Inspirational Stories

one of the best perks of this job is all the amazing people i get to meet thru email! some of the stories you share with me are overwhelming and i feel so blessed to read them. we thought it would be a great idea to see if we can get some of you to write them out so we can post them here! please don't think for a moment that your story isn't worth sharing! each story touches something in all of us. and everyone has something so special to offer. by your reaching beyond your shyness and putting out your stories, you are touching others and helping others. and that's our intention.

if you're interested in contributing, drop terri a note at terri@

A journey always begins with a first step ... or maybe it's a jog. I was married another time before this; before my beloved "Da Bowob" who I met in 1990 and married in 1995. This other time, back in the eighties ... well, I practice compassion toward that younger, less experienced Sooz, who had no idea what she was getting into.

My first husband had an addiction --- of what type, we don't need to go into. He told me very late, just before our wedding, and I was (a) either too chicken to abandon all of the wedding plans already made, or (b) chose to think that with enough love, surely we could change his life. (Sound vaguely familiar, my women friends?)

Flash forward to the time that I have packed all of my belongings into my '86 Mustang and headed out of town – through ice and snow and running for my life; for my mental health, for my almost-dead spirit, for my absolutely devastated finances. I got down to business getting myself pragmatically situated to get back on my feet: staying with my parents for a month while I found a job; getting the bare minimum of stuff necessary to rent a new apartment ...

There was still how to "decompress" from the experience of my marriage. I couldn't stand to just hang in my empty new apartment, running over scenes in my head, over and over. Providence, one day, led me to open the local newspaper to a full-page ad for the San Jose Mercury News 10K. It was February now, and the race was in May. I thought to myself how wonderful it would be to get out of my apartment each evening and be outdoors, moving. All that would take was a pair of shoes!! Right outside my door!! Very little start-up drama.

When I started training, I could jog about 100 yards and then would have to walk then next 100. I'd play little games in my head when my chest hurt from panting: by the time I reach that telephone pole in the next block, I'll be ready to start running again, and so on, always pulling myself along. Soon I was running without the breaks; soon I was curiously exploring other streets, finding parks, attacking hills. At my new job, which was in a converted old house, there was actually a shower, and so I would bring my stuff and run at lunchtime, loving the feel of the sunshine after being in an air-conditioned office all morning. As I got into a rhythm, on each run, I felt like my thoughts about my marriage were dropping behind me on the sidewalk, like little clumps of --- pardon the expression --- dirt off my shoes. It was mental, cleansing, therapy at its best!

So there I am running along one day, past a beautiful park, and out of the corner of my eye, I see something on the other side of the park that touches a memory. I'm puzzled, for a minute, and I stop. I'm looking ... and looking ... at the back of this apartment building wayyyyyy at the other side of this beautiful park, and as I stand there --- glowing with my healthy sweat in the lunchtime sun, feeling so connected to myself and to life, I realize suddenly what the building is. It is the backside of a cheapo apartment that I had lived in by myself, during my first marriage, when [name withheld] was incarcerated. The financial devastation had already started, and I had rented this --- pardon the expression – rat hole because it was the only place that did not require a security deposit. We won't go into the details of the depths I had gone to, while living there, to try to cope with the reality that I wasn't prepared to accept. The profound thing was standing there looking at it from the other side, from this glorious, sunny, sweaty, powerful, and healthy place that I was now.

I'll never forget this feeling. I've used that memory a lot since then, and as a metaphorical story, it feels like it contains all the necessary ingredients. I love how it includes the mistakes we can make when we're naïve; the courage it takes to let go of a situation and trust the going-forward; the physical power that we have when we make up our minds; and how that mind-body connection can all work together to get us healed in life, to teach us, and to move us forward to a more powerful place.

Ahh. Life's good.

-Sooz Weissberg

Life changing...well try to make the long story short. We, my son Richie and I, decided to do the habitat for humanity build - he because he needed community service hours for some bad boy stuff; me because there was a community effort to get 200 breast cancer survivors to build this house - bring attention to our cause and then give back. So the first life changing thing is that my son and I are getting to bond on Saturdays doing something cool :) We are really discovering how much alike we are in funny ways. AND, all the ladies are loving on him and that warms up my heart because he is so lovable :) Even though he is capable of bad boy stuff. For someone who didn't do bad girl stuff, I'm also starting to develop some understanding about the here and now and not the life plan.

We are working in South Dallas which is not the nicest area of the DFW metroplex - the habitat homes that are being built are basic housing – there are about 20 houses going up on two streets. We (breast cancer survivors, friends and family) are completing one of those homes. We arrived the first Saturday to a slab - by the end of the day the house was framed by amateurs filled with love. You are working side by side with all kinds of diverse people - ministers, CEOs, convicted felons - but none of that matters: your goal is the same and everyone's skillset is needed. Last week Damien, a young South Dallas man, wowed us all by his circular saw skills. We couldn't have completed our project without his skills. But in every day life, he might be the kind of person I wouldn't meet and get to know as a person. So there's this whole diversity thing going on that is so very cool.

All kinds of people; all walks of life; side by side engaged in physical activity that is pure giving for one purpose: to provide a deserving family with a home.

Richie and I both agree that we take so much for granted. What we think is tough obstacles in our lives are really pretty easy compared to not having a roof over your head. Our efforts are going to directly allow someone to have a safe haven - a roof over their head - for a single mom and two boys.

There but for the grace of God go I. It makes us feel fortunate – that we live in a 4,000 square foot home on 2.5 beautifully wooded acres; but we are brought down to earth knowing that others are trying to simply live and maybe we should live a little more simply. It has made me/us see the world in a whole different light. We are working in an area of town I wouldn't normally be in; making that connection to people who are in fact JUST LIKE ME but because of life's circumstances end up somewhere else - it's pretty amazing.

I have always been a person "of service."I brought my boys up learning to be kind and giving. WE have volunteered time, money, materials for lots of causes over many years of their/my lives. But none like this one. On May 10, after working 9 Saturdays, we will have built a home. We are getting to know the family who will live there (they are required to work on the home each weekend). We are learning how to build a home. We are learning how a community is built and we are learning how 500 hammered nails can make a difference.

So if you ever get the chance to be part of a Habitat for Humanity build – I recommend it!! OK - that was probably too much. Time for bed. Peace out.

Keeping the Human in Human Resources,
-Terri Swain

january 21,2007

pet/cat scan. sounds friendly enough. i fast from midnight the night before the tests. now there's a strange word - fast. without food the time goes by very slowly indeed. i drink 64 ounces of powdered something or other and any flavor of gatorade i choose. not red. when i arrive at the testing office i wait and wait in the waiting room - well named. finally a white-coated woman takes me into a cubicle for a short consultation. the door has to remain open because she has claustrophobia. in 30 minutes i will appreciate the humor in this. after waiting some more i am taken to another small room where i have to drink more solution. this is thick and difficult to swallow and keep down. when the tech-guy goes out of the room i dump most of it down the sink. when he returns i smile and say - "that was good." he needs to start an iv to drip liquid that will show "contrast" in my organs while the machine takes pictures of my entire body.

i have an iv port in my chest but he hasn't been trained to access it so must poke a needle into my arm. my poor veins are hard, small, a wreck from all the ivs and blood draws i have endured this past year. if no one can access it why have it? - must look into this.

i am taken into the pet/cat scan room. i lie down on a narrow board and am strapped down chest to feet so i do not move at all while the machine takes endless snapshots of my insides. the tube is very narrow and longer than my body.

i immediately have to urinate, but can't leave the tube. the tech can leave and goes into a room where i can't see him but can hear him over a speaker system. he says "don't move a muscle until this is over" and turns on a frank sinatra cd which is too loud in this small space. the board and i get pulled into the machine and a light whizzes over me - the cat scan part. that wasn't so bad. i can handle this. now starts the "pet" part. i start to be slowly pulled through the tube and realize i have to get my spirit self out of that tube or i'll scream. what can i think about? where can i go?

aha! i start to do tai chi in my head - all 3 sections - slowly, ever so slowly. finished with that. now what? my body is totally inside the tube and when i open my eyes a slit i cannot see light at either end. oh, mother of god, help me. i have lost feeling in my hands, feet, really all over and have to pee so badly.

then she comes to me, mary, mother of god.

i know i am going to scream. right now!! and suddenly i hear a voice say: "you're done." and i whizz out of the tube. i can barely walk or talk. have to use the bathroom - fast! never should have driven myself here. am hungry, have a migraine cranking up and just want to be home. what an ordeal. maybe everyone doesn't feel this way but i do not ever want to have this test again without some serious drugs to keep me calm. can this machine be open? can i bring my own music? can i bring a book on tape?

willle stopping by dunkin' donuts for a latte and anything with sugar on it, i remember the employee who had claustrophobia in the dressing room for god's sakes! the tube would have totally freaked her out. feeling stronger now. i found a way to stay in the tube with my tai chi master and blessed mother whispering encouragement in my ears; realizing that while my body was bound and practically paralyzed my mind could wander free.  

Why my experience with cancer was a gift:

10. i learned to let go of my fears and embrace the moment.
9. prayers are answered.
8. i met and received care from wonderful medical professionals.
7. i am learning to say no to things i cannot or will no longer do.
6. i am learning to be a "human being" instead of a "human doing."
5. i leanred many things about my body - mostly how to honor it but not be attached to any outcome.
4. i came to realize how much love from family and friends there is for me - wow!
3. i can help others navigate the cancer network.
2. i learned to embrace cancer, not battle it.
1. i don't have to have my facial hair waxed as often.

As I embrace my recovery from cancer surgeries and treatments, I have learned more about life:

10. chocolate is a food group with magical healing powers.
9. wear a skirt that twirls at least once a week.
8. i ask god each day to make me a blessing to someone.
7. i make plans no more than one day in advance, if that.
6. saying kind words and gossiping less gets great results.
5. i am no longer waiting in line to eat a meal no matter how renowned the restraurant.
4. i can best share my experiences by just Being them.
3. life is perfect just the way it is. stop trying to control everything!
2. i am listening to my body and spirit. they are smarter than my brain.
1. if the electricity goes out, eat the ice cream first.

-Patricia Carley

Losing Hunter

When I was 20 years old I was a lost soul looking for myself. I felt incomplete and sought out completion in others, which usually lead to unhealthy choices and relationships. That's where Jon came into the picture and I became pregnant.

Shortly after we realized I was expecting Jon became abusive. I endured 32 weeks of emotional and physical abuse before my body and son growing inside of me could no longer take it. I developed HELP syndrome and Pre-eclampsia which led to the premature delivery of my precious 2lb 15 ounce son, Hunter.

The long story made short is that I was not the only one who was to be abused by Jon. Sadly, Hunter also was subject to abuse after coming home to what should have been a safe haven and nurturing environment. I was in denial about what was happening behind closed doors and as a result was convinced there must be something medically wrong with my infant son. For weeks, the abuse eluded my family, multiple medical providers, and myself.

When the truth emerged it was too late. Jon would not admit to what he had done, and in fact denied all abuse that Hunter and I had endured. It was my word against his, and safety could not be determined for my precious child. Without an admission of guilt and an identified perpetrator of abuse, Hunter could not be returned to my care. I lost my son, and subsequently fell even further from finding myself.

Six months later, I discovered that I was pregnant again. I was terrified and ashamed. As was my typical pattern, I had sought distraction through jumping into a new relationship with the person who, six years later, is now my husband. While pregnant with my daughter, Chloe, I sought out therapy in an attempt to make sense of the events that had happened and my life. It was painful, but necessary. My husband, Chloe, and therapy saved my life and helped me to find reason and purpose in living. My daughter is beautiful, healthy, and happy! She was my true saving grace, and a blessing in disguise. Having her helped me to see that I can be the mother I wanted and tried to be to Hunter; the mother he deserved to have.

It has taken me years to understand how I could not have known that my son was being abused. It took me years to forgive myself for not knowing; honestly I am still working on forgiveness. It has helped me to believe and know that I would have protected my son, and that the denial was a defense mechanism and form of self-protection that is common among persons who are subject to abuse. The pain is often excruciating, and I mourn the loss of my son and the life I had envisioned for us. Deep down, I know that when he is an adult I will seek him out, and pray that we can then regain some of what we have lost.


i received this email recently. when i finished reading it, i sat and reread it. it touched me in so many ways. i wanted to do something special with it, and thought of our inspirational page. so, with amy's permission, i'd like to include it here with a little bit of a story......

amy and i met via email a few years back. we exchanged some emails and immediately saw a lot of similarities in our lives. i had the priviledge of meeting her in person last year at an art gig. i felt as if i was meeting an old friend. our emails are not often, just here and there.....but always a pleasure and they feel very real between us. there's a definite friendship there that i treasure.

when i got this note, i was obviously touched that she would love me in such a beautiful way. that's the only hesitation i had in putting this up for the's private between amy and i. and i certainly don't want it to look like i'm sayin' "LOOK! someone loves me!"

it's not about that........the love stuff is between amy and i and that's ours. but it's the other stuff that i saw that i wanted to share......

i saw a woman coming into a really special kind of trust......the trust of one's self. and my gosh, i know what a big trust that is to even try to come to!

i saw a woman figuring out that it's not about fighting yourself and "fixing yourself." It's about wanting to grow. and oh my many times have i said to myself "if i could just fix this part of me.......????"

i saw a woman risking being vulnerable to do something that felt real in her heart. how many times have i not done that because it's just too scary???

i saw a woman understanding the need to give love and believing that it's a good thing, and not something wrong with her.

i saw her believe in love.

this is so much what i want in my own life. this is what i want to incorporate into every single day.......wouldn't that just be awesome? and i kinda figured i'm not alone on that i wanted to show you all how beautiful amy is, and inspire you with her heart.

and i wanted to show amy how much i treasure her, respect her, and learn from her!

here's her note:

Terri, Recently I had a "moment", when I said "I love you" to someone, and had a new realization that sometimes saying those words feels better, does me more good than hearing it. I wonder if you have ever felt that way? Hearing it/receiving it feels nice, but saying it/giving it feels better.

I went into therapy and was immediately told I gave and loved too much, but now, 5-6 years later I wonder if I have been fighting my self too hard. I love you Terri, for the work you do, the people you encourage and inspire...and the way it would appear to me that you are raising your sons.


One night in April of 2003, just a few days before my mother's birthday, I got the urge to call her. I had talked to my mom quite a bit since my dad had died July of the year previous, at least once or twice a week, but for some reason I felt like giving her an extra call. one answered. I called again a while later...still no answer. My mom lived alone in Montana, and I in Florida over 2,000 miles away. I never felt more helpless.

Like a reenactment straight out of some soap opera, I began calling hospitals in the Montana area around where she lived. I felt like I was reading off a script - my voice was fine and even as I called one hospital after another, and when the person on the other end actually responded yes to my query as to whether there was a Joanne Kull checked in...I felt like I split right down the middle.

Part of me wanted to scream, "No! This isn't how it's supposed to go! You got it wrong!" even as I calmly and evenly asked to be put through to her room. When my mom picked up, she sounded like a little girl caught doing something wrong. She said she hadn't wanted to worry me, and had even told her neighbors, the people who took her to the hospital when she passed out, not to call and upset me.

She said she was fine, nothing to worry about, they were just running a few tests. She wasn't fine. She lied to me. She was dying, and I never got the chance to really talk to her again. One of her neighbors finally called me a couple days later and told me the truth, that my mom was on a breathing machine and on her way out, I better get up there fast if I wanted to see her before she went.

Again, I split down the middle. How could this be happening? This was a joke, right? Things like this didn't actually happen to people. My mom didn't actually 'don't you worry about me' right to her own deathbed...did she?

Through one miracle after another I managed to get up to Montana within 9 hours of finding out the truth - my mom was dying, right beneath my very ears... right out of my life for-permanent-ever gone. Why didn't she tell me earlier? I had so much more to ask her, so much more to much more to learn...

By the time I arrived, she was sedated and dependent upon the breathing machine. She could nod every once in a while, but she was too sedated to open her eyes. I never got to look into her eyes again...nor her, mine.

I didn't know what to do, didn't know what to say. I felt like a stick figure, a doll on parade for life's tragedy, and somehow I had forgotten my lines. So, I read to her. Jonathan Livingston Seagull...a short book, one she knew well and had raised me on. That was all I really had time for...all she really had time for. Her time was up, and she knew it. She asked to be taken off the breathing machine.

Even after the tube was out, she couldn't really speak. She made little sounds, gurgling gasping sounds that were somehow so terrible... then gave a little heartbreaking smile and shook her head apologetically. Apologetic even on her deathbed - something about that made me feel so very helpless.

Her breathing became even more labored...longer time between each one. So long had passed, it was horrible, waiting...will she breath again? Was the breath she just took going to be her last? And then she spoke to me.

Her face was animated, more animated than I had seen it since I had arrived, though she never opened her eyes. I've never had cause to use the word beatific before or since, but that's the only word that fits. Her face was beatific. Calm. Serene. She began to speak, labored, intense, stubborn words that sounded as if they were literally torn from her.

She said, "Echo echo echo...Love is there..."

"I hear you, I hear you, yes, yes." She just kept repeating the same thing over and over, each word sapping more and more of her strength. This was her last mission, her last task before dying - you could see it all over her face.

"Echo echo echo...Love is there..." and then a pause.

I suddenly had a flash of memory from childhood. We lived in California, and had walkie-talkies in each room. My parents had lived, barely, through a huge earthquake in the '70s and were very prepared. My mom and I had the fun job of testing the batteries in them every once in a while. She would say, "Echo echo echo, can you hear me?" and I was told that I was supposed to say back to her, "Echo echo echo, I can hear you!"

I said, "Echo echo echo...Love is there... I got it, mom. Love is there. Love is there!"

She smiled, proud of me, nodded her head, and then was quiet from that point on. Her breathing came less and less frequently. It was torture, listening to her... a full minute between each breath. Suddenly I had the most intense impulse to leave the room. It didn't feel like it had come from me...and it was absolutely no-nonsense imperative about it. Leave. LEAVE NOW.

I got up and ran out of the room, and left the hospital in a big hurry. A couple minutes later, I felt as if someone was breathing head turned up on its own, and I stared up at the huge moon in the sky, bigger and brighter than any moon I have ever seen. Love washed over me, true, pure, absolute love...and I knew, then, without a shadow of a mom was gone.

I created this Bone Sigh of my very own, a few months ago - in April, '06.

-Dawn ~

This past summer my husband and I were vacationing in Montana. We went into a unique little store where I came across terri's artwork for the first time. I connected with her vision and passion immediately, and ordered several prints. Later I discovered her "bone sighs" were the perfect appellation for the emotions surrounding me, as my beautiful son Zachary, the adventurer in our family, had died six months before after courageously battling brain cancer for nine years.

In the summer of 05, before his third and final surgery, Zack and his best friend decided to fulfill a lifelong goal and go skydiving. They filled out the mandatory paperwork, took the requisite training, and just as they were about to board the plane, one of those sudden July thunderstorms came up, grounding all flights.

Zack received a return voucher, but after his surgery did little to alleviate his steadily advancing physical disabilities, he placed the ticket in an envelope, asking me to jump "for him." He requested that his wife give the envelope to me at Christmas. And so, this July I found myself engaged in a jump that I would not have dreamed of making otherwise. The photographer captured the moment, and I am certain that the beam of sunlight shining down upon me from heaven is Zack, jumping along with me.

terri has a moving book entitled bridges: a book for struggle and grieving. It concludes with this poem:

honoring you, honoring me

"weeping and aching,
i longed to honor your passing.
i longed to honor your life.
searching everywhere, i found only one answer.
to honor myself. become all that i am.
and carry you inside that beauty."

This picture depicts the honor. . . and the love, always the love.

A few years ago our daughter was dating a man of whom we totally disapproved. IN fact he is still not our favorite person. Anyway, she moved in with him and became pregnant by him, breaking our hearts. We had worked very hard to help her break the ties with him when she asked for help. I magine how hard it was to learn that he had tracked her down and talked her into living with him. We were devastated.

She had gone from being a responsible young woman to someone who was hiding things from us and lying to us. Now she was expeting a child and had taken on this man's two children by another woman. I cried and my husband cried daily. We couldn't even talk about it without breaking down. We thought that we had lost her completely and that this would be the only grandchild we would have and wouldn't see the baby either.

We prayed about the situation and talked to friends, those who would be open, honest , and non judgemental. They told us what they thought or just listened and empathized, whatever the time called for. Some of the things they said were hard to hear, but we listened. That is when I received a poem from Bone Sigh Arts, Laura sent it. I still cry when I read it and it helped me a lot.

It is almost 2 years after Keegan Xavier was born. Our daughter called when she was in the hospital and asked us to come. Her significant other (now her husband) was there and didn't cause any problems but let us be with our daughter for quite a while before the drs. took her for a C-section after a 12 hour labor. During the 12 weeks that she was off work she and Keegan spent a great deal of time with us and began rebuilding the relationship. Because our daughter had to go back to work and day care is so expensive and his 5 yr old half brother is autistic we chose to take care of him during the day. The "monkey in a boy suit" has been staying with us while his parents work and he is the most wonderful child (but then all grandparents think that I am sure).

We are trying to develop a relationship with his 11 yr old and 5 yr old half brothers. That is still a difficult thing since the 11 yr old has some abandonment issues concerning his mother and the 5 yr old is autistic. The older child is a very nice boy and is doing exceptionally well in school. He was failing when he lived with his mother. The 5 yr old who did NOTHING is going into kindergarten for the children with autism; so, there were great blessings to come from a difficult situation.

-M G H

From the time I was conceived in 1971, I have been put to task to learn how to live with illness in and all around my life. It has come in various forms - my own being a diagnosis of a rare liver condition called primary sclerosing cholangitis. Basically, my immune system is attacking my body, one organ at a time - first, it took my thyroid by way of Hashimoto's . My thyroid had engulfed my right vocal cord in its active attempt to become beyond multi-nodular, and made a "simple surgery" that should have taken an hour and a half into a nail biting 5 hour ordeal. After having 6 weeks to recover, I was on my way.

Then, my then 37 year old sister was about to have a 'routine' and possibly unnecessary hysterectomy, only to find stage 3C ovarian/uterine cancer. Grim diagnosis as it was, it would not be the last time she heard the words 'chemotherapy' and 'malignant'. She is now 42, and battling her 3 cancer diagnosis, and has had a radical double mastectomy as a form of prevention. But, she is WINNING! (That is the tip of the iceberg!!)

My father had the cancer from the day I was conceived, had it 2 more times in different locations before I was 21, and died of congestive heart failure at the age of 69. He fought for 21 years, and the cancer didn't win! My Mother, only days after her 70th birthday, had some sort of an intestinal blockage, only to discover another stage 3C ovarian/uterine cancer diagnosis, which almost killed her, and cost her most of her intestines as well, and has left her with a iliostomy. My 50 year old brother lives daily with a mass in his lower back, called a schwanoma - could be cancer, could be it's not, but he's a 'man', and won't have any further studies done on it. He continues to be a successful private business owner/operator.

My mother continues her work at the local Roman Catholic church at the age of 72.

My sister continues her work at Utica College of Syracuse University, and has accepted a promotion to the head of her department, even though she is currently undergoing oral cytoxin chemotherapy for the next several months, is losing her hair (to which she says, "At least I have a nice shaped head!"), and really has no idea when her time will be up. We are a spiritual, close-knit family. My disease, unfortunately, is not curable, save for the possibility of a liver transplant - and that can only occur after I get MUCH sicker than I already am. But, everyday, regardless of the fact that my first lesbian relationship of 5 years has recently ended, and I am for all intents and purposes without a home of my own, I GET UP TO DO IT ALL AGAIN! There is no WAY I would be half the woman I am today without these trials and tribulations in my life, and I wouldn't change a thing. I greet each day with a salutation to the sun, and end each night with blowing a kiss at the moon. Life is short, and mystery abundant.

I know there are people out there with situations that are much worse than my own. I am thankful to learn everyday. I am thankful that I have been given the great gift of love, life, and time here to BECOME. (Yes, I do own the bumper sticker "She didn't just survive - she BECAME.") And, as of late, I have added your words and images to my list of things that I am thankful for. Thanks for taking the time to read this. You have won another patron of your art, and I have shared your work with my therapist, as well as my family. Thank you!!! Like I said the first time I dropped in, you found me just in time......


"After 20 years of a wonderful life - sharing marriage and amazing children - I found out the love of my life was a gay man. My world turned upside down, rocked and spun around. Nothing would ever be the same. It was a time of questioning who I was and what I wanted. It was a time I learned how strong I was.

With faith and love and hard work and the support of many who loved us both - we reinvented our relationship, and moved on to a new marriage, a new sharing and the unknown adventure that is the next part of our life - still together, but at last being real. I learned to celebrate myself and honor my feelings. Then one day, a friend gave me a gift of one of Terri's prints "More than anything, I need to trust a journey I don't understand". It resonated deep within me - how could someone understand so exactly not only what I thought but what I felt down deep inside? It is the first thing I see when I get up in the morning....

I found the web site and was amazed at the combination of art and writing - such powerful imagery. I wrote to Terri to tell her the impact she had on my life. I started sending prints, cards, magnets - sharing her gift with those I love. Bone sighs indeed."


I am the father at the age of 66 of a 16 year old daughter.

The most amusing things, in life, are still the simpler ones that you encounter. All of the movies, TV shows and media events that are created to entertain and amuse us are dimmed in comparison to our local wild life known as boys between the ages of say fourteen and twenty five. In my opinion young men still do the best job where entertainment is involved.

Man, in spite of all of the johnny come lately things like women's liberation and political correctness, still has an uncontrollable urge to entertain young ladies. This trait comes out more profoundly when there are more than one boy in the presents of a young lady.

Just such an event, recently took place involving two such boys from our church congregation. The names are being withheld but that will likely not do much good as these things have a way of surfacing any way. These two modern day gladiators very recently dawned the cloak manhood and swept up a pet 9 volt DC electric shock collar, that is designed to restrict the area a pet would be allowed to wander on a property, and one at a time tested it on bare arms. As I understand it was a very impressive display of courage.

I myself, fondly remember entertaining young ladies in a like manner in my youth and I salute their bravery as I have never been so impressive as to "taze" myself doing so. I also salute the technology that allows Youngsters as boys to further our expressiveness to such young ladies of this generation. I would be the first to admit that a test by electrocution of ones self is undoubtedly an impressive event.

It seems to me that as we become more inventive we are becoming more shall we say creative, "translated as foolish" but proud of course. May God smile and bless that young mans foolishness for without it the rest of us would never have become human.

By the way fellows the young lady I can assure you was sorely impressed and she was very amused by your act of, shall we say manhood display? Her persona was inspired and she truly appreciated the show. That is after all the only thing that matters to young boys and the two of you accomplished what you set out to do, impress a cute young lady of your strength and how easily you can overcome pain as you are becoming a full grown man.

I have already been through your stage of life, I am sure I suffered pain of many kinds getting through it. I compliment you on your taste as I am very familiar with the young lady you were impressing and she is likely to get many a suitor applicant as she becomes a prospect for courtship. I only hope that you have learn from your experience that electricity, even in a pet collar is shocking.