Urgent: Missing Cousin, please help!

A Wonderful update! She been found ALIVE She had a stroke while on the train going home and was taken to the hospital but was unable to communicate anything to contact family. The hospital never contacted anyone. She is still in intensive care so will have a ways to go before she is well. But she is ALIVE~! Thank you to everyone who prayed, thought good thoughts, and spread the word to help. Thank you!!!


Posting by her friend Maria De Ocampo

Maureen McCormick
Age: 54
Height: 5’6″
Weight: 135
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Hazel Green
No known health or mental conditions

She’s a good friend of mine and she has been missing since Wednesday, December 17, 2014. She was on her way to work that morning but never made it to work. She takes BART Del Norte stop in Richmond/El Cerrito area. She lives a short block away from the BART station. If you know where her whereabouts please contact Richmond Police Department @ 510-215-4400


The Hesitant Hand

I live in America, I feel safe. Or rather, I used to. Perhaps it is because I read the postings of too many electronic news now, concerned only with those of the latest hour. Anything over seven hours is considered stale to me, unless I am doing something investigative. As I sat to have a bite to eat and drink a lovely chi, I said a small prayer and prepared to cross myself as I came to the end of it. Nothing showy, just my usual quiet prayer. I hesitated. Images of someone coming and departing my head from my body suddenly filled my mind, screams of how dare I bluntly show my religion in secular surroundings. I made a very soft cross, a cross between what might be seen as shooing away a fly or sloppy cross. My head bowed a bit more in shame. What ever had come over me. The day was beautiful, I live in an area if different faiths. There was no real fear here. Yet I had wonder, how much longer will this freedom last? When will we become invaded? If Israel falls, will we be next? Is the fall of Christianity in the Middle East meaning the fall of Christianity and Judaism everywhere?

Do you think my fears extreme? I ask you, would you have thought the bombing in the twin towers garage would lead to the Jets of 9-11? We must not hide, we must not be shy. It is time for us to be bold and kind, and proclaim in action who we are. We will not stand for terrorism. We must help our neighbors, and know them. They also need to know US. Don’t hide, get to know people, their faith, their beliefs. War makes beastly animals of everyone. Peace is made by making humans of one another. Let us fight our own beastly natures and bring out our humane best.

In Christ our Lord, Amen.
Nancy Louise

A Mortal Sin Finally Absolved, The Murder Of A Small Soul

Sewage Cover
Sewage Cover

This is not written in mockery, nor is this some kind of Onion copycat against the Catholic Church. I am Roman Catholic and I do write this in all seriousness. I murdered a slug.

Now that some of you have either stopped snorting or simply changed the Internet channel. Let me give you the drama that lead to this whole misfortune. It was summer in the Northern California Valley, the kind people like to tease about cooking eggs on asphalt. Thing is most don't seem to show cooking one on an iron manhole, those get hot too, really hot. I also was cooking a hot temper that August. Ready to head back to school packing my pocket knife which had a blade just over 3 1/2 inches long. I was ready to start using on a few people who been hurting me for so long and who were going to follow me from one school Junior high to High school. I spotted a slug, innocent in some grass that had been watered. I focused on a face of some I hated and fixed it on the slug and placed the slug on the iron manhole baking in the afternoon sun.

I relished for a bare second then realized it was a slug and cried no! I grabbed it and desperately tried to help the creature. It died and it suffered by frying to death. Something inside of me broke and I cried for years. When I became Catholic wanted to be absolved. No one wanted to absolved me over a dead bug. I finally asked to be absolved of the anger to the people I pretended was the slug. On that I was, but I still felt for the slug. Until I had a dream.

In this dream I met another Catholic who been brought up in China and whose world view was very much one of seeing thing like Buddhist do, even if you are not. In his hand he presented to me the still dead slug.

This soul, do you not realized it was a small sacrifice for you?
What do you mean?
You had wished to do bodily harm to others. You carried great pain, anger, and hatred in your heart. You were already killing.
Yes I know.
What happened when the slug began to die?
I felt great anguished for making it suffer. It had done nothing to deserve this.
Just as Christ did for us. Yes Did you feel Compassion?
And the hatred?
Much anger and hatred was there but it was blunted. I suddenly remembered again that life is sacred.
Imagined if you had used your knife even once or even attempted it. How things might have been different for you?
Oh yes. So in a small way, that little soul died to help you save your soul so God can use your time here on Earth in better ways.
I turned to body in my hand. I am so sorry little one. Forgive me. Thank you for teaching me.
The slug healed then turned to its own kind of Earth soul and left.
I understand now. I am absolved at last. I thank you my brother in Christ for you help in this.
I thank you my sister in that I can be of service. Until in Christ we meet again.

When I awoke another puzzle fell in place. The sin was greater that I wanted to hurt the people yes. But it took a small innocent creature to sadly remind me, that while I am capable of causing harm, it is not the way of the cross which I hold dear. And it took a slug acting the part of Christ to remind of that. Two days after the slug died, my Parents stumble across a Catholic School in our neighborhood they never heard about. It was the answer to all their problems. I was mad about not being able to confront my enemies. God by then was moving things to put me in his service... As for the knife, I still have it. But it only cuts salami and pine branches for s'mores.

For the Contact Form, I am sorry. I tried hand coding and all that and I still can't get it right. If you want to use it, bear with me to delete my names and put in yours. Smile... Thanks...

Say What?

Norm Chomsky, B. F. Skinner, and others are names that tumble off lips of linguistics and behavior students and professors of language and its acquisition. Many will reference to these giants for all languages. My question is, who are those that are the giants in those that acquire language in a visual way? Many of these articles they have published are primary about with with no blocks to their acquiring the language of their environment. The studies are about how language is acquired and how can it be improved for those whom there may be issues in acquiring it or to use the environment and application of training to improve current methods in education. Even Dr. Spock was a part of all this. What interest me is these names come mostly from my generation of people. What about new thinkers? What if anything has been discovered in neural science?

I want to know more what is known about language about children who acquire language base on visual rather than audio. Why? My story is not typical of many deafen kids. “Exception to the rule” was something I heard pretty much all my life, and got sick of it. Still do. But so you do understand where I come from I will be clear and explain that I picked up English later than other children. While labeled profoundly deaf, I was able to make use of powerful hearing aides. Audiologist and others who worked with me are convinced I must of been born hearing. If  I was I have no memory of it or of learning to speak easily. My language was quite mangled and most consisted of pointing to things to get what I needed. Age six and half I obtained my first hearing aids and while I had home studies for speech I got my first professional speech therapist around second grade.  Reading I remembered suddenly made sense to me when a teacher showing my little brother how to read in kindergarten showed a picture of a ball, and the word, dog and a picture of a Cocker Spaniel. Suddenly I began to get the idea and opened a book near by with pictures of a ball and a dog.  Mom ended up bring home books like those for my brother. I began to use them too and remembered in time I figured out how to read, I was close to nine at the time.  Eventually I could read beyond my age group, but could not read aloud very well as many of the words I had no idea how to pronounce. I only was able to guess their meanings from context of sentences and because I was told to use the dictionary and encyclopedia a lot. So over time I did acquire language. I eventually got a BFA and MA in spite of the fact my parents were told they would be lucky if I could graduate high school by age twenty two and if I had children I would need help as they expected my mental development to be delayed as well. Even going to college was not encouraged, but I was stubborn and demanded a way in.

So how kids get language visually is of great interest to me as a teacher and as a student. I plan to write some blogs here about this. Not about various devices used to enhance sounds for deaf – hearing impaired children. Because frankly they still need to rely on visual abilities to gain access to language no matter how well they eventually learn to use the audio aspects of any device they may or may not use. For accuracy if anyone would like to point out some relevant information they found useful, please send me the information. I would also love to interview any Parents and their story of teaching their children access to language as well.

Nancy Louise

Slapping people is not nice!

First off, let’s us put up a small list of grievances I have received directed to my behavior. I who do my best to be a dear little angel who only blest. ( O.K. Friends of mine you can get off the ground and stop laughing now….)

1. I give my dog water to drink in a restaurant, from the same glass which will be washed will then be used by others…

He helps me so you don't have to...
He helps me so you don’t have to…

2. I am very insistent in getting answers to annoying questions people Try to evade me on…

image image

3. My acting cute and adorable gets on people’s nerves…


#3, you think I out grow this by now. After all I am over the age of five! But it works so well in getting me out of trouble! Humm maybe I need to get in less trouble and be more ‘old’? (Belch).

#2. Nope, not giving this one up, so knock that off your wish list for behaviors you wish I would change.

#1. This one, well it’s tough. I will make a point to bring HIS glass with me from now on. I was scolded in public recently for this by our waitress, after receiving a complaint seeing me give my dog water. She then informed me the glass had to now be destroyed so the customer would know it was not going back in with the others. When I protested that the glasses are washed, the waitresses said they could be sued for breech of hygiene. I became very quiet and compliant. And said I was quite sorry. Ironically, the number of things we can catch from a dog then washed glass is far less than we can from each other. But perception is often 90 percent of how the law is applied. So I will give him water from cups I bring in. The public perception of people with service dogs has been badly damaged by those who broke the law just to bring their pets in with them.

So I am going to put out a plea to all dog lovers, animal lovers etc. Next time you want to bring your pet into an establishment forbidding animals, DONT. PLEASE DONT. You will not only be hurting us, but yourselves as insensitive dog dolts dummies who bring their flea bags every where. Even when they are not. Those who have medical service animals, please keep up with their training. Not only for your own safety, but for others of us in your community.

That is my Christmas Wish for us all, that we get along, people and their loving dogs (or ponies, or felines, etc.).

Memory Roll


Rolling Hills of Ages Past.

A scent of burning pine, whorls in the wood patterns on the pine knotted walls, murmurs of voices I can not understand, a baby nestled in my arms asleep, my first born son. I am at my Parents house and I am a mother. God Almighty I am a Mother, something I swore I never become, but here I am, married and with our baby. The fire place burns nice and efficient burning bright and with eco-design it does not waste the energy of heat up the chimney. For once in the family, things are peaceful and I have the rare contentment of Christmas. My son is three months old.

One year later, I hold in my arms, our second son. My husband has made the nurses on the floor fall in love with him. He has while I slept decorated the room in near darkness and brought all the presents from Church folks (did not even know about this!) for me to see when I wake up. Festoon with silly paper ornaments and felted elf shoes and one small portable Christmas tree the size of a shoe box sits by the hospital window. Our oldest is brought from the Baby Sitter to meet his brother again. He is so happy to see his Mom he comes rushing up onto the bed (with help), then stops, mad. Because he had not seen me for several days (pneumonia for a week in the hospital), I acknowledge his feelings and tell him I am sorry, he lands with a leap in my arms. Our youngest, fat cheeks and all, sleeps away his first Christmas, he is two days old.

Twenty years later. I live in a dusty house, dirty floor with a bad back and bummed knee. The kids are grown, the husband is out on his own for now. I sip my tea. Christmas tree is still unadorned, but there are presents sitting pretty. Spice tea wafts around me, a fat kitty keeps me warm. My two boys laugh and plan Christmas dinner, and time worn family, keeps rolling on as do my memories.

Cry-borg Children

(a short short for 1,000 prompts Amazon Contest)

By Nancy Louise McCormick-Kovacich

A somewhat loud sniff made her stop, she realized she had made the noise. She hastily wiped her face of tears and snots. Carefully putting the tissue in a pocket that process the bio matter into energy to run the suit.
“Get a grip, the information must be design to test my training.” Then she had to pause. All she and her brother ever did was scout the abandon shipping crate area left over from the meteor shower wars. Well, some kids called it the war, sure looked like it in the ID-vids.
The streaming information in her right perennial vision was distorted. On her left was the low battery warning she been ignoring, she tried to remember if the back up was charged. Shaking her head vigorously seemed to help. No matter all the denials by neuron-specialist who put such things in selected people. Field work always brought out the kinks and sometimes the junk moves people did to fix it on the fly. That why they had the two of them doing this, working out kinks so other little kids got better upgrades. I mean they were poor and brown skin, so they had a way to pay for the tech that help them see and hear. Seemed fair enough of a trade.
A headache was forming and there was no pain dampener. No surprise with her head shaking, doing the dang every few moments. She shifted her shoulders a bit, testing the padded back pack. In it contained two precious packages weighing twenty stones heavy. It also bulged and made it hard to to keep it from being shot at. Who was shooting? The package was not that precious. Maybe draco drug eggs or something be worth the animo. Heaving a quiet mental sigh, she shook her head again to adjust the sensors. Tying her two long pigtail into a square knot in the back, she darted across the under path of the old freeway again.
Midway, bright sunshine of a cold winter day, like in a cathedral or forest sacred spot. she wait a bit to adjust the vision of the ‘ruins’ as locals called it. Nothing grand about this dump though. Being in the noon day, a shaft of light shown down between the old freeway over pass. Never mind that it was really summer, winter had gripped most of the planet since the meteor wars. It was going to take a generation, so the speeches said, to get back some normal weather. Mostly the metal shipping crates that had been set up for emergency homes. It was still not known what had crashed in the Ort Cloud years ago, sending a slew of rocks through out the solar system. It was found that while not everyone could get underground, freeways and reinforced buildings were able to provide some small protections for those that could not access to the underground. Metal objects caused her sensors to work over time trying to sort out all the details, perfectly damned, many hiding places.
Sensors, such as they were, showed the area was clear.
“Humph” was her response. It only meant it was clear of animated bio matter, not much more. Anyone else suited up like her, could send false signals. She touched a tab on her jacket of her own military inspired design. Helped to color/mask her body sounds, scents, and wear. Sometimes help, sometimes made her look like a dumb clown. Her dark figure crept, she stumbled from a ground depression. Took every nerve not to scream out in pain from her displaced hip. Never did heal right. She became very quiet. There, sound wave map showed movement being alerted and moving closer to her.
Five hundred feet to get out of here, but nine hundred to back track. Pushing ahead seemed the best efforts. She could see the house, vivid yellow Victorian festoon with painted roses and gold painted Flour de lis and gingerbread scrolls all over. A bastardized version of a five designs, from three hundred years ago. Put up by none other than her Mom and tolerated by everyone else. It stood out like a crappy thumb some neighbors said, but to herself, it was a sign of something honest and real glorified nature. Did anyone remember simple nature anymore? That was the biggest reason she came here, she loved to find plants struggling to survive here, and dug them up to put them in their own garden.
Not today though, those shots taken at her could ruin the package. She had to get the package home, everything depended on it. Not to mention her hip. Using some touch methods, she slightly numbed her hip so she could at least stand or move it. Taking another trail, she quietly climbed the side of metal crate she been hiding behind. Foot holds found using gecko tech turn on by her suit. She dare not go top side, that would bring her in full sight, instead she simply crept along the side. Then with turbo jumpers she leaped to the next one and with practice ballet training, landed softly. She check her nutrients, just as she was afraid of, the work was taking most her metallic elements. She pulled out a chew of digestible energy and drank from her bio fluid pack. Nothing tasty, just basic food, in other words, yuck. Checking the left sensors again, it suddenly blinked out.
‘No!’ a panicked whispered, deaf and blind as at birth. A sense of smell and touch she was born with, was still hers. She slowed down her heart, remembered what she saw. Then with a leap of faith she went ahead and scampered the next four crates, feeling at least one dazzle dart hit her arm and near the package. Others were streaks of angry heat as they passed by, over and even under her at times. Then she entered out into the open and sunshine, where normally, such activities cease, for fear of alerting the authorities. Within moments by solar recharge, she got some of her basic survival senses back.
“You idiot.” she cussed herself, forgetting to reboot again last night, “geeze.” She grabbed her crippled hip and limped home. The stairs were too much, so she took the external ‘vator to the back entrance kitchen. She knew she was filthy but she wanted her mom to get the package.
“Kathy! Oh dear god, you playing “Catch and Snitch” again? That game going to get you more banged up than when you were born you child. Now, my flour?”
She reached into her back pack and pulled out the two bulky packages she carried home. Proudly showing her Mom. Mom however made a face with a look of ‘oh dear’.
“You got Presto-Sugar and Wheat/Rye flour. Great for pancakes, pasta, beer making, but not so much for sugar cookies for the party.”
“But the sensors….” Kathy started then stopped, and she felt a breeze as she brother came in.
“Hi Mom, here ya go. I saw clumsy here getting the wrong stuff so…” Kathy shoved her face into his.
“Blaze Darts, it was you, whatever!”
“What? No I was protecting you!”
“My jacket got a scorch mark.”
“No I didn’t, I mean, uh….”
“Markus Wallaby Johansen, you did NOT tag your sister with that!” Snapped Mom.
“Uh, well, uh. Maybe by accident?” He shrugged, tried to look like a sweet three instead of thirteen. Mother was not mollified.
“OK, both of you are grounded. Kathy charge down to basic sensors and power up your batteries please. Mark, the same. Now scat, get out of here, I got cookies to make. Go on, shoo!”
Marked signed “what is wrong?”
“Mom is accused of being a spy, maybe Dad too.”
“No way!”
“I know, so who was shooting at me? Those were live darts.” Mark checked the scorched jacket and sniffed it.
“Professional, not homemade either. Mom, coming, we need to get under now.”
With practice in each of their rooms they striped down to their basics and laid on the bio-operated beds. In quick sequence, they were deeply asleep. They never heard their muffled yell from their Mother, nor saw the troops enter the house and incased them in coffin like cases.
“Transport ready captain.” said one solider.
“No my Babies!” their Mother cried out.
“You are a traitor to your country.” spoke the Captain.
“What? What are you talking about.”
“The price is your children are now scripted to be send to the Ort Cloud for classified work.” Just as quickly she was injected and slumped.
Take her and her husband to security. They have high skills we need. Killing would be a waste.