Category: women’s stories

dancing, family, life, love, Memoir, women's stories

Another June is Over, Thankfully

Arlene

Each year June comes along, as always, right after May ends. It is a reflective month for me. Two of my sons and my beloved Angelo all transitioned to the next plane in June. In different years, on different dates, in different ways. They are always with me and show up in my today life but it is their physical presence that I miss. As time moves on, you would think that I would miss them less but the opposite is true. Maybe it’s because I am less busy, or at least busy in a different way, and have more thoughts I’d like to discuss with each of them. It is what it is and important to always move forward but looking back at a memory is okay, too.

Do you have someone you miss?


L – R Kenny, Guy, Ralph, Bret in 1966

Angelo, Me dancing 1982 at the Elks

childhood, dreams, fairy tale, humor, life, love, Poetry, women's stories

Day 21 ProlificPulse Mo Po: a poem inspired by a favorite childhood fairy tale.

Arlene

Ahhh Cinderella! ©arlene s bice

As a teen, I longed for my prince to come
haul me up onto his great white horse
ride into the sunset, travel, dance, sing

no one told me he was really a toad
no way would we ride onto the road
troubles and sorrows on me did he load

till I finally grew up and wised up, too
bought my own horse-power, that was
first a 2-wheeled Honda, then a Harley
candy-apple red, shiny and took myself
over mountains, down into valleys low
vroom, vroom, wherever I wanted to go.

Photo by Fran Now Time-unsplash

art, heart, home, Poetry, women's stories

Day 16 ProlificPulse Mo Po: a poem that explores the concept of home and belonging.

Arlene

Home & Heart! © arlene s bice

Sometimes I come home
flop into a chair
exhausted, whew!
a glance around shows
crystals in the window
plants, objet d’art, paintings
all familiar
chosen carefully by me
reflections of my life
items I hold dear
surrounds me
with warmth
I’m home.

A new turf
moved into
a stranger raises
a hand, waves,
shouts a ‘hi’
a smile
it feels good
my heart says
here
I belong
here.

childhood, Ireland, European travel, Australia, Cairns horse racing,, journaling, Poetry, reflection, travel, women, women's stories

Day 14 ProlificPulse Mo Po: poem of wanderlust and adventure.

Arlene


photo by Danny b-unsplash

It’s True © arlene s bice

At birth it was obvious to Mom
this is the one whose destiny is
to soar, to seek, to blossom with
travel; an adventure gene glowed
like a brilliant star shining within
you will mingle with others, it said
of different ethnic customs, beliefs
you will taste foods of many people
create friendships; gather knowledge
you will form friendships from afar

it’s true, it began early in life, a joy
it remains deep in my heart still
it’s restlessness, a wandering mind
feet itchy with sand-filled shoes
a thirst for ever more, again, again

writing it down may bring content
there, I did that, been there, next?

dreams, Poetry, reflection, women writers, women's stories

Day 12 ProlificPulse Mo Po: a dream you’ve had in vivid detail through poetry.

Arlene

Dreaming the House of Change © arlene s bice

Repeatedly, it began with my house
of early setting in
back wall completely blown away,
exposed
rooms crooked, uneven,
empty
reconstruction not working,
lopsided
a ramp leading to entrance
crumbling
weatherbeaten, life beaten
a vision of my marriage

this repetitive dream alerted me
change was coming
it did, each time.

American History, Civil War, family, genealogy, reflection, women's stories, WRITING MEMOIR

Your Ancestor Story © Arlene S Bice

Arlene

Now, you’re thinking about your name and maybe thinking about where it came from. You know it is easy to find your ancestors and you know where to go to find your ancestors. Now let me guide you a bit on what you want in your story.

My father told me his people lived in New Hope, Bucks County, Pennsylvania. I knew from records that my gr. grandfather Addis was born in 1842. I read about the call to arms from Pres. Lincoln and that it would make him a ripe age for enlisting in the fight to keep our country from breaking into pieces. His tombstone told me of his love for Annie. Research online told me what was going on in New Hope at the time. The newspapers, trains, canals, and local factories were alive with action and movement. It was easy to put it all together and come out with a picture of the day.

I found Addis’ army records and followed his footsteps, not using everything I found but choosing what would flush out his story. Newspapers carried the stories of the army hospitals and sometimes the shenanigans of the soldiers. Records reported weapons. Descriptions of battles are listed on-line.

After the War Between the States ended, records continued to lead me through his life, its triumphs and its trials. I came to know who he was, what he thought and how his life came to an end. Yankee in Blue published in Rumors and Other Short Stories.

photo thanks to Robert Linder @unsplash

family, genealogy, travel, women's stories

More Researching My Name ©- arlene s bice

Arlene

Photo by Ryan Searle on Unsplash
I tried possible spellings. Really, how many ways can I spell my four letter name? Byse, Bise, Bicé with an accent, Von Bicen (?) von Bisen (?) with no success.
I traveled to the UK a few times and once, after visiting Hay on Wye first, I drove through Cornwall stopping at Fowey. With Daphne du Maurier’s home in mind I pulled off the road onto the one that led down, down, down to the Channel. Whoa!!!! The road was so steep I felt like I would tumble head over heels, or trunk over engine. I spotted a street to my right that was kind of level and wrenched the steering wheel to get onto it. When I reached another street, it led back up to the main road, I took it. The engine of my rental with the gear shift on the left, was grinding all the way to the top! Whew!! I made it. What was I thinking?
I pulled off the road and looked down at the beautiful town where I yearned to go. I’d read about it but couldn’t see any other way to get to it. Other people must drive that road down, but I couldn’t make myself drive it. I gazed until I had enough and drove further west to Truro and Redruth when I decided I had enough and backtracked. I really should have found a place nearby to stay but didn’t. Oh regrets. This was Bice country and there were many connections to follow that I was unaware of. It was still early internet days. At least I was here and at least I discovered where my Bice family came from.
Finally when the internet came into everyday homes and Bingo! I sent out the plea and received a whole bevy of replies from Cornwall, England. “C’mon over! We have a history of Bices and tons of Bices still living here!” said the emails. I didn’t get back. As usual in my life, I seem to live it in reverse. Yet I found my heritage! Thanks to the internet, I learned that we (Bice folk) in our country, fought in the Revolutionary War. . .against England, that is so American.

Poetry, Warren Artists' Market, women's stories, wormen writing

Theatre Excitement Abounds!!!

Arlene

I’m so excited! I’ve been invited to present a poetry piece at the Lakeland Cultural Arts Center! On stage! Joining my longtime pals from First Friday Poetry Night, we’ll be reunited on Friday-that’s the Fourth Friday-of January – the 26th from 6 to 8 pm. Littleton (NC), home of LCAC, has changed in the last several of years since I’ve moved from Warren County to Virginia. All for the better. I’m also excited to see all my poetry loving writers, readers and listeners. Sometimes I don’t know how much I miss certain friends until I am about to be with them again. How funny that is, not in laughter, in curiosity.
Lakeland Arts has also been updated, refreshed, renewed, etc. In addition to plays, they offer a wide range of live entertainment; some shows are already sold out. It’s an impressive line-up. I am eager to see the new LCAC since I often enjoyed the Lakeland of years ago. Live plays are so superior, in these days of our entertainments coming from home screens.
Now, what am I going to wear? Which poem? Excuse me, it’s time to spray my throat and walk around the apartment and practice my ah-h-h-h-s!