“My Secret Stash”

            Occasionally, I purchase a special sweet treat to help me withstand various life trials. Last year, one mini-Milky Way sat on my desk in plain sight. Any tribulation that entered my day had to reach a “Sponge Worthy” status before I’d eat this small indulgence. I became Seinfeld’s Elaine, measuring my distress just like she did to before using her favorite birth control. My ultimate goal is to reshape the day’s strain into a manageable tidbit that saved my candy for an even worst calamity.

            My mini-treat, left uneaten, morphed over time into my way of celebrating my resilience. When our old hot water heater died an untimely death, I tacked onto a credit card unexpected debt. Problem solved enough to save the candy for another day. Massive layoffs at my husband’s company should’ve made me devour the bar plus every sugar laden item in our house. Instead, I maintained that the piece stay in place to celebrate not being unemployed. Illnesses and injuries plagued family and friends, but nothing ever comparable to Mom’s Huntington’s disease battle. The measure I used before consuming my Milky Way mini grew with each day I walked away from wolfing it down.

            At year’s end, I indulged myself with the treat.

            Starting this year, I have Milk Duds sitting on my desk. The little yellow box calls attention to itself in a way my demure Milky Way mini never did. Expecting a more turbulent year, I snuck a LifeSavers hard candy storybook in the bin below my desk and hid some Andes’ in the freezer. Yesterday’s news with withdrawing from WHO, trying to destabilize the Fourteenth Amendment, and pardoning those who brutally attacked police officers with the insurrection left me battered enough to raid one roll of my Lifesavers.

            My personal goal to have the Milk Duds sit uneaten on my desk by year’s end may be unreachable, but I’ll give it my best try.  

 

Copyright 2025 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

              

"Snow Day"

 

            San Antonio’s inability to handle snow and ice on bridges and overpasses means a dusting of snow halts the city until temperatures tip above freezing. Yesterday the city stopped for part of the day for less than two inches of snow.  Sleet and ice factor into the decision to shut down. With camera in hand, I document this rare occurrence, capturing the stillness and beauty before it melts away.

 

Copyright 2025 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

Copyright 2025 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"I Want to Give You the World"

  

 

I want to give you the world 

with its promise    

with its pleasure    

with its plenitude  

I want to give you the world     

without the doubts   

without the debt  

without the desperation    

I want to give you the world  

with its splendor  

with its sunrises 

with its surprises   

I want to give you the world    

without the worry     

without the weaknesses    

without the wantonness  

I want to give you the world   

with its hope    

with its humor     

with its happiness    

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Coping inTrumpland?"

 

         I didn’t plan this journey into Trumpland. I didn’t put this nightmare adventure park on my Bucket List of places that I must travel to before I die. Instead, the people around me abducted me. With hands cuffed, feet bound, and mouth duct taped, they forced me to join them.

         I kick and scream and struggle. I resist.

         I don’t want to be here.

        Trumpland feeds fears.

        Trumpland belittles kindness.

         Trumpland strips dignity from its citizens.

         Trumpland operates as a for profit business.

         Trumpland makes up its own rules.

         If I complain, insults thunder over me and drown out my protests.

“Libtard.”

“Stupid Snowflake.”

“Delusional.”

“Communist.”

“Socialist.”

“Mouthy Bitch.”

“Worthless Cunt.”

I respond with phone calls and emails, petitions and protest rallies.

I focus on the one thing I know best—educating those who do not understand. That means I spend hours each day reading, fact checking, and sharing.

I do this because I want to go home.

Copyright 2017 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

  

          

         

"Our Moral Obligation"

 

Write, write, write! Call attention to the FELON in the White House

         Another round of presidential misogyny left me fuming for a few days. A horde of angry responses snarled and gnashed their fangs within my mind. Yet I stayed away from keyboard. Not because I wanted to reign in my words, but because I fought for just the right order and organization to my thoughts.

         My little blog posts won’t change anything.

   The president’s deeply rooted personality disorder won’t miraculously disappear because I wish it so. There’s no magic. Not even the fervent prayers of the multitudinous faithful will rescue us from this current mess.

       Instead, we have to watch every day and wait for this man to stop skirting around social inappropriateness and actually break a law. A “biggy” that really matters. In the meantime, we summon every ounce of patience as investigations into obstruction of justice play out. Our gut tells us that this may not take that long; but whenever it happens, it may still be too late.

      And so, why do I write? Why do I pass along every article I read about this administration? What do I hope to accomplish?

         A moral obligation.

        A moral obligation to speak out every time an injustice occurs.

        A moral obligation to share facts and data that become obscured by ignorance—or even worse, a political agenda that seeks profit over prosperity.

        A moral obligation to pass along documented and referenced research about the administration’s desire for authoritarianism.

         A moral obligation to protect our right to vote.

         A moral obligation to voice dissent.

         A moral obligation to stand with our free press.

        A moral obligation to address the absurdities of this president and to yell, “THIS IS NOT NORMAL!”

        

      And that’s it. The bottom line. My moral obligation compels me to educate everyone I can with the understanding that we must stand together to fight against this abnormality.

Copyright 2017 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman