Archive for June, 2014

The neighborhood has seen better days, but Mrs. Pauley has lived there since before anyone can remember. She raised a family of six boys, who’ve all grown up and moved away. Since Mr. Pauley died three months ago, she’d had no income. She’s fallen behind in the rent. The landlord, accompanied by the police, has come to evict Mrs. Pauley from the house she’s lived in for forty years.

I’ve never been inside her home and I’ve rarely seen her outside. The bushes are overgrown and the weeds have taken over, what must have once been a pretty flower garden. Mr. Pauley used to do all of the gardening. He never got angry when I asked him questions about why he did this or that with his plants.

The landlord is tramping all over the weeds. He looks like a mean man and I feel sorry for Mrs. Pauley even though I don’t know her well. My mom said she is an agoraphobic. That means Mrs. Pauley is afraid of leaving her house. I wonder how they will get her out. The police keep trying to calm down the angry man holding a large hammer in his hand. One policeman takes it away and the man gets angrier.

I see Mrs. Pauley peek out from her curtains. Just one eye and her nose come through between the folds in the fabric. That one eye looks terrified. My mom told me not to interfere, that she would try to get in touch with one of her children. Didn’t they know she was in trouble? I would know if my mom was in trouble. And if she was, I would help her.

My front door creaks behind me. I see my mom staring across the street and she is talking to someone on the phone. She doesn’t sound happy. She’s using her angry tone which means someone is being unreasonable. Usually that someone is me or dad, but not this time. I hear the phone slam down on a table and my mother utters the word stupid. She never says things like that. She’s told me time and time again never to call anyone stupid. You can call a car stupid or a chair, but not another person. She must be very angry.

The door opens behind me and my mother comes out of the house and stomps around me. I stand up from my perch on the brick step, but she waves me to sit back down. She jogs to the police across the street and starts talking to them. I can’t hear what they are saying but both policemen nod and one goes back to the police car.

The angry runs over to my mom and starts yelling at her. I can’t help but stand up and start walking to the sidewalk, but I stop in the middle of my lawn when I hear sirens approaching. That’s when I notice that half of the block is out on their porch watching the drama unfold.

I return to my spot on the porch.

The ambulance pulls up near Mrs. Pauley’s house and a man and woman get out of it. My mom and the police officer talk to them. I guess they’re making a plan on how to get her out of the house. Suddenly there is shouting coming from the large window of Mrs. Pauley’s home. She is yelling at everyone to leave, to get off her property.

The angry man strides forward toward the front door but the other policeman steps in front of him. Now Mrs. Pauley and the angry man are shouting at each other through the window.

I wish my mom didn’t go over there. I don’t like that man. I wish daddy was home; his voice is louder than mom’s even though mom’s angry stare is scarier. Between the both of them, the angry man wouldn’t stand a chance.

Suddenly blue station wagon comes to a screeching halt in front of the ambulance. A pile of suitcases are strapped to the top and a tall man wearing beach clothes jumps out of the car. A petite pretty woman gets out of the passenger seat. The tall man looks just like Mr. Pauley only lots of years younger. The shouting stops and my mom smiles at the young man. While the tall Mr. Pauley look-a-like walks over to the now not-so-angry man the petite woman goes inside the house.

The EMTs go inside with the petite woman and then, after speaking with the angry landlord, the tall man shakes my mom’s hand then goes inside the house. The door shuts and all the neighbors return to whatever it was they were doing before.

My mom comes back across the street and holds out her hand. I hold her hand and we walk into the house. Over two ice cream sundaes, my mom told me that that was Mrs. Pauley’s son who drove like mad, from where he was vacationing, as soon as he found out what was going to happen to his mother.  My mom said Mrs. Pauley would live with him from now on and she wouldn’t have to worry about anything. Right there and then I vowed, that when I was old enough, I would take care of my parents.


 Anger got the best of me. I ranted and raged against a religion that claimed women were second class citizens. With two daughters and a son in tow I would not allow my son to believe he was better than his sisters, or have my daughters believing their future was limited and dependent on a husband. Parents have an obligation to raise open-minded, loving, respectable, children who as adults add balance to humanity. Once I got passed a few long-gone men’s huge egos, another realization hit. They were no better than I am, no more powerful, no less equal. And the God I believe in is an unconditional love entity that we all can hear and feel. I didn’t need a book or men to tell me what to believe and how to live and who to love. My mom raised me with morals and the knowledge of right and wrong.  To reach the being I knew existed, I simply had to listen to my heart, my inner voice, my higher self. And I did. An open mind provides a clear channel to the spiritual realm and to what many people like to label God. Only “God” turns out not to be a single powerful being but an epiphany that is only realized when you consider every human, animal, plant, fish, the grass and weeds etc. as all significant parts of one majestic entity where love resides and hate is an emotion born on earth.

The freedom from losing their earth learned faith is amazing.

Losing their faith (part 2)


I didn’t start questioning God’s morals and until years after my grandma’s death. When you’re a child all matters are explained with a thick coating of sugar. When you learn the alphabet, teachers and parents slowly spoon feed you each letter by using entertaining books and fun songs. Later you learn the meat of the lessons, expected to fully understand grammar, punctuation and a myriad of confusing rules in order to communicate clearly. Thus the religious lessons that began as loving fun church homilies and bible stories were just the bait on the hook. When they finally added the meat to the lessons, a red flag went up, but I was young and trusting of the adults who followed the teachings without question. I, on the other hand, heard a lot of hypocrisy and therefore started compiling questions, storing them in the shadows of my mind. At one point, the red flag turned into a blaring alarm which I could not ignore and the love I believed God was, turned out to be conditional.

…to be continued

I know when you read this letter; you won’t believe a word of it. Let me back up one step. You are me, thirty-two years ago, at the age of thirteen. The age before I knew what being an adult actually meant. This time of confusions and chaos has nothing to do with you. You are caught in the crosshairs of friendly fire. Children should be free from adult drama. Allowed their naivety of the world they will eventually swim in. Anyone who interrupts those innocent years is selfish beyond reason.

Right now life is tough for you. The fighting between mom and dad is never ending and so confusing. School, I know, sucks. It always felt like you had a target on your back. From first grade until ninth was one long nightmare with many brief interludes of fitful resting periods. I’d never done anything to anyone.  In fact I would have been happy to have been left alone, but as you are getting to know, that didn’t seem to be an option.

The reason I’m writing this and sending it to you is because life gets better and you will meet your life partner who will stick by your side through your insane times and applaud all your strengths, skill and talents. You will have strength of mind to know who you are and not allow anyone to change you. The best of you is coming.

I do hope, at the most this brings you comfort and at the very least this amuses you. I needed to laugh more back then in any case.


Everything you’ve been through and what you will go through is worth the journey. Trust me.

I know

Losing their faith

Posted: June 8, 2014 in Uncategorized
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Losing faith in my Faith (Part 1)


In my early years, I believed in God and everything He stood for. My innocent heart fed on words of love, uplifting homilies and the amazing feelings of community while sitting on a pew with my mom and siblings. We celebrated Christmas and Easter with my large family of aunts, uncles and cousins.

At that time, we were our own little community. Crucifixes, crosses and pictures of Jesus were hung everywhere while mother Mary watched over the garden.  

 My mom’s mom was very religious. The matriarch of the family, she was maybe five foot in height, a short plump Italian woman, she was the greatest reason for my strong belief.

She suffered and survived an abusive relationship.

Raised six children and worked through the Great Depression

She was our sanctuary during difficult times at home.

She fed and sheltered us when we couldn’t go home.

At the risk of her own life, she helped others.

My grandma believed therefore I believed

And at the age of fifteen, her heart gave out…

You made me stronger….Despite you


I was tethered by blood struggling to be free

Every uttered strike hitting their mark

Bloodying my soul

Weakening my mind


I was young for a short time

And then I wasn’t

Born with a forgiving spirit

I gave you the chance at redemption

But you didn’t know I was just waiting for my prime

You no longer required emotional reception

So it became my time


I realized everything you said was wrong


And stood my ground.

And I didn’t hurt you to free myself.


Purging Anger…

The angry beat burrows into my heart to attack my soul

Pulls out my spirit

Holding it captive

While it drains the rage

Turning flames into ash

Then drops it back in

I rest peacefully


Here’s my heart…


It is exactly how it happened

Our worlds crashed

Blues eyes met brown

Exploding into meaning and purpose

They shattered and reformed

I tried to run away

But you stood your ground

Didn’t push didn’t pull

I had to make a choice

Be alive

Or live

I chose to live

Twenty one years later

Three beautiful children

My laughter couldn’t be more power

My smile… brighter

I’m standing on top of my world

And I’m not alone

No matter where I am or where I go my imagination turns the experience into an adventure. Sometimes in a crowded room, I hide who I am by not speaking or engaging in eye contact. I listen and observe hearing and seeing what everyone else misses. Even when the music is too loud and the buzz of conversation turns into shouting matches, it is quite where I am. My favorite place is never far away. I’m transported away from the chaos of living but seeking the place inside my mind no one can go. I cannot be touched. I cannot be damaged. I hover between life and death, nowhere and everywhere at the same time and I’m at peace.

After a short car ride, my body and mind find harmony in the cemetery where we laid my mother to rest. It is my personal sanctuary, the final reality of life, putting this body to rest only to be reborn again in another. It’s my happy place. It’s a glimpse into a new beginning. Death is just a phase in the transformation of living. Being alive with your body and thriving gloriously without.  

I sit on the manicured landscape, fixing the flowers while talking to my mother about my life. Though she is not really sleeping six feet under, she is most likely sitting beside me only because I am there, a visit away from home where thinking goes beyond the earthly limits and distractions. I think clearer. I feel better. I love fully.

People come to this beautiful place thinking this is the end. I find hope in knowing it is not. Everyone has this secret paradise. I’m not special.



We’re the dark shadows in your eyes

Always cut down by your tongue

Long before we could speak

Before we could hold a breath

We stuck together

Clung to sanity as we clung to each others’ hands

Asking questions no child should know existed

Your family turned their back on you

So you turned away from us

Made money your home

Deceit a doctrine you followed religiously

Fooling everyone who didn’t know you

You made us cry tears of rage and frustration

Every day for as long as the sun shone

And the moon ruled

You’ll never gather enough darkness to destroy us

Our mother’s undying love forever surging through our veins

A gift of US a shelter from the storm

Our scars glorious reminders

Of all the battles we eagerly fought

To eventually win the war

To become the opposite of you

As if you could bend no lower

You tried to draw a line through blood

It wasn’t enough to Sever ties between us and you

You needed to cut us apart

Pit one against another

Drown our hearts in your hate

A gloom you learned from your mother

Hoping to kill our spirits

As dead as yours

But we are stronger than your pain

And smarter than your hate

You will never destroy what we know and what you cannot understand

The love of Siblings