Time marches on

Check out this beautiful blog written by my older brother. Proud of him for being able to express these feelings and super proud of my nephews and niece who are amazing human beings.

rwilliamsgenealogy

If you would have told me five years ago that things would be as they are now, I would have scoffed.  Never would I have imagined the life changes that have occurred in the past two years. Sure, in the scheme of family life, the kids grow older, go to college, move away white time moves us along as they begin to move forward to form their lives and their futures. Some of those life changing events brought me to the darkest period of my life thus far. My kids mean the world to me, and not being around them much due to the inevitable “growing up” has been a tough adjustment for this recently divorced father.

Yesterday I had one of those moments where emotion takes you down fast.  Being the end of the semester, dad duties include picking up no longer needed furniture for the move back home for summer.  The boys and…

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Writing is in my Blood

I have known for a long time that I come from a long line of storytellers.  Writers, musicians, poets, thespians, and artists abound in my family tree.  However, I was unaware that my paternal grandmother was not only a brilliant seamstress and artist, but she was also an aspiring writer.

This week, a gift was shared with me by a cousin: folders of written pages by my Grandma when she was taking Composition classes at our local university a couple years after my Grandpa died suddenly of a heart attack.  I have so enjoyed getting to know my Grandma a little bit more (she died of cancer when I was in high school) through these yellowed handwritten (and a few typed on a TYPEWRITER) pages.  I thought it would be fun to share some of it here on this blog.

The following was written during an in-class free-writing exercise..  I am sure many of you will relate to her words as I did.

Why must I write this essay?

by Martha Williams

I am handed two sheets of clean white paper, along with the rest of the English composition class, and told to take my pen and free write for about twenty minutes.  The topic is on “The Persuasive Theme” and my mind is as blank as the paper before me.

Now, anyone who knows me will tell you I am an argumentative son-of-a-gun and will take sides at the drop of a hat, any side, both sides, up one side and down the middle.

The girl next to me who has been writing steadily, suddenly crumples up her paper and tosses it in the wastebasket and the class gets a laugh and I agree, out loud, that “that is how I feel, too.”

Surely in my head, that has been crammed with ideas and knowledge since childhood, there must be something I can write about with some intelligence, presenting one side clearly and yet showing the opposite side for reasonable doubt.  What does one do on the days when no sensible thought appears?

For two days, and longer, this essay has been on the edge of my mind.  I’ve known the whole semester that I would have to do it some day and I still am here, stymied, dumb, no thoughts at all in my head.

Would the teacher accept a note with the explanation that I just couldn’t think of a thing to write about?  No – I don’t think so.  She might be sympathetic, but since she’s passed this way before, she’d expect me to come up with something.  After all, she did it, didn’t she?

“The Zoo at Glen Miller Park is Shameful.”  Now there’s a really good subject and I can get into it with both feet.  I love animals, especially exotic ones; lions, tigers, peacocks, and all the little woods animals; the bear, the silly monkeys that look like members of my family tree; they are beautiful, cuddly, and soft.  Or are they?  Out at the Glen, they’re dirty and cross and smelly and evil looking and who wouldn’t be?  Now the other side of the argument – there isn’t one.  Well, scrap that idea.

My little friend in the next seat is going through a painful period of finding her worth in a world of people whom she thinks have everything while God has somehow passed her by.  I could write on that theme.  I certainly know a few things about that.  Some day she’ll learn that the pain she’s going through is her growth in body, mind, and spirit and she’ll recognize it and be thankful for it.  Her sorrow is only one of many kinds, but I can’t tell her that.  When you hurt, you hurt and no one else’s pain compares at all with yours.  She’s OK and she’s going to be better.  I don’t want to get into that subject anyhow.  I can solve my own problems and no one ever is popular who preaches one way or another on any phase of religion.  Who wants to be told, “just forget it, it’s happened before”?

It’s time to pass papers around for editing and ideas.  Good, that always helps and if I need anything at all today, I need help for this paper.

The first gal doesn’t really think I’m serious because I’ve been so silly today.  She is kind and laughs at my silliness, but the young man is trying to help and makes me a list of good reasons for why I should write a debating paper.  Bless them both.

Well why should I?  I’m working for credits for this course.  I have to earn them, no one’s going to say, poor little old lady, we’ll give her good grades as our good deed for today.  At least I hope no one is going to do that!  And then, even with earned credits, I’ll be a freshman for thirty years at the rate I’m going.  As kind as the good Lord has been to me, I don’t think He’ll be that patient.  So why do I work so hard?

Well, what if I do have time to earn a B.A. degree; to take all the subjects I’ve yearned with all my heart to take for 42 years?  To fill my self with the knowledge that this little gal has got a lot on the ball after all these years?  Wouldn’t I crow?  From the top of the highest tree I would!

So I’d better stop foolin’ around and get busy.

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written sometime around 1980 for Composition I at Indiana University East

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I was so touched to know that my Grandma would be proud of me.  Although she never got to finish her B.A. degree, I did; and now I know that when I was handed that diploma from Indiana University East 25 years later, she was smiling down on me.

 

 

 

 

An Interview with author Carole Parkes

Check out this interview with author Carole Parkes by Doug Lafuze.

 

Doug's Scribbles and Ramblings

Interviewing the Author, Carole Parkes

I was born in Liverpool, England in 1945, after the war had ended. Seventy years later, I can look back on a life that is mainly a happy one.

Carole 1Question: What is your impression of your childhood?

I had a happy childhood. When I reflect on it now, I know that was mostly due to having a really loving father. I never realized it when I was a child, but my mum suffered depression which led to often repeated bouts of crying. It was my dad who we went to whenever we needed anything. He put plasters on our cuts and grazes, rocked us on his knee while he sang a lullaby, and gave us a donkey ride up the stairs to bed. It was only in later years I began to ask why mum never cuddled us or took us to bed. Now I’m…

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The final page of 2015

365

I am ready for 2016.

I have some goals for the year, but I’m not making resolutions.  Just an intention to do the best I can each and every one of the 366 (it’s a leap year!) days I am given in 2016.

2015 brought a lot of lessons.  I renewed old friendships and reawakened feelings I had forgotten how to feel.  I had my heart beautifully broken and am okay with it.  I both failed and won at being a single mom – every single day.  I started writing this blog, two novels, and several songs.  I was diagnosed with diabetes, and began a journey to a healthier me (30 lbs down, so far!).

I turned 40 and the world didn’t collapse.  In fact, it was one of the best days of my entire life.  Over 40 Random Acts of Kindness were performed on that day and since and the world became a bit brighter.  It was 70 degrees in Indiana in December and I got to hang out on the front porch with my very best friends, my tribe, the island of misfit toys, and just BE.

This past year, I cried a lot, laughed a lot, started singing again and feeling more like myself than I have in a long time.  There were a lot of struggles, and even more lessons, but I realized that I am one lucky lady to be alive and have the opportunity to wake up each day and try again.

Here’s to you on the last page of the final chapter of 2015.

Lets-make-a-beautiful-world.-Happy-New-Year

Love,

Izzy

#Read about Guest #Author Doug Lafuze

Check this out! Great job, Doug.

Chris The Story Reading Ape's Blog

Doug LafuzeIt’s hard to figure out how to start a piece on one of my least favorite subjects to discuss, myself! Do I start with where I was born, or when I first wanted to be a writer, or how about when I first started really writing? This is to promote myself as an author after all since my first book is now on Amazon so I could just start with what started me writing, but I feel like I should go back to the beginning.

I’m the first of three kids born into a farm family. My sister I were born in Oxford Ohio, but my parents moved to a small farm north of Williamsburg Indiana when I was nine. My brother joined the family there a few years later. I grew up working on the farm with Dad and raising Landrace hogs with my sister for 4-H. When I…

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Stabbed by syntax

I happened upon a blog post this morning entitled “10 quotes for writers and lovers and speakers of truth.”  I bookmarked the site and intend to visit it often.  One quote in particular really stood out to me today and I wanted to share it here.

Doug (photographer and AUTHOR extraordinaire) was kind enough to let me “borrow” one of his photos to help me highlight the quote.  I hope it resonates with some of you as well.

TTWQuote

photo by Doug Lafuze, Editing by Izzy

“I write to soothe the voices shouting inside me . . .”

I challenge you to write something today that you are scared to write.

Be vulnerable.

-Izzy