The City of Destiny…


The City of Destiny…

I have the key to the city of destiny.

Through me, you will find the entrance

to everlasting tenderness, to those

who are lost. I myself have built this

imaginary city from beginning to end

with wisdom and love. It has seen

many dauntless days. The entity of life

said I am deathless; I do not die. I feel

distrust, I am a coward in this city of

Will you be fearful if I tell you that this

place is one of doom and darkness, one

of the damned, filled with heartless

secrets? As the darkness closes in on the

city, wailing begins loud the weeping

of unending pain. The voices with

passion filled the night, our souls

dancing in the wind. In this

everlasting night.
A Voice filled the darkness, do you fear

the Lord, the God of many, and then

this voice spoke of hope and death.

There is memory of them on the earth,

those lives that remain behind, and

their outcry does not reach your ears

in this make-believe place. Is there

justice beyond these walls, move

quickly or you will be doomed. The

souls are unnumbered.
I thought the whole city as dead, is

this retreat before everlasting life.

I saw the victims all naked and loud.

Weak and painful, some with blood

upon their faces. I gazed forward

and beg for daybreak to end all this

and me, wake me before it is too late.

Before me is nothing, a fearful abyss.
Then demons rose, one after the other

descending into the chasm. The evil

seed of the demon did this throughout

the endless night. I lay there silent with

an unspoken thought, he will come, and

he will spur justice and fear for those

that are within his reach, those that call

his name.
Then the ground began to tremble. It was

a terrifying sound. The wind rose and a

blood red moon cast its light upon the earth

where we stood. I sank further into the

dreadful dream hammering me with

waves of fear.

Wake up!




A Place of Reality…



A Place of Reality…

I have spoke of horrifying things, are these

weak words built from understanding. I am

neither a coward nor a saint, my thoughts

are clear, my plan open to change. There are

times when I live in the “Outer Place”, where

no one can get to me where no one knows me

where I will not be bothered by human drama.
There is no place that I can flee; I fear I was

born too early or maybe too late. At night I

dream of heaven, I traveled from star to star.

Do I have a wish in that dark realm, there

looking toward Earth I see the creation. Heaven

was not open to me, nor was Hell; the dream,

the darkness of night, it was a strange descent

into my place of reality.
It is there in reality that I search for truth, as I

dream, I follow a dark stream to the sea, and it

is there that I find a sacred place for me to

dwell. The place that I dwell is not for the faint

hearted, it is on this path that I find my true

worth, within time I find whom I may follow.

There are no more delays to this life; there will

be no more words. I must travel forward on

this hard and dreadful way.





Charging into the Future…

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Most of you know of the health problems that has challenged me over the past two years, first the heart decided to give me a jolt to my future if I did not change my lifestyle. This past year, 2017, was to bring humility to my life in the way of a stroke. It seemed as if each new challenge was trying to teach me something. The leftover of the stroke after rehab was a continued tiredness, which kept me from doing my daily things such as walking 6 miles with my dog Mason three times a day. Going to the gym, working out on the treadmill and other equipment no less than two hours free times a week. I have had to put all of this behind me and try to move forward with being grateful for the things I can do.

A big part of my life is writing it would seem that I have nerve damage in both arms; this in turn affects my hands. The right hand has a permanent trimmer; the left-hand three fingers are useless, today. Tests were run to give some conclusion as to where I stand with this problem. It would appear that this is permanent, now I began another journey.

I am able to walk perfectly and upright for short distances, if I go to the mall or any open outing. I have to be smart enough to take the Walker that I truly dislike. When you read that karma is a bitch, believe it. I have said in the past that I would never use a walker, wrong, when it was my only means of moving about. It became my best friend.

Which brings me to my new best friend, Dragon, it allows me to transcript all of my writing voice to text and I love it. No longer with the useless fingers are hands and my having to backtrack and correct of words that my fingers typed it. My brain did not tell it to do, Dragon set up quickly. It adapted quickly to my voice and writing style. I am promoting this software to anyone that it would make their life easier, it is user-friendly and it puts me back into this new journey, this new time of my life, it has allowed me to continue doing the things that I love. This software is from Amazon, it is not cheap nor is it overly priced, have a choice of choosing several different types. Thanks to all of you for your loyalty and support, let us travel this new journey together.


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Living in the Moment…



Hello everyone, it has been quite a while since I have posted anything on the blog. Health and winter problems, health getting much better, winter in Wisconsin is up and down. No snow, but extreme cold. Wisconsin with ice, snow, rain, cold also comes the flu season, the common cold and a host of other viruses.
Even my four-legged son Mason came down with an ear infection. That may not sound serious; however, he will not let anyone touch his ears. Therefore, he has to be put to sleep to clean them out and put in medicine. Mason will be six years old on January 31. I know that is still young but this breed can have many problems. Time goes quickly and there are times I think about my life without him. He has been an Angel sent to me from “above”.

I have been laughing about the complex that I live in; it is filled to the brim with “old” people. My laughter is obliged as I am the same age of many, but… We have a central community room, which I never go too. The main lobby is another gathering place during “mail time”. I have discussed with some about the decorations; Thanksgiving décor was up the day after Halloween. Christmas décor was up before I had eaten all the Thanksgiving left over’s. Christmas night all of those decorations came down and Valentines went up! Trust me, Easter décor will appear before the Valentine chocolates are eaten.
How do I know all this…I go to the mailbox about midnight when everyone else is in bed, because of winter I walk Mason in the hallways.
I think the focus here or the main words are independent living. It is not a nursing home, but it is a facility that caters to the elderly. It makes my children happy that I am where there are many things that can make my daily life easier and they do not have to worry about me. I have a sign on my main door that reads, “Do not disturb”. I have a reputation I have been told that of a hermit. I do not want to listen to stories about age, aches and pains…I have my own.
They have “Happy Hour” on Fridays, 4 to 5 PM, you have to be there at four O’clock and you are ushered out the door at 5 O’clock. I went once, then took my bottle and went home. A one-hour Happy Hour just does not do it for me. Nevertheless, such is my life, I am happy.
I am currently working on my new book with no titles at this time; it is all printed out waiting for me to do proofing. This is not an easy job, as most of you know. Either, I hope to devote some of the winter months when I cannot get out to my painting. This book will be a work of fiction based on fact, which I have decided to do. There are a few family members living and I want to respect their privacy.
Therefore, the winter months are here. I will wane away the time on self-made projects. Sharing these moments with my readers, my followers is another great joy of mine.

Realm of Peace…



Once again the New Year speeds by and one week of winter weather has our town wrapped in a cluster of snow and cold where going outside is not a thrill.  The Holidays over, many having to return to work, the downside of the season grips us as well, leaving many with a gloominess that is hard to get rid of…


I was thinking about a conversation I overheard during the holidays and from it came the poem below.  I believe that we are the masters of our own universe; that if one has lived allowing others to control their life; then break the bondage and learn to be the master of your own world.  If one had rather let another control their life and the reason is that it removes them from any responsibility; sadly this may cause one to live behind a wall of truth, living a lie.  There is no magic potion to take that will bring back the world of no responsibility, it is clearly dead and at some point everyone has to pay the price that life imposes upon us all, that is to be responsible and find some measure of happiness while there is time.


May all of you be blessed in the coming days of this New Year, remembering that you are important and deserve to be happy.


Realm of Peace…
Life may be that of a pawn, caring for others and boring toil; moments of memory shows no beauty and grace, and chaos is written in the lines upon their face. Chaos is painful as life rewinds, unfolding, sadly to a different time. As weakness causes one to hide behind the veil of truth where they are miserable, lost, waiting for a magical being, an Angel to bring happiness and wealth into one’s life.
Voices speak, penetrating the unhappiness suffered through time; like waves beating upon the shore and passes quickly, as sand returning to the sea. Between the swirls of time one may ask, “Who I am”; defeat the ache of disappointments and this miserable burden will go away. Who in this anguished world possesses your soul? Look pass the ruse of your own life and rise to carry yourself into a peaceful realm of tomorrow.



The Aunts – A Short-Short Story


The Aunt’s and the “World’s Oldest Profession”
A True Short-Short Story…

In the early 1800s, the hectic harbor in Mobile, Alabama was bustling with upriver planters who came to town for the annual cotton-marketing season. Along the waterfront a variety of establishments from boarding houses, hotels, saloons and other places know as the gentlemen’s entertaining facilities, as a group they were known as “Shakespeare’s Row”. During the South’s Antebellum Era prostitution ranked right up there with vagrancy and public intoxication. It later became a prohibition of any disorderly behavior public or privately. The fines for “keeping a disorderly house” ranged from $10 to $25; there were no consistent laws on the subject.

It was during mid-1850, when my Aunt Molly and Modena Veste found themselves visiting a distant cousin in Mobile near the waterfront. They had inherited a hotel outside Birmingham, Alabama and after working night and day for months decided to give themselves a vacation. Leaving the Veste Hotel in the capable hands of their hired staff off the two went on their seashore retreat.

It was toward the end of their stay when they ventured onto the waterfront and Shakespeare’s Row. Neither Molly nor Modena wavered from having a good time. When they inherited their Aunt Ira’s Hotel the entire family encouraged them to turn their lives around and make a living running the upper-class establishment.
It was during that trip to Mobil that the idea of turning the Veste Hotel into a “Gentleman’s Club” became a reality. They did not identify themselves with the Shakespeare Row prostitutes, but they did discover since their youth their need to pander with men.

These two young women catered to the wealthy, cards, cigars and liquor became the enticement. Upon paying a substantial monthly fee to join, a daily fee deposited at the door would give the gentleman their choice of available “Ladies of Pleasure” or “Ladies of Easy Virtue” for one hour. The city agreed to turn their heads to these nightly “Whore Parties” for a reasonable tax! A wink and a nod condoned and protected prostitution at the Veste Hotel for almost 50 years.

Therefore, Miss Molly and Miss Modena brought the red-light district to Northern Alabama. It was one of the few buildings left standing when Yankee troops pilfered their way through the south. The women that worked in the hotel were not cheap, but to test the virtuous caverns of the Veste sisters’ could be costly.



The Chickasaw – Part 8


The Chickasaw – Part 8

Sipsee and Jane thought life at Chadwick Manor was worse than they could have imagined witnessing pain and sorrow.  They also learned to live in a world where freedom was recognized only by the color of one’s skin; they learned that the world they lived in showed hatred for both the Negro and the Indian people.  The Indians were mostly free in many of the states that withdrew from the Union.

They would learn how to survive…

Jane had wonderful memories of her mother and father; she also had nightmares of seeing her father killed and of the Master of Chadwick coming to their one room shanty during the night.  The sadness of moving from the forest onto land where she was surrounded by cotton, and living with her mother’s sadness, Jane knew that both she and her mother would need to learn a new way to survive.

As a favor to Sipsee, Mistress Chadwick-Alboin and Master Alboin allowed Jane to be schooled along with their daughter;  Jane learned  reading and writing, elegant manners.  Her mother told her that an education was the only way she would escape from being an Indian; Sipsee wanted her only child to do extremely well in this new land, to be accepted in any social setting.  Jane did want to learn the white man ways; she would never forget that she was the daughter of Hawk Over-Town.

Their home may have been a one room shanty in slave quarters, but it was home; Jane was a tall gangly girl that did not have the beauty of her mother, instead she was to bare the hard sculpted features of her father.  She felt safe when she and her mother were roaming the woods collecting herbs and plants for medicine.  Sipsee would teach Jane the ways of their people, the custom, the culture, they would grow strong and some day be more than slaves to rich landowners.  Sipsee wanted to see the day when she and her daughter did not have to address these people as Missus and Master.

Then War came to Chadwick Manor…

The State of Alabama declared that it had seceded from the United States of America on January 11, 1861.  Jane was thirteen-years-old; she had learned many things like gracefulness and proper manners; Sipsee had succeeded in keeping her daughter from the Master, now she had to worry about the soldiers both Union and Southern, neither respected women.  It was during the beginning of the war that Sipsee found out about other Chickasaw’s living in the area; the Mistress of Chadwick sent them there to be safe, neither side Union or Southern bothered the Indians.  When they arrived everyone greeted them, they were shown kindness; it would be their home until the War Between the States was over.

Jane right up to the end of her life would not talk about the War.  She and her mother were happy when it ended; Jane was seventeen-years-old.   She would only say that the greed of the white man would be their downfall.  Sipsee and Jane remain in the Chickasaw village when the War ended.

It was there that Jane met Pap.  He was a scout for the South, and Jane just became a teenager and was smitten by him.  Sipsee did not care for him as he was twenty years older than Jane was; Sipsee hoped that he would not come back; Jane felt a sadness she could not explain.  

To be continued…

Story Resources:

Storyteller – Jane Over-Town “Overton” 1848-1954 at the age of 106 her mind was Like a steel trap, she never forgot anything, It was her body that was ready for death; she lay down for an afternoon nap and woke only to say goodbye to the grandson she raised, my father.

Grandson – Roy C. Johnson

Granddaughter – Vina Evans-Quinn

Elizabeth Ann Johnson-Murphree Great – Granddaughter




The Chickasaw – Part 5


The Chickasaw – Part 5

Hawk found a way to cross the Mississippi River into Northern Alabama.  They made their home on the Eastern side of Alabama.  They lived among a few Indians that were not forced to leave.  Hawk knew that if they did not live like the “white man” they would be forced to leave or killed.  Sipsee learned the language and would walk to the nearest settlement to work; they wanted to build a cabin.  Sipsee knew that they must change with the times, Hawk kept to himself and his own dreams.


In 1848, Sipsee gave birth to a baby girl, the only child she and Hawk would ever have; she call her Jane and never gave her an Indian name.  It was Sipsee’s way of trying to go with the coming change in their lives.  This change did not mean that she would not teach her daughter to old customs just learn to survive.  Both Sipsee and Hawk learn to survive in their own ways.  He in the way of the land and playing the white man’s game to his advantage.

Once when Sipsee ventured into town and the general store’s proprietor ask her what was her name, she told him Sipsee.  He asks for her last name, she said “Over-Town”; they had tribe names, but no last name.  He misunderstood and called her Sipsee Overton.  Sipsee decided when dealing with the white man she would use the name Overton; it stayed that and continues in the descendants today.


To be continued…

Resource – Storyteller – Jane Over-Town “Overton” 1848-1954 at the age of 106 her mind was Like a steel trap, she never forgot anything, It was her body that was ready for death; she lay down for an afternoon nap and woke only to say goodbye to the grandson she raised, my father.

Other Resources:

Granddaughter – Vina Evans-Quinn

Resource and Post Writer – Elizabeth Ann Johnson-Murphree Great – granddaughter



The Chickasaw – Part 4


Continue – The Chickasaw

They all spoke softly among themselves about what was happening and of the strange land, they were taking them too.  What use to be a proud people, they were now faltering under degrading conditions. Many elders, young children and babies died as all were herded like cattle on a dusty path.   Many years later, this action by the white man against the Indians would be called “The Trail of Tears”.

Ma’s grandparents died before reaching Arkansas …


There were many fires at night when they were allowed to stop; all Nations were represented, the most were the Cherokee.  Ma was told that many young men spoke of escaping, Hawk agreed with them.  She remembered her father saying that he had rather be dead than living like animals herded into circles by the soldiers.  One of the Over-Town elders a Shaman, “married” them, giving them many spiritual blessings.  Hawk would not leave without Sipsee.  During the darkness of night, they slipped away; Hawk did not tell Sipsee, he knew that their parents would pay for their freedom with their own lives.


Hawk found a way to cross the Mississippi River into Northern Alabama.  They made their home on the Eastern side of Alabama.  They lived among a few Indians that were not forced to leave.  Hawk knew that if they did not live like the “white man” they would be forced to leave or killed.  Sipsee learned the language and would walk to the nearest settlement to work; they wanted to build a cabin.  Sipsee knew that they must change with the times, Hawk kept to himself and his own dreams.



To be continued…

Resource – Storyteller – Jane Over-Town “Overton”
1848-1954 at the age of 106 her mind was
Like a steel trap, she never forgot anything,
It was her body that was ready for death; she lay
down for an afternoon nap and woke only to
say goodbye to the grandson she raised, my father

Post Writer – Elizabeth Ann Johnson-Murphree
Great granddaughter