pamela mayer
Bio
Pamela Mayer does all things creative — theatre, art, and writing. She is certain she will bump into her Prince Charming in the produce section of Trader Joe’s, Miami Beach very soon.
Stories (18/0)
The End of Grimm's
Breathless, I run down Pennsylvania Avenue toward the White House. I’m finally going to be an activist with a cause. It's difficult to tell if I am carrying the sign or it's carrying me. The placard is bigger than I am and the wooden stick is hitting the back of my legs as I hustle down the thorofare. I am close to on time, hoping that’s good enough, as I turn the corner towards Lafayette Square. Twitter informed us to converge on this famous piece of real estate and head over to the executive mansion, taking up our individual causes. It would suck to be tardy for my first protest.
By pamela mayer3 years ago in Fiction
Haiti My Heart Aches For You
Haiti my heart aches for you. You put one foot in front of the other - never moving forward. You never get a break. Yet you smile with bright eyes and a vision of hope. It is hard to be Haitian. A beautiful island in the Atlantic Ocean. Sparkling like a jewel. Nature has been teasing you, cruel to you - hurricanes and earthquakes bombard you without mercy. Your people are good natured, their voices sing out, their art makes colors speak - can you ever get a break?
By pamela mayer3 years ago in Wander
Found Love at the Nashville Underground
It's loud at the Nashville Underground on Broadway. I’m glad to be here along with a lot of apprehension. Things on the social scene have been rather quiet and I sure do need a good time with a good looking cowboy. After Brad dumped me, literally at the altar, I’ve had a tough time crawling out of my self-pity. Yet, here I am at the Underground taking a chance.
By pamela mayer3 years ago in Fiction
Aunt Jemima Loves Pancakes
Aunt Jemima moved swiftly through the rain pulling the collar of her jacket tighter against her neck - tears ran down her cheeks. The wind grew stronger, practically turning the umbrella inside out. The neon light beckoned as she got closer to Joe's Diner. She entered, shook out her umbrella and sat on a stool at the counter. “Nasty night,” the waitress said, “What can I get for you?”
By pamela mayer3 years ago in Fiction
Marigold Match Making Choosing Sam Elliott Over Brad Pitt
Who has 350 close family, friends, and acquaintances? It always makes me laugh and wonder. Weddings, big money, big time arguments, big business for me. I’m known as the wedding planner. Guess I was too busy doing the deed for others that time escaped the window and here I am. Always the planner, never the bride. This nuptial, my current client, extravaganza will be New York Times worthy. Generational money comes together with this, I do, and I’m doing the event. I’m orgasmic that the stunning bride has given me the green light and it’s full steam ahead.
By pamela mayer3 years ago in Confessions
Wrap It Wear It
I wear black. My color or lack of color by choice. Black t-shirt, black jeans, black leggings - black good to go. It’s not because of grieving or loss. It’s because it’s simple. People remark that I wear black. Why do you wear black? Do you always wear black? Anything in your closet besides black? What’s with the black?
By pamela mayer3 years ago in Viva
A Royal Dream
Tiara, it started for me with a tiara. Beautiful, be-jeweled crowning glory. “There she is Miss America, there she is your ideal” sang the great, Johnny Desmond. Bert Parks stood handsome in his tuxedo with his giant pasted on smile, took her by the hand and guided her to the runway.
By pamela mayer3 years ago in Families
Home Sweet Casa
It was dark and dirty as the migrants huddled together in the dirt. Every time the grass rustled or the brush moved tension rose among them. Could the sound be an alligator or a snake? Rey Santiago, just sixteen years old, knew the Rio Grande Valley was said to have a robust population of both. He observed how Mothers and fathers held their infants and children close to their chests in a protective embrace. He felt isolated and alone.
By pamela mayer3 years ago in Fiction
