Tuesday, August 8, 2017

What Would My Lucille Say?

Mr. Ernest Gismondi met Lucille. They fell in love and married. She kept the home fires going while Mr. Gismondi served in the Army Air Corps as a pilot flying B17's during World War II. Following the war, he became a test engineer for United Technologies in Bridgeport and Stratford while he and his wife settled in the 1950s and raised their children in Newtown, Connecticut.
I met Mr. and Mrs. G., that's what I called them, when I was 15 because their son was my high school sweetheart. We'd get off the school bus near their neighbors and walk the worn path through the trees that bordered their back yards. We'd come up the back cement porch steps to enter the house. For as along as I've known this family, I didn't realize they had a front door until I was an adult. Everyone came in through the back. On the small porch, making my way to the door, I passed the little blue bench that had a basket filled with Mr. G's Yukon gold potatoes from his annual garden. Nailed up next to the door was Mrs. G's cloth bag filled with clothes pins. Monday was always laundry day. Outside the back door I wiped my feet on patches of old carpet where Mr. G's worn out garden boots sat. After school, we would be greeted with warm apple pie or peach pie or the absolute to die for, Father Sarducci cheesecake. Friday nights was one of my favorite meals at their home, homemade potato fries in the deep black cast iron frying pan along with steak.

Friday, August 4, 2017

Wounded Song is on Amazon!



SCROLL BELOW to see links for Amazon & Createspace eStore.

Hi everyone! As some of you know I have been working on a non-book that became a book. It is now Published!
please visit my new website: woundedsong.com to leave comments about the book (if you've read it).

my book

Wounded Song


is now available on Amazon and Createspace eStore!

AMAZON:   
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1548536342/ref=olp_product_details?_encoding=UTF8&me=

CREATESPACE eStore: 

BOOK LAUNCH: if you attend, there will be a limited supply of books available at the book launch. 

BOOK PRICE: $15.00 (cash only)

Book Launch August 18, 2017




Always, always and always I'm am grateful for the encouraging feedback I've received over the years that helped me to believe that my story mattered!

Saturday, July 29, 2017

Wounded Song is PUBLISHED today on Createspace eStore!

Hi everyone!

As some of you know I have been working on a non-book that became a book.
Today I hit the PUBLISH button!

please visit my new website: woundedsong.com to leave comments about the book (if you've read it).

my book

Wounded Song

is now available on Amazon and Createspace eStore!


AMAZON:   
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1548536342/ref=olp_product_details?_encoding=UTF8&me=

CREATESPACE eStore: 

BOOK LAUNCH: if you attend, there will be a limited supply of books available at the book launch. 

BOOK PRICE: $15.00 (cash only)

Book Launch August 18, 2017



Always, always and always I'm am grateful for the encouraging feedback I've received over the years that helped me to believe that my story mattered!

Tammy Sue Willey

Wednesday, July 12, 2017

book Wounded Song

Have you wondered where I've been? Where's another blog?

Well...I've been busy finishing up final details of a book I've been working on since 2009. A book I started writing just because friends said I should write a book. Not because I dreamed of being an author or thought I could do this. But to simply see what would it look like if I did.

Well, it evolved and took on a life of it's own since February 2009. The past 3.5 years have been the most arduous. 2013 I went to my first writers conference, totally out of my comfort zone. I've been involved with two writer's groups. 2015 I went to another conference and received a reference for an editor. 2016 I called the editor and we formed a relationship.  She put me through the ringer with her thorough analysis of my book. And her advice was just one aspect of editing. Who knew you could hire someone for structure or grammar, or content, etc. But you don't get it all at once, or you could but you'll pay for that too. The past 6 months have been honing in on cleaning up my book, yet again, for the umpteenth millionth time! The past 2-3 months I have been living and breathing the formatting (the technical layout, etc of the book) to prepare it for self-publishing.

I have done much research, burning the candle at both ends while working full time. I can't claim to have kept a clean house during this time but I have managed to feed my husband. He did say the other day, "Enough of this starving artist thing, I'm hungry!"

I've never done this before and right now I make no promises to do it again! I'm tired, exhausted, and feeling fat! The starving artist part didn't seem to work for me as well as for my husband.

A proof of my book came Monday, as in yesterday! Now I'm going through it one more time. This is very daunting, surreal, and exciting to see all these years of hard work in book form! If all goes well, I should be able to announce next week that it is available on Amazon.

In addition to the late nights for formatting, I have recently secured a domain name, email address and started a new website for my book. The website is still in it's infant stages but is accessible.

From this blog-look in the right side bar and see a link that says about Wounded Song. Click on it and it should take you to my new website woundedsong.com

Book related contact is:
Blog: woundedsong.com
Email: admin@woundedsong.com

I'm sorry this post isn't a blog blog, but I wanted to let you know what I've been up to.

Most of you know my story or bits of my story but so there is no mystery, my book is primarily about my abusive childhood. It shows how a kid can slowly dissolve and shut down during the every day life stuff of playing, going to school, church, etc. and eventually find healing with her parents.

If this topic interests you or you know someone you think might be interested, please share it with them. If you think you'd like to come to the book launch please let me know and if you're on facebook, let me know so I can send you the online event invite.

My book launch is:
If I haven't made it clear, I'm excited, I'm nervous, I'm nervous, I'm excited!
 
Thank you to everyone from over the years. You've supported and encouraged me by reading my blogs, giving feed back, cheering on my book, just putting up with me, or in one manner or other by being a friend even though I often said I can't come out to play because I have to work on my book. It has been part of the fuel that has kept me going when I wanted to burn my book and quit.
 
Thank you!
 
I will let you know when it is officially on Amazon!

Friday, April 14, 2017

Is Your Self Image Worth the Lies or the Victory of Hope?

Are you at the end of your rope? Do you believe the whisperer as he whispers in your ear you are dumb and will never amount to any good? Are you letting a bad day or month or year define who you are?

Have you lost all hope?
 
No one escapes the messages they received about their self-worth, their personhood. Messages come in all forms such as praise, edification, guidance, uplifting or perhaps destruction, lies, invalidation, tearing down, to name a few. Some messages were blatant while others were disguised.

Messages can be misleading. Perhaps they suggest that looks helped us to succeed in life, a job, a relationship, while others said we'd never make it, who'd want you, I disown you, you're stupid, too thin, too fat, too pretty, too ugly or you're trash.

The messages we receive, good or bad, often become the filter on how we see ourselves, the world, our job, our family, our friends, and perhaps even God. Some people know the message they received while others aren't sure or claim they don't have one.

And when our day is really bad, we might say, "Nobody understands me. Nobody understands my pain, knows what happened to me or what I've been through."

It is true that we are all unique and our pain is our personal story but it is also true that nothing is new under the sun, therefore someone will understand, at least a piece of your story. You just have to share.

But the enemy, the whisperer, makes us feel ashamed and so we hide or mask our pain and our stories with pride so we don't share. This is how the enemy divides and conquers. He separates us from the light and casts the shadow of dark doubt over us.

Wednesday, April 12, 2017

Grammy Barbara's Flannel Nightgown

I didn't know the week I spent with Grammy Barbara was going to be the last time I saw her in her home. My grandpa, Robert Gay, and Barbara moved to Venice, Florida when I was about 15. She was his second wife so we were taught to call her Grammy Barbara. I didn't think anything of that until one day she questioned why us kids didn't just call her Grammy. I didn't know either. Just following suit. I never knew her to be anything other than my grandmother so from then on I called her Grammy. When I was a little girl, she was the one who loved the cartoons I drew and made me feel creative, special and loved.

When my husband and I owned our youth sports photography business, we were asked to put together a photo kiosk and hire the help to run it for an old fashioned roller coaster that was being built outside of Fort Lauderdale. My husband basically lived in Florida for 6-plus months. Shortly there after I followed  and lived there roughly 4-months through mid-January.

The experience of being involved with a photo kiosk for an old-fashioned rollercoaster was something we had never done before. It was an adventure. We were entrusted with installing a photo kiosk to capture the thrill ride expressions of peoples elation, or screams, when going down the slope on a rollercoaster.  Not many people can say they did that. We're thankful for the experience and the many friendships made.
December 2000
Testing out my husband's photo booth
with Cyndi Jo and Bill who visited.
Dania Beach Florida is on the east coast and my widowed Grandmother was in Venice on the west coast. Living in Connecticut I didn't see her as often as I would have liked so I stole the opportunity in October 2000 to go visit and spend close to a week. I welcomed the solitude of the 3-hour drive which was roughly 200 miles across alligator alley. The landscape and the bird sightings were phenomenal.

This visit gave us a chance to get to know each other, now as adults, one on one, and meet some of her close friends who lived in the same trailer park. She had her favorite chair in the middle of her open space living room facing the T.V.. To the left of it was a little bathroom size waste pail where she collected her garbage. She didn't want the trash to pile high so her garbage was to go out every night.

Tuesday, March 14, 2017

The Day My Sister Died

Thursday March 25 was moving day. It was already a chaotic week due to a last minute move when Dad announced we were moving. But it all came together thanks to mom’s organization and perseverance coupled with, just do it, because she had two days’ notice to pack up a house and three little girls.


Moving day
March 25, 1971
Getting ready to follow the moving truck to our new home, I was privileged to carry my 3-month-old baby sister Sandra Gay from the house to the car where I placed her in the plaid car-crib that took up half the back seat. Mom showed me to how to support her new neck in the crook of my arm. Once I managed the cement steps and walked towards the car in our driveway, I was relieved I didn’t drop her. After I carried her something shifted in me, a sense of responsibility, a sense of protection, a sense that at seven-years-old I was the oldest sister and the oldest of three siblings.
The moving truck unloaded boxes into our new home while I ran back and forth to the car to check on Sandy. Taking to my new role as the oldest I bugged Mom to let me hold her. She insisted I wait till the movers had her crib set up. I’d run and stand on tip toes as I peered through the back car door window and watched her sleep as her baby blanket moved with each breath.
Finally mom said, “You can go get your sister now.” Excited I ran, opened the car door, and reached in to lift her out of the crib. As I picked Sandy up with her baby blanket, she looked and felt funny. I didn’t need to support her neck like hours earlier. She wasn’t the same soft baby and she had turned funny colors.
I ran to get Mom who broke down and sobbed hysterically as she told me to get my other sister Cyndi Jo, who was six, then she drove us to the hospital. Dad met us there after someone found him over the CB radio in town. The candy striper who was assigned to watch me and Cyndi Jo walked us through the halls of Danbury hospital while staff comforted my parents grief.

The move put me and my sister in a new elementary school midyear. I hated my 2nd grade teacher because she was mean and whacked my knuckles with a ruler. I wasn’t sure how I landed in this place. I was in a fog, a different town and a new home.

Sunday, February 26, 2017

What's Your Self Image Worth - A Red Dress?

Is your self image worth the lies or the victories?

OMGosh why do I always feel fat!

No one escapes the messages they received about their self-worth, their personhood. Messages come in all forms such as praise, edification, guidance, uplifting or perhaps destruction, lies, invalidation, tearing down, to name a few. Some messages were blatant while others were disguised.

Messages can be misleading. Perhaps they suggest that looks helped us to succeed in life, a job, a relationship, while others said we'd never make it, who'd want you, I disown you, you're stupid, too thin, too fat, too pretty, too ugly or you're trash.

The messages we receive, good or bad, often become the filter on how we see ourselves, the world, our job, our family, our friends, and perhaps even God. Some people know the message they received while others aren't sure or claim they don't have one.

For me, it wasn't until I got older and began asking questions about my past that I began to unravel some of the lies of my abuse. You might ask, if the abuse was real, how can it be a lie?  Well, the abuse was real. What wasn't real was the messages that I received from the abuse that imprinted a lie about my self-worth. False lies that will continue to skew my view of my life, if I let them. So instead, I choose to keep asking questions one step at a time in search of a different view.

Saturday, February 18, 2017

What's Your Self Image Worth - A Bowl of Onions?

Is your self image worth the lies or the victories?

No one escapes the messages they received about their self-worth, their personhood. Messages come in all forms such as praise, edification, guidance, uplifting or perhaps destruction, lies, invalidation, tearing down, to name a few. Some messages were blatant while others were disguised.

Messages can be misleading. Perhaps they suggest that looks helped us to succeed in life, a job, a relationship, while others said we'd never make it, who'd want you, I disown you, you're stupid, too thin, too fat, too pretty, too ugly or you're trash.

The messages we receive, good or bad, often become the filter on how we see ourselves, the world, our job, our family, our friends, and perhaps even God. Some people know the message they received while others aren't sure or claim they don't have one.

For me, it wasn't until I got older and began asking questions about my past that I began to unravel some of the lies of my abuse. You might ask, if the abuse was real, how can it be a lie?  Well, the abuse was real. What wasn't real was the messages that I received from the abuse that imprinted a lie about my self-worth. False lies that will continue to skew my view of my life, if I let them. So instead, I choose to keep asking questions one step at a time in search of a different view.

Sunday, January 15, 2017

The Cry of Faith at 1:11

Last Sunday a family in our community had a tragic accident with their 8-year-old daughter Marissa. Since then she has been unresponsive and clinging for life on earth. The family cried out for prayer. Ever since, our community has been holding their breath, praying, hoping, singing, believing, held a vigil as they’ve been uplifting little Marissa and her family.

Whether you know the family intimately, from church, work, from passing or other, you know them now if you’ve been privileged to read one of their many posts they’ve put out on Facebook.

If you’ve wondered why someone would follow a reality TV show, this is one of those times where this family’s reality is real as people have been allowed to spread the truth of their pain and faith.

If you’ve questioned the benefits of technology, this is one of those times where goodness spreads like wild fire as the FB page or email on my phone goes ding, ding, ding, as people continually share, write, and prayer for this family.

I’m one of those people that know of them but can’t claim to know them intimately, and still I’m affected. Their tragedy grabbed me. I have become swept up in the current of hope and prayer.

Think of all the people this family is touching by sharing their painful truth.

Think of all the people that can relate to some piece of their story.

Think of all the people that are crying. Isn’t it better to cry together, pray together, sing together and hope together?

Isn’t this making the light of truth shine brighter?

When I was seven I lost my baby sister. I lost a best friend at twenty, I watched my cousin die of cancer and we watched my mother-in-law pass after we pulled her from life support.