Lynn M. Dixon's Blog, page 4

Back In Action: A Movie Review

I thoroughly enjoyed watching Back in Action with Jamie Foxx and Cameron Diaz on Netflix the other day. They had a few hiccups along the way, but I was happy to see that it was finally soup. Jamie Foxx had his health scare and even came to our area to get back in tip top shape, after Cameron Diaz came out of retirement to shoot this film. After the delays, it was released this month!

They are both superb actors and they did not disappoint this time around either. I saw them act together in the 2014 version of Annie which was memorable. I did not see Any Given Sunday which they did in 1999. But here, they are a couple of CIA operatives out on different missions and living life in constant danger. They are also privately a couple in every sense of the word.

When Emily Reynolds (Cameron Diaz) realizes that she is with child, she and Matt Reynolds (Jamie Foxx) both agree that it is time for them to go undercover and assume new identities. We see them 15 years later as husband and wife with two children living in a protected environment in suburban Atlanta.

Then one day, an agent (Kyle Chandler) from their past shows up on their doorstep and Matt (Jamie Foxx) realizes that he still has an item that they want very badly. Thus, the true action begins. Their teen and pre-teen children Alice (McKenna Roberts) and Leo (Rylan Jackson) are in shock as they sit in a window at a gas station and watch their parents go into karate mode while battling their attackers. It reminded me of Carl Douglas’ song, Kung Fu Fighting.

With their mouths open, one of the children later asks the parents, “Who are you?” They flee to London to Emily’s mother’s house to find the hidden item. Her estranged mother Ginny Curtis is suprisingly Glenn Close who has a much younger insecure lover, Nigel (Jamie Demetriou). Shortly after their arrival, all hell breaks loose. The pace picks up as bodies fly around the room similar to scenes from the movie Mr. and Mrs. Smith (Brad Pitt and Angelie Jolie).

I will not give too much more away but Back in Action kept me on the edge of my seat. The scenery was great. I could see it again because when I see a movie the first time, I focus on the storyline, but the second time around I look for things I missed. In one scene, there  was a fancy lit-up lock that opened on the Thames River with precision timing. There were  a few other high-end venues that I would like to revisit such as a club where they located their underaged 14-year old daughter while she was partying with her much older friends.

Their children are fantastic actors, as well and they actually looked like they could belong to Jamie Foxx and Cameron Diaz. Sometimes, the directors don’t get the blend right, but this time, they were on point. The more I write this piece, I am quite certain that I will watch it again. There are so many takeaways along with subtle lessons on how to connect with teen kids. I highly recommend Back in Action for a great escape and a reprieve from everyday routines.

Lynn M,
January 25, 2025

Six Triple Eight!

When I was growing up, I had heard of the WAVES (Women Accepted for Emergency Service) and WAC’s (Women’s Army Corp) or the women that served in the Armed Forces. I did not think too much more about it because I had no interest in serving in any form of the military. However, there was still a silent respect and admiration as a backdrop for those brave and adventurous women.

In 2021, I attended the ALA (American Library Association) Annual Conference online, which was an option shortly after the pandemic lockdown. I listened to one author, Kaia Alderson, describe her new book called Sisters in Arms. She had courageously written a historical fiction piece on two black women from Harlem that signed up to join the 6888th Battalion. This was the first time that I learned about this all-black WAC’s group that served in Scotland and France to assist with the soldiers’ backlog of mail.

In her book, Grace came from humble means where her mother was a seamstress and her father was a railroad porter. Eliza, on the other hand, was a pampered only child and the daughter of a socialite and newspaperman. They were thrust together as trainees in Iowa and again overseas, when they were finally shipped out to start their main duties. They met prospective grooms in the forms of an officer of the War Department and a battalion doctor and the book focused more on their romantic liaisons.

By the time that Tyler Perry’s new movie Six Triple Eight came out on Netflix, I had at least heard of the battalion. I went on YouTube and listened to an interview with Major Charity Adams. She was a woman who stood her ground and was determined to succeed at what she had been assigned to do. Then, I renewed my Netflix membership to specifically see this new film. 

While viewing the movie, I felt that Kerry Washington truly embodied Major Charity Adams’ spirit. The movie, Six Triple Eight was a refreshing portrayal of these historic women of color. It veered away from the over-sexualized, romantic-laced movies which dot the movie landscapes all too often. We get it. We know what happens when boy meets girl.

But this movie displayed precision, timely steps, orders, commands and cohesion as this battalion worked together to accomplish a huge task. I truly identified with many parts of the movie because I had received regular mail from a young soldier during a costly war. The thought of the mail not being delivered is unfathomable. That is all the soldiers and families had to keep everyone’s spirits up or at least hopeful. 

I also worked in a situation where I was trying to get some very important mail out from a media center. Some employees in the mailroom went out of their way to stall and block my progress, perhaps just to see how frustrated I would become. After I raised enough Cain or hell like Charity Adams, it was sent out and delivered to the media centers around the state.

I am certain that women who actually served in the 6888th Battalion had hundreds of stories to tell, but Tyler Perry stayed focused on the mission at hand. If the movie had delved into every woman’s private love story or heartbreak, the movie would have become lost in translation. Lena Derricott (Ebony Obsidian) had her meltdown over her deceased childhood sweetheart, but it did not take away from the movie’s central message.

 Looking back, I think my favorite part was when the women marched down the streets in Scotland and the local people stood and watched in awe. I am sure that it was a sight to behold. It made me push my shoulders back and stand a bit taller. All of the actors put their hearts and souls into their roles. I am certain that there are some rising stars in the midst. I have a close friend who says that she watched it twice.

Thank you, Tyler Perry for taking this risk and charting a new path forward in your directing and mostly, thank you for sharing your project with us!

Lynn M.
January 18, 2025

Georgia on My Mind!

After watching the funeral of President Jimmy Carter, Georgia is on my mind. There is Ray Charles’ version of Georgia on My Mind and there is Willie Nelson’s rendition. Each is beautiful in its own way. Yet, Georgia is on my mind at this time. I spent two years there after leaving grad school with a diploma in hand.

In 1978, Atlanta was called the Black Mecca. Jimmy Carter was the President. Maynard Jackson was the first black mayor. Andrew Young and crew were holding titles such as Ambassaor to the UN. Things were really shaking for professional blacks. And most importantly, it is the birthplace of Dr. King. I had high hopes and a few of my other teacher-friends had transplanted themselves there from Chicago. So, I had a support system along with my Tennessee cousins who were also in the mix.

Over the past years, whenever Atlanta was mentioned, a certain gloom came over me because I had such a hard time there, financially. I still have one dear friend that I met there and we have been devoted penpals for over four decades. She left there with a new Georgia husband and they moved to the Pacific Northwest, where they remain today.

We chat and we lament over the struggles of job-hunting, extremely frugal living and I often saw it as the worst of times, as Dickens wrote in The Tale of Two Cities. But, as they say, hindsight is 2020. With Atlanta far in my rear-view mirror, I can now see the light. After viewing the picturesque scenery as Carter’s entourage left Plains, Georgia, I can now focus on what was good and endearing about my Georgia days.

First, there was the weather. When I arrived there in the middle of summer, it was so hot that all I could do was cut off my hair and let it whip. It felt like a jungle because Atlanta is landlocked and there was no lake, ocean nor river to go to for relief from the stifling heat. I could leave my air-conditioner on all day while at work and when I returned home, it was still hot in my living space. The electricity bills were astronomical; sometimes as much as the rent. The saving grace is that all of the apartment complexes had swimming pools, where many of us spent several hours on a regular basis.

Atlanta is also very spacious in miles and stretches across five counties. I could easily spend an hour driving while in the hunt for employment or some other venture. While driving, I could encounter a torrential rain storm and it seemed as if the skies had opened wide. It was comparable to Brook Benton’s soulful rendition of A Rainy Night in Georgia. Then, in a snap, there would be no rain. It would be totally dry which showed that it did not rain everywhere at one time. Strange.

Here are some of the good times. We partied hearty at places like Cisco’s and Mr. V’s. We shopped at Greenbriar Shopping Mall. We encouraged each other to keep going and I did land a few memorable positions. That summer of ’78,  I was hired as the Project Coordinator where we taught journalism to inner city youth. The young teachers who worked under me had recently received their undergrad degrees from colleges such as Morehouse; Spelman, Clark-Atlanta, Georgia State U and the U of Georgia. They were spry, combative and we all learned a lot.  We were housed at MLK, Jr. Middle School and we took the students to places such as Stone Mountain and the University of Georgia-Athens for exposure. It was a total learning experience for them and mostly for me.

After that, I worked temp jobs and did tasks from stuffing envelopes to taking soda orders from cinema owners across the country at the famed Coca-Cola Headquarters. I later changed temp agencies and landed my other major accomplishment by being hired as a Proofreader during the 1980 Session for the Legislative Counsel. There were three of us and we all hailed from the North to correct and edit the legislative bills at the Georgia State Capitol. Somedays, there were 12 hour or even longer shifts, but we did it! Alicia was from Cleveland, Ohio; Bea was from Rochester, NY and there was me, from Chicago, Illinois.

I could go on and on, but now I clearly see some of the best of times inside of my moans and groans. I saw The Jacksons, Ella Fitzgerald and Eartha KItt at the Fox Theatre and I sat at the feet of James Baldwin at Emory University. There was a light shining inside of my perceived darkness.

Thank you, President Jimmy Carter for being a beacon of hope. Many young, aspiring black professionals have stories to share from those days when we all flocked there, with Georgia on our minds.

Lynn M.
January 11, 2025

Colleges & Universities

The other day, I was watching college football and it dawned on me how many college and university campuses I have actually walked across over the years. I love academic settings about as much as I love libraries. They both give me a warm, snuggly feeling inside.

I was normally in pursuit of employment or maybe on the campus for some event, but I have a long list of remembrances. When I see a particular team playing or some college or university is mentioned on the air waves, I immediately pull up a scene. I remember how it looked or felt if I walked on their hallowed grounds.

I am happy that my parents did not thwart my dreams and aspirations nor tell me that in many cases that the deck was covertly stacked against me as a black American. Then, I would have thrown in the towel early in life and not gone to so many places to try different things. Thus, I ended up with a huge bucket of nuggets of gold. I have my memories and as a writer, I will never run out of stories. If I think long enough, surely some of the past events will surface and rise to the top.

I entered onto many campuses with two college degrees in hand and actually received a third one much further down the line. So, I felt quite prepared to pursue the American dream. I had done my homework and all I needed was a chance to make it happen. I knocked on several doors and in some instances I received looks which privately said, “I don’t think so.” Others smiled deceptively and said, “We will give you a call,” which often did not come. But I did work at a few and most importantly, I can smile and say, “I was there.” I could give detailed descriptions about the layout of many of the campuses, if asked.

Arthur Miller stated, “Don’t be seduced into thinking that that which is without profit is without value.” I may not have been on the payroll at many of the colleges and universities that I visited, but I have a huge treasure trove of rich experiences. So, here goes my list by states. I will put a ‘W’ behind the name if I was employed there for a season.

 Ohio:  Ohio Wesleyan University (W); Wilberforce University; Central State University and The Ohio State University.
Illinois:  Chicago State University (W); University of Chicago; Prairie State Community College (W); South Suburban College (W); Northern Illinois University; Northeastern Illinois University; Northwestern University; Wheaton College (W); University of Illinois- Chicago; Southern Illinois University-Carbondale; DePaul University; Illinois Institute of Technology; Roosevelt University; Columbia College Chicago; Elmhurst University; Governors State University (W); Truman College; Kennedy-King College, Malcolm X College and Harold Washington College.
Massachusetts: Boston College; Boston University; Northeastern University; Emerson College; Harvard University; and Brandeis University.
Georgia:  Emory University; Spelman College; Morehouse College; Clark-Atlanta University; Morris Brown College; Georgia Tech University and the University of Georgia- Athens.
Michigan: University of Michigan- Ann Arbor.
Indiana:  Purdue University and the University of Southern Indiana-Evansville.
California:  University of California- Berkeley.
Nevada: UNLV- University of Nevada, Las Vegas.
Wisconsin:  Marquette University- Milwaukee.
New York:  CUNY (City University of New York).
Mississippi:  Jackson State University (W); Alcorn University; Millsaps College, Hinds Community Collge and Tougaloo College.
Tennessee:  University of Memphis (W); University of Tennessee Health Center-Memphis; Rhodes College; (Shelby State Community College) now-Southwest Tennessee Community College (W); Christian Brothers University (W); LeMoyne-Owen College; Lane College; University of Tennessee-Nashville and Vanderbilt University.
*Paris, France:  The Sorbonne University.

To the young people who are carving out their paths, I would say as one of my dance instructors said, “Keep it moving!” Do not let anyone steal your dreams or what you have envisioned for yourself. It may look as if nothing is shaking together, but in actuality it is. Every experience can be used for some good thing. If nothing else, there will be several ‘aha’ moments along with those pointed memories. For me, I will never run out of stories to share!

Lynn M.
January 4, 2025

Time To Reset!

“Who were you before?  Before what?” you might ask. Well, before life got busy. “Who were you when you laughed freely and felt whole and good about yourself when life was full of promise?” Zora Neale Hurston once said, “I love myself when I am laughing.”

Ask yourself these questions before 2024 comes to a close. You may wonder privately and succinctly who or what stole your laughter and enthusiasm. As you mature and remain here, life gets busy. A thing called responsibility sets in and you may have pushed the pause button and put a few dreams on hold.

Thus, your smiling brows turned to a scowl as you problem-solved and tried to figure things out. You put on your thinking cap and found some solutions, not realizing that some problems can take decades to solve. Yet, when duty called, those carefree feelings flew out of the window and some goals were placed on the back burner.

Aging and ailing parents along with other beloved elders in the family may have required your immediate attention. Your plans went astray and you were taken off of your personal game plan. And during those times, bosses may have understood that you had to be St. Elsewhere. Some did not and the job had to go as you sorted out your priorities, which included putting family first.

And during those romantic liaisons, when the fork in the road arose, there may have been an erasure of frivolous attitudes. Those break-ups may have required packing up  and leaving a certain space or place.

Or, those other loved ones, near and dear left you feeling drained after pulling on your resources. Then, after you became worn and torn like Margery Williams’ The Velveteen Rabbit, they turned around and ghosted you, because you had temporarily lost your fluff.

Regardless of the reasons, that you have lost your pizzazz, this is a good time to do a reset. It is time to take a long look back and re-ask yourself, “What were my aspirations before the bombardment of others’ needs took me off of my path?“

Make a list as if you are an eighteen-year old about to embark on the voyage of life. Like Santa, check your list twice. Take a deep breath. Unfurl your brow. Shake the dust off of your feet and get busy doing you. Push your reset button! Singer Aaliyah said in Try Again, “If at first you don’t succeed. Then dust yourself off and try again!”

Lynn M.
December 26, 2024

December 2024!

Oh! That special season is here.
To share that love with those most dear.

Icy temps surround most of us.
Blankets pulled from out of a ball.

House adornments spruce things up,
Holiday meals planned to cook, sup.

Christmas carols sung in high tones,
Those shoppers with their extra totes.

It’s December- end of the year.
Break out the bubbly with a cheer

Lynn M.
December 7, 2024

The Letters Flowed!

We know that reading a good book does a lot of things for us in multiple ways. They help us remain calm in the midst of turbulent times; they take us to new lands as we meet new characters; they give us food for thought and they make us look at parts of our lives that may need our attention.

While reading the Thistle Island Novel Books (six of them) by Mia Kent, there was one elderly woman that had an unresolved love affair which she had been unable to put to rest. Helen started writing letters and putting them in bottles and tossing them into the nearby sea. As they washed ashore from time to time, the local librarian archived them. It eventually came out in the open that she was penning the letters. She still wondered what happened to a young WWII pilot who had promised to marry her when she was a young nurse. She held on to his letters as well until the local archivist and her new editor-tenant put their heads together to find out what became of the missing John Sullivan.The letters had flowed between them and then they stopped coming.

Their letters and conversations were the meat of the affair and these made the encounter that much more unforgettable because letters can reveal the heart of the soul. Letter-writing has served as great historical records for those trying to gain insight into a certain time period. Through the efforts of the archivist-librarian and editor, Helen does get answers, but I will not give them away here. However, it made me wonder what happened to a young soldier that I knew when I was a senior in high school. I thought about it for some time and then pushed it to the back of my mind until a neighbor handed me my next read, The Women by Kristin Hannah.

This time, Frankie was a young, wealthy nurse who signed up to become an Army nurse to be close to her only brother during the Vietnam era. She landed in Vietnam during the heat of the battle. She saved the lives that she could on the frontlines while trying to ignore the piled up body bags on the other side of the room. Some days, she left the surgical room on bloodied floors as she stumbled back to her sleeping quarters for short rest periods. Again, the letters from her parents kept her afloat. As the other Army nurses’ tours of duty ended, the letters from them after they returned to the States kept her going. Yes, the letters flowed.

This time, I could no longer ignore that part of my life that I had tucked away so that I could survive the grief and move forward. The young soldier that I knew served as a paratrooper in Nam, as it was called. Like Helen in the Thistle Island series, I too wonder how he fared and what became of him. As Frankie vividly described the details of what she was experiencing, it reminded me of the conversations that he and I had during that era. For the letters flowed between us along with pictures and other mementoes.

For years, the subject was basically considered to be off limits and something to just forget; but who can forget  when there was so much loss in our communities? Every household on our block and every family that we knew was affected in some way. It’s my era and we were smack dab in the middle of it. In the book, Frankie’s brother did not make it back and when she came back emotionally damaged, her parents could not bear to let her talk about it. However, the two women who served alongside her understood. They continually intervened through letters and visits when she returned home until she was strong enough to carry on. That is because the letters flowed.

The Women made me reach out to one of my sisters whose best friend’s husband did not make it home. I knew she understood. My young soldier did make it home though he lost a leg. He was one of the three that survived in his unit and he did come marching home. I asked her if she thought that the letters that we wrote to each other helped him make it home. She said, “I’m sure that the letters you wrote helped him.” I sighed deeply as I recalled how the letters between us regularly flowed.

Lynn M.
November 30, 2024

Denzel as ‘Macrinus’

I made a concerted effort to get up early this morning to catch Denzel Washington on GMA.  I along with countless others have followed his career from the Mo’ Better Blues days to Mississippi Masala, to Fences (for which he should have received an Oscar) to today’s release of Gladiator II. I know. There are so many works of art in between but I must say that he is definitely the man of the hour. 

I watched a few interviews of him on YouTube this past week and I often find myself jotting down his pearls of wisdom. In one interview, he mentioned the three phases of life. He stated that we must learn, earn and return. Well, we all know that he was learned and earned and we are now witnessing him return to the big screen. Soon, he will be back on Broadway in Othello. I hope to get there too.

Saying all of that to say that I broke down and purchased a ticket to the premiere of Gladiator II. Grant it, it is not my kind of film, but I wanted to see Denzel being Denzel. As I told my sister, anything he touches will be well-done. He did not disappoint. Though his character as  Macrinus, is vindictive and power-hungry, he is convincing in his role as the person in charge of the gladiators who fight for their freedom.

The gore and gruesome nature of the movie just reminded me of  how horrible people can behave towards each other. Imagine going to see people kill one another or fight against some beast for weekend entertainment. There was enough blood spluttering around to fill up a ketchup factory.

When it became unwatchable, I broke all the rules and scrolled through my phone for a temporary escape. Yet, Denzel played his hideous part until the end or shall I say, his end. I focused on his impeccable ability to channel whatever energy he needs to in order to fulfill the producer/director’s vision. What a medium!

His hoop earrings and long tunics and togas signified his rise in power and he was both determined and assertive in his role. Denzel Washington was doing what he does best. He channeled this angry man who had once been owned and we in the audience felt as if we were one of bloodthirsty spectators in the Roman Colosseum. Watching Denzel become this misunderstood (his words) villain was well worth the dime and time, while seeing greatness on the big screen. As he said, he put his ego down and epitomized a man that was desperate for a chance to be a person in a high station, no matter the cost.

Lynn M.
November 23, 2024

Ethics Matter!

When I was quite young, I was a Brownie and my mother was the Scout leader of our troop. I remember my little brown uniform with its embellishments. Years hence, I became a Girl Scout and kept my pin for many years until I lost it in a storage bin while moving around the country. She again was the leader of that troop as she tried to instill some wholesome qualities in me.

We repeated the Girl Scout’s Honor:
“On my honor, I will try: To serve God and my country, To help people at all times, And to live by the Girl Scout Law.“
And the Girl Scout Law was also repeated at every meeting. 
“I  will do my best to be honest and fair, friendly and helpful, considerate and caring, courageous and strong, and responsible for what I say and do, and to respect myself and others, respect authority, use resources wisely, make the world a better place, and be a sister to every Girl Scout.” 

In our schools, we received a grade in Citizenship as teachers observed our behaviors to note how we interacted with others in our spheres. We were taught morals and ethics. I also had a neighbor when I was in the 5th grade who insisted that I go to Sunday School  and church with her. It was within walking distance in Memphis and my mother allowed me to wear stockings as the other young girls were allowed to do. Then, people truly dressed in their Sunday best to attend church.

I remember being baffled by some of the things I saw during those church services. I could not quite grasp the meaning of the ‘moaning bench.” A lot of the young people were too young to have committed a host of sins, but I guess some did it for show. It was a form of showing repentance for indiscretions. Years later while teaching the short story, Salvation by Langston Hughes, I got the gist of it all and realized that it was like a rite of passage. Also, during that time, I often heard of the adults regularly attending their Bible classes. This gave me a good, solid backing that still serves me today when the world is raging around me.

I look at many of the youth today and I have to remember that I have to exercise patience when working with them. Too many of them have not been given enough ethical lessons to steer them through life. Oftentimes, they have been handed video games where they practice offing their opponent instead of using good, simple lessons such as The Golden Rule.

 Too many go through life viewing others as the competition or the enemy. It is all about one-upmanship. It’s the whole, “I got there before you, mentality.” And in the long run, the response would be, “So what!”  Or, “You may have gotten there first, but what did you do when you got there? “Eh?”

Too many have not been taught that they should not take what you cannot return, like a life. Only the Creator can give life. Perhaps, they were never taught that, “Thou shalt not kill.” And, too many just say whatever comes to mind.  When I read the posts that are written on social media, they are sometimes unbelievable. They are profane, crude, vile  and just unnecessary. Grant it, I swear when some driver cuts me off, but to actually sit down and type these obscenities into a post to the world with no guard rails is just, well, unfortunate.

Too many of the entitled think that they are invincible until… (Wait for it.)  Until… Here it is: Until they lose a job, a pet or a loved one. Then, when their worlds are upended or shattered to bits and pieces and they are jarred off of their high horses. They reach out to anyone or anything to hold on to break their falls. They cry and hold out their hands for help to those that they have treated shabbily, but of course, they don’t remember that as they cry, “Woe me!” And yes, some of the old dinosaurs that were raised with morals, ethics and thought-filled behaviors just might extend a hand.

Lynn M.
November 19, 2024

Healing Arts!

When I look at our young women today, I pine a little. I think of the seemingly lost arts that could help pacify them when they are faced with some of the disappointments in life. Disappointments are a given, and there needs to be a host of ways to cope before being able to move on.

It could be something as small as not being chosen for a team at school or losing a  school election for some office. It may seem small to others, but it is not to those experiencing the pain. It could be a situation of not being chosen for a job position, the loss of a loved one or even that of a pet. Or, more challengingly, it could be a romantic break-up or a case of unrequited love.

During these times, we were taught to get our hands busy. We pulled out some material and went to our Singer sewing machines and made something. Or we used our hands and stitched, embroidered, knitted or crocheted something new. We had been taught all of the skills to get us through times like these and as the fingers moved, the thoughts slowed down and answers or other approaches came to mind.

We pulled out our paints and started a picture or some work of art. Even a paint-by-number set worked wonders for taking our minds off of the issues. We created a hand-written letter or even a lengthy email to a trusted friend which offered an escape into another world.

We cooked. The cooking shows reveal how much fun and fulfillment can be gained from whipping up a good meal. Sometimes, improvising and using ingredients on-hand can make that time in the kitchen another way to get away from the humdrums.

And then, there is reading. It works every time by taking the reader into other settings and character situations. It is nothing like a good book, though it shocks me to know that too many people do not read anything longer than a media post. Such a  loss!

When I find myself endlessly scrolling on social media and falling deeper down into dark rabbit holes, I have to say to myself, “STOP.” Thank goodness, I remember that I have other avenues to travel to regain my composure and peace. I can sew, embroider, knit, crochet, paint, pen a letter or blog. I can cook while substituting items on the recipe and tasting to see how it turns out. Or, I can pour myself into a good book and oh yeah, always with some good music in the background.  What would the world be without music?

These art forms are all healthy and healing distractions as we get away from all of the talk, talk, talk. Sometimes simply getting our hands in motion as we listen to our own thoughts can help us quietly sort things out. Then, we will know exactly what to do. It is nice to have a variety of ways to regather ourselves as the emotional storms pass over.

Lynn M.
November 12, 2024