The call to action for men on the #metoo campaign

Genesisfix's Blog

She was young, pretty and employed at a growing company dominated by male leadership. Her slight foreign accent gave her an exotic appeal, and her supervisor found the combination too alluring to resist.

melania-trump-donald-trump-020380f2-6db7-4202-b16c-b737c623c9e2.jpg“What are you wearing under that dress?” he inquired. It only got worse from there. He asked the young woman questions about whether she had had sex with her boyfriend that morning. This type of harassment went on for weeks, and months.

Finally she confessed some of these things to her friends while driving back from lunch one day. I happened to be in the front seat as the conversation unfurled. Her friends were aghast, but not entirely surprised. They had all been harassed at the same place of employment as well.

trump-00-c0c8f54f-fb46-4333-a0c0-b170cdef0673.jpgAs a male employee at that company, I’d heard plenty of comments from other men about the women who worked there. They’d stop by my…

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Who Knew?

Scrambled, Not Fried

eunoia-reviewApparently, the Eunoia Review has been around for almost a decade, publishing fine work (both poetry and prose) on a daily basis.  I don’t know how it is that I never heard of them until a couple of weeks ago, when I spotted their listing in another poet’s credits and decided to check them out.

And am I glad I did!  I almost couldn’t stop reading long enough to consider submitting.

Submission guidelines from Editor Ian Chung are clear and simple and promise the fastest response time I have ever encountered: (“We aim to respond to all submissions within 24 hours.”)

Bottom Line:
I sent them a short prose piece and received an overnight ACCEPTANCE!  Rehearsalwill likely appear sometime later this month. I’ll keep you posted.

Big thanks to Editor Ian Chung for all the great work and for accepting my work.

Oh. And in…

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The Color of….

From the Keyboard


It is not rose,

Much more like snow

that coats each velvet petal,

or  dims an apple’s blush,

the pear’s suggestive charm.

Nor is it fire,

for each hypnotic flame

dispels the notion once contained,

no, more like glass, it is,

transparent, hard,

and always set to crack.

It is not grass or stone.

No, more like ice,

much more,

an army of stalagmites rising from the depths,

unyielding and unbound,

crystalline and honed,

the frigid glow of outrage.

©2017 All Rights Reserved

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When walking is like dancing

A sweet breeze ruffles the leaves, green and red, with golden edges.

The window screen is silvered by the sunlight.

The clouds languish beyond the rooftops, feeling the warmth, unwilling to move.

We climb the stairs, not haltingly, but with purpose, enjoying the strength of our legs and our lungs.

We move forward, with resolve.



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Listen up….

From the Keyboard


This may turn out to be one of those posts I’ll delete later. But for now,  please bear with me: I have to rant.

A couple of days ago, I received eight…count them, eight phone calls on my land line within three hours, all of which were junk.

I love technology. I’m the person friends call when they’re having computer issues. But when it comes to cell phones, I’m 100% dinosaur. My cell is an old flip model, and is always off. Unless I am traveling, or have to communicate with family or friends during emergencies, I do not use it. So, if a junk caller is using that number, they’re getting bupkis.

But, because I have family and friends who are in their “Golden years” (if you are over 60, you’ll understand why I’ve used quotation marks), and who have numerous health issues, I never turn off the…

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Dear fellow teachers (and your students)


As the next school year looms and I prepare to begin my 21st year standing in front of a lecture hall full of one hundred (or more) eager and engaged students, happily professing about my favorite topics, I thought I’d prepare a pep talk for fellow teachers.

Then I thought I’d make another pep talk for future students.

And then I realized students and their teachers all need the same skill set, the same advice, to survive the demands of a semester.

Teachers, remember your students have many other courses, deadlines, labs, meetings, and responsibilities besides your homework. Be gentle: allow for a fumbled ball, a missed assignment, an absence. Consider excusing or dropping a low score. Consider it an outlier.

Students, remember your professors have many other courses to teach and lectures to prepare, hundreds of other students, meetings, committees, spouses, children, pets, and responsibilities besides grading your…

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The journey of a thousand miles…July

nbsmithblog...random digressions and musings

…starts with a single step. In this pedometer geek’s quest (actually more of a in-solidarity-with challenge through a friend, Cally C of Great Britain) of walking a thousand miles in a year, an added dimension was added in July. In addition to putting the usual steps on the pedometer, this pedometer geek decided to participate in the Million Mile Month organization’s Triathlon in a Month by setting a goal of one hundred miles through various activities including walking.

This pedometer geek was successful in the Triathlon, achieving more than a hundred miles (~ 111 miles) by walking (~ 93 miles) and biking (~17 miles) respectively. There were a few miles (based on minutes) logged under gardening, but they were inconsequential to the total. However, because of the biking, fewer steps were logged than normal, or so it is hypothesized by this walker. Only 246,035 steps were recorded on the pedometer…

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Bend down, put your head between your legs….

From the Keyboard

C111 A bomb drills in NY-2 Bomb Drill in NY elementary school

I lived this. Many readers will not have. The instruction was ridiculous, designed to lull children into thinking they would be protected if they followed a simple instruction: Duck and Cover.

Our teachers knew better, and among themselves edited the directive to reflect the truth, but tried not to say it in front of us. Later, of course, we all recalled hearing it, and laughed. What else could we do?

I was in high school during the Vietnam War protests, as well the assassinations of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert Kennedy. A nuclear holocaust felt unlikely, but the sight of so many young men sacrificing their lives, coming home maimed or in body bags triggered a new slogan, this time to the President: “Hey, hey, L.B.J, how many kids did you kill today?”  It seemed no matter which side you were on, you…

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Writing Sanctuary at Martha’s Vineyard Institute of Creative Writing

This gallery contains 4 photos.

Originally posted on Brenda Sutton Rose:
The ferry chugged from the mainland toward Martha’s Vineyard. Seduced by a cool breeze and sunlight refracting off the water, I stood on the deck, facing my destination, blurry and indistinct in the distance.…

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Midnight Cha-Cha-Cha and Tabasco

Scribe Doll's Musings

I am about sixteen.  I wake up in the middle of night.  The sound of distant crunching, faint music and the light spilling into the corridor lure me like the tune of the Pied Piper of Hamelin.  I get out of bed.  Naz, the canine of miscellaneous origin curled up at the bottom of my bed, opens his sleep-glazed eyes briefly, then closes them again.  No cause for alarm.  He’s seen this happen before over the years.  Many, many times.

At the small kitchen table, my mother is leafing through an out-of-date Il Corriere della Sera or Le Monde which she hasn’t had time to look at sooner.  She’s at the office all day and sometimes doesn’t come home until late.  She is buttering a row of three of four grissini, trying not to break them, balances a small piece of parmigiano on the pan flute-like construction, then shakes…

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