Still Sorting Through Mementos I've Saved

I am still sorting through alot of old papers and photographs, and some interesting items have been discovered in that endeavor, that I plan to share in my November blog post. Many of them I did not even realize that I had saved, over the years, at all, and others, I knew I had, but did not know where they were, until now. I have to finish sorting one last container, and then I can start the process of transcribing their texts into the post for next month and downloading some photographs that I will share. There will be much more variety than there was in these October posts.

I've felt emotionally taxed, as I have looked at and read through these things that are from my past. This time, I'll be sharing some things that people wrote, to me, more than things that I have written, although, there will be more of those, too. I have lived through so much in my life. It feels as if I've lived several different life-times, in this one. I'm REALLY TIRED, at this point. One thing that really surprised me was how many love letters I have gotten from various men who made emotive declarations toward me, and yet I honestly cannot even recall who several of them were. I think quite a few of them were club customers enamored with 'Stevie', my stage persona when I was a dancer. I was surprised to come across cards and love letters from my second husband, Jim, that I do not recall ever getting, from him! I find that both puzzling and sad. Something, about the realities of that relationship, obviously, overshadowed, my taking those to heart. I really do not know what that would have been, though. I loved him, much more than any man I have ever been involved with; even referring to Jim as 'the one man that I will love forever', in the blog posts that I have written about him. But, I also recall that, I didn't want to be married to him, in the way that it happened, because I felt like, the only reason he married me was because I turned up pregnant unexpectedly, and that colored how I saw everything about that marriage. I didn't FEEL loved. I didn't FEEL wanted. In fact, I also came across the court ordered paternity testing that he put me through when I started the divorce, which was both horrible and humiliating for me, since I am actually extremely monogamous by nature, and had deeply loved-- only-- him.

There are some things I came across which were written to me, about transferring the custody of my son when he was so young. I will put this in the November post also. It will unintentionally coincide with his November birthday. Jay will be 41, on November 15, 2022. It is raining, right now, as I type this. I've always said that it seems like tears from Heaven. I've been honest in my blog posts, and now I have also found hardcopy documentation, that backs up alot of what I've written about.

I'm sorting through saved mementos again

Before I moved from my old apartment, in Omaha, Nebraska, I sorted through all of the memorabilia that was in three old footlockers that I had. I didn't do a good job of getting rid of alot of those things from my past although I tossed some out. I allowed myself to be impractical about that chore and overly sentimental toward too many things, that I then lugged along with me to my new place, which I have no room for here. After over a year living here I am finally facing this task, again, simply because I have no choice. It has to be done and without nearly as much of my past 'sentimental attachment' to these things. For lack of storage space alone, I must throw out twelve times what I end up keeping! That's how challenging this chore is. I started working on it, today, and was proud of myself, for getting rid of much more than I kept; from the first stack. Hopefully, I can, and will, do at least as well, on the rest of the sorting of this, accumulated, documentation that I have indeed lived on this earth, for over 66 years now, and have, so far, lived to tell the tale. I decided to write this blog post, to share some of my finds, with my readers. One thing's for sure. There's ample evidence that I've been a writer my whole life.

Based on my scrawl, this was written by me, in January 1967. I would have been 11. I was fascinated to see what thoughts were in my head at that age, and even earlier.

If the sun came out at night-

and the moon came out at day-

then to set things right,

I'd pray and pray.

That one, and the following poem that I wrote, were on old, yellowed, pages, of notebook paper, carefully printed by me in pencil. Clearly, I am just very verbal.

Dandelion

There was a pretty dandelion

with lovely, yellow, hair,

that glistened in the sunshine

and in the summer air.

But oh! This pretty dandelion

soon grew old and grey;

and, sad to tell, her lovely hair

blew many miles away.

Starting School At The Age Of 6 (written at some point when I was an older child)

My aunt, Gladys Workman, took  me  to  South Elementary School in Mebane. My mom couldn't take me because she is a teacher and taught her class that day.  At first I was disappointed, but Aunt Gladys was very nice to me (she always will be, and is), so, I  soon  found  myself, at  school, coloring, and, copying letters of the alphabet.

The days after that meant hard work, studying, homework, and an early bedtime. Also, I had to get a notebook, pencils, and school clothes. 

I was timid and shy the first month of school, but I settled down after a while. The work was easy- really!! At least I thought it would be hard. But, I got used to it as it got harder.

My first grade teacher is Mrs. Yoder.

Now there is 4 children in my family because in November, on the 19, my little sister, Pam, was born. She was playful and cute when she was little! But, when she grew- Help!! She was whiny and fussy!

*         *         *         *         *         *

I found a photograph of me dressed as a harem girl, for a Halloween party, at the Offutt Air Force Base NCO club. It had a face veil also, but I had removed that for the picture. I still have that costume. A note on the back of the photo says it was "Halloween 1987", so I would have been 31 years old at the time. I was a natural brunette. I still have the costume in a box with many of my old dancer costumes.

The photograph below was one of my high school graduation pictures. I was 18. I was dreamy-eyed, naive, vulnerable, and hopeful for the future. I had been in the Chess Club in high school and was a studious bookworm. I was not a party person at all. When I look at the innocence, and purity, and sweetness, on my face in this photo, I feel so sad for that girl. I am not that girl, anymore. Too much happened.

I came across this old poem that I wrote for an Air Force Major that I met at church. He led the adult Sunday school class, and we became friends. His wife, had left him, and their two, teen-age, children, before I ever even attended that church or met him. He was still legally married  though, so we struggled with the feelings we developed for one another, because, for both, of us, our love for, and relationship with, the Lord was our highest, personal, priority. Sometimes the feelings were overwhelming, but I managed to remain friends with him, and nothing more; and because I had once asked his children if they wanted their family reunited, and they did, I helped him work through his feelings about his wife leaving him, and helped him to realize his part, in that happening. I left a cassette tape for him about how to heal a broken marriage. We never became romantically involved physically, and his wife did eventually return to her family. I withdrew, from the situation, before that even happened, after I had done all I knew, to do, to help him work through it, to the point that, his heart was open, to her, again. I knew that it was the best thing for that family. I loved him, as a very dear friend, but nothing more, because my relationship with God has always been the foundation for my life on this earth, and I know that  I will never be happy with anyone that is NOT GOD'S WILL for ME. His Will, is ALL that I want!

My Christmas Prayer For You, 1992

I had you on my mind, as I said my prayers,
as Christmas Eve turned into Christmas Day.
I gave it all to God-- all that's in my heart!--
Now, I'll share with you the things I had to say:

Lord, I lift this man to You--
A new and precious friend
Who's come into my life
for something toward Your end.

Help me just to trust in You--
Your best is all I need!--
and let my heart feel nothing
of which You are not the seed.

I don't want to hurt You, Lord,
by anything I do.
Despite my human frailties, Lord,
You know how I love You!

I've seen his love for you, as well.
A blessing to behold!
A man whose mind is stayed on You;
he's not lukewarm or cold.

I lift up his situation.
Reveal Heaven's answers, Lord!
Undo all of Satan's evil works.
Break those bondage cords.

There are some times my heart goes out
to him in risky ways . . . . 
And I sigh to think of all the
lack of love throughout my days . . . .

Two wrongs don't make a right, though, Lord,
so there's nothing we can do
but hold Your Word within our hearts
and keep our eyes on You!

Forgive me for the fantasies;
forgive me for the flesh;
forgive the things in me that want to force
what You alone can mesh.

Satan knows my hunger
and he will send 'junk food',
for nothing good will come to me
unless it comes from You!

So, if it does, and when it does,
Lord, I will know You've heard
the whispered prayers, and seen the tears;
and manifest Your Word.

                                           - Deborah Robinson
                                             Christmas Day 1992

P.S. Nothing is a bargain AT ANY PRICE if it's not God's Will, and also what you REALLY want.

MY  HAIKU: 

The sun sizzles, melts, and drips bronzed warmth onto the earth; then evening comes.

Thoughts . . .

I'm stuck in the sadness, trying to shake free. At the moment, it's getting the better of me.

I'm not gonna lie; it's hard watching dreams die.

11th Hour

It's the eleventh hour. All our bridges are burned. Can't go back where we were. There's no way to return. Why'd we end up like this? I don't really know. But I've always heard that we reap what we sow.

Lord, did You give us this life to be happy? Or, just to be pawns in a game? Why do You let the devil devour, when the buck stops with You, and Your Name?

"Sit down and shut up!" "Stand up and speak out!" Do you need somebody else's permission, to be what you're all about?

I wrote this poem on May 6, 2000 . . .

Looking Back

I'm afraid to ask you

if you feel what I feel,

'cause what if you don't;

you say, "It can't be real",

like you did once before,

about three years ago,

when I told you I cared

so you told me to go?

Then how will I ever

know the real reason why

you go out of your way

to look into my eyes,

though you don't say a word,

and you don't ever smile?

Are you feeling it, too?

Or, are games just your style?

Did you figure out that

I get weak in my knees

when your eyes meet with mine?

Do you just like to tease?

Is my heartache a game,

that you score high points for,

so you hurt me to "win"

like it's some kind of war?

We could talk this all out

if we weren't so afraid;

and that isn't just from

the mistakes we've both made.

There's something between us,

though denied, it's endured,

that all our attempts

have simply not cured.

Live the life that you want--

Live the life that you have--

I don't feel what I feel

to change that, or be bad!

If I could I would stop

all my feelings for you.

I've tried and I've tried;

what more can I do?

Just don't try to convince me

you don't feel it, too,

when you're looking at me,

and I look back at you.

More Thoughts . . . 

Life doesn't just happen-- it happens to us-- and it leaves its marks on us, whether we like it or not, or admit it or not . . . .

No one is totally good . . . or all bad.

I have a truly broken heart, and no one can fix that-- except God.

. . . and, I'm still waiting . . . 

but I've almost given up hope.

 

Just a couple of my poems, from the heart

I wrote the first one on September 30, 2022, after realizing that I can't find any hope in me, at this point. I will need a miracle from God, to not just give up on everything. That, is a, really scary, place to be. But, I've been through so much, and I'm tired, now. If there is any hope, at all, in my situation, it's my knowing that God has never failed me, and although, I am really 'war weary', right now, and the never-fulfilled Desire Of My Heart, truly, seems to be impossible, He's still, a loving, miracle-working, God. Because of THAT-- because of HIM-- I'm going to make it through, all, the trials and tribulations, I'm dealing with, now.

scene from a Hallmark movie

I was watching a HALLMARK movie.

While sitting there, I sighed.

"I have NO hope left," I whispered,

and then I began to cry.


I came across this next one while working on organizing my upstairs, which I've been, 'whittling away' at, off and on, for months, now. Now that, the weather, is cooler, I can be up there, alot, more, without, it being so, oppressively, hot, and stuffy. Hopefully, it will be done, soon, and that will be one less TO DO project, from my long list of such things. It is, slowly, transforming into a livable space.

I was raised being a 'TK'-- a teacher's kid-- until I was a freshman in high school. That, was when, we had to move away to another town, after my mother got her Master's Degree and was hired as an Instructional Supervisor for Hickory (N.C.) City Schools. I, had to go back to middle school, there, when we moved, because that was where the ninth grade was there. It was also in the middle of the school year, which made it both very hard to leave old friends that I had grown up with my whole life in Mebane (N.C.) and difficult to make new friends when alliances had already been formed. I, was,' the new kid'; the outsider, coming into that. It wasn't an easy adjustment at all, especially at that age. I have written poems my whole life-- ever since, I was about, the age of 8-- and I wrote the following one, the summer of my first year living there at the end of my ninth grade year. I was 15 years old, when I wrote this. My mother liked it, so much, that, she framed it, which, it still is, and hung it on the wall of her office in the Hickory City Schools Administration Building, until she retired. It was returned to me, after she died.

Only God Knows

Where the clouds seem to open to heaven,

In the midst of a pink-tinted sky,

I wonder if I'm really living,

And how it will be to die.

I look at the people around me

As they go on their way,

Living their separate lifetimes;

Living each present day.

Then I look at myself and I wonder

Just what I'll grow up to be;

It's so hard to know when you're young;

What will become of me?

Will I be happy and prosperous?

Will I have many friends and few foes?

I wonder, and yet, I always will,

For it's only God that knows.

                                        - Deborah G[ayle] Robinson

                                           July 31, 1971