With your answers, please remember we are in the SYW world and which may not always match our reality.
Who was your best friend in elementary school?
Linda Buggellen. A vivacious red-head. We even went into the Army around the same time. After that lost track of her. Wish we could meet up again
What things could people do for you on a really bad day that would really help you?
Do all my household chores like housecleaning, laundry, cook, grocery shopping. Perhaps take me somewhere sunny and warm to rest and relax.
If you could make a 15 second speech to the entire world, what would you say?
Reach out to frazzled overwhelmed care-givers especially those whose siblings have Autism.
Would you rather be an amazing dancer or an amazing singer?
Dancer! I Love Tripping the Light Fantastic!
Nicholas Brothers .. The greatest dance sequence
Dorothy Dandridge / Nicholas Brothers / Chattanooga Choo Choo
Bonus question: What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?
That I survived another stressful week at work. Grateful now for my Vacation and the fact my brother Stephen turns 55 tomorrow. He is with me now. We will celebrate by going to the Natural History Museum to see the dinosaurs!
All Gone Wrong! All Gone Wrong!! My twin brother Brian would squawk that phrase all day long after the accident. No Thanks to a traumatic brain injury Brian’s broken brain was forever stuck somewhere between ages eight and nine sometimes regressing to three or four on exceptionally bad days. Bryce hated seeing him like that on his visits to Sunnybrook Acres Restorative Brain Rehabilitative Brain Center where no restoration or rehabilitation every took place. Like Robby the Robot from the old-time TV program “Lost in Space” auto warnings of “Danger Will Robinson!” And now things would go wrong and there would be danger.
Bryce stopped his meditations on Brian to concentrate on the task at hand. Vengeance. Retribution for a Twin gone wrong. The movies “Speed” and “Taking of the Pelham 1-2-3” had deposited unholy seeds inside his mentally twisted brain, seeds which took root and spawned a new way to spread real life horror.
Bryce sat inside the Command Center his attention riveted to the blinking lights, dials and buttons on the Control Panel. Having sequestered himself in a high security area of the Command Center he checked and adjusted the coordinates of each convoy of Driver-less Trucks approaching various metro areas.
In the background his iPod churned out the sweet refrains of Gordon Lightfoot’s “If You could read my mind Love…..” He liked Gordon Lightfoot’s easy listening music. Something you could tap your toes to and still concentrate on the task at hand. Soothing.
Gordon Lightfoot – If You Could Read My Mind (’74)
The convoy of Self-driving trucks drove mindlessly past required weigh stations, through Closed Bridge Tolls and one by one down into the midnight watery abyss as the bridge had washed out hours ago and frantic dispatchers were unable to reprogram any of the maniacally rapidly reproducing rogue trucks. If the situation wasn’t so dire it could have been funny with internal wishes for the days of “Breaker. Breaker One. Nine.” Over now ancient outdated relics once known as C.B. radios.
Bryce from his locked perch at the Master Control Center smiled as he calmly bit into a ham and cheese sandwich smothered with mayo washed down with gulps of diet soda silently rejoicing over how easy it had been to rigged the undercarriage of these self-driving 18 wheelers with explosives set to detonate at gas stations, nuclear reactor plants, on bridges, inside city tunnels and as they barreled through densely populated metro areas.
In his mind he could hear the explosions, cries for help, dead bodies and disembodied limbs strewn everywhere and he could mentally envision the devastation as truck convey carried out it’s masters wicked plans. One man so quiet, so understated, seemingly so committed to corporations success yet so devious. When so much hurt, anger, pain, and sadness fester inside the mind one becomes a cesspool cauldron of sadistic schemes to right perceived wrongs. A singular moment of rage can last a lifetime in it’s efforts to truncate the lives of others.
Trucks that normally carried frozen and/or fresh foods, furniture, auto parts, etc….now carried death and thanks to the efficiency of inter/intra state highway systems which made it easier to spread destruction across the nation.
The deaths of others meant nothing to him as he had died emotionally, mentally and psychologically those many years ago…. and no amount of counseling, therapy, electrical cerebral cortex stimulation or happy pills could resurrect any signs of peace, purity or innocence if those had actually existed within him in the first place. His was a heart of vulcanized rubber mechanically beating within a dead soul chamber. Dissonant discordant symphonies played over and over again within his thoughts.
Revenge was sweet. Not revenge against that sleep deprived truck driver who so many years ago had changed his family’s dynamic in a way that no amount of their parent’s unlimited dollars could fix but vengeance against those trucking corporate megaliths who were the true perpetrators of injustice. Injustice that changed Brian from an active, dynamic, vivacious child who was now a drooling, adult diaper wearing, rocking idiot who repeated that hopeless refrain “All Gone Wrong” like a broken record stuck in an unforgiving groove with no hope for improvements despite that fact wealthy parents who could purchase the best doctors and medical techniques known to modern science. The tow-headed twins are no more for one now lies broken like Humpty Dumpty. We are he thought a family capsized like a pleasure boat caught inside a sudden unexpected storm.
Volcanic lava heated passions simmering then bubble over unable to be contained by saner whispering angels now drowned out who return to the creator defeated. Injustice that must be punished at all costs!
Sometimes we are the Crossroads for a person in need. The Crossroads between Life and Death. Health and sickness. Not on brag on myself but it is only God in me. Here is what I mean. Last year a pregnant African co-worker was being bullied by a supervisor. It hurt me to see her crying. I immediately called our Union Rep from Downtown and continued to make a hue and outcry to Shop Stewards plus Human Resources. I was outraged at the inhumane treatment she received. Sad to say the abuse came from certain white female supervisors. You’d think another woman would be compassionate. Not so.
This young lady could have been my daughter carrying my grand-daughter so I had to act. I could have kept my mouth shut but to me being a Christian calls for action. It requires that you stand up for those who for whatever reason cannot stand up for themselves. Plus I gave her my cell number so she could call or text me. I got the other women in the locker room to raise their voices also. Things began to turn around.
Activism is like fire shut up in my bones! My voice will not be silenced! I just can’t leave it alone and I will not leave the battlefield until I see results.
Good News: My African co-worker had a healthy baby girl early April 2016.
Listen
On one of my earlier vacations this year I went to a museum where one of the guards struck up a conversation with me. I too am a museum guard so we had something in common. Feeling at ease this gentleman told me he was 81 years old and still working. He took out his wallet showing me a photo of him as a young man. Then he began to speak of his beloved wife who had passed away about five years before. They had planned their retirement together but the cruelty of death took his dreams away. I did ask him if he had children which he does. Adult children. They encourage him to find someone else but as he said to me that someone else would not be her. The way he lovingly described her touched my heart. Having never been married I could not judge. It was not my place to judge but to listen. Work keeps him alive but he really wants to be reunited with his soul-mate/Life partner. In a way I understood him because my parents were married for 40 years when my Dad died, three years later my Mom joined him. That was their destiny to be reunited once again in Paradise. Sometimes the best thing we can do for people is listen and try to understand, to put yourself in their place. Their feelings are more valid than our opinions.
Compassion
Recently I came to work early as usual and found one of my male co-workers sitting outside the locker room crying. Another co-worker was trying to comfort him. Frightened that maybe he was sick or needed medical help I asked if I should get help. My co-worker assured me No so I too rub our tearful co-worker’s back and gave words of encouragement. I came to find out later that the poor man has colon cancer and that his father had committed suicide. Whoa! Dear Lord! Immediately I began to pray for him and confided in a few trusted co-workers who believe in pray and who would keep an eye on him. Basically Don’t want him to follow his father’s path.
When at the Crossroads we are at the foot of the Cross
I don’t know why but many times God has put me in the pathway of people at a crossroads. Different races, religions, faiths, ethnicities. Personally even though I was born and raised as a Christian I feel no obligation to force my beliefs on other people. God does the saving. One God. Many Pathways. God created humans. Humans created religions and often barriers but I believe the Lord wants us to be open to all who need us.
My parents were not particularly religious. They were not church goers however I remember the many times I saw my Mom help a neighbor in need, the lady next door who had just lost her husband, kind words & deeds. My Dad who reached out to many family members who needed his help. In return when we needed help neighbors just came over. We did not even have to ask.
When that the God calls me home I want to hear him say, “Well done thou good and faithful servant. Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.
With your answers, please remember we are in the SYW world and which may not always match our reality.
When writing by hand do you prefer to use a pencil or pen?
In my notebooks which are always with me I use a pen.
What’s your choice: jigsaw, word, maze or numeric puzzles?
I used to do many words puzzles like Find A Word. Don’t do it anymore because it is too difficult for me to see properly. As a child I Loved Jigsaw puzzles. I would do those again if I had time. No maze or numeric for me. Too much for my number challenged brain to figure out. Some of my co-workers are hooked on Sudoku.
Do you prefer long hair or short hair for yourself?
Right now I’m wearing a medium Afro. I prefer Long Hair but not the work entail in keeping it presentable. Here are some of my various hairstyles over my 57 years. From traditional plaits, the terror of the straightening comb (If you’re a Black Woman over 40 you know what I mean), 70s Afro, Jheri Curls, Dred Locs.
DeBorah Teen Angel
First Dance with My Father
DeBorah had a Little Lamb
Me and My brother Stephen December 1961
Defiant precocious DeBorah
1961- A Very Good Year
MMC 2002 Graduation
Deborah Ann Palmer U.S. Army 1977-1981
Our Florida vacation around 1986
List five some of your favorite blogs.
I know that this is more than five but I wanted to showcase at least eight of my favorites. I Love supporting and encouraging others!! ❤
Bonus question: What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?
The Right to Vote. Tuesday I Voted for Bernie Sanders in the New York primaries. He did not win but I’m glad I’m able to Vote and I exercise that right every chance I get. Looking forward to next week because I will be on Vacation and it will be my brother Stephen’s 55th Birthday Celebration!! Woohoo!! Cheers!! Hands Clapping!!
Espiritu en Fuego/A Fiery Spirit 