My Favorite Teacher

I was attending Quinsiamond Community College in Worcester Massachusetts for some extra credit and got through the grape-vine of this instructor who with her husband owned and operated a funeral home. As I was heading in to Nursing this course would be an asset. From the very first class the way Doctor Joe explained the objectives and goals of the class I felt like learning was going to be easily understood.
For homework we had to write our own obituary and it went from their. Then came the self exploring exercises and the oral projects on events of what we felt happened from the first day of death through the funeral home process and the burial.
We ventured into a dying person would say to their children.
Surprise we were going to be with a fellow student who was dying. This person didn’t find out that she was dying till after her second trimester of her pregnancy. Megoblastic Cyma was her diagnosis. The class really worked together to help and learn at the same time. Doctor Joe was very supportive to the student and each one of us in the class.
During the course we got to visit her funeral home and ask questions of Doctor Joe’s family. Then toured the whole funeral parlor from the ground up with each area well explained. No funerals were in progress at the time of our tour.
The last class was being able to see what this dying student had made in the form of a video. It was called “Letters To My Daughter” and I can say it was done very lovingly and professionally and was done at Worcester State Teachers College in Worcester Massachusetts.
I felt like everyone in the class had become a close family member and with Doctor Jos professional way of sharing this subject with a class of 20 students was so memorable. The lessons became very useful in later years and I and ever so thankful.


It Slitters

It happened when I was about 9 years old . it was a warm summer day and I was walking down the lane toward town to meet one of my friends. I was feeling great!
Walking along looking all around out of the corner of my eye was this pile of rocks. What I saw was not one but 4 very large snakes. My body froze and for a moment I could not move. Then it felt like I jumped a hundred feet into the air and was running as fast as I could even before my feet hit the ground.
When I approached the paved street I stopped and looked around as I caught my breath. I felt sick to my stomach but decided to continue on. My friend asked, “Are you all right?”
At first I couldn’t get the words out but then told of my encounter with four snakes. My friend smiled and said,” I bet you will never go that way again!”. The next day I went down the same path and no snakes could be found guess I scared them off.

Camping Out Scare

At 9 years of age I was daring and would do most anything. My buddies were talking about camping. We were actually going to sleep in the old shed my friends and I has called a fort.

After getting my parents to say okay my mother said, “Being that it’s your first time you might become scared.”

I insisted, “I’ll be just fine! We were going to be in the shed behind Billy’s house”

I grabbed my pillow and set out to meet my buddies at the shed where we’d left our sleeping gear.

We went and set on the front porch and talked about the all the new adventures we were looking forward to. Before we realized it, the darkness was upon us. Billy’s mother came to the door and said, ” Good night boys.” We went straight back to the shed with flashlights in hand. .

The excitement of camping seemed to affect us all sleep just wasn’t to happen. Restless and unable to sleep we shared stories that we saw at the movies.

Meantime a storm was near and the wind picked up, with lightening and very loud crackling thunder. The noise was so loud that I began to wonder if my father and mother were safe.

Although I was attempting to be brave I felt like something was going to happen and I would not see my parents or sisters again.

Then the storm was gone, but my level of worrying wasn’t and before I knew it I began to cry. First, I was crying into my pillow but Bobby asked me, ” Are you okay?”

I couldn’t stop crying to answer him. Then without a second thought I got up and announced, “I’m going home!”.

I left the shed, running home as fast as I could and crying all the way. Arriving home all the lights were out and the door was locked. Still upset I went around to my mother’s bedroom window and I just tapped once and there she was. She opened the door and right to my bedroom I went as I climbed into bed my mother stuck her head in and said, “Good night.”

Nothing was said at breakfast until my sisters asked, “How did you like camping out?”

My mother looked at me and said, “You had a good time didn’t you?” with a wink and a smile on her face she continued her breakfast.

I have camped out my times since but for the longest time the fear came back of not seeing my family again.

Growing Old

I’m 72 years young and would like to write but do to my spelling and sentence structure along with the use of punctuation as you will see as I write this note. There is so many stories that I have been part of and the different places I have been, that I would like to write about them. I would also like to write about my nursing career, the computer training I had, and on and on.

I’m married retired and live here in Maine and my daughters live in Florida and Georgia. I’ve lived and worked in many different states and have encountered a wonderful variety of people and made friends from all over the United States.

I’m not a hunter but I like fishing but haven’t done it since I left Florida. I study NLP, EFT, Hypnosis an meditate.

I hope I can meet other people with a variety of experiences that surpass mine. Thank You.

Who Is Driving The Bus

It all began before I was born but during this time I was deciding who my mother was to be. When I finally chose I knew I had to become the fastest swimmer to win to become a life in her the womb.

For the next 8 or 9 months whilst I grew, I began recording emotions and experiencing feelings, traumas, depression along with other daily traumas as I recorded every experience encountered with my mother.

Making it to full term with so many experiences fresh in my mind, I was born. Now all I had learned had to be tested along with all the new input in my hourly and daily encounter with a cold world and so many advisors. At the time all I seemed to know what was right.

Understand, I was still a baby so many of my testing of past experiences involved my parents most of the time. I found out if I cried at night I would get a diaper change and if I continued to cry I got food. Now during the day the same routine worked and I found out that big smiles and funny noises cause the care takers to hug me and hold me and feed me. I began to test out the crying every time.

Between ages 2-3 years I had good and bad experiences and even pulling out past learned experiences their were no rewards or any one paying attention. I began receiving input from new people I came into contact with. With some, I was rewarded and some would earn me a stern look.

One thing that was happening, is I found out how to manipulate and keep the friendly people around me. It was at this time I learned to do things that kept me busy when no one was near. One thing I liked most of all was to make noise and throw things around.

Time marched on and when I was 6 and I found out the many things I enjoyed were immediately corrected and learned my lesson well. I didn’t like it. While still have all these different experiences I was recording every one. I soon realized that I had a belief system and their were rules I had to follow. Any breaking of the rules caused me trauma and it was delivered by my parents or the care giver at the time. Some trauma came only in words that were repeated many times. All were recorded in my memory and kept there to protect me.

My teenage years were filled with new experiences, adventures and rules along with my care givers beliefs of how I should act and present my self. No matter what I did or where I went what would come to my head were the learned rules and beliefs I had been instilled with.

When I went into the military I had to learn their rules and beliefs at the same time modify the rules I had learned and my beliefs. When I had completed my time in the military I was discharged home. Everything was so different and everyone was living in their own world and doing the same things following there rules and beliefs.

Talk about trauma in every thing I was rigidly trained to do in the military to do was now taboo. I was told again to remember there are rules and beliefs in the caregivers life I had to follow them to get along.

Now I was in so much conflict in every way and everything I did if I did not remember the rules and beliefs I was to become an outcast or better the term which was used was a non-conformist, a hippy or every one just ignored me. It was when I went to college and graduated and then went to nursing school that I realized my past was my problem. It was further clarified when I went to this seminar where I encountered an EFT, emotional freedom technique instructor also he was a NLP, neuro-linguistic practitioner, I found out that if I didn’t make peace with my past problems, they would continue to be there to cause me pain. Once I admitted I had a problem, he then could coach me to resolve it. He stated there were many problems, that I would need to write them down, as each one was addressed I could cross them off my list.

Today my past is now looked at in very different way and that is with love. As this instructor was quoted, “You are now driving your own bus and taking now problems with me.”

Aunt Rose

This year I going to spend my summer vacation at my Aunt Roses in Bristol New Hampshire. Bristol is a small town but to get to Aunt Rose’s home, I had to go down past the Mica factory, continue on past the power station, cross over this large, iron bridge with wooden planks, where only one car at a time could pass.

Up past the saw mill and through very thickly wooded area was Aunt Rose and her favorite dog “Candy”.

Once all the greetings were finished, I entered the house where a variety of delicious aromas overwhelmed my senses.

In the middle of the knotty pine kitchen was a large, black stove where the snapping and crackling of the wood could be heard.

I could smell the homemade bread and the cinnamon from doughnuts fresh out of the oven. Lost in all the wonderful aromas, I was startled when my Aunt behind me spoke, “I made some of those small doughnuts you love”. I looked at my Aunt and was about to say something when she continued on, “Your mother told me you would walk all the way into town to the bakery for doughnuts.”

My head was spinning as the rest of the day went by so fast and the last thing I remember was everyone saying, “good night”.

When I awoke, I could hear my Aunt speaking to the dog. As I came down stairs and entered the kitchen the smell of fresh coffee brewing and bacon frying on the stove. I moved up close to the stove to get warm, since the morning air was chilly up here in the country.

My Aunt came in from collecting some eggs for breakfast and looked at me, smiling she said, “The morning air is good for you. Are you ready for breakfast?” She asked.

“I’m starving!”.

“Well, you can cut some bread for toast and there is some homemade jam on the sideboard if your uncle didn’t eat it all.” She said with a smile.

All of this had created such wonderful memories for me, that now when I go to New Hampshire and drive past her old home I want to stop for some home cooking and to smell the mingled aromas from the past.

As time marches on, our minds never seem to forget, all those wonderful moments we treasure so fondly.

An aroma or the crackling of firewood can still transport me back into those days gone by.