From tuchyner5 at gmail.com Fri Sep 1 12:45:47 2023 From: tuchyner5 at gmail.com (leonard tuchyner) Date: Fri, 1 Sep 2023 12:45:47 -0400 Subject: [Critique Group 1] Leonard's comments on Cleora's piece Message-ID: This is decidedly improved. So the infection is really a curse. But there are so many unknowns that she can?t predict the results of giving back the card. So, the only thing for her to do is the right thing and then see what the results are over time. One thing that doesn?t make sense is that the card is not attatched to any bankd or place of origin. That make?s Audry a suspicious character. She has the power to cast a spell. I wonder if she is a magical creature of some sort. Was she blind from birth? Cleora sub for Aug 23 1361 words Dilemma by sly duck Cleatta arrived at the hotel early so she would have time to explore and become familiar with the territory. Fortunately, she had been able to get a room at the same hotel where the convention was being held. Maybe I'll lose the card here, she thought wistfully. The old man she got the card from might even be here. No, no, she reconsidered, he wouldn't be. He could see by now. Her friend Rachael came along in case of emergency since Cleatta wasn't up to speed using the white cane. She had the connecting room. This would encourage Cleatta to try to do things on her own instead of calling out for someone to do everything for her. Taking the card out of her wallet, she ran her fingers over the outline of the dolphin. The animal part was warm and had a leathery feel to it. It was Like the creature was alive. She laid the card on the dresser hopeful that the maid or someone would take it. After unpacking she went next door to get Rachael and they went down to register for the convention. Back in the room, they looked over the agenda, marked the sessions that interested them, then went down to the hotel restaurant for dinner. Cleatta didn't take the card since she knew she could just charge their meals to the room. She was disappointed afterward when she got back to the room and the card was still there. Well, there was still tomorrow. They rose early and went down for breakfast before going to the convention. Between meetings, they walked around the floor examining the tech gadgets vendors were there to demonstrate. Seeing the two girls leave, Yolonda decided to go ahead and put fresh towels in their rooms. She entered Cleatta's room first. She made the bed, and gathered the used linens from the bathroom. On her way out the dolphin card on the dresser caught her eye. Her friend Audrey used to have a card like that. She picked it up to see if it was from the same bank. Nothing on the front. Nothing on the back either. On closer examination, she noticed there was a four digit number that might be the PIN, but there was no expiration date or security code. Plus, the front of the card felt warm. She looked closely at the card number. It seemed familiar. It had been a long time, but she had a good memory for numbers and she was sure the digits were close to the same as her friends card that had been stolen by a robber several years ago. Her friend was blind and Yolanda had helped her work with the credit card company and police to get it reported as stolen and replaced. She pulled out her phone and tapped her friends name. ?Hello,? said Audrey. ?Do you still have the number of that card? The one that was stolen?? ?Maybe. That was a long time ago. The card company replaced it, but the number is probably in some old notes. Why?? Yolanda explained what she had found. ?I think one of the conference attendees may have your old card.? ?Hmm,? said Audrey, ?What is the number? I'll do a search and see what comes up.? Yolanda read off the number, and Audrey typed it into her computer. Sure enough, there was a match. Next, Yolanda called the front desk, ?Jason, can you tell me what card this room is using?? ?I just have the last four digits,? he said. He read them off. They were the same. This attendee was using Audrey's old card. But how could that be? The police and the bank said there was no record of the card ever being used after it was taken. The perp had never been caught. Yolanda called Audrey back, ?This is really strange. I called the front desk. The last four digits match this card. But, how can that be. The police said the card was never used, and I can't find the issuing bank on it anywhere.? Cleatta and Rachael returned to her room late. It had been a long day. The first thing Cleatta checked was if the card was missing. Her hopes evaporated. The card was still on the dresser. She had heard that some cleaning crews made copies of cards to max them out. Had the maid taken it and made a copy? Wouldn't it have stayed with them? The old man had known when she took it. She picked it up and put it back in her wallet. They decided to eat at a little restaurant across from the hotel. They would start home tomorrow after attending the dog session. She might as well go ahead and use the card tonight. She would leave it in the room again tomorrow just in case. While They sat at the bar waiting for a table. A woman with a service dog came up and sat on the stool on Cleatta?s left. ?Are you here for the convention?? the stranger asked. ?Yes,? said Cleatta. ?We're going to attend the dog session tomorrow, then go home.? The bar tender brought their drinks, and Cleatta offered him her card. ?I don't think I've ever seen a card with a dolphin, on it,? said the bartender. ?That's special.? ?Yes,? said Cleatta dryly. ?You have no idea.? ?You have a card with a dolphin on it?? asked the woman. ?Yes,? said Cleatta. ?I used to have a card with a dolphin on it years ago," said the woman. "It was stolen. ? Cleatta felt a chill. ?Stolen?? she asked weakly. ?Yes, a burglar broke into my house at night. I didn't have any money, Only the card. He demanded I give it to him and tell him the PIN. He knew I was blind, and couldn?t identify him, so he just took the card and left. I was angry. I told him I hoped he learned what it was like to have a disability and have people take advantage of him. He laughed at me. My name is Audrey Isaacson, by the way. My friends call me AI. Are you staying in the hotel?? ?Yes,? said Cleatta. ?Room 227 by any chance?? ?Yes,? ?I'm not sure, but I think you have my card that was stolen,? said Audrey. Then, she preceded to tell Cleatta what she and Yolanda had discussed. Cleatta didn't know what to do. She sat quietly for a while and then broke down. Between choking sobs, she told her story about taking the card from the old man. How she gradually lost her sight, and now, she appeared to be ageing prematurely. ?If you want, you can give it back to me. Since it was my card to start with, I think you will no longer be infected,? offered Audrey. ?What about the side effects,? Cleatta wanted to know. ?I don't know,? said Audrey. ?I was angry when I cursed the card. I wanted the thief to know what it was like to be blind and have people take advantage. It seems that when the person is ready to give up the card, the curse transfers to the new thief. Since it was my card to begin with, and I'm already blind, I have no idea what will happen. You could continue to use the card until someone steals it. You know what happens in that case.? Cleatta considered her situation. She would still be blind. Now, her only source of living expenses was the card. Her disability wasn't enough to live on, her family couldn't take her in, and she had no skills that she could use to get a job while she waited to see if her vision would get better. Would the money she had accumulated and invested still be there, or would it disappear? ?You can think about it,? said Audrey. ?I'll be making the guide dog presentation tomorrow. If you decide to give it back, bring it and the cane to the presentation. The choice is yours.? Then, Audrey left before Cleatta could ask any more questions. From tuchyner5 at gmail.com Fri Sep 1 16:24:35 2023 From: tuchyner5 at gmail.com (leonard tuchyner) Date: Fri, 1 Sep 2023 16:24:35 -0400 Subject: [Critique Group 1] Leonard's comments re DeAnna's piece Message-ID: Beautiful. This poem is full of internal ryme, and r sounds, which I like. I tried but can?t find any flaws. Cudo. DeAnna sub for Augusst 23 Forever Mama By DeAnna Quietwater Noriega >From the moment she hears that first cry, Her life is changed forever. She will walk the floor for hours, Cradling a fevered child. Once she has become someone's mother, When the umbillical's been cut, A piece of her heart starts beating, in the control of another. She will hold a fussy baby while, Her dinner grows cold on her plate. Though she is too tired to eat, She will prepare his birthday cake. She will toss restlessly the first night, Her child sleeps away from her care. Wait up until she hears his key, In the lock when her teen comes home. She will call out as he races by, It's cold --Don't forget your sweater! She'll worry he's not taking care When he is grown and far away. Be she in her teens or near ninety, She will never be just herself. She will sacrifice for her child, Will forever be a mother. DeAnna Quietwater Noriega Cell: 573-544-3511 Email: dqnoriega at gmail.com Author of Fifty Years of Walking with Friends https://www.dldbooks.com/dqnoriega/ _______________________________________________ Group1 mailing list Group1 at bluegrasspals.com https://bluegrasspals.com/mailman/listinfo/group1 ReplyReply allForward From tuchyner5 at gmail.com Fri Sep 1 16:33:23 2023 From: tuchyner5 at gmail.com (leonard tuchyner) Date: Fri, 1 Sep 2023 16:33:23 -0400 Subject: [Critique Group 1] Leonard's comments on Martia's sub Message-ID: This is very well written. You did such a good job on it, I don?t know whether it is fiction, or an autobiography. If there is anyway to improve onit , I don?t know what it would be. Cudos. I don?t think your not using paragraph brakes makes any difference. It flows nicely. Martia sub for August 23 It?s been 50 years since my high school graduation. How can that be? In the blink of an eye, half a century of my life has transpired. After high school, I completed four years of college and earned a journalism degree. I moved from Colorado to western New York to take my first job as a small town newspaper reporter. I met and married a local deputy sheriff. After four years of reporting, I was hired as the Communications Manager for a national office furniture manufacturer in the area. I sported high heels and traveled on an expense account to showrooms in Los Angeles, Houston, Chicago, and New York City. I divorced the controlling cop. I was promoted and got a nice raise; I was sexually assaulted by the security guard at my workplace when I went in to work alone on a Saturday. I battled PTSD, quit my job, and moved back home with my parents. The guard was sentenced to 12 years in prison. Once in Colorado, I discovered I was pregnant-not as a result of the rape, but because I stopped taking the birth control pill after the trauma and then I sought solace in the arms of a trusted friend the night before I left New York. I was fighting to recover; I lacked the resources to raise a child; I had an abortion. Once again, I moved, this time from Colorado to northern California. I was hired by another furniture manufacturer. Coming from rural New York, I struggled to adjust to the urban lifestyle in the San Francisco Bay Area. I met and married the nephew of my employer. Even though my husband worked for his relatives, they laid him off shortly before our wedding. We trimmed the guest list; I quit the company; I launched my own desktop publishing business; I worked part-time for an advertising agency. Soon, I gave birth to a daughter. I managed to build up my business to provide a full-time income allowing me to quit the ad agency. I gave birth again to a second daughter. Ultimately, we moved from the bay area back to Colorado where a three-bed, two-bath house was way more Affordable. My husband didn?t adjust to the move. He drank too much and couldn?t keep a job. I divorced again. For the next 20 years, I raised my daughters as a single parent, without child support. I held yard sales to pay for their back-to-school supplies and clothes. My progressive vision loss forced me to stop driving. I abandoned my business after 10 years, unable to discern the print on the page. I applied for Social Security Disability Insurance. Eventually, I went back to work in the public school system, providing me time off when my daughters were out of school for the winter and summer school breaks. I dated now and then; one of the men I dated sexually assaulted my older, then nine-year-old, Daughter. My younger daughter battled other demons. Her mental health issues required medication and long-term residential treatment. Both of my children fought hard to recover. I managed to hold onto the house and see both of them graduate from high school. Dare I say it? I met another man and married again-once my children were living out of the home independently. At age 60, I retired with reasonable security for the first time in my life. I began caring for my aging parents-they succumbed in their 90s. During that time, my older daughter graduated from college and married, gifting me with two grandchildren. My younger daughter works (mostly) steadily and seems happily settled with a female partner. My third husband is a grumpy, hard-of-hearing, old man depressed following quadruple bypass surgery two years ago-but this one?s a keeper. Thanks to a small inheritance from my parents, we?re remodeling that house I managed to hold onto. I?m planning to age-in-place at home. In one week, I?ll gather with my high school friends to celebrate our 50th high school reunion. As an ?old? woman with my second guide dog for the blind and a grumpy husband by my side, I?ll make light of my life?s journey. Likely, conversations will be shallow. I?m not sure I want my school friends to know all the trauma and turmoil I?ve endured over half a century. On the other hand, will they be transparent about the challenges they?ve faced in their own lives? # # # _______________________________________________ Group1 mailing list Group1 at bluegrasspals.com https://bluegrasspals.com/mailman/listinfo/group1 It?s been 50 years since my high school graduation. How can that be? In the blink of an eye, half a century of my life has transpired. After high school, I completed four years of college and earned a journalism degree. I moved from Colorado to western New York to take my first job as a small town newspaper reporter. I met and married a local deputy sheriff. After four years of reporting, I was hired as the Communications Manager for a national office furniture manufacturer in the area. I sported high heels and traveled on an expense account to showrooms in Los Angeles, Houston, Chicago, and New York City. I divorced the controlling cop. I was promoted and got a nice raise; I was sexually assaulted by the security guard at my workplace when I went in to work alone on a Saturday. I battled PTSD, quit my job, and moved back home with my parents. The guard was sentenced to 12 years in prison. Once in Colorado, I discovered I was pregnant-not as a result of the rape, but because I stopped taking the birth control pill after the trauma and then I sought solace in the arms of a trusted friend the night before I left New York. I was fighting to recover; I lacked the resources to raise a child; I had an abortion. Once again, I moved, this time from Colorado to northern California. I was hired by another furniture manufacturer. Coming from rural New York, I struggled to adjust to the urban lifestyle in the San Francisco Bay Area. I met and married the nephew of my employer. Even though my husband worked for his relatives, they laid him off shortly before our wedding. We trimmed the guest list; I quit the company; I launched my own desktop publishing business; I worked part-time for an advertising agency. Soon, I gave birth to a daughter. I managed to build up my business to provide a full-time income allowing me to quit the ad agency. I gave birth again to a second daughter. Ultimately, we moved from the bay area back to Colorado where a three-bed, two-bath house was way more Affordable. My husband didn?t adjust to the move. He drank too much and couldn?t keep a job. I divorced again. For the next 20 years, I raised my daughters as a single parent, without child support. I held yard sales to pay for their back-to-school supplies and clothes. My progressive vision loss forced me to stop driving. I abandoned my business after 10 years, unable to discern the print on the page. I applied for Social Security Disability Insurance. Eventually, I went back to work in the public school system, providing me time off when my daughters were out of school for the winter and summer school breaks. I dated now and then; one of the men I dated sexually assaulted my older, then nine-year-old, Daughter. My younger daughter battled other demons. Her mental health issues required medication and long-term residential treatment. Both of my children fought hard to recover. I managed to hold onto the house and see both of them graduate from high school. Dare I say it? I met another man and married again-once my children were living out of the home independently. At age 60, I retired with reasonable security for the first time in my life. I began caring for my aging parents-they succumbed in their 90s. During that time, my older daughter graduated from college and married, gifting me with two grandchildren. My younger daughter works (mostly) steadily and seems happily settled with a female partner. My third husband is a grumpy, hard-of-hearing, old man depressed following quadruple bypass surgery two years ago-but this one?s a keeper. Thanks to a small inheritance from my parents, we?re remodeling that house I managed to hold onto. I?m planning to age-in-place at home. In one week, I?ll gather with my high school friends to celebrate our 50th high school reunion. As an ?old? woman with my second guide dog for the blind and a grumpy husband by my side, I?ll make light of my life?s journey. Likely, conversations will be shallow. I?m not sure I want my school friends to know all the trauma and turmoil I?ve endured over half a century. On the other hand, will they be transparent about the challenges they?ve faced in their own lives? # # # _______________________________________________ Group1 mailing list Group1 at bluegrasspals.com https://bluegrasspals.com/mailman/listinfo/group1 From tuchyner5 at gmail.com Fri Sep 1 16:35:50 2023 From: tuchyner5 at gmail.com (leonard tuchyner) Date: Fri, 1 Sep 2023 16:35:50 -0400 Subject: [Critique Group 1] Leonard's comments on Salley's sub Message-ID: This piece is very real. If prayer is talking to God, then he has to hear the good and the bad. You are just saying what is on your heart and mind at that moment in time. It is a heart wrenching piece that comes straight from the heart. Thank you for sharing it. Salley sub for August 23 ANOTHER KIND OF PRAYER This morning, with my husband dead four years, no words of prayerful thanks come. the daily gratitudes stick in my throat, lodged between a bout of grief and unexpected anger. Normally nourishing silence offers no repast, and the day ahead echoes with emptiness. ?Take all of this!? I barter defiantly with a deity I hope still listens to another kind of prayer. By Sally Rosenthal _______________________________________________ Group1 mailing list Group1 at bluegrasspals.com https://bluegrasspals.com/mailman/listinfo/group1