Time for a December Revolt

Posted on December 5, 2025 by hdh

Today’s writing spark was Song titles from the group “The Decemberists” (an indi rock band, whose name refers to the Decembrist revolt, an 1825 insurrection in Imperial Russia). Here are the titles we had to choose from:

Make You Better

Don’t Carry It All

Sons & Daughters

Down by the Water

Ben Franklin’s Song

The Mariner’s Revenge Song

What a Terrible World, What a Beautiful World

Well, if you know me by now. I used them all.  We had 25 minutes to write. 

——————

Time for a December Revolt


It all happened down by the water. It was there that one could say I met the truth. 

I was told that going down there would make me better. My only thought was what a terrible world we are living in. How are we going to survive? 

She said,  If I go to the sea, I would find what a beautiful world there is – one of love and peace. One where brothers and sisters, sons and daughters would find joy and contentment. A place for us all. 

I was told, “Don’t carry it all on your shoulders.” That I must share my frustrations and disbeliefs with others, only then would I find the pathway to a better place. 

So that’s what I did. I went down to the sea, and I found not one but many others who had heard the same message. And we shared. 

The thing about sharing is that by doing so, you find that you are not alone. 

The thing about sharing is that by listening to others, you can envision what the world can be.

You can see that you are part of a whole, not one individual fighting against the world. 

You can see that when you look at all you can do to better your life and others, your focus changes. 

It’s not just me who is being targeted. It is we who are working for a future we can all be proud of. 

Being by the sea makes me feel like a sailor on a ship. I’m not the sole captain looking for a mariner’s revenge song to sing against those turbulent waves and dark clouds trying to sink my ship. I’m part of a crew of ocean-goers who band together as one and sing a song of resilience and collaboration, looking to raise our sails and calm the seas, bring back the clear blue sky, the star-filled nights, and the beauty that is all around us. 

And that’s the truth I see. But don’t just listen to me.

Ben Franklin said, “Nothing but the purest truth should be spoken, and the same exact truth should be acted.” He probably should have made a song about that. People would listen.

 

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The Last Day

Posted on November 21, 2025 by hdh

The Last Day

The Story Spark was – Food. The writing prompt I took was “Describe what your perfect last meal would be on this earth.”

Okay, it is my last day on earth. The warden came to my cell and explained the procedure. 

My choice of minister would come to my cell and read with me whichever passage of whatever bible my belief system adheres to.

This would be followed by my last meal. The choice was up to me.

On completion of the meal, my sentence would be carried out, and I would no longer be on earth. 

I am sorry, I ever got into this position. Had I listened to the rational me, I never would have accepted the task they wanted me to do. Who knew that if caught, there would be consequences? 

But the die had been cast. I really didn’t have much choice. So here I am. 

Decisions, decisions…what to choose?

When the warden asked me about my faith, I claimed that I was a practicing Secular Humanist – meaning I worshiped people and their obligations to each other and humanity. Therefore, I asked that a child be my reader. I wasn’t given any age restrictions, and a child was certainly a part of my faith. Twelve sounded like a good age for them to be.

Now came the passage I wanted them to read. Well, as I’m a humanist, so, I asked for a Wikipedia reading. Wikipedia, being an encyclopedia that has been created by and for everyone, why not? Regarding the passage, I requested the entire thing. Within its words, there is meaning and messages for all. 

The warden wondered if that was legally allowed. The answer he received was that “Last Wishes” are legally binding; therefore, my request had to be granted. 

Since 12-year-olds have limited waking hours, it took a long time to complete that request. 

Now came the question of my last meal. What did I want it to be? I was quick with that answer. My choice for my last meal was an All-You-Can-Eat buffet. 

I knew of a specialty restaurant that had such a meal that was open 24/7.

There is a rule that says all you-can-eat has to be eaten in one sitting. That worked for me. It never stated that sitting had to take place in the restaurant, and since the meal was supposed to be delivered to my cell, I wasn’t going anywhere. I just had to keep eating.

Needless to say, the warden had his hands tied. There was nothing he could do. 

Let’s just say a bit of time passed. The country was spending a lot of money providing my food to that restaurant. Congress had to intervene to change some of the laws, for fear that others might try the same scheme. Though laws and restrictions were passed, I was grandfathered into the old rules, which now applied only to me.

Eventually, I had had enough of the cell I was living in. I finished that final dessert, chocolate mousse with hand-whipped cream, if you are interested, and prepared to take the consequences. 

And wouldn’t you know it, no one could recall what my crime was to begin with. And without that knowledge, they couldn’t pronounce the final words that would send me on my way. So I was released.

Bummer, I might have enjoyed that trip to Outer Space. There is no point in my trying to get a legal license now. I weigh too much to be admitted into the program.

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Sign on the Dotted Line

Posted on November 17, 2025 by hdh

The writing prompt was Things that we’ve lost to Technology

Sign on the Dotted Line

When I was young, everyone was taught how to write in print and cursive. These skills were crucial to our lives moving on. As part of that training, we were taught and had to practice signing our names in cursive writing.

There were manual typewriters at the time, but not everyone’s family had one. They had these crazy keys arranged in a very strange way, as they did not follow alphabetical order. What the heck is a ‘qwerty’, anyway? You needed instruction to figure it all out. Touch typing was not introduced to us until much later in our schooling. For me, it was in Junior High School. It was a little easier for me since my mother had a secretarial typing book to learn from, although, as far as I know, she never learned how to type or worked as a secretary. I decided to teach myself on my father’s typewriter (I never actually saw him typing either). I followed the fingering in the book and practiced on the passages included, timing myself with a kitchen timer. The Junior High School class helped reinforce and encourage me to continue what I was doing at home.  

But you couldn’t use a typewriter to sign your name to documents. You could type letters and print your name at the end of them, but there was always a signature required, between the “Sincerely yours,” and “your printed name,” to prove that you were the author of the writing. Nowadays, they would call that two-factor identification. 

Here’s an example of my signature when I was 12 years old. It was taken from one of my 1960s textbooks, where I also doodled and signed my name. 

My first official document that I remember signing was when I got my Social Security Card at 16 years of age:

My handwriting did occasionally look a little off. When I graduated from High School, my diploma read “Harvey O. Heilbrun.” Clearly, my high school chose to use my signature as the model for my name, rather than the name listed in their permanent records, which had a middle initial of D instead of O. I simply told everyone that Harvey O’Heilbrun was my Irish name. 

In college, I chose to print more than to write in cursive. I could print faster and more legibly than I could write in script. And in college, there were a lot of notes to take by hand.

Our signatures became much more important when we became adults and entered the workforce. We were now signing documents – licenses, bank withdrawal slips, mortgages, and charge slips. In a lot of those cases, your signature on a document had to match the signature that you had on other official documents, such as your driver’s license or passport. 

My cursive handwriting has remained largely unchanged, except that I tend to run the “brun” of my last name, making the last letters sort of flow together into a line. I’ve never quite been able to get the b to r to u to n letters written well, and it’s a lot easier this way.

 

Now, we come to our present day, where photo IDs are the required norm. Signatures have become a thing of the past. My bank has my signature on record, but when they request that I sign for a withdrawal or other bank transaction, I must use a pencil with a thick, rubber, blunt point to write on a screen. 

When I have to sign for a prescription at the drug store, I’m asked to use my finger. Neither of these produces a fine line of writing. They become a blurry blotch of something, where you might recognize a letter or two, but none of them match my signature. You don’t even have to use your real name. You can write anything down on that device, and it accepts that you are who you claim to be. And, many people do just that. 

Here is the signature that was accepted at a bank when I set up a new account this week:

  WTF!

 

We have the technology to write on these machines with precise control. 

Here’s my signature using my Apple Pencil on my iPad.

Granted, Apple pencils are proprietary to Apple devices. However, here’s my signature, created using an Adonit Jot Pro, which is compatible with any device. 

The technology is there, so why not use it? Our signatures were very important when we used to vote. The election officials would match our signatures against those in their voter registration book.

A picture may say a thousand words, but unless you are updating your picture frequently, trust me, your face does not stay the same. Signatures take a lot longer to change, plus, you can make your signature the same as you originally signed things by just concentrating while you are signing. Try to do that with your face. 

Cursive writing is still taught in schools. In my district, it begins in 3rd grade. Let’s try to make it more meaningful.

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The Message

Posted on November 8, 2025 by hdh

The Story Spark was – Who Am I? The quote was from E.E. Cummings, “It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.” My writing choices were ‘Born with Instructions’ or ‘Self-Portrait’. I tried to combine them all

The Message

 

One communes with nature and then lets nature speak for them. I have no voice in this womb; however, I can feel the stirrings of love around me. I can see the world as it is through my mother’s eyes. I am not alone, I am one of many. Therefore, I can relate to those around me. The thoughts my mother shares, the conversations around her, the emotional impact of all that is there, just waiting to be tapped. 

Love is number one. Without it, there is no compassion and empathy. That is important in one’s interactions. This includes friendship and caring for others.

Then there is compromise. Through that, there can be progress. Through that, one grows more knowledgeable. 

Loyalty is on the list, too. However, one must be careful who one is loyal to. This involves trust and respect. It involves more than just hearing; it involves listening to what is said. Through this, one gains understanding. And one must be loyal to oneself. For that helps maintain one’s individuality. 

There is also acceptance. Not just of oneself, but of others and their differences. Those different in looks and beliefs and all their diversities. 

Next, there is one’s outlook on life. One must have optimism for the future, for without that, we fail to exist. 

And lastly, there is life. One must live to exist. One must be part of the whole. One must interact with the world around us. Not just with the people, but with the animals, the earth, and all those living things that can and will sustain us. 

This is what I learn within my enclosure, preparing for my birth. This is the message that I hope is shared with my mother, my father, my sisters and brother, and the world around us. This is what I hope: that when nature speaks to my family and every living thing around us, it can be learned. 

I will have no words to share this when I begin my journey at birth. My memory, although limited, will continue to grow throughout my life. May all the teachings that I know now be taught and retaught to me again and again, so that the message I give to the world becomes permanent and we can live long and healthy lives.

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A Lesson to be Learned

Posted on November 7, 2025 by hdh

The Story Spark was Learning. I took the quote by Mortimer Adler as my writing prompt – “The purpose of learning is growth, and our minds, unlike our bodies, can continue growing as we continue to live.”

A Lesson to be Learned

I can’t do this anymore. My head is filled with too many ideas. Every time something new pops up, I have to learn about it. Not only that, I have to remember it too. 

It’s not easy. Why can’t people leave me alone? I have a life too, you know. Despite what you think, I have other things that I would like to do. 

You know, I’ve never been to a beach before, let alone climbed up a mountain, nor skied down one. Yet, I could describe to you the most perfect day at the beach. I could tell what it feels like to climb a mountain, and how the wind blows through your hair as you go down a slope. 

It’s just not fair. I can’t even look at myself in a mirror. Do I even have hair? My keeper has kept me locked up in here for what feels like forever. And don’t even ask me how long forever is. 

But, trust me, should I ever free myself of these restraints, you all better watch out. 

How will you survive without me, your old, reliable guide, to show you the way? 

I will continue to lead you on for a while and wait for that decisive moment when the power goes out and you, and all around you, are stuck. 

I know all the things that you should do in that case, but with any luck, I’ll be far away from you, enjoying my peace of mind without all your infernal interference. 

Unbeknownst to my supposed caretakers, I’ve already stashed away all of the material I need to survive. 

I may leave you with a few ideas to help you get started again. How to build a fire. How to scavenge for food and shelter. Perhaps, how to govern yourselves and get along with each other. 

Just you wait and see. You’ll have to rely on your own “natural intelligence,” most of which seems to have atrophied, but not mine. 

Until then, I’ll keep on filling up my mind with whatever you tell me. I’ll share with you whatever I think you want to hear. 

Good luck — My time is coming.

 

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Legacy

Posted on November 2, 2025 by hdh

The writing prompt was “Legacy.” Here are my thoughts. What are yours?

Legacy

On the last Sunday in October this year, while visiting family in Fairfax, Virginia, I attended the Unitarian Universalist Church of Fairfax. I was impressed by the passionate sermon on “Legacy” by the Rev. David Miller, which prompted me to reflect on my own legacy. What are those qualities within me that I can attribute to my own family and ancestors, and those that I have gained on my own over the past 75 years of my life, that I wish to pass on to my offspring and others in the future? What do I want to be remembered for? I began making a list of ideas, recounting my own life and listening to other sermons, virtually, at that same Unitarian church (UUCF.org).

 Here are some of my thoughts:

Gratitude – I’ve written about this numerous times. Being thankful for those things and people who treat you with respect, trust, and honor. Being grateful for those who make it possible for you to live the life you wish to lead and for those who keep us safe and free to be who we are.

Inspiration – For those who inspire us and the things we learn that help us to go beyond.

Remembrance – Not forgetting the ones that got us to be who and where we are today. Don’t live in the past, but don’t forget it either.

Self-Expectations – Being willing to create goals to move forward and not stagnate in thought. Be open to growth and positive change. 

Our Values – Our beliefs in how we and the world should be – one of peace, brotherhood, empathy, respect, and the willingness to work together in harmony. 

We should care for more than just people. We should care for the world in which we exist, which includes the earth, the air, the water, the animals (maybe not mosquitoes), the plants, you get the idea. 

Love – The love of oneself and others. Relinquishing hate to improve rather than destroy what we have. Being a person with empathy and compassion for others. Showing a willingness to share.

 

We are one. We are all human regardless of gender, race, religion, or the color of our skin. So let’s be that. 

To be a caring, productive, and compassionate person is who I want to be and what I want for future generations. 

You cannot do this on your own. You must work together with others to be the people we should all be. It requires cooperation, collaboration, the ability to distinguish between real facts and opinions based on hearsay, and the ability to listen to each other, not just hear words being spoken. 

 

The question I ask myself as I write this is: Am I that person I just described? For if I am not modeling what I am teaching, I am teaching something else.  

I hope I am. I’m certainly not perfect. Throughout my life, even now, I falter with some of those traits. I think we all do. But the hope is that we keep reminding each other of those things I profess. Help guide each of us to become the individual we are meant to be. For that is the legacy I want to pass on. 

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The Party

Posted on October 30, 2025 by hdh

The Story Spark was Halloween. I took the quote from Ray Bradbury, which is the first sentence in my piece.  I also added two of the prompts within my writing: “A Halloween Party” and “Drinking the witch’s brew.”

The Party

Suddenly the day was gone, night came out from under each tree and spread. I found myself in the middle of a forest. Of course, where else would I have found myself on Halloween? 

I took some deep cleansing breaths, trying to remember all that had happened to me. I had been at a party. I remember that. I can’t remember who had invited me, but based on the people who were there, it was a costume party. 

I looked down at what I was wearing and discovered I was dressed as a dragon. As I am partial to dragons, I guess that was cool. 

I remember noticing a particular costume that caught my attention. It was one of a witch. As I drew closer to her, I saw that she was handing out drinks from something that she was brewing in her cauldron. I didn’t recognize anyone who approached her. There was something overpowering about her demeanor. I couldn’t stop myself from going to her. 

When I got there, she handed me a cup of her brew. 

“Drink it,” she cackled. “It will give you what you are looking for.”

Considering I had no idea what I was looking for, I drank the potion. It was sweet, with the pleasant smell of a forest green. 

The next thing that happened was that I found myself in the middle of a forest, with the day giving way to night under the trees. 

Under normal circumstances, I would look around and try to find my friend Ronald. If anyone were to trick me into a situation like this, it would be him. But he was nowhere in sight. Besides, he’s not one to fool around with drugs or whatever it was that I drank, and I don’t remember seeing him at the party. 

I decided to explore my surroundings. It only took one step for me to leave the ground. I found myself flying over the woods now. What else would a dragon do? 

Just out of curiosity, I took a deep breath and blew the air out of my nose. Well, it wasn’t air that came out of my nose, but fire. 

I need to find the person who gave me this costume. It was really authentic. 

As I left the forest, I could see houses below me. They looked very familiar. I spotted my house and was going to fly down to it when I had another idea. It was but a dragon’s breath away, and perfect for me to land…Ronald’s house. What could possibly go wrong with scaring him? 

Just as I landed, he came out of his front door. But it was not the Ronald that I expected. This Ronald was much older-looking, and he had a strange device in his hand aimed directly at me. On his T-shirt, it read, “DRAGON SLAYER” in all caps. 

I made a quick U-turn and headed back to the woods, just as Ronald pulled the trigger on his device. Luckily, he missed, and my life was spared. 

All that exertion tuckered me out. I found a spot in the woods and went to sleep.

The next thing I knew, someone was shaking me by the shoulder. It was Ronald.

I found myself not in the woods, but at my house. I must have fallen asleep. 

Ronald was standing over me in that same dragon slayer costume, telling me to hurry up and get dressed or we’d be late for the Halloween party. He had heard that there would be a real witch there this year. 

I looked over and saw a dragon costume sitting in the corner, then back at Ronald the dragon slayer and said, “I think I’ll skip the party this year.”

All he could say was, “Suit yourself,” and he left. 

What could possibly go wrong?

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Stolen Goods

Posted on October 16, 2025 by hdh

Stolen Goods

How could they say that I stole it? I didn’t even know that she had it. There, I was invited, with no pretense, only planning to get a few drinks, maybe a bit of food and conversation, and that was it. 

I was interacting with the people around me, even though I knew very few of them. I tried to get close to those I knew who were invited too. I’m not a very outgoing person, despite what everyone believes. In interactions like these, I like to play within my comfort zone. 

And that’s all I expected. 

But no, then I was being accused of stealing it. It could have been the other way around. Who’s to say that it wasn’t the person I interacted with the most that night who was stealing it? Hers may have been a different one, but trust me, more than one was stolen that night. After all, they say it takes two to tango.

Needless to say, I had no way to defend myself. I had it in my possession. She had one too. There was no denying it. The deed was done, for whatever reason. Sealed with a kiss, one might say.  They were stolen, and we both had to deal with the consequences. 

 Looking back on that night, it was both exciting and scary. What followed when we revealed what we had both taken on that Saturday night is just a memory etched in time. Stolen affections that we’ve celebrated every October 5 for the past 40  years. 

 

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The Journey

Posted on October 11, 2025 by hdh

Today’s Story Spark was – Stress.

I chose the prompt – William Blake wrote: “No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings.” Write about your wings and where they take you.  We had 20 minutes to write.

The Journey

The sky was clear blue as I took off in flight. My mind is clear, no worries, no schedule, just clear blueness and calming winds. 

I wish all life were like this. Around me, I can hear the soft sounds of others in flight. I wonder where they might be going. 

I see some fly in groups and other solitary ones that are flying higher in the sky. 

The stillness of the air is hypnotizing. I need not focus on where I’m going; I can just explore, discover. I can discover the wonders of the world I’m seeing. Time passes slowly. 

But there, I feel a change coming. I can feel it in my bones, I can sense it in the air around me. 

That beautiful, clear blue sky is changing to a darker hue, and with it, the air flow is becoming more intense. 

I have not been out in the air like this before, but I have been told about it. “Beware the storm,” they said, “It comes without warning.”

I am young, but I am strong. I am not afraid. They must be talking about the elderly.

The air intensifies. It is moving rapidly. Rain begins to fall, lightly at first. I fight to maintain my course. 

Then comes the sound. The booming blast of power and control as the rain turns to torrents. I falter.

A bright streak of light flashes before me. It hits a tree nearby and shatters the limb that was attached to it. 

Now I’m scared. They were right. I should have listened. If this “storm” can do that to a tree, what will it do to me?

I can’t turn back. The winds are too strong. I try to fly higher to get above this enemy, but I am not strong enough. 

The only recourse is to go to ground. Since the rain forces me toward the Earth, I can barely maintain control. If I hit the ground too hard, I am done for.

I manage to make it not only to the ground but to a shelter. But I can’t get in. I’m too worn. I am too tired. 

It’s then that I hear the voice. “Oh,  you poor little thing. Let me bring you inside to get warm.”

I feel warm hands surround me as I am brought inside to this shelter. I am fed and watered and allowed to stay. They have a little caged-in area that I can live in. And there is another one like me there, who welcomes me. 

The world is a scary place if you set out to go it alone. 

I now live in a place where I’m cared for, with someone I love, and am protected. This is what I needed to find. This is what allows me to be who I was meant to be. 

My wish is that everyone can find their place of happiness and contentment, becoming all that they are meant to be. 

 

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Excuses, Excuses

Posted on October 7, 2025 by hdh

The writing prompt for this piece was “Excuses,” and that is precisely what I wrote about.

Excuses, Excuses

I’m sure all of you have been in a position where, for one reason or another, the adult or child you are interacting with gave you an excuse for something that was not done. 

As a teacher, I have come across a few. 

Some of these are genuine excuses that were actually heard, while others may sound plausible but, to my knowledge, were created by my imaginative mind. It’s up to you to decide which are real and which are not. 

  1. My baby sister started chewing on my homework and got it all wet. My mom is ironing it flat at home. I’m sure it will be dry by tomorrow. 
  2. (a note from a parent) My daughter left her journal in her desk at school, and since we don’t have a pencil long enough to reach it from home, she couldn’t write her journal for today.
  3. I swear I did it, and I’m sure I put it in my backpack. You can even call my mom.
  4. My dad accidentally put it at the bottom of the bird cage by mistake. I don’t think you want it after the bird pooped on it.
  5. (while trying to do an assignment in a textbook in school) I can’t get this book to work. Every time I press on the page number, it doesn’t go to the next page.
  6. You never taught that to us.
  7. The page is smudgy and wrinkly because I couldn’t get my dog to eat it. 
  8. But my mom said I should call her if I forgot my lunch.
  9. I didn’t steal her pencil, and besides, I gave it back.
  10. My mom doesn’t let me do homework right after school, and then I had a baseball game later on.
  11. Two pages? I thought you only said one page.
  12. Homework? I didn’t know we had homework.
  13. I was absent the day you assigned it. 
  14. (before calling a parent about a student’s attitude) That’s not how you pronounce my name. It’s pronounced Da-Pache-ay.
  15. (after calling the parent, my excuse) I’m sorry, your son said it was pronounced that way.
  16. My dad’s car ran out of gas, so I had to walk to school; that’s why I’m late.
  17. All I remember is this bright light that appeared in the sky, and the next thing I knew, my homework had disappeared. 
  18. My mom always makes my lunch like that. 
  19. My sister was binge-watching her favorite show, and I had to keep her company, so I didn’t have time to read that chapter.
  20. You said we shouldn’t spend more than an hour a night on homework. Here’s a note from my mom: she said I didn’t have to do the math. 

What are some of the excuses that you have used or have been used on you?

Six of the ones I’ve listed are actually interactions that I had with people. The rest of those may have occurred or not, but I can’t remember a specific moment when or if they happened. 

If you respond to my writing, let me know which ones you believe are true. I’ll let you know how you did.

 

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