childhood memories of war

Perhaps the most vivid memories of nursery tales were not of bunnies or bantering fairies…but of War and its aftermath.     We here in the United States did not suffer the horrors that children in other countries did, the bombings and air raids and worse.   But such accounts were very much vicariously present.    And directly following the Hot War followed the Cold War, with its insidious psychological terror.

I was eleven when World War II ended in 1945.    What I write here are my impressions as a child.

Here in the Cleveland, Ohio area we had three major daily newspapers in Cleveland,
in the 1940s-1950s.    Subtlety was not a virtue to our dueling newspapers, bent on gathering new and worse  predictions and statistics to entertain and scare the heck out of the readership.     Everyone read the papers…there was no television in the vast majority  of our homes, and except for newsreel productions in the movie theaters,  the newspapers were the major source for information about the “doomsday bullseye” which so impressed us as kids!   We lay on the floor with the front page of the paper spread out before us,   especially the issues with the giant bulleye dominating the front page…we traced the maps and figured out the implications for us personally…we lived  roughly 30 miles from the epicenter, which was presumeably down-town Cleveland.      In those days the  Cleveland area was a major producer of steel and—I was very proud to say—the twelfth largest city in the United States.

…tales of missile silos that later became parks
where ducks paddled in glistening ponds
surrounded by Lilies and Begonias
casting their colors in pinwheel flashes

This  was all a  grim and grotesque point of pride for me (for many of us kids) in the knowledge of having—within our own perimeter—huge metal monsters capable of unspeakable destruction.   This perverse, but prevailing situation had the effect of providing bragging points in discussing the relative extent of our living areas from the Bullseye Center at the heart of the city.   The really spooky thing is that my peers and I understood (mostly) the implications.  We discussed it in school, and excitedly and conspiratorially mapped our own possible destruction and theoretical  survival rather matter-of-factly, if not with particular sophistication.

The encouraging news—such as it was— lay in the conjecture that relative safety
existed outside of a radius of thirty miles… outside of the “immediate blast” area.
After that was a series of concentric rings, inside of which various stages of non-annihilation “might” exist.   This included various degrees of exposure to radiation,
and theoretical projected life-expectancy.

But comfort came in the form of experts’ advice on preparing our underground shelters and keeping them stocked with water and food… supplies sufficient for about two years.    Then came the horror of realization of implications that under the category of “supplies” would have to come stores of ammunition to arm the guns that would be necessary to guard our family stores  against neighbors and friends—and planning for continued survival AFTER the theoretical “all-clear” sirens sounded and we could come out of our shelters and return to — What?

Even us children understood that if the GOOD news was that survival from an atomic blast would (or might) be possible—this was also the BAD news.

 

 

 

 

From Doorstep fiction writing— to unfinished dissertation (Re-posted)

When one of my daughters was about ten, her school bus came later than those of the other kids, so she and I had half an hour or so one-on-one time.  I loved to make up stories, and some of my best (maybe) ideas came at that time.   This means fiction…since I was a working newspaper reporter and writer at the time I was writing other types of material —news stories, police reports, obits, motor vehicle crashes, city meeting coverage— when I wasn’t making up far-out stories.

The story I am referring to was about a tiny slug that landed on a patch of grass, and was saved from trampling by a group of scuffling boys by a young girl named Fonzie McElroy.   Turned out the Slug was no other than Prince Rehebal, of some distant planet that was left behind on an exploratory visit to Earth.   To fast-forward the plot, the young Prince was rescued by returning space crew…and Fonzie was richly rewarded, although no one but she ever believed the tale was true.

I know…sounds vaguely like “ET,” which had not hit the movie theaters yet, and I did not hear about for at least a decade.  Yes, I did type up (on newspaper print paper) and I still have the original.

Another of my languishing plots was a Civil War theme, set on a Confederate prisoner-of-war island, a sutler’s daughter who fell for a Rebel army officer, and so the historical novel was set to go.   A sutler was a farmer or merchant who set up sales of produce like onions and potatoes in periodic markets held by prison officials for the imprisoned soldiers.

Then there is the loose plot of a murder mystery set in a small town, peopled by town municipal workers like council members, police, and of course a newspaper reporter that solves the whole crime.   My heroine is still (after about 30 years real time) sitting at the railroad tracks waiting for a train to pass, the murderer holding a gun to the reporter’s side–while the police chief waits on the other side of the train tracks.

In my Science Fiction story the location is a planet which is ruled by women.  All of the men are sent out on space ships doing various jobs, and serving out their time until they and their wives can reunite and move to a utopian planet where they live out their years in happy wedded bliss.

The probability of any of those works ever seeing the light of day is remote.  My more recent interests are in writing  Historical topics in which I have an interest…such as the British Abolition of the Slave Trade; Liberation Theology in Latin America; and various other essay contributions.

Oh, and my current…and possibly only novel is one that I worked on as a National  Novel Writing Month (not the correct name, but the popular writers’ competition in which the goal was to write a 60,000 word novel in one month…which was accomplished mostly stream-of-consciousness-style with no correcting spelling or style or anything else…just pounding away for 30 days.   That NaNoWriMo exercise is THE most useful and inspiring writing experience I have undertaken.   I have elaborated on the plot and the work to a great extent.   It is part Historical and part Time-Travel.

The topic of my novel was based on my doctoral dissertation (which I did not  bring to completion within allotted time.)    Obviously no one except my advisor professor has ever read the Final Draft, which I wish now with all my heart that I had completed.    Various readers such as my kids and best friends…captives, if you will…SAY they read the copies that I gave them ten years ago, but their eyes glaze over as they say it.     It’s about History of 500 years of the Catholic Church in Mexico, or something like that.   It’s a LOT more interesting than you all think!

What got in the way of my writing was … well… writing.    I often whine that  “I wish I had been a Writer.”   I spent years writing for newspapers, term papers, writing minutes as secretary of city boards and commissions, in college writing assignments and serious papers.  E-mailing (the way I have always done it) is sort of like writing as I wrote  to my friends and other people.

Blogging  is writing of course…and I love it because it is a combination of all the different kinds of writing I have ever done:   Fiction, poems, rants, news stories, satire, responding to prompts about all kinds of things…and writing about writing.   Photographing isn’t writing of course, but in a way it can be in that photos tell stories in and of themselves, or they serve as props for accompanying prose.

 

 

Stats Analysis (No Yawning)

My blog’s best day ever was November 6, 2015…. 99 VIEWS.

Guess what the topic was!    World peace?  No.  War? Nope.  Donald Trump? nah….   it was COOKIES.   The title was “Tea and Gingersnaps Anyone?”   I had so many followers over that day that I ran out of cups.  Really.

Here is a sort of half-baked analysis of the Statistical Information provided by WordPress to give bloggers an idea of their progress in publishing and showing off.   I does take some study to understand all of the charts and lists, but doing so is well worth the while.

For the first eleven days of this month, December 2015, Sometimes, has had 447 views, 159 visitors, 240 Likes, and 202 Comments.

The total number of followers…as of right now…is 373.  Most of them (17%) visit on Wednesday at 11:00 AM (10%).  (I’m not sure of the time zone, but I think it’s local time of the visitors.)

The total number of posts on Sometimes EVER  is 186–with a total of 6,859 views by 2,200 visitors.

I admit that I am confused about the ratio of views per visitor.   For instance, TODAY (December 11) here’s the tally:

447 Views
159 Visitors
240 Likes
202 comments

This begs some questions:  The site was looked at 447 times (I believe that includes my own views and reviews of it.)  SO, if 159 visitors looked at the site, how come 240 Liked it?   Did they like it so much some of them read it and pushed the LIKE button twice?

The best month so far for 2015 was…………   OCTOBER!!!

37 New Posts published in October
31,317 Views
375 Visitors
(3.51)  Views Per Visitor

47 Nations of the World sent delegates to My Blog 🙂

This analysis was fun to do.   I didn’t do any math, just trusted in the Stats as presented by WordPress.

It would be fun to do a giant chart for my wall (IF I had any available wall space in my office/book room.)    It’s fun to look over the Stats and see who commented, what posts were the most popular, what older posts emerge from my Archives.   I do have the “You May Also Like” button activated to refer readers to other posts I have made.

…wasn’t this fun?

My (Mostly) English Heritage… Part One

Reading about differences and similarities between folks here in the US and in the UK, inspiration has been beckoning me to write about the subject in my own blog.

Actually many Americans began as British, back in the days of pre-American Revolution.  It was in fact a British colonial government, which was over-thrown more or less by rebellious subjects who wished to control their own affairs.  This was a lot easier since the British military was engaged in more pressing issues, such as keeping the French at bay and making sure the Spanish didn’t get all the goodies from the Americas.

But this isn’t a History lesson, although at times I admit that I am prone to lecture on various and sundry topics, not all of them necessarily pertinent to the current subject.   So I have no intention of going back over the common knowledge and think-we-know facts, and write about something that is pertinent…at least to me.

Background

I am at least three-fourths English, based on family origin.  My children, however, are three-fourths German counting the fourth they get from me, and the rest from their father, whose grandparents were all born in Germany.

There is one questionable thing about these facts, in that my maternal grandfather was born in Australia, of German-ancestry.  Hmmm…come to think of it, if I said he was an Australian-American, is that accurate?  Also, as Australia is part of the UK, does that count as German or British?    I usually say German,, which is how I arrive at being able to claim the one-quarter German.

An aunt of mine, Grandpa’s daughter in fact, did an in-depth research study into the Australia connection.   That history goes back pretty far, as we have considerable amount of information about the men in that family back at least to Grandpa’s grandfather.

The way that grandfather became an American is after he had run away from home in Australia at age 16, and worked on fishing boats for several years .   Then he met and married my grandmother in New York.

Anyway.  One of my distant relatives on that grandmother’s side did a quite extensive geneological research.  That branch of the family in fact has held annual family reunions here in Ohio for at least 140 years.  They are two-thirds of my English ancestry.  The geneology report lists the names of dozens of people –related to me–that came to the United States from England  prior to the American Revolution.   In fact, I have been told by a cousin that the family researchers have gone so far back that they found a Viking!

Actually I don’t think that is particularly uncanny, finding a Viking in the family tree of anyone that hails from the British Isles.  “They” tell me that this is where the blonde hair and blue eyes comes from.   hmmm…

Many of these ancestors are buried along the train track between Boston and the northern end of the line.  This came to light when I was visiting my son and daughter-in-law who were living in Massachusetts at the time…as we rode on the train the conductor called out the names of the stops, and many of them were surnames of my ancestors.   Many more from that clan traveled westward at least as far as Ohio, which is where the family is located now.

Since I have gotten SO far afield with my story, and in view of the fact that I only have chatted here about my mother’s side of the family– and I need to wind the tale down for this Part One only.

stay tuned for Part Two of the saga, in which I will continue with my Dad’s side of the family.

On Writing Poetry… with a nod to Miss Edwards (re-posted from 2015.)

I have always been a writer.  At age twelve, more or less, I wrote a novel.  Although I don’t recall any details of the plot, or characterization,  I do remember a name…Joyce Reena Phane.   That was to be my pen name, I believe.  To me that name was beautiful, and the very essence of sophistication.   I was quite proud of my novel, such as it was, and when my aunt asked to read it I was delighted.   Aunt Jada was a writer herself, and was working on a novel dealing with a group of Kent State students during the Vietnam War.  She loved my novel, and was impressed enough to talk with her sister, my mother, about it.

That was the end of that.    My mother was a very practical and down-to-earth woman, whose no-nonsense beliefs had no room for frivolous or non-productive pursuits.   As far as she was concerned no one made a living from writing books, especially if they had no college education–and the prospect of ME going to college was out of the question.   Besides, my writing was childish, the plot far-fetched and the characters unrealistic…and the pen name I had chosen so carefully was silly and unlike a name any real person would have.  The early….and only…draft of that novel consisted of several notebook paper pages, which no longer exist.

I did continue my creative writing, with encouragement from my seventh grade English teacher, Mr. Wilkinson.

I have some early poetry written in a brown notebook, one of those old dime-store notebooks  that were cheap and plentiful.  In addition to my own works of poetry, I have in those pages the complete Edgar Allen Poe, The Raven, copied in my neat and even cursive handwriting.   Also much of Macbeth, Shakespeare’s masterpiece which had also been immortalized as our high school play.  I was so enamored of that classic that I saw fit to enter much of the original play into my notebook.  There is also some poetry that I can still recite in part this many decades later…I was quite proud of my poems which also immortalized some of my early loves in my handwriting.   I used a fountain pen with real ink, and when I made an error I ripped out the notebook page entirely and started over.  I still think that the handwriting on those pages are perhaps the most endearing aspect of the whole brown notebook.  I wish I still loved my handwriting as well as I did then.

As for Shakespeare, my exposure to his works were in my Junior or Senior year of high school, when the truly marvelous reading by our English Literature teacher–who was also the school principal–sends shivers up my spine to this day.  I always stayed on Miss Edwards’ good side.  She was a small woman in stature, tough as any marine sergeant, and did not need any police personnel to maintain order over her classes–or her school.  One of the things I liked about Miss Edwards is that she liked my writing…she is definitely one of my mentors who had a positive effect on my life.

Ah well– I will never make it as a poet, but as long as I like my poetry and other bloggers occasionally say something nice about it as well–it is worth the oft-times lame verse that escapes my fountain pen….er, keyboard.

Photographer or Pitcha-taker?

Once, decades ago, the Chief Photographer at the newspaper where I worked  asked me a question that has remained in my thought-processor to emerge every once in awhile:

“Do you want to be a Photographer?  Or just a Pitcha-taker.?”

At the time I had only recently began providing photos to accompany my news stories.  I had a Yashika-Mat camera, which I had bought for the purpose.  It cost $85, which was a considerable amount of money for me, but in retrospect it was a good investment, because during the years I used it,  the Yashika paid for itself many times over.   I was supporting five children with my earnings as a reporter  for the newspaper, and for two years in 1970-1972 my meager pay was most of the time my sole source of income.

At that time I had no formal education beyond high school, although fortunately I had some ability to write cohesive articles and took to news reporting like an Owl to being a bookstore mascot.  For 18 years my career as a Journalist survived without higher education.  I’m a quick learner, more or less, and passed my trial-by-fire–a tax levy meeting by our local Save Our Schools (SOS) committee and the school board.    This was a momentous occasion in shaping the rest of my life beyond then.  That meeting coverage, and a feature story anout  a meeting at the State Prison Farm, directly led to my position as a reporter.

In October of 1972 (he 28th, forty-three years ago today, in fact) I got remarried.    I continued with the newspaper part-time, until my decision to enter community college…to see If I could cope with all that entailed.   But that’s another story…

Back in the day of film cameras…which was really not so long ago…my work film was developed and printed by the newspaper photo lab, and I did not do much private family/kids/travel work on company time.    Most of those photo shoots featured my late husband’s photos taken with his Konicas and/or others of his cameras…he had been into photography since he was in France during World War II, and did his own developing and printing back then.  (Before my time.)  Then when we began traveling extensively, we bought roll film and sent it away to be developed and printed.  It would take a few days or a week to return.

My skills at photography never really excelled, for a couple of reasons.  One is that I did not take the time required to learn technical details of appropriate exposure techniques.  The cost involved with print film was also high, so I did not experiment with the camera like I do now in the advent of digital photography.  So that meant that the best photos we had…and the greatest number…were Bob’s.  We did some Sunday spreads featuring his photography, and my writing.

Photographer or Pitcha-taker?     The difference being that a photographer will take the time and effort to acquire as much knowledge and practical skills as possible, and apply it to his or her work.  The Photographer works toward capturing the nuances and minute details of the subject, and fuss about color saturation and light conditions, etc., in order to produce work that is as esthetically pleasing as possible.

A Pitcha-taker, on the other hand, points the camera lens at the subject–and shoots.  The Pitcha-taker has albums which include coat sleeves, sun-glare, hands in front of faces, cut off heads, weird colors, and pictures of Aunt Bessie with her eyes closed or her mouth out-of-joint.  Over-exposed, under-exposed…all kinds of issues that ruin their photos.

Not to say that the Photographer, even professionals, don’t make mistakes…they just discard the “bad” shots, rather than showing them off to audiences and apologizing for their bad quality, as the pitcha-takers do:   “Ok, this should have been a really good photo, but this lady moved out of the frame too quickly…see her hat?  It was really a nice blue.  Sorry its blurry..”

Some True Facts and Confessions About Blogging

Today I managed to spend the entire day blogging, with exceptions for hauling the son around and feeding the cats.   By “blogging” I mean visiting lots of other bloggers online, trying to get my photos to cooperate, and writing in my blog.

All my writing life I have felt guilty and self-indulgent when I spent time writing for pleasure.   Sure, I got paid for it in various venues, and wrote lots as a student, and even sneaked in some time writing short stories or novels that I never finished.  I still have four novels floating around aimlessly, with characters and everything.  That kind of writing has always been, to me, more of a treat…a sort of stolen pleasure, so to speak.

Not so much that the Writer’s Life is considered glamorous and exciting and adventurous.   When I was a girl I had aspirations to be, in no particular order: an Exotic Dancer, a Singer, a Nurse, Psychiatrist, Police Woman, and I should have added– Foreign Correspondent to that list.  The main reason I never got far with any of my ambitions was a deep-set idea that “people like us never went to college,”  Also, I trip over my own feet and even though I took dancing lessons once (torturing the poor instructor,) and gave up that idea.  Furthermore, I was always too fat, as well as being uncoordinated, to qualify as an exotic dancer…I would have tripped over my feathers.    A singer?  Well I admit that except for a very brief glimmer of hope at being the Star of the Christmas Pageant, the only audience my singing has ever attracted consists of Cats.

Being a nurse was sort of ruled out because of my aversion to blood.  In an emergency I stand around saying “oh my God!” and feeling sick.   Three of my daughters are nurses, but not me.   Psychiatrist was ruled out because of rule one about people like me not going to college, AND my zero-capacity for Math, and illiteracy in Science (proven by a C I got in Geology once…they tricked me on the rocks, so I didn’t do well on the final exam.)     The possibility of Police work never really came up.

I might have been a News Correspondent, in fact I was, on a medium-size newspaper covering the wilds of city council and school board meetings.   Those affairs can get pretty wild sometimes, I’ll admit.   My ideal, my role-model,  I might say, when it comes to Foreign Correspondents would be Christine Anapour, CNN’s all-over-the-world War Correspondent.   She always looks so darn cool in her flack jacket!

OK, I seem to have really gotten off-topic here!

Me, Posing as a Photographer
Me, Posing as a Photographer

My point?   Oh yes.   The reasons I love blogging are many-fold,    But most of all I appreciate and enjoy the opportunity to write about all of the things I have wanted to my whole life.   I enjoy having other bloggers and writers “follow” me, and am very thankful to have had interesting and write-worthy things happen in my life.   I follow the works of many other bloggers because their experiences and wants and rants are similar to my own, or offer nice change of pace distractions.   I love all of the blogs–even the ones that don’t have A Cat featured prominently on the first page.

I especially enjoy the classes WordPress offers frequently, the topics and prompts, wide-open field for subjects and for photography–and especially the other bloggers that I meet.   This may sound self-serving, and I suppose it is in a way…but I think that I offer as much to the others in my classes and in the Blogger Community, and the thing here is the interaction. (I know I already said that, but its SO hard to choose from among clauses and paragraphs. )

Every class I have taken has had a different, unique character.  Some are new bloggers just getting their feet wet, others are seasoned photographers (doesn’t that sound swash-buckling!) and writers who have their own reasons for doing what they do.  I can’t speak for anyone else, but I think it has to do with the sense and atmosphere of Community.  Mutual support is of course a major ingredient, and for me its the Armchair Travel of visiting exotic places now that I am no longer able to do the things I used to do.

So anyway…those are some true facts and confessions about Blogging.  🙂

How Stupid Can We Be? commentary on common sense

uh…what a loaded question is that!

In the past half hour, tops, I began to wonder anew…how stupid could Stupid Be?   I turned on CNN fully expecting to getting some clues to that question, and was not disappointed.  (No dig at CNN…the completion is much worse.)

One– American fighter pilots have been told to ignore “agressive” Russian pilots over in Syria.  Actuallly, I thought they had been instructed to avoid each other.   Just as an aside, has anyone else recently become of the opinion that Washington, the U.S. military…maybe even the Rrussians…and especially the news media led by internet news are almost giddy at the prospect of renewed Cold War hostilities?

I have seen Top Gun numerous times, its one of my favorites, and I saw those bad boys making obscene gestures to other fighter pilots…while flying upside down, no less!

Since the Iron Curtain lifted in 1990, an entire generation has missed out on the Cold War daily horror…may we say terror…heaped upon the American public.   I have written elsewhere about this era of watching anxiously for the world to explode.  https://mumbletymuse.com/2015/03/21/the-decade-194…my-life-part-3/      this post is written pertaining to my experiences as a child living in the shadow of Nuclear Bombs.

Two, the news is presenting shocking reports that hackers have invaded the files of the heads of the CIA and Homeland Security!   WHAT? is no one’s email or private secret records sacred? Furthermore, the alleged hacker has SPOKEN to CNN.  Good grief…  One would think that the secret service agencies could locate the hacker…maybe even recruit him to work for us.  Don’t they watch cable news?.

And Three… DRONES.   CNN reported that there are now a MILLION drones in use by the private sector.  Flying around in air traffic lanes, scaring military pilots who are minding their own business…and they have managed to approach critical facilities like…almost…the White House!    And—there is no regulation or registration, or anything.   Just go in, pick out yer drone, and send its on its merry way doing gosh-knows-what.  Law enforcement agenices like the police have been able to apprehend drones which have crashed or otherwise fallen into official hands–but they just have the DRONES, which remain anonymous.  If ya ask me, anything that resembles an electronic mosquito should be closely monitored by the Feds.

So that was it for the six o’clock news.   Rather amazing, I think.

There’s Work to be Done…but Poetry is SUCH Fun!

Writing 201: Poetry, Day Six — Faces, Found Poetry, Chiasmus
(what the heck is Chiasmus?)

just a few books
just a few books

            Booksellers Lament

Books in order means order in books
to find them is the key
with thousands of books the ONE that is wanted
is the one nowhere to be found.

Well, it MUST be somewhere unless it was sold!

If order is everything and if everything is in order
the book business thrives, sporadically
(at least theoretically)
but only if you’re listing, they keep insisting
books on the shelves can’t sell themselves

an order’s an order but books MUST be in order
to fill the order–when there’s an order to fill.

What Do Readers Really Want?

So far I’ve published 105 posts, covering all kinds of subjects from poison ivy to politics.

Hmmm…do I see a pattern here?   Just kidding.  Poison Ivy is real and annoying, and Politics–surreal and ridiculous sometimes.

I’ve written about myself…mostly adventures and quirks.   Other posts featured butterflies, Cuba, TV shows, Will Smith, the Aztec Calendar, and the Word Police.   Even after studying the list of posts, I am still at a loss to say what my readers really want.  Articles that I personally like are almost never the ones that Readers like….or at least leave comments about.

Computers, specifically my personal love/hate relationship with  the “machines,” seems to be something a lot of readers relate to.  I think this is due to the us-against-them attitude most of us have.  Most readers, as most writers, use computers these days.   Few comments (or posts for that matter) are of the type of people that are embarrassed to say they love computers…or for that matter make the ridiculous claim — “I am not computer literate and proud of it!”   Or even more idiotic–“what would I do with a computer?  I have no use for one.”   This last comes regularly from acquaintances–and relatives or occasional friends–who actually in real life would get the MOST out of surfing the net and communicating with friends and family on email.

Well, ok—I should talk.   I resisted getting rid of my wringer-washing-machine, and had “no use” for a microwave oven.   That lasted for about two minutes each (20 years apart) before temporary sanity took over.

Now and then I post a politically-oriented comment.   I admit to having strong opinions, and like my Grandma Myrtle,”– always have something to say.”   OK.  I admit it.  I am as Abe Lincoln would say “four score and one years old.”   (I don’t want that silly “young” applied.)    I am an Historian, specifically Latin America, and United States History.   My degrees and advanced study qualify me to comment on historical matters, in my humble opinion.

I have had very few, if any, comments to my political posts.  Other current events are also things I post about now and then.   But these are usually not the posts my readers comment about.

I love to write about and post photos about lighter issues–like my garden, and my great-grand-kids.   Flowers are especially popular–and I do understand why.  My own favorite blogs and posts from the people that I follow, are travelogues, adventures in wild places that I can no longer hope to visit, and the flowers, birds, trees, sunsets, miscellaneous subjects.

Raising children….I no longer have any young children that I am personally responsible for.  My grandkids have kids, and they do a fine job of raising them.  But I LOVE the mom’s who write about daily adventures raising their children.  These blogs have stories and issues that I can personally relate to–even back in the day.   Being a Mother is not easy, and part of raising future generations is a great job.   I know…from experience.  Many of the worst problems of the world could be, or can be, solved by the Moms’ addressing of such things as male dominance, and general respect for women as equals.

I like to read about other bloggers adventures in Blogging, too.    There is a lot of camaraderie among bloggers, facing the same triumphs and tribulations.

In other words–I am personally and as a blogger interested in just about everything…and my own Blogging reflects that general interest.

More About Me…a sort of Newsletter

[Writing an ABOUT PAGE always reminds me of the “Holiday Newsletters” we used to get from relatives and friends—some welcome and fun, others not so much and more of an obligation to read.   I hope my About Page is informative, not obnoxious.   I offer these facts about my life for some kind of context for my Blog.]

I have had a full and exciting life so far, with lots of great opportunities and varied experience.

Sure, after high school I got to hop on a Navy ship and cross the Atlantic Ocean on a ship and spend a couple of years in Germany, living in new U.S. Army quarters.  It was right after World War II, and there were still bombed-out buildings in many of the cities and towns.   Back home in 1957, we lived at a number of military bases.

Then I fell in love with Tucson, Arizona…which to this day is like home to me.

Had five kids over a period of about ten years: one in Texas, two in Arizona, one in Pennsylvania, and one in Ohio.

Divorced and remarried in 1972.  My second husband was  Fire Chief in our Ohio town.

For awhile I dabbled in politics, worked for my pal the late U.S. Congressman Don J. Pease (D-13th Ohio) on campaigns during the mid-70s.    As Clerk of Council in my town, and secretary of planning and zoning boards, I used my writing for official purposes.

Worked for 18 years as a newspaper writer and reporter.

Decided I needed a “higher education” when I turned 50…half my life spent, the other half would be for Me.   So I enrolled at our wonderful Community College, and earned my Associate Degree in General Studies in 1988.

Then transferred my credits to Cleveland State University, and graduated with a Bachelors Degree in History, 1990.   I was accepted at the University of Akron, awarded a graduate assistantship in the History Department, and received my Masters of History in Latin American Studies.     Subsequently I entered the doctorate program, completed required academic work for a PhD, and then worked for ten years on my doctoral dissertation.  I did not complete the final version of numerous drafts, ran out of time, and–for reasons of procrastination–remain at the ABD, (All but Dissertation,) stage.

Let’s see…in my lifetime so far I have been fortunate in “falling into” wonderful opportunities.  Some I accepted, some not.   .

The single thing that has unified the threads of my life is — WRITING.   I have always been a writer since I was old enough to hold a pencil.   The writing has taken different paths, from fiction, school papers, university research projects, newspaper writing and reporting, and now writing on my WordPress blog.

Who am I — and What am I doing here?

[RE-POSTED from Sometimes, February 2015, edited slightly.)]

This is a hard thing to do, making up a sort of resumé, putting the right foot forward and all that. I have written about parts of my life story, so I’ll just fill in a few blanks and say a few facts. Facts are good.

Writing is my first love…since I was old enough to hold a pencil without poking out an eye, letters and words on a page have always fascinated me. Finally learning to actually read and write was thrilling for me. I read everything available, and still remember some of my favorite books even after all these years.

I have been around for more than four-score years, but please don’t anyone hold that against me. I try really hard to avoid being obnoxious or too much of a know-it-all, and I really do work at not being rude, out-spoken, or annoying. Everyone who knows me if they are reading this are rolling their eyes and saying “yeah, right!”

Blogging is one of the best things that has ever come to my attention. I did try journaling, keeping a diary, but that got old fast. My great-grandmother was a good diarist, whose life was filled with interesting things to write about: the Goodyear blimp’s maiden voyage over Akron Ohio, the Women’s Christian Temperance Union (WCTU) although I don’t think she ever wrecked any bars with an ax like Carrie Nation did…and she wrote often about her “soldier boy,” who was a Civil War cavalry man. My grandmother, on the other hand, didn’t enjoy writing much, and her entries complained about the garbage men banging up the trash cans, and the ice man dripping water all over the basement stairs, and how old her mother would have been had she lived past 93.

My work history includes having been a newspaper reporter, political hack at various times, city council clerk, and a full-time student once I hit the age of 50. I do hold a master’s degree in History, noteably United States and Latin American History, but ran short of a doctorate in History because I ended up ABD (all but dissertation) at about age 70…because I had other things to do that were more productive. Such as more writing, selling books and stuff on ebay.

My writing has found its home with WordPress, blogging satisfies my need to write about anything and everything, and I can go on and on about my life…and if anyone doesn’t want to read it they don’t have to. The story of my life history will just go on in cyberspace forever.

Five children, six grandchildren, and five great-grandchildren give me more fodder for great prose. I love CATS, nature, all kinds of needlework, collecting stuff…lots of stuff. I am a terrible housekeeper, a haphazard gardener, and a disorganized and distracted business person.

Whom do I want to read my blog? Anybody who wants to.    I love visitors and followers, and I have made a lot of friends here at WordPress.

So that’s who I am.