Rushing's Ramblings

A friend is assisting me in organizing my blog into a book.  She asks me rhetorically, "What makes you unique," and, "How did you become the person you became." I thought about it for a bit and tried to answer her, but I knew this would not result in a one-line answer.  I was going to have to dig for that one.  I keep falling back on the fact that we're all unique.  'That won't do,' she told me.  So, here I go... I have alluded to my background in numerous threads throughout the many stories I've written, but I've never put it into one piece. I was born and raised in a remote area in the Panhandle of Texas.  The Panhandle is about 3600 feet above sea level and east/south of New Mexico and the Colorado mountains.  We had brutal winters, but the perception of those not from the Panhandle was that we were a hardy bunch to have endured harsh winters.  My father got a job with Phillips Petroleum Company shortly after serving in the army duri

Approximately six months ago, I injured my back from moving heavy furniture.  You would think I'd know better since, on a good day, I have some pain in my back and have had several instances over the past 20 years that required a lot of therapy and at least six months of recovery each time.  You'd also think that I'd realize a 67-year-old woman with back problems would ask for help before lifting or moving heavy objects.  Maybe I've learned my lesson because this time was the worst.  I could not walk for thirty days without tremendous pain, particularly upon standing. I saw an Orthopedic Surgeon after the first month, based on the fact that three years ago, a Physiatrist (Rehabilitation Medicine Specialist) told me that my back was a 'mess' and that sooner or later, I would require surgery.  A Rehab doctor doesn't have a pony in the race.  They don't perform surgery. After a few weeks of therapy three years ago, I improved to the point that I was abl

The President of the United States recently ranted via Twitter about football players kneeling during the National Anthem.  He instructed the owners to fire them and suggested that fans start boycotting football games to get the protesting players to stop kneeling.  Astonishingly, this man would rant about this while we have had devastation from three hurricanes in the past few weeks.  Puerto Rico is now without power, and millions are homeless. And yet, our so-called President, a man who has shown his disrespect for women and his dislike of those of a different color and religion (as if he genuinely believes in any faith), continues to tweet his blatant racism and misogyny.  All while he's being investigated for collusion with the Russians either directly or through money laundering or whatever...there's so much smoke that it's hard to believe there's no fire.  He continues to act like a narcissistic, sociopathic toddler.  And does it at great peril to our standing i

I wondered why I hadn't seen your numerous posts in the upper right-hand corner of Facebook.  As you probably knew, I couldn't stand to see your shared posts from various far-right pages (most of them the original 'fake news sites).  It appeared you were obsessed with your hate for Obama and Hillary and would continue your tirade long past your guy winning. I stopped communicating with you on the phone when you would not honor my frequent requests to stop your tirades against liberals, Obama, and Hillary.  Before I decided to stop communicating with you, we had planned on you visiting me in Texas for the summer. You loved everything about Texas...the cows, the Indians, and the wide open spaces.  Years ago, we were lovers. You would think we'd be more grown up at age 55 or so. My most vivid memory of that time was riding on the back of your motorcycle, going 100 mph down I-95. I asked at the time if you were testing my courage, and you laughed.  I didn't get

I remember very few times feeling happy as a child.  I'm sure the times I spent away from home while visiting my maternal Grandmother was a happy time, but those times were just brief spurts during what seemed like a very long childhood. It was tough growing up in a household where each day brought fear that when your father walked through the door, you might receive painful punishment for some minor infraction.  I was far from a perfect child, and neither were my brothers, but we did not deserve the treatment we received when my father was angry.  Upon reflection, I'm confident that we were punished not for our bad behavior but because of the demons in his heart. Compounding a potentially volatile experience with my father was my mother's lack of empathy.  She never expressed any kind of regret for the beatings and remained, as always, cold and undemonstrative.  Her primary mode of communication was constantly complaining about my father, his lack of intelligence, and

I was recruited to oversee the building of a rehab hospital and to serve as the administrator in South Florida in 2004. Before accepting the job, I asked the HR Director how often they had hurricanes.  She said there had not been a hurricane in Boynton Beach in 50 years. After being landlocked for many years, I thought living next to the beach would be pleasurable and give me a chance to work on my tan when not actually working at a job. Armed with the knowledge that South Florida had not had a hurricane in 50 years, I rented a condo on the Intracoastal.  It was within walking distance of the beach and the hospital. Little did I know then that being in charge of a hospital means you're never NOT working!  The joke was on me. I drove with my dog to Boynton Beach from Dallas.  A hurricane had hit Florida and parts of Alabama before my trip across the southern states.  We had to detour through areas of Alabama that had sustained severe damage.  After many hours, we reached my

Dear Editor, In response to Mr. Russell’s letter regarding keeping the Confederate Flag and Confederate statues displayed in public places:  He certainly has a right to express his opinion.  However, is i t not possible to  express one’s opinion without name- calling?  My Great Great Grandfather was a Colo nel in the Civil War.  Young County is named after  him.  A fter the Civi l War, he  served honorably as  Sheriff.  He  lost his  life in a gun batt le with a criminal . The Southern states that seceded were not charged with treason against the United States to heal the wounds that  divided the nation. Colonel Young served on the side that lost. Although I’m  a descendant of a man who  fought with the Confederacy, it doesn’t mean I support his actions.  I am, first and foremost, a proud  American.  Secondly, I am a  proud  native Texan.    Mr. Russell and others will argue all day long that the Civil War was about states’ rights, and they are correct, but only partial