Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

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

July 10, 2007

Today’s Stories

~**~**~

The Weight of a Contract

Louise Nomani

The little girl stood in front of the teacher, wringing her hands and weaving from one foot to another in her eagerness to end the conversation.  She handed the teacher a note which read, “Please release my daughter from singing in chorus.  She has decided that she no longer wants to participate. I don’t believe in making her do something she doesn’t want to do.  Thank you for your understanding.”

Yours truly,

Mrs. Henney

The teacher was perplexed, and she hesitated a long moment looking Roberta in the eye to assess the girl’s motive and need to drop chorus from her curriculum.  “Is there a problem with the class?  Why is it that you wish to drop chorus after these many months?”  The teacher let silence grow hoping for some meaningful explanation for the request.  The student let the silence stand.  “You know Roberta that we have spring concerts in three weeks.  We need your strong voice.”  Ms Merrill searched the girl’s eyes for clues, but these were cast downward, and Roberta did not respond.

The fifth grader finally steadied her gaze and found her center.  The weaving stopped.  “I don’t want to do it any more,” she finally replied; and her answer sounded more like I won’t.

Ms. Merrill opened the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a sheaf of papers. The blond haired 10 year old started to leave, and the teacher brought her back speaking her name and making a small gesture towards a sparsely scripted paper which Roberta had signed at the beginning of the school term.  It read:

I, Roberta Henney, have requested to join the chorus. I understand that if I am selected, this class will be part of my school curriculum; and I will be graded on my work.  I understand my responsibilities of practice and preparation for choral presentations as a member of this group.      

Signed,       Roberta Henney

“Do you remember signing this?” the teacher asked softly.  The girl was becoming uncomfortable with the weight of the page.  “My mother says I don’t have to.”  Roberta challenged the teacher with all the strength and power of a 10 year old.  She stamped her foot.  The teacher moved her finger to the bottom of the page.  The mother’s name and phone number were written there.

“Roberta”, the teacher said, I would like to speak to your mother about this request. You see”, she added, “You have signed a contract; and you must abide by the terms of a contract. I can’t release you from chorus unless there is illness or emergency   as justification.             

An angry tear pooled in the corner of Roberta’s right eye.  The child pulled herself to her tallest rigid height.  Ms. Merrill excused her with a soft “See you in class, Roberta.”   The girl stomped off in shoes with hard soles that rang loudly on the hardwood floor of the music room.

This was a dilemma. Ms Merrill had dealt with it before, but it never got easier.  There was no class in the elementary school which covered the weight and scope of contracts and promises to keep.

She felt a sadness weighing her shoulders as she glanced at the clock knowing the next class would arrive momentarily. One cannot sing when there is no joy in the singing.  She always felt sad when even one of the children lost the joy of participating in a musical adventure.  It felt too much like failure, and she worried about reasons why.  Was Roberta’s request her teacher’s failure?  Did Roberta not have a dress to wear?  Was Chris, who seemed in persistent pursuit of Roberta’s attentions, a piece of this puzzle?  He stood behind Roberta in the third chorus line.  Ms Merrill would search for clues.  It was important for her peace of mind.

The teacher loved her music, and the chords of Mozart or Chopin rang with her footsteps throughout the day.  The young children with their boundless energy and enthusiasm listened with her to bits and pieces of classical performances and bits and pieces of music from fascinating Hispanic, Asian, African and other ethnic origins. There was dancing and singing and quiet listening in this classroom.  There was joy and sadness and courage and loss written into the music, and the sharing fueled a growth in all of them.

The chatter of approaching third grade children brought back her smile and little Michael slipped his hand into hers.  “Gee, Ms Merrill, I like your class best. See I brought you a present.”  He gave her a small tissue wrapped box of three chocolates. The tissue paper was grungy.  Michael had been playing marbles, and his knees and hands wore the playing field.  “Thank you, Michael” Ms. Merrill exclaimed.  The gift of his smile and joy could not have been more welcome.  She beamed.  It was these small moments that erased fatigue and dismay.   She was a teacher, and she swept the class into the room seeing all of them and knowing with certainty the power of music to light their lives.  She would deal with the weight of a contract later.

Short story by Louise Nomani          

windmill@tdstelme.net

May 2007

~**~**~

Highway Robbers
Bill Walker
missourisage@yahoo.com

I remember reading about old time highway robbers in school. During the days of stage coach, guys like Gentleman Black Bart would be on the road charging toll fees for your use of the road. Guess that’s what he was doing. The thing is he was a Gentleman about it. He only wanted Wells Fargo money. He told one lady as he returned her
hand bag, "My Dear Lady, I don't want your money, and jewels, just old man Wells Fargo money."

I see more and more states charging to use the highways. Your sailing along the road, and all at once you go through a maze of what lane do I get into to pay the toll. Highway robber deal as sure as anything.

When I went to Oklahoma to fetch Little Girl, I ran into Kansas and Oklahoma Black Barts. The trouble was 99% of them were no Gentlemen or Ladies about grabbing my coins of the realm. A couple of the gals wasn't too bad. One even smiled at me, she was nice looking with her see more outfit. Hope she had a jacket of some kind, it was still
cool weather.

I guess if one is used to the robbers, one might be able to get in the right lane for what ever, and is fast enough on the read of the stupid signs. But when you’re being pushed as to the traffic, and get in the wrong lane you're in trouble.

I did this wrong lane bit a couple times in Oklahoma. I got a right good cussing out by one Black Bart. I knew after I got in this one lane I was wrong, but I went through so as not to block the ones behind, pulled over, and got out to  try to be right with the system. The guy said a lot of unneeded words. I tried telling him I didn't understand the system. He wouldn't give me the ticket to travel on, but told me to get the hell on down the road. Well so I did.   I found out when I did get off the road, I was fined for not having a ticket.
Talk about a robber??

Then I was coming along, and it was late, after hours. Black Bart went home, but he had a toll booth set up. Had to throw in some odd amount of change. 40 cents I think it was. I had a couple quarters, and a couple dimes. Also had some honking fool behind. I threw the 2 quarter in the basket. Dad gum light still was red. So I pulled through. Lights started to flash, and horn blew, not from the cars behind, but Black Barts hang out. I guess the Okies still got an all points look out for Nebraska car with license plate number 3
A 7868. I fled the state as fast as I could.

One time I made it to Dallas, now you talk about nuts, them people is crazy. Dollie Teri sent me on a wild goose run through the city. I am sailing along on this super over sized 6 lane deal. And as sure as any thing I am bottled up in bumper to bumper traffic. Here is Black Bart again. Guess he moved to Texas. Well this lane that I am trapped in calls for a dime. And it better be a dime. You guessed it I got a quarter, not a dime or 2 nickels. I throw the blasted quarter. Again I robbed the dad gum crook. The lights go on and
horn sound. I beat it down the road, I guess them crazy Texas cops still looking for me. Dad gum thieves. I got back to the safety of the Penthouse, told Princess my deal, she said I better lay low, cops would move Heaven and earth to get me. She would hide me till dark, then I better take the back roads and leave the state.. Well I loaded up the
boys. Poo he got in the back seat, and manned the rear machine guns. Tink was up front manning the front guns, we escaped the state.

Sure glad I live in Nebraska. Black Bart hasn't taken up shop here yet.
Tinker and Poo; The Boys Write
http://www.iuniverse.com/bookstore/book_detail.asp?&isbn=0-595-35741-5

~**~**~

Poetry Corner

~**~**~

Farewell Alexis Dear

Cynthia Groopman

A cute ball of fur,
So soft and gentle was she.
Always causing us to smile happily.
For seventeen years she brightened each day,
 Having fun in every way.
She saw the children grow,
 Giving life a special glow.
 When she began to fail,
 We felt her travail.
 We would gently stroke and embrace her with lots of caring,
 Thanking her for her sharing.
She would  limp, and relax in the sun,
 No longer able to frolic enjoying herself in great fun.
 Then the sad night did arrive,
No longer would Alexis flourish and thrive.
She is now part of the memory tapestry,
 For we all loved her deeply and dearly.
 So, it is our final good-bye,
 Oh, Alexis, we bid you farewell with tears in our eyes.

Cynthia Groopman

Cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net
Copyright ©2007 Cynthia Groopman

~**~**~

Silence
Cynthia Groopman

In silence's tranquility I rest and ponder,
of a gentler time when I was young and carefree.
In blissful solitude I marvel at joys of present and nostalgia of past
only wondering why the good times did not last.
In silence, I rest my weary heart,
bitterness and regrets from life's misgivings will vanish and depart.
In silence I will meditate of what will be,
thinking of the mountains I shall climb and what at the summit I see.
In silence I will pray,
in words of eternal to my dear ones, a message of greeting I will say.
For silence envelops me with such strength and power,
unfolding mysteriously before my mind's eye like a budding flower.
For the silence I do not fear,
Because in it, I find relaxation, nostalgia and to God I am near.


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

 ~**~**~

 The Awesome Sky Above
Cynthia Groopman

Oh, vast blue sky, how truly infinite you are,
gloriously adorned with sprightly dancing twinkling little stars.
As the glowing moon laughs and begins to sings his nocturnal song,
His powerful rays bathe us in awe that is profound and strong.
Clothed in blackness, with clouds that weep with tears of pouring rain
That creates a gloomy scene again.
To the sky, I look with overwhelming awe,
Pondering what for me there is in store.
Will there be a spectacular colorful sunrise?
Or will the elegant sunset dazzle before me with exquisite surprise?
For the vast sky that I marvel with such breathtaking awe,
was skillfully molded by the Divine Potter's hand,
And all creation is laden with deep paternal love,
For the vastness of the awesome sky creates puzzle and mystery for me,
That I am unable to fathom and understand.


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

The Blues
Cynthia Groopman

Have you ever been blue?
When the day was lonely, miserable and unhappy through and through.
Have you ever been down?
When your smiling face became a sad ugly looking frown.
Have you ever felt tired and your spirits were low?
When the time dragged and everything was slow.
Have you ever been afraid?
And you were angry and dismayed.
Remember what the Lord said, of great courage we must be,
with his hand on our shoulder and his reassuring words,
we will have tranquility.
All of us get the blues sometimes during the day,
But when you feel it invading life's sky with dark clouds of gloom
speak to God and He will brighten your way.


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

~**~**~

Readers Feedback

 Carol,
    It is always such a blessing to be in a Storytime mailing.  I couldn't have asked for
better company than David and Cynthia.  Thanks so much.  Wishing you every joy, Joe

Storytime Tapestry Angels

Angels on earth, they exist they are out there.  Angels come in all ages, shapes and sizes, civil status, and religion.  Their nature is love and their purpose is giving to the less fortunate of this world.  Storytime Tapestry angels are no exception.  These angels are loyal members who have contributed to the upkeep of Storytime Tapestry newsletter so that Storytime Tapestry can continue come to your email box 350 days of the year.

Here is our Storytime Tapestry Angels: Also, I would like to thank those of you who chose to be a silent angel and gave an anonymous donation to keep Storytime Tapestry up and running.

Clara Westerfer, Mark Crider, Rosanne Catalano, Paula Booher, Kay Seefeldt, Mariane Holbrook, Mary Ellen Grisham, Louise Nomani, Sharon Bryant, Angela Walker, Hart and Helen Dowd, Keith Ready, Ginger Morgenstern, Ellie Braun-Haley, Surinder Jandu, Bob Shaw, Carol Meeks