Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

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

June 6, 2007

Today’s Announcements

Happy Birthday Roy Seefeldt:  birdnest@megalink.net  from all your friends at Storytime Tapestry

Today’s Stories

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The Umbrella Man

Marilyn Nicholson

Back when my Mom and Aunts were growing up in the Depression, they did have one old umbrella, and the kids also had one to share. There was no money for a new one, but there was also no car and they walked to school and everywhere else.
This is really my their story, but it's one of the good memories so I wanted to share it from a time when poor was normal and accepted (ok, so that's true now), but it was also a simpler time, when the little things meant a LOT.
There was an umbrella man who also walked around, selling his umbrellas or fixing the ones that people had. He came every year. My grandmother could never afford a new umbrella, so each year, she saved a little aside so he could repair hers. Instead of repairing hers, he was kind enough to take hers to repair, but would always give her back a newer,  better one.
My Aunt and sisters also had one between them and they'd wait for the umbrella man every year. He'd take theirs, and with him, he also carried a whole bunch of new umbrella handles, in all colors. Every year for them, he'd put on a fancy new umbrella handle in a new and different color. At no charge.
Nowadays, that might mean nothing to most, but to them, it was one of the best gifts that they could get. Maybe we ought to concentrate on the little things and see them as they are -- bigger for their kindness and we'd be more satisfied with what we have and not keep wanting more? The best things in our lives are usually the small things and they're also the things we hold close to us when life hits us with some hard times. Kind of like a shiny new umbrella handle.

Marilyn Nicholson

nicholson.m@earthlink.net

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 A TREASURE

 Sharon Bryant

She was blond, and I a redhead.  Her skin was fair where mine is darker.  I always tanned very   well, she always burned when in the sun.  She was shorter than me.

I remember the day I met her.  I had moved in next door to her.  Later that day she knocked at my door, holding a casserole dish in her hands.  "I'd like to welcome you to the neighborhood," she said.  That day back in the 60's was the start of a friendship that lasted through the years.

Last Friday morning at 6:00 A.M. my phone rang.  It was her husband.  "Sharon, she's gone.  I went to wake her up to get ready for work and she was gone," he said.  I can only recall screaming, "WHAT."  Shock hit me.  I'd just talked to her the day before.  We lived 800 miles apart the past twenty years but we always kept in touch.  I still can't believe she's no longer here.

When my son died, we were still living in Michigan.  I remember though she had three little boys of her own, she took the time to come to my house and stay with me for three days.  I never spoke a word to her.  She'd fix something to eat but I never ate.  She cleaned my house, and I never said thank you.  I just sat on the couch and stared out the window.  When she went to leave, she hugged me and told me she didn't know what to do to help me.  She let me know no matter what, she would always be there for me.  She handed me a book about losing a child and said, "I wrote something for you, it's inside the book.  When you feel up to it, just remember, my heart is always with you."  I still have the book and the beautiful poem she wrote for me.

It was two years later in March when my grandmother died, a grandmother who meant the world to me.  It was my friend who took care of my little boy during the funeral.  She knew the pain I was in.

Two months later her only sister was shot to death while driving an ice cream truck.  It was I who switched roles with her and helped her with her boys during the funeral.  For months and months, we would sit together, remembering the good times before tragedy began striking our lives.

We laughed and laughed through the years remembering the time her sister was taking belly dancing lessons.  She came to visit for a couple of days and brought two extra outfits with her.  There we were, dressed up in those skirts with the sequins, shaking our butts and laughing our heads off to the music on the tape.  We never could get our bodies and our fingers to shake those little things together to match.  I can still close my eyes today and see us all in the living room at her house with tears sliding down our faces from laughing so hard.

She was a nurse and preferred working in rest homes rather than hospitals.  I've always said anyone who was in her care had the kindest and most loving care a human can have.  She was so good with her patients.  She cried when she lost one.  Sometimes she'd tell me it hurt so much to lose a patient and she didn't know if she could keep doing that type of work.  I always knew she would.  It was her life, her love, and I believe God helped her choose that profession because of who she was and the heart she carried inside of her.

I believe honesty has always been the major factor that has kept our friendship together.  We've never had a quarrel in over 40 years of friendship.  When one of us asked the other a question, we always answered honestly.

I remember one year her husband was taking her out for a big deal dinner.  She'd bought a new outfit to wear and had ordered a pair of shoes through a catalog company.  She bounced into my house, twirling around showing me the new outfit.  "Well, how does it look?" she said.  "I love the dress, it's gorgeous," I said.  "But the shoes make your feet look really big."

"Well, then that's it," she said.  "I'm sending the shoes back and going out and buying another pair today."

"Don't do that," I said.  "If you like them, keep them and wear them." I replied.

"Nope, I'm not wearing shoes that make my feet look like I'm wearing the shoebox," she said.  She had another pair of shoes before the day was over and the catalog ones were sent back.  We've laughed about that incident many times through the years.

I keep calling Florida everyday to check on her husband.  They've been married a long time and I know the love between the two of them.  He keeps telling me, "I don't believe this has happened.  I wish she'd come and get me."  I never really know what to say when he keeps saying that.  Yet I know the loneliness and pain he's enduring.  I know he feels lost without her.  I'm only her best friend and I know the pain I feel.

I do thank God I called her the day before and chatted with her for a few minutes.  Just a month ago she called me and said she was making me something.  I said, "What is it?"   "Oh, just one of those sleeveless blouses you like to wear, in 100% cotton," she said.  "I asked what color fabric it was and she replied, "Hot pink."  I told her she knew me and hot pink used to be a combo but not in the past few years.  "Well, I always loved to see you wearing hot pink with that red hair of yours," she said, "so hot pink it is again."  The blouse arrived and I love it. 

When I opened the door of my shop for the first time, a beautiful Irish wall hanging was there for all to see.  Through the years many have wanted to buy it.  I always tell them, "No, it's not for sale, it was a good luck gift from my best friend."  When she came to visit me two years ago she saw it still hanging and just smiled at me and said, "I see you still kept it in the shop."  I told her it would always hang in the shop.

Our birthdays are one day apart.  I remember the year our husband's surprised both of us and took us to Canada to see the Supreme's appearing.  We both were shocked when Diana Ross delivered a birthday cake to our table and sang happy birthday to us.  We always wondered how much our husband's had to dish out to have that happen.

I called her husband yesterday to check up on him.  He's not aware of the photos I took two years ago when she visited.  I asked if he's like a copy of them.  He could barely choke out yes.  I'm printing them out now getting them ready to mail.

There was no funeral.  Her requests were cremation, no viewing, but to remember her the last time we all saw her.  Just six weeks ago we both had talked about this when our time was done on earth.  We both agreed that funerals are so hard and so painful.

He called me today to tell me her ashes were with him.  He's taking them tomorrow to Key West and toss them into the ocean, her request.  The boys will be with him.  I know it's going to be hard on him.

I told him he will always be welcome in my home and to always remember that.  He told me that meant the world to him.  I told him we both have a link that death will never separate. 

Her middle child called me and told me something that I will never, ever forget the rest of my life.  He said he had instructions from his mom that if she ever went before me, he was to make the call to me.  "She wanted me to tell you she loved you like a sister all those years.  She wanted me to tell you that your friendship was the best thing she could have ever asked for," he said.

I got choked up when he said that to me.  All I could get out was, "I know, I feel the same way."

Friendship is golden.  It is a treasure that many never know when you find that special someone who you can talk to and share anything with.  It is a gift of love and what greater gift on this earth is better than love?

I will always treasure in my heart the decades she and I shared as friends.  She was a special person and I thank God He brought her into my life many years ago.  Her friendship is a treasure.

Sharon Bryant

1946@bellsouth.net

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Poetry Corner

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Pain
Cynthia Groopman

Pain is like a sharp arrow that pierces the skin,
invading the rejoicing heart with sorrow and sin.
Pain is like a roaring lion, roaring with fierce, fury and fright,
inflicting torture and anguish as the soul aches.
So difficult to cope with the pain of grief,
where there is often no solution or instant relief.
Tears cascade onto a sullen face,
as pain grippes us all into its forceful, angry embrace.
Pain is the dark stormy cloud invading our once serene sky of life,
bringing with it anxiety, sadness and strife.
For as much as we try,
painful moments are unbearable, causing us to weep and cry.
The ointment of prayer and God's soothing love,
are calming gifts from Heaven above.
So dear God, please make our pains disappear,
and fill our cup of life with overflowing serenity, comfort and cheer.


Cynthia Groopman
Cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net

Copyright ©2004 Cynthia Groopman

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Long May It Wave,   

Cynthia Groopman

In the early morn,

Waving regally as we are enfolded by the sparkling of dawn,

What do I see,

Than our flag merrily waving at me.

Its dancing eyes are the stripes and stars so bright,

symbolizing freedom's holy light.

The hallowed colors of red, white and blue,

Proclaim liberty for me and for you.

In times of war's destruction and terrorism' devastation

Old glory has waved with tears of sorrow and triumphant celebration

.

As we march holding the sacred banner so high,

Nostalgia and patriotic pride bring tears of joy to my eyes.

Cynthia Groopman

Cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net

~**~**~

Baseball Season is Here

Cynthia Groopman

Baseball season is here,

Elated fans flock to the ball park, shout,

, applaud and cheer.

As the bat is skillfully swung,

,

Home runs are hit and rejoicing songs are merrily sung.

Around all of the bases the hitters swiftly run,

Enjoying themselves and having great fun.

Peanuts and crackerjacks we all eat,

A hot dog and a soda also is a delicious treat.

Dreams of winning the World Series dance in our mind,

When our team loses, excuses for their not winning, we do

find.

Baseball is the all American past time,

As we bask in victory's and nature's radiant warm golden sunshine.

Cynthia Groopman

Cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net

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