Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

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

June 16, 2007

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Today’s Stories

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ValueSpeak

A Weekly Column

By Joseph Walker

valuespeak@msn.com

THE CROWN PRINCE OF CHOLESTEROL

Joe Walker

            I'm not exactly sure when I became the Crown Prince of Cholesterol.

            As nearly as I can recall, it started when I was about 10.  My big brother Dick decided I was way too helpless (even though I was the youngest of eight children and was therefore born to helplessness) so he taught me how to cook eggs.  There was nothing fancy in his approach – no eggs Benedict, no omelets, nothing poached or pureed or saut?ed with kippers.  Dick believed in three kinds of eggs: fried, scrambled and boiled (soft or hard), with plenty of butter, salt, pepper and, of course, ketchup.  So those are the eggs in which I was tutored.

            So to speak.

            I don't think I'll ever forget the first egg I ever fixed for myself.  It was scrambled, with a little melted cheese on top and some toast on the side.  I'm sure some chef somewhere has prepared a finer scrambled egg breakfast, but you couldn't prove it by me.  I was in heaven, mostly because I had done it for myself.  Suddenly, a whole new world presented itself to me in which I was the captain of my soul's kitchen and the master of my culinary fate.  No longer was I a slave to Captain Crunch and Tony the Tiger; if I wanted eggs I didn't have to wait to see if Mom was in the mood.  I could cook them myself.  As many as I wanted.  Whenever I wanted.

            From that moment on, I was a new man – the Egg Man.  Think of it as a bar mitzvah, over-easy.  In junior high, I would run home and fry up a few eggs when school lunch was too horrible to consider.  In high school, I prepared a batch of huevos rancheros (scrambled eggs and salsa) for girls I really wanted to impress.  In college, I found I could survive for a couple of days on a 99-cent carton of eggs – as long as I also had butter, salt and pepper and ketchup on hand.

            I don't remember if I cooked eggs for Anita before we were married.  I do remember the first time she cooked scrambled eggs for me.  They were so light and fluffy – almost ethereal, like little egg-flavored clouds.  They had to be fake.  Turns out she mixes a little milk with her scrambled eggs.  As far as I'm concerned, that's not scrambled eggs – that’s an egg-flavored milk shake, and I told her so.  Consequently, even though Anita handles most of the cooking in our home, from that day to this I've been the official family egg cooker.  Our kids understand that.  If they want eggs, they come to me.  Anything else – from quiche to cheesecake to small engine repairs – they go to Mom.

            Which is not to say that my eggs are significantly better than hers.  They're not.  In fact, my eggs probably aren't any better than yours, so please don't ask for my recipe.  There's no secret ingredient, no special cooking technique.  I don't flavor them with yogurt, fry them in ice cream or inject the yokes with vodka.  My eggs are just . . . well, eggs.  The only thing that makes them special is that I cook them myself.  Making eggs is something I do for my family that I don't do for anybody else.  And somehow that makes a difference – at least, to my family.  You probably wouldn't be able to taste anything special about my eggs.  But my family loves my eggs because they love me, and they know I love them.  And I’m pretty sure that’s what makes my eggs taste so good to them.  They can taste the love.

            And it's absolutely delicious.  For all of us.

            That's how it is with family traditions.  We each think our family's way of doing things is best, not because there is actually a way to quantify such things, but because of how those traditions make us feel: happy, comfortable, peaceful and secure.  And so we cling to those traditions even when we don't know what they mean or how they got started.  We only know that they are best – for us.

            Cholesterol notwithstanding.

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Angels # 2

Bill Walker

missourisage@yahoo.com

Angels, every so often we read of the Angels in the Book of Books the Bible.  We do know the names of three, and that is it. One we read of his works in the Bible quite often,  seems he is a very popular fellow. He gets around to visit most of us ever day. Some says they have no dealing with him, but I bet they do, and just never think about some deal they cut as dealing with the guy. He seems to have a too good a deal you just got to have. He is a super salesman. He is a real good door to door salesman.  I think he has even taken to selling Bibles. He likes that new NIVXYZ model.  A lot chopped out, and rewording of parts of it. He tells a lot of people, and preachers this model is so easy to understand,  I got some crack pot writer talked into how to get rich,  rewrite the thing, and put his name on it and every one that is sold, he will get a buck. 

You see if Satan can make it easy to read, and understand by leaven out a word here or there, or changing a word here or there, something has a new different meaning.  Makes a lot of sins pure as the falling drops of rain.

To show you how important this fellow Satan is.  We read of Gabriel 3 times, of Michael 4 times, and Satan at least 37 times in the Bible.

Mark 4; 14 and 15.

The sower soweth the word.

And there are they by the way side, where the word is sown; but when they have heard, Satan cometh immediately, and taketh away the word that was sown in their hearts. 

You have the pure word of God in your King James.  The seed was sown, but here trots along Satan with his new NIVXZY so called Bible.  He taketh away from the Bible and rewrites it to suit his self.  If that isn't enough he will redo it every year or so with a new rewrite of a rewrite.  He now has so many on the book store shelves, that it is no wonder people are confused as to what to take home to read.   

Some people has 3 and 4 rewrites of the King James to look at.  It says here it is OK to do something, read it. And this one says it is OK to do well lets see, oh that isn't in this one at all, I believe this is the one I will go by.  Satan removed a whole 1/2 a page here, that sin must not count.

Revelation 22;18

For I testify unto every man that heareth the words of the prophecy of this book,  if any man shall add unto these things, God shall add unto him the plagues that are written in this book.

Revelation 22:19 

And if any man shall take away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God shall take away his part out of the book of life, and out of the Holy City and from the things which are written in this book.

Can it be made any more clear?  Satan has taken away the written words with words of his choosing.  Any one should know Satan has all ready been taken out of the book of life.  He needs company and the rewriters and believers of all the rewrites will join him in the pits and lake of fire.

Tinker and Poo; The Boys Write

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

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Poetry Corner

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Beauty Rest
Mary Dees

I'll never be perfect;
Not even close, in my eyes.
No cosmetic surgery could erase,
My spider vein thighs.

My hair is too thin.
My butt is just too flat.
My chin has doubled,
Although I'm not even fat.

I stay up too late.
 I drink a little too much.
Sugar, these days,
Doesn't give me a rush.

I have ingrown hairs,
On my legs -- that are too long.
I swear that it's true,
I look gross in a thong.

I'm only 30,
Hey, I guess my lips are all right.
I can still run,
And I do have my sight.

My ankles aren't swollen,
And my memory is ok.
I don't have too many wrinkles,
And I don't see any gray.

My Mom is still pretty,
So I can look forward to that.
She doesn't hide her age under,
Some uncomfortable hat.

But WOW, how her stories,
Scare the hell out of me.
Sun block, night cream,
And controlled waste bikini's.

Thirty is wonderful,
It suits me just fine.
Hell, I look great;
I have plenty of time.

My hair, after all,
 Is manageable and sleek.
My chin is firm;
I just have high cheeks.

My butt -- well it's plump,
Just as round as can be.
My legs, hey I like 'em,
I'm as tall as a tree.

And, as for those few extra beers,
That I drink late at night,

I'll replace them with wine,
Or a yogurt and sprite.

 There is one sure thing,
That I must reluctantly confess:
I won't stay up too late,
When I need my beauty rest.

By Mary M. Dees
marlena7694@yahoo.com

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Readers Feedback

 Carol,
    What a fantastic event.  Thank you for sharing it with us all.  Your wonderful Rabbi reminds us all that it is individuals who change this world and make it better.  God bless you always.  Wishing you every joy, Joe

Thank you very much for remembering my birthday. I was pleasantly surprised. Thank you all. Regards S K Jandu

Carol, That is quite a nice accomplishment.  I did a little research on human trafficing, and it's a more serious problem than most people realize. My congratulations to Matt's synagogue Love, Peace and Joy,   Pam

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