UPDATE: NEW "LETTERS FROM SUSAN".

UPDATE: NEW "LETTERS FROM SUSAN."
A few weeks ago, I published a letter from an ol' college friend, Susan, right here in this blog. Her current challenges were inspiring, because she refuses to give up, and bravely--as always-- shoulders on.I think kids, you'll find her as outrageously witty, tender, and inspiring as I did.


Just got back from a job interview at a urologist's office. Keep your fingers crossed. The lady I interviewed with seemed to like what I had to offer. It would be a $5 per hour increase from what I'm making at Walmart. You'll laugh about the following:

I was painting a the inside of a house when I got the message that she wanted to interview me today. It was 3 p.m. and she wanted to see me at 4 p.m. No time to get home to get clothes, especially with the monsoon that tore through the area right as I got the call. Lucky that the house I was painting belongs to a friend who is about my size. I cleaned up, got dressed in a reasonable outfit of elastic waisted scrub pants and a short-sleeved top. The ensemb' was finished off with a pair of white nursing oxfords I found in the back of the closet. A bright yellow poncho completed the effect I had half an hour to get there through the pouring rain and a chronically fogged windshield (A/C's out).

While walking into the building, I notice that my right leg seems taller than the other, and almost feels like . . . like, oh darn -- I look down and, sure enough, I'm wearing a pair of white nursing shoes alright, but their respective mates are back in the closet AND THE RIGHT ONE HAS A HIGHER HEEL THAN THE LEFT. "Okay," I think, "I can just bend my knee a little as I walk and maybe she won't notice." I hobble onward. As I walk, the left shoe feels more and more uncomfortable - almost like there is an insert or orthotic inside. "Great, I got one of Peg's special arch support shoes." Somehow I will overcome this. I am determined.

I get to the office and fill out the form. I go to put a slip of paper in the front pocket of the scrub pants - and the pocket is not there! It's in back! MY PANTS ARE ON BACKWARDS! It's almost time for my interview AND THERE IS NO TIME TO CHANGE!
She calls me back to the office, and I try to pull off a confident sure-footed walk while pulling the back of my shirt over the front of my pants. I then gallantly begin my job interview where I am determined to show them what an organized, forward thinking, responsible person I am.

End of story - the interview went well. She senses I may be the person she is looking for. I may be called back for a second interview with the doctor. She has a couple of more people to interview, so say a prayer, keep your fingers crossed, light a candle and burn some sage. I'll know by Monday.

Final funny. When I got home and removed the uncomfortable left shoe, I discovered my foot had been resting alongside a rather large, rather hard, plastic clothes pin.

Sigh . . .
Love ya.
will write more later.
Susan



And then, I (Lisa Allender) received this letter from Susan, just two days later, with this in the subject line:



The lady I Interviewed With, Got Fired.

The office still knows I am interested in working there. And now they are very, very short-handed. I am so disappointed - she gave every impression that I was to meet with the doctor today. She even said at the close of the interview that they would love to have me work there.

I keep looking for the golden lining in this cloud of a life, but all I find is more raindrops.

Love you,
Susan

Once again, Susan manages to detail her disappointment, but always with a sense of hope. Finally, the letter to me (Lisa),below, details her dark history, but also describes the triumphant ending which she herself is creating!Thank you, everyone, for your comments at Lisa Allender Writes. As you'll see, I'm not the only one who appreciates them!

I just read the comments on my letter in your blog. Wow! People are really supportive, and I want to thank them for their words of encouragement. Several of them pointed out something I have thought long and hard about -- my marriages. I always wanted a home, a family, the give and take of a relationship that could stand tall through the tough times and rejoice in the little triumphs. Life and all that we that know is not perfect. I mourn the fact that I may never share with a loved one the joy of growing old and more imperfect with each passing year.

My first marriage was my best. We were the best of friends. We dated and eventually lived together for years before "tying the knot." Church was the center of our lives. I converted to Catholicism and loved (and still love) the rich meaning every part of the mass held. Towards the end of the marriage he did some things that disgust me to this day. I couldn't stand the hypocrisy of his holy behavior in church and his awful behavior at home. After much soul searching and counseling, I left.

Ten years later I married again. I had no hint of the violence of which this man was capable while dating and engaged. He was a retired executive and community leader and was well trusted by others. I realize now that his enraged attack on me and my cat may have been the first hint of a degenerative brain disease that eventually killed him 2 years ago. I put him in jail and lived in a battered woman's shelter for awhile. It was in that place, with the windows covered with foil and security camera's outside that I realized it is not enough to survive tough times, you must triumph over them. I ate my meals by dipping a knife in baby food and sliding it between my teeth. I did chores. I attended counseling sessions and talked with other bruised and saddened women, and tolerated their children who played violent-tinged games. The same hurt look was in all of our eyes. Then one day, while washing our mis-matched dishes after a wonderful dinner of chicken stew, I began to sing to myself. I hadn't done that in so long. I knew I would be alright. I got training as a CNA - took a lot of extra shifts and saved my uncashed paychecks while I house-sat for several months. The day I walked into the bank and turned my paychecks into a cashier's check for the down-payment for my little home was my day of triumph. It told him I definitely was not coming back - no matter how many dozens of roses, beautiful cards and offers of dinner he sent. When he came to the house, I would not let him in. The indentation left by his fist is still on my front door.

That's why it's so important that I save my house. It saved my life.

Good news Lisa -- today I caught up the house payments! The mortgage is current. It took almost a year and working 2 and 3 jobs, but it's done. Now to keep it that way. Now to get the other bills caught up, I pray my debtors will be patient with me.

Also, last night Walmart hired me to work overnights in their cosmetics department. It's $1.50 more per hour! I'm so thrilled!

One little step at a time, even if you have a clothespin in your shoe!

Love you Lisa. Got your voicemail. No $$$ on the phone to call you. Sounds like you and Hansoo had a wonderful time! Your description of the food had me drooling. Of course you can still use my words - if it helps to put a face on the struggle millions of Americans are experiencing now.

I saw that Oprah today will do a show on "What Class are You Now?" I hope she handles the sociological sinking of a great portion of our society with grace. Otherwise, she will rub salt into the wounds of many, many hurting people. I know because I have been, literally, a few days away from living on the street. This from a well-educated woman who has held highly responsible positions, helped found several non-profits, rubbed elbows with powerful politicians in my state and who had a pair of red Farregamo spike-healed shoes in her closet. Banquets and concerts and board meetings were my life. Nothing prepared me for what I am experiencing now. A lot of days I feel lower than dirt. When the creditors press me, I feel like a criminal. So yes Oprah, I have sunk several rungs on our social class ladder. (And I hate the use of the term social class, it does not belong in America, it does not belong before God.) But Oprah, dear Oprah, I do not want a hand out. I do not want a hand up. I just want to find a crack in this brick wall I've run up against so I can claw and scratch and climb my way out of this mess.

Susan

I hope all of you, whenever you encounter a challenge, will remember Susan, and her Herculean efforts to do better. To achieve more.

Continued success, Susan, and to all the readers here at Lisa Allender Writes.Keep the faith.

Peace, kids.

VICTORY FOR SEALS. AND, AS PROMISED, "LETTERS FROM SUSAN"

Big victory in Europe, for Harp Seals!Keep up the great work, kids.
Check out this update, below, from The Humane Association.
https://community.hsus.org/humane/notice-description.tcl?newsletter_id=33355002

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A few days ago, I promised to publish some e-mails from my college pal, Susan. I've not seen her in over 28 years. She found me through the internet, and I am thrilled to be back in touch with the woman who talked late into the night with me, as we curled up in our dormitory rooms. Back then, we discussed love, life. We laughed. We made plans for our futures(her--artist/photographer, me--actress).
When we had that first phone call, we talked about how many of our dreams had come true:her--art work, photography, me--acting(and writing!--a dream I did not know I had, until recently!). We talked about our frustrations--both of us have worked many different jobs, to support our ambitions for our avocations.We spoke of our disappointments, mostly in relationships. She spoke of some incredibly hurtful relationships. Relationships with men who verbally, and then physically, abused her.
How she managed to get out of two bad marriages, with damaging men, and how lonesome she was, for many years, before risking her heart with a new man. How that marriage ended when that husband suddenly abandoned her. How grateful she is to have companion animals who love her.
Susan is a hard-working, capable woman, and she is proof that one can survive anything, learn from it, and become the stronger because of it.
Here is part of her story, in her own words:
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I feel like a big dummy. I've had this cell phone for 2 years at least and now it seems totally lost. It's not in any of its' usual hiding places. I had just put some minutes on it so we could have a long conversation. As I said in facebook, my scedule keeps changing at walmart. Now I don't have your phone # or anything -- it was all on my trusty phone. Darn it. I miss our talks.

Been reading your blog. Always interesting, informative and sensitive. What you said about Walmart not paying their people enough is so true. Each pay period I have to divvy out the $$$. House, water, electric, gas for car, insurance for car and food. If I get it wrong, it's a mad scramble before the next paycheck. I never completely pay on anything, I never completely fill the tank and I always look at the pantry with worry. A few times, when I was making bigger house payments to keep my home out of foreclosure, we ran out of food a few days before payday. Neighbors dropped off canned goods, bread and eggs. I ate at the Salvation Army on my days off. The new frugality is not just making your own home-made tea infusions - it's being grateful when someone puts a box of teabags in a sack they hang on your fence and being thankful that the water company would accept a half-payment so you have the water to boil and make that tea. The new frugality is not taking cooking lessons so you can cook restaurant meals at home to save money (as was highlighted on the news tonight), it is purposely walking your dog by the street-side trash bins at a local Burger King and waiting for no one to be around so you could lift the lid and see if there was some fresh partially eaten food for her. I sqatted by her as she inhaled her fries, nuggets and burger bits (hey, she likes it when we run out of food!). How far down I would have to go, I wondered, before It would be me eating this "feast?" A homeless man was on the corner, looking at us, but not looking at us in the way that gives privacy to people who live their lives on public display. I realized then that I may have just taken food he was planning for himself and fed it to my dog. I felt shame. After she slurped up the last bit, I grabbed the papers, threw them back in the trash, and hurried down the street away from the man.

There are so many people like me out there. I'm earning what I earned in 1986. I send out resumes several times a week. I network, I apply for every higher paying position that comes open at Walmart, something, anything to move up and earn more and feel like I can breathe again.

Sorry to be so verbose. Something about the way the media is hyping this "new frugality" got under my skin. Pass the word on through your blog if you feel comfortable using my words. Love you. Gotta go.

Susan
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I was so moved by what Susan wrote me, I felt compelled to share it. I did, of course, get her permission to publish her letter to me, here.
She continues to write me. Please keep Susan(and all who are trying to navigate through this economic crisis) in your thoughts and prayers.

Peace, kids.

ONE-YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF THE TORNADO!

Today, it's one year since the tornado that ripped through Atlanta, and specifically, downtown Atlanta, where so much damage was done. At the time, it was reported there were "no casualties". That's not the case. Read on, in this article, penned by my fellow Screen Actors'Guild member, Cameron Beach.
Cameron's contact info is listed at the end of this essay.
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“A TORNADO JUST HIT DOWNTOWN ATLANTA! ”

These historical words highlighted an event which forever changed the landscape of our great city.Equally Shocking, the report that there were No Fatalities.
One Week Later that press release proved hasty.
After working with those who had the most urgent Needs late the night of the Tornado and into the first full ‘Post Atlanta Tornado’ day I , like many others, began to grasp the magnitude of what had just taken place.
At that point I felt it My Mission to bring into focus the Hardest Hit Communities so as to facilitate city, state, and federal aid.
Walking the various side streets around Edgewood the night after the Tornado with my camera, camcorder, and notepad I couldn’t help but dwell on the feeling of sheer terror the Atlanta Residents, especially Homeless Residents, must have felt when they saw and experienced Nature’s fury blast through.
Gregory Lee was one of many homeless men and women who had no place to run.His life on the streets came to an end Between a Wall and a Bus, Alone.
The night after the Tornado, after documenting the many homes, businesses, buildings along what can only be described as a twisted and torn path I started back down Hilliard towards the Marta Station.Here I talked with many of Atlanta’s Homeless who were simply afraid to go near many of their regular shelters/structures to sleep due to the Atlanta Tornado and weather system which came through the next morning. I wrote down Names and Needs and headed up towards Decatur Street.I turned left and started East parallel to the Marta station.
After walking no more than 50 yards, for whatever reason, I stopped, turned left,and walked into an Abandoned Parking Lot.
If you had focused on the first landmark that caught your eye ,a Store Front and its near unscathed appearance, you would have simply walked by. However something Drew Me around the store and to the back lot. It looked like someone had taken a can opener and peeled the roof open. Around the opening was concrete, steel re-bar, and rubble.This scene clearly highlighted how fickle a Tornado could be, leaving the front of the building untouched, while demolishing the back of the very same structure.
I started to take photographs and video as this footage would surely impress upon Georgia Residents that it wasn’t just the ‘Omni or Westin’ which were savaged by the Tornado.
(In fact the path of the Tornado devastated places such as Vine City, The O’Herne House, The Antoine Graves Buildings, Cotton Mill Lofts, Cabbagetown, just to name a few.)
“I suddenly focused in on one Small Area Of Rubble, between a wall and bus.”
After approximately one hour I started back up Decatur Street. I felt drawn to revisit the back lot of that store. Less than two hours later I was back by the Intersection of Hilliard and Decatur. Taking additional photographs and video, something about that Pile of Rubble between the wall and the bus made My Heart Sink. Thirty Minutes later I started the hike back to where I had parked.
People who talked to me on my cellphone during my drive home said that I sounded different, sad.I woke up the next morning with that same Sadness. Something had changed me, something affected me like never before, albeit one week would pass before I would truly realize What it was which had so profoundly moved me.
One week later, after dropping off clothes and relief supplies for the Senior Citizens of the Antoine Graves Buildings (which had taken a direct hit from the Atlanta Tornado) I decided to take a short cut to a benefit event for the severely damaged historical Cabbagetown.
Something caught my eye briefly in the rear view mirror,I quickly pulled Uturn.
The back of the store damaged by the Tornado was almost completely leveled. However it looked like the demolition crew had stopped mid-job.
I flagged down someone coming out of the next building up.“What happened here?” He quickly answered, “Don’t you know?”
The stranger continued on to tell me that earlier in the day the demolition crew stopped their heavy work when they saw something in the rubble.
He went on to say that ‘Some Homeless Guy’ had run from the Tornado tried to find shelter between a Marta Bus and a Wall and was crushed by debris.
It took no more than a minute before a Flood of Memories from one week prior came back, Where I Was, What I Was Doing, the Profound Sadness that had Hit Me.
From Vine City to Cabbagetown and all points in between I was drawn to ‘Two Square Feet’ , underneath which lay “Gregory Lee” the Atlanta Tornado’s only Fatality.
My eyes teared up as I wrote a Note to Gregory Lee which he would never read.
I placed the note at the exact location where he had been dug out of his shallow grave earlier that day.
What if I had followed that same instinct which kept bringing me back to that pile of rubble the night after the Atlanta Tornado…Maybe I Could Have Done Something…He Was There…Under The Rubble…only a foot from where I was standing.
Now, Forever Changed, I am left to find meaning in this Tragedy.
I am one of those who believes ‘Everything Happens For A Reason.’
I simply cannot let the Record Rest at :‘A Homeless Man Was Found In The Rubble’…a statistic.
Instead I want people to know that Mr.Lee was a human being with a heart, a soul, a family. Gregory Lee grew up here in Atlanta and attended Smith High School with his sister Jamie.After serving our country in the military he drove a trolley bus for Marta and school buses for the vast Atlanta public school system.
Mr. Lee has a son who is 26 years old and two grand children. He was a laid back individual who enjoyed reading a great deal. As a result of his mother dying Gregory Lee fell into a deep depression which eventually lead to the streets. At 45 years old Mr.Lee lost his life.
Here are two older pictures of Mr.Lee with both his sister and a Hawks Basketball player.
Homelessness is at an all time high in America.Gregory Lee was one of the Countless Individuals across the country who not only lack roofs over their heads but also face psychological challenges daily.Homeless shelters across the country are facing trying times due to a lack of funding. Many shelters are facing closure all together.
We Each Can Do Our Part to help ‘The Homeless’ in our Cities and Communities.
However, I firmly believe that if ‘We All Work Together’ the term “Homeless” can be a thing of the past in America. Perhaps…the day that Changed Atlanta, and the Loss of Mr. Gregory Lee can be the impetus for a greater change nationwide.

Sincerely,Cameron Beach

St. Vincent De Paul : http://www.svdpatl.org/

The United Way : http://www.liveunited.org/

Habitat For Humanity : http://www.liveunited.org/

The Salvation Army : http://www.salvationarmyusa.org/

Catholic Charities : http://www.catholiccharitiesusa.org/

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From The Rustic Desk Of,Cameron BeachThe Mountain Man__________________________( www.TheMountainMan.Freeservers.com ) ( www.myspace.com/mountainmansworld )( http://www.facebook.com/people/Cameron_Beach/786567263 )
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Many thanks to Cameron Beach for this poignant essay, and my apologies on the photos not being seen here, which are mentioned in the essay, and were available in the original print of this.Once again, I'm having problems with the photos loading.(sigh).
I urge everyone who read Cameron Beach's first-hand account, to stop for a moment and be grateful for all the blessings in your own life, and perhaps find a way--through your time, talent, or treasure--to "give back". In memory of Mr. Gregory Lee.
Peace, kids.