The Designing of New Environmenti

By Elaine Freeman Anderson

This post has required some reflection. I wanted to speak about the pandemic. When I first heard the word “corona virus.” I did not take it seriously. I need them to tell us what this disease is that suddenly makes people sick and causes them to die that are my age. Scarry right! Then they exchange the word Covid-19. What is that? What does that have to do with Corona Virus and us.  This was different. It was aimed at the elderly and people with pre-existing medical conditions.  You evaluate yourself and wonder about your health. This virus swept through like a thief in the night a blinking of an eye. Its description of events includes keeping you from breathing. I held my breath and found it hard to maintain. Imagine this is happening to you.  That is 68 years old and having a pre-existing condition. Bring it closer to home Something is trying to kill me, and I have no idea what it is or where it is coming from. They blame it on China, but why would they unleash this disease on its own? For the first time in my life, I was afraid to live in America.  “Could you please explain what is happening?” The spirit within says,  the environment.

What the environment? For me, the environment is the air you breathe, and when you are separated from your breath, you really start to listen. It will be hard for you to go outside because I am out here waiting for you. Really I am everywhere!  The voice insisted. No baseball, football, tennis, school, work, travel. No mask, can keep me out. Did we really ask ourselves what this means? The environment says can you hear me now! Thinking about the environment, we have literally destroyed its existence. Other ways turned it upside down, and flip it out. What is it that contributes to this problem in our existence? I started to understand what this means in my world.

  • Air travel (fuel fumes dispensed in the air) entering our physical being.
  • Manufacturing (fumes of air quality)
  • Gas pipelines around the world.
  • Electric
  • Global Warming (Ice shelf melting) Soon the planet may be without water.
  • Shipping- nuclear waste and dumping in the environment.
  • Chemical dumping – Once that chemical is introduced to the atmosphere it combines with all other fumes and chemicals creating a mixture.
  • Trash dumping-identifying all types of trash mixed with its fumes
  • Bombs (global) ammonium nitrate-this chemical combined with all the other elements are combined to make another mixture.
  • Fighting In countries using weapons of mass destruction, the daisy bomb add that to the pot. A nightmare gumbo.
  • Stealing (resources not helping the ones that are suffering) living under the worst conditions
  • Shooting taking each other lives. dead bodies. Chemical environment polluting your mind.
  • Drugs (altering the minds of Humans) if your mind is on drugs you can’t think how to help make life better.
  • Vaccines (not a cure but a alter) We would not need a vaccine if you better take care of the environment.

Combine all, creating a new atmosphere, a different type of ecosystem, one that is not compatible with the human structure. If we do not change the way we live on the planet, basically the hierarchy rich vs the poor apart of the living structure, then we are sentencing ourselves to death. Some of the items on my list you say the environment has nothing to do with us. When you live on this planet you are not immune to this ecosystem. You are a part of this domain. It does not separate you because you are influential, wealthy, or middle class or poor as hell. You are the saboteur and you have taken advantage of it and dismissed its worth. You have neglected it. The human element on this planet is terrible, poor who have to beg versus rich who have to keep you as you are only, so they can maintain status.    Rich who live and take this earth resources like it belongs only to them. That you let other species of human life in much of the most egregious ways. Yet we are born on the same echelon. Let me define for you in the most interesting way how we are miss interpreting our position on this planet.  We are coming in the world the same way. Naked and without an object. Guest, what we do leave this world without a thought. Not one piece of clothing, or jewelry. In your nakedness only the spirit of you will ascend. That body that you are housing will go back into the ecosystem and is reconstituted back into the environment. And according to what that environment is will dictate your life. Your spirit will house that same horrifying body that you created in your previous life.

What will be the future of the human? How will we be designed? Will they still have the same construction. Scientists are searching for extraterrestrial life in space. Do not have to look far. Our species is changing. If there appears to be any other species out there that are intelligent, they are monitoring us closely.  I would like to be a fly on the wall with our terrestrial neighbors. Our environment is screaming outloud making the people protest Black lives matter. All humanity matters and if we do not take a peek and have a conversation about how we have destroyed, our world guesses what we will not have a world. The weather is talking to us so profoundly, but we are so engrossed in our lives that we are not listening. Ice shelves dropping, flooding, fires, earthquakes, Volcanoes and now corona virus. The environment is creating the Corona Virus to remove elements that are polluting and changing its dynamics. Our personality is a part of this killing all over the world.  All kinds of killing, the hunting of animals, the hunting of humans, the abusing of children changing the mind’s ability to heal after the abuse. The mentality of the human element is sick from the way we handle our environment. The environment (Corona Virus) is revamping our minds to shoot, murder, kill, demonstrate loudly. Everyone has Corona Virus no test needed. Our system is changing to a new? Be observant.

One Writer’s Journey

At the sensitive age of nine I lost the two main characters in my life, my grandam and the illustrious rajah who created me. I had never known that type of love until I had my progeny. As an undeveloped child, I inscribe my name in the cursive it completed me.  I designed letters so artistically beautiful. Connecting shapes and angles as I practice to perfection.  Writing words just to see how they would turn out. I began writing sentences to express my feelings and tell stories.  It was the first stage of learning of the self. I yearned for my grandmother and my father and as I sobbed through the pain. My trusty sword, a well sharpened #2 pencil and an excellent pen were my weapons against tribulations.

As, the spirit would have many of my feelings were cursively written without punctuation, organization or editing and lyrically sounding, leading me to sometimes write someone paper, and then in a composition book help me to put my tragedy in perspective. I knew nothing about being a writer, but I was writing.    This happened in 1959 during a time when racial issues were not something, I was aware of as a child.  Writing about my feelings helped me to express all the emotions that came from missing a grandmother who through religion read to me a bedtime story. The holy bible from genesis to revelation.  Helping form pictures in my immature mind. Many of the words written were designed and put in poetry form. My poetry was crafted from the poetry written in psalms and proverbs; I learn lyrical poetry. Hidden in the words that she read to me is a lesson on how to act. Hidden in my subconscious was everything that I needed to know.

Time went on I learn to put my feeling into poetry being my psychoanalysis. A journal of all my pain. After moving several times, I lost the rare book of my poems.  I hope if anyone read my words, would help them to solve their issues. My mind, would, play out these stories, mostly science fiction and romance genres.  I always loved movies. All this happens before the desktop computer comes into the home. When I received my first computer in the 1990s. I was learning this bewildering machine and the software was a magical entity. A writer that assisted me to put my words, into action.  I started on my first book of science fiction and created short stories.  I was privy to its surprising talents. I lived for using this instrument to write.

Writing requires you look at other writings and find what you are trying to convey. Some have written and re-written at least a hundred times to get that sentence accurate. You go through an emotional roller coaster of queries that at times make you ask, “Who tells you that you can write?” Then I read a paragraph of my writing and recognize you can compose with practice. You recognize your talents, then research the details that will help you write deeper. Bookstores are bliss and every Friday I would visit my preferred. Borders taught me how to search the shelves of this store to find the information you seek. As you go through floors and shelves you find this character called the writer’s corner. This area houses books on character, plot and dictionaries and the human trait. Leading magazines of writing built the story for me so perfectly.

Writers who were dispensing words  to help others with specifics. My imagination, of identifying an author’s hand that reaches for another lost writer. Inside she had so much fear, showing them how fear affects you and who. I would go back into my work and realize it needed better wording, design and greater clarity. Fast forward to my future and find that all my writing is in the future and it has given me great courage.

I believe I can write poetry and publish. What important information I have gleaned from designing words, I discovered the writer’s thesaurus and found it gives me stronger words with greater meaning, now it’s time to write that book that story in your head, about the alien ancestors who brought my humans to this planet to keep them safe. The question is where to start, who is my primary character and what is their mission. I need to research my idea. In the meantime, I am encouraged to start a short story, and search into great short works from well-known artists who have mastered, King, Poe, Hurston, Hughes.

Now I should have my own design. Hopefully it will fit, and my legacy is set, and my name will be uttered. I continue my journey to express my love for something given to me from the universe. A voice inside me is saying I learned from you and I learn from them, continue the voyage. Stories of me and my sister and my family and all the drama and character assassinations. All the while this wrote this remarkable character was doing something impressive, the words were healing my being. All the thoughts harbored in me, came to the surface.  I was starting to be another person. Shedding tears of pain and joy but leaving complete understanding.  I love the intelligent entity who gave the craft of writing and creativity. I never knew I loved writing so passionately. Daily I write something, even if it is a note to self, a reminder of what I need to do.

Going forward I find I have a novel, where others are finding it hard to put their butts in the seat, in that place to those stories out there. To embrace the greatness of communication. During all this movement of words, the world is changing and so are the sentences of creating a new one. I realize the so-called norm is no longer what I know and understand. People are telling a different type of story. They are outraged and no longer take it anymore. Dethroning monarchs with sentences and uplifting to those who need hope. Some of it masculine but the majority feminine and now they are not playing. The stories are about which I will not be changed. I will not be disrespected. The story is about the sentences written long ago and has become comfortable.

This achievement of writing has made me responsible for those who need my information. That I too must speak my truth in this new world is recreated. This writing is given me courage, especially since my silence otherwise has induced me complacent. This writing has made me come and face the truth of my pain and, how it happens and who cause the pain. Rivers from my eyes forge ahead to continue to work on my style. My journey has led me to conferences that has rooms of writers and authors at different levels of learning and publishing. Can I pitch a story idea, still building that courage? An agent gave a little advice, wowing he was interested in the story. My self-esteem is rising soon, only hoping to be a published author. The goal is to write great novels and short stories and continue to learn and meet people who have the same attitude.

Getting Better

   At the tender age of sixty seven I find myself forgiving me for my life and existence. I have lost so much , mainly my children. For almost a year I think about my son who would come and get me just because.  Never thought every time I passed the building he passed away in I could feel him. That passing his name in the contacts would make me cry because the empty movement would produce his voice. We talked about his children that made his world. That their mothers made him think deeper about their motives. He loved them……. I know that from our conversations. Yes, I had my opinion “pick one” but he could not his children made that impossible. I believe in my son, even when his opinion was wrong. His friends made his life worth while he told me about each one. Only one was his best, looking out for him as brother since they were young.  Yet he took another brother under his wing who considered him family.

His name is constant in his life. “Hey mom, going to make you laugh.” and he did. I hear his voice calling my name. I see the mist of his spirit right in my face and I cry like right now. It took me until now to be able to write these few words. We would ride pointing out the car he aims to possess. This would be a gift to himself. He wanted to have a house built in South Carolina, I would rent a room for vacation, “you don’t have to rent.” he said. What he did not understand is if I could pay a hotel to stay there I could pay him. Besides his accommondations would have been luxury compared. He had kids and they needed things. I admired him as a father who surprise me. He brought me his first born, she a newborn, with a then nylon blanket wrapped in the bitter cold. He  seeks me out to get advice on what she would need.  A large blanket, snow suit, sox shoes, lots of heavy blankets and without a doubt a hat to cover that soft spot at the top her head. I gave words of wisdom. “Son,  look at her. She looks to you to give her what she needs.”  Don’t wait for anyone to get or do for her, you come with what she needs. When she cries is because something is wrong. She cried every time she saw me.  Advice that he used amazingly with all his children.

I think that I am drifting through life like on a ship to nowhere. I wish that when you leave the planet that you should be able to call just to hear what’s happening with them.  That is all I have to say for right now. Stay tuned, there is more.

Young Adult Fighters

I watch young people going to school and remember how my friends long ago laughed and joked on any given day.  Most of the people I knew wanted to hooky school to hangout in the park or over someone’s house. Yes, killing happen to young people but not to the kids who wanted their education.  We dreamed of being something great.  Although that did not happen for many of us we did not worry about someone taking a gun and shoot at us with a perfect aim. As a African American mother and a grandmother, great grandmother I am horrified by the things that young people witness. America has changed to a melting pot of murder and killing on a scale unheard of by parents. It is almost like genocide of our children. How many of those young adults killed were visionaries of our future.  My future robot is in jeopardy, taking a trip out in space for a vacation.  Young adults are planted seeds of life.  As I sit in a room of young adults wanting to be doctors and lawyers I say to myself are they going to make it? We older adults have to look at the future, not live in the past or don’t want to give up the past, because you did not live your dream. it is the new generations time to forge the future and bring us to a place of unity.

I saw the face of a young girl after she witness other students being killed it touched my heart so deeply.   Faces of our children, tears, shaking and trying to explain what they just experienced.  My heart goes out to those families who lost their child, friend, teacher, former. My heart hurts for you. I have experience lost of a child, but not like you. hearing their voices, remember the jokes or even the last time you scolded them about something that they did.  if only,  we could be given a second chance.  “If i could say abracadabra and give them back I would”.

Governments and politicians can not help us.  They sit in safe houses, house of representatives, house of congress, the white house. While we are out here in the world taking our lives in our own hands, Vote, bipartician, fake news, the truth, this is all terminology that only confuses the lay person.  None of that matters when you loose a child.  I applaud the young adults who are out here trying to have their voices heard.  I would like to be in the background to help you scream loud “I’m mad as hell, we are not going to take it anymore!”

Those who voted for the people in office,  were your children apart of those school shootings?  If not, think about this the next mental health issue that takes up an automatic gun and shoots a child it could be your school, remember it is not about us, it is about all of us.

For those young adults who looking through this window of pain how does this effect you is the question. Fight with all your might. Get out there and raise your voice, hands, signs, stomp, tribal dance, whatever it takes. “This America belongs to you.”  Dry my tears young people make them accountable, make them take action. College students remember the college protest of the 1960-and 70’s. Remember your brothers and sisters who are coming behind you, fight for them. People talk about the NRA, don’t stop there find the guns hidden, shut down those who sell guns to anyone who has a penny. I wish that every gun on the planet would disappear, to bad that won’t happen.

The House of Songster

The most beautiful house I have ever visited is the Songster House. Where Ed my husband and I spent our Christmas in December 2017. Created on the west coast of Portland, Oregon. Its charm is Japanese.  I feel the atmosphere of a family embracing everything simple in life.  Lupia practiced the skills that her mother had given her and invited us into her home. Decorative pieces made the atmosphere serene.  Fengshui ever so presented to the creative conversation by Cole, the young elite, and future political analysis.

When I visualize Lupia as a mother, I am amazed she is the little girl who visits her father when we first meet. For me, time stopped when she left.  Lupia made every effort to keep close, to not lose that connection. I understand the purpose of the daughter to stay close to the man who created her. How passionate thoughts travel through their minds. Sometimes synchronization can cause a buildup and that both parties have to express what they feel.

Lupia and Ryan having the nurturing trust for their two sons are so apparent. She is a protective parent with a resilient sense of purpose.  Oregon, a place so spiritual, its diversity is so beautiful, even those who are residences express its love in the motion of life through corridor streets.

A holiday dinner served to a United Nation of People. Rod and Naoko and their beautiful daughter Nyah were the greatest hosts, Songster Senior, the father-in-law who created, tiramisu, deep-dish apple, and banana cream pie unknowns to all, my favorite. The youngest grandson Caden who renamed himself “Cola” formed the chocolate on chocolate cake and is a basketball star, Bravo, a young man. Although they had never met me, they embraced my being.

They had a ritual for the holiday gifts that would be exchanged by family members to the children the day before the holiday. The happiness of what they received was so appreciative.  I marveled at the calm beauty of merely being with family. Something that’s not practiced in my neck of the woods. I went on the journey with a deep conversation about programming, all the while speaking of how he would not abandon his Friday night essence. I admired his veracity when it came to his creative genius. My take, never let go, it will pay off, in the end, Ed Jr.

Portland captured my heart and immediately I wanted to live and experience its essence. Writers were everywhere even when they did not admit as much. Its bookstore is ravaged by people who love the written word. They perused shelves of books and  said “read me.”  Four floors call my name. Even with a map, I did not have the chance to delve into every part of its nooks and crannies. Although I did promise, Powell I would be back and would give them more time to express its volumes.

I experience the traditions of Portland taken through neighborhoods and arrived at Peacock Lane. Children take in light of their design, a wonderland of fantasy, an agreement of happiness for those young people. Original factories and innovative structures are being restored to glory. A school blueprint for the modern student in mind. Two basketball courts, and plenty of activities to climb and swing on.

Dinner at a sushi restaurant and found my love, shrimp tempura. This gift is something I gave myself and Ed my husband who did not know how to act with happiness. Not until we returned, he realized it was something he needed. Tokiko brought Japan to America and instilled it in her children and grandchildren. She permitted me to share what she created.  I accepted, and she answered with a beautiful journey and a peaceful stay. Many blessing my sister wherever you are,

Great Expectations

 You know how when you look down into your children faces as babies and wonder how they will turn out. You would never expect them to take life and ride the waves, as a parent you are so over protective you are so afraid that they will hurt themselves. Well I would of never thought that my baby girl would be the catalyst for a true family structure. A black man, husband and father at the helm and the motivation of a brilliant wife, that taught me what a parent should do. I question my audacity to bring human life in this world to have them figure it out, yet they did it brilliantly. They raise together five beautiful young women put them through twelve years of school, and college. This story is written in the universe. All praises to the most high the creator of our universe.

Like any couple they started out rocky. That never stop them. They devised a plan. First, she went to work holding things down until the last baby was in school. Unable to find work he became a stay home dad, nurturing each and every one of them until they were in school full time. Then my son in law went on a journey to find a job, as luck would have it he ended up with a position right away. One that only yield small pay. In my daughter infinite wisdom she pointed out how his contribution to the progress of their goal was very significant. Through this strategy they purchase a home and raised their little princesses. Now that the job raising the women is coming to close, my little one reflects on her youngness and that her nest is finally empty with the last one going off to college. I am truly amazed, and proud of them and truly blessed to know them.

Getting to work

Every morning I have this mantra.
“Today I am going to be late”. Instead of rushing to get dress, I take my time. Finding wears, ironing, shoe hunts, inventory awareness, showering, body suppleness, clothing adjustments, then down the steps to the door. Oh by the way get a piece of fruit to take with me. Two blocks of exercise, bus is seen, a Half a block, jogging, breath heavy , climbing and finally with no further a do, sitting. ” do I hear applause”. Then here comes the train on the other side…….



Today I realize just how much I love books. Paper books, hardcover or soft. I truly respect technology when reading online, but when it comes to reading the Feel of a book just blows my mind.