Carmen JimersonCross-Safieddine
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At home, wading through life.
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Stories (54)
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SOLILOQUY (excerpt)
LAYING THERE ON HIS BACK STIFF AND UNMOVING no one would have known that he was expected to get up again. No one except the people who randomly visited his bedside. Bright lights overhead were turned on and off as though Jaylon would need to see anything. His eyes were taped over with gauze and surgical tape. A tube ran into his nostrils and one down his throat. Wire probes attached to his forehead and seemed to extend from every extremity and oriface except his ears. A woman in white edged toward him from down the hall, tablet in hand, talking under her breath to a man walking at her side, "He can be sent to," she glanced toward the ceiling to read metal placards with letters and numbers on them, "...he'll go to the North Wing, Level five... room 523. There should be a nurse ready to assist with transferring him to his permanent bed and finishing paperwork." The man next to her, a tall thin asian with clearcut features and dark tanned skin nodded briefly before speaking, "I will let the family know that he's a lucky man. We have pumped his stomache and are administering IV fluid to rebuild his body fluids to wash the drugs he's taken out of his system. If they'd waited minutes later, he'd be on the lower level right now, at the morgue. We could not have helped him. Now it's just a waiting game to have him want to come back this way fromthat heavy trip he's taken," Two male nurses appeared fromthe opposite end of the corridor, grasped the end of the gurney, raised the guardrails at each side and pulled him out into the long hall toward the elevators. The woman in white returned to the wide counterspace at the center of another corridor to pick up another file and clipboard. The handsome asian followed the other medical staff toward the elevator to escort Jaylon to his temporary home away from home.
By Carmen JimersonCross-Safieddine3 months ago in Psyche
MOTIVATED
WE WERE NEARING THE END OF A LONG JOURNEY TOWARD BEING DONE whith child rainsing and, for the kids, being grown up. High school was seeing graduation of the last in-house "child" and within a few months, college days would see an end for a single mom. It could not be said that it had been an "easy haul," for our paths were each laid with life nukes... those little things that tend to block progress of every kind. Divorce had been the first. Upheavals in paternity visits and paternity rights in court became second runner up, but lost interest to the favor of the intervention of an added birth creating a third paternal claim under a "new lady" added on. That set my household free from the stress of appearing for weekend visits, and started our race toward becoming "something" admirable. Admirable being something of a small family business operation... "YARDS TO MEASURE"... something the three of us could handle. Bookwork, accounts and equipment doing lawns and gardens for locals and any distance reachable with the vehicle gifted me by my father... a leather lined Monarch Ghia. The luxe model of a Ford Granada. I couldn't trade it for a pick-up truck and could not get the necessary downpayment for a sepearte vehicle to use strictly for business. I needed a "SUGGA DADDY" for that, according to the men at every auto dealership. I would have to go to college and approach independence from a different angle. The kids stayed that plan alteratoin with me and attendedmost college classes with me at the infrequent annoyance to other students.
By Carmen JimersonCross-Safieddine3 months ago in Blush
PENDULUM of Time
THE BRIGHT LIGHT AND CORD SWINGING OVERHEAD, a small voice backed by a low "aroo rooh" in the background all worked together to pull my eyes open to a squint. A cold nuzzle at the side of my thigh by the live-in dog, and the few quick pokes to my ribs by the boney finger of a twelve year old forced an agonized but entertaining "ooph,"response doled too often of late. Too often, too early in every day's morning at 2:30, I was called awake for a drive across town to deliver or pick up a working soul. The light cord swung like a pendulum morning after morning reminding me that time was passing like a wasted river; passing unused and without purpose for anyone or anything. Short of buying time for those I seemed to have corralled within the walls of my own time and the many walls that lock us... me and them... inside; I labor to rationalize their escape... and my own at their success.
By Carmen JimersonCross-Safieddine12 months ago in Longevity
LEFT ALONE
"FALLEN IN AND OUT AND IN AND OUT and away from whatever I found, I was still searching for what would make me myself... satisfied with myself. I needed to be satisfied with my choices, satisfied with my environment," the chattering stopped for a moment before returning in a quieted chat within her own mind. While starting over was as easy as walking out the door, the decision was never finalized until after life had begun. Seven times started over. Seven times, life begun, and begun and begun... but I never held on to the life I started. Words flowed emptily into the airspace around her head, "It was easier to leave it all behind." Bone thin pallid arms swung out in demonstration, "...I wasn't made for the cooking and the cleaning, and the working only to turn my pennies over to someone or something else... " A cigarette flung itself across cement pavement, "...wasn't gonna make me happy. I was looking for my self."
By Carmen JimersonCross-Safieddineabout a year ago in Families
TEST DRIVE
THERE WAS ONLY ONE RULE... DON'T OPEN THE DOOR. There was a nagging thought in the back of my mind somewhere past the left brain, and a definite weight on the right; but It was the pertinent issue at hand. He pushed his arm forward to leave the building with the keys handed him by the service agent. A nod and glinted eye from the man across the room gave him courage to push one leg in the same direction and he was gone. Back inside the RV, the group was waiting for him to return with a price quote. He handed it over to the man in the wheelchair. He also handed him the keys. As he stepped toward the toilet room he heard the engine of the motorhome start. As it did, the doors locked... a mechanism designed for safety of the inhabitants. Seconds later the RV was moving, rolling toward the voyage of a test drive. Prostate issues kept him moving and darned if he couldn't remember what the man had said when he dropped the key into his hand. Whichever the word, Sammy, the man in the wheelchair, could handle his own needs and Veteran Affairs was giving him the money to buy this thing if they liked it. From the toilet room window he could see trees and traffic whizzing past. His bladder was not answering the immediacy of his own needs. Sammy and George could handle the drive around the cloverleaf entry and exit on the highway, and he hoped not to miss the view and excitement of the dashboard panel options. The RV sped up snatching him from the toilet seat causing him the throw his arms up to brace against a fall. As he did he smeared a small bit of feces and stood to wipe it off the wall. Minutes later he exited the room staggering toward the other three men near the front end. "Hey man, this thing is what we need! Ya know... there's thatthing my guy got goin on downstate somewhere..." He fumbled through his pockets for a note, "...here it is. It's a gig to last about a month or so." The faces looking back at him were reassuring enough to go on; "There's $25 thousand or so for the roles of cameo and a stand-in." "That's each man. No lines. The stand-in gets some movement role... I can't... I don't remember what they said but this is where we got to go for those to sign on. They just got to get a look at ya to decide if ya look like what they need.. youknow how that works. Sammy. that chair is your ticket in." Sammy's head slipped a bit as he struggled to be a part of the group and watch the road." Veteran Affairs was known to adapt vehicles for disabled veterans... as needed. This test drive would give him an idea of how to fill out his form.
By Carmen JimersonCross-Safieddineabout a year ago in Humor
AFFIRMATION
SUNDAY MORNING THERE WERE GREY HOLES IN ENDLESS NUMBERS HOVERING ABOVE OUR HEADS in a none other than ominous demeanor... as gaping lips of funnel clouds, waiting. Blueness of a sky above was invisible beyond them. It was as though the grey pits loomed as a vacuum for souls taken and yet to be carried away for their ills done and yet undone. I waited beneath them for the change, but the stillness predominated. Nothing was uplifted and nothing fell from the above, yet there was a heavy feeling to the space around me and everything in vision's reach. Was I waiting for the vision so many have alluded for all the eras of mankind? Hours passed, six in the break of morning out of the night, until half past seven, nothing moved above the slow traffic of sparse automation along paved roadways. I sat, bit into egg and bread, sipped juice and the heavens sat idle. I snapped image after image to capture anything missed in my gazing up at the would be nothing... except grey billowing holes. To stare into the abyss of those proved nothing, brought nothing and gave nothing. There was nothing except the thoughts racing through my mind, and perhaps the mind of any other one witnessing the stillness of that hour on this Sunday. Of late, I dared not pray out loud and avoided any related mannerisms and gestures to be read as a religous, racial, gender placed or sexual conotation idealized by haters of today's society. There are so many haters who hate intensely enough to void their own emotives, cancel their mainstay for enjoyment and comradery... call end to a "glee club", void the "Goodwill club" and cancel opportunites for "ON MY OWN TIME." Those are they that relish the re-enactment of all failed historic events; even those complained about in the many religious manuals. So much of the world population has grown impatient and tired of waiting for God's justice and resolution. They have grown tired of hearing of injustices by mankind to in favour of one branch of humankind over those others who suffered similar travesty. Tired of the partiality reflected for race against race when God's promise ensured so much more. I waited beneath the obvious recount of sins. And so, I sat watching the overhead, waiting. Nothing moved... until well after seven. The sky shifted to the north and slightly east. The move affected no tree or bird on wing, nor did it take the lingered holes out of their posted shape. They simply shifted as a whole. By seven thirty the sun peeked through the greyness in the shape of a heart shining from on high and it was over. The audible sound of tires rolling, birds cawing and sounds of people chattering as they walked along a short path ahead of themselves. A car on the pavement ahead of me read, "He's coming back." As I digested the intent and purpose of the car owner's mind and message, I thought to myself. "We learned as early as early as Sunday School in our grandfather's church, that everyone is guilty of sins and that in spite of those sins, HE IS COMING BACK."Assuming the "he" referred to on the back window of that Sunday morning vehicle meant Jesus or God... anyone with half a thought of his or her own would wonder "Why would anyone return after such harsh treatment with the support of his or her own people, his own "kou" that condemned him in his own time and still do in this hereafter. For all these others who have watched them and the few who immulated those who would condemn "Him" stand waiting beyond that "judgement" spoken of for the GOD of condemning populations to hurry back and save all humanity. Would it be better not to be chasing the dream melded by those incapable of that first original compassion? Is it a better stance to be so expectant of a return, only after having promised ones life to be OTHER THAN LIKE THOSE of such a selfish demeanor. Is it better to be ever watchful, to be compassionate toward others "as we would have done toward ourselves," to "forgive the shallowness of mindset held by others" but KNOW where illness of heart and manner lay. Be a reflection of the intended and not the damned. I returned home to make breakfast... pancakes, sausage and eggs over easy with maple syrup. He could "Come Back"... nothing happened beneath the holes in the firmament on Sunday morning.
By Carmen JimersonCross-Safieddine2 years ago in Photography
VACANT PROPERTY
VACANT AND LISTED WITH A CATCH. The two hundred year old county building was offered at an asking price of only $99,000 via Remax Realty. An additional tease was added by the Realtor/Broker that the successful buyer should provide the agency with their idea for repurposing the building from an expired use courthouse and jail constructed during the end of slavery in United States and Canada. The first of its origin in the area, it was situated within the end destinaton of so many who sojourned north during the late 1800's to find new life and freedoms in the Canadian Northlands. Sydenham was where those traveling the rails of the Underground Rail Road traced the stars to find. Sydenham is where stowaways from ships across the Atlantic found initial sanctuary in their new world. It was the first courthouse and jail in Sydenham.
By Carmen JimersonCross-Safieddine2 years ago in Art
THE HARDER THEY FALL
MAYORS COME AND GO especially when burdened with an era of dilema from a prior administration. That is not to say thatcarrying off a resolution of any prior political height is not accomplishable by an incoming entity; but it reads like an open book, specific to women of color.
By Carmen JimersonCross-Safieddine2 years ago in The Swamp
FASHION SAAVY
IRIS APFEL SET THE STAGE, usually seen in her large circle lens eyewear, for the unimaginable in older women's "fancy style." She was the "unexpected." She brought life back into the "absent years." She awakened courage in women who had spun their wiles long ago, so long ago in their lives that worries and time washed self worth further away than just "under the rug." When a majority of women, tired from the winner's lot of "equal rights" to tow the rope (regardless of how heavy or how taut) noticed women in their own group by age status, it was "the bomb." It brought an awakening of encouragement for older women. Enter Iris Apfel... an aged "come to surface" fashioning model, clothing statement desinger. Iris Apfel was outstanding in her regalia of shocking color and textile. She ignored the issue of age and poured life in the streets, onto film and more recently, on the New York runways among the rich and famous as defined by film and screen. They announced that she had won by sheer bravado in her fashion design and wit for combining the auspicious elements of accent. Her four inch round lenses on eyewear, heavy layers of unimagineable ornament scaled beads... some in precious metals and pearls... complimented by scarves, hats and bracelets all carved a niche not discovered by Hollywood and it's prestaged closets. She was fashion rebirthed.
By Carmen JimersonCross-Safieddine2 years ago in Longevity
INTRUSION
I HAD TO LEAVE FOR TRAINING. It was our weekend and either it had to be a double day and one night away from home; or a double drive both ways from the apartment on campus to the military base... what normally consisted of only a one and one half hour drive. For me, it was always well over two and one half hours. I was ever mindful of the painful vehicle injury I had recently sustained in a military convoy. I took the "other than express" routes there and back. At times I tended to misplace the front entry gate to the military base... if I entered the area from the wrong direction. It was all a daze but necessary to fulfill my "obligation." Many times I dripped into the golf course entry gate from the Clinton River boat launch and fishery section of town. It took me a long time to make the trip. I decided to trust my teenage son with the task of "holding down the house" while I was off to work. After reassuring his food rations for three days, and his security links to emergency contacts off campus and the phone number to reach me in an emergency, I left for the miltary base up north.
By Carmen JimersonCross-Safieddine2 years ago in Education
Do NOT RECORD ME
"THE SYLLABUS GIVEN OUT YESTERDAY... err, umm in our last class gave you the list of materials needed to accomplish this course in INTRODUCTORY COMPUTING. You will need access to the computer lab and reference materials in the campus library that can not be removed." The speaker began scribbling on the broad blackboard at the front of the room. "My name is Morrey... and if my last name sounds familiar, it should tell you where I'm from. I am an INTERMEDIARY INSTRUCTOR. I'm here from Israel... not a travel teacher. I am not a travel teacher," he was interrupted by an anxious student. "Mr Morrey... how long is this class going to actually be? I have some important research items to get in order for a chemistry class?" The speaker frowned a furrowed brow and showing the displeasure of being interrupted, looked up and out to his challenger's seated location. He spoke again, "This won't take long. We are going to start with knowing who we are. You know who I am, now it's your turn. Every day seating for this class will be the seats you have chosen to take and now, beginning with our "anxious classmate" give a brief introduction of yourself... name, major and the reason you elected my classroom." Students began the round robin revelation of identity... "I'm Mack... Construction Specification... this class is an elective for the Business Management focus." The next seat brought out Melony... Travel Planning... Office Management. The next found Shira Fawslii... Fashion Design... Computerized Office Management. The next had Farah Fawslii... sister of Shira... Fashion Design... Office Management/College of Business. The introductions spanned an entire half hour of the day's scheduled plan. The far end of the room now brought Carmen Cross-Safieddine... Land Use Planning and Analysis... Geo/Geography in coalition with Air Force Civil Engineering program. The instructor's eyes sparkled and his head snapped to the direction of her voice as the student seated next to her began to speak, Damon Rodgers... Economics in Business... College of Business. The last three students ran their information as the instructor tipped across the floor to the area of their seating. "Jailani Kenyatta... International Business Economics... College of Business." "Cerile Djaiwan... World Economics... College of Business." "Kenya Jackson... Introduction to Office Management... this course is an elective." By the close of the last student's introduction, Morrey was waist deep in the crowd of twenty seven seats placed semi-circle around the instructor's desk. As he stepped sideways through the last aisle, Morrey spoke again, "It's is good to know who we are meeting with on a frequent basis... in this class will be very familiar with our own selves and others in the room; our skills and determinations." He leaned toward the desk of Carmen Cross, gazing into her face trying to capture a return gaze. Saying nothing, he raised a knee onto her desktop, leaned across the desk and grasped an amulet at the end of a necklace that draped midbosom at the collar of her blouse. Raising a second knee to kneel on top of her desk and leaning down to peer into her face as if he were about to kiss her, Morrey was caught off guard by several disgusted student objecting to his behavior. As Carmen Cross leaned down and away from this peculiar mannerism, the man seated next to her bumped Morrey's shoulder with an open palm in a secure thrust. "Hey man" Mack spoke up, "...This is a long day start of classes for me, Are there anymore otes for computing or are you done?" As the Fawslii sisters gasped and two other women in class chuckled, Kenyatta spoke out, "That's enough theatrics, man. Is there any real reason for this class or not? We have to critique the instructors you know." Carmen Cross spoke up, "Maybe this act is just what we have to look forward to from a teacher fresh out of ISRAEL. That was the point, wasn't it... introducing our selves? We are showing who we are? This is a demonstration of our intention for "taking this class... the Morrey Kramer computing course? I don't need the class... this is a refresher for me. I have already had introduction to computing... not at this campus, but I feel reintroduction to a subject now and then is good for skills enhancement. This is the first class of any category where agression is a skill to be made not of. I did not think to bring protection to class with me... do I need to practice defense in the classroom?" She picked up her pen as he slid back off the top of her desk and the man next to her pushed the instructor's hand away from her breasts. Carmen gulped in a breath of fresh air in the regained distance between her assailant and herself. Morrey turned and sauntered back to his desk and the blackboard. His face slightly flush and one hand straightening his hair, he lifted a stick of chalk to the board and scribbled the name of his course again... COMPUTING 101. He found his voice again, "I expect each of you to schedule an in person computer lab session to produce the first three tasks on the syllabus. Anything else today?" The other women giggled and shifted their books into their arms, a few other students stood to leave. The Fawslii sisters readied to stand and before he could speak again Morrey's classroom was half empty of anyone waiting for more dramatic acting. The instructor spoke, "I'll see you all back here next Monday!"
By Carmen JimersonCross-Safieddine2 years ago in Education
AMMONIATED
I STOOD PERFECTLY STILL AS I WAS TOLD TO DO. As I stood there, the dental scanner circled my head nearly hanging up in it's orbital trip of my head's circumference. To help out, I flinched a bit but was called back to stillness by the orthodontists insistent stammer, "stand still! ...Stand still... we'll have to get another round." He called back to the girl managing the scanner, "Run another one." She stepped back into the xray room to change my bitewings once and then again, on a later occaision when the machine could not pass around my head without hanging up. "Your head miss... your head seems to be a bit swollen. Let's reschedule this. Where are these going to again? How long do you have to get then in?" I wriggled fingers in the air to notify her that my mouth was still gagged by dental supplies. After releasing the gag cards from mmy teeth and cheeks, I told her that the military unit I was attached to insisted on the medical file being completed before next training date... in the next two weeks. It was after hours, and we were the only two left at the office, when she got a good reading but she managed to insert one last set and extend the rotor dimension for the scanner for a clear set of dental xrays. When she re-entered the room to release me from the interlocked boards set around the inside of mouth she asked about the "glow." It was not an expected sight of radiated light emitted by the dental xray machine or the lighting for an otherwise darkened medicalphotography area. She had turned out most light that was not emitted by themachine itself. The light she referred to was a bright green glow like that benerated by alien life forms so sought after by earthlings in and out of the "Roswell" top secret site run by NASA and the Central Intelligence Agency. The "green glow" that hovered about me, coaxed by the dental xray set up was surely something not anticipated. I mentioned my career focus in the military... Civil Engineering. That was nothing to raise a dander over. There had been an ammonia spill at the engineering office and the machines were down with a myriad of projects coming due. What we could not complete during a training session, the civilian sector would have to work through the details to complete. The Ozalid machine, the oldest of two machines in our section, was spilling the liquid and pouring excessive fumes from both the processing of work and the leakage created by its broken elements. Only two personnel were subjected to the small sideroom to run the designated sheets... three of one set and five to ten of each another set of ten reworked plans. Dawn was not set to the print room, she was ordered to "hone her skills for upcoming training at the tech school" and was being preserved for that. Two others arrived late and were spared for that cause. Rob and I took the dive swinging one after the other for one hour intervals of ammonia gas immersion... we were trained for that in basic, right? I mentioned the gas to the woman weilding dental cards into and out of my mouth.
By Carmen JimersonCross-Safieddine2 years ago in Humor
