When it's difficult to write

There are days when it is quite difficult to start writing.  This is one of those days because it is the day after 17 people were killed in a school shooting in Parkland, FL Broward County.

I watched as they interviewed a student who was in the school at the time of the shooting.  She was only a freshman and she said that she lost nine friends to this maniac.  I cried for her, as I listened.  It is unimaginable pain and I'm a writer who "has a way with words". 

Words fail me right now.  This is the eighteenth mass shooting in the US in 2018.  I can remember when I was a freshman the very worst thing that happened at our school was when 4 kids were arrested for having beer in the parking lot.  It felt so wrong then.  Now, after the things that have gone on in schools today, it seems perfectly fine.  I guess you can't go back in time.

I worry.

I have two grandkids in high school right now.  It could happen to them.  And who knows what type of life threatening problem will come up in 15 years when Skylar is in high school?

I worry.

I worry because as a writer, there should be some words that can be written that will protect Ryan and Kayla.  There should be some profound way to "FIX" this problem.  We are meant to keep our children safe.  Protect them and keep them from harms way. 

No child should go off to school in the morning and not be able to come back home in the afternoon. 

The girl in the TV interview was in a creative writing class and they were writing "love letters".  Then pop, pop, pop.... and a fire alarm was triggered so that everyone would go out in the hall way.  The shooter tried to disguise himself and blend back in with the students as they were escorted out of the school.  He went and got ice cream after this senseless massacre. 

So, was he just tired of the "video game"? 

His mother recently died and his father was dead for a number of years.  Can't blame the parents.

What is the answer?  Guns do not kill... people kill. 

I agree that we should all be allowed to bear arms, however, I believe that they should also be licensed and registered, just like a car or a truck or a motorcycle or a boat.  Why not?

The forefathers never intended that people would start shooting children in school.  He should not have had access to guns.

After my first husband's brain injury, I took his rifles to my parents house for a number of months.  He was not mentally able to control his actions and I was cautious about what he could do with them.

In fact, I did bring them back to the house after a time and one day he came up from the cellar with a rifle pointed at his throat.  I took my kids and we drove to my parents house.  Well, that was after he threw himself down in front of the car, trying to bar us from leaving.  Then I had to drive out the side of the lawn which was opposite the driveway so that we could get away. 

So, how does a grandmother protect her grandchildren in this type of environment? 

I don't know.... I can't, really....it has a lot to do with faith that God will protect them when I'm not there. 

This is where we get into another discussion about if there is a God, why does she allow things like this to happen.  The age old question. 

Tonight I don't have words for that either.  Do you?

I'm just sad, tonight.  I don't want to be a writer.... tonight.

Ramblings of the real Cathy

I have always wanted to write, ever since I can remember. I wrote for my Mother's church missionary group when I was just a kid.  It was a marvelous article about the gift of Jesus' love being wrapped in a purple cloak and the ribbon represented something.  I can't remember exactly what I said any more, and I'm sure she didn't keep it, but it was absolutely marvelous, I'm sure.

I even liked the writing assignments in English class in seventh grade.  Especially the time that I researched the invention of "talkies" in the film industry, at the library with the real dewy decimal system and library cards.  And, NO, I don't remember it.  It was way before my time.  However, the topic fascinated me.

 And, as a writer, I fell in love with every word I wrote, in every article I wrote for every paper I wrote and in the order I wrote them. I became very offended if someone wanted to put them in any other order.  (I think that's called "editing") 

Today, I'm over that for sure, I'm just fascinated when I get enough TIME to write. 

It seems I can only write when I'm many many miles away from home, as is the case this evening. I'm alone in our Wyndham Resort in Daytona, FL. which is a two day drive from our home in Pennsylvania.  I drove it myself, in a car with 170,000+ miles on it and, I get to stay for another month!!  I love the way Steve provides for my rest and relaxation.

I started out two mornings ago and reached my destination today about 4:00 pm.  I stopped over night in Fayettville, NC.  According to my recently purchased Fitbit, I got seven hours and 59 minutes sleep last night, while I was by myself. I don't know why I can't seem to ever get eight hours sleep. 

I know why I didn't get eight hours the night before.  Our dog Bella wanted to go outside to poop, three times in the night.  She is a great dog and I'm happy she woke me to take her out, so that I didn't have to clean messes in the house.  I suppose it was also great for the movement record because according to my Fitbit, I got three flights of stairs in, as well.  Awesome.

Steve and his friend Charlie, drove down to Florida about 10 days ago because dirt track racing starts much earlier in FL than it does in PA.  Velousia was the key word of this week.

In addition to Steve and Charlie, Mifflin and Juniata counties in PA, pretty much empty out the racing enthusiasts as they end up here for a couple weeks in February to celebrate the beginning of the race season. 

In my mind, there is no beginning and no end to the racing season. 

I suppose there is a bit of a gap, even if it is only a day or two, because we did find one day, in the middle of December, three years ago, when we could invite all Steve's racing buddies to witness our wedding.

Some people say what do you do all the while Steve's gone?  Steve goes to over a hundred races a year and I'm "left at home" to fend for myself.  Oh, don't get me wrong.  He invites me to each and every race, if I want to "go with the boys", but I'd rather not.  I don't even take a rain check.  I just don't want to go.

Oh, My, What, Ever, Will, I, Do while my husband goes racing?   

Well, there is gardening in the summer, babysitting my grandbaby any time I want, there is working on Hometown Mentors, a nonprofit that I started a number of years ago and maybe line dancing on Friday nights.  Then, there is of course, writing.

I didn't marry Steve to change "his affection" for dirt track racing.  I guess that could be "his obsession".... No, that's not quite the right word either.... "his addiction".... no, none of those work.  Dirt track racing runs through and through Steve's blood stream, as it is in his DNA.  There is no word that gets it quite right.

Steve's Dad, Pete, started racing the very year Steve was born, 1947.  Pete was a champion racer, even after he lost his right foot in a trucking accident and there is absolutely no way that any woman, let alone a woman who loves him, would want to interfere with Steve's life by even suggesting that he stay home from racing, or not watch it on TV, or turn over the channel while he's watching football or hockey.  It's all he knew before marrying me and you can't teach an old dog new tricks, as they say. 

So, get this, he says that when he gets too feeble to climb the bleachers at the track any more, he wants me to promise that I'll wheel him in his chair and sit him just as close to the action as he can get. 

And, if he is bedridden in a nursing home, the TV must be tuned to racing, football or ice hockey.  Not basketball, for pete's sake.  never basketball.  If I can, there should be three TVs with each one tuned to the different sport because he is sure he won't have the where-with-all to work the remote easily.

Anyway, while he is away, I busy myself with lots of things like WRITING, WRITING, WRITING.  That is, when I'm away from home.  If I'm at home something always takes up my private time and I just don't have time to write.  However, I'm getting older and there may not be many years left for me to start, write and complete those books that I've wanted to write for so long. 

When I'm too feeble to type any longer, I'm going to make Steve promise that he will get me a computer that will write what I speak into it.  It has to be able to un-slur the words and make sure that someone plucks the hairs from my face and shaves my chin. 

I don't ask a lot, but I expect that someone will see too it that I'm properly groomed.  As far as TV, just put on an "I Love Lucy" marathon and make it loop 24/7.

I have to find the time to write.  The world is waiting to hear my words.  ha

The Real Cathy