My Soul Mate, My Valentine

It would take a book to tell of my love. I’ll share some highlights:

Grayson thinks we might have first met when he saw me repairing the siding on my mobile home during a gale. (To the rescue.) “Here, let me help you.”

I saw a man near my age, no more than three inches taller (which is short), black hair with a slight streak of white down the middle. He had a Mediterranean build, a powerhouse without the bulk.

(I don’t need any help, but…) “Sure.”

We worked together, guaranteeing not even a hurricane would rip the siding off.


In August I heard of the corn maze. Sounded like fun, but who could I invite to accompany me on so childish a venture? Then I saw Grayson. (I know this is silly but…) “Would you like to go through the corn maze with me?”

“I’d love to.”

He found me interesting.



A lady I considered a friend, grew jealous of me and Grayson. There was nothing to our relationship but she claimed to love him, claimed they would be married. Grayson knew all she wanted was a servant, and he was dating a nurse, his fiance. My ex friend insisted I was going with Grayson, so she sought ways to punish both him and me.

Meanwhile Grayson had back problems. His fiance took him in for surgery and dropped him off–with a dear John letter. When hardships descend, you find out who your friends are.

My ex friend’s punishment stayed on target.

(Knight in shining armor to the rescue.) “Will you marry me?”

“No.” (Nice offer, but not a good reason for marriage.)

Still he did protect me from her, and gradually we grew closer.

“Will you marry me?”

(Not that close.)

As time flowed, we found ourselves speaking each others thoughts, finishing each others sentences. A visit to the corn maze brought new rules. Turn always in the same direction, and at the end of each cul de sac, hug and kiss. Yep, we were getting closer, more a spiritual matchmaking. And yet, he was lusty and outgoing. I was reserved and introverted. Was something wrong with me, with him?

I read Please Understand Me, by David Keirsey and Marilyn Bates, a book that tells about different personality types. It turned out that I was quite normal for my type and he was normal for his. It also said that my type was drawn to his type for his ebullience.

Okay, I was ready. He brought me a big egg, solid chocolate. Inserted in one side was an engagement ring. I plucked the ring out, licked it clean, and slipped it onto my finger.


Two years seem just about right for getting to know each other. And we made an agreement. We will not try to change each other. We will not interfere with each others freedom. After all, we were both in our 60s. Grayson was a widower who needed to be married. I had never been married because I valued freedom and truth. Easy agreement. We were buddies, pals, best friends, soul mates.

In August we swept into the courthouse to get a license. The sheriff, all smiles, said we could get married immediately. It so happened the tax collector was available. The event seemed to brighten everyone’s day. We were buddies, pals, best friends, soul mates, and married.

Grayson, ever the romantic, wanted me to be married in the church. So in April, as close to Valentine’s Day as possible, we celebrated in a lovely chapel, filled with relatives. Instead of rice, everyone blew bubbles. Cleaner, more fun, and magical.

“Aren’t you excited?” someone commented.

“No, but I’m comfortable.”

Each day, my soul mate continues to woo me.

“Love you.”

“Love you, too, three and four, and even more.”


And then there’s Angus.

Grayson wanted a dog, so we visited the Humane Society. Amid all the yapping and barking, there remained one who was silent. He looked at us with eyes the color of tiger eye. Grayson saw pure love and made a connection. Angus, they said, was the strongest dog there, but he only had three legs.

“What difference does that make?” Grayson said.

He wanted a companion dog, not a hunting dog. So we brought a shiny black English Labrador home.

He soon proved his love, his strength, and his worth. When Grayson developed vertigo and fell, Angus would leap forward to cushion his fall. Then he would work to get Grayson up.

Angus barks at strangers but never at someone he’s met once. He loves everyone, except cats. Ah, well. No one’s perfect.

Happy Valentine’s Day.


Remember the Holocaust

For years I thought history was the study of war. And I wondered, Why do we want to remember such evil? Why, for example, would we want to build museums about WWII? All through elementary school an…

Source: Remember the Holocaust

Remember the Holocaust

For years I thought history was the study of war. And I wondered, Why do we want to remember such evil? Why, for example, would we want to build museums about WWII? All through elementary school and high school and into college, we saw photographs of the naked dead piled in open mass graves at the concentration camps. We saw living human skeletons, innocent Jewish victims of war. The books, the movies, the lopped-off family trees are with us still.

Why do we want to remember such terror?

Because by remembering, we have truth. By having truth, we have the lesson, the tool, that helps us to avoid a future like Nazi Germany.

And the future is here. See the mad man in the Oval Office. See how Trump has come to power and surrounded himself with moral thugs. See how, from day 1, he has worked to destroy our democracy. He overrides a judge’s order to stop the immigration madness. He counts himself above the law. He freezes government hiring, except for the military. His shrunken government could not step in immediately to help the hurricane-devastated southeastern states. He and his ilk lie, blatantly, and call the lies alternative facts. Six reporters may face 10 years in prison because they covered a protest that turned violent. He threatened to send troops to Chicago, not to resist a riot but because Chicago has a high crime rate. His insanity showed itself before he was elected, and it shows itself now. I could go on for pages, but I’m sure you’ve already seen and heard for yourself how he models himself on Hitler.

When I was in college, one of my female professors, an immigrant from Austria, mentioned she had worked in the freedom underground during World War II. I felt such admiration and wondered if I could be so brave. We don’t know whether we are brave or cowardly or too despairing until the crisis comes.

The crisis is here. We are not defenseless. God gave me the realization that there is a tremendous force for good in this country. We saw an example of it in the Women’s March. By peacefully and lawfully working to save our democracy, we will succeed. Have faith. Truth is a powerful tool. And we are many.

They Marched Across America; They Marched Across the World

January 21, 2017. The rain had stopped, and the day beckoned, with clean but breezy skies. The rightness of my decision to march felt as pure as a rain-cleansed sky. I’d signed petitions, wri…

Source: They Marched Across America; They Marched Across the World

They Marched Across America; They Marched Across the World

January 21, 2017. The rain had stopped, and the day beckoned, with clean but breezy skies. The rightness of my decision to march felt as pure as a rain-cleansed sky. I’d signed petitions, written articles, written congressmen, and wondered if my efforts made any difference. Perhaps the Women’s March would have no impact either, but somehow it felt important, spiritual even. Certainly historic.

The traffic seemed unusually light on my drive to Chico. And when I saw a half-filled parking lot, I wondered if any but a few would show up at the city plaza, where we would meet. Upon leaving my car, I saw another parking lot, crowded with kiosks. It turned out to be a farmers’ market, well underway with offerings of great produce. I passed through and noticed another woman walking in the same direction I was taking.

“Are you going to the march?” I asked her.


When we reached the plaza, it was so crowded with people that I had to snake about to get to tables that held sign-up sheets for local events or free signs. I picked up a small paper one and headed for the restrooms. There was a small line, of women and men. The toilet doors were open, so we could see each had one stall. A plaque built into the wall said these facilities were open to all genders. I pointed that out, and a woman of about 45 agreed with me that that was a good idea. She was wearing a pink hat over a brown one, and the pink one threatened to slip off her head, until a nearby lady fixed it for her. The two-hat lady then explained why she was wearing two hats. “I’m female on top and male below.”

This statement brought no change in the congeniality of those waiting in line. One of the men even offered information on whether there was a urinal in the restrooms.

Afterward I returned to the dense crowd, noting how so many men were attending. They were welcomed, and signs suggested that men of quality practiced equality. They were husbands, fathers, brothers, and sons. Indeed whole families attended, as evidenced by the presence of the old and the very young. I finally edged up to the table where I could select a large, sturdy sign that read on one side, Normalize Equality.

It was interesting to read the different signs. Love Trumps Hate seemed to be a favorite, or Women’s Rights Are Human Rights, but there were many other wonderful messages, a few even in Spanish. One that touched me to tears were the words of Joan Baez, to the effect that action is the cure for despair. Later as we marched, I saw an elderly woman holding a sign that said she was marching for the same reason her mother, her grandmother, and her great grandmother marched. That stuck with me.

Before marching, however, we were greeted by the organizing team. For no more than five minutes apiece, some of them spoke. There was a Latina university professor who had been in this country for 20 years and was thankful for what it had given her. Another was a Japanese American professor who was a native of this country and had been through a lot. A woman who looked to be in her 60s but was really in her 90s spoke for about a minute. She was a veteran of WWII and said her daughter would be wearing her uniform in the parade. I wanted to hear from the tall, statuesque African American woman who also stood on stage, but she didn’t speak. She looked stunning, like a goddess in a yellow turban.

We received instructions on marching and were told to ignore any hecklers. Actually there were no hecklers. On our way onto the street, I passed the lady in the yellow turban. Closer up I could see her youth. Was she a university student? I said, “I love your outfit.”

She thanked me.

“I come from a rainbow family,” I told her.

“I come from a rainbow family, too.”


And then we entered the street and slowly passed the city hall. A lady beside me was walking her golden retriever. The dog was so well mannered, that I jokingly said, “Oh, is your dog marching for animal rights?”

“I have a border collie,” another lady responded from nearby.

Some started chanting and I joined in. And when the man behind me said, “I hope they don’t do ho, ho, hey, hey,” I agreed with him.

Actually we hardly chanted. We mostly partook of pleasant remarks. The only chant I remember is “Freedom! Freedom!”

A policeman and his car at each turning intersection directed our progress. All along the way, people who were watching smiled and sometimes showed us a victory sign. Shopkeepers stood in their open doorways, watching with approval. We passed the farmers’ market, and as we continued toward the university, cheers arose. Across the intersection we could see the other street, that it, too, was filled with marchers.

A lady alongside me asked me where we were headed.

“To the city plaza.”

She had joined the march late because she’d walked from home. She asked me where I was from. I told her, “Red neck country.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Because of the signs that had been erected leading up to the election.”

“It’s changing,” she said, meaning for the better.

A young man danced at the edge of the street, facing the marchers. He was playing a saxophone like a professional. Later we passed a man playing a ukulele, and doing a fine job of it.

I came upon the lady in her mother’s uniform. We fell into a brief conversation. Her mother had served in the army. I, also, had served in the army, but during the Vietnam war.

We passed another intersection where we could see marchers filling the streets we had left. Soon we reached the plaza. A rally would follow, but I had accomplished my aim. I drove home, feeling clean and at peace.

Once home, I shared with my husband about the event, and we booted up the computer, to watch with amazement and delight the march that stretched around the world.

Happy Religious Freedom Day!

Actually, I belatedly discovered this holiday which is on the 16th of January. But belated or not, it deserves celebration. After all, the U.S. Constitution insures freedom of religion in the first…

Source: Happy Religious Freedom Day!

Happy Religious Freedom Day!

Actually, I belatedly discovered this holiday which is on the 16th of January. But belated or not, it deserves celebration. After all, the U.S. Constitution insures freedom of religion in the first amendment, which includes separation of church and state.* There’s a good reason for this separation, for it guarantees the free worship of all religions, whether Christian, Jewish, Islamic, Hindu, Buddhist, or any other religion or lack of it. Thomas Jefferson recognized this and approved of it.

Why would so many faiths draw so many devoted? There must be something to a particular belief system to satisfy its followers. Indeed there is a force that animates all religions. Yogis call it kundalini. Illuminati (as named by Walter Russell) refer to the cosmic flash. Christians call it the born again experience and the baptism of the Holy Spirit, or being filled by the Holy Spirit.

I grew up in the Christian church, but it wasn’t until I became a born again Christian that I prayed, “Dear Lord, show me the truth, even if it is socially unacceptable.” Later I experienced the baptism of the Holy Spirit, the kundalini, and the cosmic flash.

All these are a process by which our energy centers are unblocked, so the life force can flow through us unimpeded. The process takes years, and as it occurs, ones understanding of the spiritual sharpens, more and more.

This process is the force that animates all people, no matter what their beliefs. It showed me, to my surprise, that Christianity is no more the true religion than all the other religions. Rather, they all have their beneficial points and their harmful. And believe it or not, some atheists are quite spiritual.

So let’s celebrate Freedom of Religion Day with a new understanding and appreciation of its place in our history. Whether one is Christian, Jew, Islamist, Buddhist, Hindu, Sikh, Nature worshiper, agnostic, atheist, or whatever, there is room for all in our diverse nation. We are the richer for it.


* In 1947, in the case Everson v. Board of Education, the Supreme Court declared, “The First Amendment has erected a wall between church and state. That wall must be kept high and impregnable. We could not approve the slightest breach.” The “separation of church and state” phrase which they invoked, and which has today become so familiar, was taken from an exchange of letters between President Thomas Jefferson and the Baptist Association of Danbury, Connecticut, shortly after Jefferson became President.

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