20 Lines A Day

A Community of Writers and Photographers


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Sandy Hook

I am rarely at a loss for words. But now? Connecticut, Sandy Hook Elementary School, the perfectly-innocent little children, the teachers who teach and care, a town overturned by senselessness — this leaves me at a loss.

It is not a merry Christmas in Sandy Hook. I think of those parents who sit in their living rooms in front of decorated Christmas trees, possibly with gifts already-wrapped underneath. I feel hurt thinking about dolls that will not be hugged or slept with, bikes that will not be ridden, Legos that will not be put together with daddies, puzzles that will not be assembled, books that will not be read, movies that won’t be watched, new winter jackets that won’t be worn. Cookies and milk set out for Santa will be nearly-impossible to do if there are other children in the families.

Last night at our family Christmas gathering I watched my grandchildren with different eyes — my 14 year-old grandson, his voice now deep, his hair a little longer, looking, smiling, involved with his iPhone, being his polite and loving self, my 13 year-old step-granddaughter (my son’s stepdaughter), who is having great difficulty since the shootings, unable to sleep, this sweet young girl afraid to go back to school, my 11 year-old granddaughter, surprised and thrilled at receiving an American Girl doll for Christmas, her sweet countenance filling the room, my 2 1/2 year-old granddaughter, dancing through the excitement of the evening, the lights, the Christmas tree, the beautifully-wrapped presents, her joy infectious.

I watched my children, too. My daughter is 39, and she works in an elementary school where visitors have to be buzzed in. She works helping to increase children’s reading skills, and they love her. She is creative and task-oriented. My son is a police officer, and I shudder to think that it might have been him to have come upon such a scene as Sandy Hook if, God forbid, this had happened in our small town. I am proud of their contributions, but more importantly, I am grateful that they are safe.

But it did happen in Sandy Hook, and it has happened in other places. We need to step up and do whatever we can to make absolute certain that it will never happen again, anywhere.

I cannot even come close to imagining how the parents of Charlotte and Daniel and Olivia and Josephine and Ana and Dylan and Madeleine and Catherine and Chase and Jesse and James and Grace and Emilie and Jack and Noah and Caroline and Jessica and Avielle and Benjamin and Allison are agonizing.

As a former teacher, I understand the natural desire to protect our students. And that is precisely what Victoria and Mary and Lauren and Anne Marie and Dawn and Rachel were doing.

There are no words.

There are no answers.

There is only pain of the deepest kind. I join my prayers with all the others around the world for the souls of those who have been so cruelly and senselessly taken, and I will join my efforts, whatever they might be, in doing something to stop this. I live near Chicago, where children are killed every day simply because they are in the wrong place at the wrong time or because they get caught in the cross hairs of gang violence or because of a drive-by shooting. This horrific constellation of crimes and evils has grown to epidemic proportions.

Something must be done. Let us not simply give this lip service. Let us remember what six and seven year-old children look like, how they talk, what they like to play with, how they learn to read. Let us make it personal. Let us boldly walk into our school systems and demand meetings with police and other organizations that can help us in our communities.

Let us remember.


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Autumn Scenes in Connecticut

Autumn colors in New Haven, Woodmont, Miford and Orange CT….

New Haven, CT 

Woodmont, CT

(note the evacuation route sign )

 

Gorgeous colors in Milford, CT

 

Orange , CT

 (known for PEZ company in the vicinity)


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A splash of color in New Haven, CT

I’ve visited this area last year after hurricane Irene hit it..the stone walls are patched, the lawns back in order and local residents are once again preparing for a storm, this time Sandy….. hopefully, it won’t repeat Irene’s damaging force.

Post Irene, Pre- Sandy

 

 


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For Maggie – Snowy Farmhouse

I was looking at some of the photos Maggie was sharing, and thought she especially might like this.  I’ll post the original that I snapped outside of the window of the truck…I think we were in Connecticut somewhere at the time.  And the second is the photoshop enhanced version of it that I did.    Actually, I did several different ones, but I think this was my favorite. :) I’m confused about the date.  I was looking on the properties to try to figure it out.  There are 2 dates, but the year of the first is wrong.  It says Dec. 17, 2009, and the modification date was Jan. 7, 2009, and if it was taken in December it would’ve been 2008.  I had thought that blizzard up north was in January, but it may have been December.  I don’t remember.


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Clive the cat

Clive is a cat , he looked  like no other

He searched the world over , looking for mother

His coat was a wash , of gray and some white

When the moon glowed ,  he sure was a sight

He walk down the hill , to the pond so calm

Not a soul was found , especially his mom

He looked up with tears while god he did hear

Your moms up here , she didn’t disappear

He asked the great voice , as he started to walk

Can I see my mom , or can we just talk

The voice being slow was also real soft

As most of Clive’s wishes mostly were lost

grabbing and clawing scratching his chin

He replied to the voice as he started to grin

when I close my eyes and begin to dream

Thinking about our life, it will be supreme

God voice was bold as he said kinda loud

Clive I will tell you , your mother is proud


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The Man In The Window…..young Terrance continued …

I have been snooping and hunting for more info on young Terrance . I can find nothing about his body being found , or any burial information either. I did however find  information of a hospital stay before he was reported missing. I do records aren’t all that trustworthy from this time , but when I researched hospital records I was very surprised. The first surprising fact was there were several stays in the hospital for young Terrance , Eight to be exact . They were all for pretty much the same thing , he seemed to have a recurring stomach ailment . The visits all were about the same amount of time which was 3 to 5 days each . One more thing that stood out was every time he was checked in , it was Theodore’s signature admitting him. He was reported missing on a Monday , just getting out of the hospital three short days before that.

I really want to look at police records as well , but I’m not sure where to go. I’m kinda curious if this was written off as a kidnapping or if there is anymore info out there.  It ‘s also very funny that all I speak with always remember of him being a little puny , but not about being in the hospital . I do know this family stayed to them selves and have already heard some crazy things people had spread during these times . My interest is shifting to the 1940s when young Terrance was growing up, as this information is very hard to come by. I am going to a town office to get any info I can find .

I have made up my mind to turn this into a book so when I get all the info I will write and publish under this same title ..Please pass this story around , share on your Facebook profiles and tell your friends , Please click like , I sure thank all for reading …timzauto..

COPYRIGHT…

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This blog contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this blog may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.


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The Man in the Window …again cont..

 Here we are … it’s 2012 .. I ‘m not sure why this is happening now .It almost seems as though I was meant to see and hear this , maybe to even solve this small mystery of the McMillan family that lived here before us .  I spoke with the daughter of Mr McMillan , she was very reserved and didn’t want to talk a lot of her dad . I did however learn about Mary Alice’s brother , he died at a young age . The details of his death were everything but clear . Being in the fifty’s as like other things Terrance’s death was kind of just forgotten about . Mary Alice did tell me her father always carried the burden on his shoulders and was never the same after his son’s death. Mary Alice and Terrance  were the only two children of Theodore and Alice Craft McMillan , after Terrance’s death in 1953 Mary Alice was an only child . I asked Mary Alice why she has never returned to this house . especially knowing my mother and speaking in passing in the street . She looked up at me , her expression turned to pure fear , she could barely speak . With a sunken voice , staring me in the eye  she uttered he’s still there , then teared up as she said she needed to lay down and could I leave . I thanked her for the talk , on my way out she handed me a newspaper article about her brother’s death .

The picture above is a collage of the photo I took on June 5 2012 . The other was taken in this house in 1966 , this person appeared in the mirrors reflection .

TO BE CONTINUED …I’m researching this newspaper article and the family I will post a continuance to this on Monday…Thanks for reading..


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secret war

the ugly comes out , beauty is what I see

crossed faith , retrospect is plaguing me

wind and rain , friends are few

cold steel , rigidly built reminds me of you

I’m pulling away , forces are mounting

my armageddon  coming , the days I’m counting

these thoughts take me over , I’m wasting my days

some say be patient  , I’ll find my way

this war from within , soon I’ll fight

Leaving my darkness, the continuous night

my faith will win out , my mind will say

delivered from evil , to the light of day

 


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Alone in my past

being alone I’m looking for you

it never arrives it must not be true

no sense in worry we all dredge on

new doors open , others foregone

I try  understanding , but can’t see thru

it wasn’t our time for me or you

this tunnel I’m walking is widening out

the light gets brighter , life starts to sprout

the old falls off , I’m starting to peel

my body sits dormant , and now I heal

if what I feel , or love ever comes near

thumping of my heart I’m sure will appear

looking before me can’t always be done

I’ll take my time , this time I’ve won

 


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Sunday….

Sundays here so now I pray

Earlier this week I lost my way

Not knowing where my life will lead

It’s words like his I must heed

My eyes straight ahead without looking back

I’ve reached my new life , why don’t I unpack

If I only knew its here I’ll stay

It’s Sunday again and here I pray


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My true colors

The colors I feel , I keep deep  inside

Blue is the first , I feel when I cried

Not all my days are like an odd fellow

The happy days almost , make me feel yellow

Now yellow is mostly for when I feel keen

A nice walk in the sun , sometimes also feels green

Green is the grass or leaves in the trees

Brown is the color of her  babies booties

Orange is the color of the setting sun

Whites the ball that made the homerun

Red is the color that works best for you

My color of love and always I’ve knew

 

 


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The glass onion

Over the years it has come about

Layers of feelings , passed over with doubt

Year after year the layers are built

Some not as thick , but never they wilt

I try to look out at the life that I lost

Only to see that, which blurry’s my thought

Starting to peel these layers in vain

Only to find it lets out my pain

Finally I’ve ripped to the problem I need

It’s an emotional thought , I don’t need to bleed

No bruising  , no cutting , I will find my way

With feelings , no problems will ever outweigh


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light creeps in

The outside light from the sky slowly creeps in

I run from these feeling’s I hold from within

Not really knowing if ever I will  cope

I fight this disease as my mind still mopes

Wanting to stand and walk with the rest

I feel like my world has come to a rest

If I should return , It will be along road

better than this hole in which i’ve wallowed

I turn to this light coming in from outside

hoping never my soul and this dark side collide

This light calls to me , making me choose

If  I stay with whats good I cannot lose.

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