Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

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

July 3, 2007

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Today’s Stories

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Part 3

The Spirit of the Ronni B

     Over the next few years, the work on the Ronni B was nearly complete. A large building was erected to protect her from the elements, and on one wall was a photographic record of how she was, and how the work progressed to the point she was now. There was also pictures of the crew, then and recent, and of course, Cap and Charlie. Cap had slowed down and let Charlie do most of the heavier work, and kept busy with some of the smaller jobs, like keeping the inside clean and painting some of the interior items.

    She was in good shape and a source of pride to the town and nearby communities. They loved to kid Cap about, “not everyone has a WW2 Bomber in their backyard”. Cap took it good naturedly. Usually he’d come back with, “yeah, don’t you wish you had one”? Then the letter came.

    It was addressed to Charlie, and said, Greetings from your Uncle Sam. Another war was going on in a place called Viet Nam, and Charlie had been called to go. Cap had always believed in God, Duty, Honor, and Country, and Charlie believed in it as much as Cap. Just before leaving, Charlie walked out to the old plane, patted her nose and told her “bye”. He whispered, “wish you were going with me, ’ol gal”.

    He left just after the first of the year, and did well in his training. At the first opportunity, he applied for flight training, got all of the necessary requirements, passed all of his tests, and was placed in the Army’s flight program. Of course, there was a certain Congressman pulling a few strings.

    Charlie learned to fly Helicopters, graduated from flight school with honors, and soon, he was off to the other side of the world. He was looking forward to telling Cap stories of his own. He’d been there several months, and the stories were starting to add up. But for now, he had to be content with just writing letters, and telling him that way.

    The letters came in pretty regularly, sometimes two and three times a week. Cap enjoyed sitting in the command seat in the Ronni B, and reading them out loud. He was lonely, and the old plane kept him company.

    Then, one day, the letters stopped coming. Cap hoped it had something to do with the war. Sometimes the letters got held up or misdirected. Usually, it got straightened up, and the mail started coming again. Then, early one morning, cap heard a car door out in front of the house. Looking out the window, he saw an Army Staff car, with two officers coming toward the front door. One was a Chaplain.

    Cap slowly opened the front door and invited them in. They confirmed his worse fears. Charlie wasn’t coming home. They told him that an Air Force plane had been shot down, and Charlie went in to try to pick him up. Neither him or Charlie and his crew made it back. Their remains were recovered, and were being sent back. Cap was glad of that. A lot of the boys weren’t recovered. They told Cap that Charlie had died a hero, and wanted to know if he wanted him sent to Arlington, or brought back home. Cap sat, looking down at his clasped hands, and gently said, “bring my boy home”. At least he could put him with the family. There was his Grandmother, Veronica, his Mother and Dad, and someday, Cap knew he would be there with them too. They gave their condolences, and said they would make the necessary arrangements.

    Cap walked out to the plane, almost in a daze, and reached up to pat her on the side. He said, ”you’d have brought him home, ‘ol girl”.

    Cap was quiet and stayed pretty much to himself after that. He spent a lot of time in and around the old plane. Most of his life’s memories revolved around her, in one way or another. She was almost like family. Cap made sure that she’d be taken care of after he was gone. The State flight museum assured him that they would take good care of her. Her history would be preserved, and all of the stories and photos would be displayed with her. And everyone would know about how Charlie had saved her. It made Cap feel better, knowing all this.

    One crisp morning, Cap woke up to a noise coming from the end of the field. It took a moment for him to recognize it. He hurriedly put on his boots and clothes, and went out to see what was going on. It was just before dawn, the breaking light of day was just starting to show. The sound he heard was the big engines, idling perfectly, almost musically, and he saw the Ronni B, sitting at the end of the field.

    She looked brand new, sitting in the light mist, and the breaking light of dawn. The propellers were swirling the mist behind her, her lights illuminating the area around her. Cap climbed into the plane to the cockpit, and saw his old flight jacket, neatly folded on the pilots seat, his flight cap sitting on top of it. He put them on, and sat down at the controls, taking in the sight and sounds. Everything was like new, shining and beautiful.

    Cap saw a movement to his right. It was a young man, wearing flying gear, his eyes bright, and wearing a crooked, goofy little smile. Cap knew instantly it was Charlie. With a trembling hand, he reached up to move the throttles forward. The big plane moved, almost effortlessly, and began rolling down the short runway. In no time at all, the plane lifted off the ground, and Cap pulled back on the control wheel. She started climbing, almost straight up, her big engines roaring.

    As they broke through the clouds, Cap could see the bright, almost blinding light. They were going home.

Bob Shaw 2007

CapeRabbit@SEMO.NET

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This I Believe # 13
Bill Walker
missourisage@yahoo.com

This I Believe. There is no reason for political jokes, God knows the people we elected to public office is nothing but jokes, and we must be nuts to keep putting them in office. Maybe public office is the place for most if not all, as most couldn't hold a job anywhere else. This I Believe.

Someone just sent me one about a certain political hack. I looked it up and yes it is fiction, while I was looking, I saw the same joke has been running for a few years about other political hacks, the name gets changed for whatever person is being picked on. I guess turn about is fair play. Now this joke, if one reads the opening lines, it is true. So, many people might think it is, a lot never check these things out. This I Believe.

Being how I think all political hacks are a joker for the most part, let us understand one thing. I think it best to try and pick out the best of the crooks for any office. This in its self is going to be tough enough to do with out political jokes. I am going to try as best I
can not to be passing on any political jokes. This I Believe is the best thing to do.

We are faced with a lot of problems right now. We can do without the political jokes.
This I Believe.

I do remember a political joke that was funny. President Roosevelt had a little dog. Fala was the name. Fala was with him all the time, he was with him at the time of Roosevelt's death at Warm Springs, Georgia. Now this joke was told by some to show a great cost to the taxpayers. Roosevelt  went on a large war ship to meet with Winston Churchill. Fala got lost. Now Roosevelt was a master at making the most of such. He told this. The Republicans are not happy attacking me, or my family, now they are picking on my little dog Fala. Fala is not too happy to think they would say he got left behind, and at great cost to the taxpayers a war ship had to turn back to fetch him. The crowd went wild hearing Roosevelt's remark to a so called joke, which turned out was pure fiction. Fala, a little Scottie, was with him all the time.
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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My Flag
Cynthia Groopman

Oh precious dear Old Glory,
my beloved flag of red, white and blue,
I salute you in words and sentiments sincerely, deep and true.
You exude a special grandeur,
that fills my heart with deep patriotic pride,
Because you are the banner of our nation,
where liberty, freedom and justice for all regally resides.
You are the symbol of honor, respect and dignity,
flying high over a golden land, where all dwell freely.
You are the ensign of our native land, so brave and bold
enthralling history with an heroic story triumphantly told.
For throughout times of war and physical blight,
You have stood tall and proud,
a pleasure gem and gift of God's hallowed, precious light.


Cynthia Groopman
Cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net
Copyright ©2004 Cynthia Groopman

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Here I Am
Cynthia Groopman

In a dream, one night, you appeared,
my heart danced and I cheered.
Here I am, I shouted,
and when you did not answer, I cried and pouted.
Here I am, I did say,
when the sun did rise on a charming spectacular springtime day,
and this time, I did get an answer that was so dear,
for my mom's voice echoed in a blue bird's song beautifully clear.
Now, I know that Mom answers to my call, Here I am,
Because only she has the angelic and spiritual power
to fathom the mysterious Divine plan.
For I am never alone anymore,
because she is with me in every room and near every door.


Cynthia Groopman
Cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net
Copyright ©2004 Cynthia Groopman

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I Am Sitting On Top Of The World Of Dreams
Cynthia Groopman

I am sitting on top of the world,
looking down at marvelous creation.
I am dwelling in the land of dreams and imagination,
and basking with glowing elation,
I reach out and touch a twinkling star,
and tickle the moon.
I embrace a fragrant flower, as it elegantly blooms.
On the beach the dancing glistening grains of sand, I count,
and upon the fastest horse, I desire to mount.
For I am sitting on top of the world of dreams,
where the air is fresh and the ocean is lovely and clean.
Come dream along with me,
and may every dream become a reality.


Cynthia Groopman
Cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net
Copyright ©2004 Cynthia Groopman

 ~**~**~

I Heard Your Voice
Cynthia Groopman

A stillness permeated every place,
there was not a sound anywhere.
Through my window glittered a star so bright,
adding color to the otherwise dark and sad night.
Suddenly the star began to twinkle and a voice was heard,
and there was chanted a reassuring word.
Remember that you are never alone, my dear,
the voice echoed in a tone that was loving and clear.
I am always watching over you, the voice chanted in a loving way,
and I shall be escorting you by night and by day.
This voice was that of my dear mother, speaking from Heaven above
as she embraced me verbally with eternal feelings of love.
So when I may feel alone, I just look at the twinkling star,
and my mother's melodic voice whispers to me fondly from afar.


Cynthia Groopman
Cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net
Copyright ©2004 Cynthia Groopman

Readers Feedback

 Dear Hart Dowd,

Thanks ever so much for your GREAT article on 'Canada Day' today! It was
so interesting to read and FULL of so many facts about Canada that we
knew nothing about until now. We forwarded it to our friend who lives in
Canada, so she too could read your interesting article! As we get ready
to celebrate our '4-th of July' here in the United States, 'Our
Independence Day', it is honorable to recognize our 'sister country' and
their 'Canada Day' also, and their 'Independence Day' too! The days of
our celebrations are very close together! We are PROUD to be AMERICANS
just as we are sure that they too are PROUD to be CANADIANS!

Thanks again for your awesome article!

Gratefully,
Andy & Barbara Hinman,
Campbell, CA

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