RSS Feed

What I Learned This Week – 12/21/14

This week I learned that “Last Christmas” seems to be the song of Christmas 2014.

The last few years, Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas is You” has been clogging up the airways. I REALLY do not like that song. It grates on me. It makes me want to go kill an elf on the shelf every time that it plays.

But it seems this year, “Last Christmas” is being played all the time. I am not in the love with the song, but it does have a catchy hook that is easily stuck in everyone’s head. Even my 4 year old son M busts out singing it now and then. (Except, his version is “Last Christmas, I gave you my poop…”)

And any excuse for radio to play more George Michael I am all on board with. The man has a beautiful voice.  Plus, he wrote and produced it.  He must get a nice royalty check every year come January.

I find it impressive that a 30 year old song is having such a resurgence.

And all versions of “Last Christmas” are being played to death, not even just the original version from Wham. I hear the versions by Taylor Swift and the cast of Glee on the radio as well. The Taylor Swift one is very surprising because while she isn’t one of my favorite artists, she usually puts lots of emotion into her singing. Her version of “Last Christmas” is very flat and bland. Very unlike her. Hard to believe it is from the same person who sings “Shake It Off” and “Blank Space”.

I wanted to include the video so that everyone would know what song I am referring to. I was afraid the original video would frighten everyone with it’s 1984 fashions and hair, so here is a lyric video instead…

Coming Soon! My first book: The Wind Could Blow a Bug

Click here to sign up to be notified by email of my future book releases.

Christmas: The I’m Not Stalking You Way! Part 2

NOTE: This post has ADULT CONTENT. Not for young eyes.

Adult Content

Adult Content

Now that I have that disclaimer out of the way, let’s talk about Santa Claus.

One of my earliest childhood memories (I cannot even tell you how old I would have been) was of waking up in the middle of the night in December and hearing the sound of gift wrapping in my kitchen. I sort of groggily thought, “Oh, I guess there is no Santa Claus. I guess my mom just buys all my gifts and wraps them for me.” Then I went back to sleep.

Futurama rules

Futurama rules

I never felt cheated by that experience. I actually think it saved me from waking up to the harsh reality years later that many kids have to go through, when they find out all their gifts come from family members shopping on Black Friday. I have just always known that there is no Santa Claus. Sure, my mom would always sign a few of the gift tags “From: Santa”. My stockings would magically be filled Christmas morning “by Santa”. We had no chimney. She would try to tell me, when I asked, that she would let Santa in the door.

Peeping Santa

Peeping Santa

I know my mother. There is no way she is opening the door for a strange old man while she is in her nightgown in the middle of the night. She wouldn’t even let people we KNEW in the house while she was in her nightgown.

I never saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus

I never saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus

Don’t get me wrong, I love THE IDEA of Santa and his sleigh and reindeer and elves. I love the songs. I love the Classic Coca-Cola ads with his image. I just don’t fully buy into it. I blame the realistic Capricorn in me that always seeks the truth.

Just wrong, in so many ways...

Just wrong, in so many ways…

But, the little that I DO believe about the legend of Santa comes from an unlikely source.

PM Magazine.

PM Magazine was a syndicated news show back in the early 1980’s, which featured human interest stories and lots of entertainment content. In my area, it was shown on WTOL Channel 11, just before The Muppet Show. So, I would often see the last five minutes as I was waiting for The Muppets to come on. In my memory, the picture is a little greenish. I think that was because of the color TV we had that was dying and only had one color left–green.

Anyway, I remember a story near Christmas time on PM Magazine about the REAL Santa Claus.* I recall the story being about some old guy who lived in a town near the North Pole. For his town, he would dress up as Santa and deliver toys to all the kids in town.

And that was enough for me.

To know that there was one guy who played the part of Santa in one town in the whole world was enough for me. To know that something like that exists has kept me going with the Christmas spirit all these years. Of course, that was 30 years ago. Dude is probably dead by now. And there was probably one mom like mine in that town who wouldn’t want to let him in the door anyway. But maybe, just maybe, he is still delivering those presents, to this day.

What?! Ugh!

What?! Ugh!

I do not plan to encourage or discourage my son’s belief in Santa Claus. But if he asks me if their is a real Santa, I will recite my fuzzy memories of that green news story to him from three decades ago.

Working at the mall recently, I got to know the Santa there very well. He is a super-nice guy. Even though I found out what his secret identity is the rest of the year, he still seems like Santa to me, because he is the only one I have gotten to know personally.

Santa is my BFF

Santa is my BFF

* I am sure many of my details about the PM Magazine story are inaccurate. I found where it may have aired on 12/24/1984, with the title of Real Life Santa.  I would have been only like 8 years old. But that show aired so long ago, that anyone else’s memory would be tainted with time as well. Unless someone has the actual classic footage for the Santa story, in which case I would LOVE to see it.

Coming Soon! My first book: The Wind Could Blow a Bug

Click here to sign up to be notified by email of my future book releases.

Christmas: The I’m Not Stalking You Way! Part 1

When I was a kid, in my house at Christmas, we celebrated all things commercial about Christmas, and none of the religious ones. We sang Christmas carols with “Jesus” and “Lord” in them; that was about it. And I liked it that way. That is still the primary focus in our household. Don’t get me wrong, we are also about giving to the Salvation Army bell ringers and peace on Earth and all that. But we have snowmen, Santas, and nutcrackers filling our house, and no nativity in sight.

Giant Nutcracker

Giant Nutcracker

This means the Christmas tree has always been the center of our Christmas celebration. After all, it is what you put the gifts under!

When I was very young, I thought that Christmas trees were a special variety of pine tree that grew to be 5 to 6ft tall within 330 days or so.  I mean, it makes sense.  That is about how often consumers need to purchase them. It seemed totally unrealistic to me that you would chop down a tree that has taken years to grow, just to put in someone’s living room for a month.  I still think maybe my original idea was correct.  Or, if it is not, we should totally work on developing that.

Just as with anything else, my mom was very fussy about getting a Christmas tree. As you may suspect from my hypothesizing above, my mom and I always got a live tree. Because she had to carry it herself, she had strict height restrictions. Namely, that the tree could not be taller than her. The base of the tree had to be small enough to fit into our small metal tree stand. The trunk had to be straight so that the tree would not lean or be off balance. Because we hauled it in the trunk of our car, and later in a Chevrolet Chevette 2-door hatchback, she always put down a sheet first, so that (most of) the needles could be easily shaken out.

Me, when I was almost 4 years old.  Almost the same age that my son is now.

Me, when I was almost 4 years old. Almost the same age that my son is now.

We always bought trees at the closest tree lot to us, which was at the American Legion. My gramma always came with us, which added a layer of tension because my mom and my gramma always bickered. (In 20 years, my son will be saying the same thing about his mom and grandmother. Oy.) I think my gramma was supposed to help hold open doors to the house, and hold the tree steady while my mom laid on the floor and screwed it into the stand. But I think the real reason my mom drug my gramma along was because in order to pay for the tree at the Legion, someone had to go into the bar to bring someone out. My mom always made my gramma do that. When I got big enough to help, my mom would just take the tree home. Then she would clip the price tag off the top of the tree and mail it with a check back to the Legion.

One year, my mom was out of work. She kept saying I wasn’t going to get much for Christmas. But she said that every year, and every year my Christmas was filled with gifts and candy. This particular year, she said we didn’t have money to get a Christmas tree. Which I didn’t believe her at first. She was always saying stuff like that, but our quality of living never changed much. (That was actually courtesy of Mr. Visa and Mr. Mastercard, who she was using to buy us groceries with.) She was usually a person who bought a tree early (for best selection), and then threw it in our shed until a week before Christmas (to ensure freshness). So as Christmas creeped closer, I started to believe her. And if I had known then what I know now about scrimping and saving, I would have told her to cut down on the steak (albeit cheap steak) and laundry soap (she used A LOT), we totally could have found the $20 they cost at that time. But I was just a kid.

Antique icicle ornaments older than I am.  Wait...Does that make me an antique too?

Antique icicle ornaments older than I am. Wait…Does that make me an antique too?

One day we were taking a walk around the trailer court in which we lived in December. It must have been a warm day, otherwise why would we have been out? Which then makes sense that it was windy. As we were walking, leftover autumn leaves danced at our feet on the cracked concrete street. Among them, was a hint of green that she kicked with the toe of her shoe. It turned out to be a $20 bill. Who knows how far that $20 had blown to land at our feet. No owner in sight.

So, that year, that was how we got our Christmas tree. You would think that would have moved my mom in some way spiritually. It did not seem to. When I think of that experience, it strengthens my belief in the Law of Attraction. We wanted a Christmas tree so badly, that the means to get one was drawn into our lives.

My husband and I continue the tradition of a live tree every year (Scotch pine if my favorite).

My next post will be about the existence of Santa Claus.

Coming Soon! My first book: The Wind Could Blow a Bug

Click here to sign up to be notified by email of my future book releases.

What I Learned This Week – 12/7/14

This week I learned that on the right day of the year for only a donation to Toys for Tots, I could get to drive my car around Michigan International Speedway!

It was awesome!

Because I had to take my mom to the bank on Saturday anyway, I asked her if she would want to ride along out to the speedway with me. We both used to watch NASCAR racing for many years. It was the perfect activity for her–no walking.

She kept saying there would be tons of people and there would be a line.

There wasn’t.

We had a little trouble finding the right entrance to go in, but then we got to drive through a very narrow tunnel that made me nervous. Then everyone in the car had to sign a disclaimer. I even had to sign one for my son, M.

We went to enter the track on pit road.

I said, “Look! It’s pit road.”

My mom said, “Where?”

I said, “We are ON it!”

Then she was impressed.

I said, “Take pictures!”

She said, “I don’t have a camera.”

I said, “Use your cell phone.”

She forgets that there is a camera on her phone.

She got nervous when I went high in the turns. They are banked so high that my everyday vehicle seemed like it would roll over any second. It was very strange to see minivans and SUVs driving around the track together.

For your donation, you were supposed to get one time around the track at 25mph. We went more than one lap and more than 25mph, but not as many times or as fast as anyone else.

I felt a little closer to Jeff Gordon that day.

Here are our pictures:

The view from the track

The view from the track

Me gritting my teeth as I approach the steep banking

Me gritting my teeth as I approach the steep banking

The view of the track through my windshield

The view of the track through my windshield

The biggest surprise was the text I received the next morning from my mom:

Riding around the racetrack was one of the coolest things I have ever done in my life. Thank you.

Hmmm… If she is going to be that grateful for a change, I just might have to start dragging her out more often.

Coming Soon! My first book: The Wind Could Blow a Bug

Click here to sign up to be notified by email of my future book releases.

Excerpt: The Wind Could Blow a Bug – Chapter 1

TWCBAB_med

Here is an excerpt from my upcoming young adult contemporary romance called The Wind Could Blow a Bug.  Sign up for email updates about publication at:  http://imnotstalkingyou.us9.list-manage1.com/subscribe?u=f58cebd8190793e8348ca281f&id=a695e51c66

1

JANE

The Oakley town council meeting had started off typically enough. There was a review of the minutes from the last meeting, and the usual complaints about too much. This time it was too much noise and chickens. But with all the Tucker boys in attendance for the meeting tonight, a rare occurrence, it was only a matter of time before things got rowdy.

The main order of new business on the agenda was to discuss a nationwide pharmacy with plans to build a store at the edge of town. The tiny town, population 3,300, was divided on this particular issue. And so they piled into mayor Skip Wickley’s living room for tonight’s meeting.

Skip was a large black man, in both mass and stature. He was an impressive physical figure to lead the town, but he was often too busy trying to keep everyone happy to make effective decisions.

On a night of a normal meeting, there would have been plenty of room for everyone. Skip had a large old farmhouse. Usually only 30 or so citizens were in attendance. Tonight it looked as though a representative from almost every household in town was here. The living room and dining room were one combined space, as though a wall that had formerly divided them a hundred years ago had since been removed. Every inch of that space was needed tonight.

Jane Riley sat in the corner on the couch, with her spiral-bound notebook on her lap. Although only a high school senior, she was present at all the town council meetings. She took down notes and turned them into the regional newspaper to earn extra money for college. Twenty dollars per meeting. Since the town council was so small, her newspaper recap also served as official meeting minutes. Being quiet with few hobbies, she would take advantage of that on her college application by saying she was the secretary for the town council. As no one officially held that post, no one could really complain if she claimed it.

But tonight she was too distracted to take conscientious notes. Her attention was not on the debate, but instead on the group of four strapping farm boys standing up, trying to holler over one another. The Tucker boys were not the type of guys to give Jane the time of day. They were all older than Jane. Then again, no other boys in town were interested in her either. Jane had earned a reputation for being “shy”, a word she hated. In truth, she just didn’t care to socialize with the jocks and cheerleaders of her school. They had no clue that she could be funny and witty. Jane saw this as their loss, not hers. She was average in just about every way. She was an average height, with a thin frame, and light brown hair of an average length. She was often mistaken for several years younger than her 18 years. If Jane was a boy, she probably wouldn’t be interested in herself either.

The Tucker brothers all had hair damp from the showers they had taken before attending the meeting. It was nice that they had been considerate enough to wash off the day’s worth of dirt and sweat before they came. But they also had drowned themselves in cologne too. Were they all heading to the bar to pick up chicks after the meeting? The mix of four different colognes and testosterone filled the room and made Jane’s head spin, in a good way.

Evan Tucker was the father of all these men. He was nearing 50. While most fathers were old and chubby and balding, Evan was still a good-looking man. He would look right at home in an Eddie Bauer catalog. His full head of black hair was just starting to have some white mix in around the edges.

Randy was the oldest son. He had to be about 27 now, and helped his father run the business. He looked a lot like his father, but Randy was a few inches taller.

Josh was the second oldest. He was known around town as a prankster. This somehow made him easy to dislike. Josh sported a headful of brown hair and wore a goatee of perpetual stubble on his chin. Jane assumed that he did the same work on the farm as his brothers, but somehow he was thicker around the middle than the rest. He was 24 years old.

Wade was just a year younger than Josh. Wade was the Tucker boy most of the girls in town liked best. He had won the genetics lottery. Blond hair, blue eyes, and a face like a model. His smile had been known to stop traffic.

Oakley’s main street only had two lanes and one flashing signal. So really, sometimes a stray cat stopped traffic as well.

Pete was the youngest son. He had been a year ahead of Jane in school, which meant he was now out of school. He looked a lot like his mother. He was wiry, with dirty blond hair.

The discussion was breaking down as everyone talked over each other.

“The SaveRX would bring many jobs to our town.”

“But it would put my drug store out of business.”

“It sounds like a budget strip club.”

“The people from Parker would get all the jobs anyway.” This was unlikely. Parker was the next largest town about 40 miles away.

“Wouldn’t they need to use some of my land to build it at the proposed site? I am not selling. Does that mean you are going to use eminent domain to claim it?” asked Evan Tucker.

Now it was more obvious why the Tuckers were here. Mr. Tucker owned much of the farmland around Oakley, including all of the farmland on the west end of town where the pharmacy was to be built. He may look like a hick, but he was a very smart businessman. Mr. Tucker had kept his farm going and growing in a time when many had failed. He had managed to keep it in the family as well, an even bigger feat.

Tucker Farms had been started by Evan Tucker’s grandfather. Then it was very small and only fed the immediate family. Evan’s father grew it to have many cash crops and added many silos for grain storage to cover himself in times of bad weather until his death.

Evan took over the business in very different times. The old-time farmers were dying out, literally, and their children did not want to continue.   They wanted to get jobs at the automotive factory in Parker that offered a steady income and benefits. Or they just moved away to the cities, where they could get a job in anything. Evan started buying up the land. Often times he could not offer much, but the sellers snapped it up just to be rid of it. Evan began to diversify his products.

As Evan’s business was growing, the local grain elevators, the Oakley Co-Op, just called ‘the Co-Op’ by locals, were suffering. With the drop in the number of farmers using their buy, sell, and store services, they did not have the ability to make upgrades or pay their employees. When the Co-Op went out of business, Evan was put in the position of expanding his own operation to provide the services to other farmers in and around Oakley that they could no longer receive anywhere else. In a day and age when no one put down new railroad tracks, Evan found he had justification to have some laid between his elevators and the nearest rail spur a few miles away.

Evan had helped salvage what little community was left in Oakley. The goods he bought from the feed store and the hardware store kept them in business. The local tractor supply helped to keep his farming machines in running order. And so on. In turn, all those merchants could buy newspapers, groceries, and eat at the two restaurants in town. It was a delicate balance. Evan Tucker knew this, and it no doubt kept him up late nights.

“Ya, we ain’t selling,” Josh said.

“That is prime farmland,” Randy articulated.

“It is also the best make-out spot in town,” Wade said, smiling.

“You should know, Wade!” someone in the back yelled.

With that, the room let out a whoop and the conversation quickly was derailed from the task at hand. Wade seemed to be at the center of the chaos.

A great dig at Wade came to Jane. She crossed the room to get closer to the action, waiting for her turn to contribute. She felt self-conscious standing, so she sat in an available chair, left vacant by all those now standing. Wanting a better vantage point of the room, she sat on the back of the stuffed green plaid chair and put her pink Converse shoes on the seat. She began to remember that she wasn’t the kind of girl to speak up in meetings, especially to flirt with guys. As the conversation moved away from Wade, Jane knew her chance was gone. This made her relax a little. Although her brief moment of bravery, of just moving across the room, had already made her deodorant fail.

The Wind Could Blow a Bug – Book Summary

TWCBAB_med

Here is the back cover summary for my upcoming young adult contemporary romance called The Wind Could Blow a Bug.  To be notified of book release, please sign up at: http://imnotstalkingyou.us9.list-manage1.com/subscribe?u=f58cebd8190793e8348ca281f&id=a695e51c66

Jane Riley is a quiet high school senior growing up in a rural Alabama town, surrounded by hot farm boys. When Wade, the handsomest one of all, takes a sudden interest in her romantically, Jane falls hard for him. Being adopted, Jane’s search for her birth mother leads to unexpected revelations. After graduation, everything in her life begins to fall apart. While suffering from depression, Jane must cope with the unknown challenges of college. Jane must discover that family isn’t always who you would expect. She is reminded that The Wind Could Blow a Bug and her life could change in an instant…

Do Divine Forces Communicate To Me Through The Radio?

I don’t believe in God. Although I do think there might be some sort of higher force affecting our lives on a daily basis. That force might be Fate. I also believe that Fate can play cruel tricks on us at times.

GOD RADIO-music prayer

All that aside, do you think that it is possible that God communicates to me through my car radio?

Because after this week, I think that maybe he just might. If he existed.

This week I was on my way to work, wondering why I was going in when the job clearly makes me miserable. So much so that there was an anonymous vote at Thanksgiving dinner saying that I should not head into work that night. But I did anyway. Not really sure what is wrong with me in that respect. I usually blame my freakishly responsible nature on being a Capricorn.

Anywho, while on my way to work Friday, there was a radio ad. For the very shopping location that I work at. It said,”[Enter Shopping Location Here] wants to give YOU the gift of MORE TIME this holiday season.”

This was my sign.

Now, the commercial actually goes on to try to impress customers by talking about the extended shopping hours available on Thanksgiving and Black Friday.

It was not meant for employees at all.

But I took it as my sign that I should terminate my employment soon, in order to return to some semblance of sanity and to enjoy the holidays with my family.

The irony of all this? My boss most likely arranged and paid for those commercials.

After this, I was pretty certain of my course of action, but worried about how my family would manage with less income.

Then on Sunday morning, as I went to the grocery store in my pajamas and slippers to buy more pop, the local station had on some religious programming. Usually I change it right away, but this time I didn’t. The pastor was talking about moving to a small town and trying to find an office job right as the recession hit. I don’t remember his exact words, but it came down to that he was fretting about if they had made the right decisions or not. He worried that they should move to the city.

Then he realized that he should just stop and be grateful for what he did have. The jobs that he and his wife had, even if they were not ideal. The friends who touched their lives every day.

I don’t know much, but I do know that gratitude works. I was always grateful for my Pontiac Aztek, even after it died. The Universe provided me with a Jeep Patriot to purchase that I am very happy with. I do fret that committing to the loan may have been an error. But my asbestos friend would tell me to not turn down gifts from the Universe. But the Universe is not always clear on what decisions I should make.

Unless I hear them on the radio…

Repost: The Rudest Thing Anyone Can Say

This was originally posted on January 29, 2014, but seems more fitting at this pushy time of year…

Original Link here: http://imnotstalkingyou.com/2014/01/29/the-rudest-thing-anyone-can-say/

“Excuse me.”

According to dictionary.com, it is an idiom, “used as a polite expression, as when addressing a stranger, when interrupting or disagreeing with someone, or to request repetition of what has just been said.”

I do not see it as polite at all.

1. How can you say it is ever “polite” to interrupt or disagree with someone? That is always going to be seen as negative by the person you are disagreeing with, no matter how much sugar you put on it.

2. I do not ever hear excuse me used out of “politeness”.

Used out of anger and impatience, mostly.

A perfect meme to illustrate my exact point.

A perfect meme to illustrate my exact point!

The customers at the grocery store who want to get past you are not saying it to be polite. They are not bothering to waste their breath on a full statement, such as, “Excuse me, may I please get by?” They are just barking out “excuse me”, then trying to squeeze between the two carts that are still in front of them at full speed. “Excuse me” is not a magic phrase meaning “everyone get the hell out of my way!” If it is the day before Thanksgiving and you are in the baking aisle at Meijer, “excuse me” isn’t going to get you anywhere. If there are people with carts in front of the people with carts who are blocking you, THEY ARE BLOCKED! Incessantly repeating “excuse me” like a broken record is not going to make the rapture come and beam people out of your way. Trust me, if they could get out of your way and away from you snarling those two rudest of words, they would.

I try not to use “excuse me” ever. Sometimes I use it in a store just to get someone’s attention. But my voice is always too quiet, and then I just feel dumb that I talked and no one heard me. I feel like I suddenly became invisible.

And really, in that context, to be perfectly honest, I am using “excuse me” to tell a stranger “you are in my way.” And that is how we are all using that expression. Be honest here. Unless you are trying to give someone back the $100 bill they just dropped, you are not using it as a courtesy or out of kindness. You are being rude and pushy and have the same “get out of my way” attitude as everyone else.

Maybe it is just me, but I always think of “excuse me” as the rudest thing anyone could say to me. It makes me just want to stab them.

The second rudest?

Probably, “Here, have a tissue.” Ack!

Thankful

I am thankful for my healthy family. I am thankful for two newer cars that run. I am thankful for my house, with the strong roof to keep out the elements and a good furnace to keep us warm. I am thankful for a job that helps to pay the bills. I am thankful for my husband. I am thankful for my son, who is just starting life as a 4 year old.

I am thankful for birthday celebrations.

I am thankful for birthday celebrations.

I am thankful for my dog Dave. I am thankful for the means to make a bountiful Thanksgiving dinner. I am thankful for television, and all the shows I regularly watch–past, present, and future. I am thankful for Domo. I am thankful for Thomas the tank engine. I am thankful for Scooby-Doo. I am thankful for Hello Kitty. I am thankful for Lightning McQueen. I am thankful for my blog. I am thankful for my book. (Working on getting a cover design, everyone. Be patient, because I am not.) I am thankful for clothes on my back and shoes on my feet. I am thankful for antibiotics. I am thankful for children’s Tylenol. I am thankful for medical insurance. I am thankful that I can still remember the feel of Parker’s soft dark brown head. I am thankful that we got to take a family vacation this year. I am thankful for music. I am thankful for pop. I am thankful for sugar. I am thankful for chocolate. I am thankful for pizza. Thank you for my bed. Thank you for my pillow to rest my head. Thank you for my friends. Thank you for my family. Thank you for not having a ton of snow yet. Thank you for Pillsbury Cinnamon rolls with caramel frosting for breakfast on Thanksgiving morning. Thank you for the America’s Thanksgiving Day parade in Detroit. Thank you for NASCAR and Jeff Gordon. Thank you for the NHL and the Detroit Red Wings. I am thankful for parades. I am thankful for slippers. I am thankful for pajamas. I am thankful for balloons.

I should really do this more often than a few times a year.

ME: What are you thankful for?
M: Uh? Eating worms.
[OooooooooooooooooooooooK.]

Enjoy your Thanksgiving. I only get to enjoy mine until 4PM :-P

4 Years

It has been four years today since the three Skelton brothers were taken by their father and never seen again.  He sits in prison, convicted of kidnapping.  He is the only one who knows what happened to them, and he ain’t talkin’.

The Skelton Brothers, missing since 11/26/10

The Skelton Brothers, missing since 11/26/10

Andrew, Alex, and Tanner Skelton lived in a town about a half hour from me.  Their disappearance is linked to a very important event in my life.  So, I always know how long that they have been missing.  I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose one child, let alone three.

Every now and then in my house we mention them.  They are not forgotten, even though I never personally knew them.  Sometimes when I mention them, my son will ask about “The Skeleton Brothers”.  And I can’t help but think that, “I really hope that they are not skeletons by now.  I really hope they will miraculously be found someday.  Jaycee Dugard‘s case gives me hope.”

Here is a blog post that was recently written by their cousin.  It is very powerful.

http://kidblog.org/WritersHour5/a368c340-6888-4f7b-a500-6ab285e642ed/just-two-little-words-thats-all-i-ask/

For more on the Skelton Brothers, please visit:

http://imnotstalkingyou.com/2012/08/28/i-thought-they-would-have-found-the-missing-boys-by-now/

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 163 other followers

%d bloggers like this: