Friday, September 10, 2010


Thank God it’s Friday and where the heck did the week go anyway? This is the weekend of the Canadian National Specialty show and a lot of my friends are up there enjoying that right now. Everyone seems to have fun at this show. Good luck to all the exhibitors! One of my friends and her husband take their motor home up there every year. I always wanted to travel cross country in a motor home and just take my time and take in the sights along the high way. Oh well, maybe one day when I get rich and famous!

Speaking of rich and famous……I’m going to make this plea this coming week on a couple of lists that I belong to. I just put it on my Facebook page yesterday afternoon. I need your help, so I’m networking it here as well. I wonder if any of you can give me advice or lead me in the right direction. Recently I wrote an idea for a television reality show. I’ve had it copyrighted with the Copyright Office and also have a registration number from “The Writer’s Guild of America.” Because of my research on the internet, I was led to believe that MTV accepts unsolicited material so I wrote them a letter with my concept for the show. When I didn’t hear back from them, I called them and they told me they no longer accept unsolicited material and in fact haven’t done so for the last two years. They advised me to get an entertainment lawyer or agent. I contacted a lawyer that I know lives in California (non-entertainment) and he was kind enough to inquire about this for me. He was told the same thing that studios don’t accept unsolicited material. So what I need is an agent or an entertainment lawyer. Do any of you guys know anyone that fits this description…….friend, family member, associate, friend of a friend, distant relative……..anyone at all that can guide me in the right direction? No scratch that…….anyone who can get me into a production company??? PLEASE WRITE TO ME PRIVATELY at: Mucho thanks!

Now back to the doggy stuff. A couple of days ago I asked my readers what state did they think should be the official state of the German Shepherd Dog. Naturally I got answers from people who thought that the state that they lived in should be declared the official state of the German Shepherd. I heard from those from New York, Ohio, Texas, Colorado, etc. Oh and even someone wrote to me saying British Columbia, Canada should be the winner! The most responses came from New York. Two people wrote to me to tell me that New York tried to make this their official dog after the 9/11 incident but for some reason it hasn’t passed yet so one of the ladies that wrote to me just wrote a letter to her state Senator to inquire about it. She told me when she hears from him, she’ll let me know. Speaking of 9/11, this is a story that I wrote all those years ago concerning that horrific event in our countries history. Have a great week-end everyone!

Barbara J. Galasso

From a distance you could hear the steady humming of a jet that grows increasingly louder as it speeds ever faster towards its target. Closer now; the humming is replaced with a roar. Deafening, crashing, and crushing… time to prepare. Just a blank expression; not even recognition of ones surroundings. Jet fuel leaking, angry black smoke rising, red hot fire spreading. Steel beams collapsing, walls surrender, little Joey’s framed picture falls to the floor, a telephone rings from a forgotten desk in the corner of the office. Voices scream, crying and shouting. “Get out, get out” is the last words some hear as the voice succumbs to the dead of silence. The falling, the awful falling. The walls cave in; the floors disappear as the majestic ladies tumble to the ground, floor by floor, stairwell by stairwell.

Thick black choking smoke. Flames dance across the bleak landscape. Debris, so much debris. Crushed stone, twisted cables, a set of keys, a wedding band, and a scrap of paper with a note saying “Don’t forget 2:00 meeting today.” A cell phone rings among the trappings of the fallen buildings. A German Shepherd rescue dog lays exhausted by the feet of the dirt covered fireman who sits in shocked bewilderment among the rubble that was once known as the majestic ladies.

In other parts of the country, two more jets are racing towards their destiny and a place in the history books. No survivors, all victims have succumbed to their fate in a lone field or the side of a building. The majestic ladies are not alone in their heroic defeat.

Oh America, your innocent, your brave cry out for justice. Hear them shout from the top of a snow capped mountain, or your painted valleys awash with a tapestry of colors, or through the deep crevices that reverberate through your canyons. Hear them in the whisper of a gentle breeze that caresses a lone tree top that sits in a barren meadow. With each new dawn that starts the day and when dusk follows her lead, those who have gone before us prepare for their day of reckoning. They can no longer be silenced by the deafening thunder of a jet. The souls of the past beg to be remembered. Peace escapes them as they search for America to be vindicated.

The flags will be flown at half mast today as the breeze catches the fabric with her stars and stripes that ripple ever so gently across the clear blue sky. Wave high, wave proudly Old Glory, as we’ll never forget what you stand for and represent. The majestic ladies stand ever tall in our hearts. And if one walks past ground zero late at night and you listen long and hard enough, you may still hear the echoes of life begging to be remembered. One may think they can still hear the telephone ringing, faxes sending, copying machines copying, ideas exchanged at the board meeting… going on as usual. “Hey Jane, what did you do over the week-end?” someone asks. “No dear, I won’t forget to pick up a container of milk on my way home tonight,” another softly whispers in to the phone. A secretary types her boss’s presentation papers for the meeting early this afternoon. She accidentally types in the wrong number. She goes back and corrects it. She changes the 0 to a 1. “There now, that looks better,” she compliments herself. Her boss comes over to her desk and reminds her, “Don’t forget, I need to get out of here by 3:00 this afternoon. It’s my son’s birthday and I promised my wife I’d get home before rush hour traffic.” The secretary nods her head up and down in acknowledgment of his request. She makes a mental note to herself; “Today is not a good day to ask for that much needed raise. Tomorrow” she tells herself. “I’ll do it the very first thing in the morning.” She turns back to her paper she’s typing and dates it September 11, 2001. “Gee, I’d like to get out of here early myself,” she chuckles. The majestic ladies hear her. She’s about to make history.


My rating: Thank God it's Friday: (4)

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