
2.What do you want people to learn about you?
3.Who is your favorite author?
4.If you could do one thing to make the world a better place, what would it be?
5.How does visual art impact your writing?
6.Do you ever try new styles of creativity?
7.Have you ever met a person who impacted you in a positive way the first moment you met them? Who?
8.What animal would you be if you could be anything?
9.Where have you traveled in life?
10.What is your favorite way to waste time?
11.If you had do overs, what would you change about your past?

 

On Writing and Thinking This Morning

There are days when I wake up and the words race to the page before my fingers realize they are typing. Those are the best days, when I can write 10 poems before 10 in the morning. I love to write. I get my ideas from things I see or read or trip over. The dogs don’t mind those mornings, they get put out and I stand on my deck to see the day while they look for turtles to retrieve for me. Lucky for the turtles, I’m quicker than the dogs when it comes to letting them in.

There are moments when the world crashes in flames around my simple soul. I sit motionless, letting crises after crises take me in sorrow or anger. Raging against injustice is as natural as breathing to me. I’ve been doing it since high school. That’s a long time. The world moves in circles, or perhaps on a pendulum. I’ve been accused of thinking with my heart and not my head, but I use both. You should be glad I do. In my lifetime I’ve seen amazing things. I ponder about my mother whose world has changed even more. She was five years old when WW2 started for the U.S. She remembers sitting around the radio as if it were a television on the seventh of December, 1941. Her grandmother was afraid for the young men whose lives would never be the same. Her mother was worried that her husband would have to go to war. He said he wanted to go, but his telephone company job couldn’t spare him. My mother says she sat watching the adults talk about the evils of Hitler and understood the needed to be stopped.

My memories started with my vision of course, a few flurries of blurred moments. I remember the Cuba incident, the assassination of the heroes of the 60s, transistor radios and the movies. I remember when we got our first TV. I remember when I was 2 and saw Peter Pan on my grandparents black and white tv. We started by sitting on the floor and ended up in laps and on the sofa when the crocodile turned up. I remember Vietnam and my father moving to the other room for his dinner as he watched the news. Walter Cronkite was the man of the hour and told the news as he saw it. Censorship abounded in the 60s. I remember riding on buses. I put together ideas that seemed old as time itself, but in truth were new to my parents too.

When the first man walked upon the moon, I dreamed that someday I would travel to the stars. I dreamed that I would fly upon an airplane over the tossing seas and see parts of the world that were different from my world. In high school, I got the opportunity to fly to Germany. It was very different from the U.S. I think the trip to Dachau was the worst part of the trip and still can’t get the images out of my head. I took one picture. It was sunny and spring. Tulips flowered along the wire fences. The guard towers were empty, but I could imagine the guns aimed in at us. The picture didn’t come out that way. In fact, none of the pictures on that roll of film turned out. There was one picture though. It was night, there were spotlights crossing the yard. A figure knelt by the wire fence. There was a fog. Spooky, yes? It could have been an exposure problem. It probably was, but I was stricken by the idea that emotional turmoil could be held in a place and never really released from it.

Money turned out to be important when having friends. I had very little, my parents investing in books to stimulate our minds and not in junk or stuff. I had enough toys, you can always tell when a child has enough. The floor is covered with things that don’t have a place. So, without the trappings of nice clothes that matched everyone else’s clothes, without the money for hanging out or beer, I found my self in a unique place. I was weird. You all know that of course. I don’t hide the fact. I found myself looking for something I believed in. Music was my passion at the time, but I wanted something different. I wanted to know I had helped the world be a better place.

I argued with my father about his use of the n word. I won. I told him it was unacceptable to call names, even in the car while dealing with incompetents. I explained the history of the world and the significance of the trauma that black Americans faced. I explained how it changed their perspective on the world, one that we as whites could think about but never fully understand. He never used the word again. Mom told me she had a similar fight with Grandma over Brazil nuts. She had done the same thing I did. Mom was in the car for my lecture to dad, my indignant sixteen year old sense of duty and honor offended. I’m sure she smiled while she had her head turned out the window. We were raised to be circumspect and obedient. Raising our voices to our parents was frowned upon, but sometimes, I think my parents were glad to know we were thinking of more than ourselves. It took me in great stead as I grew.

I wasn’t religious. I wasn’t raised within the confines of a religion. When I was twelve, I thought a lot about God. People did weird things in his name. I was like most kids, I would pray for something trivial “Please bring my dog home, he’s run away” and hoped that there was a greater power than mankind. I looked for fervor in my world. What I learned was that there were mysteries we didn’t understand yet, and science admitted it. So I stayed on the outside looking in jealously. I wanted my life to fill that void within me. I could never find it. Where others heard the voice of God, I heard Walter Cronkite. Where others felt at home and comfortable not asking questions, I was still the four year old asking why. What was worse was asking who, what , where, when, and more whys. I never have gotten an answer. The sisters at the College of St. Benedict told me that was okay, that someone needed to ask the questions about faith so that others would think about their own. Lovely women, the sisters. They would talk about things that I needed to talk about. They terrified me. I was shocked the first time I saw a nun in a bathroom. I had never thought about their humanity before. It was their humanity that bolstered the teachings my parents had given me. In the college, there was an air of safety. In the real world, there was again the issue of money. Money seemed to control everything. I vowed I would never substitute money for needed, clean and tidy. Silly me, the world revolves around money.

What was the most important thing I have ever done? I taught. I taught kids of all ages and loved every single one, except one. I don’t know why I couldn’t get along with that child. He seemed to have everything a child should have. Loving parents, good clothes, friends, but he kept ramming people into the water fountain and I had to deal with bloody lips and tears. He kept hitting, for no reason except he was taller and faster than the small kids. Didn’t matter what I said to him, we couldn’t get into a rhythm of learning. I had a wise boss who transferred him to another class where the teacher understood something I didn’t at the time. Bullies need to learn that they can’t bully. Her students took care of it on the playground, she was turned away at the time. But I watched because I was facing her. It solved the problem and the child did really well in her class. His bullying others was symptomatic of a society that had been oppressed and parents that told him it was okay to hit. They meant in self defense, but kids don’t always hear your whole sentence.

I loved teaching. Finding a creative way to do anything was a lovely challenge and my cluttered but organized brain understood a child’s need for tactile, visual, audio, and other stimulations. I hope that the kids remember learning something from me that is important in their daily lives. I wanted them to love learning. I hope they do.

Transistor radios, then high fi systems, and records and tapes becoming discs, the rise of the computers and success of Apple, HP, Dell, IBM all new to me and new to my children at the time. there is a cartoon of a three year old holding a phone and smacking his forehead. The caption reads, “Grandma, it doesn’t matter which finger  you use to push the button on your computer, just click on it.” Technology. I never thought I would meet people online from Iran, India, Pakistan, Turkey, Germany, France, Great Britain, Norway, Sweden China, Japan and the rest of the world. I have people I read that live in South Africa, Australia and in the Philippines. I have friends in Mexico. My daughter married a young man that I introduced her to because I met him in a video game called Everquest. I went to a ball called the Labyrinth with her, and he was willing to come meet her in person.

I’ve been greeted coming off a cruise ship with a sign that said, “Hissistor of the Horde.” That’s my nickname, I still use it when I’m gaming. Most of the gamers in the world fall into the category of 40-70 year old women. It’s an escape. We all need an escape.

I wonder what the next thirty years will be like, I’d like to be here to see it. I hope I will, medical advances may keep me around a lot longer than previously predicted. I’m a shut in now that the heat of the summer is here. Virginia is hot, humid and rather unpleasant. My brain reacts badly to heat. My thought processes show, my physical abilities become unpredictable. But in air conditioning, I continue to make rather good progress. So I’m inside until the rains cool things down. I promised the dogs I’d start walking them again when it cools off, they aren’t happy at having just backyard privileges. How many turtles can you find in a backyard, after all? At least no snakes this summer so far.

The world is changing. We’ll change with it and be amazed we do. I hope your day is full of pleasant new discoveries and that all is well in your world.

Ann

 

 

Whitewash

As a little girl,
She read a book where whitewashing was done on walls and fences.
She pretended to be Tom
Swishing and brushing to put a shine
Where the fence was between
The neighbors.
Swish, splash, she turned her head
Looking for missed spots in the surface.

As a woman,
She worked long hours for a firm
That asked her to clean up
After their long day of dealings,
So she bent over her computer
Editing the to and from
The up and down
She washed the pages clean of color
Transposed them into a harmless key.

As an ancient one,
She sat and snipped her luscious
Thread, using the rainbow
Stitching and splicing
Ribbons created of long colored
Memories that never
Were just as they were remembered.
She thought of her paint brushes,
Dry and gone, from when she ran out of white paint.



			
		

After School and the Bullies

She
Was Small
And filled with
Doubt.      Dread
Filled         Time in
Classes         Where she
Watched           Learned about
Why she               Felt so different
From the                 Other children who
Played with              Dolls, makeup and boys
While she                      Read about Asia and war
She stitched                     Herself into a painting
Dressed in                        Red laughing at the camera
Her book                                Children who Shared and went
Hungry                                     And while the playground ran then
Emptied until                            Only bullies were left to invite her upon
The slide                                           And they tipped her over the side to lay
Mocked. Waking                                 to the Dark, as they walked away laughing,

Formless and bloody in a puddle, next to the slide.

Please help in the fight against bullying on our playgrounds, in our schools and on the internet. Take a stand for those who are different. Thanks.

E is Not Empty

I won’t scribble you away,
Nor toss your soul.
Not leave you faceless
Alone,
Or tormented
By a blank page.
I see you
Trending,
Launching with joy
At your clutched letter.
A publisher
Of humanity
Wanting to find your
Joy, your footstep
That will take you into eternity
With other poets who await you.

(Written for a StormcloudKitten)