A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE: THE WATCH

 

A series of essays….

A TWIST OF FATE MAY SERVE AS A BLESSED
CHRISTMAS MIRACLE, CHANGING YOUR LIFE AND
HELPING YOU BELIEVE…

….as seen through my eyes!

For Elaine not only a friend but a motivator.

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

The dry cleaning establishment was located right across the street from our apartment complex. Yet, living on the corner of a very busy intersection required me to drive there in order to pick-up the several items of clothing I’d dropped-off two days before. It’s true, I hadn’t worn them in quite some time, however, with my new job beginning just after the new year, these small errands could turn into huge chores when not having enough time to do them became a factor in my life.

“Please look in the small bag we’ve attached to your jacket,” the clerk informed me. “We discovered this item while cleaning out your pockets.” 

Well, of course my curiosity was piqued. I hadn’t worn this particular sport coat for several years before moving to Orlando and couldn’t imagine what I might have stashed into one of the tiny, secret pockets located in the beige satin liner. Remaining in the parking spot outside of the cleaners, I began to slowly pull the cotton drawstrings of the little white bag apart and, cautiously, peeked inside.

                                                               ~~~~

Wanting to find the perfect gift for our oldest daughter who would be graduating from middle school in a few weeks, I found myself at the jewelry counter of Hudson’s Department Store in the Meridian Mall looking for a specific watch that would suit a young woman soon to enter high school. Time, and never having enough of it myself, was always on my mind and it felt right to offer it to our very busy daughter who was embarking upon a brand new chapter in her life.

With its simple yet distinctive white dial and date design, history of fine quality, and sporty dark brown leather buckle strap, I chose a handsome Seiko watch for her that afternoon and had the back engraved with her graduation date and the words, “Always remember that you are The Best.” I tingled with excitement knowing that this special gift would provide her with many propitious moments in the months and years ahead, accompanied by the love and pride her parents felt for her. She was very pleased and wore the watch throughout most of her high school days.

Having a Seiko watch of my own for a few years prompted me to choose one for our daughter’s milestone event. Mine looked similar to hers with the exception of having a man-sized dial. My crystal face, however, was becoming quite scratched and I’d made numerous mental notes to have it replaced. In the meantime, I wore it until the etched face severely impeded my view of the dial and the leather strap began to show signs of minute cracks. I loved my watch dearly and found it difficult to not wear it on a daily basis.

Around that time, my curiosity for wearing vintage clothing was piqued and I found a beautiful silk-blend, doubled-breasted sports jacket at a cute vintage clothing shop in Okemos, Michigan, near to where my office building was located. The material shimmered in the light and created waves of blue or golden brown tones depending on which angle you looked at it. The satin lining gently caressed and cooled exposed skin making me feel richer, calmer for wearing it.

The interior of the jacket sported numerous mysterious pockets. Some were large with others often so tiny you couldn’t help but wonder what might fit in them. I would tuck little notes in there or, sometimes, buttons that had fallen off and I didn’t want to lose before being able to sew them back on. I wore it over white blouses and robin’s egg blue cotton tops and it looked sweet paired with both skirts and slacks alike. It was a staple in my closet—until it wasn’t any longer.

We moved several times in the span of nearly twenty-two years of living in the small town of Eaton Rapids, Michigan, before our giant move to Orlando in the late 1990’s due to Dan’s new construction position. During each of these moves our lives became downsized and more simplified. Several garage sales and charitable contributions helped to eliminate forgotten toys, knickknacks, and children’s clothing long ignored in cartons and drawers. Boxes were often left unpacked with each move and our current clothing was rearranged according to each new closet space. Within all of this self-imposed turmoil, I had somehow lost my Seiko watch and placed its disappearance under the category of mysterious phenomenons.

By the time we called Orlando our new home, and settled into our two bedroom apartment with half of our worldly belongings stashed away in a climate controlled rental unit (which included our baby grand piano), the feeling of being disjointed remained for almost two years. By then, we moved into the new home we had built on the east side and entered phase two of our Orlando experience.

Right before the Holidays, our first year there, I interviewed for and received an office position with an established construction company located in Celebration, Florida. In my haste to re-establish a certain office persona, it was time to take a few articles of clothing to the local dry cleaners and be prepared for my exciting new position with  ISSA Homes. I drove across our busy side street, Pershing Avenue, and placed on the countertop several skirts, jackets, and slacks to be cleaned. I was excited and a bit nervous to be entering the job force in Florida for the very first time!

                                                                 ~~~~

My Seiko watch was coiled like a tiny brown snake at the bottom of the white cotton bag! So many questions ran through my mind as tears sprung from my eyes dampening the bag on my lap. When did I place the watch in that tiny pocket of my jacket? How many years had it been hidden away, in the dark, so lonely and in constant motion from one place to another? How would I feel having it back on my left wrist again—all smug and highly revered? 

It felt so natural buckling it back onto my arm that my tears soon turned into a joyful smile and I ran back into the shop to thank them for their unmitigated honesty. They said they were only doing their job and were delighted that my watch and I were reunited after all this time. Well, let’s scratch another small notch on my umbrella handle for happy Florida events that made me feel welcome and alive in that new land I called, Home.

Relaying my story to my husband that evening, I realized that my vintage coat, purchased so long ago, protected something else I had valued for years. I never believed I would be wearing my watch again. I never thought I’d be living full time in Florida, either. All of these circumstances added up to ‘being at the right spot, at the right time.’ With a new job and Christmas right around the corner, it felt like a miracle had been gifted to me. It is my pleasure to be able to share this small slice of surprise, happiness, and joy with you this Holiday season!

Merry Christmas to all and may you enjoy a blessed and Happy New Year filled with good health and prosperity.

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

IN THE SPIRIT OF JANE KENYON: THE SIMPLE BLESSINGS IN LIFE

 

A series of essays….

A RELAXING AFTERNOON AT PAPA AND GRIMIN’S HOUSE

….as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

Sitting here looking around the living room of our little cottage in Kalamazoo, I chuckle to see toys, once again, strewn all over the floor; weapons of foot annihilation evident and the calmness of the tidy little space that normally surrounds us, in jeopardy.

The owner of these ‘weapons of mass destruction’ now sleeps several feet away. The ravages of the soft tissue of the human foot sparks dreams within her slumbering state that produce tiny smirks and the twitching of body muscles as she snuggles deeper into her makeshift bed of living room chair (leveling the vantage point between us) and her state of temporary inactivity. She is very content and happy.

We are most thankful for this. With her family miles away in New Jersey celebrating Thanksgiving with family and friends there, we are the grandparents and, for this week, the protectors of the fifth member of our daughter’s family. Oreo always seems to blend so easily into our lives making it very simple to love and accept her into our home whenever an occasion arises.

Having loved soft, furry K-9 children of our own throughout the years, we have grown accustomed to squeak toys, small plush animals, a ratty looking old sock or two, a shabby and well-loved bear, and rock hard rawhide chew toys littering the floor after a long day of play and excitement. However, the after effects of unexpectedly stepping on Lego-like, moist rawhide lingers in my mind. This memory continues to send a sharp pain throughout my system long after the fact. 

Soon, I will gingerly head into the kitchen to do what I do best of all—bake—with the intent of taking most of the results of my best efforts over to good friends to celebrate Thanksgiving together. My shadow, in the shape of an adorable Jack Russell, will appear at my heels the entire short trip from living room to kitchen and rest at my feet once we arrive.

The wind and scavenger birds just outside the large picture window have awakened our little princess enough to have her raise her head with a ‘what’s up?’expression on her ‘yin and yang’ face. But, by the time she reaches the white, wooden sill, paws firmly planted, the only thing to be seen is the twirling of dark brown leaves disturbed from the overhead gutter by a swooping blue jay moments before.

OREO IN REPOSE AND SPORTING
HER UNIQUE FACIAL MARKINGS.

Oreo dearly misses her family: those of a younger age, sporting spry, flexible joints belonging to the rising generation who can consistently keep up with her high-energy antics. Not that we are doddering and frail old fools just yet, but our lifestyle may consist more of long walks around the neighborhood rather than performing ‘touch-n-goes’ with tennis balls throughout the backyard. 

The shadows shift along the oak-stained wooden floors as the feeble, late autumn light filters through the undraped windows. I am thankful for the natural light and pray it shows itself as often as possible as winter approaches. The light speaks to me as it internalizes false-warmth and the precious hope for an early spring awakening. My years of mostly golden sunshine in Florida have spoiled me almost as much as my kids have spoiled my furry companion who visualizes chasing swirling brown leaves but is restricted by the panes of aged glass.

In the spirit of the late poet, Jane Kenyon, who believed in accepting and treasuring the simple blessings in life, I acknowledge and appreciate every aspect of goodness this life has to offer. In her poem ‘Otherwise,’ Kenyon reframes her day, moment by moment, “…as a series of non-necessary events — which is to say, a cascade of gift after gift. Even in and through our struggles, there are treasures to be found.”

If this is true, glorious treasures abound around me at this peaceful time transforming an ordinary day into another Thanksgiving Day! Oreo’s soft breathing, for instance. Scattered doggy toys. A blue jay. Or, delicious smells wafting in from our French country kitchen. I always have to remember that it might have been—otherwise.

“But one day, I know, it will be otherwise.” — Jane Kenyon

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone! May you always appreciate the simple things in life and understand how humble and content they can make us feel. Count your blessings each and every day!

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

BLESSED WITH THE DISCIPLINE OF AN ‘OLD SOUL’

 

A series of essays….

OUR GRANDDAUGHTER, LYDIA~
WE ARE VERY BLESSED.

….as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

“I asked an elderly man once what it was like to be old and to know the majority of his life was behind him.

He told me that he has been the same age his entire life. He said the voice inside of his head had never aged. He has always just been the same boy. His mother's son.

He had always wondered when he would grow up and be an old man. He said he watched his body age and his faculties dull but the person he is inside never got tired. 

Never aged. Never changed.

Our spirits are eternal. Our souls are forever. The next time you encounter an elderly person, look at them and know they are still a child, just as you are still a child and children will always need love, attention and purpose.”

~ Author Unknown

My complete fascination with those who have lived long lives and have the wrinkles, dark spots, crepey skin, and stories to show for it has been a part of me for many years. Their personal stories are plentiful and interesting. Wouldn’t you enjoy listening to the truth via those who have experienced it first-hand many years before us? 

When we first began traveling to Europe with our daughters back in 1990, I decided to choose a theme that would encourage me to take intimate pictures from everywhere we visited. My initial theme happened to be highlighting the elderly. I felt that they represented and bolstered the idea of a Europe that was historically much older than the United States and were at the top of the pyramid of family life and relationships. Each person I photographed was like a cherished leather bound storybook waiting to be read; they were all very beautiful with enticing, well-worn smiles that served as unique illustrations for their individual stories.

With my Canon slung over my shoulder while walking around a busy pedestrian shopping area in Munich, I captured a lady who was concentrating on steering her bike around the crowd of international tourists. Her brow-line was deeply furrowed while wisps of white hair escaped her small knit cap. Her stockings were rolled down her thin legs until they actually pooled just at the ankles. Suddenly her beautiful dark eyes found mine as I lifted the camera to capture her image.  

Instantly she became wide eyed and mellow and a smile unfolded across her narrow face like a colorful celebratory banner. Something awoke within her. In an instant, she gave to me far more than I could ever give her in return. She was mine to cherish for as long as I could stare at the image that was created that sunny afternoon in Germany.

During that trip, my Canon captured a sweet child of around three years of age who was unabashedly walking several paces from her mother in Auxerre, France; a lady, white hair swathed in a brightly colored scarf, walking home with several baguettes in hand; in another small village in France, a very fragile lady leaned out of her upper floor window and greeted everyone walking below with a resounding ‘bonjour’; two rather stately older gentlemen walking down a tree lined path who appeared to be working on improving the Irish economy with each sentence spoken; and our own daughter, Corinne, wide-eyed and disbelieving as she witnessed her first French pizza pie sporting an over easy fried egg on top as she took sips from our oversized mugs of frosty bier.

Even when I was young, I never shied away from elderly family members, neighbors, or strangers. I always found them to be charming and with so many stories to tell. Cousins and friends might have felt uncomfortable being in close proximity to the elderly sighting them as  different smelling, awkward to be around, and even a bit frightening. I often thought how happy I would be to have lived, laughed, and loved for so long! With any luck, we would all be there one day ourselves.

I attribute my feelings to my Grandpa Moshak, my mother’s Ukrainien father, who would have me tag along on a hot summer’s day as he would bring food, comfort, and conversation to those who lived in this Ukrainien section of Mishawaka, Indiana. Standing in a darkened kitchen, the sunlight barely drifting through half opened shades, I would observe Papa easing any concerns they may have with his soft spoken words and kind smile. They appreciated his patience and graciously accepted the help he offered them. This helped to make their daily lives tolerable in a country that did not understand their habits and language.

Thank you, Papa!

As we get older, all we truly need is for those younger, less tolerable, to understand and appreciate the years of life experience we have unintentionally allowed to seep into the vital cloth that makes up who we are. If we are lucky, the person we are inside never gets tired or old and the voice inside our heads never ages. The mind remains a sponge absorbing something new each day. Our body might age but the person we are inside continues to be active and vibrant when we allow it to. We are our mother’s daughters and sons; the same children we always were needing love, attention, and a purpose to keep moving forward.

Our only ginger grandchild, Lydia, will be celebrating her fourteenth birthday next week. Her great grandmothers, Olga and Beverly, would take pride in her thick, beautiful locks considering they were both gingers themselves. Lydia’s special day got me thinking about how precious and complex the life process is and how she has always accepted others at any age; already written her own stories about growing-up and respecting those around her. She is an ‘old soul’ in every sense of the term and has always had a very wise air about her. 

Turning fourteen must be the standard gauge used to quantify the precise moment we ‘younger souls’ can evaluate an ‘older soul’ within a young body. If this is the case, our precious Lydia, we acknowledge the many lifetimes that have contributed to your kindness and understanding throughout the years. You, like your great great grandfather, hold the wisdom, kindness, and truth that you so graciously project on all of us who know you.

Happy Birthday sweet young lady. I love you with all of my being!

May we never age or change within our hearts as our bodies grow older. May we only become wiser with the attitude and outlook of the child we were always meant to be. Our spirits are eternal. Our souls are forever. After all, we are only children who will always require love, attention, and a raison d’être.

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

A SERIES OF ESSAYS AS SEEN THROUGH MY EYES!

 

A series of essays….

FINDING MY HAPPY PLACES THROUGH ARTWORK.
ORIGINAL PAINTING BY KATHLEEN KALINOWSKI AND ENTITLED:
~TRISH’S CHICKENS~
OIL ON LINEN PANEL - 9 X 12

….as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

Life continues on in its ‘bits and pieces’ format day after day until the fuzzy borders of actions become more fluid and less blurred. I still can’t figure out if this is a good thing or not. I try to remember what life was like before COVID-19. I try to recall day-to-day actions before drumpt entered our lives on a full time basis. Oops! There go the blurry outlines once again. 

I try to remember when life started to become less sacred to some and pulling out a weapon to engage in the bodily harm of another human being became more and more commonplace. In other words, when did the sanctity of life begin to breakdown, tumble, and collide with the sharp edges of reality until life itself became meaningless and petty to so many people? At least, when did I begin to feel the menacing cuts, stabs, bruises, and sorrow associated with the world we live in today?

I know, the world has not been altered or changed that much after all of the wars we acknowledge from the past or the inequality between whites and people of color.  Many high school and college friends either died in Vietnam or came back home suffering from PTSD and the hatred of those who could only accept a win and despised our government and servicemen and women for bringing home a loss. So, the shallowness began for many of us fairly early in life.

Bits and pieces can add up quickly in one’s lifetime. Some would chastise others for proclaiming their choice to not bring children into a world so full of hatred and pain. Others won’t allow the negative side of life to affect them and tune out the news altogether keeping a false, mostly sunny aspect of life to guide them through the day while ignoring negativity and truth.

There are many good parts of life that draw me in, make me feel happy and graciously human and it’s good to always line them up like golden stars in the night sky and allow them to twinkle and shine for all they are worth! Marriage, children, job promotions, comfortable homes, my writing career, and cherished family and friends have become the chapters of a nonfiction book I continue to write and will share with my readers whenever possible. Travel experiences became its preface while each chapter highlights an individual experience or place that helps to make my life healthy, unique—and, sometimes, very sad.

Writing is a way to lay it all out on the counter for everyone to see. It is the freedom to move about the cabin as we see fit. It helps me blow off steam when life becomes too compressed and then praise the gods for spectacular events that change my life forever—having grandchildren always comes to mind.

Every single day we experience our own vulnerability; yet, we must find time to enjoy the act of being our own superhero in order to bolster any setbacks we and those around us might be experiencing.

Thinking back over eight years ago to before the creation of Moving On….2021, my Website, while living in Orlando, Florida, to just how naive I had been; how all of the small things affected me. How empty-nesting and leaving Michigan punctuated my vulnerability and sent me into a sad decline of self-worth all while bringing about a serious bout of depression. I fought through it, got a good job I thoroughly enjoyed, and, eventually, climbed out of the hole I had created for myself. 

I remember listening to the news before work one morning when a local newscaster, shock and despair apparent in her voice, detailed a fatal road rage shooting that took place behind a Walgreens store just a mile from our apartment. One man took another man’s life while they were both driving to work. There was no forethought as to if the victim had a wife and children. It was strictly a matter of I have a gun, he cut me off on busy Semoran Boulevard, and that gives me the right to shoot him! That was the beginning of the fear and distrust that was planted in my gut like small seeds waiting to grow. 

Unfortunately, they did grow. Not just in Orlando or even in Florida for that matter, but around the entire country. People were edgier and becoming more emboldened, less tolerant of people around them, and ready to light the fuse within themselves at any cost. Subsequently, Stand Your Ground laws (shoot first) were introduced seven years before George Zimmerman shot and killed Trayvon Martin, allegedly under self defense. These laws have helped promote the hatred that is growing exponentially while ignoring the mentally ill who often take advantage of them.

Guns. Guns. Guns. 

The mass shooting in Jacksonville in 2018 along with the massacres at Orlando's Pulse Nightclub, Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood International Airport, and Parkland's Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School, sent shivers down our spines. With assault rifles in many homes and gun laws weak or, practically, nonexistent, Florida residents were becoming hardened by how easy it was to have a gun in their possession and then plan ahead to use it on innocent people.

Lies. Lies. Lies.

We’ve barely survived four years with a narcissistic president and are working hard to change the backlash and damage of a tsunami that has led to massive destruction of personal lives and healthy mental well being. We are still battling a pandemic both scientifically and emotionally that has led one group to claim that their right of choice will always take precedence over everyone else’s right to be healthy and alive. And, there are the horrific ramifications from the acts of those who feel absolutely no remorse in exhibiting their obvious hatred of all people of color while believing in the power of white supremacy.

I will take the bits and pieces that make-up my life and turn them this way and that, making them fit together to the best of my ability, creating a majestic collage so colorful and sparkling it will ‘hurt your eyes beautiful.’ I will add love, one of the most effective drugs known to humankind, to this powerful mixture and fill in all of the cracks and holes with it like ‘magical grout’ keeping everything solid and secure. 

Believing in the goodness within all of us will take me above and beyond all of the evil I have already witnessed in this lifetime. Love is the ticket. Patience is a virtue. They must prevail.

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

 

NOVEMBER: THANKSGIVING MULTITASKING

A series of essays….

AGING GRACEFULLY BY
ACCEPTING WHAT COMES NATURALLY

Photograph: Daphne, Channel 4

….as seen through my eyes!

 

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

As a child, no sooner would I be finished brushing every last calorie from my teeth and mouth after a victorious night out begging for sweet treats from strangers in our neighborhood, when my concentration turned to even more exciting celebrations! Halloween itself was a treat and delight to look forward to but, for me, it ushered in the ultimate annual celebration of early November — my birthday! 

November is my birthday month! Yes, I share it now with my husband who celebrates his birthday later in the month, with my granddaughter, Lydia, soon to be fourteen, even our son-in-law, Matt, as well as everyone exercising their right to vote on Election Day, the first Tuesday in November. Let’s not forget giving thanks and celebrating with friends and loved ones on Thanksgiving Day with delicious food, reminiscences, and good cheer. 

Even though November was such an impactful month for most of us in so many different ways, I always felt it was my month; my birthday ushered it into prominence with its promise of friends coming over, gifts to be opened, and cake and ice cream to be devoured once the candles were properly blown out. 

If my birthday happened to fall in the middle of the week (Tuesday through Thursday), it almost always guaranteed a longer course of celebratory bliss by extending the fun for me both in school and at home. A particular bonus would be if any one of my friends were celebrating their birthday on or around my own. Maybe I couldn’t have that summer beach party birthday I always wanted, but sharing the happiness, especially at school, was an extra special treat!

Today, I sit here before you with multiple wrinkles, dark spots and scars, every laugh line or weary look of despair and sorrow I’ve ever lived with, recounting the good times (and the not so good) right before my next birthday; marking the beginning of my very own month of November. The anticipation of joy and excitement remains a part of the process waiting to unfold…just like in my younger days when I was bedazzled by boxes wrapped in gaily colored paper and decked out with shiny ribbon and bows.

YOURS TRULY…

My regrets are few. Life has been pretty good so far. Giving back to others has always awakened my sense of purpose and catapulted good vibes all around reminding me that I’ve made it this far! The best is yet to come! But, when blowing out my candles today, there is one wish that overpowers all others. Some say that if we verbalize our wishes they will not come true. I will only tell you that our youngest daughter and three amazing grandchildren are involved in a large portion of my current hopes and dreams. 

Wonderful friends, my forever adopted sister, my husband and oldest daughter and family, all keep me grounded these days. They help control the glow from way too many candles that dazzle the senses while offering the opportunity to blow out the past and seek enlightenment from the here and now — along with my imagination and projected dreams. Living in the present while looking towards the future is the key. No matter how old we are, there will be a tomorrow to look forward to. All too often we forget this and stop dreaming altogether while abandoning our tomorrows like fine sand particles tossed into the wind.

The icing on the cake, so to speak, can be any flavor, color, or type; I have no particular favorite and never have. With it being an additional benefit to something already good, the cake and frosting are sweet receptacles that serve to hold the flame upright so that we may easily extinguish it in the hopes that our dreams will come true. Superstitious and pandering to our weaknesses or base desires — perhaps. Is this the reason we are told to keep silent about our particular wishes or they may not come true? How often have we kept a spreadsheet recording the outcome of our birthday wishes regarding success or failure? 

When I blow my candles out this year (more than likely composed of two numerical wax digits), I will look on the bright side of life and concentrate on making a wish and hoping it is fulfilled. If it isn’t satisfied immediately, I will work exceptionally hard during this next year to make it happen; each tiny flame pushing me harder and harder to complete a task successfully within the next 365 days. They are a  push we require to dream and make that dream come true.

After all, isn’t this really why we blow out the candles in the first place? 

Remember: If you don’t tell your own story, someone else may write it for you.

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

WHO IS CONTROLLING THE STORY?

 

A series of essays….

THE POWER OF TRUTH WILL ALWAYS LEAD
US DOWN THE PATH OF KNOWLEDGE AND CONNECTIVITY!

     Photo courtesy of: tabacs.net

….as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

The world is round.

The Donald lost the election.

Vaccines really do work.

Facts, Jack!

It always amazes me when simple, provable facts get twisted and turned around until people begin to believe they are false and unrecognizable. Hence, the big lie! What on earth ever happened to individual thinking, independence, and common sense? 

I know, I know — the disappearance of common sense within the world has been a running theme of mine for a very long time. It’s difficult to let go of the fact that during my short time here on earth, (Everything is relative, people!), what I learned as a child seems to have drifted through the cracks and become lost to the majority of the population. Or, it was never taught to or understood by them in the first place!

You see, I look at the January 6 insurrection as what it truly was: a blatant attempt to overthrow our government and turn a blind eye to our Constitution, all with the idea of keeping the Donald in office.This came about because of a lie touted by an ignorant, old, white man born with a silver spoon in his mouth who was afraid he’d look bad for losing and wasn’t man (human) enough to accept his loss in a gracious and intelligent manner. Fair enough?

The problem with this is that his fabricated lies have been unleashed for so long, with Pandora’s Box wide open and its demons unleashed for all to see, that, much like Christianity’s idea of biting the forbidden fruit, many of us have gotten into a situation in which one has very little control over. The most gullible among us wish to believe the lies no matter what the consequences may be for them or others. Perhaps the lies make them feel better about themselves and give them something to cling to where there was only a dark void before. 

As a society on a whole, why were we so naive as to believe that white supremacy, the KKK, and neo-Nazi groups such as the Proud Boys were ideas locked away in an old closet never to be heard of in polite society again? Now, because of a President who happens to agree with their philosophies and approves of their methods by legitimizing them, they are unabashedly showing their faces and liberally walking the streets, heads held high! Shame on us for letting our guard down in the hope that empathy and love were finally conquering hate and tyranny within our society. It’s the year 2021 already and we still can’t get it right!

Who is controlling the story?

This question begs for a coalition of interest where we see ourselves in other people instead of concentrating solely on our own individual pursuits. If we see ourselves within the stories of others, we are more likely to see ourselves as connected to other people. This allows all of us to participate in the story while we keep our hearts and minds open to every imaginable possibility. 

Seeing ourselves in the stories of others allows us to see ourselves being connected to other people — developing and adapting to change with the support and understanding of everyone who shares the same ground we walk on, the same air we breathe, with the innate knowledge that all humans are connected and equal in all respects.

So, who is controlling the story?

We should not be the puppets and pawns of the powerful who believe that their wealth controls everything and laugh behind the backs of those who do worship them. Their story is controlled by the power they seek while worshiping any means to find it. Their eyesight is limited by greed and they choose to ignore anything or anyone who’s story does not coincide with their own.

The insurrection on January 6 outlined a story we have come to know only too well within the Donald years in the White House when Americans, sucked in by his every lie, have become his puppets and pawns. They have been programmed to hang-on to every word in his story; conditioned to making predictable and automatic responses without thought in knee-jerk support of a man they deem a demi-god.

When we experience control over our own story and decide to see ourselves as being connected to other people by being involved in their stories, we all will become richer for the experience. We will then feel included as a person of color or a white person and begin to understand that by embracing all of our stories collectively, no one feels like or becomes the victim. When we say ‘yes’ to inclusivity, we are truly saying ‘yes’ to what it means to be an American.

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved