Reflections on the A to Z 2014 Challenge--Huzzah!

The Parade

Well, it’s not really over.  For a blogger, the parade never really ends.  It just changes directions.

I have developed some reflections about this year’s A to Z 2014 Challenge.

This year I vowed that I would:

 Keep track of the sites I visited, write the numbers down, note sites which were ones I would follow.

Curse a bit when finding ones that were inactive.

Say “Really??” upon finding sites that were trying to sell a product.

Hit the keys with disgust, after reading ones that were downright vulgar and thoughtless.

Doze off with ones that were like reading small tomes.

Shake my head at ones that were hoping for beta readers and editing help right then and there.

Sigh with pleasure and delight when finding ones who truly expressed a cohesive thought with simplicity and well-chosen words.

With all that said, I would like to appreciate: 

the bloggers who kept their posts brief and interesting.

  

The writers who focused on the message to be conveyed.

  

The writers who knew that run-on paragraphs would put the reader to sleep.

  

The writers who understood and understand the craft of writing.

Just a few of "My newly-acquired: boy-I-want-to-follow-these" are:  

The Shellshank Redemption

D.G. Hudson

Jilda Watson

Writer's Storm: Brandon Ax

Melanie Schulz

Loverofwords

Not enough words can appreciate gratitude for the organizers and on-call super bloggers who either designed, oversaw, and/or monitored the 2,000+ participants.  These people are (with hopes that none were excluded, but pretty sure there are...so sorry):

Arlee Bird

Ninja Captain Alex J. Cavanaugh

Stephen Tremp, Author

Tina  

Amyanti 

Jeremy @ Being Retro

Heather M. Gardner

M.J. Joachim's Writing's Tips

Heather M. Gardner

See you 'round the corner!  

Huzzah!

Some may wonder why I use color for words.  Teacher trick.  Helps students track sentences.  Also I love color.

Why "huzzah"?  I like the word.  My apologies for the length of this post.

Good ol' high school band on parade

People who Make a Difference

Why this?

Common universal themes are the ones that grab me when I read a book or a blog.  The questions most frequently addressed are:  WHY me?  WHY this?  WHY now?

Why me?

As a writer, I try to weave a thread of humor through my writing.  That is how I handle the hard answers to the hard questions.  Humor keeps me from spiraling inward.  How do other bloggers/writers handle those same questions?

Klahanie uses satire and uses it well. 

The precise use of words make Delores’ blog a pleasure to read.

Irony and no-punches-held-back are employed by Melynda

Deep introspection and wisdom are from Dee.

Arlee ties his writing together with guitar strings and dreams.

Roaring into the wind is Pearl with grounded humor.

Taking in and breathing out is Elephant’s Child.

Arlene shapes her world to show her inner beauty.

Joanna/Cup on the Bus reflects on the past and connects it to the present.

That rascal, Pat Hatt, portrays himself as the human servant to his cats.

Elisa  has talent over-flowing, organizes us all to produce anthologies.

Jen Chandler always gives me a great perspective on life.

Rick/Life 101 reflects on his life, his interests, and his family.

Zoanna/Penchant for Pens shares her love of faith, family, and poetry.

Erin/Hold onto your Bloomers entertains me with her observations and humor.

My list is much longer, for there are many bloggers who have enriched my life.  How about you?  Do you have those universal questions and bloggers who have helped explore the answers?

Why now?

Life

Horton and the dust-speck are one.

The other day when I was watching my granddaughters, I found myself up stairs and getting ready to watch a movie while we lay in Mommy’s bed. Both the girls were sick and asked me if I wanted to take a nap. It would be okay with them if I wanted. Sunshine found the TV controls, and zip-zang, she showed me how to do all the remote control stuff that previously eluded me. With “Horton Hears a Who” starting, the girls lay down, telling me I could have the middle between them. They had taken all the pillows, and the middle was perhaps eight inches wide. 

This isn’t going to work, I told them. I need more room than that. So I manually scooted them over, grabbed a pillow from the end of the bed, and climbed over them. The moment I extended my arms, they both rolled  to nestle into me. ‘Ahhhhh’. 

The Last Unicorn

Sunshine is somewhat like a puppy, which has to turn in circles a few times before finding the right spot. This time she was lying on her stomach, with her head at my knees and her feet at my head. “Draw pictures on my back, Grandma. I want a unicorn, a rainbow, a flower…” Before I drew the rainbow, Sunshine was sound asleep.

Bright Eyes placed her head on my chest. “I can hear your heart beating, Grandma,” she whispered. I wiggled my fingers into her mass of brown hair, and lifted the strands up to let the heat escape. She sighed, and blinked, then was asleep.

That left me with Horton. Before we settled in for the movie,Sunshine had found one of Daddy’s clean socks and placed it over my eyes just so. "Here, Grandma.  This will help your headache."   I could look down my nose and at the TV, if I wanted. 

When Mommy/my daughter came home, she found us three just like that. “Oh, my, that is precious.” I agreed with her.

Life can’t get much better than that.

Where were you?

There are certain days that one remembers always.  People remember anniversaries of great events, horrendous events, and glorious events.  Examples are endless:  the wedding day, the assassination of JFK, or just about anything where the images, sounds, and smells are forever ingrained in our computer-like brain.

In fact, someone can ask you, “What were you doing when you heard the news about the assassination of John F. Kennedy?”  Most of us who were cognizant at the time can call up that moment with clarity and emotion.  For me, I was sitting in my 7^th grade classroom, when the principal walked in and told us.  The room was cold and silent.  Then a boy turned in his chair, and it squeaked.  Another boy laughed.  We looked at each other, and then looked down quickly.  I didn’t know what to do with my hands, or where I should look.  Yes, a frozen photograph with sensory sound.

Robert Peck (in glasses)

I remember what I was doing on May 19, 1997.  It was five o’clock in the afternoon, and I had just gotten home from school.  There was a ‘to-do’ list running wildly in my head, and I was pulling dinner together.  The phone rang and I answered it, with the list still occupying my attention.

It was my parents.  I immediately sat down, and felt a chill creep over me from my head down to my toes.  I started to shiver.  “Yes?”  I answered. 

Easter 1959; Robert (glasses)

“Robert is gone,” my father’s voice sounded tired, stretched tight.

“This afternoon, two hours ago,” my mother filled in from another phone.  “It happened quickly.”  Mom’s voice was flat and without any light.

Robert & Cheryl, 1970

“I’ve got to go.  I need to make arrangements.”  I hung up.  I didn’t want to know how, for his death had been fast approaching, and the days passed while we held our collective breaths.  “Any day now,” was what my folks said every day when I called to ask “How’s Robert today?”

Uncle Robert with my Mary, 1985

Robert is my brother, and was born in January 1951; I was born in December 1951, and we were 10.5 months apart.  We were always close, and the attachment we felt stretched across countries, was always fresh and strong.  He discovered he had a brain tumor, an angioplastic astrocytoma, or a multiform glioma., in August 1995.  He had a dangerous surgery in early September 1995.  Robert lived nearly 21 months following his diagnosis.

Robert at Mom's kitchen table on the farm

So, today, I write this in Robert’s memory, for I know what I was doing when the phone call came.

Dad, Robert, brother Don, and my husband John

This is being posted on Memorial Day weekend, a time for families to remember departed loved ones, and to honor deceased veterans.  I needed to write this and breathe it out onto paper. I think of my brother Robert every single day, and I miss him dearly.

I do! I do!

All photos via Bing.Com

It is the season of the brides coming up.  June traditionally became the month for weddings centuries ago when life revolved around agriculture.  Spring planting was done; it would be hay mowing time in a few weeks.  Also, any bride who soon found herself with child in July or August wouldn’t give birth until April or May, which gave the newborn infant the best weather for surviving the newborn stage.  Also, I think there may have been some druid connection, but that is pure speculation on my part.

Oh, to be young and in love!

In fact, my niece Sarah is getting married in a week.  The wedding will be on the beach just south of Santa Barbara, and it will be beautiful, because they are in love, and they are both beautiful people.  We are looking forward to the wedding, seeing our relatives, dancing on the beach, and watching the carousing of the young adults.  Our carousing days ended a while ago, and we will head back to the hotel for free HBO. 

Should I be asked (and I doubt I will), I have some excellent advice for the couple.  This is year #39 for us, and boy have we learned a lot in those 39 years.  So, for brides or young married couples everywhere, here is some worthy advice:

This was to good to pass up.

1.  The behaviors you found most entertaining, amusing, and attractive when you first met will soon become the most irritating.  In fact, as the years go by, and those ‘cute things’ don’t change as you think they should, you will start snapping at him/her about those ‘behaviors/habits’.

2.  Basically, both spouses are innately slobs.  Yes, yes, you are.  You were allowed to be that way by your mother who enabled you by picking up for you OR you became that way when you were living on your own.  Get over yourselves, and discuss your expectations.  What is acceptable?  What is not?  Hint:  Taking off your socks and flapping them around in the living room is really the height of disgusting.  Don’t do it.

Even Kate has to deal with it.

She is someone's mother.

3.  No one’s mother is allowed to come by without at least an hour’s notice.  A whole hour, not ten minutes.  Showing up is forbidden.  No, don’t let them guilt you into allowing them to break this rule.  Yes, they will have to deal with it.

We all need a shoulder to cry on.

  4.The best shoulder to cry on is that of your spouse, not your best friend or your parents.  What you and your beloved share is between you two, and you two only.  No one needs to know about the crappy stuff that happens, and no one should ever have that information to spread around.  It gets to be like manure:  the more that gets spread around, the more it stinks. There is a proviso here:  If any spouse discovers that the other spouse is abusive, controlling, or manipulative, get help!  Seek professional intervention, and inform your family of your needs.  No one has to put up with this in a marriage, ever. 

It is what is.

5.  What you really want to have at the end of your life is to hold the hands of the person who wears your wedding ring.  Those are the hands that held you, helped you, loved you, and walked through life with you.   Hopefully, both of your hands will be old, age-spotted, and gnarly.  And you, the bride, should be wearing one big hunkin’ diamond.

Whether you agree with me, well, that is up for debate.  If you want more advice, you know where to find me.  I’ll be here.