Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

The newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness around the world.

August 9, 2006

Today’s Queue Stories

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LIFE IS GOOD

By: Joseph J. Mazzella  

     Life is so good. Life is so beautiful. Life is so glorious. It never fails to amaze me with its wonder and joy. I find it hard to understand at times how so many people can say that life is bad. It is like they are staring at the one bare spot in a field full of flowers and complaining about how barren and lifeless the field is.

     How do I know that life is good? I just open my eyes, ears, heart, soul, and mind everyday. God does the rest. When I watch a beautiful sunset and realize that Earth might not be Heaven but sometimes it can seem very close, I know that life is good. When I hear the birds singing for joy in the morning and the frogs croaking happily in the evening, I know that life is good. When I hug my daughter and two sons everyday, I know that life is good. When I look through the photo albums of my children growing up in happiness through the years, I know that life is good. When I play with my lovable dogs and pet my purring cats, I know that life is good. When I eat a delicious meal, smell a flower, sing a song, read a book, and just breath in and out, I know that life is good. And when I see the fireflies dancing with a thousand lights around the graveyard in my backyard on a Summer night, I know that life is not only good but is also eternal.

     If you knew that you had just a week to live would you complain about how bad life is, or would you finally see all the good in life that was always there? Would you spend your final breaths cursing or telling those you love just how much you love them? Don’t miss life. Embrace it in all of its goodness. See how very easy it can be to live and to love. Realize that you can choose to be happy. Know that God is love, life is love, and you can be love as well. Feel how much God loves you, forgives you, and wants you to live in joy. Open your eyes, ears, heart, soul, and mind and let God show you the love that is all around you. Yes, life is good.

Joe Mazzella

joecool@wirefire.com

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The Auction

Roger Kiser

 It was a nice day as I drove through South Carolina. Being hungry, I stopped at a McDonalds and ordered a breakfast meal. As I had driven almost thirty hours I decided to stay over for a few days and rest. After eating, I checked into a local motel, bathed, went to bed and slept for almost twenty-four hours. The next morning I walked across the street and asked the bait shop owner where the nearest fishing lake was located. After getting a detailed map I purchased a three day fishing license, bait and to the lake I headed.

Opening my trunk I carefully took out my fishing gear, ice-chest, chair and tackle box. I sat them on the lakes edge, baited up and began to fish. Within an hour the sun became rather hot and the air humid. I took a rag, dipped it in the water and placed it over my head to try and cool down.

“Good morning,” said someone, walking up from behind me.

When I turned around and saw a Game Warden with a clip-board in hand.

“Good morning,” I said, as I nodded my head.

“Catch any fish?” He asked.

“No sir, just relaxing and wasting a little time.”

“Can I see your fishing license?”

I reached in my shirt pocket and handed him the three day license I had purchased at the bait shop.

“Can I see you drivers license also,” he requested.

“I see the name on the driver’s license is spelled “Kiser” and the name on the fishing license is spelled “Kaiser,” said the warden.

“The gentleman at the bait shop must have written it wrong,” I told him.

“Well, I am afraid I am going to have to write you up for fishing with an invalid license and I am going to have to confiscate your fishing gear.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” I told him, with a surprised look on my face.

Sure enough I was written up and all three of my fishing rods and tackle box were taken and placed in his truck. I was told that I would have to pay a fine and that my fishing gear would be sold at auction.

I stood there almost in tears as he drove away. Those rods and reels were very special to me. They had been used to teach my children to fish. They had been used, for more than twenty years, fishing with all my friends who were now dead. All my memories of fishing the California Delta were held in those three fishing poles and tackle box.

After returning to my home in Georgia I constantly telephoned South Carolina trying to explain the situation, but no one would listen. I was told that the Department of Fish and Game had a “zero tolerance” for fishing and hunting violations. Finally, in tears I paid the fine and gave up the fight.

About nine months later I received a letter in the mail. I have no idea who it was from as there was no return address. On a plain piece of notebook paper read “Auction for the Department of Fish and Game held this Saturday at 11:00 a.m.”

On Saturday, at six in the morning I drove out onto interstate 95 headed to South Carolina. By ten o’clock I had found the auction. As I looked around there were hundreds of rifles, bicycles, several trucks, numerous boats and piles upon piles of fishing equipment. All at once there it was my-wonderful stuff all thrown in a pile as if it were worth nothing.

I reached down and untangled my three fishing rods from the large pile. I removed my shirt and tee-shirt. After putting my shirt back on I took my tee-shirt and I began wiping down the three Daiwa Rods and the three Ambassadeur Reels. The tackle box was no where to be found.

As the auction began I took my seat. In my wallet was twenty-seven dollars. For more than an hour I waited to my illegally taken property to be brought forward.

“We have three identical rods and reels here. I guess we will sell this as a unit,” said the auctioneer.

“Fifty dollars,” yelled someone in the crowd.

”Fifty one dollars,” yelled another man.

I rose from my seat and I walked out of the auction.

“Sixty dollars.”

“Sixty-five dollars.”

“Sixty-six dollars,” I heard as the bidding continued.

“One hundred dollars.” Came another bid. The auction became silent.

“One hundred dollars once, one hundred dollars twice, one hundred dollars three times. Sold for one hundred dollars,” went the auctioneer.

I walked to my truck, got in and placed my head forward onto the steering wheel and just sat there.

I jumped as I heard something hit the side of my truck. I turned around and saw the back of a man putting my three rods and reels, and my tackle box into the back of my truck. When he turned around I saw it was the same Game Warden who had written me the ticket almost a year ago. As I got out of the truck he stuck out his hand and said “I wasn’t wrong. It’s the law that is wrong.”

I shook his hand and then I cried as I drove back to Georgia.

Roger Dean Kiser

trampolineone@earthlink.net

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Poetry Section

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ABANDONMENT

Joyce Lock

Absence makes the heart grow fonder;
I think not.

Absence makes the heart grow weary.
Void is wrought.

Absence makes for temptation;
To be fought.

Absence produces estrangement.
Love will rot.

© by Joyce C. Lock

Defraud ye not one the other, except it be with consent for a time,
that ye may give yourselves to fasting and prayer; and come together

again, that Satan tempt you not for your incontinency.

1 Co. 7:5

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A Christmas Wish

 Joyce Lock

What I wish for you,
This Christmas Tide,
Is peace; away from
All of the strife ...

Wishing time away
From hectic days;
Away from wrapping,
Shopping, and plays ...

Wishing time to spend,
Jesus amidst;
Time to remember
What Christmas is.

© by Joyce C. Lock

Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you:

not as the world giveth, give I unto you.  Let not

your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.

John 14:27

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Adam

Joyce Lock

There once was a man named Adam,
Who lived in a little ole cavern.

He shined his shoes
While preparing Good News -

Then got up on his feet
And got at 'em.

© by Joyce C. Lock

Senior Writers

Chief writer: Sharon Bryant

Chief researcher/historian: Hartson Dowd

Agee, Vance; Apted, Violet; Baker, Kathy; Batt, Al; Berry, Nell; Blaine, Pamela; Boda, Ginger; Booher, Paula; Buhagiar, Victor; Cassady, B.J.; Costner, Joan Clifton; Cavalera, Robyn; Crider, Mark; Dees, Mary; Deming, Barb; Doherty, Maria;  Dowd, Hartson; Dowd, Helen; Gilbert, Robert, Jr.; Gold, Ron; Goodier, Steve; Grisham, Mary-Ellen; Braun-Haley, Ellie; Harris, Kathy Anne; Henry, Linda Ann; Hunt, Sharlett; Hymes, Christina; Jacobson, Gary; Kiser, Roger Dean; Kerens, Claudia; Kevin, Tim; Jenkins, Pamela; Liles, Norma; Lily Jodi Flesberg; Lock, Joyce; Marlor, Janice Bumbalough; Mazzella, Joe; Mizrany, Mary Carter; Morris, Deepak; Ojeibge, Georgewaters; Petry, Dianna Doles; Roberts, Susan; Shiveley, Debra; Shaw, Bob; Sims, Richard; Streidel, Saskia; Swarner, Ken; Vaknin, Sam; Verhoeff, Jan; Walker, Bill; Walker, Joe; Warner, Gordon, K; Walsh, Sue; Weymouth, Barbara J.; Whirity, Kathy;

Wainland, David; Westerfer, Clara; White Robert;

Storytime Tapestry Staff

Carol Roach - Founder/publisher

Thelma Hartselle - Co-Founder, Moderator

Clara Westerfer – moderator

Bob Johnston - moderator