R.E. Bradshaw's Blog, page 5

A Child Loaned

I am a writer and usually not at a loss for words, but I have none of my own for the tragedy at Sandy Hook School. My heart cannot comprehend the loss of all those children. As a parent, I have no words to express the sorrow I feel for those innocent souls. My heart breaks for the families of the adults that lost their lives. It is my personal belief that these children needed those adults to help them walk the path they are on now. This poem, written by Edward A. Guest and published in the Fort Worth Star mid 1930s, gave me a little peace. I post it here in the hope it will offer you the same.
A Child LoanedI'll lend you for a little time a child of mine', he said,
'For you to love the while he lives, and mourn for when he's dead.
He may be six or seven years, or even two or three,
But will you, till I call him back, take care of him for me?
He'll bring his charm to gladden you, and, should his stay be brief,
You'll have his lovely memories as solace for your grief.
I cannot promise he will stay, since all from earth return,
But there are lessons taught down there I want this child to learn.
I've looked the wide world over in my search for teachers true
And from the throng that crowd life's lanes I have selected you.
Now will you give him all your love, nor think the labour's vain,
Nor hate me when I come to call and take him back again?'
I fancied that I heard them say, 'Dear Lord, thy will be done,
For all the joys thy child shall bring the risk of grief we'll run.
We'll shelter him with tenderness, we'll love him while we may
And for the happiness we've known for ever grateful stay.
But, should the angels call for him much sooner than we'd planned
We'll brave the bitter grief that comes and try to understand.

Holiday Give Away

Holiday give away from R. E. Bradshaw Books. Just go to my website (www.rebradshawbooks.com) click on "Contact," fill out the contact info, and leave me a message answering one of these questions from REBB 2012 publications:

Out on the Panhandle: What tribe was Meredith "Horse Child" Ethridge born into?
Molly: House on Fire: What was Molly's birth mother's name?

Drawing from the correct answers will be held December 24 for a Kindle Fire HD, 7" HD Display, Dolby Audio, Dual-Band Dual-Antenna Wi-Fi, 16GB. (Winner may choose a gift certificate of the same value, if you already have an e-reader.)

Happy Holidays, from R. E. Bradshaw Books

Did I really lose my religion?

     I was brought up going to church every Sunday. My mother was raised in the First Christian church, my father in a Southern Baptist household. As a family, we attended the Methodist church. My brother and I were both baptized in the Methodist church. As an adult, I continued as a member of the Methodist church and my son was christened and baptized there as well. I remained an active churchgoer until I turned twenty-six. That’s when I met my wife, found myself, and lost my religion.     It wasn’t finally being true to myself and finding the woman of my dreams that caused my departure from organized religion. It was my confusion and doubt, which drove me to my pastor’s office one afternoon, shortly after beginning my relationship with the woman I’m still married to today. I sat down across from this man I had known and trusted for many years, and laid my heart out on his desk. “Help me understand,” I asked, after explaining what was going on with me. His answer, “I really can’t help you and you are no longer welcome in this church." I have darkened the door of a church only twice since then, and that was to attend Christmas Eve services with my family and to bury my grandmother.     I left the church that day, but not my belief in a higher power. I believe there is something greater than us out there, a collective power of hope, peace, and love. I only have to look to nature and all its wonders to know that is true. I only have to look at the woman I fell in love with twenty-five years ago to know that she was a gift to me. I remember saying to that pastor, “I can’t imagine a God that would give this love to me, and then damn me for it.” He could. That was our impasse.     So, over the years, I’ve developed my own kind of worship. I thank the universe everyday for the gifts I’ve been given. I seek solace in the wonders of the world. I remain true to the values I was taught in Corinthians 13:13 – “And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.” If the fundamentalist can pick and choose what to believe in the bible, so can I. I choose to love.     I was standing on my back porch in tears last night, looking up at the heavens, praying, yes praying, that my Dixie would be okay. She has four legs and fur, but she is my baby girl and she is very sick. I stood there trying to decide who to ask for help and what to ask for. I heard a voice in my head say very clearly, “Ask me.” I began to say some of the words to a Native American funeral service, one I learned while writing my last book.
Please help me save my baby girl, but if it is time for her to sing her death song, Father in heaven, know that this is my friend coming. By these words, I ask that our tears of mourning be wiped away so that we may see again. By these words, I ask that our mourning cries may be silenced so that we may hear again. When our friend crosses to the next world, the stars will fall, leaving us in the dark. Help us to lift up the stars and replace them in the sky, so that the spirit of our friend will have light at her crossing, and the path for us here on earth will remain clear. Lift her up, for she is loved.
     I sit now beside her bed, listening to her ragged breaths and I am praying. I realized last night that I never lost my religion. I simply found it in a different place. I have asked the Great Spirit to give me strength, to help my baby girl, and to guide me to know the right thing to do. No, I don’t go to a chapel to pray. I lay my head on her side and know that there is love in this world, and today I am praying hope and faith will get us through.     Hang in there, Dixie. Momma loves you. 

The Next Big Thing Blog Hop

A Kiss Before Dawn author, Laurie Salzler, tagged me as part of the “The Next Big Thing Blog Hop.” The blog hop project is designed to introduce readers to writers and their work. I will be answering questions about one of my books and the author I tag will answer about her work in progress (or published work) next Wednesday. 
So, here we go...
-What is the working title of your book? I’m in the very early stages of the next book in the Rainey Bell Thriller series, THE RAINEY SEASON. So early, that there isn’t much I could say about it. When writing these thrillers, sometimes even I’m surprised at how the plot weaves together in the end. I just released OUT ON THE PANHANDLE, published September 28, 2012, so I’ll discuss that one. 
-Where did the idea come from for the book?  OUT ON THE PANHANDLE is the second in the Adventures of Decky and Charlie series, following their debut in OUT ON THE SOUND, published in 2010. These characters hold a very special place in my heart, as their story was the first novel I wrote. In OUT ON THE PANHANDLE, the two main characters travel to the Oklahoma Panhandle to attend Charlie’s family reunion. The idea came from genealogy research I had just completed on my wife’s family, where I discovered two of her relatives were captured by the Comanche and then rescued by a posse of family members. I read everything I could find on Comanche captives and decided to write that story, with a bit of a twist. In the novel, the reader is in the present day with Decky and Charlie, but also taken into the past (1870s) with the introduction of a secret manuscript, written by Charlie’s great-grandmother. 
-What genre does your book fall under?General Fiction with lesbian main characters. It’s part romance, part adventure, part historic fiction, with equal parts comedy and drama. 
-Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition? This is a tough question. I spent more time on this one than any of the others. I finally settled on Tea` Leoni for “Decky” and Diane Lane for “Charlie.” 
-What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?Take a North Carolina beach girl and drop her into her girlfriend’s family reunion on the Oklahoma Panhandle, adding a cow chip throwing contest, cow patty bingo, a fundamentalist sister-in-law, and a deeply held family secret.
-What is the longer synopsis of your book? Decky and Charlie have been together for two years and are attending Charlie’s family reunion out in Beaver, Oklahoma, home of “The World Cow Chip Throwing Championship.” It’s Decky’s first trip to meet the thundering herd that is Charlie’s family. Charlie has six brothers and three sisters, along with numerous nieces and nephews. The sheer numbers are staggering to Decky, but the more pressing matter is Charlie’s refusal to discuss her sexuality with her family. At age 40, Charlie would rather go along as she has, just not talking about it. It doesn’t take long after their arrival at the ranch for Decky to realize Charlie’s “don’t ask, don’t tell” strategy has been declared over and the conversation Charlie has dreaded for years in imminent. It all seems to be going well, until the fundamentalist sister-in-law’s plan to run Charlie out of town becomes clear.While the modern family drama unfolds, Decky is presented with a manuscript written by Charlie’s great-grandmother in 1905. Decky is an author of historic fiction and a professional genealogist. As a gift for Charlie’s family, Decky has been gathering research for a family history book. She hit a brick wall while investigating Charlie’s ancestor, Meredith Ethridge. Decky asks Charlie’s mother, Louise, about this man. Instead of an answer, Louise gives Decky the manuscript, telling her that she will find the key to the mystery within the aging pages.While both stories unfold simultaneously, OUT ON THE PANHANDLE elicits tears one moment and sidesplitting laughter the next, on the way to discovering that true love never ends and some things were just meant to be.
-Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?I started publishing my novels in August of 2010, as R. E. Bradshaw Books. (It turned out to be a very wise move. J) 
-How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?With the time spent on research for this particular book, it took about 4 months to write. 
-Who or What inspired you to write this book?My inspiration is and always will be the amazing woman that said yes to me nearly twenty-six years ago. She is my muse, my best friend, my wife, and without her, I probably would have never written a single book. It just so happens that it was her family’s story that led to the historic fiction part of OUT ON THE PANHANDLE, and of course, she did introduce this NC beach girl to cow chip throwing and cow patty bingo.
-What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest? There is something for everyone in this book. (Except erotica. There are some sexual situations in the book, just not explicit. If you're looking for a play by play description, I'm not your type of writer. No offense to those that read and write erotica. It just isn't me.)Take a trip back in time with Merdy and Grace, Horse Child and Thunder Child. I’m betting you won’t soon forget what happened out on the Plains. Witness the clash of two civilizations - the end of a way of life. Even as they were promised the land would remain theirs “as long as the grass grows and the water runs,” the Plains Indians were hunted down and herded onto reservations. A once proud people decimated by war and disease.A lot of people don’t realize that Oklahoma has been a state for just a little over one hundred years. The musical “Oklahoma!” is centered on the celebration of the Oklahoma and Indian Territories merging to form the state of Oklahoma. Out on the Panhandle touches on the Native American removal to Indian Territory, the hardships they faced, and the treatment afforded them by the likes of General William Tecumseh Sherman, after his scourging of the South. The novel also explores the life faced by the adventurous men and women who pioneered the settlement of the Republic of Texas and the Oklahoma Territory.
See what the readers are saying about Out on the Panhandle: READER REVIEWS.
OUT ON THE PANHANDLE - available at Amazon.com and Barnes and Noble.
Next Wednesday check out TOUCH ME GENTLY author D. Jackson Leigh’s blog to find out about her Next Big Thing.
 Get info on other novels from R. E. Bradshaw Books www.rebradshawbooks.com

Creeping out the Wife

     I’m in the middle of assuming the role of my character Rainey Bell. She is a former FBI behavioral analyst and is always battling evil around every corner. When I write these books, I first review all my research on the process of analyzing criminal behavior. I immerse myself in a library of books and data, assimilated over many years of fascination with the subject. I’ve been reading true crime since childhood, (I pilfered my mother’s stash of novels and a few detective magazines, very scandalous reading for a pre-teen,) and studying the FBI Behavioral Analyst Unit since the seeds of its development were sown in the seventies. I’m John Douglas’s nightmare, an armchair analyst. I won’t say worst nightmare, because I’m sure his worst nightmares are out of the realm of understanding for most of us. (Douglas was one of the first “profilers,” along with Roy Hazelwood and Robert Ressler.) I’m a “Criminal Minds” devotee, able to spot the facts of actual cases in the plot lines, playing “name the real serial killer modus operandi or signature” with every episode. (The guy that put the lipstick on the dead bodies out in the woods, that was Ted Bundy.) Assuming Rainey’s character heightens my awareness of the existence of evil. I totally agree with Rainey’s thoughts on the matter, “I’m not paranoid, just prepared. There is a distinct difference and a higher survival rate for the latter.”
     So, I’m in this frame of mind and Deb calls me from her office. She was just passing the time before her next class and saw an article in the paper she thought I would be interested in. Some guy cut up his mother and put her in the freezer, just a few miles from here. Yep, she knows me well. This article led to the following conversation:
Me: You know there could be one of those people in your class and you would never know it. Deb: I’ve had a few that gave off that creepy vibe, but that guy they arrested for murder was nice. I had no idea he was the leader of a gang and killed his girlfriend.Me: And then dug her up twice to move the body. Yep, it’s the ones that don’t creep you out you should be worried about. You can see the creepy ones coming. Speaking of weird vibes, have you seen that one guy this year?Deb: No, I haven’t seen him since the middle of last semester, but I still have his gym bag in my office.Me: Have you looked in the bag?Deb: No, and I have no desire to.Me: (laughing) There could be a head in there.Deb: I think I would have smelled a head by now.Me: Not if it was only a skull.(Long pause where I hear only breathing.)Me: Now you’re staring at that bag, aren’t you?Deb: Yes. Thank you for planting that seed.Me: No problem. Anytime. (lots of laughter.)Deb: I have to go to class now. Me: Watch out for the ones with that shark-eyed stare.Deb: How long are you going to be channeling Rainey this time?Me: As long as it takes, honey.Deb: Okay, got to go.Me: Look in the bag.Deb: Not a chance. Bye.
     I’m not the only one living with my characters. Bless all those poor spouses of authors out there. Living with us and our creations has to be an interesting ride. 

What did your character have for breakfast?

     Deb is watching football and I'm thinking up a signature for the serial killer in my next Rainey Bell Thriller, typical Sunday afternoon. Deb tried to help with the signature, but she finally said, "I don't think I can think like those people, and I'm not sure I want to." We had a long discussion about what it must be like to really know all of the human depravities to which the FBI behavioral analysts are exposed. When I write, I approach it very much the way I prepared to play characters on stage, during my acting days. I had to truly KNOW the character - backstory, motivation, the soul of the person, the inner monologue – so that when I spoke the character's words on stage, I spoke them as if they were my own, generated from my thoughts. The ability to do that is what separates the great actors from the good ones. The highest compliment I ever received for a performance was from a close friend, who said, "I totally forgot that was you up there." It boils down to a basic concept of acting – the suspension of disbelief, to react “as if” you were the character. The trick is to think like the character, not think like an actor trying to think like a character. If I could embody a character, bring it to life from the written page, I could make the audience forget they were watching a play. As a writer, I want the reader to forget they are reading a book.      My theatre mentor, Shawn Smith, sold me on the first question he would ask of an actor, "What did your character have for breakfast?" That sounds simple enough, but it isn’t really. It opens a floodgate of questions. Where was this breakfast consumed, if in fact there was a breakfast at all? Did it occur before sunrise or late in the afternoon? If late in the afternoon, then why? Who cooked it? Was it good? Was it found, stolen, bought, bartered for, etc.? Said breakfast is not in the script. The author did not describe this breakfast, but he or she did tell you all about it. In a play, all you have are a few notes from the author and the spoken word of the characters. In a well-written play, what the character says and does tells the actor all they need to know. Maggie the Cat, from “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof,” had a much different breakfast from Jessie, in “ ‘night, Mother.” The actions and words of a character are the culmination of life experiences leading up to the moments of the play. In those actions and words are the keys to the character, what shaped them, and yes, what they had for breakfast. When I write, I know what my characters have for breakfast.     Writing romances allows me to ride the roller coaster of emotions that exist in a love affair. I may break my heart a few times and use up a box of tissue writing those tear jerking scenes, but in the end, the darkness fades, the sun shines, and everyone is happy. If you’ve ever felt the ache of a character’s emotions, then know it is so very painful to the one writing it. At least it is for me. I am also allowed the rush of emotion when it all works out in the end, a blessing after all the angst in arriving there. It is the essence of empathy, the in-depth understanding of someone else’s feelings. I know those characters. I’ve lived inside their heads. Those characters eat breakfast with me sometimes. I know them inside and out. When and where they were born and to whom, the childhood years, the years never mentioned in a book, the secrets they keep, it’s all written down somewhere or stored in the recesses of my mind. Much of what I know about my characters has never seen the printed page. What they say and do in the books should give the reader a fairly clear picture, if I’m doing it right.      The point to all that rambling, besides trying to cram seven years of theatre acting classes into a few paragraphs, is that I do have to think like a former behavioral analyst to write about one in the Rainey Bell series. To do that, I also have to know what she knows about the monsters among us. For several days now, I’ve been inside the head of Gerard John Schaefer, convicted sadistic murderer, not a pretty place. His collection of short stories is a way into his twisted mind, and about as deep as I’ve ever been into that shocking world. I’ve visited the volumes of knowledge on Bundy, Fish, Dahmer, and other violent murderers and rapists. My bookshelves are crammed with books by Douglas, Ressler, Hazlewood, Burgess, and other experts in criminal behavioral analysis. I’ve been inside the head of the monster about as far as one can go without a badge or access to more transcripts of the actual conversations with these convicted serial murderers. I’m not sure I want to go too much further. What people see on TV shows like “Criminal Minds” is the version the public could stomach. The truth of what some of these depraved individuals do is far outside the realm of general understanding.       So, the question is, “What did Rainey Bell have for breakfast?” Did a crime scene from her past flash in her mind just as she was about to bite her toast? Did she shake it off and take the bite, or did she abruptly stand and leave the table? What did she see? How often is her life interrupted by these memories from her past? I have to know the answers, but the more difficult and disturbing aspect of writing about a woman who hunts monsters is the answer to one other question. What did the serial killer have for breakfast?

To our son on his wedding day.

To our son on his wedding day:
     Deb and I, of all people, know how important this day is for you. You have been blessed to find a wonderful woman to spend the rest of your life with. We are extremely honored that you asked us both to stand with you, as you take her hand. We love her almost as much as you, (wink) but you’ll always be our baby boy. We will always remember the little curly-haired blonde with a wooden sword in your hand, a wooden dagger in the belt around your bent waist, while you knelt at the base of the steps to let the ladies pass. You even added a “M’lady” to your bow. You were precious then and even more so now. Our Prince has found his Lady, now for the happily ever after.     We are very proud of the man you have become. We hope you know that. You are kind and loving, sensitive to the pain and suffering of others, judge people by their character and not some prescribed social agenda, and most important, you realize that this does not make you less of a man. If anything, in our eyes, it makes you a much stronger male role model. You are more loyal than a dog, and tend to give people the benefit of the doubt, as some of your friends will attest. You openly express your feeling for your loved ones, and I’m sure you are loved by many in return. Really, you turned out much better than we could have hoped, because it was touch and go there for a while, but wow, what a great kid you turned out to be.      You are lucky to have found a woman that appreciates those things in you, but we think she’s pretty lucky too. We couldn’t be happier with your choice. She is definitely a keeper. We’ve watched you two for ten years, so we know it’s a solid match. Our wish for you both is lots of love and laughter. We think we set a pretty good example for you, despite what the Family Research Council, NOM, or the rest of the far right thinks. We hope the things you learned about relationships from watching us are that trust should never be an issue, honesty is always the best policy, and that no matter how bad things can get, the down times don’t last long when you remember how blessed you are.     You are blessed, both of you. Many people search their whole lives for the kind of love you share. There is nothing you two cannot do, as long as you stick together. Love is stronger than anything else life can throw at you. Lean on each other, when you have to. Hold the other one up, when they need it. (Trust us, knowing someone is there to catch you when you falter is worth its weight in gold.) Lead the way, when the other is afraid. Be willing to walk behind, when the other is sure of the way. Walk hand in hand when neither is sure, together you can find the path. Our best advice to you both is to remember the three Ls, listen, laugh, and love.      On the day that you were born, I wrote this song in your baby book. It was my wish for you. Sadly, the book was destroyed in a flood, but the sentiment remains the same. Deb and I will always think of you as our little Prince and are so happy you’ve found your Lady. We love you beyond measure and wish you a life filled with happiness. I think Bob Dylan said it best, so I leave you with these words.
"Forever Young"Bob Dylan
May God bless and keep you always May your wishes all come trueMay you always do for others And let others do for youMay you build a ladder to the stars And climb on every rungMay you stay forever youngForever young, forever young May you stay forever young.
May you grow up to be righteous May you grow up to be trueMay you always know the truth And see the lights surrounding youMay you always be courageous Stand upright and be strongMay you stay forever youngForever young, forever young May you stay forever young.
May your hands always be busy May your feet always be swiftMay you have a strong foundation When the winds of changes shiftMay your heart always be joyful And may your song always be sungMay you stay forever youngForever young, forever young
May you stay forever young.

Matthew's Mother

October the twelfth is my son’s birthday. He will be twenty-eight this year and he’s getting married on the twentieth. He asked my wife (she raised him since he was almost three) and I to stand with him when he gets married. It’s a big month for him and us. I couldn’t help but think about another mother on this day, Matthew Shepard’s. October the twelfth means something totally different to her. On October 12, 1998 her beautiful son left this world, the victim of hate and violence. My heart breaks for her.There will be no more birthdays for her son. She won’t ever go to his wedding, hold his child, see him grow into the wonderful man she hoped would find love and happiness in his life. Hate took all that away from Matthew’s mother. I read things today that make me sick to my stomach. Religious leaders calling for our heads, literally saying we should die. Politicians using our rights as bartering tools, or playing to ignorance to drive people to the polls, all in the name of protecting “family values.” Here’s a thought, I believe murder was at the top of the list of “thou shall not” in that bible you so freely quote. Hate is certainly not a family value in my home. You go ahead and preach your hate, encourage violence, and when you meet your maker, may he have mercy on your bigoted, hate-filled heart. I’d like to be a fly on the wall for that conversation. “Forgive them, for they know not what they do.” I’d love to be able to forgive these hate mongering people and let them meet their own fate, but then I think about Matthew and his mother. I think about the kids being bullied by others who were taught to hate by adults. I’ve worked with kids for many years. Trust me. They have to be taught to hate. It is not an inherent genetic predisposition. That little gay slur you said in the car follows that child to school and comes out of their mouths. They don’t know why they hate gay people. They just know their parents do, so they should to. Congratulations haters, you’ve created another bigot. I just hope you’re there to stop them when that hate grows to murderous intent. Parents create these monsters and then seem shocked that it went that far. Of course, Little Johnny was brought up in a “Christian” home, they just forgot that part about thou shalt not kill.I could forgive the haters, if I could stop thinking about that lonely kid in the back of the class. There isn’t anything wrong with that kid that a little love couldn’t fix. That child is beautiful and deserves a chance to have birthdays, get married, have a family, pursue happiness in whatever form it be. Bless their hearts. They have to listen to preachers condemning them for loving someone. They have to endure slurs and violence. They have to take on things that would bring most adults to their knees. No, I don’t forgive the haters. So, while I’m celebrating the beautiful gift I was given twenty-eight years ago, I will think of Matthew’s mother. I will hug my son a little harder. That one will be for Matthew. I will shed tears, and they will be for his mother. I can’t think of anything worse than having to bury a child. Matthew’s mother’s grief was compounded by the senselessness of his death. Do you still think words can’t hurt? Do you still think hate speech is just hot air? Do you think that hating someone because they were created different from you is just fine, as long as you can back it up with some ancient text? I don’t think Matthew’s mother thinks hate speech is harmless and neither do I.

My Last Word on the Election

     My last word on the election, because I'm going to blow a gasket if I remain in this conversation.
     There are three branches of the United States government: legislative, executive, and judicial. The separation of powers was intended to offer checks and balances to ensure the rights of citizens would be protected. Balance, something lacking in our politics today. I love Rachel Maddow’s quote, “But here's the thing about rights – they're not actually supposed to be voted on. That's why they're called rights.” Yet, here I am at fifty-one-years-old basing my entire voting ballot on my civil rights, the ones I’m not supposed to have to vote on.     Yes, I’m worried about the economy, but we’re better off than we were when the Republicans left the mess, a fact some people seem to overlook, and despite the fact that the Republicans have stonewalled that progress with the goal of getting Obama out. I’m one of the people, a sole proprietor, who is happy about having affordable insurance. I also run a business and have taken advantage of the tax breaks offered. (No offshore accounts to dodge taxes, though. No horse to write off either.) I once was on food stamps and AFDC, until the state could collect my child support, while I was going to school and raising a child. I had one $1800 student loan in seven years of college, undergrad and graduate school. I did use the Pell Grant and work-study system, but most of it was scholarship money. I have always been in favor of a hand up, not a hand out. I took advantage of the system and have been a working citizen since age 14. You’re right about one thing, Mitt, this member of the 47% will never vote for you.     I brought up the branches of government, because it’s important to realize that every vote counts. The legislative branch has proven to be the stumbling block to many issues that concern me. No matter who the President is, this branch carries the most weight. They can, and have blocked legislation simply for political reasons, sticking to the party line, without care for the real people they hurt, again with the stated goal, “Get Obama out.” They also have the power to block Supreme Court nominations, and that my friends is very important, as the current judges age into retirement. Do you want Paul Ryan, (I’m dismissing the puppet Mitt. They’ll throw him under the bus,) deciding who will defend the Constitution? Hasn’t the Republican Party said enough about what they will do when they are in charge to frighten you? Let’s see, women will have no rights, the LGBT community will lose every step it has gained, and the rich will get richer.      The President nominates Supreme Court Justices. If for no other reason, Obama has to remain in office. This is what is driving my vote. I may be concerned about other things, but the main issue for me in this election is my civil rights. I got into with my parents over this election. Nothing I say will change their Fox News watching minds, not even the fact their daughter has fewer recognized rights than their son. I say recognized, because I agree with Ms. Maddow. I have the rights. There are merely narrow-minded legislators, both state and federal, standing in the way. I want them out.     I’ve been with the same woman, owning joint property, for twenty-five years. We’re rewriting our wills. The hoops we have to jump through are ridiculous and completely unnecessary. Recognize her as my wife and half that paperwork disappears. She has insurance at work. I have to have my own individual policy. That’s an expense that would be far less, if I was allowed on her policy. Our house and car insurance would be less, if we were a married couple. I wouldn’t have to carry papers to the hospital, giving us medical power of attorney for each other, if we were married. Those are just a few of the issues we deal with, but the one that hurts the most is she can’t put a picture of her family on her desk at work. You’d think that would be a small thing, but to the LGBT community, there are no small things.      I hear people say, “Just live your life and shut up about it,” “Why do you have to throw it in our faces?” My all time favorite is, “Can’t you be happy with a civil ceremony?” My reply: Hell yes, I can be happy with a civil ceremony, that is what I want, but with all the rights associated with heterosexual marriage. I don’t want to get married in your church, if you don’t want me. I’m not encroaching on your religious beliefs, but you sure as hell are encroaching on mine. My higher power doesn’t discriminate because of sexuality, but that’s neither here nor there. The point is SEPARATION OF CHURCH AND STATE. Sorry, to yell, but you seem to have missed that part of the Constitution.     So, my rights are what I’m voting for. I can’t see us making any progress with a conservative Supreme Court. If the Republicans get control of all three branches of government, DOMA stands, DADT comes back, and any gains the LGBT community has made go right down the toilet. Not to mention a woman’s right to make health decisions with a medical professional whose hands are not tied by government regulation. My rights, your rights, are in jeopardy. My wife and I will be voting in a state that is sure to go RED, Oklahoma. (Side note: I’m still laughing over our Governor, Mary Fallin, at the Republican convention, stating Oklahoma was created out of nothing by pioneers who needed no help from the government. She seems to have forgotten they were all homesteaders, buying cheap land from a government that cleared the land of indigenous people, then took most of the tribal reservations to accommodate those self-made pioneers. She’s a piece of work.) If you care about your future, you’ll vote too.      I implore everyone to vote. I don’t care how red your county or state is, every vote counts. Make the time, go to the polls, read the whole ballot, and VOTE. I will end with what I said to my parents. "Yes, it is personal to me. It does matter to me that you would put people in office that treat me as a second-class citizen, for being a woman and a lesbian, a double whammy. I can’t believe that people who supported the civil rights movement can’t see that I am being denied my rights as a citizen of this country. And last but not least, I cannot for the life of me understand why two educated, lifetime democrats have turned into Fox News, tea-party, birther, “he’s a muslim” shouting, fact denying, and I’m sorry, but racist bigots, which I find most surprising of all. I certainly wasn't raised that way. Honor thy father and mother may be one of the commandments, but it does not include agreeing with your ignorant tea-bagger politics."     If you stand there with your mouth open, believing that no way is anyone buying all the lies and misrepresentation being spouted by the extreme right wing, think again. Time to vote folks. Time to make some noise. Time to tell the world that at least part of the US has a heart and soul. GET OUT AND VOTE. SAVE YOURSELVES!!!!!  

Let no man put asunder.

     The first time it happened, I’d only had her a few months, but I knew she was the one. She went home for her annual vacation, when she always scheduled her yearly physical with the same doctor she’d had since she was a teenager. I got a call from the hospital. She was having test, serious test, and trying to be brave. I did too, until I hung up the phone. She was fifteen hundred miles away and I felt the first wave of what it would feel like not to have her in my life. We had been together only eight weeks, but I knew in my soul she was my missing piece. I remember crying and asking God why he would give her to me, just to take her away. Yes, I asked God, because I truly believe she is my gift from the universe, sent to save me.     I’ve been criticized for the love at first sight story lines in some of my books. I’ve had people say that never happens in real life. They are wrong. It does and did happen to me. The first time I laid eyes on her, it clicked. I did not imagine it. It happened. I physically felt the presence of my other half within seconds of seeing her, and yes, everything made sense. I had felt things I did not fully understand, so to those that say a straight girl that falls that fast wasn’t straight to begin with, I give credence to that. I was, I believe, predisposed to be a lesbian, but up to that moment I had not acted on those confusing feelings, and never felt anything like what I experienced when she walked into that theatre lobby. Call it destiny, fate, happenstance, I knew I had found my missing piece, and though I knew the road ahead would not be easy, I had no choice but to fall head over heels in love with her. I loved her already.     The first scare turned into just that, a scare. The second time, it was more than that. She stopped breathing and I had to perform CPR to get her back. That’s when we learned about severe hypoglycemia. When she recovered from that incident, I spent months having nightmares of her fixed and dilated eyes, but we survived. Then came the breast cancer. I never knew the full extent of her strength, until I saw her take that disease head on, never once feeling sorry for herself. The only time she cried was when they knocked her two front teeth out while she was having the cancer surgery. I was a basket case, but tried not to let her see it. We survived that too.      Last spring, she developed hypoglycemic unawareness. As the name indicates, she had no idea her condition had changed. We discovered it, when I again had to do CPR, this time long enough for me to think she was gone for good. I have never been so terrified in my entire life. I was still trembling days later. The nightmares followed and still rear their ugly heads months later. In those few seconds that I allowed myself to think she would never smile at me again, I felt my world fade away to nothing, for that is what I would have without her.     I’m writing this, not to people who understand what it is to love someone that much and be loved in return, but to those who would think that my love is a sin. To those who have lost a partner and had to suffer the indignity of having people dismiss their pain because of the sexuality of the couple, I hear you loud and clear. I have only this to say to the bible thumpers who believe the creator thinks less of me, one of his creations, and I will quote from your religious ceremony, the one you would withhold from me and mine. “What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder.” People should think about what that really says. I know the heavens played a part in granting me this love. I think them every day.      So, you see, no matter what you throw at us, we’ve been through worse, and we’re still here, twenty-five years and counting. The chances of a girl born and raised on the coast of North Carolina meeting a girl from Oklahoma were astronomical. Lots of things happened to each of us that made our finding each other possible. The stars aligned, the fates blew their horns, and she wound up walking through those doors at just the right moment. Oh, hell yeah, I believe in a higher power. I am also absolutely sure that power believes in this love too. Why make a matching set, if they are not meant to be together? Again, I say, “What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder.”