Writing - the ups and downs

Dedicated to Paul, Ella, Dawn, Mark, Sue, Brownie, Debbie, Terri, Raymond, Lisa, Susan and Jill and all our family, especially loved ones who could not be here.                     LOVING PAUL     I was age five when I met Paul. He was holding Ella’s hand. Ella’s my sister, and she and Paul WERE a match from the start. When he met me I did not make a good impression. I wasn’t pretty like Ella and wear red lipstick. Mostly I threw  tantrums. I’d never been on “A DATE.” And I wanted to go on one --- with them!     Paul was the tallest man I’d ever seen and the most handsome. With his black curly hair, he was called Curly by his friends.     When Ella and Paul married they became book ends, holding each other up and the life they built between them. Oh, he might have been a step behind ELLA. BUT he never faltered. When Dawn came along I’ve never seen prouder parents. I didn’t even know Dawn had legs until she was two or three. BECAUSE Paul NEVER put DAWN  down. THEN along came his

       When I was a child, the Saturday before Memorial Day was always reserved for going to the cemetery. Grandma would be up at dawn and waiting for us on her front porch. By the time our car rounded her street corner and rolled to a stop in a cloud of dust, she’d be out the gate, smoothing her crisp, cotton house dress and adjusting her starched sunbonnet. Her thick heeled shoes were no nonsense, her stockings sturdy. Though she was thin there was nothing sheer about Grandma.     Yellow peonies, red geraniums and purple pansies spilled from the large wooden basket on her arm. She’d stow the basket and a variety of rakes and gardening tools into the trunk before climbing into the front seat beside mother.     I didn’t know then about measuring love with rakes and flowers. But Grandma did.     As the car snaked its way along winding country lanes, the somber mood in the front seat failed to inhibit my behavior. Hanging out the back seat window, with the wind rushing in my face, I

About 4 a.m. this morning, Pattie - my best buddy from high school - and I were in a plane crash. Relax - don't panic - we're safe! It's almost 8 a.m. the next morning and I'm sitting right here on my sofa drinking a cup of Green Mountain Nantucket coffee and writing this event just as it happened. Or not First of all Pattie and I have never been on a plane together. If we had it would be the best plane ride ever. All we have to do is look at each other and we smile. WE used to burst out laughing but now that we're old so we just smile! WE had so much fun in school it was sinful. Either playing pranks, getting the boys in trouble, or gossiping. Nearly every day, the teacher would call out, "Bobbie Null and Patti Jones, move those seats A-PART NOW and STOP that talking. Like talking was dirty. I guess she didn't see the laughing!!! So at the end of each day I'd be up front in my little wooden desk near the teacher and Pattie would be in back, or th

New Profile Photo is of Liz, and myself standing and Sherry Hartzler sitting with her book, Island Passage. Now on the my post: For those of you who read my blog HELP -  I'M IN CRISIS -a big thank you for your love and blessings and lovely comments of encouragement. Especially thanks to Liz who called the next morning out of concern for me. I realized as soon as I read the post a day later that the post had filled its purpose. Saying what I needed to say and getting it all off my chest was part of the solution. Therefore I removed the post. I do have a plan. I found a yoga class nearby, I'm looking for a counselor, and Liz gave me some great suggestions on how to put my new plan in action. Liz just passed her 10 year anniversary cancer free. (Breast cancer). Congrats Liz. I look forward to spending time with Liz on my front porch rockers this summer reminiscing about all the writing adventures we've had the last 20 years. I'm proud of every one of our success