Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

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

February 29, 2008

 Today’s Announcement

 I have an unfortunate announcement to make, for Storytime Tapestry writers who are also writers for Rosanne Catalano’s The Cat’s Meow. I have to tell you that Rosanne’s computer has crashed and she does not know when the site will be back up at this point.  As a result, it is quite possible that the March e-zine will be delayed.  She is unable to answer email at this time as well. 

Don’t forget to order your copy of Angels Watching Over Me, the story of an ordinary woman facing less than ordinary challenges.  Angels Watching Over Me is a story of family love, sacrifices, poverty and an undying faith that makes heroes out of all of us. Here is the link in case you have forgotten it: http://www.lulu.com/content/964306

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

  ~**~**~

A True Account

P.S. Gifford

I truly believe that there is so much that we do not fully understand in this world. I know, there are events in my life that make me question all that I believe to be true.  It is prudent I suspect to always maintain an open mind, to remember that life and death is far more complex than it at first might appear. That some of the boundaries are, at best, blurred.

Two nights ago- I went to bed as I always did. I took up a hot milky drink and a good book, and as my wife drifted into her dream world, I drifted into the imagination of the writer. At some point, I became defeated in my battle to maintain keeping my eyes open, and with the final remnants of my waking state somehow managed to switch off my reading lamp, and bookmark my book.

Typically I am a sound sleeper.  The only thing that ever awakens me is a storm, or my dog needing to go outside. Two nights ago, I found myself wide awake. Fragments of the dream I had been having still flashed in my minds eye. I glanced at the clock, it was 3:30 in the morning. I desperately tried to cling on to those memories of my dream, which were fading by the second. I remembered faces. Family faces. I remembered tears. I remembered black clothing- but what I remembered most of all was a feeling of peace. It is difficult to translate this feeling into words. However I somehow felt strangely tranquil. I instinctively allowed my hand to drop to Tasha, who was asleep on her bed alongside ours, and as I scratched she wriggled contently in her sleep. My eyes managed to adjust to what light there was, and I could just make out the silhouette of my beloved wife cocooned in bed sheets by my side.

As I closed my eyes, I could not help but ponder how truly blessed my life is- and how fortunate I am to have such a wonderful family, close friends, and am able to spend my hours doing what I enjoy most- writing.

The ringing of the alarm clock sounded particularly harsh, three and a half hours later, as it pierced the morning silence. I abruptly awoke. I remembered that today I needed to take my father to an early morning doctor’s appointment.

As some of you might know, over the last year, at eighty years old, he has overcome some severe health issues. He is well on the road to recovery- although he has difficulty getting about by himself.

At eight precisely, on my third cup of coffee, I arrived at his house. Traffic had been unusually light, and I made it in ample time. He was still getting ready.

As he got dressed he shared with me a curious thing that happened the night before. He told how at Three-twenty-five that morning he had awoken, and was so restless that he had gotten up and had a glass of milk before returning to bed.

I suddenly recalled my waking, at the same time.

Then it all became clear.

“You remember what day it is don’t you?”

I stared at him blankly.

“It is the day that Olive and frank get cremated.”

I could not believe I had forgotten, Olive was his older sister.  Their passing had come as quite a shock. They were both discovered dead, by a fireman, at the bottom of the staircase in their home back in England. They had apparently been that way, undiscovered, for several days. It was only after their son, frantic at not hearing from them in over a week called to have the authorities check on them that they were found. The coroner report concluded that Olive had fallen off a stool while attempting to change a light bulb. She had landed awkwardly and had fractured her hip and several other bones- rendering her unable to move. We assume that she called for Frank, who at eighty-five was incredibly frail- and battling many health issues, including severe Alzheimer’s himself. When he went to investigate he must have suffered a fatal heart attack, brought on no doubt by the shock of seeing her like that. They had been married for over sixty years. My father was naturally heartbroken by the news, as naturally was I. We had discussed flying over for the funeral services- which is an eleven hour flight- but felt it was too risky in my father’s state of health.

 Due to the coroners report taking a while- and issues with their only offspring, a son, who also lives in the States, the cremation was held back for an incredible two months.

My father continued.

“The service commenced at eleven thirty in the morning.” He looked at me solemnly, and I gave him a hug.

Suddenly it all became remarkably clear- with the time difference that was the precise moment we both awoke the night before. So perhaps, in some sort of spiritual way, part of us was there after all.

Here is a poem I penned the day I heard the dreadful news of their passing…

Sixty plus years spent together-
With nary a single day apart.
Through fine times and the dire,
they stood by their sacred wedding vows.

They raised just one single son,
who fulfilled his dreams in the States,
six-thousand miles from Birmingham,
Where he was born and lovingly raised.

He is a success in each and every way,
Blossoming career, loving wife and three kids.
His parents were overflowing with pride
For everything their son had achieved…

Fifty years spent in the same house,
Which sheltered them from the elements.
Yet, despite it’s diminishing condition-
they stubbornly refused to ever leave.

Yes, sixty grand years spent together,
and a modest legacy to be proud off.
For they lived, essentially as one- able to
finish each others thoughts, with a knowing nod.

And now they have passed on as one
Unexpectedly and shrouded in mystery
From this earthly physical plane,
Carried up to the next spiritual level.

They were uncovered hand in hand,
At the bottom of their stairs,
several days after their passing,
by a shaken investigating police officer.

We don’t know the cause of their demise
We will need to wait to Friday to discover,
the results of their scheduled autopsies
For the puzzling and elusive answer

Yet, I know those sixty years together,
were simply a beginning to their love.
For now, it is undeniably destined,
That they shall be together for all eternity…

Dedicated to my Uncle Frank and Aunt Olive

P. S. Gifford

psgifford@earthlink.net

www.psgifford.com

~**~**~

Poetry Corner

~**~**~

A Marvelous Surprise

Cynthia Groopman

As I was walking outside, during a splendidly beautiful and mild late February day,

A truly marvelous surprise came along the way.

In the distance, a majestic and lovely tune was heard,

To my astonishment, it was the merrily chirping pre spring song of a joyful bird.

for, to me, this was a wonderful harbinger of spring,

When God's glorious creative powers renews everything

Thus, this cherished day, in late winter, to me is a gift so precious and so rare,

Indeed an answer to a winter weary earnest prayer.

Cynthia Groopman

cynthia.Groopman@verizon.net

 ~**~**~

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, Marilyn Sink, Victor Buhagiar, Clarice Hinson, Conrad