One In Five

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http://hubpages.com/hub/One-In-Five-People-In-USA--Soup-Kitchen-Lines-Is-A-Child

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Cracks

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Some thoughts to begin the day…. Where to begin…. I have so many things I want to get down on paper before they fly out of my head like a flock of wheeling starlings and are gone forever… so I will try: Obedience…. Oh, this word! How I railed and fought against it for so long. Submit? NEVER. Not me. I was strong, proud, independent, intelligent, and unrepentant. I would NOT submit or back down, ever. And yet… perhaps, through a tiny crack in my strong façade, crept doubt that, well, maybe MY way of doing whatever it was… might not be the best way, the easiest way, or the “right” way….  Oh, who cares about being right? I am a seeker, a researcher… I have always looked for answers, for information, for knowledge and deeper understanding… I have not ever been content to rest on what I know now, but rather to explore and search and question… yes, question everything, including myself. And when I do, I discover that I know such an infinitesimal drop of nothing in the huge pool of wi
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Piano lessons

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Polished and dark, the baby grand sat solidly in the corner of the living room. As you entered the front door the stairs rose directly in front of you across a small vestibule. To the right, along the wall, sat a small slant-front desk with cubbyholes and tiny drawers. The desk was forbidden territory, but the piano was not. A black and white vase always perched atop the piano, and a large fern on a stand sat nearby. Sunday afternoon light from the front window slanted across the keys as I practiced. I cannot remember how old I was when I learned how to play, probably five or six. I was given a scale fingering book, and my chubby fingers picked at the notes. Every Good Boy Deserves Favor. It was how I was taught the line notes, and F-A-C-E were the notes inside the lines. I still remember the notes from the lessons in the language of a child. My first piano teacher fades from memory, but by the time I got to the second teacher, I knew the basic notes. Mrs. Dusseldorf was a flat fa
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One year ago today, my sister Nancy went home to be with the Lord. I miss her EVERY day, and I am so thankful we had the time to spend together, all too short time... I know she is still with me in my heart and always will be, and even though the tears come still when I miss her, I can find joy at the thought of her dancing with the angels. I will never forget images of her dressed in her ugg boots, tights, a tunic and a cape of some kind... a weird huge cowboy hat, and had a sword she made from something. She called it her Cancer Fighting Suit... Lord, she could make me laugh! Silly things remind me of her...orange butterflies, tunafish cans, Gypsy Vanner horses and mules of any kind.  I have memories of riding in her dark green jacked-up, airbrushed, tricked-out, redneck truck with the windows rolled down, radio blasting- Wild Thing.... and a little happy Jack Russell who howled "I love you" to her...of caramel ice cream and her popping out of my laundry room to surprise
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