Tag Archives: imagination

Story-tellers

Poor Fred. What's his story?

Poor Fred. What’s his story?

The river water was dirty.  To see the bottom would be impossible.  The enticing stone’s glistening blue hues was lost after  dropping it into the muddy water.  Those hues reminded me in some retrospective way to the eloquent characteristics we find in the people we surround ourselves with.  They are not the flaws, although they do exist.  Rather the parts in the human spirit we long for in someone we know dearly.  Some of our friends and family brighten up in ways that individually we can not attain. Maybe this is what attracts each of us to one another.

The water with all its mucky and slimy attributes can cover the bottom’s rich colors of what has been lost such as the brilliant blue stone.  The same  goes for life itself.   We find differing colors in others.  It is a good thing to separate the mucky waters from the jewels at times.  Such is the life of a story-teller.  Even the dirt can show humanity, but underneath this is a real human being.  We must sublimely tell the story.  Perhaps it is our own to tell,  of which the path can be dark, yet  slowly we can find our way.

Story tellers and their storytelling is a true art.  There are those that do it well.  My grandmother was such a person.  She took the good out of the bad situation and “forgot” the negative.   Is it correct to do so? Good question.  It depends.   The truth is not always pretty.   At times though,  if we tell the stories doesn’t it seem better to honor the good in someone than the bad? I am conflicted with this.  I then think perhaps my grandmother was onto something.  Maybe she was showing just a tiny glimpse by taking out the bad what awaits us in  heaven.  It is said there will be no more darkness like the murky river water, rather a Light will shine for our path.  That is the real story.

Dedicated to those who have died way too young. Go to my genealogy on the home page for topics about interesting story telling.

The Case of the Missing Wallet

No vacation is complete without some kind of mystery. Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys fans fasten your seatbelt. We are about to go for a ride. The following event took place in Victoria, British Columbia (Canada) while on holiday with my friends. Events as they occurred are real. Names have not been changed to protect the innocent or the guilty……
It was approximately 1pm and we checked into our beautiful hotel room at The Empress overlooking the harbor. Shortly thereafter strange events happened that led up to the next morning with my friend’s husband discovering his wallet missing! Aghast!!!!
We have three suspects. Please chime in anytime when you think you might know who done it? Our first thought on the morning of the discovery of the missing wallet was it had been left on the window sill of our third floor hotel room and taken by suspect one who is named Fred.

Fred made regular stops to our hotel from faraway distances to eat bread.

Fred made regular stops to our hotel from faraway distances to eat bread.


Suspect Two was an employee who entered our room to open our window to circulate the air better. I was not in the room nor my girlfriend. Her husband, though, was in the bathroom and never heard him come in. He describes the employee’s entrance like this because he never heard him: “He came in like a Ninja.” Photo two shows the wallet on the bed when suspect two entered. I know this because I took this photo right before he came in:
Look close on the bed. The wallet is on top of the IPad type device!

Look close on the bed. The wallet is on top of the Ipad type device!


Suspect three is the most innocent in my opinion. It is my dear friend’s husband. Just so you know–the wallet was thought to be on the window sill and he felt he might have accidentally pushed it out. I never thought that could happen as evidenced by the above photo I took.
After our discovery, security was called and an immediate investigation began. The good news was that the wallet was found outside the window on the grounds of the hotel with its contents scattered. It is my belief that the wallet was either A: Pushed out of the window by the hotel employee while opening our window or B: He was looking in it and then heard my friend’s husband in the bathroom and panicked throwing it out the window. Shortly after we arrived back to the hotel and saw the window was opened another guy (suspect 2 I believe coming back to the scene of the “crime”) was there to see if our window had been opened. We told him it had been done allready. He looked really strange and actually scared to me, but because we did not pick up on the wallet missing until the next morning, we did not get alarmed.
All in all–this could have been disastrous, but it was not.
Poor Fred..Did you take the wallet?

Poor Fred..Did you take the wallet?

Southern Nights

On the beach somewhere in Florida! Chillin' out after passing Nursing School and the Boards I suspect!

On the beach somewhere in Florida! Chillin’ out after passing Nursing School and the Boards I suspect!

Have you ever felt a southern night? Growing up in Alabama, I had the distinct privilege of touching, feeling, smelling, and living it. Back roads run through my blood. I travel along those rural roads that lead me straight to family and friends. Bringing back a simpler time, but also a mysterious time. What did my life have for me to hold? What was my particular destiny?
The mind is a powerful thing. It is unlimited. It is pure if you let it be. That is what is so beautiful about it. In Greek studies, reason was looked upon as divine. It was the glue and the influence to today’s thought processes on God and theology. Greek thought may have had some quirks, but it did help lay some foundation for where we are today.
My first big life choices evolved a southern night. Good thinking tends to happen when life itself is looked upon in simplistic fashion. It does not mean you do not weigh all the facts you have, but rather you include your emotional state in that equation. Logic may not always win. In my case, I can see mostly decisions based on logic, but those decisions were based on good people around me giving their share of praise to me and allowing me to feel a sense of purpose in my life.
Once I was on the back-end of a decision made by my superiors when I was employed at a hospital. The hospital leadership decided that all the nurses needed to rebid for their positions. This was a scary time for everyone because many nurses thought they were going to lose their job.
For whatever reason, I was concerned, but not overwhelmed by this crazy tactic being utilized by my employer to get rid of employees. I had a lot of seniority and it is what kept my position intact. Why do I bring this up? Essentially because a good leader would never do this to his team of employees. He would bring everyone on board so that folks do not think they have been hit over the head with a two by four.
This brings me back to my southern nights. It was those nights that brought me back down to reality. The memories of that simpler time reinforced my sense of purpose. It brought me rest and peace in my mind when all hell seemed to be breaking out in front of my eyes. Those southern nights have served me well. I hope you too can find your “southern night” and let it be an important part of your thought processes. It is no fun to be out in the dark and left without inspiration.

1973

Growing up in Hawaii and lasting memories from a little girl. Come along for the ride and see where we land!

Growing up in Hawaii and lasting memories from a little girl. Come along for the ride and see where we land!

1973 was the year. It was when I had my first crush. Jamie and I had a lot in common. We were both brunettes. He was small and so was I. He loved playing sports and so did I. He was 10 years old and so was I. He was shy and so was I. Ok. That last statement was not true.
Memories are a powerful thing. It is a wonder why we pick certain people over others to be “interested” in. The funny thing is how does someone know what a crush really is at the age of ten? Furthermore, when we grow up, why would a woman pick just one guy out of a lineup of several she could choose from? I mean think about it. Many times we women go for the no-good lazy bum from the wrong side of the tracks. But I digress.
Jamie was the perfect boy. He really was such a sweet person, but the truth is I do not think he really noticed me. That was Ok because really I knew I was just not quite ready to date. After all, I wasn’t even out of my first decade of life.
Seriously, it is fun thinking back on 41 years ago and realizing maybe some things never change. No one could ever compete with little Jamie. He is the “one” that got away.
Have you ever heard of the saying, “When one door closes, another one opens up.” It dawned on me that those early years of my life were like the changing seasons we have every few months. April is always a beautiful time back in my home town. Spring is on its way. Almost overnight, I can see the azaleas, gardenias, and honeysuckle blooming. It is a site for sore eyes. If I could paint you a picture, we would see vibrant colors everywhere. We would see the changes season to season and perhaps even minute to minute. The colors would be glorious with different shades of green, yellow, blue, and pink. I would not forget the birds and the trees surrounding the beautiful landscape of flowers. What vibrant colors we could share.
That is what I yearn for now. Simplicity. Keeping things simple and full of hope should be what life is all about. Leaning on our memories and learning from them is quite possibly why God gives us so many second chances. Why does he keep repeating the seasons? Do you ever wonder why there are only four seasons? Why aren’t there six or eight? Maybe deep down we yearn for familiarity and traditions along with a small element of surprise once in a while. I think that is why I think about 1973. It was a simple life. I did not care if Jamie liked me or not. I just knew he was such a great sight to look at in 1973.  He had really done it for this little girl.

Light Coming Through

Hiding Behind the Façade. Have Wig Will Travel!

Hiding Behind the Façade. Have Wig Will Travel!

Alone. Searching for the words to say something. Anything. To Who? Radio on. No need to talk. Driving from the mall on my way home, my eyes are blinded by the sun. Visor down to help, but it still does not block the intensity of the sun beaming down on the windshield. The only answer is to slow the car to a crawl and put my hand up to the sun coming in. Finally I can see to drive. Light still coming through though.
Giving up. I am home. Sitting in my car. Alone. Waiting for the garage door to open. Driving in. Engine off. Searching for something to say. Why? No one around to talk to. Still searching for something to say. No reason to. Getting out of the car. Door opened by my gloved hand and my dog to greet me. Thank God a familiar face. Happiness. Tail wagging.
No pressure now to say anything. Alone. Going to the back of the house. Light is shining through the window. No need to block it anymore. Enjoying the light coming through now. Searching for words to say. None comes. See only the light. No ghosts to worry about. Just me. Tiny body pressing against my lower legs reminding me I am worth something.

Whispered Story

eyeI am now talked about in scattered ways. A true story whispered across the table about the break up. It is being alone that is not spoken of. Instead it is the sustaining half-truths played out by those who do not know.
Some of my life is well worn in my mind like coming out of anesthesia. You feel distance yet you know you are in the same room. “Help me!” I said struggling with pain during one surgery two years ago. “Oh, honey, I have some medicine and I am putting it in your IV now.”
Suddenly you wake up more and do not say a thing at all. You know you need that nurse to help you and he does. He knows exactly the right medicine to administer. You drift back off to sleep.
Hi. My name is Alesia. That pain is not so bad anymore. Two years have gone by and I am now experiencing a whole new kind of pain. A kind I did not expect. It is the end of an almost 23 year relationship. My partner in life has made a choice to move on. I still do not know if the move is permanent. It is what it is for now. The details are not worth the read, but it is the cracks in it that are compelling.
Choosing to not dwell on the details, it seems better to talk about my state my mind and the emotional impact of this loss. With the Christmas season especially, I am reminded of not only my hurt, but also the suffering of many of you. If you sat at home alone on Christmas knowing the season should be enjoyed with others-the harsh reminder of the heartache is painful.
But, tonight as the Christmas day comes to an end, it is hope I would want to bring you. Know you are not alone. I know your pain, but there is always hope. Tomorrow is a new day. God has promised us this through His Story that came through the birth of a baby called the Christ-Child. It is a hope worth pursuing.
Again, do not give up. Life is worth living. Think about the things you love. For me it is fresh flowers, birds in my backyard, watching a great movie, or listening to beautiful music. Life is also about touching others, being touched, and feeling loved. Sweet friendships that are rekindled or perhaps even ambiguous loss of love that gets rejuvenated awaits you and perhaps me one again.
Life is hard. Do not give up. Anesthesia may have worn off, but hope is always attainable.

Throw And Tell!

This son turns 20 and I turn 50. My how time flys!

This son turns 20 and I turn 50. My how time flys!

Happy 50th Birthday gift to myself: Be True to Yourself….

Listening to Rod Stewart’s HOT LEGS on the radio, it reminded me of my friend that was sitting in the front row of one his concerts when the MAN kicked a soccer ball straight to him. Unknown to my friend, THAT ball was autographed by Rod. Rod was giving him a gift. What did my friend do? He kicked that damn ball right back at Rod! As my friend’s wife likes to say, “Rod’s face was dumbfounded, but my face was livid!”
I laugh just thinking about that incident. How many times when gifts are involved we think there is some kind of strange motive behind them? I can understand that because we live in such a, “You rub my back, I’ll rub your back society.” Receiving a gift with no strings attached is a feeling that some fear. People fear what they don’t know.
Listening to my inner voice, I have heard many strange tunes. I still close my eyes though. IT is my hope that the strongest pure sound prevails with breathtaking clarity. Recently I was asked why don’t I blog about my gift of understanding the things of my former occupation in the medical field? With all due respect, I am doing just that. Sharing what is in the inner works of our spirit is so much more important than any health condition. The spiritual heart needs fixing first. If it is disappointing to not always be receiving some profound word from this blogger-rest assured the truth of an ordinary life is what I am . There is nothing more. There is nothing less.
Happy Birthday to ME. 50 years is a long time. Let me celebrate who I am now. Not the identity of the past. Follow me in my newness and celebrate that which is happy. Baby comes as you are. I do.

Long Island, NY: A Unique Perspective

In April of this year, I had the pleasure of visiting Long Beach, Long Island, NY. It was for a reunion with an old Army Buddy from my Desert Storm Days. WE had not seen each other for almost 25 years. It was a great feeling to see my friend and to her delight she could not wait for me to see her beautiful town that she resided in called Long Beach. She took such pride in showing me around and giving me the “grand tour” of the area. Neither of us thought that only 6 months later, the whole area would be devastated by Hurricane Sandy. Please enjoy these photos from my Panasonic DMC-ZR1.
May God Grant You Peace As You View My Photos Knowing God Repairs and Heals The Broken Hearted.

Courageous Thinking

Inspiration for my writing comes from nature more than I realized.

Inspiration for my writing comes from nature more than I realized. Photo taken in Eastern Washington by the Cascade Mountains.

Presuming a need to become the best writer that I could be I brushed a broad stroke when I began my blog several months ago. ( http://alesiablogs.wordpress.com/about/ )  .   I wanted to learn how to move into a new realm of reality to share in a way I had never been able to share before. Is there a lasting benefit in what I would share with you my reader?  Am I getting bogged down by crap not worthy of your trust to read?  December is upon us and after spending an incredible month of November writing more frequently, I realized how the need to become more intimate with you my reader is of upmost importance. If we are to learn of each other, we must be raw.

Recently I had a wonderful conversation with a fellow blogger that reminded me how we can touch each other by our own personal stories. Those stories may be private in nature or an experience that you have that could help someone else.  It is in this spirit, I look forward to elevating my sharing and putting new perspective on areas in my life that may help you.  We are a civilization that is so complex yet so simple when we think in or out of the box.  WE need more rebels and button pushers to cause us all to open up and be courageous thinkers.  I look for answers from you as you may look to me for answers.  We all have friends to talk to, but not all friends are on the same level.  Can you open up completely with someone in your life? I mean pour your heart out until you are bleeding.  There is only a rare soul that will listen wholeheartedly anyway.  We all need to learn to cut through the BULL S%#@.  I am reminded of Helen Reddy singing, “I am WOMAN hear me ROAR!” Today fingers to keyboard- I push to that rare courage to be myself.

TOPICS I will be blogging on. Please let me know if one topic is of more interest to you.  This will help me to concentrate on putting out the information you are most interested in :

1. Autism and the Impact it has on our Family Unit. My 20 year old son is Autistic. The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly!

2. Neurological conditions beyond Autism which include my Brain Tumor and the Impact that it has had on our Family Unit. Also the medical blunders that happened along the way.

3. Bioethics, Philosophy, and God.

4. Genealogy and Family Research. Stories from the past in regards to history.

5. Medical Blogs with Information that I can share after a 30 plus year history as a Registered Nurse.

6. Photography and my travelling experiences.

7. Everyday Moments.

 

Death on the OHIO RIVER

If you are like me, when I think of steamboats I imagine slowly going down  the Ohio or Mississippi River listening to Mark Twain read to me from his classic book Tom Sawyer.  After all, Tom Sawyer was an adventurer and being on a steamboat fills my mind of  adventure.  As I am stepping out on the wide deck outside,  I smell  and hear the sounds of the water around me.  Seeing the riverbank while looking at  all the beautiful  trees growing along the shore mesmerizes me as well as the thick riverfront vegetation.

Jump forward to our current times, I learn of the many deadly accidents that occurred due to these beautiful steamers.  It was so bad that at times 1000’s of folks died from the dangers of steamboats. In due time, the government began to regulate the steamboat business.  This helped , but there were still many accidents and deaths.  In fact, I imagine that steamboat I am on and Mark Twain is reading to me and suddenly a fire starts onboard near the engines.  In front of my eyes, Mark Twain takes off his reading glasses and author’s hat to put on a different sort of hat.  It was a riverboat captain’s hat.  Mr. Twain was the captain that needed to put that fire out and save us.

Now to the facts.  Yes, Mark Twain actually was a steamboat captain. No, he never read to me his story Tom Sawyer.  But one thing you might not know is that Mark Twain watched his brother Henry die from a riverboat accident. Today’s installment relives through the newsclippings of The Gleaner in Henderson, Kentucky the death of one of my ancestors in 1917 due to a steamer called the Enterprise made in Louisville, Kentucky.

This story’s details did not come easy to myself.  I had been working with Nancy Towns a family researcher on common lines of interest.  The line of interest that had captivated both of us was my ancestor Laura Jenkins’s husband who was Robert W. Nichols. He was a victim of a steamboat drowning accident.  The body was never recovered.

After months of wondering about if we would ever get to the truth, it became apparent that this was a road block that we may not be able to overcome.  Out of faith, I shared with Nancy that I thought we would one day get to the truth of this story. That one day arrived in the form of an email from my brother Donnie Jenkins. He had information about other researchers in the family.  One of those contacts was a cousin named Judy Jenkins.  Judy and I began discussing our common family lines and I found out she was just as interested in this story as Nancy and myself.  Nancy in particular was doing the study for  her brother-in-law Jim Nichols who as of late has been ill.  Jim is  a great, great grandson of Robert Nichols.  Judy offered to get closure for Jim on his long lost ancestor.  Today we can say we know what happened to Jim’s ancestor Robert Nichols, Laura Jenkins’s husband and we thank Judy Jenkins for helping in this matter.  These news clippings are sobering, yet the legend can now be validated with the truth in these articles.  May Robert Nichols and all the others who died in the vast rivers of America rest in peace:

Death on the OHIO RIVER

Descriptive News Clipping of Drownings

Bodies never found!

As you read through these news writeups of the incident, you understand how important the newspaper was in those days.  It was the only form of communication the townspeople had unless it was by word of mouth.  Below I want to share a photo of Robert Nichol’s descendant and his family. This is Jim Nichols taken over 40 years ago.  He now knows what happened to his great, great grandfather in 1917.  The sorrow he knows that his great, great grandmother  Laura Jenkins Nichols had to suffer is indescribable.

Jim Nichols with his grandparents and three of his daughters.

This next photo is my friend Nancy who inspires me with her own genealogy work:

Nancy Towns with her family.

What better way to finish off this story as we learn the truth of our ancestors by a quote from Mark Twain: ” Truth is stranger than fiction, but it is because Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities; Truth isn’t.”