Posted by: Artsy Squibbles | September 10, 2006

Spoken Word At Last

What makes a dream become a reality. Well, that depends on who you know and how well they understand the way you tick.

This is the back of the CD cover. A rough work up. the lettering and coloring will be pretty much the same, just cleaner, with an embossed look if I get my way. Again, this may never be published. All I can say is that it should.


The front has not been decided upon yet…nor has the title.

What a difference a bit of editing does. The photo was faded enough to hide all those flaws that come with age… like wrinkles. The youth is still in the eyes, thank God, so shines the spirit, vibrant and filled with joyous gratitude.

I have two Heroes, of the famous variety, that I can name at this very moment. Two among many, but these women are by far the most pivotal at this time in my attempts to reach authenticity as a poet and a sculptor…Maya Angelou and Ruth Asawa. Both strong, independent, believers in humanity and the arts. Both undeniably honest and forthright in their endeavors. Both are truly exceptional examples worthy of imitation.


This first recording is dedicated to these women, along with a many other women in my life that have made the utmost difference in who I have become…and why have continued the process instead of giving up. My Grandmother, Annie Ide, tiny and frail as she was left me with a few very important words before she passed away, along with a few books she had written in. One very old and worn dictionary with pressed pansies marking meaningful words, and the first half of a desktop encyclopedia that she had checked things she thought I should know. Such as where my Great Grandfather had been born, Aesop’s Fables, and the Grimm Brothers. Each notation, every pencil mark in the margins has been much more valuable to me than a string of pearls. Her quiet and shaky words bestowed as a blessing at three in the morning in August of 1983 was a final charge to fulfill my karma, duty, and love for art…”finish it.”


How do you say thank you to so many women that have made a difference in your life. By living your life to the fullest. And writing poetry about and for women. A play I had begun some time back, while in college, based on one poem written at the same time as a classroom final exam is used as the main theme throughout the collection. Maybe the play will get finished. Maybe not. Perhaps it will become the musical I have hoped and envisioned, working towards for several years, one small piece at a time.

Perhaps. May be. It will take many people that I have yet to meet on this journey.


I guess I should begin with my conception. My birth mother, wherever she is, may she be blessed all the rest of her days with a secure and loving family. Something she had intended for me from the start.


My adopted mother, Evelyn, and my foster mother, Edith, soul sisters from the first moment they met, long before my birth, have been a shadow of love and concern towards my well being their entire lives. I might not have survived the eighties had it not been for them. And I certainly wouldn’t have thrived as well in my early years of development without them. And they might not have survived me without one another.


Along the way there have been teachers, playmates, guides, mentors, fellow poets, listeners, admirable all. A few I feel indebted to. These I list here, whether they be friend or foe, best or worst, they will should know that each in their own way has made a profound impact on my lifelong decisions…for this reason I mention them, equally with love and gratitude.


Julie Krefting, Paula Fenster, Alaine Keisling, Cheryl Thomas, Cheryl from Colorado, Judy Millazzo, Anna Hurtado, Sissy, Rae Cobbs and Harriet, Donna Jones, Sandra Jones, Kay Westbrook, Jessiebug, Sharon Mueller, Linda, Antoinette, Mrs. Ivy, Karen Horn, Beth Malette Anderson, one of many remarkable teachers, and one very nurturing costume designer from Christian Community Theatre in Southern California whose name slips my mind, but face does not. Two of her replacements over the years, fellow college students, Elaine Thoerney and another special smiling face whose name slips past. And sweet energetic Mimoko, a jewel. Certainly I will keep adding to the list as my memory seeks those caverns.


Not far from my heart…Mrs. Ruth Daniels who pressed a small worn pocket book with rhyming words into my hands and reminded me that the duty of a writer was to write. This woman reviewed a letter I wrote in 1983 that had to have been forty pages long. Her advice at that moment was “what would it hurt to try” and so I mailed that letter, sealed with a kiss and a prayer to a television show on a Friday in March of 1983. An act that changed my life forever. That letter, now long gone, might never have been sent had it not been for her, the circumstances in my life at that time, or the other people surrounding me.



A special thank you goes to the daughters of a very beautiful teacher, Mrs. Julie Adkins, with us in spirit for her heart and positive efforts reach much farther than her family realizes. Add to this every single teacher all four of my children had in elementary school, and the many ways they helped to empower me as a parent, as an artist, as a woman.


Certainly there are many I have left out. My memory slips a bit, sliding along the names, but the faces are still there, as they were ten, twenty, thirty and forty years ago. None the worse for wear. Camp Cha La Kee, Hillside Lane, Weatherly Heights, and Gloria Dei Lutheran Church. All the sweeter, for having survived my ways and whiles. I wasn’t exactly the greatest person to be around.


Last, but most important, my daughter, and my daughter in laws, without there would be no joy or testing the ties, courage and strength of love.

God Bless each and every one of you in every way He sees fit. And to you the reader, the listener, the dreamer. Do not give up. Never give up. Just remember that you really are allowed to change your mind. And direction. Really. I am proof.


At this writing I see the beginning to the completion of something begun years ago. If I were to never wake and see that light of day, I know that I have seen the light of life, haing been loved, and in such I have loved, and that this road I have come to is the right road.




Excerpts of this compilation will be at posted at suitable sites on the internet, including You Tube, and I will add links here during the following weeks.

Thanks for sticking with me for the last few months. It’s been a battle.

The kind that no person ever wins…but everyone survives for another round until one gives in and says…”okay, you win.”

(I came back to this post today to edit a few things and explain as much as possible while leaving a bit of mystery…that I hope will keep you returning to this post and the pages that are still on password protect)


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