How’s Your Connection?

2 Nov

Onisha Ellis

On the Porch

 

My name is Onisha and I am an addict, specifically a twitter addict. My addiction began innocently as an alternative to throwing something at the television. It quickly escalated into an insatiable need to “know” things. Twitter is a global community of people who share in 140 characters what they are seeing, thinking and feeling and by joining twitter I found I could get information straight from the source.  I know most people will think this need is a bit extreme and it is, but I have trust issues with our media outlets.

After my daughter, Rebekah Lyn began writing novels, I moved deeper into social media and twitter as a way to help with her career.  This is when I became thoroughly addicted. Tweeting in the independent author community is an amazing experience. I have connected with women and men who I now consider to be friends. We meet together each day on twitter to help each other promote their work and in the process we laugh and encourage one another.

I have been musing over this connection phenomenon and think I may have figured it out. Each year, starting in November, my husband becomes very thoughtful and attentive. In the beginning, I meanly thought he was just angling for a nice Christmas gift, but after a few years I began to notice a pattern.  You see, my husband loves to give Christmas gifts and he starts thinking about what he will choose for me in November. The more he thinks about which gifts would please attentive, the more thoughtful and me he becomes. We feel a closer connection.  I, of course, love this time of year.

On twitter it is so easy to be attentive and supportive. With two clicks you can retweet someone or create a brand new tweet and help them promote their book.  In 140 characters you can ask someone how their day is going and share yours.

Come check out my books on Amazon. There’s romance, horror, inspirational                and children’s books. @ReginaPuckethttp://ow.ly/eW9TY 

It seems connection comes from moving our attention away from our thoughts and onto thinking of someone else. I wish it was as easy in my everyday world as it is in the virtual realm.

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Our Trip Across America Part 4

31 Oct

A Slice of Life

 Bill Lites

We took I-49 North toward Shreveport to my dad’s family home site near the small town of Many, LA.  We had a wonderful visit there with several of my uncles and aunts, remembering the good times my sister and I had during the many summer visits there when we were young

there was always the “ole swimming hole” where we spent a lot of time swimming, fished and chasing the crayfish.  On the way out of town we stopped at the old country store where my cousins and I used to spend our nickels and dimes on candy and lots of firecrackers.  One of my uncles ran the store back then but, by this time, the old lever handle gas pumps were gone and the store was closed.

From there, we continued north to Shreveport, to visit another of my uncles and his wife.  He was a typewriter repair mechanic and had a wonderful shop full of all kinds of tools and equipment that he used in his typewriter repair business.  It smelled of cleaning fluid and printer’s ink.

This is when he related the “watermelon nest” story to us.  Seems as how he had this watermelon vine that had somehow attached itself to and grown up a tree in his backyard.  Now I had never heard of a watermelon plant growing up a tree but my uncle wasn’t a man to fib.  So, when a melon started growing high up in the tree, my uncle climbed up there and built a platform for the melon to rest on.

Well, would you believe it, when that melon matured to full size he climbed back up there, brought it down and he and his wife enjoyed it together.  I asked him if that was the same tree, I fell out of and broke my wrist when my family was visiting him on one of our summer trips to Louisiana, and he said it probably was.  My aunt had a fine dress shop out in the country away from everything. She often went on buying trips to the big cities, brought the latest styles in ladies dresses back to her shop, and sold most everything to the local ladies near and far.

To be continued……

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What is Success?

29 Oct

My Take

 DiVoran Lites

Here’s the deal. If all goes as expected, my first novel will soon be published on several e-book sites. I can hardly believe it myself after all this time, but just the idea of it sets me to wondering whether people will like Sacred Spring or not. I sure enjoyed writing it.

People sure liked, To Kill a Mocking Bird. It won just about every award for writing there was and sold at least 30 million books. But with the greatest success possible, it was the beginning and the end of Harper Lee’s writing career.

I don’t want to be famous. I don’t want to get rich. I just want to keep on writing. I’ve got a bouquet of novels, some written and needing polishing, some still in my head. I am the consummate later bloomer and I’m beginning to think that is the best thing I could possibly be.

Other writers try to figure out why Harper Lee never wrote any more novels. They give reasons such as:

1. The publicity was so invasive she couldn’t bear to go through it all again.

2. Money wasn’t a big deal to her, either.

She had a sister and some good friends, and she loved to fish, but she loved to write best of all. She had a childhood friend, who was also a writer, who betrayed her and turned his back on her. He was jealous. How much effect does venom have on the life of a writer? I know from personal experience that some kinds of criticism can constipate a writer’s mind.

Many writers have overcome all those problems and gone on to write seventy or a hundred good books. But I feel that I could identify with Harper Lee, in the area of blocking myself and never going any further.

So, what is success to me?

Pulitzer. No thank you. I’m not in that league. Money, God is already supplying all my needs. So what does my writing dream come to?

I want to sit down at my computer and be myself. I want to commune with story people. I want to be interested in everything and everybody. Life is my lab. I want to arrange and rearrange sentences, describe things, play with words. I want family and friends who love me for myself and who are easy to be with. That’s all. Maybe I’m a success already, because that’s exactly the way I’m living right now and I love it.

The world is full of books, it is also full of food, the demand for both is endless. That’s success as far as I’m concerned.

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Grandpa

28 Oct

 

SUNDAY MEMORIES

Judy Wills

 

                             

I don’t remember much about my Mother’s father – just glimpses, since he died when I was only five-years-old.  But I’ve heard many stories about him.

I know that he was a little over 10 years older than his wife, my Granny.  They married in 1909, and their first child, my Aunt Jessie, arrived in July 1910, with my Mother making her appearance in 1913.

Jessie told me once that, if they (the girls) ran around the house with just their undies on, Grandpa would swat their bottom as they passed, with the words, “better get some clothes on, sister!”

 

They lived in many places within Kansas and Texas, and he had several occupations that I know of.  I know that he was a carpenter at one point in time.  He built many footstools, stools, corner tables and children’s chairs out of empty spools of thread in his spare time, for the family.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

See, Granny, Jessie and Mother all worked at the Rochester Handkerchief Factory in San Antonio, Texas for many years.  That company used many, many spools of thread in the business, all wound on wooden spools.  I guess he just couldn’t stand for anything to go to waste, and so those three ladies brought home the empties.  While the children’s chairs have been given away, we in the family still have the footstools, end tables, and the corner table.  They may not be very valuable in monetary terms, but they each hold great sentimental value to us all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One other job he held was that of mortician (funeral director/embalmer).  I only know one story about that time, and it was told to us by Mother.  Seems that a very young girl had burned to death.  When her body was brought to him to prepare for the funeral and burial, the family was extremely distraught.  He worked all night long, peeling that burned flesh from her body, until only pink skin was left.  They said she looked like her normal self!  The family was unbelievably grateful to my Grandpa for taking the time to make her beautiful for them.

He was an interesting man.  I wish I had known him longer.

 

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A Letter To My Donor

25 Oct

 On the Porch

Onisha Ellis

October 15, 2012, I was blessed to receive a new cornea. Unlike most transplant recipients who wait on “the call”. I knew three weeks in advance and with this knowledge came the realization that a family was going to suffer the heartbreaking lose of a loved one. My heart was devastated for them. I shared my grief with my wise friend DiVoran and we prayed for my donor and their family. During the three-week wait I continued to pray for peace and the comfort of God’s love for the family.

Even though donors and recipients are anonymous, there is a process to write a letter to your donor family. I am sharing my letter with you to honor the courage and selflessness of all donor families.

 

Dear family,

On October 15, 2012 I received a new cornea with great joy thanks to your incredible kindness. Please know I do not accept your gift without realizing you suffered heartbreaking loss. I knew three weeks in advance my transplant date and I began to pray God’s comfort and peace for you and will continue to do so. This was my third transplant. My first was in 2005 and for no specific reason it failed. I know this may sound strange but your loved one’s gift just feels strong and is healing very quickly. Thank you with my whole heart. Without you and my other donor I would not see and I thank God for you.

 

This link  has FAQ  regarding cornea transplants.

http://goo.gl/xFMho

http://www.spacecoastlivinghealth.com/?p=2161

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Our Trip Across America-Part 3

24 Oct

Last week Bill and his family were getting all packed up to begin their trip across America. This week they begin their journey. Bill’s wife, DiVoran will be sharing  memories of her first trip to  the South.-ONISHA

A Slice of Life

Bill Lites

Bill

We headed North on I-95 to Jacksonville and then I-10 West through Tallahassee, Pensacola, Mobile and Biloxi to New Orleans.  We didn’t stop there on this trip, but told our kids all about our visit there when they were just 3 years and 18 months old.  How we cruised Bourbon Street and how we enjoyed the party atmosphere during our quick stop there.

DiVoran

Bill and I remember different things, so he asked me to put some things I recall into his stories.  He’s speaking of my first trip down south.  Being from the Southwest, where we had mountains and deserts, it was like a wonderland, especially all the trees, rivers, and lakes.  I’d never seen Spanish moss or Pathos vines with leaves bigger than a man’s head covering the trunks of many of the big trees.

Of course, this was the mid 60’s, in the south, which was a time of race riots, sit-ins, and bathrooms and drinking fountains that said, “Whites Only.” Even though it didn’t affect me personally, it was a bit unsettling.

We had been living in LA at the time of the Watts riots, but I was unaware of the way the everyday African-American was treated in public and in the homes of their employers.

One other thing that was so different, I hardly knew what to think, was when we asked about going down to the French Quarter to hear some music that night.  Our hostess, in the very large house where we were staying, told us if we’d put our eighteen month old and three-year old to bed before we went she’d see that they were taken care of. Then she asked kindly if it would scare them if they woke up and saw a black face leaning over them to tend them.

Of course, that would be one of her maids, who had probably tended her children when they were small. “Oh, no, I’m sure not”, I said.  I believed then, and I know now, that our kids are “color blind.”   However, it didn’t come to a trial so all was well, and we absolutely loved the Dixieland band we were privileged to hear that night.

To be continued……..

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Cuban Tree Frogs in Florida

22 Oct

My Take

 

DiVoran Lites 

I must write something down. I can’t talk until I do.

It’s about Cuban tree frogs.

I have one in my shedlette.

He’s been around for about three years.

Ugly!

I think I know his mom, but she has moved on.

He lived with his sister under the porch eave and would startle when I ran the broom to take down spider webs.

Now he lives in my shedlette.

When I was moving a bag of fertilizer, he leapt down to the next shelf and hid.

I jumped back.

He’s much bigger now, but I think he’s alone.

Cuban tree frogs are exotics and shouldn’t be allowed to exist in Florida.

They eat green tree frogs.

It’s true, you used to see them by the dozens.

I love green tree frogs. Their golden racing stripes are real gold from God.

You’re supposed to kill Cuban tree frogs. The tree huggers say so.

Put them in a plastic bag and shove them in the freezer.

My friend knew that.

My son and I talked about it one day in front of his children, but they kept saying, “No, no, don’t do it”

So the Cuban is still here.

I  couldn’t do it anyway, but I know someone who knows someone who can.

Susan wanted to be a responsible Floridian.

However, she didn’t want her freezer full of Cuban Tree Frogs.

She has about a ga-zillion of them.

She chopped two in half with a hoe.

She felt so bad she decided not to do it ever again.

She says, “I could never kill them all no matter how hard I try.”

They hole up in her garage during hurricanes and they die and dry. “What can you do with a dried Cuban tree frog,” she says, “except make jewelry out of it?” Susan is an artist. She makes lemonade out of lemons.

Anyhow, she’s right. I feel so much better. I only have one Cuban Tree Frog and really—I don’t have to think about killing him anymore. I never was going to anyhow.

Exodus 20:13

 

 

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The Tablecloth

21 Oct

Sunday Memories

 Judy Wills

I love to crochet.  I mean I REALLY LOVE to crochet!

I remember my grandmother crocheting, and my mother, and I loved the “granny square” afghan they made with those multi-colored squares surrounded by black.  But I actually taught myself to crochet.  I took lessons to learn to knit, but nothing fit!  Even if I made a sample gauge, the finished product never fit!  But give me a crochet hook and I was good to go!

I made several “twin” outfits for our daughters that they loved to wear.  I made baby “capes” with hoods for new babies.  I taught international women to crochet, as part of their English Language learning process at our church.  In later years, my favorite thing to crochet was an afghan – shell stitch.  I could do that and watch TV both at the same time.  Didn’t realize they would now call it “multi-tasking.”

My husband is one of four children.  Each married and had two children of their own (one broke mold and had a third child).  When all our children were young, we drew names (families) for giving Christmas presents to each other’s families.  The year we moved from Texas to Florida, it was our turn to give to my husband’s brother and his family.  His wife and I had become good friends and shared many passions.  One was crocheting!  She was a whiz at crochet.  She could whip out a sweater in no time!  But she used large hooks and thick yarn.  I wracked my brain for something to give her.  I knew that anything I made (sewed/crocheted), she could do as well or better.  And then I had an idea!  She would never take the time to crochet a tablecloth for herself, using the thin cotton thread needed for that project.  She had a lovely antique pedestal table with a round top.  Perfect!

So I began my project, knowing it would take a while to complete.  I had a pattern for a pinwheel motif that was just right.

I worked and worked on it, taking it with me everywhere.  On our move that summer, we stopped by their house in Indiana for a few days.  After a while, I ran out of things to work on, and drug out the thread and hook.  When she asked me what I was working on, I told her it was her Christmas present.  She was absolutely overjoyed!

From that point on, it became a labor of love for me…..knowing she would enjoy that adornment for her table…..knowing I made it just for her…..and hopefully enjoying the workmanship that went into it.

I don’t know whether or not she still has that tablecloth, but I made one for myself and enjoy using it.  It looks quite different from a pinwheel when put together, but I like the looks of it, even now.

What do you think?

Romans 8:28

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Speak Up Saturday-Paint Mine Park

20 Oct

Speak Up Saturday

Patricia Franklin

A few years back we took a ride to northeast Colorado near the small town of Calhan. Someone had told us that there was a beautiful area there called the “Paint Mines.” We were out in the middle of nowhere, when we saw a sign ahead that said “Paint Mine Park,” so we turned off and followed that road. We drove further out into the prairie land which was flat and barren. As we drove along, we saw indications of some ridges and gullies in the landscape.

Our road led to a parking lot, where we parked our car in an almost vacant lot, and started walking along the trail that was indicated there, although we saw nothing and did not know what we were looking for. As we got further along, we saw a couple of crater-like holes in the ground. When we looked into them, there were indications of beautiful rock/dirt formations in different colors. As the trail went on, we came to a curve, where the trail doubled back and went downhill from there, then snaked to the right and further downhill.

When we got to the bottom and looked ahead, we were flabbergasted to see we were in a rock canyon with beautiful spires and rock walls in breathtakingly  different formations and colors. As we walked into the area, we were soon surrounded by these amazingly beautiful formations in bright purples, pinks, mauve, yellows, and stark white. It was absolutely unbelievable to walk into this alien land in the middle of the Colorado prairie. To make it even more eerie and exciting, the area was deathly quiet and no one was around. We almost felt like we had walked into the past. We eventually did run into a few people during our walk. It was strange how you could be alone in the quiet one minute, round a corner and meet up with someone without hearing a sound or seeing anyone until they were right there with you. At other times, you could hear voices, and never find out where they came from.

These rock walls, tunnels and spires were cut in here thousands of years ago by Mother Nature, and the Native Americans used these natural clay deposits for painting and pottery. The trails go along for a few miles of different kinds of formations. They are amazingly alike and amazingly different from each other. At one point, there are rows of large towering ghost-like formations called “hoo doos.”

This is one of the best kept secrets in Colorado. We took pictures, but you will get a better view of the Paint Mines if you just want to Google “Paint Mines, Colorado.”

A NATIVE AMERICAN QUOTE:

“WE DID NOT INHERIT THIS LAND FROM OUR ANCESTORS, BUT BORROWED IT FROM OUR CHILDREN.”

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Jane

18 Oct

I am writing this on Sunday night. Monday I am having my third cornea transplant and I just can’t seem to gather my thoughts to write a sensible blog so I am offering you a look into my secret life. Mind you, I am not worried about the surgery, after all, I have done this twice already. My concern is nothing to eat or drink after midnight and I won’t have surgery until at least 11:30! Seriously, I am supposed to go hours in the morning without coffee? 

On the Porch

Onisha Ellis

 

My mother always told me “your name goes further than your face,” and she was right. Many times I know of people by name but don’t have a clue what they look like. Have you ever met someone who, when you were introduced would say something like “I am so glad to meet you, Suzy Q has spoken often of you?”

Names are important so why do I use a pseudonym in public?  I have an unusual name and EVERYWHERE I go whether it be a restaurant or Starbucks, I have to spell it. I am not a patient person so after a course of trial and error, I found the perfect “list name”, JANE. The same people who couldn’t spell Ann or Sue have no problem with Jane. I don’t understand it. Please don’t use my idea and choose Jane for your “list name” because I am pretty sure I would have trouble remembering a fake last initial.

Transplant information

http://www.pricevisiongroup.com/sutureless.html

 

All joking aside, I am extremely grateful for the family who chose to restore my sight by donating a loved ones cornea. It is a gift I will receive with both joy and sadness. To lose someone you love is a lifelong sorrow. I have been praying they will feel the comfort of our creator’s peace and rest.

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