The Story of Me

This is a portion of a current writing prompt for our write for your life group.

I was born on February 18th, 1962 to Bill and Betty Nieman.  I was born with multiple minor birth defects, which the doctors could not give names,but which had an unseen impact on my life.

I am a graduate of South Sioux City Public Library,  Wayne State College, and North American Baptist Seminary (now Sioux Falls University Seminary).

The ability to write and present humorous poetry made a positive impact on my college days and in seminary.


15 Pieces of Writing Advice from C.S. Lewis

15 Pieces of Writing Advice from C.S. Lewis

1. Avoid distractions.

2. Read all the good books you can.

3. Always write and read with your ear, not your eye.

4. Write only about what interests you.

5. Work hard at being clear.

6. Don’t throw away writings projects that you put aside.

7. Write, don’t type.

8. Know the meaning of all the words you use. 

9. Avoid ambiguity.

10. Use language to make your meaning clear and make sure it can’t mean anything else.

11. Choose the plain and direct word over the long and vague one.

12. Choose the concrete noun over the abstract one.

13. Make the reader feel what you are describing rather than telling the reader what it is with an adjective.

14. Use words appropriate for the subject.

15. Don’t feel obligated to bring explicitly Christian bits to your writing.

Visit the link above for details on each of these points, as well as reference notes.

I hate monkeys

Quote:  “I hate monkeys.”- Dwayne Johnson in The Rundown.

I hate monkeys,

human monkeys.

naked apes,

who bare their arces,

throw feces

make the lives of those,

who choose to be better,

a living hell.

On the road,

in the marketplace,


Who say no one can

make you unhappy.

That’s a choice.

and continue to spew filth,

throughout their lives,

an ours,

Then they wonder why

we want to stay home,

shut away.

choosing hermitage,

over civilization.







Why I Live in This Small Town: a necromance

This is the February writing prompt.  “Why I live in a small town”

Well, welcome!  I don’t get many visits here anymore.  My place is so crowded.  Let’s sit out here in the yard.

So, you want to know why I live in a small town like this.

Well, you have to understand…  I was born and raised in the country, on the edge of the reservation.  Going to school in Decatur was going to town.  I wasn’t raised in the city.  I didn’t like to drive in the city back when I drove.  The big city was no place for me.  The country was too far away from anything for me.   The small town was just the right fit.

Like I said, I went to school in Decatur.  Kindergarten through eighth grade was all I went to school.  Back then you had to test to get into high school.  My folks needed my help on the farm.  There was plenty to do so I stayed home during the days.  I’d go to the movies on the weekends, occasionally a dance, and all the county fairs and town celebrations in the summer.

It was a county fair, where I met my husband Jim.

I was at the Thurston County Fair in Walthill with another boy, Bobby.  We were in his car waiting for the Friday night fireworks, when Bobby tried to force himself on me.  I wasn’t that Kind of girl.  I liked going to shows, dancing, kissing, but not that stuff.  Well, Jim was walking by, when he heard me scream.  He had eyes for me too.  He threw open the door of Bobby’s Ford, pulled him off of me, and taught him the lesson his daddy should have.

Well what could I do?  I went home with him that night.  He looked so fit.  He was just back from the service.  He was my hero and I was in love.  We dated for a year and got married.  The best move I ever made.

We moved to South Sioux City.  It was way too big a town for me.  Then we bought a little house with four lots and two out buildings in Dakota City.  It was the nicest place I ever live in.  We lived there, had two children, and a great life.  Unitl I got sick and died and was moved here.

Section C. Lot 44 Dakota City Cemetary.

Now you kids go on home.  It’s too late at night for you to be in the graveyard alone.

Thanks for stopping by.

My Resolutions for 2016, 1/16

I have spent nearly 54 years

Doing what others often want me to do,

To be what others want me to be,

But no more.

I resolve to enjoy my life,

Read poetry,

Listen to relaxing music,

Admire photography



Watch martial arts events,

Yet love my enemies,

Shun the argumentative,

Go to church when I want,

Be a hermit when I want to,

Yet be at peace in a waring world.


The Best Gift You Have Ever Given/ The Best Gift You’ve Ever Received/ 12/15


The Best Gift Given

When Jamie turned forty,

I wanted to make it a great birthday,

Since she was born only a few days

Before Christmas

She has always received the short end of things

When it came to her birthday.

I ordered her a dress,

On advice of her sister,

Reserved the honeymoon suite

At the Embassy Inns and Suites

At the Old Market,

Complete with sparkling wine,

Chocolate dipped strawberries,

And valet service.

I took her to a couple great restaurants,

And gave her the gift of shopping in the Old Market.


The Best Gift Received

Last year

Jamie gave me a Man Cave

In the basement of our house

She hung the painted saws that I inherited

From my Dad, when he passed away

Added other Western (Cowboy) art work,

To my library and television room

In the basement

Of our home.

She invited the family over,

And had a Cave cake

That was so intricate,

People were afraid to eat it.

The Best Thanksgiving Ever/ The Worst Thanksgiving Ever 11/15

The Best 1986

Thanksgiving is usually filled with

too much food, family and football,

all leading to the bizarre combination,

of indigestion and emptiness.

This was the first year

that it was filled with food and friends.

I spent the holiday in Sioux Falls where

John Nfor and I were hosted

by the Shlanta family:  Steve, Gay

and their two college-age daughters.

Gay was the Assistant Pastor of

Asbury Park United Methodist Church

and Steve was retired.

The daughters, I am truly sorry I don’t remember their names,

One a student at Baylor

and the other working at one of the banks in town

was taking a class at the seminary.

The two marked differences from the norm were

the lack of the blare of football in the background

and the inclusion of an abundance of conversation,

real conversation,

not where did you get drunk last night?  and so on.

The Shlantas were perfect hosts,

interested in John Nfor’s home

and work in Cameroon,

my life,

the lives of their daughters,

and freely sharing their own experiences.

Steve slow roasted his turkey whole

on the barbecue.

with dressing,

potatoes and gravy,

a vegetable,

and a piece of pumpkin pie.

We said grace,

ate only one helping,

and spent the afternoon in conversation.

I was later able to go back to my apartment,

with little indigestion and

do some homework

while watching the second football game.

The Worst a host of Thanksgivings from my childhood

My sister and I

were ornaments

of a happy family

placed strategically in the living room

of the trailer,

as family filed in

talking loudly,

their volumes

turned up all the way,

the control knobs

conveniently lost

they talk over the television,

turned up too loud

so that it can be heard

over the voices in the room.

We eat

my sister and I

standing at the kitchen counter

while the rest of the family

sits around the table,

voices getting even louder

and slurred,

with the inclusion of alcohol.

The food was good

and if we were lucky

we would spend the afternoon

my sister and me,

walking around the trailer court

with no one to play with,

looking at the trailers

of equally unhappy families.