Food for Thought (Immigration)

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         I came across this editorial on my email today, Friday 2/28/19. It's a very interesting, poignant, honest take on today's immigration vs immigration of "yesterday". I found it to be a great read and very enlightening for those who truly need and want to understand immigration, the United States and the privilege to be part of this wonderful country. Most of us come from a line of immigrants who came to this country legally - worked hard to make a life here, asked for nothing in return, fought in our wars, raised families and respected the American flag. Most of us can relate to this editorial - others will disregard it and remain ignorant by choice...Still, worth the read...Go for it!

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"IF YOU ARE NOT FAMILIAR WITH WHAT THIS WRITER IS TELLING US YOU SHOULD BE."

"Our Grandparents, Great Grandparents, Great-Great Grandparents, etc. etc.

This was written by Rosemary LaBonte to the editors of a California newspaper in response to an article written by an Ernie Lujan, who suggests we should tear down the Statue of Liberty because the immigrants of today aren't being treated the same as those who passed through Ellis Island and other ports of entry. The paper never printed this response however, so her husband sent it out via internet.

Maybe we should turn to our history books and point out to people like Mr. Lujan, why today's American is not willing to accept this new "kind of immigrant" any longer.
Back in 1900 when there was a rush from all areas of Europe to come to the United States, people had to get off a ship and stand in a very long line in New York and be documented.

Some would even get down on their hands and knees and kiss the ground. They made a pledge to uphold the laws and support their new country in good and bad times. They made learning English a primary rule in their new American households and some even changed their names to blend in with their new home.

They had waved goodbye to their birth place to give their children a new life and did everything in their power to help their children assimilate into one culture. Nothing was handed to them. No free lunches, No welfare, No subsidized free housing, No DACA citizenship, No labor laws to protect them. All they they had were the skills they had brought with them to trade for a future of prosperity.

Most of their children came of age when World War II broke out. My father fought alongside men whose parents had come straight over from Germany, Italy, France, Ireland, and, yes, Japan. None of these First generation Americans ever gave any thought about what country their parents had come from. They were Americans fighting Hitler, Mussolini and the Emperor of Japan . They were defending the United States of America as one people.

When we liberated France , no one in those villages were looking for the French American, the German American or the Irish American. The people of France saw only Americans. And we carried one flag that represented one country. Not one of those immigrant sons would have thought about picking up another country's flag and waving it to represent who they were. It would have been a disgrace to their parents who had sacrificed so much to be here. These immigrants truly knew what it meant to be an American. They stirred the melting pot into one red, white and blue bowl.

And here we are now with a new kind of immigrant, be they here legally or not, who wants the same rights and privileges. Only they want it given to them but they want to live by a different set of rules, not learning the language that most Americans speak, but instead one that includes the entitlement card, while remaining faithful to their "mother" country. F___ America is a slogan of many of them!

I'm sorry, that's not what being an American is all about. I believe that the immigrants who landed on Ellis Island in the early 1900's deserve better than they received then for all the toil, hard work and sacrifice in raising future generations to create a land that has become a beacon for those legally searching for a better life. I think they would be appalled that they are being used as an example by those waving foreign country flags now.

And for that suggestion about taking down the Statue of Liberty, it happens to mean a lot to the citizens who are voting on the immigration bill. I wouldn't start talking about dismantling the United States just yet.

KEEP THIS LETTER MOVING.

FOR THE WRONG THINGS TO PREVAIL, THE RIGHTFUL MAJORITY ONLY NEEDS TO REMAIN COMPLACENT AND QUIET.

LET THIS NEVER HAPPEN!
I sincerely hope this letter gets read by millions of people all across the nation!

Of course the press won’t print anything that doesn’t support their socialist views. The immigrants of today aren’t being treated the same as those of yesteryear, they are treated far better. Sometimes better than our own citizens."

...On Poetry and Fiction - Just "One Word" Away (Rainbows)

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                               Poetry and Fiction – Just “One Word” Away (Rainbows)                                                                                               

            One word becomes one idea, becomes one sentence, becomes one poem, becomes one story. It must start from just “one word”. Today my one word is “Rainbows”.

                                                           

                                                            RAINBOWS

            A phantom artist invited me to look up at the sky; his special canvas. The rain had stopped and I watched in awe as he painted a rainbow. All was quiet as the art show began. A mirage of brushstrokes miraculously appeared. To my wonderment, an arc of seven colors was created by his hand. I never got his name, and I never saw his face. I only heard his voice come out of the heavens. However, I knew he was unique with a talent blessed by God and nature. When all was said and done, he whispered down to earth and warned me to beware of a mischievous leprechaun. He said, “You may not see him, but he is there, ready and willing to steal your Pot of Gold. Do not fret my friend - just follow the light, and you will have won a rainbow of love; far more priceless than any Pot of Gold.”

RAINBOWS

Sunlight and raindrops

Nature’s prism

The rain has passed

The art show begins

Seven colors of wonder

Red, Orange and Yellow

Bright Green and Blue

Deep Indigo and Violet

Yes, the sky is the canvas

The artist a phantom

A mirage of brushstrokes

An arc of confusion

All eyes full of wonder

At the optical illusion

The children just waiting

For their one Pot of Gold

As they follow the arc left to right

Innocently searching

 Patiently waiting

Praying with all of their might

But lurking about

Is the skillful leprechaun

Who guards the treasure with ease

He hides from view with his trickery

Enhanced by his giggle and proud of his tease

For he knows we may touch

not one Pot of Gold

- - Such intangible images from days of old

…Yet we’ll witness revered visions

As we follow the light

Sweet rainbows of love

Tangible through sight

"Duke" (A Poem about a family dog) (1967/1968)

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Below are photos of beloved family pets we've had over the years. Could not find one of "Duke", who this blogpost is really about. Read on for the entire story:

                                                   (Cammy) (Female / Mixed Breed) (circa 1968 - 1981)
                                                   (Family pet when I was a child, with my parents and sister -                                                                     some years after "Duke")

                                                      (Buff) (Male / Cocker Spaniel) (1998 - 2012)
                                                      (Family pet with my own family and Son)

                                                             

Today I was revising my collection of poems which I have written over the years, when my thoughts took me back to a time when I was a very young child who had a great opportunity to write her very first poem. I would like to share that very first, and very short, poem ever written by me during my youth. I was eleven years old, in fifth grade, attending Public School 132 (circa 1967/1968), in Brooklyn, New York. I believe this was a class assignment. We were asked to write a poem about a pet – or anything dear to us. I chose to write about our very first family pet, who was no longer with us at the time. He was our puppy “Duke”; a beautiful mixed breed (not sure what type of mix). We had to have him removed from the home years earlier, however, since he was a bit vicious. He bit everyone in the family whenever approached – my Dad, my Mom, my Sister and Me. Yes, I was sad because he was a cute fluffy ball of brown fur, with floppy ears that made him even cuter; but as an adult, I learned that a dog must never run the household, and a dog must never bite the hand that feeds him. Despite that, “Duke” will always have a special place in my heart. He was the first family dog/pet that we had the pleasure of loving and nurturing for less than a year before we had to give him up.

Anyway, back to the poem…After I wrote it and turned it in to class, I discovered that I had a passion, early on, for words, rhyming, poetry – and later, fiction. Throughout the rest of my life, I wrote all of it - and continue to do so in retirement. For many years it was just a passion I kept to myself. Unfortunately, some of those writings got misplaced over the years, never to be seen again. Today, however, I self-publish and share my writings with the world. Hopefully, readers will enjoy those writings as much as I enjoy writing them.

Well, here is that first short poem ever written by me, during my younger years; a time that would direct my life somehow - although I didn't realize it then. After all, I was just an eleven year old, fifth grade girl, submitting a poem as a class assignment - about her first family dog named “Duke”:
                                                            

"Duke"

I had a dog
who was very cute
He was big and brown
and what a brute
The only thing
he'd ever do
was eat and drink
the whole day through

And that's my story about my first family pet, my first short poem, and the discovery of a passion that would remain with me throughout my life.

...On Poetry and Fiction - Just "One Word" Away (Darkness)

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            One word becomes one idea, becomes one sentence, becomes one poem, becomes one story. It must start from just “one word”. Today my one word is “Darkness”.

                                                            DARKNESS

           

            Darkness comes but once a day. I watch through my window as it turns the day into night and fiercely chases the sun away. It brings the stars and moon along, and it captivates those who dare to look…And me – Well I wait patiently each and every night as it enters my bedroom faithfully. It must visit and it must come; for there is no stopping it. It enters slowly and it enters silently as it spreads itself like a dense fog. It blankets me with icy hands as I pull my warm woolen covers across my bed and up to my neck. Darkness brings the beauty of the night, and the loneliness as well. It whispers of the loss of day and sedates you with its aura. Soon you fall into a deep sleep and dream of the coming morn. From dusk to dawn, from darkness to the first glow -  you cannot have one without the other. Remember, darkness must visit and darkness must come; for there is no stopping it. Without darkness there would be no night, without light there would be no day, without both there would be no life.      

DARKNESS

My window tells an honest tale

of sun, of stars, and moon

Where golden rays and sun-kissed days

are hidden much too soon

The darkness comes like a thief at night

My window tells no lie

It robs the world of broad daylight

And the bright blue magic sky

The darkness comes but once a day

While I wait so patiently

It captivates all those who dare

to watch it so complacently

Yes, it must visit - and it must come

There is no stopping it

It takes a slow and silent course

And settles down a bit

It spreads itself like a dense fog

With icy hands as cold as hell

It blankets me so eerily

As I pretend, in bed, that all is well

When I think it isn’t looking

I pull the covers up to my neck

I try to act so brave and bold

And keep my mind in check

It brings the beauty of the night

With loneliness in tow

From dusk to dawn it lingers some

As I await the morn’s first glow

It whispers of the loss of day

With an aura all its own

It fights to take my dreams away

  By sunrise - its cover is blown!

…Despite its teasing, nightly visits

There are lessons here to learn -

Without darkness, there would be no night

Without light there would be no day

Without both there would be no life to live

Hence darkness must have its way

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

"Darkness" is a natural part of the cycle of our world. It will come and it will visit. There is no stopping it. We must embrace it. For along with the loneliness it may bring at times - it will always bring along the beauty of the night.

...On Poetry and Fiction – Just “One Word” Away (Gardens)

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            One word becomes one idea, becomes one sentence, becomes one poem, becomes one story. It must start from just “one word”. Today my one word is “Gardens”.

                                                            GARDENS

           

            I heard the flowers in the gardens whisper and giggle as I skipped past them in animated fashion. I saw the roses on the rosebush perk up and stare at me as I skipped farther along the path. I felt the grass sweep past my ankles as the summer breeze gently pushed it to and fro. The birds stopped by, as well, to cool off in the stone bird bath that stood erect in the center of the gardens; beneath the early morning sun. As I reached the end of the long winding path, there I found an herb and vegetable garden that filled the air with its aromatic scents. Such beauty, such innocence, such tranquility, in the gardens that grow nature’s best.

            If you listen and watch very closely, you’ll hear the gardens speak of love and life; of birth and death; of rebirth and reincarnation; and lastly, they will tell the story of a resurrection. The gardens are magical, spiritual and quite supernatural. They call out to us, and invite us into their exterior and adventurous home - just to look, listen and observe. They encourage us to appreciate their power of life, death and rebirth, as only the ever-changing seasons will allow.

           

           

GARDENS

On nature’s walk

The path is long

On nature’s walk

The path is winding

If you listen closely

You will hear the gardens speak

There will be whispers and giggles

From exotic colored flowers

Who watch as we skip past their home

There will be looks and stares

From majestic rosebushes

Whose secrets will come into view

There will be tickles and touches

From swaying blades of grass

As gentle breezes push them to dance

You’ll see birds on the bird bath

Herbs and vegetables galore

You’ll inhale the aromatic scents of the Gods

The gardens are alive

With beauty and innocence

So tranquil, so lovely, so bright

And they speak to us of love

Of life, birth and death

Reincarnation - and proof of a resurrection

The gardens are magical

The gardens are spiritual

Abundant in supernatural powers

They call out to us, and invite us in

To nurture, to look and to listen

They beg us to stay and observe them by day

As we continue down this wondrous path

…There will be many miracles to witness and see

…As only the ever-changing seasons will allow

"Lives Unbalanced" (Fiction/Mystery/Psychological Suspense) - Novel Published on Amazon Thursday 12/13/18

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07LC4ZLJ5

                                                     
                                           (RAMONA THE RAGDOLL)

PROLOGUE

            This novel is a work of fiction that tells the story of a young woman who survives life, and finds strength in the most endearing yet unconventional ways.

            Susan was an introvert, who lost her parents at a young age. Her brother Marty was the only family she had left.  Marty was married and lived in Florida with his wife Sara and daughter Lisa, while Susan continued to live up North, in Brooklyn, New York. When word from Florida about Marty’s sudden death reached Susan, her world came crumbling down.

            Susan’s loneliness and inability to make friends and enter into relationships easily made for a very difficult and personal struggle for her, until she met Jim. Jim became the love of her life.  However, danger and madness soon found their way into Susan and Jim’s lives through the wrath of the deranged Joe. It was now up to Susan to protect Jim, herself, her sister-in-law Sara and her niece Lisa. It was now up to Susan to also find a way to avenge her brother Marty’s death.

            Susan’s abnormal and dysfunctional connection to her beloved ragdoll “Ramona” became her only salvation. As bizarre as it seemed, Ramona became Susan’s closest friend and trusted confidant over the years to whom she relied upon for advice and guidance. Together they found companionship and a special bond that would keep them connected in a way that protected and saved Susan from the harsh realities of life, and the dangers as well. What may have seemed like insanity to some, Susan’s relationship with Ramona proved to be the opposite. As we all find ways to survive life and loneliness, Susan found Ramona.

...On Poetry and Fiction – Just “One Word” Away (Doll)

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            One word becomes one idea, becomes one sentence, becomes one poem, becomes one story. It must start from just “one word”. Today my one word is “Doll”.

                                                                     DOLL

           

            Suzette kept her in a secret room, because “Rita” was her most treasured doll who became her most trusted friend. No one knew about Rita, except Suzette. They laughed, they talked and they cried together; and Suzette always looked to Rita for guidance. Rita always had the answers to the unknown and to the mysteries of life – Suzette’s life. Rita had the most unique sparkling rhinestone eyes that Suzette had ever seen. These were magical eyes that were alive, intriguing and mesmerizing; eyes which spoke to Suzette through a simple stare. They always shared deep conversations through Rita’s bewitching eyes. Suzette was captivated by this enchanting doll. Their souls united and their hearts soared each time Suzette visited Rita in her secret room. Rita knew Suzette well and Suzette knew Rita well – they were never at a loss for words. Rita existed in Suzette’s world and Suzette existed in Rita’s world. Once their worlds met, it was at those moments that Suzette discovered there was a very thin line between reality and make-believe; between natural and supernatural. They continued to cross that line in order to share a lifelong friendship like no other.

           

DOLL

A secret Doll in a secret room

“Rita” was her name

She spoke through sparkling rhinestone eyes

Suzette was never the same

- Bewitching eyes so mystifying

- Omnipotent and gratifying

…She solved all mysteries of the unknown

And found answers to Suzette’s strife…

But no one ever knew of her

She dwelled within the afterlife

Her intriguing eyes were so alive

One destined goal – to mesmerize

A treasured Doll with special powers

Quite attentive for myriads of hours

Precisely wise in her own right

Cleverly sharp be it day or night

Messages received with tender care

Through the magic of a loving stare

Exchanged conversations through supernatural influence

…A kindred spirit of consecrated affluence

Suzette embosomed all she could

From “Rita” of another sphere

Who lived in a universe so far away

Yet Suzette miraculously kept her near

…A transcendental alliance - devoid of any fear

Her world of charm and mysticism

Was where the paranormal reigned

This secret Doll from a secret room

Was specially chosen to be ordained

…Linked endlessly to Suzette’s world

A natural world of reality…

Where a very thin line shall always be crossed

As they remained joined in totality

- -Two phenomenal lives forever entwined

through a friendship of blessed immortality

"Lost Yuletide Glow" (12 Days of Christmas) (Spillwords Press) - Poem

        "Lost Yuletide Glow" finds its way to Christmas. Once lost, now found, it becomes part of Heaven's Christmas show. We can all relate. If you are lost, make yourself found - and be sure to find YOUR "Yuletide Glow" along the way, during the Christmas Season...Let it shine! - Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! God Bless! 

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LOST YULETIDE GLOW

“Lost Yuletide Glow” hides within Winter’s song

Again not knowing when to sing along

Just waiting on Old Father Time

December winds and nature’s rhyme

Echoes of laughter on every street

Bustling shoppers who meet and greet

Storefront decor from days of old

Where mechanical carolers brave the cold

Noel! Noel! can be heard afar

Across the sky, from star to star

The Universe speaks of coming days

Of cheerful hearts and gentle ways

Sparkling snow sets streets aglow

Where Christmas wreaths and trees all grow

Some magic happens in the air

As “Lost Yuletide Glow” remains aware

Yet silent in its quiet place

So full of love - So full of grace

Still unable to come around

Yearning to be Christmas-bound

When suddenly a Spirit speaks

Of holiday joy and wondrous feats

Vast melodies play in even flow

And Angels welcome “Lost Yuletide Glow”

It soon opens its eyes to holiday bliss

Ne’er to feel its soul amiss

So proudly it shines, this “Yuletide Glow”

Becoming part of Heaven’s Christmas show