Far Away but Always Near

We all have gone our separate ways; we grew from children to adults. We all have them now life, families, and even some us have a working marriage. At this time in life or this time of the year I’m not sure which it is.

I find myself reflecting about the friends I grew up with and the wonderful times we had. As we passed milestones throughout our lives I find, I had the best friends anyone could ask for, and yes they are all still around me, in my thoughts, prayers and during troubled times. Grade school is just memories of long joyful days, and fun filled times of youthful fancy.

I recall the wonderful friends, that helped me get through, and of course some of the ones that may not have been so great at the time, but became friends never the less in later years. There were fights in the schoolyard, bickering in the hallways, and snide comments in the classrooms. This was the way of things when we were children, and we were growing into the people we would someday become. Right or wrong, we got punished when we did something wrong, we were taken to task in the principal’s office our parents were called, and then punishment was administered so we would not commit the same wrong doing again. Although on some children, not even this method worked, but I’m glad to say it did on me.

 My true friends were so different, we probably looked like a kaleidoscope, and they changed by a turn of the tube. Some disappeared, while others faded into the background from one year to the next. Some would always be there, just within reach whenever I needed them or they needed me. I can honestly say I was not always the best friend they could have had, nor I’m sure they did have at different times throughout our school years.

 For with each passing year we tended to out grow many things, we changed and so did our wants, desires, and needs. Some of my friends passed me by for others, just as I gravitated towards a different or new person that I thought would be who I wanted in my life rather than my old friends that knew me as a child.

Junior high or Middle school as it has become named, was a transitional period for all my classmates as well as myself. Some of us who had been the followers wanted to change to leaders. Others who had been leaders were ready to follow a more prominent leader. Some of us looked toward an older generation, to develop the attitude, confidence and personally we thought we wanted within ourselves. Rebellion quickly occurred against others, who wanted us to stay the same. So as we turned the pages of our book, and one chapter lead into another, so did the events in our life. The colors and shapes of our own experiences changed daily, sometimes hourly making and breaking ties to family members and friends who once had been the foundation of our lives.

 I know without doubt my world seemed to change within minutes during my ninth grade and tenth grade year, where I had just barely touched on my rebellion in Junior high, now I hit it as a large stone would hit the water in a lake. The large splash caused many ripples throughout my family and friends. I made a lot of mistakes with the choices I made, but each mistake lead me to become the person I would later be proud of. So to say I regret them, I cannot. For with each wrong friend I picked, I also selected two right friends that have stood by me throughout my years into and after adulthood. The bad friends lasted for only moments in time, but each taught me a lesson that I would always remember. I found five more of my closest friends in tenth grade. These friends as well as some of my grade school and middle school friends have kept me balanced, connected and centered to who and what I have become.

 I have made many other friends throughout my adult life, and some of them have become mainstays they have kept me grounded when I would have floated out of existence, been there for me when I needed them. All of these people along with my father and children have been the shoulders I could cry on, the people who never judged me (too harshly) and the people I can depend on when I need someone to lean on. I thank God for each and every one of them daily.

 By Janeal Mulaney

The Supreme Court’s Incentive to Keep American Dreams Alive

Why are we working? This is the first question, the people, who live in America should be asking ourselves. When our forefathers first came to this land they knew what they were working for. They were working to find their own place in this country, their freedom, their own religion, a home, a piece of land, and a dream. Throughout the years they accomplished what they had set out to do. Yes they had some problems getting there, but with the signing of the Deceleration of Independence and our Constitution they knew they had something solid to go by. That piece of paper gave all Americans their freedoms to live and work to achieve their own goals and dreams. Even with all the problems and wars they had back then, they held God above all else, their family second and their Country third. When England threw tax after tax at the people and they could no longer afford to pursue their dreams and goals, our country went to war. Much like today, all we are doing is working to pay yet another senseless tax. Yes that is what all this boils down too. Lets get serious here, if we could afford health and life insurance, with the weekly wages we make, doesn’t the government think we would have it already. Most of us have children, grandchildren, and family we want to take care of and provide for. With college becoming a dream that has quickly died for a large percent of the American people. Most of us now live in rental homes, make minimum wages, and barely live from paycheck to paycheck. We consider ourselves lucky if we can keep the electric, gas, and rent paid on a monthly basis. We no longer are able to afford the luxury of rental insurance, house insurance, car insurance, life or health insurance. Let alone a new car, new furniture, or even appliances. The government has now given us a choice we can spend money on food to keep us healthy or we can pay health insurance, and not eat, but if we do buy the food and forgo the health insurance, then we will be taxed for not buying the health insurance. I guess this could be a way to make sure the American people are no longer over weight. I guess it doesn’t cost as much for the government to bury starved corpse as it cost for health care if someone is on medicare. I guess I just figured they could always print up more money, it isn’t like they haven’t done it before, come August I’m sure it will be done again! I vote no more taxes, and if health insurance is so important to them that all American's have it, they can invest their wages to pay for the people's health insurance that is only making minimum wage. After all if they can grant all illegals amnesty then they should be able to pay our way as well.

Control is Not Love

Control is Not Love 

By Janeal Mulaney

Hi my name is Candace and this is my story it’s not a pretty one by any means, but if this story helps one person it’s worth writing.

I went for my jog through the park earlier then usual on that faithful spring morning. A stranger sat on a bench by the bike path. He was reading the paper with a Starbuck’s cup in the other hand as I continued on. I had never seen him before, but I usually jogged later in the morning, so I wasn’t surprised to see new face. I finished my jog and went about my day as usual. The next day I started my day off in the usual way. Except for one thing, I went for my jog earlier once again for some reason, I could not name. I just wanted to know if the man would be there on the bench again.

He was and this time I stopped at the bench to tie my shoe, which gave us a chance to say hello. We introduced ourselves, his name was Cal and we hit it off, we like the same movies, listened to the same music, and enjoyed the same kind of food. We exchanged numbers and that evening, he called to ask me out Friday night. For a few months we enjoyed each other’s company. Maybe that is why I never saw the control issue start. His control over me happened so gradually at first, it was just the tiniest things.

One night we were going out to dinner, he was there to pick me up. I was dressed in my midnight blue dress with my gold loop earrings finishing off, my assemble. I opened the door to his waiting arms. After a wonderful long hug and kiss he followed me on into the house we still had a few minutes before our dinner reservation.

“Sweetheart you look so beautiful, tonight.” He said with a smile, “there’s only one thing that looks off. How fond are you of those earrings, because I think these would go with that dress so much better.” He had reached in his pocket and pulled out a small jewelry box, inside there was a pair of crystal blue diamond studded earrings.

He was right, and oh, how sweet it was for him to buy me a gift.  I thought as I immediately took out my gold loops to replace them with his gift. That was the beginning. In the weeks that followed he bought more jewelry, a shirt that would look oh so magnificent with a certain pair of pants that he had picked up the week before.  Next came the way I wore my hair, my make up, and even my nail polish was critiqued to his satisfaction. My friends were next, one was too jealous of our relationship; another was too lazy she didn’t have enough ambition. One by one, my friends were gradually pushed out of my life. My family was next. 

I was eye candy, just another piece of art on exhibit for others to admire, but I could not speak nor were they to touch. At parties I had to be at his side at all times, other then going to the ladies room. I had to be back within a certain amount of time. If I took too long we would leave the party, and I would be questioned. What was I doing? Who I was with? Just six months after I received his first gift the accusations started.

If I was late coming home from work, I was with someone, if I didn’t answer the phone when he called I was talking to another man, the list went on and on. I could no longer wear my old clothes, after all he wanted me to be seen in the clothes he bought me, that was why he bought them, he explained to me. I could throw my old clothes away, he said one night with a smirk on his face. After all that was what they really were anyway. (trash)! Then he would turn around and accuse me of wearing his clothes for some other guy, I was parading myself around for other men.

He kept me hurt and confused. I was worried about everything I said and did. If I smiled at some man that entered a restaurant he took me to, I wanted to sleep with him. My world revolved around him and only him, yet I felt he didn’t want to be around me. I didn’t smile anymore, I didn’t joke around with anyone, I was a totally different person, then who I use to be.

Now it was time for the physical abuse as well, but in a way I’m glad it started. The first time he hit me across the face I woke up. I realized what was truly happening to me and what he was truly all about.

I don’t know how I’d lost my self-esteem, I was old enough I should have seen the signs. I’d been in bad relationships before, not this bad but I had seen the signs so I could end the relationship before it had really began. Why was this one so different? I still ask myself those same questions.

This is the only answer I came up with; I thought he was exactly what I had wanted in a man. I fell deep and fast in love. My heart blinded me.

I had to get hit literally, before I woke up.

Thank God most men don’t have the finesse and the patience to go so slow. I now look at every guy I date, through wiser eyes. I look at every movement they make, every gift given, what time the gift is given to me. If they don’t want me to take my car and they ride along once in a while. I pay attention to their body language. I listen closely to what the man says and how he says it. I’ve ran into to a lot more men like Cal, but the minute they want to tell me how fast I can drive, I leave them in the dust. I no longer take out my earrings to replace them with their gift; I thank them nicely for the gift. Then I tell them I’ll ware them at a later date. I put the gift to the side and wear what I chose to wear that night. I watch their reaction to my independent ways.

Small signs and a man’s attitude can tell you a lot. Learn to look for the signs, and his temper if you pull the unexpected.

Is It a Man's World?

So Pretty Lady You Want To Be A Man?

By Janeal Mulaney

How do you answer a question like that? Well if you are a woman and you work in the construction field, you first need a thick skin and a quick wit. I found this out a long time ago, and both have served me well. I count the man who asked me that question among my friends, and that question is still the way, many construction workers think. After all you are walking into a domain, which has been basically held by men for centuries. So why should they change their attitudes to deal with you?

Sexual harassment, they consider you being there as sexual harassment. After all fifty years ago they started working in this field so they could say anything about their wives, and females in general, without having to sensor their tongues and thoughts. Now you are invading their space, where they can let loose their outrage, desires and some even their fantasies, whatever you want to call them. Now they are told they can no longer speak their minds, say certain wards, or act the same as they once did. Why, because it may offend some woman. Their idea of it is, if you can’t stand the heat get off the job site, we didn’t ask you to go to work here. They’re right! They didn’t, ladies you filled out that job application, so instead of taking everything to heart, grow a thick skin. You will gain their respect, and become their friend instead of their judge.

Yes, there will be some men and women that no matter, who will not like you for whatever the reason, but that happens in all work places. My suggestion is learn to avoid, or ignore the men and women you don’t get along with. Respect the men and women you do. (If you notice I added women to this part, because I’ve run into women on constructions sites that did not like me, after all it is not just a man’s world anymore.) Prove you are not there, just for eye candy, but you are willing to get the job done in the least amount of time. Work just as hard, if not harder. Have a witty comeback for all the stupid questions they ask, or the things they say and do, after all you work with them, get their point of view on the stupid things your spouse or boyfriends come up with.

Think of them as a co-worker first, person second, friend third, and a man or woman last. Now I’ll tell you the answer to that question. So pretty lady you want to be a man?

“Yeah and you are my role model for becoming one, so when I grow up, I can be just like you.”

We have been friends from that day on. Yes I worked hard, I showed him respect and he showed me respect. We laughed, we joked and we talked about family, home, health, religion, and yes, even politics. I no longer work for the company, but we still call and keep in touch.

Ladies in construction can and will work, but women need to do their part to get along, as well as the men do.

We're Running Away

We’re Running Away


By Janeal Mulaney



As a mom you have thousands of humorous, sad, wonderful, and scary moments, after all much like the Tammy Wynette song goes, ‘Kids do say the darndest things,’ and what they don’t think to say, they think to do. So part of a mother’s job is to be quick on her feet and have an even faster wit, or come up with a reasonable answer for any strange question in which her children can think up. Mothers have to have a great sense of humor, a firm hand and a loving touch. These are the three things I learned over twenty-five years of mothering.

I could write at least three books on the things my children have come up with over the years, but today, I’m only going to write about one.

This is the story of my run away children. I had just delivered my third and last child, he was a big baby and I was told by my doctor I would have to take it easy for a few months for my body to heal. I was not allowed to lift anything larger then my baby, nor could I bend over, which was hard on the older two for they were use to mom picking them up, playing with them, and helping them pick up their toys, along with what ever else I was needed or they wanted me to do.

During this time we were living in an apartment on the second floor and since I wasn’t allowed to carry anything down the stairs, or up them. I had no choice but to stay in the apartment with all three kids, unless my husband was home too.

So one day, I had asked my wonderful children to clean up their room, not only was the room in a bigger mess two hours later, but my two beautiful children were fighting at the top of their lungs. So I put them nose-to-nose for five minutes, this always stopped the fighting for soon they were laughing at each other and themselves, but this day, after they were released they soon decided the best plan was to blame mom.

Since I was so mean, they decided they would run away from home, and go live with grandma. Being the oldest my daughter came out to tell me about their decision.

I told them if they really felt that way then by all means they should go, but once they left they couldn’t return. You will have to take everything you want with you now. She returned to their room, and I listened to them ponder how they were going to take all their toys with them, but they decided they could manage by packing them all in their little red wagon. They picked up everything they could put in the wagon, and they were ready and rearing to go. My oldest was the spokesperson once again.

“Well mommy, guess this is goodbye,” she said matter of fact.

“Yeah I guess so, have grandma call me and let me know that you’ve arrived safely, okay.”

My youngest had tears in his eyes, but never cheeped a word. He just held on to the handle of the wagon. My daughter opened the door and they moved the wagon out onto the small landing in front of our apartment, and then shut the door. I watched through the peep hold as they sat down on the first step. They had around twenty steps to walk down then turn on another small landing to get down the other twenty steps.

“If you take the front of the front of the wagon and I take the back we can go down with the wagon,” my oldest said.

“No you take the front and I’ll that the back, I don’t want to climb down the stairs backwards.” My little boy said.

“Well neither do I,” said my little girl.

“Just ask mommy, she can do it, and then we can be on our way.” My son said.

She opened the door, as I picked up the phone.

“Mommy can you help us take the wagon down the stairs, please.”

“Oh you’re not gone yet, I was just calling grandma to let her know that would and your brother should be arriving in three or four days.”

Her eyes looked at like saucers as they widened with each word I said.

“Three or four days!” She squealed.

“Well yeah, it might take you longer, I’m not sure how long it will take to you both to travel by foot to Lamar, it might take you longer then that. It’s about a hundred miles from here to there.” I said, calmly.

“Uh, okay,” and she stepped back out the door.

“ I went back to watch through the peep hole, while she told her brother the news.”

My three-year-old son looked up at the door with huge tears streaming down his face and said, “I don’t want to go, sissy it’s about lunch time and I’m hungry. We didn’t pack any food.

“I don’t either, I hate the dark and we don’t have a flash light either.” She said.

“Do you think mommy would let us come home?”

“I don’t know, we would have to clean our room.”

“We can do that,” he said with a smile.

“Okay, than we’ll ask.” She got up and politely knocked on the door.

“Mommy, if we promise to clean up our room, can we come back home?”

“Um, let me see, I’ll let you back in if you promise never to run away again also.” I said.

She turned towards her brother, who nodded his head and they brought back in their wagon, and silently went back into their room.

An hour later they came out, our room clean mommy. They chimed in together.

I kneeled down in front of my children and hugged and kissed both of them.

“I love all of my children. Not just your baby brother, but sometimes you are going to have to understand, I can’t do all the things right now, that you are use to me doing with you.” I said sadly, “but I did fix you some lunch are you hungry?”

They both headed for the table and I served them their favorite meal sandwiches and chips.

Cool short Stories for Halloween

A-Halloween-to-Remember


Holloween-Fright-Night


Just a couple of stories I made up about Halloween fright. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them. Thanks Janeal
I am interested in all comments so don't hesitate to leave one.

Adventures of a Teenager

Adventures of Being a Teen


By Janeal Mulaney



When you’re a teenager, you do so many things without even a single thought to why you’re doing them. You dress in clothes that are popular or maybe because the style you dress in makes you stand out in front of your peers, or they make you appear like you don’t care what other teens are wearing you are going your own way. As a teen I did both, I come from a family that leaned toward the poor, rather then the rich side of middle class. So neither my parents, nor I could always afford the nicer clothes that I felt everyone else was wearing. When I bought my clothes, I made sure they would last for a long time. If I outgrew them or they sunk, I would add material onto the pant legs of some other jeans that had already given up the ghost, or patch them with some outrageous patch. Many times it was of some devil, or hearts, it mattered not to me. I was different, I was unique, my classmates probably had another word for it, but those were the words I liked to use.

About now you are asking yourself what all this has to with adventures?

Well now the adventure will start. As a teen my parents love to go to Nashville, many of you know about Fan Fare for those of you who don’t. Fan Fare was an event that lasted one week out of every year. Any normal person could go and meet the country and western singers they loved to listen too all year around. I believe its still going on, not like it was in the seventies, but I understand it is still pretty cool. I meet a lot of my favorite artist during the week each year we went. Even though during this time in my life I tended to listen to more rock and roll, then country. Any way not only did I meet country greats; I met people from all over, from different states, to different countries. I had a blast, to say the least.

One day while I was walking around in my favorite old denim shirt with the rebel flag embroidered on the back, I was approached by this man who was asking me about my affiliation with the kkk, what the heck is that. I’d never heard of it. Okay so maybe it had been mentioned in my school during history, chances was it had been. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t paying attention that day. I tended to zone out on history if it wasn’t about something I really cared about in history. I must confess there wasn’t a whole lot that I did care about history during those years.

So when I had to ask this dude what kkk stood for, I’m sure he was kind of shocked. When he said it stood for ku klux klan. I’m sure my attitude was not what he thought it would be. I laughed not ho ho ho, more like tears falling from bending over and grabbing my sides. Seriously. Did that even exist still? Reckon so, and he didn’t like it laugh about, but hey I was from Colorado, not down south, this wasn’t civil war times, this was the just past the years of men running to Canada to evade a war that they didn’t feel like going to, or I guess now it was a police action. The decade of the flower child was just ending. We weren’t at war with black people, that I knew about. My shirt had the rebel flag, so I had to be against them, right. Why, they hadn’t done me any harm. I didn’t even know very many, at the time there were only two or three families, who lived in my hometown and I like all of them. I had not been raised racist, everyone was equal to everyone else, if you didn’t get along with someone chances are their color didn’t have anything to do with it. So I took the time to explain all this to this poor misguided man.

After all I didn’t want anyone to judge me, just because I couldn’t get a tan, which was all the rage back then, so why would I judge someone else who didn’t have to even get one. I sure the man walked away more confused then I was. I’ll bet he walked for miles still trying to understand my reasoning. To a thirteen-year-old girl, I thought it made sense.

My next encounter was with a man from a different country. I don’t even remember where he said he lived, but it was the year when teens bought shirts with one or two words printed across our chest. My shirt happen to have wild mustangs running free under the picture the words “Wild Ones” were printed on it. The man was sitting on a bench and as I walked by he asked.

“Do your parents not say anything about how you dress?”

“ Well yeah, but in the end it’s my choice, I wear the clothes that I like, why?”

“I mean they don’t mind that you advertise?”

“Advertise what?” I asked confused.

“Well earlier today I saw a girl with a shirt that the word virgin was printed across it. Why would she advertise that?”

“Well first off it was just a shirt, she may or may not be a virgin, and just because she wears the shirt don’t make it so.” I informed the oriental man, as I sat down next to him.

“I do not understand this country, or your ways. In my country we pick our sister’s husband.” He stated. Who will pick your husband for you?”

“You mean you get by with that? I’ll pick my own husband. Let me ask you this, what if you don’t have a brother who picks your sister’s husband then?” I asked.

“Well her uncle or her father would pick for her.” He stated. “Women need protected brothers know what is best for them.”

“Well in my country we don’t feel woman need to be protected that much, we stand on our own feet. Just because a man will nice in the presents of you family, does not always guarantee that he will be nice when they are not around.”

“You have a high divorce rate over here, so you women must choose unwisely, right.” He stated.

“What happens if your sister does not like who you choose, and she wants a divorce from her husband?”

“That would bring disgrace to our family, she would not do that.”

“So if the guy you pick for your sister beats her, she still would not leave him because it would cause your family disgrace. Over here if we choose a man who is mean or bad after marriage, we go home to our parents and get a divorce, we’re not disgraced he is. I like our way better. I don’t have to live without options.”

The man just shook his head and I walked away.

Like I said, I had many adventures while being a teen. Some were just too cool. Others outrageous, but I thought I would share a couple of them with you. I hope you enjoyed them.