Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

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

June 3, 2007

Today’s Stories

~**~**~

When Sissy and I bought a Chicken at the Auction
Jennie Nelson

When Sissy and I bought a chicken at the auction
My husband and I went to a dinner auction the other night to benefit the
Idaho Historic Preservation Council.

The theme of the auction this year was "Western" and the auctioneer was a
delightful older gent who had trained in Montana as professional western
auctioneer. I enjoyed listening to the gentle cadence of his voice, rattling
off "I got 200. Anybody gimme 225, 25, 25? Two hunnerd, two hunnerd, two
hunnerd, who'll gimme 225, 25, 25? Got two hunnerd, two hundred, willyago 2
fif'teen?"

When I was younger, my father would take my little sister and me to the
auctions every Tuesday to buy or sell cattle. Sometimes my father bought a
few cows and other times he might have calves he wanted sold, but more often
than not, he wouldn't buy anything at all because the bidding was a little
too rich for his budget that week. My sister and I would often stand down by
the auction pens. We'd watch the cattle as they were "gee hawed" around in
circles, and the antics of the buyers as they tried to outbid each other.
Some buyers preferred to tug on earlobes, while others tipped the brim of
their cowboy hats. Once, we even saw a farmer sneeze at the wrong time and
buy a cow he really didn't want.

One summer, when I was a mere slip of a girl, my father gave my sister and
me a dollar to bid on an animal in the small animal arena. We loved the
small animal auctions because this is where the goats, the sheep, chickens
and rabbits were sold. Sissy and I decided that we would very much like to
have a chicken and settled down in our seats to wait for the auction to
begin. As the different animals were loaded into the arena,  we'd laugh and
clap at the antics of the auctioneers and his helpers as they chased the
animals around their pens. When the chickens arrived however, she and I were
all business. Wjumped up on our seats, poised and ready to begin bidding.
"Open at 10, who'll gimme 10,10,10, now I got fif-teen, fif-teen, who'll
give me twenty? Twenty, TWENTY, now thirty, thirty, willyago thirty, THIRTY,
willya go fifty, fifty, who'll go fifty?" My sister and I were willing to go
all the way up to $1 for our chicken and had great fun tugging our ears, and
listening to the bidding go up and up. "SOLD to the two girls in the back
for one dollar," finally called out the auctioneer, and we squealed and
headed down to the offices to pick up our bird.

We walked up to the window and handed the clerk our numbers. She took the
dollar bill from our outstretched hand and peered over her glasses.  "Girls,
you know you bought 100 chickens at $1 each, right?"

Sissy and I were horrified. I remember stammering, "but in the cattle
auctions, you're bidding on only one animal at a time." She laughed and
said, "Well that's true up in the cattle yard but down here, you just bid on
the lot." Fortunately for my father, the kindly woman let us pick out one
chicken and then sent the whole lot back down to the arena for another round
of bidding.

I found myself chuckling at this memory while listening to the auctioneer
continue his cadence "tree hunnerd, tree hunnerd, got tree hunnerd willyago
25, 25, 25?" My husband turned around and smiled at me, "Well, should we bid
on this, you think?"

"Sure, honey" I smiled back, "As long as we are only buying one."

My husband and I went to a dinner auction the other night to benefit the
Idaho Historic Preservation Council.

 "Sure, honey" I smiled back, "As long as we are only buying one."
Jennie Nelson

claajke@msn.com

 http://jeanbug.blogsource.com/

~**~**~

Small World
Bill Walker
missourisage@yahoo.com

It is a big world out there. Some times one runs into a person in a
strange place who knows a person I knew in the past. I was in the
veterans hospital in Omaha a while back. A young doctor had given me a
going over, but he thought I should see another doctor. I think he
wanted to be sure he was looking at the right things in my case. This
second doctor had been in  practice a bit longer, seen more nut cases
like mine I guess.

This second doctor was in the look over of my papers, noticed where I
was from, and  asked if I knew  a doctor by the name of Gillespie. I
sure did. That was the man we called Little Doc. Little Doc was a
somewhat friend of mine. He knew who I was, I knew who he was, we
would talk a bit now and then in passing by. He had maybe a minute, I
had lots of minutes. But he always had the minute to say "Hey Bill,
how you doing?'

Anyways this doctor asked about an old friend, no longer here. The
asking brought back memories of long ago, of a man in my life. A
man now gone, but not forgotten. I think this is the case, are they
really gone, when there is a bring back of yesterday year? Sure the
person is not going to walk into the room, but the memories will come
back. You sit, talk, laugh, and even cry a tear or two, thinking of
something that happened.

It may well be a big world out there, sometimes it gets a bit smaller
when by chance one runs into someone that knew a friend of yours out of
the past. I now wonder just how many people I have seen as I walked
this life, who might have known an old friend of the past. I guess the
answer is one just never knows, till some one says, "Did you know of so
and so?

Thanks doctor, for asking if I knew Dr. Gillespie. Sure did, and thanks
for the memories.

A big world, made a bit smaller for a few minutes.
Tinker and Poo; The Boys Write
http://www.iuniverse.com/bookstore/book_detail.asp?&isbn=0-595-35741-5

~**~**~

Poetry Corner

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 Loss
Cynthia Groopman

Loss is indeed so painful and so many find it very difficult to cope,
many grieve and tend to give up all hope.
Gone forever in their minds, is the rainbow's bright reassuring glow,
it seems only dark clouds in the sky of life will permanently show.
Energy, enthusiasm, zest and purposeful meaning seems to be gone,
lacking strength, ambition or courage to march on.
Time heals all wounds, as it is often said,
renewal and rebirth triumph over grief and sorrow for the dead.
We must not fret, or continually mourn or cry,
for we must have faith and never ask why.
God's love is abundant to give us solace, comfort and consolation,
and in His healing words, we are offered insight and inspiration.
For we are never alone,
Because God is smiling at us with a sunshine laugh
and singing to us in a cheerful tone.

Cynthia Groopman

Cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net

~**~**~

What Is Love All About?
Cynthia Groopman

What is love all about?
It is enthusiasm expressed in a gleeful shout.
What is love and do you know what it really means?
Well, it is a deeply emotional, rewarding and mysterious
scheme.
What is love? The answer is difficult to find.
It is reflected in the caring and sharing ties that bind.
What is love, my dear friend?
It is truly a precious and rare gift that God
encourages us to send.
What is love, oh please help me to understand!
It is a heart full of joy and gladness,
a gentle touch and a comforting helping hand.
For love is a truly valuable, cherished and priceless gem
that we all yearn and strive to possess,
It regally enfolds us in a sweet embrace
and manifests itself in a tender caress
For love is what makes the world go round,
Expressed in a nostalgic song,
with words that are sentimental, romantic and strong.


Cynthia Groopman
Cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net

Copyright ©2004 Cynthia Groopman

~**~**~

A Smiling Face

Cynthia Groopman

Oh, smiling face,

As radiant as the morning sun beaming in every place.

As fragrant as a beautiful flower of spring,

Bringing joy and mirth to everything.

Oh, smiling face, a treasure you are,

Twinkling and dancing like a sparkling

e distant little star.

Pain and dismay you will ease,

Strangers and the weary you will please.

Oh smiling face, a joy to behold,

Into your sunshine glow, all you will lovingly enfold.

Cynthia Groopman

Cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net

 ~**~**~

 A Sentimental Journey
Cynthia Groopman

The train of memories is on the track,
And as we board, we are ready to take a trip back.
Into the land of memories we shall travel,
Where tapestries of fun, festivity and friendship will unravel.
Where laughter rings,
and all raise voices and joyfully sing.
Where we are eternally young and carefree,
where nobody is sad and all is eternally happy.
Come, take my hand,
and let us enter sentimental land.
It costs no money,
we will share laughter and hear jokes and stories witty and funny.
So, friend, dear,
the whistle is blowing loud and clear.
Let us board the train,
and we will visit the land of youth, joy and gladness again.


Cynthia Groopman
Cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net

Copyright ©2004 Cynthia Groopman

Readers Feedback

Carol,

     I loved reading Pamela Tyree Griffin's story.  She runs a small website that publishes short fiction and poems called SHINE...THE JOURNAL which one of my poems was published in May.  Not sure of the website's address, but it comes up when you "google" it.  I figured your readers might like to know this.

Your friend,

David Fox

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