Quips from Kay

A word to women...... Don't do it because someone said it isn't for women... Do it because you are a PERSON who can do it... Whatever IT is!

Every time I finish writing and publish the next day I remember something else I should have put in the writing. I remembered some other experiences I had during my caseworker days so here they are. I know I said that I was never afraid when visiting in all those recipients' homes, but I had forgotten one specific visit. It was in San Antonio on the East side of town that I knocked on the sagging old door of an elderly lady's house. After I explained who I was and why I was there she let me in. Initially she was afraid I was going to cut back on her welfare check. She remained unsure of me the entire time I spoke with her. How did I know this, you ask?  Because while she sat in her rocking chair near the wood stove, she kept her hand on a large axe that was right beside her. I placed my chair as near to the door as I could get and kept an eye on a possible escape route. Needless to say, I was relieved when that interview was over. Another visit took me to a tiny, ramshackle...

This is just a little short Sunday poem My shorts were made in Nepal My shirt in Bangladesh My jeans are from Honduras My sweater's from Marrakesh My coat is from Belarus My bra began life in Haiti My panties in Guatemala and my skirt is an Israeli When I call customer service for my Mexican computer, I get "Sean" in New Delhi who really isn't a tutor. The market is a Chinese flood Thailand has started vending I'd buy American if I could but why go on pretending.

When I graduated from TSCW in August, 1956, equipped with a B.A. in Spanish and sociology, I chose to live in San Antonio. A degree in Social Work was not available back then so the bits I had learned about life had to stem from my sociology classes. I must remind my readers that I am an only child from a small rural area of Texas so my knowledge of "life" was limited to the smidgen I had experienced there and in college. (love the word "smidgen") I begin this story with that information because I found myself thrown into real life rather quickly and shockingly. I got a job as a caseworker for the State Department of Public Welfare and soon found that my sociology had not covered all the bases of reality. That program is now referred to as Temporary Assistance for Needy Families. ("A rose by any other name....") There are still poor, sick and needy and probably the problems are still the same. I shall not dwell on the present. My job was to visit the ho...

I finally found photos of our house on the Refugio Hwy. That's really Hwy. 202 but I didn't know that until I was in college. (I know that's not very important, just wanted to add it) See the windmill peeking out over the roof? This is a copy of the sketch Mama made for our Christmas cards one year. The sign in front read;                                                      CASA CONTENTA                                                               PAUL                                                               RUTH     ...

A slow squeak, a gentle bang that was the screened back door. The hinges needed some oil and the flies were quick to flit in. But that didn't matter because fresh air came in through those tiny little squares and it smelled so good. We didn't have "Country Flowers" spray or "Ocean Breeze" No need-- We had love and my Mama standing with that screen door held open Saying, "Come in this house!" Then I was home. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I wrote this in 2003 with the memory of my home so vivid I could feel as if I were really there. We lived in a little two bedroom, one and a half bath on 2 1/2 acres a short way out of town but rural enough to say we lived in the country. We had well water which was brought to us from a cistern fed by a tall windmill. In the few times I was upset during my young life there, I would climb up near the windmill blades and contemplate my existence. Other...

+Greta Garbo didn't shave her legs, so why should I? (Who is Greta Garbo, you ask?  Just Google it) + Am I going to be one of those old ladies with the corners of her mouth turned down seeking to join the rest of her body on the way to the floor? + If there is ever a need to hide the Hope Diamond somewhere other than where it is now, I have an available navel that will serve well. + If Noah could make an ark large enough to hold all those animals, he would have been smart enough to leave out mosquitos and flies; ergo, I say God hadn't made them yet + The only reason I don't have wrinkles in my face is because I don't wear a bra ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Panic My first mother-in-law didn't like me 'cause I wasn't Hispanic My second one thought I was and that put her in a panic. Now perhaps they can commiserate  about how they learned to hate the things they could not control. They still ca...

Encouraged by my daughter, I am posting this newest limerick. They are fun to write. There once was a Potus named Trump who tweeted while taking a dump He got stuck on the pot See, he tweeted a lot That's how he got a numb rump