On This Memorial Day

I remember when....I remember the war where hate filled the German air with Hitler's breath, where patriotism was the order of the day here in the US. I remember my dad coming home, and my uncles coming back, after being shot out of a plane, being hit with mortar...

I remember the war and how we thought and how we felt and how we lived. You then voted for a President who can lead, not one who thanks the world for watching him blunder his way down the hallway to the TV to watch a news channel that thinks he's god's latest gift to greed and hate.

The people who chant tRump's name, who clap their hands, this is the death knell to our democracy if you can't understand who this person is who is standing in front of you...he's a killer, as if he held the gun himself..he's killing us all, a slow death.

We honor this Memorial day's passing of heroic people, men, women and children. I honor only them.

https://medium.com/@steverouach/trumps-very-fine-people-are-really-stepping-up-their-game-59cdd706bbcc?sk=7ee302c342b526b36ecba68e3cdad535&fbclid=IwAR0YcnsqS359o9BtD39RgU_2C2h3C3WjQ1TpHPTIVui6XPkKQPmQnfO88VU

My haiku for you~Search Your Soul

life travels through time

stop, look, listen to heartbeats
hear with compassion

"The Bookwoman of Troublesome Creek", a review

Kim Michele Richardson's novel, "The Bookwoman of Troublesome Creek".

April 14th, I picked up my book. April 28th, I put the book down. Usually it doesn’t take me this long to read a book.

It never fails, but when I read Kim’s words, the cadence of a metronome starts to click back and forth in my head. That’s when I start to feel the words, the characters, the beat of these hearts start to connect with mine.  Every good writer has a cadence, but none I feel more than Kim’s.

Chapter 3, I see the old mule Junia plodding along carrying Bookwoman Cussy Mary, stopping in the middle of the stream, she hesitates, listening; I can feel the trepidation of continuing, but when Junia does it's steady and forward. The beat goes on, one step after another...then it’s either a full stop, or a full gallop. Yes, good writing is like music to my ears, and Kim adds just the right amount of beats to her lines.

Stories like these always have me stopping and starting, hesitating to take time out to think; sometimes I’m upset about what’s happening to a character, one like Cussy Mary, the blue skinned bookwoman.  She’s endearing, she’s loved, she’s hated, she’s ridiculed. You name it and Kim will take you there with unbridled emotions. And being an emotional reader, I’m sensitive to the words of every character in this novel.  It levels me to unbelief, even though I know it as truths. How one human being can treat another human being, it doesn’t matter that this novel takes place in the 1930s, it still rings true in this year of 2019.

Years pass, but feelings don’t where prejudices exist.  Hate versus love, love soothes my being, where hate turns my anger over and over within my soul to the point where I have to lay what I'm reading down before I explode.

Cussy Mary has blue skin, a rare genetic anomaly, and is treated as “colored” where anything other than white isn’t acceptable. She’s nineteen, living with her coal miner father, who also has his day to day trials; health, danger, unions, corporate greed; it feels like there is no relief in this downtrodden life where they find themselves in.  To bring joy of the written word is hard to come by in this story, even with the deliveries of books and letters to patrons along Cussy Mary’s book traveling route; trying to add a bit of love and caring along the way to the people, both adults and children, it’s simply a struggle of one sort or another.

I have to put the book down and rest my eyes and my heart.  This story isn’t just about the book women; it’s not just about the blue color of Cussy’s skin, or another colored skin; it’s not just about the hardships of this Kentucky life, it’s about human rights and the color of human hate that tries to squelch those rights to be able to live and love free, to work free and to marry free. Freedom is at the core of this story.  How each of us finds it is shown to all by Kim Michele Richardson.

My Haiku for you~~ Spring

Catch me if you can
Put your warm arms around me
Hold on to Springtime

Haiku for you...Heaven Only Knows

so many ripples
from so many tear stained eyes
heaven only knows





the brutality
the hate filled world of humans
evil is not kind

A Haiku for you~The Future

all that's going down
all that's floating to the ground
all that is to hit the fan

Lunch With Girlfriends, By Kathy O’Malley

Elaine’s vertigo has never been worse

Kay can’t recall where she left her purse

Rhonda’s about to replace her knees

Linda’s breathing is tinged with a wheeze

Donna's left boob has a troublesome lump

Diane’s on her third trip to take a dump

Lorraine’s husband can’t remember a thing

Nine years a widow, Marge still wears her ring

Marlene is dealing with another UTI

Sally’s giving a hearing aid another try

Marie has decided she can’t drive at night

Sharon still wears clothes two sizes too tight

They’ve been through divorces and babies and wakes

They do for each other whatever it takes

They’ve already buried Marcia and Kate

And truthfully, Lizzie’s not looking so great

So whenever they can, they get out to eat

Open bottles of wine and forget their sore feet

There’s laughing and crying and letting down guards

And when the bill comes, there’s ten credit cards

So here’s to the waiters who keep orders straight

And to the places that let lunches run three hours late

And here’s to the girlfriends, those near and those far

Here's to the girlfriends, you know who you are!!!

An Old Friend

Sitting down and playing the piano and singing today, after so many years...felt like I lost a dear friend.

My hands aren't what they used to be, I know, and neither is my voice...the old saying comes to mind, if you don't use it you lose it.

I bought my current  piano from one of my neighbors after she passed away...she was one of our piano accompanist when I was in a singing group….this piano just never has fit me. I know that may sound strange to anyone who has never played, but it's like a car, it has to fit the driver.

I had bought my baby grand while living in California, from a piano company in Oceanside... it was in the back room as a trade in.  

When I walked into the showroom, I ran my hands over the keys of all the new pianos...why I don't know, because I’m never happy to play new pianos….the keys are so stiff and unresponsive...the sales gentleman saw me, asked if I’d like to see the one they had just gotten in...in the back room… As soon as I saw it I fell in love...I sat down  and touched the keys. I knew it was mine….and they were so happy to see me buy it, they had no use for old used pianos. At no extra charge they shipped it to me and paid for the tuning!

I moved that piano five more times, and the fifth time was to my nephews home in Utah.   When I moved to Utah I had no room for it in my duplex, but it fit right in with the decor of my nephews home, which was just two doors down the street.  They tuned it up and took good care of it.
After a few years I moved back to California but left my baby grand with its new owners, it couldn't be moved again, and I knew they'd take good care of it and love it as much as I did.

I do miss it though, the music sat at just the right, eye level height, the keys were ivory, the soft touch and tone was magical…

I guess playing on this piano I have now sounds and feels so out of key, reminding me of my beautiful old friend I loved and lost.

Random Words...

Words layer, mounting refuge within lines
Cold then hot, seeking temperatures blind
There is no right, there is no wrong
Sing to me refrain, your beautiful song

Review: James Comey, "A Higher Loyalty"

I finished reading James Comey's book today. I needed a break from reading, so finishing this book wasn't as fast as starting it, because once I put it in my hands, I couldn't put it down; and as each day brings us into these ever present situations of daily reality and problems, I got tired. I've learned to know when to back off. I put it aside for a while, as it delved deeper and deeper into the crux of what this political field is all about. No, it wasn't a story about politics, it was a story about the sacredness of truths within these government walls, and the lies that people want to hold dear as to gain the spotlight; and most of all the falsehoods and hollowness of "loyalty" which is explained to a powerful degree...

Comey managed to lay it all out in plain sight. As he wrote, nothing he has said is classified, you can be sure of that, and what he did say had to be told, I was sure of that. As was said in this book, the press has made it perfectly clear what the truth was and is. No fake news when the majority of reporters are reporting the same thing!

And as far as Comey's relationship with Trump, Comey's based it on his relationships that go way back in his history, far beyond one president; his background in state and federal law is beyond extensive; his background is beyond reproach in knowing right from wrong, truth from lies; as he's prosecuted and represented people of notoriety and all walks of life, which I hadn't known before reading his accounts of some of these trials...some accounts are limited and brief in the telling, some are expanded and interrelated, all following a common thread...

As I neared the end of the last chapter, it's emotional content came unexpectedly, and you can be sure it makes it all worth the pleasure to read this book.

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Review: "What Nora Knew" by Linda Yellin

Linda’s story is a laugh a minute, a quip a minute...the humor is like sequence falling out of a jar, scattering and sticking throughout the pages.  Linda’s humor reflects truths, contemplates truths, then turning the next page to an emotional guessing game when the character, Molly, approaches 40, her truth.

Twice this week I've been told I'm analytical...is it the writer in me who questions? Is it the science and medical background in me seeking the truth? is it the teacher, the golfer or the candlestick maker in me...(yes, I've made candle sticks)...it must mean my mind isn't made up at first glance...look for the obvious, and throw it out, except in the case of Molly, Linda Yellin's main character, she doesn't let anyone stand in her way to seeking the truth to her article quests.

Linda's novel is a tease, love is her tease...who’s next in line to be Molly’s next boyfriend?

To the finish line...3a.m.  I do remember the movies, Sleepless In Seattle, When Harry Met Sally, and You’ve Got Mail, all of which are scattered throughout Linda Yellin’s Novel, referring to Nora Ephron as a tribute.  To be honest, I’ve never read a Nora Ephron novel, but I sure loved these movies!

What is love and when and how do you know when you’ve found it?  The funny thing about this is, I’ve written about all of those questions, and finding the answers wasn’t easy...it took a ton of soul searching and analytical excavation...and years...it's probably plastered all over this blog.  But Molly is a romantic, more or less, and seeking that special someone is her up and down quest, except she constantly second guesses herself.

I thoroughly enjoyed this story and especially the humor in Linda’s writing, better than the alternative of crying over spilt boyfriends...I won’t even hint about how it proceeds and ends...that’s your quest to read and guess!

Lovers

Photograph by Kathleen Sara Shattuck

Lovers stroll along the sand

...clouds dim a fading sun

Church bells toll

...a bird flies upon the shore

Catch the light!

...silhouettes echoing hymns

Listen deeply, listen long

...and hold each other’s hand

My Review~ "The Sisters of Glass Ferry" by Kim Michele Richardson

...this is Kim's third and latest work of fiction. I've read them all.

My first insight: Her words are nothing less than poetic...She sculpts her words with texture...a true artist indeed. I read her stories and absorb the beauty of each word...they hang in midair, then slowly and softly fall between leaves to an earth as warm as her voice.

My second insight: She doesn't write for the faint of heart, this story is not a story to be reading at night. There are scenes that are alive with ghosts...the past haunts Ebenezer Road; and the people who traverse this road, which passes by the once old dwelling that harbored it’s secrets, are deemed to regret their actions.

My third insight: I've been reading this story slowly, mainly trying to go with the flow of language steeped in Kentucky bourbon vernacular - sometimes easy to grasp, sometimes hard, sometimes just curiously mysterious. I was about half-way through last night and couldn't put it down...but I did, three times! Each time the light went out I found I couldn’t sleep, then turned the light back on and read further.

My fourth insight: My heart twisted like a corkscrew at times, I cried at the hurt these people felt; I hurt easily from the words that Kim puts in her character’s mouths. Touching and gentle at times, I cried...then harsh and hurtful, or caring, or hateful...these are the people of Glass Ferry, Kentucky.

Lives matter, people matter, but lies and gossip cultivate hate, and disquiet the memories of those we love in this small community. Kim finds these memories and puts this mixture into a story of Literary Fiction that is not for the faint of heart.

My fifth insight: Kim pokes and prods at these memories and emotions until I cry again...the mystery that is contained in this story, and of her characters, are ominous and compelling until it came to an end. It’s one story my emotions got the better of me. She left me wondering throughout each page...who did what to whom and why? The “why” is what I wanted answered on many occasions.

Of course characters have a mind of their own, they aren’t you and they aren’t me, and their actions and reactions aren’t always ours. Yes, I questioned their motives, and impatiently waited for the answers until I found them.

Like I said, lies are a mainstay in this story...we tell them, we complicate life with them, and we end up digging our own graves with them. Kim doesn’t fool around, she cuts to the heart of the matter, and takes your heart along with these characters', and with her's.

I recommend this book to those who love words, loves an emotional challenge...but there are the gentle sway and tilt that leads to the harsh realities of life; all of which creates a complex story in a mystery of two sisters and the people they touched - and All is ultimately left to the eye of the reader. 

Happy New Year!

Photograph by Julie Shattuck

Avoiding rain drops, racing to and around drops, large drops, round drops, beating a drumming sound on the ground drops.

Beat to the rhythm of a foreign beat, bursting in splashes across worn feet, step aside my tired old feet, give me a chance to cross this wide street.

Hurry now, you mustn't be late now, you’re off to the party, a furlong of races, where you are forbidden to fall on bad graces.

Splishing-splashing through the street you go, carrying an umbrella, only for show?  Off to the party, a little bit drenched, don’t fall, don’t stumble, or trip on a bench.

You made it on time, where time was of the essence, greeting the host, all smiles larger than most.

Prepare for a feast my hungry friends, find you a chair, to be served the finest fair.

Music to be heard, dancing to be done

take a partner, don't sit and hum.

Midnight strikes and bells will be ringing, ushering the New Year we all will be sing!

My Haiku for you~Light

sun grows dim then bright

summer months will turn to snow

trees covered in light

Waspish Old Crone

I beseech thee thy bloody waspish crone

Stay away from me, or there will be hell to pay

Hold your tongue and leave this space before me

She held her breath only to sputter and start again with a choke

Her answer back was a short sentence bleat and a strangled croak

Leaving the premises she walked a crooked mile, then belched from bloat

Her hand rises, and piece by piece wipes the earth of heart and soul

Lingering for a moment to glimpse back, turning all diamonds to coal

Paint thy picture any way you choose, and the world becomes cold

The crone sits now in silence, observing her landscape, barren dust

The metal was gold, now tossed aside for steel, only to lie to rust

Who are thee, old crone, they neighbor, they brother, who can we trust?

My Haiku for you ~Autumn

leaves cover the ground
golds and reds, changing colors
warmth from earth turns brown

friendships end-Haiku

The light flickered dim

The light went out completely

The darkness exists

Flip the switch to on

Flip the switch to on and off

The switch is broken

A Song of Love

Do you love me, a song reverberated in her ear

Do you love me, do you hear

A melody, an old verse thumping against her heart

A melody, together with song from the start

Trapped in a mood, a mood of tangled lyrics cascading down

Trapped within a collage of pictures simulating love with sound

Love set to rhythms of solid drum beats

Love set to harp strings where angel wings meet

you love me, she wished

you love me, she proclaimed
you love me, she sang

Thanksgiving Blessings To All

Photograph by Kathleen S. Shattuck

Seeing to the future, all wonders of light, miracles happen, not out of sight.

Fill up your lungs, go towards day, expel the dangers far, far away.

Hallowed the hills of saints gone by, precious the keepers of truth over lie.

Never forsake, always accept, for the blessings of giving will never reject.

Hold out your hand, one to another, forgiveness is near, when held as a brother.

Nature’s bounty, and nature's glory, extend your hearts and erase all worry.

Grasp the hand, hug to your breast, the ache of your heart will now be at rest.

Embrace the goodness of Thanksgiving kindness, holding one another, dear in their shyness.