Category Archives: Humanity

Travel diaries: S1E1: Falling In Love With Buddhism

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Lori Lakin Hutcherson wrote this article for Good Black News. Lori is the editor-in-chief at GBN. ~ Humanity

My White Friend Asked Me on Facebook to Explain White Privilege. I Decided to Be Honest
He wanted to know how institutional racism has made an impact on my life. I’m glad he asked, because I was ready to answer.

Most of what I share below is mild compared to what others in my family and community have endured Photo by T Y L E R G E B H A R T/Unsplash.

Yesterday I was tagged in a post by an old high school friend asking me and a few others a very public, direct question about white privilege and racism. I feel compelled not only to publish his query, but also my response to it, as it may be a helpful discourse for more than just a few folks on Facebook.

Here’s his post:

To all of my Black or mixed race FB friends, I must profess a blissful ignorance of this “White Privilege” of which I’m apparently guilty of possessing. By not being able to fully put myself in the shoes of someone from a background/race/religion/gender/nationality/body type that differs from my own makes me part of the problem, according to what I’m now hearing. Despite my treating everyone with respect and humor my entire life (as far as I know), I’m somehow complicit in the misfortune of others. I’m not saying I’m colorblind, but whatever racism/sexism/other -ism my life experience has instilled in me stays within me, and is not manifested in the way I treat others (which is not the case with far too many, I know).

So that I may be enlightened, can you please share with me some examples of institutional racism that have made an indelible mark upon you? If I am to understand this, I need people I know personally to show me how I’m missing what’s going on. Personal examples only. I’m not trying to be insensitive, I only want to understand (but not from the media). I apologize if this comes off as crass or offends anyone.

Here’s my response:

Hi, Jason. First off, I hope you don’t mind that I’ve quoted your post and made it part of mine. I think the heart of what you’ve asked of your friends of color is extremely important and I think my response needs much more space than as a reply on your feed. I truly thank you for wanting to understand what you are having a hard time understanding. Coincidentally, over the last few days I have been thinking about sharing some of the incidents of prejudice/racism I’ve experienced in my lifetime—in fact I just spoke with my sister Lesa about how to best do this yesterday—because I realized many of my friends—especially the white ones—have no idea what I’ve experienced/dealt with unless they were present (and aware) when it happened. There are two reasons for this: 1) because not only as a human being do I suppress the painful and uncomfortable in an effort to make it go away, I was also taught within my community (I was raised in the ’70s and ’80s—it’s shifted somewhat now) and by society at large NOT to make a fuss, speak out, or rock the boat. To just “deal with it,” lest more trouble follow (which, sadly, it often does); 2) fear of being questioned or dismissed with “Are you sure that’s what you heard?” or “Are you sure that’s what they meant?” and being angered and upset all over again by well-meaning-but-hurtful and essentially unsupportive responses.

So, again, I’m glad you asked, because I really want to answer. But as I do, please know a few things first: 1) This is not even close to the whole list. I’m cherry-picking because none of us have all day; 2) I’ve been really lucky. Most of what I share below is mild compared to what others in my family and community have endured; 3) I’m going to go in chronological order so you might begin to glimpse the tonnage and why what many white folks might feel is a “where did all of this come from?” moment in society has been festering individually and collectively for the LIFETIME of pretty much every black or brown person living in America today, regardless of wealth or opportunity; 4) Some of what I share covers sexism, too—intersectionality is another term I’m sure you’ve heard and want to put quotes around, but it’s a real thing too, just like white privilege. But you’ve requested a focus on personal experiences with racism, so here it goes:

1. When I was 3, my family moved into an upper-middle-class, all-white neighborhood. We had a big backyard, so my parents built a pool. Not the only pool on the block, but the only one neighborhood boys started throwing rocks into. White boys. One day my mom ID’d one as the boy from across the street, went to his house, told his mother, and, fortunately, his mother believed mine. My mom not only got an apology, but also had that boy jump in our pool and retrieve every single rock. No more rocks after that. Then mom even invited him to come over to swim sometime if he asked permission. Everyone became friends. This one has a happy ending because my mom was and is badass about matters like these, but I hope you can see that the white privilege in this situation is being able to move into a “nice” neighborhood and be accepted not harassed, made to feel unwelcome, or prone to acts of vandalism and hostility.

  1. When my older sister was 5, a white boy named Mark called her a “nigger” after she beat him in a race at school. She didn’t know what it meant, but in her gut she knew it was bad. This was the first time I’d seen my father the kind of angry that has nowhere to go. I somehow understood it was because not only had some boy verbally assaulted his daughter and had gotten away with it, it had way too early introduced her (and me) to that term and the reality of what it meant—that some white people would be cruel and careless with black people’s feelings just because of our skin color. Or our achievement. If it’s unclear in any way, the point here is if you’ve never had a defining moment in your childhood or your life where you realize your skin color alone makes other people hate you, you have white privilege.
  2. Sophomore year of high school. I had Mr. Melrose for Algebra 2. Some time within the first few weeks of class, he points out that I’m “the only spook” in the class. This was meant to be funny. It wasn’t. So, I doubt it will surprise you I was relieved when he took medical leave after suffering a heart attack and was replaced by a sub for the rest of the semester. The point here is, if you’ve never been ‘the only one’ of your race in a class, at a party, on a job, etc. and/or it’s been pointed out in a “playful” fashion by the authority figure in said situation, you have white privilege.
  3. When we started getting our college acceptances senior year, I remember some white male classmates were pissed that a black classmate had gotten into UCLA while they didn’t. They said that affirmative action had given him “their spot” and it wasn’t fair. An actual friend of theirs. Who’d worked his ass off. The point here is, if you’ve never been on the receiving end of the assumption that when you’ve achieved something it’s only because it was taken away from a white person who “deserved it,” you have white privilege.
  4. When I got accepted to Harvard (as a fellow AP student, you were witness to what an academic beast I was in high school, yes?), three separate times I encountered white strangers as I prepped for my maiden trip to Cambridge that rankle to this day. The first was the white doctor giving me a physical at Kaiser:

Me: “I need to send an immunization report to my college so I can matriculate.”

Doctor: “Where are you going?”

Me: “Harvard.”

Doctor: “You mean the one in Massachusetts?”

The second was in a store, looking for supplies I needed from Harvard’s suggested “what to bring with you” list.

Store employee: “Where are you going?”

Me: “Harvard.”

Store employee: “You mean the one in Massachusetts?”

The third was at UPS, shipping off boxes of said “what to bring” to Harvard. I was in line behind a white boy mailing boxes to Princeton and in front of a white woman sending her child’s boxes to wherever.

Woman to the boy: “What college are you going to?” Boy: “Princeton.”

Woman: “Congratulations!”

Woman to me: “Where are you sending your boxes?” Me: “Harvard.”

Woman: “You mean the one in Massachusetts?”

I think: “No, bitch, the one downtown next to the liquor store.” But I say, gesturing to my LABELED boxes: “Yes, the one in Massachusetts.”

Then she says congratulations, but it’s too fucking late. The point here is, if no one has ever questioned your intellectual capabilities or attendance at an elite institution based solely on your skin color, you have white privilege.

  1. In my freshman college tutorial, our small group of 4–5 was assigned to read Thoreau, Emerson, Malcolm X, Joseph Conrad, Dreiser, etc. When it was the week to discuss The Autobiography of Malcolm X, one white boy boldly claimed he couldn’t even get through it because he couldn’t relate and didn’t think he should be forced to read it. I don’t remember the words I said, but I still remember the feeling—I think it’s what doctors refer to as chandelier pain—as soon as a sensitive area on a patient is touched, they shoot through the roof—that’s what I felt. I know I said something like my whole life I’ve had to read “things that don’t have anything to do with me or that I relate to” but I find a way anyway because that’s what learning is about—trying to understand other people’s perspectives. The point here is—the canon of literature studied in the United States, as well as the majority of television and movies, have focused primarily on the works or achievements of white men. So, if you have never experienced or considered how damaging it is/was/could be to grow up without myriad role models and images in school that reflect you in your required reading material or in the mainstream media, you have white privilege.
  • All seniors at Harvard are invited to a fancy, seated group lunch with our respective dorm masters. (Yes, they were called “masters” up until this February, when they changed it to “faculty deans,” but that’s just a tasty little side dish to the main course of this remembrance). While we were being served by the Dunster House cafeteria staff—the black ladies from Haiti and Boston who ran the line daily (I still remember Jackie’s kindness and warmth to this day)—Master Sally mused out loud how proud they must be to be serving the nation’s best and brightest. I don’t know if they heard her, but I did, and it made me uncomfortable and sick. The point here is, if you’ve never been blindsided when you are just trying to enjoy a meal by a well-paid faculty member’s patronizing and racist assumptions about how grateful black people must feel to be in their presence, you have white privilege.
  • While I was writing on a television show in my 30s, my new white male boss—who had only known me for a few days—had unbeknownst to me told another writer on staff he thought I was conceited, didn’t know as much I thought I did, and didn’t have the talent I thought I had. And what exactly had happened in those few days? I disagreed with a pitch where he suggested our lead female character carelessly leave a potholder on the stove, burning down her apartment. This character being a professional caterer. When what he said about me was revealed months later (by then he’d come to respect and rely on me), he apologized for prejudging me because I was a black woman. I told him he was ignorant and clearly had a lot to learn. It was a good talk because he was remorseful and open. But the point here is, if you’ve never been on the receiving end of a boss’s prejudiced, uninformed “how dare she question my ideas” badmouthing based on solely on his ego and your race, you have white privilege.
  • On my very first date with my now husband, I climbed into his car and saw baby wipes on the passenger-side floor. He said he didn’t have kids, they were just there to clean up messes in the car. I twisted to secure my seatbelt and saw a stuffed animal in the rear window. I gave him a look. He said, “I promise, I don’t have kids. That’s only there so I don’t get stopped by the police.” He then told me that when he drove home from work late at night, he was getting stopped by cops constantly because he was a black man in a luxury car and they assumed that either it was stolen or he was a drug dealer. When he told a cop friend about this, Warren was told to put a stuffed animal in the rear window because it would change “his profile” to that of a family man and he was much less likely to be stopped. The point here is, if you’ve never had to mask the fruits of your success with a floppy-eared, stuffed bunny rabbit so you won’t get harassed by the cops on the way home from your gainful employment (or never had a first date start this way), you have white privilege.
  • Six years ago, I started a Facebook page that has grown into a website called Good Black News because I was shocked to find there were no sites dedicated solely to publishing the positive things black people do. (And let me explain here how biased the coverage of mainstream media is in case you don’t already have a clue—as I curate, I can’t tell you how often I have to swap out a story’s photo to make it as positive as the content. Photos published of black folks in mainstream media are very often sullen- or angry-looking. Even when it’s a positive story! I also have to alter headlines constantly to 1) include a person’s name and not have it just be “Black Man Wins Settlement” or “Carnegie Hall Gets 1st Black Board Member,” or 2) rephrase it from a subtle subjugator like “ABC taps Viola Davis as Series Lead” to “Viola Davis Lands Lead on ABC Show” as is done for, say, Jennifer Aniston or Steven Spielberg. I also receive a fair amount of highly offensive racist trolling. I don’t even respond. I block and delete ASAP. The point here is, if you’ve never had to rewrite stories and headlines or swap photos while being trolled by racists when all you’re trying to do on a daily basis is promote positivity and share stories of hope and achievement and justice, you have white privilege.

OK, Jason, there’s more, but I’m exhausted. And my kids need dinner. Remembering and reliving many of these moments has been a strain and a drain (and, again, this ain’t even the half or the worst of it). But I hope my experiences shed some light for you on how institutional and personal racism have affected the entire life of a friend of yours to whom you’ve only been respectful and kind. I hope what I’ve shared makes you realize it’s not just strangers, but people you know and care for who have suffered and are suffering because we are excluded from the privilege you have not to be judged, questioned, or assaulted in any way because of your race.

As to you “being part of the problem,” trust me, nobody is mad at you for being white. Nobody. Just like nobody should be mad at me for being black. Or female. Or whatever. But what IS being asked of you is to acknowledge that white privilege DOES exist and not only to treat people of races that differ from yours “with respect and humor,” but also to stand up for fair treatment and justice, not to let “jokes” or “off-color” comments by friends, co-workers, or family slide by without challenge, and to continually make an effort to put yourself in someone else’s shoes, so we may all cherish and respect our unique and special contributions to society as much as we do our common ground.

With much love and respect,

Lori

This article was originally published by Good Black News. It has been edited for YES! Magazine.

Lori Lakin Hutcherson wrote this article for Good Black News. Lori is the editor-in-chief at GBN.

KINDNESS ~ Humanity

BE GOOD TO YOUR ENEMIES

Long ago, there lived a little boy named Sammy. He was a good boy. He was good in his studies, obedient to his parents, more intelligent than many other boys in his class and kind to everyone. Grown-ups as well as those junior to Sammy loved him very much. But that aroused jealousy in many other boys who longed to be as loved as Sammy.

Now there was another boy named Timmy who studied in the same class as Sammy. Unlike Sammy, he was not good at studies and always liked to play during school hours. He misbehaved with his parents, bullied his classmates and even ill-treated Sammy. He always tried to put Sammy down and belittled him before other kids in the class. But no matter what he did, Sammy’s grades kept getting better and better. Whether in studies or in sports or from his classmates, Sammy kept getting accolades from everywhere.

On his eighth birthday, Sammy got a nice pen as a gift from his parents. He brought it to school so that he could use it to take down the notes of the lectures that the teachers gave in class. This was a very beautiful pen and it could help one write very fast. When Timmy saw it, he was very jealous of Sammy. He asked Sammy,

“Hey, where did you get that? Did you buy it?”

“My parents gave it as a birthday gift to me.” replied Sammy.

Timmy was overwhelmed with anger and jealousy. The bad boy that he was, he rarely got any present from his parents. He decided to steal Sammy’s pen. During recess, when everyone had gone out from the class, Timmy opened Sammy’s bag and took out his pen. Then he hid it inside his bag and went out to have his tiffin.

When Sammy came back and could not find his pen, he informed his class teacher about it. There was a hunt for the missing pen and the class teacher ordered the class monitor to search the bag of every children inside the class. The missing pen was soon found out of Timmy’s bag and the furious teacher asked the errant boy,

“Now Timmy, what do you have to say about it?”

Timmy was in tears. He had nothing to say.

When Sammy saw Timmy cry, he took pity on the boy. The kind boy that he was, he had no ill-feeling against his classmate. He requested his class teacher not to take any action against Timmy, now that his stolen pen was found.

This opened Timmy’s eyes. He could now see what a good boy Sammy was. He asked for forgiveness from his teacher and Sammy. From that day, he became friends with Sammy and gradually changed himself to be as good as Sammy. Everyone began to love Timmy and Sammy was proud of his new friend.

Despite being hurt by Timmy, Sammy gave him back only love in return. This is how we should also treat our enemies. Who knows? One day, our behaviour may just change themselves for the better.

Moral: Do not harm someone even if he harms you. Be good to all.

*****

Once upon a time, there lived a farmer who had a little land. His name was Tuan and he was a very kind and good-natured person. He lived in a hut on his land with his wife and children and earned by selling whatever crops he could produce on his small land.

Tuan loved to help others. Whenever someone fell ill or needed something badly, Tuan was there to help that person. If someone died in the village, Tuan assisted the family members of the deceased person in whichever way he could. If anyone fell ill at night, Tuan was right beside the village doctor to help him prepare the medicines and tend to the sick. There seemed to be none who hated this man. He appeared to be loved by one and all.

But there was one person who hated Tuan with all his heart. He was Juan, a neighbour of Tuan, who lived in the land next to him. A lazy person by nature, Juan hardly put in as much effort to cultivate his land as Tuan did to produce crops in his own. So when the harvest season arrived every year, Juan found that he had very few crops to sell. Tuan on the other hand, earned a handsome profit through the selling of his produces.

One year, Juan could no longer contain his jealousy. Just days before Tuan was to reap his harvest, Juan set fire to his crops at night. Tuan was asleep at this time and it was only the alertness of one of his other neighbours that saved much of his crops from being perished in the deadly flames of the fire that Juan had lighted.

When the flames were doused, Tuan saw which direction the fire had started from. Juan’s animosity towards him was unknown to Tuan. But he let the matters rest and decided to take action only if he saw Juan repeating his dastardly act once again.

That year, Tuan managed to sell the rest of his crops at a good price but he could not make much profit for a good part of his produces had been burnt. He had a heavy heart but he did not like to tell anyone about it.

Only days later, Tuan was awakened by the sound of lamentations. He went out to find a crowd beside Juan’s hut. He rushed to find that Juan’s son had fallen ill. He found that the village doctor was unable to provide a cure to his illness. Tuan knew what he had to do. He untied his own horse and rode it. Then he rushed to the town that was ten miles away and fetched a more experienced doctor who lived there.

This doctor was able to guess the disease correctly and provided an exact cure for it. Within hours, the boy was found to sleep soundly and Tuan went with the doctor to take him back to the town.

A day later, Juan went to Tuan’s hut and began to weep bitterly. He confessed to his sins but was surprised when Tuan told him that he knew about it all.

“You knew that I had set fire to your crops? And still you fetched the doctor for my son?” asked the astonished Juan.

Tuan nodded and said, “I did what I knew was right. Could I do wrong just because you had done so?”

Juan stood up and embraced Tuan. Both men were in tears and so were the others who stood by them.

From that day, Juan changed himself. Within a year, he could produce much crops in his land through his hard work. When the others asked him how he had changed so much, he only replied,

“It was the goodness and love of Tuan that transformed me.”

Moral: Be nice to your friends. Be nicer to your enemies.

*****

Many many years ago, there lived a dog named Tom. Tom was adopted as a pet in a wealthy household and he was daily showered with nice foods and affections by her mistress Mrs Havisham. All day, Tom lived in a kennel within the compound of the house and he tried his best to guard the home of his mistress. Whenever a thief or a burgler came within the vicinity, Tom would bark as loudly as he could to scare the living daylights out of the culprit. He was the favourite of his mistress. When night fell, he slept on a nice blanket inside his kennel and when day broke he had his food served before him in no time.

But the neighbourhood dogs were not so lucky and they were jealous of Tom’s fortune. Now and then, they would bark from outside the gates of Tom’s house and utter curses at him. All this disturbed Tom a little, but he would only say,

“Poor fellows, they have to struggle so much for their food while I am so lucky. I must not shout at them and add to their misery.”

So he kept quiet and went about his business, turning a deaf ear to their insults.

One day, as he was taking a walk with his mistress, Tom found that some young boys were throwing stones at those same dogs who insulted him. The dogs were cornered and they had nowhere to go. They could in no way avoid being hit by the stones thrown at them. Many of them were bleeding and barking feebly in protest. But the boys were not in a mood to let go of them so lightly. They picked up bigger stones and rocks to have more fun at the expense of the weak, helpless dogs.

Tom could not hold himself back. He was of a strong build and had a very deep voice. He knew that he could scare the boys. He managed to wrench his leash free out of his mistress’ hands and he ran towards the boys.

The boys were startled at the terrible barking that Tom directed at them. Their blood froze at the sight of the huge Tom baring his fangs and running towards them. They dropped their rocks and ran away as fast as their legs could carry them.

“Go home” Tom said to his bloodied abusers “no one will disturb you anymore.”

He ran back to his mistress who had seen all that Tom did. She patted Tom and praised him for his courage.

That night, Tom’s mistress saw a strange sight. The dogs whom Tom had saved in the morning had gathered near the gates of her house. It seemed to her as if they were telling something to her pet.

“Maybe they are thanking Tom for his brave gesture.” she thought.

And right she was! From that day, Tom and his abusers had become friends. Tom’s kindness had won over his abusers’ hatred and he had earned their love, respect and admiration that nothing on earth could buy.

Moral: Be good to all, even if they happen to be your enemies.

  • Travel diaries: S1E1: Falling In Love With Buddhism
    https://wp.me/p9UGek-Z
  • Lori Lakin Hutcherson wrote this article for Good Black News. Lori is the editor-in-chief at GBN. ~ Humanity
    My White Friend Asked Me on Facebook to Explain White Privilege. I Decided to Be HonestHe wanted to know how institutional racism has made an impact on my life. I’m glad he asked, because I was ready to answer. Most of what I share below is mild compared to what others in my family and … Read more
  • KINDNESS ~ Humanity
    BE GOOD TO YOUR ENEMIES Long ago, there lived a little boy named Sammy. He was a good boy. He was good in his studies, obedient to his parents, more intelligent than many other boys in his class and kind to everyone. Grown-ups as well as those junior to Sammy loved him very much. But … Read more
  • WHEN WILL THEY (ALL OF US) EVER LEARN….???
    WHEN WILL THEY (ALL OF US) EVER LEARN….??? Where have all the flowers gone Long time passing Where have all the flowers gone Long time ago Where have all the flowers gone Young girls picked them, every one When will they ever learn? When will they ever learn? Where have all the young girls gone … Read more
  • Peacekeepers International  – humanIty
      When I was a child in school as I sang the song “Let there be peace on earth” it always made me cry. Not in the “Miss America – I Want World Peace” kind of way but true deep tears. I’m not sure why this song hit me so hard as a young child … Read more

WHEN WILL THEY (ALL OF US) EVER LEARN….???

WHEN WILL THEY (ALL OF US) EVER LEARN….???

Where have all the flowers gone
Long time passing
Where have all the flowers gone
Long time ago
Where have all the flowers gone
Young girls picked them, every one
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?

Where have all the young girls gone
Long time passing
Where have all the young girls gone
Long time ago
Where have all the young girls gone
Gone to young men, every one
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?

Where have all the young men gone
Long time passing
Where have all the young men gone
Long time ago
Where have all the young men gone
Gone to soldiers, every one
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?

Where have all the soldiers gone
Long time passing
Where have all the soldiers gone
A long, long time ago
Where have all the soldiers gone
Gone to graveyards, every one
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?

Where have all the graveyards gone
Long time passing
Where have all the graveyards gone
Long time ago
Where have all the graveyards gone
Covered with flowers, every one
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?

    Peacekeepers International  – humanIty

     

    When I was a child in school as I sang the song “Let there be peace on earth” it always made me cry. Not in the “Miss America – I Want World Peace” kind of way but true deep tears. I’m not sure why this song hit me so hard as a young child but I still can’t hear it or sing it without the tears flowing.

    Now as an adult I know where those tears come from. As a woman who saw more than her share of violence I think I had a justice calling from a young age, always wanting peace. So today we celebrate International Day of Peace September 21st each year.

    As I think about world peace and peace issues, I am more aware than ever, peace does begin with me just like the song says. We have an obligation first in our homes to take the necessary steps of peace, reducing violence, anger and having no tolerance for abuse, then in our communities and then our state, our country and then in our world. When we work globally our statistics say the peace and a lack of terrorism is more likely where women are gainfully employed and educated.

    Peace is possible but let it begin with us.

    PEACEKEEPERS INTERNATIONAL

    • Travel diaries: S1E1: Falling In Love With Buddhism
      https://wp.me/p9UGek-Z
    • Lori Lakin Hutcherson wrote this article for Good Black News. Lori is the editor-in-chief at GBN. ~ Humanity
      My White Friend Asked Me on Facebook to Explain White Privilege. I Decided to Be HonestHe wanted to know how institutional racism has made an impact on my life. I’m glad he asked, because I was ready to answer. Most of what I share below is mild compared to what others in my family and … Read more
    • KINDNESS ~ Humanity
      BE GOOD TO YOUR ENEMIES Long ago, there lived a little boy named Sammy. He was a good boy. He was good in his studies, obedient to his parents, more intelligent than many other boys in his class and kind to everyone. Grown-ups as well as those junior to Sammy loved him very much. But … Read more
    • WHEN WILL THEY (ALL OF US) EVER LEARN….???
      WHEN WILL THEY (ALL OF US) EVER LEARN….??? Where have all the flowers gone Long time passing Where have all the flowers gone Long time ago Where have all the flowers gone Young girls picked them, every one When will they ever learn? When will they ever learn? Where have all the young girls gone … Read more
    • Peacekeepers International  – humanIty
        When I was a child in school as I sang the song “Let there be peace on earth” it always made me cry. Not in the “Miss America – I Want World Peace” kind of way but true deep tears. I’m not sure why this song hit me so hard as a young child … Read more
    • Slipping away ~ sad thoughts
      Slipping away from life What is it about life, one moment you believe the journey meant something. Then along comes that time when it crashes around you. The realisation of hurting is just to intense as you stop breathing cause you're hurting with a broken soul. Like shattered glass cutting deep, suddenly you can see … Read more
    • Loyalty
    • LETTER TO MY HUSBAND 💙💙
      My HUSBAND is beautiful inside and out I bet he reads my blog (not really sure he does) My Mother told us kids a story long ago Oh, yeah we were rich kids Mother said “if Our Dad had no money she would live on a riverbank with Dad” Yes, I still remember those twinkling … Read more
    • “Josh Groban – You Are Loved (Don’t Give Up)”~ BROKEN Soul ©
      https://youtu.be/I-G8IfjPAII Don't Give up Have you ever wondered why folk give up! Watch the warning signsSomeone inside perhaps retreats within themselvesSilence is seen as escapism when in fact what happens inside a living being is our message from our gut really is the bodies way of reacting to lack of water, nourishment, surviving drought or … Read more
    • ( just like my Dad did) 💥💥💥 ~ Memories ~ told to me by my Father as a little girl
      Use your voice for kindness Your ears for compassion Your hands for charity Your mind for the truth And your heart for Love Never take your Lover for granted Cause you will never keep them Someone will take your place Cherish, Nuture, Listen and be happy ( just like my Dad did)

    Slipping away ~ sad thoughts

    Slipping away from life

    What is it about life, one moment you believe the journey meant something. Then along comes that time when it crashes around you. The realisation of hurting is just to intense as you stop breathing cause you’re hurting with a broken soul. Like shattered glass cutting deep, suddenly you can see all was in vain. You’re best wasn’t good enough. You’re not good enough. Life starts slipping away. Sleep is escaping from from the misery of knowing you failed again. Thoughts from yesterday.

    Slipping away©️