Pre-Orange Bowl Thoughts

As I write this (4:24 PM, Eastern Standard Time), the Fed Ex Orange Bowl will start in a little over 4 hours. This year, it will be #4 Stanford against #13 Virginia Tech. I graduated from VT and am a proud Hokie supporter (alumna, Class of 1995). Tech's football program has been rated one of the best in the country. Since I left, we've had quarterbacks like Michael Vick and Tyrod Taylor, switched conferences from the Big East to the Atlantic Coast Conference and won the Commonwealth Cup for a long time running. (The CC is the winner of the Virginia Tech/University of Virginia game).

Ah, but I remember the days when Coach Frank Beamer was only a few years into his career at VT. My husband still teases me about the time I stayed for the Thanksgiving game vs. UVA...which we lost. (I'd much rather see the football team lose than see him over the holiday, he teases.). I still remember the days where our record was 2-8-1 and Defensive Coach Bud Foster had just started busting up whiteboards. (Long story).

Those days are gone (thank goodness) and Tech has become a respectable football program. I wonder how they'll do against Stanford, another powerhouse. It should be a pretty exciting game.

All original writing and art copyright A. Dameron 2000-2010

Christmas Memories, Part II

The children of St. Francis of Assisi Catholic Church (Naples, Italy) took part in a re-enactment of the manger scene. There were Mary, Joseph, Baby Jesus (represented by a doll), the Three Wise Men, angels, shepherds, donkeys, sheep, and townspeople. Yes, it was a major production, and all the Sunday School teachers made sure everyone had a part.

By this time, I was considered too old to dress up (I was in my early teens, so I didn't mind being excluded). My two younger sisters were angels, with white robes and halos made with bendy wire and gold tinsel. Another friend dressed up in the blue robe of one of the Wise Men, and his brother was one of the townspeople. He chose to be a cook, complete with apron, spoon, chef hat, and bowl. We asked him, "Why a cook?" His answer? He admired my dad (who was a cook, or formally a "mess management specialist") and wanted to dress up just like him. Aw!

The production was a great success, even if there were a few stage miscues. After Mass, all the fledging actors and actresses all went home for presents. I was proud of them all for their thespian skills, and even though I wasn't directly involved with the production, it remains one of my fondest Christmas memories.

All original writing and art copyright A. Dameron 2000-2010

Christmas Memories, Part I

One of my fondest Christmas memories is going to Rome to see the Pope say Midnight Mass. Of course, when you're thirteen at the time, you aren't exactly thrilled about sitting in a crowded cathedral (or freezing outside sitting in St.Peter's Square), but the atmosphere is like nothing else. Solemn, yet festive at the same time.

We went as an organized church group, with a chartered bus from Naples. It was a 2 hour drive north to Rome and St. Peter's Basilica. The purples of Advent were changed to the red of Christmas, and the Pope was in his red, white and gold robes. Our group ended up close to the back, so the Pope looked like a tiny spot among the cardinals and bishops. The choir sang the Hallelujahs and prayers were said in multiple languages: French, Italian, English, Latin, Spanish...it was a polyglot of chants and intercessions.

The Mass went on for an hour or more. By the time it was finished, all the children of the group were more than eager to go back home and open presents, even thought we didn't arrive until 3 in the morning. We were all too keyed up to sleep on the trip home.

It was difficult to appreciate the event when you were so young, but now I look back on it with fondness and I would turn back time to go there again.

All original writing and art copyright A. Dameron 2000-2010

Some Halloween pics need no explanation...

Some Halloween pictures need no explanation. Grandma bought Michael the frog costume, and he looks so thrilled...October 31, 2003

All original writing and art copyright A. Dameron 2000-2010

Out of the Mouths of Babes...Honest Poetry?

I enjoy writing poetry. The rhythm and the flow remind me of a musical piece. It's always a challenge to put your thoughts and ideas into a visual palette of words. There are always new and innovative ways to put them together. Some of the best poetry I've read have made me pause and think, "Hey, I've never thought of it that way!"

My first attempts at poetry were hardly dignified. When I was in the fourth grade, the local Baskin-Robbins ice cream shop ran a poetry contest for Mother's Day. Each line had to start with the first letter of the word "Mother". First line with an "M" and so forth. (Mnemonic poetry, I think it what they call it). The first place prize was an ice-cream cake for mom.

I worked on the entry and sent it in before the deadline. For the life of me, I can't remember most of what I wrote. The only thing I can remember was what I'd written for the letter "H". It was as follows:

"H: Her temper is like a volcano."


That got the judge's attention. Hey, I was all of eight years old at the time,and it was true. Mom was somewhat embarrassed at that moment. Isn't there a quote that says something like, "Writing tells us what we don't like to see?" This was a living example. And as someone else commented to me, "Out of the mouths of babes..."

I did place in the top three and presented my mom with an ice cream cake for Mother's Day. Mom later had a good chuckle out of it and dryly commented that if I was going to use her as an example, to at least let her know first.

A poet had been born...and she still tries to put her thoughts and tell her truth into colorful words.



All original writing and art copyright A. Dameron 2000-2010

The Literary Agent

I lived in Naples, Italy from 1982 to 1987, and like many military kids, I grew very close to my tight knot of friends. The "Naples Gang" met in the library of Naples American High School during breaks from classes. It was a relatively small room int he basement, consisting of a few tables, bookshelves and the ever-present card catalog (this was in the era before computers and the Internet). We laughed and talked, wrote reports and penned stories.

The librarian, Mr. D, was a grandfatherly type who looked after all of us. The library was his domain, of course. He didn't tolerate a ot of guff. At that time, he must have in his forties or early fifties, stocky, balding and bespectacled. He knew about my literary aspirations and encouraged my scribbling.

We had a running joke between us: when I became a famous writer, he'd be my agent and he'd represent me in Hollywood when my books made it to film. There was the good-natured hagging over his "percent". We finally settled it at ten. In fact, at the end of the school year, he wrote the following in my yearbook:

"Long live Rosalyn; long may she write. Remember my percent and see you in Hollywood."

Well, Mr. D. I may not be as big of an author as John Grisham or Stephen King, but I am still looking for an agent!

All original writing and art copyright A. Dameron 2000-2010

Erasers Remind me of my Childhood, Not Make It Disappear

When I was a kid, my friends collected all kinds of stickers. Scratch and sniff ones that smelled like grape and strawberry, ones with googly eyes, little pony ones and sparkly, glittery ones. They put them in thick albums and carried them around to show anyone who wanted to see them. My sisters had huge stacks of Garbage Pail Kids and Magic cards, Pokemon, and other RPG cards.


I've always been a bit different. I collected erasers. Not the pink gummy ones or the dull gray squares, but the novelty ones. The ones that looked like food (I was rather proud of my Hershey's Chocolate collection) and little animals, robots and anime characters, household appliances, cars, trucks and airplanes. I put them all in a shoebox out of sight of curious eyes. My family moved overseas when I was 14, and the shoebox disappeared en route. I never did find out what happened to them.


Not to long ago, lo and behold, I find these at Michael's. They're called "Crazerasers" and made by Fashionangels.

sushi erasers

pastry erasers

bread erasers

ice cream erasers

These were so similar to the tiny erasers that I collected (and lost) as a kid. So I bought some to take home. Do I use them to erase mistakes? I have to admit...no. But finding these made me feel like eight years old again, and when I started to scribble ideas in spiral bound notebooks...and good memories.

All writing and art copyright A. Dameron 2000-2010