Been A While

Been a little busy phasing out of my Texas mode, gearing up for California.

Yep, we’re leaving the land of Trumpsters and alt-gender oppression; headed back to the land of political incorrectness and proud of it. No apologies, no piety pretense, and believing for as few Trumpsters as Democratically possible.

Been interesting living in a red state. I totally loved Anne Richards before I’d lived in Texas, but now – however did she manage to win and govern Texas? I’m even more inspired and in awe of her now than before.

This is not to write off Texas as all negative. It is not. But in the realm of using politics and religion as an excuse for social and economic coercion and suppression, those more inclusively inclined Texans have their work more than cut out for them. As does the entire nation with Trump and others in charge.

As the pendulum of government-issued smackdowns to our civil rights and institutions protecting the common good continues unimpeded, for the moment, I’m having remorse for having once held a document some 200+ pages in length that outlined a plan for global subordination via the compromising of our country’s government. It also implicated the U.N. as contributing to the process.

Not having a source named for the document, and having received it from someone I had only casually known through doing some administrative work, I had no reason to suspect its validity or prescient predictions. I did show it to a family member who had careers in both the Air Force and civil service. He looked it over and suggested that, regardless of the authenticity of the information, I should get rid of the document.

I considered holding onto it, but the evil vibe of it and the hazard of having it in my possession in an already hazard-riddled period of my life, made me choose to pass it on. Other eyes have seen this document, alleged to have been printed off a discarded hard drive. How the hard drive was accessed and who originally printed off the content is something I never had knowledge of.  And due to lapse of time – this was 1994 – I have very few memories of specific content. However, the details I do remember are that:

  • The plan for one global government has been in place since the end of WWII.
  • It is in part due to an obligation to Russia for its assistance in defeating Hitler.
  • The U.N. is some kind of gatekeeper or barometer of how things unfold
  • The plan for global control of currency and economics is also contained in the document

Reference was made to Bill Clinton, not as a participant, but as someone who had been to Russia or met with Russian leaders while he was a Rhodes scholar. I don’t recall anything else specific to him personally, other than that he had met with Russian entities.

Beyond these items, I have no clear, definitive memory of what the document said, but there were over 200 pages – a lot of detail for a sham.

During the surreal 2016 presidential election, there were times when people were asking why Obama hadn’t acted or done this or that. I kept thinking “There’s more players in this “poker game” than meets the eye.” Then I remembered back to the document I had held and read, and the potential of it coming to pass now.  Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered if Hillary had won. Maybe similar things would’ve happened with her in power as well. Maybe the document was just a fluke and not authentic. But it’s hard to ignore what’s played out before us daily.

And I do believe whoever is running the global game of money needs to have their hand called. We’re only victims if we choose to keep playing the game as it’s been planned – while we still own our chips and have standing in the game.

Bless us all in whatever comes next, but please let it not continue to be Trump and his minions – who may or may not be the ultimate “bad chips” in the game.




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Better with Age?


















Better with age?

I continue to hold a good thought on this topic – even though most of us “olders” know, memory is not included as an ongoing perk of our vitality and spirit.

Having said that, I couldn’t resist taking a photo of this balloon at the market. I am nowhere near this “Bah, humbug!” on most days, but have certainly been in this space, maybe even making this same face. I just don’t stay there. Too much to still do and experience!

So, for those of you still making peace with the process of aging – gracefully or otherwise – here’s a reminder that it’s all in the attitude. Grumpy is as grumpy does.

Me, I’m off to meet with the screenwriting/filmmaking group I recently joined. Smiling and grateful I can get myself there and remember which freeway exit to take. Leader is Dan and . . . sigh!

To be continued.




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Positively Picky!


Been off my blog and out of my semi-regular habit of writing on it for about a month now.

Made a commitment to participate with a group to write daily posts on it starting back on the 2nd of this month. Not bragging. Not proud of it at all. BUT . . .

Sometimes being slow in getting started can bring focus to your real agenda and what you want to say next. And, most importantly, how you want to say it.

So, I’ll be continuing on this blog but will also be branching out to include some live Facebook moments with a character I’ve done in the past. She’s a good fit for the current times.

Stay tuned. She’ll be coming up soon! It’ll be fun – I hope!



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The Reverse Side of Being



Just driving along on an errand. I park and there it is. A beautiful tree in the last throes of autumn, standing its ground in quiet grandeur. How many others saw the same tree but thought nothing of its presence there? Just another tree among many.

Yet there it stood with its branches open wide to all the elements, come what may. Its story the same as the many other trees standing there. But something in its stature and its attitude (yes, trees can have attitude) made me stop to take its picture and reflect on why its presence had called to me.

So often the essence of being – our own or that of others – is lost in the “noise” of the moment. Whether it’s due to bystander status on a train platform, a workplace, sport or social activity, or just because we’ve tuned out everything except the play by play cacophony of our internal dilemmas, we often miss so much by not noticing or exploring the greatness of the being next to us – or even recognizing our own.

It’s not necessarily the loudest, most obvious among us. It won’t trip us up to be noticed or wow us with its outward perfection. It’ll just stand there in its strength of purpose and self-assured presence, confident in its mission to be a “tree”, regardless of whether anyone else notices.

Yes, trees are everywhere but greatness thrives within – even when our beings miss noticing or getting its picture – or maybe even a ‘selfie’.

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Color Shards

It’s a weaver’s call as to which color goes where. Her work, her call.

Workin’ and weavin’ a rainbow is no small task, but it’s a worthwhile project to see through to the end. I’ve been working my life’s rainbow for a very long time. I’m seasoned enough to get it right this time. And determined that this will be it – the big payoff of time for my perseverance and talent. Just wish I were more adept at managing my time which, let’s face it, at my age should be a strong suit, not a random, ‘still wishin’ and hopin’ kind of thing.

Yet giving up is not an option nor has it ever been. As Langston Hughes once said (still have the poster of it with seagulls flying!) “Hold fast to dreams for if dreams die, life’s a broken-winged bird that cannot fly.” It has been my ‘go to’ mantra for decades now. No end to the serendipity of seeing a seagull in flight at certain key moments in my life, even living away from coastal regions.

No doubt serendipity shall remain a companion as long as I stay connected to my dream, and committed to the colors I aspire to contain in my life’s rainbow, whether by broad, bold brush strokes or piece by piece collage.

The beauty is in the finished result; a testament to the journey accomplished.






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Believin’ No Matter What!


Yeah, I was believing on last Tuesday. A lot of us were.

I was believin’ that I would vote for Hillary in spite of my inclination to vote Jill Stein. Still wanted Bernie. And it should’ve been Bernie accepting the presidency. But . . . NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

Sigh! So, we’ve all been Trumped instead! Now what?

Right now it’s public displays of dissent and protest. L.A. rioted and destroyed property, becoming what we all feared would happen to America if Trump’s supporters lost.

Here where I live in Texas, the locals had a different idea for protesting, one that actually made a statement: a Trump piñata!


And instead of busted human heads, property damage and criminal charges . . .


There was a gleeful, celebratory release of anger – and CANDY!!! Much better than real busting of heads and irreversible damage and consequences. Or becoming the personification of hate, evil and fear.

Let’s face it, busting pinatas or busting windshields or worse does nothing to address or solve the difficult times ahead. But having the right problem-solving attitude and an unsinkable will to hold ourselves and our country’s leaders accountable for any deviation from honoring ALL of us citizens equally will serve the highest good not just here in America but around the world.

Let’s be the light we’ve assumed our country to be, and persist in showing our greatness even when our leaders choose to promote agendas and laws that do otherwise. As for making our country great again, that’s We The People’s call to make. Our leaders serve at our discretion. Let’s remember that and make them remember as well.

Greatness will happen when we honor all of us, because we ARE all stronger together. And that’s how we want America to roll!

Peace and let’s get busy! It’ll take all of us to believe.

Some further thoughts spoken at the link shown below:!__believe-poster-page

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Workin’ the Other Half of the Rainbow


Promising start does not equal realized finish.

Even in nature, sometimes the picture doesn’t get completed right away. Sometimes you just have to imagine the end of the rainbow that’s before you.

This is one such morning where believing in myself is greater than any challenge I may face from others. Greater than any opportunity that needs to be delayed for the moment. Greater than where I’ve been because I am ready to embrace the void of not knowing what’s next.

That footstep Indiana Jones took in “The Last Crusade” has haunted me for decades, but I’m ready to take it and trust that the stepstone will be there and my footing will deliver me to my ‘yes’.

Whatever’s next must align with my believing and my goal – the other half of the rainbow. I will make it happen.

Happy Sunday, everyone!

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The Smartest Ass!


Such a sensitive, attentive face!

Almost like it’s listening to what I’ve got to say before I’ve even said anything! Kind of like with the first Hillary/Donald debate.

Both Donald and Hillary had a captive audience ready to hear what they had to say. Both speakers and listeners were hopeful that what was spoken and heard would clarify which of the two candidates would be the more desirable commander-in-chief come November 8th. We listened, they spoke. But no clear winner occurred other than who won the debate.

Hillary bettered Donald in presentation and points made. But neither candidate could convince the majority that they’ve come this far in the race to be a woman or man “of, by and for” the people. Now they’ve got less than a month left in which to do just that.

And since then we’ve had to wade through embarrassing informational reveals of both Donald and Hillary. Not to mention, the reveal of their running mates’ debating and legislative shortfalls.

So, I guess we’ll just have to stay tuned to these next two debates and hope either Hillary or Donald can conquer our lack of confidence in their choice to honor the highest good of the people who’ll elect one of them.

Kind of a lackluster, backasswards “horse race” if you ask me. Maybe the smartest ass is the one in the picture who listens, watches and waits but says nothing. At this point, what else can a smart ass do?

 It’s ‘pray’ or ‘bray’ time, ya know?

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First thing right out the front door on a brand new day.

There it was. A beautiful butterfly. Still and grand with wings fully spread, the butterfly stayed put as I leaned in closer to see why it wasn’t fluttering away.

It let me pick it up!


What an unexpected joy to start my day! Gratitude had wings in that moment. Not knowing what phase of flight the butterfly might be in, I carried it to a low lying branch of a bush and watched to see if it might be ready to fly. It lingered motionless but fluttered briefly.


I waited a little longer, brushed some drops of water on its face and legs then let it remain on the bush. Checking back, it had stayed there and was now folded up and lying on the bush.

Joy can be so fleeting but palpable and vivid in the moment, and with what it leaves behind – a beautiful image that brought aliveness into that moment and blessings to the heart that will remember and cherish it.



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Mattering Equally Matters

Danger Zone

Some things don’t change that much with time. Like this curb in Norman, Oklahoma or the testament it became to a special friendship.

It looks the same as it did that day in 1958. I was nine years old and waiting there for the city bus to take me home after school.

Mother, my younger sister and I had just come back to Norman after moving away to Kansas City, Missouri for three months. Mother had a falling out with her long-time boyfriend and I guess she wanted to see if he’d miss us. He did. They got back together.

But for a while on our return to Norman, we had to live in a downtown apartment. I’d wait for the city bus. It stopped near James Madison Elementary, the same school I attended before we had moved. It was just a month before school ended for the summer.

At Madison things had pretty much stayed the same. Some friendships were intact, some less so than before.

Then there was Michael.

He had come to our school the year before. The only black kid in the entire school of roughly 200 students of 1st through 6th graders. It wasn’t easy for him at first. Recess could be hazardous for him or anyone he played with. Chasing horned toads or playing tag  through the tall grass on the wide prairie of a playground landed more than one of us in the sticker patch at the hands of our fellow classmates.

So instead, our third grade teacher Miss Durkee said we should just play tetherball or jump rope or swing where she could keep an eye on us.  Jane Foster, Lawanda Collette, another girl whose name I can’t remember, and myself all played together with Michael. Our favorite was tetherball but on Parents’ Day (the last day of school), we performed a synchronized swing act together.

Fourth grade was taught by Mrs. Pryor who was very fair but strict. Nobody dared get on her bad side. The five of us stayed friends but recess became more about playing jacks or drawing, something inside or close to the classroom. This was not a high intensity kind of thing, just an awareness that Michael still had only marginal acceptance from the other students.

We went on a field trip by train to Galveston but I don’t remember if Michael went with us or not. He probably missed it because of the way things were with race and public seating, etc.

Anyway, about the curb. That generic-looking piece of ground became a testament of true friendship. With so many such places and moments playing out today on tabloid TV, it resonates as much now or more so than then.

My 1958 Nancy Grace moment happened as I stood there waiting for the city bus. A carful of three drunk college guys pulled up to where I stood, with me wishing the bus was closer than five minutes away. The guy in the back seat opened his car door and began reaching toward me to grab and pull me into the car.

Out of nowhere came the squeals and roars of a banshee from behind me. The guy shrunk back slightly and I turned to see Michael roaring up on his bicycle, full on ready to stand by me. Startled, the three took off. Michael waited with me till we could see the bus nearing the corner, then he waved goodbye and pedaled off.

I never saw Michael again.

A few days later, his parents came to school to collect his belongings. His mother was crying. Our principal, Mrs. Minter solemnly escorted them into our classroom then back outside. As they were leaving, I tried to tell Mrs. Minter about the three drunk guys but she said “It doesn’t matter now”. She was wrong. It still matters.

It mattered watching Michael’s parents walk away. It mattered seeing his mother cry. It mattered that I felt duty bound to obey school rules and not follow after them to tell them what I knew: their son had been my hero and savior, and there were three college guys who needed to be held accountable. It mattered watching Michael’s parents drive away with no way to tell them about it later.

It still matters in my heart that those three drunk guys – among so many smug, self-entitled legions of males from that moment until now – inflicted their will at the expense of Michael’s wellbeing and called it ‘good’ and, as far as I know, have never paid a price.

Michael inherited my Nancy Grace moment and paid the price I would’ve paid if he hadn’t stopped to help. In our innocence, we thought we had vanquished the attempted perpetrators. Sadly, we didn’t count on them doubling back or waiting for Michael up the street. Whichever scenario it was, these moments happened then because, even if it had been reported, the guys most likely would have walked away free.

Bike Reminder

These moments still happen because, to this day, guys in particular don’t hold each other accountable to honor all people equally. Instead they indulge their buddies’ exploits by listening to how those buddies chose to harm or diminish others for recreational or other self-entitled purposes. Then they treat the information anecdotally as though no ethical or societal breach has occurred. By virtue of their silence, they share in culpability and further perpetuate the selective classism practiced globally as a rite of the male gender. Some women and girls can also be guilty of self-entitled behavior, but the vast majority of incidents and offenses belong to the guys.

And for that reason, Nancy Grace moments will continue to occur because, generationally, males pass down to their sons and other males by mantra and example that certain classes of people are acceptable targets for purposes of getting the action they need, whether it’s sexual or some other type of criminal harm they choose to perpetrate. How else would there continue to be so many Nancy Grace moments to report?

Imagine a 9-year old girl on that grassy curb expecting to catch the city bus and go home. Imagine three college-aged guys who saw that little girl as an opportunity to get some action. It wasn’t their sister or anyone they knew, thereby voiding any social contract to protect or honor her wellbeing. Likewise, her “colored” friend held no intrinsic human value due to their learned disregard and targeting of his race. And no doubt, in pre-civil rights America, their culpability would’ve been pretty much nil if they’d been caught.

Here we are almost six decades later. Granted these types of incidents are no longer hidden when they’re found out, but they are still so common and the level of justice so random that, in effect, it’s still borderline 1950’s for women, girls and other marginalized classes of citizens. Male activism needs to spread beyond the chest-thumping, sign wielding, armed-and-dangerous yahoos who show up for public displays of support. We need legions of the calm and steady, there-for-you-no-matter-what types even more.

The acceptance of each other’s equality still has a long way to go, especially in the centers of power, money and law. It’s hard for most guys to let go of historically preserved and Biblically endorsed male self-entitlement. but the reality of what works for the good of all people globally is treating each other as equals regardless of gender or any other discriminatory filter.

And, if the current global social hierarchy and its choices were working, would Jesus really need to come back?

Let’s choose to be our best and highest selves for each other like Nobody’s watching – or having to.

Sharing Zone crop














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