Out of all the things I could pick off my hand written scrap list of items to begin writing about, today I am the spirit to began talking about a special someone, that God has placed on my path.
I remember, about four months ago walking down the hallway of Brigham and Woman's Hospital, to be specific, I was on the cardiac surgery unit, crossing over from 12 B, perhaps on one of my daily trips to around to the other Pods to say hello to Maria, and I bumped into a man...whose smile captured my very being. I recall vaguely as he was walking pass me, us both stopping, and looking at one another and from my recollection, we immediately joined forces and this nice man spoke these words to me: "Hello there," I replied with a sincere since of urgency, "Hello" noticing that he was walking with an Alaris pump for some form of IV line, it didn't cross my mind to ask him the typical question people tend to ask without much thought, 'how are you doing,' however my attention was immediately drawn to his ambition to steadily walk around--with liveliness, so I said: "Walking huh?" "Yes, trying to..."And before I knew it this gentleman and I were having a full-fledged conversation about writing. A conversation about walking turned into one about writing.
How it began, well… I rely mostly on the thoughts that I write down to assure I remember them; my memory, only retains a percentage of things I experience. What I remember is his sharing how astonished he was with the process of writing. He told me about an article that he recently read in either the Boston Globe or The Herald and somehow in conversation it came up that I am a writer. I told him that I have been writing for sometime now both leisurely and professionally.
His eyes light up. And he began to tell me stories in the hallway about how he always says, "I'm going to work on my biography someday," with a chuckle he mentioned it has always been his dream. In fact, he said he even went to school to learn how to be a writer. Fascinated by the process, we stood in the hallway for a little more than fifteen minutes taking about how precious the process of writing is. Words like "convey" and phrases like "the ability to put thoughts into words" were some of the resonating topics of our hallway conversation. And it was then, four months ago, that I experienced what some describe as destiny: a meeting that will forever have an impact on my very being.
"Is this Destiny?" is a question that I often ask myself pertaining to our meeting Mr. Powers and my meeting: I believe that "all there is consciousness; there is no doer and no free will—all is the impersonal functioning of consciousness, or God's will; life is a movie which is produced, written, casted, directed, acted, and watched by consciousness on the screen of consciousness." --Hermetic Philosophy
The way we met and the connecting thread that has essentially opened up the door to our friendship has brought me to the realization that we are placed on this earth for special and specific reasons, unknown to man but very relevant and up lifting. Mr. Powers is an example of that uplifting nature.
There's not a time that I see him, when he's not smiling. Even on the days that he is not feeling the way he would like to, when he laying down in a hospital bed, with a multitude of people coming in and out of his room, asking questions and taking his blood pressure...he remains one of the most pleasant patients that any nurse could have. With a smile, a generous comment like, "She's my friend," "My favorite nurse," in reference to me, at one time, and the two of his favorite nurses, at another. Mr. Powers has what it takes to make one smile. I can’t recall a day he hasn't whispered to me words of wisdom from his hospital bed to my heart. On this particular day he said: "Keep writing. Never give up. Not only can you write but you also do it well, were his words.
His eyes were glossy, his heart...reached out and influenced me never stop writing.
I stared bringing Mr. Powers my articles after our meeting in the hallway. And every time I'd bring him copies of my work, He'd sigh in excitement how happy he was to read my last piece, how talented he considered me and how I should, "never give up.”
For many reasons I will never give up. Mr. Powers certainly one of those reasons. His influence has had an impact on my as a person---beyond appreciation. Genuine and humble his smiles keep me grateful for what life can be. I don’t know what he feels inside but I know that he is a man who encourages and pulls strength from within to give to others. Like Mr. Powers I will continue...walking to the beat of the drums of destiny, no matter what.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Preserving: Henderson Carolina
There were many things that started in Henderson. My mother was one of those things. The last born of 17 children. A miracle in my eyes, considering that fact that my grandfather was hit by train when my grandmother was carrying my mother nine months into her pregnancy: A blessing, I always say. A complete blessing. Since "Blessings awaken a greater sense of awareness in the practitioner," and are "a special favor, benefit, or gift from God."
I always say to myself, what if he died a year prior? There would be no Patricia Link, and in essence the side of my family tree that consists of my siblings and me would not be. Henderson brought forth many manifestations like tradition of southern cooking that has carried my grandmother's legacy on. I'll include recipes in another entry.
My mother has stories of growing up in the "country" as she describes it that will bring tears to your eyes, of course it's her description that is so tear-jerking but the stories are also interesting. Her perspective is the hilarious part. While watching Bet Apollo today, my mother said something striking that fostered thought about how small this world really is. The new era lead singer of the Manhattans, who joined the group in 1970 is a friend of my hers. Perhaps she wouldn't describe him as a friend but she did say they grew up together in the late 1950's walking the same dusty dirt roads of Henderson North Carolina, where they shared the back yard my grandfather constructed as a path to go to Henderson Institute, where they both went to school.
Actually, according to my cousin, Tony, one of the funniest men I've ever met..skinny ole Gerald Alston, as a teenager he had a "thang" for my mother coming up. My mother shares with me she doesn't remember him liking her but Tony disagrees with that interpretation. I imagine that he did have a thing for my mother because based on the pictures she showed me from the 60 and 70's she was what some men would describe as a fine young tender one: slim, slender, thick, natural hair, beautiful features, brown eyes, and oval shaped face, smooth skin, defined lips and a tell-it-how-it-is attitude, that she still has today. In fact, it has only progressed into a tell-it-how-it-"got-damn"-is demeanor.
When I see Gerald Alston, the lead singer for the Manhattans today--I don't imagine him as a young child in the 1960's walking through my mother's back yard to get to school. Or even more fascinating having a crush on my mom. I wonder what his life was like growing up in the south at that time. I wonder if his parents like my grandparents were share croppers, cooks and if his mother cleaned wealthy people's homes to supplement their income. I wonder what kinds of things the teachers in Henderson Institute taught the children?
Those same dusty roads are still dusty today.
I wonder if he recalls those same dusty roads he used to walk on today, who influenced him to follow what I imagine was his dreams. Whether he grew up with the intention to become a singer, since my mother did say he sings the same way he did back then, which to me says he used to showcase his talents in some way shape or form. I don't know.
Although he is soulful, rich in artistic language and a phenomenal singer. I love my father, Bruce One of a kind Matthews. It is difficult for me to imagine any other man taking responsibility for making me--I know that the 1960-70's going into the 80's fostered a lot of love between that generation, music that was known to promote love, as many elders refer to songs by Marvin Gaye, Luther Vandross as baby making music. The Best of the Manhattans compilation CD in 1995, Kiss and Say Goodbye was and still is today a song that fosters much thought.
Beginning with these sentimental words:
This has got to be the saddest day of my life
I called you here today for a bit of bad news
I won't be able to see you anymore
Because of my obligations, and the ties that you have
We've been meeting here everyday
And since this is our last day together
I wanna hold you just one more time
When you turn and walk away, don't look back
I wanna remember you just like this
Let's just kiss and say goodbye
I had to meet you here today
There's just so many things to say
Please don't stop me 'til I'm through
This is something I hate to do
We've been meeting here so long
I guess what we done, oh was wrong
Please darlin', don't you cry
Let's just kiss and say goodbye
Many months have passed us by
(I'm gonna miss you)
I'm gonna miss you, I can't lie
(I'm gonna miss you)
I've got ties, and so do you
I just think this is the thing to do
It's gonna hurt me, I can't lie
Maybe you'll meet, you'll meet another guy
Understand me, won't you try, try, try, try, try, try, try
Let's just kiss and say goodbye (Goodbye)
Ending with capturing the most of this detailed ballet
to be continued...
I always say to myself, what if he died a year prior? There would be no Patricia Link, and in essence the side of my family tree that consists of my siblings and me would not be. Henderson brought forth many manifestations like tradition of southern cooking that has carried my grandmother's legacy on. I'll include recipes in another entry.
My mother has stories of growing up in the "country" as she describes it that will bring tears to your eyes, of course it's her description that is so tear-jerking but the stories are also interesting. Her perspective is the hilarious part. While watching Bet Apollo today, my mother said something striking that fostered thought about how small this world really is. The new era lead singer of the Manhattans, who joined the group in 1970 is a friend of my hers. Perhaps she wouldn't describe him as a friend but she did say they grew up together in the late 1950's walking the same dusty dirt roads of Henderson North Carolina, where they shared the back yard my grandfather constructed as a path to go to Henderson Institute, where they both went to school.
Actually, according to my cousin, Tony, one of the funniest men I've ever met..skinny ole Gerald Alston, as a teenager he had a "thang" for my mother coming up. My mother shares with me she doesn't remember him liking her but Tony disagrees with that interpretation. I imagine that he did have a thing for my mother because based on the pictures she showed me from the 60 and 70's she was what some men would describe as a fine young tender one: slim, slender, thick, natural hair, beautiful features, brown eyes, and oval shaped face, smooth skin, defined lips and a tell-it-how-it-is attitude, that she still has today. In fact, it has only progressed into a tell-it-how-it-"got-damn"-is demeanor.
When I see Gerald Alston, the lead singer for the Manhattans today--I don't imagine him as a young child in the 1960's walking through my mother's back yard to get to school. Or even more fascinating having a crush on my mom. I wonder what his life was like growing up in the south at that time. I wonder if his parents like my grandparents were share croppers, cooks and if his mother cleaned wealthy people's homes to supplement their income. I wonder what kinds of things the teachers in Henderson Institute taught the children?
Those same dusty roads are still dusty today.
I wonder if he recalls those same dusty roads he used to walk on today, who influenced him to follow what I imagine was his dreams. Whether he grew up with the intention to become a singer, since my mother did say he sings the same way he did back then, which to me says he used to showcase his talents in some way shape or form. I don't know.
Although he is soulful, rich in artistic language and a phenomenal singer. I love my father, Bruce One of a kind Matthews. It is difficult for me to imagine any other man taking responsibility for making me--I know that the 1960-70's going into the 80's fostered a lot of love between that generation, music that was known to promote love, as many elders refer to songs by Marvin Gaye, Luther Vandross as baby making music. The Best of the Manhattans compilation CD in 1995, Kiss and Say Goodbye was and still is today a song that fosters much thought.
Beginning with these sentimental words:
This has got to be the saddest day of my life
I called you here today for a bit of bad news
I won't be able to see you anymore
Because of my obligations, and the ties that you have
We've been meeting here everyday
And since this is our last day together
I wanna hold you just one more time
When you turn and walk away, don't look back
I wanna remember you just like this
Let's just kiss and say goodbye
I had to meet you here today
There's just so many things to say
Please don't stop me 'til I'm through
This is something I hate to do
We've been meeting here so long
I guess what we done, oh was wrong
Please darlin', don't you cry
Let's just kiss and say goodbye
Many months have passed us by
(I'm gonna miss you)
I'm gonna miss you, I can't lie
(I'm gonna miss you)
I've got ties, and so do you
I just think this is the thing to do
It's gonna hurt me, I can't lie
Maybe you'll meet, you'll meet another guy
Understand me, won't you try, try, try, try, try, try, try
Let's just kiss and say goodbye (Goodbye)
Ending with capturing the most of this detailed ballet
to be continued...
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Soul Searching
Today was one of those days, where I sat down next to the fire place, in one of my closest friends beautiful home, thinking. A
nd in the mist of warm thoughts in this cozy atmosphere--I closed my eyes and an image of you instantly appreared. Those brown eyes have maturely embraced all of me and asked with sincere concern the things that move my spirit to speak, moving me...the way you give so much from the soul--they way you lend, your ear and time..
If He only knew that I was in love with more than the mere image of him--but with the part of him that will last forever. I search no longer.
nd in the mist of warm thoughts in this cozy atmosphere--I closed my eyes and an image of you instantly appreared. Those brown eyes have maturely embraced all of me and asked with sincere concern the things that move my spirit to speak, moving me...the way you give so much from the soul--they way you lend, your ear and time..
If He only knew that I was in love with more than the mere image of him--but with the part of him that will last forever. I search no longer.
Laughing for real
"i'm blushing purple since i'm so dark," she said to me after a long back-and-forth conversation via gmail instant messenger.
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Inspired--
The reason I am sitting here with my mind on starting this Blog site and actully making it happen is my dear sister from two different mother's in spirit, much younger that I but as wisdomatic influenced me...And for that I am grateful to her thanks, and mush love Katou.
lead by example I sit on the left side of Paul Guay....I like to call him "P" in this comfortable, new setting of Maxwell Library at Bridgewater State College--a man one of my closest friends, Chantel describes as my "road dog..." He inspires me to reach from within and pull out all the wonderful components that comprises who "Sasha," really is. "Don't stop writing," he said the summer of 2004 as he was helping me get through one of the toughest periods I ever had to face, pertaining to academia....finishing an incomplete in Shakespeare, which I eventually did. As a teacher at heart, Paul saw in me what I could not see in myself, at the time, a soon to-to-be a grown, structured, writer who enjoys being moved by passion.
Interestingly so, we met here in 2003, at Maxwell Library before it was touched with such elegance, we were both working on some kind of writing in the computer lab, at the time Paul and I worked as reporters for Bridgewater's undergraduate newspaper, The Comment. Paul overheard someone call my name and shortly after that he turned to me and asked, "Is your name Sasha?" My reply to this older gentleman was "yes," wondering one how he knew me and two why he was so astonished, frolic as my dad calls him. After introducing himself he noted that he has read a few of my articles. My friendly demeanor entertained the rest of what has turned out to be a smooth, life-learning, supportive, encouraging--ride of inspiration, together we have endured some interesting times. From riding his Buick La Sabre all summer long, seeking nice beaches all over Massachusetts, to hanging out and simply being inspired by one an other's stories, to upgrading to his sons sport two-door, Lincoln Mark 8, when his was totaled, Paul would pick me up on a weekly basis and we would go anywhere from thrift shops to movie theatres to watch independent Iranian films. Since 2003, as writers we've inspired one another, to walk this walk of life with drive, purpose, never putting down our dreams. Supporting each other. My mother loves Paul (and for those who know my mother, she is a woman who keeps it real and tells it like it is) and most importantly as friends, as he often says, "till the metal burns," a phrase Bena Berry get a total kick out of, we love each other. Many do not understand our relationship. Because on the outside it looks like a 45 year old, grey-headed man walking and laughing with a 26 semi-permed, curly headed lady is...the epitome of an interracial couple. However, that is not the case. Overtime, I've become comfortable with what our friendship has become that when we get stares of uncertainly, it only encourages me to laugh harder. If they only knew, I say....how inspiration could change ones life, take off all masks and open the hearts of the those who never believed in the power of true friendship.
lead by example I sit on the left side of Paul Guay....I like to call him "P" in this comfortable, new setting of Maxwell Library at Bridgewater State College--a man one of my closest friends, Chantel describes as my "road dog..." He inspires me to reach from within and pull out all the wonderful components that comprises who "Sasha," really is. "Don't stop writing," he said the summer of 2004 as he was helping me get through one of the toughest periods I ever had to face, pertaining to academia....finishing an incomplete in Shakespeare, which I eventually did. As a teacher at heart, Paul saw in me what I could not see in myself, at the time, a soon to-to-be a grown, structured, writer who enjoys being moved by passion.
Interestingly so, we met here in 2003, at Maxwell Library before it was touched with such elegance, we were both working on some kind of writing in the computer lab, at the time Paul and I worked as reporters for Bridgewater's undergraduate newspaper, The Comment. Paul overheard someone call my name and shortly after that he turned to me and asked, "Is your name Sasha?" My reply to this older gentleman was "yes," wondering one how he knew me and two why he was so astonished, frolic as my dad calls him. After introducing himself he noted that he has read a few of my articles. My friendly demeanor entertained the rest of what has turned out to be a smooth, life-learning, supportive, encouraging--ride of inspiration, together we have endured some interesting times. From riding his Buick La Sabre all summer long, seeking nice beaches all over Massachusetts, to hanging out and simply being inspired by one an other's stories, to upgrading to his sons sport two-door, Lincoln Mark 8, when his was totaled, Paul would pick me up on a weekly basis and we would go anywhere from thrift shops to movie theatres to watch independent Iranian films. Since 2003, as writers we've inspired one another, to walk this walk of life with drive, purpose, never putting down our dreams. Supporting each other. My mother loves Paul (and for those who know my mother, she is a woman who keeps it real and tells it like it is) and most importantly as friends, as he often says, "till the metal burns," a phrase Bena Berry get a total kick out of, we love each other. Many do not understand our relationship. Because on the outside it looks like a 45 year old, grey-headed man walking and laughing with a 26 semi-permed, curly headed lady is...the epitome of an interracial couple. However, that is not the case. Overtime, I've become comfortable with what our friendship has become that when we get stares of uncertainly, it only encourages me to laugh harder. If they only knew, I say....how inspiration could change ones life, take off all masks and open the hearts of the those who never believed in the power of true friendship.
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