Category: Tuesday Tidbit

Abbie, here. If you haven’t already done so, please subscribe to my email list to receive my monthly newsletter and other announcements. This is a one-way announcements list, meaning the only messages you’ll receive will come from me. So, you can rest assured that this list is low-traffic. Send a blank email to: newsfrommycorner+subscribe@groups.io You’ll receive a confirmation email. Reply to that with another blank message, and you should be good to go.

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?

***

A is for Arizona #TuesdayTidbit #Life’sAlphabet #Inspiration

Today, I’m starting a new series, inspired by fellow blogger Beetleypete, who did something similar. Each time, I’ll write something about me, using a consecutive letter of the alphabet. As you may have figured from the post title, today’s letter is A.

Arizona is where my family lived for eight years before moving here to Sheridan, Wyoming. We moved to Tucson, Arizona, from Boulder, Colorado, when I was four.

Arizona was hot and dry, and there were no seasons. I remember, as a child, reading stories and watching television programs involving snow and wishing I could build a snowman and ride in a one-horse open sleigh. But it rarely snowed in Arizona, and when it did, the snow didn’t stay long.

I spent the first five and a half years of my elementary school education at the Arizona State School for the Deaf and Blind in Tucson. From first through fourth grade, I was the only girl in the class, and the boys made my life miserable. Teachers did little to stop them.

One thing I loved about the school was the library. I enjoyed checking out Braille books and reading them. But when I was in the fourth grade, the librarian told me I could no longer read books at the lower levels that I still enjoyed.

One of the happiest memories of my time at the school was when I was in third grade. I made friends with a boy in second grade. He played the piano, and we sang in a talent show. We performed Three Dog Night’s “Joy to the World.” I sang while he played the piano and sang along with me. Soon after that, his family moved away, and we lost touch.

In the fifth grade, I had a sadistic teacher who held me back a year. During my second year of fifth grade, she made me eat foods I didn’t like such as apples and pretzels. She kept me after school one day because I couldn’t button the back of my dress. When my mother confronted her, she threatened to have me put in a class for developmentally disabled children.

In the summer before my second fifth-grade year, my parents received a letter from the school, saying that if I didn’t learn certain skills at home during that summer, I would be forced to live in one of the school’s dormitories. My mother somehow managed to teach me the skills I needed, and I was able to stay home while attending school during the day as usual the following year. My parents were finally able to get me out of that school, and I was mainstreamed into a public school for the second half of my second fifth-grade year. In the summer of 1973, my family moved to Sheridan, Wyoming. That’s where my story ends for now.

Photo Courtesy of Tess Anderson Photography

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If you haven’t already done so, please subscribe to my email list to receive my monthly newsletter and other announcements. This is a one-way announcements list, meaning the only messages you’ll receive will come from me. So, you can rest assured that this list is low-traffic. Send a blank email to: newsfrommycorner+subscribe@groups.io You’ll receive a confirmation email. Reply to that with another blank message, and you should be good to go.

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.

***

Winter Song #TuesdayTidbit #Poetry #Inspiration

Winter Song

by Abbie Johnson Taylor

I’m frightened of slipping on ice,

falling and breaking my ribs.

The days are as quiet as mice.

“More nice days,” the weatherman fibs.

Conditions are ever so cold.

The forecast is ever so nasty.

Still, I must be so bold

when I’d rather enjoy a hot pasty.

I’m wishing the weather were fine.

It’s too frigid now for ice cream.

If only I’d see the sun shine.

Is it really a crime to dream?

I wish we could have warmer days,

get rid of this wintery haze.

Back Story

I wrote this poem over twenty years ago. At the time, I’d just joined a local writers’ group. A guest poet taught us to write a form of sonnet that has fourteen lines with every other line rhyming and the last two lines rhyming together.

It was mid-winter, and as I usually do this time of year, I longed for the snow and ice to go away and the days to get warmer. As you no doubt have realized, the above poem reflects this. It was published in the winter quarterly issue of The Avocet. You can click the link below to hear me read it.

Winter Song

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.

***

One Late Wintry Afternoon

One Late Wintry Afternoon #TuesdayTidbit #Poetry #Inspiration

One Late Wintery Afternoon

by Abbie Johnson Taylor

With blue sky overhead,

sun no longer warm,

day almost gone,

I snuggle under a blanket in my recliner,

stare out the window at treetop and sky,

all I see with limited vision,

thankful to be safe and warm.

Back Story

One late winter afternoon, while sitting in my recliner, I decided to write a poem about what I could see out a nearby window. I might have been inspired by another poem I was reading at the time, but I don’t remember. This poem was published in the winter quarterly issue of The Avocet. You can click below to hear me read it.

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.

***

I was a Vulture #TuesdayTidbit #Poetry #Inspiration

I Was a Vulture

by Abbie Johnson Taylor

Doc lived in the nursing home where I worked,

loved to read but couldn’t because of failing eyesight.

I got him a cassette player from the state’s services for the visually impaired,

arranged for him to receive books on tape from the regional talking book library.

For at least a year, he enjoyed listening to those books.

We often talked about them.

When he suddenly passed,

I hurried to his room

to retrieve the talking book player before it could be lost.

Although he’d just been taken away,

the equipment belonged to the state,

needed to be returned.

I felt like a vulture

but did the deed, anyway.

Back Story

I wrote the above poem recently during a meeting of my local Third Thursday Poets group. We read a poem about vultures and were prompted to write one. I did, inspired by my experience working as a registered music therapist with nursing home residents. This poem appears in the holiday extravaganza issue of The Writer’s Grapevine, which can be read here. You can click below to hear me read it.

I Was a Vulture

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.

***