North Pole ...continued...

Dec 17, 1947, I was born to Lorane Joyce and Daniel Quintin Boje, in Memorial Hospital, Spokane, Washington. Twins had died the year before I arrived, making me, the first born, that lived. My dad married my mom, though she was pregnant with those twins from another man. I know this because, when I was fifty years old, she fessed up and showed me her picture outside the church, and you could see she was well along. My dad told me after his divorce from my mom, to read my birth certificate carefully. Thinking I must be adopted, I studied it. Turns out, he was unemployed, and listed as a labore ...continued...

He is mysterious in every way, the boy I have yet to meet. Nick got my hopes up. He stated that George was coming to visit. As my day progressed, the communication between he and George changed. George wasn't coming to visit... He was coming to say goodbye. As a newly drafted marine, George sought it fit to say his goodbyes before being deployed. The news hit me like a ton of bricks. I had yet to meet him and the possible man of my dreams was going to be just that... a dream. I nearly cried over a boy I had never met. I've been alone for so long that possibilities of meeting peop ...continued...

Primary Care for Underserved Populations: Navigating Policy to Incorporate Occupational Therapy Into Federally Qualified Health Centers. Murphy, A. et al. American Journal of Occupational Therapy, Vol. 71, Jan 2017. http://ajot.aota.org/article.aspx?articleid=2599871 This article provided information about how people belonging to underserved populations, including minority groups and low-income people, have limited access to much needed occupational therapy services. Using a case example of a federally qualified health center serving American Indian/Alaska Native popul ...continued...

The Qualities of Someone I Admire: My Grandfather             Although I admire several people in my world, there is one man that stands out above all the rest and shines bright in my eyes. I have known him all my life and he was always a constant for me. His nickname for years was Smiley. You may think that was because he smiled all the time, but this was not the case. In fact, he rarely had a smile on his face for as long as I can remember. This man had a very hard life. He was born in 1918 to a very poor family. His mother died when he was a young boy and he had to help ra ...continued...

In amongst my ‘heaven-like’ existence, there was aching pain and anger and turmoil that was outside of my bubble, not even two steps away from me. To this day I cannot describe exactly what went on around me because I was too young to understand the reasons or the details. All I knew was that we had our patriarch and our entire household revolved around what he wanted and how he wanted it. I could not comprehend it because to me he was loving and yielding and I would never have been able to match the two personalities into one soul. But there were endl ...continued...

The Marvels of Movement Dancing is like dreaming with your feet! ~Constanze: During my mom’s dementia journey, movement often inspired and connected us. Here is one of those magical moments, excerpted from my book, Love in the land of Dementia: Finding Hope in the Caregiver’s Journey. The story is set in my mom’s memory care unit. ** Rochelle, the activity director, sticks in another tape and soon Stardust is playing. images “Let’s dance,” she says, motioning everyone to stand. Mom looks up and I offer her my hand. ...continued...

~~In the Nighttime To the individual working in near darkness, the place felt like a basement at midnight, illuminated only by a dim light bulb at the top of the stairway. No. Better. It felt like a mortuary in the middle of the night, the perfectionist mortician preparing a corpse for a starring role at its own funeral. An undertaker is an artist, after all, who must exult in the unveiling of the handiwork—or creative artwork—as gawkers pass by the open casket. The lone figure’s grin appeared as grotesque as the thoughts in its wearer’s head, illuminated as it wa ...continued...

I set my briefcase on my gritty kitchen counter and traced the raised gold lettering on the thick ivory card. “You are Invited to a Holiday Cookie Party,” the note read. The invitation was from a fascinating, creative, high–powered executive I had met several months ago. I was surprised and thrilled that she had invited me to such a gathering. Each woman would bring a batch of home-baked cookies, she wrote. We would then get to sample all the cookies and bring a bag of treats home to our families. I adored the idea of getting to bring my teenage dau ...continued...

North Pole ...continued...

Throughout the history of the world, philosophers and religions have disagreed on many things. But they have all agreed on one thing …only one! You become what you think about. Read that sentence again. Most people hear it, but don’t truly understand it. You become that which you think about most of the time. We place value on material, replaceable things and very little value to the most irreplaceable thing of all. Our freedom of thought. Thoughts establish Habits, Attitudes, and Emotions&hellip ...continued...

Born in Grenada, Mississippi on March 26, 1996. I had always known that i was attracted to other since I was about 6 years old ...continued...

Orcs hate Elves with a passion. (from Lord of the Rings by J. R.R. Tolkien) “Home home on the range, where the deer and the antelope play” According to the Center for Biological Diversity, Wildlife Services, part of the U.S. Department of Agriculture, has killed, through gassing, poisoning and strangulation by snare, 27 million native animals since 1996, including more than 1 million in 2014. The animals have included prairie dogs, gray wolves, mountain lions, black bears, foxes, coyotes and even bald eagles, and possibly a few domestic cats. ...continued...

Because our Mother left when I was 4 and my brother Rich about 18 months old, we were reared primarily by our Father. As a truck driver, Dad was gone 5 to 6 days a week, when we were cared for by a great Aunty who lived downstairs in our duplex home. A true product of the Victorian era, Aunty was born in the 1880's. In her early 40's she had begun to be crippled by rheumatoid arthritis, and by the 1940's was badly incapacitated, hands gnarled, back stooped, knees and hips painful and deformed. She always had someone living with her to help ou ...continued...

Why does it go through my mind in slow motion? All the memories. Things that were kept tightly sealed ia my imaginary box and put away in my imaginery closet. Trying to keep busy in order not to think, not to remember. But it doesnt help. Dont´t get me wrong they are all not bad memories. Alot of them are good ones but for some reason the bad ones are easier to remember. On my way to work I thought I was running late but as usual i am on time. All my l ...continued...