Tag Archives: Texas

My Book Review

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This is the last day of the year and I’m doing what I’ve done every day since May. I’m talking to people about my book, Dobyns Chronicles. I never realized how hard it is to get people to read a book you know they will enjoy.

My blog today is a review of my book by Motorwriter.com. I thought it was great and wanted to share it with everyone. It is a wonderful feeling when people like what you have put on paper.  Ok, I’ll have my arm casted tomorrow from patting myself on the back but today, since it’s the last day of the year I’m going to keep patting.

I also want to everyone to know how much I appreciate the support that has been given to me. I’ve made some new friends, and connected again with some old ones. Life is full of struggles and heartbreak but it is also full of love and kindness and I have been blessed with a abundance of the love and kindness.

As this year ends I want everyone to know how much they are appreciated and lets continue to make this world a better place to live for as long as we are here.  Blessings to all and Happy New Year.

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The Finest Generation – A review of the novel ‘Dobyns Chronicles’

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“It is so much simpler to bury reality than it is to dispose of dreams” – Don DeLillo

Author Shirley McLain’s latest novel ‘Dobyns Chronicles’ is a historical fiction loosely based on the life and times of her grandfather Charles Kenly Dobyns. Charles orCharley to those close to him was the eldest son of Kennerly, an American cowboy and Eliza, a Cherokee Indian and was raised in a farm in Red River in Bonham near Northeast Texas. The book chronicles his life story from the late 1800’s when he was a young boy in a Texan farm to mid 1950’s when he became a great grandfather in McAlester, Oklahoma. The book paints a moving real life story about a young man’s resolve dealing with the various tragedies life threw at him while also caring for his two siblings, younger brother David and sister Viola. This novel presents a fascinating look at vintage Americana and will fill your mind with nostalgia about a simpler life led in much simpler times.

Right off the bat, the first thing that you are going to notice and that too barely a couple of pages into the book is the wonderful use of the English language. It has become almost a rarity in mainstream literature to come across such beautiful phrases and prose that make you stop and read a line twice just for the sheer literary pleasure it gives you. The next best thing about this book is the pitch perfect way in which the author has been able to portray the laid back and lazy times with the back breaking, difficult and adventure filled day in an old western town. It is so descriptive that the character’s spirituality, the numerous odd jobs done around the house, cattle drive and horse breaking somehow become second nature to you by the time you are done with the book. And for people of this century where everything is available to them at the touch of a button, this book will be a throwback to our older and harsher times when day to day living meant a constant battle with the various elements of the nature.

Blending the fiction seamlessly with the many historical and factual events of the late 18th century and early 19th century, Shirley has made good use of various events like the yellow fever epidemic, the great depression and the absurd tax laws to good effect and has used them strategically at various points in the novel to underline the emotions of her characters in that setting beautifully. The changes happening over time and the various developments too have been captured nicely; case in point isCharley staying at a hotel for the very first time. Shirley also seems to have a knack in getting children’s behaviour and their conversations right, the change in tone and content when the conversation moves from a child to an adult is always bang on target.

The entire book will tug at your heart strings and make you think about your own family, it will also make you reminisce about your childhood as you read about the childhood of the Dobyn kids. And even though your childhood may have been vastly different from theirs, you will still feel a connection to the various commonalities that affect us humans across time and different nationalities. The epilogue and the photographs at the end really get to you and even though a life that you have been witness to from a young age has come to an end, you are in a strange way left with so many memories of this man. And this is because of the way the author has captured these scenes and emotions, by taking you right into the lives and homes of these people instead of merely narrating a story.

Great authors have often talked about the secrets that make a book appeal to audiences everywhere. They stress upon having a standout first chapter to make the readers commit to the book, a good first page that will blow them away and a great first line that will stay etched in their memory forever. If they are right then Shirley’s book has scored a definite ace on all three fronts and has emerged a clear winner.

Product Details

Print Length: 260 pages

Page Numbers Source ISBN: 1499024096

Publisher: Xlibris US (May 23, 2014)

ASIN: B00KNMM46S

Buy Fromhttp://www.amazon.com/dp/B00KNMM46S/ref=rdr_kindle_ext_tmb

Ebola: Are You Afraid?

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XXXXX WARNING, PICTURES MAY BE DISTURNING XXXXX

ebolaThis article came out from ABC News and it got me to thinking about if I am afraid of catching the disease but I am afraid for my children and Grandchildren. I don’t think I’m afraid but I do have a chance of being exposed through my husband who flies out of Washington DC frequently. Thousands of people fly out of the airport he uses daily. He returned from a trip a week ago. What if that first case was on his plane flying into Dallas? It gives one a lot to think about.

Are you afraid of being exposed? For me personally I have to leave it in God’s hands and stay vigilant. The article below gives you some info that you need to know.

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ebola2The deadly Ebola virus has arrived in the United States with the first diagnosis on American soil this week, bringing national attention back to the outbreak that has ravaged West Africa.

Health officials confirmed that a patient in Dallas was diagnosed with Ebola about a week after arriving from Liberia to visit family on Sept. 20. The patient was placed in isolation Sept. 28, but may have exposed five school age children in the days between arriving in Texas and being isolated.

“There is no doubt in my mind we will stop it here,” Centers for Disease Control and Prevention Director Dr. Thomas Frieden said at a news conference.

ebola3Ebola has killed 3,338 people and infected 3,840 others since the outbreak began in March, making it the worst outbreak since the virus was discovered in 1976. More people have died from Ebola in the last seven months than in every other Ebola outbreak to date combined, according to data from the World Health Organization.

Although those who have received care on American soil have generally fared well, WHO officials have said that the world needs to do more to stop the outbreak in Africa and keep it from expanding.

ebola5The CDC warned that the outbreak could reach 1.4 million cases by the end of January without proper intervention. But with additional resources and intervention, the outbreak could be over by about the same time, the agency said.

Here’s what you need to know about the Ebola virus

What Is Ebola?

The Ebola virus is as a group of viruses that cause a deadly kind of hemorrhagic fever. The term “hemorrhagic fever” means it causes bleeding inside and outside the body. The virus has a long incubation period of approximately eight to 21 days. Early symptoms include fever, muscle weakness, sore throat and headaches.

As the disease progresses, the virus can impair kidney and liver function and lead to external and internal bleeding. It’s one of the most deadly viruses on Earth with a fatality rate that can reach between approximately 50 to 90 percent. There is no cure.
How Is It Transmitted?

The virus is transmitted through contact with blood or secretions from an infected person, either directly or through contaminated surfaces, needles or medical equipment. A patient is not contagious until he or she starts showing signs of the disease.

Thankfully, the virus is not airborne, which means a person cannot get the disease simply by breathing the same air as an infected patient.

Where Did the Virus Come From?

The dangerous virus gets its name from the Ebola River in the Democratic Republic of Congo, which was near the site of one of the first outbreaks. The virus was first reported in 1976 in two almost simultaneous outbreaks in the Sudan and the Democratic Republic of Congo. They killed 151 and 280 people, respectively.

Certain bats living in tropical African forests are thought to be the natural hosts of the disease. The initial transmission of an outbreak usually results from a wild animal infecting a human, according to the WHO. Once the disease infects a person, it is easily transmissible between people in close contact.

Until this outbreak, approximately 2,361 people had been infected since the disease was identified in 1976. More than 1,548 of those infected died from it.

How Is It Transmitted?

The virus is transmitted through contact with blood or secretions from an infected person, either directly or through contaminated surfaces, needles or medical equipment. A patient is not contagious until he or she starts showing signs of the disease.

Thankfully, the virus is not airborne, which means a person cannot get the disease simply by breathing the same air as an infected patient.

Who Is At Risk?

The virus is not airborne, which means those in close contact can be infected and are most at risk. A person sitting next to an infected person, even if they are contagious, is not extremely likely to be infected.

Health workers and caregivers of the sick are particularly at risk for the disease because they work in close contact with infected patients during the final stages of the disease when the virus can cause internal and external bleeding.

In this outbreak alone, more than 100 health workers have been infected and at least 50 of them have died, according to the WHO.

Life in Texas 1850

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???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????The weather here in Oklahoma has been over 100 for the past several days. I have stayed close to the air-conditioning to stay comfortable. I was remembering this morning when I was a kid, it was nothing to have summers with temps at 110 that lasted for many days. We didn’t have air conditioning but we always had a good trusty box fan to blow hot air around. That was a big help. Anything to keep the air moving because with the humidity if it wasn’t moving it felt as if it were taking your breath away.

Homestead jpgAt this point you’re probably wondering why I titled this blog Life in Texas in 1850. That has to do with a branch of my family that lived on the Red River during that time. I can’t even begin to understand what their life was really like. I know it was at times almost intolerable and at other times laughter was happening because that is life.

A family had to worry about survival on a more intimate basis than we are. You know, just even getting hot water was a chore, not only in hauling, but then you had to heat it up. So, all the daily chores than required a lot more forethought—as well as just physical labor. Men, women and children—everybody’s working towards family survival. It didn’t matter if it was 110 outside that fire still had to be built. It went on every day of their life. The struggle to survive.washboard

OuthouseDrawing-150x150We take so much for granted in this day and time. How do you think you would do without electricity and running water? The family back then did what they had to do. That was the life they knew and was accustomed to living. I have a great appreciation and respect for what people have accomplished in the past. Imagine what our life would be like today if our families had not dealt with the life they had.
Have a blessed day.

Here Kitty, Kitty

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I read this blog this morning and decided to repost it. I’m always curious why people gravitate towards a particular person, place, or thing. This blog is about a thing. Specifically about the Canadian Hairless Cat.

I don’t happen to be one that gravitates to this type of cat, but to each his own. I do hope you enjoy the article about how this cat was developed.

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Canadian Hairless Cats

 

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Why don’t they have any fur ?

It’s a genetic defect. (I love Sphynx cats btw.. so awesome)

 

The Canadian Sphynx breed was started in 1966, in Roncesvalles, Toronto when a hairless kitten named Prune was born to a black and white domestic shorthair queen (Elizabeth) in Ontario, Canada. The kitten was mated with its mother (backcrossing), which produced one more naked kitten. Together with a few naked kittens found later it founded the first attempt to create a hairless breed.

After purchasing these cats in 1966 and initially referring to them as “Moonstones” and “Canadian Hairless,” Mr. Ridyadh Bawa, a science graduate of the University of Toronto, combined efforts with his mother Yania, a long time Siamese breeder, and the Tenhoves (Kees and Rita) to develop a breed of cats which was subsequently renamed as “Sphynx”. It is apparent that the Bawas and the Tenhoves were the first individuals able to determine the autosomal recessive nature of the Sphynx gene for hairlessness while also being successful in transforming this knowledge into a successful breeding program with kittens which were eventually capable of reproducing.

 

The Tenhoves were initially able to get the breed Provisional showing status through the Cat Fanciers’ Association (CFA) but ultimately had the status revoked in 1971 when it was felt by the CFA Board that the breed lacked both a consistent standard and an adequately broad gene pool.

 

Canadian Hairless Cat3

The first noted naturally occurring foundation Sphynx originated at the Wadena, Minnesota farm of Milt and Ethelyn Pearson, who identified hairless kittens occurring in several litters of their Domestic Shorthair (DSH) barn cats in the mid-1970s. Two hairless female kittens born in 1975 and 1976, Epidermis and Dermis, became an important part of the Sphynx breeding programme and further hairless cats were found in Texas, Arkansas, and Minnesota. Modern Sphynx, therefore, trace their origins to the second Canadian bloodline and to the Minnesota cats.

 

The first breeders had rather vague ideas about Sphynx genetics and faced a number of problems. The genetic pool was very limited and many kittens died. There was also a problem with many of the females suffering convulsions. The last two descendants of Prune, a brother-sister pair, were sent to Holland in the 1970s, but the male was uninterested in mating and the female conceived only once, but lost the litter.

Canadian Hairless Cat2

The breeding program of these pioneers withered after this time with the final traceable Bawa line cats : Mewsi-Kal Johnny, Mewsi-Kal Starsky (Hugo Hernandez, Holland) and Prune’s Epidermis (David Mare, California), were unable to produce sustainable lines prior to being altered in the early 1980s.

In 1978 and 1980, two further hairless female kittens were found in Toronto and were sent to Holland to be bred with Prune’s last surviving male descendent. One female conceived, but she also lost the litter. By then, the one remaining male had been neutered, never having been interested in mating with any of the females. As a result, no modern Sphynx cats are traceable to Prune. With no male Sphynxes, breeders instead used sparsely-furred Devon Rex studs.

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In the early stages of the breed crosses with Devon Rex were used, but later this crossing was frowned upon because it caused health problems. Now the Canadian Sphynx is a breed with a sound genetic pool. Outcrossing is still permitted using guidelines set down in the “standards” from each Feline Association around the globe.

 

Originally Posted by Polaris  View Post

Birth Control and Other Things

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English: Cong, Co. Mayo: 'The Quiet Man' Cotta...

English: Cong, Co. Mayo: ‘The Quiet Man’ Cottage. This is the actual cottage used in the film, ‘THE QUIET MAN’, starring John Wayne and Maureen O’Hara. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I am going to start out with the other things in today’s blog.  In my last post I wrote about my squatter, ED. I want to give you an update. Ed has finally got the message he doesn’t live here anymore. A friend of his helped move him out and put his stuff in storage. It took a week after that for him to stop coming to the house and just walking in. We finally got the police involved and social services. He told the police how mad he was about us “taking his mailbox down.” I feel so bad for Ed, but there is nothing I can do.

My house is all painted and it looks good. My furniture will be arriving from Texas this next week. I’ll be so glad to have my “things about me, again.” I think that line came from a John Wayne Movie. Do you know which one? I will post it at the end of the blog.

I was reading this morning about how the Catholic Bishops were talking about women and birth control. First of all let me tell you, I am Catholic, not a cradle one, but converted. If I’m asked what religion I am I tell them I am a Pentecostal Catholic. So I do have some different view from the church.

I very much believe in birth-control for women. I do believe the bible is the inspired word of God, but I know it was written by men of the early church, who’s world was nothing like ours.  Men ruled at that time and still feel they have to now (In the church). I am not a subservient woman, and I believe I have the same rights as any man. I may not have the same strengths but I do have different ones. I believe that any woman should be able to choose to use birth control.

If you would like to read the article I read, I am giving you the link.  http://www.nationalmemo.com/catholic-leaders-must-dial-down-the-rhetoric/2/

Oh yes, the answer to the John Wayne question is “The Quiet Man.” When Maureen O’Hara was giving John Wayne a good talking to about her dowry, she told him of having her things about her.  Did you guess it right?  Until next time stay safe and happy.

Speaking My Mind

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Sacred Heart Catholic Church

Sacred Heart Catholic Church (Photo credit: enkrates)

When I clicked on  a story in the National Memo this morning, the story  lead-in was, ” Why Catholics don’t like Little Ricky.”

First I did not read one word about Catholics not caring about the Hispanics, secondly as a Oklahoma Catholic, that is not the case. The Catholic Church is championing the cause of the illegal and legal Hispanics in this country. We term it as social justice. When I lived in California and Texas it was the same thing there.

This nation was built with the help of immigrants from all over the world. I agree there needs to be some changes in our immigration laws, but I think we should be treating everyone as we would want to be treated. We have big problems in the justice  and immigration systems in this country. They will have to answer for what they do, as will each one of us.

I believe that amnesty should be given to all who are in this country now and a way to be found to stop the flow into the country. I know that’s easier said than done.  I also believe we should take care of our own but also help others in need.

No matter what political party someone belongs to, tolerance of something different has to become the norm. This country has done a very bad job at tolerance, but it is improving from what it was 40-50 years ago. I am better than my parents and my children are better than I am in accepting differences.  My hopes and prayer is that improvement will continue to take place in the future.

By Axing Parks, Polticos are Stealing the People’s Property

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English: Logo of America's State Parks

Image via Wikipedia

 

 

 

This is an article that I wanted to share with more people because I agree with it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did.   Our state and national parks are the inheritance to this nation from previous generations. By closing these public lands the states are keeping us from our own property.

Please take the time to follow this link: http://www.nationalmemo.com/content/axing-parks-politicos-are-stealing-peoples-property

 

 

My Pioneering Family

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http://youtu.be/nDd2USzIEkA

I ran across this wonderful YouTube video about life as a pioneer, and it added further  to the respect I have for the courage of my forefathers in settling the land.  In the latest book I’m writing, “The Dobyns Chronicles,” I follow one branch of my family starting in Virginia.  They migrate from Virginia in the 1700’s settling in Ohio and Indiana.  My Great-Great Grandfather then migrated with his family to Texas, living in the Sherman/Denison area on the Red River.

Everyone has stories of their family.  Have you ever stopped and thought about how they managed to accomplish what they did.  It is mind-boggling when you consider the obstacles they had to overcome in order to settle a new land.  The hardships they must have endured day after day. The things we take for granted today.

I was very fortunate having a mother who loved family history, and wanted to talk about it.  I grew up listening to the stories about how life was lived when her Grandfather was a boy, and living through the depression.  She taught my sister and I how to survive.  I have her Grandmother’s lye soap recipe.  I truly hope it never gets to a point I have to make my own soap, but I know how, if I need it.  I can live without electricity and running water if I have to.  I know how to plant a garden and preserve food.    This is where I am very grateful for the life today.  I don’t have to do what was common place to the pioneering families of yesteryear.

How many people today could make it across the miles and miles of plains, not seeing a soul, or cross a mountain range?  I know I couldn’t do it.  I use to live in Wyoming many years ago, and looked at the wagon ruts cutting across the country.  The canyons, wagons would have to be lowered into with ropes and then lifted up the other side.  The small cemeteries, containing loved one’s that could go no further.  Between Rawlins and Casper, there is a large granite rock.  The pioneers who traveled by this rock would chisel their name and the year into the rock.  They wanted it known, they were there.

“I’m Here”

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The door slammed echoing down the long hall.  I sat at my desk in the middle of the night acting as a guard to a young woman who was in seclusion.

I was an attendant working for a drug rehabilitation facility in Texas.  I usually worked on the three to eleven shift, five days a week.  The facility itself was once a world war one military base.  When the base closed down it became a state-owned mental facility.

This particular day, I worked my usual shift.  A young girl was having drug flash backs, which is a terrible thing to see when it causes the child terror.  This terror she felt could cause her to do harm to herself, so she was placed under twenty-four hour observation.  I volunteered to work a double shift to watch the girl.

The seclusion room was on the third floor of the girls’ dormitory.  This dormitory was just an old building redone on the outside, but had heating and cooling pipes running along the edges of the ceiling of a huge barracks’ type room.

I was alone on the third floor except for the girl in lockup.  The back entrance to the building had a metal door with metal stairs leading up to the floor.  I had a light on the desk, and a telephone.  I also had the Security Departments number, in case there were problems to be dealt with.

Three o’clock in the morning is a very quiet, lonely time.  I heard the metal door down stairs open and close.  That defiantly got my attention, and I could see and feel the hair standing on my arms.  I immediately got on the phone to security to
see what was going on.  They told me no one was making rounds, but they would send someone to check for problems.

I heard footsteps coming up the metal steps into the hallway.  I heard the metal door slam, and I saw the door open and close at the end of the door room.  I called out, “Who is there.”  I couldn’t see anything, but I knew something was in the room.

I had called security, so there was nothing for me to do except wait.  It took about thirty seconds after the door closed for the banging to begin.  It was as if someone had a broom handle and was going around the room hitting the heating/cooling pipes.  I
left the desk, and went into the seclusion room with the sleeping girl.    The banging continued until it had gone all the way around the room.  It stopped as quickly as it had begun. I never saw anything, but I sure could feel it.

Security was now on the scene, and could find nothing wrong.  The door down stairs was still locked and so was the door at the end of the dorm room.  I told them what happened, and they just looked at me, as if I had lost my mind.

This is a true story, and someone, or something from the past wanted me to know they were still around.  I paid attention, and it remains vivid in my mind to this very day.

I would like to hear from anyone who has also encountered strange times.  That’s my two-cents for today.

It Could Have Been Me

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The sky is gray and the Texas wind is blowing. It cuts through the man on the bench, like a knife. He looks around the area for what might be available for him to help him get warm. The trashcan sits under the two trees to his left.
Standing up, he walks over to the can and looks inside. Eureka, his mind yells.  He bent over the can, and got out newspapers. He found over the years, newspaper acts as great insulation from the cold, if it is crumpled and placed between the skin and clothes.
He has a military issue coat with the name Jones printed on the front left hand side. The army green coat is threadbare and disgustedly dirty. He feels it is not good enough to be a coat anymore, but it is all he has. His more gray-than-brown
hair stays matted, because he does not have a comb. His facial hair makes him look like an old grizzly character with a bushy beard, he has seen on TV in the past. His hands are hard and crusty. His fingertips are yellow from years of smoking. The nails have a black ring around them. What has happened?
His name is not Jones, as the coat says, it’s Farmer. John Wesley Farmer, is his given name. He knows who he is, and he knows what city he is lives. Sometimes that changes, when the voices direct and taunt him.
As he sits in the little neighborhood park on a bench, he remembers a place with a bed and food to eat. He does not know what happened, one day he had to go. The people give him the name of a person to contact in Odessa.  His mind remembers, “The
card was lost a long time ago. He was driven to the bus station and a ticket to Odessa placed in his hand. The people just walked out and left him. He didn’t even have money for a cup of hot coffee”.

He does not talk to anyone any more. It is not because he does not want to; it is because they do not see him. He can smile at someone with his wide toothy grin, and yellowing teeth, and they act as if he is not there. He has his voice to help keep him company, but his voice tells him, “John you are a lousy man, you couldn’t even save your wife and child”

Every once in a while someone comes along,  shoves a sandwich and a bottle of water at him. It is some church group doing their Christian duty to the unfortunate people. Why will they not take time to sit down and get to know me?
Someone starts walking toward him and the closer he gets, John can see he does not have a smile on his face. His voice tells him this person is going to hurt him, take him away, and stick him in a hole without a window.
The man says, “You have to get out of here, we don’t want your kind hanging around our neighborhood, scaring the families, and the children, who come here”. John just looks at him, trying to understand what the man is saying. “Get out of here now. The police will be here soon.” When John hears “police”, he jumps up and starts running as fast as he can away from the park. He is very afraid of the police, they have been very cruel, and hurt him many times.
Now where could he go? He starts putting one foot in front of the other, ending his steps at the railroad yard. “Careful, careful” his mind screams. “I have to spend the night in one of the unlocked cars.” He sleeps in rail cars as much as possible. “I don’t want those mean men and dogs finding me, they hurt me when they can.”
He has a dollar in his pocket from panhandling downtown today. He needs to buy himself something to eat. He is trying to think where the vending machine is located but he cannot. “I’ll wait until morning; I am too tired to walk anymore.”
He finds an open trailer and crawls into it, gently sliding the door closed. He does not want to arouse the men and dogs. The trailer floor is hard, ridged planks. He figures the ridges are to keep things from sliding around. It makes for a tough night’s sleep.
As his eyes close and he  drifts into a deep sleep, his mind makes him remember things about his life he does not want to remember. He can see his wife playing with their daughter in the living room of their home. He sees his wife’s lovely oval face,
with her green eyes and black hair. His daughter Angel Lynn was beautiful with big brown eyes and dark curly hair. She is such as joy.
He longs to see his wife and daughter but he cannot. He can hear their screams as the flames came up around them.
Oh God, where was I? Why can’t I help them? I remember now, I was not around. I was sent to Afghanistan to fight the terrorism battle. I could not have gone; I sell furniture at Wallace Furniture. “No, I am a soldier, I am a weekend
warrior, but I am a husband and a father
“, his mind screams, as he was drawn further into his personal nightmare.
Now his mind is trying to rescue his family, his hands and feet burn as he crashes through the living room door. The smoke so thick he cannot breathe. Coughing and sputtering he is fighting his way through his house, with the anguish in his voice
calling to his wife and daughter. “Where are you?” “Where are you”?

John woke with his smelly clothes wet with perspiration. His body aches as if he was beaten. The sad thing is he remembers every vivid detail of the reoccurring dream. “I have to get out of here“, he says to himself.
John climbs out of the train car and quickly slips out of sight. Walking down the road with his chin on his chest looking at his feet he thinks of how he is now. His mind is reviewing his life up until this point in time. His voice tells him “John, you are a lousy man; you couldn’t even save your wife and daughter“. John took a swing into the early morning air. “Shut up, shut up, I am not going to listen to you anymore.”

John looks up and sees an open service station, he decides he’ll use their facility and clean up a little bit. Inside, the  restroom has three sinks, three mirrors and three stalls. As he walks in the door, he looks into the mirrors on his left and freezes in his tracks. He takes a good long look and says, “could this be me, am I this man?” He turns and steps up to the sink and
says into the mirror “this is going to stop; it is going to stop now“.
John turns on the cold water and splashes it on his face.  He takes soap from the dispenser and starts washing.  He is going to wash the filth away and start his life over.  His voice starts talking and John immediately say’s “shut up, I told you I was not talking to you any more”.  He went on with his ablutions, and a determination to make his life work.