Author Archives: dahnajeen

About dahnajeen

I'm Donna Jean Hunter. I'm also Donna Cox - former married name and the name I share with my children and with my ex-husband, father of my children, and friend. My 3rd grade teacher, Mrs. Patterson told me I was a great writer and would be an author when I grew up. She always had me read my stories to the class, and even took me around to the other classrooms to have me read to them. I'm pretty sure the other kids all hated me that year. I don't care though. I love Mrs. Patterson. Of course she did not know then about the Internet and blogging and how much of what people read would no longer be on paper when I grew up. I have had a few things published in two college literary journals, and for a while during college, I actually received pay for working as a technical writer. Then for a few years I taught writing to teenagers as a high school English teacher. But other than that, I can't say I'm a writer in the sense that it is what I do for a living. But I am a writer. I have been all my life and can’t see myself ever stopping whether anyone reads it or not. I hope someone enjoys some of it.

Words from one of The Greatest Generation

Posted on September 23, 2021 by dahnajeen

My mother was 17 years old when she graduated as Valedictorian of the Rhome High School class of 1943. While she delivered her Valedictory to classmates and guests at the graduation, the man she would later meet and marry, my … Continue reading →

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No, not one.

Posted on January 19, 2021 by dahnajeen

                   “There is no person you can be sure will never let you down.” A counselor told me this many years ago. I didn’t necessarily disbelieve it then – but I also didn’t completely grasp how completely true it really … Continue reading →

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Unconditional? Almost Unheard Of.

Posted on June 21, 2020 by dahnajeen

How uncommon is unconditional love and acceptance? For how many people walking this earth right now,  do you hold this type of love and complete acceptance? How many people do you know who have this for you? Are you sure? … Continue reading →

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I Am . . .

Posted on November 15, 2019 by dahnajeen

by Donna Hunter I wrote these four “I Am” poems in September 2009 while I was a student at Tarrant County College. A Mother I am their mother.I wonder if I did the best I could have.I hear them tell … Continue reading →

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How to do a mean thing while trying to be sweet. Or, how to NOT do that.

Posted on January 3, 2019 by dahnajeen

How to make someone who is trying to overcome depression feel worse and set them back a few steps in their struggle: Tell them they are doing it wrong – You shouldn’t take medicine. Just choose happiness! Look at the … Continue reading →

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WHO AM I?

Posted on September 2, 2018 by dahnajeen

Freudian slip: an unintentional error regarded as revealing subconscious feelings. Ever have a Freudian slip when introducing yourself? I did just recently. As I was being introduced to one of my brother’s fans after his performance, I said to her, … Continue reading →

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My Brain on Testing . . .

Posted on May 4, 2017 by dahnajeen

Ugh . . . 4 hours. Not allowed to do ANYTHING with my brain, and also not allowed to sleep – this is some twisted kind of torture. Okay. I can do something with my brain, just nothing that shows … Continue reading →

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Maybe why this feels so personal to me . . .

Posted on February 1, 2017 by dahnajeen

Many years ago, there was an awful man, inexplicably placed in a position of power – not great power, but enough for him to enjoy and abuse. Entrusted with safeguarding my welfare, he instead used his power against me in … Continue reading →

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Go back and fix it.

Posted on September 10, 2016 by dahnajeen

There’s a point to this story, but it’s gonna take me a minute . . . Once upon a time in the early 80s, a young man broke my heart. He asked me to marry him very early in our … Continue reading →

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Boom! Zzzzzzzzz

Posted on April 13, 2016 by dahnajeen

I really miss the days when a gun shot inside the house did not wake me up. Or one right outside my bedroom window, or my mother screaming from the kitchen only caused me to rouse a bit and then … Continue reading →

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