A Crack at Satan…


I recently saw something about a letter to Satan. I don’t know who wrote it but am trying to figure out if it was an assignment or someone’s daring thoughts so I could connect with it. Meanwhile, the idea has been gnawing at me ever since this morning, Thursday, June 19 2014. So here goes:

To the one who lives in darkness. Hiding, sneaking, prying, and deceiving, you are the dread of every mother who wants their child to grow up a good kid.

When I was a kid, and all the way through my young adulthood, I was lost – no where near the word of God. I didn’t know there was someone I could go to for understanding, forgiveness, and guidance. Without a mother’s love, all I had was a bitter father – a harsh disciplinarian. A father who thought beatings and humiliations would create the person he wanted me to be…subservient, and a person with low self-esteem.

My life amounted to nothing at one time, for a long stretch. You tempted me as I was starved for love, and you led me to be used by people for their advantage, and satisfaction. But no more! Not after God led me to the people who would take the steps of courage and speak to me about His type of love. It is unconditional, and it is forever.

My life had turned around for the best, though I stumbled even as I was learning. But, in the comfort and strength of God’s love, through His Son, Jesus Christ, who died for my sins and is my Savior, my faith has grown stronger each day.

And what good is faith in God, someone might ask. My personal experience is that it is the foundation built on love, freely given to me, (and to you). God loved me first before I even knew him. Then I learned the vastness of His power to do all things to protect me. There has been many pitfalls waiting for me, and in the ones I stumbled into, when I’ve called on Him, he’s pulled me out. But, one of the hardest lessons I think we, of new and old faith go through, is that God does things in His own timing. We are to surrender our misery, our problems, our lives to Him and then, with patience and perseverance, wait for the turning point that only God can provide.
He has saved me from further abuse that would’ve caused great emotional damage, He has delivered me from death’s door a couple of times. And over the past decade, I’ve learned that I’ve been a survivor by the grace of God, to serve Him by blessing others, either by words or by action.
So, evil one, take no pride in what chaos you have done to so many people. For God will always overcome the trials of His people, His children, and never leave us to suffer alone.
You, are doomed. And as I see you enact your reign of tragedy and terror on people’s lives, I recall a phrase…Misery loves Company.
I dare to share all this, my intimate testimony, because I want to love others as God has loved me.
MillieAnne Lowe

The Serial Killer of Bush Street Part 10 – Server Down!


Hello to all my fans and followers!

I tried for more than 25 minutes to post on time, but because of a Server Down problem, I could not.

I’m really bummed! I’ve had a perfect daily posting record for Writing 101 assignments so far. What does this do to all my stats?

Meanwhile, I’ll leave my husband’s laptop and go back to mine and see if I can get on and post part 10 for you!



It’s 12:18 a.m. I tried to connect with my site on my own laptop and was not able to connect with the server for WordPress. All this doesn’t make sense to me. Why is his computer working and not mine?

I can tell you I’m not going to sleep easy tonight. I’ll watch something on my Kindle Fire HDX. Maybe that’ll help me wind down.

Oh, I did try opening hotmail and gmail but couldn’t reach their servers either. So I could not send Part 10 and use my husband’s computer to post tonight.

I’m sorry about all this. Does anyone have tips to help me figure this out, or how to circumvent such a problem in the future? Thanks!

Good night!


Liebster Award Round 5…

Thank you lefraise2002 at ohhowrandom.wordpress.com and Cathy Jing at drowninginroughdrafts.wordpress.com for nominating me for this award! In reading about the Liebster Award at your blog and others linked to you, I’ve come across some very interesting stories. Discovering what other people enjoy, how they feel, or have needs for, has been an exciting journey to many parts of the world.

Here are 11 facts about me…

  1. I would love to kill this thing called Arthritis. If I could decimate the wild wandering growth that hinders so many people, I wouldn’t hesitate to press the red button.
  2. I have tons of great story ideas. I wish I had time to develop all of them.
  3. For years, I’ve wanted to learn how to draw and now I have a wonderful teacher, Robin Rogers Cloud robincloud.com. She taught me how to sketch, and now I am learning how to watercolor. I recently finished a sketch of a rooster and painted it. The results have brought me so much pleasure. I can do it!
  4. It is exciting to win a writing contest, no matter if it is an Honorable Mention, Third, Second, or First Prize. The memory of applause gives me strength to plow on through long hours of hard work.
  5. In the year 2000, I won several awards for my patchwork baby quilt designs, but I’ve given up quilting for writing.
  6. The writers who have inspired me are Mark Twain, John Steinbeck, and Dashiell Hammett. My friend and writing mentor is Dawn Thurston memoirmentor.com.
  7. I love listening to jazz, saxophone, or the lonely notes of a cello. While driving I enjoy love songs by Rod Stewart, and like switching to the pep of the Beach Boys. When ever possible, I squeeze in watching Keith Urban performances.
  8. At 5:30 a.m. I enjoy listening to Jason Mraz! I feel happy and smile while I make lunches.
  9. I learned how to ride horses on a dude ranch in Tumacacori, Arizona. Can you find it on the map?
  10. I’ve had a total ankle replacement on my left foot. I can walk without pain!
  11. I thoroughly enjoy writing knock-out first sentences, and creating cliff-hangers at the end of chapters.

Now, the answers to your questions:

What is your favorite subject to photograph/write about?
Pearly pink, white, and lavender sunsets. Also, I love writing fiction and creative non-fiction.

What is the best book you’ve read in the last year?
It’s a toss-up between re-reading John Steinbeck’s East of Eden and The Grapes of Wrath.

Cats or dogs or…? – Which one is the better companion for you?
I love dogs. I’ve raised an Alaskan Malamute and a English Water Spaniel. Both breeds are affectionate.

What is your favorite vacation spot?
The island of Maui.

What is the most spontaneous thing you have ever done?
Walk out on a creepy boss whose desires were to sexually harass me.

Toes socks – good or bad?

Good. I tried my daughter’s.

How many languages do you speak?
Three – English mainly, bits of Spanish, and Cantonese. I want to learn French and Italian.

What is your favorite part of humanity?
Helping the homeless, comforting the aged, and encouraging the young and lonely of this world.

Oreos- original or double stuffed.
Original Oreos!

What is your favorite season?

Summer! I love the beach!

Best part of doing the Liebster award?

Getting to know the works of other people who love to write!

Two bloggers I would like to recommend for the Liebster Award?

Tim Taylor http://thedailyhillbilly.wordpress.com

Kiwibeeblogger.wordpress.com I love her Snap Thoughts site!

Thanks everyone, for stopping by to read more about me. I hope you enjoy all my stories.


Three Important Songs of My Life…

Write about the three most important songs in your life — what do they mean to you?


The first time I heard about rock ‘n roll was when my friend Janet, from grammar school, asked me if I had ever heard You Ain’t Nothing But A Hound Dog, one of Elvis Presley’s songs. “Who? What’s that name again?”

“Elvis,” she said incredulously, but she could see from the expression on my face that I truly did not know who he was, or had even heard one of his songs. Well, she filled me in and told me to listen to the radio more often after school. Positioning herself by the flagpole, she sang a few lines of his song, and then she demonstrated his wiggling leg movements on stage.  “Try singing the words with me, and try the leg movements, too,” she suggested. We caught the attention of other students just arriving into the schoolyard and they laughed uncontrollably with us. Janet and I had a rollicking good time that morning, and such an experience I will never forget.

Janet, my Portuguese friend who lived in North Beach, was my first connection to the outer world. Our conversations took my mind away from San Francisco’s Chinatown, its Chinese Opera music played repeatedly on the radio in stores, coffee shops, and sewing factories, and its constant strict disciplines. It has astounded me to discover how under exposed I had been to other people and the ways of their culture. My total sense of environment had only been what my father exposed me to after my mother passed away, and by keeping me close to him at my early age, in a small neighbor community, he thought he protected me. I later learned that the American way of life was much more interesting. I observed how my multi-cultural classmates, Italians, Romanians, and Polish, had families that loved them with great affection and praises for their young efforts. I wished for many years that I had that kind of love.


All I Have to Do is Dream, by The Everly Brothers, released in 1960, is my second significant song. I’ve listened to it several hundred times when practicing the calypso after school either at home by myself, or with the girls’ club at our church community center. The rhythm of the music made me feel like the flame of a candle swaying along with a gentle ocean breeze. First, I learned the steps, then the movements came along, and soon when my steps and movements were smooth, I dreamed of being one of the best calypso dancers in my class at school. I also dreamed of attracting the best dance partners at the bi-weekly dance. Unfortunately, there were more girls than boys, and the girls I practiced with were just as good, or better, than I was.


In junior high school, I joined the orchestra and played viola. I wanted the deeper tones from an instrument and the viola suit me beautifully. Our teacher, Mr. Haig Kafafian, taught us with enthusiasm. Many times, in his excitement to keep up a good pace, as he sidestepped his paced from one side of the room to the other, a bit of spit would escape his smiling face. My viola partner, Marilyn, and I sat in the front, and after the first time a drop hit our eyelids, we learned to duck.

Bit by bit, we increased our ability until we could play to perfection each note and each piece of music of renown from Beethoven to Rachmaninoff. Then, one day after a long practice of Smoke Gets In Your Eyes, he announced, “Class, you are ready for the privilege of being part of a full orchestra. Tomorrow, we merge with the members of the band to play this piece in the Spring Festival. Your parents and the whole school will hear and appreciate your hard work for an excellent performance!”

The excitement of combining with the big group of boys in the band led us in an endless stream of exhilarating chatter all the way home for weeks.

Mr. Kafafian took great pride in introducing us at the Spring Festival and the applause we received was unforgettable.

Once again, the repetition of practice ingrained the notes into my mind. Whenever I hear Smoke Gets In Your Eyes, I remember what it felt like to be a unique part of something important. I also remember that back then, my girlfriends and I never had so much fun practicing for long hours, and winning the admiration of all those boys in the band.


The View from My Kitchen Window…

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_assignment/writing-101-day-two/ Describe your room with a view.


Back in the 1950s, the room I enjoyed the most was the kitchen because it had a window where I could look down from our apartment three stories above the busiest streets of San Francisco’s Chinatown. People-watching was my favorite thing to do after school while I mixed together a can of tuna with Best Foods mayonnaise to spread on saltine crackers.

The street music of honking car horns, Chinese Opera music, and shopkeepers chattering with tourists, floated into our apartment through the double-hung window.

Of all the memories from that window, there is one scene I will never forget. One night as I practiced my arithmetic in the living room, my dad called me over to the kitchen window and turned out the overhead light. It had stopped raining a few minutes before and the neon lights of the shops bounced off the wet cobblestones of Grant Avenue and Jackson Street.

“Don’t make any noise,” my dad said. “Look down there at Chester’s news stand. See the couple talking with him?” Dad spoke as if he were going to share a secret. I tiptoed and looked down.

“Those two people only come out at night time,” he said.

“Why only at night, Daddy?” I had seen the couple before but no one said anything about them. I wondered what was different now.

“People don’t like them because he is a huk guay (Black man) and she is a Chinese. Chinese women are not supposed to marry a faun yun (Caucasian), or anyone else that is not Chinese,” my dad explained.

This all seemed strange to me. I sensed that he was trying to teach me something. I dared to ask another question. “Daddy, are they not nice people? She looks pretty. Her earrings sparkle. What would happen if someone saw them in the day time?”

“This is what I want you to learn. Chinese people need to stick to themselves. You will learn more as you grow up. Chester thinks that the two people down there are good and decent people. But, they got married, and the people in Chinatown don’t think it is right. If they were seen in the day time, someone is going to go find him when he is alone, and beat him up.”

“Oh,” was all I could think of saying.

I looked out the window again and saw the couple waving good-bye to Chester. The man had a hat very much like what my dad wore. The grey hat had a wide band around it. The lady wore a long coat and open-toed shoes like my mom used to wear, and she had a pretty smile, too. Arm in arm, they walked out of sight on Grant Avenue toward the busy streets of Broadway and Columbus Avenue where Jazz bands played bouncy music in cocktail lounges.

Dad’s answer was the scariest thing I ever learned about people, other than the warning to beware of the local hom sup low (a child molester).

Now, in a few minutes, and by example, I learned about the severe consequences of breaking Chinese cultural traditions.

When a teenager, I saw the Black man and the Chinese woman less often. Whenever I looked out the kitchen window at night, I always remembered the mysterious couple and wondered where they lived in our neighborhood. And, I always hoped that they would never be caught together in the daytime. I imagined what a great love they must have had, loving each other so much that they broke a very sensitive Chinese family tradition.

Special Note to my readers: I’ve never forgotten the lesson my dad tried to teach me. I can see that he was not teaching me to hate, but was teaching me how to be careful with my decisions in life. He wanted to protect me from the suffering of community peer pressure and alienation. Back in the 50s, this was an important lesson for a young girl to know. Now, in the 21st century, everything has changed and I am so glad, because over the yearss I’ve broken all sorts of cultural boundaries.

Laugh in relief with me, or cry again if you’ve gone through some of the same things this couple had to live through. Please make a comment. I would like to know who is out there reading my story, and how you feel. Thank you.



The Daily Post Challenge:  In 300 years, if you were to be named the patron saint of X, what would you like X to be? http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_assignment/writing-101-day-one/

In 300 years, if named the patron saint of something, it would be this: Patron Saint of Friendship, Compassion, and Love. These virtues are as important to each person as the water they drink and the food they need to be strong.

Each person needs friendship in order to grow in knowledge, have someone to be their sounding board, and to encourage back and forth – sparring ideas and watching each other grow.

Compassion is the warmth of love that comes first – to feel the pain of another who has lost, in whatever way, then the actions of a truly caring person emerges. We give comfort and offer encouragement.

Love has many aspects, like a tall living tree with many branches. Love, filled with the qualities of friendship and compassion are the arms a lonely person can hold onto like an unexpected life raft in the midst of an ocean storm. This type of love gives hope, offers unconditional forgiveness to the sinful and broken, and encourages one to acknowledge a second chance at life. The presence of friendship, compassion, and love help to heal the broken and help them to stand tall with self-respect.

The combined efforts of these three virtues help humanity to survive and persevere. How else would each of us have survived, if there had not been someone with even one of these qualities to befriend us, to listen and encourage us, or to help us try again?


“When I am writing, I am trying to find out who I am.”

Maya Angelou’s words are beautiful and inspiring…

The Daily Post

Maya Angelou by Spanglej, CC BY-SA 2.0.Maya Angelou by Spanglej, CC BY-SA 2.0.

Words mean more than what is set down on paper. It takes the human voice to infuse them with deeper meaning.

Find a beautiful piece of art. If you fall in love with Van Gogh or Matisse or John Oliver Killens, or if you fall love with the music of Coltrane, the music of Aretha Franklin, or the music of Chopin — find some beautiful art and admire it, and realize that it was created by human beings just like you, no more human, no less.

There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.

The idea is to write it so that people hear it and it slides through the brain and goes straight to the heart.

When I am writing, I am trying to find out who I am, who we are, what we’re capable of, how…

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