The HeartThread Journal - 2nd & 3rd Quarters, 1998




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                                                * The HeartThread Journal *



                                                         - The Journal of

                                                                Marriage,

                                                               Parenting,

                                                         Family & Society -


                                         ----------------------------------

                                                            Vol. 3, No. 2







                                                  2nd & 3rd Quarter, 1998





















---------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                     Published by FutureRealm Productions 

   * The HeartThread Journal *
   - The Journal of Marriage, Parenting, Family & Society                 -
   ------------------------------------------------------------------------
     Vol. 3, No. 2                                2nd & 3rd Quarter, 1998

       "To promote and encourage the 'thread' of unselfish heart and love
        that invisibly connects husbands and wives, parents and children,
                               brothers and sisters, and then the world."
                               ------------------------------------------

           From the Editor
           ...............

                This summer was as hot as the mouthpiece of Dizzy
           Gillespie's trumpet. So hot, in fact, that people have
           actually died.

                Besides suffering from the intensive heat, there
           have been horrific bombings, continuing starvation and
           war in Africa and other places, murders committed by
           children, and the list goes on and on.

                We want to remember those people who died, and the
           familes and friends that they left behind. The uphill
           battle to create a world centered on heart is worth
           striving and praying for. In light of the continuing
           violence in the world, the cause is all the more worthy.

                In this issue we are featuring the firsthand
           experience of a friend of ours who worked with the
           Missionaries of Charity in Madrid, Spain, in 1990. She
           was able to serve the poorest of the poor, and shares her
           unique experience with us. Following that theme, we offer
           a news item about Florence Wheatley and her calling to
           serve the homeless by making sleeping bags.

                I am so proud and pleased to feature a poem by Diane
           Wakoski. She is the poet in residence at the University
           of Michigan.

                We have a smattering of news items, poetry, and
           anonymous submissions from the web.

                We are eager to receive articles from more
           contributors. There is so much good going on in the world,
           despite the bad things, and so many deep things people have
           felt or experienced. We want to hear from you!

                We have had so many various delays in getting this
           issue out, topped off with Hurricane Bonnie knocking out
           our power for four days. Apologies to all of you who have
           been waiting for this issue.

                                                    Kim Korman Brown
                                            Co-Editor & Co-Publisher

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     The HeartThread Journal                                     Page 1 





                               TABLE OF CONTENTS




           * From the Editor, by Kim Korman Brown .................1

           * My Experiences Serving with the Missionaries
             of Charity, by Cynthia Edwards........................5

           * Father of My Country, by Diane Wakoski................8

           * Information,Please,
             by Paul (last name unknown)...........................8

           * Does Anybody Know What Time It Is?,
             by Frances Reza......................................11

           * Are You As Happy As Your Dog?
             by Kari (last name unknown)..........................12

           * Teenagers Need Frequent Interaction,
             by Cheryl Wetzstein..................................15

           * Florence Wheatley Makes
             Sleeping Bags for the Homeless,
             by Jan Spence........................................16

           * An Act Of Love, by Sharon Whitley....................18

           * The Movie Mom's Guide to Movies
             and Videos for Families, by Nell Minow ..............21
             (Reviews of "Ever After", "The Parent Trap"
              and "Madeline")

           * HeartQuestions / Questions & Reflections
             about Marriage, Parenting, Family & Society
             "Racism from a Boyfriend's Family;
             An Undecided Wife",
             by Peter F. Brown ...................................24

           * Together We Can Heal - CD Review
             by Kim Korman Brown .................................26

           * The HeartThread Resource Guide:
             Resources for Couples, Parents & Families ...........29






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     The HeartThread Journal                                     Page 2

                                                  The HeartThread Journal
                                  is published by FutureRealm Productions

                                    Publisher and Editor - Peter F. Brown
                            Co-Publisher and Co-Editor - Kim Korman Brown
        -----------------------------------------------------------------
                 Visit our web page, "The HeartThread Resource Page", at:
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                         or our other site at "http://worldcommunity.com"
                             or email us at: "peterbrown@futurerealm.com"
                                         or:   "kimbrown@futurerealm.com"

                                                      You can mail us at:
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                           P.O. Box 4131 ~ Virginia Beach, VA 23454 / USA

                                    or you can call us at: (757) 468-6848
                                             or fax us at: (757) 468-6461

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               **********************************************************

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     Subscriptions to the printed version are available for $48 per year.
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                              and will be offered a regular subscription.
        -----------------------------------------------------------------

                                                WRITERS ARE ALWAYS NEEDED
                                                *************************

                        If you want to write for The HeartThread Journal,
                we will be happy to review your article, column or story.
                  Please review our "Writers Guidelines" on our web page,
                               and email us your proposal or actual work.

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     The HeartThread Journal                                     Page 3

                                                  ADVERTISING INFORMATION
                                                  ***********************

                    Advertising products or services of value or interest
                           to parents, couples or families is encouraged.
                          Brief textual advertisements will appear in the
                 "HeartThread Resource Guide" at the end of this journal.

                         For a limited time, advertisements will be FREE.

                            When this special advertising promotion ends,
                                     advertising rates will be published.

                                             FREE ADVERTISING FOR AUTHORS
                                             ****************************

                            All authors receive FREE advertising space in
                          the issue that their article or column appears.
        -----------------------------------------------------------------

                                                    COPYRIGHT INFORMATION
                                                    *********************

                                       All materials contained herein are
                            (C) Copyright 1998 by FutureRealm Productions

                              except for individual articles and columns,
                       which are Copyrighted by their respective authors.
                  Individual authors retain all rights to their articles,
                                              unless otherwise specified.

                                           All Rights Reserved Worldwide.
                        No part of this journal may be used or reproduced
                                         in any manner whatsoever without
                                   written permission from the publisher,

                                                or the individual authors
                              (in the case of their articles or columns),

                                      except in cases of brief quotations
                                        embodied in articles and reviews.

                 Opinions expressed by writers in The HeartThread Journal
                    are not necessarily those of FutureRealm Productions.
        -----------------------------------------------------------------

                                                    LETTERS TO THE EDITOR
                                                    *********************

                   Readers wishing to submit a letter should email it to:
                                             "peterbrown@futurerealm.com"
                         or send it by regular mail to the above address.
                             Letters may be edited for grammar or length.



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     The HeartThread Journal                                     Page 4 


                        Serving the Homeless in Madrid
                       with the Missionaries of Charity
                      ..................................

                                                  by Cynthia Edwards

                When I was six years old, my family moved from our
           hometown in New York to Madrid, because of my father's
           business. We stayed for three years. Thirty years later,
           I traveled again to Madrid, this time to do the business
           of my Father in Heaven. I celebrated my sixth "spiritual"
           birthday in that city. Oh, yes -- and I stayed for three
           weeks.

                Coincidences of this order are not rare in a life of
           faith. I had to believe God's hand was genuinely in the
           lottery that assigned the volunteers in my church to a
           foreign mission country. But even while I was admiring
           God's modus operandi, I struggled with the idea of going
           to a civilized Western capital, when I had longed all my
           adult life to do "real" missionary work in the Third
           World.

                God came to my rescue by giving me a new
           understanding. One drizzly, cold November day as I was
           driving through the streets of southeast Washington D.C.,
           pondering how to approach my overseas mission, my eyes
           were drawn to a homeless old man in a bright pink
           blanket, trying to sleep in a bus shelter. In the instant
           I looked at him, he looked up at me, directly into my
           eyes. I parked the car, put some money in my coat pocket,
           and approached this greasy stranger. I removed my coat
           and tucked it around his shoulders the way I tuck
           blankets around my little boy at night. As I did, I felt
           my heart swell with the same mother's love, and tears
           coursed down my cheeks.

                So there it was. Great need exists even in the heart
           of the most advanced cities of the world. Since our
           pastor had asked us to go to our country as servant of
           servants (the position Jesus took when he washed the feet
           of his disciples), I decided I would serve the street
           people of Madrid. From this point of internal departure,
           the rest of my plans fell easily into place. I found a
           soup kitchen in Madrid run by the Missionaries of
           Charity, and I wrote to say I would be joining them.

                The Missionaries of Charity are Mother Teresa of
           Calcutta's heroic sisters. They devote themselves to
           serving the presence of Christ in his "distressing
           disguise" as the poorest of the poor. For me it was the
           fulfillment of a long-held dream to work beside them.



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     The HeartThread Journal                                     Page 5 

                By following my inspiration, I found the soup
           kitchen run by the "Indian sisters" in the famous
           blue-and-white sari.

                Situated on the Ronda de Segovia in the shadow of
           the Royal Palace, every afternoon an average of 200 poor
           or homeless people gathered at the comedor (dining room)
           for a free meal, and to receive the other nourishment of
           God's love, meted out generously by the nuns and their
           dedicated coworkers. My first job, given to me minutes
           after arriving at the bustling soup kitchen, was to chop
           up hairy pigs' trotters for the stew. I regret to report
           that at that moment, I felt that it was truly more
           blessed to give than to receive.

                But after a few days' experience I realized that the
           menu was generally delicious and healthful, albeit based
           haphazardly on donated foodstuffs. I became expert at
           preparing bucketsful of potatoes, stacks of cookies, and
           laden platters of sliced chorizo (sausage). After the
           meal I helped clean the kitchen, dining room, and eating
           utensils with large quantities of bleach. A young priest
           remarked candidly, as we rolled up our sleeves to hand
           wash 230 plates after Christmas Eve supper, that
           disinfectant is the most heavenly perfume you can wear
           after being among the street people.

                The high point of my day, every day in Madrid, was
           that one blessed hour in which I helped serve the dinner.
           In this moment I felt the closest to the saints who had
           served the poor and sick. Now I know the smells their
           nostrils have been filled with, sharing a room with
           people who had no facility for washing. I know what it is
           to give fresh clothes to a man whose shirt and pants are
           covered in blood, judging only his need, and not his
           worth.

                The poor people sat at long tables and we, the
           volunteers, served them as in a family restaurant. The
           nuns reserved the right to hand out the bread, as bread
           had a spiritual significance beyond its belly-filling
           properties. I felt God's love flow through me as I poured
           a cup of water or filled a plate with second portions,
           and served it with as much love and care as if I were
           serving Our Lord himself. I received joy that lifted me
           up until I felt light as a feather when an old Portuguese
           seaman mumbled, "Gracias, bonita" ("thanks") as I passed
           by with the kettle of hot chocolate. Mother Teresa said,
           "Only in heaven will we see how much we owe to the poor
           for helping us to love God better because of them." Amen,
           Mother Teresa.

                The soup kitchen was run by two nuns: Sister
           Lavinia, an Indian, and the Superior of the order in
           Spain; and Sister Paul, a rotund Spanish sister who once

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     The HeartThread Journal                                     Page 6 

           laughingly compared her appearance to that of a soccer
           ball. Neither of these sisters topped 5 foot in height,
           but such was their spiritual power and vertical
           connection to God and Jesus, they daily managed 200
           mostly male and often rowdy street people.

                But they couldn't have served them all without a lot
           of volunteer help. The soup kitchen required at least ten
           assistants daily to complete all the preparations, dinner
           service, and cleanup in a reasonable time frame. Day by
           day as we peeled vegetables, passed plates, and soothed
           lonely souls together, the coworkers learned who I was
           and why I had come to Spain. I had sacrificed spending
           Christmas at home with my own family for the sake of a
           bigger family: God's family. One lovely lady, born on
           Christmas Eve and so named "Nativity," took a great
           interest in me, and asked me to think of her as my
           mother!

                The poor people of the soup kitchen came from many
           countries and regions: I met refugees, displaced workers,
           students and others from Morocco, West Africa, Poland,
           and Portugal, as well as Spain. We prayed together before
           every meal, in Spanish and English, led by Sister Paul,
           and additional prayers were offered by the Poles and
           Arabs in their language and according to their faith. I
           was so excited by this. It was like being in a big
           patchwork family!

                The greatest times of all were the celebrations of
           Nochebuena (Christmas Eve) and Christmas Day. The nuns
           and some of their pupils set up a Nativity scene in one
           corner of the room, and the poor dressed up as the
           different characters: Mary and Joseph, shepherds, and the
           Three Kings. A band provided enthusiastic music for
           Christmas carols, and some of us broke out into
           charismatic dancing, our feet animated by the joy in our
           hearts. The Poles, young men far from home, sang endless
           sad lullabies to the Child born on that holy night. The
           young non-Christian Arabs added spice with driving drum
           tempos and traditional dances.

                The food served at these two feasts was truly
           delicious -- roast chicken, shellfish soup, sweet almond
           paste and other delicacies; even a celebratory glass of
           wine for each person. I began to feel quite hungry
           myself, as I had consumed little but bread and coffee
           during my visit. But I was determined that the poor would
           have a better Christmas than I did. Externally, I think
           they did. But spiritually, I'm sure I had the best time
           of any human being in Madrid.
               
                             .......................................
                             Cynthia Edwards, cedwards@cyberramp.net

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     The HeartThread Journal                                     Page 7 


                           The Father of My Country
                          ..........................

                                                    by Diane Wakoski

                My father was not in the telephone book
                in my city.
                My father was not sleeping with my mother
                at home.
                My father did not care if I studied the piano.
                My father did not care what I did.
                And I thought my Father was handsome
                and I loved him and I wondered
                Why he left me alone so much.
                So many years in fact that
                my father made me a lonely woman
                without a purpose, just as I was a lonely child
                without my father. I walked with words
                Words and names
                names -- Father was not one of my words
                Father was not one of my names.

                                 ...................................
                                 Contacting Diane Wakoski was a joy.
                                     She is the Poet In Residence at
                                         the University of Michigan.

                "The Father of My Country" Copyright © 1988 by Diane
                Wakoski.  Reprinted from EMERALD ICE: SELECTED POEMS
               1962-1987 with the permission of Black Sparrow Press,
                24 Tenth St., Santa Rosa, CA  95401, (707) 579-4011,
                                        books@blacksparrowpress.com.



                                * * * * * * * *


                             "Information, Please"
                            .......................


                                          by Paul (last name unknown)

                When I was quite young, my father had one of the
           first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember well the
           polished old case fastened to the wall. The shiny
           receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to
           reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination
           when my mother used to talk to it.

                Then I discovered that somewhere inside the
           wonderful device lived an amazing person - her name was
           "Information Please" and there was nothing she did not

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     The HeartThread Journal                                     Page 8 

           know. "Information Please" could supply anybody's number
           and the correct time.

                My first personal experience with this
           genie-in-the-bottle came one day while my mother was
           visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in
           the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer.

                The pain was terrible, but there didn't seem to be
           any reason in crying because there was no one home to
           give sympathy. I walked around the house sucking my
           throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway.

                The telephone!

                Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlor and
           dragged it to the landing. Climbing up, I unhooked the
           receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear.
           "Information Please," I said into the mouthpiece just
           above my head.

                A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my
           ear. "Information."

                "I hurt my finger. . ." I wailed into the phone. The
           tears came readily enough now that I had an audience.

                "Isn't your mother home?" came the question.

                "Nobody's home but me." I blubbered.

                "Are you bleeding?"

                "No," I replied. "I hit my finger with the hammer
           and it hurts."

                "Can you open your icebox?" she asked. I said I
           could.

                "Then chip off a little piece of ice and hold it to
           your finger," said the voice.

                After that, I called "Information Please" for
           everything. I asked her for help with my geography and
           she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my
           math. She told me my pet chipmunk that I had caught in
           the park just the day before would eat fruits and nuts.

                Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary died.
           I called "Information Please" and told her the sad story.
           She listened, then said the usual things grown-ups say to
           soothe a child. But I was unconsoled. I asked her, "Why
           is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy
           to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers on
           the bottom of a cage?"

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     The HeartThread Journal                                     Page 9

                She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said
           quietly, "Paul, always remember that there are other
           worlds to sing in." Somehow I felt better.

                Another day I was on the telephone. "Information
           Please."

                "Information," said the now familiar voice.

                "How do you spell fix?" I asked.

                All this took place in a small town in the Pacific
           Northwest. When I was 9 years old, we moved across the
           country to Boston. I missed my friend very much.
           "Information Please" belonged in that old wooden box back
           home, and I somehow never thought of trying the tall,
           shiny new phone that sat on the table in the hall.

                As I grew into my teens, the memories of those
           childhood conversations never really left me. Often, in
           moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene
           sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how
           patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent
           her time on a little boy.

                A few years later, on my way west to college, my
           plane put down in Seattle. I had about half an hour or so
           between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone
           with my sister, who lived there now. Then without
           thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown operator
           and said, "Information , Please".

                Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew
           so well, "Information." I hadn't planned this but I heard
           myself saying, "Could you please tell me how to spell
           fix?"

                There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken
           answer, "I guess your finger must have healed by now."

                I laughed. "So it's really still you,' I said. "I
           wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me
           during that time."

                "I wonder", she said, "if you know how much your
           calls meant to me." "I never had any children, and I used
           to look forward to your calls."

                I told her how often I had thought of her over the
           years and I asked if I could call her again when I came
           back to visit my sister.

                "Please do, she said. "Just ask for Sally."

                Three months later I was back in Seattle. A

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     The HeartThread Journal                                    Page 10

           different voice answered "Information." I asked for
           Sally.

                "Are you a friend?" She said.

                "Yes, a very old friend," I answered.

                "I'm sorry to have to tell you this," she said.
           "Sally had been working part-time the last few years
           because she was sick. She died five weeks ago."

                Before I could hang up she said, "Wait a minute. Did
           you say your name was Paul?"

                "Yes."

                "Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it
           down in case you called. Let me read it to you." The note
           said, "Tell him I still say there are other worlds to
           sing in. He'll know what I mean."

                I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant.

                                 ...................................


                              This submission came with the message:
                             "Never underestimate the impression you
                                may make on others." Someone emailed
                                               this gem to us and we
                                             do not know its origin.



                                * * * * * * * *


                                    Time
                                   ......

                                                     by Frances Reza

               Does anyone know what time it is?
               Last month I kissed your soft cheek
               and answered your silly questions
               about where God lived,
               and who made the clouds
               and why does it rain sometimes?

               Does anyone know what time it is?
               Last week  you finally found out
               about that mysterious phenomenon
               of being a woman.
               And I cried with you when he left,
               and in delighted glee,

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     The HeartThread Journal                                    Page 11

               watched as you picked out that dress
               and went to that wonderful place
               you will remember the rest of your life.

               Does anyone know what time it is?
               Yesterday, I cried as I watched you walk
               down the aisle,
               and wondered if you were happy.
               Would he take care of you?
               I held your hand as you screamed
               in agony until we heard that first little cry
               and suddenly, the world seemed a better place.

               Does anyone know what time it is?
               This morning I watched as you hovered near my bed,
               holding my hand, stroking my hair with your soft fingers.
               You spoke of heaven and it comforted me.
               Your warm smile, loving me.
               Even as the sand in my hour glass
               slipped away.


                                 ...................................
                                  Frances Reza is a mom and a writer
                                       living in Virginia Beach, VA.


                              * * * * * * *



                       Are You As Happy As Your Dog?
                      ...............................

                                         by Kari (last name unknown)

                A fellow at one of my workshops confessed, "For
           years I was so miserable that I prayed to God daily to
           let me wake up as happy as my dog!"

                I went home and thought about it. Am I as happy as
           my dog? Hmmmm.

               I began to observe my dog Munchie, who is happy all
           the time. This seven-pound furball is the most joyful
           creature I have ever seen, living constantly in a state
           of continuous delight and discovery. It became clear to
           me that this tiny, fuzzy creature knew something I didn't
           know, (or at least didn't remember). I decided to study
           Munchie's attitude to see what he was doing that I was
           missing.

                Here are the keys to happiness that I discovered
           from my pet:


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     The HeartThread Journal                                    Page 12

                1. Be here now. Munchie is fully present with
           whatever is happening. He has no sense of the past or
           future. You will not find Munchie at the local bar
           nursing a beer over lost love. He has no lost love. He
           loves whatever is in front of him.

                Munchie greets me enthusiastically whenever I come
           home. As soon as he hears my car pull up to the garage,
           he drops whatever he is doing and runs to meet me. He is
           so delighted to see me that he barks and cries
           simultaneously, wags his tail so hard that he wipes up
           the garage floor with his fuzzy butt, and he pees.
           (Munchie taught me the meaning of the phrase, "I could
           hardly contain myself!") This dog lives the attitude of
           gratitude!

                Munchie offers me the same whole hearted greeting no
           matter how long I have been away. Whether I have been on
           the road for an afternoon or a month, he gives me the
           full red carpet welcome. When I come home after a long
           time he doesn't sit on his haunches with his arms folded
           and soberly announce, "I think it's time we discussed
           your commitment to our relationship." No, he is just
           happy to see me, and he lets me know it.

                2. Think possibility. Every few months Munchie
           disappears for a few days. I once went searching for him
           and found him trying to mount one of the German Shepherds
           next door. The little guy reached no higher than the big
           lady's knee, but that didn't stop him. He thought big!

                3. Seize the Day. Munchie regularly shows up at my
           front door asking to come in and play with me. Depending
           on what I am doing and how muddy his feet are, sometimes
           I let him in. The moment I open the door, he charges in.
           He doesn't give me a moment to change my mind. He knows
           what he wants, asks for it, and seizes the opportunity
           the moment it is offered. Munchie is a master of Carpe
           Diem.

                4. Take care of yourself. Once Munchie had his tail
           run over by a car he was chasing. To facilitate his
           healing process, he found himself a quiet spot under a
           bush, and simply rested. Whenever I passed his little
           nook, there was the Munchster, quietly resting with his
           chin on his paws, just allowing nature to take care of
           him. After a few days he was back in action, barking,
           peeing upon my arrival, and hoping the German Shepherd
           would kneel just a little more.

                I thought about what some of us humans might do if
           we were injured. We might just keep chasing cars; work
           harder; or blame someone and spend time complaining. But
           Munchie let all of that go in favor of his natural


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     The HeartThread Journal                                    Page 13

           wisdom. He loved himself enough to rest when he needed
           it.

                5. Entertain yourself. When I am not home Munchie
           finds plenty of other amusements. He chases cats, sniffs
           dead critters, naps, and visits neighbors. He is not
           codependent. The world, through his eyes, is a big
           playground. There is always someone or something to
           entertain him.

                6. Be unlimited. Munchie has no self-concept that he
           is small, and so acts big. When I take him on walks
           through the country, he slips under fences and chases
           cows and horses. I think they are more surprised than
           intimidated, to be corralled by a barking tumbleweed. But
           it works. Munch usually gets the critters to move at
           least a little bit, and he comes back with a triumphant
           smile.

                7. Protect your space. My dog has no questions about
           his function: he is here to protect me and my grounds
           from anything that moves. He is like a living
           announcement machine. The moment any foreign object with
           wheels or legs comes near the house, his hair-trigger
           bark alarm goes off. Night or day, he's there to announce
           potential intruders. (If they don't run away when he
           approaches, he changes his tactic and starts kissing them
           -- we're working on that one.) Munchie's intention is so
           strong that he actually does intimidate other animals
           (not including humans).

                There was a Doberman that used to come around, and
           she always yielded to the Munchie Sentinel Service.

                8. Let yourself be loved. When Munchie looks tired
           during long walks with me, sometimes I pick him up and
           carry him for a while (probably more for myself than
           him.) The moment he's in my arms, he rolls over and lets
           me carry him like the King of the Canines. Harboring no
           sense of guilt or unworthiness, he does not protest, "Oh,
           you really don't need to do this." or "I will carry you
           tomorrow." He just lays there and soaks it in. He knows
           he is worth it, and he receives it with a full heart and
           body.

                9. Relax. Munchie is not a slave to the Puritan Work
           Ethic. He is closer to the Pure Tan Play Ethic. He
           doesn't have a job, doesn't lay awake at night wondering
           if God exists, and doesn't try to hide his little doggie
           erections when they spontaneously arise. He knows that he
           deserves love without having to earn it. Munchie is clear
           that his purpose in life is to enjoy every new day, and
           he is happy to have the Universe continually take care of
           him.


------------------------------------------------------------------------
     The HeartThread Journal                                    Page 14

                As far as I can tell, Munchie is an enlightened
           being. He doesn't read a lot of books, has never gone to
           a seminar, and has no problem balancing his checkbook.
           Perhaps, if I play my cards right, one day I will indeed
           wake up as happy as him.

                                 ...................................
                                  We received this via the Internet,
                                          and do not know its origin



                                 * * * * * * *


           'Connected' Families, Peaceful Schools Make Safe Teens
          ........................................................


                                                 by Cheryl Wetzstein


                Vaccines for teen troubles have yet to be invented,
           but a massive ongoing study may help steer parents,
           teachers and teens to the next best thing.

                In September, researchers published findings that
           said that teens are 'protected' from risky behavior if
           they lived in 'personally connected' families and
           attended peaceful schools.

                It was also very important that teens - like those
           of yesteryear- saw their parents at four daily junctures
           - before and after school, at dinnertime and bedtime.

                Researchers also uncovered elements that increases
           teens' risk for unhealthy behaviors: Teens with
           "household access to guns," for instance, were more
           likely to be involved in violent behavior, such as last
           month's shooting deaths of five persons at a Jonesboro
           Ark. middle school in which two boys, ages 11 and 13,
           have been charged. More research is now being prepared on
           what protects - or doesn't protect - teens from danger,
           researchers Micheal D. Resnick and Dr. Robert W. Blum
           said at a recent briefing by the Institute for Youth
           Development of Herndon.

                The new data will look at how teens are influenced
           by extracurricular activities, mentoring, single-parent
           homes vs. two-parent homes, and personal belief systems,
           the researchers said.

                The wellspring for all this information is the
           massive, federally funded National Longitudinal Study on
           Adolescent Health, known as Add Health, which is handled

------------------------------------------------------------------------
     The HeartThread Journal                                    Page 15

           by the National Institute of Child Health and Human
           Development.

                The study began in 1994 with brief surveys of 90,000
           teens in grades seven through twelve. This was followed
           by 12,000 in-home interviews with students in 1995. A
           second wave of interviews was held in 1996 with 15,000
           students.

                The data looked at eight unhealthy behaviors and how
           teen behavior in these areas was affected by their
           families, schools and individual personalities.

                Researchers found that if teens lived around violent
           or suicidal family members, and users of tobacco,
           alcohol, drugs and guns, they were at greater risk for
           involvement in those behaviors.

                "What comes through is that family connections
           count," Dr. Blum told the briefing, adding that "family
           connectedness" helped protect teens against every
           unhealthy behavior except teen pregnancy.

                        ............................................
                                    printed with permission from the
                            Washington Times National Weekly Edition
                                                      April 12, 1998


                                 * * * * * * *


                           Florence Wheatley Makes
                        Sleeping Bags for the Homeless
                       ................................

                                                       by Jan Spence

                Flo Wheatley held her young son, Leonard, as he was
           vomiting and near collapse. Returning from the hospital
           and his daily cancer treatments, they were a block from a
           subway station in New York City. It began to rain.
           Commuters rushed past them. Flo heard a voice say: "You
           need help, lady," and she looked up to see a homeless
           man, wearing jeans, sneakers and a cutoff army jacket.
           She felt a little fear and declined his help, saying:
           "No, we're okay." But the homeless man said again: "You
           need help, lady." He picked up her suitcase and walked
           toward the subway. Flo and Leonard followed him and the
           three of them boarded the train. They all got off at
           Flo's station and the homeless man hailed a taxi for her.

                "I pressed a $5 bill into the man's hand before the
           cab pulled away," Flo said, "and I heard him say, softly:
           "Don't abandon me." Flo has never forgotten his words.

------------------------------------------------------------------------
     The HeartThread Journal                                    Page 16

                Two years later, in 1985, Leonard, who had suffered
           from non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, was recovering miraculously.
           And in the small town of Hop Bottom, Pennsylvania
           (population 385), Flo Wheatley stitched her first
           sleeping bag, using her kids' outgrown clothing; jeans,
           shirts and sweaters. She and her husband drove into
           Manhattan and gave the bag to a man huddled in a doorway.
           She made eight bags that year.

                News of her Ugly Quilts sleeping bags spread through
           the rural area and soon neighbors were dropping off
           fabrics at her home. A local church invited Flo to speak
           and to demonstrate how to make the bags. She named the
           family project My Brother's Keeper Quilt Group. She
           called the bags Ugly Quilts so that volunteers wouldn't
           think they were too difficult to make. The grass roots
           project continued to grow:

                Women began gathering to sew and socialize. Many of
           the sleeping bags were delivered to Flo's garage for
           distribution. Her garage door remained unlocked to accept
           deliveries. In 1992, more than 5,300 Ugly Quilts were
           distributed to homeless people and to shelters in
           Manhattan and other large cities.

                The Wheatley family created a single page of simple
           instructions on how to make an Ugly Quilt. The first step
           is to sew pieces of fabric together to form a seven foot
           square, and then another one. These squares are joined
           together. Old drapes, blankets and mattress pads are
           added for padding and men's neckties are used as handles.
           All the fabrics are recycled. There is a big demand for
           these instructions.

                A mail crew arrives at Flo's home every Wednesday
           morning for breakfast and to open the mail bags. There
           are requests for instructions from all over the United
           States as well as other parts of the world. A missionary
           in Mexico asked for instructions to make a bag for
           himself and to teach others to make sleeping bags. There
           was news from American volunteers at an army camp in
           Germany: supply planes had dropped "Flo-designed"
           sleeping bags to the refugees in Bosnia. In Mesa,
           Arizona, they have just completed 2,000 sleeping bags. In
           Fort Ogden, Florida, they have made one bag every week
           for five years. Flo believes that more than 100,000
           sleeping bags have been made since 1985 . Eleanor Dugan
           and Becky Gordon co-founded the San Francisco group. By
           avocation, they are both quilters. They have gained
           national recognition exhibiting their quilts in regional
           shows. But today, they are committed to making sleeping
           bags. Becky said: "It's simple. If you can tie a shoe
           lace, you can help make a sleeping bag. And a sleeping
           bag can save the life of a homeless person."


------------------------------------------------------------------------
     The HeartThread Journal                                    Page 17

                The informal group meets in Eleanor's home, which
           looks like a warehouse. Hilton Hotels recently donated
           200 bedspreads and mattress pads, filling her living room
           almost to the ceiling. Her dining room contains a large
           cutting table and a sewing machine. And there's a sewing
           machine in the kitchen. "It is not Martha Stewart
           living*," said Eleanor, "but these bags are literally the
           difference between life and death to some of the
           homeless." Eleanor speaks and gives demonstrations at
           churches, schools, clubs, organizations, and the San
           Francisco County jail. At a recent Bronx Community Center
           demonstration, Flo was expecting volunteers to come and
           make bags and distribute them to the homeless. But
           homeless families arrived on the scene, including
           children. They spent the day making bags. When they left,
           they took the bags and slept in them that night.

                (Enquiries: Please send a stamped SAE to: My
           Brother's Keeper Quilt Group, Route 1, Box 1049, Hop
           Bottom, Pennsylvania 18824, USA.) * Martha Stewart is a
           popular proponent of gracious living, American style.

                        ............................................
                         The late Jan Spence was a fearless champion
                          for the homeless and a Share International
                                   correspondent from San Francisco,
                        She passed away peacefully in April of 1997.
                                          This article was reprinted
                              by permission from SIMS International.
                             http://www.simedia.org/main/cfwhen.html


                                 * * * * * * *



                                An Act of Love
                               ................

                                                   by Sharon Whitley


                When I was growing up, my father always stopped what
           he was doing, and listened while I'd breathlessly fill
           him in on my day. For him, no subject was off limits.
           When I was lanky and awkward at 13, Dad coached me on how to
           stand and walk like a lady. At 17 and madly in love, I
           sought his advice on pursuing a new student at school.
           "Keep the conversation neutral," he counseled.. "And ask
           him about his car."

                I followed his suggestions and gave him daily
           progress reports. "Terry walked me to my locker!" Guess
           what?? Terry held my hand! "Dad! He asked me out!"


------------------------------------------------------------------------
     The HeartThread Journal                                    Page 18

                Terry and I went steady for over a year, and soon
           Dad was joking, "I can tell you how to get a man; the
           hard part is getting rid of him."

                By the time I graduated from college, I was ready to
           spread my wings, I got a job teaching special education
           at a school in Coachella, California, a desert town about
           170 miles from home. It was no dream job. Low-income
           housing across the street from the school was a haven for
           drug users. Street gangs hung around the school after
           dark. Many of my charges, emotionally disturbed
           10-to-14-year-old boys, had been arrested for
           shoplifting, car theft or arson.

                "Be careful," Dad warned me during one of my
           frequent weekend visits home. He was concerned about my
           living alone, but I was 23, enthusiastic and naive, and I
           needed to be on my own. Besides, teaching jobs were tight
           in 1974, and I felt lucky to have one.

                "Don't worry, " I reassured him, as I loaded up the
           car to start my trip back to the desert and my job.

                Several evenings later I stayed after school to
           rearrange my classroom.

                Finished, I turned out the light and closed the
           door. Then I headed toward the gate and it was locked! I
           looked around. Everyone - teachers, custodians,
           secretaries - had gone home, not realizing I was still
           there, stranded on the schools grounds. I had been so
           engrossed in my work that I hadn't noticed the time.

                After checking all the exits, I found just enough
           room to squeeze under a gate in the rear of the school. I
           pushed my purse through first, lay on my back and slowly
           edged through.

                I retrieved my purse and walked toward my car,
           parked in a field behind the building. Eerie shadows fell
           across the school yard.

                Suddenly, I heard voices. I glanced around and saw
           at least eight highschool age boys following me. They
           were a half a block away. Even in the darkness I could
           see that they were wearing gang insignia.

                As I walked faster, they continued taunting me.
           "Hey! She's kinda cute!"

                Quickening my pace, I reached into my shoulder bag
           to get my key ring. If I have the keys in my hand, I
           thought, I can unlock the car and get in before...My
           heart was pounding.


------------------------------------------------------------------------
     The HeartThread Journal                                    Page 19


                Frantically, I felt all over the inside my handbag.
           But the key ring wasn't there!

                "Hey! Let's get the lady!" one boy shouted.

                "Dear Lord, please help me," I prayed silently.
           Suddenly, my fingers wrapped around a loose key in my
           purse. I didn't even know if it was for my car, but I
           took it out and clutched it firmly.

                I jogged across the grass to my car and tried the
           key. It worked! I opened the door, slid in and locked it
           - just as the teenagers surrounded the car, kicking the
           sides and banging on the roof. Trembling, I started the
           engine and drove away.

                Later, some teachers went back to the school with
           me. With flashlights, we found the key ring on the ground
           by the gate, where it had fallen as I slid through.

                When I returned to my apartment, the phone was
           ringing. It was Dad. I didn't tell him about my ordeal; I
           didn't want to worry him.

                "Oh, I forgot to tell you!" he said. "I had an extra
           car key made and slipped it into your pocketbook - just
           in case you ever needed it."

                Today, I keep that key in my dresser drawer and
           treasure it. Whenever I hold it in my hand, I am reminded
           of all the wonderful things Dad has done for me over the
           years, I realize that, although now he is 68 and I am 40,
           I still look to him for wisdom, guidance and reassurance.
           Most of all, I marvel at the fact that his thoughtful
           gesture of making an extra key may have saved my life.
           And I understand how a simple act of love can make
           extraordinary things happen.

                     ...............................................
                      This story was emailed to us via the Internet.
                                          We do not know its origin,
                                       other than the author's name.



                                 * * * * * * *









------------------------------------------------------------------------
     The HeartThread Journal                                    Page 20


                           The Movie Mom's Guide to
                           Family Movies and Videos
                          ..........................

                                                       by Nell Minow

                Reviews for parents of the best of current films and
           old movies available on video and cable, by Nell Minow,
           author, film critic, and mother. Reviews will be updated
           each week with recommendations and replies to questions
           about movies on special topics, suitability of particular
           movies for children, and movie trivia--try to stump me!
           I'd also love your suggestions for a new book on movies
           for families. The best kids' comments I receive will be
           published. The Movie Mom (TM)

           Now in Theaters
           ***************

           Ever After
           ..........

           A Cinderella Story (1998) Rated PG-13
           for very brief profanity and some action violence.
           Recommended for 8 and up.

                Drew Barrymore plays Danielle, according to her
           great-great-great grand-daughter the real inspiration for
           the story of Cinderella. Just as in the classic fairy
           tale, Danielle lives with her mean step-mother and
           step-sisters, after the death of her beloved father. They
           force her to do all the work. She meets the prince, goes
           to the ball wearing glass slippers, and runs away before
           midnight. But there are some big differences. No pumpkin
           coach, no fairy godmother, and no bibbity-bobbity-boo.
           This heroine is not meekly obedient. She stays on because
           she wants to take care of her home and the people who
           work there, because it makes her feel close to her
           father, and because she still hopes that somehow she will
           find approval from the only mother she has ever known.

                The step-mother, played by Anjelica Houston in her
           most evil "The Witches" mode, is not going to give it to
           her. She tells Danielle that she sees her as a pebble in
           her shoe. All she cares about is making sure that the
           prince chooses her elder daughter, Marguerite (Megan
           Dodd), as his bride. She is willing to lie, cheat, and
           steal to make it happen.

                Meanwhile, the Prince (Dougray Scott) is not quite
           Charming. He appears arrogant, but is really just lonely
           and aimless. His parents want him to marry the princess
           of Spain, to cement a strategic alliance, but he wants to
           fall in love. He meets Danielle when she is in disguise

------------------------------------------------------------------------
     The HeartThread Journal                                    Page 21

           as a courtier, to rescue a family servant sold by her
           step-mother to pay her debts, and he is very taken by
           Danielle's passion and intellect.

                The stepmother finds out about their relationship,
           and does her best to thwart it. When the prince finds out
           that Danielle is not really of noble birth, he is
           furious, at first. But it all ends happily ever after,
           even without a fairy godmother (though with a little help
           from Leonardo da Vinci).

                Sumptuously filmed at medieval castles and chateaux,
           with gorgeous costumes, this is a pleasure for the eye
           as well as the spirit. Danielle is a very modern heroine,
           smart, brave, honest, and able to save her prince as well
           as herself, if necessary. The script is clever (though
           wildly anachronistic in places), and while the accents
           come and go (and why do French characters speak with
           English accents, anyway?), the performances are
           excellent, with particularly engaging turns by Melanie
           Lynskey as the sympathetic younger step-sister and Judy
           Parfitt as the queen. It is one of the most delightful
           family movies of the year, maybe of all time.

                Parents should note that there is one profanity,
           some action violence, and a sad onscreen death. The plot
           may be a challenge to younger children, especially those
           expecting the story they know.

           The Parent Trap
           ...............

           Rated PG for mild language. Recommended for 6 and up

                This delightful remake of the Hayley Mills classic
           stars Lindsay Lohan as both Hallie and Annie, twin girls
           separated at birth, who meet up at summer camp and decide
           to switch places. Lohan is utterly adorable and does a
           masterful job of creating two separate characters, each
           of whom spends a large part of the movie impersonating
           the other. Their father, Nick (Dennis Quaid), owns a
           vineyard, and their mother Elizabeth (Natasha Richardson)
           designs wedding gowns. Meredith, the scheming girlfriend
           who hopes to marry their father for his money (Elaine
           Hendrix) has this year's bad guy profession: publicist.

                Parents may want to reassure their kids -- one child
           who saw it with me was distressed that the parents had
           split up the twins and made no attempt to see the child
           they gave up. Divorced parents should make sure their
           children have no illusions of a reconciliation, and all
           parents should make sure that while it may be charming for
           the children in the movie to manipulate their parents, it
           is not appropriate for real life. Other parental concerns
           include Elizabeth's getting drunk (portrayed as funny)

------------------------------------------------------------------------
     The HeartThread Journal                                    Page 22

           because of her nervousness at seeing Nick again, and a
           truly grisly scene where one twin pierces the other's
           ears. There is also a poker game bet which ends with a
           child jumping in the lake without any clothes.

           Madeline
           ........

           (1998) Rated PG for brief potty humor
            and mild suspense (5 and up)

                One of the most beloved heroines of children's
           literature is brought to life in this movie based on the
           classic series of books by Ludwig Bemelmans about the
           "twelve little girls in two straight lines" who live in
           "a small house in Paris that was covered with vines," and
           especially "the smallest one," Madeline. Bemelmans'
           gorgeous water colors turn into gorgeously photographed
           Paris, set vaguely in the 1950s, setting the stage for
           Madeline's night-time race to the hospital for an
           appendectomy, her fall into the Seine and rescue by the
           brave dog Genevieve, and her adventures with Pepito, the
           son of the Spanish ambassador. Frances McDormand (whose
           performance in "Fargo" won an Oscar) plays Miss Clavel,
           the nun who cares for her charges with imagination,
           wisdom, love, and courage. Nigel Hawthorne (of "The
           Madness of King George") plays stern Lord Covington, who
           wants to sell the small house covered with vines and
           close down the school.

                Young children, especially fans of the books, will
           enjoy the film. Newcomer Hetty Jones is a spunky
           Madeline, brave enough to say "Pooh Pooh" to a tiger,
           smart enough to know that if she asks Pepito to be extra
           quiet he will find some way to do something noisy, and
           determined enough to find a way to stop Lord Covington
           from selling the school his late wife loved so dearly.
           Parental concerns: Miss Clavel's tolerance of the girls'
           misbehavior (a riotous debate over whether the girls
           should eat a chicken Madeline had seen before it was
           killed, a late night kitchen raid), a kidnapping that
           younger children might find scary, and the overall
           absence of parents (Pepito's parents are loving but
           rather neglectful, Madeline is an orphan).


                     ...............................................
                             The Movie Mom's Guide is on the web at:
                     http://pages.prodigy.com/moviemom/moviemom.html
                            "Movie Mom" is a trademark of Nell Minow
                                    All material (C) 1998 Nell Minow
                                                Email: nellm@aol.com




------------------------------------------------------------------------
     The HeartThread Journal                                    Page 23


                              - HeartQuestions -
                         Questions & Reflections about
                     Marriage, Parenting, Family & Society
                    ---------------------------------------

              [Racism from a Boyfriend's Family; An Undecided wife]

                                                   by Peter F. Brown

           DEAR PETER:

                For the past three years, I have been dating an
           Indian gentleman. We're both in our mid-20s. He's the
           oldest, and has two sisters and a brother. I'm Black and
           his mother/sisters hate me. We have never formally met.
           They have expressed that they're not interested in
           meeting me because of my race. Nevertheless, I get along
           well with his brother.

                Unfortunately, my boyfriend resides with his family.
           He lives on one floor and his family occupies the
           remaining floors. I/We rarely spend time there. I have
           received harassing calls from his sister(s). He
           confronted his sister(s) and informed them that I will
           file a complaint if they contact me again. Since their
           confrontation, I haven't received any more calls.

                However, the situation has become more volatile.
           Recently, I visited my boyfriend to exchange some items.
           His mother/sisters came to his apartment and created a
           'scene'. My boyfriend informed them to leave, after his
           mother threw something at me. I ignored them through the
           entire event and only split apart my boyfriend and sister
           when their argument became physical. I planned to leave
           after everything calmed down and went to retrieve my
           shoes (which I normally leave in the hallway) only to
           discover they were missing. We found them in a dusty,
           spider-webbed wall panel.

                I have exceeded my tolerance level for his 'family',
           but haven't given him any ultimatums. Since the last
           episode, my boyfriend no longer eats any food
           cooked/bought by his family. He is also washing his own
           clothes (his mother washes their clothes at the
           laundromat where she works). I no longer visit him,
           except to pick him up with my car. He is also looking for
           a new place to live. What can I do to lessen the stress
           his family is placing on us? him? Should I do/say
           anything the next time his family approaches me?

           Fed Up Girlfriend




------------------------------------------------------------------------
     The HeartThread Journal                                    Page 24


           DEAR FED UP GIRLFRIEND:

                Normally I would encourage you to try to make
           harmony with his family, but when a family is taking a
           very strong, racist stance, I believe that one has to
           follow the righteous path, even if it costs family
           relationships. At the same time, it might be productive
           for your boyfriend to seek out an elder in the Indian
           community, perhaps a Hindu religious leader, and ask that
           person to influence your boyfriend's parents to be more
           tolerant and generous. Perhaps you can meet with the
           parents with that leader as the mediator. It would be
           good, after all, if their hearts could be influenced in
           the right direction.

                If nothing works, and you and your boyfriend are
           committed to a long term relationship, and then marriage,
           I would recommend that you follow your heart.




           DEAR PETER:

                My wife left me about 3 months ago. We have an 8 month
           old daughter. She said that one of the reasons for leaving is
           that I was happy with crap jobs. I'm happy with any jobs
           I have. But... she wanted me to get a real job and my
           cousin lived in an area (away from home) that has many. I
           moved 1200 miles from them, and am now in a strange city with
           out a job or family. When I ask her if she thinks we'll get
           back together, her opinions vary from day to day...never
           no.. but sometimes more promising. Am I stupid for trying
           to follow my heart? I miss seeing my daughter grow up..
           I've only been in Denver for 2 weeks and have had one interview.
           It will be our 2nd anniversary September 14.

                Any help is appreciated,

           Mike



           DEAR MIKE:

                You're not stupid at all for following your heart.
           Heart is more important than money or anything else. I
           would move back to the city where your wife and daughter
           are, and sit down with your wife and tell her that money
           can't be the basis for her relationship with you. Doesn't
           it say, 'for richer or for poorer?'




------------------------------------------------------------------------
     The HeartThread Journal                                    Page 25

                At the same time, it's easy for wives to feel a lot
           of stress because of money problems. If she feels that
           you really need to get a better job, and that the better
           jobs are in Denver, then she should go with you, with
           your daughter. Ask her if your daughter cares whether you
           have money or not. All she wants is her daddy. Stay
           together at all costs.



            ........................................................
                           Peter F. Brown is the author of the book,
                           "Striving for Parental Love" and lives in
                      Virginia Beach, VA with his wife Kim and their
                   four children, Tymon, Thea Grace, Ranin and Tadin
                          HeartQuestions is published as a column on
                                   The HeartThread Resource Page at:
                                            "http://futurerealm.com"
                                   Email: peterbrown@futurerealm.com




                               * * * * * * * *


                            "Together We Can Heal"
               Recorded by Phil Volan and Steve Barta, Source Music
              ......................................................

                                                        CD Review by
                                                    Kim Korman Brown



                "Together We Can Heal" is a collection of "12 songs
           that communicate and empathize with the many emotions
           experienced by grieving children and adults." Composed,
           arranged, and produced by Steve Barta, Phil Volan and
           friends, the work was commissioned to fill a void.

                In the liner dedication, Connie Patterson, the
           Manager of Children's Connection at Pikes Peak Hospital,
           (Colorado) says that, "Music speaks when no-one else can.
           Music builds a bridge when pain, anger and sadness
           isolate a child or an adult. We had many places to use
           music...but we had no music. We contacted Phil
           Volan...and this recording is the result."

                Phil Volan, singer, guitarist and composer said, "At
           first, my own fear of dying or losing a loved one kept me
           from plunging into the songs, but in a surprising way, my
           limited research and experience began to inspire me as I
           observed the range of feelings, depths of spirit and


------------------------------------------------------------------------
     The HeartThread Journal                                    Page 26

           compassion in people when confronted by death. It was not
           at all depressing like I expected it might be. In fact,
           the process of writing these songs was uplifting and
           joyous."

                The topic of grief has come a long way in recent
           decades. There was a time not so long ago, that one did
           not speak of the dead. "Mommy has gone away" was
           sometimes all a child was told when his mother died in an
           epidemic or while giving birth to a sibling.

                Douglas Gresham, stepson to C.S. Lewis, said in his
           forward to the book, "A Grief Observed" by C.S. Lewis:
           "that if he [Lewis] mentioned Mother, I would always seem
           to be embarrassed as if he had said something obscene. He
           did not understand that I was fourteen when Mother died
           and the product of almost seven years of British
           Preparatory School indoctrination. The lesson I was most
           strongly taught throughout that time, was that the most
           shameful thing that could happen to me would be to be
           reduced to tears in public. British boys don't cry. I
           knew that if he talked to me about Mother, I would weep
           uncontrollably and worse still, so would he. This was the
           source of my embarrassment. It took me almost thirty
           years to learn how to cry without feeling ashamed."

                It is evident that this is a potent aspect of life
           that needs more addressing. No matter how many people
           have been forced into the grieving process, many have
           never been able to sort out their pain. In the latter
           part of the twentieth century, more books and essays have
           been written on the subject than ever before, but there
           has been very little music composed for the specific
           purpose of tending the grieving process.

                Without being cloying or overly sentimental, these
           songs address the confusion, pain and sense of isolation
           that comes from grief, particularly for children.

                from "So Cool":

                "This was not supposed to happen,
                 This is totally unfair,
                 Without any kind of warning,
                 You're just suddenly not there," *

                from "Stories To Be Told":

                "Everything is different now
                I want it all back the same
                I promised God a lot to make it all okay
                But it hasn't done a bit of good
                except sometimes in dreams" *

                The topic of death and dying can be awkward, but

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     The HeartThread Journal                                    Page 27

           Steve Barta's beautiful piano playing, and Phil Volan's
           sensitive voice and guitar playing, blend well with the
           realistic lyrics. Family members sharing the loss of
           someone could gather together and listen to this music as
           a help in the healing process, especially if they are
           struggling to articulate their feelings. The broad appeal
           of this music will speak to listeners in a personal way.

                C.S. Lewis wrote the book, "A Grief Observed", to
           help deal with the death of his wife after a long battle
           with cancer. He said, "No one ever told me that grief
           felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is
           like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach,
           the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on
           swallowing."

                In her book, "Companion Through the Darkness",
           Stephanie Ericsson similarly said: "Grief is a tidal wave
           that overtakes you, smashes down upon you with
           unimaginable force, sweeps you up into darkness, where
           you tumble and crash against unidentifiable surfaces,
           only to be thrown out on an unknown beach, bruised,
           reshaped."

                Not everyone knows how to put their feelings into
           words. This music gives substance to some of the
           questions people must grapple with when coping with
           death.

                Seconds after hearing the opening bars of the first
           cut, "I Had a Dream", tears were streaming down my face.
           I thought of my own parents who have passed away, and I
           could empathize with others who have faced the death of a
           loved one. In fact, listening to this music caused me to
           take note of my own family, to consciously appreciate
           them more, and thank God again for each day we have
           together.

                             ........................................
                              Kim Korman Brown is a writer and a Mom.
                                      Email: kimbrown@futurerealm.com















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     The HeartThread Journal                                    Page 28


                        The HeartThread Resource Guide
                - Resources for Couples, Parents & Families -
               ...............................................

             If you have any books, products, services, seminars,
                 or other helpful items that you would like us
                 to mention in this space, please email us at
                         "peterbrown@futurerealm.com".

               Ad spaces are 23 character wide x 18 lines long.
            Submissions should be formatted correctly and emailed.

              This advertising space is FREE for a limited time.
             Items do not have to fall within specific categories,
              but we do reserve the right to selectively approve
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     The HeartThread Journal                                    Page 29
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     The HeartThread Journal                                    Page 30