What If?

Hard to tell what the truth is.  We’re in the midst of something that we cannot navigate if we are to listen to what is being said.  There is just so much: half-truths, fabrications, even lies; information withheld because there is no complete certainty of what is actually within our midst.  Everyone has an opinion; yet no one knows for sure.

And we do like being sure.

We need to know for sure.

Well, too bad because this one has got us by the you-know-whats.  While no one wants to leave their well-being to a crap shoot, we do our due diligence health wise and hope it suffices.

As there is no definitive, there is no clearly effective shield from this scourge.  No one finds themselves more able to insulate themselves than the person in back of the line.

Anger and divisiveness does not make us safer.

Where can I find some hand sanitizer?

So what now?

I must say that I’ve been made aware of a change.  As unnerving as it is, I think the uncertainty makes people more considerate of each other, somehow.  I notice kindness, more tolerance, even a tepid sense of humor in instances where people might previously  have chosen to avoid each other.  It is a little startling, pleasantly so.  And I’ll take it!

Is this virus the thing that provokes us to be more of a human being toward next person?

It is a tough lesson but this microscopic bit of hope within the extenuating circumstances of the corona virus could have a more profound and unexpected impact toward improving the situation in which we all find ourselves; to change our way with each other like nothing else, if, you believe in the power of such sentiments as consideration, or kindness, compassion, love?  I  do.  Is that a stretch?

But let’s face it.  Fear makes friends like nothing else can.  Or as Shakespeare said, “Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.”

Now the trick is to get to this place without such terrible provocation.

The effort is so very well worth making.  And it requires so little of us.

Sending loving kindness and good health to everyone, everywhere!


A Summer Place

Exaggerated, overly dramatic, and contrived, this movie deigned to dramatize the sexual morality of society in the 1950’s.
My sisters were teenagers and I remember this movie because it was the rage among their crowd.  I am not sure if I saw it in the theater with them, as I often tagged along if they were to go the movies at all.  However it was, I was aware of it and that it was a big deal.
I remember thinking how daring was this movie presented on the silver screen; as big as day.  Through the experience of our two biggest teen idols, Troy Donahue and Sandra Dee, we watched depictions of things that were off limits for discussion…shocking.  Oh my goodness, how far we have come.
This movie dramatized a time worth sharing with our young people today.   Though extremely contrived and forced a story, with poor, unimaginative dialogue, they will be provided a glimpse of the way we were back then.
I have since included it in my collection with a plan to view with my children and grandchildren. I can’t wait to hear their comments.
The theme song is quite possibly the most beautiful of all time and I can’t get enough of it. Percy Faith and his Orchestra was known for brilliant renditions of movie themes back then and especially for this one, composed by Max Stein.  I still listen to my old Columbia Music Club album of movie favorites just to hear the extraordinarily beautiful Theme from a Summer Place.  The images, feelings and memories rushing into the room like the waves on the beach in the movie.  It is a musical masterpiece for all time.
I can’t decide if the Cinemascope technique is credited for how the ocean looks more beautiful, the sky clearer and bluer, the sun and the colors brighter…the people are thinner?  I don’t know but I think that they actually were.  
How one memory opens the gate to other memories as it happens for me with this film will never cease to amaze me.
I always enjoy watching A Summer Place, even though in retrospect, that in the scheme of things, it seems in essence, a prelude to the decade that changed everything.
Trailer to A Summer Place:
Theme to a Summer Place by Percy Faith and his orchestra.


This is a story of my brother, John.  He was a very complex figure in my life and for the rest of my family members, I suspect.  As the youngest I was shielded from the more intriguing family matters, so I can not be certain of how others felt about him.  Though the mixed emotions that I had for John would be clearly defined one day.

His fine intellect was not always apparent as he held people’s attention at the level  of his mysterious and sometimes frightening countenance.  I admired and respected him, though.  I could see beyond that to another part of him, I thought.  I was so pleased believing he was able to see that I could be trusted, and talk to me the way that I wanted, without looking down and making exceptions for the little sister.  He always had my respect and admiration.  And he would come to be my hero.

He saved my spirit and I loved him for the incredible bravery and generosity that he brought forth on my behalf.  He put himself in harms way for me in regard to a matter that we never shared with anyone.

That night, when I returned home,  John was there and quickly realized something had gone wrong in my life.  He demanded to know the trouble and when I told him about what transpired, his disposition immediately changed.  He took control of my fear with a response seeming to reveal at least a part of his mysterious nature.   He was completely prepared for the situation that I presented to him, so much so that I feared for his safety.  Thank heaven, my prayers were answered and no one was confronted that night, but not for lack of John bringing his considerable might to the situation.  He went looking for the person involved but could not find him.

John was consumed by the incident so I left him alone to settle down in the aftermath, so that we might, after a reasonable interval, enjoy something of our usual repartee on the ride home.  But we had a completely silent ride in our parent’s car, which as I recall, he had started without the benefit of a key.  He was so enraged, there was no asking permission which would not have been granted.

His bravery saved me from the depths.  Selflessly, he brought all that he had to my defense.  He healed me then and even now, I feel he shields me from the memory.  Unless I make the decision to recall that day, it is far away from my life.  And, when and I do, with each recollection, what I remember is more of John.  It is the amazing thing that I’ve noticed.  It is the love that remains…and grows!

I love you, John.  I thank you.  I miss you.


Years had gone by without a thought of the summer at my grandparents farm in Virginia.  Then suddenly one day it was there, this forgotten experience, unprovoked and effortlessly revealing itself to me to become my little book of 50 pages.

This extraordinary childhood experience took place in 1957.  As I wrote, I felt the warmth and comfort of that time so long ago and so very dear to me now.   I was unaware of how much meaning it had brought to my life, this glimpse into their world.  It was written with love and a deep and ever-growing appreciation for my family.  It might well have been entitled , “The Gift”.

                                                                        Truth is Beauty is Love

Two Little Girls by Charon Diane


https://barnesandnoble.com/w/two-little-girls-charon-                                              diane/1022157163?ean=9781609101374

https://www.amazon.com/s?                                                                          k=two+little+girls+charon+diane&ref=nb_sb_noss_2




“Although your mind’s opaque, try thinking more if just for your own sake.”




Someone said:

There exists only two emotions…


and everything else.





No Win, no Place, no Show



Business Woman Running on a Hampster Wheel

You try to bond with, love, or at least strive for acceptance with some people.  But it seems impossible to get beyond a certain point with them.  Then one day, you realize that the only reason you have to continue trying is to keep alive the notion that with perseverance you will eventually succeed.

It may be necessary to protect yourself from investing more time because your spirit is at stake in these situations.  It almost feels like war, the relentless discussion without end, disguised as intelligent discourse…you’re just not getting it.  But why not?  You’re using everything at your disposal; being as honest, open, and true as you can possibly be.  You’ve been invited to the party but you are the only one there.

You realize the need to take care of yourself, to take the things that you offer from a situation that seems only to reject or belittle your every attempt.

Family is fertile ground for this pointless excursion to nowhere.  It is here where it is most difficult to discern the machinations, because surely love exists and isn’t that what we are hoping to experience and isn’t this the place where we want it most?  But it can be a minefield of deception that may take years to realize.  And that may be all there is to that!

Alas, the classic move is when much later, you are confronted with the person, seeking your attention now.  Where have you been after all…rather demanding as a matter of fact, perhaps there is a degree of anger for you’ve given up the pursuit of their approval.  This is where you get to say a few choose words if you wish.  But as valid as that may seem, you feel little inclination in that direction.  Geez…

                  “Dear Lord,  Make me a bird so I can fly far, far far away from here.”

                                                                                           Jenny from “Forrest Gump”

Nevertheless, be love and enjoy the beauty of the day, everyday…create something!

Hello, Is anybody in there?



Photo by Alexey Kijatov


With all that is going on in our world, have we come to realize the personal responsibility that we have to think for ourselves…yet?

How easy it is to disregard that responsibility as there are so many opinions swirling about that you could choose for your own.

But the rest of us will miss what you have to give from referring to the unique personal resource that is yours alone in the entire world.




The Wonder



                                             Old Age.

             The In-Between.

…interesting that we come back to where we start.

If we are lucky, along the In-Between we confirm the wonder of life that we were made of once.

We likely have a few satisfying answers for all of our efforts,

                                           experiences that meld and shape us,

                 turn us this way

      or that

                   or not,

and we come to know that the pursuit is life.

Little grandchildren and grandparents know.

“When Bad Things Happen”


You are constantly given proof,
You are always invited to believe,
You are eternally being supported in that,

                                                     You Are Amazing

Connect with Love
                                            everything else



What a difference a day makes!

In becoming the person you were meant to be in this life, bad things will happen to you. What else will coax you from your carefully maintained comfort zone of limiting possibilities?
So what’s really happening when baaaaad things happen?
Upon reflection, I would have to admit that five years ago I was pretty high on myself.  I felt sure of and satisfied with my life and rather proud of my accomplishments; creative, active, big thinking problem solver, go to person, answer lady, whatever it takes (so said my ex) big time doer, never sick, etc., there was always something going on, something that I needed to do. I always wore the most intriguing outfits and was fairly certain that I was personally responsible for a few trends. “You’re where you should be all the time and when you’re not you’re with…..”
Well, then I became ill.
For the next two months I lived in my office scouring the internet and printing out pages of reports and findings on suspecting causes.
Doctor after doctor and no one could tell me why or give a cause for “my condition” other than anxiety. So of course I was prescribed medication. Once on impulse I thanked a doctor for his insight because I could feel his growing frustration and impatience with me, and because I so needed at least a feeling of something constructive to come of this latest consultation.  He seemed pleased with himself and very condescendingly sent me on my way, sure of his victory over my presentation.  Just Imagine, feeling the worst you’ve ever felt and the only action available to you was to alleviate the stress in the person you rely upon to help you.  It was clear to me that I would have to find my way to the answers through my own efforts.

What you need is always there for you

On a day that I shall never forget, with one particular specialist, I answered yes to a question all doctors ask during consultation. Until then each time I’d answered no. The question was, “Do you have a headache?”
Driving home from yet another perplexed doctor, I wondered, after 3 months into my investigation of my illness, and so many visits to doctors and emergency rooms what was different this time? Why had I answered yes? I started going backward with all of the details of that day. Everything was unremarkable except for how, uncharacteristically, I had closed the windows of my car leaving only the sunroof open because it was chilly from the night before when it rained. No air, all windows open is my usual. Was there anything else about the car? Yes there was. The engine has recently been replaced. Slowly coming forward to conscientiousness, an ethereal suggestion hinted, “Could carbon monoxide be involved?”

Once at home I immediately I called my general practitioner’s office. I spoke to the nurse and told her I needed the doctor to know about my suspicions regarding my car and carbon monoxide. She called back minutes later to ask if I meant to say carbon dioxide. Really?  I started to cry. I had never been so completely frustrated or felt so entirely lost, alone, and desperate. I fell to the floor and prayed, “God in heaven, please help me. Down here no one seems to know anything!” Then, I sensed  a clear, authoritative directive to take the carbon monoxide detector from the wall and to place it in the car. I was stunned for a moment. Then I followed through placing the meter in the driver’s seat, I closed the windows, started the engine, got out of the car, and closed the door. After 10 minutes waiting on my porch, I returned to the car to get the meter reading which registered a very high level of carbon monoxide. I was being poisoned by my car’s exhaust fumes!

Stress slipped away and I felt a warm comforting Presence all around me. I didn’t want to stray from it so I continued to lie there enjoying the most amazing sense of security and love and acceptance. I could have been taken away on a breeze. My prayer was answered and I felt safe for the first time in months.

Recovery from this kind injury takes a long time and patient, consistent self-care. What a challenge it is for a previously impatient me!

I am different now.  I can’t do-it-all these days but with Grace I’ve learned, in exchange, that when I allow others to do for me I get to experience the beautiful gift of connection existing between us all. I was surprised to find that people seem to gravitate to the opportunity to experience that connection, to express the Love! Amazing!

For a take-charge personality the biggest challenge has been a simple one; to allow others. Though it continues to be my first response, I just don’t get a charge out of reacting in that take-charge way anymore. My good fortune has been that I’ve established some incredible bonds as well as rid myself of a couple of fair-weather-friends (after so many years, who knew, though they have always been rather difficult.) Because of my illness I know some of what’s been missing. And each day I discover more, i.e. my love of writing!

So could it be that the bad things that happen are just an invitation to experience your life from a different perspective, to see what becomes of you? And perhaps it’s all part of the grand design anyway, in revealing the wonder of you, your self, your most precious and amazing gift!


My book!

Two Little Girls by Charon Diane


https://barnesandnoble.com/w/two-little-girls-charon-                                              diane/1022157163?ean=9781609101374

https://www.amazon.com/s?                                                                          k=two+little+girls+charon+diane&ref=nb_sb_noss_2

We tend to forget many of the experiences that we’ve had, and easily so as some are truly forgettable, others regrettable, and still others simply because we must get on with our lives.  Some events, though we may not think of them when they occur as pertinent or relevant, remain with us somewhere deep inside.

For months I’d been struggling with a perplexing issue which seemed to defy resolution.  I was bound on all sides with thinking about it, when suddenly a forgotten memory emerged.  Shapes, colors, and details became part of the air around me, dancing in concert with each other to form a story that I would tell in a little book that I would write.

This extraordinary experience of my childhood took place in 1957 in Virginia. As I wrote the words I felt warm and comforting support for a time that I spent with my grandparents, so very dear to me now.  Until the time of writing, I was unaware of how much meaning the summer had brought to my life.   How impossible that it was safe in my heart all along   It is a story of love and an ever-growing appreciation for my family.  It might well have been entitled , “The Gift”.

                                                            Here is an excerpt from my novelette:

Two Little Girls

Chapter 1

As far as I was concerned, summer began with the day my father installed the screens in the windows. Early that morning, Mother would have taken the summer sheers from storage to the clothesline in our backyard. By the afternoon, she swooped up the freshened bundle and brought them back indoors to hang on the rods at the tops of the windows. When the transformation was complete, I’d run from room to room to see the curtains flying on the breeze that raced in through the windows of our big old house. Like a magical invitation to adventures possible only with summer, when one day melted into the next and no one asked about the time, I felt that I could fly too and that anything could happen.

There were 5 children in my family. My brother Lionel was the oldest; my sister Cecilia was next, followed by my sister Rose, then my brother Isaac, and me. We spent summertime totally absorbed in keeping pace with our friends as was our Mother in keeping up with us. She mended our scraped knees, our bruised egos, and the holes in my brothers’ dungarees. I remember lemonade and tuna sandwiches, cotton sun dresses and hair ribbons; the pennies I collected for the corner candy store, and my ankle socks that never stayed up. Summers seemed much longer then when hopscotch and jump rope, hide-and-seek and tag, dress-up and make-believe, with my bicycle, my dolls and friends filled the days until suppertime. When August finally came around, among the five of us someone would be chosen to vacation with our grandparents in the country. It was in the year 1957 that I was to spend my first summer there.

I’d thought so often about my first trip to the farm. But like the landing of a cascading boulder, my mother’s cheerful delivery of this summer’s plan completely shattered my vision of it. Leaving little room for the way that reality alters things but similar to most events concerning “the children”, I was quite certain of my unvarying reverie. It was always the same.  My brothers and sisters are running through a country field with me, very happily and as usual, following close behind. But everything had been arranged and I alone would spend two weeks on the farm that year.

My family had gathered in the living room when Mother made the announcement. But my frustrating lack of enthusiasm was like a call to dinner in emptying the room of everyone and I found myself alone, save for the dog. While I struggled with the concept of being on my own, Spiky jumped onto the couch next to me. Placing his head upon my foot he kept a concerned and watchful eye over my disposition until we both fell asleep.

Later that day, I listened to Dad’s recollections of farm life adventures while Mother prepared supper. As she filled in with the finer points and particulars she’d taken note of my mixed feelings with her knowing smile that always took the sharp edges off of things. “Don’t forget that your cousin Joanna is just about your age and lives close to Grandpa‘s”, she nearly whispered. Then I thought of the pocket inside the little green suitcase as the place where my Jacks would find a perfect fit.

                                          ~~~~~~~ Truth is Beauty is Love ~~~~~~

You are amazing.  Create something beautiful today!