Springfield Mall

Springfield Mall

Melissa J. Dallago

I have held a job consistently since I was 15 years old.  My first job was at McDonalds where I developed a lifelong addiction to cheeseburgers and fries.  Then in 1994 I began working in Springfield Mall selling shoes at a store called Dulce, which is Italian for sweet.  Their shoes were definitely sweet, sassy and sexy, and needless to say, much like my addiction to cheeseburgers and fries, I stand here before you a reformed shoeaholic.  However, this is not a story about me overcoming my addiction to cheeseburgers and shoes; this is a story about what happened to me one day when I was working at Dulce and a ghost walked through me.

In order to explain my ghostly experience, I have to mention a terrible tragedy that occurred at Springfield Mall on October 30, 1985.  A mentally unbalanced woman named Sylvia Seegrist walked into the mall dressed in military fatigues, carrying a shotgun and proceeded to open fire on the crowds below.  She killed three people, two men and a two year old child, and injured seven more.  Now, by the time I had started working in Springfield Mall, the tragedy had become a distant memory for many, and the mall was once again prospering.  One day at work my coworker Alicia said to me, “So you know what happened here right?”

“Yeah,” I said.  “I remember hearing about it when I was a kid.”

Alicia nodded.  “You know this place is haunted right?  Have you ever experienced anything here?” she asked.

I shook my head, “Nope, I can’t say that I have, and I don’t really believe in ghosts and goblins.”

“Well trust me, you will,” she said.  “Just give it time.  I've had plenty of experiences, and you will too.  It just takes the ghosts a little bit of time to warm up to you.  You know, get to know you.”

“I think you’re full of it!”

Alicia just looked at me with a smile, “You’ll see,” she said as she walked away.

Well, sure enough, within the next month, I had my first experiences.  It started simply by thing being misplaced in the store, displays being changed, and purses and shoe boxes being knocked on the floor after I had put everything away.  At first I just chalked it up to gravity and my own forgetfulness, but then, I started seeing shadows out of the corner of my eye. 

There were rows of shelves in the back of the store where we kept the shoes.  Sometimes when I was walking to the front of the store I would see the figure of a man in black standing at the very end of the row.  I initially thought it was the manager, Matt, but when I turned my head to look, no one was there.  These experiences happened repeatedly, but I was never scared. 

On that day, which turned out to be the hottest day of the summer, the air conditioner for the store decided to take the day off.  It goes without saying that it was as if the gates of hell had opened in the store; Alicia and I were hot and utterly miserable.  We were covered in sweat and our formerly perfectly quaffed hair had melted and hung limply.  Our boss Matt, who was not a sympathetic man, absolutely insisted that we must do an inventory of the shoes and purses regardless of the sweltering heat.  So there were the three of us, Alicia, Matt and I, working in the back of the store moving shoe boxes, counting and recounting stock, and bitching at each other. 

I was nearing heat exhaustion when suddenly goose pimples broke out on my arms, and I was engulfed in an arctic blast of air.  The freezing cold went down to my bones.  I stood there utterly still, eyes wide open, heart hammering and staring into Alicia’s eyes.  Apparently, she had experienced the same cold front I had.  Meanwhile, sweat was still dripping down Matt’s face as he continued to count boxes, totally oblivious to the ice cubes that Alicia and I had become.  This experience lasted only seconds, and then the heat returned; I was petrified. 

Alicia looked at me with a knowing look, and whispered, “See, now do you believe me?  That was one of them helping us cool off.  Neat right?”  I just started at her dumbfounded. 

“That’s happened to you before?”

“Oh yeah,” she said.  “It happens to me all the time.  You’ll get used to it.”

I just nodded.  “If you say so, but aren’t you scared?”

“No,” she said.  “I think it’s just their way of saying hi.  I think the ghosts are lonely and like to have some contact with us.  So no, it doesn’t bother me at all.  I actually feel blessed when it happens, like I’m in touch with something unique.”

I considered that for a moment, and said, “I guess I can see you’re point, but I would appreciate it if they didn’t do that again!”  The ghosts must have heard me because after that one ghostly walk-by, it never happened again.  I continued to see shapes and the shoes and purses still fell on their own, but the ghosts pretty much left me alone.

           I do not know if my experiences at Springfield Mall were genuinely paranormal ones, but as years passed I had other ghostly experiences and read books on the subject.  I have come to believe that places of great tragedy retain the energy of those events within them, and it is possible for that energy to affect those who are within.  I also believe that people who died sudden, violent deaths may also linger on this plane, so it is also possible that the spirit of one of the men who died on that horrible day was flirting with two pretty young ladies by giving us a ghostly goose.  And that is the story of what I learned from working at Dulce Shoes all those years ago.

Nanomites

This is from a prompt I just did.

I was at my doctor's office when he suggested that I get my annual flu shot.  I looked at him in horror because I knew what they were putting in those flu shots, and there was no way in hell I was going to let him inject it in me!  I took a deep breath and said, "You know doc, you're not going to believe this, but I can't get a flu shot today because I know what you're trying to do to the population by giving us these shots!  You see, I was watching the Discovery Channel one night and they had this show on about technological advancements.  In the show they talked about nanomite technology and how scientists have created these little creatures that can do all kinds of things.  So I wanted to know more and I went on Google and searched nanomite technology and got over 100,000 hits!  The stuff that I read doc would blow your mind, but then again you know exactly what they are up to.  I found this blog that talked about nanomites being sent to earth by aliens because they had created them and then the little critters developed a mind of their own and started devouring everything on their planet.  So, in order to save themselves these aliens "gifted" the little monsters to us earthlings!  But here’s the kicker, they didn’t tells us exactly what nanomites were or what they were really capable of.  This blogger really seems to know what he's talking about because he had all of these pictures, and footage of nanomites in action.  And he had these documents that were taken from a science lab that outlined the diabolic plans that scientists were planning on doing with them!  Apparently these scientists are teaming up with Big Brother, whose a real person who know, this guy found him, and even has this picture of him.  He’s this crazy looking dude who has all these wires and stuff coming out of him.  Totally crazy right!  Well this guy has proof that Big Brother is watching us all the time, and now with these nanomites, Big Brother is able to monitor us all the more!  This guys has proof that Big Brother and doctors entered into an agreement to inject these little buggers into the entire human race so they can track us and ultimately control our minds!  My mind was totally blown when I found out that they want to infect all of us with these little robots!  I mean that is some scary stuff man!  I’ve been losing so much sleep over this!  I’m always worrying and now I’ve become down right sad!  It’s just so unbelievable that Big Brother is real, these nanomite things are real, and how they want to control our minds.  I’ve even started taking steps to fortify my house in preparation for the inevitable invasion of nanomites!  So I know what you're up to doc, and there is no way I'm going to let you inject me with my "flu" shot that is actually the delivery system devised to infect all of us so you can control our minds!  So that doc is why I can't get my flu shot today!"  The doctor looked at me in awe, took out his pad and wrote me a prescription for Prozac.  

Fall

Fall

Melissa Dallago

          Spring is commonly associated with a time of rebirth and renewal; a time of the robins returning to the trees and blossoming flowers.  Fall is considered to be a time of harvesting the bounty and preparing for the coming winter.  I do not ascribe to these sentiments of fall and spring.  On the contrary, I consider fall to be a time of resurgence and rejuvenation, but then again, I am a fall baby born into this glorious season. 

            When fall arrives my spirit feels stronger; a sense of purpose enters my step.  Fall is my time of year for being thankful for the joys in my life, a la Thanksgiving, but also of planting seeds for my future endeavors.  Much like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon during springtime, I erupt from mine and burst forth onto the world during the fall. 

            I love my autumn colored clothes coming out of the closet for the cooler weather.  I adore wearing my favorite boots for the first time in the year.  I love the dry, cinnamon smell of the red and orange leaves.  I especially enjoy celebrating Halloween with its black cats, witches and monsters.  I start planning my costume months before, much like an early Christmas shopper.  I wait in anticipation for the haunted houses to open so I can get the crap scared out of me.  I also love Thanksgiving and my mom’s homemade cooking. 

            I relish in fall; embracing everything about it.  So while others are turning their thoughts to the fast approaching winter, I dance through the falling leaves in my favorite boots, drinking hot apple cider, and giggling with the ghosts; celebrating my time of rebirth and renewal. 

Six Months in the Harbor

Six Months in the Harbor

Melissa J. Dallago

           David and I have lived in Safety Harbor for six months.  We moved here in February, and have no intention of leaving. 

            David has always been fond of Safety Harbor.  He found his way here on the weekends.  He would spend afternoons eating barbeque from Brady’s down at the marina watching the boats coming and going.  It was peaceful here, and he enjoyed the quaint, Old Florida feel of Main Street.  Ultimately, it was his love of the Harbor that led us here.

            I, myself, traveled through the area on several occasions, and while I appreciated the town, I was too much of a St. Pete girl to take notice.  Plus, David wasn’t in my life at that time, so I guess, my coming home to the Harbor would wait until we found our way to each other.

            When David and I decided to live together we considered a few areas as potential places to live namely St. Petersburg, Dunedin and Gulfport.  Yet, the thought of Safety Harbor didn’t come to mind until one day at breakfast I reminded him how much he had loved it here.  His face immediately lit up, and the next thing I knew we were in the car and looking at houses.  It was as if destiny had intervened because we found our new home that very day.  The house had all of the amenities we were looking for, a garage, double sinks, and, most importantly, it was within walking distance to downtown.  To top it all off, David even found his new pub, Nolan’s, that day when we stopped to have a stout ale and Craig’s wonderful sangria. 

            From the moment we moved here we fell deeply in love with Safety Harbor.  The gorgeous oak trees strung with Spanish moss.  The eclectic, well-loved houses blending in together.  The beautiful gardens and intriguing art sprinkled throughout the neighborhoods.  The Spa perched serenely on the edge of Tampa Bay.  Biking through Philippe Park and along the pedestrian paths nestled amongst the mangroves.  Watching birds soar over the water by the marina.  The sun’s rays cresting over the horizon at sunrise casting a pinkish hue over the boat docks and paths.  There is so much beauty in Safety Harbor; all of it unique and special to this area.

            David and I frequent the many restaurants in the area, and we always enjoy trying to decide where we would like to eat.  I am a daily visitor to the library as I am a voracious reader who just can’t get enough.  We always go downtown on Fridays for a drink and to stroll under the white lighted palm trees.  We also take our Saturday walk to the new fruit stand to say hello to Bill.  We have frequented Main Street Jewelry and admired Shawn’s skill in creating beautiful pieces of art.  We always go to Third Fridays to enjoy the music and see the vendors’ wares.  Mostly though, David and I enjoy strolling through our town and looking for a place where we can buy our first house.

            Safety Harbor is truly the brilliantly shining jewel of Tampa Bay.  It has a small town feel in the middle of three raging cities.  Yet, it is the people that make Safety Harbor so special for us.  They are always quick to smile and stop for a chat, and tell us what they love best about this place.  Friendly, quiet, serene and beautiful are words that describe the essence of Safety Harbor.  We are proud to call this place our home.  Like the Baranoff Oak Tree standing solidly outside of the library, we have laid down roots in a town that truly is a safe harbor.

The Gift

The Gift

Melissa 

            I kissed many frogs over the years in the hopes that they would turn into my Prince Charming and I would live happily ever after.  Needless to say, my fairy tale dreams were consistently, and often horribly, dashed.  I have been cheated on, dumped, told that it just wasn’t working out, and just plain hurt by the opposite sexes idiocy and misdeeds.  I know that I am not the only woman who has ran through the dating onslaught and emerged jaded and cynical.  I know that I am not the only one who has declared at the top of my lungs that “I’m done with men.”  There was even a very short time when I toyed with the idea of becoming a nun just to no longer have to put myself through the hopeless dating/relationship scene.

            Through all of my trials and tribulations, my parents were there for me, watching from the sidelines, cheering me on when it seemed right and supporting me as I licked my wounds after a dating debacle.  My mom always said not to settle, to wait until I found the right one who would be the right fit.  My dad also told me the same advice and tried to teach me how the right relationship would be.  He described it as being one full of love, support, respect, and most importantly he used the words, the relationship “just is.”  That piece of advice was the hardest one for me to wrap my head around.  I usually just thought he was full of it, and that the dating advice that I read in magazines and books was the way to go.  It goes without saying that that advice absolutely does not work. 

            As the years passed and I was approaching the point where I was going to consider myself an official spinster, my dad got sick and went into the hospital for what would be the last time.  I remember on my dad’s last day on this earth, we had a conversation in which I told him how proud I was of the many battles he had fought throughout the years when it came to his health.  He had persevered through so much, and always kept as positive an attitude as possible.  He, in turn, told me he was proud of me because of my own battles that I had faced in the dating department.  I scoffed, and he told me again what he had always told me, that he wanted me to just be happy.  He also reiterated his statement about the “just is” aspect of the right relationship.  I tucked it away in my memories, and focused on the more important events that were going on. 

            It wasn’t until after my dad passed away that his comments about a relationship began to come true.  By this point in my life I had moved back home with my mom so we could help each other during our time of need, and dating was on the back burner in my mind.  Nonetheless, I still had hope, so I had put my profile out on match.com., and it was on that website, just as I was about to shut down my profile, that I met David. 

            We had so much in common in personalities and desires, and after speaking on the phone we agreed to have a first date, which turned into a ten hour marathon.  That date was the best date I had ever had in my life.  David was adorable, handsome, sexy, a gentleman and funny all wrapped into one.  He took my breath away with his honesty and acceptance of me.  One date became another, and another, and now a year and a half into our relationship, we are happier than we have ever been in our lives. 

            David is wonderful.  He is charming, thoughtful, compassionate, understanding, loving and stable.  We have a healthy relationship that is based on mutual respect.  We are partners together against life, and we find enjoyment in each other.  David enhances my life, helps me to be a better person, and has taught me so many things about the positive things of life that I had forgotten.  He is everything that I want in a partner and more.  He is my world, and I love him completely.

            I also know with every shred of my being that David is a gift from my dad.  My dad was in a position where he was able to find my perfect match.  He helped David and I find our way to each other.  He knew that we would be wonderful and dynamic together; that we were a perfect match in every sense of the word.

            So, on this day, I say thanks to my dad for helping me find David.  It is a wonderful gift when your dad points you in the direction of the man of your dreams.  And what is even more appropriate, I now finally understand his advice that the right relationship just is.  David and I just are, and it is wonderful. 

America - 10 Years After 9-11 - Never Forget

 America - 10 Years After 9-11

Never Forget

Melissa Dallago

        You may or may not have been born the day that America was attacked.  If you were born prior to 9/11/01, you will vividly remember that fateful Tuesday.  You will remember where you were when America was so violently attacked.  You will remember how you felt, what you were thinking, whether or not you saw the second plane strike the second World Trade Tower.  You will remember the horror and pain that you felt over the fact 3,000 Americans were needlessly murdered.  You will remember the prayers uttered, and the tears wept for the loss our nation had suffered.  You will remember the heroic measures that the NY Firemen went to to try and rescue people from the towers.  You will remember the haunting calls that were played on the radio as the flight traffic control tried to raise Flight 93 after it had crashed into that lonely Pennsylvania field.  You will remember the fact that the heart of our nation, the Pentagon, was struck by a plane.  You will remember watching the Twin Towers fall bringing the demise of those still trapped inside.  You will remember the pain of watching people fall from the great heights of the towers as they chose to take fate into their own hands.

           You will remember the days after 9/11 and the rescue efforts of those working at the site to try to recover the living and wounded from the wreckage.  You will remember all of the terror, all of the pain, and all of the outrage, but more importantly the pride that you felt in your fellow countrymen as we, as a nation, ran to help the fallen, and their families.  Hopefully you will remember the compassion you felt for your family, friends, and neighbors, and even strangers on the street.  You will remember that we were awoken in the most violent manner possible.   We were angry, emotionally crushed, but our spirit, that American spirit, was not broken, but rose from a horrible tragedy and banded us together as a great nation once more. 

            If you were not born before that fateful day, then I wish you can hope to understand the terror and fear that your elders faced.  But most of all, I hope you understand and take heart to the lessons of pride, unity, strength and courage that we all conveyed both individually and as a nation in the face of a world that was forever changed after that fateful day.  You were born post 9/11.  You were born into a very different world, and 9/11/01 is a date that will live in infamy as a horrible day, but it is also the day that we all showed the world that America has “the Right Stuff.”

            I was born in 1975.  I remember quite well where I was that day.  I remember hearing a breaking news announcement on the radio saying that a plane had just struck one of the towers in the World Trade Center.  I remember running to the television and tuning to the local news channel and watching in horror as the plane's tail hung out of the side of the building and the fire raged.  I remember sitting glued to the TV, and at the time I didn't realize it, but I watched as the second plane struck the second tower.  My mouth gaped open in horror.  I remember hearing the other frantic news saying that another plane had been flown into the Pentagon, and lastly, I remember the news of Flight 93 crashing into the field. 

            I remember having an almost out of body experience that these events were not real, but were a dream.  I remember the tears that fell down my face as I watched the Twin Towers fall in on themselves, and realizing that people had still been inside.  The death count spiraled up as high as an estimate of 7,000 people gone suddenly and so violently.  My heart bleed for those people and for their families.  My heart was broken for the horrible tragedy that our nation had just suffered. 

            I remember crying as they played the national anthem on the radio.  I also remember watching the congressmen gathering on the front steps of the Capitol Building to sing our national anthem.  As I was driving home that evening after work, I remember seeing a man waving the American flag high over his head, and the tears and pride that washed over me at the sight. 

            I also remember the rainbow that I saw shining in the sky after a rain storm, as if God was crying for our torn nation.  As I saw that rainbow, I remember that a small shred of hope was ignited in my beaten heart; that rainbow was God's promise that it would not happen again, and that we would overcome the terror inflicted upon us.  

 

           We must never forget that day.

Party Politics

Party Politics

Melissa Dallago

The conventions are finished, the balloons have fallen, and the delegates have gone home.  The parties have chosen their candidate for the final phase of this election year.  I would like to pause for a moment as we sit on the cusp between the after-party glow and the upcoming debates and campaigning to reflect on what America really stands for.

During the conventions we listened as the Republics touted and preached about fiscal responsibility, downsizing government, and blaming Democrats for all of our problems.  In turn, the Democrats responded with beating their hope and change drums, reminding us of the wonderful job that Obama has done during his first term, and how he should be given the opportunity to finish the job he started, and blaming Republicans for standing in the way.

In my opinion, Romney and Ryan are typical poster children for the GOP; successful business men who have heard the higher calling of politics and want to help out their fellow citizens.  Obama and Biden are cut from the same cloth.  All four candidates have long standing ties with the political game.   I will grant that Obama has a slight edge because he could woo the birds out of the trees with his oratory skills and rhetorical acumen, but his record speaks for itself, and Biden is just a buffoon.  Alternatively, Romney doesn't seem to have true integrity or honesty, and Ryan strikes me as just plain devious and untrustworthy.  I personally do not trust any of these men to run our country.

I will be candid, since Obama has been elected I have sat on the sidelines of politics because I lost hope in my country.  I was disgusted with what our government was doing.  I hated the policies they were putting forth.  I strongly disagreed with how our politicians were carrying out the business of our government.  I despised the in-fighting, the name calling, the lack of progress and the overall idiocy that infected what is supposed to represent the very best of our citizenry.  The media certainly did not help matters by inflaming any misstep, misquote and it raised the sound bite to an art form.  I walked away from this because I was tired of it all.  I felt like I had no voice, and that my vote didn’t count.  These past three years have been quiet for me, but I can feel my engines slowly starting to rev up with the upcoming elections, and the fact that this is an opportunity to start changing these continuing problems. 

The democrats and republicans are both snake oil salesman trying to sell their product and trying to convince you to drink their Kool-Aid.  They are both excellent at rebranding the same old arguments and policies in shiny new wrappings with a slick slogan and the media feeds right into this; and so do we.  The parties and politicians are so polarized that it has affected every aspect of our government and our country.

I am sick and tired of this, and I know my fellow citizens are as well.  I know we are all extremely angry at where our country now sits.  I know that we are feeling uninspired and don’t believe there is any hope or change that can get our country out of this mess. 

We need to refocus on what is important and what can make America a great country yet again.  We need to use common sense in dealing with our private lives, our communities, our states and ultimately our country.  We need to remember and live the ideals of perseverance, honesty, hard work, personal responsibility and follow the Golden Rule.  These are the principals that made up our country and we have lost them along the way. 

Party politics certainly doesn’t provide a shining example of these ideals.  They have resorted to pointing fingers and blaming everyone else for the ills that the country is experiencing.  In turn, we point fingers, and more likely than not just flat out ignore the ongoing struggle and nonsense.  The fault for what has happened to the country lies with all of us.  It lies with me, it lies with you, it lies with my neighbor, it lies with the mayor, it lies with the senators and representatives, it lies with the judges and it lies with the Presidents, and I’m not just referring to Obama.

My proposal for attempting to begin the process of reclaiming our nation is to stop relying on the old formulas that have been tried and failed and to begin anew.  We must change our sentiments.  We must wake up to the real trouble that our country is facing; economic turmoil, unemployment, healthcare, and the future of our children to name just a few.

We must demand that politicians assume responsibility for their mistakes; just as we need to assume responsibility for our own.  We must hold ourselves and our politicians accountable.  We must reclaim honesty, common sense, fair dealing and integrity.  These values are what make our country great!  These values further make us great individuals.  

Instead of tolerating the finger pointing, name calling and muck-racking of the politicians, we should stand with our families, our communities, our fellow citizens and demand in one loud, strong voice that Washington change its tactics.  We must demand that people remember where we have come from, what we have been through and most importantly remind them there is hope, and we can change the path that we were on; if only we stand together, be smart, be fiscally conservative, pay off debts, beautify our homes and neighborhoods, help your neighbors and those in need, help yourself and your community to be better individuals and to be reach for the best that is within us.   Instead of trickling down, this change needs to trickle up from the each of us individually to the population as a whole.

This election cycle should not be about Republicans and Democrats attacking each other, and trying to lure us into the fold by telling us what they think we want to hear.  This election should not be about name calling and comparing the size of each other’s physiques.  Instead, we need to focus on the content of their characters, their ideals, their values, and most importantly demand that they provide us with a clear, concise and practical plan for how to fix the economy, what policies they will put in place for healthcare, and what they intend to do about the country’s crushing debts. 

I am calling for an end of the smoke and mirrors of politics.  I’m tired of seeing the frustration on my fellow citizens’ faces.  So let’s stand together, get our houses in order, help our neighbors and be the best that we can be. We must also demand that the politicians in Washington do the same.  United we stand, and actions will always speak louder than words.

I Feel

I Feel

Melissa Dallago

I feel angry, repulsed and just plain mad.

I feel ignored, rebuffed, and dismissed as if I am unimportant.

I feel silenced, stared at, and thought to be strange.  

I feel stunned, numbed, and sometimes just plain the dumb.

My soul feels annihilated, hated and despaired.

I’m drained and disdained.

I feel like a freak, a geek and I’ll openly admit that I’m a nerd.

I’m weak, meek and unable to bespeak of my ills and pains.

I feel as if there is no light, no respite from the calamities of life.

I feel rude, lude and just plain crude.

I feel outside, removed and alone.

I know none of these feelings are ultimately true, but boy they are all I feel in repose.

I’m a cynic, a curmudgeon.

I am made of steel and unbendable.

Yet underneath, I’m a roiling mass of emotions, soft and squishy, made up of unhealed wounds, unfinished 

dreams, and unfulfilled hopes and desires.

I’m a dichotomy of opposites, each warring against the other.

Not really sure which way to go, but make it up as I go.

There is light, there is hope that does shine through intermittently.

The two things that keep me sane are faith and love.

Faith that things always workout somehow and love of this life for it is all I have this one time around.

I’m tired, I’m beaten. 

I’m a fighter who no matter how many times I am knocked will get back up for another round.

No matter what I will not quit until my last breath has left my body, and I will travel on to see what all this fuss, all these emotions, and all this strife is really about.

These feelings are proof that I exist.

I think therefore I am.  I feel therefore I am.

I am human, fallible and unique; never quite complete, an ongoing work in progress.

I feel alive.