Revisiting 9/11


Today marks, not a date of significance, but the re-watching of a Blue Bloods episode linked to 9/11. So, with that thought in mind I am going to post my thoughts on the day. Hopefully, not having the actual anniversary in play will allow it to have a softer tone for those of you who are still angry or hurt after all this time.

one point – even nearly two decades, the thoughts are scattered so forgive the execution.


I was in my home in Latrobe, Pennsylvania. I was married and he was off on a job in Pittsburgh working on a power plant that was working at a diminished level which goes with off season use. 

That morning I got up like any other day. As we all know, it was a Tuesday that was bright, crisp and easy to remember as one of the good ones. Or at least, it could have been. After washing up, I put on my uniform for work, and went downstairs. I was a clerk at a local hardware store, and often was on the ten to closing shift since I have experience working with banking. The first thing I did after grabbing a cup of coffee was sit down at the computer and to log into my email. I never got that far.

The photo of a plane in flight heading toward the tower with the headline of a crash was only post I saw. Jumping up, I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV just in time to miss the second collision. 

The sense of utter disbelief and possible explanations that we all felt at the time were flying through my mind as I took in what the news report was sharing. Had I been on the west coast, where I am now, I may have missed it all. Had I not taken my time getting ready and grabbed coffee first, I may have seen every moment. As it was, I spent the day looking for more information, seeking out every nugget I could find in an attempt to explain away the horror.

Even at work I listened to the radio as loud and long as they would allow me to. Of course, the morning anchor had to make mention that, had this truly been a terrorist attack, the power plants would have been a more destructive way to share their message. Fortunately, I was able to express my displeasure about that via email, and because of it, I spent the day stressed that it would become a possible threat. That is until a couple of my ex’s coworkers came into work and allayed my fears. After United 93 crashed within 30 miles of us, it was a significant moment that brought a little relief to the day.

That night we went out for dinner and, of course, we spent the night watching the news, filling in the blanks that the audio from the radio didn’t fill that morning. 

I learned of a small aircraft that was redirected after nearly being hit by Flight 93… to the airport 2 miles down the road that I lived on. I saw people who unified on the streets of New York, caring not who those near them were, but rather that they all were shocked and feeling the same helpless sensation I felt from a state away.

I began to track the emergency personnel lost in the towers, and followed every prediction and detail I could get my hands on. 

To this day, nearly 19 years later, I am still seeking information. I have read books from the family members, and solid news sources, placing them within easy reach to use in the classroom every year. In all this time, I still connect more to the 93 symbolism, than 911. My birthday is September 3rd. It was also Jeremy Glick’s, a man who helped fight back on Flight 93 and kept one more building from falling under attack.

My mission is to bring an awareness to my students and any around me, to the fact that hundreds… thousands… of people walked away from jobs to join the service. To help sift through the rubble of ground zero. To provide services to those individuals unable to leave The Pile without having found every person possible.

A favorite movie that I hunt for every year around this time is called “The Guys” with Sigourney Weaver and Anthony LaPaglia. The two of them drive the narrative as he is trying to find the words to share with families so there is a proper memorial service for six of his coworkers, even if no remains can be found. Sigourney provides the words by interviewing him allowing the shock, anger, and sadness, even joy at the men’s personalities, to wash over them. Riding that wave takes me back, but it also supplied one thing that took a good four years for me to do. 

I always find a way to put emotions into poetry. It took me until March of 2005 to find those words. To know how to encapsulate the day into a few short stanzas expressing my appreciation for the men and women who leave home every day striving to do nothing more than keep their cities and towns as safe as possible.

For me, teaching of the day is a mission that I must do so no one is forgotten. The writing is a plus that helps me keep my mind focused. Weed out all of the details that overwhelm rather than support the cause. It also helps me create new lessons for my crew to do regarding the towers, but I still fall back to the same favored lesson. 

It came from a history buff who had a degree, but chose, instead to leave a drawing on my chalkboard, when he worked as one of our maintenance staff. He depicts the impact zones on the towers and asks, how could the buildings have been built allowing everyone a chance to escape? The favorite is to equip every desk with a parachute. Ingenious, and quite interesting that three different schools worth of students have chosen the same answer.

I wish I could say that I was one who had moved past the event, but I may be one that processes September 11 for the rest of their life.  I hope whatever trials you have faced, are facing, or will face, can be encapsulated into their own bubble of art or activity that will help you process faster and more effectively.

Thank you for listening to me ramble yet one more time.

Hope you are well and taking care.

Good morning, goodnight wherever you are!


Labels again… but character driven.

So… I’m still stuck on labels again today, but I wanna make it fun and interesting. Do you remember “The Breakfast Club?” The athlete… The Princess… The Criminal… The Basketcase… The Brain?” 

If you’re like me, you fell into all kinds of labels, but none of them were as unique as those you gained outside of high school. As a teen I was an athlete and a brain as were many of my teammates. The one you may already have guessed if you read the last post, and one that I think I am most proud of, is loner. At times it was a bummer, but I learned a lot about myself in those times. They have also lent amazing insight to what I needed now. A single divorced teacher in a very small town. I have found my tools that helped make it a well worthwhile choice. Soo… with that thought in mind, here are a few adult labels that I have heard through the years.

I have been tagged as…

1. The Rottweiler’s owner/mom

2. The hyper yellow dog’s mom

3. The photography lady

4. … this one is more a matter of interpretation more than what I have heard… ‘The lady who hollers long and loud’

…. love my cross country and basketball students. Lung power from singing has added a whole new level of volume and breath control that garners reactions when I get fully engaged and want my crew to feel the support.

5. The local cat lady 

… seriously I didn’t even try… nor intend to be… All I wanted to do was give a couple of cats a place to stay until I could find their forever home because they were in a building that was going to be torn down. Four years later… two became close to twenty because of them and the fact that the neighbor’s had a cat who left a litter here… and they stayed… and had litters too. Now ‘fix them’ you say… so do I, but feral is the name of the game right now… ugh…

As you can tell, critters are a passion and focal point for me. Sanity they do provide so I indulge them and living in a ranching community, pets are a big deal. Now you may be wondering why… why I must prattle on about labels and just ramble on and on. Well… Mostly it is because I am attempting to use this tool as a method to a character building madness. That and I’m participating in NaNoWriMo this month, so I have a writing goal and since I am stuck on their cute, crazy or complicated quirks – you all have to suffa…ha! Hopefully you read this because you want to. 😀

Anyway… Here are my primary ideas for my now six, characters that lead the charge.

Phelan is an artist who works with charcoal. He is sixteen, a very supportive friend, and … psh… that is all it feels like I know. I have his appearance down. I have that he doesn’t ask for help easily, but I don’t have what inspires a need to ask for help. I don’t have a solid feel for what his weakness is.

Next is Cerri (Cerridwyn – k sound if needed), who is is self proclaimed best friend from elementary school. An athlete who loves to write in secret, is strong willed and always watching out for her friends whether they need it or not. She is the guardian and temper is a weakness for her. Owning that she loves to write is becoming a possible second. Still – only these basics and appearance are identified.

Next is Keegan. I want one to have a defined weakness and he is my go to character. One that deals with autism or ptsd. I chose those because I understand them, and I know the abilities linked to them. I have yet to fully wrap my mind around how to fully apply either, though the fact that he has troubles with gaining access to his power could be a confidence issue, or a trigger to help me build off of. 

Willow is a talented horticulturist and Cerri’s cousin, but lives with her and is more of a sister since her parents were in a wreck when they were little. She is a year younger than the others, but her no-nonsense attitude gives her an edge on them. Weakness…. she is short…. not gonna work. So am I. She is… stubborn… need I repeat myself? Smart, to the point of annoying others – maybe. That could be the asset which draws her into arguments that are not necessary simply because it is a processing tool… hmm.. interesting.. See? Talking it out, even on paper, works. I like the arguing simply to fine tune her thoughts idea.

Okay… so now we are at Myles. He is someone who has a magical voice that always draws people in when he sings, but it drives his friends crazy because they see him enough to appreciate moments that do NOT require music. And yet he tries hard to make it work anyway. He also could be classified as the class or group clown. With him it is relatively easy. His love of music and performing are the same as Willow’s – strength and weakness all wrapped up in one.

Now my last is one I have been stewing on for three years. Yep. I knew I wanted another girl in the picture but this week is when I finally nailed down who it would be. Kaylin is brought into the tale in book 2 – Cerri’s adventure – through a misadventure of her own. She had been kidnapped and Cerri stumbles onto them when she gets separated from the others. This will go a long way toward filling some gaps that I have had, but I still need to flesh her out… Heck I need to flesh them all out.

I need to spend more time boring the heck out of you all to figure half of my idea out. Ideas out. The characters are in story order as of right now… but holy gee hosophat (or however you spell it). I have a ton to do before I can even feel like book one is ready to share and edit.

Soooo…. With this rambling mumbo jumbo fogging up your brain as much as mine, I am going to let you go.

I hope you have a fantastic day, night, week… month. 

Stay safe one and all!

Good morning, goodnight wherever you are!


A rambling post about labels..

Labels. Whether you be in high school, college, working, or what have you, there will always be labels that you own. 

As a kid I was the history teacher’s daughter… sometimes Mr. Hughes’ daughter. The meanest sub’s daughter… Mrs. Hughes’ daughter… you get the drift… even Eileen’s big sister. Kathleen? Yeah… not very often. That was for class when I needed to answer a question. When I had a classmate who needed help. Sometimes it was a friend who was talking to me. Mistakes were made as I often misconstrued what friendship really was, but not now. Now I see things in such a different way.

Now I feel like the friends that were true, were the ones that were my fringe pals. People I talked to but didn’t realize their value… as with all things worth the work or wait, but now I see them for who they were.

Those I trusted with my truest friendship were people with the time, but they made fun of me. Took my name and changed it because of my laugh, the occasional tendency to cackle in laughter… and made it Kacklebeans… Hated it. Every. Fucking. Time. And yet they were the ones I hung with most of the time.

They also were ones who would tell me the wrong lyrics to a song, and laugh when I went with it. The ones to come over for my birthday, but spend time thinking of a boyfriend just up the road. People who, when a new student came to town and befriended them, but not me, went with it and let me be shunned from them. I didn’t choose to take the hint. I DID abandon them because of the hate spewed my way, but not them for liking her. Even now, I feel like I have abandoned them when they don’t deserve it, but one I cannot find – the one who I was closest to, had her number but my phone died and I lost her information. The one who had my number but never called me after I lost hers. Nor the other who I can contact if needed, but because I live so far off the interstate, seemed angry that I wouldn’t drive 500 hundred miles to meet her for lunch. It just wasn’t reasonable and I feel that our connection is lost. 

They were there through the worst of it in second grade. A time that taught me much more than I ever thought possible and would stick with me for the rest of my life.

We were a part of a group of about seven friends. Each day we would trade off spending time with another girl in our class who was alone and we couldn’t stand to see her like that, so we would try to convince her to come play with us. Sometimes we succeeded, and other times we would just take turns enjoying our time with her. Well, I did until the day before Easter break. That day I had succeeded in asking her to join the group but along the way two classmates stepped up and told me that I couldn’t be their friend if I was hers. All I saw at the age of seven was two versus one. From the moment I told her sorry and that we couldn’t be friends, I ran away from them all. I tried to apologize that day and she accepted it, but it took thirty years for me to remember that. Why? 

Because she died that weekend. I never got to go to the funeral.

My folks thought it would be too traumatic. What was traumatic was not apologizing to her parents. Not being able to step forward and tell those other two girls what God awful bitches they were turning into. Sadly, I tried to fit in with them on occasion in junior high. Fortunately though, I mostly learned to be alone. I learned how to love me and my time away from stupid fools who would rather ruin your life, than accept you for who you are. This story will never be over, but on occasion it hits hard, and on occasion I can talk about it. So I try to continue to learn from it. To honor her memory by not letting it become some dusty event that has little meaning, but a major concept to share with future generations. Through it I show my imperfections, but also my willingness to continue to grow from something I cannot change.

Fast forward to the reason I am here today. As I have learned to move forward. To be my own person, I will never be able to let go of my need to be alone. To not be part of the crowd. To sit back and watch the world and wonder what the holy hell.. okay I wanna say… holy ever loving fuck… they are thinking as they do stupid shit. Now I just want to be left to my devices to find a better way to teach kids to be who they really are. To accept who they are and realize they will overcome the obstacles handed to them. That is why I write.

So taking that and oh.. my… God…. finally getting to the point, here it is. I just watched a show that reminded me about the labels that I held in high school. That got better only after I changed schools, and yet still felt in .. of all places, youth group. The people I moved to in that shift, are the ones I talk to the most. Them, and those that I saw as fringe friends. 

How this very concept can help me develop the characters in my story with more uumph as I realize their value in personalities. Use them to remind kids that they only need to love themselves, and find their own personal value without relying on others to claim it. To show it. To find belief and hope in it.

One of these days, I will have my tales finalized and well drafted, and get them off to a prospective publisher who will love the ideas. Who will help me polish my delivery and make the sequel loved like few others. Someone who will be at my side helping me, or acting as my foundation so that my message is not only heard but also carried out and used in classrooms around the country, if not the world. 

All because I realized that my role is what it is. My role is to be the best me I can be. With that note in mind, cue Chesney Hawkes’ “I Am the One and Only!” That is all I can be after all. I am the one and only fantabulous me!


You are the one and only you…!
If you have missed that moment, his video is linked below. 😀

Good morning, goodnight wherever you are!


I Didn’t Fall Off the Planet. Honest!

Hello World!

First a few housekeeping points. I am alive, kickin, and healthy thank goodness. I sincerely hope the same for you all. I have finally put graduation behind us, and as class advisor, I needed to be fully engaged this time around. I also am nearly done with the yearbook. Just in time for the new year!… Can anyone give me a ‘good grief.’ All I want is to give myself recovery time before we start up again… whatever that looks like. 

Oh yeah… and I’ve been giving my house a fair once over. Done with all the extras. Boxes, bags and random unused stuff took trips to the dump just so I could regain some clarity. I have also changed out carpet overlay… meaning I only took out what was over the original and added my own additional. More bookshelves and cabinetry have made it easier to deal with my stuff and space too. Now just to get finished…

On the creative front, my 51-going-on-15-year-old-teeny-bopper-self has been binge watching Flash and Teen Wolf again. I want to say I have gotten enough out of the experience, but every time I seem to come away with more ideas. More inspiration for my own characters. I have even begun drafting conversations to try and weed out their personality quirks. Maybe a good re-read of what I have drafted will help, especially since the oddball portions of their personalities are still eluding me. If I can pull that off, stay healthy, and sane in this insane world, I will be golden and spoiled rotten. I say take my sanity first. At least I can regain some as I continue to write.

So…. what’s up with you all? Have you found a rhythm to your lives yet? I am so willing to be housebound, that I don’t feel much has changed. I do definitely wish that you each enjoy the homebody life as well as I do. I can only imagine how much you must be chomping at the bit otherwise.

Ooohhh.. wise… how about that Neowise? Anyone else have a good view of it passing? I have a few pics that turned out okay. I just wish I had a better lens to pull it in closer. Other than that, I have had a few good photography experiences this week, because of it.

Well. Tis that time as I hope to try some diamond painting in place of cross stitch tonight. Gotta keep my creative arts going not to mention expanding if I hope to find ways to grow in my teaching.

I wish you all a very good day. 

Talk to you soon… oh how I hope, but you are beginning to know me.

Good morning, goodnight and be safe wherever you are!