Return to Handwriting Analysis

July 16th, 2010 by Phyllis Kennemer

 by Phyllis Kennemer

When my friend Lynda contacted me about giving some lectures on handwriting for some groups in libraries, my first impulse was to say “No.” My years as an active handwriting analyst were far behind me and I had tossed all of my materials when I moved from my house to my apartment about three years ago.

Then I talked to Lynda on the telephone and she quoted a generous honorarium, plus mileage, for the lectures. I reconsidered. How hard could it be to reconstruct something I had worked with so intimately for more than ten years. Of course those ten years were from about 1968 to 1981!

First, I needed to get some materials to review. I went online and discovered a website for the International Graphoanalysis Society. Since I had signed up as a lifetime member in 1969, I thought I would be able to acquire what I needed relatively easily. Not so fast! The new owner would not communicate with me via his website and hung up on me when I telephoned him. I found a used set of materials on Amazon.com and told Lynda I would do the lectures.

I prepared my talk on the letter “t”. This letter represents the writer’s goals and accomplishments and the letter is made in a variety of ways. I begin each session with writing a paragraph containing lots of “t’s” on the board and ask participants to copy it in a style of writing that is comfortable for them. Then they can analyze their own writing as we continue.

My first lecture was for a teenage audience. This was a new and interesting experience. The teenagers wrote the paragraph on their papers and promptly turned the papers over so no wandering eyes would discover anything about them. They sat almost expressionless throughout the session and I was afraid I was boring them, but when I finished each one had personal questions for me. They had taken it all in!

The next two lectures were given for adult audiences. They were attentive and interactive – asking many questions as we went along. A common question began with “Does this mean anything?” The answer is always “Yes”. Every stroke placed on a surface means something.

When I reflected on my return to handwriting analysis, I was glad I had reacquainted myself with something of significance in my life. And I was glad that I had once again come to the realization that, “Yes. Everything we do, write, or say does have meaning.”

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Posted in Phyllis Kennemer, Writer, Uncategorized, inspiration | 2 Comments »

Breathe

July 3rd, 2010 by Cheryl Courtney

Breathe.

Easier said than done when your heart is filled with trepidation; when every thing you have worked for has vaporized and there is no job, no hope of earning enough to pay the mortgage and are facing foreclosure. I know three women, ages 40 or over, that are dealing with this.

Last week, a neighbor was evicted from her home of 35 years. She is mentally ill, not adequately medicated, and is a “revolving door patient”—difficult for her family and professionals to manage. She was out in the driveway, muttering and weeping to herself as she attempted to sort the piles that the eviction moving team had left of her home. Here were her bookcases, there were her clothes, and somewhere in the maelstrom was the food from her cupboards. We tried to usher her into a local shelter, but she announced that she was going to sleep out there to keep away the thieves. I watched her make a nest in the laundry as her cats curled up beside her.

Every homeless woman, man, child, or family starts this way—evicted, alone, stuff in piles and no where to go, no more medication or resources to call upon. This was quite frightening to me. “But for the Grace of God went I” or every other person I have met this year at the Larimer County Workforce Center classes.

Breathe. Try to remember that you are working, that you are helping friends every way you can with job leads and supportive conversation. Hope will prevail. But, breathing in the face of that  woman’s hopelessness is hard.

She eventually rounded up the most dear treasures and staples, and left the rest on the driveway. Yesterday, the bank sent another crew to pick it all up and put the dregs into a  bin. She was not there; I truly don’t know where she is. Somewhere…in Loveland. Starting over? Alone, dying? Frightened? Mad? Drenched? Hurt? Homeless.

I find myself breathing, with tears streaming down my face.

Breathe. Cry awhile. Breathe, again.

Posted in Cheryl Courtney, Writer, Gratitude, Life Event, homelessness | 2 Comments »

Monday Blues

July 1st, 2010 by Shelley Widhalm

I wonder, sometimes, about my work attitude. I am like many people on Sundays who complain that they don’t want to go to work on Monday. And then I go to work on Monday and get caught up in the work and start enjoying the accomplishing of tasks. Friday arrives, and I think, yes, I will write and work my way toward being a great American novelist. I may do some writing, but I tend to get caught up in doing errands and whatever social things I’ve got going on for the stretch of two days.

I think on Sunday, where has my time gone? If only I could write all day Monday, that would be ideal. I think, I do not want to go to work, and the cycle starts all over again.

I find that either I have to be my good-girl worker self that does what she is supposed to do, something I am fine with as long as I get caught up in trying to accomplish my work duties. But as soon as I let my inner squall, the one I try to ignore and push away, come up into where I can feel it in my mind, I start to ache. I realize I am being who I am not, and then I wonder who I am if my outlines are colored all wrong. I feel starved trying to shift from being who society tells me to be to what is tapped down from the fear of risk and losing and being too poor to pay bills. In the process, I feel my squall become sharper, more resistant to my ignorance as it tells me yes, you can. There is the Serenity Prayer. And hope. And what if. There is yes, there is being real. Chance it.

Oh, I need that push.

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This Land is Your Land! This Land is My Land!

June 28th, 2010 by Helen Colella

Independence Day, a.k.a. the Fourth of July, is the ultimate holiday event celebrated throughout America. This day is marked by those who honor the history, government and traditions of the United States. There are many different patriotic displays where citizens of all ages pay homage to our nation.

People wear red, white and blue hats, shirts and other clothing, decorate their homes, public places and everything else with streamers, balloons, ribbons and other ornaments. They proudly fly the American flag. All this enthusiasm is to commemorate our historic evolution and encourage our progress for the future.

In the mornings, people of all ages gather along Main Street, USA across our country to view local parades, cheer on the marchers and salute the American flag.

During the afternoons many attend carnivals, fairs and baseball games. Some go on picnics, have backyard barbeques and grill their favorite foods. Others gather at a pool, lake or oceanfront to splish ‘n splash trying to keep cool in the hot afternoon sun while they await the traditional finale of the day.

When evening arrives, the parks, fairgrounds, town squares and waterside facilities fill with families who gather to watch the sky light up with colorful fireworks.

They attend concerts and listen to patriotic songs like  “the Star Spangled Banner”, “God Bless America”,  ”America the Beautiful“, “My Country, ‘Tis of Thee“, “This Land Is Your Land“, “Stars and Stripes Forever“, and, regionally, “Yankee Doodle” in northeastern states and “Dixie” in southern states.

Some military bases give a one-gun-salute for each state in the United States, called a “salute to the union,” on Independence Day at noon.

If you’ve never been to our nation’s capital, I strongly recommend you take a trip to Washington D.C..  Regardless of your political affiliation, I guarantee the experience will impress you. Indeed this land is your land and this land is my land. This home of the free and the brave (with all its faults) deserves a celebration.

How will you celebrate July 4th this year?

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Posted in Gratitude, inspiration | 2 Comments »

Winter Retreat

June 22nd, 2010 by Fay Ulanoff

Winter Retreat

            The warm crackling heat from the furnace wraps its arms around me like an old fur coat.

            I snuggle between the kitchen table on a chair and prepare to eat breakfast.

            The aroma of cinnamon and apples, along with the toasty smell of coffee, works its way up into my nostrils.

            I turn the corners of my mouth up into a grin, pull my sweatshirt closer to my body and prepare my cereal with butter; sugar and heavy cream, then embrace the enticing morning feast with a gulp of coffee, while reaping the fine rewards that a cold morning can offer.

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Back to the Drawing Board

June 21st, 2010 by Cindy Strandvold

Hi, it’s me, Flash. Cindy is catching up today after being away from home for a week. Writing this blog was WAY down on her to-do list, so I thought I’d use this opportunity to get something off my chest.

See, last week after dropping off a group of kids at church camp, she used the time as a writing retreat. Seeing as I’m her favorite main character, I knew I’d be needed. Plus, an exotic vacation away from our little bay window writing nook sounded like just the ticket.

BUT, this retreat was not held in the mountains, near a gurgling brook, like I expected. It wasn’t held at the beach, either. No, Cindy never bothered to mention our plush accommodations were going to be at the Super 8 in York, NE. Don’t worry, though, it was better than it sounds. We scored a nice corner room with a view—of the parking lot.

Now, York itself is a nice little town. American flags line the main street and big old houses overlook the charming brick streets. Cindy was so enchanted by some of these houses, she probably would have spent the week in jail for trying to peek in the windows if it wasn’t for me keeping her in line.

But we weren’t there for houses and brick streets and walks on the trail along the river. No, we were there to write. So when Cindy fired up her laptop, I was surprised to find her starting a new story—minus yours truly. At first I thought maybe I’d appear a little further in, but by Friday and page 72, I was still nowhere to be seen. Needless to say, I was ticked. I’d come all this way and spent a week in a dumpy motel for nothing?

About this time Cindy started to have doubts. The story wasn’t panning out like she’d hoped. She didn’t buy the main character’s motivations, the whole thing seemed like too much of a stretch.

Well, duh. You tell me, if you were eight years old, who would you rather read about? Milly, the perky kitten, or FLASH, Feline Extraordinaire?

Exactly.

Just because I’m a figment of her imagination doesn’t mean I’m stupid. If she had only listened to me to start with she wouldn’t have wasted a whole week of undivided writing time.

Next time I’m insisting on the beach!

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Posted in Book, Cindy Strandvold, Writer, Fun, cats | 3 Comments »

THE MAGIC OF TRAVEL

June 10th, 2010 by Quinn Reed

Vacations are wonderful things if they provide you with what you need.   One requires different travel experiences at different phases of one’s life.  You may have loved camping when your children were young, but now perhaps you crave leaving your camping stove at home and taking a cooking class in Santa Fe or even Oaxaca, Mexico.

 If you are totally stressed out and exhausted, spending lazy days on a beach letting the sound of the surf polish your jagged edges may appeal to you.

  If you are citified and longing for Mother Nature and adventure, then hiking through Patagonia in South America or even the more primitive trails in your home state may be your choice.

At the moment, my daughter and her new husband are in Alaska visiting our son who lives there.  She has fallen head over heels in love with Alaska and the fishing experiences she is having.  Her first day there, she stood in the ocean for six hours straight throwing out her line without a bite.  Eventually, she snagged a salmon and hauled it in and was ecstatic!  To my shock, my son informed me that she ate the fish eggs from the newly cut open fish right there on the beach-apparently that is what fisherpeople do.  I am amazed that anyone would find joy in standing in waders in thigh high water all afternoon without food, drink or a toilet and then dining on fish roe without the sour cream or crackers.   Not my thing, but then again, I don’t have a desk job in an architectural firm like she does where she pores over blueprints and the fine points of design.  No wonder the majestic spaces and wonderful smells of Alaska appeal to her!

                So dear readers, if you had unlimited time and resources at your disposal, what would your dream travel experience be at this point in your life?  Where would you go and what would you do?

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Ladybugs and Chocolate Peanut Clusters

June 5th, 2010 by Cheryl Courtney

Yesterday, as I was feeding hay to the horses, I spotted a ladybug atop a tall stalk of grass. For a moment I contemplated capturing it for my rose garden, thinking of all the juicy aphids there. Instead I watched it grooming and reshaping the lovely orange wings, realigning the black dots just so. This ladybug appeared to be preparing for a long journey. Soon, it launched into the morning and zoomed into a forest of tansy mustard weeds.

Last evening, I attended the celebration for Katherine Hewitts’ new venture,  ’Be Magazine’,see http://www.hewittpublishing.com/at Michelle LaBorde’s lovely home in Niwot. The backyard was filled with chatter about the articles on amazing women along the Front Range.  As I listened to the music and talked with novelist Janet Fogg, www.janetfogg.com about the exciting journey of her new release Soliloquy, I thought of the ladybug.

Every woman there was about to launch into the bounty of the world; there are stories and extraordinary women making them happen everywhere. Thank you–Katherine and Michelle for a marvelous evening and ‘Good Luck’ with your magazine. Thank you for making a venue to showcase the women I have come to respect and love and for letting us write about them. 

As the sun was setting, I spotted a plate of chocolate peanut clusters and savored the crunchy goodness, then licked my fingers. Yes– there is abundance all around us; in the music, in the lives of women who make a simple rich dessert  to share at a party, and in the forest of ‘weeds’ at the edge of the corral. What fun. I enjoy being in it, all.

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Friend Rules

June 1st, 2010 by Shelley Widhalm

My dog Zoey and I were out on a walk two months ago on a spring-like day. We saw three geese dosing on a landscaped section of grass in a Fort Collins office plaza. We barreled off the sidewalk and headed toward the geese with me restraining my 8.6-pound daschund as she chased her new friends. They fluttered their wings and waddled a few feet away.

Zoey walked faster, and I pulled harder, trying to keep her far enough away from the wild creatures. I didn’t know if they would snap their beaks or squabble, teaching her that not everyone, animal and human alike, is eager for friendship.

In repetitive fashion, Zoey pulled and the geese hopped away, but after a few times of this, “the potential friends” gave up their comfortable grass and flew halfway across the parking lot we had just reached. Zoey kept trying, and to me, it felt like she was saying, “But they can be my friends.”

The same goes with the feral cat hiding under a shed at my father’s house. Every time Zoey goes out in the yard when we visit, the first place she runs is to the shed. “Is the cat there?” she seems to ask. “I know there is a friend somewhere in there,” she says.

Zoey reminds me of myself as a child, wanting friends and not knowing the difference between those who could be mean and the genuine kind ones who can love you for who you are.

For me, it took a lot of hurts and taunts and whatever else girls do to each other before I realized that friends are hard to find. You can’t look for them underneath a shed or in the grass or in the air. Or maybe you can. Maybe Zoey knows more than me about friendship with her happy hope that everyone loves her, if not now, soon once they see how cute she is and what a good girl she can be, only if.

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Gone Home

May 30th, 2010 by Helen Colella

A 50th high school reunion beckoned me home to NJ.

100 + class members attended. Some came with spouses others without. Many still lived and worked throughout the state. Others traveled from NY, CA, SC, FL, OH, VA, MA, VT, and CO to join in the festivities.

What surprised me most was the instant connection we made with one another. Seemed like yesterday…Oh sure, a few years may have passed, gray hairs sprouted and an extra pound or two found its way to intrude, but still present was the same zest for life. One success story after another brought a sense of pride for these old friends who so aptly represented East Side High School out in the world.

Good food, lots of fun and rekindling of friendships…fantastic. DJ played “our” kind of music…Rock ‘n Roll of the fifties. Lots of chatter, laughing, singing and dancing! We let the good times roll!

Next day after the reunion breakfast I was on the move.
I drove all over NJ to visit with several high school friends who couldn’t make reunion, college friends and family. I scouted old jaunts, rode by homes we lived in, WALKED, really walked, the boardwalk in several beach towns—Seaside Heights, Point Pleasant Beach, and Belmar. Oh the memories generated in these places!

Sand dunes, salty air, ocean waves caressing the sandy beach, sun bathers tanning on colorful towels and blankets and small boats cruising the shoreline were a welcomed sight. Amusement rides for adults and kids, including the carousel and its magical calliope music, drew children of all ages who, with ticket in hand, waited their turn. Hawkers at the game stands challenged the vacationers to take a chance at winning a prize. Carnival type food, pizza at Tomato Joey’s, salt water taffy from Jenkinson’s Beach teased and pleased my taste buds. Miniature golf, fun houses, souvenir shops and the fun filled arcades still lured the crowds. Aside from a few upgrades, the boardwalk hadn’t changed much. And how could I not mention the spicy, Lobster Diablo dinner I savored while sitting at a window table watching the boats come and go along Shark River? Nothing like melt-in-your-mouth fresh seafood to top off a wonderful trip.

So happy I went because Helen Pepsin (maiden name) rose to the occasion and uncovered/rediscovered her old self, the one from a lifetime ago…LOL. She was and still is lots of fun. I wonder how she got lost in being Mrs. Eddie and Jimmy’s mother, Andy’s mother, Matthew’s mother and Amy’s mother.

Gone home…you bet I did. What a trip! A true blast from the past.

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