Fulfillment For this my mother wrapped me warm, And called me home against the storm, And coaxed my infant nights to quiet, And gave me roughage in my diet, And tucked me in my bed at eight, And clipped my hair, and marked my weight, And watched me as I sat and stood: That I... Continue Reading →
The Great Unanswered Question
I was once proud to say, “I am a Christian,” but I once had more answers than questions. Maybe I can't identify with those who have all answers and few questions. Maybe I will just do my best to understand and follow the teachings and examples of the Unanswered-Question-As-Person, Jesus, Yeshua, Christ, Emmanuel, and hope that someday, like the first-century disciples at Antioch, I will be recognized as a Follower and named accordingly.
From Accidental to Mindful Minimalism
"...a host of fictional families and individuals whose fake virtual smiles and lifestyles were contrived to make me dissatisfied with my own" A limited budget forced me to keep my inner shopaholic under control, but I was frustrated and exhausted from coveting the shoes, purses, dresses, jewelry, smiles, cars, houses, kitchen gadgets, laundry detergents, vacations,... Continue Reading →
The love story of Alma Reed and Felipe Carrillo Puerto
She was beautiful and intelligent, a reporter for the New York Times Magazine on assignment in Mexico. He was handsome and dynamic, the beloved Governor of Yucatan. It was Valentine's Day, February 14, 1923.
Memories of a Place Called Wickett
At the end of the 1948-1949 school year, we moved to Wickett, Texas, where my cousins Sydney, Tommy Dan, and David Lynn lived. Wickett was made up mostly of Gulf Camp—thirty or forty neat white cottages for Gulf Oil employees in a fenced area with grass and trees. The other houses in town were far apart along a few dirt roads. We moved to a small unpainted house with a sad struggling tree in front and a yard full of scraggly yellow grass in back. I read Tom Sawyer sitting on a cellar door in that scraggly back yard. We never dared open that door. Billie Ann Bien, my first best friend ever besides my cousins, came to play, and we tagged each other around the malnourished tree.
When we lived on the farm at Prairie Valley, Texas, just a few miles from Nocona, Mama wore her red Nocona boots most of the time. This drawing in colored pencil on paper represents my memory of those boots. June 2021.
Coffee Talk 