Category: Tuesday Tidbit

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New! Why Grandma Doesn’t Know Me

Independently published with the help of DLD Books.

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Sixteen-year-old Natalie’s grandmother, suffering from dementia and confined to a wheelchair, lives in a nursing home and rarely recognizes Natalie. But one Halloween night, she tells her a shocking secret that only she and Natalie’s mother know. Natalie is the product of a one-night stand between her mother, who is a college English teacher, and another professor.

After some research, Natalie learns that people with dementia often have vivid memories of past events. Still not wanting to believe what her grandmother has told her, she finds her biological father online. The resemblance between them is undeniable. Not knowing what else to do, she shows his photo and website to her parents.

Natalie realizes she has some growing up to do. Scared and confused, she reaches out to her biological father, and they start corresponding.

Her younger sister, Sarah, senses their parents’ marital difficulties. At Thanksgiving, when she has an opportunity to see Santa Claus, she asks him to bring them together again. Can the jolly old elf grant her request?

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Q is for Quack #TuesdayTidbit #Life’sAlphabet #Inspiration

When I was about nine, one of my younger brother Andy’s nursery school teachers gave us a duckling. I don’t know why, but I fell in love with this creature and wanted him to be mine. Andy didn’t object. In fact, I don’t think he was interested. So, the duckling’s cage was placed in my room, and I named him David. Why I gave him that name I don’t know.

As the months went by, I regretted claiming David. The only place we could find to put his cage in my room was over my baby doll Anabella’s crib. I soon discovered that David was no substitute for Anabella. All he wanted to do was quack. Naturally, he didn’t take to being snuggled. I could have asked someone to move the cage temporarily while I took Anabella out of her crib, then kept her on the bed. But I probably figured she’d roll off, like Andy did when he was a baby.

David stank, despite Mother’s attempts to bathe him. At the time, because of my visual impairment, I was wearing a Braille watch. When I took it off to take my own bath, the place on my wrist where it was smelled like David. When I told Mother, she joked about David somehow getting to that spot.

We were living in Tucson, Arizona. Several months after David arrived, Mother, perhaps sensing I disliked him, suggested we take him to a local park, where there was a pond, and release him. That was one of the best times of my life, standing on the shore with Mother and Andy, watching David swim away, as another child cried, “Wow! Look at that duck.”

Relieved, I was only too glad to turn and walk away, leaving David behind and never seeing him again. After we got home, I lifted Anabella out of her crib and held her as if she were my long-lost daughter.

***

How about you? Did you have any pets you didn’t like when you were growing up?

Thanks to beetleypete for inspiring my Life’s Alphabet series with a similar one he posted last December. Every day, he wrote about an aspect of his life, using a word starting with a consecutive letter of the alphabet. You can check out his blog here.

Photo Courtesy of Tess Anderson Photography

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New! Why Grandma Doesn’t Know Me

Independently published with the help of DLD Books.

Photo Resize and Description by

Natalie realizes she has some growing up to do. Scared and confused, she reaches out to her biological father, and they start corresponding.

***

P Is for Prom #TuesdayTidbit #Life’s Alphabet #Poetry

My senior prom was memorable and unusual, as evidenced by the following poem. You can click on the title to hear me read it.

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Yellow Prom Memories

A long yellow skirt and yellow blouse with three-quarter-inch sleeves

I wore to my senior prom in 1980.

Dad reluctantly agreed to be my date,

as no boy asked me, and I had no courage to ask a boy.

I don’t remember the color of Dad’s suit

or the corsage and boutonniere Mother ordered.

I do recall Dad and me dancing,

me taking off my garter,

placing it on Dad’s arm,

him immediately removing it, embarrassed,

the picture taken of the two of us

that Grandma displayed in her music room for years.

Dad and Grandma are gone.

Who knows what happened to the yellow skirt and blouse,

the flowers, the garter, the photo,

but the memories remain.

***

What do you remember about your senior prom? Please share in the comment field below.

Thanks to beetleypete for inspiring my Life’s Alphabet series with a similar one of his that he posted on his blog last December. Every day, he wrote about a different aspect of his life, using words starting with consecutive letters of the alphabet. Mine is a weekly series, and this week’s letter is P. Thank you for reading.

Photo Courtesy of Tess Anderson Photography

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New! Why Grandma Doesn’t Know Me

Independently published with the help of DLD Books.

Photo Resize and Description by

Natalie realizes she has some growing up to do. Scared and confused, she reaches out to her biological father, and they start corresponding.

***

O is for Opera #TuesdayTidbit #Life’sAlphabet #Inspiration

I don’t remember this, but Mother loved to tell the story of the first time she and Dad took me to an opera when I was two. The year was 1963, and I believe we were living in Boulder, Colorado, at the time. My parents often played phonograph records of opera and other classical music. Since I seemed to enjoy it, they thought I might like hearing it live.

What they didn’t realize, I guess, is that at the age of two, I couldn’t understand that when you hear a live performance, you have to be quiet. As I sang along to the music in my own way, they tried unsuccessfully to hush me. We finally had to leave.

In the early 1970s after my family moved to Tucson, Arizona, Dad and I started listening to the Metropolitan Opera radio broadcasts. I think I was about eleven. Dad had a book of plot descriptions for many operas, and before each broadcast, he read me the one for the opera being performed that day, and we talked about it. Of course, the radio announcer always gave a brief description of what would happen in each act or scene, but the descriptions in the book were more vivid.

After we moved to Sheridan, Wyoming, in 1973, we couldn’t get the Metropolitan Opera radio broadcasts. When I was in college, we finally got access to a public radio station out of Billings, Montana, that carried the programs, and I often listened. Once I was living on my own and working as a registered music therapist with nursing home residents, Dad and I often went out to lunch on Saturdays, listening to parts of the broadcasts in the car on the way to and from wherever we planned to eat.

Years later, a local theater offered the Metropolitan Opera broadcasts live in HD on a big screen. Dad and I often attended those programs. Because they started at eleven in the morning and lasted several hours, attendees could order a catered lunch from a restaurant across the street, which we could eat during intermission. This establishment served great pasta, which I ordered, but by the time it was delivered to the theater, it was cold. But it was still good. Although I often vowed that next time, I’d order a cold sandwich instead, I never did.

Now, Dad’s gone. Although Wyoming Public Radio’s classical music feed still broadcasts the Metropolitan Opera every Saturday at eleven, I rarely listen. I’ve heard many of the operas quite a few times, and for some reason, though they now have new singers and new productions, I’m not interested in hearing them again. I no longer attend the broadcasts at the theater for that reason. But I still like opera and occasionally ask my smart speaker to play it on Amazon Music.

Do you have memories of listening to opera or classical music? Please share in the comment field below.

Thanks to beetleypete for inspiring my Life’s Alphabet series with a similar one of his own that he posted back in December. Every day, he wrote about his life, using a word beginning with consecutive letters of the alphabet. You can check out his blog here.

Photo Courtesy of Tess Anderson Photography

Photo Resize and Description by

New! Why Grandma Doesn’t Know Me

Independently published with the help of DLD Books.

Photo Resize and Description by

Natalie realizes she has some growing up to do. Scared and confused, she reaches out to her biological father, and they start corresponding.

***

The Black Hole #TuesdayTidbit #Poetry #Inspiration

In 2000, my father suffered a stroke that only affected his speech. His voice was clear, but at first, he struggled to find words he wanted to use, and we struggled to figure out what he wanted to tell us. His speech improved over time but was never fully recovered. This was frustrating to him because he loved to act.

I wrote the following poem during the first year after Dad’s stroke. He passed in 2013. I’ve since revised it to reflect that. It was recently published in an anthology called Poetry Treasures 3: Passions. To hear me read the poem, click on the title. You can click here to read my review of this collection and find a link to where it can be purchased. I’m sharing this in loving memory of my father on his birthday. Happy birthday, Dad. Rest in peace.

The Black Hole

by Abbie Johnson Taylor

A Shakespearean actor with an evocative voice,

Dad needed to speak,

but words wouldn’t come.

For years, he struggled, stammering, swearing,

to wrestle beloved language from his stroke’s black hole,

often succeeding until the end

when no more words emerged.

Photo Courtesy of Tess Anderson Photography

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New! Why Grandma Doesn’t Know Me

Independently published with the help of DLD Books.

Photo Resize and Description by

Natalie realizes she has some growing up to do. Scared and confused, she reaches out to her biological father, and they start corresponding.

***