I write for my soul….I need to write to be……karla t.

8.2024

Starting out

Why

To be seen and heard

For who

For myself and for anyone who wants to read

I’ve been around for a while but have not put my words out there for the world to see. I’m an introvert, shy, often dismissed by others. I took to the screen and keyboard today to ‘start out’ and begin to expose myself to others.

I am old, but don’t feel old. I am clamoring for a way to be heard. Why do I choose today to expose myself? If I get honest, it is the recent shift in the politics and concern for the world. I am an American. I am a woman in America. I am from a generation where women have fought for representation and to be able to protect ourselves and our bodies. To work in the workplace and achieve what men can. To wear pants in public. To own a home. To have our own bank account. These things are at risk.

I am a mother of boys. I am a grandmother of girls and boys. I am fearful for their future, especially the girls. I’ve tried to influence my grandgirls to be seen by others and to have their voices be heard. Even if they have to ‘get dramatic’ to do it!

This is my starting out point on this - my new website - where I will speak.

Titles

2023 - Just an essay

Title: Memorial Day Parade Lawn

Author: Karla Thomas

I was visiting my hometown recently. This place where I grew up was idyllic in my mind but when I arrived the first thing that struck me was, they paved the Memorial Day Parade lawn! I gasped and cried. I began to reminisce about the Memorial Day Parade celebrations and the sweetness of the time and the beauty of the lawn.

When I was little, I would ride on my father’s shoulders as he walked down the big hill to the parade on Main Street. This was a major thoroughfare at that time. Barricades were put up an hour before parade time for the participants to get in their lineup. Local high school bands, classic cars, fire trucks, all found their spots as the traffic was blocked from passing through town for the next two hours. The local police and volunteer firefighters directed traffic through the tiny side streets sometimes meeting with grumbling travelers.

There were people, lawn chairs, flags, and baby strollers lining the street. Everyone was smiling, clapping, and cheering as the parade passed by. The police car carrying the Grand Marshall, Boy Scout and Girl Scout troops throwing candy, the High School marching band with majorettes twirling batons shuffling their tasseled white boots with the metal taps on the bottom – click, click, drag. The Shriners in their mini cars honking their horns, the VFW color guard representing all branches of the military, and the fire truck blaring the siren and throwing more candy to the kids. It was thrilling, loud, patriotic, and my dad was always so solemn.

The parade ended at the Veterans Memorial Monument in the center of town where the band stayed in formation, the Mayor and Gold Star Mothers gave their speeches and handed out poppy pins. The lawn was particularly green and manicured those days and everyone set up their lawn chairs to share in the events. The town carnival always followed the parade that weekend. I remember it being something from a movie.

My older brother and sister were in the parade when I was little. He played the Sousaphone, and she was a majorette. Both were so cool to me! Sometimes they would complain how hot it was standing on the lawn in their uniforms after the parade, but mostly they were proud to be a part of the ceremony. There were always two trumpet playing members of the band that were given the honor of moving out of formation and having the honor of playing taps – and the taps echo during the ceremony. Those two players quietly took their places a distance away from the lawn to perform their solemn task. I remember it being considered an honor to be selected. After the ceremonies were over, the band marched back up main street to the VFW where they got free hot dogs and soda.

When I got older, I became a marching band member. I played the piccolo and experienced the parade from a different perspective being in the band. I could see the clapping, waving, and cheers but I also saw all the other solemn faces, not just my dad’s, some with tears in their eyes as we marched by. Every year my dad would be there, in his spot. The spot where I used to ride on his shoulders. Every year he would walk to the parade lawn, stand intensely listening, salute, and quietly wipe his tears. He was a Navy veteran. Served in Korea. Lost friends. He loved that parade and the service on the lawn. He would walk home alone, taking his time. When he arrived home, he would put on his charming smile and lead our family Memorial Day picnic activities. We made hand cranked ice cream, cooked on the charcoal grill, played croquet and after cleaning up walked back downtown to the carnival.

The memories are clear and sweet. The town was lively and colorful. The lawn and the memorial were there all year but were especially lavish on Memorial Day. Driving into town on my recent visit and seeing the paved Memorial lawn was heartbreaking. Learning that the Veterans Memorial Monument was relocated hurt more. Seeing the town boarded up, dirty, and empty was painful. For me, the memories of those idyllic days are where I will go. For me, the celebration of Memorial Days past and my father’s reverence will lead me. Long live the Memorial Day Parade Lawn and the ceremony of all who served.

Why did I choose to share this essay? Why do alleged leaders denigrate the service of our military - men and women? The recent political narrative about people’s military service angers me. I dug out this essay to reflect on a purer time. May God Protect our Troops! All of them!

December 2023 Just a journal entry

Shifting perspective from ‘what is ordinary.’ Interesting reflection. I work from home and my desk is in front of a window. I set it up that way purposely. I wanted to be able to see outside and enjoy the little things that happen. My neighbor’s house is very close, and I see the side of her brick home and second floor windows. She also has an evergreen tree that meets her roofline. At certain times of the year, starting around 3:30 PM the sun moves into my window, and I must close the blinds. I can raise the blinds again around 4:45 PM and take in the dusk. Of course, this changes with the seasons. Today I saw the grey sky, no sunset like in a meditation I did earlier today. But the grey sky was peaceful and reminded me that I wouldn’t have to put the blinds down today. I see the squirrels jumping from her evergreen to her roof and scamper around collecting their food for the winter. There are scores of birds in and out of the tree. I believe there is a nest in there somewhere. We had our first snow last week and the tree collected the snow creating a beautiful sheen. It was gone by the afternoon. Good reminder that things come and go. There are seasons and lifecycles to things. If I am having a tough day, it will pass. Take in the little things and be grateful for the details.

Thanks for the opportunity.

8.2024

It’s the end of the month and summer is waning. It seems that summers are different than they used to be. So hot and humid making it difficult to enjoy being outside. I love when it begins to cool down and the hint of crispness starts to show up at night. You can open the windows and catch a breeze preparing for the welcome of fall.

Poetry is on my mind. Exploring more about this genre for myself. Maybe trying my hand at a few entries. Challenge myself to think differently about my words. Look through a different lens.

Bye-bye summer!

11-20-24

Stop! In the name of love…..I’m in my bubble now! That’s me in my bubble – arm outstretched with my hand in the ‘stop’ position. It’s my bubble in the vast desert and the shimmering light of the killer sun. The sun that is slowly baking us because our ancestors thought they knew it all. I remember when we didn’t have to live in the bubble and could walk the earth, talk and listen, and physically touch each other. We could breathe each other’s air and laugh freely at each other’s jokes. No more! And no more jokes! Too offensive! We had to learn and engage in this universally correct sign language from our soundproof containment unit. No voices, no talking, no singing!  We had to learn how to ‘rock and roll’ but not in the way we remember, to travel in our own transparent, fortified, well-lit unit to move from place to place. Those places are forever limited and pre-selected based on our historical algorithms. Some of us have more travel opportunities than others. There are no more countries. We now have space representations, again, based on our historical algorithms. A different type of Caste system. How did we get here, you may ask? Who created this new world for us, the humans? Where are the animals, pets, plants? There are none of those. No ‘emotional support animals’, pets, gardens, giraffes, fish. How do we nourish ourselves? The IV and freeze-dried nutritional gunk we ingest keeps us ticking. No more savoring a well-prepared delicious meal. No more five-star restaurants. No more McDonalds. What goes in must come out, but how? Same way, tubes onto the red baked cracked and filthy earth that our bubble travels over.

This is what is left of our humanity. The bubble people. Remember John Travolta and the “Boy in the Bubble” movie? That’s us, basically. Travolta had a wider range of capabilities. Except if you are unhealthy – won’t survive. Physically challenged – won’t survive. Emotionally unable to tolerate the isolation, confinement, and strict regulations – won’t survive. Intellectually below the ‘cut off’ score – won’t survive. Spiritually committed or seeking – won’t survive. There is only “The Way”, no other. It’s gotten beyond the cleansing of certain humans to the survival of the fittest again. Once someone gets there, to their own ‘beautiful bubble’ they may not survive either. The TV show, Dinosaurs, tossed the old Granny dinos into the pit – when we can’t navigate our bubble anymore, we roll away into the great bubble pit. No more assisted living or nursing homes.  No more hospitals or urgent care facilities. No more ‘Maytag Repairmen” or “Cable Guy.”

How I wish we had listened to the scientists of my generation and made a Herculean effort to commit to taking care of our planet and its people. How I wish we had spoken up and become a group of humans following the organizations of the committed and the caring instead of the cut-throat and divisive. I made it this far to my own ‘beautiful bubble’ and don’t think that it’s worth the trip anymore.

Pop!