BiblioScribe Book Blog

Spam, Anyone?

Miss_Mae — Thu, 17 Jul 2008 21:02:10 +0000

I read that Burger King is now offering Spam for breakfast in Hawaii. I guess the islanders love the stuff. You know the product Spam? It comes vacuum-sealed in a can that you have to peel open. It’s pale pink and when you shake it from the can it lands—kerplunk!—like a giant pencil eraser onto your plate. Except there’s icky, gooey stuff sticking to it. They said that’s gel, but they surely don’t mean jell-o. It’s nowhere as appetizing.

I just stare at it and go, “Bleech!” and then dispose of it.

Years ago, the business where I worked gave all employees a two-pound vacuum-sealed can of ham. Not to be confused with Spam, because this ham came in a larger container. We unpeeled it, dropped that weight onto a plate, looked at it, and gave it to the dogs. Guess what? The dogs smelled it and looked back at us. You could hear their thoughts going something like, “You don’t expect us to eat this stuff?” The memory of my canines’ expressions have always stayed with me. I respect their intelligence. If they refused ham, there’s got to be a reason. So I no longer touch the stuff.

And now there’s this blob of Spam. Kinda reminds me of a miniature ham.

Interestingly enough, with the internet and email, there’s something else going around called spam. Could there be a connection to what I’ve been talking about? I wonder.

This spam sure gets a lot of bad rap. No one likes it and no one wants it. Even though it’s very popular and shows up everywhere, folks want to get rid of it. When I read about it, I recall my dogs’ looks.

I find spam crammed in my own email boxes. I never ordered the stuff. I don’t care if it is free. Why are these ‘spammers’ wanting to push it on me? I get the same revulsion I had when that pale pink ooze slammed onto the plate—“Bleech!”

I wonder about those folks in Hawaii. If they like Spam so much they’re willing to pay for it, does that mean I can sell my free spam to them? Hmm, now there’s an idea.

http://missmaesite.com

Writing Exercise in Second Person

Miss_Mae — Tue, 15 Jul 2008 01:45:00 +0000

I don’t believe second person is called for in most writing articles today. But here’s one I wrote for a writing class…

WHIM OF THE WIND

You arrive as the sun yawns over the horizon. You glide slowly, almost hesitantly to the ground, skimming the top of the silent pool, careful to disturb not a ripple. You moan with dismay as you swirl over the victims of last night’s rampage. You didn’t flatten the grasses to lifeless straw; the icy-hearted hailstones murdered them. You didn’t scorch the mighty oak to a charred stump; the crackling lightning sizzled it. You didn’t smash the anthill and flood its tunnels; the pelting rain drowned it.

You had no hand in those things. Instead you attacked the pine tree. You buffeted it with your fists, bending it to one side and then twisting it to the other. You ripped off its hairy needles, its explosive pops of pain from snapping limbs swallowed up by the roar of your demented screams. Deer raced from you, their white eyes and flaring nostrils begging for mercy. Rabbits scurried away, their giant feet tripping over the knot of broken branches you scattered in their path. Your mad howls nipped at their heels, deriding their fear.

You’d spied something lodged in a crotch of the pine’s waving boughs. Whirling over, you’d seen a lone fledging cowering in its fragile nest. Outraged that you’d missed this in your earlier assault, you’d snatched the tiny twigs and hurled them to the ground. You’d watched, watched, watched as the helpless bird plummeted to the forest floor, the sticks that’d been its home stacking tent-style over its still form.

Satisfied that your authority went unrivaled, you’d swirled upward, tightening yourself into your most commanding posture. You’d ordered all the dark clouds to cluster around and, together, you’d merged and shaped into one being, billowing into a raging monster. Your staff of lightning, hailstones, and rain joined you to wage war. Nothing withstood your fierce army. Yet after the onslaught, when the lightning ceased and the rain halted, your fury abated and you’d slunk away like a defeated coward.

All through the night, you’d remembered what terror you elicited. You’d regretted how the forest animals distrusted you. You’d cried at the thought of how you mutilated the pine tree.

But, oh, the worst—what anguish torments you now with the knowledge of the life you stole. You recall during the spring how you’d watched the baby bird grow as its parents nurtured it. You’d smiled with the realization of how in two more days it’d join its older siblings when it’d take the first brave step at leaving the nest. But then—the sun angered you. During the long hours of yesterday, your resentment had risen along with the relentless baking degrees. By evening you’d lashed out in defiance. You’d robbed the sun of its strength. Because of your combat, the suffocating temperatures dropped to those reminiscent of a cool fall day. But, at what cost your victory?

Now you whisper between the strands of grass that survived. You find the spot you’re searching for beneath the skeletal pine tree. Gently, carefully, you blow away the twigs that’d been the nest, and then you see it. Downy feathers ruffle under the sigh of your breath. And then, one little eye blinks open. The bird shakes itself and stands to its feet. Stretching its wings, it lifts itself and you, with joy singing in your heart, provide the support it needs. You cup the fragile life in your hands and carry it to a high branch where its mother is only now awakening. As chick and parent greet each other by lightly touching beaks, you breeze away to seek out the deer and rabbit. Today you’ll caress their fur with gentle fingers. Today you’ll soothe away the fear of the storm during the night.

http://missmaesite.com

http://missmaesite.blogspot.com

In Tribute of My Own Mother

Miss_Mae — Fri, 11 Jul 2008 17:48:41 +0000

Yes, Mother’s Day has come and gone. Families gathered to honor their moms with flowers, boxes of chocolate, maybe even cookout’s and homemade ice cream. However each observed the event, it was meant to show appreciation to the woman who not only brought them into the world, but who also diapered their bottoms, kissed away their boo-boo’s and exclaimed with delight over the hard wrought C’s on their report cards.

My mom was born August 18, 1930, the eldest of five children. At three years old, her eighty-year-old father died. Her widowed, much younger mother remarried a kind man who my mom often spoke of with fondness. But when Mom was eleven years old, her mother died from complications of producing a child for this man. Though he tried hard to keep his brood of six together, times being what they were in this country, the man reluctantly made a difficult choice. Mom said he cried when the siblings were separated. They went to various relatives, Mom going to live with a harsh aunt and uncle. Each had their own stories to share of what they endured during those years.

So my mom never really knew her mother and she received no maternal affections from her aunt. But God gave Mom a gift. As natural as breathing, this woman knew how to love. She devoted her life to her husband, her children, her grandchildren with the depth of selfless sacrifice you only read about. Yet I, and my older brother and sister, lived each day sheltered in the security of her love. We always knew she supported us–even when we were wrong (not always the wisest thing, perhaps!). But her faithfulness and loyalty was a thing we never doubted. Whenever life dealt us a blow we felt too big to handle, we went to Mom. Like the reassurance of a concrete wall in a hurricane, she stood steadfast. Not once–ever–did she let us down.

We grew up, moved away, had our own families. But Mom was only a phone call away. And when she felt inclined to call one of her kids, as soon as she finished speaking, she’d call up the others. She shared equally, and generously.

For 46 years she and Dad were married. He died on March 11, 1996, right in the same bedroom of the old homestead where the two had spent their wedding night. Poor Mom had to watch the man she loved slip away, telling him, “I can’t live without you.” After his funeral, she worked to put her affairs in order. She bought more life insurance, went to the lawyer and drew up papers to leave that home in equal parts to her children. Then, on April 11, 1996, like she told my dad she couldn’t live without him, it came true. She passed away in her sleep in the same bedroom where she’d had to say good-bye to him.

Though setting aside one day in the year is a good tradition to nationally recognize and honor mothers, I have Mother’s Day at any given moment (and Father’s Day too, I’d like to add). My mom is always close. All I have to do is remember her smile or the touch of her rough, work-calloused hand and I can imagine myself again as a little girl when I’d crawl to her and Daddy’s bed after a nightmare. She’d throw aside the blanket and open her arms where I’d snuggle against her chest. Sighing, I’d fall back to sleep, knowing nothing would hurt me with Mommy there.

Her phone calls are silent now, but her love lives on with all the memories she gave me. Mommy is still near, tucked forever inside my heart.

Reading Club Adds ELEMENTAL To Recommended Titles

BookLover_ForLife — Thu, 10 Jul 2008 19:12:54 +0000

Currently on a ten percent off sale for the summer at a variety of locations, ELEMENTAL, The Power of Illuminated Love, recently joined the line-up of books featured on the G.R.I.T.S. Online Reading Club for the month of July 2008.

A showcase of award-winning art by Luther E. Vann, whose work is currently on exhibit at the Jepson Center in Savannah, Georgia, and writings by well-known author Aberjhani, ELEMENTAL has become one of the most acclaimed gift books on the market since its release in May. The weekly newsmagazine Connect Savannah described ELEMENTAL as, “a beautiful book…the reproductions of the paintings are outstanding. The poems were inspired by the paintings, and make perfect companions for the reproductions… a real delight and was definitely worth the wait.” Art critic, author, and collector Ja A. Jahannes called it “A wondrously amazing book.”

In addition to ELEMENTAL, other titles featured on G.RI.T.S. include: Say You’re One of Them, by Uwem Kapan; When a Man Loves a Woman, by LaConnie Taylor Jones; Heavenly Places, by Kimberly Cash Tate; and Release Me, by Farrah Rochon. The G.R.I.T.S. Online Reading Club was established in 2008 and is now celebrating “8 Years of Reading Excellence Online!”

Copies of ELEMENTAL, The Power of Illuminated Love, can be picked up at the following locations: Barnes and Noble Black Books Plus The Diaspora Market Place (912-232-2626) The Ralph Mark Gilbert Civil Rights Museum (912-231-8900)

Vann’s ELEMENTAL exhibition at the Telfair Museum Jepson Center for the Arts is currently scheduled to run until September 14 and Vann is presently considering options for an even larger exhibition of his work to go on tour. ––30—

Are You the Author?

Miss_Mae — Wed, 09 Jul 2008 11:19:20 +0000

It’s odd to hear that question asked of me. Since fifth grade when I’d poured over the adventurous stories of Nancy Drew, Donna Parker and Trixie Belden, and I attempted my own words to paper, I had no inkling that one day my name would appear on a book’s cover.

Two years ago when I browsed inside a bookstore and inquired to the location for a writer’s handbook, the clerk asked, “Are you a writer?” I wasn’t sure how to answer. Though the title of “writer” deserved to be bestowed on a choice few, I was certain I wasn’t one of them. I’d had a few articles accepted to an ezine–unpaid–but I’d learned that didn’t qualify one to be called an official “writer.” But because I did write, I answered the question in the affirmative.

Still, it was a tad embarrassing. Folks naturally seem to think if you’re a “writer”, then you’re an “author”, which I wasn’t. I never exactly knew how to describe the difference without making myself sound like an idiot in which case the hearer would probably think, “Well, I wouldn’t want to buy any of her books anyway! If she had some out, that is.”

During these past two years, I struggled and learned. God opened doors for me. I actually sold some articles–with pay! And the next step that happened was…I received my first contract for a book length manuscript. Wow!

A few months later that was followed with a second contract. Time to catch my breath here and ask–Is this really happening to me?

Part of the job of writing is to market and promote your works. With that in mind, I walked to my local newspaper office and asked if they’d run an ad about my book. They agreed. About three weeks later, my bank teller told me she’d seen the article where I was featured.

Oh, boy. This I’ve gotta see for myself.

So I walk to the newspaper office, leaving my purse and my money in the car. When I enter the building, I see the stack of papers in a stand, but–duh! I didn’t have the fifty cents to buy my own paper! The editor is at a desk and peers at me over the top of his glasses. I tell him I want to buy an issue but will need to return to my car and get my purse. He then asks, “Are you the author?”

Such sweet words.

Though I felt a bit like ducking behind his desk, it hit me how, through the grace of God, He’d allowed me the right to wear that hard won badge.

To Him I humbly give thanks.

http://missmaesite.com

http://missmaesite.blogspot.com

Hilarious Take On My New Book

Miss_Mae — Mon, 07 Jul 2008 23:57:19 +0000

An online friend made his own wittism about my new book, “Said the Spider to the Fly.” I wanted to share it with everyone…

“Come into my web, Mr. Fly.”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“Yea, why…Give me one good reason why I should.”
“I spent all day spinning this web. I just want you to tell me if it’s, like, soft enough.”
“Soft enough?”
“Yes. I don’t want a web that’s abbrasive, or anything.”
“Well, I don’t wanna go into your web.”
“Why not?”
“My mother told me NOT to trust spiders.”
“Look at me. Do I look like I would do anything bad…”
“You’re a spider. I’m a fly. Somehow that is not good for me.”
“Oh, C’mon! That’s an old wive’s tale! I wouldn’t do anything bad…Like EAT you, or anything!”
“You wouldn’t? Wait a sec..Why not…I’m not GOOD enough for you?”
“It’s not that. See, I like plump bugs. You’re kinda thin.”
“Whataya mean, thin! Geez, I workout! I fly all OVER the place! I mean, I’m in GREAT shape!”
“Naw.Not interested. By the way, Mr. Fly…”
“What…”
“Where’s your mother…”
“Why?”
“She’s kinda plump, isn’t she?”
“Yea, she is. She could go on a diet..Wait a sec..You don’t mean…”
“Just asking.”
“I got a BETTER idea. I got this Mother-In-Law….”

The Art of Encouragement

kleidysz — Sun, 06 Jul 2008 20:55:22 +0000

The Art of Encouragement
Encouragement is essential to our very existence. I’m sure we can recall the popular childhood saying. “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.”
I couldn’t disagree with this statement more.

Words are extremely powerful. A stinging blow to your skin will leave a bruise that last for days. But venomous words that are lodged into your soul and spirit can last for a life time.

Poisonous words that were hissed and screamed to us as children from our parents or peers; reverberate throughout our psyche during our life’s journey. The words that were so freely hurled at us begin to create a great void within our souls that helps nurture the ugly wounds of insecurity. Leaving many to question what is my purpose and true destiny on this earth? Am I really good enough?

The quest to seek our authentic selves begins with many of us grasping in the darkness for something authentic and tangible to direct us to our true identity. Many of us stumble along the way trying to find solace in items that only place a band aid on our external.

Cosmetic surgery, a new car, new wardrobe, a fancy condo, a mcmansion, wild sexual escapades, the latest technical gadget, drugs, or alcohol cannot repair a marred soul.

A disfigured soul and spirit can only mend through the divine reunion with our Creator and Heavenly Father. And He will meet you right where you are.

In His presence he can begin to dispel the lies and negative words that have been spoken over many of us throughout our life time.

If you would open your heart and mind you can begin to allow God to repair your heart, soul, and spirit. And He will bestow a new identity and divine destiny.

You are fearfully and wonderfully made. Your Creator had a plan for you on this earth while you were still in your mother’s womb.

When I discovered this great truth; I immediately became excited about my life. I have a purpose and a divine destiny that is designed just for me. And I’m careful to encourage those who are around me because they too, have a majestic plan designed especially for their lives.

You can choose to use words that can shred a person apart, or you can purpose in your heart to use words to uplift and build one to their divine potential.

Blessings,
Camille Kleidysz

Hebrews 3:13
But encourage one another daily, as long as it is called Today, so that none of you may be hardened by sins deceitfulness.

A Popping Fourth of July…

Miss_Mae — Sun, 06 Jul 2008 13:26:15 +0000

Everybody knows (unless your pulse rate has suddenly gone silent) that most of our paychecks these days go to feed our hungry vehicles with ever more costly liquid food. I suspected with so much moola being spent on gasoline, it’d be a pretty quiet Fourth. Hey, who can buy fireworks, right?

Well, wouldn’t you know? Our out-of-work neighbors can, that’s who. Okay, maybe you like fireworks, and I agree they’re beautiful to watch as a display at fairs. But when the Fourth came and went and it was silent next door, I was sure fireworks was a luxury no one in our neck of the woods could afford. Then comes Friday night. And Friday night ends the Fourth, right? Isn’t the logical thought to welcome in the anniversary?

After the Fourth has ended, we hear these “squeeeeels” from across the fence. Yep, those pop-pop-pops ain’t popcorn gone crazy. It’s fireworks and bottle rockets.

And after I’d gone to bed. After my dog has gone to bed. After we’d gone to sleep.

The “celebration” has started.

I thought for sure Friday night would be safe. I lay there, blinking my sleep-heavy lids and wonder if the folks next door got their timing all messed up. Well, they have my sleep all messed up, that’s for sure.

The dog gets up, goes to the back door, watches all that weird light sparkling and crackling and hissing, tucks her tail between her legs and heads back to bed. Together, she and I lay there, waiting for the merriment of the Fifth of July party to wane.

Hmm. Maybe they’re wanting to start their own tradition.

http://missmaesite.com

http://missmaesite.blogspot.com

For The Love of Mr. Benson

Angela_Posey-Arnold — Sat, 05 Jul 2008 13:04:20 +0000

For The Love of Mr. Benson

Approaching Alzheimer’s Care/A Director of Nursing’s’ Perspective

By Angela Posey-Arnold RN BSN

As Director of Nursing in a Long Term Care facility I had the privilege to care for many residents diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease or dementia. Caring for these patients has many rewards and challenges. Administering an antipsychotic drug to keep them quite is not the answer. Physically restraining them is not the answer.

Behavior management is essential to successfully care for patients with dementia. Each patient is incredibly unique and their care has to be adapted to their unique individual needs.

In interviewing nurses about the current problems with behavior issues in long term care they most assuredly answer the same way, “we don’t have the staff to manage these behavior problems and get our work done too”.

Short staffing is an issue that is affecting most long term care facilities. Nurse Managers have a difficult job balancing time management and behavior management. Creativity and patience are key factors in successful behavior management. Let’s look at the following case study.

As a Director of Nursing in a one hundred and three bed LTC facility I have had nurses come to me with black eyes, bruises and scratches complaining that Mr. Benson in 12B was “combative”. I knew Mr. Benson very well and every time I saw him he was quietly counting his money or sweetly whistling while wandering the hallways. He had a classic case of Alzheimer disease.

The disease is relentless and unmerciful in the way it manifest itself. The care of these patients is challenging because each patient is different and their symptoms are different. No one can predict the stages or the progression. Treatment has to be individualized. There is no standard nursing care plan for Alzheimer’s. Behavior management has to be individualized and it can be done with the staff you have available.

His speech was garbled and made no sense but he talked a lot. He could not really carry on a meaningful conversation but he thought he was making sense. He would just jabber so sweetly as long as someone would listen, compassionately. If only for a few seconds the attention mattered to him.

He may not have been able to talk coherently but he could detect a fake smile a mile away. He would let me hug him and would hold my hand as we walked together. As I made my rounds each morning he would usually catch up with me and walk along with me.

I didn’t have the time to stop and spend even 5 minutes with him, but I could listen and smile at him while we walked. I think this is called multitasking.

When the nurses started complaining about him being combative I just could not understand it. He was so sweet and docile with me, I knew there had to be a cause for the behavior problems they were reporting.

Behavior Management Intervention number one: assess the problem. I observed his care for a few days and I quickly determined why he was being “combative” with his morning and evening personal care.

I came in early, early one morning and I snuck (yes, I snuck) in through the adjoining bathroom to secretly observe these alleged combative incidents. It only took a second for me to realize why he had blacked a few eyes. The LPN and the CNA were in the room. They were coming at him in all directions, talking loudly and getting aggravated at him for not cooperating. “Mr. Benson, raise your arms and put on your shirt, we have to get ready for breakfast now, come on, and quit fighting.” Mr. Benson was a little late for breakfast that day because we had a pop in-service on Alzheimer’s and the correct approach.

Behavior Management Intervention number two: education of staff

The nurses learned that you cannot bark a million orders at a person with Alzheimer’s, or anyone else for that matter. Nurses cannot be so active and in a hurry around them unless they really want a black eye. I taught the nurses that they must make slow deliberate movements and explain things in short sentences with only one command at a time.

The nurses learned it doesn’t take any more time to smile when you speak to them. If you are faking a smile they can tell a fake smile from a real compassionate one. A hurried manner will set off negative behaviors every time. The most important intervention in behavior management wasn’t in managing the patient it was in managing the nurses. You may not have enough of them but you have to manage the ones you do have.

It is amazing to me that an Alzheimer’s patient can’t perform the most basic of task but they can distinguish a fake smile from a genuine one. They can distinguish fake love from genuine love. Compassion doesn’t take up any time, it gets the job done.

Giving him a bath was a different story. It did not matter how sweet and kind he was approached at bath time, he was gonna fight it and it was my job to find out why and fix it.

Behavior Management intervention number three: assess continuing behaviors.

At the time we had an antiquated whirlpool tub that raised the patient up in a chair and then lowered them into a full tub of swirling water. He was absolutely terrified of that whirlpool. So we tried showers instead and started with his feet working up to his head. He was still combative and became so distressed during bath time. Something had to be done, but he also had to be clean.

Behavior Management intervention number four: Brainstorm and involve the Care Planning Team.

One of his grandsons came in for care planning and he told us that Mr. Benson had never taken baths or showers. He had always used a basin. So we changed the care plan and started using a basin in his room. It worked. He would even take most of the bath himself that way if we set it up for him. The miracles of communication.

Behavior Management Intervention number five: assess continuing behaviors

He presented yet another care plan dilemma leading us to eventually having to lock the guest bathroom in the lobby. He would go in there and dip a cup of water, or whatever was in there, out of the toilet and drink it. If we tried redirecting him he would get very angry with us. This wasn’t good for him or for us. We locked the bathroom and with careful observation and documentation we determined the time of day that he usually did this. At that time the med nurse would offer him some water and take him to his bathroom in his room.

It is not that we were not offering him hydration or not taking him to the toilet as we should, it was just that he was doing this dipping business at times that we did not expect. Our assessment revealed that he always went in for a dipper full right after lunch. We knew he had eaten well and drank his fluids on his tray at lunch so nobody really thought that he might still be thirsty at that time. I don’t think he was thirsty.

We talked to his family and discovered that it was a habit, and old farmer’s habit of many years. He had always kept a barrel of rain water and a dipper close by when he was working on the farm. That is how he got refreshment during his long farming days. So we started having the med nurse offer him a cup of nice “spring water” after lunch. He was satisfied and happy with that and the guest got their bathroom back.

Behavior Management intervention number six: Keep him busy.

I loved Mr. Benson. I know I am not supposed to have favorites but I have to confess, he was one of mine. He would come in my office and jibber jabber to me. I acted like I knew what he was saying, just agreeing and smiling and laughing with him. He loved to count money so I got him some play money and he would be fascinated for hours with it.

He could not pronounce a sentence anymore but when the Christian Church came and sang hymns—he was the first one in the activity room. He could sing every word to every hymn they sang. It was amazing to watch. It was so obvious where his love was.

The story about Mr. Benson is to prove that individualized care planning, behavior management and compassion come hand in hand. Without real compassion and caring for him we could have never individualized his care plan to such an extent. By investing a small amount of time we saved ourselves a tremendous amount of time. If we had not have cared deeply for him and his well being we would have missed the opportunities to provide care that enriched his quality of life. The nurses would have continued to have black eyes.

I will never forget the first time I saw him. I guess it was my first day on the job. I was making rounds and there he was working very hard to get out of a Geri chair that was facing the wall in the corner. I had no idea that putting someone in such restraints violated any state or federal regulation but I did know that it wasn’t right and I didn’t like it, not one bit.

I checked his chart and he was on so many psychoactive drugs that it was a wonder he could move. I went home that day, did not sleep much and came back very early. There he was, still in the same spot. My heart just sank. He looked so sad and he was still working diligently to get out of the chair. I asked the “veteran nurse” why they had him in that chair. She said because he “relieved” himself in the corner. I immediately made them get him out of the chair and take him to the bathroom. We had a little in-service on taking patients to the bathroom. I knew I had my work cut out for me. And I also knew that those nurses hated to see me coming, I was about to turn their world upside down.

We put him on a bathroom schedule that was adapted to his individual needs as far as we could asses. With some care in a few weeks he had no episode of incontinence in the corner. His habit of relieving himself in the corner again stemmed from his past as a farmer when I am sure he used the nearest tree many times. The nursing staff thought that he was doing it for meanness or spite or something. They just did not understand. But they did know that they would put him in that chair and leave him there until he was exhausted from trying to get out. There were some nurses that were actually punishing him by putting him in the Geri chair and locking him in.

To make sure they knew how that felt, my administrator and I had a mandatory in-service on restraint usage. I had a nice lunch and plenty of cokes for the nurses. Then I went over the regulations and reasoning for not using restraints as punishment. Almost to the end of the in-service, when everyone had eaten and drank a coke or two, I took volunteers to sit locked in a Geri chair. I locked them in, turned them towards the wall, dismissed the in-service and turned out the lights and shut the door. I stood outside the door. At first they laughed and carried on but by the time 15 minutes were up that were yelling and wanting out. –point made. Believe me they went and told everyone how that felt. I had the full attention and cooperation of the nursing staff after that. We reduced restraints successfully and they all understood why.

Mr. Benson lived out his days in happy oblivion until Alzheimer’s progressed and he passed away quietly in his sleep. I sleep better knowing that we did all we could do to make his days comfortable and happy. All it took was some compassionate caring nurses who were willing to make things better, and firing a few who didn’t.

Excerpt from the recently released book, THE NIGHTINGALE PROTOCOL by Angela Posey-Arnold RN BSN

ELEMENTAL: The Power of Illuminated Love

BookLover_ForLife — Mon, 19 May 2008 18:12:27 +0000

CTI News Room (Savannah, Georgia USA)– Acclaimed artist Luther E. Vann became the first Savannah-born African-American artist to have a one-man exhibit at the Telfair Museum’s Jepson Center for the Arts when his show opened there April 16, 2008. On May 29, the Jepson Center will host “An Evening with Luther E. Vann and Friends,” an event open to the public from 6-7 p.m.

The event will include a presentation by the artist reading from his newly released book, ELEMENTAL: The Power of Illuminated Love (Soar Publishing); a statement of interpretation of Vann’s work by Dr. Ja A. Jahannes; and other surprise events followed by a book signing. His book is now available at the Jepson Center Gift Shop, telephone (912) 790-8831 and through Soar Publishing at this url: http://www.soarpublishingllc.com/ .

“This event,” said Vann, “is very special for many different reasons. For one thing, it represents a major successful effort on behalf of the Telfair Museum, working with the Friends of African-American Arts, to interact more inclusively with Savannah’s African-American community. Secondly, the book ELEMENTAL, The Power of Illuminated Love, is one that I started with the author Aberjhani almost two full decades ago, so it’s a true blessing to see the project coming to such beautiful fruition and we’re grateful to all those who helped make it happen.”

Vann has some 16 pieces of art on exhibit in the Jepson Center’s Lewis Gallery. His new book includes more than 60 reproductions of his art along with accompanying poems and introductory essays by Aberjhani. In addition to ELEMENTAL, Aberjhani recently released several new books, including his profile of life in Savannah entitled The American Poet Who Went Home Again.

The Telfair Museum of Art is one of the oldest public art museums in the United States. In addition to Vann’s show, it also currently has on display photographs of the legendary Mexican artist Frida Kahlo. Moreover, the museum is the permanent home of a collection of portraits by Kahlil Gibran, the celebrated author of The Prophet.

The Telfair’s Jepson Center is located at 207 W. York Street. For more information, please call (912) 790-8800. –30–