HE GAVE HIS BEST TO US: THE LEGACY OF A GREAT MAN

 

A series of essays….

DEMOCRACY: OURS TO LOSE UNLESS WE FIGHT HARD TO RETAIN IT!

….as seen through my eyes!

“Let me know in my heart

When my days are through

America, America

I gave my best to you

America

I gave my best to you”

— Joe Biden

From American Anthem by Nora Jones

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

Wow, Monday night made it all so real for me! I have shivers just thinking about this momentous presidential convention and our commitment to freedom and democracy while protecting individual rights for all people. 

If we can take just one piece of truth, one segment of reality, or one nugget of solid memory from an administration that is summarized as helping and loving all of the people who fall under its care—let it be this song and lyrics by Nora Jones, personalized and quoted by Joe Biden.

We often seek out one thought or memory offered as a gift to us by someone or something that will live in our hearts, forever. That’s exactly what I had hoped to take away from the first night of the DNC. And, even though I waited a long time for it to arrive, at last, I found it as Joe was closing his speech to the nation: “I gave my best to you.”

My own laughter and waterworks rang true throughout the hours of accolades bestowed upon Joe. The random intimate stories of hard work, hardships, newfound joy and happiness, some we’d heard before and others new, was the running theme of the evening. Ultimately, after fifty years of service to his country, his decision to step down from his presidency is the greatest personal sacrifice he could every make. This selfless act should and will live within us until the end of time.

The ego is not something to be taken for granted. If we’re lucky, the ego relates the appropriate pride in oneself that offers up the self-esteem required to make the very best of our life and be able to share this with others. If we, the recipients of this ego, build a better life for ourselves and those we love because of it, the circle of life contains a sparkling silver lining to be passed down from generation to generation.

Joe, unlike most of us, was able to sacrifice everything he worked so hard to create within his career as a public servant. Politics to Joe is the runway that helps him take flight and become the best he can possibly be. Family is the fuel that energizes him. We, the people, are the grateful recipients that thrive under all of his kindness and love.

Aren’t we fortunate to know Joe Biden? You’re damn right we are! Who else would leave a position of such high importance for the benefit of you and me? I will bet it took an enormous amount of soul searching, confidence in the person he is passing the baton to, and faith (in his God and his family) to pull this one off. Does he have some regrets, do you think? After all, he is only human.

His fifty-two minute speech packed a punch. Delivered with strength in his convictions, it was the perfect keynote address to the nation. It was powerful! Taking such pride in all you have accomplished as president in the last four years is an act of extreme self confidence and belief in the Constitution and this great nation.

If need be, I would have stayed awake to hear his speech well into the early hours of the morning. It was necessary to hear him speak to us; be the Joe Biden that led us out of a pandemic (totally exasperated by the negative powers that be) and into a positive future the likes we have not witnessed for decades. 

Thank you, Joe!

Maybe that sounds too simple, too naive. We know it comes from the very depths of our souls. Joe knows it, too. Such a collective effort of Pride and Love and Hope.

I have been a Nora Jones fan for many years and remember watching the Ken Burn’s documentary, The War. But the years have a way of passing us by, too quickly. I did not take American Anthem to heart as, obviously, the Biden family has done. Shouldn’t we all read these Nora Jones’s lyrics (her poetic epitaph) with a true sense of patriotism; a tone of giving our life for the betterment of others? Joe did. Joe does. Joe always will and he will be lovingly immortalized for it.

I love this man. I love Joe Biden and I always will. His profound grace exists within his successor, Kamala Harris, as well. May God bless our nation and lead us forward into the light.

“I love my job, but I love my country more.”  —Joe Biden

Copyright © 2024 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

IT'S ALL ABOUT LIFE'S STORIES

A series of essays....

A JOURNEY FOR TWO.....
SUNSET AT BARNES COUNTY PARK,
LAKE MICHIGAN

....as seen through my eyes!




By: Jacqueline E Hughes

It continues to amaze me how I can see my father’s nose while looking into the mirror. I’ve always resembled my mother in every way, except in stature, (she stood a mighty    5’ 2” with me towering over her at 5’ 7”). But, dad’s nose is there now....right down to the tiny indentation along the right tip. I only ask that his hyper, elongated ears do not follow me into my near future! If so, I may never be able to wear dangle earrings again!

Age has a way of sneaking up on us; literally changing and drawing us into the history and stories that shaped our lives in the first place. 

KEN BURNS INTERVIEWED BY PBS

Recently, when asked why he chose Country Music as the topic for his current PBS Documentary, Ken Burns replied, “It’s all about the wonderful stories. The words and the songs and the stories of country music will live with all of us, forever.” Storytellers keep the words alive the way all art tells the tale of us coming together by laughing, loving, hating, feeling profoundly sad, hoping, dreaming, and showing kindness towards one another.

This is my latest story...

Driving back to Kalamazoo this past Sunday after enjoying a weekend of wedding anniversary celebration near Petoskey, we decided we were hungry and the town of Hastings loomed on the horizon. Hastings had always been a town we drove through to get to another place and had never stopped to eat or shop there before. Slowly driving through the downtown area, it was a crapshoot as to which restaurant was even open on an early Sunday evening. Walldorff Brewpub & Bistro looked promising.

We had been seated in a booth along the far wall and while waiting for our beverages to arrive, we discussed our weekend of hiking, witnessing spectacular sunsets over Lake Michigan, our drive through the Tunnel of Trees just north of Petoskey, and walking under the canopy of some of the tallest pine trees we’d ever seen at Hartwick Pines State Park. 

THE HOUSE ON THE HILL

Our beautiful French farmhouse in Ellsworth was appropriately named, The House on the Hill, as it overlooked Saint Clair Lake and golden sunrises that seemed to set the shimmering water on fire. The B&B’s close proximity to everything we wanted to experience in that area of Pure Michigan served us well.

After setting our drinks down and placing our dinner order, Heather, our waitress, came back to our booth and looked a bit shy and awkward as she smiled down at us. Finally, she said, “I am not at liberty to tell you who It is, however, your entire meal has been taken care of this evening.” 

Say what? 

“But we don’t know anyone here in Hastings,” Dan said, looking stealthily around the large room. My gut reaction was expressed by asking, “How does anyone here even know that today is our anniversary?”

“It is?” our ponytailed, young waitress queried. “This is exciting and this will be passed on to them, for sure. They will be so happy and amazed.”

Evidently, sworn to secrecy, Heather smiled and left to see if our dinners were ready. My only hope at the time was that our mouths didn’t stand agape with incredulity for too long. Not the most appealing look, for sure. Perhaps this would have been the reaction our unknown benefactor was looking for. Well, he, she, or they were not disappointed then!

VIEW FROM OUR PORCH

CHARLEVOIX, MICHIGAN

Speculation was rampant on our part and we realized that it was an interesting and semi-uncomfortable feeling to be watched by others and not be able to reciprocate the eye-to-eye contact with a corresponding look in their direction. Let alone, not know exactly who to thank for such a kind gesture.

Having built several multi-family projects in the area many years ago, Dan imagined that someone who may have worked for him had recognized him after all this time. He then reasoned that they would want to make contact and say hello if this were the case. I could see Dan’s eyes searching for clues, faces aged by nearly thirty years of living, or someone giving us a fleeting glance of recognition. However, absolutely nothing....

This is when the eyes secretly dance around the room while the head remains perfectly still. The brain (voice of reason) automatically asks the question, why us? And, after several moments, the heart begins to fill with warmth and gratefulness and you speculate that maybe, just maybe, someone does this on a regular basis because, quite simply, they want to. Secretly observing the various reactions of their surprised recipients may give them pleasure and something to look forward to.

Just as our fertile brains began to piece together our unexpected yet totally delightful circumstances and time left us to wonder what the criteria was in making their final selection, we were eating our last few bites of fish & chips and warm chicken sandwich. Suddenly, our waitress glides up with a large piece of cheesecake laced with berry compote and rich caramel and places it on the table between us. We immediately noticed that the letters, HA (Happy Anniversary), were emblazoned in caramel along the inside of the stark, white dish. 

READY FOR DESSERT

“They were delighted it is your anniversary and would like you to celebrate with dessert.” By now, we felt like we’d become old friends with our entertaining ‘twenty-something’ and her conspiratorial half smile still lingers on my mind.

Like two kids sitting at the local soda fountain, we leaned in, forks at the ready, and savored each blissful bite.

Heather returned to our table to ask if there was anything else we required and wished us a very happy anniversary, once again. If we could not thank our benefactors personally, we asked if she would be kind enough to do so for us, to which she wholeheartedly agreed. 

“They must be regulars here at the restaurant,” I stated. Heather nodded in agreement.

“Yes, they love doing this and when we see them come in, one of us on the staff knows we’ll be passing their gift of kindness to another table during the evening. I don’t know why or how they choose who they do....they haven’t told us that. But, they were delighted that you were celebrating a milestone in your lives and told me this has never happened before. This made them very happy, too!”

“Please let them know that their gift truly made our day extra special,” I said. 

“Yes,” Dan agreed. “And the total surprise of being treated so kindly will never be forgotten.”

Smiling, Heather’s eyes sparkled and we could tell that this whole thing made her and all of the staff as happy about being a part of it as anyone else. Wow, what a win, win, win situation this was.

WALLDORFF BREWPUB & BISTRO

BISTRO SEATING

You can believe Dan and I talked about everything that transpired over and over again on the comparatively short drive back home. The answer to the question of why us?, as well as digesting the myriad of circumstances that led us to that town, down that street, to that restaurant, at that particular time, remain phenomenal and, of course, unanswered. 

But, when all is said and done, Dan and I ask ourselves, “Why not us?” We know we will be eternally blessed by this experience, anxious to do the same for someone else one day, soon, and always willing to open our hearts to the kindness of others. Fortunately, as a storyteller myself, I am able to share our anniversary blessing with all of you. 

Like the continuous stories created through country music that get passed along from generation to generation, the simple stories of storytellers will help to preserve a way of life that may otherwise be forgotten and lost to all of us...forever.

DAN STANDING NEAR TALL PINES
AT HARTWICK PINES STATE PARK

LOOKING UP INTO THE CANOPY

Copyright © 2019 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights preserved

Photos Copyright © 2019 by Jacqueline E Hughes

GOODNIGHT...VIETNAM!!

A series of essays....

VIETNAM WAR VETERAN PAYING HOMAGE TO HIS FELLOW SOLDIERS AND BUDDIES AT THE VIETNAM  WAR MEMORIAL IN WASHINGTON D.C.

Courtesy: pixels.com

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E. Hughes

Last night I went to bed with the sight and sounds of the North Vietnamese marching into Saigon, South Vietnam, and placing the fear of God in the people who were left there by the Americans back in 1973 when we pulled-out of Vietnam for good. It’s my own fault. Out of ten episodes of Ken Burns’ documentary on the Vietnam War, we had the final episode to watch. You see, we were cleaning up the recorded programming from our AT&T Cable devises in preparation for our move to Michigan next week.

I am such a stickler when it comes to watching every program that has been recorded off of our cable TV. It is my understanding that there had to have been a good reason to do so in the first place and, it is my responsibility to complete the entire process.

For some reason, having recorded all ten episodes months ago, we put off watching the documentary’s final chapter. There were too many personal memories involved and I wasn't prepared for the amount of closure it might bring.  

Vietnam, episode 10, was the last thing we watched before going to bed. Probably should have viewed it first and saved  International House Hunters and various other HGTV programs, several hour-long shows we love, Rachel and Lawrence from the last few nights, The Great British Baking Show, and the lulling voice of Lester Holt talking about the massive fires in California...for later. With hindsight in mind, I would have been much better off.

HO CHI MINH CITY (COMMONLY KNOWN AS SAIGON)
IS A CITY IN SOUTHERN VIETNAM FAMOUS FOR THE
PIVOTAL ROLE IT PLAYED IN THE VIETNAM WAR.
Courtesy: Wikipedia

Flashes of armored vehicles, ex-presidents, and a sleek, open V-shape wall of black granite etched with the names of 57,692 men and women who died in the war manipulated my blurred thoughts. Unfortunately, I am able to place faces along with the names of some of the heroes that will forever honor that wall and have followed along each indentation forming the letters of their names with my trembling fingertip. Having visited it several times since its construction and opening on November 13, 1982, the boys I knew remain in my youthful memory files, they never grow older, and they will always fill my heart with unwavering loyalty and emotion.

So, I cried for the men and women who, along with presidents and various statesmen, could not deter the enemy no matter how hard they tried...even while losing their dreams, their future, and many, their lives. 

I cried for all of us who were left to pick-up the pieces and try to make sense from a senseless world. How many twenty-one gun salutes at the local cemetery did we stand at attention at, rain or shine, and listen to each collective burst  in feeble homage expressed after the spirit and vitality of youth had been stripped away; the crooked smiles and deep blue eyes that were left in our memory, alone?

Oh, we were tough son-of-a-guns back then; those who stayed behind and those who left to fight the battles concocted by mere mortals in order to solve the world’s problems and counteract the blatant greed and malfunctioning ideals of others? If we weren’t fighting on the battlefields themselves, we were marching in the streets with like-minded students and college professors; launched in a fearsome battle trying to prove the predictability of this utter foolishness. 

Most of us knew that this conflict, aimed at maintaining the independence of the South Vietnamese people against the Communist regime of the North and China, was being spearheaded by our Generals and fought by our own brave, young men and women...many our own family, friends, and neighbors. A good friend of ours returned in one piece. At least his body had come home that way. His mind, did not and he suffered gravely from PTSD or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Steve relived his particular ‘battle’ every day of his life. The horror in his eyes reflected the demons he was forced to face. I can only hope that he was able to beat those demons back to wherever they righteously belonged and live out his days in a remote semblance of peace.

The blood that ran down into rice patties and along the dirt paths that guided our boys into ambushes and hopeless situations was witnessed each night on the Evening News. Not much was held back. It was almost as if we were there with them feeling the pain of stray bullets, the fear that clenched at their guts twenty-four hours a day, along with hearing the whir of the helicopters landing long enough to retrieve the broken bodies that covered the open fields in an attempt to fly them to safety.

BILLY JOEL SINGING 'GOODNIGHT SAIGON'
~CLICK BELOW TO WATCH VIDEO~

https://youtu.be/Qjzjhl-QztE

If a song can take you back to a certain moment in your past and make you vividly remember what you were doing, thinking...well, we had lots of those songs by many artists and groups, and to hear one of them today still sends chills through my very being. A song by Billy Joel, released in 1982, succinctly captured the reality of dying young alongside of your buddies while under impossible circumstances and seat-of-your-pants military organization. The song is called, Goodnight Saigon.

“And we will all go down together,” as the lyrics go. But, no matter how hard we fought and  tried to suppress it, ultimately, Communism was the cancer that spread south in Vietnam and remains uncured to this day.

I can remember the ones who said, “Hell No” and traveled over the border to Canada to avoid the conflict. They were friends, good students, bright individuals who felt they had no choice but to leave everything behind. They were our friends, and who were we to tell them not to go when it was difficult to justify them staying? Especially when we never forgot the young high school boys with their crooked smiles and deep blue eyes a year or two before!

Sleep, finally, caught-up with me. I couldn’t tell you exactly when. That was last night.

This morning I’ve spent time putting into words the pictures that danced through my head during the night. It wasn’t difficult. They were fresh and frighteningly vivid and before long the words flowed like the blood of the innocent and representing a thousand conflicts throughout the history of the world! 

Recently, I have been speaking with a Vietnamese family, good friends, whose older members lived through this war and all of its repercussions that still cling as tightly as plastic wrap around their memories and fears keeping them fresh and active. The grandchildren, born here in the United States, are the fortunate generation. Loving their Grandmother, Mother, and Father so much, they listen to the stories their elders have to tell. They will be the ones to carry these stories through time like the Irish custodians of the oral tradition of storytelling, the Seanchaidhe, bearers of ancient culture, history, and laws.

DAN WITH 'MAMA,' THE BEAUTIFUL LADY
WHO HAS FRIGHTENING AND AMAZING STORIES TO TELL

After living through last night and all of the ‘tosses and turns’ that presented themselves...I’ve made a major decision this morning. I will carry on my research into the lives of my friends, the Vietnamese who personally lived through the hardships of the Vietnam War and were the innocent victims who survived the conflict to live another day. For them it was a matter of getting to the United States through sponsorship and being placed in an area where that sponsor could help them find homes and employment so they could raise families of their own. Orlando, Florida and the Catholic Church played huge roles in providing hundreds of Vietnamese solace and a safe haven in America.

I love these people. We’ve been so blessed to be living in Orlando these many years and afforded the opportunity to meet and interact with the beautiful Vietnamese people. I have spent time learning their stories, crying and laughing with them, and being lulled by the gentle rhythms of their language and pure kindness.   

OUR FRIEND, NHIEU DAO, WITH HIS
BEAUTIFUL BABY GIRL, AVA!

Just as I was a teenage girl discussing this war from high school classrooms and watching it on television at home, my life was being paralleled by another woman who was around my own age, who fell in love with an American soldier, and struggled to bring her two daughters (Amerasian) over to the United States one day. We all call her 'Mama'...out of love and respect for her status and wisdom.  

Two lives running parallel in time, one living within the privileges of a normal life and the other the uncertainty and fear of a life in total upheaval. Two women who meet one another many years later and learn about the struggles and small victories that kept them strong and motivated enough to push ahead into the unknown; into their inevitable futures. 

To be continued...

BEAUTIFUL MISS JANICE~ BRINGING US
HOME FROM THE AIRPORT LAST WEEK:
THE BEST FRIEND AND NEIGHBOR...EVER!!!

Copyright © 2018 by Jacqueline E. Hughes

All rights reserved

 

SYNCHRONICITY

A series of essays.....

THE VIETNAM WAR: A FILM BY
KEN BURNS AND LYNN NOVICK

Credit: parademagazine.com


.....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E. Hughes

At the very least, I would like to be sitting here listening to The Pogues, my favorite Irish punk band formed in 1982, and, at the most, dutifully performing my daily exercise regime to their lyrically unique sound. Pogue Mahone, by the way, is the anglicization of their name which, in Irish, is póg mo thóin or literally translated as 'kiss my arse.' Seemingly, quite apropos these days....the feeling of disregard, that is.

Many of us have been experiencing a 'more than usual' rash of 'kiss my ass' experiences this past year and with good reason. With the constant fear of losing health insurance, not to mention nuclear war hanging over our heads on a daily basis like the "Sword of Damocles," an illusion to the imminent and ever-present peril we face as a nation....among so many other crises I could add to this list.    

THE POGUES

My latest 'póg mo thóin' revelation came a few days ago. Having been working on my latest venture which takes place in Orlando, Florida and Vietnam, past and present time, I'd been looking forward to watching the latest documentary showing on PBS (Public Broadcasting System) entitled The Vietnam War: A film by Ken Burns & Lynn Novick. Due to time constraints, we have been taping this series with the intention of watching episodes whenever we can. 

Sitting down this past Sunday evening, it was exciting to push the appropriate buttons on the hand-held remote that would take us to 'Deja Vu,' the aptly titled first episode in a total of ten for this series.

Being a seasoned aficionado of following many amazing shows offered on PBS throughout the years (one does not raise two children without memorizing most of the jingles and jangles comprising 'Sesame Street' and 'Mr. Roger's Neighborhood'), I know enough not to scroll through the equally important names of donors who have financially supported them, including this latest endeavor by Mr. Burns and Ms. Novick. However, I was taken aback by what I'd read on the screen and immediately questioned their intent.

"Major support for the Vietnam War was provided by: Members of The Better Angels Society including Mr. & Mrs. Lavine, The Montrone Family." and so forth. "Major funding was also provided by David H. Koch, The National Endowment for Humanities, Bank of America, and Viewers Like You....," among many others, of course. Both Koch and Bank of America were sandwiched in there like ham and cheese between two toasted slices of stale bread! 

DAVID H. KOCH

Credit: The New Yorker Magazine

Yes, I Googled his name. He most definitely is one of the Koch brothers. Not a cousin of or a complete stranger to the Koch brothers having the same last name but, one of the two brothers. In an article written for The New Yorker by Jane Mayer in the August 30, 2010 issue called Covert Operations, Ms. Mayer explains how David H. Koch and his brother Charles, at that time, quietly had given more than a hundred million dollars to right-wing causes and had openly waged a war against President Barack Obama.

 I'm all about admiring the idea behind philanthropic acts and have even written several stories about major philanthropists of our time including Bill and Melinda Gates, Warren Buffet, Mark Zuckerberg, and Michael Bloomberg. Vowing that if I should ever be fortunate enough to win a grand Lottery payout, part of the proceeds would go to one or more charitable organizations of my choice, as many of us might do under similar circumstances.

Lest we forget the involvement of Bank of America and the still fresh wounds of the middle-class when the bank purchased the Countrywide Mortgage Company back in 2008, a company who had grown by offering sub-prime mortgages to aspirant homebuyers. John Taylor of the National Community Reinvestment Coalition said, "By the time Bank of America came along, it was too late. Regardless of how much they knew about Countrywide's shoddy lending at the time of purchase, Bank of America inherited a mess of mortgages that went sour fast." This contributed to many home foreclosures and the placing of families out onto the street among their furniture and personal belongings.

U.S. SOLDIERS MARCHING IN DANANG, VIETNAM,
IN 1965 WITH AN AVERAGE
AGE OF TWENTY-ONE YEARS OLD!

Credit: The Associated Press

When I think back to Sunday evening and my revelation of recognizing the names of Koch and Bank of America as financial supporters of the Burns and Novick documentary, I cringe just a little bit and wonder, especially in the case of David H. Koch, as to the reasons his foundation might want to back this particular project. Unfortunately, if this world has taught me anything lately it is to question everything and trust in only a few people, especially when copious amounts of money are concerned.

I will be the first person to say that this Vietnam War film is fast-paced and emotionally charged. Having lived through this time as a young high school and college student myself, the content hits home...and straight through my heart. Like a small child afraid of the dark, I sit back in silence and allow the beat of the music, the black and white video and still shots, and reemergence of its sorrow and pain fill me with enough sadness that I want to go hide under my bed and keep out the bogeyman forever. Even so, perhaps because of this feeling, I highly recommend taking the time to see this film.

A Facebook friend of mine, Mr. Neal Golden, had reposted a story this morning written by Thomas A. Bass and published in the Peace Journal on August 7 of this year.  Mr. Bass is the author of Vietnamerica, The Spy Who Loved Us, and the Censorship in Vietnam: Brave New World. His story takes us even deeper into the Vietnam War era than Burns and Novick do pointing out the individual editing styles of each and how much their film has left out or forgotten about. 

U.S. TROOPS WADING THROUGH A MEKONG DELTA
MARSH, SOUTHERN VIETNAM IN 1967
~THE VIETNAM WAR: 1954 -1975~

Credit: Encyclopedia Britannica

Some American journalists like Stanley Karnow, author of the book VIETNAM, A History, and Drew Pearson, American columnist and radio host, have grappled for years with presenting this war on television stating that the French, Canadians, and other Europeans have already made good documentaries about the Vietnam War. "But the tenacity with which the US has forgotten the lessons of Vietnam, burying them under misplaced patriotism and willful disregard for history, bump it out of contention for making a great movie about this war," Mr. Pearson once retorted on his NBC Radio program titled Drew Pearson Comments.   

The divisiveness felt today under the Trump Administration was definitely recognizable throughout the Vietnam War, with the war and this presidency dividing personal beliefs, families, policies, Presidents, our government, as well as many foreign governments alike. I do see these two conflicts sharing the same tendency and direction with parallel motives and aims.

My friend, Neal, also caught up in the negativity and questionable theories behind the Bank of America/Koch funding of the Burns & Novick version, made me wonder if the two of us were the only ones who valued the synchronicity of this scenario. 

Could this be a coincidence of events that appear meaningfully related but do not seem to be causally connected? How much deeper should I be probing into this story? Would it, ultimately, make a difference? Is that strange, niggling feeling in my gut only hunger pains or something else?

Thanking Neal for his input, I thought about my current writing project and how this information might make a difference regarding the redirection and expansion of my research. I am studying the Vietnam War through the eyes of a young woman, a Vietnamese citizen, who lived and breathed it while falling in love with her American soldier and the Vietnam War raged on around them. I am both fascinated and traumatized by my interviews with this beautiful lady, now in her mid-sixties, whom I've known for over a year. But, anticipating the Burns/Novich documentary (especially for my research) and seeing that both Bank of America and Koch are involved with it.....I am disheartened. 

Had Ken Burns, one of my heroes, actually sold his soul to the devil? Maybe. Money, especially copious sums, makes for strange bedfellows...

FOLLOWING THE MONEY

I will have to decide how much their presence goes against my personal principles or whether it will make a difference at all. At any rate, for now, I will chalk it up to my most recent 'kiss my arse' experience, sit back, put my feet up on the ottoman and slip in my favorite 'póg mo thóin' CD. Ireland dreaming, even with a punk flair, always seems to calm my soul. Thank goodness!

Copyright © 2017 by Jacqueline E. Hughes

All rights reserved