Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

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

September 17, 2007

Publishers Favourite Sites:

Rosanne Catalano

http://www.rosannecatalano.net/

Michael Smith

http://subs.zinester.com/86758/

Barbara Weymouth

penwormprayerwarriors-subscribe@yahoogroups.com

Helen Dowd

www.occupytillicome.com

Dean Perchick

http://symzonia.blogspot.com

I'd like to tell you about a new website that I discovered and now love where all of your favorite authors can be heard on video from your own computer!

The website is Bookvideos.tv and is coming to you from Simon & Schuster publishing. Check it out at: http://www.bookvideos.tv! You won't be sorry you did.

Today’s Announcements

Happy Birthday goes out to my son, Steven Roach: winterose@videotron.ca

Prayer request for Ainsworth Dudley (Angie's husband)

We would greatly appreciate your prayers for our son-in-law,
Ainsworth Dudley, 45, who just today found out that he will
need open heart surgery, probably this Monday at Emory
Hospital in Atlanta.

In checking him out, they discovered that he had had a
heart attack at some point, and had heart muscle damage;
also, they said he also had bad pulmonary disease, as well
as high cholesterol.  The doctor at Emory told the family
that he would also need a defibrillator put in his heart.

Needless to say, we are all in shock -- especially Ainsworth.
Please keep him in your prayers, along with the doctors,
and the family.  Angie is at the hospital with him right now,
as well as Ainsworth's father.  His Mom, Mary Faye, will be
coming on Sunday.  Please pray also for the children, as
Harper doesn't really know all this right now.  She is staying
with friends this weekend.  Little Ainsworth doesn't really
know anything, except that his Mama and Daddy aren't home.

Thanks so much for caring and for your pricelelss prayers!!!
I know that God is in ultimate control, and that He has all the
answers and that He holds our future, as well as the present.
Psalm 139

We love you, and God bless you!
Frances

Today’s Stories

~**~**~

 THE MERRY-GO-ROUND

By: Joseph J. Mazzella

     It is the beginning of September here and my mind is full of delightful memories. When I was a child the beginning of September always equaled excitement and joy because that was the time of the local county fair. One of my earliest childhood memories, in fact, is riding the Merry-Go-Round with my Mom holding onto me while I giggled and held onto the horse. I remember too walking around and sharing a warm box of popcorn afterwards. It was such a blessed time.

     As I got older I moved on from the Merry-Go-Round to the bumper cars, scrambler, octopus, and cyclone with the other big kids. I also moved on from popcorn to hot dogs, cotton candy, pizza, and cokes as well. I learned quickly too that it is always best to ride the rides first and eat the food later. When I grew into adulthood, though, I found myself back at the Merry-Go-Round again this time holding onto my own kids as they giggled and held onto the horses too. Now with my children all teenagers I am taking a break from the fair rides for awhile. I am resting up for the future, however. In ten or fifteen years my grandchildren may just need a steady hand to hold onto them as they laugh and enjoy their first rides on the Merry-Go-Round.

     Life at times can be a lot like those rides at the fair. Sometimes you get to delight in and giggle your way around the Merry-Go-Round. Sometimes you end up banging up against others in the bumper cars. Sometimes you end up on rides that make you scream, turn your face white, and make you throw up two pounds worth of fair food. Sometimes you even get to watch God’s, glorious sun go down from the top of the Ferris Wheel. At the end of it all, though, what you remember is the joy you experienced, the laughter you shared, and the love you felt.

     I thank God then for fairs and Merry-Go-Rounds. May they always brighten children’s souls and warm adults’ hearts. May they always bless this world with their joy.

Joe Mazzella

joecool@wirefire.com

~**~**~

 ValueSpeak
A Weekly Column
By Joseph Walker

valuespeak@msn.com
 

TEACHING BY THE SWORD

I’m not sure what was most impressive about Mr. B on the first day of high school in 1970. Perhaps it was the steely gaze he fixed upon the sophomores who straggled into his Speech 1 class that hot August morning. Or it might have been the sharpness of his voice as he barked seating instructions to everyone who entered the room. Or maybe it was the sword.
 
Yes, that’s right. I said “sword.” You know – long pointy thing, famous in song, story and video game? Of course, Mr. B didn’t threaten anyone with it. He just used it as a walking stick as he stalked the room, occasionally leaning on it or jauntily resting it on his shoulder. But as long as he had that sword, he had our attention.
 
So, yeah – maybe it WAS the sword. At least, at first. But then he did some stuff that made us forget all about the blade in his hand. Like calling roll.
 
I know, I know – it’s sort of hard to imagine anything particularly impressive about calling roll. But Mr. B did it by calling roll on the first day of school from memory – in alphabetical order – as he prowled through the class trying to match names to faces.
 
“George Alley . . .” he said, scanning the freshly scrubbed (remember, this is 1970) faces in front of him. “George Alley . . .” Then he stopped in front of a red-haired, freckle-faced teenager trying to avoid his gaze. Mr. B nodded and smiled. “George Alley – right?”
 
George looked at him suspiciously. “How did you know?” he asked.
 
“I just know, Mr. Alley,” he said. “Never forget that. I know.”
 
By the time Mr. B got around to me, the magic was beginning to fade a little. He’d missed a couple of names, and even though he got mine right, it wasn’t all that impressive. I mean, the only students left were me, Bryan Young and Lynette Zabriskie, and he already knew Bryan. And I mentioned that to Mr. B when he finished with a flourish.
 
“You think this is easy, Mr. Walker?” he asked.
 
I shrugged in that maddeningly nonchalant way that only a 15-year-old can shrug. “I don’t think it would be that tough,” I said.
 
“Fine,” Mr. B said. “Why don’t you give it a try?”
 
“OK,” I said confidently. “That’s George Alley.” That was easy. I’d known George most of my life. “That’s Wanda Bangerter.” Another easy call. I had noted her name because my Mom’s name was Wanda – and also because she was cute. “That’s Kay Burningham.” A good friend from junior high. This was going to be easier than I thought. A snap. A piece of . . .
 
Suddenly it occurred to me that I had absolutely no idea who was next.
 
“Mr. Walker?” Mr. B asked. “Would you like some help?”
 
“No,” I said. I looked around the room, where people were beginning to laugh. “Well, OK – maybe just a little help.”
 
“Wrong, Mr. Walker,” Mr. B announced. “You need a LOT of help.” Everyone was laughing – especially Wanda. But then Mr. B looked directly into my eyes, and I thought I could see a glimmer of compassion on his face. “But I’m pretty sure I can help you.”
 
And he did – more than I could possibly describe here. For the next three years Mr. B was my mentor, my critic, my counselor, my big brother and my friend. He was a teacher in every sense of the word, and my life continues to reverberate with his influence to this day.
 
I’ve been thinking about Mr. B a lot lately as my youngest son, Jon, begins his high school career. And I’m hoping that sometime during the next few years he’ll cross educational paths with a teacher who can reach into his soul the way Mr. B reached into mine. They’re out there, you know. Teachers who care enough to make a difference in the lives of their students.
 
With or without the sword.
 

~**~**~

Poetry Corner

~**~**~

A Tearful Day

Cynthia Groopman

Tears cascaded from gray clouds,
Souls pouring out emotions so deep and full of sorrow.
Placing flowers in the pit of untimely death,
Caused the heart to shudder and cry.
As names were read of victims so precious and lovingly dear,
Emotions were full of anxiety that trembled with fear.
In the distance as bells loudly rang,
A choir of heavenly voices did sing.
Never forget us, they said,
Rise above the painful moments of turmoil and dread.
Watching over you are we,
Carry on with your head up high is our plea.



Copyright ©2007  Cynthia  L. Groopman

Cynthia Groopman

cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net

~**~**~

Flight 93

Conrad S. Cardinal

Dedicated to those brave souls

on flight 93.

They gave their lives unselfishly.

Refusing to allow evil to prevail.

Giving their all to ensure it would

fail.

Their bravery reveals that special

quality that sets America apart.

A special feeling, a need to be free,

when pressed we act from the heart.

I wish I possessed the words to

express how proud they make me feel.

How much I hurt for those who lost,

they must feel surreal.

To those who speak against our fight,

you should feel shame.

Political success is all you seek,

to you it's just a game.

Be proud of our troops far away and

the people of flight 93.

It's Americans like these, brave and

courageous, that keep America free.

Conrad

cconseth@aol.com

~**~**~

9 -11

Conrad S. Cardinal

Indeed God's grace is amazing, it can

lift a burden from your heart.

Helping you move ahead and make a

new start.

It's not that you will forget the one that

you have lost.

You'll always remember the events of

that day and the terrible cost.

There too will be a special place in your

heart for those who worked into the night.

Trying to find those lost, hoping to make

things right.

Remember the children whose mom or

dad are gone.

Teach them to pray and trust in the Lord,

so they too can move on.

When you turn to Heavenly Father, the

promise of peace may be fulfilled.

The restless spirit, in your heart, can now

at last be stilled.

Conrad Cardinal

cconseth@aol.com

~**~**~

Readers Feedback

 Carol, What an exceptionally great issue today. Joe Walker always makes me smile from the heart. Joe Mazzella gives me food for thought. I enjoy Tanja's poetry. Thank you for such good reading! Clara