Falling Tears

The tears were falling before I wrote the first word. I continued with one hand writing, and the other one trying to keep my tears from washing away the words. It was a difficult task. I was in pain just thinking about what I had to do, and devastated by putting it into words.

I was saying goodbye to someone who's been a part of my life for over 12 years. I managed to cover a page with words, but they weren't the right ones. I couldn't find a word to describe the pain I was in. I doubt there is one.  

Oprah Winfrey is Wrong About President Obama

In an interview with BBC recently, Oprah Winfrey stated, “There is a level of disrespect for the office that occurs. And that occurs in some cases and maybe even in many cases because he's African American.” Winfrey of course was talking about President Barack Obama. She claimed the President is discriminated against because he's African American.

Ms. Winfrey is wrong. Barack Obama is not African American. He's of mixed race. By stating that our President is African American, Winfrey dismisses Obama's mother, and as a mother of two sons who are of mixed race, I'm offended by her statement.

I would never refer to my boys as African American or White. My sons are both. They are African American and Caucasian, just like our President. You can't dismiss half of who a person is, because it fits your argument.

If people insist on using labels, shouldn't they use the right ones?

What are Mistakes?

Mistakes are life's way of reminding us to slow down and pay attention to detail. I think William Shakespeare said it best in Romeo and Juliet, "Wisely and slow. They stumble that run fast."

So, the next time you make a mistake try to see it for what it is, a temporary speed-bump on your life's journey. Take the lesson learned and carry it with you.

Life isn't meant to be lived mistake free. Life is about learning from our mistakes, so we can make better choices when faced with a similar problem in the future.

The Eyes of a Killer

I looked in his eyes, searching for answers, trying to hold back the tears. I wanted to go to him, and help him. My “baby” was in trouble, and there was nothing I could do.

I watched as they turned him around and placed the cold metal bracelets on his wrists. “You have the right to remain silent...”

He remained silent, but I could not. My burst into tears was loud. I fell to the ground and remained there, unwilling to allow the officer to help me up. I stayed on the floor, crying uncontrollably, and watched my “baby” boy get taken away.

What do you do when the eyes of a killer are the familiar eyes of someone you love?

Life & Death

It was a peaceful fall day. The sun was shinning and the air was crisp. It wasn't a cold air, just cool. It was the kind of air that woke you up and made you feel refreshed. I began my walk down to the bus stop taking in the fresh air and enjoying the scenery. As I got closer to the bus stop, I noticed a chipmunk in the road. I'd seen plenty in the distance, but never up close.

As I got closer I waited for it to run away. It did not. I thought perhaps it was sleeping, but I guess I knew it was dead, it was after all in the middle of the road. As I passed the dead animal, I worried about my son who would soon be getting off the bus and walking down the same street. I wondered if he too would notice the dead animal, and become upset. I wanted to protect him, but I know I can't protect him from everything. Death is part of life.

He gets off the bus and we walk down the street.

See this and other stories at,
Vonda Menard Stories

Excerpt From My Short Story, It's Time For Me to Fly

I was so annoyed. The questions kept flying from my mouth like I was cross-examining a witness on the stand. The delayed answers were incomplete. I waited for the follow-up, for an expansion on what barely qualified as an answer. An answer that would not have garnered a passing grade in school.

The longer I waited, the more my teeth suffered. Like dueling gladiators they clashed; the top and bottom battling in the middle, grinding against each other with increasing pressure. Exhausted my jaw relaxes. I exhale and my teeth part ways.

I've asked the same questions and received the same answers and yet I continue to allow the days of my life to pass, but not anymore, tempus fugit and it's time for me to fugit too.

Return to Darfur Reading at NATA's (National Academy of Televison Arts & Sciences)

I was honored to have my script selected by the National Academy of Television Arts & Sciences for a reading.

 

PlayReadings

Monthly PlayReadings are hosted by actress Arlene Dahl. They offer members the opportunity to see and hear a play read by professional actors. Play readings have included participation from writers such as:

• John Wooten "StageFright"
• George Lefferts "The Party Store"
• Jane K. Cleland "Back to Jack"
• Glenn Bisogno: "Stag Harbor"
• Greg Pritikin: "Unassisted Living"
• Louisa Burns Bisogno: "The Night John Lennon Died" and "The Golden Retriever"
• John Wooten: "Purple" and "Friends Till The End"
• Richard and Jeffrey Levine: "Bird Brains"
• Ronald Gabriel Paolillo: "The Lost Boy"
• Vonda Menard: "Return to Darfur"
• Michael Hartnett: "Dyin' Dick" and "Khe Sanh"
• Cynthia Link: "Patchwork" and "Maple Seed"
• Shouhua Qi: "Twin Sun River"
• Aaliyah Miller: "Finding Patience"
• Walter Thinnes: "Cold Creek" and "The Willow Grove"
• Craig Shemin: "The Green Room"

PlayReadings are coordinated by Ellen Muir