I died once...

  Welcome to my second #fridayflash.

I died once... #fridayflash


  I died once.  I was just a few months old.  My mother and I were staying at her parents home, when I became sick.  I stopped breathing and turned blue.  They say I swallowed my tongue.  Though I don't know how I could have done that.  My eyes rolled up into my head and I went limp.
   My grandfather was an ex-marine and he took charge.  He swept me up into his arms and carried me outside away from the women.  No one knows exactly what he did.  But he brought me back to this world.
   When we came back in.  I was soaking wet and screaming at the top of my lungs.  My mother and grandmother said it was the sweetest sound they had ever heard.
   When asked what happened all my grandfather would say is he pulled my tongue out of my throat and threw a bucket of cold water on me to shock my system.  I don't know if he told them everything.  He always tried to protect us from the ugly parts of this world.
   They say when you die and come back, you bring something of the other side back with you.  I couldn't tell you if that were true.  I was too young to know what was normal and what was not.  It was all normal for me.
   As I grew I started to realize I could tell when things were going to happen, like when it was going to rain.  I would smell and feel the rain coming, even on  a bright sunny day.  My friends and I would be playing when I would announce we need to head back to the house before it started to rain.  They would laugh and point out there was not a cloud in the sky.  It is coming within the hour, I would say.  And it did.  The weatherman was right 60 percent of the time, I was right 100 percent.  I didn't know why I could feel the rain on a clear day or not feel it on a cloudy day.  I just could.
   I also had knack of getting along with all kinds of animals.  Even the dangerous dog that was tied up by the shortcut home.  No one could get near him.  I could.  I would look him in the eyes and talk to him.  He would listen.  I would pet him and tell him to let my friends pass.  He would lick my hand and step out of the way.  Some people have said it was because I showed no fear that he allowed me near.  Maybe so, or maybe he understood me.  You would have to ask him.
   He wasn't the only one.  A friend and I went to one of her friend's house.  She had a cat who would not go near anyone by her owner, not even the girl she had lived with for the first 8 weeks of her life.  While we were all sitting at the table, the cat creeped into the room,  jumped up in my lap, licked my hand and went to sleep.  The owner was amazed.  Dogs in a frenzy would stop and listen to me, when they would ignore their owners.  Animals in the woods would come close and sit by me.  I don't know why, they just would.
   As I grew older I noticed other things.  I could tell when someone was upset by their voice over the phone.  But I have been told others can do this too.  That it is because of the tension in the voice.  Maybe it is.
   After a while I didn't need to hear them to know if something was wrong.  All I had to do was think of them.  I knew what someone was doing and thinking.  I didn't even know myself how I did this.  It would just pop into my head when I thought about them.  I would call them and find out they were thinking about me. 
   I could tell the sex of the unborn child of a friend.  I was more accurate than a sonogram, but only with people I knew.  I could not walk up to a stranger and feel the child's sex.  At least not yet.
   I never knew this was unusual.  I thought everyone could do these things if they tried.   To me this came naturally.  Maybe it was because my great grandfather was one of the most powerful Medicine Men of all the Cherokee tribes. 

From Cherokee Museum

   But I didn't know this.  You knew, but you never let on.  You didn't want me to feel different from everyone else.  But I was different.

   Yes I died once, but I came back.



©2010 Pamela Jo

Is Cursive writing a dying art...

Image via Wikipedia

    I heard a story on the news the other day and it got me thinking.  It was survey of incoming college freshmen this year.  It seems that the majority of them do not know how to write in cursive.  The folks that do college entry test say that 85% of the students tested now print their essays.
   Is cursive writing dying out?  Is it soon to go the way of the Dodo bird?  Something only seen in museums.

Image via Wikipedia

  I remember when I went to school learning how to write using a Big Chief tablet and a black jumbo pencil.  I could not wait to learn to write in cursive.
Why because all the grown ups wrote in cursive, and it was like a secret code.  If it was important like a letter or postcard it was in cursive writing.  These things had to be read to me.  How did I know there wasn't a secret the grown ups were keeping from me.  Kind of like when they would spell words they didn't want me to understand.  What kind of secrets would be revealed when I could read the code for myself?
   I concentrated so hard on learning those letters.  After all I was on a mission to learn the secrets of the adults.  When I could read and write in cursive I found out that apparently most of the adults didn't take the same class that I did.  Oh there were similarities in their cursive writing and what I learned but the adults each had their own way of writing.  It made it a little harder to read, but I made it out.
   What secrets did the writing reveal... nothing.  They would write letters about what we did, how much they missed each other and things like that.  But at least I could now read for myself what they wrote.  I no longer had to depend on others to read the letters from Grandma to me. 
   I later learned everyone develops their own way to write.  Your own personalty shaped your formation of the letters.  Your way of writing becomes so much a part of yourself, that it revealed more about you than you knew.  Reading and interpreting writing is what a handwriting analyst does everyday.  There are volumes written about it.
   But if cursive writing dies out who will read those volumes of information and what will become of our written history.  Most of the letters and documents that make up our past are written in cursive, The Deceleration of Independence,  The Constitution and most every important document from our forefathers.  Not to mention all the personal letters from people like Benjamin Franklin, Mark Twain and from your great grandfather to your great grandmother during the war.  Only a lucky few would still be able to read and enjoy these writings in their original form.
   Will future generations come back full circle to were we started when we were children?  Will they have to depend on others to read the code written down in the letters, and hope that nothing gets left out?  That in itself should be reason enough to continue to teach and learn cursive writing.
   But then I have always loved a mystery and wanted to see everything for myself.  Maybe, just maybe there is a hidden code in those letters.  Do you really want someone else to read and discover it before you do?

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Email to Mom...#Fridayflash

   Okay everyone I am biting my nails and suffering a panic attach but here it is the first time I am participating in a #fridayflash.  I wrote this a while back.  I just had to get the courage to show it to the great writers out there in blog land. Be kind, but please let me know how I did.  I can't get better if I don't know how.

Email to Mom -- #Fridayflash

 
Dear Momma,
   Sorry I have not written I have been busy in the garden. I'm sorry I did not get the flowers planted in your garden in time this year.  I did however get the vegetables in and they are doing great.  It wont be long till we will have to pull out the canning recipes.  I can't wait to try Great Aunt Jean's tomato recipe.  It sounds delicious.
  This is great.  I still have a hard time believing I'm talking with you.  To think my little brother helped make the programing that makes this happen.  He told me they are really close to perfecting the voice over internet too.  I can't wait till I can hear everyone's voice again.
  Oh yes, he said to tell Mr. Bell thank you for the suggestion.  It was just what they needed.  It allowed them to get over the plateau they had reached.  He also told me to tell you they already have some researchers working on sending images as well as voice.  Wouldn't that be great, then I could see you as we talk.
   Let Mr. Jefferson know I was able to get a hold of his family in Virginia.  They said their computer has been down but it should be fixed by the end of the week and they would contact him then.
    I have so missed you, but I know you are catching up with all the family and friends there.  Tell all my cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents I said hello.  I miss you all and can't wait to see you.  Don't worry I am going to do as you asked and stay here until I'm called. 
   Well I've got to go for now I'll talk to you soon
  
Love always,
Your daughter

PS:  We were able to find that old fashion yellow rose that you wanted.  We all went out this weekend and planted it at your grave.  Hope you like it.


©2010 Pamela Jo

Under the Sea (Part 2)...

   After the little episode the first time in the pool, I did great.  No more problems in the water ....  Until we went to a 16 foot deep diving pool to practice swimming to our scuba gear and putting it on underwater.
   On this occasion my partner was a friend of mine, who had been a diver for quite a while.  He was helping the staff out in this training session and partnered with me.  The purpose of the exercise was to  swim down and put on your scuba gear underwater.  Also to exchange your scuba tank for a new tank underwater.  This could come in handy if you have to stay underwater to decompress from a deep dive.

    So into the pool the equipment goes.  Then in I go with my buddy.  I swim down grab the scuba regulator turn on the tank and breath.  Okay that part done, I now have air.  I place my arms into the BCD jacket with the scuba tank attached, swing it up and over and Wa La,  I'm done.  This is going to be a breeze.  Next up buddy breathing to the surface.  He takes a breath hands me the scuba regulator and I take a breath and so on.  Piece of cake.  Only thing now is taking off one pack and exchanging it for another one.  I'm batting a thousand here.  What could go wrong.
   My partner is what could go wrong.  I take off my tank and switch out regulators.  He helps me put my arms into the other tank and swings it up over my head.  Ah, I can't get it on.  My arms are twisted and the regulator is being pulled out of my mouth while the tank is pushing me down.  Okay, okay don't panic.  Your not alone here. Your buddy will see the problem and fix it ... But he doesn't.  He thinks its on right and I am the problem.
   I try to tell him its twisted. Which is really hard to signal when your arms are twisted above your head.  He insists its okay and keeps try to push it on.

  Meanwhile, I can't breath.  He on the other hand has his tank on and is having no such problem.  I finally kick the crap out of him, ditch the tank and head for the surface.  He comes up fighting mad, insisting that I was in the wrong.  That the pack was on right and I just panicked.  Duh, not breathing can cause that you know.
   Then the head teacher came running up pulled me out of the pool.  Asking if I was okay.  He saw the whole thing and said I would have never been able to get that pack on as twisted as the straps where, and what took me so long getting to the surface.  I shot my partner a look that said, "HA ... I told you it wasn't me."  The teacher jumped in the pool and completed the exercise with me.  Piece of cake.  I passed.
   I completed the course and took my open water check out in Cozumel during Texas Dive Week.   And that my friends is another story.

            

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Under the Sea (Part 1).

    I have always wanted to scuba dive.  Once I saw “The Undersea World of Jacques Cousteau” I was lost.  Ariel dreamed of being where the people are, I dreamed of being where the fish are.

from Wikimedia Commons

    I took swimming classes as a child, I didn't do very well in class.  But that didn't stop me I taught myself to swim ... underwater of course.
   It was so quite and peaceful under the water, unless my brothers were around and decided to ride my back to side of the pool.  Then it was still quite but the peace thing was gone.  I was too concerned with getting back to where the people are so I could breath.  Did I mention I am terrified of drowning.
   I tried snorkeling at the beach, but the waves kept sending water down the snorkel.  That would trigger that whole terrified of drowning thing again.
   So I knew I would have to wait until I could learn how to scuba dive.  That way you take the air with you so you can breath.  That would solve that terrified of drowning problem.  Yeah right...
   So after I was out on my own with my own money I signed up for scuba diving classes.  I listened to all the things that could go wrong and how to correct them.  I learned all about the scuba equipment.  I bought a real scuba mask, a real snorkel, and real fins.  Not those cheap things from the pool department at Walmart. I got a dive knife, dive log, compass and a dive bag to put it all in.
   I was so proud of these purchases that walked around the living room trying them out.  And I only tripped on the fins a couple of times.  I never really liked that vase anyway.  I was so excited about our classes first day in the pool in full gear, that I felt like a kid on Christmas Eve.
   The big day dawned bright and sunny.  We got to the store and went straight into the pool room.  Suited up in all the equipment and hopped into the pool.  Now I have to say at this point we were in the shallow end of the pool in about 4 feet of water.  We were to go underwater sit on the bottom and practice purging water from our masks.  Okay great, here we go.
   Down I went, and promptly forgot to breath through my mouth.  I am trying desperately to breath through my nose that is blocked by the mask.  Uh oh, my brain goes into panic mode ... can't breath, no air, going to die on the bottom of the pool.  Then my legs remember I am only in 4 feet of water and I am 5' 8”, and stand up.  I immediately jerk the mask off and come face to face with a classmate who is more terrified than I am.
   This is a good thing.  My teacher mood kicks in.
   I start talking to her and calming her down.  I remind her that we can breath underwater.  We have these freaking heavy tanks full of air on our backs.  I told her to practice breathing with me through the scuba regulator and then we would go down together.  It worked.
She kept her eyes glued to me and we completed that exercise and all the others for the day.  I was so concerned with her I forgot about myself. Jacques Cousteau  would have been proud.

Image via Wikipedia

   After that I had no problem.  Until my friend (???) tried to drown me toward the end of the course.
   But that my friends is another blog.

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