Gentleness is always needed…soft emotions and edges…calmness and a sense of quiet…. It is a day of reflection—and more appreciation of what we encounter each moment of past days day in our individual lives… ..the small things, the LARGE things, the important things—the unimportant things… The gift of our lives is made of moment by moment experiences…a collection of memories, images, smells, tastes, sounds…Terrifying and exhilarating..times of immense love–and undeniable hate…not necessarily of another soul..but of what life has brought down on us–yet again… Yes…life so often takes our breath away.. in the profoundness of it….. Pamela @Boomernovel
Today I write again.. Can’t tell you how privileged and spoiled I feel to just relax and veg and write at my leisure here this summer of 2018 at AJ’s home. I feel inspired beyond measure. I now have four different friends who are working on writing projects from Novels to screenplays to non fiction to ghost writing and it feels so good to have others in my circle now who GET where I am coming from when I speak of this passion we have inside to create content. Four years ago today It was only a couple months into publish and i had a huge flurry of excited readers who had been waiting for my book to hit the stands/ebook. Here’s one message.. I cannot TELL you what messages like this and many other messages of support over the years mean and MEANT to me as a first-time author at age 65!! It motivated me to carry on with book 2 (which is still in progress and will eventually be a feature film) and the rest of the series, It has inspired me and told me it was all worth it!! Here was the post to me.. ~~ Lisa […]
Today our progeny and their own salute us, revere us ,cherish us, treasure us, thank us for the gift of life and learning to be the humans we have molded them to be.. But today I wish to salute my own flesh and blood and their flesh and blood and tell you I revere you, cherish you, treasure you, love you and thank you for the gift of motherhood.. To the bond of mother and child.. Priceless beyond measure..
When I was little I was full of excited anticipation, All the time, breathless for the future.. My mind was full of visions of a life far beyond the small family farm we were fortunate to be raised and nurtured on.. My dear, precious mother would look in my eyes..and talk to me –without moving her lips– She told me to be.. -Unafraid…of becoming whatever I dreamed of–in each stage of my eternity -Unrestrained..in sharing my love and beliefs–spreading my word and the bits of knowledge and experience I gathered over my lifetime.. And -Unapologetic if I stepped beyond boundaries and over thresholds others thought a woman of my station should ever imagine. What a gift she gave me… Thank you, my Guardian Angel. My precious Mother. For being there–as you are even today… Always THERE..
MORNING, y’all!! A wee giftie for the readers in my circle. A poem about books for you this lovely mid-month Sunday. “Priceless….. Awww yes.. Books… Our saving grace when we are in despair. And need solace….. Our teachers. Our comedians when we need to laugh. Our heat’s desire when we need to imagine great love and passion. Our roadmaps to motivate and inspire us. Our Angels when we feel to give up.. We all NEED books.. They are our companions in life.. And once read and taken into our soul, a thing that NO ONE can steal from us… For we OWN the words then.. Forever and ever.”””” ~~~~ Pamela–
Author Pamela Lee’s testimony speaks for hundreds and thousands of women all over the world. Will this down-toearth, caring, kindhearted maiden’s future be “filled with love? Or filled with unspeakable despair?” The Highest Mountain; the Deepest Valley The Void of a Broken Heart The picture-perfect family. It’s one of the most desired, attainable, and ideal images conceivable to the human heart and spirit, with many of us dreaming and fantasizing of establishing our own family someday. Just like Annie Magyar. This piercing and emotive autobiography unfolds the many diverse chapters of Author Pamela Lee’s eventful and gripping story, with Annie Magyar, the main character, representing the author. As a youngling, Annie lives blanketed in unadulterated love, happy and content with an abundance of compassion, and securely nestled in the safety of principle, nourishment, family, and tradition. Immediately, it’s easy to interpret that she (who also goes by the name ‘Annie’; ‘Anna Belle’, ‘Anna Lee’ and ‘J’ throughout the story) is indeed a spirited leader with a genuine, zealous will to live life happy, and to the fullest degree! In the beginning, Author Lee efficiently exemplifies the natural “infectious” internal light little Annie possesses by recapping the earlier years of her […]
Mom–THIS is what it was like for you and I.. For I remember… My first memories are of you holding me during Hurricane Hazel–singing to me and tickling me-to make me laugh… Farther down of you milking Bossy the cow and squirting me with warm milk–making me laugh… I remember you letting me stand on a chair and showing me how to peel potatoes–and hold the mixer to make cake batter– Jump to age 13 when i got braces and you made me green peppers stuffed with cottage cheese and other special lunches just for me– Then me as a mid teen when we used to sit on your bed on Sundays and read novels together…. And then how you helped me on my wedding day by throwing a grand soirée at the farm for the reception. .. And then how OROUD you were of me when your grandson, my first son, child of your child, come to us From there it was woman to woman—for you gave me that respect.. And I finally felt sooo grown up.. Until I was 29…you, only 49…and then you were gone.. Mothermurder Thank you–for being you… Your Pammy….Your J…
“Incredulously” Who could have known? Who could have guessed? Who could ever think that the most important soul to us ALL would be taken in violent murder in five days, those many years ago? 1978! Self-same day as the |Jonestown Massacre. Who could believe, if someone said it was coming, that the one who we all assume will be there for us ’til our own end will, instead, be stolen? Wouldn’t we all pooh-pooh it if we thought that Gramma would never again bake her famous cookies for your kids.. spoil them rotten with her devoted love of them? Who could imagine she would never again gladly provide an ear, a non-judgemental ear for you in the middle of the night when you just ..needed her? I couldn’t.. But it happened.. Pamela.. 13/11/15 post script–My precious Momma was 49..I had just turned 29, 12 days before her death.
In Remembrance Collateral Damage on the shores of the Halifax Harbour They felt safe from the war, here at home on the shores of Halifax Harbour. Mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers, teachers and preachers; left behind when the boys of Nova Scotia crossed over the pond from Pier 21. As did the sons from other harbours. From Musquodoboit to Sydney. Lunenburg to Digby. They came. Boys. Vital, virile young men. Not yet sculpting the life they were destined to make for their eternity. Some hadn’t spilled blood shaving. They spilled it instead on Flanders Fields. With troops ships anchored row upon row, down harbour in the Bedford Basin, awaiting their next load of “My Soldier” men, and long snaking trains bringing sons and brothers from across the land, the unthinkable happened one day in December to thousands upon thousands of those mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, teachers and preachers of the boys of Nova Scotia, who thought they were safe at home on the shores of Halifax Harbour. They watched from their windows, not knowing the danger, in awe of the scene. They watched from the Mi’kmaq village in Tufts Cove, All to be lost. A tsunami. […]