"Your legacy is how many lives you touched."

Beth, Glenda, and Roger 

Years ago, I taught writing classes at Tri-County Community College in Murphy, NC. Roger Carlton was a student in my classes three times. His stories were interesting, and we all learned something from listening to him read his work in class. Roger has had an interesting life, and it showed in his writing.

Roger and I became friends. After taking my classes, Roger, who lived in Robbinsville, began writing columns for the local newspaper there. I began publishing his columns on a page on my blog. www.glendacouncilbeall.com 

Frequently, Roger, his wife Beth, and another friend, Kim, would invite me to lunch with them in Murphy. He invited me to come up to Robbinsville and spend a day with him and Beth. They are the nicest people, and I enjoyed them so very much. 

Years passed. The pandemic happened, my health became a problem, and we didn't see each other as often. I had begun planning to move to Roswell, GA where I have family. At our last lunch together (see the photo above), Roger and Beth told me they were selling their beautiful home on the lake and moving up north to be near a daughter. It seemed we were all experiencing health issues. 

In the following years, I had two surgeries, knee and shoulder, and when I heard from Roger again, it was to read about his long battle with surgery and a long, difficult recovery. 

But he was still writing! He continued to send articles to the newspaper in Robbinsville, NC, and they were published. 

Roger has always been complimentary of my classes, which he said started him writing.

This week, I was so impressed and proud when I opened a package and found a hardback book by Roger Carlton, signed to me. "You are my muse.  Your Creative Non-Fiction I - III got me going."

We never know what will come of it when we touch someone's life. Maya Angelou told Oprah, "Your legacy is not a building with your name on it. Your legacy is how many lives you touched." 

As an older person now, I don't touch as many lives as I once did with my teaching, my support for writers' endeavors, encouragement, and belief in them. But I am fulfilled when any of my students or my friends reach a goal or accomplish a dream they struggled for. 

Roger Carlton has touched many lives in his work as City Manager for several municipalities in the Miami area, and this book reveals his success in that role at Miami Beach. His reputation for dealing with the issues faced every day, and his ability to manage it all, led others in charge of their cities to seek his advice. 

Congratulations, my friend, Roger Carlton.

Who would have thought it?

This article is from an online magazine, Tangle, I subscribe to.  He writes about his hope for decency to return. Perhaps talking face-to-face will bring out the humanity we used to see in each other. Hope to heal the divide in our country. I’m Isaac Saul, and this is Tangle If I had told you in 2020 that shopping malls would make a comeback, you probably would have laughed in my face. And rightly so. Online shopping has been growing for years as its convenience, ease, and value have become too hard to pass up. To a new generation of shoppers, the experience of going out to a brick-and-mortar store to try on clothing or test out a new vacuum seemed silly and archaic — why waste that kind of time at a mall when you could have someone show up at your door with your order and then just return it if you didn’t like it, often free of cost? COVID-19 only increased that value and accelerated the death of America’s malls. Yet, today, malls are making a comeback — and with the group you’d least suspect: 18- to 24-year-olds. That’s right, the Gen Z kids are so tired of interacting entirely in digital spaces that they’ve started to return to shopping malls, finding pleasure in the same exact thing older generations did: the social experience of hanging out with your friends outside of the house. This cohort made 62% of their general merchandise purchases in-person last year, 10% more than shoppers aged 25 and older. And overall foot traffic at malls was up 4.5% in the first two months of this year compared to last. I think the resurgence of U.S. malls is emblematic of the human experience. A little bit of anything can be fun, refreshing, cathartic, or even exhilarating. But a lot of something — say, eight hours of screen time a day — can start to feel pretty crappy.  The same is true in the political arena, where obscenity feels like it has become the norm. But this cycle of change suggests decency might make a comeback. When I say “decency,” I mean the quality of behaving in a polite, honest, and moral manner that is anchored by courteous behavior and treating others with respect.

I am happy to hear that young people like malls and enjoy hanging out there with their friends. In this country, we are much too quick to leave behind the familiar and jump to whatever is new or is proclaimed as new and better. Having lived a few decades past when folks hung out at the mall food court or spent an afternoon shopping with a friend there, I remember how much I enjoyed it. 

I remember the time when a business did not have to hang signs that said, "We do not accept disrespect toward our staff." "Please do not use offensive language here."

I remember the first time I heard the F word in public from a stranger. I was at a parade in Albany, GA, my hometown. A young man in the crowd was speaking loudly. You could not fail to hear him, and he was using that word over and over. Others in the crowd were looking at him as if he had come from another planet. I only saw that language written on restroom walls in elementary school.

Recently, I was told by a young relative, "You might as well accept it. That is the way people talk now."  

I liked it when we were civil and decent in our actions and our conversations. I believe that people who use vulgarities and cursing all the time are showing they have a very limited vocabulary, or perhaps they are just so angry with life that they only think in that language.

My sister, June, who was older than I, never used vulgarity or cursing, but she could put a person in their place and let them know her disapproval with just the right words, sending them off with their tail between their legs. She had a great vocabulary. I admired her ability to confront an offensive co-worker or an angry person without showing that she was upset. 

So, let's support our young people's returning to malls that have been struggling to stay open in our cities.  Perhaps decency and healing will flourish. 

You write to learn who you are and ...

Glenda signing books at a book party

Anne Lamott said: You write to learn who you are and what you make of it all.

I have always been a reader. When I was a child, in summer when the bookmobile came to our house on the farm, my little sister and I were as excited as if it were Christmas.

We checked out as many books as we could carry in our small arms, and then we spent the rest of our days reading. My favorite books were about horses like Walter Farley's Black Stallion and Black Stallion Returns, until I was a teenager. Then I read Little Women, The Yearling, Atlas Shrugged, and many more. My favorites were historical novels. I liked books about interesting characters and relationships. I still do. And I like history. 

I began writing when I was in elementary school. I found it to be fun to write out my fantasies, my dreams, and to express my thoughts and feelings about my own life. 

I am grateful that I found this passion to write. In many ways, writing was therapy in dark times, a joy in happy times, and because I write, I am never bored or feel I have nothing to do. 

Writing has opened doors for me more than once.

When I first moved to the mountains, I interviewed artists, both visual and literary, and submitted the articles to the Clay County Progress, the local newspaper. I made friends and found an audience for my writing.

As publicity chair for the NCWN-West writers, I interviewed members and wrote articles for publication in several local papers. I began two blogs, one for NCWN-West and one personal. I tried to write a post for those sites at least once a day. 

As life became too full to write a daily post on the blogs, I continued to do as much as I could.

I became a poet soon after settling in Hayesville, NC. I studied with some outstanding poets who taught at the John C. Campbell Folk School. I submitted my poems to literary magazines as well as slick magazines found on a rack in the drug store. I published in a magazine for those with health difficulties. 

Every poem I wrote gave me more insight into the person I had become. Yes, Anne Lamott, I have learned from writing poems that I am a unique and deeply thoughtful person. In my creative nonfiction writing, I learn more and more about my life and how I came to be who I am now. 

With age, we gain wisdom, and by writing, we realize our wisdom and our value to others and to this complicated world. 

A Lovely Discovery

Thanks to Steve Harvey, poet and essayist, posting this link on his site, I discovered the most wonderful photographs of birds by poet and photographer Kathryn Winograd.  https://kathrynwinograd.com/3474-2/

My husband, Barry, was a wonderful photographer, and I admired his work. I wished I could learn to find and make pictures of birds and wild animals, scenes, and objects that only I saw. I spend a good amount of time on my deck watching birds eating at my feeders, but I cannot get a good shot of any of them. 

Winograd lives in Colorado, a land created for visual artists. When I have been in that state, I drank in all the scenic beauty I could hold. I treasure my memories and the photos I have from our vacations there.

I will follow this photographer's blog and look forward to reading her poetry.

Do You Know it is International Women's Day March 8?

I often think about all the things my mother was told she couldn’t do. Then I look at my granddaughters and think about all the things they’re told they can do.  Maria Shriver

Although the U.N. recognized International Women’s Day across the globe in 1977, in 1994, the U.S. Congress failed to pass a law introduced by House Representative Maxine Waters to declare IWD a national holiday in 1994. That was the end of that in this country.

At Alpharetta Presbyterian church today, the entire service was run by women and no men. The Women's Ensemble provided music.  A female pastor spoke and the regular pastor, a man, sat in the congregation with his wife.  It was a terrific service. 

Women in our country had to fight for the right to vote. It was a long tough battle, both physically and mentally. Even in the fifties and sixties, many women did not vote, and if they did, their votes were often determined by their husbands' views. Sadly, today many women's votes are still dictated by their husband's choices. 

 In my lifetime I have seen women gain the right to open a bank account, or have their own credit cards. A wife had to have her husband's permission to use his card, and often had to prove she had it.

Professions for women were very limited. Nursing, teaching, or becoming a secretary were the choices most girls had. My mother managed the family funds and wrote checks to pay bills, but nothing was in her name. She signed my father's name on the checks. 

Today those situations seem archaic, but women rose up in the seventies and began pushing hard for equality. Many things have changed but those victories were not accidental. And the work is not finished.

Around the world, women are still fighting for rights to control their own bodies, for equal pay, access to education, protection from violence, representation in government, and healthcare systems that study and understand their bodies. In some countries, girls are still denied schooling simply because they are female. Girls are sold by their fathers because the family needs the money. 

Today is not only a day of gratitude. It is also a day of responsibility. It’s a day to pause and thank the women in your life. Tell them you see what they carry: the invisible labor, the emotional leadership, the strength that often goes unnamed.

But also ask yourself what policies you support, what leaders you elevate, and what systems you participate in that help women. Women are needed in the board rooms to help make decisions and form policies that are fair to women as well as men. Women can lead a business, a state and even a country. 

History shows that when women rise, communities grow stronger and societies grow more just.

Read more about International Women's Day at the link below.

https://www.pbs.org/newshour/world/heres-what-to-know-about-international-womens-day-a-celebration-and-a-call-to-action#:~:text=International%20Women's%20Day%20is%20observed,still%20used%20the%20Julian%20calendar.

Poems From the Past

Lake Chatuge and the mountains beyond

A poem I wrote years ago when I first moved to the mountains of western North Carolina. I was enthralled with the beauty everywhere I looked. But surprised at the beauty beneath the obvious mountains and lake.

Beneath the Beauty 

Distant traffic on highway sixty-four

whispers of moving, fast-lane life, 

heading to the city. Up here on the ridge,

turning leaves blow, madly dance

in silhouette against the autumn sky. 

Wind-pushed clouds on distant peaks 

undulate like a snowy mountain river.

Honking geese interrupt my reverie. 

Over Lake Chatuge, the feathered V 

flies away from me and from the relic

rusting in the ravine, dismissed after

being pillaged for parts, lying like a 

corpse, flesh decayed, and left here 

to harbor field mice and to trellis

climbing vines with small blue flowers.

                ... Glenda C. Beall

I love blackberries and eat them often when I find them in the grocery store. Mother made the best blackberry jelly and a wonderful cobbler with the berries. But I did not like to pick them.

Blackberry Patch

by Glenda C. Beall

Mother's voice rises above my bawling.

"Stop pitching a fit and get your bucket."

I plant myself on the top step

bare feet refusing to move.

My dread lies coiled deep in the brambles.

He slithered out when I thrust my hand

in to grab a plump one.

Fear-prickled, I danced in terror,

then streaked home, screaming.

An ominous cloud shadows the sky.

Fat raindrops plop in the yard dust.

Reprieve. Blessed reprieve.

        published in Now Might as Well be Then, 2009 

Life Isn't a Bowl of Cherries

Covid -19 in 2020

by Alicia Ann Torres

Home invasion by your kid, difficulty navigating through the crowds, panic buying, and empty shelves push those with physical challenges further into social isolation.

An unforgettable day was March 1, 2020. Spring was in full swing. Scented cherry blossoms perfumed the air with blue skies and sunshine. A family celebration for Grandma's 90th birthday was filled with laughter, warm hugs, and Mexican cuisine. A weekend of boutique shopping, dining out, and sipping California wine was memorable.

We had no idea our lives would change forever after this weekend. 

We picked up Grandma from her new nursing home. She was so excited. We met the cheerful staff and shook hands without hesitation. It was a wonderful weekend to mingle with family and friends.

"Breaking news” was announced in the media about some type of virus called the novel COVID-19 that spread and had taken lives from Asia to Northern Italy. We didn't think this was anything for us to worry about here in the bubble of California, USA.

The only thought that crossed my mind was an E-Bay order I placed for my daughter Ana's upcoming birthday. A handmade ceramic planter from Italy, designed like a cat. Ana loved cats. I was concerned that shipping would be impacted. I later reflected on this concern and how selfish I was when lives were being taken rapidly in Italy by some strange virus.

That Sunday evening, we were informed by the nursing home that they had to go on "lockdown--just as a precaution," they said. Lockdown? Why? What did they mean by "lockdown"? Was there a shooting? No, I was told by family it was "shelter in place, for protection.” I still didn't understand.

A couple of days passed, and I received a phone call from my panicked brother. He said, “Get someone to help you go to the store and buy food, now! California is going to go on lockdown!

"What?" I thought I misheard his words. I questioned his source of information. He replied that his wife, Sarah, a Fire Marshall, had just had an emergency staff meeting before it was to go public.

I said, "No worries." I reminded my brother, calmly, that I shop online. He knew I needed help with shopping due to my vision loss. Little did I know that online shopping would become impossible when "shelter in place" became public on March 4, 2020, by California Governor Newsom.

 We heard on the media that a cruise ship in San Francisco Bay was rumored to have infected passengers, and it was to dock and stay at the San Francisco Presidio, a former military base. That is exactly where my daughter lived and worked.

News Report:

"Former passengers of the cruise ship Grand Princess who had tested positive for SARS-CoV-2 were being linked to cruises they had taken on the ship while it traveled between California, Mexico, and Hawaii. After the first confirmed death on March 4, 2020, Grand Princess was rerouted to the San Francisco Bay Area, where it was anchored offshore while test kits were airlifted to the ship. Preliminary testing found 21 positive cases, and the ship later docked in Oakland on March 8, 2020, with over 3,000 people entering quarantine."

This cruise ship was about 6 miles from my house in Oakland. Meanwhile, I could not get through to order my groceries. I tried four different companies. Thank goodness, I’m already enrolled with Meals on Wheels, a federally funded program that delivers prepared meals to the homes of disadvantaged seniors.

I am so grateful for this program to Save Our Seniors. I’ve struggled with cooking because most of my vision has deteriorated, related to Retinitis Pigmentosa. Grocery shopping with a white cane is possible, with store help, but stressful.

I imagined people were in a panic, stressed, and that the potential increase in crime would occur, as we live in a city where this is normalcy. I also imagined anxious crowds and a shortage of staff or available items. This happened in the 1989 Loma Prieta Earthquake in the San Francisco Bay Area. As someone with dual disabilities and heart palpitations, this is not my type of sport.

Meals on Wheels was also experiencing a lack of volunteers due to the fear of the spread of COVID-19. Many of them were in the high-risk category. The demands by more people signing up for this service had put a strain on our already vulnerable community in Oakland.

Another backup resource I could use is Nextdoor.com. This is a social media platform that advertises goods or services for the community. Many people offered to shop or run errands for neighbors who were unable to. My living alone was something I didn't want to publicize. Neighbors are mostly renters, and the turnover is high, so I can't trust anyone at this point.

Scenes on media were masked faces, no smiles, just tears and fears. I called my daughter Ana to inform her of the news of the lockdown. Knowing she was out of town, I left a voicemail. I wasn’t feeling too well myself since the visit with Grandma. I had symptoms of malaise and a persistent sore throat. No fevers or respiratory symptoms. I found myself researching the internet for this unknown virus.

After hearing the news, I thought I had better "self-isolate." New terminology surfaced in conversations about this pandemic. My doctor's office called to check on me, which I thought was very kind, yet worrisome. They agreed I should "self-isolate.”

Ana finally returned my call and revealed that she was possibly exposed to COVID -19. The work-study housing facility she shared with others, at the San Francisco Presidio, informed them to vacate, for liability reasons, within 1 week. "Per Safety Spokesperson from the CDC." My daughter said.

The former military facility was near a homeless encampment, and my fears worsened by the moment. A drape of trepidation weighed on my shoulders. Ana’s fear spilled over my heart and mind. I remember her statement and the look of fear on her face when she said, “People are dying everywhere.” Ana also saw someone who may have attempted to jump off the San Francisco Bridge.

My heart sank, and I felt my gut wrenched. I prayed persistently, calling my prayer warriors to add prayers for those who were contemplating suicide. I could sense Ana was scared and angry. The fear of the unknown cast a dark shadow over our spirits. News reports of chaos echoed across the media like uncontrollable wildfires with this novel virus. Death was in the air.

I felt grateful at that moment in time that I had a safe home to live in, as I thought of those who are homeless, cold, and perhaps dying on the streets of our city. I suggested Ana come home, but she declined because she may have been infected, and I was considered high risk.

Perhaps it would be difficult to come back home to live with parents after living independently for a few years. Being hearing impaired since childhood, I am sensitive to the fact that living with someone who is almost deaf can be a challenge. My voice penetrates through walls. One must face me when talking to me so I can read lips. No soft voices or whispering. Also, one cannot talk to me from another room, for I would not hear them despite wearing hearing aids.

Impatience is something I face all the time, from myself and others. People often must repeat themselves more than once or twice. They also must get out of their comfort zone if they are in another room and come to me or vice versa to talk. My siblings can tell you more about how that works. Loud voices are something we all lived with growing up with two hearing-impaired siblings in a family of seven.

So, now that Covid -19 was here, we were required to be 6 feet apart and wear a mask. One can only imagine how a hearing-impaired person would communicate. It would be better to be deaf and use sign language.

Living with someone who is visually and hearing impaired can be difficult. Perhaps, I thought, Ana doesn't want to see her mother with these challenges, and she feels helpless, so it is best to avoid the situation.

Life isn't a bowl of cherries.

So, how could a high-risk, almost deaf, almost blind mother and potential COVID-19-infected young daughter maintain social distance in a small 1-bathroom bungalow?

Prayer. High-powered hearing aids and clear communication skills. And respect.

 

Mindset Makes a Difference

It is common knowledge that anything worthwhile comes from hard work. But do we realize this also pertains to our inner emotional life? “Tremendous determination or willpower” is essential to have “infinite love and compassion,” says the Dalai Lama.

Barry and Glenda married 40 years at the time of the photo

I find myself working hard these days learning to control my mindset. For over a year, I have fought giving in to negative thoughts, wondering if my life is still relevant. 

Since the pandemic changed everything for me in drastic ways, I find myself asking who am I now? As I did when Barry died in 2009, I felt rootless. Thanks to COVID-19, my health became an issue in various ways and I realized I needed to sell my home in the mountains and move close to family. 

Moving is only second to losing a spouse as the most stressful event we ever experience. In July 2009, when I lost my beloved husband, I was floundering trying to find a way to make my life worthwhile. 

In 2010 I opened Writers Circle Around the Table, my writing studio in my house on Chatuge Lane in Hayesville, NC. With dear friends, Jeff and Wanda Shue, my daylight basement was painted. Mary Mike Keller made curtains and helped me in any way I needed. Others pitched in to make a big empty space a warm and workable room for writers to gather and learn. My dear friend, John Buckley enlarged and created a bathroom that my students often complimented. I put in cabinets and shelves, bulletin boards, bought tables and chairs, and fell in love with my studio. It became my favorite plaice in my house. In remembrance of Barry, I hung his musical instruments on the walls.

That happened because I was able to change my mindset. Instead of feeling it was all over, I began a new way of thinking. From the darkness, came the light.

I was recently a Beta reader for an excellent author of a book about mindset. I am truly enjoying learning what this man has to offer. Today I decided I will start anew here in the city, meet my kind of people, join a community or start a community of writers. I will continue to share my wisdom learned from my experiences and all the people I have known and loved. 

It takes tremendous determination to let love and compassion grow again when you are at rock's bottom. I have that determination now to share my love, compassion and empathy through my writing and my teaching but it will be here where I now live. 

More books and hope for tomorrow

Book party Dec. 2018

Today I picked up a proof of Paws, Claws, Hooves, Feathers, and Fins from BookLogix in Alpharetta, GA. They did a terrific job, and I can purchase fewer than 100 copies at a reasonable price. That is important to me. Plus, I don't pay shipping. I can pick up the books when they are ready.

Estelle Rice and I sold two printings of our book about our beloved pets and other animals. I had not planned to print more books, but as I create a new life in the city, I will do a book signing at a local bookstore soon.

And more will follow, I'm sure. I also enjoy giving this book to my new friends who come and help me here at home. Dog and cat people are most comfortable with Lexie and me. One of them brings Lexie healthy treats and offers them three times while she is here. Then she takes my sweet pup for a walk.

Spring holds promise for more, for an outlet for my creativity, for meeting new people, and finding purpose in my life. 

As my health improves and my mobility is better, I look forward to getting out and doing more. It is amazing how just getting dressed and going out can lift my spirits. 

In a world that seems to be falling apart, acceptance of cruelty is on the rise, and fear is molding our outlook, I will not give in. I do what I can to support those who work to make things better. But it is hard to know what I can do.

  

I have hope because I meet wonderful, caring, and kind people everywhere. Because I am grateful for all that makes my life good, I make sure that others know I appreciate them. How easy it is to say thank you for all you do for me. How easy it is to make sure I am friendly to all I meet. Sometimes, a smile is all it takes to improve a person's day. 

My mother was my example of kindness and empathy.

She was my role model. When she had no funds to give, she gave what she had to those who were less fortunate than she was. 

She was a good listener. That is a wonderful gift. When we listen, we give more than we know.