Dixie, We’ve Come A Long Way Since Elementary School


Dear Dixie,

I have wanted to say hello for a long time and Barbara magically came up with your address. Skip and I are trying to make it through each day. He finds it very difficult to walk and I have broken bones from Osteoperosis. Oh well. Then I have been diagnosed with Parkinson’s and that is horrible.

But then again the magic of life still wins and we awake to a new day with new challenges. Gosh we are getting older and older. When we were all young, I never gave aging a thought.

I hope you are as well as can be and enjoying what you can. I used to paint and write blogs, but if I can get my hair up in a bun that does it.

Something interesting: They make dresses that are really pajamas and have a robe that looks like a jacket over the pajama dress. So there you have it. We can wear our P.J.s to dinner. Lovely huh?

I love you dear long time friend forever!

Sheila Levin Clapkin


Precious Memories Flood My Soul



Precious Memories Flood my Soul.

On such a quiet morning scenes unfold. Is it a memory or a dream that I am experiencing? I see Mother, Father, family, friends, home, and remembering a warm fireside glow.


I lie down under the apricot tree, without you, but with memories following me, spiraling free. How they come and go at will to fill me is a mystery.

Sights and sounds come marching through.

Passages and extracts from the past cross my mind’s path.

The preservation of my memories not only resides in my head, but in the cells of my body. I carry them gratefully.

I wish that you could hear what memories I hear and what I see. I wish that I could hear and see what you see, so that we would be able converse about them and honor their being.

Let us share precious memories, precious scenes, signs, and settings.

Once again let us lie under the apricot tree and feel our memories fill our minds, starting our hearts to throb with remembrances abounding in our precious, sacred recollections

Time is passing and we are inspired to fly across the years and once again enter our heart and soul zones, which have filled nearly to the brim with wonders of wonders to share.

A comforting thought is that I know you will always be there and you know I will be there for you in our precious memories.



Dear Friend



Dear Friend,

I want not to like you!

I actively work, and plot not to like you,

but, to no avail.

I like you.

I like you a lot.


It Is What It Is, Until It Isn’t


She received a gorgeous slip for her 16th birthday and learned women wore slips inside and under outer clothing to smooth the look of the outer clothes.

She thought that it was much too beautiful for her to wear, so it slept for 52 years in a bottom drawer until yesterday. It awakened fully on the hips of this 78 year old woman. 

The woman twirled and glided across the floor wearing the slip among other tidbits of clothing, creating a miraculous change in thinking. 

It is a dried up old slip saved for half a century and revered as a treasure. Today was the debut of the slip. It was just a rolled up forgotten rag and today it has become a center of interest, therapist, and a way to change and reposition the tales told, therefore a way to change the flow of thoughts. 

Once upon a time this slip was too elegant for the receiver and today it has turned the tide in such a positive direction. The receiver of the gift, so long ago, has carried it into the present as a positive boast upward into self-acceptance.

So now once again it is what it is, until it isn’t.


It’s Tough Being Me

It’s tough being me,

But who else can I be?

None can be me, but me.

The me that was then

Can never be again,

Gone and replaced

With Gratitude and Grace,

In a shawl of linen and lace

There you can see the me that was me

And the me I am trying to be

Someone wrote in my book, “You were kidnapped from who you were.”

Who wrote this?

Indeed, could it have been me?

If it were me, I’d climb a tree and wave a flag.

How very observant and how very important to finally know what needs to be fixed. Give me back!


The Time is Now








“Do not aim for perfection. Do your best and let it be.”



I saw the ghosts today. One comes early morning, the other in late afternoon. There is a new one today. She/he arrived near noon, thin as a rail and sits in the chair at the side of the copy machine. She/he does not move. I know I am not crazy because others in the office have seen them, too.

I work in the office of an old building where there has been a Scrap Metal and Iron business for nearly a century. We are located near downtown Los Angeles, California. Lisa and I are secretaries, and I think one of the ghosts is a former secretary named Miss Cummings from seventy-five years ago. She is preceded by a smell of powdered roses, like a perfume from long ago. She is a shadowy thing that brushes against the desks and sometimes rattles the doorknob to the bathroom. She has on adorable clothes with a lacy collars and ruffles on bottom of her shin length skirt. I can’t really see her well, but I know when she is here. The powdered Rose smell precedes her.

The Ghostly man is shadowy as well, but we see him more clearly than the others. He is announced by the smell of cigar smoke. There are no smoking signs everywhere, so naturally we were upset if in fact it was someone smoking on the premises. He is dressed in a dark suit, tie, and a large hat signaling the forties. He goes directly to the boss’s office, rattles around and checks every corner of space, then goes out into the scrap yard. The well-dressed cigar smoking man seems satisfied and is gone until the next time. Oh, yes there is a next time. Ask me about it



I feel like the cover of a book called Silver’s Clown

I am yet to write.

Happy equally and unsure of everything all around

Look at my eyes starting to tear in the corners

Realizing that an aging life has so many challenging borders.

The task and trial becomes an inner contest to see if you can digest, not what you will become, but what you will do with the threads of what you became.

Will there be a challenge to become once again and then, be in the realm of pondering, does what you became surface once more?

Where do you start and where will you end?




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