blog-thetruthis-stuff

[blog-thetruthis-stuff]

I can't wait for the virus to leave our shores so I can read again!

[blog-thetruthis-stuff]

Hi! If you have read any or all of my books and liked them, please consider leaving a reveiw! A review to an author is like an angel getting their wings! It does not have to be long or professional. Thank you!

[blog-thetruthis-stuff]

[blog-thetruthis-stuff]

Grief

Grief Was sitting hard At the edge of me Surcease would Not arrive But I did not wail or waver From walking ordinary For days, other-world Grayness settled Its cloak on me A cold ugly word, grief Those who are brave Face death knowing what's authentic Death is death! The religious rejoice in death Idicoy! Lunacy! But, me perfectly lucid Clearly understands The bowels of truth Rumbling, bringing to shore The keening, the non-breathing Hiccops of impossible grief Stomachs that heave Eyes that swell Thoughts that grasp of stillness Is there no fidelity anymore? Bury your little sister Too soon And the earth where She lies Will never give a damn Bring to me The shield of laughter The sword of heart The armor of memory Bring them quickly To fight the grief, raw That threatens to strangle me Oh, to be able to delude myself That other worlds exist! I cannot! The one attribute of grief Is its honesty, Naked, intimate, here, now, And it will not be thwarted.

[blog-thetruthis-stuff]

[blog-thetruthis-stuff]

I Have Walked a Long Way

I have walked a long way. I began walking early. My first memories include walking among pine needles and asparagus, often at the same time. I frolicked fully naked under Ponderosa pine trees as a little girl, throwing fistfuls of sand in the air. A good deal of that sand landed in my hair. I took naps leaning against steadfast and large pigs that I played with as they grew. I loved the feel of their rough, straight hair on my hands and face. Their hair reminded me of pine needles. They were warm and they allowed me to doze. They never hurt me as they followed me about. I have walked a long way. I walked the hills and cliffs and fields of our home of eight acres as I grew from eight years old to thirteen. I still can feel the sun as it enveloped me with heat, and, while I learned to wear underwear, I still ditched as much of my clothing as I could under a bush somewhere. I would put my clothes back on before heading home. I was beginning to understand it was the expected thing to do. I have walked a long way. I rode my bike for twenty years around Olympia, Washington, as I raised baby girls and started a childcare business. I also walked steps and steps, too many to count, chasing after little humans, some fast, some slow, but always, always on the move. I kept my clothes on, no longer feeling that sense of freedom when naked. But I still walked, and at Priest Lake, Idaho, I wore as few clothes as possible as I wandered its paths. I have walked a long way. I moved to Spokane in 1992 and it was not bike-friendly. I began walking the Spokane River and Beacon Hill and many of the numerous outlying trails. My bike grew dusty in the garage as I walked mile after mile. I was addicted, and not a day went by without my intense need to walk. I walked in the early morning, in light shadows as dawn greeted me. I walked in the winter snow, just to hear the silence. I walked the night, finding the cloak of darkness made me feel whole and not so alone. My legs grew strong and pliant as my marriage grew weak and rigid. I have walked a long way. My feet, my body, fell in love with a new human and a new place, when I found Montana. My feet hiked seven years of Glacier National Park. It was never enough, no matter the miles and sore feet. I grasped for thoughts that would still and for words that would cry and movement that would take me another ten miles all in one day. I have walked a long way. As my feet walk I think, I cry, I ruminate, I dream, I play, I run through the entire course of my life and the memories that pop up unexpectedly. I think about the little sister who no longer lives. I think of my past as lights shimmering in small rooms housed in my brain. I think of the future and the poems I will write. I think of my daughters and my partner and my grandchildren and the old people still to leave this earth before me. I think of so many things that when I look up, I find I have walked another five miles and still I can walk some more. I have walked a long way. Today I walk and I think of our earth and how it’s out of tune. I wonder how I can help it to change in ways that are good for it. I think of how when I was a little girl, playing with large pigs, I didn’t worry about smoky seasons or poor air or cigarette butts on the trail or dirty diapers. I think about how I walked for hours and never sensed an end coming, either to the planet or to myself. I am sixty-three now and I have walked a long way. I have walked a long way. Tomorrow, I will walk even further. I will try to make sense of the sun, the sky, the bushes, the trees, the river, the stones, the mountains, the flowers, the animals, and most of all I will try to make sense of the humans. And their apathy. Written by Marie Louise Elliott

[blog-thetruthis-stuff]

Check out my new book on Amazon. "Immortal as Thor." You will not be disappointed! Grief, journey, naturalism

[blog-thetruthis-stuff]

“Immortal as Thor”

https://www.amazon.com/Immortal-Thor-Marie-Louise-Elliott/dp/1987795091/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1526221480&sr=8-1&keywords=marie+louise+elliott

[blog-thetruthis-stuff]

Me Too

Me Too Yes, me too I know you don’t want to hear it That’s because it never happened to you That’s because it’s messy That’s because it never goes away That’s because it disrupts families That’s because it disrupts careers That’s because it disrupts LIFE Yes, me too, afraid, sad, mad, alone, You don’t want to talk about it That’s because you never faced it Can’t believe in it Never mind how you feel, Never mind how you feel, I say! Me Too, that’s what I say-- If you don’t believe me Then who will? Yes, me too, me too, me too, me too, Me too, me too, me too, me too Marie Elliott

[blog-thetruthis-stuff]

My Three Fathers Plus One

I received criticism for posting photos of me and my three fathers several years ago on Facebook, because I included my biological father. Fact is, these men all are responsible for my upbringing and since 2007 another man has become a father to me as well. I honor all of them. This small blog is not to judge them for decisions they may have made in their lives that others think unforgivable. They were and are human beings with all the inherent negatives and positives of a human life. This blog will focus on the positive that each man gave me.

I honor my biological father because obviously without him I would not be here, and I am glad I am here. I received from him red-shaded hair and a fine mind and a love for study. And there was a short window of time when he was there after I was born and he wrote a priceless letter of the first few weeks of my life. I last saw him when I was a toddler. When he was dying of cancer we reconnected through the then new medium of e-mail. We corresponded nearly every day for 18 months until a few weeks before his death. We “figured” out our emotional and mental relationship before he passed.

My first step-father was in my life from the time I was three. My earliest memory of him was following him around as he checked on the cows during very frozen winter mornings. He was the man who taught me the value of hard work and how if you don’t do the job right, you might as well not do it. He taught me that you don’t even throw a gum wrapper on the ground. He is responsible for that part of me that loves the outdoors and shows respect for it and that part of me that chose to be self-employed. He was always there, never hovering, but if I asked a question he did his best to answer it. He was the first adult I knew who said, “I don’t know,” to a question I asked. Before that I thought adults knew everything.

My second step-father just passed away on June 5th. I will miss him terribly. He lived in Texas the last 30 years or so. I did not get to see him often, but when I did we were as close as ever. He was the father who loved me as much as he would love all his kids, steps or biological. He taught me how to trust. He gave of his time and money generously. I was a high school girl when he came into my life, and like all teenagers, I imagine I was not always nice, but he never stopped loving me. If he ever admonished me it WAS in my best interest. And when my daughter was born he was so proud of his “first” granddaughter. Even though she was not biological, he never stopped saying she was the first.

Today I have another father. He is my partner’s Dad. He has taken me under his wing. We can talk about anything and we laugh often together. With him I have found the true intimacy of a father and daughter. He is affectionate and hugs me and respects me and my opinions on things. He loves my writing and everything I do. He really is a Dad to me. I will never forget that and I cherish every day as he is 91 years old. He trusts me with his memories and I get to hear stories he hasn’t told another person.

All these men in some way helped me to be who I am. So, I will not apologize for loving the father who gave me life and the red in my hair. I will not stop loving the step-father who gave me the calmness of the forest and the music of rivers. I will not stop missing my second step-father who gave me lessons of trust and good will and generosity. And I will always be grateful for the brief time I will know my father-in-law and all the ideas we share. I have loved and do love them all. That is beyond question.

[blog-thetruthis-stuff]

The Truth Is

The truth is…I have grown tired of not being able to say or write what is truth. I was naïve when I first joined the ranks of Facebook. I wrote freely, but soon, I stopped. If I wrote something of importance, even citing my sources or irrefutable evidence, I was made often to feel small or unintelligent. The most common response I would get was, “That’s your opinion.” Not true. If I give an opinion, I will say it’s my opinion or thought or idea. I will own it. I tell the truth. That means something, especially in a society of untruth. Untruths range from little lies or false honesty to downright secretive hidden realities. There is this idea if you “give it up” you will be perceived as weak. The truth is you become humble. What I have found is that if you write something smart or profound, or true, then it certainly must be suspect. Americans are quick to embrace anything that hints at gray edges or exaggeration, or fantasy, or myth before they will accept plain, unadorned truth. Truth is boring. It doesn’t bring titillation, or ecstasy, or spiritualism, or meth-induced highs; truth is intimidating; it causes people to look for the next thing, or party, or high, or flight of imagination, or gossip or fantastic prayers. Truth is uncomfortable, it causes eyes to avert, tongues to stammer, feet to run, and arms to wave away its offending bee-like buzz. Truth isn’t pretty; it doesn’t care if it’s pretty. Truth has no emotion, and does not choose allies over enemies. Truth just is. Boring, humble, exciting sometimes, always interesting. I find that people who are incurious, non-reflective and unimaginative are the quickest to take truth and distort it, painting abstract colors and images all over it. I have started this blog to fulfill a need I have for truth and ideas and yes, opinions, which I will own. Facebook wasn’t the place for this. With this first blog, let it be known that I welcome dialogue that is respectful and articulate. I welcome disagreement as long as it’s not personal and attacking, and there are sources and/or empirical evidence that are cited. I am open to all ideas and thoughts and musings. I am even open to your opinion as long as you own that it is an opinion. If you are uncomfortable with truth, with hard ideas, with fantastic possibilities and with tapping into unused areas of your gray matter, then this may not be the blog for you. The truth is…this is not Facebook.

[blog-thetruthis-stuff]

No Compassion; No World

Christians, wealthy people and the jobless in rural areas are who overwhelmingly put Trump into the White House. I understand the wealthy voting for Trump, and I understand the frustration of the jobless, but I do not understand the Christians voting for someone who is demonstrably immoral, cruel, and who does not have even so much as a hair that screams compassion or giving or representative of the message of Jesus. These were the same people who criticized Clinton for lying, murder, being elitist, and cold. It’s been proven her record for not telling the truth fell even below Obama’s, the so-called murder has never been proven, and as for elitist, well, sorry folks, you can’t get more isolated and elitist than President Trump, so we will call that accusation a draw. As for her being cold, she’s a nerd, isn’t charismatic, and, she would rather be working than charming. I was a Christian in high school, loved the church, loved my church family; it was my gang, people who accepted and loved me unconditionally. I had intense need for that. For about ten years I revisited being a Christian when my girls were young. I never felt like I belonged. We often spent weekends at our lake house and people in the church would openly criticize us for not going to church every Sunday, and once I was told by a teacher that I needed to find my devotion to Jesus. An event occurred that made me walk out of the church and I have never gone back. I studied and studied, got a college degree and changed my behavior towards other human beings; I am less judgmental, and I take time to understand their stories. I have never told a Christian friend of mine that they should not go to church or that they are wrong. I learned if we don’t care about each other our earth will die, simple as that. We are at 7 billion people, 9 billion will put the world into chaos. Look up chaos theory. It’s not good. We have become separated from each other, selfish, greedy, only concerned with our immediate group of people. We have lost that sensibility that I grew up with. If someone needed you, it didn’t matter that you were ethnic, or a city dweller or a farmer or rich or poor. When our house burned down when I was five, people donated so many items we couldn’t use them all. I still remember all the people helping us. None of them said, “Go home and sit in the charred remains of your house, stay on your side, refugee.” The place that gathered some of the donations was a church and there were very kind people there, doing what Jesus commanded, love your fellow human being, and help them in need. I am having the most trouble with Christians and I don’t understand a Christian’s take on voting for Trump or for wanting immigration to end or be made virtually impossible. First, they are descendants of immigrants, that is the most potent argument, and secondly, Christianity is a foreign religion. Say what you will about the Mormons, at least, they are an American-made religion. Why this attitude of superiority? I have heard it from friends in ways I do not recognize from our long friendships. This is not good. Where is this arrogance coming from that makes you think you have all the answers? One friend said she voted for Trump simply because Clinton believed in abortion. (She has never had a conversation with Clinton, so how she knows this is a mystery, Clinton may not believe in abortion for all we know, but she does believe in Women’s Rights.) This woman is a Christian and voted strictly on this one issue, and to her credit, she admits it. It doesn’t matter that abortion is at an all-time low because of birth control and options for women who wish to keep their babies. It doesn’t matter that a possible elimination of health care in this country could lead to deaths for the elderly and the young, and those needing surgery or medicines for existing conditions. It doesn’t matter that a desperate young woman might take abortion into her own hands and die or commit suicide or go to a quack to get it done. This friend (now former) has decided one life is more important than another. She never considered all the other issues with Trump. I can’t imagine voting for someone based on a single issue. Another Christian friend said, “We need to be safe.” There has been this fear ever since 9/11. The terrorists are going to hurt us and blow our country up, our children need to be safe. People are afraid, but what is the most puzzling to me is that the people who are the most are afraid are religious. Seriously, if you believe there is an afterlife and you believe you will see Jesus and you are confident in that, why are you afraid of death? It begs the question of whether Christians truly believe there is a god. If ever I were to reconsider a religion such as Christianity, it would never happen now. I will not be part of a group that thinks it’s more valuable than everyone else, that thinks death of embryos is a more heinous death than that of other human beings, that will not welcome refugees and other immigrants or help people in need, and thinks their religion is the only one and represents the only god. Or, who has forgotten Jesus and his call to help the poor, the downtrodden, the elderly, the young, the prostitute, the foreigner. The Rich. Good for you. Yes, you worked hard and things fell in place for you. Hurrah! It does NOT always happen that way. I knew when I got my divorce that I would become completely poor, not a little bit poor, but totally and scary poor. I knew I would rather live in a car than be unhappy any longer. I tried hard in my marriage, gave it everything I had, but it didn’t work. I was left poor, barely making it, but I was calm and happy and started right away to rebuild my financial life and my emotional life. I was successful to a point. I do not have retirement. The state believes it has the right to tell me how to run my business, but they do not give retirement benefits or health benefits. I have been paying my own. And what I am saving will probably not be enough. So, again, kudos to you if you have planned well and are doing well. I do not take that from you or anyone. But, get out of your foggy thinking long enough to be grateful it all worked out for you, not be superior, because when it’s all said and done, sometimes it’s not just because you worked hard, there were also a lot of chips that fell into place. The jobless. I am sorry you’ve had such a hard time, and I have HUGE sympathy for you. If I could hire even one person to help me run the daycare I would. But, I can’t. I understand it’s hard after years of working the same jobs whether that is mining or building cars, and other occupations no longer being offered or required. The logging industry where I was raised took a hit. But, the young who have pulled out of that went back to school, retrained in other fields. I know there are many free or nearly free retraining programs that many do not take advantage of. The world is going to be about solar energy, and other fields that are being developed to help our climate and environment, retrain to work in that field. Do your best. This current president is not going to hand you a job. So far, he has not kept his promise on this one. And, on top of there not being the promised jobs, his sidekick, Paul Ryan is going to take away your food allotments, HUD housing, medical benefits, and many other programs you have, including retraining. While so many were attacking Trump and his administration with graphics and protests and all sorts of civil disobedience after the election, I took a few weeks off to try and figure out why anyone would vote for Trump in the first place. I wanted to try and understand this. I have asked why and have listened and have come to realize I won’t understand. I have always studied when I haven’t understood, tried to get inside the footwear of the other person, show them respect. But, I am having a hard time with this one. No one and I mean, no one has given me a good, smart, kind, or legitimate reason. No one. And that scares me far more than terrorism. I am going to be doing my best to convince people to vote every Republican possible out of office in two years. In the past, I have voted both parties. I have always been fair, if a Republican was being fair and caring to his or her constitutes I would consider his or her view. A few years ago, I voted for a Republican senator simply because he took the time to visit with a bunch of us childcare providers and he advocated for our issues. I was impressed. There have been other examples. But now for the first time, I will check every Democrat there is on the ballots. I will not even consider Republican. I will do all I can to remove them from the working of our country. This dictatorship cannot stand. It is NOT America and if you think it is, then you live in fear and ignorance. If I sound harsh, well, it’s what is needed right now. The truth. The truth is, a poor choice has been made and I will do all I can in my power to change that. And the rumblings are that there are a lot of us who will march when they have not marched before, who will write who have not written before, who will call their representatives who have not called before. I will stand for freedom. I will not be afraid or live my life in fear. I will do the right and moral thing. I will love my fellow man. I will think of others as I would have them think of me. I will care about you all, including the rich, the religious, and the poor, by voting in your best interests as well as mine and other Americans.

[blog-thetruthis-stuff]

The Colonoscopy

My best friend was sort of hoping I wouldn’t write about The Colonoscopy. Sorry, Heidi. Two years ago, I wrote about my bladder repair and suddenly there were women writing to me privately and telling me their stories or asking me if I thought they had the same problem. Fact is, we human beings will have sex with each other, naked and vulnerable with all our bits hanging out, and we will make ribald jokes and all do sorts of rather base things. But, talk about girl parts or bottom parts or POOP, and we are clueless and frigid or embarrassed, even today, even today, in these times of so called freedom of expression. I am going to write about this, Heidi. I am going to write about it, because it’s not that big a deal and we need to stop making it a big deal. The Colonoscopy. It’s what’s for Christmas! In November 2015 I developed some lower side pain that continued into December. On December 29th, I was told by an ER doctor that I probably had cancer and needed an emergency hysterectomy, sometime in the next two days, to “get it out!” were her exact words. I went home, my head reeling. Turns out I did not have cancer and a huge polyp was removed. No big deal, right? Yes, it was a big deal, because of an insensitive and unknowledgeable doctor I suffered a mild form of PTSD even after I was assured I was okay. (The doctor was put into a retraining program and the hospital has apologized and removed her from that area for the time being, so it was dealt with.) To add to that I was on antibiotics of some form or another for five months until surgery to put an ear tube in that took care of the problem of recurrent ear infections and after 15 years I recovered normal hearing in that ear. I hear all sorts of things I haven’t heard in a lifetime. It’s been nothing short of a miracle! All in all, things were going very well. Then…the pain came back, the same pain that took me to the ER. Hmm, I thought this had been dealt with during the uterine surgery. It wasn’t a huge pain, and it would leave for a while and then come back, but still, I knew it wasn’t normal. So, back I went and the doctor ordered a thorough check of my girl parts first to see if that was all okay and then she said “We will also get that colonoscopy out of the way that you’ve put off for ten years.” I always did the stool test, but just had heard too many bad stories to get The Colonoscopy. I got the girl parts checked out, all was fine, no regrowth of the uterine polyp. That left you know what. I scheduled it for December 16th, informed my daycare parents I was taking a day off and then I waited. Some days I thought about it and some days I didn’t. Mostly I put it in the back of my head. Here is what I know. IT’S NO BIG DEAL! I hope this helps all those who are putting off The Colonoscopy. I hope that all those who read this and feel they had a horrible experience will stop telling your story. We neophytes do not need to hear it. When I got pregnant the first time this woman told me her horrifying birth story of an emergency C-section. I nearly cancelled my pregnancy, except that wasn’t possible. Daughter Lallah arrived early and in great form. And it was no big deal, well, it was, she was the cutest, fattest, sweetest little person I had ever encountered until that point. I learned that people have this need to tell their horror stories, and they scare the crap out of people. (Before I go further, I do understand there can be bad experiences, my ER experience taught me that, and I do not wish to minimize genuine bad stories, but most aren’t.) I heard all sorts of stories of The Colonoscopy before mine. Not a one of them seemed that good and some were scary. I was so programmed to be afraid or grossed out that I put this off for ten years! Ten years! That was dumb. I admit it. Here is my story. It’s a good story along with a little advice. The most important thing to remember is: follow the directions to the tee, do not deviate, do not go past go, and do not make up your own! Do what you are told to do! Be prepared. Read all the paperwork, and get a calendar and write what it instructs. Do not forgo food for a few days thinking that will make it easier. It doesn’t, you just get dehydrated and sick and have a much rougher time, this I found out from friends. Neither should you decide to eat four pizzas and the box they came in either. Just stay normal. If you tend to be a person who gets nauseated easily or vomits easily, ask for anti-nausea meds to take prior to the prep. The doctors are perfectly willing to give you the medicine. I bought everything on the list for the liquid diet. I can tell you that blueberry/pomegranate Ensure is excellent and makes you feel like you’ve had something to eat. I ended up using ginger ale, Gatorade, lots of water and Ensure. It worked very well. The prep juice was not that bad tasting, folks! Was it something I would order at the bar, no. Was I tired of it by the end, yes. But, it wasn’t that bad. I used a straw which helped immensely. Here is my most important advice, which no one in their haste to tell me their stories told me!!! No one! Even my friends failed me on this one. Thanks, guys! The first time the laxatives starts working you will poop your pants! It will happen over and over if you don’t stay near or on the throne! It’s a fact and no one told me that. I am still mad at y’all for that! Really? Couldn’t you have told me? I haven’t pooped my drawers since I was two years old. After the second time, I realized you just need to set up camp in the bathroom. I have a large bathroom, but you can make any bathroom homey if you try. I set my laptop up in there and I had my I-Phone for connection to the outside world. I had to text Brian at one point to sneak me some undies through the door. And I had all my clear liquids I needed and the 4-liter jug of prep juice. I had the heat turned up, because you get chilled off and on while drinking this stuff. I had a blanket for a quick nap if needed. I just stayed in the bathroom until I was done with the juice and until I was done with the diarrhea, yes, folks! DIARRHEA!!!! Say it after me, diarrhea. You will survive this! I started this at 5 p.m. and finished it by 11 p.m. I was to do it all at once. Some doctors want you to do half the day before and half the morning before the procedure. I finally got some sleep at 12 p.m., woke at 3 a.m. with a terrific headache and chills. I was dehydrated. I immediately filled up on water and Gatorade and a Tylenol. And was fine a half hour later. I managed to sleep a few more hours. By then most urges to poop had gone, but be warned, do not think it can’t happen at any moment up until procedure time. Be appropriately prepared, extra undies, pads, whatever it takes, be prepared! I was lucky, I was so cleaned out that I could have been sold as new on a shelf somewhere. The procedure is not a big deal, the easiest part. I found it to be darn near pleasant. The sedation gave me a wonderful nap. Never mind later that it stayed with me and Brian told me all sorts of stories about my “stoned” behavior. Never mind that. Not important. And!!!! When you are done, they will tell you to fart and fart for ten minutes or so. In my stoned state, I started giggling like mad and those nurses couldn’t help themselves, they started giggling too. One of them looked at me and told me I was funny and I had made her day. I got the feeling most people are very embarrassed. I did my bit for the next few hours. If you don’t fart afterwards, you will get stomach pain and nausea and possible vomiting, so fart away, my dear people, fart away! I am done, I was found to be polyp free and don’t have to go back for ten years. Most importantly I found out what the niggling little lower right pain has been the past year and a half. It was scar tissue where my bladder surgery was, causing a part of my colon to have a sharp bend in it. It’s no big deal. If I hike a lot or eat too much bacon it causes it to hurt a little, but it’s not something to worry about anymore!! And that is my experience with the The Colonoscopy! Do not wait to get yours!!! Do not put it off!! Just do it!

[blog-thetruthis-stuff]

Kris Kristofferson and Me

Kris Kristofferson Had his arm around me once Long seconds passed As my daughter tried To get the perfect photo His fingers kneaded my shoulder Like a professional massage therapist Kneading and kneading As he held my ink pen Waiting for the guy In front of him to stop talking nonsense He signed my program And laughed when I reminded Him that I met him once before And that we had talked poetry While standing there I had my arm around his waist And I felt the warmth and breath Of him And he was real. Marie Louise Elliott

[blog-thetruthis-stuff]

On Losing and Begging

On Losing and Begging Ever since I can remember when I get genuinely upset or genuinely happy or genuinely sad or genuinely in love or genuinely angry, I write. I write poems, I write essays, I write in journals, I write and I write and I write. It has been five days since America voted in Donald Trump. I don’t like losing, but as I have grown older I no longer throw fits about losing. I was throwing fits about losing Monopoly, for god’s sakes clear into my 30s. Something happened when I turned 46. I got divorced, I got quieter (never silent), I got calm, I began breathing to a different cadence. I started being. I got educated and a lot of my education at Whitworth College was in political science. I learned about the American political process. I learned to be a better loser, because there are only winners and losers when it comes to politics, it just depends on what side you are on. Well, five days ago, I lost. I didn’t throw a fit. I got sick to my stomach, my head reeled with all these panicky thoughts. My medical will go back up and I will be desperately trying to find that extra dollar or to two to put into a savings for a bleak retirement in which my daughters will no doubt have to help me with. I got a headache, I never get headaches. I felt a lot like I did when my sister died, just plain lost and not able to figure a way back home; to that center I had developed after my divorce. That center of calmness and quietness that had become the mainstay of my life. Today, I read how Trump’s plans may call for disruption of some of our national parks and other wilderness areas and I cried for the first time since the election. NO! Please! This can’t be happening. I had been comforting others over all the changes that might happen. I have been spending time thinking about the Americans who had voted for Mr. Trump. I thought I need to hear their views, their side of things, after all, their voices were loud enough to elect a man who thinks nothing of relegating women to nothing more than entertainment. That was my first blow. I thought all women wanted to be treated nicely and especially wanted their daughters to be treated nicely. I guess I was wrong. I needed to hear what these people wanted, just like I watched anxiously Israel and Palestine try to work out their differences. But, already, the rumblings are that the poor will still be poor, and the unemployed will still be unemployed. I told Brian I was going to be fair and listen. I was going to not panic and see what happens. I was going to figure out what these people who voted for Mr. Trump had in common and what they were unhappy about. I have done that, reading everything I can get my hands on and I think I get it. I really do. Sadly, despite their fervor, they probably aren’t going to get what they want. I am pretty confident in that assessment, but I am also willing to let them find out for themselves, just as I let my daycare children deal with their consequences of actions. But…if Mr. Trump does anything to hurt this planet, this America, these National Parks, this environment, then in my heart and soul there will be war with anyone who helps him in the beating of these magnificent parts of America and the earth. For those of you who voted for him, do not allow this to happen. Please, remember what it is important. We may not agree on much, but remember the last time you walked in a forested area or a National Park and tell me, please, that you don’t want that destroyed. Please tell me that and please do not allow it to happen. It’s really all I am asking right now. And I have no problem begging. Please.

[blog-thetruthis-stuff]

Rise Up Little Girls

Rise Up Little Girls! Rise up little princesss! Your names are Snow White and Sofia and Rapunzel And Cinderella and Belle and Aurora and Tiana, And Merida, and Anna and Elsa and Jasmine And Lily and Eloise and Penelope! Rise up little girls! All of you in your princess dresses Armor against the world Twirl and spin and sing and dance Rise up little girls! Bumps in the road Will not deter you You simply skip around them You are the Swan Princess And the slayer of bad men And bad women Costco has your dresses Bright and shiny and strong Run! Run and get them! By the handfuls! Wear them, stand tall With your bright leggings underneath Because you are princesses With legs that can fly And thoughts that can reason And hearts that can love Rise up little girls! Do not sink your heads in shame Remember Hillary said, “You can do anything You want to do.” Your armor of satin and silk And ruffle and sequin and tulle Helps you along that path Rise up little princesses! Me who used to think The princess fluff was wrong I am right now when I say Your dresses are your armor Your satin is your honor You sequin and sparkles are your laughter Your tulle guards your loins Your ruffles show you are very strong You are encased in armor Little girls, little girls, little girls, Rise up and take your wands And your satin slippers and crowns And never let it be wrong again! Marie Louise Elliott Copyright All Rights Reserved 2016

[blog-thetruthis-stuff]

One Year From Publication of “Poetrie: The Truth Is”

It has been a year today, November 3, since my book, “Poetrie: The Truth Is” was launched. It was more successful than I imagined it would be and I am proud and happy with the results. Poetry is not easy to sell. Even more, if you are not an already famous poet. Brian told me that if I sell a hundred copies I could consider that a colossal success in today’s climate of non-readers and especially non-readers of poetry. I can’t give an exact estimate, but I have sold approximately 115 plus copies and still occasionally a small royalty deposit shows up in my savings account. I still have plans to promote the book as I grow used to promotion and learn more about it. I have read all reviews posted publicly and those sent to me privately, taking respect and time to understand what has been written about my book. It has been interesting and surprising to see what the demographics are. Who has bought this little book? Who has loved it? Who has not? I thought I would post a few thoughts on this. Those who have LOVED the book and not merely liked it, have fallen into two categories: They are either very young, under 22 years old and mostly teenagers, or over 70 years old or academics. I find this fascinating. The same phenomenon occurred with my paintings. It was teenagers and the elderly who loved them the most. What is all this saying? About me? What do my creative endeavors give to these people that makes them so happy? There have been critics and those who have been indifferent. An author can tell. There is silence, which is the worst response an author can get. Or, “It’s different.” I was also told several times that “It doesn’t match who you are.” Thankfully this group is very small. And I am not worried. In writing and painting or anything creative, there are always critics, and some of those are genuine and some of those aren’t. Only one person has criticized the book in a way that was unfair and I do not take it seriously, because that person does not understand metaphor and how it not only dictates poetry, it runs with it. As for those that say the book isn’t like what they know of me, then perhaps the question ought to be. Do they really know me? In defense of “different,” that was an adjective also used for Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Jack Kerouac, in fact, most the Beats, Emily Dickenson, and a host of others. Look up how many poets did not fare well for years and yet today are well-known and well-loved and well-read. That may never happen for me, but the attempt was made. One person asked, “You are using a company to publish it yourself?” I respond to that by mentioning that D.H. Lawrence, Edgar Allen Poe, Beatrix Potter, Mark Twain, Grisham, Frank L. Baum and even Charles Dickens self-published their own works first. The list is huge. You will always have your critics and you will always have your fans. It’s the way of writing. It’s the way of strong thoughts and ideas and intelligence. This I know, the book is my flesh and blood, my brain and soul, my very being. It is who I am, it is how I think. It was taken from a single year, so it’s not the sum total of my life, but it does represent who I am for that year. And do not think I am morose because I write honestly about the human condition. I am an optimistic and happy person, and I don’t live in fear. I still write nearly a poem a day or an essay. I write all the time. I have fans who can’t wait for the next book! Thanks to you and you know who you are! I am working on it! I am working on several projects and at first I thought I would have another book out immediately, but that’s not the way. I had to take time to savor my first endeavor and to hear what people had to say and to enjoy its presence in the world and in my hands. For those who wrote a review on Amazon I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I am very proud of a review written by another published poet and professor of poetry who currently lives on the Arabian coast. He made me feel I can compete with the world! I want to thank my Uncle Mickey and Uncle Horace for their reviews, they meant the world to me. And Samantha and Olivia, young teenagers who took time out of their busy lives to write a review! And Jeff, my nephew who, along with Gail, my lake house neighbor, are my biggest fans! I also thank those who disagreed with the content of my book yet gave me accolades for being a good writer. I appreciate all those who gave my book a read and a chance. There is nothing more fulfilling as an author to see your words in print and then to know they are being read.