A Penny in Time Chapter 9: Courage (part 2)

Fifteen and twenty-one equaled thirty-six, the same age my mother is now.  My Mom would be fifty-seven in twenty-one years, old but not ancient.  But I guess I wouldn't know what she even looked like in twenty-one years if I wasn't going to be there.  And I wouldn't know anything about anybody; my grandparents, my Dad, Slinky, Frank, Dean, Fran, Annie and all my other friends.  Or how ninth grade would be, let alone the next twenty-one years of my life on Earth.

"Would Sarree be a good mother?"  Better than me? I wondered.

"She wants only what is best for Yugo, even if it means giving him up to you.  She would do that out of love for him, and I think that defines a good parent."

I thought about my Mom...and my Dad.  I knew my Mom cared about my best interests, but to tell the truth, I had some doubts about my Dad.

"Would you be a good father?"  The nagging uncertainty that had been hovering over my thoughts was out of my mouth, but I couldn't forget that Mr. D had rejected Yugo when he first met us at the gate.

Mr. D's face crinkled and he bowed his head.  I don't think I hurt his feelings, exactly.  More like he admitted there was some truth to what I'd said.

"I would try my very best," he replied, like he was pledging his word of honor.  "I know that I would.  For his sake, for Sarree, for my own.  And, for you.  I have come to understand a great deal about love, because of you."

I felt my face flush.  I wondered if Mr. D could see the color red, or if he only sensed emotions.  "Why did the Perfect Council go all weird about the pennies?"  I dug them out of my pocket and put them in front of us on the table.

Mr. D stiffened, a rather odd reaction to a measly five cents.  "That is a great deal of wealth to us here, Dusty."

"Five pennies?" I quipped, arranging them in row.  "What's so valuable about these?"

"They contain the most precious resources on our planet.  Resources that are regenerated every five hundred years."  Mr. D's hand fluttered, then tapped lightly on the tabletop.  "Just the minute amount of copper and zinc found in one penny allows us to build and maintain our city for a hundred years."

"You mean, I'm rich here?"  What a neat thought!

"You are indeed," he answered with a chuckle, then, sounding just like an adult, added, "but you must realize you offended everyone by trying to buy Yugo."

Like I was some kind of slave trader!  "I did not!" I shouted, totally mad.  "They acted like he was worthless and all I wanted to prove was that I'd give everything I had to save him!"

Mr. D drew back.  "Yes, of course, I know that.  But there will be those who say you did not save Yugo out of love, but for gain.  There will always be someone who will find fault with the why and wherefore of what you do."

"And I thought this was a perfect society," I groused.  "No more perfect than my own."  I wasn't real sure that I wanted to be left out of my rightful place back home, anymore.

"Dusty," Mr. D whispered, though Yugo slept on unaware of us and no one else could have overheard us, "look out the window!"

The colorless sky was no more!  Streaks of reds, purples and pinks fanned across the horizon, like a brilliant Seattle sunset, though there hadn't been any sun to set.  Lots of dust maybe, but no sun that I ever saw.

"What happened?" I whispered back.

"Once in a million years!"  Mr. D's eyes sparkled and his face lit up with a smile.  "This is a most rare occurrence!"  He reached over and grabbed my hands pulling me onto my feet, adding with a little laugh, "You might say you've brought color to our world!"

He motioned to me and I swept Yugo into my arms as I followed Mr. D outside.  A great crowd had gathered all along the sidewalks and in the street.  A hushed murmur followed us as we walked down the middle of the street through a path left open for us.  I felt x-rayed.  Mr. D came to a halt in front of the mass and stood transfixed before the silent fireworks in the sky.  Yugo woke and I shared his sense of joy and wonderment.

Then he began to chitter, squirming in my arms, and I knew Sarree was somewhere near us.  I watched him eagerly searching for his mother, trying to communicate with me his sense of rightness, hope and belonging.  I clutched him tighter, willing him to stop, but I knew I had already lost that special link with him.

I had to look away, up at the sky.  Rainbows danced in my teary eyes.  Once in a million years wouldn't be enough for me, that much I knew as a deep, intense longing filled me to go back home.  I tried to tell myself that I was picking up Yugo's emotions, but I knew that this was my own, my very own, feeling.  I guess I knew all along that it wouldn't work out with me staying here, that sooner or later I would want to go home again.

I understood it all; and I didn't understand any of it.  The pain that had ripped my heart in two, left me feeling oddly at peace.  I scanned the crowd, looking for that face I would recognize as Sarree.  It wasn't hard to find her, for she was staring at me.  Me and Yugo.  Yugo blipped like radar when he spied her.  I had a choice:  break eye contact and turn away, or smile.

She strained to see over someone's shoulder and I lost sight of her momentarily.  When I saw her head pop into view, I smiled and moved so that there was a space for her.

The sky dripped colors, like a wet painting.  The gallery of Monosapiens oohed and ahhed, as Sarree squeezed between me and Mr. D.  Yugo chirped and mewed, rocking in my arms, delighted that he had us all together.  He reached out for Sarree and she hesitated but a fraction of a second before she took him from me.

He has it all, I thought, watching them, happy for all of them, yet tasting the bitterness of my loss.  Mr. D smiled lovingly at Sarree and Yugo, his massive, white-furred hand on Sarree's elbow.  She nuzzled Yugo, stroking his cheek.  It was a perfect picture of a perfect family.

I was not the only one viewing the perfect scene, for others had noticed.  It seemed all eyes were on us.  What did they expect?  I'd go crazy and run up and down the street, shouting and swearing?  I stood quietly beside the family reunion until the onlookers lost interest and went back to sky gazing, then made my way back to Mr. D's house.

It wasn't easy to find.  I had to walk up and down the little paths to the front doors and check out the nameplates.  It would have been smart of me to have counted the houses, but it seems I get these good ideas too late.  I had only walked in the door when Mr. D came in behind me.

"Dusty," he acknowledged my pain in saying my name.

"It's okay, Mr. D, really.  I thought about it, and I know that it's better for Yugo to be with his mother.  There's whole a lot I don't know about raising a Monosapien."  I laughed, but it was half-heartedly.

He tipped his head.  His smile was so nice, and his eyes were so kind!
"I'd like to go home."

"Yes."  He indicated the five pennies on the table.  "Take them."
I shook my head.  "No, I'd like Yugo to have them."

Mr. D clasped his hands, his face a map of concerns.  "That would not be wise.  So much wealth for one individual would be a terrible imbalance in our society."

"Then for the three of you!" I shot back.

Eyes downcast, he sighed.  "No."

With my back to Mr. D, I wiped the table clean of the pennies.  I was about to pocket them all when I flashed on  finding Yugo in the desert.  There were probably others out there left to die.

I plunked a penny down on the table, turned and faced Mr. D.  "Then this should be plenty to get enough food and shelter for all the misbegottens."

I had stunned Mr. D, I could see it in his face.  "You will make sure of it, won't you Mr. D?"

"Of course I will," his voice rose and filled the room with warmth.  "Of course I will," he repeated, coming to me and hugging me tightly.  "Oh, Dusty, what a legacy you've left us!"

Well, at least it wasn't a bad pun like my Dad would have made.  But still, I finally appreciated how making 'sense' could mean a lot of different things, all at the same time.

I was smothering and pulled away from Mr. D's chest.  "Mr. D, how am I going to get home?  I don't have a magic ring, ruby slippers or a mirror, so what's left---a space ship?"

He planted his hands firmly on my shoulders.  I sucked on the inside of my bottom lip, to keep from smiling and crying, for I felt like doing both.  We locked eyes, and I knew I would miss him and Yugo a lot, for a long, long time.

"I won't forget you, ever," I said, without even a crack in my voice.

He dropped his hands from my shoulders, brushing one hand across my forehead and down my cheek.  "Nor I you."

Out of the corner of my eye I could see through the window that the colors had begun to wash out of the sky.  Everyone began to drift away.  Sarree and Yugo would be home soon.

"Just open your eyes, Dusty," intoned Mr. D.  "Open your eyes."

Weren't my eyes already open?  Confused, I squinted hard, trying to focus on Mr. D.  I blinked and blinked again.

A Penny in Time Chapter 9: Courage (part 1)

"The woman, Dusty," matching fingers, Mr. D pressed his hands together, his voice husky, "is my partner, Sarree.  And yes, she is Yugo's mother."

"Then Yugo is yours!" I blurted, rising part way out of my chair.

"No," he replied simply.

No? my thoughts spun, and I sat back down.  If he wasn't the father, then someone else had to be.

"Here, where couples are together until death separates them, love is not the first consideration:  compatibility is.  But sometimes that is not enough.  And one person cannot love enough to make up for the void."

"You loved her?"  It came out in a squeaky whisper.

"I love her."

I couldn't help but glance quickly over my shoulder at Yugo, sleeping without a care in this world.  "How can you say that after she deserted you and left her baby out in the desert to die?"

"She had no choice.  Yugo was taken from her, unwillingly.  Yugo's father died trying to bring him back.  That happened, in fact, shortly before you arrived and rescued him."

Although Mr. D looked the picture of calmness, I wondered if he weren't torn up inside.  I was, just thinking about all this.  "Why did you take us in?"

He thought about that for awhile.  "Because," he faltered, "because I had wanted so very much a second chance to right the imbalance in our lives."

I shook my head.  "I don't understand."

"I love Sarree, but I didn't know that until after she left.  Only then did I understand she could love another."

I could tell he struggled with his feelings by his shaky smile, and I was slightly embarrassed.  Yugo stirred and cried out.  I popped up out the chair, relieved to go over and cradle him in my arms.  "I think he's hungry, again."  I handed Mr. D the empty bottle.

With Mr. D busy in the kitchen, I thought about what he had said.  Holding Yugo, Sarree's image floated in my thoughts; I got it loud and clear what he wanted most was to be with his mother.  All my feelings were a hazy swirl of reds and greens, like anticipating Christmas morning, not because of the presents, but because I would be there with my family.  But I couldn't see any faces I knew, only those of Sarree, Yugo and Mr. D.  Maybe I was the "eyes" of the dreamer; there but not a part of it.
Yugo longed for his mother.  Sarree.  A stab of jealousy pierced me, but at the same time, I too, wanted to be home with my mother.  We both wanted the same thing.
Mr. D handed the bottle to me without saying anything, like he knew I needed to think through my feelings.  I fed Yugo, very careful not hurry him as he lapped at the chalky stuff, burping him every few minutes.  He was so happy!  I had to smile and even began to hum 'Old McDonald had a farm' to him.

He fell back asleep, and I swear he'd grown the short time I had him in my arms.  He was heavier and looked longer as he curled up again on the couch.  I didn't want to get up and leave him, happy to sit beside him drifting along our currents of contentment.

Mr. D waited in the dining room, seated once more at the table.  We had more to discuss, but the questions no longer seemed that pressing to me.  Or maybe, I had to admit to myself, I didn't want to know the answers.

But it's like an itch, the moment you think you're not going to think about it, you have to.  I returned to the table and dropped into the chair facing Mr. D.  "You said you love Sarree, but does she love you?"

His bushy eyebrows knitted together and I felt the weight of each word he said.  "Sarree told me she respects and appreciates me for what I am."

"And you buy that?" I asked.

"It is a kind of love, Dusty.  She's sincere and honest and truthful, and that is a sharing of oneself that is also a form of love."

"And she loves Yugo because she's his mother."  And, I added to myself, he loves her, his mother.

"Yes."

"Where does that leave me?"  All those feelings of jealousy and rejection tumbled out.  I had to look away for a minute to catch my breath and swallow my tears.  Outside, the sky was dingy gray, the color of dirty laundry.  I missed the blue Seattle morning sky and the dark, starry nights.  "I love Yugo, too.  And I know," I insisted fiercely, "that Yugo loves me, too."

"Yes, he does."  responded Mr. D evenly, looking steadily at me.

I felt a gentle prodding of my thoughts.  "I'll take him home with me.  My Mom would understand, I know she would.  And I would give Yugo a good home, too!"  I choked on my tears.  "I swear it!"

"Childling," Mr. D smoothed away the tears, "there is no question about your love or ability to care for Yugo.  But Yugo would not survive in your world."

I shook my head.  "I survive here in his, he would in mine."

Mr. D cupped my chin in his hand.  "Dusty, look at me.  Would Yugo not be a curiosity, an animal to be caged for display in a circus or a zoo?"

"I wouldn't ever let that happen!  No! no! I wouldn't!"  I was really blubbering now.
He tipped my chin up so that I looked into his eyes.  "You wouldn't want it to happen, Dusty, but how could it not?  You couldn't very well hide him in your room, not for very long, even if you could find him food."

I swiped at the tears.  "Then can I stay with you?"

"Yes, if you wish."  He sat back again.

I hadn't expected him to say yes.  My tears ended with one hiccup.  "Isn't Sarree coming back here?"

"That depends on you."  Mr. D nodded, his face softened by his smile.

"What do you mean, Mr. D?"  I shook my head, wishing I could shake out my confusion into some kind of order.

"It took a great deal of courage for you to cross the desert and go before the Perfect Council and fight for Yugo's right to live.  You have shown the depth of your love and commitment.  I have no right to ask you to give up your claim to Yugo, but I must ask you to think very carefully what this means."

There's always a catch, isn't there?

He looked at me without blinking.  "You'll be responsible for Yugo until he comes of age.  You will be the focus of his life, and always answerable to our society, even in the midst of changes, now."  He leaned back, folding his arms across his snowy chest.

To be so powerful!  Making decisions that mean something. Changes, which affect others' lives.

Though he spoke ever so softly, his words framed a clear picture of what life here would be like.  "You have become a symbol of reformation, the catalyst of the changes that began with your arrival and your challenge to the Perfect Council.  It is inevitable that your every action, every word, your daily life, will be watched, analyzed and criticized."

"Sort of like being under a microscope, huh?"  I always felt a little sorry for those poor, unsuspecting specimens sandwiched between two slides, eyeballed to death.  But then again, to be a part of Yugo's life, forever!

"Yes, Dusty, forever."  He said it so quietly that I didn't fully catch the importance of 'forever'.

"Forever is a long time, Dusty."

Here’s A Handful of M & M s

Writing is like an all day sucker sometimes; just not worth the effort and time for sticky lips.  But other times, writing is itself a sweet reward.  Most of the time, though, it is a must-do item on our list that evokes a lot of anxiety about how to start, how to get through it, how to do this, then that, and get it done!  I am going to take a few lessons from my book, KISS Keep It Short and Simple, to use as “M & Ms—The Mechanics and Magic of Writing” to illustrate how a few simple techniques can make alchemy happen.

The computer has redefined how to write a paper, both in content and mechanics, as the internet has given unlimited resources for the writer and word processing has eliminated a host of difficulties, such as formatting and spell checking. While that is a wonderful thing for all writers of all ages, the authors, students, professionals and non-professionals alike, most of us have angst when it comes to actually putting ideas into an organized presentation.  Texting and tweeting has destructured the sentence, and with emoticons, has fragmented thoughts into information of bits and bytes, making it even harder to organize and compile a composition.

But therein lies the beauty of writing:  chaos.  From all those swirling ideas, associations form from clustering ideas, memories, and sensory perceptions into coherency.  This is layering—write! doodle! play with it! and soon a theme emerges. When it pops! and it will, you then can arrange these elements into the topic of your paper.  The beginning of the paper states intent; the middle is explanatory; the last is summation.The critical difference in a composition, such as a business letter, essay or review, and social media posts, is a complete sentence. As you see the theme take shape, begin to organize it into paragraphs, using the CCI: Compare, Contrast and Interrelate technique. Remember, the rule of three (at the least): each sentence has a noun, verb and adverb;  three sentences in a paragraph, three paragraphs for a composition.

That’s it.  That’s all there is to it. Grab some chocolate goodies, put on your wizard’s hat and write!

The Effects of Online Shaming

Video: When Online Shaming Goes Too Far
"'Twitter gives a voice to the voiceless, a way to speak up and hit back at perceived injustice. But sometimes,' says Jon Ronson, 'things go too far.' In a jaw-dropping story of how one un-funny tweet ruined a woman's life and career, Ronson shows how online commenters can end up behaving like a baying mob — and says it's time to rethink how we interact online." - Ted.com
Watch the entire video on Ted.com>>

What You Should Know If You Laughed at This Viral Photo of Me
"You cannot see my disabilities but they are there and they are real. So next time you see photos making fun of people just remember you know nothing about these people or the struggles they face every day. It is never just harmless fun to laugh at someone." - Jennifer Wilkinson
Read the entire article>>

Understanding online shaming - a guide for parents
"There have been other cases of online shaming. Most of the time, the user who is publicly shamed on social media simply doesn’t deserve the magnitude of the attack they receive, and the consequences of it. It could be a comment that perhaps wasn’t fully thought through by the poster, a sarcastic message that was taken the wrong way or out of context. And if enough people see it, and it’s sufficiently spread around, it can result in a mob of people belittling and condemning the user."
Read the entire article>>

New Film About Student Journalists Who Take on the Childhood Obesity Debate

"In an effort to address the obesity epidemic, notification letters are being sent to students whose body mass do not fall within a narrow range deemed "acceptable" by the government; essentially telling children, even as young as kindergarteners, that they are fat.

THE STUDENT BODY is a true underdog story of two brave girls who take a stand against bullying, government intrusion and hypocrisy while exploring the complex and controversial truths behind the childhood obesity debate."

American Family Association Journal says it is “Extraordinary. The film is both inspiring and challenging.”

Common Sense Media calls it “enlightening” and a “tribute to student journalism and the power of investigative reporting.”

Official Selection at Traverse City Film Festival, Woodstock International Film Festival, Providence Children’s Film Festival, and Sedona Film Festival.

Available on demand and now on Blu-Ray and DVD.

Watch the trailer online>>
Visit the official website for more information>>

A Penny in Time Chapter 8: To Be (part 2)

I felt unlimited respect for Mr. D right then.  Not just because he was going to get me out of this jam, which I really did appreciate, don't get me wrong, but also because I think it took a lot of courage for him to come forth and put himself on the line.  After all, when I was safe and snug back home, he'd still be here, having to live with and face the judge and jury, so to speak.

But the thought of going home without Yugo demoralized me.  I couldn't let him go that easily, not now that I had grown to love him so much.  My thoughts and feelings were in a whirlwind and I missed some of what was being said between Mr. D and Judge Ludwig.

Then the quiet man on the end spoke up, his voice pealing throughout the chamber.  "What Mr. dIAmand says has merit.  Indeed, our society is no longer self-perpetuating.  According to the latest census, over half the population is sterile."  He swiveled in his seat, inspecting the crowds in front and behind him as if to let this sink in the collective minds of the Monosapiens.  "Indeed, the next generation will be the last," he proclaimed, returning to face us.   "And I feel it is of the utmost importance to consider changes that will benefit our society, whatever the price may be."

"But Mr. Light, the consequences!" exclaimed the man next to him.  "It would mean restructuring our entire society---social unrest!  Why there is no end to the chain of changes!  From the government, right down to the individual's everyday habits!"

Mr. Light looked briefly at me and winked.  "Yes, indeed, Mr. Stix, it would mean a lot of changes.  But I have a tremendous amount of faith in the intelligence of each individual and the woof and warp of our society.  I don't see that we have recourse to do otherwise, and perhaps now is the time to accept changes and begin."

The chamber vibrated as the crowd cheered.  Everyone clapped and stood in unison.  Mr. Light had the approval of all but four of the entire population of Monosapiens.

"Begin," Mr. D repeated softly to me, "to write history anew."  He took my hand in his.  "Now, they'll have to vote on it."

Judge Ludwig, Mrs. Furbal, Mr. Reader, Mr. Stix and Mr. Light stole glances at one another.  The corners of Mr. Light's mouth turned up a bit, as if he were really enjoying this sort of battle with the giants.  Maybe he was, or maybe he really believed the time had come and he was ready to fight for this cause.  I liked him and even Yugo twisted around to peer at him, murmuring contentedly.

I still had a thing or two to say about this whole thing.  I wasn't going to let go of Yugo, no matter if the panel decided in his favor or not, and I wanted some answers to questions that bubbled inside me like shaken soda pop.  I took a quick look around me.

If I'd thought the trial was odd, the crowd was totally bizarre.  Everyone remained standing, although there wasn't a peep from anyone.  Somewhere out there was the other woman, the one who had looked so distressed, so interested in Yugo.  I expected her to come and join forces with us.  But she didn't and I had a hard time not asking Mr. D about her right then and there.  I had a gut feeling that I shouldn't, so I kept quiet and waited with Mr. D, getting antsier by the minute.

"Elizabeth Conner!" and the gavel rapped.

I nearly dropped Yugo on his head.

"It has been determined that you are no longer involved with the issues at hand.  Therefore, you are entrusted to Mr. dIAmand's custody until you are returned home."

I could see that pleased Mr. D.  We both fixated on the judge's face, waiting for his next pronouncement.

"And let it be recorded that the misbegotten has been claimed by Mr. dIAmand."  Two thwacks of the gavel stopped anyone from uttering a noise.  "May I have your attention please!  All citizens are reminded that it is their civic duty to attend all meetings in regard to the changes herewith in our society.  Please have your concerns and opinions, and hopefully," for the first time Judge Ludwig looked friendly, "solutions, in written form for review.  Thank all of you for your concern and attendance.  This case before the Perfect Council has been decided and dismissed."

There was an orderly progression out the doors, with so little noise that I had to wonder if these Monosapiens spoke to one another.

"Yes, but most times there is agreement, therefore no need to talk about it," Mr. D piped up, taking my hand and pulling me along to the main door.

"What is it you have, esp?" I inquired, really wanting to ask more pressing questions.

"Somewhat, my dear.  Come, Dusty, I will answer all those questions at home."

We walked away from the brightly lit buildings of downtown, down the dreary residential streets, each lined with strips of drab colored grass.  The air was thick, but had no smell like fog or mist or before-rain, although the sky was overcast with gloomy clouds.  The scenery was the same and I wondered if anything would really change.

I still marveled that Mr. D could find his house among so many look-alikes.  But he did.

And there was another care package for Yugo on the doorstep.  I searched the bushes for the not-so-perfect woman, Yugo intently looking, too, like it was some kind of game, but I couldn't see her.

This time, after he had made the formula, Mr. D sat on the couch with me as I fed Yugo in my lap.  We had a mutual understanding that we would wait until Yugo was asleep before we had our little discussion.

Mr. D motioned to the dining room table.  I slipped Yugo onto the warm spot where I had been sitting and petted him as he curled into a tight little ball.  Looking at him innocently asleep made me feel protective of him.  It was painful, like touching him would have burned my hand.  I guess we had been through so much together that we had a pretty strong bond, a love that could be both tender and tough at the same time.  But another little voice inside my head nagged at me to take a good look at him, he's growing so big, so fast, he wasn't going to be a cute little baby for much longer.  He would grow up and I'd better face it, I'd have my hands full.  But my heart answered that it didn't matter how big he got, I'd love him anyway.

I sat down at the table and Mr. D clasped his hands over mine.  "Dusty," he looked me straight in the eyes, "you showed remarkable courage in front of the Perfect Council."  He paused a bit, shyly adding, "I was so proud to know you!"  He squeezed my hands before letting go and sitting back. "Now, I'll answer your questions."

I asked the one question that I feared the answer to the most.  "Who is that woman who left the care packages for Yugo?  I saw her out there, and in the front tier of the chambers, too."

I had been afraid to know for myself, but when I saw the pain in Mr. D's eyes, the way he squared his shoulders and braced himself to reply, I was sorry I had to know:  I had this spooky feeling that Mr. D's story somehow would turn out to be mine, too.

That's Just Bad

I would like to take an opportunity at the beginning of the New Year 2017 to give shout outs to the media and the articles about our children, the brave and intrepid children of these articles, who are our future and will make a difference in our lives, our communities, and the world. Their voices, their actions, their dreams are so important right now to have exposure, a forum, an ear of everyone who can listen, have an open mind, and a willing heart for some real changes.

Thank you Jerry Large, columnist for the Seattle Times, for your article on “Bully Busters Take on Rude Pols” (December 19, 2016). You highlighted the bully issues that girls face everyday. Emma Coopersmith, Lilah Aman-Lucas, and Lola Hurst saw the big picture of the political campaigning and nailed what is wrong. They have started their anti-bullying campaign because of “that awful stuff that was said during the election about women and their bodies and their capabilities.”  These eleven year old girls have a voice, have pens and know how to use them.

“Three sixth-grade girls heard mean comments during the recent presidential campaign that made them think politicians could use lessons in good behavior, so they’re doing some teaching. They created a campaign called D.C. Bully Busters, which encourages kids to send letters to political leaders in Washington, D.C., schooling them on how to deal with bullying. The girls also are reminding the rest of us that we can meet negative stuff with positive action.” - Jerry Lange

Another loud, proud shout out to the January 2017 National Geographic, Special Issue, GENDER Revolution, that is dedicated to global issues relating to gender, focusing on the young people in different parts of our world, and how societies deal with sexual orientation, especially redefining the very term “gender”. As if this is not confusing enough for most of us, there are now twenty-one definitions in one article on redefining gender "A Portrait of Gender Today": Agender, Androgynous, Cisgender, Gender binary, Gender conforming, Gender dysphoria, Gender expression, Genderfluid, Gender Identity, Gender marker, Gender nonconforming, Genderqueer, Intersex, LGBTQ, Nonbinary, Pronouns, Puberty suppression, Queer, Sexual Orientation, Transgender and Transsexual

The entire special issue is a beautifully done and vital edition which gives credence to those who are marginalized in all parts of the world. What we are finally acknowledging is the need to embrace all our differences. The power struggles will never end, for there will always be bullies and demagogues that make it a challenge to exist true to oneself and not as part of a herd, or ideology that suits only a narrow spectrum. These nine-year-old children across the globe comment on how their lives are, will be, and should be; it is not often pretty, but strikingly honest and sometimes, hopeful.  Much has changed, but not enough. The last paragraph on page 33 sums it up succinctly: “The aspiration mentioned most often, across the lines of geography and gender, was summed up by Avery Jackson. If the world were hers to change, she said, there would be ‘no bullying. Because that’s just bad.’”

Nine year olds and eleven year olds leading the way out of the darkness. We as a nation, and as individuals, have had a long, arduous journey through the political wasteland of an election year. Your party affiliation does not matter, finger pointing and complaining about the process is futile; what we must do is put together the strewn pieces of the puzzle to make a whole picture of our government, of our nationality and lives, once again. That is what we do as Americans in a representative government--we roll up our sleeves and get to work. We put on our walking shoes and march, we put pen to paper and publish opinions, we take an active part and use our voice for change, our time, money and skills in our participation in the governing process.

It is a right of a democratic society to vocalize and mobilize in our communities, in meetings, through the media and demonstrations. Let us never forget our rights or cede our rights to voice our opinions and demand to be heard. Let us not succumb to the bullies, either in our politics or schools, work places, homes or relationships. Let all of us strive to be a change for equality and gender recognition, making it safe for children and adults to live their lives without fear of physical, emotional or mental cruelty. We can make positive changes, and we must be bigger than our petty selves and validate our humanity. We must do so for the children. Emma Coopersmith, Lilah Aman-Lucas, and Lola Hurst, the Bully Busters, and Avery Jackson, a representative voice of children globally, got it right.  And that’s just good.

Ways to Handle Adult Bullies

9 Ways to Deal with Adult Bullies and Mean Girls
by Dr. Ellen Hendriksen via ScientificAmerican.com
"While we want to believe that adulthood means the end of off-limits lunch tables, demeaning back talk, and snarky gossip, unfortunately, middle-school bullies and mean girls grow up and go to work. Bullies of the playground often grow up to become bullies of the workplace, which means too many of us find ourselves in eerily familiar scenarios to our dark days of junior high.

Unfortunately, grown-up queen bee and bullying behavior remains the same as back in the day: it systematically targets a colleague with the intention to intimidate, undermine, or degrade. The same tricks get recycled, too: gossip, sabotage, exclusion, public shaming, and many other deliberate behaviors." Read nore>>

8 Keys to Handling Adult Bullies
by Preston Ni, MSBA, PsychologyToday.com
"Most of us encounter adult bullies at certain points in our lives. An adult bully can be an intimidating boss or colleague, a controlling romantic partner, an unruly neighbor, a high pressure sales/business representative, a condescending family member, a shaming social acquaintance, or other types of abusive relationships.

On the surface, an adult bully may come across as aggressive, demanding, and domineering. However, with an astute approach and assertive communication, you can turn aggression into respect. Here are eight keys to successfully handle adult bullies, with excerpts from my book: “How to Successfully Handle Aggressive, Intimidating, and Controlling People.” Not all of the tips below may apply to your particular situation. Simply use what works, and leave the rest." Read more>>

A Penny in Time Chapter 8: To Be (part 1)

Just a few minutes ago, the chambers had been filled with Monosapiens, but now at a glance, it was empty.  Sitting on the hard bench with Yugo on my lap, we might as well have been on an island, with no hope of being rescued.  Yugo must have felt bereft, too, for he burrowed against my cheek and clung to me as I stroked him.  He whimpered and I looked down into his teary brown eyes.

"Hush, so I can think," I scolded him gently. It worked, for he drew a deep breath and I could tell he was trying to make himself feel brave.  I know I was.

I wouldn't do a bit of good for Yugo if I didn't come up with some sort of argument in his defense.  The first thing I had to do was erase those five faces of the Perfect Council from my mind.  I forced myself to calm down, breathing in, letting go, remembering the conversation I had had with Mr. D, trying to figure out what could be wrong with the "perfect society".  Yugo wasn't the problem, and I doubted he'd be the last misbegotten to show up.  They couldn't just throw the baby out with the bath water and call it a clean issue.

A couple of things occurred to me, but I wasn't sure how to work them into a case for us.  Mr. D had made such a point of the "self-perpetuating society", but even though I suspected this might be the key to the puzzle, I couldn't come close to knowing why.

Time ran out.  As the five judges took their seats in front of me, the courtroom pulsated with voices and scuffling bodies as the seats were filled up.

"Elizabeth Conner, come forward!" commanded Judge Ludwig.

My hands were cold and clammy, and in spite of Yugo's reassuring kisses on my neck, I felt myself quaking.  The place suddenly got real quiet.

I stood and wobbled a little as I approached the panel of judges.  Yugo loved me, loved me, loved me.  As I held him tight, I responded, I love you, too.

"What have you got to say, Elizabeth Conner?" asked Judge Ludwig as the others eyeballed me.

"I don't understand why you want to kill Yugo."

"Let me clarify," Judge Ludwig folded his hands and leaned against the table.  "There are moral issues:  partnership and family; economics, for there is no provision outside of the family to support the misbegottens; therefore, misbegottens create an imbalance in our society.  It is by far, the best and kindest solution to the problem of caring for the misbegottens to remove them from our society."

Suddenly, he no longer scared me, he just seemed like a total jerk.  "Why don't you come out and say it's murder?"

"Because Elizabeth Conner, we do not consider it a moral judgment.  This is not an issue of love or hate.  We cannot tolerate imbalance.  Is that all you have to offer as a defense?"

Something snapped inside of me and all the anger I felt came out in a rush of words.  "How can you call yourselves a 'perfect society'?  Couples stay together even if they don't love one another, and for what, appearances?  Is that perfection or harmony or balance?  NO! it is a lie!  You wouldn't have a society if not for a lot of individuals---and the good of one is just as important as all of you!  This is not a perfect society!  Your premise is built on a pyramid of half-truths.  You are a society of liars and murderers, and that is a moral judgment!"

Was it only me shivering, or did I feel a tremor throughout the room?  Chairs scraped.  The natives are restless, I thought to myself, hoping that they might be shaken out their indifference.

"What is the real problem?" I challenged.  "Just come out and say it!"

The five judges glared at me.  Mrs. Furbal spoke up in a clipped, deliberate voice.  "There is no provision, Elizabeth Conner, for the support of a misbegotten.  There is only so much in resources available to each family unit.  Our economic system is based on that precise balance.  That is the crux of the problem," she spat, flicked the file folder shut and tossed her drab mane of hair with an air of finality.

The one sitting next to her, a man-thing in reading glasses, added haltingly,  "We cannot afford to feed and shelter misbegottens."

"Precisely, Mr. Reader," Mrs. Furbal said and smiled her little snobbish smile.

I was stunned!  "You mean, it's all a matter of money?"  It gave me the same feeling I had when my Dad bought me expensive presents, like money was really more important than spending an honest hour being with me.

I juggled Yugo so that I had a hand free to dig into my jeans pocket.  I pulled out the five pennies, stepped up to the table and smacked them down right in front of Judge Ludwig.  "It's all I have, but take it!  Yugo's going home with me!"

I don't know what I had done or said to affect a freeze frame in the proceedings, but I knew in an instant it was major.  Yugo twittered, like he was both thrilled and frightened.  All five of the panel appeared dumbfounded; Judge Ludwig stared at me flabbergasted, Mrs. Furbal's hand froze midway between the table and her mouth, the man beside her had his glasses half on, half off, and the other two on the committee stared at me with their mouths gaping.  There was a huge gasp, like everyone sucked in a big breath and held it.

I took a step away from the table and did a quick scan of the room.  Mr. D walked towards me, his head high, looking very serious.

He came beside me, encircling me with his arm.  "I claim the misbegotten, Yugo, and take responsibility for Elizabeth Conner's safe return home."

Judge Ludwig composed himself, but not without a slight stutter.  "She, um, she must take back the coppers."

I didn't hesitate one minute to sweep the coins up and pocket them.  I was ready to turn around and get out of there, but Mr. D didn't make a move to leave.

"This is all so unprecedented!" Judge Ludwig huffed.

"What is it that you mean, Mr. dIAmand, to claim the misbegotten?" demanded Mrs. Furbal, ticking her fingernails on the tabletop.

"I mean to say that I will assume parental responsibility for Yugo."  Mr. D hugged me, then dropped his arm to his side.

Adult Bullying: You're Not Alone

Being Ignored as a Bullying Tactic
by Valerie Cade, BullyFreeAtWork.com
"Think of a time when you were ignored. Think of how you felt. Hurt, sad, puzzled, stressed… Did you think, “What’s wrong with me?” or “How come I was left out?” Or how about when you were brave enough to reach out and ask ‘why is this happening?’, and were met with a polished answer from the person that left you with more self doubt and no answers?

Now think about being ignored, left out and pushed aside…day after day…after day…after day…This repeated ignoring is one of the worst types of bullying known." Read more>>

Adult Bullying: Harassment By People You Respect
by Sue Scheff, via TheHuffingtonPost.com

"Adult bullying is more prevalent than many want to admit. If you’re old enough to pay a mortgage or raise a family, shouldn’t you be able to handle anything that comes your way? But bullying doesn’t come to a standstill after graduating from the playground, and giving grown-ups a pass on aggressive behavior only sets a bad example for our children still on the playground.

A while back, I discussed the case of a parent who felt the need to air her laundry (dirty and clean) all over her Facebook timeline. Her thoughts were broadcasted publicly, even for her children to see. Additionally, a group of mothers recently took to Facebook to bash pictures of toddlers. These behaviors make kids think: if my own mother can bully, then why can’t I?" Read more>>

A Penny in Time Chapter 7: Changin' Addi-Paddi (part 2)

I was going to tell him that no matter what was decided, I wanted him to know that I liked him for being who he was. I snapped the scarf out of the belt loops and stood before a mirror on the far wall adjusting it so that it laid symmetrical, then yanked one end longer than the other. Mr. D. waved the crisp piece of paper, as if to hurry me along.

 "Elizabeth Conner, bring the misbegotten."

"Come on, Yugo," I cuddled him close as I walked out the front door Mr. D slammed shut and locked.  There was movement in the bushes and I thought I saw a face, but it disappeared so suddenly I wasn't sure I had really seen anything at all.  "Mr. D. there's someone..."

He cut me off abruptly with,  "All are at the Perfect Chambers.  And from now on, you must call me Mr. dIAmand.  We mustn't tarry, the proceedings have already begun."

Mr. D didn't say another word as he strode toward the center of the city, me trailing behind, Yugo warm and heavy in my arms.  It seemed I had just caught my second wind, when Mr. D trotted up a set of stairs leading to the largest building of the city and held open a massive, glass door etched with a figure eight, which I recognized as the symbol of infinity.

I thought Mr. D had gone back to his high and mighty manner, but he whispered as I entered, "I shall wish for us the best outcome, the best for us all."

He preceded me into the chamber, leaving me below as he ascended stairs to the first level, nodding to those in the aisle seats, then found a seat in the front row.

The room must have been the size of Atlantis, and as I scoped it out I could see it, too, was shaped in a huge figure eight, with twenty tiers of seats in each rounded end, narrowing into the middle open space where there was a stage.  The place was jammed full of Monosapiens.  The room buzzed with talk, until I walked up in front of a stage where a panel of five sat.

A million eyes had tracked my every footstep up here.  Now I felt like Daniel in the lion's den before a bunch of ravenous creatures waiting to pounce on me.  The silence was so silent that I heard my own breathing.  Yugo was strangely quiet, too.  My right hand lay over his chest and I felt the evenness of his breathing and soft thudding of his heart.  How could he be so serene when I was a whirlwind of anxiety and doubts?

"You are Elizabeth Conner."  The cream-colored, furry hand slapped a gavel down, echoing the sharpness of his voice. His nameplate read ‘Judge Ludwig’.

It was a statement, not a question.  I nodded, clutching Yugo a little tighter.  A female sat beside Judge Ludwig and tapped a pencil, eraser side down, on a file folder, a fat file folder. Until she spoke, Mrs. Furbal looked like a really nice grandmother, with heart-shaped pink lips and wearing granny glasses.

"We have compiled facts of this case presented before us regarding the misbegotten."  Mrs. Furbal riffled through papers and handed a sheet to Judge Ludwig as he continued.  "The misbegotten by the name of Yugo, brought into the Perpetual City by one Elizabeth Conner."  He looked at me as if I should confirm what he said, so I nodded.

"First of all," the five Monosapiens on the panel peered at me, like they measured me for good sense, "this is not a judgment of you.  We understand the dilemma you are in, one of emotional attachment to the misbegotten, without a clear comprehension of the larger issues, which we hope to clarify for you."

Mrs. Furbal spoke next, avoiding me, focusing on the paper in front of her.  "The larger issues are:  if acknowledged, the misbegotten must be claimed by his parents; there is the question of what is to be done about the coupling/uncoupling; and what deleterious effect will this have on the progeny of the couple, the economical  repercussions, and ultimately, what effect will this have on our society?"

"Well said, Mrs. Furbal," remarked the man sitting on her right, Mr. Reader.  In agreement, the others, Mr. Stix and Mr. Light, nodded and smiled like puppets.

The judge met my gaze.  I would not let them override the 'larger issue' of murder.  "You can't justify murder, can you?" I challenged.  I heard a low rippling of voices around me, but I couldn't actually make out anything said.

That didn't seem to faze Judge Ludwig.  He explained, in a deliberate and precise tone, once more, the 'larger issues'.  "It is unfortunate that there must be such a drastic and undesirable recourse to correct an individual's mistake, but it is preferable to rectify the mistake rather than rend the fabric of society.  Those who go outside the legal union to find personal love hurt not only a mate, but the offspring, therefore all of society.  If couples were allowed to divorce, it would bring pain, as well as changes, to all.  This must, and will be, the prime consideration of the Perfect Council."

I was sweating and cold, for suddenly I found myself in a quandary.  I didn't want to say divorce was a good thing, because I didn't believe it was.  Hadn't I been hurt because of my parents' divorce?  I liked the idea that families stayed together. I liked the idea of a perfect society.  Would Yugo die if I agreed with the Perfect Council?  I couldn't let that happen, no matter what.  But I certainly didn't know what I was going to do about it, either.

I glanced around me. Only one in the crowd of clones looked directly at me, a woman with slightly different eyes and mouth, who clasped a blanket in her hands, and she appeared desperate, on the brink of standing up.  She wet her lips several times, wringing the blanket tighter and tighter.  Yugo chirped, as if he recognized her, wanting her attention, just as I hoped she would speak up.  For I, too, recognized her as the anxious face I had seen hiding in the bushes at Mr. D's house.

"Elizabeth Conner!"

I jerked back to attention before Judge Ludwig.  Yugo yelped, wiggling and straining to look behind me, making it nearly impossible to hold onto him.  I was ready to duck out of here and let these guys settle future issues for themselves.  I wasn't sure if I wanted to change things for the better, but I did know that I wanted to go home and that my mother would understand about Yugo.

Five faces loomed before me, without an ounce of sympathy for either Yugo or me, in spite of what they might say.

"By what defense do you wish to redeem the misbegotten?"

The room full of Monosapiens waited for my answer.  My brains were scrambled and my voice had dried up; I thought any minute my heart would hammer a hole in my chest.    "I'll take Yugo home with me!" I exclaimed.

"No!" thundered Judge Ludwig.  "You will have the duration of the recess to prepare your defense.  Dismissed!"

The gavel cracked.  I sank down on a nearby bench and tried to unravel my disordered thoughts.  Yugo's very life depended on me, and all I could think of was how much I wanted out of this mess.  I rocked Yugo, wanting a response from him, but he struggled to free himself from my arms.  He was looking for that woman.  But if she cared at all about him, why didn't she claim him?  And there may as well have been an ocean between me and Mr. D, for it seemed pretty certain he wasn't going to help us, either.

There wasn't any way out of this building, and besides, where could we go?  Back out there in the wastelands with those horrible creatures that wanted a free meal?  Right now, though, it seemed like inside or out, we were facing some pretty terrible odds trapped here with the Perfect Council sitting in judgment. If I ever had to save my life, it was now.  Strange, I thought suddenly, it's Yugo's life that's at stake, not mine.  But sometimes, it felt we were one and the same.

Yugo plopped into my lap, radiating trust that rankled me, for I was full of despair.  I cupped his face with my hands, and stared at him, trying to fathom his confidence. 

  Then it clicked!  Mr. D had said something was wrong with this society, and that must be the key to this whole thing!  If only I could unlock the secret before it was too late.  If only.  And time was running out.

The Write Seasons Greetings

I have to take stock of the pantry, order the prime rib, buy the ingredients for the  pies, edit the address list, Mary Sue likes Cran-Apple juice, Ted likes V-8, Sugar Snaps is toddling, put the tree up on a box or table, and I forgot Sissy’s birthday card.  If I could just get out the newsletter, a really good one, that would take care of half the obligatory notes in the one-hundred ten Christmas cards.  I can do that between the 9th and 10th and get all those in the mail with all the packages, on time for Christmas Eve.

Or, I could just forget it.  But every year I argue with that inner voice that urges me to do a creative newsletter, maybe with an artful, hand drawn Santa and sleigh over the roof tops, or a bucolic scene with deer and bunnies and magically decorated trees, snow falling, and of course, starry night sky—-ah, no, if it is snowing it wouldn’t be starry, then maybe snow on the ground.  Or quick! copy a graphic and send out e-cards. Oh, right.  Now I am exhausted just thinking about it.  Why does it have to be so hard?

Well, it does not have to be hard.  I know, I wrote the book KISS, Keep It Short and Simple, and I’ve learned how to quick start a writing project. Although it sounds contradictory, listen to the chattering thoughts a few seconds.  Is there a recurring theme—-leaving out all the expletives?  For me this year, there is nothing particularly newsworthy. Okay, then, what about an artsy approach?  Hmmm, what pops in mind is a wine glass pouring out words onto the paper.  Okay, I can go with that and a simple line that the family is happy, healthy and will be celebrating the holidays together.  Last year, the newsletter had twelve  paragraphs bulging with anecdotes, some hilarious and some quite disheartening, in a calendar format, as my life had been one incident after another the whole year. I could laugh about it in retrospect and apparently, so could others.

What makes a good Christmas newsletter?  News about the family. It is in the telling. “Well, it’s that time of year again….” does not make for a felicitous greeting.  Start on a positive note, simply “Merry Christmas!” can be a good start to a chatty newsletter.  If you are not good on the computer with graphics, buy some seasonal cheerful paper which has the added benefit of shortening the format.  The idea is to make your readers feel as though you are talking to them, not bragging or to induce envy of your good fortune or make others feel sorry for you, or dread hearing the same old thing from you year after year. It is a short story. Short sentences are far easier and memorable than long, run-ons. Remember that a sentence is built on threes:  a noun, verb and adjective; a beginning, middle and end, and at least three sentences to a paragraph. Use the CCI concept:  compare, contrast and interrelate. As an example:  We were so fortunate to have our clan, six couples, 5 children, one bachelor, together for a Christmas ski vacation. Our nephew Kyle, a competitive racer broke a record in the Jingle Bell run, but unfortunately, also broke his ankle the first day. However, as all true romantic stories have a happy ending, by the end of the week, Kyle was engaged to his high school sweetheart, a charming waitress who brought him a daily cup of coffee as he sat by the fireplace. Kismet?

I suspect for most people, it is hard to find the right tone, or voice, to write one’s story. Is it far nobler to be serious or more impressive to be charming, witty, and funny? Or far better to be yourself, which may be plain spoken, out-spoken or reticent.  If the whole thing of writing out a newsletter is overwhelming, don’t stress, address.  Get the envelopes done and the letter becomes an accessory.  Once you begin, the rest will come easy.

Then again, “Merry Christmas! Happy New Year y’all” works  like a charm, too.  Sign your name to the card and you are good to go.
Happy Holidays
Jacquie

Running the Gauntlet

There’s the bell for first class. Walk slowly. Time it just right and maybe you ‘ll be the last one to sit down at your desk. Pretend you don’t hear them.

“Faggot.”
“Dyke.”
“That’s so gay.”
“No homo.”
“Tranny.”
“She-male.”

At least once during the day, LGBTQIA+ students, a reported estimated 1.3 million high school students identify as lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, intersex, asexual, will hear an epithet casually and purposefully thrown at them, intending to hurt, belittle, ridicule.  An excellent article in The Seattle Times, Aug 12, 2016,”Heartbreaking” is a survey on abuse of gay students” by Jan Hoffman with additional Federal data, reports:

The first nationwide study to ask high school students about their sexuality found that gay, lesbian and bisexual teenagers were at far greater risk for depression, bullying and many types of violence than their straight peers.

“I found the numbers heartbreaking,” said Dr. Jonathan Mermin, a senior official at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, which includes a division that administered the survey.

These adolescents were three times more likely than straight students to have been raped. They skipped school far more often because they did not feel safe; at least a third had been bullied on school property. And they were twice as likely as heterosexual students to have been threatened or injured with a weapon on school property.

More than 40 percent of these students reported that they had seriously considered suicide, and 29 percent had made attempts to do so in the year before they took the survey. A conservative estimate is 1,500 LGBTQIA+ commit suicide every year. The percentage of those who used illegal drugs was many times greater than their heterosexual peers. While 1.3 percent of straight students said they had used heroin, for example, 6 percent of the gay, lesbian and bisexual students reported having done so.

Look at these statistics!  They are heartbreaking and horrifying. Understand that 1.3 million people who report to be LGBTQIA+  is roughly the population of Los Angles, California.  Our children are daily engaged in warfare at school without any armor or protection—and for many who come “out” to parents, are kicked out of their home to fend on the street for themselves. Dr. Mermin, director of the National Center for HIV/AIDS, Viral Hepatitis, STD, and TB Prevention at the C.D.C., said it better than I:  “Nations are judged by the health and well-being of their children. Many would find these levels of physical and sexual violence unacceptable and something we should act on quickly.”

What we can do as peers, parents, teacher, mentors, and our community is give support through educating our youth in the home and classrooms about basic issues of how to respect one another as human beings and not as ‘others’.  With the ubiquitous internet and social media, it is imperative to teach our youth hard core values; to be very clear what is bullying and not acceptable behavior towards anyone for any reason.  If not in the home, then at school. There are excellent programs, like Green Dot etc., used by the Air Force, that effectively teach strategy for violence prevention, and what to do as a bystander in bullying and violent situations.

As Dr. Mermin stated emphatically “connectedness -- or social bonds -- to peers, teachers, schools, or community organizations is key to protecting the health of these adolescents. Students will succeed if they know they matter, and feel safe and supported socially, emotionally and physically. Solutions may not be simple, but we can take action to build support for lesbian, gay and bisexual youth at multiple levels.”

I have written several articles emphasizing the need, and the rights of our children to be safe from bullies—-and I especially feel we have an imperative to protect the most vulnerable of our children—-those who are harassed for being different, either racially or because of one’s sexual orientation.  We need to have a continuous dialogue with our children, our family members and community, to talk honestly about bully issues.

To gain insight into the reality of a child being LGBTQIA+ in their daily arena, please take some time to explore websites like:

• Human Rights Campaign: Advocating for LGBTQ Equality
• US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention
• MedlinePlus
• Live the Green Dot
• speakforthem.org

Read an excellent article by Kevin L. Nadal, PhD "Stop Saying “That’s So Gay!”: 6 Types of Microaggressions That Harm LGBTQ People" for an enlightening perspective.

Ask yourself what would this world be like without the diversity, talents and skills that the LGBTQIA+ have given us since the beginning of mankind?  The list I could make of the contributions in arts, sciences, politics and humanity of the LGBTQIA+ would be  awesome in its breadth and sheer numbers of people who have influenced and enriched our lives in spite of the obstacles, the prejudices and hostility they have endured.

It is imperative that we, every one of us, ensure that our children, all our children, thrive in a environment that is safe and respectful, especially for the most vulnerable of children, the ‘others’, who are targeted for being different, for being lesbian, gay, bisexual, transsexual, intersexual or questioning. Too many of these children are at risk everyday of their lives. Tomorrow will be too late for many of them. Today, not yesterday, not tomorrow, but today, is the time to stop the cycle of abuse.

L - Lesbian. Lesbian is a term used to refer to homosexual females.

G - Gay. Gay is a term used to refer to homosexuality, a homosexual person, or a homosexual male.

B - Bisexual. Bisexual is when a person is attracted to two sexes/genders.

T - Trans. Trans is an umbrella term for transgender and transsexual people.

Q - Queer/Questioning. Queer is an umbrella term for all of those who are not heterosexual and/or cisgender. Questioning is when a person isn't 100% sure of their sexual orientation and/or gender, and are trying to find their true identity.

I - Intersex. Intersex is when a person has an indeterminate mix of primary and secondary sex characteristics.

A - Asexuality. Asexuality is when a person experiences no (or little, if referring to demisexuality or grey-asexuality) sexual attraction to people.

+ - The "+" symbol simply stands for all of the other sexualities, sexes, and genders that aren't included in these few letters.

website:  lgbtqiainfo.weebly.com

Inside the Secret World of Teens

If you missed the CNN Special Report Special Report, "#Being13: Inside the Secret World of Teens," from October, 2015, I highly advise you to watch it soon. And, be sure to read these articles with additional information.

Being 13: Perils of lurking on social media“Most adolescents with access to smart phones are living their social lives online as much as they do face-to-face. Adults worry that teens are hooked on social media, but most have no idea what teens are actually doing online.

In this study, we examined the content of what teens actually say and do on social media, not simply what they say they do — and what it means to them. Not only are 13-year-olds using social media to post, tweet, share, friend, block, and unfriend, adolescents are spending vast amounts of time just "lurking," reading the never-ending stream of their peers' activities without posting anything themselves.

More than one third of them said they check social media without posting 25 times or more per day on weekends, and our heaviest users said they use social media over 100 times daily, including during classes at school.”
Read the entire article>>

Are you raising an Internet bully? Here’s how to end that behavior.
By Monica Leftwich, The Washington Post
“Faris dispells the notion that most kids directly model behaviors online that they witness at home, dismissing the idea that many kids cyberbully because their parents engage in similar actions. However, he does suspect that parents’ priorities could affect how their kids behave online.

Faris uses the example of “status games.” In short, some parents who get overly involved with their kids’ popularity or social status, or who themselves try to “keep up with the Joneses,” could be creating a sense of social competition in their children. If the parents put a high value on social climbing, Faris says, their children may do the same. This could create an unhealthy sense of rivalry in teens who prioritize popularity over true friendship.

That can spawn online aggression. For example, kids who value popularity will start vicious rumors online about other kids in order to tear them down while increasing their own “likes” and followers on social-media platforms.”
Read the entire article>>

A Penny in Time Chapter 7: Changin' Addi-Paddi (part 1)

I could not settle down, so I got up and wandered around the house.  Normally, I'm not a worrywart, but I was upset that there wasn't anymore food for Yugo, and worried what little he had had to eat would only make him hungrier when he woke up.  To distract myself, I thumbed through a history book in Mr. D's library and read the two page-history of the Perpetual City while Yugo and Mr. D slept.  Their whispery snores were in sync with one another, which made me laugh out loud as I came back into the room.

I scrunched down on the couch. Yugo curled up beside me, still sound asleep, but sending warm vibes that coated me inside out.  He purred and I read.

Although their civilization was thousands of years old, the history book only recounted the last thousand of years:  from 999 to 2000, the city, the people, the society, everything was exactly like it had been, was and would be.  The rest of the book was pictures, and I had the creepy feeling I could walk outside and find those very landmarks still in existence.  Maybe, I looked over at Mr. D sleeping, the very same people.  I had heard that history repeats itself, but I had never thought about it literally.

One fact snagged my attention, about the race itself.  Mr. D's genus was Mono, of the family sapiens, and reproduction was "homogenesis", which I found in the glossary meant "reproduction in which successive generations are alike".  I folded the book shut, wondering if 'they' were all of like minds, too.  Maybe I stood a chance against a committee that shared genes with Mr. D.  Then again, maybe I didn't, if Mr. D had mutated from the rest of 'them'.  Back and forth, back and forth went my thoughts, always leaving me flooded with doubts.  I wish the whole process had started, therefore, had been decided, and was already over.

I heard rustling outside, then a thump against the door and nearly knocked Yugo off the couch when I jumped to my feet.  Mr. D bolted from his chair and with his massive hand upraised, blocked me from the front door.

"No, childling, stay!"

Any other time, I might have been offended at being ordered like a dog, but Mr. D, obviously unnerved, only meant to protect me.  And Yugo, I think.

"Mr. D, I don't think anyone is trying to break in."  I pointed to the billowing curtains.  "It would have been easier to come through the open window." 

He patted his chest, where I imagined his heart beat.  "I have never witnessed so many strange events."  He appeared thoughtful, looking from the window to the door.  "I've never left that window open before now.  And there's never been any disturbance at my front door."

"Mr. D," I took a step forward, "let's look outside and maybe we can figure out what's going on."
He nodded to me.  "But you must stay here."  He took purposeful strides to the door and whipped it open.

There was a brown package on the welcome mat.  Mr. D stooped and gingerly peeked inside.  "Oh, my!" he gasped, as I bumped into his back.

"What is it?"  I knelt beside Mr. D, nudging his leg to get a closer look, trying to send reassuring vibes to Yugo so he would stop his frightened mewing.

"It's..." Mr. D plucked the bag up and smiled at me, a rather pained smile I thought, "a care package.  For Yugo."

Mr. D stepped over me, back inside.  "Well, Dusty, I dare say that Yugo will have something good to eat, real food for the nuzzling.  I'll fix it and you feed him."

After I dusted off my knees, though I really didn't have to because there wasn't any dirt on my jeans, I followed Mr. D into the kitchen.  Yugo had slipped off the couch and was waddling behind me.  "Look at him, Mr. D!  Isn't he cute?"

Mr. D kept his back to me.  "Who would do such a thing, leave this for a misbegotten?" he mused, fussing over the large nursing bottle.

I hadn't forgotten that Mr. D called Yugo 'nuzzling', which I thought might be an affectionate term.  "Maybe his mother did.  Or someone else who doesn't think it's right for babies to be left out in the desert to die."  I took the bottle from Mr. D, who frowned like my old principal did the time he caught me swearing when I slammed my locker shut on my left hand.

Yugo pawed at my legs until I picked him up.  He snatched at the bottle, giving short 'yurps' as he suckled and I tried to balance both him and the bottle with my hands.  Mr. D marched out of the kitchen, leaving me alone and wondering what I had said to upset him.

Yugo must have sensed my confusion, for he stopped sucking long enough to peer at me intently, and suddenly a lot of unfriendly faces flashed through my head.  Mr. D must be as anxious as I was about this upcoming confrontation.  Maybe he had mixed emotions about which side he was going to be on, or what the outcome would be for Yugo and me.  I had only begun to appreciate how hard it must be for him to accept changes, let alone campaign for them.  But there was someone else out there who wanted to help us, too.

"Mr. D," I walked over to his chair and he looked up at me, "if there are two of you that feel the way I do about Yugo, then maybe there's a lot more.  We might stand a good chance of convincing the Perfect Council yet."

Yugo started hiccupping.  Mr. D's nostril flared and he sighed, impatiently waving his hand at Yugo.  "He needs to be patted on the back."

I flipped Yugo over my shoulder and burped him.  "There's something you're not telling me, Mr. D, something that's troubling you.  And it's not Yugo, is it?"  I put him down on the couch.
Yugo was content to settle between the cushions and go back to sleep.  He seemed to have grown another six inches since I had fed him.  Yugo gave back to me the love I felt for him as I scratched his head and I was reluctant to let go of the good feelings that flowed between us.  But I had to get some things clear.  I went over and sat on a footstool in front of Mr. D and waited for him to speak.
He cleared his throat a couple of times.  "You're right, Dusty.  Something is wrong, very wrong."  He startled me by reaching over and touching my cheek lightly, then continued.  "You have read," he gestured to the closed history book on the arm of the couch, "about our history.  Was it not extraordinary?"

The way he said it, gave me the impression he meant it in a negative way.  "Yeah," I replied, "I thought it was a bit odd."

"In what way?" he asked kindly, leaning closer to me.

"Two pages about a perfect society.  I mean, I guess I thought history told about wars, conflicts, changes, you know, all that happens over years and years.  Like evolution."

"Exactly."  He smacked his hands and smiled like I had answered the winning quiz question.

"Exactly what?" I retorted, baffled by his smug expression.

"Our recorded history begins with the perfected society."  He massaged his knees.  "From the time of our recorded history, there are no wars, no unresolved conflicts amongst us.  That is why we can exist in the Perpetual City in harmony, a totally homogeneous society.  There is no poverty here, for here everything is in balance with our resources.  Even our arts and sciences have reached the state of perfection, where all needs are satisfied, for each and everyone of us.  Everyone is alike, and there is always agreement.  Every action is carefully considered, every consideration balanced.  Our marriage contracts are forever and each couple rears two offspring until the age of twenty-one, one quarter of a life span.  We are a self-perpetuating society."

He paused and took a breath.  I let all this information sink in, trying to pinpoint what it was that disturbed me.  After all, it sounded just fine to me.  "Families stay together, right?"

"Yes."  Mr. D locked eyes with me.

"I don't see the problem."  I held his gaze for a long minute.

"Couples partner for a lifetime; there is no such thing as separation.  Each misbegotten comes from an unlawful union, and threatens the balance.  Ergo, there cannot be misbegottens."

Mr. D stroked his chin, and I was hypnotized by the long, silken strands undulating along his arm.  I knew his reasoning was wrong.  "What about love?" I blurted out, startling both of us.

"There are many forms of love, Dusty," he answered quietly, and I detected a note of sadness, too.  "The good of all is the highest form of love, is it not?"

But before I could answer him, there came a resounding knock on the door.  This time Mr. D seemed neither surprised nor unprepared as he opened the door.

"It's a summons for us to go to the courthouse immediately."

What makes a child become a bully?

How A Child Becomes A Bully
by Dr. Gail Gross, HuffingtonPost.com
“While there is no one single profile of a child bully, in my years as a researcher and educator, I have witnessed a few different situations that describe the majority of child bullies.

Like Parent, Like Child. Children model what they see. If a child is bullied by his/her parent, or is being abused or treated in a disrespectful way at home, that child is likely to imitate this behavior at school. They are learning from their parent that this type of behavior is acceptable.

The Powerless Child. Sometimes, the child that bullies is the child who feels completely powerless at home. Perhaps this child is abused, or watches one of his parents abuse another parent, and he/she is left feeling scared and powerless at home. This child may attempt to gain back power by bullying others at school.”

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Your child might be a bully. Here are 7 ways to stop that behavior.
by Lev Novak, The Washington Post
"As a former after-school teacher, I’ve spent three years working with kids in a more relaxed environment than the classroom. And, in those hours with kids as their less-guarded selves, I’ve seen the bullying, teasing, whispers and shoves that scarcely get reported home to parents.

There are no one-size-fits-all approaches to preventing or stopping bullying, and zero-tolerance policies are often a blur of good intentions poorly applied. But below are some strategies I’ve found effective for various children.

Avoid cliches. Generalizations sound like static to kids, who don’t apply morals and have heard the “don’t bully” screed delivered in the same monotones by the same authority figures all their lives. But specifics help, and authenticity matters. Names, events and situations anchor vague morality tales in practical terms. Sincerity can bring real empathy to a subject that all too often is artificial."
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O, say can you see...

I cannot carry a tune so I mouth the words as  I stand whenever the national anthem begins. Initially I was angered at Colin Kaepernick’s protest sit-down on August 26, 2016, when the national anthem was played. How ironic, I thought, that a football player who plays a game woven with politics and big money and tied into the military and traditionally overtly patriotic, would disrespect the very symbols that support his (12 million dollars a year) livelihood. And, without any risk to himself or to his professional status, as the players are not required to stand during the ceremony. But then something happened, a chain reaction of events and voices in support of his statements that caught my attention and made me examine my premise. I have since reconsidered.

It is the ironies that are much like a can of wiggly assumptions being let out that made me think about Kaepernick’s protest from another perspective. I have always had trouble with "The Star Spangled Banner" being our national anthem; it is a war hymn, glorifying the victory of the Americans against the British at Fort McHenry in the War of 1812. The United States prides itself on being the peace-keeper of the world. In the War of 1812, there were ex-slaves fighting with the British against their former owners, which makes my favorite goose-bumping refrain, “O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave”, hypocritical. 

It is a difficult song to sing for best professional singer, let alone the average person, but it has been preformed magnificently by many. And, spoofed and lampooned and disparaged by high and low minded of all genres. Remember Jose Feliciano’s performance at Tiger Stadium? Remember athletes Tommie Smith and John Carlos with raised fists at the 1968 Olympics medal ceremony? 

Sadly, in 2005, a government-sponsored program, the National Anthem Project was initiated after a Harris poll showed many adults did not know the lyrics or the history of "The Star Spangled Banner." And, there are translations into several languages, including Latin, and the indigenous languages of the Navajo and Cherokee, many of whom fought with the British and Canadians against the Americans in the War of 1812. Yet, after the September 2011 terrorist attacks, the Queen of England allowed a performance of "The Star Spangled Banner" at Buckingham Palace during the Changing of the Guard and the next day, sang the anthem at a memorial service at St. Paul’s Cathedral, as a tribute and act of support for Americans. That, in my opinion, is the best example of  transfiguration.

I am of two minds about this, but I do not see it as hypocritical or indecisive to say that I have a deep and true respect for what the flag and anthem stand for, the ideal. Yet, I do not appreciate, nor condone, our nation’s past or current history of  racism, waging unconscionable acts of aggression and wars internationally and nationally, against its own citizens. When those who protest bring to the forefront issues we must face and address, I am proud to be an American citizen where protestors have a voice, and a right to use it, and cannot be silenced easily.  A nation needs a conscience and that is the right to protest injustice guaranteed by the Constitution of the United States. There are many brave voices raised in protest, past and present—Colin Kaepernick is not the first to take a hard core stance, and hopefully, he will not be the last.

A Penny in Time Chapter 6: R-E-S-P-E-C-T (Part 2)

"Well," he sighed, "perhaps we may have to come to a compromise.  Let me propose this:  I shall call you Dusty, and you may call me," he paused and squinted, but I think beneath the pained expression might have been a glint of humor, "Mr. D only," and he emphasized it again, "only when we are by ourselves.  It is especially important for you to remember this when we come before the Perfect Council.  Do we have an agreement?"

"Sure," I stuck my hand out and we shook on it.  "Now, we'd better get some food for Yugo. He's awfully hungry."

Mr. D bristled.  "I cannot.  We must wait for the Perfect Decision."

"Mr. D," I felt an upsurge of anger that swept away all the cobwebs from my head, "Yugo's fate will be decided whether or not he has a full stomach.  I wouldn't let you go hungry.  You talk about 'the way things are, the way things must be', but have you no sense of what is right or wrong?"

Yugo really perked up while I made my speech and punctuated my sentences with sharp squeals.  Mr. D appeared rather stunned, like he had been frozen for a couple of centuries in the same spot.  He must have considered what I said, because his face thawed into a smile.

"I believe there might be something that the misbegotten could ingest.  Come with me to my house."
I didn't see that we had much choice, whether or not to go to Mr. D's house or back to the desert.  This is the sort of situation you never want to try to explain to your parents, how sometimes you know you're not supposed to do something, but you don't have much of a choice, or if you have, you don't know it.

I think Yugo must have been telling me that it was all right, because I got a sense of being in the right place at the right time.  Although I thought it pretty strange that I was here, thinking about right time and place.  Some of our immediate problems were taken care of, like we were inside the city, not out, so we were some place, not lost, and we at least had the promise of being fed and sheltered.  I would really rather be at home, where I know it would be no problem taking care of Yugo or myself, for that matter.  If I want unreasonable, I have my Dad.

We were the only ones walking along the quiet, empty streets.  Rows of houses bordered the sidewalks, spaced like a perfectly planted garden of lettuce heads all in a row.  "Where are all the others, Mr. D?"

"Oh, childling," he chuckled, "everyone has a place to be and is there.  There is no reason for anyone to be about at this time."

"Is it day or night, Mr. D?"  Yugo was asleep again and I could swear he had grown in just the short time we had been here.

"It is," he answered, then added, probably because I looked like I felt, annoyed, "one and the same, here.  There is no change of season, either."

"I see."  Inside, I recoiled at the thought of sameness, the color of gray.  Yugo stirred but did not awaken.

We walked on, up one, then down another sidewalk, like we were in a brightly lit maze winding through the city, until we stopped in front of one drab, medium-sized house that looked exactly like the other beside it, with one tree per patch of brownish front lawn.

"How do you know which house is yours, Mr. D?"  I asked, not even trying to disguise my disgust.
"Why, I've always lived here!  Third house from the last, the right side of the street.  Simple."  He motioned me to enter, and before the door shut behind us, I got a quick look at the etched nameplate on the door, "Mr. dIAmand" in small, block letters.

"Oh, boy," I looked around, not the least surprised that the living room had an easy chair, one couch, a coffee table, with no magazines or clutter anywhere, and each visible room had the same off-white walls with light green fabric curtains pulled neatly in two halves from the windows.  "Nice place you've got here, Mr. D."  I plopped down on the couch and let Yugo burrow beside me.

"Yes, well, thank you.  I shall be back momentarily with food for Yugo.  If you'll excuse me."

"Sure, and thanks!" I called after him as he hurried to the kitchen.  Mr. D didn't seem all that stuffy now that we were here at his house, almost like he was happy to have us staying with him.  Maybe he had really wanted to do the right thing and take care of Yugo, but didn't want, or couldn't, put himself in the position to be responsible for that kind of decision.  I had no idea what it was going to be like before the Perfect Council, but I made up my mind I wasn't going to let it scare me, or make me do what I knew wasn't right.  Of course, I didn't like to think too much about what 'they' could make me do; I had some ugly images of blood, gore and torture.  But surely, this space and place was civilized, or so I hoped.  Then I looked down at Yugo, softly sleeping against my leg, and questioned how these beings could throw away their own babies and not care for them.  Maybe 'they' wouldn't care if I was a kid or not, no rules need apply here about what's fair or decent or right.  I only prayed that I knew what I was doing when it came time to stand up and face the Perfect Council.  I was sure that Mr. D wouldn't or couldn't offer much more assistance, and since Yugo was the problem, he sure couldn't do much in the way of helping.

Mr. D came back into the living room with a huge glass of thick, chalky stuff that smelled a lot like my old tennis shoes.  "I'm sorry to say that's all I have for him."

Maybe to change the subject quickly, he blurted,  "I have been informed that soon we will go before the Perfect Council, Eliz...Dusty."  He sat down in the easy chair, clasping his hands together and shaking his fur to lay smooth.  "They have agreed to meet in six hours."

"Why so long, why can't we get it over with sooner?"  I had difficulty getting the milkshake fast enough into Yugo's demanding mouth.  He slurped and gurgled while I tried not to slop any of it onto the couch, let alone worry about what was getting on me.  I was going to look real nice after this feeding, just perfect enough to go before the Council.

"Oh, no sooner!  Everyone will want to attend and hear the outcome.  It has become a major issue, and we will be very anxious to know the decision concerning the misbegottens.  It will affect us all, one way or the other."  For a moment, Mr. D lost his smile and I had a flash of misgiving.  "This has created a great deal of talk amongst us, you bringing the misbe...Yugo, here inside the city.  I don't think it will be an easy decision for the Council.  No," he stood and paced between the dining room and living room, "I don't think this is going to be easy for any of us.  Your being here has disrupted us already; we cannot be the same as we were before you came.  But I don't know," he stopped in front of me, clearly distressed, "if this is for the better or not!"

"Changes are always hard, even if they're good for you," I replied, wiping the last glob of liquid from Yugo's chin.  "But isn't that life?  Don't we grow and change all the time?"  I peered up at Mr. D.  "Or do you like living the life of a robot?"

"Oh, childling," he huffed, straightening to his full impressive height, "there's nothing wrong with life being predictable."

I looked pointedly from Yugo to Mr. D.  "Something's wrong with this society, something's really wrong.  And I bet there are some of you that aren't real happy with the way things are."

"Well," he stammered, "I suppose you always have malcontents, in any society.  But not enough to influence the whole network."

"If you're so happy with the way things are, then why did you take us in?"  I felt I was ice skating across the Atlantic, but if I couldn't make Mr. D see my point of view, I knew I was in for some real trouble up ahead.

 He drummed his fingers on the fireplace mantel, answering in a low voice,  "Because, Dusty, you're right.  Something is wrong, terribly wrong with our society.  And I hope," his head turned ever so slowly, his eyes seeking mine in a hard stare, "you can effect changes.  You're the only one that can."
There seemed nothing more to say and Mr. D sat down again.  I wondered just how I was going to convince 'them'.  I held onto the thin thread of hope that if I could change Mr. D's mind, I could change the Perfect Council.  I had to: it was so obviously the right thing to do that I knew I had no choice.  I hoped that if I never got back home, my Mom would somehow know what I had done and be proud of me.

Yugo stretched and purred, flopping into my hands like a cat does, totally relaxed and contented.  Without a worry.  Mr. D reclined in his chair, with his head thrown back and eyes shut, probably asleep, too.  I was wide awake, along with all my concerns.  I felt like we had used up some brownie points, and I sure hoped we hadn't emptied the cookie jar just yet.  Because, I thought as I tucked Yugo close against my leg while he slept easy, what we needed was another minor miracle.