Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

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

November 16, 2007

Today’s Announcement

The voting for the poets now closed. By now you have received the rules for voting for the writers. Voting for the writers starts Nov 16^th and ends November 20^th.  I will announce our wonderful winners for both the writing contest and poetry contest on the very same day.  Stay tuned for the results.

Important notice: Storytime Tapestry is a free e-zine, however donations are always needed to help with the operating expenses of running the newsletter and to keep Storytime Tapestry the quality newsletter you are so accustomed to.   You can make your donations to paypal at: winterose@videotron.ca, or if you would prefer to use the mail system contact the publisher at the same email address: winterose@videotron.ca

Today’s Stories

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LITTLE MIRACLES

By: Joseph J. Mazzella

     It had been a week of heavy frosts in the evenings here. The frozen nights had just about killed off the grass and most of the flowers were gone as well. The bitter, morning air was a reminder that Fall was almost over and that Winter was just around the corner. I noticed too as I walked my dogs on that cold afternoon that the trees in the woods were getting as bare as the top of my head. It seemed like it November’s gloom was everywhere. It was then, however, that I saw it. A single yellow butterfly was floating in the breeze and feasting on the few remaining dandelions left in my yard. It was a little miracle that filled my soul with delight. I smiled and thanked God for this message of joy and for all the little miracles in this world.

     So many people in this life pray for big miracles but fail to notice the little miracles that are all around them. Every sunrise and sunset is a little miracle. Every flower that blooms and leaf that changes is one as well. I have seen little miracles in the loving hearts and beautiful smiles of handicapped children. I have seen them in the shopping carts of people living paycheck to paycheck, who still buy something extra to donate to the local food drive. I have seen them in my community where every car that breaks down will have three others stop to help. I have seen them in the lives of my friends as well. There is my wheelchair bound friend who spends hours each day sending out inspirational messages on the internet. There is my teacher friend who lost first her sight and then her job but now dedicates her life to volunteer work and bringing joy to people who are homebound. There are so many others too whose lives are daily miracles of love.

     The best thing about little miracles, though, is not that they are all around you but that you can be one yourself. You can share love, spread joy, and help others so much. Remember God made you, God loves you, and God gave you this life. Live it like the miracle you are.

Joe Mazzella

joecool@wirefire.com

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 ValueSpeak

A Weekly Column

By Joseph Walker

valuespeak@msn.com

THE FIRST CASUALTY OF WAR

The story came into the newsroom in bits and pieces yesterday, and each new piece of information was more horrifying than the last.
A fire consumes a home in a quiet suburban neighborhood.
The mother of the family who resides in the home is found dead.
Her three small children are also found dead.
The deceased woman was in the process of divorcing her husband. By all accounts, their marriage was “volatile.”
Oh, and one other thing: the woman’s husband has an Arabic name.
Immediately the message boards at the newspaper for which I work were flooded with postings from people speculating that it was some kind of “holy killing,” a one-man jihad on the innocent members of his family. One writer even speculated that this tragic event signaled the start of a wave of terrorist violence in our community and that readers should quickly stock up on guns and ammunition “before they’re gone, and you’re defenseless.”
Then came the news that the mother was suffering from depression. She was still struggling with the influenza-related death of a 3-year-old child a couple of years ago. And then the most stunning news of all: evidence at the scene has led police to conclude that the tragedy is a murder-suicide, perpetrated by the mother.
For most of us, there are no words to describe the shock and horror of such news. Which is probably why there are only three postings on the subject to the newspaper’s message boards, all of them expressing anguish, sympathy and concern. I am impressed with the compassionate way our readers are choosing not to publicly judge or condemn a woman who apparently was suffering, regardless of how unspeakably shocking her act may have been. But I can’t help but wonder why they hadn’t extended that same courtesy to her husband just a few hours earlier.
Is it a gender issue? Are we less harsh in our assessment of women than we are of men? Or is it possible that the current climate of conflict prompts us – or in some way justifies us – to quickly leap to the worst possible conclusions about those who may be perceived as being “the enemy”?
Trust is always the first casualty of war, so I guess it is in a way understandable. But I wonder what we do to ourselves and to our own humanity when we choose to always assume the worst about a particular group of people – geopolitical conflict notwithstanding.
A few years ago I was traveling with my wife and several members of her family. We were just settling into our seats toward the back of the airplane when at the very last possible moment a group of six young men of Middle Eastern decent boarded the plane together. A noticeable hush fell over the plane as these men struggled with their carry-ons and searched for the seats. Every eye in the plane was upon them – of which they were clearly uncomfortably aware. They glanced nervously at their fellow passengers as they moved to their seats. One of them even smiled and waved self-consciously, as if to say, “We’re OK – honest.”
I looked across the aisle at my brother-in-law, and we gave each other that look – you know, the one that asks, “Shall we take them out now, or should we wait until they try to pull something?” For the next four hours we flew across country with one eye on the in-flight movie and one eye on those young men. I never completely relaxed. I was sure they were going to do something. And they did: they ate their snacks. They drank their juice. They read their magazines. And a couple of them slept.
At the end of the flight it was pretty clear that my only enemy on that flight was me. By rushing to judge people based on ethnicity I had created my own problem.
And in so doing, made the world just a little less trusting. And a little more tragic.

# # #

Joseph Walker

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Poetry Corner

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 Maryanna Hope

Cheryl Williams

( I wrote this in 1996 after losing my baby, Maryanna Hope. She was stillborn. And although I never got to experience these things with her, they were all a part of what I had been dreaming of during my pregnancy. She was stillborn at seven months)

When you went up to Heaven,

you took away my heart;

You took my spirit, my will to live;

I feel so torn apart.

Some days all that I need

is to hold your sweetness near,

to smell your newborn baby scent,

to kiss away your tears.

I need to rub my cheek

across your soft little downy head;

I need to rock you sound asleep

before I lay you in your bed.

All of this was taken from me,

all of my hopes and dreams;

No more cradles, wet oatmeal kisses,

or a child's wondrous schemes.

They were all laid to rest with you

on that somber day in May;

the day God in Heaven above

took my Hope away.

Cheryl Williams

politicalgirl04@aol.com

 
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Readers Feedback

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Fascinating Facts and Educational Trivia

My family from that area were part of the original settlers, the Von Griders. "Von" denoting royalty. There are still a lot of relatives there and we host our family reunions there in Landa Park every year.

My grandfather usually won the old fiddlers and home brewed beer contest there every year. There is a beer available now that must be the same recipe as his that was made with wheat. Ayinger makes it and calls it Brau Weisse or wheat beer.

I have original recipes for my family's corned beef, salami, sausage, pickled eggs and many others.

Ja! Und die machen spass mit der brau weisse und danzen mit der hotzen frauleins.
Thanks
Mark Crider

 
Carol,
    It is always such a pleasure being in Storytime especially among such a great
group of writers.  Thanks for always sharing my writings so quickly and beautifully.
Wishing you every joy, Joe

Hart Dowd – Evangelize Your Neighbourhood, deserves a special thanks for the wonderful history lesson regarding the Halloween holiday .  I didn’t know and have carried serious negative feelings about this.  Louise

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, Charlotte Hilliard, Maria Keller