MOVING ON.....2024

A Note From The Author: Jacqueline E. Hughes

I am so happy to welcome in the new year, 2024!!! My Blog is changing-up a bit....mainly because I am evolving. Travel will always take precedence in my life and, my journeys will be shared with you. This 2024 version will offer a variety of new stories and personal ideas, as well. This is all about having fun and enjoying this Beautiful Journey called......Life!!!

Thursday, January 31, 2019

LITTLE ADVENTURES, ONCE AGAIN...


A series of essays and poems....


NORTH CAROLINA BEAUTIFUL (2014)


....as seen through my eyes!






By: Jacqueline E. Hughes



LITTLE ADVENTURES

Turn a corner or round a bend,
Hike through a forest or
Sift sand through your toes
On a white ribbon of beach
As the sun caresses your skin...

Perhaps this morning you order
A cup, black, at a French café.

Sitting there watching the human race stroll by,
You listen, observe, digest the scene...
A smile here; downward glance there.
Life, life, life, how beautiful! Paris?

Loose stones shift,
Tumble down to places dark and mysterious
As gravity reminds you to hold tight....
Do not forget to look around you,
The climb up is worth each precious glance!

The gray sky clings above
Like a flannel blanket, soft and protective.

This afternoon you navigate the grassy shoreline,
A promise of rain is never a challenge.
Black/gray stones skipped on top
Of the whitecaps rolling out to meet the
Stony spine of Lough Corrib.

The daunting, Italian scenery begs for control
As the little car hugs the narrow road for dear life!
You pitch and shift with each switchback
Holding your breath...from both the excitement
And the mountainous beauty surrounding you!

Tonight....you dine with new friends,
Wondering where your conversations might take you!

With the crisp undertones of fruit and honey upon your lips,
Names like Marrakesh, Madrid and Marseille
Penetrate the conversation; your imagination.
And, all you can think about is...
Tomorrow's possibilities; tomorrow's feast!


Author's Note:
This poem was written with Love in fond tribute to the travels already taken and the ones yet to be experienced. Many thanks to a new Facebook friend for 'liking' this blog entry from November 30, 2014 and reminding me that this contribution was made over four  years ago! Often, it is good to revisit places we've been (literally), including older posts that mean so much to us upon reflection; writings that shape our lives, define who we are, and keep us wanting to give more and more....

With much appreciation for enjoying my stories, poems, and photographs, 

Jacqueline Hughes  



Copyright © 2019 By Jacqueline E. Hughes
All rights reserved

Photo Copyright ©2014 By Jacqueline E. Hughes
All rights reserved
 

Friday, January 25, 2019

BREVITY: A SHORT BUT TRANSFORMATIVE YEAR IN A LIFE




 
A series of essays....


STUDENTS ENGAGED IN LEARNING, DECIPHERING,
AND, HOPEFULLY, TAKING AWAY A HIGHER-ORDER OF THINKING
    Courtesy, Linkedin Learning


....as seen through my eyes!



BY: JACQUELINE E. HUGHES

Creative writing classes were yet to be programmed into the curriculum of Indiana University in South Bend or the English Department of Michigan State University in East Lansing back in the day. So, I began my college career taking classes in journalism for one year at IUSB while living with my aunt and uncle before transferring to MSU with a major in English and Secondary Education. 

Journalism courses back in the late sixties were nothing short of eye opening for me in so many ways. Entering my freshman year at seventeen years of age and owning my first car should have been enough of a thrill for anyone to handle. However, couple that with my eight o’clock class professor nursing her newborn while sitting on the front edge of her desk and explaining the principles of the ‘Five W’s plus How’ and how they relate to basic information gathering and problem solving in journalism. The take-away was how comfortable she made me feel in my own skin and how she gave this seventeen-year-old female hope for an upward momentum in women’s rights and equality within a lingering man’s world.

Regrettably, women must continue to fight in 2019! Ridiculous!!! By now, I expected so much more for my own daughters, let alone for their daughters. To think that almost fifty-one years later, nursing your baby in public (even in a classroom when necessitated) remains controversial. If entrenchment in politics equals a large part of the answer, then fight on ladies all over this country! I will support you in every way I can. Especially by utilizing my right to vote for you if I feel you are the best person for the job.

Then there was the male professor who, literally, told us that if it takes the embellishment of a seemingly weak storyline to make it more interesting or attractive in order to sell more newspapers (the news) then, go for it! (“As long as you cover everyone's behind in every way you can.”) Thinking back, was this my personal landmark in the discovery of what was real and what we refer today as ‘fake news?’ To this day, I’m uncertain as to whether this was his own philosophy or that of journalism in general. I’d like to think it was his, alone. I may have been young at the time, but I knew right then that the ‘game’ associated with the press was not for me. 

Of course, this doesn’t mean that all good journalists fit into this category of creating a stronger story out of a weaker one. It just means that this particular professor felt it was alright to do so and was not afraid to teach this to his students.

After an enlightening year of journalism, theater classes, and (wishing I spoke my Ukrainian grandparent’s language fluently) a semi-decipherable class of Russian History taught by a distinguished, elderly Russian professor who spoke minimum and highly accented English, I transferred to MSU the following fall. 

Thinking back on my year spent living with relatives, driving my own car to classes and back home to Michigan to visit each weekend, and formulating my own ideas of what I expected from myself in the future, this time was, truly, my personal rite of passage. Writing, I knew then, would always be my vocation. Travel....sweet travel, would become my greatest passion. Combining the two has become my raison d’ĂȘtre. 

Little did I realize back then that photography would become so important in my life, as well. I guess this would stand to reason considering one aspect of travel is to chronicle and visually record each experience for future recall and reference. Choosing a theme for each trip (lace curtains, the stately, beautiful faces of the elderly, the creative and practical usage of stone in Ireland, colorful flowers) keeps me focused and enhances my overall participation in everything I see and do.

When thinking back on my discreet ‘nursing’ professor back at Indiana University, I tend to associate her with the backbone of information gathering in the form of the Five W’s and link them to the stories (essays) I write today. These questions are my particular take-away from that period in my life and are used in everything I write. You can never relinquish the power that education affords you even when journalism blends into creative writing. Ask any mystery writer you may know! 

WHO was involved?
WHAT happened?
WHERE did it take place?
WHEN did it take place?
WHY did that happen?
With the possible addition of....
HOW did it happen?

Fairly basic questions with answers that bring a writer (be it fiction or non-fiction) directly to the point of the story and beyond. Even though I still have yet to fully grasp the basic task of embracing brevity, or how to write less and say more, I have come to realize that good, concise writing is more than just writing. It is art in its purest form.  

So, thank you ‘hippie mama’ for helping me see society within an equal, level headed, worldly perspective while at a very vulnerable age. I won’t think about how old your beautiful child is today but hope you are still there to share in his life with all of the love and dignity you afforded us, your students at the time, and during that one very special year of my life.



Copyright © 2019 by Jacqueline E. Hughes
All rights reserved





Thursday, January 17, 2019

THE 'TEMPORARY DEMISE' OF GOOD TASTE AND RESPECT



A series of essays....


THE WHITE HOUSE STATE DINING ROOM
   Courtesy, Elle Decor

....as seen through my eyes!






By: Jacqueline E. Hughes


Mary, a Facebook friend of mine, reposted the picture below that was originally from The Guardian with, “This is the first thing you see when you get to hell!” as the headline. I don’t know about you, but knowing that this is the first thing I would see in hell.....Heaven and being a good, kind person has gained even greater mass appeal for me! Yes, despite the memories of years of Parochial school teaching and the enormous effort it took to keep my eyes open during eight o’clock mass each school-day morning! And, I would do it all over again, if not become the white-clad Missionary Sister working and spreading love within a third world country, a phase that struck most of us young, Catholic girls around fourth or fifth grade, in order to avoid this horrific sight anywhere and at all costs.



PRESIDENT LINCOLN LOOKS ON
 IN TOTAL CONFUSION
                  Courtesy, twitter.com


May we take a moment to quickly analyze the ludicrous aspects of this photo, long before it gets committed permanently to my memory? Sorry, too late.

I initially visited the White House in 1989 with my youngest daughter who was a winner in an essay contest sponsored by the California Raisin Advisory Board along with ad promotions by the claymation musical group, The California Raisins, singing “I Heard It Through The Grapevine.” The contest was promoting the health benefits of raisins and why California Raisins were a nutritional powerhouse. The spokesperson appointed by the board to represent them was a sprite and spunky seventeen-year-old by the name of Alyssa Milano.




                   Courtesy, Amazon.com



Besides touring this venerable estate of the people, we spent time in a small, classroom-type setting with Ms. Milano and others as the twelve young essay winners, chosen from across the country, relayed their personal ideas as to the promotion of physical fitness and good eating habits. Their amazing collective ideas, entered into official governmental record, were encouraged to be taken back home to be shared with their school and community, family and peers. It was quite the experience for the kids and all of us parents, alike.


ALYSSA MILANO AS THE TIGER BEAT,
CALIFORNIA RAISIN PINUP


One of the many things we learned on this exciting four-day excursion was the tremendous importance and major responsibility that the people living in this historical home place upon their own shoulders by becoming the President and First Lady of the United States of America. George H. W. Bush presided over our nation at the time of our visit and I, for one, was inspired by a capable and working agenda of a government consisting of and supported by its two political parties. 

The strength, memories, and historical importance of the White House, encouraged by an intellectual powerhouse consisting of respect and collective thoughts, encircled the American people as a whole during the time of our visit. The feeling of hope was tangible in each room we entered and reaffirmed the belief of respect for the Constitution of the United States, as well as the people it helps to guide and protect each day.

Democracy, literally, rule by the people and for the people, is a very beautiful and comforting thing.

When you look at pictures of the State Dining Room you will find George Peter Alexander Healy’s 1869 portrait of Abraham Lincoln. It has occupied a place of honor over the fireplace for many years and depicts Lincoln during the final days of the American Civil War. Tables are set with their finery and used for receptions, luncheons, large formal dinners and state dinners to celebrate and acknowledge visiting chiefs of state on state visits. Mr. Lincoln looks down upon them helping to create a formal elegance that serves to inspire those who have come to participate in the sharing of higher ideals of freedom, the warmth and hospitality of our President, and the willingness to harmoniously work with others around the globe in order to create a better, stronger world at large.

Once again, the current resident of the White House has intentionally decimated the wholesome images created in this formal room that echo the voices of heads of state and heroes at the expense of our most young and talented citizens.

In a gesture of high public esteem for the victory of the Clemson Tigers over Alabama’s Crimson Tide in the National Collegiate Football Championship, the White House has given Honest Abe a whole new dimension of dining to frown down upon within the hallowed walls of the State Dining Room. In a gesture of respect for some of the country’s finest, healthiest young athletes, the current resident in chief has displayed only the finest and healthiest of culinary delights in honor of these young men.

Just kidding...

No amount of twinkling candlelight reflecting off of tall, golden candelabras or masses of silver in the form of elaborate serving trays in every shape and form can camouflage the tackiness and sheer classlessness displayed by a dubious White House leader and carried out by his staff. Cold fast-food burgers, French fries, and soggy pizza greeted our football heroes reflecting a personal bias towards young, successful athletes for whom he aspired to be but failed horribly in his quest.


HEALY'S 1869 PORTRAIT OF
ABRAHAM LINCOLN
                         Courtesy, virginislandsdailynews.com


President Lincoln, looking down from his lofty perch that day, recognized the mindset commensurate with these hard-working, winning young men as they encapsulated his own superior work ethic and ‘mis en place’ status.

In turn, these young men must have, at least, felt the ever-giving strength of Lincoln, the history attributed to this fine, stately room, and the wisdom of our forefathers encompassed within the symbol of one of Democracy’s finest achievements, the White House, and the person who resides there. I pray that all of this given so generously to them via time and history will far outweigh the tiny backslaps accompanied by the rude and ignorant hospitality that was afforded them on their special day of honor at the White House. 

May the future of this country see a kinder, smarter, diplomatic and charismatic, and respectful person presiding over her once again.....soon. We the people deserve it!


PRESIDENT OBAMA'S FINAL STATE DINNER
                   Courtesy, Pinterest



Copyright © 2019 by Jacqueline E. Hughes
All rights reserved
























Thursday, January 10, 2019

THE ROAD TO DOWNPATRICK HEAD, THE MYSTERY OF DU BRISTE, AND BREAKFAST AT MARY'S


A series of essays....


FOLLOWING THE ROAD TO DOWNPATRICK HEAD


....as seen through my eyes!


  




MARY'S COTTAGE KITCHEN




By: Jacqueline E. Hughes


Most of us wake-up to multiple sources of input even before arriving at the morning’s destination of work, school, or visiting a friend for coffee and conversation. The morning news, YouTube videos, and weather forecasts circle within our brains like the farmhouse in The Wizard of Oz while fragmented visions of unnecessary walls, various video tutorials, and colorful umbrellas encompass the little, white house in a mass confusion of swirling bits and pieces.

Today, I’m not going to allow these hollow fragments to haunt me. Today, I’m thinking about Mary, homemade raspberry scones with lots of creamy butter, and the pure charm of the local Irish people.


SCENIC DRIVE TO BALLYCASTLE

ROLLING HILLS AND STONE WALLS


You see, it all began when Dan and I decided to take a road trip up to meet the Wild Atlantic Way and follow it to the village of Ballycastle and visit the windswept outcrop of Downpatrick Head located just north of the village. Our hope was to find a quaint little eatery in Ballycastle and enjoy a homemade breakfast with the locals before finding the famous stone sea-stack standing close to the edge of the cliffs we were seeking. 

This sea-stack is called DĂșn Briste (broken fort) and legend has it that when a pagan chieftain refused to convert to Christianity, Saint Patrick struck the ground with his crozier (staff), splitting a chunk of the headland off into the ocean, leaving the chieftain on top! The sea-stack is beautiful to behold because you can see layers upon layers of multi-colored rock strata easily dating the land back millions of years, long before the dinosaurs roamed the earth. 



DUN BRISTE IS WAY OFF IN THE
DISTANCE, JUTTING OUT TO SEA

IN THE FOREGROUND: THE RUINS
OF SAINT PATRICK'S CHURCH.
IN THE BACKGROUND: THE WWII LOOKOUT POST.

The coastline of County Mayo can be rugged and wild while it curiously curves around the North Atlantic Ocean as you follow the Wild Atlantic Way. The designated signs allow you to follow this road quite easily and, I promise you, it will take you on adventures you will never find by tour bus. I always recommend renting a car whenever possible while traversing Ireland in order to get into all of the brilliant nooks and crannies and offbeat tracks that this craggy island has to offer.

Making it up the final hill with Ballycastle within sight, lo and behold, the very first sign we came across was Mary’s Cottage Kitchen! “That was certainly easy, wasn’t it?” I said, thoroughly delighted with our instant find and anticipating a cuppa or two in my near future.

“The stone façade is very inviting,” Dan added and we were instantly swept into the little structure by the strong wind at our back as soon as we opened the rustic front door. 


~~ MARY ~~

“Hello. Hello, and a good morning to ya!” Mary’s kind voice preceded her physical presence as our eyes adjusted from the bright sunlight to the dimness of the cottage’s interior. “Hello and please sit wherever you’d like. Indeed, my name is Mary and I’m gonna see what Beth here would like to have this morning and I will be right with ya. Make yourselves at home, won’t ya?”

As Mary glided over to Beth’s table, we sat down at a small one near a front window and were now able to see our surroundings quite nicely, as well as our intriguing host. From the ‘happy’ yellow walls to the solid oak tables and chairs that mimicked my Mother’s dining set but represented over twenty-one years of constant wear and tear contributed to by hungry local workers, farmers, ladies out for tea and scones, and families seeking refuge from having to cook dinner in their own kitchen one night a week...Mary’s Cottage Kitchen lived up to its name.


OUR VIEW OUT TO BALLYCASTLE













WE APPRECIATED
THEIR KEEN SENSE OF HUMOR

After perusing the menu inside and out, we determined that Mary must have a unique sense of humor and may show a little jealousy towards Bart, her husband, when hair color and age are concerned. “Canna get you both something to drink?” her warm smile imploring us to order and stay awhile. Walking away to make my tea and pour Dan a cup of coffee, it dawned on me what she reminded me of in a quirky sort of way. “Mary looks like a train engineer with her white hat and striped apron, don’t you think?” I asked Dan who was watching two men blowing in from the front doorway. “Maybe a little bit. I just think she’s adorable!”


MARY TAKING BETH'S ORDER

The two newcomers sat down at the table near us and made themselves at home. With one blink of an eye Mary was bringing out two steaming cups of black coffee and placing them in front of the men. “Hello, Cal! What’s up, Pat? Will it be the same as usual today? Yes, I thought so. Hope the world is treating you both well. Won’t be a moment, all right?” And, as if the front door had been left wide open, she blew straight back into her tiny kitchen. 

Shortly afterward, Mary emerged with tea and coffee in hand accompanied by fresh lemon wedges and honey and eager to take our breakfast order. When we saw that she offered poached eggs on toast with a side of rashers, there was no way we could resist. “Now, you get a side basket of bread, too, don’t ya know. I can fill it up with brown bread and a side of my mixed-berry jam, homemade and sweet as heaven. And, with your eggs, you’ll have a raspberry scone I made just this morning and practically hot from the oven.” With our mouths watering and tummies rumbling, about all we could do was nod our genuine approval as Mary turned to speak with Beth a few feet away.



AHH! THE PERFECT BREAKFAST!

DAN ENJOYING HIS BROWN BREAD

Now, the local men near us were carrying on a quiet conversation when Mary reappeared from the back like a choreographed dancer holding two steaming plates of eggs, rashers, and toast. Slipping one plate gently down before each man, she asked what more she could bring them and said she’d be talking later about a construction job she might have for them, soon.

“Do you notice how very few words are spoken and yet...everyone seems to know what everyone else is thinking? It’s as though spending enough time in close proximity together has enabled them to read one another’s mind,” Dan observed. I agreed wholeheartedly when Mary, quite the one person show, was bringing our own plates out to be placed down before us. Could she see how we were salivating in genuine anticipation?


MARY'S DISPLAY CASE
OF HOMEMADE DELIGHTS!

Discreetly wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I asked Mary if she created all of the scrumptious baked goods displayed in the glass case behind her, along with the brown bread and fruited scones. “Every day I wake-up early to work in the kitchen creating different delights to sell. Today it is raspberry scones but, tomorrow it will be strawberry or blueberry. I go by what’s available to me at the time. My jams are made in the late summer days when the fruit is the freshest it can be and then they are ready to bring out throughout the colder months.” 

It was such fun listening to her speak, her charming accent spreading joy to our ears. Before leaving us to devour our goodies, she asked, “Are ya bound for Downpatrick Head this morning? If so, be fairly careful. The wind is mighty powerful (pointing out the front window). The view of DĂșn Briste is stunning but the wind off of the North Atlantic can be a wicked ting.” We were both thinking that heeding a local’s advice was probably quite prudent.

Having finished our grand meal, a pot of brewed tea, and two cups of coffee, Dan was paying our bill while I was running all about taking pictures of Mary’s Cottage Kitchen. Mary gave us both a genuine hug good-bye and said she’d more than likely be there if and when we ever returned to Ballycastle. We decided we could not return without seeing Mary again!


FOLLOWING THE WILD ATLANTIC WAY
THE NORTH ATLANTIC IN THE DISTANCE



WHERE BLUE SKIES MEET THE BLUE SEA....  


Turning our rental car north to the coast we followed the signs leading us to the famous sea-stack and the mighty cliffs of Downpatrick Head. “Oh, look at that view, Dan! Please stop,” I pleaded for, at least, the fiftieth time that day. By now Dan was quite familiar with my need to shoot practically everything in sight! With a country as naturally beautiful as Ireland, this can be a very time consuming affair. But, so well worth it in the end. “Don’t worry, I’m pulling over here,” he explained with a smile on his face.

“Stunningly beautiful! What more can I say?” I exclaimed while madly clicking away.


ENJOYING THE MAGNIFICENT LIGHT
AND THE CRASHING WAVES

THE VIBRANCY AND COLOR OF LAND AND SEA

THE BEAUTY OF DOWNPATRICK HEAD
















Parking the car and arming ourselves with woolen scarves and warm gloves, we prepared ourselves for an invigorating coastal walk up green slopes dotted with grazing sheep, around Poll N’a Seantainne, a magnificent blowhole that plummets down to the tempestuous ocean below, and a small stone building built near the edge of the cliff that served as a lookout post during World War II. The name Downpatrick is derived from a time when St Patrick himself founded a church here. We could still see the ruins of the church building, a stone cross, and a holy well nearby.

And, of course, there was the glorious DĂșn Briste majestically floating yards out to sea and resembling a giant layered cream torte baked to perfection over the span of many centuries. Dan snapped several pictures of this decadent slice of historic importance and has had it as his screen saver ever since.



GRAVEL PATH TO THE TOP OF THE CLIFFS

POLL N'a SEANTAINNE BLOWHOLE

DARKENING SKIES AND SUNSHINE....
PERFECT LIGHTING!!!

“Look at the dark clouds and mist rolling in. I believe we’re in for a big storm,” Dan said, as our fascination with the place had yet to ebb. With wide eyes I noted that I’d not taken the time to notice the thick cloud cover approaching us from far out at sea. It was a living, breathing white fog that had designs on engulfing the deep blue waters and the rolling landscape neatly bordered by rocky cliffs. “Let’s move now because we have quite a hike down to the car park,” I replied, a bit anxiously.


THE GLORIOUS DUN BRISTE

How many Irish men, women, and children stood along this same spot, year after year, watching the sea mist devour their land and homes in a matter of a few moments? The sea is a powerful force filled with mystery that takes up a large space in the history of Ireland and defines her people. On that particular day in early October, this fact was never more evident to us. We, also, learned to respect the land and the majestic cliffs that constantly work at keeping the mighty sea at bay.


HEADING BACK TO BALLYCASTLE
IN THE MIST AND RAIN















Copyright © 2019 by Jacqueline E. Hughes 
All rights reserved
Photo copyright © 2019 by Jacqueline E. Hughes
All rights reserved