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I woke up today remembering...
how your lips would kiss me
and suck me in you mouth.
The memory of your hand caressing
my breasts seeks to return again
to suck at my blossoming nipples.
Warmly you surround me
With the contours of your body
The pressure is great enough to arouse me sensually and
sexually yet pleasantly comfortable
As the passion and pleasure flows between us
I engage in the memory
of licking your thighs, hips, then planting my mouth gently
between your manly thighs.
Your manhood penetrates
My waiting throat; Sucking you gently, softly as an ebb tide
nestles the shore.
Each placement of my tongue shall fill you with you with
desire.
The depth of our passion is embellished with our mutual
needs
We are as one.
We nurture the momentum and not
Static in our quest or zealous in our destiny.
Each chilling moment is exciting, Your warmth
has its sensual depths.
I suck you sweetly. Again...again
nurturing and thrusting you slowly into my wet and waiting
mouth
Time's vision is a wheel of wonderment.
Here on this planetary plane, hearts of fire pursue their
amorous
mosaic together as one.
Each kiss that fills my mouth is playful In this
spellbound sphere
I am content.
Fulfilled with the rhythm of your lips.
The depth of our kisses widens beyond reach...beyond sight
What melody
what sweetness has brought
this metamorphosis to our lives?
Your hand...Gentle in persuasion aches for my enchantment.
We encounter, foster, nourish and sustain this reflection.
We are lost in time's pulse.
Can destiny be far away?
We are transformed
Marvel at our harmony.
Guardians of our choices.
Our embraced bodies now walk
as into a sea of bright blue water
leaving our bodies like old clothes
upon the shore.
Not conformed to our environment but sensitive to it. This
nectar of sweetness is our sentinel this night
You lay the palm of your hand
to my enticed body
You validate my senses.
My frantic thighs invite...summon your invasion. with one
bold splendid move my frame submits...
my eyelids fall.
You cover me, turn me with delight.
I summon you again to enchant me. My wanting is only
diminished by
sighs of vulnerable rapture.
You are jubilant with pleasure...
take pleasure in my sounds.
You tease my womanly emotions
With your fingers.
pleasantly finding, feeling, gesturing their way into
the nucleus of my body.
you touch a side of me that is free
Virgin with desire
free to be pleased
Under your spell...
I suck your fingers in like quicksand
Your body radiates and affirms your
impressions
my submission is yours...
you endow and enrich your approval
These precious gifts
Shall not be questioned.
Your fingers know the depths they desire
the tangled dark where love lay hiding !
The moistness of your mouth sucking in my lips, swelling
them with lust.
You record the orgasm of my sighs still nuzzling in your
ears
The essence of human personality.
The validity of my own experience
makes this vision logic
and we lie together as powerful
as the knowledge.
The privilege to explore and define images is our
intoxication
to vision a sensitive face and know without a doubt...
you are radiant in my eyes
This self knowledge about ourselves have made us what we
were meant to be
Even though we are unalike we have diversity in our unity
it's our awareness that it's there.
You have become part of my time...
I have submerged myself with you.
You want only my passion...
I want only your desire
You want only to make me happy
I want only for you to be ecstatic
until
You burst inside me
like a screaming rocket
we need so little room we two,
as we move nearer to heaven.
we are alone but together in a warm
velvet world...
many an idle dream is looking...
for a home of sleep
like ours to happen in.
there on a single pillow our arms are empty of each
other for a moment only
I have quenched the fire inside me.
I must never forget the look in you eyes. Lie still We
shall be longer
still...
then we are apart...
returning to this earth.
when I am alone and silent
I will remember your manly thighs
Hands on my waist and body
The way you said I arched my back to enhance the pleasure.
My nipples contract...
gather in like blossoms
for the night
rhythm natural to love and scent of musk haloes and
spins itself...into my memory
We are universal, we two.
therefore I shall never forget you..
nor your memory ever be free of me.
what great crossroad have we come upon?
What prompted such merriment?
What enslaving cocktail have I sucked from you mouth
to leave me
so totally yours?
What acquired trait have we found
only now to empower ourselves
with such knowledge?
Your touch is so gentle on my body
your mouth sits on me like a jewel.
No wisdom can close the circle in upon us
you motion me to open arms.
The rhythm of your frame, the texture of your skin and the
black velvet night is ours.
Your hands beautifully
Turn my body to extend your desire
making me feel luminous.
Wrapped in your warmth I reach your waiting wanting mouth
tilt you head slowly and let my kisses in
You rise out of deep slumber
Your mouth parts
eyes are wonderfully starlike.
Luminous in the moonlit room
bodies soft as velvet pansies
we are fluid at moving; touching each other
We renew our senses again.
My words are born to you...
You delight in gentle sighs from me
You touch my beckoning breast and press them to your warm
mouth
I memorize you.
Your sounds, still in my ears
My thighs beneath my raised skirt
are moist as you move ever so close
You furnish warm lavish promises
your face is radiant
Your touch is very dear
Mind into mind or body into body could not prepare me for
this
where nothing meets or equals...
when dimensions
and
perceptions go askew
You envelope me into, over and
around you
I give you...all of me.
My evolution is my adventure.
what is now has made us
what we were meant to be
we respond together as one.
This too would perish without
Imagination.
This is all we need to know. "I added the last
line." I felt that it was all I needed to know. Gosh, could I grow
up being this womanly?
When I was a young kid I found this book with the front
ripped off so I didn't know the author or the name of the book. The words
were enticing but not knowing what to do with them I just saved the book for
many years. I thought when I grew up I wanted to be very
feminine. If your folks ever found you reading something like this you would be
punished. No one talked of such things. No one talked about such
things in my generation.
She was twenty when she wrote that statement.
Part 3
women of 50's
The Woman Over
Fifty
IS NOT
The Woman From The Fifty's Anymore
A true story by
journeyfemmenouveau
The woman past her fifties in America
are not as valued as much as they are in different countries. Men in
different countries respect them. Others DO NOT. I'm talking about the
allure, value and wisdom and character of a woman.
In America
in the 21st century men will hardly take women over fifty out on a date.
Journeyfemmenouveau highly resents this prospect. Where is the reasoning,
the rationality of all of this?
A beautiful woman over fifty and beyond has learned about
all the myths their mothers never told them. They are beyond all the taboos.
They are the savvy woman of today. If they wanted too they could
change the biodiversity of this Planet Earth tomorrow. Now isn't that a
refreshing breath of Earthbound politics?
So what's wrong? The women aren't speaking out
anymore. They feel they are "shutout". Low self-esteem,
low income housing, not enough money, call it what you want.
It wasn't until 1960 that the FDA approved the birth control
pill. And, it took another ten years before that particular form of
contraception became commonly accepted. It wasn't until 1973 that abortion
became legal in the United States
with landmark Supreme Court decision of Roe vs Wade. The controversy
around that issue has only intensified since then.
It wasn't until the 1980s that outdated phrases such as
"the curse" and "the change" gave way to candid and
significant discussions on the topics of menstruation and menopause. By
the end of the decade, we found ourselves watching television commercials about
over the counter treatments for vaginal yeast infections and other such female
hygiene products.
To what do we owe this amazing development? Women
actively involved in the "feminist movement," which began in the
early 60's, perhaps more than anything else, it was the fact that women were
becoming involved in politics, careers, every facet of society in
general. We had finally begun to assert our intention to be a viable,
visible, and outspoken part of American life, not live in the 1950s anymore and
contributed to the long overdue advances in medical research and
practice. By 1978 23.7 percent of US medical students were women, an
increase of 87 percent.
By the middle of the 80s there were over 70 million baby
boomers out of a total US
population f 197,000,000 and some 40 million of them were females. Unlike
their mothers, who were often discouraged from even thinking of going to
college, are for the most part, much better educated.
In the 1990s, Dr. Susan Love has published books on hormones
and breast care including treatment alternatives for breast cancer. Dr.
Christine Northrup published Women's Bodies, Women's Wisdom and it is currently
one of the Oprah Winfrey's Book Club "must reads." ref.at
bottom of page.
People tend to forget that mental health is also a
significant element in a person's overall well being. Treatments for such
conditions as chronic depression have not always factored in the affect of
women's hormones and certain medications.
There are some illnesses, which have only gained attention
of late, such as chronic fatigue syndrome, fibromyalgia and lupus, that affect
a far greater percentage of women than men.
We must look to one another for the future strides in this
all important subject of our health. "The Comprehensive Guide to Mental
Health" and "Just Like a Woman". Marianne Legato, the
doctor who pioneered gender-specific medical centers, believes that someday
there will be gender-specific medical centers, where they'll have different
screening methods and different treatment for men and for women.
We need to ask questions, pay attention to what our own
bodies tell us. and never be satisfied with less than first rate care.
Women before us have worked hard, struggled against all odds, and always
persevered in pursing our rights to assert the importance of our health.
Let this be our mantra-we owe it to ourselves to take good
care of ourselves.
"Health is not simply the absence of sickness."
Hannah Green
"Health is not a condition of matter, but of Mind."
Mary Baker Eddy
"As I see it, every day you do one of two things; build
health or produce disease in yourself." Adelle Davis
http://www.neatwomenine.com/dec_1999.html
Where there are quotes there will be a
website.
" Poverty Plagues Older Women
Census: 10 Percent of
Americans Over 55 Are Poor"
Written by Genaro C. Armas
Associated Press Washington
Women comprise more than two-thirds of impoverished Americans
ages 55 and over and their percentage only increases among older age brackets,
the Census Bureau says.
In the 55-to-64 bracket, there 92 men for every 100 women;
the ratio fell to 49 men for every 100 women in the 85 and over bracket.
"Women have life expectancies six
years longer than men," says John Haaga, analyst with the non-partisan
research group, the Population Reference Bureau. "In any group of
older Americans, the more you go, the more women you will have."
Of the 9.4 million employed men over 55, nearly 19 percent
worked in executive, managerial or administrative jobs, more than any other
category. Of the 7.7 million women over 55 who are still working, 25
percent were in administrative support of clerical positions, more than any
other category.
Nine percent of men over 55 were widowed, compared with 32
percent of women.
And 37 percent of the 55 and over population lives in the
South, more than any other region.
"website"Http://abcnews.
go.com/sections/us/DailyNews/olderamericans001101.html
Are there real gender differences when it comes to managing
money, financial barriers and issues women face that men don't?
Is it a matter of educating women about money and forcing
their attention on the gravity of the situation?
Women are more intimidated about financial issues than men.
Women earn less money then men
Women are less prepared for retirement
Women have a smaller retirement benefits
Women live longer than men
women are poorer in retirement than men
women are more conservative investors than men.
Now, would anyone want to argue with her? The wrong
people are giving the right people, the woman over fifty a bad wrap. When
you read parts of the journal, as I have, you may change your mind.
She herself was divorced, past menopause, past fifty, going
through depression and started going off on her own.
When I found the journal I couldn't help but going through
some of her personal accounts of how things happened and how she learned to
cope. What sounded hopeless also sounded endless for this accountable but
now frail woman.
This sounds like a lot of woman I know. This woman
wanted intimacy in her life...There could be no intimacy in her life.
There could be no intimacy with a man as long as she didn't
love herself or anyone anymore.
When was the last time you talked to an older woman?
She can become the Renaissance of a man's kingdom if he'll let her be that to
him. He can certainly screw a lot of things up or get a lot of things
just right. In her journal she states: " I love a man, a good man
that adores just me. Adorable men, smart men, cute men. A smart funny man
is divine. I would rather have him be smart than rich and have character
and values over riches".
A woman is a wisdom of tales, wonderment, delight and insight.
We would perish without this valuable insight and imagination. Men and
Women have to work together if we're all going to be together in the next few
years. This is all we need to know." The last line of a
sentence she wrote and remember from her childhood.
Carefully thinking about this and how she states things her
one main goal was this what she called:
Getting Beyond the Blue Gate.
Is a Woman so colorless that her only imprint on life
Is valued for the garment she is wrapped in?
She was twenty when she wrote that statement.
Part 4
Journeyfemmenouveau: Her Generation
Jack and Jill went up the hill
To fetch a pail of water
Jack fell down and broke his crown
And Jill came tumbling after.
The real story here was the hill
There never was a hill at all
When games are played in an assumed name
A whole generation comes tumbling after.
She states in her journal:
"People kept their lives to themselves, kept their
jobs, kept their families together, had picnics and parties and most of all
gave their children the best of what they could afford.
I come from a divorced family. My Mother held a job as the
Record of Deeds at the Court house. For me, as a young kid, that was a
big deal. And for my Mom to have it was great. It wasn't often a divorced
female got a job like this. It seemed to be very important to me that she
got elected. If you were a divorced woman you had to be voted on to get a
city position. In the biased town I lived in things like this never
happened. These were the days that if you didn't have a Dad you never got child
support or any support of any kind. Mom was independent. She believed in
working for what she had like her own Mother. She always told me we came
from "Pioneer Stock" and we should work for what we get. Don't expect
any handouts in this life".
Mom was self-motivated and worked hard at the Court
House. She liked her work and always dressed in a business suit with brown
and white spectator shoes. She looked great and had the hair of a
copper penny. They called that color Strawberry Blonde. My hair was the same
color. I wanted to be like her or Louis Lane
on Superman when I grew up. They were always looking for the
truth. Louis Lane
always wore a business suit and was always involved in getting the truth.
Mom and Louis Lane were
excellent role models.
The town I grew up in had Mom's and Dad's who bought nice
clothing for their children. My sister and I had nice clothing also. The
difference was we didn't get them from the store. All my school day
clothes came in a box in the mail from Sears and Roebuck by mail order. I
never found anything wrong with that. It was great to get all the clothes in
the mail. It's true other girls might have had nicer clothes but mine
were just as good.
The one thing that matters when I grew up is that I was
never aware that we were poor. We were called "Middle Class" in
the '50's. We weren't treated as poor. We didn't look poor.
When I would wanted certain things in clothes my Mother would remind me,
"money doesn't grow on trees".
The one sad thing about coming from a divorced family in the
1950's is no one invited you over. There were no friends to talk to. I don't
know at the time why this was; but it was. How could I question what no
one could give me a straight answer on. Why didn't people talk to divorced
families?
I guess I just thought too much.
Sometimes the answer would be, "it's the times we're
living in". How does a kid know what that time is? This short
answer would always haunt me. The time we are living in? The whispers and
gossip went on.
The Time that it was.
The Time that it was goes something like this: People were
afraid and they didn't know of what. Something else other than the
"Cold War", something other than "Civil Rights".
Whispering and talking about the races and the riots outside our small town.
Things like that would never touch our town. The country was silently,
whispering and falling apart. People weren't just talking to me, they weren't
talking to each other.
I was white but I cannot imagine if I had been black what
torment, anguish, disgust and disgrace that race went through in the long years
of unrest of "Civil Rights". My small town didn't talk about
those things. They didn't want to realize those things were going
on. You never got a straight answer from your folks. So you started now
giving them straight answers. Then the adults would call us teens
"oh, their in their rebellious stage".
One day I came home from school and cried until the
evening. Mom asked me what was wrong. I told her girls were
making fun of me because I had epilepsy and making jokes about it. It
really hurt my feelings. I couldn't help it if I had seizures.
In 1959 they had terrible Hellen Keller jokes that were not
funny if you personally had seizures. I didn't think the jokes were funny at
all even if I didn't have seizures. People had other disorders and I'm
sure they didn't think the jokes were funny either.
The English teacher told me I couldn't be in the school play
as she was afraid I would have a "fit" and embarrass the school and
the class. Yes, that's the term she used. A "fit". I said
to my teacher, who you didn't talk back to in those days," it's not called
a "fit" it’s called Epilepsy. Look it up in the
dictionary"! I told her I was as good as the others and you picked
me until you found out I had epilepsy. She told me she was sorry but it
wouldn't work out. She never knew she broke my heart.
I cried all the way home from school. When Mom got home from
work I told her about it and she told me not to worry over it as they
were childish and would never grow up. She told me it’s just that they
were jealous of my good looks. That cheered me up a little. I could
never be a rich, but I could at least tell the truth in front of people instead
of behind their backs.
She said, " They can have all the money they want to
but they can't buy what you have. She said, "you have honesty,
character, values, and you are pretty on your own. They will never have
in their hearts what you have". They can never be that and they
can't buy trust". She cheered me up a lot. I never gave it
another thought again.
I grew up in a small town of secrets. Did you ever know that
feeling? If you were born in the post war years did you ever
"feel" that "feeling of secrets".
The first time our small town had seen with their own eyes
was the revelation that a man like Fidel Castro was taking over Cuba.
A Dictator was taking Cuba
and we were seeing it on black and white television in 1959. How could
this happen? Would there be nuclear attack? The world sat on the
edge of their minds.
The schools were getting ready for civil defense and we were
taught how to go to Civil Defense Shelters. We had fire drills at a
moments notice. This happened all over America
in the schools. The days of what was called the "Cold War". You
never knew if you if you would be blown off the map, let alone the world. Every
school child in America
was taught Civil Defense and would have drills at the schools.
The world sat on the ledge of their minds wondering if
we would have nuclear attack. It was a scary time as a young person because
you would ask your folks thing about it and they wouldn't give you a straight
answer. I guess they thought they were protecting us.
It was 1962 and President John Kennedy was in office. A
covert activity was set in motion called the "Bay of Pigs".
Our missiles were set for Cuba
and theirs were set for the United States.
It was a very scary time but you didn’t believe it would really happen. Or
could actually happen. People were building bomb shelters.
Fortunately for the U.S.
things were calmed and set straight through with the right decisions from the
Oval Office and military command. We were safe; for now. I was just a kid
and didn't know all the information then.
You can learn the facts from history books as it set a shock
wave over every man, woman, and child in this nation. I think parents
were more afraid than children as they had been through one war. A nuclear war.
We came a long way with television. It had gone from
black and white to colored television and we were getting more updated
news. Sometimes people just turned it off. But in 1977 a Revelation
appeared on television I will never forget.
A book had been written by Alex Haley called
"Roots", the history and ancestry about blacks. When I
was growing up, "coloreds " is what they were called.. They just
didn't come out of nowhere. This was an actual History of how they came
to America.
We weren't taught this in high school.
Our families couldn’t keep this from us any longer.
History brought this nation to its knees on what people had done to that
race.
Truth is not pretty. It does not come in a package but
when it comes it usually stabs you in the heart. That way you know it is
the truth. This television program was a success and started the nerve
that set the world talking with each other instead of about each other.
Coming from a pioneer background I thank my ancestry for not teaching me any
kind of bigotry. Sometimes I was hated in high school for talking to
blacks but it didn't matter to me anyway as your friends are your friends.
This was my generation. We coped everyday and always
knew of wars. Wars, Civil Rights, the "Cold War", The Watts Riots in
the East, and the list went on and on. The laugh of it all was the
50's and 60's were still, to this day, called "the Happy Days".
Life went on. We lived, grew up, got married, had children
and raised them without telling them of the "awful truthful things of real
life". Better not have them know about the unhappy things of
real life. We became our parents.
When I'd have my long talks with "gram" she would
tell me about her long talks with her "gram" and the stories would be
passed down. Gram grew up in Wyoming,
a member of the Daughters of Revolution and pioneer of a lot of things. She was
her "own woman".
Usually their men were in the war, or away building
airfields for planes. She would tell me," you can't depend on people to do
things for you, you've got to learn to do them for yourself". You
have to learn how to cope. One story that really stuck with the
family as when "gram" was a "child, her Mother said to her,
" you only need three pots in this world to get by on: "One to cook
in, one to pee in and one to bang on in case of a revolution"! Then
we'd laugh! Perhaps that what we need, really need after all.
Three Pots. Growing up, I learned more about Lewis and Clark then about
the fairytale book of Cinderella. Perhaps that's why I love the real
history of the Mississippi River so much. I'm just
a gal from the real West.
My "gramps" would tell me, "PegLeg", he
called me that as I played so much tennis, " one day when you grow up
there is going to be a really big highway, bigger than you ever dreamed
of". "A highway going from one end of the map to the
other." He was a foreman on a construction team that built
airfields and roads for the military in World War 11 and then for civilians
after the war.
He would say, "this road is going to be called the
"Interstate Highway".
Wow, what a great name. INTERSTATE . I thought about the Interstate
Highway for years and years. Even told a few
friends at school but they didn't believe me. I don't think I will ever
forget what he told me when I was young as he worked on it the rest of the
twenty-five years of his life.
I worked on researching the interstate highway for the next
four decades and learned the truth about it. Yes, the next four decades
as you couldn't find anything really written about it. All people knew
was they were making better highways for the public. What they didn't know was
if there ever was a war in the United States,
the military's tanks could get through faster on more highway lanes. It
took thirty more years to release this classified information. They never knew
I had taken such an interest in this.
Gramps couldn't give exact details. I had to strike
out on my own.
Like I say, truth is not pretty and what made me happy about
Gramps' story was that it was such a huge undertaking at the time he was
working on it. Why did kids my age not believe me? Did they want to
believe in anything except the tooth fairy?
I'm just a small time girl coming from a small town
family. I believe no one is small. You don't have to believe
me. I never knew all the facts but I've listened to lies my whole life.
I'm the kind of person that takes the least followed trail, a seeker of truth
and try to stay informed even if I didn't grow up informed. I like to research
the truth beyond what they say is "the truth".
Do we want the facts for our children or do we want to
"groom them for greed in the 21st century?
We are the Baby Boomers. A generation, a Whole
Generation, and we lived through this time of wondering whether we would live
or die by nuclear attack. It's no wonder half the population turned
radical. You never knew if your next day would be the last.
The wars we grew up with we didn't have to be in for them to
effect us. Place that in your mind for just five minutes.
People were building bomb shelters and no one would tell you
the truth. What kind of crazy world was this anyway?
When Jack and Jill went up that hill to fetch a pail of
water, they didn't create the hill, it was created for them by leaders who
thought they could lead better, as they were smarter, brighter and more
informed on what to do.
They didn't want the people to lead. After all, what
did the masses know? We, the people, we're known as the
"masses". The politicians would tell the people that they
would create mass hysteria for themselves. It was better to not tell the public
all the news. Just some of the news. They wanted to lead us around like
the lambs we were.
We fought their wars, died in their battles, and let freedom
survive for the United States.
This is why the United States
is free today for you and for me. We, the baby boomers, are so brave,
so free, so naive, so free to be "me". I agree it is an honor to die
for one's country...but at whose expense?
If you remember anything, please remember, that WE ARE THE
PEOPLE. Take a more definite role in what you believe in. Politics are
only one thing we worry about. If more people don't take an interest in
Biodiversity we won't have a planet to worry about.
We won't have a planet to be living on.
We all found out what Viet
Nam was like. Even if we didn't have a
family member in the War....everyone not only "felt" the War, it was
telecast every night on the dinnertime news. Year after year. You passed
the peas while 12,00 men died today. Had the whole world become
indifferent to these things?
Let me repeat this so you can set this in your mind
for yourself: You passed the peas and 12,000 men died today. What a horrible
time it was with young people losing their lives. I personally never ever
would understand how we became so indifferent. So involved in our own
selfish needs; vain in our lives. The men and women over there were
giving their lives for their country and we were concerned with the disco days.
When Jack and Jill went up that hill to fetch a pail of
water, they didn't create the hill, it was created for them by leaders who thought
they could lead better, as they were smarter, brighter and more informed on
what to do for the country. Lies are not an illusion they have to be
created and they are still being created by the best of the best. If you
believe anything. Believe that.
Now, I understand why no one argued about their jobs when I
was young. They didn't want to lose them. They had to put
food on the table for their children. I understand a lot of things
now.
Mom and I were in a grocery store one time, I was putting
too many cans of food in the cart. she said, " Don't take more than
we can afford." I said, " Well, it will be there". She
said she would explain outside the store.
As we drove home she told me this story: " In the
Depression of 1929 women were at the market fighting over a soup bone. Really
fighting, arguing and plunging over each other just to get closer to the
counter. I wondered why she was telling me this story so I listened intently.
She said, "I remember because I was nine years old at
the time. They wanted to make soup that would last a week to feed their
family. Yes, this was over one soup bone. Why I'm telling you this story
is that one of the women was your grandmother". I was really, really
quiet for a long time. We went through several stoplights and I finally
said, " I won't do it again Mom" .
Politics was talked about at our house at Thanksgiving and
Christmas when all the relatives would come to Gram's house. I mean ALL the
relatives. Cousins, 2nd and 3rd, etc. Holidays were a big thing in the
50's and 60's when families got together to catch up on what was going on in
each other's lives.
At the end of desert politics would come up. Gram was
a staunch Republican as was my Mother and my Aunt was a staunch Democrat as was
my Uncle. Boy oh boy....this was better than watching television. All the
cousins and me would sit on the floor and listen to the grown-ups talk.
Wow, the great debates on television were never like this!
What set Gram off this one year is that her daughter, my
Aunt, had set up a Democratic Party in her house! Gram had a fit. A
fuming, flaming, floundering fit. The kind that Norman Rockwell can
paint! Fortunately my Aunt didn't live in our town. But wow, you
can't even imagine how mad Gram was. The one thing that quieted them a
little was me bringing Fidel Castro into the scene.
" So what do you think about this new young Dictator
now"? It quieted them down at the time because they knew of nuclear
war as I had not experienced such a horrific time.
It was not my subject that quieted them down; it was my
subject matter. Everyone grew quiet, cleared the table, and only one
reply from a family member was, " I hope America
and the rest of the world survives it all".
In the 50's and 60's growing up was usually with families on
picnics and gatherings over the holidays. Memorial Day was especially important
to our family and others. Families took flowers, poppies, and peonies to
the gravesites. Most relatives would get together the whole week-end to
catch up on things. Summertime was great when we switched back and forth
staying the summer at each other's cousin's house and meeting their
friends. Even with Castro, the Cold War, Civil Rights, riots in big city,
my generation and people in small towns knew this time as, "the Happy
Days".
We never took part of what was going on in the Big
Cities. The paper was read and we watched the news on television but were
never "part" of what was going on. It was a world away.
Our parents protected us from what we didn't need to know
even when we wanted to know it. We sensed what was going on and why
wasn't something done about it. Our parents wanted our accountability but
we wondered where was their own was when we asked for the truth about things.
Our parents would lie to us and in return we would lie
back. Even me. Parents called this the "rebel age". In the
"rebellious age" some rock and roll was even outlawed. But these were
the "Happy Days" after all.
I sensed mystery and veils upon veils of cover-ups that never
went away for a whole generation. Our culture, even our small town culture, was
involved now. They couldn't escape this. Kids from my generation
went off to the Viet Nam War and their folks couldn't protect them anymore.
My whole generation changed. The biggest culture
change that changed our future since World War 11. It's probably why we were
never the same but we looked at things differently now. Growing up
I always knew about war from knowing about my ancestors. Knowing about
riots and civil rights and unrest were another thing; they were unravelling in
front of my eyes.
These things you don't erase you just go on living with
them. But, you don't go on living with them easily. The word for
future if there is any one word should be "Accountability for
Actions".
I became involved in helping out with voting,
directing districts on where to go and planned a strategy of how districts
could work better. I wanted so much to be involved with politics but with
epilepsy and my other health problems I knew this would all air in
public. I stayed in the background. Politics can be a
wonderful noble thing but mostly I learned it is very double crossing lies to
the public. I don't play games with my life or other people's lives.
In the culture change of the 60's and 70's we blamed a lot
of things on a lot of people. The Blame Game should be over and the
accountability game should begin. Things set in motion from the beginning do
not change easily. We will have watch out for ourselves as changes are
made. Make the challenge to do the right thing.
We are in a different war now all over the World. It
is Like a War of Secrets. Just updated with better fuel, ammunition, and
computers. We have faced it and the truth has not set us free. War has
only let certain people make money. War is money. The people that
died in those wars gave their hearts for our country because they wanted their
children's children lives always to be free in these United
States. These are the men and
women that are hero's; not the ones in Fortune 500 magazine.
Let's let our minds choose the update of telling the truth.
The truth is usually known thirty or forty years later. We haven't got
time now to let the Earth fall apart if we all want to stay on it.
Terror, terrorists, cyberwars, unaccountability, trying to
keep biodiversity in tact so we can all stay alive on God's Green Earth or be
blown from it. The truth is in the wind. Listen to it.
Our parents, after World War 11 kept their families full of
fun and joy of which they themselves missed during their parents’ war.
And their families before them in World War 1. We never knew the horror
and devastation of what they went through. We did realize the truth about
Viet Nam.
Truth doesn't come in a pretty package. It's wrapped with the blood of
our families. The truth is in the wind. Listen.
part 5
Journal of Experiences
Beyond the Bluegate
January 25, 1995
We talked abut business and co-op printing. I drew up
a business plan for you. We never find time to discuss it.
Something else is on your mind. These days it could be your college
Algebra or a woman. That's the feeling I get. Guess I'll give it the benefit of the doubt. Or the benefit of the
woman.
January 31, 1995
My depression took the best of me today. I was in such
turmoil I called you for your help How vulnerable I am to let you hear me
this way. You are so gentle with me on the telephone, so caring and
concerned.
I am standing on the ledge of my mind trying to reckon with
my life; my reasoning so unkind. I had dropped group therapy because the
therapist told me my writing sucked and then apologised for using that
term. Never before had I shared something so intimate on my personal
life.
I wasn't trying to tell her my writing was great I was
trying to have her see that I could write again about a man in a positive way
and have good feelings about sex in a positive way. She humiliated me and
I showed and pretended I didn't care. It took a week for me to fall apart
emotionally. Sobbing without relief I called you. Thank you for
your help today. You are very, very, caring toward me and in closing you
said, "Peg, you're human".
February 10,1995
We are pleased to announce the opening of our exhibition of
our elite Scottsdale artist.
We were there to see the artist on an artwalk night.
We even made a special time to go. In trying to talk to the artist, in
the middle of a conversation, the artist decided his attention was needed
elsewhere. His nose in the air he instantly walked off toward a woman
very expensively dressed. Not knowing what hit me, except for an
attitude, I looked to you for clues.
You were looking at me. Smiling you were.
Broadly smiling at me. It's the fox in you laughing at the hare! I love
this smile. I love this fox.
February 15,995
It was the night after Valentines. I chose to wear
something red anyway. Very red and very chiffon. I don't know if
you noticed the see-through bodice with glimmering red sequins that shimmered
when I moved. Obviously it didn't matter what I was wearing as you moved
in like a stalking wolf. Valentines Day doesn't know such passion as this
look that we have toward on another. We crave this energy with such
desire.
I need this "in your face" look.
I love to touch you everywhere. How miraculous this
fire brings about this union of incompatibles. How could poor lonely me get so
involved with this man? Could my self-esteem be coming back?
What was static becomes kinetic. A new world looms out
of the mist where everything is delicate and magical. It's full moon
tonight. Blame it on the moon.
Blame it on the panties.
March 12, 1995
There was a knock at my door tonight. I opened the
door and there you were before me. As you enter you embraced me and said
"throw me out if you want too but I just have to have you right
now". We kissed and as I slipped your shirt off you rubbed my inner
thigh as we walked ever so quickly across the room.
This excitement does not diminish from us as the second wave
of your thrust was into my cunnylips with so much power and strength I wonder
about fainting under such pleasure and such pressure from within. My
complete trust is that you care for me and that you would never harm me.
These are the thoughts that allow me to pursue these pleasures with you.
Later as we lie on the bed, spent of ecstasy, we talk about
our day and nuzzle in one's sounds as lightly we touch each other.
You let me be so very happy. It seems I have waited
for this trust all of my life. It has been so
long since I have intimacy, caring and trust in my life. I didn't know
women my age could become involved with love and lust again after losing so
much self-esteem in their lives. Therapy has helped me a lot and helped
me move on. Reading and
volunteering and caring about the Earth as we move through it quietly destroying it.
March 15, 199
You called tonight and in conversation you told me to get my
high heels out and that you'd like to see me in them. You verbally
explored the possibilities. The impression was so vivid for you I told
you to come over and I would dress up and entertain you.
You entered through the door and saw me in a Chanel beige linen suit and beige linen three inch
heels. You looked very, very, happy. I still like that "in
your face look". You are my fox.
You took my jacket off the next to nothing see through black
chiffon blouse. The blouse was thrown aside. I was thrust into your arms
once more. Needless to say you always satisfy me first with touching
strokes and loving hands and seeking fingers. Optically and quickly you
bend me over your love seat baring my bottom and spank me. Ouch!
My long legs with thigh high stockings were streamed lined
for your viewing pleasure. Perhaps the angle made it so
intoxicating. Yes, I am your wet, warm, wonderful woman. Feeling
all the power of your wanting makes me light headed
with loss of control but wanting you more. You know my body so well.
I want some more.
You have me stand up now. My legs were straight
and bent at the knees. My hands clasping my ankles. Gently we
rock to the motions. Never losing rhythm out of my cunnylips you pursue
me. The pleasure you give me has no boundaries. I give you all of
my trust and all of my affection. You please me so much I do not know if there
will be enough energy in me to please you.
Have me wear high heels more often.
March 17, 1995
I called you at work today and said if you hadn't any plans
to come over tonight. You told me you had a lot of studying to do and
would see how things would go.
About 9pm you
called and wanted to come over. You wanted me to put on three inch heels
and play with our fantasies. As we were in the rhythm of the moment and
passion was at no return you said, "Where are you Peg? "Where are
your thoughts now?"
I tell him Isee the image of your
manly stem. It rises like a stalk of corn swelling with yellow white
seed. As I run through this field of dreams I reap a harvest beyond
pleasure. The pleasure is of you. Each pore of my skin fills with
light and my flesh glows. And as my words fill you with special delights you thrust in ever deeper.
The breeze stirs around our nude bodies as I swoon and am on
top of the stalk. Now filling my mind with spectral light in the glow of
one small candle you turn me over.In this moment of
knowing; a clear moment of being human, is knowing I am
alive!
Your touch is worth waiting for.
March 19, 1995
It's been two days since I've seen you but reflect your
image in my thoughts. The few months you've been in my life have been
precious sunrises. You awakened the glow in me and the journey has left
many burdens behind. We do not conform to the familiar patterns of life; we
just listen to our hearts. This is all we need to know.
When a woman gets a certain age I thought these feelings
were over. I never had an opportunity to talk to anyone about what a woman is
all about after fifty. I must be a very natural, After all my name is journeyfemmenouveau.
A sensuous woman and yet I denied that all these
years. Denied it because woman of all types told me you didn't have these
feelings anymore after a certain age. Denied it because I was raising
children and didn't want to bring men into my life. The men could break
my heart if we broke up but they were not going to break my children's
heart. I have been without personal love for such a long, long time.
I hope I'm not just vulnerable.
Women were wrong. Even over fifty you enjoy the sensuality
from a man very much. The myths of the past that women had are a
mist. A woman is an inspiring creature all the time and you don't have to
just have a man to inspire you. Although in my case the feelings of ecstasy
are wonderful.
April 4,1995
It has been sixteen days since I've seen you. A very,
very, long time. I feel vulnerable, exposed, unprotected, angry, furious,
outraged, grouchy, hurt, miffed, indignant and resentful. Tonight I feel
worthless unimportant, valueless. My pride is lost. It's been a
long day.
To my delight you came over to see me. Here you are
face to face, eye to eye, mouth to mouth, breast to chest. You wave your
magic spell over me and my rage is gone. What happens when you are in my arms
that leaves me so defenseless?
I hate it when I give in so easily. You are my one
desire. I am either stupid, ignorant, or dumbfounded that you care for me so
much....it must be my self-esteem has been so low I didn't think anyone would
care for me like you do.
But then, you are defenseless also. It takes
two. The two of us.
April 28,1995
I called you tonight and said, "Do we have a
relationship or what as it has been twenty-five days since I've seen you.
You reply:” Has it been that long!"
Again you told me how busy you were with work and school and
that you were sorry. My anger is senseless when I hear your voice.
It's you I want to continue to see. You let me know I feel delicious when
you are with me. You are my friend first but also my lover.
Enamored with this thought I say goodbye over the telephone. I go to bed
yearning to touch you.
Given enough time perhaps this flame will go out. You
captured my heart and my spirit is with you tonight. Whatever happens from here
is destiny. I have learned a lot. I have learned very much how a
woman can still love a man.
April 30,1995
You called me from you office today. It was so good to
hear your voice. You said you were clearing u some loose ends to be ready
for Monday. We talked briefly then said good-bye.
Now my heart was racing. When would I see you again?
The tension reeled inside my mind. Restless with need, enamored with
desire I paced. I couldn't rest; couldn't eat. Hours of a beautiful
afternoon were spent in agitated bewilderment on why I cared about you so much.
Three hours went by. Why did I care about you so much
anyway...you were younger than me; there was no possibility of anything for the
future. This was just play. There would never be a future for the two of
us as you were so much younger. We both knew it and faced the truth
always.
The phone rang and your voice was on the intercom
downstairs.
I let you in and as the door swung open we embraced each
other; the spirited kisses joined in unison without thinking. We led each other
kissing as we walked, folded in each others arms, into the middle of the room.
You soon had me bend over your lap, by bottom in the
air. You slid my satin slacks off and thrust your finger between my
thighs into my cunnylips. Your other hand embraced my face, my neck, my
breast. Nestled in the passion of this hold on me, on you, my tongue
quickly sucked your fingertips as they passed my wet and waiting mouth.
It's too soon and my juices are not ready to slide your
fingers into my groove. You want so much to give me leisure but it hurts
upon your reach. I hesitate once more and stop your hand. I move
and stir in your arms.
You have left me alone too long. My shyness unveils my
sensuality to you. Now you guide me into the bedroom to sit sprawled over your
lap You spank me.. You finger me again and again deeper now and spank me
to stop me from wiggling.
I bond with your offering.
This power you have over me comes with passion, a sensual
enchanting pleasure that's ambrosial in nature. A luxurious, harmonious,
and silken delight I know only through you. Our bodies are in unison and
lusting still.
Your fingers moving up and down my grove in earnest seeking
their rosette. Touching my puckering rim you move in further.
Still craving this passion; you crave your lust. I wriggle as you surge
in further. Again you spank me. Again, I await your sensual touch. You
turn me around and your other hand pushes my head down, nose buried in
the quilt.
Passionate moans are sighed as you thrust harder in me and
my knees press further into the bed. You tell me you love to hear my
sounds; my moans of pleasure. You tell me you love to please me. Your
manly stem still seeks its quest, but waits and satisfies me endlessly.
I never talk about the pleasure I give you when you are done
with me. This is a silence I want to keep with you and our hearts. I know
no woman has given you so much pleasure when it comes to pleasuring a man. I
give you what you deserve in the most enduring, succulent way that only a man
could reason without questioning.
I am a one man' s woman. Treating you with the womanliness
of what's in the man's heart is what is
in my heart. I am a free spirit and perhaps that is what makes it so
passionate for the both of us.
May 18,1995
On your free night from school we went to a Chinese buffet.
It was also at this time the basketball playoffs were on television. You
had me make a decision on what to do; GO home and watch the playoffs or
take a ride in the desert. I said lets take a ride in the desert and listen
to the game on the radio. The late afternoon shadows were etched in the
mountains. The evening’s last glow glistened on the Palo Verde blossoms.
The sun etched the mountain grooves. It was beautifully overwhelming and the
perfect time for a ride.
We drove North on Miller Road.
On a foothill not to far from the road we spotted a coyote. Very hard to spot a
coyote as the desert gets more crowded with developments these days. We
couldn't believe he was so close to the city. We passed him and turned around
for another glimpse. I took a picture but now the coyote sensed danger. As
the road ended abruptly to the entrance of a development we turned sharp and
grazed a rock fence. Thank God we spared the car bumper.
I say I'm sorry we should have stayed home. It's a traumatic
re-enactment I go through. I don't expect you to understand this.
Post traumatic stress not many people understand. And I've never told you
I have it.
When our conversations end abruptly you say to me,
"I'll do the same thing fifteen minutes from now." Rarely do I
know what's going on. The words come out of m mouth and it ruins
relationships. Why this self harmful behaviour continually happens
I do not know. I characterize this by on going depression.
Sometimes these events are triggered by guilt. By
awakening of memories of previously forgotten abuse. My pattern of
self-esteem is minimal next to my pattern of self-harm in an inability to
self-protect a fragmented sense of self. Perhaps this is why I stay away from
relationships. I'm afraid I'll say the wrong thing.
I never developed a sense of trust that might give me a
warning signal, to avoid these cycles. I feel guilty and cannot make things
better. We drive back to the city without talking to each other.
My thinking is confused. You have just made love to
me. Consumed by you I tell you it makes me feel I have no control over my body.
"Are you braggin' or complaining', you say. You don't understand
me. I love what you do to me but no one ever gave me this much pleasure
sexually. You want to give me pleasure and you want to take my obvious
treasures but you never stop to listen to me explain things.
We are just a marvelous, magical, mystical, chemistry of
life to each other. Apparently I am the only one that understands
this.
This is overwhelming to me. You are extravagant and I
am not worthy of this time. Sex is over for the evening. I know
because we made love and you didn't even take your jeans off. That burns me up
inside but I say nothing.
It's late: 8:30p.m.
and you are going home. In frustration I don't even give you a kiss at
the door. As you leave the door slams shut.
One final glimpse tells me you want me no more. I'll try not
to do this ever again. After all, I just wanted to see if an older woman
could be sensual with a younger man. Why is this bothering me so much?
I know he is fed up with me. Fear of abandonment
overpowers me. Yes I cry; even sob. I let this happen in getting close, being
vulnerable there is a painful sense of aloneness. Perhaps you will never
know what it has meant to me to hold you in my arms and to feel the trust of
your embrace. I swallow my emotions.
Its' 8:45p.m.
I left a message on your recorder to call me and you did. I tell you I'm
not good in relationships. We either have intense engagements or dramatic
distancing. Relationships are a chronic difficulty for me. Perhaps
in the nurturing soil of two people that care about each other we both can
still grow and flourish. You say, yes, "I think we should take some time
from each other".
July 21,1995
You called to tell me how excited you were abut passing
Algebra. You were at my place in thirty minutes and we made love three
times! WE are so good together and the right chemistry will always be
there. As the song goes, "There's a warm wind blowin' the stars
around and I'd really liked seein' you tonght". I am so happy you still
want to see me.
September 8,1995
Here we are still talking to one another. You not only build
my self-esteem by having had sensual pleasure with you but you have empowered
me with my own self-belief system. Much pleasure was twice endowed upon
me before you even though of satisfying yourself. Caressing and talking into
the one a.m. hour.
The Blue Gate doesn't keep me from living anymore.
Clearly there is something, some very special treasure I wish to unfold to
you. First to tell you how special you are to help me grow by encouraging
me to write and by enriching my life physically, romantically, and
adventurously.
Until now I did not know how special it is to communicate
emotion. How clear and direct and powerful the words speak on many
levels. The strands of emotions are not perfect but reveal warmth between
us.
I come to the jolt of reality. You are thirteen years my
junior. I will be just be getting older and you will be getting younger. My few
women friends think I am making a fool of myself and I obviously am living a
"lovejoy" act. They say, "get over it...get on with your
life". You have been my life but am coming to grips with the
realities of what must be.
Sometime in your life there will be a celestial time
that you will remember, remember, above all else...forever.
Cherish the memory! Joyfully never forget it.
You and I always lived in the NOW time and we always
listened to each other. You gave me a unique gift...you listened. And
even more...you heard. Perhaps we both grew and nurtured each other from
our adventure. In our hearts we will always be there for each
other. If we never see each other again. The Venture we had will
always be in my heartpocket. And the days passed without seeing each
other. Then, finally the years.
Interstate Highways
http://www.cnn.com/SPECIALS/cold.war/timeline/frameset.html
Hoover Digest - 2001 No. 4 - Keith E. Eiler: The Man Who Planned the Victory
http://www-hoover.stanford.edu/publications/digest/014/eilr.int.htm
Hoover Digest- 1998 no. 3
http://www-hoover.stanford.edu/publications/digest/983/barone.html
Hoover Institution National Security Forum
http://www.hoover.stanford.edu/research/conferences/bcw/danzig1.htm
Questions and Answers
http://hoover.stanford.edu/research/conferences/bcw/danzig2.html
Hoover Institution Archives: History
http://www-hoover.stanford.edu/library/archives.522/history.htm
American Individualism and Values
http://www-hoover.stanford.edu/research/values/default.htm
Hoover Digest - 20 No. 4 - Charles Hill: In, Out, and Down: Games Nations Play
http://www-hoover.stanford.edu/publications/digest/003/moore.html
Hoover Digest- 1999 no. 3
http://www-hoover.stanford.edu/publications/digest/983/barone.html
Hoover Digest - 2000 No. 4 - Thomas Sowell: Lessons Unlearned Hoover Digest -
http://www-hoover.stanford.edu/publications/digest/993/moore.html
2000 No. 3 - The Cold War’s Final Act
http://www-hoover.stanford.edu/publications/digest/003neilan.html
CNN Cold War - Profile: Chou En-lai 1-30-02
http://www.cnn.com/SPECIALS/cold.war/kbank/profiles/chou/
CNN Cold War - Profile: Mao Tse-tung 1-31-02
http://www.cnn.com/SPECIALS/cold.war/kbank/profiles/mao/
CNN Cold War - Route Cold War-Interstate Highway
http://www.cnn.com/SPECIALS/cold.war/experience/thebomb./route/00intro/index.htm
Cold War - Timeline 1-31-02
http://www.cnn.com/SPECIALS/cold.war/timeline/frameset.html
CNN - Cold War Experience:
http://www/cnn.com/SPECIALS/cold.war/experience/technology
CNN - Cold War Experience: Technology-1960
http://www.cnn.com/SPECIALS/war/experience/technology/life.without/consumer/60shtml
CNN - Cold War Experience: Technology-1970"s
"http://www.cnn.com/SPECALS/war/experience/technology/life.without/no.rockets/70s.html
CNN - Cold War Experience: Technology 1990s
-computor chipTechnology because of cold war
http://www.cnn.com/SPECIALS/cold.war/experience/technology/life.without/no.rockets/90s.html
CNN Cold War - Preparing for doomsday-J. Kennedy
http://www.cnn.com/SPECIALS/cold.war/experience/the.bomb/jfk.essay
Cold War - The Bomb: Deployment bomb stock
http://www.cnn.com/SPECIALS/cold.war/experience/the.bomb/deployment/whohas.html
PUBLIC ROADS On-Line (Summer 1996) - Federal-Aid Highway Act of 1956: Creating
http//www.tfhrc.gov/pubrds/summer/96/p96su10.htm
CNN - Cold War Experience: The Bomb2-15-01
http://www.cnn.com/SPECIALS/cold.war/experience/the.bomb/deployment/whohas.html
Route Cold War
http://www.cn.com/SPECIALS/cold.war/experience/the.bomb/route/
NSA - National Cryptologic Museum
http://www.nsa.gov/museum/index.html
Life without the cold war Technology
http://www.cnn.com/SPECIALS/cold.war/experience/technology/life.without/index.html
Cold War - Espionage-tools of the trade
http://www/cnn.com/SPECIALS/cold.war/experience/spy.gadgets/frameset.html
World War II Cryptology // National Security Agency //
http://www.nsa.gov/wwii/index.html
Civil Defense Museum-Community Shelter ToursMain Page
http://www.civildefensemuseum.com/cdmuseum2/commun.html
* * *
Generation of the Cold War & Women Over Fifty
Femmenouveau: The Original, Revisited
Women beyond age 50/ Our Generation/ and the Cold War
Examples of how we live in the last generation are more important than how we look and how we have survived the stress of the last century. If you are a "Baby Boomer" a nickname that was named for children born during World War 11 then you know we have went through the "Cold War" most of our lives. >From World War 11 until 1989 when the Berlin Wall came down. It's time for the "Blame Game" to be over.
It was the naiive generation and we were children. Little did we know we were going through the "Cold War". The civil defense practices in school, curfew at 10:00 p.m. By the late 50's these were called the "happy days". Many superstitions; many whispers. You were a kid but you knew in your heart there was something always not quite "right".
To be a woman past the age of 50 now is a new enlightenment. We have to reset the clock and make new demands. For better pay, better health care, better jobs. Just when Rosie Rivetor had the war job; the war was over and we became Mrs. Cleaver with her apron. How could she not make sweet cookies for her honeybun. Little did we know we were giving up the empowerment we had won for ourselves. All of it.
Now that I'm over 50 I can't do that to myself anymore. We women didn't take a leave of absense of our minds. We coped with whatever it took to make things safe for our families. No matter what it took to do it. The men had to have jobs to get America's progress going again.
In this century we are going to empower the World with the love of Mankind and Earth. You don't have to be over 50 to do this. Reach out. Empower someone. Even yourself. Past Fifty is a good enlightenment.
I try to live in the example of living for values, simple dynamics and the importance of accountability. Live in the example your ancestors gave you for giving us a free country to live in.
Fancy title, paycheck, and concrete world is not what I want to come home to.
The biodiversity in this world is effecting not only the world but us. Chronic illness everywhere, fatigue with stress due to pressure, fibromyalgia; and incurable disease which I have the challenge of going through. Many chat lines are open on the net for help to get through the heartache of these problems.
I'm trying to be a better person....it's taking me all my time.
Photography, talking with my friends, good times; old times. Walking on the beach anywhere. Fishing, even if I don't catch anything. Hiking on the unknown ways of life. Writing. I don't write the right way....teachers all over the place tell me I have too many dangling participles. I tell them they do too and walk away.
Now that I'm in the Indian Summer of my years I'd like to get really good at cleaning up my room.
Dream on girl; cleaning is overated
Of course everyone would like to have a clean wonderful room. But baby, I can put anything anywhere in MY ROOM.....(Beach Boys-"In My Room")
Best of all I like hot air ballooning and travelling everywhere. I'm an Indiana Jones Female. Photography and the arts are a passion of mine. Getting a picture of the Berlin Wall in 1989 was a highlight as well as taking a picture of a herd of cows in a meadow in Paris. It was the 200th Bicentennial of the Hot Air Balloon. The balloon was created in France. I ballooned for 14 years, 38 states, 15 countries.
I've held a business of my own which supported me, these activities and raised two young daughters on my own. Now they are young adults, have gone through college and think for themselves. They are smart, humble and I'm very proud of them. I've started another world for myself. When I was around 40 I would say, "I wonder what I'm going to do with the next 40 years of my life". People thought I was nuts. Can't you imagine yourself having another life after Motherhood? They thought I was crazy. Sounds like the 50's all over again.
One of the best things I can remember is sharing with family about History or World War One. My Grandfather drove the steam engines in Paris. It was a small group of Americans and was called the "Fraternite 8/40" which meant there were 8 steam cars and 40 military men that were injured or dead you could get out. Gramps was one of the very few from America that knew how to drive steam engines and taught other people how to train people to drive the steam engine.
My Grandmother volunteered her time for the American Auxilary. She drove the ambulance for the injured and dead to the hospital. The most unusual thing about this story is that all the letters they wrote to each other, when they were dating, and when they got married during this time have been recently found from 1914-1918 all in one piece and all together. A remarkable piece of history.
Photographing in Europe was the icing on the cake when I was there in 1989 and the people were the cake. It was all very exciting in my "free" life. It's not how old you are it's how you live your life.
Talk to all kinds of people, get to know their culture. One week-end I went to San Francisco, bought a small bottle of wine, and sat on a park bench talking to a homeless drunk. I learned a lot that day; try to walk in another person's shoes. Sometime you'll know what I mean. He had lost one of his legs in the Viet Nam War. He lost all his buddies. His family left him. He had no hope. Except me. I said to him, "why did you say, except me"? He said, "no one has talked to me in two years. I gave him some medicare telephone numbers and emergency numbers. We just sat and looked at the Bay, fininished the wine, and I left very sad. He couldn't have been older than me and he looked like an old man. Sitting on a cold park bench overlooking the San Francisco Bridge with the Blue Angels flying overhead. People come in all sizes. Perhaps he was an angel helping me.
Research, wherever it takes me, volunteering
I love my online life as it has to do with working with a retired scientist from nasa. He was one of 14 men appointed by the President to head Pioneering: The Next Fifty Years in the space frontier. I research spacecraft weather, biodiversity, and anything with microbiology or augumented reality. Having Flight Attendants wear gloves. Too many germs out there. I like talking with different cultures. We Americans are so trusting. In this century we have to watch each moment to try and be safe.
Each and everyone of us can save this planet when each and everyone of us know we can live or die on it. The two go hand and hand as each and every one of us do.
We don't live in the "happy days" anymore. We have to TRY everyday in everyway to make them happy. Always know who you are and empower yourself everyday to help others that cannot do it for themselves. We're going to see a much better future for it. And always remember your ancestors and where you came from.
http://femmenouveau.com/
peggy sue hurst manierre