I AM SO READY—

 

A series of essays….

BREE SEEKING WARMTH AND PLEASURE FROM A CRACKLING FIRE

….as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

I am so ready to stack and burn logs on the fireplace grate and snuggle with Bree our goldendoodle. She enjoys watching the dancing flames and listening to the distinct crackle of the seasoned wood as it magically burns and shifts just beyond the screen enclosure. 

I am so ready to welcome the cold weather with its frozen precipitation coating everything in sight with a blanket of white. Those who know me well will be shocked by this statement given my penchant for warm weather, sandy beaches, and flip-flops on my feet twelve months out of the year. This winter I feel the need to hide myself away. Isolate my thoughts, contemplate life, aging, and, yes, even death.

I am so ready for making time to finish my book and, hopefully, push it out into the world just as though it was another child I have nourished, loved, and welcomed with open arms! The gestation period, having far exceeded anything remotely reasonable, seems to indicate uncomfortable procrastination on my part that has stretched out over thirty years. I’m sad to say that a female elephant has nothing on me!

I am more than ready to unclutter my thoughts, modify my behavior, and prepare myself for what is to come within the next four years. The outcome of the election held on November 5th was a huge kick in the gut for those who believe in democracy and are willing to continue fighting to maintain their freedom and rights for years to come. With age comes wisdom (for most of us, anyway) and it would be wise for all of us to see through and understand the hate-filled and revengeful administration that will consume Washington D.C. as it prepares to disregard the rules and regulations set-forth by the Founding Fathers who crafted a framework of government for our new nation.

I am so ready to begin preparing a delicious meal for my family and share with them the love and true meaning of being together on Thanksgiving Day.  Gratefulness abounds as we are seated around the table, looking across from one another through the curling wisps of steam from nature’s bounty that was prepared with so much love: our teenage granddaughter mashing potatoes, my sausage stuffing steaming in the oven, Dan’s famous grilled turkey generously seasoned with sliced lemons, rosemary, and butter, and our daughter setting out her orange/cranberry sauce and marshmallow-topped sweet potato casserole. Yes, we are blessed.

I am so ready (after writing the above paragraph) to partake in a portion of all of the above. Did I mention that this year we celebrate Dan’s birthday on Thanksgiving? I will make a cake and provide ice cream and set it down next to the pumpkin pie with whipped cream. After all, he deserves a variety of sweet pleasures on his Special Day!

I am so ready to, finally, after six years in our house, clean out our basement of the many boxes and bins that currently contain household items I haven’t thought about or required to use for the past six years. In doing so, we will be better prepared to have a yard sale next spring and make the much needed transition after having lived so many years in Orlando. I’ve never given much thought to the phrase ‘purging the guilt of overindulgence’ until now. To become free of so much ‘stuff’ in our lives will help to lighten a heavy load that has been bearing down on us for a very long time.

I am looking forward to giving people in need many of the items I’ve been needlessly hoarding in the basement. A gracious friend told me about a certain homeless lady, down on her luck after a miserable divorce, who watches homes and pets while the owners leave for a short period of time. She had been on a waiting list for governmental housing and recently discovered that an apartment became available. My friend told me that the lady needed pots and pans for her kitchen. Remembering a set still boxed in the basement, I knew of the perfect home for them and I’m hoping she cooks amazing meals for herself and others for many years to come.

I am so ready to slow this school year down just a smidge while enjoying our oldest granddaughter who is on the verge of turning eighteen in May. She is a senior in high school and between her advanced courses and homework, hours and hours spent between gymnastic practice and meets, working part time in a local restaurant as a hostess—we enjoy less and less of her company these days. Recently, she had been filling out college applications in her nonexistent spare time and is locked into waiting for the results. I miss her so much.

I am so ready to have the Kamala Harris for President sign in our front yard installed there—permanently! I don’t want to forget the experience of fighting so hard on her behalf. I don’t want to forget how hard Kamala fought for us, and still does. I can’t forget that over half of this country discarded her kindness and genuine caring for the rights of the people as meaningless and whimsical. It’s difficult for me to understand how so many men (and women) fight tooth and nail against having a woman for president. Why are white men, in particular, so afraid of women in the first place? I know why and you should, too. Often, it is the simplest ideas that create the most dysfunction in a society. I am so ready to fight the good fight alongside Kamala and all women (and men) who care about women’s bodies, a positive future for their children, and always moving this country forward..forward..forward—never backwards.

Copyright © 2024 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

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’être. 

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