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| << November02, 2006 - Hearts and Humor - The Meaning of 11 |
November09, 2006 - Hearts and Humor - The Right Thing >> |
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I've learned a few things this past week. People do wear poppies in the USA. I've never seen them, but apparently on Memorial Day (May) they sell them. They aren't worn on 11/11. It is not a national holiday in Canada anymore. It is only a holiday in certain provinces. Thanks to those who corrected me. I love all your comments and respond to all of them. We have 786 family members now. Keep spreading the word. Share my stories with your friends and include the link below for them to join us. I would love to have a family of 1000 by the end of the year. If anyone is interested, check out Ginny's craft site. She makes wonderful candle holders, vases, cards and ornaments. Take a peek at http://www.ginginsgoodies.etsy.com Now for today's story. Word Count: 1042 I'm a Skunk I pulled my car into the garage and stepped outside. It was a beautiful evening. Stars sparkled in the dark sky, unusual for our area, which is close to the bright lights of Manhattan and Jersey City. Instead of going inside, I walked around the corner. In the shadows created by the streetlight, I looked up. The stars dotted the sky - more than I'd seen since I lived in Nova Scotia, where, free from city lights, the Milky Way cut a wide swath through the darkness overhead. "Ginny needs to see this." I thought and turned to go in. In my lower vision, in spite of the darkness, I noticed movement. I paused and looked down. A white line moved inches from my feet. Fear caused me to hold my breath. The word, "Skunk!" screamed in my head. I stood still. "Don't move." I chanted silently to myself. "Don't move a muscle! Maybe it will go away." The skunk strolled away from me and into the area illuminated by the streetlight. I breathed a sigh of relief. It hadn't seen me. It was just a baby, maybe a foot long, but it doesn't take much of a skunk to cause a huge stink. When I thought it was safe, I inched my way along the edge of the house, toward the corner, and the safety of my garage. I was a few feet from the corner when the skunk, who must have sensed me, turned in my direction. We both froze. "Shoo!!" I said, waving my hands. "Go away!" I said sternly, waving my hands at it again. The young skunk, who apparently didn't understand English, moved toward me. I backed up. "Sho, little fella. Go away." It turned and began to walk away, but as soon as I moved in the direction of the garage, it turned, and once again came at me. Before it got too close, I rounded the corner, and entered the lighted garage. I peeked out. The little skunk was still coming. "Sho!" I said a final time and dashed to the door leading into the house. I hit the button beside door. The garage creaked and groaned as it slowly closed. "That was close." I thought to myself. The next morning, when I came down stairs to get ready for work, Ginny said to me, "Mike, there's something in the garage. I was down there. Something is scratching around in the corner by the recycling." "Skunk!" I said. "It might be." "No! You don't understand." I told her the story about the young skunk who tried to attack me the night before. "I bet it followed me into the garage." We tip-toed down the steps and opened the door. The scratching came from the far corner of the garage. I reached out and hit the button. The garage door rumbled to life and slowly opened. Sunlight steamed in, lighting the corner where the noise came from. The scratching continued. I inched toward the noise. It seemed to come from one of my blue recycling containers. I peeked inside. "Uh Oh!" "What?" Ginny asked. "I was right. It's the skunk. It did follow me in." It must have climbed onto the boxes and fallen into the container. The sides are too high for it to get out." "What are you going to do?" "I don't know. I guess I'll drag the container outside, roll it over and run." I stooped low, keeping out of the skunk's view and aim. I slowly dragged the container across the floor. Like a bomb squad member, trying to cause as little disturbance as possible, I pulled it out the door, across the driveway and into the grass. "OK! Here we go." I said to Ginny. I tipped the can on its side and ran back to the garage. Together we watched the skunk waddle out and begin to walk away. "Michael, it's just a baby. It's so cute." "Cute? It's a skunk. Can you imagine what the garage would smell like if it had squirted in there?" "It's just a baby. Maybe it wasn't going to hurt you. You said it was coming at you. If it felt threatened, it would have turned and raised its tail. I think it wanted a friend." "You could be right, but I'm not sure I want to take the chance." I replied. "If you see it again, just stand there and see what it does." Ginny said. "You could be right." I never got the chance. A few weeks later, I was walking home from the store. In the middle of the street was my little skunk. It tried to cross and been hit by a car. With a heavy heart, I continued home. I'd never been sprayed by a skunk and don't know of anyone who has. My fear of the little skunk came from stories I'd heard and read. Without any personal experience with skunks, I had a prejudice, which caused me to be afraid of them. The little skunk was too young to have a fear of humans. It was on its own that night and wanted a friend. It made me wonder, how many times in my life have I turned my back on someone because of a prejudice created by what others thought? "Don't play with him. He's nothing but trouble." my friends said. "I'd stay away from her. She stole my pencil." a classmate warned. "He's strange. He never talks to anyone." a co-worker said about another. Those words caused me to be prejudice. Maybe the trouble maker was really calling out for attention. Maybe they needed a friend. The girl who stole the pencil may have been from a poor family and couldn't afford a new one to replace one she lost. The co-worker actually turned into a great friend. He was just very shy. The little skunk was in this world for only a short time, but he changed me. I no longer let the things people say about another to cloud my judgment. I put all prejudices aside and give people the chance to show me who they are. And if anyone ever calls me a skunk, I'm going to take it as a compliment! Michael T. Smith I love your comments. Send them to mtsmith@qwestonline.com To read more of my stories or to sign up to receive my twice-weekly posts, go to http://archives.zinester.com/86758/ Now for some comments from last week's stories. I received so many comments on my story "The Meaning of 11" that I can't post them all, however, I did respond to every one. Dear Michael, Thank you for the message regarding Remembrance Day. Your words are balm in Gilead. I am a veteran of three (3) wars. When I was a boy I accompanied my parents to our local town for the Veterans Day parade and festivities. The most magical moment was the 11th hour. We turned East and listened to the siren. The mystical moment marked 11--11--11. During elementary school I marched in the parades as a bandsman. The parents enjoyed the festivities in the Elks Club. We young people went to the local sports stadium for the football (American football) game featuring Porterville Junior College and a rival. A National Guard unit marched on the football field and led us in the National Anthem. Let us remember the NATO troops in Afganistan and the Coalition of the Willing in Iraq. We also have forces in the Horn of Africa. God bless and keep you, Sir. Prof.Dr. Robert M. Santry ******************* Michael I live in England and we celebrate Remembrance Day ..... I would be honoured to send you a poppy to wear. My father was in the Army for 27 years and I too remember the parades with pride. My dad wanted to belong to the Chelsea Pensioners (ex-Service people) ... But sadly he died before he was able to. I will be there in our market town to take part along with my son and his partner. Thank you for opening up your heart .... You spread so much love around .... I can't wait to read your stories. Lynne x ******************* Here's a great letter: Unfortunately not all of your small story is correct. Remembrance Day is not a national holiday, although many of us feel it should be. It is not even a holiday for the schools in Ontario, although I believe it is in some provinces. Liquor and beer stores and banks I think are closed, but like you say, that is not the most important part of Remembrance Day. For many years, during the 70's and 80's, the observance of this day and the events it represents had fallen into less use, but thankfully recognition of this significant historical event has risen in recent years (seemingly to counter much of the negative sentiments people express towards the military and our veterans of war). For a while also, the center of the poppy was produced in green - possibly as a concession to environmentalists. But a number of years ago, the Canadian Legion dug in their heels and returned to the original, black center of the flower. One thing has not changed over the years, and that is the pin that easily falls out of one's lapel. But that is not such a bad thing as it prompts us to buy a replacement. I usually purchase 3 or 4 each year. Poppies went on sale last weekend, so we get a full 2 weeks to wear them before November 11 rolls around - and many people do wear them proudly. My father was a World War II bomber pilot, and I cherish his contribution to our freedom - the same freedom that allows people in our North American societies to express their dissenting views. Keep up your wonderful stories that inspire hope and love of fellow man. Ed Leonard, |
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| << November02, 2006 - Hearts and Humor - The Meaning of 11 |
November09, 2006 - Hearts and Humor - The Right Thing >> |
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