Homecoming

(this is an excerpt from a longer work. Please check out my blog for more writing!

Vanna remembered things the way they were supposed to be. She was holding both their hands. One mommy and one daddy, that was the right number. She was smaller than she was now. Sometimes one mommy and one daddy would pick her up, when she held both their hands in the middle, and she would swing back and forth while giggling shrieks of delight. That was how things were then.
Her daddy was dead from being gone.
She did not understand much about it. She knew her daddy was a soldier and that he was gone sometimes. He was gone this one long time and her mommy was crying. There were other soldier men and they told her to be a brave girl and that made Vanna cry too. She remembered what daddy called her, Vanna-boo. That was his name for her and she liked it. At nights when he was there daddy would read her a good night story after her bath and give her two kisses and two hugs. Sometimes she would ask for one more.
There was only one mommy now, and two kitty cats. The fat one was named Kiki and the skinny one was named Shasha. She had named them both, and Kiki had been when she was too young to actually say kitty. She was ten now and a big girl. They lived in Texas, which was a state in the United States, which was the country that daddy had been working for when he died.
Mommy worked as a waitress at the pancake restaurant. Vanna liked it there because they fed her all the pancakes she could eat with whipped cream and strawberries when she went. Sometimes she had to stay late because Mommy was working. Those nights she would go to sleep in Mommy Daddy's bedroom with Mommy, even thought there was only one mommy in it now. Mommy was snore and sometimes in her sleep she would say "My Vanna-boo." And Vanna would know she was still special.
She was named after a very pretty lady on the TV that turned letters when people asked for them. She didnt like watching that so much, she liked Adventure Time and Regular Show on Cartoon Network or on Netflix. Sometimes she made Shasha watch TV along with her but the cat would try to run or bite. Shasha had claws to scratch but Kiki did not have any claws, but Shasha was still easier to pick up because Kiki was big and fat and would try to wiggle away. She was two colors, black and white. She thought that everybody in the world was two colors but it turned out that it was just her and a few other people. Mommy was black and Daddy was white and in heaven. She had blond hair and blue eyes and sometimes Mommy said that she got everything she was from Daddy. Mommy would cry sometimes when she said things like that and Vanna tried to tell her that she would be a good girl.
She went to school and tried to do her best. She liked reading books. Dr. Seuss was her favorite.
Sometimes late at night she would sneak out of the house on her tippy toes. You could do that if you didnt wear any shoes and you were careful about the board that squeaking. You also had to be careful not to wake Kiki, because Kiki would think that it was time for food and he would start meowing and rubbing your feet. When she would sneak out she closed the screen door very carefully. Out here in the backyard she would talk to daddy.
Daddy was there wearing his Army uniform and his funny hat, which he called a beret. He smiled when he saw Vanna and said
-Vanna-boo! Who's my big good girl!
And she would run up to Daddy and give him a hug. You couldnt hug Daddy, not really, because you could see right through him and he wasnt really there. But when she did anyway she got this warm feeling, all tingly inside, like when it was Christmas and the fireplace was burning in the living room.
They would sit on the back steps of the porch and talk just like before and she would ask him questions like Daddy, are you in Heaven with Jesus? And her daddy would say
-I guess you could call it that. Its a nice place.
Who else is there?
-Grandma's here. And Elroy, remember him?
Elroy was the daschund which is another name for weiner dog they had gotten just before he left and who was runned over by a mean man in a truck that didnt stop. Vanna liked Elroy even though Elroy and Kiki fought all the time because they were cats and dogs but one time Vanna had seen Kiki knocking the food off the table and Elroy eating it off the floor. Working together like the Teamwork song which goes teamwork, teamwork, go teamwork. Could I see Elroy? She asked
-He doesnt want to come back, her Daddy said sadly. I'm only back to look after my Vanna-boo.
And her Daddy did look after her. Not only on the nights that they would sit and talk together but once when her Mommy was dating Butch, who was mean and drank beer. Her Mommy was crying and holding her face where Butch had hit her, which was bad because you werent sposed to hit girls, and Butch said "bitch" which was a bad word, and when he got up to get another beer the table jerked in front of him all by itself. Just an inch, but still it did. Butch smacked his head on the ground and lay there while Vanna called the emergency number and the amblance and policeman came and took Butch away. He never came back.
Another time when Vanna was at school and they were doing maths which was the hardest thing for her to think of and the numbers just appeared on the scratch paper. forty-seven, and she put it in and it was right.
When she got a little older, she would ask her Daddy more questions, like, Daddy, or you a ghost? And her Daddy would say
-Its something like that. I dont want to scare you.
You dont scare me, she said. Your my daddy. Are you an angel?
-Its something different than that. I guess you could say that I'm here to watch out for you. That was my job and I still have to do it.
And the years passed by, until one day it was daylight even, morning times, and she went to her Mommy Daddy's bedroom door to wake Mommy up so she could pour her some cereals. She always ate cereal in the morning times on the weekend when she didnt have to go to school. But there was Daddy standing in front of the door. So pale you could see right through him if you tried and could barely see him at all.
-Dont go in there, sweetheart, he said.
What is it?
-Mommy's gone.
Gone where?
-Gone long me. Mommy's like me now.
It hit Vanna all at once and she broke down crying on her knees saying, it isnt fair! Its not fair! You cant both leave me!
-Mommy was very sad, Daddy said. But that only made her cry harder. Finally Daddy came next to her and touch her face to wipe away her tears, and Vanna did feel it, even though she couldnt see the hand, she felt her Daddy and his love.
-Vanna boo. He said. I need you to be brave. And then he was gone.
It came to her just like that. The strength had passed on from father to daughter. He was a soldier and he was brave and she was brave like him. She picked up the phone and called the emergency number, and told them her mom had an accident. Then she entered the room and kissed her last remaining parent goodbye, brushing one of the pills away from her lips as she did so.

Merry and Mischief:

there are those of us
who can don armor of sorts
and carry all its responsibility until the end

and then there are those of us
who waller in Merry and Mischief

we refuse the armor
complete vulnerability
and accept that our power is rooted
in no armor at all

Rooted in the ability to shed armor
is our motto!

The battlefield is for armor
The fringes are for thinkers

we hide in the shadows and determine
the outcome of battle

for battle isn't determined by the fighter
it's determined by the brighter

So we carry the responsibility of Change

war is fought with souls
and won with brains

bring the two together and we have Change

Be A Hero-Hire A Hero Art Exhibit

This is a good oppurtunity...check it out!

"Be A Hero, Hire A Hero™" was created to show our appreciation for all the sacrifices our men and women serving in the military have made. Our initiative focuses on creating a network of strategic alliances in corporate, educational and military resource based partnerships. Our mission is to empower our Veterans, Wounded Warriors and their family members of this cultural diverse community; preparing them for a seamless integration from military to civilian life by providing the necessary foundation for success

http://www.beahero-hireahero.com/art-exhibit/

To all veterans out there, there's a Fordham Writer's Workshop for Veterans. It's a very well-run workshop and I recommend it to anyone. Use the contact information on the form to sign up.

Life and Death in Translation: My Dead

Inspired by Pablo Neruda's
"Burial in the East"(1)  

I work nights, he says
Surrounding himself with the terrible dead
Shrouded in red muslin. 
I've worked nights 
Surrounded by terrible dead
My dead are shrouded in green linen
Inelegant
Ignoble
Sounding their rusted chains and bugles
The shroud of plebs adorned
To imitate the valor of kings
But kings we are not
The authority with which we are vested
hangs limp around the neck of cadavers.


Blogspot - Life and Death in Translation

(1) Pablo Neruda. 1963. "Burial in the East" in Selected Poems (pp. 62-63). New York: Grove Press, Inc.

Where have all the writers gone

Hello everyone just wanted to take a minute to talk about the blog spot and how we can generate more traffic on this site. I think one of the main issues that people are running into is that they are having problems logging onto the site. If this is true I would like to know who is having problems so I can help them solve it quickly so they can begin to share the writings and stories with us all. Anyone looking for permission on this website to write please contact me at members@warriorwriters.org or call 215-919-9039 and I will get you all set up. For those not having any technical problems-"WHATS THE HOLD UP???", no but really this site was created for artists and writers to share their works and I am disappointed that we haven't seen much from anyone. I understand that it's very time consuming to write something and that we all can't find time in the day with our schedules but I am urging you to get over that hump and put some stuff out there. This by no means is a letter wrote in anger but more in disappointment. All of you who are members at this site are here because you are very talented and have something truly unique to offer the world of writing and I want to do everything I can to help in that department. So, please get out there and imagine, explore and create!!!

An Ode to Formula One

Hello Friends,

I am writing today because I feel the need to share another one of my passions with you all and to give my respect to those this blog is about. Apart from writing and drawing I am an avid Formula One follower. I have been addicted to the sport since my family introduced me to it back in the mid 80's. I can remember how on the weekends my father would wake us up make breakfast and then start our choirs. After this was complete I would sit down with my father and watch the Formula One Grand Prix event for that weekend. I can still remember how the sport grabbed me when I first watched. I remember the awesome, high-pitched whines of the engines and the breakneck speeds at which the drives went in order to win. I remember such greats as Aryton Senna, Manfred Winklehock, Nelson Piquet and Michael Schmacher flying around the track in access of 200+ miles an hour in their beautifully painted carts trying to outdo one another in one of the greatest and most dangerous motor sport in the world. I can remember how my father and I would sit on the edges of our seats surrounded my junk food and beverages cheering on our favorite racers. My father didn't really have a favorite, he was much more interested in racing itself, but not me. I was intrigued by the racing styles of Aryton Senna and Michael Schmacher because they gave their all on the track. Their two style would set the tone for future drivers of the sport. I can still remember how I wanted to be in that position, taking on the greats from other teams, testing my mental and physical skills against other opponents and winning Grand Prix, uncontested. I can still see myself barreling down straight-aways and hugging hairpin turns with sparks shooting out the back of my cart, muscles straining as I jockey for position. I remember one dream where I passed Mark Donohue and Aryton Senna on the Enzo E Dino circuit in Italy. I can still see his eyes through his helmet as he gave me a "thumbs up" as I took the inside pole position. Sadly though the end of the late 80's and being of the earlier 90's saw some of the most tragic losses to the sport. I can still feel the shock and horror of not being able to fully understand what happened on that fateful weekend when I, along with the world of Formula One watched in horrors as not one but two great drivers died in the San Marino Grand Prix. Roland Ratzenberger died the day before on a practice run and the following day Senna lost control of his cart in turn two and died on impact with a guard barrier. Being so young I couldn't really understand death in motor sports but that day I knew I would never see my hero- Aryton Senna, three times world champion, ever race again. As time passed and I became older the thrill of the sport only grew. The drivers, teams and equipment might have changed but the love of the sport remained the same. Still to this day I watch every race and follow every driver with the same enthusiasm as when I was younger. Every time I here that wonderful engine sound of carts moving down the track still send a chill down my spine and the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up. I think back to my heroes past and present and remember those who died doing what they loved. I will always hold a special place in my heart for Formula one and I will always remember those who died trying to achieve greatness on the track. I will always see their smiling faces and cheerful cries as they stood at the podium waving to the fans and toasting with giant bottles of Moet champagne. They were humble and treated each day in the sport as a gift from God. This is for my heroes, and god bless you Aryton, Winklehock, and Ratzenberger, may you rest in peace and thank you for allowing me to see your greatness even if it was cut to short. The sport will not be the same without you and I miss you all so very much. Thank you.