Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

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

August 27, 2006

Today’s announcements

A happy anniversary goes out to Jim and Bonnie Geddes: bonniegeddes1@sbcglobal.net

Now onto the good stuff!

Today’s Queue Stories

~**~**~

A Jewish Man

Bill Walker

wildbill6807@yahoo.com

This is a case of learning something from a Lady, one of the Dollies.  You did know the Dollie group is made up of some of the smartest ladies around any where. Every once in a while one tells me something. One even told me super glue helps hold flip flops on. Heck of a deal. I even tried it out.  Sure does, you might have a hard time coming unglued. Thanks a lot Ma Baker.

Any ways this Lady sent me something I didn't know. About a young man coming to this land in 1775.  A Jewish man from Poland. A man who  for the most part, the history books skipped over. A man who did much to buy you your freedom. A man who came here to help build this nation, not tear it apart like most flooding into today is doing.

With out him there may have not been a United States of America.  He was a hard working man. He knew how to buy and sell, make money.  When the time came, he had the know how, and some money to put on the risk of a new nation.  His money, his know how, he came up with the money for the American Revolution. With out him and his money, and ways of getting the money, the Revolution would have been lost.

Did  the young new nation thank him?  The answer is a flat NO.  He had went out on a limb gathering up the money.  He owed money in doing a lot of it. He died with out a penny returned from the new government.  A broke man, a man who came here, helped get you your freedom, only to die with nothing.  Today, his grave is unmarked, even the where abouts of his grave in the cemetery is lost.

His name is Haym Salomon. 1740 - 1785.

Today, I read, and see these people flooding in to not build or help in any way our nation, but to tear it apart.  Here was a man who came here like so many did up to some years ago.  Came to live here, to help build, and make this nation. To even work hard in doing so, and give every thing to make it a nation.  We read about many who did great things in the early years, little about a man like this.  A man we owe so much to. 

A Jewish Man who came here to live among Christians, to help build a nation founded on Christian Ideas. He never came here to tear things apart, but to build.  Yes we owe him a lot.

Tinker and Poo; The Boys Write

http://www.iuniverse.com/bookstore/book_detail.asp?&isbn=0-595-35741-5

~**~**~

 I too fought and lost at the Alamo

Roger Dean Kiser

It was sometime in 1977 when the wife and I left California heading to Florida. Recuperating from cancer surgery the trip was going to be very difficult on me, nevertheless having been given less than six months to live made the trip urgent and very necessary.

It had always been a dream of mine to visit the Alamo, mainly because of something that happened while I was living in the Children’s Home Society Orphanage in Jacksonville, Florida.

I was eight or nine years old when the movie “The Alamo” was going to be shown on television. Every boy in the dormitory was excited, as the little Zenith black and white television was turned on. Every orphan boy now sitting straight in their chair, hands folded on their laps. No one was allowed to talk or make any noise, whatsoever.

The movie was about half over when one of the boys coughed. The matron got up from her chair, walked directly to the television and turned it off. We were then ordered to bed. As I lay in my single bed I swore that one day I would go and see the Alamo. That day had finally arrived.

I was rather surprised when we pulled into San Antonio, Texas. I looked at my wife and said “Gee, I always thought the Alamo would be way out in the open country. Not right in the middle of downtown.”

We parked the motor-home and began our walk to the one place I had always wanted to visit. Even to this day I am not sure if I visited the Alamo. I think I was there but when I looked at the buildings they all looked the same to me. I was not sure which one was really the Alamo.

As the wife and I entered this one building the sign read something like “No pictures and please remove your hat out of respect.”

I removed my hat and handed it to my wife so that she could place it in her purse. She and I walked around looking at several glass cases which housed many of the guns, knives and clothing worn by many of the men who fought and died during the battle.

Standing in front of me was a very large man with a baseball cap on.

“Excuse me sir, but would you pleased remove your hat out of respect?” I asked him.

Within an instant the large man had me around the throat and was squeezing with all his might. I reached up but could not release his large hands from around my neck.

“Look puss-face, you mind your own business,” he said, in a deep voice.

I stood there in a state of shock. The man was gigantic and looked as if he could be a tackle on some professional football team.

Almost unable to speak I started to explain that I did not mean any offense. Just as I opened my mouth to speak he slapped me across the face, as hard as he could, sending my glasses flying across the room. I looked around and saw that everyone in the room was also in shock. I remember every mouth was wide open and their eyes were as big as saucers. Feeling my nose start to drip I wiped it with the back of my hand and when pulled away it was covered in blood. The next thing I remember a woman was handing my wife a blue scarf, which she took and began wiping my nose.

“Damn idiot,” said the man, as he pushed his open hand into my face forcing my head backwards. He snickered and then he walked away.

Being a bit embarrassed, I told my wife that we should leave. We exited the building and made our way to the motor-home and left San Antonio.

As I look back at that incident I am now a bit proud of myself. I, little ole Roger Dean Kiser from the orphanage, along with Davy Crocket and Jim Bowie helped to defend the honor of the Alamo.

Roger Dean Kiser

trampolineone@earthlink.net

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Poetry Section

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When We Met

Dianna Doles Petry

The first time we met,

Neither of us was young or naive,

I thought that love was so complicated,

Words of praise were hard to believe.

It didn't happen overnight,

We spent hours having long talks,

I wanted to touch you long before I did,

As we shared dreams and took long walks.

Each day my heart warmed a little more,

Each night my body hungered for more,

Each thought of you made me smile a little more,

Each new laugh made me yearn for more.

Now we know we belong together,

Sharing our joys and our sorrow,

Living life the way it was meant to be,

Looking forward to each new tomorrow.

As the years go rushing past us,

We'll make new memories along the way,

I will always cherish the moment,

You smiled and looked my way.

©Dianna Doles Petry

dianna59@charter.net

July, 2006

~**~**~

Aging

Dianna Doles Petry 

Aging has not diminished my human desire,

In fact, it grows stronger with the years,

The simple touch of someone who yearns for me,

Can start the flow of a river full of joyous tears.

In my thoughts, I long to feel furious passion,

That cannot be bridled or left to simmer alone,

In reality, just holding my hand eases my need,

As does the sound of a friendly voice on the telephone.

No one stays young forever, of that I'm living proof,

Yet, youth held for me no direction and no fear,

It is only now that I've lived in this body for a lifetime,

That I know what is really meant to hold dear.

Do not be afraid to share your dreams with me,

Or to touch my heart with your thoughts and desires,

The most cherished moments in this life we live,

Remain long after the smoldering embers of the fires.

©Dianna Doles Petry

7/2006

http://diannapetry.tripod.com
http://members.tripod.com/~poemsbydianna/PoetryofLife.html
www.womenwithauniquesoul.com

dianna59@charter.net

~**~**~

Thoughts on Life

Dianna Doles Petry

I am joyful as I dream of faraway places,

Lovers who long to hold my attention,

Worries handled by anyone but me,

Where only smiles greet me each morning.

That is before I feel my body jerk,

Ushering in a morning full of chaos,

Pleading voices and demanding tones,

Time to breathe a rare commodity.

Passing a mirror I see my butt jiggle,

A cruel joke that nature devised,

A downward spiral into the future,

Giving me no control of my fate.

Jealously, I watch the children,

Eating jelly slathered on toast,

Chattering about boys and school,

Their future still a blank canvas.

I was once the jewel in my mother's eye,

So eager to join the world of adults,

It was a journey that I had not planned well,

A journey no child could even imagine.

I attempt to justify the choices I've made,

My juggling act with family and career,

My determination to remain in the mountains,

Outstretched arms eager to help others.

Is there justice in the world?

This question eats away at my soul,

As good people die or linger suffering,

Yet, it is all out of my control.

The children burst out laughing,

A juicy piece of bubble gum explodes,

All over the face of a little girl,

Lost in the experience of the moment.

It is just another average day,

I am not here to judge the world,

To hand down a judgment to alter anything,

I will leave that to a jury chosen by someone else.

For today I will jump in a pool of water,

Sing "Joy to The World" as loudly as possible,

Put on a jolly appearance and enjoy my life,

For it is the only life I have or will ever have.

©Dianna Doles Petry

dianna59@charter.net

8/2006

http://diannapetry.tripod.com
http://members.tripod.com/~poemsbydianna/PoetryofLife.html
www.womenwithauniquesoul.com

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

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