K.B. Pellegrino's Blog, page 16
November 21, 2019
Scorpio-It's November
I've several Scorpios among my dearest and nearest and their actions often surprise. Passionate, attractive, assertive, and friendly are just a few traits attributed to them. Do I normally follow astrology; no! Its interest for me is as a cocktail patter opener. However, I could ascribe all those adjectives to my Scorpios. Notice, I did not list Scorpios' flaws. For those near and dear to me I look only for the good; the great; the kind; the wonderful. You may guess I'm an optimist and you would be correct. Why else would I be able to write and publish four mystery novels in two years ---- sheer optimism! Notice how my lead protagonist Major Crime Unit Captain Rudy Beauregard had most of those traits shared by Scorpios; please wonder if he's really an embodiment of a Scorpio or maybe a Leo.
K. B. Pellegrino, Author
K. B. Pellegrino, Author
November 14, 2019
An old read
I recently purchased a reprint of some of O'Henry's short stories and was pleasantly surprised to re-read an old favorite, "A Retrieved Reformation." O'Henry was a genius of the short story. He imbued every story with a plot filled with human emotion. In the above cited short story, I am again interested in the criminal element. In a few pages we are able not only to see the reformation of a criminal by the lens of love, but in addition witness a forgiveness by the person pursuing the criminal. A good deed is done by our criminal putting his new and now honest life in jeopardy. He looks to his love and does the right thing. In just a few pages, I am again hooked on reading more short stories and feeling the love.
K. B. Pellegrino, Author
K. B. Pellegrino, Author
November 13, 2019
Why We Read?!
Why do I read? Why do you read? The answer may be different for each of us. I read to be informed. I read to dream. I read to share in empathy for others. I read to stimulate my soul. I read to understand which is different in the world and its people from just getting information. I read to improve my sense of obligation to others and to myself and family. And the list goes on!
What about reading fiction; is it worthwhile? I present my personal case which is why I write fiction. Through fiction...
November 9, 2019
Veterans' Day 2019
November 11, 2019 celebrates one hundred years in recognizing our veterans' contribution to maintaining our freedom. First initiated as Armistice Day on November 11, 1919, honoring those who fought in the great war and later changed to Veterans' Day to honor all our veterans, it is a day to remember and observe all their brave actions in fighting for us all.
As a child I marched as a Brownie scout holding the flag in a parade in Milton, Massachusetts. It was one of the few times in my childhood I was allowed to join in public events. I felt such pride holding the United States Flag, despite my difficulty in keeping it straight midst a strong wind. I was quite little at the time and I was exhausted afterward but satisfied I had done the job.
Such a little memory of a little contribution, but it laid the foundation for my sense of respect and love for those who fought; those who died; those who came back maimed and renewed their previous lives; those who lost loved ones; and for my flag as a symbol of it all.
K. B. Pellegrino, Author
anniversary of
As a child I marched as a Brownie scout holding the flag in a parade in Milton, Massachusetts. It was one of the few times in my childhood I was allowed to join in public events. I felt such pride holding the United States Flag, despite my difficulty in keeping it straight midst a strong wind. I was quite little at the time and I was exhausted afterward but satisfied I had done the job.
Such a little memory of a little contribution, but it laid the foundation for my sense of respect and love for those who fought; those who died; those who came back maimed and renewed their previous lives; those who lost loved ones; and for my flag as a symbol of it all.
K. B. Pellegrino, Author
anniversary of
October 31, 2019
HALLOWEEN EVE
I'm continuing my tradition with my scary story written by me in 2018. Hope you enjoy it.
A Scary Story…
I'd had a wee biddy drink at the pub near the round-about and feeling a bit adventurous as it was near midnight on Halloween Eve, I cut through the cemetery. ‘Twas safe enough, I thought, being a place of holy burial with blessings all around. The moon shone high so I could read some of the names on the stones: Murphy, O’Connell, Mason, MCCarthy; all my brethren. I walked, well maybe more likely stumbled, and before me there was an apparition. I thought it must be my imagination; it couldn't be real. Maybe the biddy drink was more than ample, greater than I could recall.
How to describe the dancing vision; well it was a skeleton for sure with gaudy jewels hanging around her bony and slimy neck, narrow in waist and fingers for they were singularly only bones, and stringy hair partially dissolved sticking out from her head. She frightened me so I turned to run.
"Come back Michael, Michael me dear," she chanted, “Or else I'll be in your nightmares forever. You’ll never escape me, and surely will never rest, never and forever. Do you hear?"
I heard and I believed; but how could she know my name? Shaking more than I ever did when I was fighting in Afghanistan, I moved toward her pointed crooked finger. She kept waving for me to move closer and I did. I was locked into her aura as an old girlfriend used to say, but this aura had none of the physical charm of my other lover. I was as close as three feet from this moving mess of organic gel material when she whispered, and don't get me wrong, I'm not crazy, but her whisper enticed me. I moved closer and closer and closer.
She pulled me into her bony arms and kissed me on the right cheek leaving a burning sensation and then laughed hysterically saying, "I'm leaving now Michael. I've done my job. I’ll come each year to remind you, one of my own, and some of my old other life friends known as bar hangers on that this is how you will be; how you will end up if you don't make some changes. Did you notice the smell of fresh organic earth when I kissed you, Michael; it is my perfume. You will grow to love it as your cologne someday; for you will surely see me yearly if you’ll not change. Yearly, until your death, which shall be sooner than later…."
And she turned and disappeared. With the smell of dirt or soil or whatever you call it all around me, I turned tail and ran all the way home to my digs, and fell on my cot sleeping for ten hours. In the morning, I thought maybe I was more than tipsy the night before, and felt better. Until, until -- I looked in the mirror and there on my right cheek was an image of a black, skull and crossbones. I rubbed it vigorously but it would not come off. I don’t explain how it came on my cheek. It can’t be removed. None at my meetings would believe my story, but tonight I will be at the cemetery and I hope she doesn’t show.
Happy Halloween
K. B. Pellegrino
A Scary Story…
I'd had a wee biddy drink at the pub near the round-about and feeling a bit adventurous as it was near midnight on Halloween Eve, I cut through the cemetery. ‘Twas safe enough, I thought, being a place of holy burial with blessings all around. The moon shone high so I could read some of the names on the stones: Murphy, O’Connell, Mason, MCCarthy; all my brethren. I walked, well maybe more likely stumbled, and before me there was an apparition. I thought it must be my imagination; it couldn't be real. Maybe the biddy drink was more than ample, greater than I could recall.
How to describe the dancing vision; well it was a skeleton for sure with gaudy jewels hanging around her bony and slimy neck, narrow in waist and fingers for they were singularly only bones, and stringy hair partially dissolved sticking out from her head. She frightened me so I turned to run.
"Come back Michael, Michael me dear," she chanted, “Or else I'll be in your nightmares forever. You’ll never escape me, and surely will never rest, never and forever. Do you hear?"
I heard and I believed; but how could she know my name? Shaking more than I ever did when I was fighting in Afghanistan, I moved toward her pointed crooked finger. She kept waving for me to move closer and I did. I was locked into her aura as an old girlfriend used to say, but this aura had none of the physical charm of my other lover. I was as close as three feet from this moving mess of organic gel material when she whispered, and don't get me wrong, I'm not crazy, but her whisper enticed me. I moved closer and closer and closer.
She pulled me into her bony arms and kissed me on the right cheek leaving a burning sensation and then laughed hysterically saying, "I'm leaving now Michael. I've done my job. I’ll come each year to remind you, one of my own, and some of my old other life friends known as bar hangers on that this is how you will be; how you will end up if you don't make some changes. Did you notice the smell of fresh organic earth when I kissed you, Michael; it is my perfume. You will grow to love it as your cologne someday; for you will surely see me yearly if you’ll not change. Yearly, until your death, which shall be sooner than later…."
And she turned and disappeared. With the smell of dirt or soil or whatever you call it all around me, I turned tail and ran all the way home to my digs, and fell on my cot sleeping for ten hours. In the morning, I thought maybe I was more than tipsy the night before, and felt better. Until, until -- I looked in the mirror and there on my right cheek was an image of a black, skull and crossbones. I rubbed it vigorously but it would not come off. I don’t explain how it came on my cheek. It can’t be removed. None at my meetings would believe my story, but tonight I will be at the cemetery and I hope she doesn’t show.
Happy Halloween
K. B. Pellegrino
October 25, 2019
TWO OUT OF TOO MANY?
Two young men, vital and handsome men, men who I have known, died this week from overdoses of illegal substances. Both men had rehabbed and been without drugs for over six months. Both men died at home. Both men were loved. Both men had work and were respected. One man had children. Both men left parents and siblings as well. Both deaths cause the pain of a knife in our hearts.
Both men suffered from their addiction. We, who do not have an addiction, may wonder how or why it happens. We want help for them. I am appalled at our lack of long term treatment for those addicted. The statistics show close to a 72% rate of returning to drugs after rehab even with a serious of follow through programming. Experts say the most successful programs follow the addict through two years of programming. Where do we find affordable two year programming? We don't. And if we did how do we support the connected families through the two years. This kind of programming mostly does not exist or if it does, there are not enough programs.
As a society, we are losing some of our best and brightest. I understand that many think it is a moral problem; that the addict has lost his or her sense of right and wrong or is just chasing a high or ....There are many or's!
My heart dies for the loss of these loved ones and for their families and friends. I try in my own way to help. It is not enough. I don't even know what direction to take when I see someone in my world in trouble.
I am saddened
K. B. Pellegrino, Author
Both men suffered from their addiction. We, who do not have an addiction, may wonder how or why it happens. We want help for them. I am appalled at our lack of long term treatment for those addicted. The statistics show close to a 72% rate of returning to drugs after rehab even with a serious of follow through programming. Experts say the most successful programs follow the addict through two years of programming. Where do we find affordable two year programming? We don't. And if we did how do we support the connected families through the two years. This kind of programming mostly does not exist or if it does, there are not enough programs.
As a society, we are losing some of our best and brightest. I understand that many think it is a moral problem; that the addict has lost his or her sense of right and wrong or is just chasing a high or ....There are many or's!
My heart dies for the loss of these loved ones and for their families and friends. I try in my own way to help. It is not enough. I don't even know what direction to take when I see someone in my world in trouble.
I am saddened
K. B. Pellegrino, Author
October 19, 2019
WAITING...
"Serene I fold my hands and wait, Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea. I rave no more 'gainst time or fate, For Lo! my own shall come to me." An excerpt from the poem "Waiting" by American poet, John Burroughs. How I waited. How I prayed. As Burroughs inferred in his poem, nothing mattered. Fear filled my heart; fear for my son. It is not the first time that my husband and I waited. Remember, when you have children, they are hostages to fortune.
What matter other accomplishments? All that I cared about in waiting was a good resolution from his surgery. Weeks of waiting, then surgery, then waiting for the surgeon with family.
The waiting was insufferable; but worse was the potential answer. It is as if a probable answer would kill my heart. So waiting at moments seemed preferable. Slowly the surgeon MGH's Dr. Lunetti explained all the operation's complications. Finally, and for the first time, he smiled. The answer was good. Joey is in recovery, his wife is in recovery, his children are in recovery, his siblings are in recovery, and Joe and I think we'll make it again.
K. B. Pellegrino, Author
What matter other accomplishments? All that I cared about in waiting was a good resolution from his surgery. Weeks of waiting, then surgery, then waiting for the surgeon with family.
The waiting was insufferable; but worse was the potential answer. It is as if a probable answer would kill my heart. So waiting at moments seemed preferable. Slowly the surgeon MGH's Dr. Lunetti explained all the operation's complications. Finally, and for the first time, he smiled. The answer was good. Joey is in recovery, his wife is in recovery, his children are in recovery, his siblings are in recovery, and Joe and I think we'll make it again.
K. B. Pellegrino, Author
October 16, 2019
Une petit dejeuner et des fleurs. This combination of my ...
Une petit dejeuner et des fleurs. This combination of my neighbor Trudi’s dahlias and a small breakfast should fortify the soul of any of us. The display is homespun. It gives grace to our ordinary days, but can it by itself give us relief when we are worried or in need of consolation? No! By itself it cannot. It especially cannot help if we have not worked beauty into our souls as a condition of our everyday life. What could dahlias possibly mean to me? I’ve watched them grow in all their ma...
October 11, 2019
Systemic Effect
I worried this week about a medical issue involving a loved one. He is still on watch for the unresolved issue, but the looming horror of a diagnosis presented in the first instance and not eliminated for five days overwhelmed me. When the most serious possibility was lifted and as we wait for final decisions, I thought the stress was lifted.
I felt relief. I said prayers of thanks. I cried in happiness and went on with my ordinary life.
However, my body rebelled. It said, "There is a price for stressing me this way." Today I was systemically cold. All the woolen cover-ups did not help. Finally, in frustration, I went underwraps and slept in the middle of the day for two hours. I woke feeling warmer but not warm.
There is a systemic effect we suffer when we worry. Why worry? I could do nothing. It was in God's hands. I worry anyway. I write this to you, my readers, as a reminder about the mind-body-spirit connections. I have no solution about prevention of the systemic effect of concern and worry. I will try to remember to understand my limited role in helping those I love and just pray; not worry!
K. B. Pellegrino, Author
I felt relief. I said prayers of thanks. I cried in happiness and went on with my ordinary life.
However, my body rebelled. It said, "There is a price for stressing me this way." Today I was systemically cold. All the woolen cover-ups did not help. Finally, in frustration, I went underwraps and slept in the middle of the day for two hours. I woke feeling warmer but not warm.
There is a systemic effect we suffer when we worry. Why worry? I could do nothing. It was in God's hands. I worry anyway. I write this to you, my readers, as a reminder about the mind-body-spirit connections. I have no solution about prevention of the systemic effect of concern and worry. I will try to remember to understand my limited role in helping those I love and just pray; not worry!
K. B. Pellegrino, Author
October 10, 2019
Cousins
Cousins! Bobby from Cape Cod and Nancy from San Diego met with Author from Springfield in Westboro for lunch and catching up. There is nothing like it: to see family face to face not just on Facebook; to catch up and feel and hear the nuances of life; and to hug. This author has/d sixteen first cousins, 60 second cousins, and upteen third and fourth cousins without counting cousins by marriage. With all these influences on this author’s life, she feels blessed with the diversity of experience...
