Phyllis Doros: Poems and Stories

           To anyone, who has nothing better to do with his time than thumb through this book, I have a few things to say:

           First of all, I have never pretended to be a perfect typist, a good speller or an expert on grammar.. You must accept all three of these short-comings, before you read any further�.
           To most people, the work involved on these pages may seem a waste of time. I admit this observation is completely true:

           As I sit here, it is late at night and I am shaking my head with drowsiness, filled with nagging thoughts of what I could have accomplished with the time I used getting these old compositions in order.
           Yet�. I am glad this job is finished, for I have wanted to do it for years. If anyone is interested in my aged scribblings, it is my Mother� Perhaps she can read in these words the child I was and the young woman I was. No-one will ever know me better or with a bigger benefit of the doubt. So I give my dreams and my youthful idealism and my early impressions to her�� for safe keeping.
           It is impossible for any one to read between the lines here and discover my true feelings at any given time, for these writings are the result of moods and impressions and flighty emotions. Even a would be writer, such as me, has to understand many different instincts and view-points. That is all I have tried to do here!

           There are two entries which will explain this book and my inclination to write. They are: �EXASPERATION� and �I WILL WRITE IT WELL!�
           There are silly works like: �THINGS AREN�T WHAT THEY USED TO BE� or �MY CAR WAS MADE TO RACE�
           There are sad pieces like: �WINTER� and one that is completely devoid of hope called: �THE STORY OF MY LIFE�
           Some were written just for fun like: �IT�S ALL WORTH WHILE� and �I�M GLAD GRANDMA SAVES PAPER SACKS!�
           Lots of them are about children like: �DEBBIE AND DIANE� or �LITTLE MISS MILLER�
           Even more are written about my own children like: �MY DAUGHTER� or �MY SON, JIM�
           Others are quite serious like: �MEMORIES OF GRANDMOTHER�
           While some concern different lessons which have formed my code of ethics like: �THE BIG OLD HOUSE� or �YOU�LL BE SAFE WITH ME�
           All are pictures I have tried to paint with words, like Jimmy�s persistence in: �CINNAMON TOAST�
           or the dreams a woman has while she�s ironing in:
          �MY FAVORITE DRESS�
           or Marty�s imaginative play on words in: �THE SUN IS IN�

           All of my efforts are arranged here alphabetically. According to the time they were first written, the most recent works are exclusive. As you work your way back, things get progressively worse.
Now don�t blame me��.. You were warned!

           The bulk of this work seems to have been written years ago and it brings up a rather embarrassing question:
           What have I been doing with my time lately?

           The answer is quite logical, when you mull it over a second or two.            You see, like all would be writers, I have progressed from sentimental poems to writing short stories, which are immediately rejected, sending off nasty letters to the editor, working on a novel, which so far hasn�t gotten past the first page, and using all my spare time in a frantic effort to invent a way of squeezing more money out of our food budget, so I can replenish my supply of typewriter paper, and send off more manuscripts, so they can be dumped back in my lap and we can all take a deep breath�� and start the merry-go-round all over again.
           Now that that is clear read on friend�.
                      I hope you will find something here , so it
                                 shouldn�t be a total waste.

           If nothing else, you have already learned where to invest any spare cash you might have.
           Buy some shares in a typewriter paper company and I�ll make you rich beyond your wildest dreams!



           I recently enjoyed a wonderful meal at my mother�s house. I never turn down a dinner offer, especially when steak is involved. After eating, I asked her if she had a toothpick and she started looking all over her kitchen for the small box of wooden splinters. I helped for a minute or two, and then remembered her hobby collection of toothpick containers in her dining room china hutch. Chuckling, I went into the dining room and got one, asking her if she had forgotten the hundreds she had resting in the various works of art. She chuckled and asked if maybe I could find one in the bunch, then smiled and said, as many times lately, �I can�t remember anything.�

           She has forgotten many things about her past, although I remember, and I will constantly remind her of the things that I remember about her friends, her accomplishments, and her life. Phyllis Ann Doros grew up during the �Great Depression,� and directly after World War II, at sixteen years of age, quit school, got married, and started raising a family in Seattle.

           As in many cases, the marriage didn�t last. After ten years, Phyllis was a single mother, with no job and no education. She was blessed with a host of neighborhood friends and a supportive mother, but the reality of the big, cruel world was a devastating nightmare to a young lady with a daughter, two sons, no money, and no skills to make money.

      Could anyone save Phyllis and give her the secure life she needed for her children and herself?

           She realized that it all came down to her. She had to pull herself up by her bootstraps and move forward, no matter what obstacles or dissatisfactions she would be confronted with on her trail. At the age of thirty, Phyllis got a full-time job during the day and started her tenth grade of high school at night.

           It exhausts me just skimming the thought of how she was able to take on the situation facing her. Her children always came first. She had a schedule for the family unity. Just to mention a few events: Fried chicken and the T.V. series �Tarzan� on Saturday Afternoon, A history story read to the family on Sunday afternoon, an annual weekend trip to the Ocean every Memorial Day. It was a lot of fun for us kids. It was a lot of work and discipline for mom.

           After graduating from high school, Phyllis moved up to college at night and a better job during the day. During her afternoon break, she made dinner for her teenagers and then the family all sat around the kitchen table and did homework together. After returning home from school, late at night, she studied, often until two or three in the morning. Up at 5:00am, take the kids to swim practice, do homework for an hour, take the kids back home at 6:00am, get ready for work, get the kids off to school, go to work. Us children got quite a workout with all of this activity and more, but the one who really got the workout was mom.

           Then the day came when Phyllis finally graduated from college and landed her big carrier job with the �State Social and Health Services.� Her perseverance eventually led her to a supervisor position in the Washington State Capital Building, where she retired after twenty-five years of service.

           Her children, who have become an attorney, a legal secretary, and a late blooming software engineer, are all so proud of her, as well as all of the rest of her family and close friends who have been there for the ride. This one�s for you mom. You might not remember it all but you could forget more than I remember and still be a book of knowledge.