Rainy Day Writing

Writing, Reading, Inspirations and Aspirations

Author Archive: Ilona Elliott

In Search of The Lost Blog Post

Last night I dreamed about a perfect blog post. In my dream, I was thinking to myself what a wonderful blog post! Surely, it will be one of my best. It made perfect sense. It was witty. It was timely. It was so good. Then I woke up. I remembered that I was dreaming of …

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What’s Your Name, Little Girl? or An Ode to Ilo

I learned early in life to answer to anything that vaguely resembled my name.

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Autonomy, Monogamy, The Tree and Me: An Analogy of Love and Marriage

Where the touch of the lover ends And the soul of the friend begins There’s a need to be separate and a need to be one And a struggle neither wins  ©From the song Sky Blue and Black by Jackson Browne  The old man flew away recently to visit family for a week. It was …

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Intelligent But Lacks Motivation: The Story of a Bad Student

I was a straight A student and completely enamored with learning when I started elementary school. My first grade teacher, Miss Grey, was a peach. I loved her, which was a relief because my kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Becker, was kind of a bitch. She made me sit in the corner during nap time once for …

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The Virgin Mary, Good Drugs, and the “C” Word

Next year I will turn sixty. Which pisses me off a little. When you turn sixty people start to treat you differently. Especially your health insurance provider and doctors, who start sending you reminders to get a flu shot, a Hep C test, a shingles shot, blah, blah, blah. Obviously you are approaching a turning …

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The Gifts

      It’s the  industry of  robins poking in the grass It’s the  playfulness of flickers circling the tree It’s the hip hop of  the blue jays ravaging the feeder It’s the flutter and the chatter of the chickadees.   It’s the somersaults of otters rolling in the river It’s the glide of the …

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I Never Suffered

I fell down. I didn’t break. I got lost and ran wild. I found my way. I often bled. I always healed.   I always had a home. I never missed a meal.   I never had to run. I never had to hide. I had my country on my side. I had family. I …

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Girlfriends, Omnivores and Tossed Salads

Sometimes I suspect I have been cultivating degrees of separation all my life. Usually I blame it on my natural inclinations, being something of a loner who can mimic an extrovert fairly convincingly when the occasion dictates. I’m either an introverted extrovert or an extroverted introvert. It’s too complex to figure out and it’s really …

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My Immigration Story

My mother’s father was an immigrant from Sicily, as were her maternal grandparents. I never met them. They existed for me in imagination only, stimulated by the sepia photographs, postcards and letters, some written in a language I could not decipher, that my mother kept in a big cardboard box in her closet. They lived …

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But Before I Let That Steam Drill Beat Me Down, I’d Die With a Hammer in My Hand

Originally posted on An American Song:
In his inauguration speech, the new president insisted that America is becoming a wasteland. “American carnage,” he termed it. A place where gangs run amuck and crime is rampant. Where poverty is endemic. Where children are denied a basic education. Where economic blight is displayed in abandoned factories, and…

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