Bonnie McCune has been writing since age ten, when the Saturday Evening Post rejected a submission. She lives in Colorado and is the author of articles, novels, and short stories. Her entire family is book-mad. Her interest in writing facilitated her career in nonprofits doing public and community relations. Simultaneously, she’s been a free-lance feature writer. Her secret love is live theater. Had she been nine inches taller and thirty pounds lighter, she might have been an actress. Her civic involvement includes grass-roots organizations, political campaigns, writers’ and arts’ groups, and children’s literacy. For years, she entered recipe contests and was a finalist once in the Pillsbury Bake Off. Bonnie’s writing explores the highs and lows of everyday people and their unique lives with humor, close attention, and appreciation. Email: bfmccune [at] gmail.com
Website: https://BonnieMcCune.com
by Bonnie McCune Much worse. Evidently, we’re in a country that’s gone mad. Bonkers. Off its rockers. At first, I thought the problem was me. I’ve never felt like I fit in. Even as young as age six, I noticed that I didn’t act or react the way my peers did. Bullying or bragging or…
by Bonnie McCune Political discussions and debates leave me cold. That’s because I abhor conflict, and politics always seem to be accompanied by disagreements, fights, raised voices, and anger. When I think about the hot topics in the 60s and 70s, many of them centered on matters of race, I associate those times with images…
by Bonnie McCune Never before have I worried about rolling out of my bed or a chair and falling down, kerplunk! For no reason. Now I have to. I feel like a spacer on the first outer space mission, alert with every breath, having always to think about where to place each foot. constantly aware.…
by Bonnie McCune To me, the most surprising fact of old age life so far has been the decline in my own condition. Physical and mental. There is no way I can reach the heights I used to, i.e., even jogging a mile or two. It’s sufficient to WALK a mile or two. I’ll never…
by Bonnie McCune When my grandson was about two, I heard him stirring from his nap and went to his bedroom to get him up. He saw me at the door and clambered to his feet, clinging to the rail of his crib. “I got eye blooows,” he announced with pride, indicating with a pointed…
by Bonnie McCune I used to feel depressed when I read those notices in newspapers or chat with others about people’s multiple accomplishments. Compared to me, everyone in the world seems to be a raving success. They publish several novels a year, start businesses, win awards, are asked to speak at conferences and, even more,…