Let Hope Ring

There can be no daily democracy without daily citizenship.
Ralph Nadar

Hope is defined in Wikipedia as “an optimistic state of mind that is based on an expectation of positive outcomes with respect to events and circumstances in one’s life or the world at large. As a verb, its definitions include: “expect with confidence” and “to cherish a desire with anticipation.”

Over the last four years, I am sad to say that I have lost some hope and often wondered where compassion, empathy, and love has gone. I have spent countless nights in tears grieving the losses of innocent souls with no end in sight. I have hoped that our government would step up to the challenge and demonstrate that human lives are not disposable. I was faced with the stark reality that my life was irrelevant to those who swear an oath to be leaders and protectors of us all. Instead, science and truth were replaced with lies and hypocrisy. Masks can help stop the spread of the deadliest disease America has ever encountered leaving over 238 thousand plus dead. More deaths and more cases than any other country in the world. No action made America number one for deaths and counting. Our leaders never lead by example, never mandated masks and repeatedly lied about the medical reality the country faced. As the numbers rise and a record number of cases are reached every day, doctors and nurses who are literally giving their lives for this country are thrown under the bus. They are reported to be making money off listing deaths as covid related. Every time I hear that statement, the thought of hope and unity crumbles a bit more into oblivion, dividing the country even more.

I was heartbroken to see racism, sexism, and mass hatred for so many on display at levels I had never experienced but knew exists. It was as though I was living in a nightmare I could never wake up from. I never had time to relax because I was fearful of what would happen to my rights as a woman and the rights of those around me. I often wept in my mother’s arms telling her “I am too young to die” because I knew if preexisting conditions were scrubbed off the board which has been a dream of those in charge for over 4 years, was coming desperately close to being a reality. I could not afford to not have my diabetic supplies and seizure medication not covered by my insurance. I could not have that happen to my dad or anyone else. When a tax break for corporations that previously insured all of their workers was more important than improving our health care system, I felt despair and uncertainty about what my future held.

However, when I heard the news that a woman VP who happens to be African American, Indian, and from a family of immigrants was selected along with a man who knows the reality of sickness and loss, who has poise, experience, and a heart for serving the American people and who will bring compassion, empathy, truth, and science back into the People’s House, I exhaled a deep sigh of relief. I cried tears of joy because I dared to hope again. I felt hope in my fellow Americans that we can prevail when we unite. I was hopeful that despite our differences we could find common ground to show that deep down we are a kind, loving, compassionate, and soulful nation. We remember where we came from and what we stand for: Moral courage, inclusiveness, freedom of the press, freedom of speech, opportunity, and tolerance. We may not always agree with each other, but I was starting to feel hopeful that we were working on making changes towards being more tolerant and respectful of one another. I know that Hope is usually a dream, but today of all days, I will bask in it and hold strong to it. Without hope, there is no future.

Moral: 1) Every vote counts. 2) Work hard every day. 3) Your life is essential, and our leaders should do all that is necessary to protect it.

Thank you for reading my blog. I understand it may offend some, but just know that I work daily with the developmentally disabled who need the government’s help to survive and your understanding and support. Feel free to leave a comment below or at zsmisadventures@gmail.com.

Happy Halloween

Don’t ever be ashamed of liking the little things that make your little heart happy.
Elizabeth Gilbert

I just wanted to start out by saying I got the website https://zsgvingbooks.com/ to buy a signed copy of Even Beavers Can Be Heroes along with a personalized bookmark up and running. You can click on the top of the page where it says “Purchase Even Beavers Can Be Heroes” to go right to the site. or click the link above. Please make sure to note the name requested for the bookmark at check out. Thanks in advance for your contribution to helping children in foster care.

I hope everyone had a safe and joyful Halloween yesterday. I was actually surprised we had more children last night than in the past 5 years. I guess the word got out there may be stock piles of candy that may go to waste. This week there will not be a traditional blog as I have been focusing my efforts on book marketing and getting the word out to Vote. Remember Tuesday, Nov. 3rd is election day in The United States, if you haven’t voted make it a priority to do so. With that I wish everyone a stress free Sunday.

Moral: 1.) It is better to give than to receive. 2.) Sometimes your voice is loudest when completing simple actions.

Please feel free to comment or email Zsmisadventures@gmail.com with any stories or questions. stay Whimsical.

Website Insight

A Person who never made a mistake never tried anything new.
Albert Einstein

I have created one plug and play website and that is this one that you are currently looking at. I did some computer programming in junior high: creating a video game with our teacher providing step by step instructions and successfully completed an experiment with coding that directed a mouse to find the cheese. With that sketchy background, I thought I could create a website for my new book, Even Beavers Can Be Heroes, without any issues.

Website creation, I can now convey, is a lot harder than I expected. I first opened the website on WordPress due to already utilizing it for this blog. I felt it would be a good idea to keep the sites on the same form to make them both easier to monitor and update as needed. I was feeling pretty good about how quickly I breezed through each step. I found a name, updated the theme I had chosen to suit my design criteria. I then uploaded the product. I was feeling confident as I entered setting up the point of sale section.

As I was riding my computer savvy high and dusting the “Go me” off my shoulder, I decided to test purchasing the book. My confidence took flight when I saw that after hitting the ‘Add to Cart’ button, a little 1 appeared in my grocery basket. However, when I boldly clicked on the ‘buy’ button, I was alarmed to see that I had purchased a 2-dollar recipe for Guacamole dip. Are you kidding me? First, I do not like the looks of Guacamole as it reminds me of baby dribble. Second, I don’t cook, don’t prepare party food and, therefore, have no use for recipes. I realized after struggling to cancel my own order on my own site that this was more than I could handle, and I needed professional advice.

I was told to use E-Commerce because it was super friendly. I tried but I had unknown issues using a Gmail account for my email despite the site suggesting I purchase G-Suite. I have since gone to Shopify. I have found the website to be easy to manage except for one issue: Any advice on how to solicit information from a buyer on a Shopify website would be much appreciated. I want to be able to: Give a personalize bookmark (which may be a child’s name for whom they are purchasing the book).

Hopefully, by the end of next week, I can have it figured out and begin promoting the new and improved site. Sorry, no guacamole recipes are needed.

Moral: 1) Trying new things can be difficult the first time around, but don’t give up. 2) Always test before unveiling; thinking something should work and it actually working are two different things.

Thank you for following zsmisadventures.com. Feel free to comment and or email zsmsadventures@gmail.com and your stories may appear in future blogs.

Gone Fishing

If people concentrated on the really important things in life, there’d be a shortage of fishing poles.
Doug Larson

Fishing is a great way to relax and be a part and in awe of nature’s beauty. It also offers a unique perspective of the distinctive humor that takes place in the wilderness. For example, the first time I went fishing the only thing I hooked was my nose. It was not funny then, but the memory is unique and whimsically me. I have been lucky enough on a few occasions to catch fish when no one thought there were any in a shallow stream of river rock. I even have caught the same fish twice. Most of the time though, I just sit with my pole in the water taking in the sunshine and daydreaming of catching the big one.

I may not always catch a fish, but I do enjoy some laughter on almost every excursion. The other day my dad and I went fishing. While not even getting a nibble, I did witness sheer determination and failure for one well-dressed fisherman and the precision of real professionals. We sat on a shady outcropping of rock that gave a clear view of the busy boat dock and the humor associated with launching a watercraft.

On a lake where for years we saw few kayaks, there must have been 30 big and small groups take to the water. Most were there for the exercise and to enjoy the changing color of the forest in fall as they paddled off without fishing poles. We watched a middle-aged lady back her Volvo down the boat ramp and stop several yards from the waters edge. As she got out of her car, a gentleman in a pickup truck appeared and was slowing moving down the embankment next to her. She paused for safety concerns and only started unstrapping her roof top mounted kayak as his truck backed into the water. As she walked toward the back of her car to manage the last strap, the truck was almost up to the bumper in the water. The driver briefly hit the gas pedal which launched the kayak out of the truck bed into the water. A rope tied to the truck’s bumper and the bow of the kayak stopped its progress away from shore. When it stopped, the driver then hit the gas again which propelled the kayak forward where it stopped on the ramp half in and half out of the water. As the gentleman got out of his truck to untie the kayak, the lady yelled for all to hear, “Cheater.” He returned after parking his truck, climbed in his water buggy and when he was afloat, whistled once and a terrier appeared splashing into the water and jumped on board. As he paddled away from shore, our lady friend paused from loading water bottles onto her craft and watched a real professional move out of sight.

A short time later, we saw a customized mini Mazda Miata convertible backing down the ramp with a boat trailer that was twice as long as the car. It was a compelling sight. It stopped 5 feet from the water, and we watched an older gentleman unwind himself out of the car. The man was 6’5, 6’8 with his fishing hat on. He walked back and looked at the situation, then scrunched himself back into the car. He backed the car just short of the water and crawled out again to check his progress. The trailer was too far into the water for him to reach the crank that held the boat in place without him getting wet, so he got back in the car and moved 3 foot forward. He unscrewed himself out of the car again and was able to unhook the tiedown. So, he slowly wiggled himself back into the car and backed up until the tires were wet. This time after inching out of his ride, he walked around the front of the car and onto the dock that boaters used to tie down their vessel while they parked their trailer. Our smartly dressed super tall gentleman was attempting to unstrap the bright red tiedown that held the back of the boat onto the trailer. After several failed attempts, he gave up and walked back to his miniature ride, climbed in, and moved the boat forward out of the water. He again climbed out of the car and seeing that the bright red tiedowns were still over water, he reentered and moved a few feet forward again. This effort was successful. He unstrapped the boat which now sat freely balanced on the trailer. He tied a long rope to the bow, put the top down on his custom ride, held his hand with the rope high as he backed into the water and then gassed his little car forward. Unlike the kayak that shot out of the pickup and into the water, our gentleman’s boat teetered somewhat askew on the back edge of the trailer. Exiting his car and surveying the situation, he climbed onto the trailer and tried to push the boat into the water. When that failed, he settled on just straightening it out on the back of the trailer. He climbed back into the car, drove into the water and floored the car again. This time it entered the water with some speed and in a flash as the slack in the rope disappeared a cry of pain and agony echoed through the trees to our little outcropping of rock. I am not sure of the physics but when a boat is going 10 miles an hour West and a car is going 20 miles per hour East and your arm which is holding the rope to stop all motion is going to feel some muscular stress. Again, I don’t know the physics, but paramedics were required. They drove away leaving the customized Mazda Miata and trailer halfway up the boat ramp and the freshly launched boat tied to the dock.

Moral: 1. There is more to fishing than the fish. 2. Think before you launch.

Thank you for following zsmisadventures and feel free to comment below or at zsmisadventures@gmail.com.

Lost Is My Middle Name

We travel for romance, we travel for architecture, and we travel to be lost.
Ray Bradbury

I tend to get my left and right mixed up if I am facing towards you instead of standing next to you. I tend to downplay the distance between two points. I have a hard time recognizing patterns in my head, for example, is that tree 50 or 100 feet away. I don’t go by the names of streets, but by the surrounding buildings. If a person asks directions, I might say, “Go down this street to the brown two story building, turn right and drive pretty far until you pass the second Starbucks and your street is just past that a bit.” My friends don’t ask twice. I don’t know and probably don’t care where North is. I go by everything in front of me being North and when I turn that is my new North. My brothers have given up on, “The Sun rises in the East and sets in the West.” When the sun is right overhead, I’m probably just as right as they are. I do remember where I am supposed to be going and can always ask Siri or my dad how to get there. My dad thinks he can figure out where to go without using a map. Sometimes, however, like this weekend he could not remember where we were even trying to go. This predicament may be foreign to most, so let me explain.

We went to Show Low, Arizona to deliver copies of my book to the Department of Child Safety Office. It is a scenic 3-hour drive from Phoenix to this beautifully wooded mountain community where I started working with neglected and abused children. Many of my kids were in foster care. This is where I first saw children carrying all their belongs in a paper shopping bag. It was this vivid memory that inspired writing the book. I wanted them to have more than a bag of clothes to their name and to start this new journey with the thought that living with this family can be a learning experience. I felt that it was appropriate to drop the first donation of books off there because without their Program Manager taking a chance on a new college grad, I don’t think the book would have ever been published.

While in Show Low, my parents and I decided to stay a few days to enjoy the cool weather and do a little fishing. Internet shopping for a cabin was fruitless. Most had been reserved months ago. Dad’s second search looked for a motel set back in the trees rather than surrounded by shopping centers along the main roads. He booked one with a balcony facing a canopy of trees and a stream. Sometime later the next night, he checked the confirmation and found his great deal was for 12 nights and near $3000.00. Luckily, he was able to cancel without penalty and started a new search. Most places were booked but he found a place sans balcony but in the trees on a highly advertised booking site. Crisis averted or so we thought.

After visiting my old office and having a little book ceremony, we jumped in the car as my mom asked, “Which hotel are we staying in?” Dad thought nothing of it as he had a new app that stored all the information. He had already logged in once at home with the 12-digit confirmation code thus it should only take a second to pull it up. The highly advertised booking site ad said, “Everything you need right in your pocket.” Unfortunately, it was wrong. When he went to log in again it asked for the 12-digit confirmation number, which he didn’t have. He didn’t get an email confirmation as it was saved to the app. He noted to me, who carries all virtual tickets and confirmation info on my phone, that this was the first time he didn’t print out the confirmation sheet. The highly advertised booking site ad even promoted their app as saving the environment. Dad polluted the environment more by driving all over Show Low checking to see if he had booked a room there then if he had just printed out one sheet of paper. We found the hotel with the balcony facing the canopy of trees and stream and they verified that dad cancelled 3000 dollars of nights. We telephoned twenty to thirty places before all the phones where dead. Dad recognized the green tree sign from the greatest booking site on earth from a mile away or maybe 100 yards away. Mom and I waited in the car for the fifth and final time. Our misadventures are never dull.

Moral: 1) Never completely trust technology. 2) Always print confirmation information and/ or share that information with others. 3) Enjoy the whimsical stories that arise as it is what makes time spent together that much greater.

Taking a Day Off

Sometimes you gotta take a break from all the noise to appreciate the beauty of silence.
Robert Tew

Today there will be no official blog as I have spend the week making cards and bookmarks for my book, Even Beavers Can Be Heroes. I have had the pleasure of taking the time to reconnect with family and friends as result. I am pleased to say that I received an outpouring of love and appreciation that I didn’t expect. I am grateful to you all.

I have enjoyed hearing stories from family this week about the ways things where when they were growing up, such as being able to pay to fly planes without a pilots license but instead just the sheer will and determination to do so and someone next to them able to steer if need be. That would never happen today.

I encourage everyone to reach out to someone and find out a little bit more about them then they ever thought to ask. It is surprising what one finds out when one is willing to listen. I also encourage everyone to take sometime to themselves because we need time to recharge and be still from time to time.

Moral: 1) We are our own worst enemies when it comes to scheduling time for ourselves, but it is important to do so in order to be able to be more efficient at being there for others. 2) We all have amazing stories just waiting to be told. 3) Don’t take those you care about for granted, make sure to show them and tell them you care every chance you get. 4) When in doubt, speak up. Open communication can solve a lot of frustration and sadness.

Thanks as always for following my blog and I look forward to writing about more whimsical adventures next week. In the meantime stay whimsical.

Ruth Bader Ginsburg: Thank you

“My mother told me to be a lady. And for her, that meant be your own person, be independent.”
Ruth Bader Ginsburg

Following her mother’s advice, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, aka RBG, did just that. She did not let the fact that she was a woman in a man’s world stop her from achieving goals that many thought were beyond a female’s reach. As she progressed, she paved the way for future generations of women like me to do the same. While the world mourns her passing, I like many others are grateful for her drive and vision for expanding women’s equality in a myriad of ways. Her views on Title IX were not limited to women in college sports but for the equality of women in college, like me, receiving student loans to complete a master’s degree program. She argued before the Supreme Court, as an attorney, that women in the military should not be denied the housing allowance military men received. Without her tenacity I would not be able to own a car because I would not have a driver’s license nor could I have qualified to buy the home I currently own. I never knew that women were denied almost all opportunities to participate in high school sports. Without her passion, I would not have known the joy and pride of wearing my varsity letter jacket for playing all 4 years tennis. I still have it because it reminds me of what hard work and determination can achieve. RBG’s fight for the legality of women’s rights and the success of the equality movement has nourished my belief that I am strong and wonderful as I am. I can live and thrive as a single woman. I can be proud of all I have accomplished not because I am a woman who did them, but because I am smart, creative and know that hard work makes dreams come true. While I will miss her guidance, I will continue to celebrate the path for women to succeed that she helped pave.

One of her many famous quotes is “Fight for the things that you care about, but do it in a way that will lead others to join you.” She did just that. She graduated first in her class at Columbia Law school when few women were accepted into law schools. She did it while raising her first child. Today women outnumber men in Law Schools. Today women participating in high school sports has grown over 1200%. Today women in the military have the same rights as their male counterparts.

Ruth Bader Ginsberg was the second woman selected to the supreme court after Sandra Day O’Conner. When O’Conner retired in 2006, RBG became the lone female on the supreme court until Sonia Sontomayor in 2009 and Elena Kagan in 2010. She fought passionately to uphold a woman’s right to choose. She believed a woman’s body is her temple and that women are, not only, fully capable of making appropriate choices, but also, are the final decision makers. She not only fought for woman, but for those who identify as LGBTQ to be treated as human beings with our own thoughts, ideas and personas, and not as a label. She believed that we are more than our gender and sexual preferences. We have a long way to go, but I for one am grateful to her and look to continue fighting like she did for equality for all.

Moral: Don’t ever stop fighting for what you believe in as you never know who will benefit from your willingness to stand up and speak out.

Please feel free to leave a comment below or by emailing zsmisadventures@gmail.com and your story may be featured in a future blog.

The Journey

Have Patience. All Things are difficult before they become easy.
Saadi

Writing a book was a struggle, getting it illustrated and published was a donnybrook. I thought it really didn’t matter who illustrated my work, as long as I felt they brought the story alive. I was unaware of all the book making protocols and formats that must be considered for the illustrations to be print ready. As a neophyte where do you start?

First, I asked my dad. He has artistic abilities and a father-daughter duo would be fun. It turns out he can pencil sketch great buildings, cathedrals, and make mesmerizing doodles, but his beaver in coveralls was pretty sad. While it has always been my dream to have my name on the front of a book, if I couldn’t have my dad’s right under it as the illustrator then to me it wasn’t worth pursuing.

After countless talks and a few years of wrestling with my dream, I came to realize that it didn’t matter who illustrated the book because my dad and I could together layout the vision of each scenic illustration. He was able to go thru the process with me to make sure I was getting the right deals, and no one was taking advantage of a greenhorn. He was also able to assure that the words I spelled correctly were the same words I meant to spell. Together we found an illustrator.

We started out by asking a friend of the family. Their son was going to art school. He was excited to take on the project that he too dreamed of doing one day. Despite one good character drawing, he did not feel that he had the imagination to illustrate a whole picturesque page, let alone a whole book. He resigned the task in a wave of sorrow. A few friends came forward, but after a few tries felt they too were not up to the task. The hunt for a professional illustrator was on.

A few options were looked at, but in the end, Maa Illustrations had the pizzazz within the price range I was able to afford. Before communicating with them I had no idea what I wanted each scene in the book to look like. I just knew I wanted Eager in a plaid shirt and overalls while sporting a hard hat and a tool belt. I wouldn’t even mind if he had a lunch box. I also knew that somewhere Arizona State University (ASU) would have to be represented. Needless to say, I was overwhelmed by the images they were able to conjure up by my minimal descriptions. Not only did Eager have the plaid shirt, tool belt, and hard hat, he also had a pencil behind the ear, boots, and a smile that could light up a room. When I sent an image of Sparky earrings (ASU’s Mascot) and asked if those could be incorporated somewhere along with an ASU Diploma, they did not disappoint. Their first set of requests were for me to describe my vision of the main characters, such as, Claire Fox, Charlotte Deer, Leandra Lou Rabbit, Toddy Bear and Linda Owl. For example, I wrote that Leandra Lou Rabbit should have a camera slung around her neck and be wearing Converse All Star shoes, they sent back their interpretation.

They first showed me a rough sketch of “Fries Meadow” after I sent them a picture of Oregon’s Dillon Falls. It was a simple pencil sketch of a lake and mountains, but after they sent me an actual version with some color, I was blown away. I knew that I chose the right team for the job. The rest of the project consisted of them sending me images and me letting them know what more could be added or if it was good to go and move on to the next.

The obstacles came when the images were sent to the publisher. It turns out the illustration pages need to be separated from the text pages and in a specific format and resolution or they could not be transferred to print. This separation also doubled the cost of printing. The text pages had a faded border of the opposing illustration page image which soften and supplemented the flow. The text pages had to be formatted a little differently. I was the go between for all of this between the publisher in New York and the illustrator’s offices in London and the actual artists in New Delhi. It would take a month or two to get one thing fixed and there was a hand full of issues. Two years after raising the money to pay for the illustrations and publications, after getting the illustrations in line with my vision, and then painstakingly getting the illustrations ready for print, the book finally was ready for the presses and hopefully, a favorite for our foster children. Too bad Maa Illustrations will no longer illustrate books because of our protracted experience. I may have gotten an exclusive, the last book ever illustrated by Maa Illustrations. And it’s a good one.

Moral: 1) Patience does pay off. 2) When publishing a children’s book, it is better to use the publisher’s illustrators for a quicker and less stressful outcome.

Feel free to leave a comment below or email Zsmisadventures@gmail.com with your stories and it may end up in a future blog.

A Child’s Dream

You were born with the ability to change someone’s life, don’t ever waste it.
Dale Partridge

As a child, I would often sit my stuffed animals in a circle and read stories to them. I read such classics as The Giving Tree, Charlotte’s Web, and The Cat in The Hat. I would even at times read them stories that I wrote, such as Even Beavers Can Be Heroes. I was 10 years old and it was littered with spelling errors, but I was proud of it. The pictures were some of the best stick figured animals I had ever drawn even to this day. I enjoyed being able to read to them and felt that I was somehow bettering the world by doing so. I could not wait to become an adult and become a teacher and have eager joyous munchkins to read to daily.

Alas, I did not become a teacher. During my third year in educational studies at Humboldt State University, I was told that I could not be just a Kindergarten or First Grade teacher. If I were to teach in a California public school, I would have to teach grades K-6 as needed. Not liking the sound of that, I decided to major in Child Development, and graduated in 2010. I used that degree to land a job at a large daycare center for several months working with school-age children. I found that despite the daycare having an ample amount of supplies for the children, they did not like to utilize them. It was up to me to collect donations of toilet paper rolls, cereal boxes, etc., for the children to make robots and their own musical instruments. If I wanted a reading circle it was up to me to find the books that would be read. Daycare wages were barely above the minimum wage, but I believed in those children and knew they deserved only the best.

That feeling carried on to my career with the Department of Child Safety (DCS) working with abused, sexually assaulted, and neglected children. I was determined to make sure that not only the children, but the adults too understood how important working together was to successful reunification. I was super excited when I was able to pass on the life-sized teddy bear, I owned to a teenage girl who was feeling heartbroken on Valentine’s Day. It was a joy to see her face light up with the knowledge that she was not forgotten. I spent a year helping a grandfather adopt his granddaughter that other case managers overlooked due to his mid-twenties drug arrest. By working together, i.e., bimonthly drug tests and parenting classes, we were able to find a way to ensure the granddaughters safety, happiness, and sense of relief knowing she was where she wanted to be. She was going to stay in the beautiful new bedroom granddaddy made for her. Of course, not all stories are as jolly. I did see quite a few children who ended up in body casts because their parent was having a quote, “bad day.” These children would be placed in a home with either an extended family member or a licensed stranger to ensure their safety. Sometimes they understood and were eager to leave. Other times, I had more heart to heart talks about their right not to be beaten or sexually assaulted. In the end, those children who entered foster care for a short time or for forever normally did not have anything to their name but a trash bag full of shorts, tee shirts, socks, and underwear. It was a sad sight in a material world.

I wanted to change that. I kept thinking about the book I wrote, Even Beavers Can Be Heroes, and wondered if I could update it and give it to those children in foster care in order for them to have something of their own. I wanted to let them know that others have been in foster care and that a lot can be learned from their foster families. I wanted to provide something that would make them smile, laugh, know they mattered, and could do great things despite everything they may have gone through. In many of my heart to hearts, children told me that they did not feel important, worthy of love, or that they could become anything. For far too many, the future was doomsday. I wanted them to know that simply was not true.

Throughout my time at DCS, I was happy to solicit local businesses for birthday and personal accomplishments gifts, like Judo Lessons or a camera and family photos for my newly adopted children, but I always wanted to do more. After leaving DCS to work for a licensing agency and now the Department of Disabilities that feeling of wanting to do more has never left.

It most likely never will, but at least now my dream of publishing Even Beavers Can Heroes to give to those children in foster care has been achieved. This week I received my author’s copies of the book and happy to say it turned out better than expected. I am overjoyed to see my name on the cover of the book. I did not, however, expect a person to tell me to meet my maker and that I am going to hell as a result of writing the book, but as with everything I do, the experience would not be complete without a last-minute misadventure after 2 years of nonstop publishing misadventures. I am excited to share those in next week’s blog.

For now, I just want to thank those who supported me and are still supporting this project. For every book sold one will go to a child in foster care. You can get your copy of Even Beavers Can Be Heroes at Amazon.com or BarnesandNoble.com. Thanks again for your love and support. Stay whimsical.

Moral: 1) Some dreams do come true if you have the strength to just keep chipping away at them a little each day. 2) Don’t worry about pleasing everyone as it cannot be done, not even with a children’s book. 3) No matter how your life story begins, you choose how it will continue.

Thank you for following zsmisadventures and feel free to comment below or email zsmisadventures@gmail.com with your stories and it may appear in a future blog.

Civil Unrest

Doc Rivers 8/25/20

I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear.
Martin Luther King Jr.

This week’s blog is a little different than my previous entries. I have added a YouTube video (above) that I felt was important to share. I want to emphasize that this is in no way meant to be political just my own opinion and observations. I have wanted my blog to be a reprieve from the stress, worries, and aggravations that often fill our day. I wanted it to be a place where readers could go and have a few laughs. This week has proved to be a challenge for me in getting that accomplished. In 2018, I attended a yoga retreat, where attendees were favored with individual astrological readings. Based on my birth date, time of birth, place of birth, et cetera, I was told that my calling in life was to be a Justice Warrior Apprentice. After 9 years of working with abused and neglected children, I believe the Apprentice part of my journey can be dropped. So as a Justice Warrior, I hope you enjoy this piece with that in mind.

Tomorrow is Labor Day. It is a United States Federal and State Holiday that was first celebrated on September 5th, 1882. It has been celebrated on the first Monday in September ever since. It is meant to be a day to celebrate the strength, contributions, and prosperity of Blue-Collar Workers in America. It is a national tribute to let families know how important their work is to the fabric of America. It is a day dedicated to family bonding with BBQs, parades, riding the Ferris wheel at the Country Fair, picnicking in the park, and relaxing at the beach. Best of all it is a day off for most with pay.

Since the dawn of America, it does not seem that those whose skin happens to be darker than others are treated with the respect, kindness, or appreciation for the contributions, sacrifices, and dedication that they too have shown to the American social experiment. While I have only been around for 30 of the 500 years since Columbus sailed the ocean blue, it seems to have gotten openly worse quite quickly lately. I am saddened, frustrated, and angered that in the year 2020 racism is alive and stronger than ever. A man should not be shot 7 times in the back in front of his children for being black. A man demonstrating mental deficiencies should not have the police place a bag over his head as a use of force because he is black. The thought should not be if he is black, then he is not human. The thought should not be if he is black, then if he dies by a white man’s hands then it is not murder, but self-defense and no charges should be filed. America should not be the training grounds for White Supremacy.

The thought should be that this person is one of God’s children, he bleeds like me, loves someone, is loved, has a family, a purpose, hobbies, life stories, etc. He is a human being whose skin color happens to be a different color than mine. His skin color is not all that he is, just like my physical features are not all that I am. We are all different and that is what makes this world so beautiful. It would be boring if we were all the same. So please spread some love, the world desperately needs it. I could use some, myself. Nothing good ever comes from hate, just more hate. I ask that you take time to tell those you care about that you love them. Human life is precious, it was given to us as a gift. A gift filled with love, kindness, selflessness, and gratitude. No life can be replaced once it is gone. This pandemic has amply demonstrated that we are social beings who detest lockdowns, so when we are totally free to mingle, please value one another and mingle like never before.

Moral: 1) Black Lives Matter. 2) Your actions make a difference.

Thank you for taking the time to read this week’s blog posting. I truly appreciate you allowing me this space to reflect. Feel free to comment below or at ZsMisadventures@gmail.com.