CarmenJimersonCross-Safieddine
Bio
A widow, sharing experiences. SHARING LIFE LIVED, things seen, lessons learned & spreading peace where I can.
Call me "Gina" ( pronounced "jeena" ) short for REGINA
more at my original page https://vocal.media/authors/carmen-jimerson-cross
Stories (49/0)
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 CarmenJimersonCross-Safieddine24 days 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 CarmenJimersonCross-Safieddine2 months 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 CarmenJimersonCross-Safieddine2 months 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 CarmenJimersonCross-Safieddine2 months 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 CarmenJimersonCross-Safieddine4 months 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 CarmenJimersonCross-Safieddine5 months 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 CarmenJimersonCross-Safieddine5 months ago in Humor
BACK SUPPORT
THE WOMEN IN THE OFFICE HAD RIPPED THROUGH PAPERWORK PREPARED BY THE STATES ATTORNEY like it was toilet paper unrolling from the stall in the bathroom. Simply reading the name on the docket told them their rights were to free the hispanic man on the downside of the divorce ordered child support. The woman supported by the docket was black. She was black as far as they were concerned. And those women seated in the lobby near her... bearing hispanic last names waiting for alimony or child support final draft, were just as bad. They were after something that should not be ordered to pocket money ethnicly allocated for Latina women. The Latina office assistants were highly opinionated, but seemingly secure in their privileged role of processing child support orders from incoming divorce dockets. Other women in line were of varied complexion, caucasian and also seeking conclusion to their newly accomplished marital freedom. That freedom plunged them all into the same unstable world of court ordered income from a mate who demonstratedly negated continued love and compassion already. The State's Attorney and his assistant were nowhere to be found during the full extent of the day's appointed closures for child support. To their pleasure, the office assisting Latina's had full control over the other women's outcome. "Next..." The heavy hispanic accent emitted by the head chica in charge of the group of temporary office assistants beckoned another woman to the next cubicle for help. Unashamedly blurting out for all to hear, "How do we fill thees ...blanca el negra files in two days?" The two laughed before concluding the plan, "Es our hombres... es our dinero!" "Write et es Muareta, Muareta Florez." They stamped both women's paperwork and etched on a new dat of orientation for funds to begin before ushering them back out the door. Then, "Next!" Months later a check came directed through Department of Family services for $25. An explanation accompanied it saying, "Monthly payments will be routed through public welfare for any duration of time for which the custodial parent is enrolled in the public welfare system." Luckily, the "negra" was employed with a department of government for the state she lived in. Many months after that first check for $25 payments were recorded as altered for the fact that the respondent was resideing WITH THE DEFENDANT as his wife. They were being recorded as paid but to his girlfriend who was now claimed as his wife... stepmother of the children. He and she now had an apartment out of the townhouse where she and his children from that first marriage lived for two years.
By CarmenJimersonCross-Safieddine5 months ago in Families
GOING BACK IN
PROFESSIONALISM RUINED, I HAD TO DO SOMETHING. I was GOING BACK IN. I love an income... an income that produces a MEANS FOR LIVING what I call life. Retirement is the most boring session in life so far. In it I am advised to try a number of things that include traveling to desired destinations... many of which I have never had the desire. Work life was cut short after accomplishing the basics for becoming a fledgling land developer or working an integral role within a land development corporation. I accomplished the basics for being that woman on a land surveying team and in their civil engineering corporation. I could work for any one of the many major corporations in their real estate department. I could continue working in the "cushy community" where I was initially hired to work as a simple licensed real estate agent after passing course studies and professional exams. In any path persued, I could finally earn a living to carry myself and my family... my son and daughter by my own honest effort from an honest wage earned. Beautiful.
By CarmenJimersonCross-Safieddine6 months ago in Writers
RUNNING FROM THE GAME
THE CALL CAME OVER THE PHONE during my weekend "floor time" at the office. I had just settled down with my one cup of coffee for the morning's run through cold calls, FSBO's (we say that as "fiz bo s") and updates to scheduled appointments for the other agents. "Hi... I think I need to... I want to list our home. I need to do something soon, can you come out this weekend... maybe write us up by Monday?" There had obviously been a recent crisis in someone's family. He wanted to list his home as urgently as the next business day. I responded with, "Sure. I can come out on Sunday or later today if you like. Would 2pm work for you or... I can probably work out an earlier 1pm if that's better." He accepted the earlier appointment and I hung up the phone. He was calling from the Hebrew correct community not far from my home in Southfield. Their's was a "walk about" community that bade them walk to service and assemblies on holy days. Their's was a seemingly tight knit community that stretched out to fund each other's needs and marry into and out of one another's family. Their's was all that, seen on my daily drives in and out of our community where I lived amid determination to draw independent subsistence by committing solutions to problems of other individuals. It was my job, my profession to be enhanced upon, that would help them climb their desired social status reflected by a comely residential appeal. I worked the property market supported by my office... the high three hundred thousands well into the multi million dollar homestead. It was a dream career and I was there to pull it through. Six months of working diligently on six client files was set to bring a net commission of well over two hundred ten thousand dollars. Other than expanding into land development of industrial real estate, I was reaching my "aurora." I did not have familiars of name, face nor locale but was determined to do what was necessary short of the "any means" touted by so many others in their aim to reach a goal. My job was to make my clients happy. That meant simply to find their best image to present their social status. Oakland County was my file source to fish out of and in to... that and a luxury resort develpment in the heart of Texas... Horse Shoe Bay, Texas.
By CarmenJimersonCross-Safieddine6 months ago in Confessions
ABABA
She and her brother's name did not ring a bell until much later. Nearly one week after cleaning out my bank account to buy a used car, I looked at the signature on the back of the title before sending it through protocol and read "Salassie." The guy selling me the vehicke had gone back to where he was staying to get a signature put to the document for transferral into my name, and this was what he brought me. Gabrie-Salassie signed to the seller's line. It was a name I had not heard for decades. Daniel Salassie and his sister, Belainesh, were here in town with an aunt, the person who signed the car title. It was enough to cause recall of days long gone. The days of my childhood where a black community fantacized of black kings and kingdoms. They chastised others who "acted like they were the Queen of Sheba" or "thought they were high and mighty" when all they need do was pay attention to what was evolving around them.
By CarmenJimersonCross-Safieddine6 months ago in History