It’s December 30, 2022. Welcome to Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (aka, FOWC). I will be posting each day’s word just after midnight Pacific Time (U.S.).
Today’s word is “dispel.”
Write a post using that word. It can be prose, poetry, fiction, non-fiction. It can be any length. It can be just a picture or a drawing if you want. No holds barred, so to speak.
Once you are done, tag your post with #FOWC and create a pingback to this post if you are on WordPress. Please check to confirm that your pingback is there. If not, please manually add your link in the comments.
And be sure to read the posts of other bloggers who respond to this prompt. Show them some love.
This, That, and the Other 
ODE TO DISPEL
I dis pel
You da pot
Put my pel
In ya pot
Yo
Gawd,. I’m deteriorating Fan……
Pot
Pel
Ma Bel
tra la la……
??
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🙄
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😜 yes indeed
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i would like
to dispel the myth
that one gets wiser
as one gets older
fraid not
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Just more stubborn!
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https://loucarrerascarver.com/2022/12/30/ruby-tuesday/
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I can’t reminisce about any “times” (in terms of the larger culture) after the year 2000 and largely in the early part of the year, like the first day and week and month or two… when the world didn’t implode or shut down due to computer clocks. None of the stashed-away food goods and cleaning products clung to (by others) for dear life needed have been called for. I do remember (also) fondly the hoopla of a spinning globe, festivities from the first location entering the new year until the last place; the best televised treatment of a new year ever. I don’t, however, quite recall how I saw all of that while we, as a family, additionally went to a large private party in the city at Union Station.
Notwithstanding my view on the bigger picture therewith or up until then — despite the fact I found our president despicable regardless that I’ve dispelled he is or was the least bit left of center or, really, even center — I went through an adolescence about three-and-a-half years later; quite similar to the first I properly experienced, a rather mature and responsible adolescence, along with my children. My oldest son was already far into his exact adolescent years, yet there were four more. I’m somewhat embarrassed when I share from that repertoire… it’s not completely awful, but metal this and that [always in an artistic spectrum thus not just noise] plus grunge and more.
A little Rihanna. I don’t feel too bad for (or badly about) it. It was mostly socially conscious, and I am glad I added to my interests and vistas. “Why do they always send the poor?” The latter adolescence drew from the decade before and stretched on, as my own fondest childlike memories of dancing in my day come from before I was in my teens. I won’t reenact anything from a dance club or Drill Team (reconstructing something from Motown maybe though). I’m happy for jumping and running to music atop a chair, couch, and ottoman as I did with my sister-like cousin at about the age of ten but see no dancing in my parents’ generation; may be how we’ve ended up where our world is.
I reminisce in regard to the universe of my sons. We “get” each other in lyrical language. Fun years decorating Christmas trees together occurred while we six lived in an apartment. I tried to raise what is now called “free-range” kids (never heard the term until they were grown); pretty well succeeded… somewhat against the tide. Not sure how allowed this form of childhood will be when (if) any of them have children. They were in sports, too, as their father wanted (but then wasn’t involved… with the result that I threw out my arm trying to practice for baseball). One day, as we listened to a full CD of music from around the world, we spontaneously got up to dance for the last song.
Music From the Tea Lands
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The whole album will play,
one song after the one before.
The last is Kang Mandor: degung
gamelan by Ujang Suryana, West Java
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