Create, connect and share…


Why does anyone start something new like a job, recipe, or project? Obviously, there is always some guiding influence which directs an individual to make changes, or choices, in life. Sometimes, we all have the need for a little adventure, both to move away from the boredom of a situation or…some need to leave more of a significant imprint in our lives. 

I feel that when a person spends a good deal of time reading the literary works of others, down deep inside is the urge to express themselves through writing. This applies to many other artful means of self-expression. Hey, nothing ventured, nothing gained, correct? One never knows how well their efforts will be acknowledged, even appreciated, unless they try. 

And so, I did just that several years ago. The trials and tribulations of dealing with a mother suffering with Alzheimer’s paved the way to document so much of what was slipping away, day after day. During her many sleepless nights, I sat up, ready to thwart her wandering and started drafting a book and building a website, something to leave behind for my children and grandchildren. A collection of all my mother forgot and even more that I was determined to remember. 

In many ways, I credit my late mother’s dementia for encouraging one of the very things she sought to destroy when I was a teenager…writing in a daily journal and documenting much of the pain that children endure as they struggle through their growing years. 

Ironic, and I often wonder how many others venture into new and positive challenges based on how they have lived, and the people involved. Is it a mission, of sorts, to redefine ourselves, or…rewrite the history of what has made us who we are?

In some ways, I’ve tried to do both.  


workshop-button-1From Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop…Tell us about why you started blogging to begin with. 


Heartful purging…

Date:  February 14, 2016…Valentine’s Day

Place:  Kent Cliffs, New York

Time:  Not enough

Subject:  Purging


Living in the Northeast blesses us with seasons; some we love and others just cause everyone to scatter and climb onto the nearest soapbox to complain.  

Really, people?  It’s Winter and it happens once every year, why the shock and dismay?  Why not just move, become a snowbird and settle down in God’s Waiting Room, aka/Florida, to escape Winter’s wrath …snow, ice and brutal temperatures?  Funny thing is, everyone who makes such a move can’t wait to avoid the Florida sun.  Once they get there,  many hide inside their air conditioned condos or other dwellings of choice, mostly at all-you-can-eat buffet restaurants where they fill their Tupperware and complain about, what else, the Heat!

Sitting here at home on this day of hearts and romance, I’m doing my own hiding of sorts here in my office, that little room-of-my-own.  In fact, most are doing the same as the siege of an intense Arctic Freeze has our area in its icy grasp.  It’s almost impossible to move without feeling a chill reaching out to poke you from under every door or glare back through frosted windows.  Early this morning it was -14 but has now warmed-up considerably, reaching a balmy 8 degrees in the early afternoon hours.

I decided to peruse my files of writing ideas and drafts, realizing that I’ve fallen-off considerably with my postings.  But, there is no soapbox waiting for me to vent any lame excuses like life keeps getting in the way and other blah blah bullshit.  When you are a true Writer, the creative process is always present.  Laziness is the real culprit behind our, inability to produce material, excuses.  I especially need to stop blowing that smoke up both my own and everyone else’s patootie.  Let’s get real, when someone has a passion for the arts, little gets in their way.  For example, Peter Robinson, Jr., a dear high school friend is a very talented photographer who shares his work without hesitation and graciously allowed me to place some of his talent in my blog post today. Peter is a true visionary who captures everyday scenes through his camera lens and the result is just magical.  Rarely does a day pass without at least one photograph from him, the sign of a dedicated artist.






Amazing, isn’t he?  


I’ve finally learned one important thing , whatever the form of creative expression, it should never be done selectively, as if one is doing the world some random favor.  Don’t you agree?  <Note to self:  recite this pep talk into the mirror every day>


The whole subject of purging hit me when our daughter stopped-by to borrow a cooking item and as I rummaged through a kitchen closet,  she suggested that it was time for me to “P”.    Hold any/all wisecracks.   It did make me stop and think, about that finite wall of time that is ahead and all the stuff that is entwined in our lives; things that are important, not to be misplaced, and others than make us wonder what in hell we were thinking when we purchased them.  Of course, the feeling one gets from purging either material or emotional baggage is beyond cathartic.

For now, I’ll hold onto my stuff.  I will also endeavor to make every possible effort to clear the traffic-jam of ideas and thoughts in my head put into some intelligent format while, hopefully, there is still…time.



 Don’t die with your music still inside you.
Listen to your intuitive inner voice
and find what passion stirs your soul.
– Wayne Dyer


Laughing…through tears

I’m supposed to be a Writer and, for a while, I thought I was one.  So many of us who blog come out blasting in the beginning, sometimes unable to keep up with everything we want to share.  We don’t always care who reads or leaves comments, it’s just satisfying to sit back and read our thoughts staring back on the screen in front of us.

Then, the doldrums hit.  Words stop flowing and we keep meaning to sit down and get busy with our chosen passion.  We want to write but don’t, start yet never finish and agonize over a dozen promising posts that gather cobwebs in our drafts folder.

Recently, someone I greatly admire mentioned that she missed me, asking if I was okay.  Just that one message stirred me, deeply, and I started wading through various outlines I’ve been ignoring.  Still, I continued to find excuses to write, allowing life to keep getting in my way instead of giving it free reign to whet my creativity.

Yesterday, at the salon where I work, a man called to make an appointment for his wife, explaining that she was in the early stages of Alzheimer’s disease and that he wanted to do something special for her before taking her on a “Doo Wop Cruise” in a few weeks.  He sounded so confused, explaining that he had reached out to the Alzheimer’s Organization for help and received nothing but mailings asking for donations along with information on subscribing to their publication.  Having experienced the same response when my late mother was diagnosed, I understood his complete frustration.  He went on to explain that his wife is just 63 years old and is suffering from early onset Alzheimer’s,  a form of dementia that often moves more rapidly than what strikes the elderly.  I gave him all the short term advice that I could during our twenty-minute conversation and scheduled time for his wife with one of our best salon stylists.

Shortly after, I had the pleasure in having a conversation with one of those people who really listen, you know, the ones who ask questions and stay totally involved in what you have to say?  We briefly spoke of my writing and how this blog came to be born; we spoke about Alzheimer’s and my difficulties in being a caregiver, how I often laugh in the midst of the chaos in my life.   My inspiration became re-invented when she said…”laughing, through tears”…the title of this long overdue blog post.  I thank you, “Melanie Cricket”, and hope you stop by to read my humble offerings!

So, where have I been?  Like so many others, dealing with things I’m unable to control.  An emotional fracture, caused by foolish disagreements and outright vindictiveness, which has impacted a long-standing friendship of forty years; painful endings of new beginnings; our miserable economy and, worst of all, cancer hitting much too close to home with the recent diagnosis of my husband’s brother, his only sibling.  Each passing day has been full of debates and lectures, mixed-in with a dose of depression that lingers in the background, waiting to pound its gavel down on my existence.

It’s not the end of my immediate world, not by any means.  Countless other human beings have so much more to deal with and I’m reminded about “There but for the grace of God…” when I feel so overwhelmed.  My heart breaks and tears mix with anger over the young girl from Colorado who was robbed of the chance to grow into the beautiful woman she should have been, for those who struggle to survive on a daily basis, for those who cry for help and no one listens.

All of this will pass and I will laugh whenever possible, but, my tears won’t be far behind.