Neverland Revisited

UNOCCUPIED

2011-12-01T09:01:00.000-08:00

Men being men, women being women

It’s something we’ve all forgotten how to do

I’m not talking about who you love, who you screw

I’m talking about just being you

Mommy always told us

Daddy always showed us

Now we’re holding signs that demand

Mr. President please hold our hand.

Well the President’s got other things to occupy his mind

People starving, people dying—people who were just trying

Soldiers bombing in the night

Killing children, causing fright

As we step over the bodies, hands held out

Mouths filled with nothing but shout.

We all went to school

But we’ve forgotten how to think

Carrying awards for last place

We’ve forgotten how to race

We can chant and we can cry

We learned that at knee high.

Dad broke his back

So you could be some coffee-shop-writing-hack

And mom worked so hard

So I could carry this card—

“Woe is me, Woe is me. Always the duck in this game of geese.”

Take that poetry degree

Light a match, set it on fire

Paper has no power to inspire

The pen may be mightier than the sword

But action divorces direction if it’s lost in a hoard.

Blocks & Lots: An HP parody of Rihanna's S&M

2011-11-03T09:35:00.000-07:00

What I did instead of paper research, sigh :

Na na na na

Bushwick

Na na na na

Bushwick

Na na na na na

Bushwick

Na na na na

Bushwick, Bushwick, Bushwick

Na na na na

Bushwick

Na na na na

Bushwick

Na na na na na

Bushwick

Na na na na

Bushwick, Bushwick, Bushwick

Na na na na

Feels so good at the DOB (Oh oh oh oh oh)

There's no way I won’t come back (Oh oh oh oh oh)

Now the files are my pleasure cause the dates we couldn’t measure (Oh oh oh oh oh)

HP is great, HP is fine (Oh oh oh oh oh)

Out the archive, outta time (Oh oh oh oh oh)

The addiction of the records leaves me wanting more (Oh oh oh oh oh)

Cause I may be dirty, but I'm perfectly fine with it

Dust in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it

Bricks and slate may be out of date

But NBs and Alts excite me

Cause I may be dusty, but I'm perfectly fine with it

Mold in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it

Vinyl and siding I may hate

But blocks and lots excite me

Na na na na

Bushwick, Bushwick, Bushwick

I like it-like it

Bushwick, Bushwick, Bushwick

I like it-like it

Bushwick, Bushwick, Bushwick

I like it-like it (Na na na)

Bushwick, Bushwick, Bushwick

I like it-like it

NY is great, NY is fine (Oh oh oh oh oh)

Out of info, outta files (Oh oh oh oh oh)

The addiction to finding leaves me wanting more (Oh oh oh oh oh)

Cause I may be nerdy, but I'm perfectly fine with it

Asbestos in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it

Plaster and putty lose their integrity

But stone and wood excite me

Na na na na

Bushwick, Bushwick, Bushwick

I like it-like it

Bushwick, Bushwick, Bushwick

I like it-like it (Na na na)

Bushwick, Bushwick, Bushwick

I like it-like it

Bushwick, Bushwick, Bushwick

I like it-like it

Blocks & Lots

Oh, I love the history you give to me, oh, you turn me on

It's exactly what I've been learning for, give it to me strong

And meet me in the library, make my mind say ah ah ah

I like it-like it

Cause I may be geeky, but I'm perfectly fine with it

Dirt in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it

Real estate records may make me confused

But census lists excite me

Cause I may be dorky, but I'm perfectly fine with it

Old in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it

Class and school may make me snooze

But CAD and maps excite me

Na na na na

Bushwick, Bushwick, Bushwick

I like it-like it

Bushwick, Bushwick, Bushwick

I like it-like it (Na na na)

Bushwick, Bushwick, Bushwick

I like it-like it

Bushwick, Bushwick, Bushwick

I like it-like it

Blocks & Lots

I Don't Wanna Go to Class-A parody of the late Amy Winehouse's Rehab

2011-11-03T09:31:00.000-07:00

For those of us just waiting until Christmas break....

They tried to make me go to class and I said no no no

Yes, I am resting but when it comes to testing I know know know

I ain’t got the time if my grades are still fine

They tried to make me go to class I won’t go go go

I'd rather be on my couch

I ain’t got five days a week

Cause there’s nothing, there’s nothing you can teach me

I can’t learn from Wikipedia

Didn’t get a lot from school

But I know I ain’t no fool

They tried to make me go to lab, I said no no no

Yes, I am fine and when I get mine you’ll know know know

I ain’t got the time if the answers are online

They tried to make me go to lab I won’t go go go

The teacher said, “Why do you think you’re here?”

I said, “I need a degree”

So I can, so I can make some money

I always keep my resume near

He said, “I just think you’re a slacker”

This me, “Yeah, but I’m doing my best”

They tried to make me go to lecture I said no no no

Yes, it's not fair, but I just don't care you know know know

I don’t ever wanna think again

I just, ohhh, need to pass

I’m not gonna spend the months

Have everyone think I’m a fool

And it’s not a long wait

It’s just until they let me graduate

They tried to make me go to school and I said no no no

Yes, I could try but when I am fly you’ll know know know

I ain’t got the time if my thesis is still fine

They tried to make me go to school I won’t go go go

Gunfights

2011-05-17T21:26:00.000-07:00

I'm quick to the draw and I'm quick to the punch
In a gun fight I'll always draw first
I shoot from the hip
I don't wait for the count
There's always a choice
And the choice is made for me
In a gun fight I'll always draw first

They don't call me Calamity Jane
They don't say get your gun, Annie Oakley
They shut up their doors
And they lock up their whores
So their men don't get caught in the fire

I'm quick to the draw and I'm quick to the punch
In a gun fight I'll always draw first
I shoot from the hip
I don't wait for the count
There's always a choice
And the choice is made for me
In a gun fight I'll always draw first

They don't call me Calamity Jane
They don't say get your gun, Annie Oakley
They shovel and they dig
And they bury the bodies
And in their whispers they wish me to hell

This is Preservation

2011-05-07T21:24:00.000-07:00

Abstract from the Paper “This is My Land”

In the summer of 2010, activist Rolando Briseño led a group of four actors in setting up an upside-down statue of San Antonio in front of the Alamo in what he called the “Flippin’ San Alamo Fiesta: Cultural Adjustment Performance.”[1] TexasMonthly reported that the upside down statue is part of a Catholic tradition that symbolizes prayer. However, the action could have an even stronger interpretation—some believe that an upside-down talisman of San Antonio has the power to return lost items.[2] And, indeed, Briseño would like to see the restoration of a positive Mexican American role in Alamo history. His goal is to “reconceptualize the Alamo as a space for celebrating the confluences of cultures—Native American, African, Mexican, and Anglo—rather than as a shrine to Anglo dominance”.

In the purest sense, historic preservation is not about rewriting history, but about preserving what’s there already. However, as issues of culture and heritage are highlighted in our increasingly diverse society, preservationists may have to become comfortable with the broadening definition of their jobs. We are starting to ask are we just preserving for the sake of preservation, if not, then why? As students of historic preservation, we are taught to read a building, but we should also become comfortable with restructuring that history. Not in the sense that we can make physical alterations, but in the sense that we are not afraid to challenge the traditional authorized heritage discourse in order to tell a more nuanced story, even in sites of controversy. Through interpretation we become historians; we must be responsible with the history we tell.

[1] Silva, Elda “Turning culture on its head.” San Antonio Express-News, K.5. June 13, 2010. Retrieved December 12, 2010, from ProQuest National Newspapers Premier.

[2] “Invoking the Saints with Talismans and Other Amulets.” Unhealthy Devotions. 2008 http://www.unhealthydevotions.com/new-age/invoking-saints-with-talismans-amulets.htm

Old

2011-01-30T00:27:00.000-08:00

i wish i was old
and it was all done, and i knew that we made it
you,me, us, them
i just wanna know, that we'll all make it through.
him from the fourth grade
and her from the eighth
and those from the uni
and those after that
the first boy that i kissed
and the last.
i just wanna know, that we'll all get to here
and that here is somewhere, we'll all wanna to be.
i wanna be old, looking back
and i wanna like what i see

I Thought I was a Bird

2011-01-30T00:14:00.001-08:00

I thought I was a bird in a cage
I thought I was a bird in a cage
I thought I was a bird in a cage
................And then the cage was open
Open, and I couldn't fly.
The wings-misshapen
The feathers-frail--
Can't even lift them...
Can't even bend them.
Oh, to fall and die
And die a proper, tragic death.
Oh, to break my wings--
To break these useless wings
To die and have them think:
I broke my wings.
Bird in a cage
Bird in a cage
I wish I were a bird in a cage
I wish I needed that cage--
Was still in that cage.
A bird in a cage,
Is still a bird, still a bird, still a bird...

2010-12-20T00:02:00.001-08:00

When I was a child, I thought like a child

And now that I’m grown I still do

The part of me that’s young will always love you

And the tears of my youth

Are still salty with truth

Even though I am decades from there

I’ve got war scars and battle paint, but inside I fear

The monster ‘neath the bed still gives me a start

And you’ll always be the first to have broken my heart

Quick Quick

2010-10-06T23:20:00.000-07:00

If I could be there then I would, if I could I would drive but I can’t so break my heart--take apart all the pieces and keep one for you.

If I was there then I would hold you till the morning and let you go so I could see your smile and the twinkle in your eye for just a tiny little while.

Quick quick slow slow, life’s a dance and this is just the pause between the steps.

Quick quick, slow slow, if I could walk there then I would and we could talk the night away. I would laugh at all the jokes you ever told because I’m bought, off the shelf, I’m sold.

But I can’t so break my heart take apart all the pieces-- keep one for you.

Quick, quick, slow slow describes when I’m with you, then when I’m not.

But if could I’d be there and if you could you’d be here, so our rhythm is still in time quick quick. Slow slow…quick quick, slow slow…

SnapIt

2010-09-10T13:42:00.000-07:00

Hello,

I've never done this before, but I've had a request to advertise SnapIt, a screen capture tools, which looks very handy. If I get a chance to try it I will post a review, if you've already tried it, post a review here. There is also a free giveaway for readers who create a review in any online format and email the link to julia.taylor@digeus.com. Thanks

2010-06-17T17:07:00.000-07:00

The great ones dare, not just to dream,
But walk on paths unseen

urban night

2010-06-04T03:52:00.000-07:00

in this night there is a fire
hot like tears and blood
not yet spilt
boiling

two men a at a terminal

_________train comes

one gets on
the second turns, walks
_________________up
___________________the stairs

into the cool night air
not today, not today...
trudge, trudge, trudge
his heel rolls a stone out of the way
it hits a CAN
he tenses

from the window on the right

a couple making love

one foot follows the other
streetwalker calls out "are you lonely"

it's not her he wants to taste
there is a certain door

he needs

as he passes the dark hole _________of another station...

more trains there
but not today.
bums urinating on the
_________________wall.

from memory
one turn, a few steps
turn again at the
____________corner
electricity hums through the wires
by the post where the old dance stops
damn THIS night, THAT train
door opens before he knocks
like she always does

Pool (from HS years)

2010-06-04T03:24:00.000-07:00

She stands 5’ll in a pink bathing suit
One size too big so it’s a little baggy.
Tall and slim, wearing no swim cap
Because she hates the way they look.
Hair pushed hastily back
Held in place by her ears.
Quickly she climbs the ladder
Fingers embracing cold metal.
Pulls herself up
To stand
On the white diving board.
Walks steady, slowly to the end
Toes grip the edge
Hard, so she can feel it.
The water, clear and smooth, below.
Signs read 12ft
But she can’t be sure from up here
Looking up she bounces 1,2,3 times
Testing her limits
Arms out, eyes closed
She pushes off
And feels the water getting closer.
Eyes closed, hands together
She breaks the surface, no splash.
The water opens to accept her.
Rising to the air she gasps
And swims to the ladder.
She will do this
At least five times more.

Poisoned

2010-04-22T20:45:00.000-07:00

Love, your love has poisoned me
And you have used me brutally
The infection started in my eyes
Spread down my neck, like a shiver--
Down my thighs
Up into my heart
Through my every part
My veins are full of poison.

Love, your love has poisoned me
Weakened, you are all I see
Dazed, I am euphoric
Your love has made me parasitic
Starved, you're all I crave
Your love will put me in the grave
My appetites, my mind, this body
Are under your disease.

Love, your love has poisoned me
The only cure is separation
Which would kill me with its desperation.

Song Lyrics

2010-04-17T00:55:00.000-07:00

You can tell me, little girl
All your fears, you can tell me
Little girl, why your eyes
Fill with tears
You can tell me
Little girl, why you scream all night long
You can tell me
Little girl
Little girl
And I'll come help you fight
It's a far far trip from here
This place they call happiness
But if we try, we can get there
Little girl
Before they give away all the smiles
We'll get one for me
And two for you
And that'll be
Enough for we
Little girl...little girl

Only Fiction

2010-03-26T01:35:00.000-07:00

man is not meant to be a god
which is why he can kill and not create
the power of death is a lie
intoxicating like wine
for a moment you are free
limitless, seamless,
but blood, like wine, wears off
until there is only death
that you cannot end, your power
is powerless and you hate it
it reminds you that you are worthless
fragile, you can fall apart
the poisoned apple has not made you divine
but maybe the next one will
to kill again will set you free
and so I do
I touch heaven as it turns into hell

The Numbers of US-for my grandparents' anniversary

2010-02-26T23:42:00.000-08:00

The Greeks had 4 types of love
Yours, like most, started with 1 or 2
Then gradually grew to all
Necessary for the 60 years of you and he
21,900 days of unity
2 lives turned into 29
9 children became 14—
Grandchildren, resulted in 6—
Great-grandchildren
Equals the sum of
A love story begun
6 decades ago
Off the coast
Of 1 continent away
On a 2-island nation
Population 636,000, as of 1950
Funny, that he should find she
That these 2 became 1
Under the Trinity of Holy Ghost, Father, Son—
Granter of innumerable blessings
To bear this pair from day 1 to eternity.

2010-02-26T23:41:00.000-08:00

We're not as related as before, you and me
I am a synthesis of multiple ethnicities
From the way that I walk
To the way that I talk
You are my brother--
Down to the very last strand
Of your DNA
But I am mixed, and you are not
For eight years we shared a classroom
Sometimes a bedroom, the experiences
Of our trans-cultural childhood—
The stories of our heritage.
Then you forgot.
The foods, you grew to dislike.
The mother/father lands, you didn't know.
I am not American, and I am,
But you always are.
You have been this and then that
While I am always those and these
"I am Mexican," you might say
"I am not just," I would think
"Don't you remember," I might ask
"Remember what?" you would answer
That Tamar of Genesis is our mother
And Judah is our father
That our great-step-grandmother was a Trini witch
That Zapata was our comrade
That your blood is European, your skin Indian
While your hair is French, your eyes Chinese
"I am me" you would say
Not wanting to be taken apart
"And I am me, but these are us, "I would know
Liking the pieces
"We’re just brown," you'd say
"Not just," I'd answer.
Which is why we are less related now
Than then
Because I am mixed
And you are not.

Mixed Girls

2010-01-31T00:56:00.000-08:00

Trace my skin:
White and black and brown—
Indescribable, I am all the colors in between.

Look in my eyes:
Slanted, big and small—
They’re all the shapes of round.

Feel my hair:
It’s curly, kinky, nappy
Sleek and straight and soft.

Kiss my lips:
Full and wide, small and thin.

Run your hands—
Down the sides of my pear-shaped,
Hourglass, will-o’-the-wisp hips.

I am tall and short, old and young
Beautiful in my own way.

Wrap me in your arms
Embrace the history
Of the seven continents of me.

Don’t ask—
Don’t let the details matter.
For now, just let it be me and you.

2009-12-28T02:44:00.000-08:00

I have written a picture of me
In ballpoint black and blue
I have typed it in Calibri
And shown the world and you
These are things I will not say
Things I know are true
That I will deny every day

Thou shall not lie, I think
But I am not strong enough to do
I will make confessions in ink
On pages white and new
Reflections clearer than glass
Forgiveness, God, I ask of you
Please hear my silent mass

The shame isn’t mine alone
Or the nakedness I might bare
A better, could silence hone
My weakness makes me share
Though strength lets me hide
I beg, appease the guilt I fear
In no one else can I confide

Excuses are not cared for
But I’m broken as you know
Healed by your blood and more
Not whole, I still must grow
I’m a ways from perfect ten
A writer, waiting for the Word to show
In Jesus’ name, Amen

Role Reversal

2009-12-28T02:07:00.000-08:00

I don’t want to hear your secret thoughts,
And I do.

Every piece of you,
Will cost a piece of me.

I have enough to spare,
But then no more.

Just seeing you,
Is taking more than that.

You must understand,
We never can go back.

It should be my decision,
I have more to lose.

You can’t see it,
But I’ve given you the choice.

You don’t know it,
Or you never would have asked.

It’s better,
If I know you didn’t know.

I can still love you,
If I can feel it this way.

Silly, I will always love you,
Even if you knew.

You have always loved me,
When I was you.

Tops

2009-12-28T01:47:00.000-08:00

spin
spinning
spun
the top keeps its rotation
not of its own volition
poor top,
somebody set it in motion
and has yet to say stop
gravity will intervene
the top will careen
up or down
into the nearest object
scraping it brightly painted sides.
that somebody,
who began its circulation,
will put it away,
a chipped and damaged toy
better left on the shelf--
collected
than on the ground rejected
spin
spinning
spun

The Conclusion

2009-12-28T01:28:00.000-08:00

They were talking, not understanding

Going through motions long rehearsed

The words had lost their meaning

But not their function

Love is a thousand actions

But a thousand actions are not love

She said she was just tired

And he said they had seen better days

But all the days led to this one

And this one came a hundred times

Duty-bound--

The last three decades had been slow

Slow enough for her to see

Slow enough for him to know

He was not the man she chose

And she was not the woman—

Who chose him

Details, easy to ignore

Between driving children to school

And picking them up after sports

Gone now and only the sound,

The necessity of conversation left

Her kisses cold with irrelevance

His-- hot with remembrance

Together lukewarm--

From bliss born of ignorance

I Am Mixed

2009-10-04T00:00:00.000-07:00

Multicultural, biracial, mixed, mestiza
Ethnicity, ethnocentric, anomaly
Race, culture, identity
Your blood mixed with mine
The historiography of my parents' sexuality
The power play between two shades of brown
Descriptions, constructions, definitions—

I am not a conglomeration of labels
Races put on like cloaks
Stripped down into stereotypes
Condensed for people who are not me.
Not just two halves of what you can’t see
You want to know me?
Then ask.

I am the only one with eyes that see this view
You don’t know what my hands can do
Your heart has never loved who I loved
Your brain never thought the thoughts I think
Your feet don’t plod the path I trod.

I am multidimensional, multi-intentional, multi-generational
So much more than multiracial
Yes, my blood is multinational
It may be rich but it’s still red
So much more than a statistic
Of colored people who shared a bed.

Eyes on the Sparrow-Savanna Nolan

2009-09-04T13:22:00.000-07:00

Another new poem by Guest Poet Savanna Nolan

Cary Grant once said something like
“I faked it until it was true.”
And so, feeling like a small, french-fry-driven sparrow
I tried to enter the room with the swagger of a dragon, an impenetrable hide.
One small stumble—a spill, a botched job, wrong name—
Is all it takes to spoil the masquerade
And in the blaze of a blush the dragon is gone
And only the small sparrow remains,
Drenched by rain and mistakes,
Frantically searching for french fries.

Tracheotomy-Savanna Nolan

2009-09-04T13:21:00.000-07:00

New poem by Guest Poet Savanna Nolan

Sir, I am more than just my chart.
I am a person, not a med student’s treat,
and though I don’t speak and my flesh is char-
ed, I am more than a puzzle of meat
that you talk to in search of a trace
of life. You don’t talk about yourself, but I cheat
and know enough of life to see through your chat.
I see the ring you wear—your favorite charm—
from the sweetheart asleep in a bed you long to race
home to. Finish with me and she’s just a tram
ride away—the cure to your heart’s ache.

To John, Over the Years

2009-08-16T15:12:00.000-07:00

Hello,

Frances remembers when you left
the tears dropped in her oatmeal.

Frances wanted to follow the tracks you made
she was angry when i wouldn't let her.

Frances slept with your shirt tonight
she thought that she could smell you.

You should call Frances
she needs to hear your voice.

Frances took down all your pictures
she put them in a box.

Frances didn't want to go to school today
she hoped that you would take her.

Frances tried to call you
the number didn't work.

Yesterday, Frances was in a play
I saw her check the crowd for you.

Frances got her ears pierced
she didn't mention you.

it was Frances' birthday
she kept checking the mail.

Frances kissed a boy today
i don't think she wanted you to know.

Frances fell in love
she wanted to ask you a question.

the boy Frances was with left
she said he was just like you.

Frances graduated today
i thought you'd like this picture.

Frances moved into her dorm
you were nowhere on her mind.

Frances has been thinking a lot
she wondered where you were.

Frances bought a car
she asked some guy to help her.

Frances got her masters
she went somewhere for a job.

Frances moved back in
she wanted to be close.

Frances saw me writing this
she said that i should stop.

Frances met a boy
she said he's not like you.

Frances got a ring tonight
she's planning her new life.

Frances didn't want to go down the aisle
she thought that you would call.

Frances' husband bought a house
they want to start a family.

Frances said you're not invited...

i guess that's all,
um, you can write if you want.

Series Review: Harry Potter and the Author Who Didn’t Know When to Stop

2009-08-10T00:39:00.000-07:00

You're going to hate me now...

click on images for sources

For more than 10 years the world has been suffering from Harry Potter mania. In 1997, J.K. Rowling released the first Potter book. Today, with books, movies, video games and other merchandise, the Harry Potter brand is now worth $15 million (exchange4media). Rowling’s seven books have been translated into 64 languages and sold over 375 million copies (Glovin). She is now the highest earning novelist in history, a history that has included the likes of Charles Dickens, Oscar Wilde and C.S. Lewis and for that I have to respect her. But 4,126 long pages after I opened the first installment of Harry Potter to when I closed the last book, I still have no idea why the series has became a worldwide phenomena. It’s just not that good.

True, the books are an easy read with a fairly entertaining plotline but they’re not much more than that. Readers around the world have been arguing about whether or not the books contain any social implications, but after reading them all you can find is the classic good versus evil conflict (Bristow). Compared with books like The Chronicles of Narnia in which messages about religion and humanity were cleverly tucked inside enthralling children’s stories about a secret world, Harry Potter seems flat.

The characters themselves are one dimensional, Hermione is the brains, Ron is the comic relief, and Harry is the Average Joe who succeeds with a lot of help from his friends and more than a little bit of luck. Rowling claimed that the latter half of the series was more mature, but all that happened was a few characters were killed off in some deus ex machina plot twists and Harry became an angst ridden adolescent over his obviously doomed to fail relationship with the older, stereotypically named, Cho Chang.

Yet, even with all of these shortcomings the entire plotline of all seven books isn’t bad at all. It’s entertaining and simplistic, you can enjoy it without having to put very much thought into it, it’s literary fast food. The problem with fast food is that too much makes you sick and Rowling doesn’t seem to understand this. Several hundred of her 4,126 pages are not only pointless but also boring. She could have told the same story much more effectively in half that number pages.

Rowling not only violates the less-is-more guideline of writing by also the show-don’t-tell rule. After the release of the final Potter book, Rowling made an announcement that came as a surprise to many fans- Harry’s mentor and one of the main characters, Dumbledore was gay and had a love affair (Siegel). Once a book is published a writer shouldn’t be able to announce parts that she neglected to actually write in the books. A series like Harry Potter needs to be a complete world on its own, just as The Chronicles of Narnia and The Lord of Rings are. If anyone can read more than four thousand pages of a seven book series and not know that one of the main characters is gay and lived a full, but secret, life then the writer of those pages has not done her job.

Oh, and just in case this essay isn’t clear, it was supposed to be about how Harry Potter is actually a great literary work, I just neglected to mention that.

Works Cited

1. Exchange4media.com. International: Harry Potter, the $15 Billion Man. 5-26-08.
http://www.exchange4media.com/kids/KidsFullStory.asp?news_id=26820&tag=21718. 7-16-07

2. Glovin, David. Rowling Warns of Potter Plagiarism in Trial Testimony (Update4). 5-26-08. http://www.bloomberg.com/apps/news?pid=20601102&sid=aR2uXKyRcjAQ. 4-14-08.

3. Bristow, Jennie. Harry Potter and the Meaning of Life. 5-26-08. http://www.spiked-online.com/Articles/00000006DE0C.htm. 6-19-03

4. Siegel, Hanna. Rowling Lets Dumbledore Out of the Closet. 5-26-08. http://abcnews.go.com/Entertainment/story?id=3755544. 10-20-07

There’s No Place Like Home, If You Can Find One ( Article from 2008)

2009-08-09T19:07:00.000-07:00

(This represents a different aspect of the subject brought up in my last post)

I saw them in class everyday, they were at every school function. I ate lunch with him, did class projects with him, fought with him, laughed with him, after a party he walked me back to my car. At the prom, one of them danced the robot. We were not close friends, only classmates, but never once did I ever think ‘these boys are sex offenders,’ but they were and we all knew it.

In my lifetime, I have known four men who have committed sexual crimes. Two of them were too young to be registered, one of them fled the country, one was incarcerated.

I will never excuse their actions, but I will say that people who commit sexual crimes or are accused of committing them are individuals with family, friends, and deeply rooted emotional problems. When we talk about sex offenders we tend to group them into a faceless lump. If they were your old friends, your classmates, your male relatives, you would not dismiss them so easily.

I can never say that all sex offenders can be fully rehabilitated. One of my classmates committed another nonsexual crime and has since dropped out of high school. He now works in the town, but he will probably never outrun the reputation and scars of his past.

My other classmate was arrested from the school the year after I graduated. His crime involved lewd acts with a minor at the after school program, even though he was supposed to be under supervision.

While their actions are unforgivable, they are not the hardened criminals you think of when you hear “sex offender.” The came from broken, low income families. They had parents and other family members in jail, they moved around from home to home, and suffered abuse and neglect. I have watched them struggle to fit in and keep up in school, succeed and then relapse.

It is hard to watch someone fight a battle they are losing. Especially, in a small town, like mine was, where everybody knows your name. Communities, have to figure out what to do with these people. How can you help them to live normal lives, as well as keep them out of high risk areas which offer opportunities for behavioral relapses?

This is the question that Carson is asking itself. The Daily Breeze reported that 30 registered sex offenders have been living in the Carson Plaza Hotel-a high concentration for a city that considers itself a “vibrant city with a small town atmosphere.”

click on image to see source

Rita Boggs, a professor at California State University, Dominguez Hills and a member of the politically active group Carson Citizens for Reform, said that the city council is still going over the situation and suggestions have been made for the city to limit the number of sex offenders allowed to live in a specific area.

“ We can ask that there be no more than a certain number,” Boggs said.

Boggs also said that, at the next council meeting, City Attorney Bill Wynder will give a presentation based on how other surrounding cities have dealt with similar problems.

“They are human beings and they do in fact have a right to live someplace,“ said Gilbert Smith who has lived in Carson for 45 years and was the city’s third mayor.

“Do you build a place isolate in the desert somewhere…I don’t think that’s appropriate,” Smith said.

Smith said that establishing quotas for how many sex offenders can live in an area would not be effective because arriving at a specific number would be problematic. He also said that sending out public notices could cause a “community panic,” at the very least, he said he thinks that local jurisdiction and law enforcement agencies should be aware of where and how many sex offenders are living in the city.

Both Boggs and Smith said that, at the last city council meeting, the number of sex offenders reported at the Carson Plaza Hotel was down to 10. However, the Daily Breeze and the Office of the Attorney General’s online list of registered sex offenders say the number is between 25-30.

“It’s been since reported that there are 10 (sex offenders) as of yesterday,” Hitesh Patel, general manager of the hotel, said.

Patel said that there has been a surge of misinformation and sensationalism created by the initial Daily Breeze article.

“We’re bound by law to provide housing…We’re running a business here, we need to protect the livelihood of our business, but we share the concerns of all the residents,” Patel said.

He went on to say that the hotel is complying with the law in everyway, but it has chosen not to post signs about the sex offenders because it would deter business.

Patel said the Carson Sheriff’s Department said the average amount of time that each parolee spent at the hotel was about two weeks. They are placed at the hotel by the state parole board, Patel said.

This is what Smith said he is most concerned about.

“I don’t think our community should be the dumping ground for any kind of activity that other communities find undesirable,” Smith said.

According to an article in the Daily Breeze, state parole officials “identified (the) hotel as a viable spot to house sex offenders because of its location.”

While no one seems to have the right answer to what should be done with sex offenders on and after parole, I think that remembering the fact that all concerned are human beings, is the most important part of the discussion.

Update: Carson, CA Passes Ban Prohibiting More than One Sex Offender from Living in a Single Dwelling

Pure and Simple Truth (2006)

2009-08-09T18:37:00.000-07:00

click on photo for source

Oscar Wilde’s book The Picture of Dorian Gray backs up his remark that “the pure and simple truth is never pure or simple” or in other words, facts are never black or white, cut and dry. In the story Dorian’s gift of eternal youth, which would seem to be a blessing, turns out to be a curse, inadvertently leading him to commit several murders including that of Basil his friend and the very man who painted the “Picture of Dorian Gray.”

In today’s society I see another such enigma concerning the issue of older men with under-aged girls. Society asks, “What is the truth? Is it always a crime or not?” Some see this situation with the view that the “older man” is always at fault while others, like me, evaluate each case depending on its surrounding circumstances.

Take for instance the case of 22 -year -old Matt Koso and 14-year-old Crystal Koso whose situation was brought to public attention by the ABC show 20/20. Matt and Crystal, though eight years apart, had been friends for several years before their relationship developed into a romance. In fact, it was Crystal who took the step to move them to the next level by initiating the first kiss. Soon they were married in Kansas, which permitted the union, with the consent of both their parents who felt that marriage was the best move since Crystal had recently found out that she was carrying Matt’s baby.

With the illusion that their problems were settled Matt and Crystal tried to set up a loving home to raise their newborn baby, Samara. However, even though the USA legally accepted their marriage, Nebraska Attorney General Jon Bruning has proceeded to prosecute Matt for first-degree sexual assault. This move ignited a public outcry on the Koso’s behalf. In his own defense Bruning stated, “When somebody has sex with a 12-year-old who’s a grown man, you can’t suddenly try to fix it by saying, ‘Let’s go get a piece of paper (marriage license).’”

As Matt awaited trial, with Crystal’s support, he hoped that he would at least be granted probation so that he could provide for his family. As he said in his own words, “One thing’s for dang sure, I’m gonna be the best father I can be. And I ain’t gonna treat my little girl badly. I mean, like I said, I’m going to grow up and just give her all I can give.”

In February of 2006, Matt was sentenced to 18-30 months in prison with no probation. He was released in May 2007.

As more and more cases of older men having sexual relationships with under-age girls are brought to light, the truth, though clear to me, always seems to be perverted by those like Bruning. While I do not advocate child marriage or rape, I feel that in situations such as the Koso’s, if both people are consenting individuals then the older member of the relationship bears no blame. Today, children are maturing at a much earlier age and before we put the brand of “sex-offender” on men who have relationships with younger girls we need to see if we are really dealing out justice or just simply settling for a one-size fits all solution?

I believe that if both parties feel like they love each other and want to be together, then they should be allowed that freedom. At the very least, no legal action should be taken unless it is against both parties. These girls should not be allowed to cop out and say, “they were coerced” when at the beginning they confessed that they wanted to be in these relationships. They need to take responsibility for there own actions. It is because of people such as these girls and Jon Bruning that Matt and Crystal’s lives were derailed.

A Community in Harmony

2009-08-09T18:13:00.000-07:00

“Don’t interrupt Mommy while she’s on the phone…Leave the kitchen please…Excuse me, my kids just left the house,” Jackie Shannon, adjunct professor at the California State University, Dominguez Hills, said as she put down the telephone to round up her two sons, ages 3 and 5.

Besides teaching music at the university and keeping an eye on her boys, Shannon still finds time to practice her skill on the French horn for up to three hours everyday and play in several community orchestras including the Carson-Dominguez Hill Symphony Orchestra.

photo from the City of Carson

Since 1972, musicians of all ages and from all walks of life have been joining together to form the Carson-Dominguez Hills Symphony Orchestra.

Even though Carson is most famous for having its politicians arrested and its council meetings broadcasted on YouTube, the semiprofessional community orchestra has also made a name for itself by winning the National Recreation and Park Association Arts and Humanities Award.

The orchestra has come a long way in its 35 years.

Les Woodson, a tuba player who has been with the orchestra from day one, said when they played their first concert, in October of 1972, they weren’t very good at all.

“There was a guy who wanted to start an orchestra…He had a big ego,” Woodson said of the orchestra’s first director, whose name he couldn’t even remember.

It wasn’t until 1975, when Frances Steiner, professional cellist, conductor, and adjunct professor at the California State University, Dominguez Hills took over as director that the orchestra started to improve, Woodson said. “(The orchestra) would not have survived,” he said.

It was under Steiner’s direction that the initially city-funded orchestra combined with the California State University, Dominguez Hills to become the Carson-Dominguez Hills Symphony Orchestra. The 50 to 60 members of the orchestra get paid a stipend ranging from $150-$200 per show.

Through the partnership, the orchestra gives university music students the opportunity to perform with seasoned professional and semiprofessional musicians, Hector Salazar, trombone player and assistant conductor for the orchestra said.

Salazar has been in the Carson-Dominguez Hills Symphony Orchestra for 20 years. He has been playing the trombone since middle school and he now teaches music and conducts professionally.

“Community regional orchestra is really important…They offer concerts to people who can’t afford to go to the philharmonic,” Salazar said.

Every year the orchestra puts on at least five concerts for the Carson-Dominguez Hills community, which include two evening concerts and three children’s concerts. They rehearse only five times before each show. Both students and community members are glad to have an outlet for their musical talent.

Shannon, a former professional musician, who now teaches music at the California State University, Dominguez Hills, and gives private lessons, said performing with her students helps her connect with them and reach out to the community through her music.

Shannon has been playing the French horn ever since elementary school, when she said she literally heard the instrument calling to her.

She said she remembers going to the school gym to hear a sampling of all of the instruments available at the school. It was the day when she was supposed to pick what instrument she was going to play for the school band. Before she even saw the instruments, she had already chosen.

“I heard this beautiful sound and I said I want to play that instrument,” Shannon said.

Shannon, whose husband plays trombone for the Beach City Sling Band, is already preparing her children to follow in their parents musical footsteps. Since her sons were 6-months-old, they have been taking piano and Orff music lessons. In Orff lessons, young children are introduced to music, especially percussion instruments.

Even though Shannon said Orff is basically a parent tapping rhythms on their baby’s back, she said she it gave her kids a goods sense of rhythm.

Meanwhile, Steiner, whose mother was a professional violinist and father a professional cellist, said it was never important to either marry a musician or push her daughter into music.

Since she was 15-years-old Steiner has been performing professionally; she started taking lesson at age 5. By age 21, she was a fulltime professional cellist. She has performed with orchestras on both the East and West coasts including at the Kennedy Center and the Los Angeles Art Museum. However, she decided that the life of a professional musician wasn’t for her and instead went on to study at the University of Southern California, Harvard University, Temple University, and several music schools in France, New York and Vermont.

“It was a competitive lifestyle…somewhat political,” she said of her life as a professional musician.

“I opted very early to teach and play,” said Steiner who, besides teaching at the university, also directs the Chamber Orchestra of South Bay and the Southwest Youth Music Festival Orchestra along with the Carson-Dominguez orchestra. She still finds time to practice the cello.

For many, being part of the Carson-Dominguez Hills Symphony Orchestra meant finding a place where they could keep their musical skills in tune.

“I always looked for opportunities to perform. I was determined when I got out of college to not forget my music like so many other people I knew,” Tuba player Les Woodson said.

Woodson, who is a financial advisor, started playing the tuba in high school.

His father was also a musician who played the violin and the piano and finished fourth in an international competition for barbershop quartets. His mother played the piano and his siblings sang in a choir. When Woodson was a child, his parents made him take piano lessons but he never enjoyed playing music until he found the tuba.

After high school, during the first years of the Vietnam War, he joined the National Guard Band. Woodson thanks the tuba for keeping him out of Vietnam.

“Tuba saved my life,” he said repeatedly. Woodson, who doesn’t live in Carson, drives 85 miles from his home in Crestline just to perform with the orchestra.

Woodson isn’t the only musician who goes out of his way to be a part of the orchestra. Joe Jackson, a tuba player for the Carson-Dominguez Hills Symphony Orchestra as well as a professional musician, music teacher, and steam train engineer for Disneyland also makes an effort to play with the group, which he’s been with since 1996.

“It’s really hard to juggle and sometimes I don’t juggle as well as I should. It really comes down to picking and choosing,” Jackson said.

Even with his multiple jobs and his wedding coming up in February, Jackson
makes time to practice from one to four hours a day.

He’s been playing tuba since middle school.

“I always liked things that were big. I saw the tuba and I was really impressed by its size,”

Jackson said. He went on to major in tuba performance at the University of Southern California.

Now, however, he said it’s the tuba’s sound rather than its size which keeps him interested. He often performs tuba solos for the Carson-Dominguez orchestra and freelances for other orchestras.

“I really enjoy solos, that’s really when I’m the happiest,” Jackson said.

Even if they have little else in common, for Jackson and the other members of the orchestra, it’s the love of music and the happiness they get out of it that bonds them together.

“I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t love it,” Shannon said.

Whatever they are in the rest of their lives-students, teachers, theme park steam train conductors, financial advisors, computer technicians, mother, fathers, sons and daughters, when they come together as the Carson-Dominguez Hills Symphony Orchestra, they’re all musicians.

“Orchestra is like a sense of family,” Salazar said.

Gilbert Smith

2009-08-09T17:55:00.000-07:00

click on photo to see its source

For the last 45 years, Gilbert Smith’s life has been intertwined with the city of Carson as it transformed from a barren industrial area into one of the most diverse cities in California.

In 1968, Smith was the city’s first councilman, then its third mayor from 1970-71 and again from 1974-75. He was later councilman until 1980 and city manager in 1998. Smith is also one of the founders of California State University, Dominguez Hills, from which he received an honorary doctorate last May.

“If you compare the Carson of 1968 with the Carson of today, it’s like night and day,” said Smith who, as a child, used to pay fifty cents for horse rides in the undeveloped Carson land.

Back in 1963, he and his first wife, Glenda, were living in a 40-year-old, house in Los Angeles. They wanted a bigger house to raise their three sons.

It was a hard search.

Smith, an African American, said that at almost every housing sales office, the salespeople would say they were closed or sold out. Sometimes they would say they couldn’t sell them a house.

“‘There is a problem with the color of your skin,’ literally those were the words,” Smith said, “It was the general climate at that time in the state of California.”

Once, a salesman told him that he didn’t believe in discrimination but it was company policy, Smith said. With “tears running down his face” the salesman tried to offer him a house that was in a location he wasn’t interested in.

The Smiths were finally able to buy a home in the area that would be Carson. The four-bedroom, two-bathroom, house cost $25,000, it wasn’t even built yet.

The first time they drove up to their new home, it was surrounded by a group of mixed-race picketers calling for a boycott of the racist housing companies.

The family soon realized that the area needed a lot of work. There were 23 dumping sites, more than 100 wrecking yards, no sidewalks, no shopping center, five oil refineries, and three chemical companies around the developing residential area, Smith said.

The community had been pushing for incorporation since the 1950s, the goal was accomplished in 1968, under Smith.

As president of his homeowners association, Smith was elected the first chairman of the citizen’s organization for the incorporation of Dominguez-Carson, later named Carson.

“I didn’t know they were going to elect me, I guess I had the biggest mouth,” Smith said.

The city began with only 63,000 residents, today it has almost 100,000. Smith said they were proud to be a diverse community from the very beginning.

In the first two years after incorporation, they planted more than 5,000 trees in the once barren land. Smith’s first $25,000 home recently sold for almost $600,000.

“It’s truly a blessed city,” Smith said.

Now, 40 years later, Smith is still involved with Carson’s politics,

“It should have been part of this city 40 years ago,” he said about the proposed annexation of the Rancho Dominguez area. It was included in the proposed 1968 boundaries, but political problems prevented it from being annexed. Smith said he thinks, if city can afford it, the proposal should be accepted.

Recently, the group supporting the recall of Mayor Dear asked Smith, who ran against Dear in 2005 to run for mayor again. Smith said, if the recall goes through, he will run again.

“This is my city, I live here,” Smith said.

Babe’s and Ricky’s Inn

2009-08-09T17:36:00.000-07:00

from Babe's and Ricky's Inn website

It’s almost 10 O’clock, on a Monday night, and the street outside is quiet. But inside the door, which is just a little hole in the wall, life is teeming.

Like some kind of forgotten anthill or left over from the golden age of the Big Easy the legendary blues club, Babe’s and Ricky’s Inn, on Leimert Boulevard, still flourishes underground.

from Babe's and Ricky's Inn website

Like a queen with a bright purple beret of a crown, founder Laura Gross, 88, sits just inside the door adjusting the cover charge from $8 to $10 as she runs out of change. For 44 years, and two locations and the threat of bankruptcy, Gross has reigned over Babe’s and Ricky’s with an iron rule.

The mirrors along the back wall make the room seem bigger and fuller than it really is. Not that it isn’t full, people are lined up against the bar and almost every seat is taken. The crowd is a mix of college students looking for an old-school experience and middle aged patrons for whom this is probably a regular hangout.

The big red pleather booths are occupied by people just starting to feel the effects of their alcoholic beverages.

On stage, several bands play in succession. They’re good, but not what you’d expect for a blues club where legends like B.B King used to perform. Amateurs and greats alike still play here.

The musicians tonight are mostly young white males, but they’ve got soul. Some are eccentric, following in the modern “emo” style of young bands they are dressed in black, or skinny jeans, with hair just covering their eyes having perfectly mastered the look of socially competent “geek“, meanwhile one older artist expresses himself in a bright red sequined scarf.

There is a list by the door where musically talented club-goers can sign up to play the instrument of their choice.

A college student in a black and white striped shirt steps onto the stage for a turn on the drums. He is announced as a recently freed jailbird, the announcer enjoys the joke more than the crowd.

The drummer plays with the attitude of an entertainer, pulling faces, bopping to the music. It’s clear he’s played for crowds before and enjoys it. Every time he hits the drum the light reflected in it jumps to the rhythm of the music.

The other college students are cheering for him, whistling. Some are his friends, some are feeling their drinks. He’s good though, the job offers he gets when he steps down are proof of that.

Around 11p.m. dinner is served. From the back of the club, no announcement can be heard but word spreads and a lazy S-shaped line is formed from the front to the back.

You can serve yourself from dishes of collard greens, black-eyed peas, and potato salad, but two strict looking women, one of them Laura Gross, serve only one slice of hot link sausage, one piece of fried chicken, and one fried corn biscuit per person. It’s Jam Night so the meal comes with your cover charge. The regular menu has only three options, chicken wings, hot links, and fried fish.

You can order drinks all night, you may not get exactly what you ordered, but you’ll drink it anyway. The food is taken back to tables decorated with plastic white doilies and red, white and blue flowers.

The flowers match the dark red walls, covered with old photos and posters, and the blue Christmas lights, and the partly deflated red, white and blue, balloons that look like they’ve been left behind from some 4^th of July celebration a decade ago. Somehow, it just escapes being tacky.

From the corner of the middle wall, an old Central Avenue street sign juts out, reminding customers of the club’s first location. You know this place has history, even if you don’t know it.

As people finish eating they slowly trickle out. They come as much for the food as the atmosphere and music. Gross has something to say to everyone. She tells some college girls not to get fat and she tells the jailbird drummer to put on some weight.

It’s just about midnight and Babe’s and Ricky’s Inn is dying down, strange for a Los Angeles night club, but maybe not so strange for a bustling blues club left over from the 60s.

WRESTLING AND SHAKESPEARE AN INTERVIEW WITH SEAN LEWIS -one of the very first interviews I ever did (summer 2005)

2009-08-08T23:05:00.000-07:00

A Lucentio of sorts, Sean Lewis may or may not have a romantic love interest but he is definitely in love with theater. You can hear the passion in his voice as he describes his journey from wrestling to becoming a successful actor, playwright, and producer of his own one man show.

Lewis, at age 26, has been acting for four or five years, he’s not sure. Originally from Pine Bush, New York he went to college at the State University of New York in Binghamton, New York. He had a wrestling scholarship until an injury ended his athletic career. In an attempt to get back in shape for wrestling, Lewis attended a movement class taught by an acting teacher. His teacher encouraged him to try out for Romeo and Juliet, where he scored the part of Lord Capulet. Before the part he had had no history in theater. Lewis says he “felt really lucky” and ever since then, theater has been the love of his life.

Initially Lewis says “Most of my family was like, ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’” and ‘Stop messing around and get a job!’” but eventually they came around. To Lewis, it never really mattered what others thought: “I’ve always been the guy who did what I wanted and the rest of the family was left scratching their head.” Well, Lewis’ life proves that he knows what he’s doing.

Recently Lewis has begun sending out his play Forrestry, to theaters who might be interested in producing it. The play is the story of Edwin Forrestry, who is said to be America’s first celebrity. It is the story of Forrestry’s life as an actor in the 1800’s. One of the interesting events of the play is a riot brought on by a competition between Forrestry and competing English actor Maccready that became so crazy that the National Guard was called in to put it down. Lewis found the inspiration for this play while sitting in a fellow playwright’s house and flipping through a text book. The text book featured a picture of Forrestry whom Lewis thought “looked like a wolf man”, he became so fascinated by this actor and his acting style and life that it prompted him to write a play.

Another high point of Lewis’ life is his one man show based on character Sean Boogie, a name that originated from Lewis’ own nickname “Boogie”. The show is about a young white male who enjoys rap music and hip-hop and his encounters with a well- educated black professor. The play, which contains 15-20 characters all played by Lewis, deals with society’s portrayal of what it means to be “black”, and jokes about the idea of putting labels on race. For a long time before he actually wrote the play, Lewis had been toying with the idea of a one man show until one day a theater called him up and asked him to perform it. Even though Lewis had nothing prepared he said yes. The actual idea for the show came from a series of connections Lewis found while going threw his own slam poetry; before that he had no “blueprint” of what he would do. He will be doing a show this coming March from the 2nd-4th at the riverside theater, where he is also in the productions of Taming of the Shrew as “Lucentio, the young lover” and Moliere’s The Imaginary Invalid playing from June 17th-July 10th. While looking in his backpack for the dates, Lewis comments that he is always scatterbrained and just found out about this night’s rehearsal this morning as he pulls random articles and papers out of his bag.

Throughout the whole interview his love for theater broadcasted loud and clear and I’m sure that Sean Lewis is destined to make his mark on the world of stage. During the end of the interview however, Lewis gave me his outlook on the ups and downs of acting. He says it’s like “making an agreement with the audience” “I’m asking them to believe.” He also says that it’s “such a joy for me.” He only wishes that more young people today would be interested in theater. I also asked him about his pre-show routine and he answered that it involved some stretching, vocal exercises, and running around, but that he doesn’t think about the show itself “some actors need to think about it, I need to not.” He says he’s been in a lot of good productions as well as some bad ones, and when you’re in a bad one it’s like “I just don’t want to be on the stage right now…(but) I might as well try and entertain someone.” Lewis also mentions that the rejection of not getting a part can be hard “and not getting it (the part), it’s like...you’re killing me, you’re killing me slowly,” and that there is a lot of competition involved “the acting profession can be like high school...Catty.” Another thing that he made clear is that the moving and traveling with the cast can be rough also, “If you have a really cool cast and you’re in a really cool city it can be great…But when you’re surrounded by bad people it’s like, enough of this I want to go home.”

untitled 2 (from several years ago)

2009-08-08T22:46:00.003-07:00

Funny all the people we meet
On a crowded street
They all have places to go
They don’t even know
They just bumped into an old pal
Slipped into their old gal
Knocked down the teacher that taught them 1, 2, 3.
Tripped over the hero
That they used to want to be.

Funny we don’t see the faces or use those simple graces
Like hi, hello, and please, thank you
You don’t even remember what or when or who
All those memories of the past
‘Cause you’re moving just too fast
Maybe if you slowed down
And took a look around
You’d notice all the old friends that you forgot to see
And all the old dreams that you forgot to be.

untitled 1

2009-08-08T22:46:00.001-07:00

We are all ugly at birth
Crumpled faces, dirty
Mothers make us beautiful
Fathers reinforce it
Little nobodies
Future some bodies
Some will grow to greatness
Some will fall obscure
We will die beautiful
We will die ugly
They will cry
They will laugh
Maybe…
They won’t know
Thrust and heat of life
Cold and static death
Climax, rest, relax, repeat
Sound familiar?

Washed Away (early teens)

2009-08-08T22:45:00.001-07:00

A hunk of clay raw and uneven
I take it with my hands.
It’s soft and pliable.
Into it I pour my dreams, hopes
My time, my soul, my life.
It begins to form a face
Strong and wise
With piercing eyes.
A body firm and flowing
It’s the picture of perfection.
My life’s work
It’s everything I aspired for
Desired for.

I put it in the sun to dry
To harden forever the likeness of my mind.
Alas! The weather is unpredictable.
A storm refuses not to blow
The wind howls, the rain blasts
My perfect statue, my Mona Lisa, my David.
Gone! All washed away
A trickle in the mud of alabaster clay.

I gather what’s left, I cry
For what was there, now gone.

A hunk of clay raw and uneven
I take it with my hands.
It’s soft and pliable.
In to it I pour my dreams, my hopes.......

The End (early teens)

2009-08-08T22:44:00.000-07:00

The sun has set it’s true
The earth awaits the morning dew.
The birds are gone
They wait for morn
It’s time to bow our heads and sleep.
Though some may weep
For what had begun
Is done.
As for me, I get ready
To face another day
In this cycle we call life.

Sand Castles (early teens)

2009-08-08T22:43:00.002-07:00

Why do we build sand castles in the sand,
Right on the waters’ band?
We know they’ll fall
Before they’er ever built up tall.
But always we try
Then foolishly cry
When fate is carried out
And the sand’s all washed about.
Just the same I ask
Why do we set about the task
Of hoping for things that never will be?
But as I look around I see
That we always must
Just trust.
In things we know
never will come true.
I guess it helps us go
And gives our hearts something to do.

On and On (early teens)

2009-08-08T22:43:00.001-07:00

Through bad weather
Rain, hail , or snow
I’ll tread on and on and on.....

Through tragedy
Death and sorrow
I’ll trod on and on and on.....

With one
Or none
I’ll walk on and on and on.....

Through meadows
Paved streets and paths
I’ll run on and on and on.....

Whatever life throws
I’ll catch or drop
And travel on and on and on....

And I’ll not stop
Till I reach
The plateau of my Existence.

A Timeline of Father's Day (pre-preteen years)

2009-08-08T22:42:00.000-07:00

1988 was really a great date
For then it became true
That Father’s Day meant you.
In 1993 there was now a he and she
And Farthers’Day for you
Was multiplied by two.
And if it had been four
I could have written more,
But that is irrelevant
In this month past May
For what I meant to say
Was happy Father’s Day.

Fantasy Plays (pre-preteen years)

2009-08-08T22:41:00.000-07:00

Cynthia Rivvairo had just auditioned for the play Alone in the Night, and she got the lead role. She was going to be a lady, who’s horse runs away with her and takes her to an unknown forest. She was very excited because this was to be her first play since the birth of her daughter Emerald.
The next few weeks were exciting because baby Emerald was going to be in the play Sleeping Beauty, she was going to be Sleeping Beauty when she was a baby. Her play was the day before her mother’s.
Then next day Emerald spent the day with her grandparents while her parents took care of some business. Antonio Cynthia’s husband and agent insisted that TaTa Emerald’s kitten go with her to her grandparents house because when the cat was left alone it kept playing with the drapes and ripping them. At the end of the day when Cynthia picked up her child, Emerald and TaTa were both sound asleep from the fun they had had at Grandma’s. Cynthia took TaTa home and got Emerald ready for her play. Since she was already sleeping she didn’t have to pretend, so every one thought she was a good actor when she wasn’t even acting.
All the next day every one talked about Cynthia’s play. At the time of the play Cynthia’s whole family escorted her to her dressing room. When they left she started to dress, when she was done she drank the water that was left for her on the table. Cynthia was about to leave the room, but she started to feel dizzy so she went to sit in the chair but she never made it, instead she passed out and fell to the ground.
In a little while her attendant came to to tell her it was time to go on stage. She found Cynthia on the floor and thought she was dead and began to scream. The director came to see what was going on he called the hospital and the play was postponed.
The next day the play was tried again, Cynthia’s family was a little scared but the play went smoothly. Cynthia had learned to be the part and not herself so even though she was scared it did not affect her acting.
The day after the play Antonio hired a detective and a lawyer. The detective thought Cynthia’s attendant was to blame, that afternoon he was found dead along with the lawyer. Because of that, the attendant was put under surveillance until the solving of the crimes. Antonio then hired an undercover detective who took two weeks to find that the attendant was not to blame because the understudy was the real criminal. She was second best actor after Cynthia and would have been the best if she had gotten the lead role in that play. The detective also found out that she had become second best through the mysterious death of Cynthia’s older sister Emma Fairfax which she had caused. The convict was sentenced life in prison with no chance of parole.

The Cowgirl (preteen years)

2009-08-08T22:40:00.000-07:00

On yonder mountain in the West
The cowboy used to rule the land,
But now the cowgirl holds half
The West in her hand

The West is like the cowgirls kingdom,
The livestock are her servants and people,
The dogs are like her soldiers,
The horses her carriage,
The barn is her castle
And
Instead of jousts she goes
To rodeos
and for fun she joins them

In other words the cowgirl is,
The main man
On the Western lan’.

Coming Home (pre-preteen years)

2009-08-08T22:39:00.000-07:00

He comes home a child no longer
But surely much stronger.
Everything is changed
Familiar haunts now strange.

The summer fair
Is here
The rides are still the same
Even their very name.
The food is just as fun
Especially the hot dog and it’s bun.
It’s as if the years had never passed
For time has not, the fair harassed.

When night was near
And the returned left there
He could only say
As his head he did lay
And he prayed
Thank God for the Southwest Washington Fair
Where memories are made.

Call of the Fair (pre-teen years)

2009-08-08T22:38:00.000-07:00

Blue ribbons and show rings
Call to the horse
Clip clopping
He goes to the fair.

Card board and paper
Beckon to the goat
Hungrily he goes to the fair.

The thrilling rides and yummy snacks
Appeal to the kids
Excited they go to the fair.

The strange array
Of sights and sounds
Draw in the passers by
Curiously they go to the fair.

Each hearts desire
Each minds inquire
Finds their fill
As each body’s feet
“Make tracks to the Southwest Washington Fair”.

Bucky Boy (pre-preteen years)

2009-08-08T22:37:00.000-07:00

Bucky boy’ Bucky boy
He used to stay inside
But he got stinky
And mom’s face got pinky
So she said
“Take his bed
And out with it he goes”
Now that he is out side he goes
like a hose
And roams around
As free as a bee

We’ve had him for years
But now we shed tears
For the dog we had is no more
He was happy
and so were we
But now he is gone forever more
And always in our hearts we’ll hold
The memory of Bucky boy.

Anniversary (Miffed) (pre-preteen years)

2009-08-08T22:36:00.000-07:00

I haven’t bought a gift
For I really am quite miffed.
It was 19 years ago
But I would have made a show.
You could have mentioned the wedding was in June
I’d have taken the first stork and been there real soon.
Instead of waiting more
I’d have come in ‘84.
A big deal I wouldn’t make
If you had at least saved some cake.
But I would have liked to see the bride all dressed
I’d have liked to see the groom all pressed.
And I really found it rude
For you your own daughter to exclude
But at least I’m here right now, to say
Happy anniversary day.

Mother (from the pre-preteen years)

2009-08-08T22:35:00.000-07:00

The world is big, the world is round
Lots of mothers in every town
I search up, I search down
I search all around,
But I can’t find a mother
That’s just like you

With that sweet voice and heeling kiss
With that gentle touch that can stop a crying child
No I can’t find a mother
That understands,
That sings,
That feels,
That teaches just like you.

My 11th Year (from when I was 11)

2009-08-08T22:30:00.000-07:00

My eleventh year
I swear
Was the changingest yet
I fought all the troubles I met

I concurred my fears
And cried less tears
I matured
I endured

Mom went to work
We didn’t go berserk
Dad took over

The millennium changed
Technology grew
I fought to be twelve
And now that I am
I kinda sorta
Miss being eleven.

Long Founded Truth (from the preteen years)

2009-08-08T22:25:00.000-07:00

When the angels told me long ago
Where I was to live
I asked them who my mother was
For in her arms I’d lie.
Then I asked them who my father was
For in his steps I’d follow.

They showed me someone brave and strong
With high ideas of right and wrong.
They said that we would clash in thought
But I’d being stronger for having fought.
They whispered of your integrity, faith, love…
Words I barely knew.

They told me secrets-
They’d never told
An unborn babe before.
With dark wide eyes
I wondered why
These angels chose to speak.

The answered back,
So that I’d know
The gift
They’d given me
Of a father who would make me sound
And who would never let me down.

A father who
So very few
Could have an equal to.
Then they marked me
“Daddy’s Girl”
And sent me down to you.

But in the fall from Heaven
All their words were lost
And in the years to come
I had to learn them all again
So I could give the thanks I owe
For your being all you are.

Sindy Harper #2: Case of the Mysterious Ghost (from the preteen years)

2009-08-08T22:01:00.000-07:00

“Oh, I just can’t wait to get to the warehouse.” Said ten year old Sindy Harper. Sindy and her friends Beth Johnson. Talia Cooper, Tom Husk, Brad Ford, and Jason Fisher were going to an old Sacramento warehouse said to be haunted because several people reported ghost sightings there.
Sindy and her friends arrived at the warehouse and began to look around when all of a sudden there sounded a long howl that sent every body but Tom flying out of the building. Every one thought it was Tom so they went back inside. A little later every body went home sad because they had found nothing. But they decided to to keep investigating the town, the people and the warehouse.
The next day they all went back to the warehouse. What could be lurking in an old warehouse they thought as they entered one of it’s dark empty rooms. The next thing they new they heard a a door slam and the room became pitch black, Sindy and Jason quickly ran to open the door but it wouldn’t budge. They all wondered who locked the door, was it a human or a ghost!?
Meanwhile their moms walked the floor while their dads tried to form search parties.
Back at the warehouse sindy and her friends were having a scary encounter with the so called ghost. The ghost walked up to Sindy and said “Say your prayers, because this is the last breath you’ll ever breathe again!”
Then he pulled off the mask and sheets that made him look like a ghost to reveal nobody but Marcus Flench an escaped convict from the Sacramento prison. He had been put away for life for murder, theft, and a whole bunch of other sick crimes. He held up a gun and was just about to shoot them when.....Their parents with some police and police dogs barged in and apprehended Marcus Flench So Called Ghost, AKA: felon!
Later that day Marcus Flench was a jailbird once again, and we were safe at home. I think we’ve had enough danger for a few years or longer, so don’t expect to hear about us for a long time. Case closed. This is Sindy Harper over and out

Sindy Harper #1: Case of the Strange Writing (from the preteen years when I didn't know how to spell "cindy")

2009-08-08T22:00:00.000-07:00

It was a normal day, Dad had just finished jury duty. Mom and Dad left me and my brother Jake, home alone, so they could pick up the car from the shop. When they came back everything was still normal. Or was it?
Dad had to go to San Francisco on a job meeting, just as he was driving out of the garage he noticed some drawing on the garage door, but he only had time to tell Mom to call the police. When Dad left no one was around, or was there? Behind the bushes a gang member hid watching, waiting, and listening but he ran away when he heard the police were coming.
The policeman arrived and read the writing, he said “Crip Cuzz” ment friend of a gang. He said he couldn’t read the other words but would send some one over who could.
Later that day Mom called the police to see if they had sent any one over, they said they did. They also said the person the sent could not decipher the writing. But had he ever come to the house?
I asked if Beth, Talia, Brad, Tom, and Jason and I could investigate in the park across the street. Mom said we could but if we saw any one we were to come right back, we said we would. That night we went to the park at dusk, we looked around no one was there, we were about to leave when we saw a small light flicker. We were just about to decide whether or not we should leave. I said “ We didn’t really see any one, did we?” but Beth said “ A person had to be making the light.” When some thing hit us all on the head. The next thing we knew we were tied to a tree and gagged! ‘Will any one find us before dark?’ were our exact thoughts.
Fortunately My west highland terrier, Pup had secretly followed us and now had run home to get my parents. Once at home Pup made himself a pest jumping, and licking and pulling people’s pants legs. Mom and Dad knew he didn’t usually act like that, that and he had followed us to the park, and would whenever leave by himself followed him back to the park.
When they found us they quickly untied the ropes and asked us what happened. We told them all we new ending with at least we saw their faces while they were tying us up.
Later that day we all went to the police station and found up that the police who was supposed to have come to our house was a gang member. He had gotten a job with the police because he lied and used a fake identity. The police also found out that his gang made some of their members get job in the law so that they could pull strings and get the other members out of trouble. Oh yeah, he and the rest of his gang are behind bars! Or are they?

My Sister: The Mountain in My Life (from the preteen years of obvious titles:)

2009-08-08T21:59:00.000-07:00

This story begins on a spring morning in Paris: It was a lovely morning the birds were singing, the flowers were blooming, and Cynthia Fairfax was taking a walk quite unaware that her life was about to change.
While she was walking she noticed a young man coming towards her she tried to ignore him but it was no use. “Bonjour Mademoiselle Emma Fairfax” he said with a slight bow.
“Good day sir but I’m not who you think. ” She replied curtly.
“But you look so like the young actress.”
“I am her sister if you must know! and I wish I did not have to be. Now if you would be so kind as to let me be on my way?”
“I will not be so kind.”
“I beg your pardon!”
“What I mean is ,if you would hold your temper for just a minute, may I walk with you?”
“You are very impertinent, but I suppose there is no way to stop you from doing as you please.”
“Thank you. So you are the actress’s sister, tell me how does feel to be related to some one so talented?”
“Actually it’s no heaven on earth my sister is quite a snob.”
“ Is that why no one ever hears of you, is she an attention hog?”
“Why yes she is, and it’s because of her no one ever notices me.”
“ And I guess you have you have a lot talent too, well you certainly aren’t ugly. Hey I’ll tell you what, meet me at the dock at eight O’clock tonight. I have connections, you’ll be bigger hit than your sister with me at your side. And with a face as pretty as yours you are sure to be a star in no time.” Then he turned and walked off leaving a blushing Cynthia behind wondering why she was blushing after talking to such a brazen young man.
She continued her walk deciding she would not go and see that boy at the dock, after all she really knew nothing about him. When she reached her home Emma was practicing her song for an audition in front of their parents, Cynthia tried to call to them but they wouldn’t pay attention. She ran up to her room and sat on her bed to cry. Nobody ever paid attention to her, it was like they had forgotten she existed. Then she thought ‘I’ll go to the dock tonight, what’s to lose if he’s a criminal and kills me he’ll end my horrible life, if he helps me I can start a better life.’
That night at the appointed time she went to the dock. The young man was leaning against a post. Cynthia walked up to him and said “Before you say anything tell me your name?”
“It’s only fair you know mine since I know your name, I’m Antonio Rivvairo, at your service.”
“Then you are not a criminal?”
“ Of course not! But if you though me a criminal why did you come, did you like some thing about me?” He said coming a step closer to her.
“Certainly not Monsieur Rivvairo. I only though that if you were a criminal and killed me you would end a life that didn’t want to be lived, and if you did help me I could start a better life.”
“Very well then. Any how I asked you to come here because my friend is holding an audition for a famous play called the Phantom of the Opera Now depending on how good your acting skills are I might be able to get you a role. Are you willing to try?”
“Of course sir.”
“Then meet me at the theater tomorrow evening at five. And please call me Antonio.”
Cynthia couldn’t wait till the next day, but in preparation for it she practiced her singing and acting. All day she was nervous and fidgeted with any thing she could get her hands on. Finally it was time for the audition. She walked over to the theater, Antonio was waiting out side for her, he held the door open for her and then led her to the back room were the audition was taking place.
The director walked over to Antonio and clapped him on the back, they said a few things to each other then Antonio introduced Cynthia.
While they were talking she studied the director and her surroundings , the man seemed nice and agreeable the the place seemed to match his disposition except for the stage which was set to look like a dark opera house.
During the audition Cynthia tried to forget herself and be the part, but she was sure that she failed. She was very surprised when the director grasped her hand and said “That was one of the best performances I’ve ever seen, you’ve got the leading role for sure.”
Once outside the building Antonio told Cynthia that she was so good she didn’t need his help getting parts and that he would leave her to go her own way. but she told him that she didn’t know how to find auditions and that she needed an agent, he agreed to the part.
When Cynthia was at home she told her family that she was going to be in a play and if they would like to see her. her mother replied with “If we must dear.” and her sister said “You shouldn’t try and follow me in show biz when you know you’re not half as good as me.”
On the night of the play Cynthia and her family drove to the theater, her family joined the audience and she went back stage to meet her agent. “I’m so nervous, yet so happy at the same time I just know that when my family sees me act they’ll never forget me again. And it’s all thanks to you.”
“You’re welcome I guess but know you’d better go get ready.” Stuttered Antonio.
Cynthia gave a dazzling performance and when the show was done she went to go meet her family. But alas, they had left already, Cynthia was crushed. In a daze she ran into the surprised arms of Antonio. He didn’t know what else to do so he just held her while she deliriously muttered “They’re gone, they’re gone.”
Cynthia now felt that she was hated by her family, so with out any protest from them she moved out into her own apartment that was close to the theater and Antonio. At least he cared about her a little {actually he cared more than she knew.}.
Cynthia got more attention from him than she expected. He got her into many more plays the biggest play he got was a the The Eternal Works of Hamlet this play was so expensive only the rich and powerful could afford to see it, and Cynthia was playing the lead role the only problem was that Emma had the second best role.
After the play Emma never spoke to her sister again, but her parents decided to accept Cynthia they explained to her that they’d just gotten carried away with Emma’s amazingness but they still loved her and they were very proud of her. Then Cynthia and her parents and Antonio went out to dinner.
Soon after that Cynthia and Antonio were engaged.
Then next year was even better for Cynthia she and Antonio were married and they had one beautiful daughter named Emerald, Cynthia also became even more acknowledged than her sister in the world of acting. She was now very close to her parents and they had even given Cynthia’s daughter a small kitten which Antonio dubbed TaTa.
Cynthia now had a wonderful life that was full of love because she had found a friend {actually the friend found her} that had given her the strength to climb over and pass the mountain in her life.

Love and Jealousy (from the preteen years)

2009-08-08T21:58:00.001-07:00

Once upon a time in a far away town, in a far away time there lived two sisters who were very close. There names were Roxanne the fair and Sapphire the beautiful. And so they lived together harmoniously, growing in beauty and wisdom. But too much tranquillity soon leads to a disturbance of some sort, whether domestic or fatal you will soon see.
In the fifteenth summer of Roxanne’s existence and fourteenth of Sapphire’s a stranger “tall, dark, and handsome” came from who knows where to the sisters’ town. Now if you know anything of “small towns” you will know that there usually is only one or so desirable young men presiding in it. This particular boy was that to the sisters.
It soon became obvious that that boy, Alonso his name was, favored the latter sister over the first. Roxanne was not a treacherous, evil, or scheming girl but she felt very deeply that it should be her turn first to be in love maybe even married, after all Sapphire was still only a child. She couldn’t know what love was yet, probably he was using her for something, and poor, dear Sapphire was giving him her heart. Yes, it was up to Roxanne to make her sister see her error.
While Roxanne was feeling all this, Sapphire and Alonso were gliding along happily. They went fishing, swimming, walking. berry picking and sometimes just talking alone. They in their bliss, were unaware that Roxanne form the shadows of the trees, with narrow eyes, was watching them, trying desperately to see what her sister had that she didn’t.
It was know that Sapphire was prettier and better liked than Roxanne, because she had shining auburn hair and sparkling gray eyes, because she had a ready smile, a quick mind, and fiery spirit. While Roxanne was pretty with her shiny black hair and eyes, she was regularly moody, quiet, and serious. Even though she was friendly her sister had more of a natural charm about her. Finally deciding that this was what made Sapphire more alluring to Alonso, Roxanne sought a remedy.
Roxanne made up her mind to go to Mordred white witch of the mountain who was helpful and kind and commonly gave magic spells to those who requested them.
“Mordred, come to my aid!” Called Roxanne when she had reached her destination.
“ I am no one’s servant. I answer to no commands. My life is for not serving people like yourself! I am more than willing to help those who need it, but I will serve no one!”
“I beg your pardon, but in my urgency I had forgotten my manners. I am in great need of a spell.”
‘Very well then apology accepted. What pray tell do you need exactly?”
“You see there is man who was terribly in love with me and I with him. But an evil sorceress used her powers to make herself wonderfully perfect to him. She gave herself charm and beauty. If you would be so kind as to give me a spell that would take these things away I would be ever grateful.”
“You are surly in a predicament. I will help you.” Then Mordred began to chant “Ashkab Ingo Fronm” first slow then faster and faster, until a cloud of smoke appeared and when it cleared it left behind a smell jeweled flask.
The witch picked up the container and said
“Beware, beware. I
If thou is fibbing
Tables turned
And hair be burned
What you wished to do
Is done on you
Beware, beware!
“Thank you Mordred.” Said Roxanne as the witch disappeared.
When the witch was gone Roxanne turned and ran through the woods back to her home. Once at home Roxanne cooked up a special meal through which she might feed her sister the spell. To complete her revengeful act she invited Alonso to dinner so that he might witness the downfall of Sapphire.
After the dinner Roxanne brought out the dessert, it was a delicious chocolate cake. Roxanne new her sister could never resist a rich, sweet, chocolate cake so she made one with a red icing rose on top and she dropped the poison right in its center. She made sure she gave Sapphire the correct slice.
When Sapphire saw the rose she immediately scooped it up with her fork and ate it. Smoke swirled around her, colors flashed, a great wind blew through the front door and put out their lights. In a second the light was back. Alonso tried to rush to Sapphire but Roxanne held down in his seat with amazing strength and she said cunningly and menacingly.
“Alonso, there is your precious darling, exposed for what she really is an old, croaking hag.”
Recovering his strength he freed himself from her grasp and asked her “What have you done?”
“ I have done nothing, don’t be so hasty in your judgment.” Then softening she cried “Oh Alonso, I now how you must feel to know that the person you thought you loved was this creature in truth. But dear you still have me, I have no evil secrets no hidden lies, I am as pure and white and beautiful as fresh snow, comfort yourself with me.”
“I am not so easily fooled, Do you think I have not seen your obvious attempts to turn me from her to you. I know you have done something to her you......you treacherous witch!”
Seeing that he was in a rage she said “ I guess I’ll be leaving now, I’ll come back when you’re ready to face the truth.
When Roxanne was gone Alonso took Sapphires frail body and put her in a bed, she could hardly talk and she looked like she was eighty, but her eyes still sparkled. Alonso made sure she was comfortable then he headed for the woods in search of Mordred.
Upon arriving at Mordred’s mountain he called out “ Mordred please come to me you have made a horrible mistake.”
She appeared in a cloud of smoked and answered “ You here about that girl who asked me for a spell to make youth and charm vanish, no doubt. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted her but I didn’t want to believe that such a sweet looking girl could be evil. Tell me your story.”
Roxanne the girl you speak of, has put a spell on her sister. The sister is now old, frail, and she has no sense or anything even remotely appealing about her. Please there must be something you can do.”
“I guess you do not love this sister any more, because she has lost her charm?”
“ Of course not! But I would like her to be back to normal.”
“ And if she can’t be restored you will have nothing to do with her?”
“No I will still love her, but do you not think it would be better for her to be the same person or at least the same age as she was?”
“ Yes I do. So I will help you.” Then she waved her hands and a little bottle appeared. “ This is a justice potion it will fix your girl and punish and punish the evil one. ”Mordred informed him.
“ Thank you. Tell me please, how I should use it.”
“ Pour half the bottle in the good sister’s mouth and the other half pour on the bad sister’s head. Remember not to mix up the directions. Now go!”
Alonso went. He poured half the liquid in Sapphire’s mouth and waited. Sapphire was lifted off her bed and spun around twice when she was put on the bed again she was her old self. She and Alonso kissed and did a few other things, then he told her what the witch had said and what he must do, he also asked her how he should go about finding Roxanne. Sapphire thought up a plan and Alonso carried it out.
Alonso went to a certain cabin in the woods were Sapphire told him her sister would be. Roxanne was there, so Alonso went up to the door and called.
“ Roxanne my love, I see the truth. Please come out and talk to me I am sorry for disbelieving you.’
Roxanne threw open the door and hugged him. While she hugged him he quickly poured the potion on her head. Suddenly she cried out
“Beware, beware
Tables turned
And hair be burned
What you wished to do
Is done on you
Beware, beware!”
Then she fell to the ground, she had no hair, she was old, and plain, and quite senseless. Alonso picked up the girl and carried her home to her sister.
Sapphire rushed to the bed were Alonso had put Roxanne, when she saw her she said “ My poor sister what have you done, what has been done to you?”
“ I am no more, I have done undoable things but yet they have been done and undone. My sister and my sister’s husband I am sorry”
“ Oh Roxanne I believe you. I promise I’ll go to Mordred and beg her to restore you.”
“ And you know we’re not married yet.” Chimed in Alonso.
“ But you will be it is ment to be. Sapphire don’t go to Mordred, if you wish to help me kill me, for I can not live with my self or my victims.”
“ Don’t be silly dear we forgive you, and we want you back to your old self again.”
“ I can Never be my old self again, and I can never forget what I have done, do not try to save me just let me die!” Then Roxanne turned her back to Sapphire and Alonso.
Sapphire went anyway, to Mordred and returned with a spell to restore Roxanne. When Roxanne was normal again she hugged her sister and Alonso, ate a meal with and then told them she was going for a walk by her self and not to expect her back soon. They never saw her again.
Two years later Sapphire and Alonso were married and had a daughter. They called the girl Annabelle in memory of her aunt, they dared not name her anne or roxanne in case she should have the same fate as Roxanne. They also lived in another house that Alonso had built for them because Sapphire would not raise her child in a house that had tragic memories and maybe evil spirits. In November that year they had a funeral for Roxanne. They did not know whether or not she was really dead, but she was dead to them.
“ She may not be dead you know?” Alonso told Sapphire with his arm around her, the funeral had been hard for her even though she showed no emotion.
“ Yes but I’ll still never see her again. ”She answered with tears in her eyes.
“Why you crying Mother, is you hurted?” Asked little Annabelle.
“No dear I’m fine. I’ll tell you all about this when your are older.”
Hand in hand with Sapphire carrying Annabelle they turned and walked home. Sapphire glanced back just once to see the gravestone that said “ May we meet again my sister, in this world or the next.”

Beyond the Fog (from my early teens)

2009-08-08T21:55:00.000-07:00

Though we endeavor
Nothing lasts forever
Old walls must tumble
And lived lives must crumble
For no one is free
From the way things must be.

WoodHaven Orphanage had many children, boys and girls, and it was a happy place, nobody stayed for more that a year before they got adopted. Nobody, except Catalina Harvis. Catalina could not get adopted because she could not keep her mouth shut. She could not help saying exactly what she thought and people usually did not like what she thought. Many parents looking to adopt a child treated the orphans like puppies at a pet store, saying things like "this one is too pale" or too fat, or too dumb. When people came to see Catalina, they said she was insolent, rude, overconfident and stubborn. And she was, she hated that she always said the wrong things and always made people angry, but at the same time she was proud that she had guts. She was never fake and she always acted truthfully
Catalina stayed at the orphanage until she was fifteen. She was considered unadoptable. She could only stay at the orphanage for three more years before she was on her own, and she badly wanted a family. Then one year during the fall a couple came down to see her. They were in their early forties, the woman had long blonde hair with little flowers stuck in it, she was tall and not too fat or too skinny. The man had black hair with little gray tufts in it. Altogether they looked very ordinary.
It took three months but finally Catalina was adopted by the Coffman's, the couple who had come to see her. Juliet and Frank Coffman took Catalina home in December. The day of her departure Catalina wandered through the halls bidding farewell to all the kids and mistresses. Catalina sat backward in the Coffman's Mercedes trying to capture every detail of the orphanage where she had spent her whole life.
It was a long trip from WoodHaven to the Coffman's. They drove through many twisting roads, stopping only once for a picnic lunch. Catalina slept most of the way but she was awake for the last stretch of the drive. They drove on a bumpy road then across a mile lone bridge completely consumed by fog. When they passed the bridge, they drove on a curvy road that turned crazily this way and that. The road was dark with tall oak trees on each side and sheets of moss hanging down from them. The trip ended when the car drove through a tall wrought iron gate and pulled up to a yellow house with black trimming.
The house was huge, it looked like a plantation house from one hundred and fifty years ago. There were thirteen windows, and thirteen big white pillars, and thirteen big steps leading up to the massive oaken front door. Yellow rose bushes were planted around the house and the grass was neatly trimmed. Beyond the two acres where the house sat Catalina could see tall oak trees and tall grasses with little flowers poking between the blades. Compared with the drive the house seemed to be in it's own world where it always seemed to be sunny and bright even if it wasn't. Catalina thought it seemed to be a dream world where everything is perfect and yet strangely unstable.
A strong looking man came out from a shed with a shovel, he wore a hat from which bushy black hair stuck out of. He tipped his hat to her and continued on his way. A middle aged woman with red hair the same shade as Catalina's came out from the front door, she had gray eyes that looked just like the fog from the bridge. She called the Coffmans "Sir" and "Madame" they called her Miss Holstrom. Miss Holstrom came down the stairs to help with Catalina's luggage. She spoke with a slightly Irish, slightly English accent as she said "Ah, so this is the young lady Harvis that is to live with us. She's got the same red hair as I've got." Then she disappeared into the house with Catalina's bags.
Juliet Coffman showed Catalina up to her room. It was a huge room with a big window that had long billowy curtains pulled back from it. The bed was covered with a fluffy snow-white comforter; the bed had four posters and an ivy pattern carved into the headboard. The walls were white with a painted stencil of ivy and purple and yellow flowers around the top of the walls. The chest of drawers matched the bed and had the same ivy pattern. The vanity stand had a tall oval mirror with a carved ivy frame. The floors were wooden with throw rugs here and there. There was a comfortable looking chair and bookshelf in one corner. Juliet said this room was the Ivy room, her own was the Rose room, each room had it's own theme.
The Coffmans' told Catalina she would not start school till January so she could have some time to settle down. Catalina spent her first few days searching her new home. She loved to look at each room, there were fourteen in all. There was the Rose room, Ivy room, Oak Tree room, Grape Vine room, Weeping Willow room, Ocean room, Ice room, Music room, Swan room, Lily room, Wildflower room, Meadow room, and Frank's study which was always locked and another room that was also locked which Catalina called the Mystery rooms. Downstairs there was a living room, a family room, a library, a dining room, a kitchen and a glassed in sun room. Catalina had not yet gone to the third floor where the attic was. The basement was simply a room where canned preserves were kept.
During the day Catalina read in the library or took walks in the woods. Sometimes she talked to Juliet who was almost always to be found gardening her perfect golden yellow roses. She never saw much of Frank as he was always locked up in one of the Mystery rooms. Miss Holstrom was fun to talk to, she showed Catalina all sorts of nice things like trick doors. She also told Catalina stories about the nick-nacks like the music box from Germany. Once when Miss Holstrom was cleaning the Rose room she showed Catalina one of Juliet's jewels, a beautiful emerald on a silver chain. "This is Madame's favorite," she said as she dangle the emerald in the sunlight from the window.
Days were happy at the Yellow House. Every evening the Coffmans and Catalina ate together in the kitchen which was cozier than the dining room. Some days Miss Holstrom cooked and some days Juliet cooked, on these days Catalina helped. Once when Catalina was chopping carrots she cut her finger a little, Juliet looked up from her stew and said, "What's a home if there's not a little blood spilt in it." Catalina thought this was a
really weird sounding saying but Juliet just laughed so she passed it off as nothing. Frank was a writer. Once he showed Catalina one of his books but she found it too dark and morbid for her taste since all of his characters were dead people and ghosts. Catalina loved the Yellow House and she never once missed WoodHaven.
One day While Catalina was walking around the grounds she met the
man who had tipped his hat at her. He was the gardener and he was actually not as old as she thought he was. He was about twenty or thirty something with bushy black hair and eyebrows, he was very tanned from living outdoors most of his life. He name was William Benson, he was very reserved and called Catalina "Miss Harvis" when he talked to her at all. She bumped into him one day and he said "You should be careful around here."
"Why?" Catalina asked.
"Because strange things happen here, it's not all yellow roses." He replied.
"Sure it is." She began to walk away but he followed her and asked "What room is yours?"
Catalina was caught off guard by his surprising question and answered "The Ivy room..." She caught herself and added "But it's none of your business" as she left she mumble "crazy gardener." If her heard her he said nothing.
December was almost over and Catalina was thoroughly enjoying her time at the Yellow House. She was looking forward to school in January too.
On New Year's Eve Catalina was walking through the house when she heard a strange noise. She went upstairs and saw that the door to Frank's study was opened just a crack. She looked through. Juliet, Frank, and Miss Holstrom were talking in low voices and she couldn't hear what they were saying. Catalina went to her room to read for a while.
At eleven O' clock there was a peculiar flicker of yellow light changing to purple. Catalina went down stairs to find the family and ask about the lights. As she walked down the hall she noticed that one of the closets was open so she went to close it but it was jammed. She opened it and Miss Holstrom's head quietly rolled out, there was dark red blood everywhere. The head turned and smiled at Catalina. It's lips parted as if it was about to speak. Catalina had never before felt true raw terror, but she did now as she screamed and rushed through the house calling the others' names. She heard Juliet's voice calling to her from the library so she ran to her. Juliet was propped up in a chair with a knife thrust into her chest, other stab wounds dripped blood down the front of Juliet's white blouse and made a pattern that looked like drops of crimson rain slipping down her shirt. Juliet smiled and said not to worry. Fear gripped Catalina's heart, she was completely sure that a killer was lurking in the huge house, she ran for the front door, on her way she saw Frank lying in the side room, his chest was torn open and a beating heart lay next to him. Catalina could only think about getting out as she screamed one more time and reached for the door.
She threw open the door and William Benson pulled her through. He pulled her half dragging down the yard, down the driveway, and down the pitch black road lined with massive oak trees, the hanging moss looked like ghosts in the moon light. Her chest burned and her legs felt like rubber but still William pulled her on. She had fallen three times and her knees were raw, they had been running forever when William tugged her across the bridge. All of a sudden he shoved her over the side. Catalina was enveloped by the dark icy water. She was so tired from the run that she didn't have enough strength to pull her head up. She sank, her mouth and nose quickly filling with liquid, her arms uselessly flailing in the water.
William Benson yanked her out of the water and into a small boat, she coughed and sputtered all the while shivering as he rowed out to the middle of the water. Once in the heart of the lake Benson stopped rowing, Catalina could hear voices calling her name across the black water "Catalina, come back home."
"What's going on?" Catalina demanded as she wrung her hair dry. William told her the story. Miss Holstrom was dead, the Coffmans were dead, the had been for years, and even the house was in shambles. A spell lay over this place almost all year long so that the house and its inhabitants seemed real and alive. On New Year's Eve ever year, the spell broke for a few hours and they were what the really were. Every once in a while they got lonely so they tried to get others to join them, but only dead could live in the yellow house. So for the spell to work they had to kill anyone they brought on New Year's Eve. This was what had happened to Miss Holstrom who had come as a housekeeper. William himself had been an orphan whom the Coffmans adopted to join them. He had seen them in their half dead, half alive form when they tried to kill him but he escaped and tried to runaway but anyone who saw inside the house could not leave alive, so the spell kept him from crossing the bridge. Yet the spell was not on the bridge itself so William lived but could never go back in the house. He became the gardener.
In the morning William rowed Catalina back to the land. He told her she could stay with him " 'cause even though he wasn't much company he was better than dead people." Catalina lived in his cabin with him for the rest of her life. She was always in sight and around the Yellow House but she never again went inside and she never again saw the beautiful Ivy room. Every New Year's Eve as she sits in the boat in the middle of the lake with William, she wishes she had never been adopted, never seen the Coffmans and their wonderful yellow house. And even though she has William she would much rather have been a orphan without any family making her own lonely way in the real world where mile long bridges didn't trap you in their magic and beautiful yellow houses were just yellow houses whose occupants died and whose wall crumbled and fell in time, and who no one ever remembered when they were gone, but that was OK because at least that was how it was supposed to be.