Mea Culpa! My Fault and Yours

A ten-year-old kindhearted boy, explains his actions, “Be nice to people, because not a lot of people in this world are nice.” What an unbelievably sad statement coming from a kid, and how true it is. Look at us! We are judgmental and superficial. We seem to have the right to offend, and we use it. While active on social media, many of us are hostile in real life.

9/11 Rescue Dogs Remembered

If you ever worked with rescue dogs, you will know that they are doing hard work. Searching for survivors after disasters like 9/11, it’s what they are trained for. Their goal is to find as many as possible, as quickly as possible. It’s a race against time. When they can’t find any more survivors, that’s when they continue to search for the remains of victims. It’s hard on them and on their handlers and owners, you can see it in their eyes. 

About Losing Everything

I had packed a small kid-size suitcase with my pajamas and Dusie. Her real name was Susie, but it seems I had problems with the “S” as a child, so I had renamed my doll. I wore my red winter coat, black shiny summer shoes even though it was cold outside and my favorite dress, that’s all I took with me, and of course, my school backpack.

I Don’t Want To Make My Bed!

Why do we make our beds in the morning, if we slip right under the same sheets in the evening?

Every morning in boarding school at 5:30 a.m. Sister Theresa opened the door to our bedroom, she cheerfully wished us GUTEN MORGEN before she drew back the curtains and opened the tall, old windows as wide as she could, even when it was snowing outside.

No Pay! No Stay!

On Thursday, the now conservative supreme court in the United States has blocked President Biden’s COVID moratorium, which means Millions of people will now face eviction. I have mixed feelings about it. I once was a landlord. I once was a homeowner. I once came close to being homeless. I once was houseless. I lost it all, not just once but three times. (Yes, I promise, will start writing about it.)

About Dying and Living

I met her when she was in her late 80’s and fell instantly in love with the fragile-looking, stubborn, old Lady, who happened to be our new neighbor.

One of our dogs started barking at her through the fence, just a few days after we had moved in. I was ready to scold the dog when I heard the old lady talk to it. “It’s nice meeting you too. You are just saying hello to me, aren’t you.” Our dog, a shepherd-chow mix, stopped barking, sat down and the two had a conversation. One talked about her flowers, and the weather, our dog listened. From that day on they always met on the fence line.

Author, Writer, Poet or Blogger?

“Put down everything that comes into your head and then you’re a writer. But an author is one who can judge his own stuff’s worth, without pity, and destroy most of it.”

(Casual Chance, 1964)”
― Colette

Author or writer, which is the right title? Is an author also a writer and if so, is a writer also an author? And in which category does a poet belong? And what about the blogger?

The Anger Inside Us

“A monk decides to meditate alone. Away from his monastery, he takes a boat and goes to the middle of the lake, closes his eyes and begins to meditate.

After a few hours of undisturbed silence, he suddenly feels the blow of another boat hitting his. With his eyes still closed, he feels his anger rising and, when he opens his eyes, he is ready to shout at the boatman who dared to disturb his meditation. But when he opened his eyes, he saw that it was an empty boat, not tied up, floating in the middle of the lake.

I remember where I was

When I heard about Elvis Presley’s death, I stood at the steps of a hotel in Milano Marittima, Italy. I had just stepped out on my way to pick up the Bildzeitung* -the worst of all German newspapers- but also the only newspaper Germans were able to get with a three-day delay, when they enjoyed their summer vacation in Italy.

My Death Wish

Recent events brought to my attention that I might not live to be a hundred as I planned. I mean don’t get me wrong, nothing has changed, I still plan on sitting on the porch of an assisted living home –high up in my 90’s. I will be listening to “Uprising” by Muse -just to wake them all up- and my husband will be right by my side, sipping his watered- down beer through a straw. A senior dog we haven’t met yet, will be resting at our feet.