Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

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

Feb 27, 2007

Today’s Announcements

 Happy Birthday goes out to Jackie Sims, the wife of our writer Richard |Sims. ksangel66712@hotmail.com

The votes are in and we have two winners for our Valentines Day Contest.  This year, I decided to have one story winner and one Poetry winner.

So here it is:  The winning story belongs to Michael Smith, it was a swooping lead.  His winning story was: The Lady I Spent Lunch With

The winning poem, A Solemn Promise of Love by Helen Dowd.

There story winner, Michael Smith, Poetry Winner Helen Dowd.

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Please note that Storytime Tapestry is a free newsletter to members and there will never be a cost for the newsletter.  Donations are purely voluntary and no member should ever feel guilty for not making a donation at this time.

Today’s Stories

~**~**~

THE FOOTBALL STORY

The Funny Guy

It was a grade 7 Elementary Flag football Championship game.  Are you familiar with Flag Football?  No… it’s not a bunch of kids running around with country flags on a stick (you know like United States, Canada, Italy, etc).  How the hell can you catch a football while trying to hang on to one of those flags?  It’s impossible… what’s the matter with you? 

Flag football is basically a game for wimps (listen I’m not a wimp, I wanted to play tackle football but if we did, then it wouldn’t be called flag football now would it?)

So here’s how it’s played.  You get a belt that you wrap around your waist (nothing fancy like leather or something) it looks like a karate belt and on either side (meaning your left hip and your right hip – must I explain everything?, get in the game will ya) there is a thin long piece of  material that’s supposed to be the flag part.  These pieces are held to the belt by Velcro.  In order to tackle someone, you simply pull off one of the flags of the opposing player and the play stops.  Sounds easy no?  Well try it while wearing dress pants that are skin tight and 10 sizes smaller then you.  By tight I mean your legs are stiff as a board, you can’t bend your knees. (Remember the episode of Jerry Seinfeld when Krammer wore those tight jeans and couldn’t walk, well picture that)

I guess you figured out that I experienced this situation.  Well believe you me, I did.

It’s the morning of the football game.  I woke up all excited and couldn’t wait to get on the field and run (like I was mad at the grass).  My mom (yeah the same mom from the Bread Story – if you haven’t read it then I have to explain what my mother is like and will take to long so it’s easier to just read my Bread Story first then come back)  Look it me acting like some tough guy Millionaire trying to plug other material I have.  Ok if you don’t want to read my Bread Story (but you should), my mom is your typical Italian mother.  It’s her way or the highway.  You don’t question my mother, you just do as your told.   

Anyways my Mom comes into our room (by our I mean my older brother and I slept in the same room – (Hey… times were tuff back then so we had to sleep together, what’s wrong with that?) and gets our cloths ready for us to play. 

Sounds easy right?  Well here’s the problem.  My brother is 10 times skinner than me.  The guy could hind behind a broom.  Yeah I like Italian food (have you had Italian food? – you gain 40 pounds just looking at it), my brother obviously didn’t.  When the food was on the table (am I’m talking like 10 course meals daily –  for Breakfast, lunch, and dinner you could feed a wedding) I ate – wouldn’t you?  Well I guess I ate more than my brother. 

My mother gets his cloths ready no problem but when she went to get my cloths ready we had a major crisis.  My normal track pants (that fit) were in the washing machine and I had no other pants to wear.  So put my track pants in the dryer you say?  What dryer?... my mom doesn’t believe in dryers (to this day she doesn’t have one)  – her dryer is the outside line.      

She tells me to wear a pair of my brother’s pants.  Are you picturing this? My mom hands me a pair of pants that were the size of one of my legs.  “Ma… I scream these pants don’t fit” (now for those of you who read the Bread Story, you know what my mother is going to say… “Never you mind – put them on”!)

Ok.. I’ll put them on.  I unbutton the pants thinking they may get bigger but they didn’t.   I tell my brother he has to help me put on his pants.  I put one leg in and then the other (the pants were at my ankles at this point) and I couldn’t breathe.  How the hell was I going to breathe if I got them all the way up? My brother pulls, I pull – the pants are moving a millimeter at a time.  I’m pouring sweat and for some reason, God was with me that morning because I managed to get the pants on.  The pants were like dress pants, no stretch to them what’s so ever. 

My brother looks at me and says “How are you going to run in those pants?”  “Run?... I can’t even walk” I tell him.  I suck in my stomach and start walking stiff legged (like a soldier) out of my room and as I approached the stairs, reality hits me.   There is no way I’m going to make it alive walking down these stairs.  So what do I do?... I figure I’m already stiff as a board, why not go down the stairs like a board.  I lied down and slid down the stairs (you should try it, it’s pretty cool, just make sure your pants are Tight… really tight).  We get into the car and drive to the football field. 

I get out of the car (with no help) and walk over to wear our team was.  The coach looks at me and says “Why are you wearing those pants?, they don’t fit you and you can hardly walk”.  I tell him I’m fine (meanwhile my face is beat red because I have no circulation going to the brain)

Just so you know my brother and I played wide receiver.  That’s the position of the players who run and catch the ball.  The ref calls for the teams to come to center field to put on the flags and get ready to kick off.  I go to bend over to pick up my flags and I almost fainted, I couldn’t breathe.  I managed to pick them up (thinking the worst is over… oh yeah right) and start heading towards the sidelines.  The coach tells us to get on the field to receive the ball.  The other team kicks the ball and guess where the ball is headed?... To my brother (yeah I only wish) It came whistling right at me.  I catch the ball (that was easy) and try to run.  My brain said “Ok legs run” but my legs said “Ok fat boy let me see you try”.  I’m running like Frankenstein, my flags gets pulls off within seconds.  I get back to the sidelines and the coach says I can’t play receiver anymore.  I begged him to let me play.  He knew I was a good player (but those pants sure as hell didn’t make me look it) and tells me I could play center (that’s the person who snaps the ball to the quarterback) the next time we get the ball.  

I’m watching the game and then a bolt of lighting crashes into my head (or in other words I just thought of something).  If I couldn’t breathe trying to bend over to pick up my flags, how’s it possible to bend over (many times) to snap the ball?.  I walked over to my mother and asked her for her rosary beads (you know it’s a religious necklace with beads on them and you start with the top one and say a prayer for each bead).  I said a few prayers (didn’t have time to do the whole necklace) and went back to the sidelines.   Sure enough our turn to go on the field came up.  I walked to where the ball was on the field thinking “Do I just bend over or try to bend my legs?” I decided to do both.  What happened next was reason to have the fire department there.  Our team lines up beside me and I go to bend over and all you hear is KA-BOOM!! My pants didn’t rip – THEY EXPLODED!  It echoed a roar clear across the field and neighbor’s were coming out of there house trying to figure out what the noise was.  It ripped the seam from the front of my pants all the way threw my legs and up my back.  If it wasn’t for the waist band holding my pants together, they would have flown right off my legs. 

Now here’s the funny thing.  I get up and my pants felt great.  I thought I lost weight.  I was ready to tell my coach I could play wide receiver again.  I take my first step and all of a sudden I felt a breeze up my leg.  I look down and I see my skin and a strip of material over my leg. Where’s my pants? I was hoping that nobody saw what happened.   I look around and everybody (our team, there team, coaches, parents, refs, water boys, spectators, neighbors, people waking by…) were on the ground roaring like coyotes, laughing there heads off.  The field was covered with water (not because of rain but from the water pouring out of everybody’s eye balls). 

I try to cover myself up and walk to the sidelines.  My mother comes over and gives me shit because my pants were too tight.   I tell my mother “One of these days…One of these days – Pow, right in the kisser”.  How stupid do you think I am?  I’d be walking with a limp if I said something like that.  Instead I gave my mother a great big kiss (sorry, I just had a memory lapse) I don’t think I did that.

So all in all, I had a good game.  Who won? Believe it or not I can’t remember.  Hey! Can you blame me?  I was traumatized over that day.  I needed counseling, I went to see a psychiatrist, and I was heavily medicated.   I was known from then on at school as the Kid whose pants exploded.  Try living with that for the rest of your life.    

The Funny Guy 

P.S. Maybe I’ll ask my brother and find out who won.

The Funny Guy

niko1399@cogeco.ca

Poetry Corner

~**~**~

Each Of My Tomorrow's

Cynthia Groopman

Each of my tomorrow's is a marvelous dream,
That is part of God's wishes, desires and mysterious schemes,
Each of my tomorrow's are blessed,
By the Divine promise of continued hope and love,
As God gives me life through the rainbow glowing so high above.
Each of my tomorrow's are kindled with regal splendor,
Nourished by prayers, and thoughts so loving and tender.
For each of my tomorrow's are golden links on life's precious chain,
And to me cherished and treasured  they shall always remain.


Cynthia Groopman
Cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net

~**~**~

In a Nostalgic Mood, I am
Cynthia Groopman

In a nostalgic mood, I am,
Trying to create as many poems as I can.
Thoughts originate in my poetic spout,
And when inspired, like a water fountain, they come rushing out.
Of the past, I think,
But, of the future's promising waters, I do drink.
On the past, misgivings, I do not dwell,
For the past year for me, was swell.
So, dear friend,
Many poems expressing emotions, to you I shall send.


Cynthia Groopman
Cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net

Copyright ©2006 Cynthia L. Groopman

~**~**~

Sentimental Songs 
Cynthia Groopman

When I hear a song with sentiments of nostalgia pouring out,
Cherished memories of the past rush from my memory spout.
Into the cup of cherished thoughts they are poured,
As happy times I savor and adore.
Faces and adorned by smiles are in my mind's eye,
And seeing pictures of dear ones, make me sigh.
Experiences when the song was first sung,
Reminds me of a melodic bell of joy being rung.
Each experience I relive with joy,
Feeling like a child cuddling a lovely toy.
So, when I am sad and alone.
Listening to a cassette or a CD,
Brings me nostalgic sentimental musical tone.


Cynthia Groopman
Cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net

Copyright ©2005 Cynthia L. Groopman

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