Monthly Archives: October 2010

The Right to Breathe

Today is the 26th of October. It is a day that I am always humbled and thankful to one person in particular… That is my mother, Valette H. Wright. Oh yes, my father I also think of, but when it came to carrying me as I formed both in the womb and out of it, that was my mother. And, on this day before my birthday, every year of my life, she deserves a lot of credit; for she gave me the right to breathe… she labored for my life.

I have prayed for my mother and been thankful to her every October 26th, since 1972; for that is the year I first became a mother and learned the joy of childbirth, and the work of laboring for a child’s life. I would like to think that I was openly grateful to her, and to some extent I was as I matured… But only she knows the trial it was to raise her eldest daughter, to watch her learn her life lessons, and to give that daughter everything she had to make my life beautiful. How can I fully and completely be grateful for that?

My mother

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Big Threes – Part Two

It has been fifteen years since I recovered my legs for what I thought would be the rest of my life. And what do I do but take a walk that does in my knee. Torn menisci… Not bad enough to require surgery but after resting the joint, I needed to return to physical therapy.

I know the drill. The truth is that some things can come back and bite you again without your permission. Enter a new physical therapist. Enter a new physical therapy center. Because I now live in a different state and have different doctors… I had to go shopping for someone other than Nancy, my previous pt. Breaking in a new doc is trepidation right there; physical therapists are no different. And really a good physical therapy center is tough to find. Could I get lucky twice?

I chose Harper’s Physical Therapy. First appointment was going to be the preparation to heal; all of the information would be taken and then a formula derived to continue the healing process. As I waited to meet my pt (physical therapist), I couldn’t help thinking how it only

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Big Threes – Part One

A milk stool is an amazing thing. It has only three legs but with those three legs it can support all kinds of weight and serve a great many purposes. One leg gone and it’s nothing… It can’t even support itself. Just falls over and lies there in a muck. But all three legs soundly attached and in good condition, that little three legged stool is a miracle of wonder.

Three! Three is a beautiful number. Three make a family… a father, a mother, a child. Three makes the American government… the Federal, the State and Judicial. And three speaks to my faith and my relationship with God… the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Three. It also speaks to healing. Especially healing… Because it’s something I’ve done a lot of in my adult life, having experienced fourteen surgeries and consequently faced fourteen recoveries. The first few recoveries were real struggles because I had no third leg on my milk stool. Others that followed were more complete because I then knew better. I learned that the healing itself also has three parts.

Here are

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A Defining Moment

Of all the musical instruments available to Man, the piano seems to be the one recognized worldwide. First known as the painoforte, it has been enhanced not only by its inventor in Italy, but brought to excellence through the Scots and the Germans. Its eighty-eight keys are irresistible to even those who never ever took a lesson in their life… We sit down on the bench and we tinker and plunk on the keys as literally hundreds of thousands have done as children or adults… Pushing down on one key… and then another and another… higher or lower… looking for a melody we know or one that has never been heard. Whether a real melody comes forth or we just sit there and doodle, for that moment we are making music and we forget the day.

I have known many who enjoyed piano lessons, as children; yet they hated the practice that is required. I was not that child. I loved the sound of the instrument. And while some songs were (and are) more beautiful to me than others, this instrument fed me.

To this day I recall performances and the selections I played. I

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