Laughter as Veiled Anger

The Little Boy Before the Father’s Horrible Prank

Last week as I was roaming through my Facebook newsfeed I came upon a young man, a barber somewhere, and he had a little boy up in the barber’s booster chair. The barber had scissors in one hand and the other hand was cupped over the child’s left ear. Blood appeared to be oozing out from the barber’s fingers and running down the child’s cheek. The child was shrieking in fear and I suppose the father was somewhere behind the camera. The barber had apparently told the child that he had mistakenly cut off his ear. And something in the caption indicated that Dad was in on the joke. My first thought was how horrible!! And the next thought was this child will someday be sitting in my office! What a hideous joke to play on a little boy.

I am well aware that many men feel that their sons need to be toughened up a bit along the way to adulthood or they will get picked on during their school years. Nobody wants a Momma’s boy!! And I also know that laughter and making fun of one’s children is a common practice in many families. Fathers especially seem to play this role. But are these people who raise their children this way aware that practical jokes and ridicule are covers for the perpetrator’s anger on some issue? It is a bit like the clown that is always smiling, cavorting, making people laugh while crying behind his make-up.

This type of practical joke is really another side of bullying. And if the family is supposed to be the safe place for each individual as they grow to maturity, what is the message from this father to his son? Can the child trust his father even after he grows old enough to understand the joke? And think of the many times this joke will be told in the family and with family friends and the child will feel diminished inside every time it is told. Do children really need this type of toughening up?

A Father Unhappy with His First Born

Having listened to the hurts and heartaches of other people for over thirty years I can just imagine that the father who was wielding the camera may have been unconsciously angry that his little son was the first born and made it necessary for the father to take a second job, or give up a sport that was loved, because there was no longer extra money. This father may have unconsciously been getting even with a father who did similar things to him, causing him to always feel a little anxious about life. There are many possible scenarios; these are just a few. (Do remember that the barber was the father’s friend and simply the instrument for the father’s joke.)

When you get to read my first book A Bird and the Dragon: Their Love Story: A Memoir you will come to the part of the story where my second husband, Sy and I are courting. It is early in our relationship and we are seated in a restaurant hidden behind our menus and my not-yet-husband says, “Don’t you think maybe we should stop seeing so much of each other?” I am devastated and I’ll let you read to find out what I do. But I know now having lived 35 years with this man that when I met him he was hurting through every inch of his self-worth from a wife who ran around on him, so playing a joke on a new potential partner was just an extension of that first disastrous marriage. I did make it clear that I could not live with that kind of humor and again I say you will have to read to see the outcome.

My bottom line in this blog is: Please think before you belittle or make fun of your children. Is the laugh something that will help the child or does it release you from some repressed resentment?

If you have anything you’d like to discuss concerning families and raising children please feel free to contact me through my website www.jessiemaykessler.com. Once there, you can look around and then if you want to talk to me hit the CONTACT button and we’ll get together.

 

 

Here’s to New Beginnings

I’m sorry I have been absent from blogging for much of the last two months. Some is because of

health and trying to find a way out of the body pain. The other reason is that I have hired

an author friend to build a secured website for me, and what I didn’t realize is that she would

want me to write and rewrite much of the material to go into the website. Talk about keeping an

old lady off the streets!! And what most people don’t know because most of you aren’t as old as

I am, it takes at least three times longer to do every task that runs a little apartment, let alone take

care of the pets and write.

So this blog page will be moving into my personal/business website. I’m sure there will be a few

twists and turns in this new learning curve, but please hold fast while we make this transition.

Where are we going? https://www.jmkesslerismylittlebird.com. Yes, it has already been

pointed out to me that it is a long domain name. My author friend said, “So, what do you want

for a domain name? Come up with something meaningful to you.” And without a second

thought, I wrote out what you see above. If you have read my second book, Bitzy’s Story:

Healing the Pain of Silence, early in the book, I comment that I couldn’t use my real name

because the material in that book was still too raw for me to own it. Having read Bitzy’s Story,

you may also understand that I was writing from two halves of myself. The domain name above

shows that by the end of writing and publishing the book, I had managed to bring those broken

parts back together. So, yes, it is long, but it symbolizes the fact that the healing-from-trauma

technique demonstrated in Bitzy’s Story works.

My blogs will continue to be about the human condition, myself, and my family. If you

remember, in Bitzy’s Story, the heart specialist got me at five years old to stay flat in bed for six

months on the promise that I would have children and a family when I became a grown woman.

When it became time for the children, there were still a few roadblocks, but they were removed,

and I indeed did get my children and other peoples’ children to raise, for good or for bad.

Yes, my girls did call me the Great Gray Witch on occasion. But then again,

at least they knew I was there for them to kick against, figuratively speaking.

This new website is very feminine and simple and hopefully gives enough information to

be interesting and informative. I was so lonely during that six months of total bed rest as

a child that I now like to have people around me. I’m slow sometimes to reach

out, but if you touch me, I will be right there to hear your story and respond. Hopefully,

this new website will make it simple for you to contact me, and I would really like it if

we could make this new My Little Bird by JMK blog page somewhat interactive.

Are you ready to move?!

Come on over to https://www.jmkesslerismylittlebird.com/blog

And let me know what you think of the new website.

My email address remains the same: my2little25bird78@gmail.com.

First Loss of Innocence

Standing on a Hill in Harvard, Looking West over the Nashua River Basin, Known as the Nashoba Valley, Toward Shakerton, Massachusetts, Where Author JessieMay Kessler Spent Her Childhood

Those of you who have purchased my second book Bitzy’s Story: Healing the Pain of Silence, from Amazon.com or ordered it from Barnes and Noble, and read it, have heard about one of my childhood Christmases. The one in which I was very sick.

This event takes place the year after the Christmas in Bitzy’s Story. Christmas Day was always the big celebration in my childhood home. My older sister PollyAnne, my older brother, Owen, and I would get up as soon as the sun crossed the horizon, lighting the surfaces of the windows. We’d tip-toe down the stairs to the living room. Our five stockings hung over the fireplace that didn’t ever hold a fire. (Coppy, my baby brother, hadn’t yet joined the family.) Those stockings were stuffed with things, and as the others got older, there were gifts on the mantel and floor. We’d gather up our loot and head back upstairs to wake my parents, who were wide awake by now. All three of us crowded onto the bed with Mom and Dad, who were still in their jammies, but sitting up, waiting for the fun.

This particular Christmas, I was sitting close to my mother’s feet but facing her so she could see my reactions. I tore into one gift and was happy with what I got. (I don’t remember now what was in the wrapping paper.) We handed my mother the large pieces of paper to smooth and fold for wrapping any gifts in another year. By the third package, I stopped unwrapping and turned the gift over in its hiding place. Then I stopped altogether and just sat looking at the paper.

“What is it, Honey?” Mother asked. “Why did you stop opening your presents?”

“The wrapping paper! It’s the same as the paper on a big package under the tree. How did the paper on that package from you and Dad get on my stocking gift from Santa at the North Pole?” No one in the room took a breath. (Remember, PollyAnne was ten years older than I and Owen, nine years.) They had been sitting on this secret for a long time.

My mother, always the one to explain, said, “Well, you know Santa Claus is the spirit of Christmas giving. And it is much more fun to have him seem like a real person, living in a real place, doing a real job to make this a happy time. His behavior of giving is why I sometimes say to you, think about what you are giving to your sister, not what you will get.”

“So this is why we give away gifts instead of keeping them for ourselves.” I summarized what I’d heard. “If I should have a younger brother or sister, I’d have to keep the secret, too?”

“Yes, you would.” My siblings were breathing again by now, and my father smiling silently.

Mother finished her explanation with, “This is the day we set aside in the Christian tradition to mark the birth of Jesus Christ, but it is also the day we spend doing what he taught us to do;  give away what we have to others who might not have so much. So we choose to show our love for one another with thoughtful gifts.”

I sat somewhat stunned.

“Are you old enough to handle a Christmas with this meaning?” Mother asked.

“I guess, but I’ll miss my old Santa Claus and The Night before Christmas.

“You don’t have to give up the story. Just remember for what it stands.” my mother ended.

And it is a good thing she told me that because almost every Christmas Eve, my husband, Sy, and I would recite from memory The Night before Christmas to our children, he recites the first half, and I finish the story. Once in a while, in the present time, one girl or the other will say, “I wish Dad were still here to recite The Night Before Christmas with you. I’ll respond, “I can do the whole thing!”

 And with a sheepish grin, they will say, “It’s not the same.”

Happy Christmas to all of you, and peace to humankind!

Ely’s Thanksgiving Prayer

The Nasuha River Nashoba Valley Looking West from the Hills of Harvard Toward Shakerton, Massachusetts, Home of the Author, JessieMay Kessler

Imagine, if you can, a Norman Rockwell Thanksgiving table. Everyone is seated around the table laden with freshly prepared food. The turkey has been carved, and before the plates are served, Father asks each person to bow their head and state for what they are thankful. When we get to little Ely, about five or six years old, his voice booms out, “I’m thankful for my Mom and Pop and my nice safe home and all this food.”

This little boy may be very manipulative and precocious, knowing that come Christmas time, he will be well rewarded under the Christmas tree. I sense that Ely is a simple little boy who is saying what he means. Ely is thankful for a home where he knows he is loved, well-fed, and feels safe.  And he is thankful for the parents that provide this for him.

At Thanksgiving time, we search our minds for what we are thankful to have. But do we ever think about what we are thankful to be giving? Looking across the great ocean to Ukraine, we have our answer immediately. They don’t celebrate Thanksgiving Day as we do, for it is an American holiday, but if they did celebrate, what would it look like this Thanksgiving Day in their country? –Desolation, no place truly safe to reside, never knowing when the bombs are coming, no clean water, little food, and fighting for a principle with little more than devotion to their leader and the concept of freedom. Without realizing it, we have given this concept of freedom at all costs to many other peoples in this world. So our job is to recognize what we have and make our families feel as safe, warm, and well cared for as we can muster. The little quibbles that so often happen in families when we gather together should go out the window. There is so much rancor and fighting in our streets, our television programming, and our movies; it is time to create a safe place to spread out, enjoy, and know that we are welcome. Making perfect doesn’t belong in this day; good enough and thoughtful and caring is what should be at the Thanksgiving feast this year. At least we have a thanksgiving table, do we appreciate that fact?!

My first book, A Love Story for Adults

Those of you who also get my author’s One Page newsletter, ‘A Bird Song,’ will feel the connection, but my message is strong. We may be creeping up on a third world war, and we must make our homes and families a fortress of security for whatever lies ahead.

Wishing you all a happy, belly-full, wonderful Thanksgiving Day! Remember, Christmas is coming, and books make a welcome gift for some people. A Bird and the Dragon: Their Love Story: A Memoir and Bitzy’s Story: Healing the Pain of Silence are both available on Amazon.com. I know, for a fact, that Bitzy is so eager to tell you her story.

Two Reminders:

1. The review of my two books is still available on YouTube. Look for ‘Stories Worth Telling’ and the names Cate Steel/JessieMay Kessler.
3. Library Salon: Authors and Art –a fun evening out at Filomena’s Restaurant, 262 Boston Post Road, Waterford, CT, 6-8 pm., on Wednesday, November 30, 2022. Authors will read excerpts from their books, artists will show their work, and we will discuss. Books and artwork make great holiday gifts. Free attendance – the public is invited – purchase food and drinks off the menu. Please RSVP to Judy Ricketts-White at jwhite5506@sbcglobal.net; we need a head count.

Where the Circles Meet

The Nashua River in the Nashoba Valley looking West from the hills of Harvard toward Shakerton, Massachusetts, the childhood home of the author JessieMay Kessler

Some of you may be familiar with numerology and those principles. I have wandered around these last six months in physical and emotional pain. Yes, I have been treated with physical therapy and herbal supplements but little improvement. It has taken me until a couple of days ago to recognize what the emotional pain is all about. Physical and emotional pain very often hold hands.

Jessie and Sy Kessler early in their Marriage

Sy Kessler, my second husband, the love and light in my life, passed away on November 20, 2013. That means that I will be stepping into my 10^th year without him when we get to that date this year. The number nine in numerology marks the ending of a cycle, the year we finish up unfinished business and tie off the loose ends. It also marks the beginning of preparations for the new cycle. The following year is a number ten year, the beginning of a life’s new chapter.

This year has been very exciting, and I should be over the moon with happiness. I have finally completed that book I wrote almost thirty years ago, and publishers did not accept. It has been tweaked a lot since then and this year arrived at its final version. I’ve been hard at work these months finding a reputable self-publishing company willing to handhold. It has been a slow process, mostly because I would have flare-ups of pain and not be able to focus on anything but discomfort. Bitzy’s Story: Healing the Pain of Silence finally came off the press on September 22, 2022. (Even the subtitle arrived this year.) That date is exactly one month to the day after Sy’s birthday.

The explanation for the downturn in mood is that I have been grieving (the pain in the back and legs—those instruments that hold us up and move us forward.) And the grieving is not just for Sy; it is for me, with the publication of Bitzy’s Story. The third level of Bitzy’s Story is about healing my perceptions of being inadequate because I had a childhood of illness and being sheltered by my mother. Writing the book on one level was to show how to heal one’s self, and I guess I have succeeded. Which means I’m mourning and letting go of my past perceptions of myself. My wake-up call came yesterday when I had to buy a new Domain Name for my new website. The name I wanted was in use, and I wanted to include my blog within this new site. So what I put down was jmkesslerismylittlebird. (It’s not ready to use yet!) But when I read it back, I realized I had finally acknowledged both parts of myself.

And on a last upbeat note: I did a television interview of my book two weeks ago, and you can find it on YouTube under ‘Stories Worth Telling’ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7mlmKj0wOhc. Look for Cate Steel/JessieMay Kessler. Happy viewing! And if you are moved to purchase the book Bitzy’s Story: Healing the Pain of Silence https://www.amazon.com/s?k=JessieMay+Kessler&i=stripbooks&crid=3BL53TOJ6TY9O&sprefix=jessiemay+kessler%2Cstripbooks%2C82&ref=nb_sb_noss_1 on Amazon.com, please write a review for me. Bitzy deserves a bit of your continued attention. Thank you very much in advance.

Introducing Bitzy’s Story

The Nashua River and Nashoba Valley Looking West from the Hills of Harvard Toward Shakerton, Massachusetts, Childhood Home of the Author, JessieMay Kessler

This week has been exceptionally busy getting out my Author’s One-Page newsletter called ‘A Bird Song’ and then doing a television interview about my new book, Bitzy’s Story: Healing the Pain of Silence, with an old friend from my Webmaster Days. I debated trying to write something new today for this blog and then realized most of you don’t get my Author’s One Page. So forgive me if any of this is a repeat.

It has taken almost thirty years to birth this book with much poor advice, rewrites, and rejections. When I sent it out to publishers twenty-plus years ago, it came back with rejections. Toward the end, I got some notes saying it would not sell as the first book from an unknown author written, although for adults, in the child’s voice. It went into the closet. And when my husband, Sy, died suddenly, to hold myself together, I thought, this is the time to write the first book. That book was A Bird and the Dragon: Their Love Story: A Memoir.

Now my little girl is telling her story! Imagine my surprise when these were the first book reviews on Amazon.com. I will share parts of those reviews here:

This is a book – a story – that is at once enthralling, poignant, and instructive. It’s the story of events from the early childhood of the author but told from the perspective of “Bitzy,” an alter-ego whom JessieMay (the author) is able to summon from “within” her mirror for her own self-therapy. Bitzy recalls episodes of JessieMay’s young life, which were traumatic or hurtful, and which she had in no small degree repressed. That is, until Bitzy forces JessieMay to confront them. Each event is confronted, chapter by chapter. JessieMay, a licensed Jungian therapist, confronts these memories, analyzes each of them in the follow-on sub-chapters, and explains how they affected her later life.

The narrative was a story told by a little girl, Bitzy (a five-year-old), about the sadness and trauma she experienced as her life effectively shut down due to rheumatic fever. At age five, she was told she would have to spend a long time in bed, not even getting up to go to the bathroom. Obviously, “a long time” is not a concept easily understood at that age. As she tells her story, you are drawn into her feelings of isolation and loneliness, not to mention boredom. Your heart breaks for her as she listens to her family downstairs eating supper and socializing together while she is alone in her tiny bedroom. What child, or even adult for that matter, would not have felt abandoned? Because of the excellent commentary and analysis in the chapter notes entitled “Looking Through my Therapist Eyes,” I would recommend this book to all parents of young children. Very helpful insights into how young children think, as well as how they feel, are explored. Ms. Kessler’s suggestions on how Bitzy’s mother might have responded differently could be used as a guide for all parents.

Several experiences in Bitzy’s Story resonated with my own experiences as a child bringing back memories of the events and a better understanding of why they occurred.

I hope these reviews encourage you to order Bitzy’s Story from Amazon.com and read it to find something that resonates with your life experience. If you do read the book, please do a review on Amazon.com. Don’t worry about it being perfect; just visit with me. Those book reviews encourage other readers to buy. Remember, I’m still a new writer for most of the reading public, and I need a good word.

And if you are not friends with me on Facebook, you missed this announcement. The television podcast of my reviewing, Bitzy’s Story, will air this Sunday evening, at 7:30, on Channel 24 in eastern Connecticut. If you are not local, you should be able to find it on YouTube under ‘Stories Worth Telling.’

If you want to receive my newsletter, ‘A Bird Song,’ contact me here or through my personal email my2little25bird78@ gmail.com. I will need your name and a valid email address. Be sure to mention this is for ‘A Bird Song.’ This is the logo you will see on ‘A Bird Song.’

Backwards Expert

The Nashua River basin, Known as the Nashoba Valley, Looking West from the Harvard Hills Toward Shakerton, Massachusetts, where Author JessieMay Kessler was Born and Raised.

My Second Book: Bitzy’s Story: Healing the Pain of Silence

When we start out to write an article or a book, most of us writers look to other writers as to where to start and what to do. As a bestselling author, my Uncle Ralph always said, “Write about what you know, not about what you think you know.” So that is when I decided I would write my life—a memoir. Once we are marketing our books, the other prompt is to become an expert in some area. Well, writing about my life puts me back into home and family. And being an expert at something? I was not particularly eager to babysit when I was a teen. I wanted kids to mind me on the spot. Little children want to be entertained, and once you read Bitzy’s Story: Healing the Pain of Silence, you’ll know I didn’t have much practice playing in a group or entertaining someone else.

We are at the college level, and I have switched to Home Economics, so I’ve learned a good bit about domestic life. Right out of college, I married a minister in a small country Connecticut parish. We were, by definition, in the spotlight and in the midst of family life and living. If that wasn’t enough, we took in a foster daughter and didn’t know it at the time, but she had bipolar disorder. These children are some of the hardest to parent because they don’t care about you; they are oppositional and defiant with very strong tempers.

The Parsonage Where Rev. Lesser Wanted to Close All the Windows

I didn’t know it then, but the good minister, Rev. Harvard Lesser, was also similar to a bipolar by temperament. So, some of our fights were pretty loud. I remember him trying to control the volume and saying, “If you don’t stop yelling, I’m going to have to go around and close down all the windows in this parsonage.” By then, we had two biological daughters, and I had, by default, become the “bad cop.” Harvard’s father was abusive, so Harvard wanted nothing to do with discipline or setting boundaries. Much of my discipline came from frustration and anger about his non-support.

Once, when my two biological daughters were grown and riding with me in the car, I pulled into a parking lot, and we witnessed a mother screaming at her young child, swatting and punching him on the back, pushing him towards the back seat. It was horrible to watch. As I slid the car into my parking space, I looked into the rearview mirror and said, “I’m so glad I wasn’t that kind of a mother!” There was that heavy pause, and my bravest daughter said, “Oh, but you were!” Her sister nodded and mumbled, “But, Mom, you were.” What a wake-up call!

So now, thirty years later, I’m writing about communication–see my new logo–and what children need psychologically. My book Bitzy’s Story is about confinement, loneliness, restriction, and childhood trauma. Was I an abuser because of the marital relationship or the silence and frustration I brought forward from my confinement as a five-year-old? I’m not sure you or I will ever have the answer. But you can see how I’ve become a Backwards Expert. In my early life, I did much of it backward out of ignorance. After studying, reading, watching, and listening to family trauma, I’ve learned what is better for a strong, emotionally healthy family.

Bitzy’s Story: Healing the Pain of Silence is available on Amazon.com. I would greatly appreciate it if you would buy a copy and write me a review. The sooner these reviews are posted on Amazon, the higher their rating. I still have one more book to finish. I need your help. And I hope you have some fun as you choose to work with me. Thanks in advance, JessieMay.

PS. There should be a Television interview with me and my reading bits from Bitzy’s Story on Channel 24 Sunday evening, October 30, at 7:30 p.m. It will be under Stories Worth Telling, hosted by my good friend Cate Steele.

Bitzy Who?

The Nashua River Nashoba Valley Looking West from the Hills of Harvard Toward Shakerton, Massachusetts, Childhood Home of the Author, JessieMay Kessler

Healing the adult from childhood trauma is a hot topic in the field of psychology today. So meet Bitzy Sandler, or Bitzy Bird as she calls herself, in one spot in my second book, Bitzy’s Story: Healing the Pain of Silence. If you are not aware of it, silence is a number one marker for childhood trauma.

When I have a new client start work with me, I often ask them to tell me their earliest memory. If they look at me like “a deer in the headlights,” I know instantly there was childhood trauma of some kind. The response is usually, “I don’t remember much before age ten,” or something like that. Sometimes the cutoff is even later in life, and then you can guess there was also preteen or teenage sexual assault.

When you do get a client with an early memory, that is usually a treasure trove of issues with which we can work. It also often gives you clues to some of their strongest traits. One of my first memories goes back to the time just before Bitzy became a hidden, silent girl. I was about three years old, and I was sitting in the notch somewhat behind, the old wood stove in the kitchen of my early childhood home. I’m in a mint green potty chair that my father had built years ago for my older sister, PollyAnne, and my older brother, Owen. (You will meet both of these people in my new book, Bitzy’s Story.) There was a substantial tray to the potty chair, and Mother had put a bowl of my father’s famous oatmeal on the tray. I’m supposed to be doing my duty and eating the oatmeal. (What a combination!) I’m somewhat frustrated at being captive, with a job to do, but I’m looking forward to getting down to the bottom of the bowl where there are pictures of little animals. If we take that vignette and move it into the present time, I can tell you when things are tough, I want my bowl of oatmeal! My adult job is to help people look through their “s..t” And help them turn it into usable material. The third trait that comes out of this is I’m the therapist who keeps trying to get the client to dig deeper, past the tough part, until they get to the happy little animals.

My Mother, Jordan Elizabeth, in Her Early Fifties

I shared this tool with my mother years ago, and she said, “Try it on me.” In her story, her mother, Mary Emma, had just caught my mother, Jordan, in what she thought was a lie. She scooped the young lady up, put her in the under-the-stairs closet, and locked the door. My mother was furious and reported to me, “I didn’t lie! She had no right to treat me that way. So I spit on all her best clothes hanging in that closet.” (And now, just as I write this, I realize why lying in our family was such a hot-button topic.) Lying has gone on to be such an issue for me with raising my children and grandchildren.

This brings me to the second idea of this blog. Often childhood trauma doesn’t belong only to our lifetime. Sometimes, it has its roots in the generations behind us and what happened to our ancestors, grandparents, and the like. This, too, is a fairly new concept, and a very interesting approach to family counseling. I share this to help you better understand as you read Bitzy’s Story that it is written in layers of family interaction. In this book, Bitzy tells the story, but she also forces me, the author, to confront those issues of my early childhood pain, and guide me to some resolution. This book is very different from my first book, A Bird and the Dragon: Their Love Story: A memoir, for it has far more depth while still being a memoir of the very early years of my life. You can buy Bitzy’s Story: Healing the Pain of Silence, on Amazon.com, and if you would, please write a review for me. The two reviews already up gave five stars and imply there are important bits of family learning woven into this story. You can contact me here with your thoughts on these matters. Thank you in advance for your comments.

Why Lucky Dreams You Ask?

Nashua River Nashoba Valley Looking West from the Harvard Hills toward Shakerton, Massachusetts, Where Author JessieMay Kessler was Born and Raised.

Were you ever asked as a child what you wanted to be when you grew up? Did you set a life’s goal when you were still too young to know what you were saying? When you read my recently released book, Bitzy’s Story: Healing the Pain of Silence, you will discover that as a child I was hospitalized not once but twice. The first time was emotionally catastrophic for me: the second time I knew the ropes and I was able to communicate better. One afternoon on this second stay, one of the nurses asked, “So, what do you want to be when you grow up?’ Panicked because no one had ever asked me this question, I looked around and said, “I want to be a nurse.” It wasn’t until my junior year of high school that this conversation came back and I thought, “NO! No way do I want to be a nurse. I’m not great with blood, guts, and people in anguish.”

The above is the first part of my explanation for my new logo and business name, Lucky Dreams. The

second part many of you already know from previous blogs. At ten years old, I met my mother’s oldest brother Ralph Moody, who came to visit my family because he had a meeting in New York City to finish up details for the publication of his first book, Little Britches. Uncle Ralph went on to become a bestselling author in the nineteen fifties, even to being on the New York Times Best Sellers’ list. We became very close and wrote back and forth for much of my teen years. This conversation started when I composed a poem for him and stated, “I wanted to be a bestselling author, like you some day.” I was ten years old!

Life moves on. I went to college as an English major and nearly flunked out of the program in the third semester. My English professor thought I had plagiarized the material I had written on Motivation. She even told me that she would have taken the paper over to the psychology department, but the spelling and the punctuation were so poor she didn’t want anyone to know I was her student. She gave me a D- for the paper and a D- for the course. At age nineteen, I didn’t hear the compliment of sophisticated writing, accurate portal of psychology, or superior presentation of ideas; all I heard was I was flunking out of my dream.

Fallback position: my roommate convinced me that I had better move to the Home Economics department. I did and graduated as a Home Economics teacher and used my degree to teach for a year before I married a young minister. From there on it was lots of church work, raising little children, and the beginnings of a disintegrating marriage. My first book, A Bird and the Dragon: Their Love Story: A Memoir picks up when that first marriage broke apart.  

After much support from my second husband, Sy Kessler, I went back to school and gained my degree in counseling. Being a therapist isn’t far removed from being a nurse: one helps to heal the physical body, the other helps to heal the emotional mental body. Oh, my goodness here I am being a “nurse” after all.

As the five teenage girls that Sy and I raised together began to find their own lives, I once again with support and a dare from Sy, started to write my newspaper column: ‘Tidbits from the Couch.’ I had seventeen years of practice in that capacity. I wrote some short stories but that didn’t feel like what I was supposed to be doing. When Sy died suddenly, I was devastated and would have sunk into a deep depression, but coming up on the first anniversary of his death, I knew I had to write our story so that others raising children in a second marriage could see that it can be a rewarding and basically happy experience. We neither killed any of the children or each other.

So now, having walked quickly through my life, you can see that the dreams I had as a child have indeed come true. My life is one of Lucky Dreams! It took me a long time but it can be done. And I have two published books as markers.

Back to my original question: Did any of you set goals for yourself before you even knew what you were talking about?  If you did, I hope you will share here, so that others can see that they shouldn’t give up on their dreams.

Yes, book two, Bitzy’s Story: Healing the Pain of Silence is available on Amazon.com. Please check it out and give me a review. Hopefully, something in the story will speak to you. Also, contact me here if you would like to be on my mailing list for my Author’s One Page, “A Bird Song.”  Use Lucky Dreams in the heading so I know how you found me. This new email will keep you up to date on my writing, speaking engagements, and new blogs. Ah, yes, there is at least one more book to go. Please, sign up so you don’t get left behind!

To Fib or not to Fib

Nashua River Nashoba Valley Looking from the Hills of Harvard, West toward Shakerton, Massachusetts, where the author, JessieMay Kessler, was Born and Raised

The only pre-publication picture I have of my second book, mentioned below: Bitzy’s Story: Healing the Pain of Silence

When I was a little girl, about five years old, the age of the heroine in my new book “Bitzy’s Story: Healing the Pain of Silence,” I was sitting beside my mother in church on Easter Sunday morning. Back then, all the women wore extra fancy hats to church on Easter as the monarchy of England does today for formal occasions. Four pews in front of us sat Mrs. Anderson with a purple hat adorned with birds and a small bird cage. I looked up at my mother, and she placed a finger up to her lips. Then leaning into me, she whispered, “When all the people file out of church today, they will stop and tell Mrs. Anderson what a lovely hat she is wearing.” Confused, I whispered, “But what if they think it’s stupid?” “No matter! This moment is one of the few times in life when you are allowed to lie—tell a fib to spare Mrs. Anderson’s feelings.” I slid back into my pew to mull over this new information. It wasn’t right as far as I could see.

Later, as I was beginning to be of childbearing age along with my cousins, my cousin Emily came to show us her new baby. My mother asked, “Do you know the story about your grandmother, Mary Emma, when she was a child? Her mother, your great-grandmother Hannah, had become the town’s visiting nurse, and she was taking your grandmother and her sister, your Auntie Grace, to see the newest baby in town. Great grandmother Hannah said, ‘Now when you see the new baby, you try to say something nice.’ Your grandmother, about age six, peered into the baby blankets and said, smiling at the lady, ‘Well, it is a nice long baby.'” So this fibbing has been going on in our society for some time.

It’s a Nice Long Baby!

Another place where this question of honesty or fibbing comes up is when we have lost a job. My girls would come home all dejected, having just been let go from their work, and I’d suggest, “In a few days, go back and ask your employer why he let you go.” “Mom, you know what he’s going to say; something that keeps him from getting sued. He isn’t going to tell me why he let me go.”

Okay, now we are down to friends. We can feel the relationship is “going south,” and we ask why the atmosphere has gradually or suddenly changed. They come up with some fuzzy logic, and we begin the job internally of naming all of our relational shortcomings. That is a painful task and can go on for weeks, years, and without resolution. I always thought that if the friendship was truly a friendship–the kind that lasts for years–it may wobble a bit, but always rights itself–was one in which the friends shared the truth of their feelings–hopefully with some compassion—but with honesty.

I wonder if this fibbing has become so rampant with our advertising, television, and politics that we no longer know when it is fibbing to spare someone’s feelings and when it is just business as usual. I think I would rather have my friend tell me the real reason for the downturn and hope they can do it with thoughtfulness, trusting in the strength of the relationship.

Now We are Down to Friends

What we do about the fibbing or downright lies that our leaders and world leaders are spinning is a bigger can of worms. National lies are causing many, many people to lose their lives. Now it is not fibbing! I would love to hear your thoughts on this subject and possible solutions, especially at the global level. Contact me here or through my personal email at my2litle25bird78@gmail.com. Please include the title of this blog: To Fib or Not to Fib–so I know you are one of my followers.

Watch for my new logo with its slogan: “It’s All in the Communication.”

We All Need a Witness

Nashua River Nashoba Valley in Massachusetts, where author JessieMay Kessler grew up

My Little Bird Blog123 For September 9, 2022
We All Need a Witness

When I was young and charming in my tiny bikini, many years ago, I was on the beach with my two small children, babies, and their older sister May. With a five-year age difference, May was down in the water’s edge, and suddenly, I heard her yell, “Look at me, Mommy! I’m swimming. See, I’m swimming!” “Yes,” I responded, “I see.” But wondered why was she making such a commotion? May was actually standing in ankle-deep water, flapping her arms in the air like a bird, and couldn’t possibly swim in any sense of the word. After years of raising my children and helping to raise my grandchildren while being a therapist, I understand vividly that we all want a Witness to our lives. Why do we bother with gravestones, except that the soul has a great need to be seen and remembered?

When there is trouble, married women go off to the therapist and come home begging their husbands to come to the therapist, too. The men usually won’t go because they “know” that the therapist will tell them that the crumbling marriage is all their fault. What they don’t understand is that we therapists are not there to judge or to give orders but rather to witness their life’s story—mistakes, blessings, talents, and places where there is a need for reeducation.

This function of Witness is so much a part of a successful marriage. Each person in the coupleship takes time to be present and observant of the other’s need to be seen and heard. When Sy, my second husband, was with me, we took “coffee time” at the end of the evening meal to sit, talk, exchange the day’s happenings, and brag or ask for consolation for the day’s events. When our children were younger, it was also a time to problem solve before the you-know-what hit the fan. I can say without reservation that the hardest part of my life, now that I live alone, is days end with only my cat and dog. They are observant, but there isn’t much feedback, except for a lick or a request for a scratch.

I will soon be using my new logo designed by my granddaughter Nicole—she did the cover of my first book, “A Bird and the Dragon; Their Love Story: A Memoir,” which you can still get on Amazon. Com–and the whole logo is about being a witness, especially to that new life as it enters your family and then as that individual grows. If you spot this new logo or are on my email list, you will get to see it and what it represents. Most importantly, it represents each of us taking the time to witness, be observant, and present to our families and other individuals. You can make a concerted effort to witness someone; watch, process, and then report what you have observed. It will brighten your life and that of the person you took the time to witness.

If you wish to join my Author’s One Page, A Bird Song, describing my writing activities, please email me at my2little25bird78@gmail.com. And get on my mailing list. Don’t miss this! There is a gift for signing up. I hope to hear from you personally, JessieMay Kessler.