Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

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

July 24, 2007

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Helen Dowd

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Today’s Announcements

 Happy Anniversary, Bob and Ronnie Shaw, from you friends at Storytime Tapestry: caperabbit@semo.net

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Today’s Stories

~**~**~

Here is a very special story, from our writer P.S. Gifford’s 13 year old son, as they say the apple never falls far from the branch.  Don’t forget to write and encourage this young man.

Three Wishes

by Jonathan Gifford Age 13

If I found a magic bottle and after uncorking it have a Genie pop out. After I had fainted they might grant me three wishes. I decided that I needed to prepare for such an occasion. So, after thinking long and hard, and scratching my head a lot, I have come up with three wishes.

My first wish is very easy. I suspect this is a wish that all of us have in our hearts. I would wish for world peace. Not just for one year, not for hundred years but for ever and ever. The first reason for this is because I get very sad when I watch the news at night and hear about all the horrible things going on in the world. The second reason is more personable, my cousin's husband, Brett, is an officer and is in Iraq for a whole year and I miss him dearly, he plans to teach me how to play guitar when he gets back. And finally my last reason is I don't want anyone to have someone they love have to go away to war ever again. Wouldn't that be a wonderful world?

My second wish is that I wish I could cure all cancer in the world. Cancer has killed several family members of mine . Some even before I was born. Also if cancer would be cured the doctors could spend time helping find cures for other bad diseases .And finally my reason for curing cancer is that it is the biggest killer of people and it is so very sad that so many people all over the world have to suffer.

My third and final wish would be to rid the world of hatred. Can you imagine how much better a world without hatred would be? No one would dislike each other for what they looked like, or for where they were born or even for what their religious beliefs are. If people didn't spend so much time hating they might spend their time doing wonderful things. They might compose music, paint beautiful pictures or maybe even write a book. If people didn't hate for silly reasons they could all work together. What a fantastic world that would be wouldn't it?

I don't suppose I will ever find that magical bottle and that genie, but I will hold onto these three wishes anyhow, because maybe if enough people believe in them, who knows maybe one or even all of my wishes will come true after all.

PSGifford

psgifford@earthlink.net

www.psgifford.com

~**~**~

Homeland Defense W.W.2 Style
Bill Walker
missourisage@yahoo.com

I was a kid of 11 when war came to Nebraska. The year was 1941 December. It wasn't long we was invaded with German and Japan fears. Some where early in the year of 1942, we feared the planes of these two countries would be over head pounding our little cities into rubble. Beatrice would be a prime target. We had two factories here, one turning out bombs for the navy to destroy subs, the other making parts for guns. There were a couple of small factories making different things also. So we needed home land defense. We were sure to be bombed from the air, and also have people in our town with evil things to do. What do you know about those people living next door, do they look funny to you?

We knew those people over there in that house wasn't to be trusted; they have a radio sending news to Germany. Why, he was a soldier in W.W.1 for the Kaiser, so he must be working for Hitler.

Well sometime in the spring of 1942, we heard the planes were coming. The Germans and Japs had long range bombers. These super long range planes could fly all the way from Europe or Japan and back again with out a gas fill up. So we must take action.

We formed the teams of homeland defense. At night we had real air raids.  LIGHTS

OUT. The air raid siren would go off and you turned out all lights, hunker down in the basement, or got under the beds. There would be a few men running about on the outside with little hats on, and kicking on your door, if they saw a spark of light coming from your house.

"TURN OUT THAT LIGHT, DON"T YOU KNOW THIS IS AN AIR RAID?"

The only thing moving on the streets would have been the one police car, and motor cycle the cops had, with out lights of course. I don't know what happened if you were driving somewhere in town and the siren went off. Guess you pulled to the curb, and got under the car. But who had gas to do any driving? It was park the car and walk in those days.  Gas might be selling for 19 cents a gallon, but it took a ration stamp to buy 4 gallon a week.

And we had day light air raids also. The Germans and Japs didn't rest. Kids in school ducked under the desks. Shades were pulled on the windows.

Looking back and really thinking, how stupid could things get? Here we are in the very middle of this land. A plane would have had to travel at least 2,000 miles cross land to get here. There was no way at that time a German or Jap plane could have done such. The
United States had the old B 17 bomber, it could make it from the coast, but it too would have come in on the smell of gas in the tanks..

This soon passed, this fear of an air raid, someone I guess figured out the Germans, and Japan didn't have any super long range bombers.

We still didn't trust that German living next door, just knew they had radio contact with Hitler.
Tinker and Poo; The Boys Write
http://www.iuniverse.com/bookstore/book_detail.asp?&isbn=0-595-35741-5
*

~**~**~

Poetry Corner

~**~**~

 Moonlight Shore
David Cannon

Painted in heavenly moonlight;
I venture beyond the steep silver dunes;
Footsteps fade as I clamber;
Unto the shores on a warm night in June.

I bask in the moments freedom;
My heart is lured like a moth too the moon;
Cascading sands hide my footsteps;
Unto the shores on a warm night in June.

Waters boil upon sands;
The night owl casts a spell in rune;
My footprints capture the ocean;
Upon these shores on a warm night in June.

David Cannon

david.penguin@ntlworld.com

~**~**~

Footsteps
David Cannon

Traipse falls upon the summer sands,
I shield the sunlight with my hand,
As briny wells on every step,
I taste the salt in every breath,

Awaiting boats the seagulls sit,
In flocks upon the heady cliffs,
And as the boats come into shore,
The skies alive with seagulls soar.

Traipse falls upon a bed of leaves,
Autumn hues dress the trees,
Crimson boats sail on the sky,
Caught upon an autumn tide,

Awaiting winter trees undress,
In hindsight of the winters rest,
As the breeze blows away all life,
Days turn into the darkest nights.

Traipse falls upon the clouds on earth,
Not a sound life is scarce,
Shivering in a winters chill,
I scoop the snow from windowsill,

Awaiting feed a Robin calls,
A flash of red as snow flakes fall,
And as the winters rush it blinds,
The Robin leaves my world behind.

Traipse falls upon springs dew kissed grass,
I wonder if the rains will last,
And if the sun will guide the way,
Piercing light through gloomy gray,

Awaiting warmth the flowers beg,
For royal sun they bow there heads,
And as the mighty sun shows face,
A rainbows arc is springtime’s grace.

David Cannon

david.penguin@ntlworld.com
  

 ~**~**~

 Dear Carol and members of Storytime Tapestry...

Here is a poem for you. I hope you like it. Thanks for publishing my previous poems too. It is always an honour for me.

yours truly-

Abram Friedland

Dawn

Abram Friedland

In dark streets now so quiet

Last night's losers are ready to riot

Over what was taken from them

What was stolen and eaten since then

I pity the guys I see in the dark

They told me about a future so stark

That could still be mine if I don't pray

And if I don't remember who brought the day

I wish I held all the aces

All the cards nobody could beat

But those cards are on the table, not for  me

Instead for the guys in the suits, so suave and fancy

So I get on the bus and yawn in the quiet

And watch as the dawn breaks and the radicals riot

As the bus pulls on through the ghettoes

And I try to bury yesterday's sorrows.

by Abram Friedland

 abramfriedland@videotron.ca
 

~**~**~

FOR Madeleine, A LOST CHILD

Can I light a Candle?

Linda Ann Henry

Can I light a candle for my little one today

If I make a wish on a star

Will I be carried far away

Is she sleeping in her bed

Or is she calling my name

My life and her life will never be the same

Can I talk to an angel with wings of pure gold

Will they tell me how my little one is

For I have never been told

I cry so many tears

I cannot count them all

My little one is so tiny, so very very small

Can I blow her a kiss on a gentle breeze

Can I send my love to her on such days as these

Can I light a candle in my hour of need

I want my child, Dear God, give her back to me

Linda Ann Henry

Do you remember me

Decated to Gary Matthews

The people's poet

linda11231949@COM

Readers Feedback

 Bill,

     Re: Saturday's story "Rainbow Bridge" about the loss of the little girl's pets.  I can identify.  I was somewhere in my teens when my first cat died.  She was sweet and something special.  My other cats were troublesome and had to be given away, or like my sister's cat George still living (that cat was originally my parents' cat, but then moved to a place that didn't allow animals, then moved to a different place that allowed animals, but my sister was too attached to the cat by this time to give him up).  But I digress.  My hope is when I pass on I will see the cat who died when I make it to Heaven.  Good story.

Your friend,

David Fox

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