Can love break the barriers of time and distance?
Is it possible to have a bond so close that a person can sense the distress of a loved one far away?
After the bombing of Pearl harbor, Jacob DeShazer trained for a mission. A retaliation to bomb Japanese targets then return to china and rendez-vous with American troops. The men knew the chances of survival were slim due to a strong Japanese presence in China.
The air raid was a success, however; on the way back, the planes failed forcing the men to parachute from them. Two men died in the landing, while Deshazer and his fellows were captured.
Back in the states, a mother woke from a dream where she felt as though she were falling. She began to pray for her son. Her fears were confirmed in a news story about pilots captured by the Japanese. her son would be a prisoner of war for three years. Despite her fear, she held fast to the belief her son would come home. The belief gave her peace.
DeShazer returned home a changed man, during his incarceration he was allowed three weeks to read a bible. Jesus' teachings on forgiveness strengthened him; his teachings on love, inspired. He was able to embrace the truth that we are more than our governments. Peace is possible when we learn to love one another. A mission statement more difficult than it sounds.
After the war, DeShazer married and returned to Japan with his wife and son. After writing "I was a prisoner of Japan", he spent thirty years as a missionary. One of his fans was the man who led the attack on Pearl Harbor. the two became friends and worked as missionaries together.
A day of infamy started a life long work for peace.
Friday, October 28, 2016
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Rusty Pen
"Advice? I don't have advice. Stop aspiring and start writing. If you're writing, you're a writer. Write like you're a goddamn death row inmate and the governor is out of the country and there's no chance for a pardon. Write like you're clinging to the edge of a cliff, white knuckles, on your last breath, and you've got just one last thing to say, like you're a bird flying over us and you can see everything, and please, for God's sake, tell us something that will save us from ourselves. Take a deep breath and tell us your deepest, darkest secret, so we can wipe our brow and know that we're not alone. Write like you have a message from the king. Or don't. Who knows, maybe you're one of the lucky ones who doesn't have to"
Friday, August 5, 2011
Pushy People
We've all met them:
conventional wisdom calls it assertiveness. somehow its empowering to "Assert" yourself into another's business to the point they are ready to hire a hit man.
maybe they should.
I have been plagued with pushy people my whole life starting with family.
I baby sat in high school for a terrific lady named Judy. Judy was my mentor, whether she knew it or not, she perhaps saved my sanity and saved me a fortune on prozac.
Mom would ask how much the house my client lived in cost. She then seemed to want a list of assets and an approximation of client net worth.
huh?
how the hell do I know? I'm 17 and I am not in real estate.
It didn't stop there, privacy was an issue. It wasn't an issue for her, she didn't understand the concept. I got a letter from my sister. I didn't even get to touch the envelope before mom tears it open and starts to read it. My sis was pissed at me and mom was clicking her tongue telling me how mad she was and of course it was my fault.
My sister wasn't good about privacy either. her 4 year old went rummaging through my closet and found condoms. big trouble for me, but no talk to junior about discretion being the better part of valor.
I had roommates who took my car without permission, boy friends who wanted to have sex with all my friends until they dumped me.
the latest incident being the mom of my sons girlfriend rifling through my closet.
I try to be nice, i really do
she wanted to know what was in my spare room and i told her it was storage. she couldnt wait to get in there! why?
she finally backed off after I told her it was where i hid the bodies of the last few bitches who coujldn't respect my privacy.
In this age of tell all, i need to be assertive to tell them all off.
If you want a tell all, watch Springer.
Back off or i will assert my foot into your ass.
yea, i didn't I do that?
conventional wisdom calls it assertiveness. somehow its empowering to "Assert" yourself into another's business to the point they are ready to hire a hit man.
maybe they should.
I have been plagued with pushy people my whole life starting with family.
I baby sat in high school for a terrific lady named Judy. Judy was my mentor, whether she knew it or not, she perhaps saved my sanity and saved me a fortune on prozac.
Mom would ask how much the house my client lived in cost. She then seemed to want a list of assets and an approximation of client net worth.
huh?
how the hell do I know? I'm 17 and I am not in real estate.
It didn't stop there, privacy was an issue. It wasn't an issue for her, she didn't understand the concept. I got a letter from my sister. I didn't even get to touch the envelope before mom tears it open and starts to read it. My sis was pissed at me and mom was clicking her tongue telling me how mad she was and of course it was my fault.
My sister wasn't good about privacy either. her 4 year old went rummaging through my closet and found condoms. big trouble for me, but no talk to junior about discretion being the better part of valor.
I had roommates who took my car without permission, boy friends who wanted to have sex with all my friends until they dumped me.
the latest incident being the mom of my sons girlfriend rifling through my closet.
I try to be nice, i really do
she wanted to know what was in my spare room and i told her it was storage. she couldnt wait to get in there! why?
she finally backed off after I told her it was where i hid the bodies of the last few bitches who coujldn't respect my privacy.
In this age of tell all, i need to be assertive to tell them all off.
If you want a tell all, watch Springer.
Back off or i will assert my foot into your ass.
yea, i didn't I do that?
Saturday, November 6, 2010
CNA
Certified Nursing Assistants.
This should be a noble profession, the girls really do like thier patients.
No, I will not call them clients. Patients are in need of care, clients are money makers for business. At least money is made for someone else, as CNA"s are forced to work at poverty level or below.
Nurses can no longer be equated with patient care. One freind dropped nursing school when , after two years, she hadn't even been taught to use a thermometer. In two years she only had an anatomy class, patient care wasn't even mentioned.
Nurses (RN's) can work ten years in a hospital and never enter a patients a room. They are in offices doing paper work.
LPN's are the ones doing treatments and passing meds, unless it is a floor where the liablitly is too high, then an RN is on the floor, but if the work can be passed onto a lower grade, it is.
Many RN's see patient care as a task below their station. If I only had a dollar for everytime I asked for help, only to have the RN tell me "I'm a nurse, I don't work with patients" as she trots down the hall with a big smile on her face. Leaving the patient looking at me in utter confusion.
The patient sat on the bedside commode for half an hour while I hunted down another CNA and waited for her to get a minute to help me.
One memory I have of working in a nursing facility (please note how the names always imply kind care giving in order to lure the client to their fate), involves patients being lined up along the wall opposite the nurses station. I was feeding a patient when I heard another patient trying to gert the attention of two administrators conversing in front of her.
she was asking for a tissue.
Several minutes went by and pleas became more urgent.
Glancing toward her, she was trying to wipe the snot running from her nose onto her shoulder, wiping the excess from her lips, she tried to remove the mucus from her tongue by scraping it along her shirt sleeve.
the adiministrators kept talking. A therapist and a doctor passed her and did nothing.
I left my patient, walked the three steps toward the tissue box and handed the client a tissue.
At no extra charge.
The two administrators kept talking then moved when they thought the client was too gross to stand near.
THe administrators have a private office, their own parking space and medical benefits.
CNA's don't.
My first job was in 1982. I made 3.35 an hour with the promsie of a nickel raise at the end of the year. The twit had the nerve to act like we were supposed to be enthused about this.
Finally, in the 80's there was a staffing agency called All Stat (not all state) who paid $7 an hour for day shift and $8 for weekends.
My freinds and I were ecstatic. We worked all we could for this agency, as most places paid $5 an hour at the most.
Now in 2010, CNA's still only make $8 an hour and that is the high side. One agency cut CNA pay by a dollar an hour citing the economy as the reason. Do you think administrators took a pay cut?
I was concerend when I accessed the DISCOVER computer program at the college. It lists nurse/psych assistant pay range as between $11-$17 an hoiur. I would love to know who they asked.
Medicare home health visits used to be $11 an hour back in 1990. I don't know what happened to the industry, but CNA's quit making money. The pay rate is busted down to $7-8 an hour with no consideration to experience.
I made more in 1990 than I do now.
This should be a noble profession, the girls really do like thier patients.
No, I will not call them clients. Patients are in need of care, clients are money makers for business. At least money is made for someone else, as CNA"s are forced to work at poverty level or below.
Nurses can no longer be equated with patient care. One freind dropped nursing school when , after two years, she hadn't even been taught to use a thermometer. In two years she only had an anatomy class, patient care wasn't even mentioned.
Nurses (RN's) can work ten years in a hospital and never enter a patients a room. They are in offices doing paper work.
LPN's are the ones doing treatments and passing meds, unless it is a floor where the liablitly is too high, then an RN is on the floor, but if the work can be passed onto a lower grade, it is.
Many RN's see patient care as a task below their station. If I only had a dollar for everytime I asked for help, only to have the RN tell me "I'm a nurse, I don't work with patients" as she trots down the hall with a big smile on her face. Leaving the patient looking at me in utter confusion.
The patient sat on the bedside commode for half an hour while I hunted down another CNA and waited for her to get a minute to help me.
One memory I have of working in a nursing facility (please note how the names always imply kind care giving in order to lure the client to their fate), involves patients being lined up along the wall opposite the nurses station. I was feeding a patient when I heard another patient trying to gert the attention of two administrators conversing in front of her.
she was asking for a tissue.
Several minutes went by and pleas became more urgent.
Glancing toward her, she was trying to wipe the snot running from her nose onto her shoulder, wiping the excess from her lips, she tried to remove the mucus from her tongue by scraping it along her shirt sleeve.
the adiministrators kept talking. A therapist and a doctor passed her and did nothing.
I left my patient, walked the three steps toward the tissue box and handed the client a tissue.
At no extra charge.
The two administrators kept talking then moved when they thought the client was too gross to stand near.
THe administrators have a private office, their own parking space and medical benefits.
CNA's don't.
My first job was in 1982. I made 3.35 an hour with the promsie of a nickel raise at the end of the year. The twit had the nerve to act like we were supposed to be enthused about this.
Finally, in the 80's there was a staffing agency called All Stat (not all state) who paid $7 an hour for day shift and $8 for weekends.
My freinds and I were ecstatic. We worked all we could for this agency, as most places paid $5 an hour at the most.
Now in 2010, CNA's still only make $8 an hour and that is the high side. One agency cut CNA pay by a dollar an hour citing the economy as the reason. Do you think administrators took a pay cut?
I was concerend when I accessed the DISCOVER computer program at the college. It lists nurse/psych assistant pay range as between $11-$17 an hoiur. I would love to know who they asked.
Medicare home health visits used to be $11 an hour back in 1990. I don't know what happened to the industry, but CNA's quit making money. The pay rate is busted down to $7-8 an hour with no consideration to experience.
I made more in 1990 than I do now.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Death of a parent
I know the drill too well. The patient lands in the hospital, recovers, something else goes wrong and he lands in the hospital again.
Dad has been in and out three times in a week and now they have him at a rehab center. Ugh! Its a nice way to say nursing home.
I always said nursing homes aren't gateway to Hell but you could see the front door from there.
but this blog isn't about nursing homes, its about death.
My dad and I were never close. It sucks, it isn't that he was abusive or drunk. He never drank, and i am sure he did his best with a daughter he had no clue how to raise. His mom was closed off and cold. The oldest of three brothers, dad had no real experience with how to deal with women.
He wasn't real affectionate, when I told him a hug a day was vital to mental health, he would respond with "maybe you'll get two tomorrow."
He never said where the source of the hugs would come from.
He was critical, real critical. I was already insecure and unsure of myself, add this to a birth defect that kept me alienated from my peers, and constant criticism was a devastation to me.
I went to work once and opened up to a co worker about him.
she said "It sounds like he's always knocking you. It's hard to like someone who's always knocking you."
I hate to sound like a whiner, but talking to him was like being on a job interview. I always called to wish him a happy birthday or father's day at times when he wasn't home so I could just leave a message. I tired to be closer, but the personalities just didn't mesh.
As he got older, and he was showing signs of dementia, we got along better.
I joked with my hubby and son about it.
We laugh, but they both know what I'm really saying.
We talked while he was in the hospital.
I am conveniently located out of state, so I can stay safely on the phone.
He told me he loves me, and he was really supportive of my family and our future endeavors.
Now I know how sick he really is.
Mom tells me he cries, he hates being helpless and feeling worthless.
I know the feeling.
I've called mom several times and we talk. He could on a few more years this way, but I hope death is merciful. He will die soon with dignity rather than be bed bound and sick. He is confused at times and he describes the lunch room at the home to be "creepy".
He sits next to people who say nothing for 45 minutes.
They have nothing to say. the train is about to make its last stop and they need to review their lives and get right with God, before its time to disembark.
I am calling mom a lot, as I want to support her.
Dad I hope will go to Heaven soon. I don't mean to sound harsh, but the reality is, mom is over 80 herself, and she can't care for him.
For me, I will treasure the last conversation we had. Dad was the loving father I always wanted.
Dad has been in and out three times in a week and now they have him at a rehab center. Ugh! Its a nice way to say nursing home.
I always said nursing homes aren't gateway to Hell but you could see the front door from there.
but this blog isn't about nursing homes, its about death.
My dad and I were never close. It sucks, it isn't that he was abusive or drunk. He never drank, and i am sure he did his best with a daughter he had no clue how to raise. His mom was closed off and cold. The oldest of three brothers, dad had no real experience with how to deal with women.
He wasn't real affectionate, when I told him a hug a day was vital to mental health, he would respond with "maybe you'll get two tomorrow."
He never said where the source of the hugs would come from.
He was critical, real critical. I was already insecure and unsure of myself, add this to a birth defect that kept me alienated from my peers, and constant criticism was a devastation to me.
I went to work once and opened up to a co worker about him.
she said "It sounds like he's always knocking you. It's hard to like someone who's always knocking you."
I hate to sound like a whiner, but talking to him was like being on a job interview. I always called to wish him a happy birthday or father's day at times when he wasn't home so I could just leave a message. I tired to be closer, but the personalities just didn't mesh.
As he got older, and he was showing signs of dementia, we got along better.
I joked with my hubby and son about it.
We laugh, but they both know what I'm really saying.
We talked while he was in the hospital.
I am conveniently located out of state, so I can stay safely on the phone.
He told me he loves me, and he was really supportive of my family and our future endeavors.
Now I know how sick he really is.
Mom tells me he cries, he hates being helpless and feeling worthless.
I know the feeling.
I've called mom several times and we talk. He could on a few more years this way, but I hope death is merciful. He will die soon with dignity rather than be bed bound and sick. He is confused at times and he describes the lunch room at the home to be "creepy".
He sits next to people who say nothing for 45 minutes.
They have nothing to say. the train is about to make its last stop and they need to review their lives and get right with God, before its time to disembark.
I am calling mom a lot, as I want to support her.
Dad I hope will go to Heaven soon. I don't mean to sound harsh, but the reality is, mom is over 80 herself, and she can't care for him.
For me, I will treasure the last conversation we had. Dad was the loving father I always wanted.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
The women who shape us
We try to remember none of us are perfect. We try to give those around us the benefit of the doubt, and we try not to shout WTF when someone says something so mind boggling that logical thought is blown.
Porsche is trying to raise a lady, a high class lady, not a tramp. The problem is her standards are a bit Victorian and it seems natural inclinations play no part in her attitudes.
I was 12 when i went to my brother's ball game. A really cute guy was near the water fountain and I just wanted a closer look, so I took a drink.
OMG
You would think I was offering blow jobs for a quarter. Porsche went nuts.
I was labeled a whore and told everyone saw me "chasing after" this boy.
By this time I wore a 34 B, it wasn't like dudes weren't gawking at my chest; yet, I never heard any of them get the verbal beat down.
Moving on to 8Th grade. I was vengeful, and I still say the sucker had it coming.
For months I was taunted at school. I went to the office crying, only to be told to ignore it or worse, "maybe they like you."
Perhaps the teaching that abuse equals like is what lands a person on Dysfunction Junction.
Well I had had enough.
I put my poison pen to paper.
Love letters, each more scorching than the last, made their way into the tormentor's locker.
Always anonymous and always read to his friends.
It was almost too easy.
He got a letter a day for a month before I finally signed it with a boy's name.
LOL
He called me crying.
The twerp even tried the guilt card. "I know a good Christian like you would never do that."
Bitch please.
Ten years later, he still refused to talk to me.
The down side was when I was caught reading one of the letters to my BFF over the phone.
YIKES
Evil genius is never appreciated in its own time.
The day I realized the paragon of virtue that is Porsche had a character flaw was during the LA riots. Rodney King was beaten by police and it was video taped.
Porsche was livid over the rioting and couldn't understand why people were giving the boys in blue a hard time. Don't they sacrifice for the good of the community.
I tried to explain "Porsche, did you see the video?"
In a perfect "Edith Bunker" tone she responded:
"Oh! I saw that...Why'd they quit hitting him."
The phone was silent. I was dumbfounded.
"I guess their arms got tired, Porsche."
I laugh at this now, but seriously, I 'm thinking scoping out a cute guy at the water fountain might be the lesser of these offenses.
Porsche is trying to raise a lady, a high class lady, not a tramp. The problem is her standards are a bit Victorian and it seems natural inclinations play no part in her attitudes.
I was 12 when i went to my brother's ball game. A really cute guy was near the water fountain and I just wanted a closer look, so I took a drink.
OMG
You would think I was offering blow jobs for a quarter. Porsche went nuts.
I was labeled a whore and told everyone saw me "chasing after" this boy.
By this time I wore a 34 B, it wasn't like dudes weren't gawking at my chest; yet, I never heard any of them get the verbal beat down.
Moving on to 8Th grade. I was vengeful, and I still say the sucker had it coming.
For months I was taunted at school. I went to the office crying, only to be told to ignore it or worse, "maybe they like you."
Perhaps the teaching that abuse equals like is what lands a person on Dysfunction Junction.
Well I had had enough.
I put my poison pen to paper.
Love letters, each more scorching than the last, made their way into the tormentor's locker.
Always anonymous and always read to his friends.
It was almost too easy.
He got a letter a day for a month before I finally signed it with a boy's name.
LOL
He called me crying.
The twerp even tried the guilt card. "I know a good Christian like you would never do that."
Bitch please.
Ten years later, he still refused to talk to me.
The down side was when I was caught reading one of the letters to my BFF over the phone.
YIKES
Evil genius is never appreciated in its own time.
The day I realized the paragon of virtue that is Porsche had a character flaw was during the LA riots. Rodney King was beaten by police and it was video taped.
Porsche was livid over the rioting and couldn't understand why people were giving the boys in blue a hard time. Don't they sacrifice for the good of the community.
I tried to explain "Porsche, did you see the video?"
In a perfect "Edith Bunker" tone she responded:
"Oh! I saw that...Why'd they quit hitting him."
The phone was silent. I was dumbfounded.
"I guess their arms got tired, Porsche."
I laugh at this now, but seriously, I 'm thinking scoping out a cute guy at the water fountain might be the lesser of these offenses.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Springtime resolutions
I haven't been fanatical about posting this blog.
As I about once a week on other blogs, but I wanted to start with the beginning of Lent to restart.
Spring is the most symbolic of seasons, though I love the snow, renewal is inspiration.
I have decided I am a writer asnd need to create a platform as such. In keeping with the lenten season I will give up some things.'
I surrender the notion that I have to have the perfcect figure I had at 20. I am 47 and my husband finds the extra curves appealing. enough said. the up side to being a biker, fashion isn't a biggie with these guys.
I will adopt healthy habits. walking and yoga. I would like to fit more comfortably in my leather pants, but I will not obsess over being a little heavy.
I will quit trying to tell God how to do his job, The world is not now, nor ever will be, what I think it should be.
I will create a platform that reflects my writing and submit more often (articles, not opinions)
I will be happy with who I am and with what I have.
A newbie biker, Christian and writer with a teen son and a husband who adores me. I am blessed and as such, I will use my talents to offer comfort and humor where I can.
I will always be flawed, so the pressure is off to be perfect.
so screw it, let's ride.
As I about once a week on other blogs, but I wanted to start with the beginning of Lent to restart.
Spring is the most symbolic of seasons, though I love the snow, renewal is inspiration.
I have decided I am a writer asnd need to create a platform as such. In keeping with the lenten season I will give up some things.'
I surrender the notion that I have to have the perfcect figure I had at 20. I am 47 and my husband finds the extra curves appealing. enough said. the up side to being a biker, fashion isn't a biggie with these guys.
I will adopt healthy habits. walking and yoga. I would like to fit more comfortably in my leather pants, but I will not obsess over being a little heavy.
I will quit trying to tell God how to do his job, The world is not now, nor ever will be, what I think it should be.
I will create a platform that reflects my writing and submit more often (articles, not opinions)
I will be happy with who I am and with what I have.
A newbie biker, Christian and writer with a teen son and a husband who adores me. I am blessed and as such, I will use my talents to offer comfort and humor where I can.
I will always be flawed, so the pressure is off to be perfect.
so screw it, let's ride.
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