ALL Dogs Go To Heaven

To understand the “environment” in which this story arrived into my life, I must digress a bit to explain our life at the time. We had moved to a beautiful lake property in Alabama, a place we came to recognize as our “retirement home,” not long before the spirit-writing of Why Dogs Are occurred. My husband had taken the position of Vice President of the Alabama Institute for Deaf and Blind (AIDB), an incredible institution with a national reputation. It housed individual schools for deaf, blind or multihandicapped children, an adaptive program for adults who found themselves losing their hearing or vision, a sheltered workshop for adult workers with blindness, and a statewide early intervention program for timely identification of very young children who needed such services and the beginnings of offering those services to parents.

We heartily joined in at the “gusto” level, realizing this job was no job—it was a calling that provided more to us than we gave to it. Working with children with special needs, parents and families adapting to challenges, and adults trying to forge a living and a life without letting a disability hamper them, brought rewards far in excess of, “it’s a job and it pays money.” About eight years later, I would come to work at AIDB and felt the experience to be the best of my entire working life.
So, it was no accident that the “dictated” story had recognizable [...]

By |November 5th, 2013|Story|Comments Off on ALL Dogs Go To Heaven|

Where did THAT come from?

Good Lord, what just happened? Where did THAT come from? What does it MEAN? WHO wrote it?

I’ve had this experience more than once—words just spew out of me–sometimes written, sometimes spoken—I don’t consciously recall even having them pass through my brain, much less get filtered, censored or amended. In fact, in school, I perfected the “first draft = final draft” methodology, never using so much as a single piece of correction tape for my typed efforts, nor ever getting a smidgeon of white-out on my fingernails. Granted, I had to be in the right mood for that strategy to work, but it got me through my Master’s degree. It didn’t work as well for the next one, however. The intimidation, striving to please a dissertation professor, hoping to avoid rewrites just for the sake of rewriting. During that effort, professors were quick to point out that “this degree is different—this degree teaches you how little you really know.” Who could, after such a speech, even pretend the seventh or twelfth draft would be good enough. After all, there was so much more I could say if I really put in the effort. With my career riding on the outcome of that degree effort, I could not afford the luxury of a “no rewrites” policy. From that time on, writing became drudgery, filled with much scrutiny and major research and editing. The only joy in writing came [...]

By |October 28th, 2013|Story|Comments Off on Where did THAT come from?|