The Reading Glass Magazine

EDITOR’S NOTE

Literacy has always been ever-evolving, always been adaptive, always on the go. On a mission to

protect and maintain its dynamism, The United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural

Organization (UNESCO) declared International Literacy Day on the 8th of September of

1966. Since then, International Literacy Day has not only became an annual celebration but

a constant reminder and a resounding alarm to society to live up to its purpose, which is to

struggle incessantly for our dignity and human rights and advance towards a more advanced

and literate society.

However, today more than ever, literacy is challenged. Literacy is among the many disciplines

that the COVID-19 pandemic has paralyzed. Nevertheless, due to technology, the world has

somehow used its advancements as a band-aid solution to the real challenge that threatens

literacy—our thirst for knowledge.

It is undeniable that the rise of the internet era, in particular, has made information more

accessible than ever. A single click and information are made available for everybody to

consume. Along with this is the rise of social media, and it all the more amplifies how easy it

is to get ahold of anything we want. However, this convenience comes with a disadvantage,

especially in a world in the course of a lockdown.

In line with this, The Reading Glass Magazine, in its very first issue, aims to bring to light the

fine line between opinions and facts, hoaxes and truths, and information that threatens and

harms and information that uplifts and resolves.

The Reading Glass Books, an industry that espouses technology, strives to adapt to its

continuous growth and progress. However, more than that, we strongly advocate for the most

essential and unparalleled tool in obtaining information—the human brain. The choice to

become educated is in the hands of this society—you are the society. What decision will you be

making today to contribute to literacy?

Publisher

Writers’ Branding LLC

Art and Content Director

Naomi Edison

Production Manager

Kate Miller

Editor-in-Chief

Sam Carter

Copyeditor

Anne Wilson

Layout Artist

Kem None

Front Cover Artist

Rumar Yongco

Contributors

Susan Savion, Sonia Easley, Mary Angeline Bell, Luckner Pierre,

Danielle Drabik, Ellen Beth Berman, Ruth Delia, Marcella Ward,

Helen Lapakko, Deanna Hurtubise, Sharon E. Bingaman, RN,

Aira Laguna, and Rei

CONTENTS

4 Cover Story: Reminiscing Memories: A Husband’s

Tribute to His Wife’s Legacy

16 How the Pandemic Forced Me to Grow Up

By Naomi Edison

22 Everything Boils Down to What? By Aira Laguna

26 Chapter 1: Blessed By Sonia Easley

32 Ronald Besser on The Origins of AIDS and Autism

38 Kennar Chasny on Tawnee’s Ting!: The

Silent Warning

40 Joseph Gorski on Government 2.0

42 Amy Ritchie on Clandestine: A Classic

Book of Poetry

44 Breakdown By Susan Savion

48 A New Creation By Ellen and Byron Berman

49 What is Greatness? By Ellen Beth Berman

52 From Betrayal to Joy By Ruth Delia

55 Chaos and Cosmos By Mary Angeline Bell

58 Color Palette By Rei

61 Thesaurus is Dynamic for Creative Writing

By Luckner Pierre

62 Love in the Time of Corona By Danielle E. Drabik

64 Deception: The Hidden Agenda of Evil

By Marcella Ward

68 Peace in My Soul By Deanna Hurtubise

70 Homeostasis By Denna Hurtubise

74 Quarantined By Helen Lapakko

78 The Grieving Process By Sharon E. Bingaman, RN

4 | The Reading Glass Magazine

Reminiscing Memories:

A Husband’s Tribute to

His Wife’s Legacy

SAM CARTER

Identity. Character. Oneself. Each of us is our own

unique person. We go through phases in our lives

that shape who we are and what we become. Even

the most trivial of things can influence us and our

thinking. But amid adversities, we carry on—making

and doing the most out of what we can. Across the

extraordinary and mundane is knowing and shaping

who we truly are.

Donna Chasny, for one, is an iron-willed woman who

lived through all the mundane and extraordinary

moments in her life. Shaped out from these

moments is Carlton: Down Sized, a compelling short

fictional narrative of a man going through the twists

and turns in life. I had the opportunity to virtually sit

down with Kennar Chasny, husband of Donna, in a

short yet insightful conversation featuring his late

wife’s much-read tale.

Donna thoroughly delves into the persona of the

main character, Carlton, proving it to be a characterdriven

narrative. After working for over a decade,

Carlton finds himself unemployed due to the

company’s downsizing—a crisis in his life beyond his

control. Unwilling to succumb to despair, he sells all

his belongings, packs his bag, and drives north on

the coast towards Washington to visit relatives and

see which way things go with his life. Kennar shares

that the backdrop of this story may have come from

Donna’s travels up the coast in their motorhome to

visit her family in Portland, Oregon. Kennar recalls

how his late wife enjoyed stopping here and there to

savor the scenery and explore tourist attractions,

sometimes playing leapfrog with the bikers while

running downhill and laboring uphill.

One phenomenal thing about writing is witnessing

how both the creator and creation’s lives unfold

together—one set in the real world, while the other

in a fictional world. While Donna explores the

expanse of her creativity, Carlton’s journey reels and

lurches into a much worse crisis. He meets escaped

convicts, all with a horrible record of heinous crimes.

Coming into contact with ruthless criminals puts

Carlton into a terrible accident where he loses his

memory. He was just trying to get his life together

after being laid off, but now he doesn’t remember

who he is. This part is a devastating read, and the

question Donna poses is something everyone can

The Reading Glass Magazine | 5

relate to. How can life be so cruel, throwing trouble

after trouble and not giving us the time to recover?

Nevertheless, there are always two sides to a

coin. Flipping from the dark side is hope. Donna

introduces new characters that would help Carlton.

These are twins, both possessing the gift of

supernatural senses. This mystical facet of the story

is a manifestation of Donna being a believer in the

paranormal.

Within a short narrative, Donna does an undoubtedly

great job of piecing together Carlton’s identity

alongside the antagonists and supporting

characters. And in one way or another, we can

bet we are in the story too—from facing trials and

tribulations that life throws, to reflecting conscious

wrongdoings, and to being a helping hand when the

call arises.

Writing an impactful story such as Carlton: Down

Sized is something Donna would absolutely do.

Kennar describes her as an ambitious, creative, ironwilled,

and perfectionist woman. Donna

started writing stories after she retired, which,

according to Kennar, she always liked to do. The

author also liked to paint, read, or draw in her leisure

or spare time.

In these trying times of the pandemic, Kennar is

one of those more at-risk, so he has been staying at

home to avoid contact with the virus, venturing out

with a mask when necessary, and not inviting guests

over. He is also already vaccinated. Not everyone

can think of settling down with a few good books to

tide the pandemic, but Kennar is aware of his own

urges to pick up a great thriller. Now is the time to

pick up yours too. Drown in your thoughts as you flip

through the pages of Carlton: Down Sized. Discover

how the nail-biting turn of events unravel, grow

alongside everyone’s character, and see, with your

very own eyes and imagination, how the book comes

to an end.

Editor: Can you tell us about your favorite memory

with your wife while she was working on the book?

Kennar: Donna’s second grandchild was born,

her son’s only child. She was so proud of her new

grandson. A brand-new baby to dote over.


What was Donna’s inspiration for writing this book?

How did she come up with the story?

Donna’s backdrop for this story may have come from

often traveling up the coast in our motorhome to

visit her family in Portland, Oregon. Stopping here

and there to enjoy the scenery and explore tourist

attractions. Sometimes playing leapfrog with the

bikers while running downhill and laboring uphill. I

don’t know her inspiration for this story. I think she

was pushing hard on the boundary of her imagination

when coming up with those evil scenarios.

Was Donna a believer of supernatural things

and the like?

Yes. Donna believed she had a psychic connection

with her mother. At times, she would get a

premonition about her mother, and later, find

her mother upset for some reason. At her job,

somebody sabotaged a prototype module Donna

was assembling during the evening shift. Donna

was pretty upset as she wasn’t responsible for the

damage. During her sleep that evening, she awoke

with a start and scribbled a name on her night

stand. Donna had a premonition of who did the

deed and was found to be correct. Turns out the

guy responsible for the sabotage was the project

engineer, who was trying to stall the project for

some reason.

What were some of the hardships you had to endure

with your wife during the writing of Carlton? How

were you able to overcome those challenges?

In 2001, Donna damaged her left knee when she

slipped on our wet porch while she was trying

to wash cat urine odor away. She had extensive

damage on the knee’s cartilage, torn ligaments, and

damaged bone. She had surgery on her left knee.

Her knee eventually got worse instead of better. She

and I rejoiced after she finally had her knee replaced

in late 2015. She spent close to a week in therapy

afterward, using her hospital stay as a reason to quit

smoking. Meanwhile, I smoked up all our cigs for a

couple days. Then quit. Why waste them? BTW, still

not smoking.

Do you resonate with any of the characters in the

novel? Who and why?

Although one character borrows a twisted version of

my name, I was told by Donna that Carlton is myself.

I used to enjoy biking to the mountains and camping

in a two man tent for two or three days at a time.

What sets Carlton: Down Sized apart from the other

books of the same genre? Why should people read it?

Carlton: Down Sized is a thriller. Perhaps from a new

point of view but similar to other writers who use

such gimmicks in their stories. You could wholly

read it on a bus ride or air plane providing you

don’t generally get motion sickness while reading.

Somewhat easier to do in the air if you don’t have

scenery rushing by in your peripheral vision.

CARLTON

DOWN SIZED

Tawnee Chasny

PAPERBACK | $20.99

E-BOOK | $2.99

Carlton gets laid off from his job after eleven years with a company that a larger company has

purchased. They’re calling this layoff, ‘downsizing’ as if that makes the situation any different. He’s

still without a job. They offer him a small bonus towards retirement and drop any penalties for early

withdrawal of his 401K savings plan.

He sells everything, gets on his Honda 750 with his clothes packed into his saddlebags and camping

gear strapped to the back of his bike. He drives north on the coast route towards Washington where

he plans to visit relatives and see which way things go with his life.

The trip was fun, stopping where and when he wanted to, enjoying the beautiful western coast,

staying in public camping sites and sleeping under the stars. It’s been chilly, so he decides to stop for

a hot sandwich and have a couple beers before settling in for the night. He parks his bike behind a

bar/cafe so it doesn’t get disturbed and enters by the front door.

From this point on, his life does a complete turn-around. Hold onto your hat ‘cause this is what

the story is about. Inside the bar he meets four guys that recently broke out of a maximum security

prison. They’ve robbed a drug store, taken money, drugs and the owners’ granddaughter. Their

leader is totally insane, leaving bodies behind wherever he goes. The things he does are unspeakable.

Kid knapping, a few robberies, rape and murder, not to mention the experimental drugs that were

at the pharmacy.

Before things go very far our hero is overpowered, loses his memory and the people he meets

provide him with mystical advice as an intervention to his problem. In the meantime the insane one

is determined to find out if he’s alive or dead and can he tell anyone what they did to him.


How did Donna become a writer? Has this always

been what she wanted?

Donna always liked to write, paint, read, or draw in

her leisure or spare time. She started writing stories

after she retired. A poem Donna wrote was selected

as a semi-finalist in poetry.com’s International

Open Poetry Contest of 2003. She did not win the

contest. They wanted to publish her poem but she

never completed the Artist’s Proof that came with

the notification so I doubt it was included in the final

product. I still have the letter of notification and the

Artist’s Proof form from poetry.com, which Donna

considered award enough.

What was Donna like? Her passions? What was the

most inspiring thing about her?

Ambitious, creative, iron willed and a perfectionist.

In addition to writing, Donna enjoyed drawing

abstract shapes, she would paint large versions of

her favorite squiggles, her word for her doodles. I

have a fair-sized collection of her squiggles, they

fascinate me. I have yet to gather them all, but I know

where they all are stashed.

How do you think the covid crisis affected people’s

reading habits? Compare then and now?

I am one of those at-risk persons, I have been staying

home to avoid contact with the virus, venturing out

with a mask when necessary and not inviting guests

to the home. With all of those rioters though, I don’t

believe they were thinking of settling down with a

few good books to tide the pandemic. Did anybody

violate a bookstore? I wasn’t paying that close of

attention. Other than the rioting, beating up other

people, and setting fires, as I saw on TV, I don’t know

how everybody else planned to ride it out. I am only

aware of my own urges to pick up a great thriller now

and then. Also, I am vaccinated.

Lastly, as the husband of the book’s author, what

is your main takeaway from the book, and what

message do you want the readers to grasp from it?

I believe Donna’s intentional gimmick here comes

down to caring and sharing or being there when you

are needed especially when you have the tools to

help somebody, in this case, not just between the

protagonist and the hospital staff, but also between

one of the antagonists and the resident Dr. as could

be evident by the two Epilogues.

Out of

Habit

KATHLEEN DUTTON

PAPERBACK | $12.95 E-BOOK | $3.99

Picture a small-town setting, a warmhearted protagonist with a harrowing past, and a poignant love story.

These are the three key elements in Out of Habit by Kathleen Dutton. This thriller-romance novel is a wellwritten

book that engrosses the readers from page to page. A suspenseful fiction, Kathleen establishes a

praiseworthy development of each character’s past to suit the direction that the novel is headed. The dark

backstory of the protagonist is well complemented by the budding relationship between Allie and Ryan,

making it an enjoyable read for mystery lovers, romance connoisseurs, or both.

Out of Habit gives a splendid fusion of romance and mystery. Allison Weston is a gifted teacher discovering

life outside the institution that sheltered her for more than a decade. She is well-matched with Ryan, and their

romance unfolds at a gradual but believable pace as Allison struggles to decide whether she should pursue a

relationship with him. Just as she is starting to reconsider her future, a series of anonymous letters hints at

her involvement in a murder, and she begins to have horrifying nightmares. With Ryan’s unyielding support,

Allie discovers the courage to face the shattering truth of her past and change the things we do strictly...

out of habit.

The novel is solidly entertaining, with engaging characters and a plot that successfully weaves together a

tender love story and an unpredictable mystery.

Rated with 5 stars on Amazon, Out of Habit is a riveting tale that should be celebrated.

MORNING WALKS WITH GOD

BY MARLENE BURLING

“Within these pages, you will find encouragement that is personal, practical, and

powerful. Marlene has gained much wisdom and personal experience from her

many years as a wife, mother, and pastor’s wife. This book is going to be a great

tool to help you to grow in your own and personal spiritual life.”

— Michael J. Peck D Min,

author, family counselor, Baptist church planter

FROM HOMELESS TO HEAVEN

BY JEANNE ANN OFF

“It centers around a formerly homeless man, Alan Washburn, who

chooses to work on a Colorado ranch instead of living in a homeless

shelter. However, the “riches” Washburn experiences are far more

of a spiritual variety than a monetary kind. Although he arrived with

little physical baggage when he went to live with and work for Cody

Chambers, he still carried much emotional baggage.”

— Dan MacIntosh, Pacific Book Review

ACID AND BRIBERY

BY JEANNE ANN OFF

“Acid and Bribery is the fictional product from Jeanne Ann Off’s pleasant

experience. Off’s novel focuses on sixteen-year-old Kelsey and her single

mother, Loren, who work in Colorado at Derbyrun Downs racetrack with

racehorses, getting them ready to compete. One of the horses, Tomar El Oro,

is one of Kelsey’s favorites and happens to be one of the best horses in the

stables compared with all the owner’s other horses.”

— Goodreads

COWBOY ON THE WRONG TRAIN

BY JEANNE ANN OFF

The book starts with the story of the protagonist Ty Grenshaw and his

girlfriend, Patti Dileo. Ty lives on the Cal Grayson cattle and works as a

cowboy. Meanwhile, Patti works for the Gully Real Estate Co. While Patti was

returning to the town of Gully, she met Skeet, the story’s antagonist, and then

planned on selling their ranch to him. Unfortunate events ensued, however.

Their ranch was raided by cattle rustlers and Ty made a frantic attempt to

catch the thieves. Only later, Ty finds out that he went on the wrong train.

BELLA AND MIRABEL:

MESSAGES OF DELIGHT BETWEEN AN

EARTH SPIRIT AND HER HUMAN SISTER

BY MARY ELLEN JACKSON

This uplifting little book with inspirational messages from an earth

spirit to her human sister focuses on freedom from our hardwired

conditioning of “musts” and “shoulds.” It will appeal to anyone

questioning the meaning of their lives. The messages are delivered in

a funny, quirky manner.

REJOICE

BY MARY ANGELINE BELL

PAPERBACK | $9.99 HARDCOVER | $19.99 E-BOOK | $3.99

With this book, Rejoice, I want to share faith and hope to people who

are keenly aware that we live in a world where there is suffering and

injustice every day, and where each of us as an individual lives with

some kind of burden, visible or invisible, which he or she would not

have chosen. I have shared how a focus on our Creator and upon

making a positive difference for others can make our burdens lighter

and give meaning to this life on earth. My poetry arises from my own

experiences of loneliness and being misunderstood. Most important,

though, is the development of character, and that comes through my

choices and attitudes.

CULTURES

BY GERALDINE BRYANT

This book is about a black woman who is highly intelligent that fell upon

problems that lead to much hardship. In her quest of wanting to figure

out, how did this beautiful, attractive, upright woman suddenly become

homeless and unloved. Electra’s journey takes her as well as her readers

into her past, digging for answers, while she lives in the present. Then

towards her future just to discover the truth of her existence.

THE BLESSING ANGEL

BY ANN LAUREL

Tommy has been tormented by night monsters who don’t want him to

sleep. They make themselves large and scary, and Tommy is convinced

they are going to get him. After a fight, Tommy’s mother tells him a story

about an angel who brings blessings to children from God and scares

the monsters that torment them away. Tommy tries to get to sleep

Reluctantly, but he can’t help but wonder if the monsters will get him or

if the blessing angel is real and will she come as momma had said?

SCENT-SATIONAL SEARCHES:

FIND YOUR FRAGRANCE BY BLOOD & PERSONALITY PARALLELS

BY DEBORAH WORLEY

Want to know how to search for your perfect fragrance? The answer is linked

to genetic markers that have already mapped your biological beingness.

Scent-sational Searches explores her theory that there are four blood and

personality types that parallel fragrance families. Once you learn how you

fit into the fragrance chart, your search becomes easy, with no more costly

mistakes and a lifetime of fun exploring the fragrance world! Also included:

100 Tips, Q & As, Fave Fragrancier Bios, and Perfume History.

A DAILY WALK WITH GOD

BY MARLENE BURLING

A Daily Walk with God is filled with practical food for your soul that

will spiritually sustain and equip you so that your first take on the

decisions of your day will honor God. Marlene is a student of what

an authentic walk with God should look like and writes with helpful

insight and clarity. You will be encouraged and motivated to live for

the Lord each day as you enjoy the wisdom contained in these pages.

SOLITAIRE: IN SOLITARY CONFINEMENT

BY GWENDOLYN A. ALEXANDER

A compilation of lessons, quotes, reflections, and biblical teachings

on how to live a successful single life in Christ Jesus, alone.

FIVE DOLLARS AND A POCKET FULL OF WISHES

BY GINO LUTI

A coming-of-age tale about a teenage journey into the world and all he

encounters. From pure excitement to desperately lonely to unexpected

kindness to running for his life. A day-by-day minute by minute journal

of a wanna-be vagabond.

CLANDESTINE: A CLASSIC BOOK OF POETRY

BY AMY RITCHIE

Clandestine is a breath of fresh air that will leave you encouraged,

hopeful, and refreshed.

ANAXIUNARA: ONE BRIEF ETERNITY

BY MR. DAVID DEROSA

With three children on an epic voyage to seek justice for his murdered wife,

Jo Lee finds the perfect nanny, a mysterious woman with magic that might

even mend his broken heart. But what could a dragon know of love?

Anaxiunara is a swashbuckling adventure in a world of pirates and magic,

where a man discovers his greatest power is the love in his heart and the

people who share it.

BETWEEN TOMORROW AND YESTERDAY

Tripping Into Nowhere Behind Nothing

FELTON PERRY

With the availability of many modern options for entertainment, one would not be blamed for thinking

that theatrical plays may soon go the way of the Dodo bird. However, this would be a mistake to

think of, especially when in this day and age, many writers create plays with very modern subjects in

mind, such as those written by author and actor Felton Perry titled BETWEEN TOMORROW AND

YESTERDAY: Tripping into Nowhere Behind Nothing.

A collection of two plays, BETWEEN TOMORROW AND YESTERDAY is a book that evokes the

1970s and celebrates the black culture of the time by centralizing it and portraying it equivalently to

celebrated touchstones of Western art, like Shakespeare and the idea of theater itself, which are so often

enclaves of whiteness. The first play, “Sleep No More”, is a musical comedy based on Shakespeare’s

Macbeth, with words and lyrics by Felton and music by Gary Brooks. Concerned with imagining what

is possible between the famous scenes and lines, Felton uses Shakespeare’s original language and framing

as a jumping-off point but using the twentieth-century black vernacular for the new music and material.

The second play, “Buy the Bi and Bye”, is a play within a play that satirizes “black theatrical expression”

in a small theater. A period piece, this play explores black culture and concerns in the 1970s.

Reading Felton’s well-though scripts makes readers fall in love once again with theatrical plays.

BRIDGE OF THE GODS

A HANDBOOK FOR ASCENDING HUMANITY

THE GOLDEN PATHWAY TO YOUR HIGHEST GOD SELF!

REVEREND DR. LINDA DE COFF

PAPERBACK | $16.95

HARDCOVER | $42.95

E-BOOK | $9.99

The mysteries of heaven and divinity forever capture our interest. While

some may choose not to take part in this enigmatic journey, there is a

majority of those who are in pursuit of their spirituality. Reverend Dr. Linda

De Coff’s BRIDGE OF THE GODS is a literary masterpiece about the Divine

Soul and connecting with God. The in-depth coverage of this 12-chapter

book about mental, spiritual, emotional, and physical transcendence into

the Highest realms of possibility is an enlightening reading journey that

every fan of metaphysics should experience.

The promise of peace has always been perceived as an outward inward manifestation of good

grace; however, this book teaches us otherwise. BRIDGE OF THE GODS instills that peace that

comes from the inside out. An excerpt from the book reads, “empty yourself out of all attachments,

distractions, opinions, judgments, and ideas about things; becoming thus, an empty vessel through

which, now, the life of God and Truth and Highest consciousness may stream anew.” New life can

only be obtained when one has fully released the past, embracing now a sublime and limitless

future, one with the Divine within.

For so long, people have been seeking the Truth without realizing that the Truth itself is

reawakening our already existent spirit. Whether you’re an individual that is fully invested in

spirituality or you’re just someone wanting to find a good book to curl up with, BRIDGE OF THE

GODS is an eye-opening book that can stir your heart and mind to greater levels than ever before

imagined or even thought possible.


How The Pandemic

Forced Me To Grow Up

NAOMI EDISON

When COVID-19 decided to shake the whole world in 2020, I was

just a university sophomore living alone in my grandparents’

spare apartment, jobless. The family business closed down,

which meant that money was tight. The entire human race

was crumbling down, and I felt like I had run out of chances to

redeem myself. All I’ve ever done the year before was to pass a

couple of subjects and get drunk over the weekends. The world

seemed to be ending, yet I only had myself, a couple of dollars,

and a studio unit that wasn’t even mine.


All that time in isolation made me drown in my

thoughts, making me feel like a complete loser. I

spent unhealthy hours on TikTok, watching people

dancing their hearts out, and a bunch of tutorials

that I did not know I needed. I found myself going

around the house and started to fix things. For the

four years that I have inhabited the apartment, it

was funny that it took a pandemic to get me to finally

scrub the bathroom floor for the first time. All the

pent-up grime that ate the tiles away was gone,

revealing a sparkly surface. Huh, if only it was that

easy to rid ourselves of the things that we didn’t want

to be. Cleaning the entire place was a therapeutic

experience, and I realized that if I had done this

sooner, my disposition could have been calmer than

the usual rowdy klutz I was.

I started experimenting in the kitchen and sobbed

when the broccoli came out to be too soft. Imagine

how fragile I must have been to cry over a vegetable.

During that moment of weakness, I decided that

I’ve had enough of being a failure. I spent the entire

afternoon on my laptop, browsed through job

listings, and applied to a publishing company as a

writer. I couldn’t remember the last time I ever wrote

anything after getting rejected from my dream

college. However, when Writers’ Branding asked me

to narrate about my favorite color as a part of the

application process, my bottled-up frustrations were

freed. All of a sudden, I felt like I was 15 again. Full of

life. Hopeful. Untainted by the pains of the world.

I emailed them back my heartfelt answer to their

question, and immediately the day after, I was hired.

A couple of months into my first office job, I started

paying for the apartment myself, got an insurance

plan, and started saving up for a car. Without

realizing it, I was no longer just some sheltered kid

whose college fund was taken care of by her parents.

I became somebody pruned by life to be ready to

take on the challenges of the world. When I finally

got to see my Mom again, she was surprised by how

tidy the apartment looked. She also commented

that my salad was “just right,” which to an Asian

parent, was the equivalent of “delicious.” She went

home with an eagerness to tell my aunts about my

newfound domestic skills over the lockdown. I smiled

knowing that maintaining a house wasn’t everything

that I’ve learned during my time alone. It was so

much more than that. I have mastered the art of

being responsible while keeping my emotions intact.

I grew up.

LEGACY OF THE ELDER

BY FIERA


Legacy of the Elder is a sweeping story of the most intriguing, adored, yet

feared creatures humankind has ever known—vampires.

After being introduced to vampires from different walks of life, Fiera

learns that there are two kinds: legals and rogues. For centuries, rogues

have suffered at the hands of legals, and the oppression is brewing a

nasty insurrection. Things would start to take a dark turn as Fiera learns

to embrace her predestined fate—to become the legendary Fire Goddess

of the Elder's prophecy. However, how far will she go into accepting her

destiny when she discovers that the one who has always loved her will die

if she becomes a vampire?

Although under the category of fiction, the novel narrates the author's

true-to-life induction into vampire hood, making it informative with a hint

of tragedy, adventure, and fantasy.

LEO GOES TO FRANCE

BY MARY GAUGHAN


Leo Goes to France is a story of a cat with a sweet tooth. When

his owner doesn't let him have any more pastries or sweets, he

runs away to France, with pastry shops on every street.

PREVENTING

BULLYING

A Manual for Teachers

in Promoting Global

Educational Harmony

RAJU RAMANATHAN AND

CHRISTINA THEOPHILOS

Bullying can happen anywhere, and anyone can be at risk. However, if we can

recognize warning signs of bullying, then we can take action against it. The title

Preventing Bullying: A Manual for Teachers in Promoting Global Educational Harmony

speaks for itself. Christina Theophilos, the founder and president of The Glory of

Education, teams up with Raju Ramanathan, an acclaimed life coach and spiritual

leader, to address and end the earliest sign of power imbalance—bullying.

The book is described as a precious teachers’ aid to help prevent bullying and give

the proper response should it happen in the school. The approach focuses on prolove

and contains essential facts about bullying and various intervention strategies.

The book contains more than 40 different activities for the classroom to help

strengthen student relationships—all of these aim to empower students to respond

positively to the different forms of bullying.

Overall, Christina and Raju successfully design a manual to counter and respond to

bullying, restore balance in the classroom, and create harmony in teachers’ hands.

ODES TO MOVIES

A COLLECTION OF SHORT STORIES

PAPERBACK | $11.99

E-BOOK | $2.99

ODES TO MUSIC

A COLLECTION OF SHORT STORIES

PAPERBACK | $10.99

E-BOOK | $2.99

SUSAN DELLER-CARR

Other people may think that the art of writing is a daunting task. But for author Susan

Deller-Carr, writing is a soothing activity that helps with her Fibromyalgia. She first

wrote Odes to Music at a difficult time in her life when she picked up her AC/DC DVD

and started to compose a story that consisted of the said band’s songs. The charm of

Susan’s work urged a friend to create a poster, and as others began seeing her work,

a surge of requests for her to work on another ode for different artists led her to the

well-arranged compilation that is Odes to Music. With musicians ranging from country

to rock, ABBA to Taylor Swift, movie soundtracks to one-hit wonders, Odes to Music is a

book that can be enjoyed by readers of all ages.

After the success of her first book, Susan’s brother-in-law asked her to write a story

revolving around James Bond movie titles. It was only a matter of time after that she

was able to compile another set of odes about notable people in the movie industry—

both on-screen actors and those that work behind the scenes to make a production

praiseworthy. Odes to Movies is another manifestation of Susan’s flair for writing.

Aside from Odes to Music and Odes to Movies, Susan also wrote a screenplay, which was

inspired by the Kenny and Duet story.

POCKETS

FULL OF

PRAYERS


A prayer is a powerful tool that can get you to many places in life. Cheri Anthony’s book, Pockets

Full of Prayers, is a hopeful story of faith, friendship, and kindness. The story revolves around

two orphans, a new friend, and a rag doll full of pockets. Omar, the protagonist in the story, is a

young soul that is eager to get through the hardships in his life through prayers. He writes them

down on paper and stuffs them into the many pockets of his doll. Cheri’s gentle presentation on

the issue of being an orphan while tackling its real-life challenges makes the book a universal

story that touches the hearts of both children and adults.

The most striking part of the book is the compassionate exchange between Zora and Omar.

When read on a surface level, the chat between the kids is an innocent discourse that is too pure

for the world. However, from an older perspective, Zora acknowledging her privilege of having a

mother sets off a tear-jerking whiff of happiness. Sometimes, the underlying themes behind a

children’s book moves an entire generation.

Cheri Anthony’s story-telling flair is a blessing to this world. At times, life can be dragging.

Pockets Full of Prayers teaches us to navigate through challenges with prayers. No matter what

position in life you are in, just know that Somebody reads the prayers you put into your pockets.

My name is Cheri Anthony and I was raised in Brookville Mississippi.

I graduated from Nuxbee High School, I then pursued an education at

Mississippi University for Women. Currently, I live in Atlanta Georgia

and that is where you’ll find me writing, designing, and oil painting.

I have written Pockets Full of Prayers, a children’s book that teaches

kids valuable lessons of love, life, and integrity. Tackling subject

matters such as how to be kind, how to develop kind hearted nice

personalities full of positivity, and to never judge others. Because at

our core, everyone. I am also the author of two other children’s books.

One book is called May I with a lesson that teaches kids how to pray

and to believe in God and have faith. Another is Magic Land, which

is about kids having dreams and magic. Those are a few of many

accomplishments this year, and there is so much more to come.


Everything Boils

Down To What?

AIRA LAGUNA


Starting a new year meant transitioning from one

year to another with a clean slate in the hopes of

moving forward and bettering ourselves. We even

have a number of resolutions, a written bucket list,

a bunch of goals, and a whole lot more. Oh, the lies

we tell ourselves. When the truth is, we only try to

resolve the things we failed to do last year, we only

rewrite our bucket list that none from the previous

year crashed out, we only wish for a new goal on

top of another when we can barely even hit that one

thing we wanted five years ago. Nevertheless, we

still try to start anew, at least I do. And 2020 was not

an exception.

The start of a new decade was my coming of age. It

was supposed to be my year, as much as everyone

claims it. I had every single day of the next 365 days

manifested, planned everything out, and made

myself totally ready. But the Covid-19 pandemic

happened and locked the entire world. We were

forced to stay in the safety of our homes as the virus

lingers outside. We watched the number of cases

rise up, anxiously waiting for the next news to be

broadcasted live, and hoped for the best for our

medical professionals and government officials as

they battle it out for us.

Strangely though, I was somehow unalarmed for

myself. I, for one, thought that the lurking virus would

be contained right away. So amid the trying times,

I was that kid who kept the healthy atmosphere in

the family; I was that friend who kept the entire

squad sane; I was that social media user who kept on

sharing positive vibes; I was still that ray of sunshine.

But not long enough. From finding joy in trying out

new recipes to being fed up with opening the same

canned goods, the pause seemingly became a stop.

The next round in the clock was agonizing until I

randomly caught myself staring up at the ceiling for

hours, not feeling fine. My dreams were delayed, my

plans did not prosper, and all the resolutions, bucket

list, and goals went down the drain. I was robbed,

was sucked dry, was left in the open, and was

enraged. When the entire world stopped, I eventually

also had to.

I hit rock bottom, but I refused to stay there. As the

sun rises, so do I, always trying to pick myself up.

But the sun naturally sets too. One step forward, two

steps back was a draining cycle, but then I pondered

on one thing—I was still shining for everyone, even if

my once bright light has now become dull. Believe it

when they say that you cannot pour from an empty

cup. Accordingly, I sat with my feelings, processed

the whirlwind of emotions, and started to look deep

down at my core. I initiated to be there for myself, be

present at the moment, and just be. When everything

around you comes crashing down, I realized that it

all boils down to you, who you truly are, what you’re

made of, what you’re trying to become, and how you

play the cards dealt upon you.

Going into another year continuously bearing with

the pandemic, there are no more resolutions, bucket

lists, or big goals. But every time I shine brightly

for my parents, partner, pal, plants, and pets, I

pat myself on the back for shining brightly first

for myself.

REG

RICHARD GROVES

PAPERBACK | $9.00

E-BOOK | $4.99

Sometimes, our simple, mundane lives can change instantly and in the most unexpected ways. It can be due

to winning the lottery, finding a soulmate, or a great discovery. However, what would happen if a simple,

unassuming man who just wanted to go through his day suddenly finds a fundamental flaw in one of Physics’

most important theories?

Richard Groves’ REG is a quick read for every sci-fi hardcore fan. It is a hilarious yet thought-provoking book and

was titled based on its main character, Reginald. The story transpires through the point-of-view of Reg’s equallyendearing

best friend, Dick. Reg is a quiet, unemployed, unassuming man living on his own in his small red-brick

terraced house in Walford. The busiest he has been, according to Dick, was when he was eating chips in front of

the television while watching Blue Peter. So who would have thought that this beer-swilling couch potato will be

the same man who will challenge—and eventually find a flaw—in Albert Einstein’s Theory of Relativity? So who

will believe Reg over the most renowned scientist in the world ever? It is hard to believe, but in Richard’s REG,

Reg is right! Furthermore, his discovery ultimately transform him from a couch potato into the talk of the town

and kick start his journey through the universe.

The Voice of the Rooster and

the Lessons it Teaches

ELLEN BETH BERMAN

A person’s life is full of potential, from simple goodness to amazing greatness. However, the

journey, that we call “life” is not without its challenges and dangers. When these roadblocks

occur, some people can take it, others cannot. Each blow we experience chips away at our

strength, until it just becomes too much. To avoid this, one must have an anchor, a guide to

stay on the path and go through such times without succumbing to despair and, simply, giving

up. The Voice of the Rooster and the Lessons It Teaches by author Ellen Beth Berman is like a

“lighthouse,” guiding the reader to shore.

One may think a rooster’s voice, a mere “cock-a-doodle-do.” However, the author suggests

otherwise. The book awakens our hearts to the possibility that each morning we can “hear a

rooster’s voice” and be reminded of G-d’s Presence. Our individual hearts, at the same time,

recognize that we each have a unique Heavenly mission on earth.

The Voice of the Rooster is a collection of poems that draws from the teachings of Chassidus,

a Jewish philosophy, reflecting the belief that G-d’s Presence is immanent. His greatness is

omnipresent, permeating all creation. One’s enigmatic pursuit, ultimately, connects everything

to His Oneness. What may seem like a “simple life” is far more wondrous.

Ms. Berman comes from a small Appalachian town, and likens her spiritual journey to “going

into a coal mine and emerging with diamonds”. If one takes the time to look inward, toward

his/her soul, the revelation is one of G-dly light. The poem, “Unmasking Truth”, succinctly

expresses the idea, that no matter how the modern world changes, G-d and His Truth remain

constant. Our “true home” is one of joy, filled with hope and goodness.

A person does not have to embark on a spiritual journey, in order to enjoy this book. It is the

kind that stirs up the soul of the readers, and ignites a spark, making the soul aware of the

ubiquity of G-d.


CHAPTER 1: BLESSED

SONIA EASLEY

I awake without the alarm clock, straighten my lazy bones,

stretch my flaccid muscles, and contemplate the day

ahead. Yep, I deserve time off from my busy workplace.

Think I’ll sip strong coffee with heavy cream and read

my latest sci-fi novel. Maybe later, I’ll visit the antique

store. Hope they have a new collection of crystal water

pitchers—not that I have space for any new ones. And yes,

if the spirit moves me, I’ll make my scrumptious lasagna.

I sniff and scrunch my nose. What’s that acrid stench?

Metallic . . . or plastic.

The previously snoozing felines meow and headbutt my

arm. “Oh, I get it; you want breakfast.”

I imagine Lovely and Beauty urging, “Hurry, Mom.

We’re hungry!” Good thing I understand meow-meow.

The impatient cats continue to purr and nudge my

slow-moving body as I stand, raise my arms, and bend

right and left.

The silky nightgown and matching pink furry slippers

I received for my birthday are so comfy I may not even

dress today.

“You do understand I have to stop in the bathroom, huh

babies? The world doesn’t revolve around you characters.”

I muse that this day could be quite whimsical. Heaven

knows, I adore lounging in my charmingly furnished and

decorated home.

As I stand at the sink, the girls weave between my ankles

as if to say, “Why are you so slow, Mom?”

Yikes, there’s that odor again. It’s more noticeable now and

causes my eyes to water.

The munchkins race ahead to the kitchen. “First things

first,” I admonish. My coffee, then your food.”

With total indifference to my babbling, the pesky pets

focus on the automatic opener as it twirls the can,

releasing the savored aroma.

As I serve their morning meal, I hear a crackle around the

espresso machine. I wonder if that old contraption is dying

after years of service. There’s that noise again—louder this

time, with buzzing and snapping.


I step forward and touch the wall behind the espresso,

jerking my hand away and shaking it in the air. A

throbbing vibration alerts nerves up to my shoulder.

What?! Never have I had a fire in my home. However, I’m

confident it’s not serious—or is it?

I struggle to unplug the unit to no avail. “Oh damn!

Electrical short!” I screech, sending the animals skittering

into the bedroom.

I wrap a kitchen towel around the base of the cord and

yank. Black, sooty smoke coats the counter, while the odor

irritates my nostrils, causing repeated sneezes.

“Sheez, I must call 911!”

Racing into the bedroom, I seize my cell phone and

connect with a woman who asks about my emergency. I

start explaining the condition isn’t dangerous but swiftly

recognize I’m in denial. Get a grip, girl!

She presses for a location. With a voice calmer than I feel,

I give her my address.

I hang up and sprint back to the kitchen. Foul smoke

gushes out of the counter’s backsplash. The smell is

loathsome, and the fire’s progress is ominous.

Oh God, what should I do? Where should I begin? Get

dressed? Call my daughter? Secure the cats?

Before I can work out the next move, I hear a crisp pop

and a faint rumble in the now warm floor beneath my

feet. This is more urgent than I thought!

Rushing to the bedroom, I grab clothes then drop the lot

as I realize my kitties come first. I’m sure they’re hiding.

Can I catch them and place them into separate cages?

I fetch the cat carriers from the closet. On my belly, I

spread out on the carpet, swishing arms beneath the bed

frame, hoping to engage my pets. I contact fur, but the

frightened feline moves away from my grasp. Beg as I may,

the girls stay out of reach.

I grab a flashlight from the bedside table and point its

beam under the bed. The terrified kitties hunker together.

Without thinking, I wrestle the mattress and box springs

to one side and snatch my orange-striped cat, Beauty,

securing her in a carrier. With more coaxing, I capture my

calico, Lovely. Thank God!

I shuffle them past the kitchen and into the living room.

On my way, I spot a crimson and ochre fire dancing

around the coffee machine.

Melting plastic adds to the plethora of obnoxious odors,

and burning cupboards crackle under heightened heat.

Getting worse! “How is this possible?!” I scream.

I clutch my scanty gown. Can’t let the responders see me

nearly naked.

“Need to transfer you guys to the porch,” I explain to

the wide-eyed kits. I drag them through the front door,

speaking soothing words.

I refuse to look at the spreading fire. I must decide what

crucial items to save. Always said I should organize my

belongings in case of a disaster. I haven’t, and here one is.

From my bedroom cupboards, I grab metal file boxes and

set them in the middle of the front room. I assure myself

the firefighters will extinguish the flames in time to help

me save my necessities.

My peripheral vision spots my one and only plant. I love

this succulent and named him George. He’s a vibrant

being! I’ll put him on the porch next to the cats.

The kitchen fills with gray and black smoke while orange

and yellow flames digest the expresso, counter, and wall.

“My coins!” I blurt aloud. The valuable collection

belonged to my dad and means a lot to me. I deposit the

heavy boxes in the front room.

“Oh!” I forgot the handknit blanket from my greatgrandmother

that Mother gifted me. I snatch

the heirloom, throwing it through the hallway

toward the door.

My albums! My ancestor’s and children’s pictures mustn’t

burn. No! I won’t let that happen! I have photo boxes stored

in the closet and several portraits on the walls.

I dash from one end of the house to the other without

a plan, gathering whatever I can hold at one time and

building a mountain of valuables. Does this stack of

material possessions represent my entire life?

My body trembles and sweat glistens on my skin. Where

are the firefighters?

Oh no! My mind is becoming dysfunctional. I dash from

the bedroom to living room, sometimes without salvaging

even one item. I pull my antique crystal pitchers from the

dining room shelves and pile them on top of the heap. The

glassworks look weirdly beautiful as multicolored flames

glitter in their prisms.

I stop to listen to a siren in the distance. How far

away is it?


Then I run to retrieve my jewelry box, which holds a

lifetime of memorable pieces. It slips from my hands, and

I slump to the floor, trying to reclaim the scattered jewels.

The heat is unbearable! My lips seem glued together. I’m

incredibly thirsty.

I rise and stumble toward the disheveled pile. Which items

should I carry outside—the coins? The important papers? Or

the . . . ?!

A fiery mass licks at my left side; a booming air concussion

follows. I topple over but struggle to my feet at once.

My slippers end up across the room. The gold necklace

my mother gave me sears the skin on my neck and chest.

I battle to take it off, but the metal’s too hot. Painful

blisters appear on my neckline. Summoning strength, I

wrench the chain from my body, dropping it as if it were a

sizzling poker.

My nightgown is on fire, a single flame licking my

shoulder. I pull off the gown and use it to smother the

flames dancing in my hair.

“Dear God, save me!” I shriek.

Out of the horror of my surroundings, I sense a powerful

grip around my waist, pulling me through the door.

Desperate, I clutch my singed nightgown.

The firefighter raises my arms and wiggles the gown over

my head and body. Another man wraps me in a blanket

then sits me on the ground leaning against a wheel of the

fire engine.

“Where are my cats and my plant?” I shout, rubbing

black, grimy tears from my face.

A first responder retrieves both animals and George,

placing them by my side.

After what feels like an eternity, the lead firefighter escorts

me across the street to sit with a neighbor on her safe

porch. Another helper carries Beauty and Lovely, with

George teetering atop one of the cages.

The driver of the engine backs it away from the blazing

inferno seconds before an explosion erupts in the center of

my home. My house, possessions, and even my car in the

garage vanish in a ball of flame!

Within minutes, it seems, only smoldering ashes remain.

Inevitable feelings of loss crush my crying heart.

Here come the paramedics. As they jump from their

vehicle, I bow my head in an overwhelming epiphany: I

have my life, my precious cats, and my plant George. . . . I

am blessed.

CLANDESTINE: A CLASSIC BOOK OF POETRY

BY AMY RITCHIE


Clandestine—"hidden, concealed, secret." Life is a journey, and so often, we

go inward with the pain and difficulty. And so it was for author Amy Ritchie.

"She was inconsolable." After her father's death, among others, she went

inward, and she searched herself and her life for answers and healing from

depression.

"She was restored." Amy began to find peace and happiness as she

processed and released the sadness that had initially consumed her.

"She is stardust." Amy realized that life is short and that she has to press on

to have her dreams come true. She also realized she is blessed more than

she would ever have thought possible. Clandestine is a breath of fresh air

that will leave you encouraged, hopeful, and refreshed.

ALL ABOUT THE BENJAMINS:

CHANGING THE WAY YOU THINK

ABOUT MONEY

BY ANN CAUGHMAN


Have you ever had a dream that didn’t come true; made a vision

board that didn’t produce the vision; told a loved one to rest in

peace, only to find out later that you had no peace when left

to handle their affairs or felt like your money left your hands

faster than you can make it? If you answered yes to any of these

questions and you are looking for some real answers, you have

the right book in your hands. There are people that are working

hard for their money and cannot keep it long enough to make

their dreams come true. By reading this book, you will learn

how to use money to move from a place of never having enough

to a place of having more than enough or, at the very least, to

make it to the next level of financial sufficiency.

PRIVATIZATION OF

FACILITY MANAGEMENT

IN PUBLIC HOSPITALS

HONG POH FAN

Healthcare facilities like hospitals need a lot of upkeep and maintenance to

ensure the health of their patients and workers. However, there is more to

managing these facilities than simply making sure everything is sanitized daily.

As times change, hospitals and other healthcare facilities should also keep up

with advancing technologies and cutting-edge methodologies. Author Hong

Poh Fan’s book, Privatization of Facility Management in Public Hospitals, sheds

light on the inner workings of facilities management.

In the book, Fan reveals to the public the healthcare and medical professionals’

processes to keep the facilities running optimally, mainly showcasing Malaysia’s

healthcare system as a prime example. The book contains information such as

the brief history of privatization development, the process of privatization, five

hospital support services, benefits and shortcomings, and more. In addition,

briefing readers on the history of facilities management and how it has fared

over the decades.

The book aims to inform readers interested in learning more about facility

management and support services in healthcare facilities, particularly those in

developing countries like Malaysia. It is intended for readers who are in the

medical fields and engineers and technical professionals with a keen interest

in facilities management in medical centers. Particularly, Hong Poh Fan hopes

that this book, one of the few that truly tackles the subject, might spark

people’s interest in the topic.

The

Origins

of Aids

and Autism

RONALD BESSER


Ronald L. Besser first learned to scribe from the celestial archives decades ago. In a revelatory

presentation inspired by his ability to connect to medical professionals beyond the realm of Earth,

he offers many unique insights into our history and medical conditions as our world continues to

battle deadly contagions and a pandemic.

Within easy-to-read text shared for the intelligent layman and those wishing to live a natural

existence, Besser begins by exploring the start of AIDS, how it took millions of lives globally, and

its treatments, and then examines the definition of autism and how to work with it well. Included

are his insights on a sure-fire treatment for Alzheimer’s disease which can be managed at home,

how the brain colludes in the fetus to cause autism, and why all vaccines must have clinical trials

before being distributed to the public.

The Origins of AIDS and Autism is a unique presentation of ideas and insights from a retired civil

engineer that examines several diseases, their effects on humankind and the world, and potential

treatments to eradicate them from society forever.


Ronald Besser on The Origins

of AIDS and Autism

While science and spirituality come from the opposing sides of the

spectrum, Ronald L. Besser finds himself on the middle ground.

His book, The Origins of Aids and Autism, was written after he was

prompted by a “messenger” from the beyond. Ronald’s ability to

communicate with doctors who have passed the earth allows him

to introduce insights and potential treatments for certain kinds

of diseases.

During a conversation with The Reading Glass team, author Ronald

L. Besser addresses questions pertaining to his book and his

unique psychic skills.


The Reading Glass: How did you come to write about

a book that talks about AIDS and autism? What is the

direct relationship between the two?

Ron: Serendipitously. I was in a board meeting of

our charity, the Magisterial Foundation, which deals

with spiritual matters and education over issues we

feel are important to understand about spirit and

spirituality. I am the chair of the board and suddenly

I felt a presence at my elbow on my right side. They

were a messenger of some import and interrupted

the meeting with three others by saying, “Ron, there

is a doctor who wishes to speak with you who in

spirit now is trained to resurrect aborted children

in the spirit nurseries.” I took the call, so to speak,

and received what the doctor wished to tell me and

the Board assembled around us. In summary she

said, “I want you all to know that when I bring these

children back to life, a percentage of them obtain

what you call autism. We resurrect them and do not

treat it. Of all we do bring back, about six percent

have a mild form of autism and nearly two percent

have severe autism; that is, they can neither speak

or relate to their environment at all.” We concluded

the interview, and the messenger spoke to me

before departing, “You have a book to do. Take on

autism, aids and if they allow, Alzheimer’s disease.

We have helped already to prepare the outline of that

manuscript for you. What you now have is the result

of that encouragement and the voice of on-high

physicians to speak about these diseases and to

correct what are truly unusual misunderstandings

about what they are and how to treat them.

The COVID-19 vaccine was released late last year.

What is your opinion about the vaccine? What do you

think about anti-vaxxers?

In a politically-charged atmosphere as we have over

the past two years, I have avoided it and ducked out

of. Immunologists fight politicians who fight policy

from one camp or another, and frankly it produces

heat and not cures. Yes, I do know something

about it. The Covid-19 virus with all of its mutations

(spirit labs say there 14 loose on earth right now)

belongs to the dreaded phylum doctors in spirit call

a “Retrovirus.” I know the term is used here too, but

they mean almost two different things depending

whether you are on the mansion worlds or in Trenton,

New Jersey. You know what they mean on TV and

I spare you that discussion, but let me point out

something not enough attention is given to: Once

you know you are dealing with a retrovirus, please

understand they can only reproduce by killing the

host. An exception is the rabies virus just so you

know, I do understand that. The entire reason a virus

exists is to reproduce! Of these six Retroviruses

on earth, we note that the Covid-19 got loose and

had a big party with a lavish reproduction cycle

which resulted in a Pandemic. To stop it requires

an additional insertion into the formulas of all the

vaccines that convinces Covid-19 to understand it

has reproduced. Essentially, that is what our vaccine

does for AIDS too for one way to treat that one.

To totally kill Covid-19, science has to introduce a

protein into existing vaccines (all are efficacious

and improved with this) as a potassium ion the body

makes when it dies. That potassium ion is a huge

molecule (a potassium hydrate), and it contains over

sixty-four molecular variations itself so be careful

which one is used. That is what the virus reads to

quit its work. And it is only produced in the human

body immediately after death and can be harvested

only for ten minutes after the life force is gone. Once

Covid-19 (and Covid-15, and Covid-12 and Covid-17)

reads that ion in the bloodstream, it gives up and

collapses out of existence. I also point out that

what hospitals and doctors register as Covid-19 are

sometimes these other unknown variations to them.

Only Covid-19 is lethal, these other iterations act like

flu but kill due to the weakness of the pulmonary

system) Other than that, I feel it judicious for me to

shut up about it.

The book was not intended to be a review of one

particular disease with related diseases attendant

upon it. The book was intended to be an anthology

or catalog of some of the worst contemporary killing

diseases that are possible. I face it, we have this rare

opportunity for consultations with high spirits about

where the Achilles heels are located to cut them

down, and we made a list to write about it. Such is

the selection process and it has nothing to do with

relationships of these diseases with each other.


You have an ability to connect to medical

professionals beyond the realm of Earth. How

did that skill come in handy for you while crafting

this book?

The book would not have been possible without

Rayson, the Science Officer, a Paradise Magisterial

Son now already on earth to produce a Magisterial

Mission made to inventory the already existing

causes for future plagues that can happen on

earth and that is mostly because of a de-evolution

of the human health defenses due to extreme

overpopulation. This book does not address that as

a cause for these particular diseases, but extreme

overpopulation causes pandemics to easily take

root and we have been taught a serious lesson on

this issue already. The individual name Rayson was

the chief spiritual voice and translator for Origins,

but I can speak to about six (6) others by their

identifying names and who supplied highly technical

information about the retrovirus called AIDS. My

skill is recognized by spirit as the voice to be used

for other considerations where they wish events to

be known in the ear of humans if called upon, and

meanwhile I serve by providing educational material

such as Origins for the time being. I do know how the

body does this provision, and it can be teachable to

the medical profession for highly accurate diagnosis.

How to cure is a different matter, and that should be

investigated by hospitals and clinics but I am not on a

crusade to make this workable if there is no interest.

Dr. Edgar Cayce was famous to do the same for

diagnostic practices, and I would also point out there

CHRISTIAN POEMS, PRAYER AND INSPIRATIONS

BY PATRICIA OFFERMAN

The book contains Christian poems, prayers, and inspirations written in a

forty-year span of daily journaling experience, now in print to inspire and

uplift body, mind, and spirit in simple easy-to-read poems that woo and

inspire one to a holy desire to have a closer and more intimate walk with

the Lord Jesus Christ as one journeys through life.


was the educational use of Dr. Helen Schucman,

who dictated ACIM (a three volume textbook called A

Course in Miracles, which is used as a psychological

college textbook). We all use our cerebral cortex and

the hippocampus.

What makes The Origins of AIDS and Autism special

compared to the other books that cover the

same topic?

“Special” is in the eyes of the beholder. It is not

special to me because I live my life in full connection

24/7 without variations as I have no altered states

(as Cayce and others used in those days) for spirit

evolves too and they can reproduce a full class

of instruction without altering the psyche. It has

nothing to do with the channel whatsoever and it

is not occult. It is a natural state of the mind and it

works almost like anyone receives a telephone call

and is that natural. Trouble is, I developed it on my

own and I would love for others to adapt it too, as

it leads to direct communication with Deity and a

great many historical personages such as Ellen G.

White, Madam Blavatsky, the Apostles to Jesus,

Egyptian Pharaoh Amenhotep, and hundreds more

which has led to an archive of over four million words

on points spirit universities and colleges wish to

make about modern life in the 21 st century on this

particular planet (it should surprise you that our little

earth is one of 3.75 million inhabited planets in our

neighborhood alone). It is a shame you do not have

time for some samples. I do not look upon other

books as failing in their purpose and celebrate their

issue to produce the best information possible for

what they choose to write about. Origins is different

though as it does something most others cannot

do and that is to tap the minds who designed life

and independently look at our use of technology for

disease treatment. Of course there are religious

implications but that bothers the theologians who

dither details that often melt away when speaking

to the very persons who created the scriptures in

the first place. The science of spirit is just as holy as

the Grail of the sacred Yahweh and most beneficial

both to the soul with the body kept healthy and sane.

Thank you.

THE COOKBOOK FOR MEN WHO MUST:

THE BEGINNING

BY RICHARD CHAMBERLAIN


Men should be able to prepare some basic meals either for their family

or for themselves. My father—God rest his soul—could not boil water

without burning it. He could make almost anything out of sheet metal

but could not make any kind of food.

Does this sound like a man you know?

Men—or anyone else who is starting to have to cook—with the recipes in

the cookbook and with relatively little effort, you will be able to prepare

some basic meals and snacks for yourself, for your family, for your

buddies, or at least to impress a date. There's nothing really fancy in

here - just good food that everybody likes.

Ladies, if you use it, we won't tell anybody.

Ting!

The Silent Warning

COMING SOON

Two women with very different lives find the same

comfort and solace in retreating to God’s Country.

Lilly, a young and talented artist, emancipated from

her parents, goes deep into the woods and stays in her

grandparent’s cabin. Joanne, on the other hand, is a

retired dressmaker and widow who sold everything

she owned when her husband died to buy an A-frame

house in a small mountain community. Both looking

for solitude and privacy, both women pay no mind to

each other until they discover a madman on the loose,

and the two are forced to depend on each other for

survival.

Can they work together to save themselves? Or will

they endanger each other’s lives more than they

already are?

Tawnee Chasny’s Ting!: A Silent Warning brings to readers an exciting and thrilling

tale about an unlikely partnership, magical forces, and the power of alliance to beat a

common enemy.

Enjoying Tawnee Chasny’s books? We’ve got someTING for you! Upsize your Carlton:

Downsized moment by grabbing a shirt, hoodie, cap, or mug at Author Tawnee

Chasny’s Merchandise Shop. Get the good stuff at www.authordonnachasny.com.

Government 2.0

JOSEPH GORSKI

Paperback | $7.99 Hardcover | $13.99

Government 2.0 uses some common sense analysis of both technological advances

and people’s changing attitudes toward the role of government. The author also

looks at the way the banks have controlled the government up to this point. This

financial model is shown to be at the breaking point for various reasons. The

author gets the reader to see that we are at a tipping point whether we are ready

for it or not. Rather than a doom and gloom book this is an optimistic look forward

toward a future that will be beyond our wildest imaginations.

Joseph Albert Gorski is a graduate of Rutgers-Newark College of Arts and

Sciences with a degree in Business Administration and a minor in Political

Science. He has several books full of ideas and concepts to help the citizens of

the world. His passion is to break down what divides us and to present useful

ideas. He is leading an interesting life, living in three different states in the USA

with his family and earning a living both as a businessman and an employee. He

is still in a continuous mission seeking for a deeper spiritual understanding of

life for him and others.

Government 2.0 was recently republished and received good reviews from major

book reviewers.


Kennar Chasny on Tawnee’s

Ting!: The Silent Warning

From finding and fitting in a community

to eventually creating and curating your

circle, but in a sad and cruel world, how can

you have your own safe space? For Kennar

Chasny, it is intuition—your hunch, your sixth

sense—serving its purpose as your silent

warning. There is always that hesitation

down your gut, and according to Kennar,

this hesitation is protection. However, as

the bad is being kept away, so is the good.

Thus, Kennar highlights the importance of

discernment.

Kennar Chasny, the husband of author

Donna Chasny, converse with The Reading

Glass Magazine for his late wife’s book, Ting!:

The Silent Warning. Donna crafts the story

with character growth, of finding friendship

amid adversity, with a touch of the concept

of community.


The Reading Glass: What is the silent warning you

can give to the readers?

Kennar: You might well have already experienced

a silent warning. Your insight pops into focus. You

meet someone and you feel this person should not

be trusted. Intuition. If you could see something in

your third eye, you can sometimes predict what’s

going to happen before it actually occurs, and if you

have to make decisions, it’s very well possible that

you’ll see the way it should be.

How did Donna come up with Ting? What was her

inspiration for writing such a story?

The backdrop, a mountain community, appealed

to Donna. Her protagonist pretty much has all

the same skills as Donna right down to fixing

her own car. Maybe Donna was fighting her own

demons, resolving issues that I was only made

vaguely aware of.

Has Donna always been vocal about women’s rights?

Do you consider her a feminist?

Her mindset was pretty much in alignment with the

women’s rights movements of the 1960’s and 1970’s.

She was happy to finally be able to obtain her own

credit card, adamant about buying and owning her

own home without a cosigner (namely, her then

separated spouse) which she managed to do. I am

sure she was a feminist.

What is your advice to people who are hesitant to

develop friendships online?

That hesitation will protect those people preventing

them from getting hurt while keeping both good and

bad opportunities at bay. You need to learn to open

your third eye to discern whether to pursue or avoid

those opportunities. They say it’s not hard to learn,

go ahead, Google it.


Joseph Gorski on Government 2.0

Digital advancements have made literally anyone more powerful than

they have ever been. In one flick of a finger, trillions worth of information

can be accessed in a device as small as the palm of your hand. For author

Joseph Gorski, this elevation in technology provided a shift in traditional

systems of living: making people more in control of the social structure. In

his book Government 2.0, Gorski talks about the “ruling class,” referring to

elected officials in the government, bank authorities, and other prominent

capitalists; and the value of the general society being able to live a life

of liberty.

Joseph Gorski joins The Reading Glass Magazine for a short yet insightful chat

about his book, Government 2.0, and most importantly, his perception of this

ever-growing world.

The Reading Glass: Talk about what the cover of

your book depicts.

Joseph: The cover of the 2018 edition of my book

depicts an individual holding tremendous power

in the palm of their hands in the form of a smart

phone. This individual has almost unlimited power

to gather information, order almost any product or

food, communication with almost anyone around

the world, the power to conduct financial business

or transfer funds, and the power to express their

opinion on many social media platforms viewed

around the world.

How might Government 2.0 come about?

Government 2.0 will not come about like an upgrade

on your phone, but is an ongoing process. I trace the

start of this process to the time immediately after

the September 2008 financial panic and government

bailouts. There was an anti government, anti central

bank and anti elite reaction across the political

spectrum. On the technology side, we had the birth

of social media and the smartphone. The gradual

awakening of the individual to the power they have to

effect change is shaking up the banks, the elites and

those with political power. Old alliances and ways

of conducting business are crumbling as we enter

a new era.

Explain how all industries are heading toward

decentralization with currency, lending, energy,

medicine, education, and supply chains.

The recent worldwide pandemic has speeded up the

need for more decentralization across the board. We

have central banks around the world devaluing their

currencies to pay for massive government deficits.

Individuals are looking for alternatives in the form of

crypto currencies which have no central authority.

This has lead to peer to peer lending and alternative

ways to move money around the world. For the

central power suppliers there now is competition.

Homeowners can power their home with solar,

wind and battery storage units to stay off the grid.

As for education, we have a move away from the

traditional central gathering place to learn. There are

neighborhood learning pods, and online learning is

moving the learning experience off campus to your

individual computer. Supply chains have become

strained and revealed to have major weaknesses.

The need to diversify your suppliers has become

essential. You need a worldwide network which

includes smaller regional suppliers. There has also

been a move toward using blockchain technology to

improve efficiencies throughout the supply chain.

In the medical field we are seeing the creation of

mini clinics inside your local medical store. Also,

video doctor visits are reducing the need to go to


the doctor office. There are even surgeries taking

place remotely with robotics controlled by a doctor

in another location.

Explain how the individual can influence changes for

the better in the world.

Just think about a few individuals filming the murder

of George Floyd in real time. We all know the impact

that had on moving the needle toward more social

justice and awareness of deficiencies that exist.

Individuals buying choices have influenced a move

toward organic products and more humane farming

practices. An individual with a dream can change

the world. An individual helping another individual

can change that life and often many other lives they

touch each day.

How can our voting system become more secure,

fair, and trustworthy?

Our goal should be to not only have a system without

barriers, but one that is secure and trustworthy.

Currently there are two opposing forces. One wants

to make it somewhat difficult for some people to

vote and another one that wants people to be able

to vote without proper identification. Neither one

is a solution to the problems that exist. Blockchain

technology or encryption works very well for crypto

currencies and the supply chain. Why not apply

it to voting? People should be able to vote from

an electronic device they own or one in a public

place like a library. You should be able to prove your

identity when you sign in, cast your vote for anyone

including a write in candidate and not be restricted

by limited voting hours or locations. If you are not

computer literate there can be a person available

to help you sign in and prove your identity. No one

is required to vote, but barriers should be reduced

to a minimum. No paper ballots being counted or

miscounted. Nothing lost in the mail. If you are

overseas you should be able to vote from anywhere

in the world just by proving you are a citizen when

you sign in. Of course there still will be a time

when voting cuts off and ends. At that time the

results should be immediate. No waiting for days

for some voting district to get the results counted

and submitted. If the election ends at midnight on

Election Day then we should have results at 12:01

am. Of course there may be a few people that won’t

believe the results, but this is enormously more

trustworthy and fair than the current system. The

only thing that might delay a result would be a

temporary internet outage. A quick result also helps

the next elected official get started on a smooth

transition. Results would become official the next

morning in court if there are no credible challenges.


Amy Ritchie on

Clandestine: A Classic Book of Poetry

Dealing with grief is an often difficult

mountain to surpass. However, it is never

impossible to overcome it. After her father’s

passing, author Amy Ritchie made it her

coping mechanism to write, creating

Clandestine: A Classic Book of Poetry. Her

book is a collection of poems that creatively

translates the everyday gloom that grieving

people go through.

In an interview done by The Reading Glass

Magazine, Amy Ritchie shares the inspiring

story of her mourning process and how her

faith played a big part in her healing.


The Reading Glass: I saw on your website that you’re

a dream maker who writes down dreams and makes

them visible to the public eye. So far, what was the

dream that really made an impression on you and you

wish for everyone else to know?

Amy: I have always liked to write, and my parents

knew that. Before my father passed away, he made

it clear that he wanted me to pursue becoming a

published author. After he passed, I had several

dreams of him. In one dream, he told me that he

was alright now, he loved us, and that he wanted

me to write. In my dream, Dad looked restored, not

stressed, upset, or sick, and he wasn’t even wearing

his glasses. I have had several dreams since then

that are like memories of my Dad. And, I have had

countless other dreams—some inspiring and some

that I am glad to just forget. But the dream where

my Dad encouraged me to write is my favorite. It has

helped me persevere when I have felt discouraged or

uncertain of how to move forward. It is a dream I am

making a reality.

It is my hope that I might encourage others to make

their dreams a reality, whether it is something that

they have had an actual dream about, or just know in

their heart that God built them to do.

The back cover of your book says, “She is stardust.”

What does it mean to you? And what did you have to

go through to come to that realization?

“She is Stardust” is my motto, reminding me to be my

best, and to live in a way that is a help and blessing to

others. I am a Christian, and, in John 8:12 Jesus says,

“I am the Light of the world; the one who follows Me

will not walk in the darkness, but will have the Light

of life.” I want to live in a way to spread that light.

As tiny as stardust may be, it still shines. And even

though I am just one person, I want to shine. My

whole life has led me to where I am today. I’ve gone

through the good times and the bad times. I’m still a

work in progress. And God has always been with me

and helped me. And just as the glimmer of stardust

may be too faint for the naked eye to see, it does

still shine. In that same way I want my one life to also

shine and be a blessing to others.

You seem to be someone who’s radiating with

positivity (based on your blog posts I read on your

website) but I know the healing process you went

through wasn’t easy. What would be your advice or

message to anyone who is suffering and grieving

right now?

Grief is a process that takes time, and is not easy.

But allow yourself to go through the process. Do

not give up. Allow others to help you and to comfort

you with the comfort they have experienced. God

loves you and wants to help you. Draw close to God

and He will draw close to you and bring healing to

your broken heart. As you are processing this loss,

choose to also see the blessings you have received,

both in the past and right now. What memories are

you blessed to have and share with others? How is

God blessing you today? Take time to be grateful and

ask yourself how you can be a blessing to others?

Writing Clandestine helped me process my grief,

and others have told me it has also been a blessing

and help to them. Often helping others can help

us find meaning and purpose in all that we have

experienced.

It seems that the generation today appreciates

poetry less and less because of social media. As

someone who loves poetry and gains a sense of

relief from writing, how would you entice the young

people of today to get into poetry reading/writing?

I would challenge kids to expand their world—read,

go to the library or to a bookstore, explore books and

resources on the internet. I would encourage kids to

learn something new every day, and to consider how

they might creatively express their ideas, thoughts

and feelings. They might just keep a journal. Or they

might write an essay or a poem, paint a picture,

create a play, or write a song. Most kids enjoy

popular music. Many dream of becoming a popular

musician with their own band. I wonder if have they

thought about how song lyrics are like poetry set to

music? I might challenge them to write a poem and

then try turning it into song lyrics.


Breakdown

SUSAN SAVION

I haven’t puddled down in quite a while. You know—that

gut-wrenching, all-out crying, sobbing, moaning—

screaming even—that happens when despair hits like a

heavy cleaver and cuts you off from any semblance of

sanity. The tears are an endless salty waterfall, and before

very long, the entire box of tissues have been used up

and are lying in sodden wads in a heap. There isn’t even

one left to catch the long, inelegant drip that is hanging

precipitously from your nose. Your eyes, reddened and

hysterical, feel like there are two metal weights tugging

the tender skin of the lower lids down several centimeters.

They are so swollen that the contours feel like puffball

mushrooms. And the eyeball itself stings and smarts and

is oh-so-weary. Yet still, the tears bubble over because

the agony inside is so tremendous that the body can

no longer endure containing so much emotional pain.

Abandonment. No one there but your pitiful self and

not one single soul comes to mind who has ever given

you unconditional love, no one you can feel comfortable

enough calling while you are in such a state to ask them

to drive off the demons by putting a protecting loving,

supportive bear hug of an embrace around you, rock you,

and hold you until the sobs slowly subside to hiccups and

then exhausted, trembling quiet. No, you have to be your

own mother. And that is so hard when it is so difficult

to conjure up, not ever having been “mothered” by your

own mother in your entire life. The wall you have been

emitting is terrible, animal gnashing-of-the-teeth-from

Dante’s Inferno and vivid-with-pain kind of shrieks that

surpass anything physical pain can produce.

In that puddled-down state, every emotional wound of

your life splashes in thundering waves over your psyche

and causes lips and jaws to tremble and shoulders to shake.

You literally wish you could die to escape the pain. So,

you rock yourself until utter fatigue takes over. It is only

your own arms that are squeezing tightly around your

shoulders.

And you know it all has to do with love—the hopelessness

of regaining it or ever having it. And you know the reason

you haven’t had such an episode for five years is that you

haven’t been in love for five years.

Oh, yes—you are on a much more even keel. Stable.

Functioning. Trustworthy. Productive. Laughing

sometimes. But not in love. Not “happy.” Not joyful

without constraint. That constraint always being a feeling

of an empty hole where love used to dwell. An emotion

you no longer feel toward any man. You’ve become the

robot you feared would take over if you ever did give up

on the love relationships of your life. You don’t “puddle

down” anymore because you don’t care deeply enough

about anyone to expend even one tear on them. Calloused.

Scarred. Worn-out.

And yet…memories of those sweet heavenly interludes

when one floated on air and all felt right with the world,

it is possible to believe that one’s heart may once again

resurrect.

THE

EXAM

Rev. Dr. Alfred Williams

Paperback | $15.00

Hardcover | $20.00

E-book | $3.99

Life is challenging enough with all the tests and hurdles that we all go through

over the years. However, for many, these tests and challenges can become a

bit too much. When this happens, it can often lead to a lot of doubt and fear

creeping into the hearts and minds of those going through these tests, and if

left unchecked, it can cause even the strongest of wills to give up. The book of

author Rev. Dr. Alfred Williams titled The Exam, a collection of short, inspirational

pieces, aims to help the reader overcome such tests of faith.

The Exam is Rev. Dr. Williams’ work meant to help people go through the

challenges and tests of life. It is a compilation of short inspirational pieces of

literature, divided into different categories: self-discovery, people, getting lost,

preparation, going forward, and following the Spirit. The pages within contain

words from Rev. Dr. Williams’ himself, giving readers a sense of being in one of his

ministries. Moreover, these words carry the emotional and spiritual boosts that

can give the reader the much-needed push to keep going forward in life.

Readers in need of that extra push to get through the tests of faith in their lives

should get this book.

I’ll Remember

APRIL

LORNA KLOHN


Jean Murray Munden spins a tale of love that spans seventy years and three generations of a family.

I’ll Remember April is a fascinating story set in eastern Canada and covering the start of World War

I and heading well into the 1980s. The book and its elements—immersive writing style, historical

backdrop, relatable characters, and reflective monologues—draw the readers quickly into the story,

leaving them hooked and intrigued for more.

Twenty-year-old Lulu Ferris visits her grandmother, Louise, to discuss her love life. Lulu was

already engaged to be married but suddenly fell in love with another man some years older. Louise

contemplates the problem by reflecting on her past and the two loves she experienced. She also

ponders her relationship with her two sisters and the effect of war on families.

According to the Hollywood Book Reviews, I’ll Remember April is a beautifully written, nostalgic

story of a woman reflecting upon her life and wondering about the road not taken.

I’ll Remember April received a Starred review from the Pacific Book Reviews and the

Recommended Seal from The US Review of Books.

CLANDESTINE

A CLASSIC BOOK OF POETRY

BY AMY RITCHIE

The pain of loss can be a defeating experience that not everyone is comfortable

talking about—may it be having to put a dog to sleep or ending a relationship with

someone. For Amy Ritchie, it is dealing with the death of her father and sister.

Losing a loved one is difficult to live through, but with every process comes an

output. Amy’s is a captivating collection of poems that present her personal coping

mechanisms through nostalgic imagery.

With a 5-star rating on Amazon, what makes the book incredibly special isn’t

because it’s a tearjerker but because every poem in the collection is written very

simply yet powerfully embodies the daily happenings of an average person’s life.

Despite Clandestine being Amy’s first-ever book, it successfully addresses the

gloominess of going through loss.

Amy’s bittersweet journey and daily snippets of life translated into a crystal-clear

narration are easy to resonate with. Her book empowers those who need it the

most and touches those who have been deprived. While the direct definition

of clandestine means “to be done in secrecy,” this literary masterwork is to be

celebrated by whoever is blessed to read it.


A NEW CREATION

ELLEN AND BYRON BERMAN

Congratulations to Writers’ Branding on the very first

issue of their new magazine. I have, therefore, chosen the

idea of “a new creation” as my focus in writing this article.

A special evening is brought to mind when I think of what

this means.

The invitation was from a dear friend, to bring together

those women friends that she loved. If you knew

Shoshanna, her request of the event’s participants would

not seem, in any way, out of character. She asked each

of us, for the occasion, to bring something we had

created. The results were like a well-spring of personal

inspiration—an original musical composition; an elaborate

family recipe for each of us to sample; a vibrant handloomed

scarf; words of wisdom; a sculpture composed

of the most unexpected of items; an intricate piece of

jewelry, new beads, interfused with minute heirlooms

of generations past; a collage of the “perfect” rooms of a

desired new home; splashes of color of an inspired modern

design; a skillfully-executed, Rembrandt-like oil on canvas,

done years before, but never shown to others. We all sat

within the eclectic living room of the hostess, a space

uniquely fashioned and filled with her treasured personal

mementos. I read for the first time one of my poems.

An observer would never have guessed by the joyful

conviviality of ladies, some of whom had never met, that

the occasion for the gathering was one of memorializing

my friend’s beloved son on the day that he had died years

before. The lost son was an extraordinarily handsome

young man, as his fireplace picture revealed. He had

just received the fantastic news of his “Hollywoodbreakthrough”

as an actor. Shoshanna recounted that

the same ocean spot from which he had gazed at

the Pacific with all his dreams, was where the two of

them sat together trying to accept the diagnosis of his

terminal illness.

I will not forget the transformational beauty of that special

evening in her house. It afforded me the opportunity to

showcase my newly-discovered love of writing poetry

(for which I am very grateful), but it also sparked certain

questions that I needed to answer. From where does such

creativity come? From where do we draw strength to

embrace each day, with all its beauty and all its many fears?

Where is the Source for finding the meaning of a “life

well-lived”? Is there a spot beyond time and space where I

can find true reality?

It is said that G-d is the only One who can create

“something-ness out of nothingness”. Is that not what each

expression of personal creativity reflects in us? Like the

moon, devoid of any independent source of light, are we

not like mirrors of Heavenly radiance? What if embedded

in each day, as ordinary as it may seem, is a touch of the

Divine “awaiting your discovery”? I liken in my book, The

Voice of the Rooster and the Lessons It Teaches, this joyful

expression of inner light to a rooster’s “crow”. This is one

of its poems:


W hat Is Greatness?

ELLEN BETH BERMAN

Does G-d want me to do great things

Scale the heights or find personal fame

Paint pictures that would make a curator smile

Become an author with an established name?

Does He want me to climb Mount Everest

Sail a boat around the globe

Win medals for each important race

Or the lottery, a modern treasure’s trove?

Does G-d want me to save mankind

Create a medicine that cures all

Singularly protect the country from evil

Sponsor a philanthropic Society Ball?

What if G-d perceives our greatness

With His own unique way of seeing

Viewing all the things that we do

But taking the most pleasure in our very being?

Could a seemingly small act on my part

Matter here on earth or on a heavenly plane

Is not life that all-encompassing race with time

With a relentless clock and incredible strain?

What if greatness is about reflecting G-d’s ways

And their importance to each person on earth

What if through your smile or listening to their words

Others gain a sense of their true G-dly worth?

Does He want me to prove my very worth

With a life that wins others’ attention

If I can’t be always “number one”

At least, try to receive honorable mention?

WHAT THE WIND BLEW IN

MARILYN WASSMANN

PAPERBACK | $9.99

E-BOOK | $3.99

Nursery rhymes are part and parcel of a child’s early years, and

they are excellent ways for parents to read and bond with their

children. The most familiar nursery rhymes are often short, but

they include very memorable stories that children carry with

them for many years to come. However, what if the rhymes were

a bit longer and the stories just a bit more complex? This is what

storyteller Marilyn Wassmann presents in her book What the

Wind Blew In—a collection of tales written in poetic couplets.

The book is a collection of six colorful stories written and

illustrated by Marilyn. The stories are about animals and nature,

and they are entitled “Tiptoe through the Toadstools,” “Ballad of

the Birdhouse,” “Tale of a Tigger,” “Why Cry Butterfly?,” “Flube-

A-Dube,” and “Mice Works.” The poems are all very catchy, and

easy to remember. It is an enjoyable collection that parents and

their children can bond over.

PEN SCRATCHING POETS

A COLLECTION OF ONE FAMILY’S

CREATIVE PURSUITS

MARILYN WASSMANN

PAPERBACK | $14.99

Coming from a family of hardworking and creative individuals,

Marilyn felt compelled to link the poems of her grandmother,

who passed away before she was born, with examples of her own

and her relatives’ poems to show that her family and maybe other

families carry what is undoubtedly a “poetic mind” or a “poetic

gene.” The creation of Pen Scratching Poets proves that arts and

words bring people together no matter how different they can

be from each other. This literary masterpiece is an homage to the

writers in Marilyn’s family, which all readers can enjoy from young

to old. Everyone longs to communicate, capture, and share, and

the author inspires readers to write their very own poems about

their families, their feelings, and their lives.

BUFFY

THE BUTTERFLY

TED LANDKAMMER

Ted Landkammer’s heartwarming Buffy the Butterfly is perfect for anyone looking for a great

bedtime story to read to their children or grandchildren or searching for a quick read to excavate

the child within them and be inspired again. Buffy the Butterfly, in particular, leaves little ones in

wonder and reminds them of the importance of imagination and fun.

Buffy the Butterfly is inspired by Ted’s granddaughters, Sophia and Isabelle, who love to explore

their grandma’s backyard to find butterflies. Buffy is a fun-loving and adventurous creature who

enjoys exploring nature and flying around, and her story captures kids’ imaginations and makes

adults reminisce about their childhood! Thanks to his granddaughters, Ted continually sees the

world in color, allure, hope, and happiness. In Buffy the Butterfly, storyteller and doting Grandpa

Ted immortalizes his granddaughters’ imaginative minds and love for butterflies.

Ted has told his three children and now six grandchildren great stories to remember for the last 30

years. He now shares the same gift of storytelling for other children to read and enjoy.

Paperback | $12.99

E-book | $3.99


From Betrayal to Joy

RUTH DELIA

Ruth Delia or Ruth Redcay

is the author of The

Impossible: Overcoming

Unthinkable Abuse.

Shame, for the most part, is encased by lies that are

believed and internalized. Some of the lies are that it is

the victim’s fault. They must have done something or said

something that caused it. Therefore, they deserve to be

abused. Shame says that you are bad and defective in some

way, that you are not normal. So, people like you cannot

expect to be treated well or loved. One of the lies that

took me a long time to heal from was that I am unlovable.

The internal message is that if I were lovable, the abuse

would not have happened, especially since I was raped by

my father, someone who I trusted and should have loved

me. Another wound is learned helplessness. You truly

were helpless as a child to do anything to stop the abuse.

The problem arises when it is sub-consciously carried into

adulthood. Symptoms include the inability to take care of

yourself, trouble setting boundaries, thus sometimes being

in abusive relationships as an adult. Low self-esteem will

haunt many for a long time. Depression and anxiety are

constant unwanted companions. Also, problem solving

of normal life challenges. Critical thinking is affected,

and poor decisions can be made. Personally, my inability

to spot the red flags of a toxic relationship resulted in 3

abusive marriages.

So, a big part of healing is unlearning the lies and

replacing them with truth. It is not about the victim at all.

It has nothing to do with you. It is all about the sickness

of the abuser. The truth will set you free and change the

way you think and feel about yourself. Educate yourself

and become aware of the wounds and damage caused by

the abuse. I recommend a good therapist that is trained in

sexual abuse recovery. I have spent many years in therapy

and not one day was wasted! A full recovery is possible,

but you must be willing to work hard. There is pain and

suffering in the process. I will share with you that it is

worth the effort as you heal. It is the most rewarding

experience that I have ever had.

Now 70 years old and healed after much heartache, I am

living a life of joy and blessing. Nothing is perfect but

I am one of the many who will fight to escape being a

victim and move into an overcomer. I will forgive, heal,

and always be open to real love—love and acceptance of

myself and others. I am loveable and created in the image

of God! You are also!

THE RESCUE OF OFFICER

MORELAND LEE

DAVID ESTES

PAPERBACK | $9.99 HARDCOVER | $12.99

The story follows three misfits who seem to have run out of luck and have

gone from one mishap to another, with each one seemingly going from bad

to worse. One day, their luck finally ran out that they get caught in a murder

case for revenge. The book then follows them as the murder case unfolds,

taking the reader on a gripping ride from one page to another up until the

final confrontation.

THE RESCUE OF THE NADIA MARIE

DAVID ESTES


The Rescue of Nadia Marie is a story of political egos, intrigue, and the

faith of a little girl. A killer storm is threatening to destroy a family floating

helplessly on a vast ocean in a tiny raft. Only the intervention of the

president of the United States and the mightiest navy in the world stands

between the family and certain death. Who will save this family struggling

to survive?

David Estes is a retired Seattle police officer. Prior to joining the police office, he served in Vietnam

as an infantry squad leader. He is a native of La Grange, Georgia. At an early age, he moved to South

Dakota where he met his wife, Evangeline Schwartz living in Sturgis, South Dakota. He presently

resides in Lewiston, Idaho, and is the editor of a monthly newsletter and Internet blog called The

Idaho Observer.

Elements of David’s personal experience and knowledge can be seen in this book, bringing an air of

realism and legitimacy to the story.

If you’re a fan of crime and suspense stories, then his books deserve a place on your shelf.

“A SUITE INVITATION”

Never Say Never

John E. Morgan

There is something quite special about New York City that draws you in closer to the hustle and bustle of the city.

The hectic culture of NYC keeps you on your feet all the time. From musicals to food to rising skylines and to tireless

streets, there’s just nothing you can’t do. Enter John E. Morgan’s take on the sensual scene that happens only in the city

that never sleeps. As a military veteran, retired teacher, actor, and musician, Morgan’s stories are the embodiment of an

experienced writer’s work: an assemblage of the snippets in life with a dash of imagination.

“A Suite Invitation”: Never Say Never is a collection of short stories or vignettes. Each story revolves around a sexual

encounter in varying degrees of taboo and eroticism. It is an erotic fiction lover’s literary haven. The 19-chapter book

offers well-narrated encounters that are short and to the point, building up tension in varying degrees. Every character

deals with the seven deadly sins and finds that their greatest crime is that they were human. John’s spot-on imagery of

New York’s metropolitan wonders and the arousing dialogs between the characters keeps you on the edge of your seat.

What makes it even more captivating is each chapter’s thorough narration of the characters’ point-of-view. It draws the

reader into the realm of the book as if experiencing the sensations in real-time. It blends the lyricism of hip-hop, and the

franticness of jazz with the sensual, the sexual, and the erotic in series of short stories—snapshots of encounters between

virile men and strong full-figured women evoke fever dream of erotic tension.

Whether enjoyed alone or with a partner, “A Suite Invitation”: Never Say Never is an enticing masterpiece that gives you

the thrill of your life—an electrifying climax you could never say never to.


CHAOS AND COSMOS

MARY ANGELINE BELL

Confounded, I watch

The shattered world around me

Where the creature distinguished by reason

Does constant violence to his own kind.

No sense it makes that we

Who comprehend the order of stars and atoms

Remain in inner chaos,

Causing pain and suffering,

Yet blaming only circumstance.

Yet some have found

That Order from which flows

A mighty cosmos, peace, serenity, and power.

They hear the gentle whisper of tenderness and truth.

THE MAGIC STONES

RANDI MCKINNON

PAPERBACK | $10.99 HARDCOVER | $15.99

It is often said that there is something quite magical in the lives of kids as they grow

up and explore the world around them. It is often when they are young when children

discover the extraordinary in seemingly mundane places and things. However, in the

case of author Randi McKinnon’s story, The Magic Stones, this is taken to a whole new

level when Molly and Pete, the protagonists, go off on a journey to find a magical cave.

However, once they reach their destination, their lives change forever as their dreams

seemingly turn into reality!

Follow Molly and Pete as they launch a quest to find a cave that their dads have talked

about but could never find. Both curious by nature, they search for the cave only to

discover yet another cave that contains giant, glittering flowers. Best of all, these

flowers have fairies! As Molly and Pete learn about the fairies’ story and the wonderful

world they live in, the two of them also discover treasures that will change both of their

lives forever!

KATIE AND THE

TROLL QUEEN

RANDI MCKINNON

PAPERBACK | $10.99

HARDCOVER | $19.99

Trolls are fascinating creatures, with some stories depicting them as scary, horrible

beings who live under bridges or in dark caves, hostile to anyone not of their own kind.

Other tales depict them as lovable and cute, cuddly creatures, friendly to everyone. In

the case of Randi McKinnon’s story, Katie and the Troll Queen, the titular troll is a mix of

both, and when the lead character Katie finally meets her, an unlikely story unfolds that

is sure to give everyone a fuzzy, warm feeling in the end.

Randi’s story follows the titular Katie, who was asked to go and pick berries in the

forest. While on her errand, she encounters the troll queen, which her grandma

warned her about. But then, an unexpected thing happened. Rather than attacking

or scaring Katie, the troll queen challenges her to a singing contest with a troll boy as

scorekeeper! What follows next is a discovery about Katie and her mom and an ending

that is enough to make anyone teary-eyed.

Author Randi McKinnon is a retired baker and chef who worked for 40 years before shifting

gears to writing children’s stories. She came from Norway, where she grew up hearing stories

from her grandparents about trolls, fairies, and other mythical creatures and places, which she

then used when she started making her own stories. With these tales in her mind and heart,

she moved from Norway to Oregon and drew upon her memories when writing stories.

Randi’s tale is suited for both kids and adults alike. Her books are best shared between a parent

and child.


I never had any friends. Growing up, I thought that

was a good thing. I had no unnecessary attachments.

I did not have to deal with the immature dramas that

came with friendship. I did not have to have my heart

broken. My eyes were always looking forward as if

two cardboards were attached to each side of my

head to stop me from looking sideways. And I was

fine. I really was.

Color Palette

REI

My inability (or was it refusal?) to go the extra mile

and put my best foot forward to connect with others

never bothered me. In fact, I was comforted by the

thought of how detached I was from the rest of

the world. It made me realize how insignificant my

existence is, how small I am in this vast universe,

and how easily I could vanish if my resolve is only

firm. I think all those years of harboring that kind of


taken away? Probably because I was a cynic, thinking

life is too much torment, and death is the relief? I had

no idea. My once clear head was suddenly drowning

from intrusive and obsessive thoughts. The

isolation I once relished brought heartaches, pain,

unspoken words, and bottled emotions back to life.

I desperately ignored and buried them all, and now

they’re all ganging up on me. The pandemic gave me

too much time to think and look back. Then I realized

I did not have any worthy memories to remember. All

I could see inside my head was a scene in black and

white. The hazy panorama is a memory of how I lived

my life in the in-between. My will to live was weak,

but I, too, was afraid to die, after all.

I never truly lived. I only watched everything unfold

from the sidelines because I was too afraid to be

a part of it. I was a coward. I was scared of how

fleeting things could be, of how people could quickly

leave me behind. I did not want to go through that

kind of pain. It’s going to break me beyond repair,

that’s for sure. But what did my avoidance ever do

to me? Now, I don’t even know where I’m going. Did I

even know where I was headed in the first place?

thinking made me a part of a monochrome—a gray

color among all variations of gray.

And then once upon a December, a curse, which the

world now calls Covid-19, transcended, wreaking

havoc and taking lives wherever it goes. Everyone

had to stay at home or wear protective masks when

going out to be spared from the merciless wrath

of the Covid-19. As for me, I was always at home,

so it wasn’t a severe, life-changing event. I was

always the same.

Months slipped away. So did lives. Everyone around

me was in despair, but I was still disconnected.

There had to be a problem with me. I couldn’t bring

myself to feel the pain of others. Maybe because I

never feared death? Perhaps because I longed to be

I do not recognize who I am. I did not like the person

I was, and I was clueless about who I am supposed

to be. An awful feeling took over me like jet black

ink spilled over a blank canvas, and I don’t think the

raven color will ever fade out.

But you know, despite this horrible and despicable

pandemic, I met some people. I think the intense

loneliness and craving for human connection drove

me to let them in, not giving a single thought to

what they could do to me. They could break me

for all I care, I was already broken anyway. But it’s

astounding, almost unbelievable even, how people

shine in different colors. Such a mismatch, a streak

of brightness, a vivid color, a sign of life, a contrast

to my colorless and mundane existence, a spectacle.

I was jealous.

I think their relentlessness grew on me more than I

could let on. Their involvement came with some hurt

as well, but I’m still alive, aren’t I? Is this how life and

relationships should be? It’s okay to be terrified, but I


no longer have to run away, right? Somehow, through

all my second guessings, I ended up with blotches

of different colors, in different sizes, painted on my

blank canvas. I was a whole new picture. Messy but

not empty anymore. It was bizarre. I never knew I

could see myself in that kind of light. I could never

have guessed that all it would take to save me from

myself is what I fear most—human connection.

I wanted to change. I wanted to live the best that

I could. I wanted to look back on my life with lots

of memories in full color—both the good and the

bad. I wanted to live like the people I have met.

So, someday, when my hair is gray, and my skin is

wrinkled, I could smile as I remember how I shone

so brightly, fought valiantly, loved like I was running

out of it, and wore my heart on my sleeves, afraid but

unyielding.

So, I am going to live like crazy once this curse gets

lifted. I will live through this pandemic no matter

what, so I could allow every color in and spend

them all away.


Thesaurus is Dynamic

for Creative Writing

LUCKNER PIERRE

“Relying on a thesaurus is more reliable than a

dictionary for creative writing.” - Mr. Pierre

Creative writing must be guided by a thesaurus as a

writing tool to be clear and accurate in one’s choice

of words.

The key approach to understanding the ACT

(American College Testing) and SAT (Scholastic

Aptitude Test) is the comparison of synonyms

and antonyms of words and understanding the

application and connotation of words discreetly.

Choosing the right words in a context will help all

readers understand the clear meaning of the message

in a paragraph or article. For example, the word

“disciple” is derived from the word “discipline,”

yet the word “disciple” applies to an academic

environment and to a non-academic environment

because one can be a student in a particular practice

without the educational institution. For example,

before I retired from seventeen years of creative

writing in May 2021, I gained seventeen years of

professional experience in the practice of creative

writing without an academic degree in creative

writing. Creative writing taught me how to be an

independent book writer in my international writing

journey without a university.

Luckner Pierre is also the author of Life in London. In

this book, Luckner has passionately embraced the British

society in the heart of London. He finds true happiness

in intellectual activities that nurture his well-being and

his life as a volunteer. Luckner truly believes the British

version of him is more intuitive and effective than his

American version. British intelligence sharpens American

intelligence. London is a sustainable city in the present

and future generations. London is refreshingly beautiful.

In the 21st century, Pierre is the first French-born Haitian-

American writer to write a book about London.

Overall, a thesaurus guides all writing formats from

essay-writing to even song-writing to avoid confusion

in human perception.


Love In The

Time Of Corona

DANIELLE E DRABIK

“Ori who?” This was the quizzical exclamation that

burst from the mouth of one who had heard and been

frightened by so many strange-sounding terms associated

with COVID-19, things like variants, N95, herd

immunity pandemic, Pfizer, Astro-Zeneca, and many

other terms. These last sixteen months had been full of

frightening new developments and news flashes about the

devastation and suffering of victims of COVID-19, their

loved ones, the terribly overworked first responders and

hospital crews, and the thousands of businesses suffering

because of this most recent worldwide crisis. Was Ori

another variant, another country devastated by the crisis,

or hopefully, someone with a cure? Such were the thoughts

of my young friend as he considered the strange name. He

had only heard Ori and cautiously awaited the definition,

fearing news of additional months, if not years, away from

loved ones, friends, and the playground.

“O-ri-ga-mi,” I repeated. “Have you ever heard of it?”

“Nooo,” he said with a shiver in his voice. “Do we need a

vaccine for that too?”

Fighting to keep down the surging urge to laugh out

loud, I quickly assured him that it had nothing to do with

Covid-19 and that, in fact, it is something to help many to

be distracted from all the devastation and fearful attention

to Covid.

“No, no, no, I am speaking of origami, a craft, paper

folding! It’s a Japanese art that helped to bring the Japanese

people through some really hard times.”

I could see that he was greatly relieved, and so I continued.

“It was a big help to the Japanese. This is a time when

we need to get our minds off, if only for a few minutes,

the depressing news of Covid’s latest devastation. There

are so many beautiful things one can make with origami,

and only paper, no scissors, no glue, no staples, are

needed,” I added.

Some, who heard me, expressed an interest and added that

they had heard of origami but had never seen it or learned

how to do it. Reaching for my iPhone, I shared with them

pictures of origami models I had made and my prize, my

origami swan.


“You made that?” they said.

“Yes, I did, and so can you,” was my eager response.

This was the beginning of what would become a warm

glow in the hearts of several members of families in and

outside of my neighborhood. At no cost at all, I offered

families and children origami kits, which I had prepared,

with paper, instructions, and a sample model to show how

to make a tulip, a Japanese kabuto, a shirt, or some other

simple origami model.

“I can pay you! How much are the kits that you deliver to

us each week?” Inquired one dad, who was so very happy

that his son had something to distract him and bring him

joy in these very sad times.

a mother, and a grandmother. I understand and have seen

the sadness and frustration of children, for whom life

has robbed them of the joy of playtime and fun things to

do. It’s more than enough to pay enough to see and hear

their happy giggles as they show off and enjoy playing

with the origami models they have made. Greatest of all

is to hear one, who once sadly confessed, ‘Teacher, I can’t

make anything nice,’ when she eagerly shows off her latest

origami creation shouting, ‘Teacher, look what I made!’”

Love is needed at all times and especially during serious

times like a pandemic. However, love may be as simple as

offering an origami tulip. God helps us to be ready to offer

love in whatever form we can afford.

“I can talk to the other parents, and at least collect

something to help pay for the beautiful paper that you

give to us to make the models!”

“No, no, no, that is not necessary,” I quickly replied.

“That is not necessary nor desired. I am a retired teacher,


DECEPTION:

THE HIDDEN

AGENDA OF EVIL

MARCELLA WARD

“Now, the serpent was more crafty than any of the wild

animals the Lord God had made. He said to the woman,

“Did God really say, ‘You must not eat from any tree in

the garden’?”

The woman said to the serpent, “We may eat fruit from

the trees in the garden, but God did say, ‘You must not

eat fruit from the tree that is in the middle of the garden,

and you must not touch it, or you will die.’ “You will not

certainly die,” the serpent said to the woman. “For God

knows that when you eat from it, our eyes will be opened,

and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”1

Genesis 3:1-5

Not only is deception saying something that is not true

but doing it for personal gain. That sounds very familiar

now in the area of our culture and politics. Just like the

serpent in the Garden of Eden, deception is packaged in

“feel good, emotional rhetoric” that entices the masses

to accept lies as truth because the media has become the

authority, and many accept it as truth because they are

blinded by their own ideology or are afraid to speak out.

How can we keep from being deceived? I believe that

we need to seek the truth. Just because someone says

something does not mean that it is true. Just turn on the

“fake news.” People that deceive others have an agenda. It

appears that power and money are the two high-ranking

motives that fuel people’s hearts to deceive others. The

problem with deception is that it causes an avalanche of

more lies and more deceit until only those blinded by their

own deceit will find it very hard to accept the truth. Also,

deception includes what is not said.

When bank tellers are being taught how to detect

counterfeit money, they are taught how to recognize

authentic money. We need to recognize the authenticity

of what we see, hear, and read. We need to search for

the truth.

Jesus very plainly states that one of the biggest signs will

be deception in the Last Days before His Second Coming.

We are living in a world where there is deception on

steroids!! Our spiritual eyes need to be opened so that we

can discern what is true and what is not. With our modern

technology, it is much easier to deceive than in times past.

Also, our technology can change the outcome to suit its

purpose or personal agenda.

The Nazis used propaganda to hide political goals and

deceive the German and international public. They led

everyone to believe that Germany was a victim of Allied

and Jewish aggression so they could hide their true

ideological goals and justify violence against the innocent

civilians.

2 During the Nazi Regime, Jews from all parts of Germanoccupied

territories were taken on trains to concentration

camps. This was referred to as “resettlement to the east”

by the Nazi regime. “The victims – including women and


children – would be told that they were being hauled to

labor camps. In reality, these were death camps where the

largest known genocide in modern human history would

unfold.” 3

How does this apply to our lives now? We need to take

a stand for the truth in whatever form that it takes. And

we need to seek truth and have discernment, so we are

not deceived concerning anything we see, read, hear or

experience.

Truth is the only antidote that will expose the hidden

agenda of evil and stop it in its tracks!

References:

1. New International Version Bible

2. Author(s): United States Holocaust Memorial Museum,

Washington, DC; Holocaust Encyclopedia

Marcella Ward is the author

of Stolen Identity: Plan of the

Evil One, a divine inspiration

promoting God's message of

love and redemption through

one's identity in Christ.

3. Death trains: How Jews were deported to Auschwitz, the

most infamous Nazi concentration camp TIMES NOW

NEWS.COM updated January 28, 2020

AIRPLANE STORIES

AND HISTORIES

NORMAN CURREY

The history of aviation is one full of ups and downs, stories of triumphs and defeats, victories and

tragedies, and everything in between. While we already enjoy the fruits of the developments in the

aviation industry today, it has taken lots of blood, sweat, tears, and even lives to get to this point.

The marvel of engineering that is the modern passenger and commercial airplane has had a storied

past, and this is what author Norman Currey writes in his book, Airplane Stories and Histories, to

educate people to appreciate and love aviation and its roots.

A great gift for aviation lovers, engineers, and historians, Airplane Stories and Histories chronicles

two hundred years of aviation highlights, including the exploits of pioneers such as Sir George

Cayley, the Wright brothers, Charles Lindbergh, Wiley Post, Amelia Earheart, R. J. Mitchell, Sir

Geoffrey de Havilland, Allan Loughead, Frank Whittle, and Kelly Johnson. Notable events and

developments are discussed, such as the first flight, first transatlantic flight, first round-the-world

flight, the jet engine, Spitfire, Mustang, Mosquito, Comet, Concorde, Boeing 747, C-5 Galaxy, Avro

Arrow, C-130 Hercules, and the advent of unmanned vehicles (drones). An extensive bibliography is

provided for those who wish to explore subjects in greater depth.

PAPERBACK | $9.99

HARDCOVER | $29.99

E-BOOK | $3.99

RUNNIN’ WITH

FROGS

A NAVY MEMOIR

George Worthington


The life of someone who has signed up to serve in defense of their country and freedom

can be full of colorful and fantastic stories. Whether they are of adventure or peril, these

tales are shared by those men and women in uniform who have lived their lives deployed

in many different countries for many different purposes. However, life in the Navy, due

to the nature of the job, can be even more full of twists and turns, all while imparting life

lessons that will stay with people forever. One such life can be found in the book written

by author George Worthington titled Runnin’ with Frogs: A Navy Memoir.

The book is George’s autobiographical look at life in the Navy, precisely one with his

Naval career. It places particular emphasis on the different challenging and trying

assignments during a crucial era in American history. The pages are full of details of

different kinds of deployments and missions, both national and international, and the

personal lessons George learned and gained in the process. It gives an in-depth look

at the life of a Navy officer, the process in determining actions and decisions, and the

repercussions both to the country and the self.

Runnin’ with Frogs is an IndieReader Approved book, receiving a 4.5 out of 5 rating

from a top-industry professional reviewer. The book offers an inspirational, first-hand

account of Rear Admiral George R. Worthington’s life and career, including time spent as

a member of the famed SEAL Team One.


Peace In My Soul

DEANNA HURTUBISE

Was there ever a time when you felt really strange,

When you wanted to run and you needed a change?

When the spirit within you seemed restless and wild,

Impatient to make you react like a child?

Was there ever a time when you wanted to scream

For somewhere on the way you’d lost sight of

your dream?

When the problems piled up or grief got you down

And it seemed so much harder to smile

than to frown?

Have you needed some peace in your soul?

When times can be hard, when money is tight,

When I worry and fret, “Will an end be in sight?”

I pray for the strength to look back and see

What lessons I learned from the hand dealt to me.

When I bury my pride by making amends,

One day at a time with support from new friends,

When I hold my first coin, a symbol of hope

And pray to stay strong, to focus, to cope,

I’m searching for peace in my soul.

When I look all around at a world wearing masks,

When I yearn for a hug, but do as they ask

And stay far apart; it’s the right thing to do,

And pray the dark skies will once more be blue.

When I try and I fail and I think, “What’s the use?”

When I look in the mirror and need an excuse,

Can I pick myself up and start once again?

I can if I truly believe You’re my friend.

I yearn for peace in my soul.

I’m afraid to admit when I’m feeling this way,

Sometimes I’m afraid I’ll forget how to pray,

I have to hang on, believing You’re there,

And know that You hear the clumsiest prayer.

Lord, please be the peace in my soul.



Homeostasis

DEANNA HURTUBISE

The real estate closing on the house where I had lived for

thirty-one years was a dreaded yet anticlimactic half hour.

So much backbreaking work had gone into preparing it

for sale after the death of my husband, Paul, who died

six weeks after our fiftieth wedding anniversary. The day

I left it for the last time, the movers asked me to walk

through once more to be sure nothing had been left

behind. I didn’t want to do this since I had checked every

room once it had been emptied of furniture, but their

rules required me to do it. Each empty space triggered a

memory, especially the bedroom where he had died and

the bathroom where the Hospice nurse had helped him

shower until he could no longer walk there. Seeing the

two rooms where the grandchildren always congregated,

laughed, talked and thought up shows to perform nearly

brought me to tears. I continued to the living room,

the space where thirty-one Christmas celebrations had

taken place, where the grandkids’ Papa had sat wearing

his Santa hat and giving out gifts one at a time. That

last Christmas actually brought a smile to my face as I

remembered how he took center stage in his armchair,

beginning the celebration as he had loved to do, by

ceremoniously conducting to the music of Percy Faith’s

Joy to the World, something he did every year despite the

fact that he had absolutely no sense of timing! How I had

loved the oversized dining room with its elegant crystal

chandelier, home to countless birthday, Thanksgiving

and Christmas dinners. I checked out the kitchen where

the kids’ table had held joyous giggling and childhood

conversation which grandparents never tired of hearing.

It was all I could do to go back into the family room, the

place where my dying husband and I had spent countless

hours every day in the last year of his life. It was here that

a hummingbird had tapped on the picture window three

nights in a row after he died. It had seemed odd since I

hadn’t seen even one at the feeder that entire summer. So

after a bit of research, I discovered that in many cultures,

hummingbirds were a symbol of resurrection. Was he there

with me those three difficult nights after he died? That

thought had been some comfort to me in my grief.

I proceeded downstairs to the rec room where the older

grandchildren were just beginning to learn to play pool,

and the bar room where countless Happy Hours had

been spent with family and friends, and where they had

thrown one last big party for our fiftieth anniversary just

a year ago. It seemed so much longer than that now. My

heart was bursting with nostalgia as I closed the door to

his office where he had prepared hundreds of lectures

for his medical students but where he sat with his eyes

closed most of the time in his last months. Countless

memories were triggered during my one last walk out to

the wonderfully inviting patio where we had spent every

day of his last spring and summer, he in his wheelchair,

I on the porch swing reading to him and listening to the

gentle sounds of the fountain. More often than not, I

remembered he had fallen asleep sometime during the

reading. This little piece of Heaven, this patio surrounded

by thirty-one years of planning and planting, cultivating

and tending had provided hundreds of hours of loving


mysteriously appear in the middle of the garage floor the

very day I was leaving this home we had enjoyed for so

long to go to another? Was Paul telling me to stay or that

it was okay to move on?

The hassles of making the house “showable” every day had

lasted six months, but now that was all a thing of the past.

Thirty minutes was all it took, and I no longer owned our

home. With a lump in my throat and a check in my hand,

I went to the bank to deposit it, but not before shopping

for a good bottle of scotch.

Celebrating alone that night in the house I had purchased

a few weeks earlier was bittersweet, a combination of

excitement and nostalgia and missing him terribly. It had

been an exhausting day, and as I waved goodbye to the

movers after unloading two large vans holding my life’s

treasures, I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye.

Shifting my gaze, I saw a hummingbird hovering nearby

with absolutely no flower or incentive to be so close. Had

my husband followed me here to welcome me to a new

home? It was comforting to think so. He would have loved

the place, and I found myself talking to him as I sipped

a cocktail on the screen porch at twilight as stars began

to appear. Times talking to him in the crepuscular hours

would be a new nightly habit.

care. “I will miss this most of all,” I thought. This final

walkthrough was memory overload; it was like I wasn’t just

saying goodbye to my home. I was saying goodbye to him

all over again. Now a family with five children would be

making new memories, enjoying all the rooms in this very

spacious house and calling it their home.

The last space to inspect was the garage which still needed

to be swept before someone else moved in. Why hadn’t

I noticed it before, this dirty, folded piece of loose-leaf

paper with my name on it in Paul’s handwriting? My

hands shook as I opened it, a letter he had written to

me thirty-one years before on the day we had closed on

the new home. It was entitled “All the things I want for

you” followed by a numbered list of how he hoped and

planned for us to be happy in our new house. How had

I not remembered receiving it decades ago? How did it

The boxes I had been moving daily for weeks were still

sitting everywhere and were now crowded by furniture

added to them. The first of the month was quickly

approaching, and I had yet to find where I had put all

the bills needing to be paid. The new home office was

cluttered from one end to the other with unopened

cardboard; I couldn’t even see the top of the desk nor was

there a path available to reach it. “When I get finished with

this, I never want to see a cardboard box or bubble wrap ever

again,” I thought.

Opting to wait till the next day to tackle uncluttering the

office space, I poured a second drink and went back to

the porch, lit some candles, and turned on some music.

At least I had found the box of CD’s, and after playing a

few good selections, I was feeling a sense of contentment,

blessed to have so much work behind me and grateful

for a cozy new house, with its porch which I loved and

its beautiful yard with gardens waiting to be revived by a

new owner. The house had been vacant for two years and

the weeds had taken over. It would surely be a labor of

love to restore these spaces to their original beauty. Just

when I thought the moment couldn’t be any more perfect,

a majestic, white tailed deer slowly strutted along the

width of the backyard, gracing me with his presence and

welcoming me home.


Knowing the following morning I couldn’t put off finding

the bills any longer, I turned on the CD player, selected

”The Complete Works of Andrew Lloyd Weber” and

began singing along, unpacking one box after another.

I had finally cleared a path to the desk when a selection

from Phantom of the Opera began, and for the first time,

the lyrics screamed at me.

“Wish somehow you could be here again….Wish that I could

hear your voice again.” Suddenly, my throat tightened, my

eyes involuntarily filled and overflowed. I couldn’t catch a

breath and sank into the desk chair. The honesty of those

words seared themselves into my soul, and there was no

way to turn off the unexpected emotion and grief of the

moment. I found myself sobbing once again for the loss of

him, the loss of his goofy, corny sense of humor, the loss of

his awful singing voice, the loss of his love. All I could do

was to say his name over and over.

There had been other such unanticipated moments of

grief over the last year, but this was the most intense

one in quite a while. I turned off the music; this was an

emotional trigger for which I had no time with so much

work to do. My office was still calling me to clear the top

of the desk and find the bills and the checkbook. After

drying my eyes and filling a few more tissues, I emptied

seven more boxes, collapsed them and got them out of

the way. I began opening the drawers of the oversized,

old schoolhouse desk purchased for $25.00 decades

before when the high school where I had taught was

replacing furniture. The drawers were long and deep, and

the desktop was enormous compared to modern office

furniture. I had forgotten exactly where I had stashed all

the bills the month before, so I began opening each drawer

and searching for the checkbook, the stamps and all the

bills waiting to be paid. Before finding them, way in the

very back of one of the long drawers was a stack of old

greeting cards from Paul. For fifty years I had saved his

cards, and I had honestly forgotten these were in the desk.

This particular batch held together with a rubber band

were all old Valentines, some dated, some not, some signed

with legible signatures from before the Parkinson’s disease

robbed him of readable handwriting, and some signed

with the telltale tiny, pinched writing resulting from his

illness. I opened each one and read it remembering how

important Valentine’s Day had always been to us. It had

particular significance for me since it was on Valentine’s

Day fifty-five years before that I had privately made the

decision to forego dating all others and chose him for my

forever partner. I had secretly thought of Valentine’s Day

as important an anniversary as our wedding day.

and flowers, usually my favorite yellow roses. But the

last few years of his declining health and independence

had made it impossible for him to do this any longer. A

romantic tradition had sadly gone by the wayside. That

last Valentine’s Day had felt different, since just two

months prior, I hadn’t been sure Paul would be alive on

Valentine’s Day. His heart attack in December had rocked

my very soul and put so many things into perspective.

I had decided it was my turn to buy him a bouquet of

flowers. The red and white arrangement with a glittery

red heart pick, the chocolate heart-shaped cake and the

funny card I had given him was so unexpected. His smile

had filled the room when I surprised him on the 13 th with

an explanation why I was doing this. I wanted to tell him

early because for the previous two years he had sweetly

asked our daughter to buy him a card so he would have

something to give me. I wanted him to know he didn’t

need to do that, because this year it would be my turn to

give him a gift.

Immediately the memory of our last Valentine’s Day

came rushing back. Every year Paul had given me a card


I finally withdrew from the daydream; there was only one

card left to read, and I gasped when I opened it. It was a

card I didn’t remember receiving; there was no date; there

was no signature.

But it was a card that had allowed him to record his

message to me that Valentine’s Day. There was his voice

again. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Dee. I love you, and I

hope we have many more.”

I don’t remember how long I sat there, opening and

closing the card, playing it over and over; it was more

comforting than sad. It was a perfect moment, for unlike

Andrew Lloyd Weber’s song lyrics, I could hear his

voice again.

As the next few days passed with empty floor space

replacing boxes, as pictures were hung and order restored,

I found myself thinking back frequently to the old house

and wondering about the large family who was now

occupying it. Were they discarding boxes and bubble

wrap? Were they hanging pictures and redecorating the

bedrooms once occupied by my children? Were they

sitting on the patio listening to the fountain bubbling in

the background? Did they love their home as much as

Paul and I had loved it? And to my amazement, I realized I

didn’t miss it at all! How could someone not miss a house

that had been her comfort zone, her cocoon, and her safe

place for three decades? It had held years of wonderful

memories, but also terribly sad ones in the last years of

24/7 caring for an ailing husband. It felt strange to realize

he would never be a physical part of this new dwelling,

never contribute to any new memories shaped here. And

yet, the multiple appearances of the hummingbirds,

the mystery of the hand written letter on the garage

floor and the discovery of his recorded voice in an old

Valentine reassured me that I had achieved a sense of

physical and emotional equilibrium and peace. I knew he

would continue to live on with me in spirit, and it would

still be home.


Quarantined

HELEN LAPAKKO

I walk around my house like a prisoner, or should I say

limp around my house, my swollen big toe and painful

joint slowing me down as I move through my day. My car

is leaking gas fumes into its interior; no one knows why.

So, I have no car to ride in to escape this prison I am in.

I can’t drive to see the swollen spring river curling its way

along its course, the sun glistening on the water as the

current pulls it along. No riding around lakes or creeks,

or parks watching children and parents out getting some

freedom from their homes, smelling the fresh air, hearing

the birds singing in the trees, or watching them fly

overhead in the blue sky that is devoid of clouds.

I look out my window feeling lost and disconnected,

emotions wrestling deep in my heart. I am an empath. I

feel the dark and the light in the world that surrounds me.

I don’t just see a couple strolling down the street, their

children riding their bikes burning off excess energy just

ahead of them.

I see parents trying to relax in their walk, taking a break

from the chaos at home where all three children are asking

questions at the same time, “When will we go back to

school? When can we go out to eat or play at the park?

When can we see grandma again? Are we going to die?”

They feel helpless not having all the answers.


The children feel free as they ride their bikes outside. The

space gives them a break from sibling tensions that hide

in the corners of the rooms that they share day after day.

Everyone is staying at home during this time.

I sigh and get up and move slowly through the rooms

of my own house. I look at the family room, a place

our family watched movies and played games together.

I picture myself chasing my son or daughter when they

were little, trying to catch and tickle them, laughing the

whole time.

Now I see two tables for my grandchildren and their chairs

sitting, waiting for them to return and use them as they

play with the toys on their tables. There is a bookshelf and

many plastic drawers filled with my grandchildren’s hidden

treasures: dolls and cars, balloons waiting to be blown up,

Legos waiting to be built into houses, rocket ships, cars,

a park for Lego characters to play in, scissors and white

paper, boxes of crayons, toy doctors equipment to listen

to their hearts, apparatus to look in their noses, ears, and

throat, plastic food and pictures painted or drawn, the

little minutiae that children’s fingers love to touch and

play with.

The grandchildren are getting older, and some of these

toys are left unused, with no one to play with them. I

look around the room and I can’t bring myself to change a

thing in the cluttered memories I see on every surface and

every drawer. My heart yearns to see them in their play,

giggling, talking, telling stories about the world around

them. Looking up occasionally and running to cuddle

with me on the couch, where after a minute they go back

to their play.

I spy the plastic microphone and see my grandchildren

standing in their special spot in front of the fireplace,

which they claim as their stage, and watch them sing at the

top of their lungs songs that have landed in their hearts

they want me to hear. I see my guitar and hear them say,

“Nana, play your guitar so we can dance.”

I make up songs to sing as I play. I watch them twirling

with their arms over their heads with abandonment and

pure joy bubbling around them. I don’t ever want to

change a thing in these rooms. I can’t even throw away the

piece of paper my grandson cut into his version of a heart.

It all sits there waiting for their return.

I glance in the kitchen and picture my son in high school

having a sleepover, he and his friends are sitting at the

kitchen table while I’m making them pancakes. Eventually,

we end up having a water fight, everyone laughing. I

remember getting a call from my daughter after she had a


sleepover. Her dad is making her pancakes. I am running

errands, and she calls me crying and says I have to come

home and fix this. His pancakes were terrible and runny in

the middle.

There was a period of time when my children were in

charge of planning the supper and then preparing it, with

my help if they needed it. We had a lot of tacos and frozen

pizzas on those nights with fresh fruit and a fancy dessert

like Charlie Brown Pie.

Now with my grandchildren, it is turkey sandwiches,

pepperoni sandwiches with pickles in the middle,

macaroni and cheese, and hot dogs.

Life goes on . . . now it is my husband and I with

homemade soups, stir-fries, and salmon. He cooks while I

wash dishes and clean up the kitchen.

I turn and see my studio space with my guitar, piano,

music stand and shelves weighted down, drawers bulging,

filled with music books for piano, guitar, ukulele, and

voice. I see students learning their instruments with

smiles, sometimes tears of frustration, but mostly the joy

of accomplishment at their recitals and performances.

My adult students are mostly singers. One is a countrywestern

singer. When he went to Nashville to record his

first CD, my daughter and I went to watch the recording

session. When he performed in town, my husband

and I went listen to his band, country line dancing the

night away.

My home studio is cluttered. Everywhere are piles of

paper, notebooks filled with my original music, spilling

out on the shelves. I see a poster from my CD release party

at a club in NE Minneapolis, and I was singing my songs

with a band of incredible musicians. I pick up the poster

and a brochure drops on the ground of my one-woman

show “Merica’s Story”. It is a woman’s story of healing and

wholeness where I wrote dramatic monologues and songs

to tell the story. I performed it at many venues throughout

the city: treatment centers, churches, Y programs, theatres,

and conferences. I shared tears with many people after

those performances as they spoke of their own journeys. It

was a privilege to perform for every venue.


“Connections” about adoption that was performed all over

the twin cities. The play “Maddie’s World” is a story of a

young child, being raised in a home of alcohol and drug

abuse, losing her mother when she was very young. We

performed it as dramatic readings throughout the area.

Other stories and plays still wait in a place where no one

will ever see. In those piles of words are so many thoughts,

memories, hard-fought battles, beautiful images, poignant

stories, characters I created and loved. They still live in me,

talk to me, they want to be seen and loved and heard. The

beauty of who I am lies in the scattered shelves. My own

private genius is hidden in the many plays, songs, stories

I have written. There is dust and cobwebs connecting the

piles to one another, forgotten.

I try to walk in, but an overwhelming emotion pushes me

back out of the room.

Can I face all those parts of me I’ve left behind?

Am I treating myself like I was treated as a child? A child

who hid in her bedroom, feeling alone, like a defective,

ugly duckling?

I love the people in my writings, the quirky characters, the

dramatic heroines, the music-loving creative souls hiding

in my work. I give them their voice, then I leave them in

this room, scattered on the shelves, piled on the floors,

tucked away in drawers.

I see a pile of papers I have trouble going through, afraid

of what I might find: a song I wrote about my daughter’s

drug use, or songs about love and abandonment, and

stories of my battle-worn youth as I navigated my way

through young adulthood trying to find love. I am

looking through my past at those parts of myself I have

left behind.

I see my children and then their children filling those

places in myself that needed love and belonging. And now,

in my forced seclusion, I feel the loss of their energy and

love that used to abound through my home. Now it is

quiet…waiting.

I walk upstairs to the room I rarely go in, for it holds

too many ghosts that I’m afraid to see. I tentatively look

through the doorway, wanting to go in and explore the

mounds of paper I see.

So much of who I am lies in those papers full of

typewritten words. The piles have many plays I’ve

written, journals I’ve kept over the years, stories, poems,

and songs I’ve abandoned along the way. I see my play

As I go into the room, my heart beats faster. The energy

in here startles me, I want to turn and run away. I am a

prisoner with a foot that limps and a car that fills with

fumes but I realize as I look around me, I have been

holding myself prisoner for a very long time.

Now I must forge through these piles of past lives I’ve

lived, be who I am without apologies or the need for

approval. It is time to dig into the mounds of words and

find the nuggets of truth, the shiny hope that helps me

love who I am, and no longer be haunted by a life where

I’m always taking care of others, taking responsibility for

everyone’s else’s mistakes that surround me, never feeling

like I’m good enough.

The only time I truly feel myself is hidden in the pieces

of my life, the people created in my writing, the children

who fill my heart with unconditional love. I stand in this

house surrounded by all that is me and know it is time to

dive into the mounds of memories waiting to be sorted,

some thrown out in the trash, others to be kept in precious

spaces for me to love. This time of the pandemic has given

me the space and time to find myself.


The

Grieving

Process

SHARON E. BINGAMAN, RN

Any Grieving Process spins around its causation Trigger

Core. That core may relate to people (e.g., a child, parent,

and spouse), animals (e.g., a pet), nature, places, things,

or oneself. An odd thing about grief is its process actions

carry one throughout the range situated between the

core of oneself and the core of what initiated the grieving

process. This is not a right/wrong issue but rather about

mentally healthy/unhealthy dealings. Phases of the

Grieving Process include Background Preparation; the

Grieving Periphery; Active Grieving; Fading Grieving; and

Chronic Grieving. Background Preparation is like what

athletes do in the locker room before practice or playing in

the big game. The Grieving Periphery surrounds the Active

Process and contains its own set of problems. The Fading

Grieving Phase is where certain memories occasionally,

uncontrollably, and normally appear in daydreams and

night dreams throughout subsequent weeks, months,

and years. By contrast, Chronic Grieving is problematic

because it interferes with one’s activities of daily living.

As I have found, the types of Grieving include Healthy

Grief, Transitional Healthy/ Unhealthy Grief, and

Unhealthy Grief. Normal Grief can dull one’s pleasures,

cause one to forget the good of the past, and blank

out memories of what are necessities for regaining and

maintaining a state of hopefulness. And Healthy Grief

has its depth lessened by tears. Transitional Healthy/

Unhealthy Grief causes one to not want to feel the pain

of what has happened, and one is likely to try to “Escape”

by using drugs or alcohol to try to push aside the pain.

Unhealthy Grief is any Grief that adversely affects one’s

mental health. To enter this Unhealthy realm is to blow up

a cloud of mental turmoil destined to last for an indefinite

period of time.

Though there is no immunization for Healthy Grief, my

entourage of spiritual forces assists in immunizing me

against Unhealthy Grief and directs what to do once inside

the hour-glass stricture of Grief. After determining if my

grief is of a Mild, Slight, Moderate, or Extreme nature,

I set time limits on how long to be inside a given Grief

category. It is essential to put boundaries on the core of the

“here and now” grief to make it manageable.

That management of grief involves writing out everything

you have to say related to the loss, visit a quiet place in

nature so as to remove mental disharmony by lessening

the degree of disorder and put things in perspective, get

involved in something pleasurable and familiar where

thinking is not required, try to produce something,

anything, which will give you a sense of a small success,

avoid self-pity, stay as positive as possible.

Regardless of how it originated, experience has taught me

the greatest creator of my grief is me and I am responsible

for the entire process. I actively pursue whatever generates

“Aliveness” as occurs from good humor and being in

nature since these are beneficial in keeping my mind and

immune system strong.

SOULS FROM MERCURY

RAJU RAMANATHAN

Souls from Mercury: Chakra Magic: Empowering Relationships is a collection of

Master Raju’s insights and thoughts about life. It serves as a guide and roadmap

on how to live life with kindness. He believes that “survival of the fittest” will

simply send humanity down a dark path we might not get out of, and that

introspection and understanding one’s self better can lead to a life of kindness

that benefits humanity as a whole.

SOUL SEEKER

PERSPECTUS

A 2020 International Book Awards’ winning finalist in the

spiritualism category, Soul Seeker: Reflections on a Spiritual

Journey from Darkness to the Light, shares the author’s reflections

on his true story from constant pain and suicidal thoughts to

healing, redemption, and spirituality.

SELECTIVELY LAWLESS

ASA DUANE DUNNINGTON JR.

This is the story of the son of a sharecropping lay minister who, at age 14, walks

off the Texas cotton field his family is working on and tells his brother he is

never picking cotton again. For the next 18 months, he travels halfway across

the country and up the Pacific Coast honing his skills as a gambler. At the end of

that time, he returns to his family driving a new Buick Roadster with $18,000 in

his pocket. The money bank rolls his bootlegging enterprise.

THE EARLY YEARS: A MEMOIR

RACHEL G. CARRINGTON

Rachel’s story is a true one of young love, joys, and triumphs

experienced, but also is about difficulties of being and staying

together as they are beset by hardships, disappointments, and

struggles toward making a good life for themselves.

The Reading Glass Magazine

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