As a Retired Physician …. “🤨 This Shook Me to the Core 🤨 …. “!!

Dear God!

It Is What It Is

~~April 29, 2019~~
I’m a retired physician … this isn’t true!!

HE has no bottom! There’s nothing that HE won’t say!

There’s nothing sacred, there’s no boundary HE won’t cross … this is the workings of a sick, disintegrating, senile, evil mind!!

I found a Facebook user’s response which shows extensive experiences in the reality of losing a child close to the birth.

I will quote her words below.

They are worth a read.

HortyRex©

Lou Ann Kyle 
As a response to:
“The baby is born, the mother meets with the doctor. They take care of the baby. They wrap the baby beautifully. Then the doctor and mother determine whether or not they will execute the baby.”

-Drumpf~

“As a NICU nurse, I served on the ‘Bereavement Team.’ We were a special team of Nurses tough enough to help new parents go through the worst day…

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 The Sink Hole Sunk This Poetic Effort

What’s wrong with wearing pink-tinted glasses?

Face it—it’s hard today to walk without stepping in it.

And if you slip and fall—oh my!  If only our inner

compass could be depended upon, if our

creative urges could steer us thru the dark,

find the light.

Should we throw down our tinted lens and fight

the tarantulas?  The booby-trapped

life jackets? Don’t give in to despair they say, but

with luck my sword will slice thin air and not be

thrust back at me. The Drama Queen sits

beside her sister in tinted glasses, waiting for the

other shoe to fall.  Oh my.

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VULNERABLE (in 21 words)

What gets thrown,

blown,

lacking muscle or root?

A life horrible,wk-103-vulnerable

intolerable.

Quick, hie thee to safety

in yon sand box!

I don’t know how to connect this to the site

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WHITHER WILL THOU GOEST??

“We are here today to share in the memories of those who have passed on before us.” But what happens after we die?”

Some people believe that when they die they go to heaven and spend eternity basking in the light of God’s love.

Some people believe that when they die the fate of their soul is determined by karma’s balance sheet.

Some people believe that when they die, they will take an honored place among the ancestors where they will dispense advice to the living.

Some people believe that when they die they will reach Nirvana–a place of oneness and nothingness.

Some people believe that after they die they are reincarnated from one life to the next, learning the lessons that they need–in a state of continuous evolution.

Some people believe that when they die they will not be conscious but their atoms will join the growth of new life on Earth.

Some people believe that when they die they will be reborn into a world that cannot even be imagined.

Some people don’t know what they believe.

Which one would you vote for?

 

 

 

 

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A LOVE LETTER TO TREES

Perhaps my first tree was the one we played dog-on-wood with.  It was especially useful because of its long roots which permitted you to be “safe” from your opponents.

A close second was a friendly pair of trees on the farm—a pecan tree and a fig tree nestled together and both bore yummy fruit.  I don’t think I’ve tasted fresh figs since the farm.

And oh the mystery of the disappearing wild plum trees!  At least in North Carolina you could walk through any patch of woods and find an abundance of wild plum trees, whose fruit was smaller than in the big stores now, but much tastier, and free!  The last time I saw wild plums was in the bazaar in Istanbul.  It wasn’t anyone’s fault but my own that I ate so many I got hives and required gin to numb my skin so I could sleep.  But where have the trees gone?

Mimosas have always seemed magical to me.  What a fancy tree!  Good for a small child climbing also, I can attest.  Playing tarzan in a mimosa is a favorite memory of mine.

I’ve always been in love with weeping willows, and am in awe of ginko bilobas, even before I read how ancient their line is.  I once had a pin that was really a ginko leaf that had been dipped in gold that shone.  I stepped outside the other day and was overwhelmed to see that the ginko beside the O.U. Credit Union on Shaffer had shed a golden halo all around it, overnight! 

I recall as a child nibbling on long green pine needles for their tart taste,  and I have in my home office a basket full of perfect pine cones. Just to have them, because they’re so perfect.  I love the grain of wood also, had have a collection of both driftwood and wooden flotsam from the Ohio River.  I’d love to make a collage of my collection, but am not sure how to do it artfully.  The picture on the face of my computer is of a marvelous wood collage I copied from the internet.  I’ve included it here, as well as a couple of family photos of special trees.

I’m reminded now of an old man who lived next to us in Charlotte who spent his days sitting in his shady front yard, whittling.  I think the wood he worked on with his pen knife was cedar—at least it was red, and he made many wonderful animals out of the wood.  

I recall now a tree I drive by every couple of weeks. It is very tall and offers shade and branches for the vultures to gather, and a huge hole in its trunk. I always wonder who lives in that perfect animal home, and marvel that the tree still manages to thrive despite its roomers.

I’ve always thought I wanted a weeping cherry in my yard, but during a  sale one day I purchased not the lovely tree of my dreams, but for some reason—probably the price—I took home and planted an unfortunate tree, the poor dear. It did not grow pretty, though it stands in the yard at 305 E. State, from which I have moved.  The owners of the house tore down my newly hung flowery wallpaper, but have let the dear unprepossessing tree thrive in their front yard.  Do you think trees have feelings?

If they do there must be a lot of them proud all over town this season.  I can’t help oohs and ahhs at the sight of the celebrating trees.  It’s good to see many neighbors enjoying the flush of cherry blossoms during their season.

There’s something mythical about stalwart trees.  Once long ago lightning struck a big tree in our neighborhood, and I was moved to trek to it with my children and recover a small blackened portion of its remnants.  It was a primitive feeling, that the heavens had selected that one to touch.

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1989 Trip Visiting Au Pair Daughter in Munich

(Just discovered small journal entries from my trip)

I began dreaming and planning a trip to Europe again after 30 years, when her father and I had camped Europe as students…I got my passport photos and my passport…I ordered my plane ticket and began thinking about videotaping abroad. And then I played m old trick again of  being disorganized and losing my ticket reservation because of failure to pay for it within 30 days of the trip. That fault in myself cost me some $. Hopefully the money will be worth the lesson.

Dec. 12, 1989: For awhile this morning my passport was missing–but Manono and Mandy found where Mandy had laid it–in my home office–while I held the phone at work.

Dec. 13, 1989: I understand Stone & Co. is selling pieces of the Berlin wall for $10 apiece. I wonder what it will run in Munich, if available. The person I talked to at Hocking Correctional doubted it was genuine.

Dec. 14, 1989: Waiting in Atlanta International Airport. My daughter requested American comic books but I failed to find any. Going back through I left my airplane ticket and fortunately it was found and turned in before I got too excited…I am flying with American Express checks but not even a dollar in cash.  Flight is 8 hours 9 minutes. We cover 4519 nautical miles. Movie is “Uncle Buck.” Dinner and breakfast served. About 54 degrees in Munich is tomorrow’s forecast…Here we go!

Dec. 15, 1989: We arrive in Munich in less than an hour! The only excitement during the night was a woman in red who was lying on he floor being ministered to  for some reason but got over the spell in about a half hour…

Dec. 16, 1989: Took a 2 1/2  hour sightseeing tour to the Nymphenberg Palace. Got inside shots of the painting and of the swans on the lake outside. That night we went to a concert in the St. Johan der Baptist Church, founded in 808 A.D.

Dec. 17, 1989: Sunday. Quaker Meeting, Monthly Meeting and Quaker Christmas party in my daughter’s livingroom…(They have a rental agreement). I videotaped the carol singing and lighting of candles in the tree. Then to a Christmas concert at  a large Protestant church–string ensemble, harpsichord, flute, organ, horns and excellent choir. Then “the control” got my daughter for transporting her bike on the subway. Got a ticket.  IN THE SUBWAY I saw a man going through the pockets of the coat he was wearing –and a wallet in the coat–as though he was seeing the contents for the first time–which I’m sure he was. There was the photo of a girl on a card that looked like an Ohio driver’s license, but could have been some other kind of I.D.  I had just pointed him out to my daughter when we all got off. I turned to look back at him and he was getting back on the subway with a duffel bag I’m sure he didn’t have before.  We went to hell and back to attend the monthly meeting of the Munich American Peace Group–mostly a group of intelligent older women who all seemed somehow familiar. Home about 10:50 p.m., my daughter led me in yoga and then to bed.

12-18-89: On my own this morning,  getting directions mixed up, confusing the U and S stations. Got Odeonplatz and Ostbanhauf  mixed up.  Dreamed about us weathering a tornado.  For awhile I was worried that the killing of a US serviceman in Panama might precipitate war, but no further news to indicate this.  Tea with a couple of my au pair daughter’s “families” who were very gracious.  Then attended a Bach concert in the Munich Cultural Center . There was an art exhibit there and dead trees instead of a Christmas tree commemorating environmental destruction.  (to be continued another day)…

12-19-89: Went to Dachau today. Stayed three hours.  Did much taping of photos in the museum, the crematorium, towers, memorials, the moat, gas chamber and a barrack. My daughter had bought a bouquet of flowers for me to lay on the memorial of those cremated at Dachau. I didn’t get a headache or too depressed, fortunately.  While there I looked at the trees and wondered if they had been alive to observe the atrocities years ago.  I thought so. When I returned to Munchen I went to Marienplatz and taped the carolers in the town tower.  Saw jubilant draftees who were getting out and St. Nicholas walking through the crowd.

Thursday, Dec. 20, 1989 continued another day…

 

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Dr. Rex and Jill Dennison Spice Their Blogs….

with  happy music or photos or cartoons or jokes, sprinkled in between the gloom and doom overtaking us.  I wish I could, I wish I would, I think I can…splat!

WOOLGATHERING

I’d like to get some drawings on here. It’s difficult because I shake from essential tremor, not parkinson’s.  I tried the pencil modem and an app on my tablet but I couldn’t get it right. Now I’m gonna try scanning a drawing and trying to get that on–(my doctor prescribes music but that part of my brain is filled with something else) :

But I do collage when I get too antsy. Other people’s art and photos from magazines, so kind of illicit (illegal?).

 

This is part of a collage I was going to have for my book Fallout, but I decided it would be too much trouble to run all the sources down.

Well, I see a problem here. This material isn’t jokey or sweet music….Sigh.

One day I won’t wake up

or hear the birds

or feel the sun…

The Caution Against Living in the Past:

Hope, trust, wonder, snuggling…It’s okay to live in the past if the past harbors…In my earlier verse I failed  to tell you what I really meant. Feelings, like tubes of  dry paint…They say don’t live in the past, but that’s only if you have a future. No one dare take the farm from my memory’s treasured vault with my grandmother, on her lap and the reassuring sound at night of  coal settling in the grate.

Gather, Ye Children, and You Shall Hear:  We are like frogs, being limited in what we see. The world is only what our perception allows us.

Three separate tributaries feed into the unconscious we can never know. Repression is not one of them, nor denial.

The first is prenatal and natal memories. The second is the adaptive unconscious which can never be directly accessed, though it can effect motivation and orchestrate behavior. The third is via subliminal perception.  I wonder who is overseeing the subliminal messages being sent out over the internet daily?  They aren’t illegal, but I wonder who they’re telling us to vote for?

 

What kind of flowers are these?

 

 

 

 

 

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