Did You Get ‘Woke’?

I had charts, dates, names, links, more charts, historical references… more bull shit than you could wade through in a month ready to go in an ‘awesome’ post. I would “teach” and I would “preach” and I would present factual data until I could prove to you that I am right. I could show you that I am enlightened, progressive, and educated! I am right, if you don’t agree with me, you are wrong…

This morning I took the following action by opening my ‘awesome’ post and clicking on “trash”. (Are you sure you want to delete this post?) Definitely.

A male simply walking behind a female will never know the reality of her instinctual fear that she may be physically harmed by him. A white American will never understand the reality of the instinctual fear a black American experiences when being pulled over by police. Anyone who promotes the notion that the color of your skin mandates your worth and opportunities in the United States of America -in this century- may need to rethink this. Skin color is a basic theory with very real historical empirical data. (Gender and religious affiliation also have historical data of bias.) My point is that one simple theoretical explanation for a complex, culturally significant experience is not sufficient.

I am white. I have nothing to apologize for. I’m not racist. I wasn’t born a racist. I certainly wasn’t taught to be a racist. I don’t need to be ‘woke’ and I will not be ‘cancelled’. I do not believe any ONE culture is superior to any other culture. I wholeheartedly admit I’m embarrassed to be white right now. I am disgusted that some white Americans are hijacking the Black Lives Matter peaceful protests. I am extremely disappointed so many whites think they can understand the vast and unique culture of any minority … because we can’t. 

We need to listen to comprehend, not figure out what our next comment will be. Learn to hear what is being said! We need to learn empathy not practice sympathy. No one is asking to be coddled. No one is asking for a saviour. No one is asking to be fixed… these are adults, grown people. They are not broken. They have a voice! Meet them with the same level of respect you would want shown. Don’t try to manipulate and define real issues unique to a culture, because positive and negative, these issues are culturally specific. In other words, quit ‘helping’because you are not! In fact, you were not even asked!

Us. Each. We. Unique and wonderful, tragic and sad, joyful and proud. It is what makes individuals capable of understanding humanity. We are able to empathise. Adults want to do better for themselves and their children. That may be the only thing that truly resonates with every culture, we will never question whether our children matter.


My mom passed away today. I will be taking a break to attend to family matters.


This was my home. This is where I lived…


This is what a protest looks like I’ve been told

This is justice for George Floyd I’ve been told.

I’ve been told, supposedly schooled, even screamed at.


I don’t see justice. I know what I see. THIS is not justice.

I wonder what you will see when it comes to your city?

I have nothing left to say. ~k.


The Time to Pause

Recently, I returned to blogging after a short hiatus. While I was absent from blogging, the coronavirus enveloped the country… the world, in fact. People are unemployed, losing their homes, having a difficult time even maintaining the essential home grocery and cleaning items. The saddest part, people are dying.

Does anyone know what to do?

Are you busy cleaning closets, working out, and eating better? Isn’t that what you have said you’d do if ever you had the “time?” Did you complete that masterpiece you claimed you would because you are now at home? You may be working from home… and the kids are home with you… how is that working for you?

I believe we must be careful what we wish for!

This is the first time, in many of our lives, that a national quarantine has been made law for the American people. This is a ‘time to pause.’ This is a time to take stock of our world. The impact we have on it. The steps we may consider to make different choices in our lives very soon. Dare I say the time to pause could be a renaissance of sorts?

Dare I say? 

I want to impress the need for normalcy has not escaped us. Soon, there will be a media blitz pressuring us to do just that. Return to normal. What was your normal? What was mine? Do we want to make that normal relevant in our future? Is it even right to do that? Repeat the past?

I don’t have the answers. I just know I am taking this opportunity to pause and contemplate what I want to be present in my future…

I invite you to do the same.



Shoot the Hostage

I like to think I am prepared for almost every situation. Safety first is what I’m about! Let’s say you find yourself in a ‘hostage’ situation. Hey! It could happen. Back to the issue at hand… If you are ever in a hostage situation, and you are armed, “Shoot the hostage!” Well, ‘maim,’ (don’t kill the hostage), take out a knee, basically, drop the hostage, then you got yourself a bad guy! Brave face, take no prisoners, shoot first, ask questions later. That’s how I roll!  After all, it’s better to be judged by twelve than carried by six.


I don’t know about you, but it exhausts me to even read that first paragraph. How the hell did I live that way? Sounds exciting. Then again, so does snake charming. It’s just not for everyone. It’s certainly not for me. Anymore.

Try to like the simple things; a rainbow, a hummingbird, soft music, and fuzzy slippers… just kidding! I am not dead, people! I still have a little sass in my bossy pants!

Put on your sassy, bossy pants!!!

I enjoy nasty thunderstorms! I yearn to hunt with the majestic eagle! I will air guitar my way through Back in Black! I will proudly wear my combat boots if I still had those (damn). I will proudly wear my flip flops!


I’ll have a beer with my hotdog at a BBQ. I will have a warm pretzel with mustard while at a hockey match. Movie theatre popcorn rocks! (Yes, I want more fake butter on mine, please!) There is nothing better than an ice-cold Coca-Cola on a hot summer day. I will have that Coke and a smile!

My sassy, bossy pants are intact… are yours?

(I have no plans to shoot a hostage any time soon.)

Life was meant to be lived! Not lived through.

Live your best life!


Check this out, “Don’t Make it Wierd.”

I recently happened upon a great blog! OK, ‘Grace,’ aka ‘Karen,’ aka ‘Karen Grace,’ at MSGraceful…NOT! reblogged an incredible post by this blogger. I was reading this post, and I felt understood!!! I agreed with his words. I agreed with the sentiment. I was utterly gobsmacked when I finished reading the post! (And I continue to re-read this incredible post!)

Sam at Don’t Make it Wierd is not to be missed!

Check out  Taking Stock of Positives and Possibilities!  Click on that title!!!

Don’t forget to come back here and tell me what you think! Did it speak to you? Hurry, I have to know!!!




In 1963, Martin Luther King delivered the following speech…

I hope you take the time to really read this iconic peace of literature in its entirety.

We remember you, Martin Luther King Jr.


Protecting the 1st Amendment OR Allowing Abusive Posts by WordPress Blogger?

I have something significant to ask you.

  • Should a person be allowed to write ‘how-to’ manuals about how to abuse women?
  • Should this person be allowed to publish these ‘how-to’ posts on a public blog?
  • Should this person be allowed to follow women bloggers who are writing about their escape from an abusive past?

WordPress believes this is a freedom of speech issue. I think this is definitely an issue! The issue is abusive behavior!!! Some behaviors, written or no, are flat out WRONG.

Read this excerpt…

“Anyone else who has also experienced rape, assault, abuse, stalking, or anything similar is likely screaming at the computer screen as much as I did when I read that myself. Admittedly, the support people probably were not prepared for the words I had to say, which, I’m proud to say, were righteously indignant but also respectful. But the reality is that we live in a society and a time where victims of crimes are often more afraid to report the crime than they are to live with it, and where there still is lacking a basic understanding of the psychology of trauma from the viewpoint of the victim.”

To read the full story, and it is unfolding RIGHT NOW with WordPress…

Click here, on Gwen’s site:


I hope you are as outraged as I am.

I have no more words.


Lite ‘Em Up!

Lite ’em up!

-The husband’s war cry heard only by me!

Can you believe it is December? You all know what that means! The reason for the season! The haze of frenzied holiday shopping…

Or does the holiday not exist for you? Too many shenanigans to even deal with? Well, I have news! You still get to deal with the frazzled nerves of retail clerks and rude people. In the real world, they are everywhere!

What happens when you need to purchase some groceries, and your clerk is in a dark mood? What about the guy in line who just can’t be bothered to acknowledge you? How about the lady with the cart who stops right in front of you and parks it?

My hubby is an even-keeled individual. He rarely lets anything upset him! However, it bugs him when someone is just a crab ass, and out to ruin everyone else’s day! He wants everyone to simply be good citizens and perform their duties as they should! If you are in the service business, you provide service with a smile! If you are in a public place, you have manners and be a pleasant person to be around. Period. (Bless his heart!)

I am not even-tempered. I like to play the invisible game… I just pretend rude people do not exist. I can ignore screaming triplets with ease. No problem. If I come across you and you are crabby… have a rotten day! But I’m gonna have a good day!

However, my husband has requested that I use my powers for good! So I engage…

My husband will shop with me. We make trips to the store together. Partly because he now can, and I don’t have to go solo anymore. There are times when he is just scared, I may be having a bad symptom day. Even on decent days, I may not make it through a shopping trip unscathed… I’m a bit of a gravity checker. Don’t dwell on that. I don’t!

As we go about our business, my husband will approach me from time to time and say, “Lite ’em up!” I will approach the offending individual, size them up and… well… say something.

Here is an example:

WalMart. A recent trip…

Checking out our groceries was a slight of a man, not in a very decent mood at all. Just so unnecessary. I got the signal, “Lite ’em up!” I tore myself away from the tabloid magazines and walked up to the clerk with a roll of Mentos in my hand. (Mentos, best mints ever!) The clerk asked if I was with him? (The hubby was ahead of me bagging groceries.) I pointed at my hubby and said, “Him? No… but I’m sure he won’t mind paying for these… if he gets mad, I’ll just let him keep my Mentos.” The clerk stopped completely and looked at my husband and back at me. I whispered, “It’ll be fine, he doesn’t look that big.” (Everyone was silent.) My husband started to laugh, then I did too. The clerk began laughing so hard he teared up.

We saw this guy a few days later, he remembered us and greeted us like old friends! What did it cost us to be kind? Nothing.

We do this! All. The. Time. Never the same script. You just watch the person and figure out what will work. Easy!

When someone is having a difficult day, why not make it better? A compliment. A kind inquiry. Just say please and thank you! It isn’t that hard. I just read my friend Billy Mac’s post called “My Best Work.” It is about simply being aware of the people around you and being kind. Have a quick read! GO! Together we can make this world a better, kinder place to live.

Live your best life!


Have You Ever Been Happy Sad?

Does this make sense? Have you ever been happy and sad at the same time? Happily sad? Thinking of memories, some make you sad, but you are still happy to have these memories. That’s where I find myself at this moment. I am happy sad…

Currently, I am at our family lake home. This is my Dad’s homestead. Now it’s been passed to his children, I’m one of five living siblings. I do have two other brothers who have passed on. One I didn’t know, born before me, stillborn. One died at the age of 37. The 37-year-old was in the Army, single, his death benefits came to our family. He wanted this money to be used to build a house on my dad’s property that we could all enjoy, and gather as a family. His dream came to fruition and our lake house has a bedroom for each of us, including a sixth in his memory. It was a happy sad moment upon completion. Sometimes still is.

Saturday, we toured assisted living facilities with my parents. [Happy sad.] I was watching my parent’s worried looks as we started the first tour. But they relaxed, both having visited relatives and friends at these facilities. They were familiar with the sites but didn’t believe they may one day be residents.

We were treated to lunch after our tour at the first facility by the program director. This facility was like a small city under one roof! There were two restaurants, a hair salon, a heated pool, a post office, a movie theatre, a work out facility, a boxing gym, pool tables, a library, therapists and trainers on site… amazing. After we had ordered our food, my dad and I were sitting together and he explained to me that although this was nice, he had the farm… the lake house we owned as a family. [Happy sad.] I had to explain that he would always have that, but mom was in poor health. The facts pointed to sooner rather than later, she would need a nurse. My dad, as healthy as he was, would not need medical care but he needed to get mom the care she would need. [Just sad.]

We toured the others, then headed to Dairy Queen! [Just Happy!]

We dropped off our parents at their townhome to rest, but it wasn’t long before they joined us at the lake house. I couldn’t remember the last time I was with all of my siblings and my parents at the same time. [Happy sad.] We had an evening of laughter, serious discussion, and more laughter. I was very aware that these gatherings were becoming very rare and would eventually come to an end.

Life changes. Circumstances change. Health declines. Being present, in these rare beautiful moments, is the only way you can keep them … in your heart. Time marches on. No matter how hard we try to slow things down, Father Time keeps the clocks wound. You can’t cheat time. Beautiful moments happen in real time be they ever so fleeting. [Happy sad.]


The Intruder in the Night (Magic Memory)

I have fibromyalgia and some coexisting conditions. I experience a cognitive dysfunction known as fibro fog. I need to do mind work every day. When a memory strikes, I write about it! It’s ‘magic’ in my mind, simply because I remember it!

I had to be 13, maybe 14 years old. My parents were out of town at a state school board conference. I was left at home to care for my two younger siblings. A boy we’ll call ‘Jon,’ was one year younger than me, and my sister, who I’ll refer to as ‘Leah’ was six years my junior. (The eldest three siblings, graduated and had moved out.)

It was warm, I really remember the heat. We had lightning storms with blinding sheets of pouring rain. It was about two in the morning, and I heard rustling around in my little sister’s room. I got up and went to check on her. She was going through her dresser drawers in the dark. [OK, this is weird, I wonder if she’s been turned into a child zombie.] 

“Hey Leah, what are you doing?”

“I need to find my long johns.”

“Are you cold?”

“I need to find my long johns.”

I began searching through her drawers with her. I was sweating! Why did she need her long johns? Then I hear the wood crack on a step leading to the upstairs where my sister and I were. I knew my brother was asleep in his room in the basement, so hollering for his help wouldn’t work.

“Can we look for your long johns in the morning?”


“Back into bed, quickly.”

The next crack of the wood stair was closer. I figured the nighttime invader had to be close to arriving upstairs where we were. I shut the door to my little sister’s room behind me. [I’m sure we will be murdered at this point, but I wasn’t going to let this intruder past me.] I walked to the end of the hall towards the stairs picking up a baseball bat on my way. I positioned myself and got ready to take the perfect swing and knock the intruder down the stairs.

There was the intruder! He was rising up from the last step. I stepped into my swing, stopping just short of his head.

“Jesus Kim, what are you doing!?!?”

“Jon! What the hell are you doing out of bed!?!?”

“What are you doing with a bat?”

“What… good lord I could’ve killed you.”

“I was hungry, then I heard you and Leah, and I wanted to see what you were doing.”

“Go to bed, Jon! NOW!”

I slept fitfully that night, and when I woke in the morning, I went into my sister’s room and said, “Let’s look for those long johns then…”

She had no idea what I was talking about…


Memorial Day (My Brother, My Soldier)

My brother passed away on the United States Army Base in San Antonio, Texas, at the Brooke Army Medical Center on August 18, 2003. He was 37. He loved the Army, serving his country…



My Brother, My Soldier


We are so far from home,

he and I.

Engulfed in a land so foreign to us,

a city within a city. 


At times he is stubborn

and full of mischief,

teasing and laughing

the brother I know.


There are times when he is reflective,

speaking as if

communicating with

I would guess, the Divine.


He is so thankful for the help he receives 

and so apologetic when he is in need.

He loves and hugs all who are near,

Only they and I experience the fear.


His body tires and his eyes close,

he puts his hand in mine.

I wait silently for him to wake,

and I greet him with a smile.


I tell my brother he is a good soldier.

I tell my brother I love him so.

I tell my brother God is with him.

I tell my soldier it is okay if he is called to go…


k.Lynel (2003)