Tuesday, September 20, 2011
One of my mother's favorite things was to "not momic up" items. I was always reprimanded for carrying the cat around. "Put that animal down and don't momic it up. Poor thing will never learn to walk." Yes, I did love to carry that little kitten around. Thinking about this brought other words to mind such as a tail coat rider - a person who uses another person's hard political work and rides it into office with inflammatory speeches. Mudraker or a mudwhomp - a political party who stirs up a candidate or parties unflattering past during an election.
What brought all this rebel rousing and wool gathering to this blog? The use of a phrase in my current work in progress. I used the words, "suited him to a T." and thought my that looks modern. How far it is from the truth.
"Suit to a T" or just "to a T" was used in 1693 in a work by James Wright called Humors and Conversations, again coming from word of mouth. Looking further we can go back to the year 1548, in Edward Hall's Chronicles where to "suit to a T" meant suit to a title or beyond measure of doubt. Which when we use it makes more sense. If the woman suited him to a T, she suited him beyond a measure of a doubt.
Sigh ok now that's cleared up... no more procrastination. I have to write
Sunday, September 11, 2011
I was afraid. Out of the mist came a voice, which whispered, 'Remember, I am with you'. I shouldered my responsibility. I knew that destiny placed upon my shoulders, the mantle of hero and I wondered why. Below me, the anguish cries of friends rose, but I was not alone. I gave a call to those dear and told them not to be afraid. My love would encompass them and nestled within their hearts forever. But, I was not alone.
I stepped up. Arms reached out to help. Brothers who once fought against each other in that place called Gettysburg helped me to carry the burden. Behind me, others followed. I looked back and saw the calm in each of their faces as we moved in a great procession toward that beautiful white light. But they did not come alone for out of the mist arose others. Each of us accompanied by companions - a valiant honor guard made up of sailors from the Maine, men who marched up San Juan Hill, those of the Rainbow Division, and soldiers whose boots once graced the shores of France, in order to stop the Tyranny of aggression. We were not alone.
There was a collective gasp as the towers fell. We watched in silent horror as flames engulfed a part of the Pentagon and our numbers grew, each one accompanied by those who gave the last full measure in places like Korea and Vietnam. We were not alone.
Someone behind me gave a shout and we cheered as the brave Americans took control above Shanksville with a shout, "Let's Roll". They joined us too. All around the faces of America, in all colors, young, old, military, and first responders, so many gone to soon for no other reason than hate.
Though ten years has gone, our legacy lives on. Our nation's hope renewed not by malice, but in quiet strength of hope, of love, and the ability to believe in a better tomorrow for mankind. We were not alone and neither are you, for the dream still lives. Our souls are always with you, for we live in your hearts. With each new generation, our spirits are reborn. Let us not forget. Let us always remember, but let us rise above. One hundred and two minutes changed our lives, our history, forever. Let us remember that a hero is but an ordinary man, who rises above in extraordinary circumstance.
America has more than three thousand heroes whose lights shine above us. So many more who survived and quietly carry on the savor of each new day making a quiet victory because we know, we are not alone.
God Bless the heroes of 9/11 and their families. Please know that on this day and everyday for the rest of your lives that, you are not alone.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Now she has returned all because of a gray stallion named, The Phantom.
Above the stench of horse manure and male sweat, the soft scent of shay butter and rose water peeled back a memory he’d long forgotten.
He gritted his teeth and refused to acknowledge the warmth now coursing through his blood as anything more than the heat of the forge. Letting his hammer rest upon the anvil, he plunged the shoe into the bucket on his left and above the hiss of steam heard her speak.
“Are you even going to say hello?”
Walls of Jericho coming soon to Passions in Print...
Thursday, September 1, 2011