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The Workers Are Few. . . feeling used?. . .
Feeling Used? Of Course! And the call came and because panic ensued, the young one got dressed and the night found him getting another vehicle running and a friend grateful to be driving home. I asked him do they realize what they ask? No clue, gram. Not a clue. They are scared to death…
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What’s A Mind For?
Somethings Learned While Scrubbing. . (with no help and no money we called it work, and did not know it was multi tasking. . ) I scribed. . .January 16, 1994. . . . When capacities are stretched continually, compassion fatigue is a condition when all avenues are locked into emotions. It is no surprise…
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Take Me Home Jason, Take Me Home. . .it is time.
I have been trying to catch up with myself for a very long time now. Putting up with the old timer’s disease of trying to make a body work like I remember it doing. But of course, it does not. At better than 90 it will not conjure the energy it did at…
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We Had But One Name. . . .(in Genesis)
Perhaps Doris Lessing and I would not be close friends because of commitment. But I can and do admire her brilliance with the written word and some of her ideas. Two things of value stand out. The first is of long standing and I spent hours locating this source only to find it at midnight…
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I Crashed The Gates. . . .
I have spent time in why I have reached some conclusions and also wish to write a post to explain a bit about my ability to scribe. I have been into scribing since the ‘60’s and even have the first poem, almost committed to memory. And that is not an easy mode for me, to…