I Miss Letters

Think about THIS the next time you look through your pile of junk mail…

Penny Wilson Writes

I miss letters.  The kind you used to get in your mail box.  Remember those?  Nobody writes letters anymore.  Even one of my dear friends who is now almost 80, sends emails rather than letters.

I still get a few Christmas cards every year, but even those are not nearly as numerous.  Most people if they do anything at all, they will send you an “e-card”.   Somehow, it’s just not the same.

I remember the thrill when I would find a letter from a childhood friend in the mail box.  It was so exciting!  I remember, making myself wait until I could devote my undivided attention to that letter.  Then I would sit and read it several times, relishing every word.

Remember Pen Pals?  I had a few growing up.  One was a Girl Scout that I met while I lived in the Philippines.  She was a Girl Scout from…

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What’s In A Name?

If you haven’t seen this, then you are about to learn something new about me. Do you like your name? Does your name have a story?

Penny Wilson Writes

1937-Wheat-Penny-Front-Back

Here a Penny, there a Penny…..

I was born with the name of Penny Nichols.  Not an easy name to live up to.  When I was in my teens and 20’s, I went by “Six Cents”.

The name Penny (NOT Penelope) was hard enough.  I heard all the usual taunts as a kid.  Henny Penny, Bad Penny.  My brothers bastardized the name Penelope and called me that, making the “o” long and the last “e” silent.  I hated it.  Then there was that stupid cartoon on when I was a kid called “Penelope PitStop”.  Kids called me that sometimes too.

Then there are those that try to be cute.  “A Penny for your thoughts!”  or “Penny’s from heaven!”

I always wanted to be called something pretty; something exotic.  I tried for a long time to get my childhood friends to call me Eva.  But it didn’t stick.

I had…

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On the Road Again

Movin’, movin’, movin’!  In case you’ve noticed, I’ve been rather quiet here lately.  I’m pre-occupied.  I am just starting the process of looking for a house to buy.  So my attention has been focused on that.

I know from past experience that buying OR selling a house, either one, can be very stressful.  I’m hoping I won’t go too crazy with the process.  🙂

I’ve found, what I think is an awesome Real Estate agent.  She seems to be very aggressive.

I’ve moved many, many times in my life.  What I am looking at will be my last home purchase, I hope.  A place to retire.  I’m pretty excited about the whole thing.

I’ve looked at just a few places so far.  Nothing that works.  But I should see a few more this week.  I will keep you posted on my new adventure!

Thanks for playing!  ❤ Penny

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Re Runs

Maybe you’ve noticed (and maybe you haven’t) that I have been reblogging some of my older pieces.

When I started blogging, I think it was in 2012.  Possibly earlier.  That blog ended up being deleted.  I know…  Horrors!!  I had a Stalker situation on my hands and that was the only way to rid myself of him.

This blog, I believe I started in 2014.  But it was a half-hearted effort.  I never posted very much.  I have learned SO much since that time.  I’ve learned about blogging, WordPress and it’s community and also about writing.  My writing style has changed immensely since my humble beginnings here.

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Shards

 

Unrecognized

shards

Swept away

with

yesterday’s promises

Clinking of glass

lightening

up my spine

Raw, unmasked

Copyright (C) 2018 Penny Wilson

 

 

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I Believe In Heroes

I originally posted this in 2015 and I know I’m a little late for the 4th, but I felt that it was appropriate for our nation’s celebration of freedom. I hope you enjoy! 🙂

Penny Wilson Writes

This man was a mere mortal of flesh and blood.  The light I saw in his eyes was that of an honorable man.  The honor this man carried with pride, was that of rare and unimaginable beauty.

I knew he was a man, with weaknesses as men have.  But I saw what was inside.  He was a Nobleman of Old.  He saw the demons and beasts that few of us see.  He would give his life to slay them.

He thought his life was better served on the battlefield.

He relied on his instincts and his brethren in the heat of battle.

My hand touched his, one last time, as he turned his shining eyes away.  I knew he couldn’t stay.  He had paused on his quest just long enough to give me a glimpse of himself.  There were battles to be fought and dragons to slay.

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Past lives…

I posted this in 2014. I’ve decided that I’m going to re-blog some of my posts that I feel would be of interest to newer followers. I hope you enjoy this piece. 🙂

Penny Wilson Writes

Image

My very early childhood was unusual, to say the least.  My brothers, mother and I moved a LOT.  I’ve been told I was born with wheels on my butt.

After my mother left my father, she was married to a man for a few years that was a migrant worker.  As a family, we followed the fruit, picking as we went, to earn a living.  We lived in Picker’s Cabins or tents or the back of the station wagon.

This was in the early 1960’s.   Most people don’t realize that in the 1960’s, 83% of the migrant workers were white families, just like mine.  Today, the migrant workers are mostly Hispanic.  The working conditions are no better today, in fact in some instances, they are worse.

Most of the Picker’s Cabins had no running water or electricity.  Women cooked on communal stoves or over open fires.  The toilets, if there…

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