Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

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

October 16, 2006

Today’s announcements

 Happy Anniversary to one of the original members and writer – Ginger and her husband Mark Boda: Rhymerbabe@aol.com

Now onto the good stuff!

Today’s Queue Stories

~**~**~

Cruise Control

Michael T. Smith

            I drove down the highway in the right hand lane. My cruise control was on. I

approached a slower moving vehicle. In my side mirror, I saw a car moving up on my

left. It was too close for me to switch lanes. I had to wait until it passed.

            The car ahead grew closer. The one to the left was slowly overtaking and passing

me. My eyes shifted back-and-forth between the car ahead and the one to my left which

had almost passed me. With little room to spare, the car on the left moved ahead, and I

was able to switch lanes, before touching my brakes, and shutting off the cruise control.

            The above situation happens many times each week. “Why don’t you want to turn

the cruise control off?” I ask myself.

            I think it’s because I’m cruising along at a steady speed. Life is moving forward.

I’m happy. The pace is perfect for me. An obstacle appears in the distance. It gets bigger

and bigger. Life has to slow down. A change is coming. I have to tap my brakes.

            In the mid-nineties, Georgia and I were cruising. I had a job I liked, two young

kids and a beautiful home on the ocean. We were rolling down life’s highway with the

cruise control on. An obstacle appeared. My company announced layoffs. I had to slam

on the brakes.

            It took a year to find another job. We were behind a truck on a long uphill climb

and had to go slow. We moved to another city, settled in, and put life on cruise again.

            Three years later, the new company announced they were selling part of their

holdings. I saw the truck in the distance again, but this time I quickly changed jobs -

switched lanes - and moved from Canada to the USA. The pattern continued. We cruised

for awhile, but always the brakes had to be applied. Something always came up to

block us.

            I slammed on my brakes and came to a complete stop. Ahead were miles of cars.

They surrounded me and squeezed close on all sides, invading my space. I had just been

told, “Mr. Smith, there is nothing more we can do. Georgia is very sick. It is time to turn

off the life support.”

            We inched through the traffic. After what seemed like a long time, I passed the

wreck and saw the screen on the monitor connected to her. It had been counting her

heartbeats, but now the small dot moved along a flat line at the bottom of the screen.

            Traffic inched around the obstacle. For many miles, the it was slow going, but

over time it picked up. I found myself moving faster, but there was still too much traffic

to use my cruise control. There were still too many obstacles to deal with.

            I pulled off the main road and drove leisurely along. It was time to get my life

onto a less clogged highway. The road wound around sharp turns. It rolled over

emotional hills. It was slow but somehow healing - comforting.

            I met Ginny and hit the cruise control again. Life was going well. The road ahead

was clear for hundreds of miles. The pavement was smooth. We turned a corner. My foot

touched the brake. My stepdaughter, Heather, and her three boys moved in. It was time

for all of us to push down on our brake pedals.

            Recently, Heather and the boys moved out. They are on an open highway and

cruising along. Ginny and I moved into another clear lane. Life for all of us is moving

on a traffic free highway.

            Wait! What’s that in the distance?

Michael T. Smith

mtsmith@qwestonline.com

To read my stories or to sign up
to receive my weekly story, go to:
http://archives.zinester.com/86758/

~**~**~

WORKING IN JOY

By: Joseph J. Mazzella

When I was a boy we had a wood stove that heated the house in the Winter. Keeping that stove full was no small task. My Dad, two brothers, and I would spend days cutting up trees on our land to fill the woodshed. It was hard work splitting up the logs, tossing them into the back of the pickup truck, and stacking them into cords. We never complained however. We spent the time laughing, joking, and teasing each other. We knew that hard work was a part of life and was best done in joy. We knew too that this hard work would keep us warm during the long, cold Winter to come.

Putting food on our tables and heat in our homes is only a small part of our real work in this world, though. Our greatest work here is the hearts we touch, the good we do, and the love we share. Our hands may be able to lift a log into a truck, but our smiles can lift another's heart in joy. Our arms may be able to carry a load of wood, but our kindness can help someone carrying a heavy load in their life. Our skills and talents may be able to make us some money, but our love, goodness, and oneness with God can help to make this world a better place forever.

Leo Buscaglia said, "To work in love is to work in joy, to live in love is to live in joy." Don't be afraid of a little hard work then. Do all of your work in love and in joy. Work at giving, work at loving, and work at living happily ever after, day by day and choice by choice. God put us here to grow, to learn, to work, and to love. God put us here to find joy in our efforts and to share love in our lives. Do all of your work with a smile on your face, with love in your heart, with joy in your mind, and with light in your soul. If you do so your work will become play, your life will become joy, and God will always work through you.

Joe Mazzella

joecool@wirefire.com

~**~**~

Watches

Bill Walker

missourisage@yahoo.com

I been thinking of the way we say things, and this one thing came to my small mind. Watch,  why is it called a watch?  That thing you look at to see if your on time or not. I remember when it was a pocket watch,, did it watch your pocket?  Now it is a wrist watch,, guess it watches your wrist.   Back in old days women wore it on the dress, as a pin of sorts,, that may have been a dress watch,, guess it watched her get dressed.  Bet it had stories to tell.

I sent this out, thinking I would get the answers to my question, at least some  kind of answer from at least one of the smart Dollies.  Oh I got an off the wall line from one or two. Kind of made me grin, one remark was bet you would like to be a watch.  Well my answer was,  Sure I watch the Dollies trip along the side walks. 

I remember my dad's pocket watch.  He came by that from his brother in law Homer.  Homer was a poor fellow, hard worker, almost blind. One of the things he had in life was this prized pocket watch. He was proud of his pocket watch, but once in a while he got in need of a couple dollars for food.  He would get a loan on it at some pawn shop. One day crossing Grant Street on College in Springfield, Missouri a taxi cab ran the light hitting him.  He later died from the injuries in the hospital.  Pocket watch was in the pawn shop.  Dad went there and bailed it out of hock. From that time on he carried Homer's watch. It was a Studebaker.  I have since learned the whys of the name.  I understand some watch company put out many different watches under a different name.  This one is a beauty,   I now am proud owner of it. It belonged to my Uncle Homer,  a man I don't remember. I was about 6 months old when he died. It is priceless to me.  It stopped running some years ago.  I had it fixed up and it ran for a few years,, but it now is worn out.  It is resting in my safety box at the bank.  You don't have enough money to buy it.

I have another turnip,  I have heard old timers call a pocket watch a turnip.  " What time has your turnip got?"  That thing belonged to Granddad Walker.  Now it is one with a lid, big sucker.  I can still see the old boy take it out of his pocket, open the lid, take a look, and close the lid, putting it back in pocket till next time.  You never heard the lid open nor close. he had his way of opening and closing the lid, only he could do.  I also have it. Would you like to buy it? I will part with it for a few bucks, not Uncle Homer's.  It also gave up while back running.  I never asked if it could be fixed. It has some writing on inside of lid.. words  "From Father to Son George."   I think the brand name is Illinois,  can't remember for sure. I think it is in a dresser drawer here in the house somewhere. it isn't of any value to me.  Homer's pocket watch is.  Dad said he was a Prince of a fellow. 

Pocket watches had a chain, as a rule had a little pocket knife on the other end.. It as a rule was just a worthless knife as far as cutting anything, just for looks.  The banker and big shots wore a vest.  Pocket watch was carried in the vest, the chain ran through a button hole.   No vest, well pants came with a pocket watch holder, chain would be hooked to a belt loop on pants. 

Dad put Homer's watch up for the last time in the late 40s. Some one told him it was hopeless to keep running, he at last went to a wrist watch, up to that time he said men don't wear wrist watches,, guess times and thoughts do change.  When I got it out one day, I looked at it and said I wonder.  I found a lady in St.Joseph, Missouri that got it up and running,  I would carry it when I thought I was dressed up.  Well at last it gave up, and she said it was now hopeless, put it away, as a memory.

Yes Uncle Homer, your watch is still with me, and I think of the poor man who owned it quite often.  His prized pocket watch, about all he had in this world. A man who died from a drunken taxi cab driver, who didn't know the difference from a green light and a red light.

Homer Sonner. 22 April 1898-- 22 Feb 1931. A Prince of a fellow.  I owe him a lot.  After all he got my folks together.  Wonder if his pocket watch had any thing to do with it?

Tinker and Poo; The Boys Write

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

~**~**~

Readers Feedback

Carol--

Rennie is another 'keeper'; a very talented writer.

Peace,

Ron Gold

New Writer – Renie Burghardt - That's so nice.
Thanks
Mark Crider

The Problem of Obesity – Johann Christoph Arnold - I feel compelled to respond as I am a retired nutritionist who dealt with childhood obesity for many years.  It is a huge sadness for it damages physically and emotionally in equal degrees.  I referred to it once as the misery index.  It feeds upon itself and the more miserable one is, the more vulnerable he is to the repercussions of his over weight.

     We are too harried to grow a garden or prepare a meal.  We have educated our taste buds to want nothing that is not salty or sweet or of buttery richness.  We eat in single servings quantities of food that should feed two or three.  We seek bargains that are double or triple servings in one not realizing that we pay for these meals not once but on a continuing basis.  They are no bargain as they widen our girth and narrow our arteries.  As with cigarettes, however, the population should not claim ignorance of the risks of over consumption nor should we be blind to the risks of eating disorders that are fostered by unrealistic and unhealthy size two models.  There is a wealth of nutrition information available on labels and at our health care facilities. Our schools should be teaching how to use this info.

               Our neighborhoods have changed, and one does not see youngsters biking or skating or running or playing softball.  Our schools and community centers must become more active and school curriculums must impose physical activity.  It is well established that healthy minds and healthy bodies go hand and hand. 

     Ultimately, parents are the key.  We must give them knowledge with which they can best nurture their children with food and nutrition information. Somehow, somewhere, sometime, the concept of self-discipline must also be taught.    That is the toughest lesson of all.            My opinion,             Louise

To Carol and the Storytime Tapestry staff,

     I really loved the story by Aro and can share in the memory of losing a pet.  My first cat, Baka, died when I was only in my teens.  Though she never spoke to me through Heaven as the dog does in the story (of course) I enjoyed the personification and soul this dog has to its master.

Your friend,

David Fox

Storytime Tapestry subscriber

Your story brought tears in my eyes.  I am also 53 years old and in my heart I am still 21 years old.  Like you my journey of life flew by and now sometimes I feel where all the years gone. two years back in 2004 I lost my mother  in Feb, then in April my husband died, who was  also in military, due to a degenerative disease, then in DEC.I lost my father and it was too much for  me .Next year I  tried to commit  sucide three  times and all my three attempts to die failed. Now, I try to find consolation that even god don't want me. I have a son, who is 23 years old. I try to find happiness in whatever he does. I have only one wish left that my son settle down, so that I can die  peacefully as for myself  no will, no desire left to go on with life, but life has to go on, so why not live cheerfully. Rajshri Mishra

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; Meeks, Carol; Mizrany, Mary Carter; Morris, Deepak; Ojeibge, Georgewaters; Petry, Dianna Doles; Roberts, Susan; Shiveley, Debra; Shaw, Bob; Sims, Richard; Smith; Michael; 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