This Sunday (March 27th) for many people is the celebration of Easter and rebirth or resurrection. For me it is the second time in my lifetime that my birthday falls on Easter. I'll be 68. It hardly seems possible that I made it that long. I remember a conversation with my Dad a long time ago when I told him I wanted to go into politics and help people. He told me not to since I wear my heart of my sleeve and I could do more from behind the scenes. This is the story of how a premature baby grew up to be a passionate progressive.

I was fairly small a little over five pounds but where I've always noticed problems was with my lungs. I was a frequent candidate for every respiratory aliment out there. Now I learn to manage the severe asthma and C.O.P.D. Of course this never stopped me running or skiing. I refused to let anything stop me from having fun. I still walk whenever I can taking my camera with me.

I was the second child of a young mother and World War II veteran father. I learned early that I was the apple of my Dad's eye and that I'd never be Mom's favorite. My Mom used to complain that her Mom loved the boys even though it was the girls who took care of her. After endlessly saying she was nothing like that she proceeded to make my older brother Mike and youngest brother Jerry the pets. The only daughter? Me she could never understand. It wasn't until the end of her life with me as caregiver that she came to appreciate me as a person. It hurt but it didn't stop me loving her.

I was an artist early in life. My Mom who was a hoarder kept my second grade report card which had a message "take a look at her art!" When arthritis made it difficult for me to hold a pen and brush I turned to computer art. Art has always been my solace.

I learned early that there are people who deserve love and respect but don't get it. I started school at Sandia Base in Albuquerque, New Mexico. The school had an annual folk dance festival featuring the students. There were more girls than boys. I had a snot nosed boy for a partner that I couldn't stand. I still remember my teacher taking me aside and asking fearfully if this second grader would change partners and dance with a black girl. Her partner refused to dance with her. Well of course I would. I was so embarrassed to be brought in front of the whole room to be praised for something that should have been no big deal as my Hawaiian friends would say. I had learned from my Dad that there is one race the human race and underneath it all we were the same with the same needs and wants. The incident lead to another talent in my and that was poetry. Many years later I wrote Ode to the Black Girl in Second Grade.

Ode To The Black Girl In Second Grade

The years have made me forget your name.
Your smile? No.
Your warmth? Never.
You taught me something.

Second grade.
A long time ago.
Black - White -
Human - Love -
Yes.

Dancing. A free expression of the soul.
Not enough boys - Girl's partners -
I had a boy.
She wouldn't dance with you.
Why?

With quiet dignity you took it.
She wants my partner. Yes.
Dance with me. Yes.
Good. I like you.

They hurt you.
Why?
They pushed you down.
You cried. I cried.
Your blood was red like ours.
You were the same as us.
Why did I think your blood
Would be a different color?
Foolish child.

I think of you.
Do you think of me?
Sometimes?
Do you hate us all?
I hope not.
For we're all the same,
You and I,
You taught me that.
Thank you.

I always knew that I was never one of the in-crowd and never would be. That is what happens when you discover science fiction and fantasy at the age of eight. It sort of ruins you for being Home Coming Queen. The first book I read was Tom Godwin's The Survivors. The phrase "Ragnorak calling" has stayed with me all my life. I moved on to Arthur C. Clarke, Isaac Asimov, Ursula LeGuin, Marion Zimmer Bradley, Frank Herbert, J.R.R. Tolkien, and many, many others. If I listed all the books I love in the science fiction and fantasy field we will be here forever. But my main memories are the ones where I've worked with some of the authors.

I remember the late Theodore Sturgeon grabbing my hand and suggesting that I run off to Ireland with him. I had the same offer from one of the Irish Rovers when I worked tech for one of their shows. I remember Harlan Ellison pulling me away from my shift during a convention and ordering me to go to dinner with him and Robert Silverberg and a couple of others. He then proceeded to ignore me while Bob Silverberg and I had a great conversation. I remember Marion Zimmer Bradley looking at Harlan Ellison and remarking "I knew him when he was a snot nosed kid. Now he is a snot nosed adult."

I worked with a lot of the Doctor Who people. I will never forget Colin Baker leading my staff into meowing Happy Birthday to my cat Sasha who was our mascot at my convention. I remember Gerry Davis coming in with a bottle of wine telling me we were neighbors and we should go ahead and celebrate with the gift bottle of wine. I remember Peter Davison telling my staff that they had to go get me so I could go to dinner with them. We then proceeded to talk Shakespeare and theater a love we both share.

One of my favorite people in the entire world is Star Trek's George Takei. I've worked several conventions with him over the years. He is far and away the sweetest person I have ever met. I remember walking through the back corridors at a convention where we were taking George, Walter Koenig, and Jimmy Doohan to their panel. I'll never forget George utterly cracking up at my "Jimmy get that hand back where it belongs!" Jimmy was a flirt.

I remember right out of High School and living in San Francisco and meeting my parents at the Oakland Coliseum for an Ice Capades show. I took the bus in and asked Dad how I would recognize them. He said to just bring a red balloon. I found the largest red helium balloon I could find. I'll never forget the look on Dad's face. He was actually embarrassed. Gee I just did what he asked.

I remember Easter at my Aunt's house. The 7-Up uncola glass was the rage. I remember my Dad calling "Michele quick put your hand under the glass the bottom has just fallen out." I had been wool gathering and actually started to do so before I realized it was one of those upside down Coke glasses.

I remember when living in San Francisco I had my niece with me and we were walking back from the store. She was around 4½ at the time. She was complaining that Christmas was too far away. I tried to explain to her about the seasons and the Earth orbiting the sun. I told her you couldn't make the Earth go faster. I still laugh at her reply, "well you could if you get out and push!"

I remember working at my first science fiction convention as an artist and being told as I came in on Sunday morning that I had something at the Art Show. I came out with a certificate for "Best Computer Generated Art." I remember an on-line literary magazine contacting me wanting to print my first short story The Dragon and the Lake and a couple days later telling me they needed a short bio as I was going to be their author of the month.

But throughout everything I was always passionate about human rights and the environment. In college I was an activist. I took part in marches and political debates. This worked out well since I decided to major in Theater/Speech/Communications. My Dad was all for it and my Mom was appalled. How would I ever make a living with those majors?

Drama has always been a major love for me and I loved being on stage. I loved to sing and although never had voice lessons it never stopped me. I was at a picnic for my Church's choir when I was handed the microphone and told to pick a song for karaoke. I decided on Memories from Cats. You could have heard a pin drop when I sang. Afterwards my host came over to tell me that his wife was a professional singer from the Philippines and that she thought I had one of the best voices she had ever heard.

Through everything it was creating that kept me sane. I write. My main genre has been fantasy and some of my stories have been published. I write poetry that has been published. I have been selling art since 1998. I make jewelry, scarves, sock monkeys, and other craft things for sale. I am currently writing my first science fiction novel.

I love to cook. At this point I have about 1,035 recipes. I need to somehow make some sense out of that many and get a cookbook published. I started cooking when Dad was alive because of his bad heart. I cook heart and consequentially diabetic healthy.

I am as passionate now as I have always been. I am a strong voice for helping those in need. I am against discrimination of all kinds. I love Mother Earth and fight hard to try and protect her environment. I devour books and every new discovery or photographs from space thrills me.

I am a survivor. I survived growing up knowing that I was never going to be a favorite of my Mom. I can't blame her entirely because she never had a role model when growing up and unfortunately was too much like her own Mom. My Dad and I were comrades and both had similar personalities. His sudden death has left a permanent hole in my heart. I survived a date rape. I survived an abusive marriage. I survived being caregiver to the world's most difficult patient my Mom. I have survived being caregiver to a brittle diabetic brother. He has had so many health scares and near death experiences since I brought him out here. His Doctor has flat out told him he would be dead without me. She told me that I didn't realize how much of an angel I was. Of course the devil horns do keep knocking the halo askew.

So this is who I am and how I got here. I thought if I was going to be writing regularly that people might like to know something about this person called michelewln (Michele Wilson). I have an off beat sense of humor. I am passionate. I am vocal. I am also owned by my cat Princess Pixie and frequently write about her.

In closing I think this poem describes me best. It was a favorite of my Dad's and he told me that it described him.

Castles Made of Sand

I don't know where I'm going,
And I don't know where I am.
I've been following this dream so long
That I can barely stand.
I don't know what tomorrow brings
Or what the fates have planned,
I can only wait and see
If my castles are made of sand.

Dreams are made of clouds
And waves with silvery crests.
Dreams are made of star dust
And touch with a warm caress.
Dreams are made of love
And hopes you can't forget.
Dreams can keep you going
When there is nothing left.

My dreams have kept me going
Through long and lonely years.
Dreams have kept my faith alive
And dried my many tears.
But dreams are gone by morning
And daylight brings new fears,
That my castle walls will crumble
And leave me standing here.

My castles may be made of sand
And won't stand the test of time.
At least I dared to dream
And the memories are all mine.
For if you can not dream,
If you dare not cross the line
Into hopes and promises
Both subtle and sublime;
Your life will be as empty
As that lonely stretch of land,
Without even the beauty
Of a castle made of sand.

Links:

Website: http://www.artbymichelewilson.com/

Fine Art America: http://fineartamerica.com/profiles/1-michele-wilson.html

Zazzle: http://www.zazzle.com/artbymichele

Scarves: http://artbymichelewilson.com/uniquescarvesbymichele.htm

Yarn Octopus: http://artbymichelewilson.com/uniqueyarnoctopusbymichele.htm

Sock Monkeys: http://artbymichelewilson.com/uniquesockmonkeysbymichele.htm

Jewelry: http://artbymichelewilson.com/uniquejewelrybymichele.htm

Recipes: http://artbymichelewilson.com/recipes.htm

Poetry: http://artbymichelewilson.com/poetry.htm

Short Stories: http://artbymichelewilson.com/storyindex.htm