Query:
Having only just passed the 50 year mark
in life, I find myself having more time to reflect on my life and the lives of
friends and family and the general state of the world we are living in.
Some of these short essays will be
comical, some serious, and some laced with advice for the reader, most particularly
to help them avoid the pitfalls myself and others have endured over the years.
Why would anyone care to read about
me? Curiosity, for one. As an avid reader of biographies, I know
there is a market for other recounts of real life, and I’d like to think that
someone who is from an Upstate New York rural life, a child of adoption who
grows up to marry her high school sweetheart and embarks on a life of a
military wife, only to be divorced and left to raise her son as a single mom,
and in her mid 30’s heads down an entirely new career path (or two) might be
interesting to others. Along the way, I
encounter good, bad and definitely “ugly” people and places as well as made
many friends from all walks of life.
I have been published in newspapers, and
did some freelance writing in my days as a military wife. My current position
as an EMS instructor/clinician requires that I compose and present numerous
educational pieces.
First 250 words:
“OOPS!”
“ARRGGHHH!!”
“OOWWW!”
And
down I go again, landing face first at the edge of macadam and gravel, skidding on my
outstretched hands.
My
first thought is, “o.k. how many people
saw THAT?” and my second is..”damn, that hurts!”
I
glance down at my left hand to see blood dripping from the palm and between the
first two fingers where the greatest force of my weight had been borne,
scraping away skin and embedding small pieces of blacktop. I then realize my
hat is about five feet away, and that my left breast hurts where it took the
impact of my camera.
“Oh
no, not the camera! Oh it’s o.k, not a scratch, whew!”
“Are
you o.k?” I hear over my shoulder.
“Yes,
thank you” I mumble, now doubly embarrassed that I am still seated on the ground.
“Here’s
your hat, do you need help up?” she asks.
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