Hop's Thoughts

I was recently sent an editorial (remember, editorials are personal opinions). It talked about parenting, children and the family structure. I don't remember the title or the author's name and that alone should tell you all you need to know. That however isn't the point, it's the very fact that this article is circulating at lightning speed, or as the kids today say "Going Viral." The gist of the article was to tell parents that their kids are not the most important part of their families, they were. Now, if you read it carefully, it said the father was, but my point here isn't to dissect the article. Parents, many who feel either they spend too much or too little time on their children, all posted this. I saw it from friends I know on Facebook, acquaintance on Twitter and even saw a mention of it on Instagram, so obviously with that much exposure, it must be true, right? Well, a six or seven minute search into the author's background shows that he

Why do I wake up at this time, it seems, every morning. Is it a sign? A biblical reference? Numerology? Happenstance? No, it's not an alarm clock, but regardless of whether it's for good or just to use the bathroom, it seems as if, more times than not, I'm awake at 4:42. The real problem isn't the time, but our view of that hour. It's either too late or too early. It's dark, quiet and for some lonely. It's a time we should be sleeping, so says the masses. If there was somewhere to be later today, it would be too early, but there isn't, so it appears even earlier. When I used to go to bed every night at an hour well past midnight, it was an unwelcome break in my sleep. When I would come home late, it was inevitably an hour that would ruin much of the next day. So why does it matter? An hour later, I sit with coffee, a bowl of fruit, a purring feline and it's normal. An early riser, getting a jump on the day, before the sun rises, for some unknown

Social media changes our perspective of things. An event takes place at noon and some post about it at midnight. An event takes place at noon and some post about it at noon. We're not all the same, but we all tend to do the same thing. Meaning, if someone posts in real time, they tend to always post in real time and vice versa. When "we" were kids, our parents understood the importance of a good night's sleep and while special occasions called for a late night, our parents tried to time these, as not to upset our routines. Kid's today, and their parents, seem to have thrown one of the most important lessons handed down from generations away. Sleep is the single most important part of a child's life. Sleep allows them to grow, both mentally and physically. It allows them to recharge a battery that appears non-stop, but actually has a very short lifespan. It allows them to think, because while most kids view their tossing and turning as torture, it actually al

I post about politics a lot. I do it on purpose and I do it for numerous reasons. The main reason I do it, is to get back at the people who have posted so much racism, sexism and religious prejudice over the last eight years, my head was spinning. It took me removing myself from Eastchester, to realize just how many of my friends are filled, sorry, overflowing with ignorance. That may sound harsh, but let's be honest, bigotry isn't about hatred, it's about ignorance and the inability or resistance to understanding another. I hate cherries, but I understand why people like them. I hated tofu, curry and cauliflower at one point in my life and now they are staples of my diet. Why? Because I hated them based on texture, smell and the reaction to eating them. When I realized they could be prepared in so many varieties, I realized they were just the same, if not better, than those things I already liked. But what do I get out of these political posts on social media. A voic

A week into springing forward, we try not to look back. Snow covers the my world, breath is visible in the cold air and the bones still ache as the wind hit my knees. The snow will soon to turn to rain and old saying of lions and lambs will fill our ears. As the air warms and the days get longer, the time to do things is near. The evening jogs, cocktails on a deck, childhood games and all the positive things we associate with Spring will arrive. Rebirth! Spring, seasonally, religiously and metaphorically is viewed as a new beginning. Long after the calendar pages increased in number, the real "new year" begins. I have few, if any, wishes for myself, but hope this year proves bountiful for those who I've watched struggle. I hope happiness blooms for those so deserving of so much more, than simply having more daylight to deal with, well, life.

When do they bathe? If they're here on Friday and leave on Sunday, did they shower Friday morning? Will they shower Sunday night? It's been two months. Sixty-Six days to be exact. A persistent cough still lingers. The near midnight bedtime. The junk food snacks. Fruit alternatives it says on the box. They ask for fruit, Less expensive. Comes with it's own wrapper. A happy meal and the cough persists. Every other week, but then those weekday nights. The change of schedule. Cute pants. A princess dress. Crying. Knocks on the door. Walking in without awaiting confirmation. It's allowed, their children. The odd sense that "NO!" isn't so much a command, but an affirmation of attention. Discipline threatened, but never doled out. Is it their place? The cough persist. No "nightmares" this evening. 6:40AM and the first one is awake, but how. How has this child managed to recharge with seven hours of sleep. No nap will take place. Fruit Loops, Pop Tarts,

Rob Peter to Pay Paul It worked for a bit, but the person short changed was me. The timing, the situation, the mounting pressure from Paul made me flee. The intent was to come back, appease Paul, maybe not, but definitely take care of Peter. Peter, in my mind, would understand. The problem was Peter wasn't Peter, but Peter(s) and Paul stayed silent. I don't know where I stand with Paul, not do I know where I stand with all of the Peters. Some have forgiven, but I'm sure not forgotten. What Peter didn't understand is that Paul had a power over me. Paul protected me, despite the abusive relationship. When I fled Paul's abuse, I couldn't explain it in terms Paul understood, because Paul didn't know about Peter's abuse. Well, he did, but not in terms he could relate to. What nobody could have foretold was that I fled into the arms and home of Judas. Now, four years later, I'd rather face Peter's scorn, Paul's abuse, than deal with the resul

As a small child, these words brought so much joy. Not so much in that I was missing school, but that I got to spend the day with my mother, play outside, smell the aromas of some soup, stew or roast, my mother was preparing and the idea that change for routine was upon us. The following day, I'd march into the sloppy hallways, wearing some awkward boots, change into my sneakers and life returned to normal. As years went by, snow days meant watching my brother, digging out a car to get to work and freezing my butt off. Somehow the past still brought a smile to my face. Nowadays, I look out the window and watch plows and the angry neighbor, cursing Mother Nature and wishing for this Global Warming would act more like its namesake. Two evenings ago, a bright moon and the already fallen snow illuminated the country road I'm on, giving me this almost Normal Rockwell moment. Pushing the drapes aside, mug in hand, cat on the bed and my nightly reading atop the nightstand. I pulle

Letters E-Mail Texts Messenger Comments Message Boards Etc It's getting to the point where we have so many ways to communicate, we've lost the art of conversation. Through this, we're also starting to lose the skills to relay messages via the written form. What happens is, we have no way to be interrupted, so the shy wait, the angry rant, the humble listen, the sad don't respond and the happy gloat. And then there is one person who is no a microcosm of all the narcissism in the world today. Someone who has realized they can simply make a comment, whether it be via Twitter, a public statement, a speech or any other means and they can say whatever they like and not have to deal with the response or the repercussions. Yet, he didn't invent this and to be completely honest, he doesn't even do it very well. The other day, I open an e-mail and read a death notice. It saddened me, for two reasons. One, the person did more for me during my youth than most. H

I think I'm coming down with something I can't shake this I'm staying home Can you make me some tea? Yeah, I thought I'd feel better Can you make me something light to eat? I won't be coming in. I'm still sick Can you pick up my prescription? Is there any soup? I need to rest. I have a slight fever. Yeah, I can't shake this I'll be in tomorrow...I hope I still feel it, but I can't take four days off Today was hell I'm going to lie down Call me when dinner is ready You have six months to live FUCK YOU! What do the doctors know> I will beat this I can't stay home, I need my insurance I made tea, do you want some? I don't expect to feel better, it's life I did a shop and cooked some stuff, because I was off I am going in today....yeah I know it's my day off, but someone has a cold Cancer sucks, but I'm doing my best I was at CVS getting my prescription and got you a new toothbrush I made soup this

A long time ago, a friend suggested a free writing "therapy" experiment and over a long period of time, I cranked out 100 of them. Different time frames, different frames of mind, but it was always the simple act of jotting my thoughts down, without the confines of structure. I got away from it and ironically it coincided with a dark time in my life. So here it goes. I can't sleep, it's 4:46AM, so I'm going to ramble for nine straight minutes and see where I am in life, my mind, and sort of my writing. GO! Can't sleep, but not sure why. I'm tired, Swag is tired. He's a little confused by today. I should be tired. He rises, annoyed at my tapping and leaves the bedroom. Hunger will set in soon, for both of us. I finally have healthcare. Being poor long enough has afforded me this "luxury," yet from the news today, it will be short lived. I'm so angry with the country right now. Not because we have a republican, a celebrity or even a big

The vacation was fun. The amount of money spent, might not have been warranted, but it was well needed. The hours spent soaking up the sun in a place other than home revitalizing, yet something is missing. How can we possibly immortalize this moment time? Our memories fade, friendships dwindle, kiids move on to college and start families of their own. Maybe they call every day; maybe they don't, we can never predict the future, but we have the past and this present. A shot glass. The name of the destination emblazoned on the side. You tell yourself it's a must have item and only $1.99. You have completed the trip, preserved the memory and despite the dust that will attach itself to this keepsake, you'll have the memories, whenever you stumble across this box. And yet, as we watch and read about children going hungry, living on the streets, possibly dying, in this country and in others. As we hear about shelters for battered women, abused children and neglected animals. As