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Why we should all be hummingbirds in 2020

We’ve all been made “aware” these past few months of the detrimental effects of a quickly spreading, asymptomatic and highly contagious virus that has penetrated life as we “knew” it . That life is gone. One infected person, one virus caused all this chaos. Our virtual scoreboard, or the local news channel, provides the latest numbers — — Corona Virus 300,000 , humans 0.

Preventative measures are being mandated and enforced. Stay home. Practice Social Distancing. Only go out for necessities such as medicine or food . Wear masks and gloves to…


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Photo by Anton Malanin on Unsplash

It’s not what you think …

It was a hot summer day when I first saw his tattoo. He was wearing a muscle t shirt and the colored ink was shining on his upper arm. I stared at it. Finally, I got up enough courage to ask about the image that had magically manifested itself on my uncle’s arm .

At the worldly age of 8, he was my favorite uncle. Unlike all the other adults in my life, he treated me as an adult , not as a subservient child. He told great stories . He gave great gifts…


To be held.
To be held.

My Godfather Joe Tribute 10–27–2019

Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.

As long as we are remembered, no one ever dies.

Joe Saglimbeni was from a small town in Sicily called Limina. It was a town in the Pelitorani Mountains; a town that time forgot. In the late 20thcentury, many people left Limina to pursue their fortune and future abroad. Some escaped to Australia or Venezuela. Others, like my godfather Joe, came to the United States.

A majority of Liminesi (as people from this town were referred to) had established a community in the Northeast Bronx…


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“Don’t get too comfortable, you’re not staying“ I said firmly to the chubby Rottweiler puppy that managed to firmly ensconce himself into the dirty laundry basket. He looked at me, uncertain of the tone of my voice and desperately trying to balance a sock on his head.

His owner had implored me to watch him for a while; “Please” he had said, “you’re home all day long and I have to drive to New Jersey to give an estimate on a landscaping job”.

“I’m home all day long, recuperating from spine surgery, I don’t have the presence of mind for…


“Well, then, what’s YOUR solution?” I seethed at my boyfriend, scrubbing an imaginary stain on the kitchen countertop so I wouldn’t have to look at him. If I looked at him, I would bite his head off like a female praying mantis.

“I don’t have a solution, but I know that we need one.” He answered in his calm attorney tone, refusing to raise his voice, infuriating me even further.

“Please look at me” It was his standard entreaty. One that I often chose to ignore, preferring the view of the floor or the window instead of connecting on an…


He sent me a picture of him. It was taken on a warm, sunny afternoon, standing on a green golf course, his chubby hand and short stocky fingers were resting on a golf club. He wore a weathered polo shirt that was two sizes too small, stretched miserably over the protrusion of his belly and gathered tightly across his broad shoulders and wide chest. His double chin showed the beginning of stubble. There were small rivulets of sweat on his square brow, prominent beneath his receding hairline.

Meanwhile, in the picture, I saw an intelligent man, a warm broad smile…

Angelina Biella

Words…. my best friends…my worst enemies. The right words are kind . The wrong words hurt, except Italian words, words in Italian always sound good.

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