The Rhapsody of Helena Marie

Hello Family,

I have been in a spiritual low for months, actually for the last couple of years. But its now a new year and a time for chnages. I went to church on Christmas Eve and got rather inspired. Please share your stories of inspiration and maybe we can all draw closer to the Almighty, day by day. Good luck in your struggle. Peace out!

-Helena Marie

P.S As an after thought, I would like to declare, here’s to Illinois’s new smoke ban (LOL)! Have a groovy year everyone and remember things are not as dark as they seem.

Hello Everyone!

I haven’t blogged in over a year. I decided to go back to it. After all I am a writer, so why not?

In this past year I got a job at Thresholds. It’s a mental health organization, one of the largest in the Midwest. I have been working at several different residential locations. I love my job. It’s literally the best job I have ever had. I go to work everyday with a sense of purpose, knowing that I am doing something to help others.

Other stuff in this past year include a move into a larger apartment. My husband and I were sharing a studio, now we’re in a one-bedroom.

This past year I have been a little disconnected from my Bahai community. I miss everyone and I am going to make an effort to go to a couple of gatherings so I can once more become an active Bahai.

I have also been preparing to on on PIlgrimage in March of 2009. I’ve been putting money away for this auspicious occassion, working very hard to make it a reality.

I’ve been continuing to get my poetry published in the Journal of Ordinary Thought. And like always I’ve been writing regularly and coming up with new ideas. I even sold a peice of artwork earlier this year.

To all my Bahai friends, I sincerely miss you guys and I think of you a lot. I hope that each and everyone of you are enjoying your daily trek through life. Peace out everyone!

Love,

Helena Marie

Hello All,

Today I’m going to talk about the weather. For those who don’t know, I’m from Chicago. And as you know, Chicago weather can be very weird. Last Thursday I was in a staff meeting at my job. I looked over my supervisor’s shoulder, out the window and beheld a sight that made me wish desperately for my boots. It was snowing like mad. Remember that this is October! It was October 12th to be exact, not even half-way through the month to Halloween. It was the first snowfall of the season. Throughout the rest of the morning I witnessed the sun and the storm carrying out intense warfare. The sun would shine for five minutes, then it would snow and hail and look like a complete blizzard. Through it all I wondered if I was going to be wading through snow, only to emerge from the building later on to find the weather becoming mild and mimicking Spring. What on earth was that? Does Mother Nature need a couple doses of Prozac to balance her unseemly mood swings? Nature has truly gone bi-polar. Take care everyone, I’ll try to stay warm or cool, whatever the case may be.

Marriage what can I say? It has changed me. No longer am I thinking of myself. I have to plan for two now and keep my husband Malvin’s needs up front as well as my own.

In the past when I was single, I used to go out as often and as long as possible. My life was a lonely business. When I would come home I would sit in front of the T.V and eat junk food. This is what I had to look forward to each day. What a difference a husband makes!

My cat is going through changes too. There were many nights where she felt like my only friend. So naturally at the appearance of Malvin, she would be quite jealous. One night she bit him. She nipped me then promptly jumped over my lap and nipped him. This was a shock to me. What happened to my sweet loving kitty?

Sherry has a God complex. She likes to be worshipped. Malvin was a threat to Her Establishment. But I think she is finally getting used to him. She simply ignores him. In her eyes, my husband is a food dispenser when I am out of town. Whenever I get home Sherry comes bounding to the front door. Sometimes she slides on her side, pulling herself along with her front paws.

For all those other people out there that are in relationships or married; I hope your pets accept your loved ones and vice versa. Have a nice night.

Hello World,

Have any of you ever received crazy calls from someone trying to reach someone else? And what the caller says is so crazy that it leaves you wondering? I have.

I got a new cell phone in March and I keep on getting all these calls from people asking for "Dwight". "Well sorry, I don’t look very much like a Dwight. When I run into one, I’ll be sure to let you know."

When I was fifteen years old I got this crazy phone call from this man (this had to be the nuttiest!). He started to reprimand me and I remember sitting there thinking "whoa". He said "this is your father speaking". I had to interrupt his tirade to inform him that this was a wrong number. "Oh" he said, sounding oh so incredibly humbled.

My latest wrong number was a real doozy. An angry woman called me and said "Stay the f**k away from my man or I’ll kick your a**. I didn’t even have the chance to tell her that I wasn’t the one. I’m a happily married woman. I did feel compelled however to ask my husband if he had an angry ex-girlfriend I didn’t know about.

Well here’s to all those wrong numbers. Sometimes I think the call is going to be important when —. So to all those callers out there, I hope you someday reach the one you are seeking. Peace out everyone!

Yes boys and girls, that’s the way it is. I am doing my best to try and change my eating habits. How do I feel about this self growth and self development? I feel like I could chew a table leg off and club someone to death with it! Just kidding. The whole notion of change is overwhelming. Sometimes I want to play it safe and retreat back into familiar territory. You see, sometimes it seems so much easier to go back to what I am used to. My only problem is that what I’m used to is killing me. I can’t play these games anymore.

How many of you have been hounded by an addiction? That’s what this feels like. It stinks. No more cookies, cakes and ice creams. No more Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups or pints of Ben & Jerry’s. I’m struggling with eating healthy.

I hope there is someone out there who can relate. If there is and if you are reading this now, I’d just like to say "Good luck with the struggle." And yes I will repeat that old clilche "You are not alone." Peace out everyone!

Hello Groovy People,

These stories that I keep posting are based on my life. I find some things in life so funny that they must absolutely be recorded. So here we go; enjoy!

Caught In The Act

The year was 1989 and I was fourteen years old. The annual carnival had made its appearance at St. Mary’s church. All evening long I worked dubiously at the Hoopla Game tent. The object was to throw a hoop around some cheesy item that you desired, and have the loop land flat on the table. Easy? Ha! More like hard as hell and damn near miraculous to achieve.

In the distance I could see the ominous Dunk Tank. On the front there was a sign that read:

To be in the Dunk Tank you must:

- Be wearing a clean bathing suit

-         Have a towel

-         And be clean yourself

Have a nice day!

            I was in that seat a few times, shivering as I perched on top of a precarious platform. Nervously yet darefully I’d antangonize the men folk, “Oh my God! What was that? We’re not playing toss the beanbag here; for Christ’s sake knock me down.” Man after so-called man would raise their hands and point at me, “Ooooh, I’m gonna get you.”

           On the other side of the lot, set off in the same corner every year, was The Zypher. For six tickets a ride, this coaster boasted of fun with loud music, a wild D.J and speed. I always considered it a convenient way to get plastered against your date with the G force.

            In the Hoopla tent, I would call out loudly all night “Hoopla, Hoopla, only three rings for a dollar. Here’s your chance to win a prize for your cutie.”

            On this particular night I was happy. This really cute guy I liked had won me four beautiful unicorn posters. I stashed them safely to the side, excited about how wonderful they would look on my bedroom wall at home.

            It was a beautiful summer night and as the evening drew to a close, I found myself filled with a sense of yearning, not wanting the night to end so soon. We closed down the Hoopla tent and I gathered up my posters. I noticed another rolled up poster sitting at the side. Wondering who’s it was, I reached for it and unrolled it to find the figure of a naked woman standing in front of a large window. Her breasts were barely distinguishable, but she was giving the camera a full moon. Immediately I knew who the poster belonged to. “Pesky” I muttered under my breath. He was a boy who got on my worst nerves. I always laughed to myself when I thought of his very obvious nickname. I had no idea what his real name was.

             I informed the youth group leader that I would hang onto his poster and give it to him when I bumped into him this evening. We headed outside the lot and around the corner towards the beer garden. On the way I bumped into Father O’ Conner.

             “Hello Father, how are you this evening?” I queried. “Very fine.” he answered. I excitedly told him about the posters my male friend had won for me.

“Well let’s see em,” he said. I handed him a poster and he unrolled it.

I knew I was in trouble when at that moment a parishoner walked by and said in a loud voice, “Whatcha looking at there Father?” I nervously chuckled and began to explain that, “NO that wasn’t my poster.” The priest just kind of stood there and smiled, blushing a little. I was saved by his humor and extraordinarily mellow soul; he just kind of chuckled when faced with the image of forbidden fruit.

I turned away and headed towards the beer garden. There I sat with friends; we all had a good laugh. Under the cheerful bright lights and in the sweet summer air, all the adults got tipsy while us youth were restricted to soda. It was just another one of life’s many bloopers. I thought of my mother’s descriptions of her childhood Catholic school, with her nun teachers and their infamous rulers and sterile personalities and thanked God that Father O’Conner was who he was; a mellow, detached soul.

Hello Dreamers, Movers and Shakers,

It’s that time again; the time I drop another line and continue this mad sweet Rhapsody. So here it is:

Peculiar things always happened in the pet store. This morning was no exception. I started the day just like any other day. My boss unlocked the front door and at the first flick of the store lights all the dogs for sale broke into song. Goldie the macaw began to screech, her deafening voice filling the whole expanse of the store and changing the atmosphere into a jungle. Bock-bock the mad, envious rooster crowed. He stood defiantly in his pen next to Waddles the duck; daring anyone to make his day. A couple of Siamese kittens began their wailing rhapsody, with tails in the air and paws clawing at the cage.

I began the tedious, smelly regime of cleaning all the dog cages. As I opened each one, their occupants would become overwhelmed with excitement. Their eyes and panting breath seemed to cry out “Pet me, feed me, love me”. Tails would wag like pendulums, beating against the walls of each unit.

Once a couple of days before Easter, while cleaning the cages, a little old lady walked up to the gate and exclaimed, “It’s Good Friday and you’re on your knees”. Such was the nature of this job; slow, smelly, tedious and humbling.

This place was listed in the telephone directory as a zoo, and that was not an exaggeration. Not only did this store sell pets and pet products, but it also housed a myriad of exotic animals that the owners would take on various shows. There was a white-throated capuchin monkey named Chico. It was rumored that he hated females, so only guys were allowed in his cage. It was also known that he liked to eat small animals such as escaped mice, birds, gerbils and hamsters. There was also a special, trained ferret named Rascal. He lived up to his name by escaping from his cage every so often to go gallivanting around the store. We had a splendid show turkey named Thomas. He would spread his tail feathers and gobble, gobble excitedly. Some of my co-workers jokingly told me that his next stop was the meat market. Up high, on the second level, there were two boa-constrictors, and two toucans. Along another wall, up above there was also Penelopae, the male peacock, and Harriet the great Indian horn-bill bird. Martha a red and green macaw, belonged to the owners. She sometimes sat on an overhanging perch behind the gate. One time I approached her, petted her sweet little head and said “Hello Martha”. She responded by sneezing in my face.

On this particular morning my boss decided to take the peacock out, to take him somewhere. They were getting ready to sell him to a private owner for $75.00. My supervisor Bethany climbed up the ladder with a broom. She opened Penelpae’s pen and began to shoo him out the door along the ledge. I looked over from where I was. Penelpae got very nervous and started running along the ledge. I didn’t have time to remove the canary cages that were sitting on top of the dog units. Along he came knocking each birdcage over with his large feet. I grabbed at the small escaping birds, trying to catch each one. One unfortunate canary was never seen again. Penelopae ended up on the floor near Goldie. The macaw had been sitting on the puppy food bucket munching away to her heart’s content. She squawked in indignation and flew over towards Chico’s cage. The small monkey was startled out of his silent ruminations. He dropped to the floor and backed away. One of my co-workers ran to fetch the offended macaw and put her back in her cage. I stood there grinning and shaking my head. Animals!

I could not silence my bubbling laughter at life’s strange mysteries. For years to come I would often think about that funny, little pet store, located on the West Side. I worked there for a year and a half as an Animal Technician. I would laugh to myself and ponder about how some of the women I knew were afraid of certain animals; rodents, reptiles, cats and birds to name a few. They would look at me and shake their heads as I came home with a bag of crickets to feed to my pet frog. I prided myself with being in close contact with God’s finest. It was in these moments that I was reminded that there was still a God even though I was on the edge of atheism. All I had to do was look into the eyes of my fellow inhabitants on our planet Earth to see a reflection of Him. I would gaze at the feathers of our resident blue and gold macaw, Goldie. “Who made you so perfect”? I would mentally inquire. And Goldie would stare back with sweet, little beige colored eyes and answer, “Hello”.   

Hello human family,

This is my first blog entry ever and I’m feeling rather happy about it. I am a writer and I deem this to be a great way to gather my thoughts and share them with others.

Today as I write this, I am caught up in a wave of memories. I went to my old neighborhood today and walked by the place where I spent the first seven years of my life. I noticed that some of my friend’s houses were still standing. I also saw the quaint, little, white church with red doors still standing majestically on a nearby corner. But as I approached the place where I first tasted this sweet life, I discovered it was gone. Consider this writing to be something akin to an obituary; I am writing about the memory of a beautiful house where once upon a time, a little girl named Helena Marie lived.

There were shingles on the front walls. On the left next to the porch, there once grew a great big bush that was heavily laden with small white flowers. In front of that bush was a row of rocks that had been neatly placed. There were a couple of times I saw my mother sitting on the front porch painting. On the corner there was a tavern where they sold Bazooka bubble gum for 3 cents a piece and Nutty Buddie ice creams for 35 cents. As a little girl I used to pick flowers from the back yard and give them to my mom. It was in the back yard around sunset that my brother once spilled a plate of spaghetti on my head.

I used to sit in the dining room and listen to old records from the 1960’s. My favorites were Melanie "Born to Be" and a couple of Donovan ones. I remember the song "Tambourine Man". I used to sing along and make every attempt to sound like Melanie. I remember songs like "Sunshine Superman" and "Mellow Yellow" 

On the wall along the stairs, there hung pictures of my brother Jay when he was a baby and my brother Marcus, as a toddler. My poor brother Marcus never made it to his third birthday; he passed away in 1973 at the tender age of two and a half. He died from lymphoma. I never had a chance to meet him in this life because when I came into this world, he was already gone. I like to think of him as my guardian angle, my big brother watching over me from the heavens.

I have many more memories from this sacred place I call my first home. I will continue to write about them so I can keep the memory of the house on Grace street alive. This way, I will always find the door open and waiting for me to walk through once again. God bless you all and thanks for reading.

Sincerely Helena Marie