Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

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

April 19, 2008

 Today’s Announcement

 Happy Birthday wishes go out to our beloved writer and friend, Barbara Weymouth.  You can send her a birthday card at her email address:  weymouth@cwnet.com

Call for submissions:  Storytime Tapestry is in need of more stories, please keep them coming in.

Help support the continued running of Storytime Tapestry join me on mylot and get paid while we talk to each other and others all over the world:  http://www.mylot.com/?ref=winterose  if the link doesn’t work just cut and paste

From my son Steven Roach:

I was thinking you should advertise the link regularly in your newsletter if the link doesn’t work just cut and paste

 
http://greenhorse.com/join_now.ghc?r=177952857
 
tell them it would help support the newsletter and they can earn money from it. They need to sign up and install it but they don't need to do anything else. They just do what they normally would anyways on the net and they earn money while it’s on. In other words they just keep it running while they are online. It’s small doesn't take up much system resources and they can earn more if they advertise their own link and get people under them as well. Let them know some people make 5-10$ a day on it and its been open since 2002. 

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

 ~**~**~

THE TOSS OF A COIN

By David Wainland

david@davidwainland.com

© David Wainland 2008

April 4 1945, I have a new brother. For five years I am the only child and suddenly this squalling bundle of red face baby is getting all the attention. I was one of the lucky kids in The Bronx, for a time I had my own bedroom. Mom and dad slept in the living room on a high riser so I could be by myself and now I had to share it with Jerry.

My life changed that day, some would say to the good, for me it was a disaster of monumental proportions. For eighteen years we fought, argued, lied and behaved in a manner that frustrated my parents. I was jealous and he felt put upon. Hardly a day passed I did not tease him or find some way to harass this gentle and talented boy.

He did have a four year reprieve from me while I served in the Air Force, but when I returned to a new home on Long Island we were forced to share a bedroom that had been his own all that time. We drew a line down the middle and lived like that for two years.

This April he would have been sixty –three, but would’ve, could’ve, should’ve and maybes do not count for much. One week before his eighteenth birthday he collapsed and died.

The night before we both wanted to borrow my parent’s brand new white 1963 Plymouth station wagon. Neither of us wanted to drive the old ’54 Dodge that my father drove to work. It smelled of tools, smoke and broken light bulbs. Of course I provoked an argument and tried to exercise my position as the oldest child. Jerry, I argued, only had his license a few months. He shouldn’t be trusted with the shiny new car.

My arguments fell flat and mom suggested we flip a coin. We both reluctantly agreed. He won.

The next morning as I prepared for work I noticed he was particularly quiet. For some reason there was none of the usual bickering. I went downstairs, had breakfast, went out to start the Dodge and drive my dad and me to work.

The first thing I noticed was the Plymouth looked strange. I took a closer look and walked around the front. The left front fender was smashed. Jerry had it something or something had hit him. No matter, in seconds I was up the stairs and yelling. Jerry was putting on his jacket and I stood there screaming in his face. Dad came in and in those days he was patient as a saint. He pulled me out and told my brother that they would talk in the evening.

We never saw him alive again. The cleaning woman found him on the floor between our beds, one arm in his jacket. He had died of a brain aneurysm while I was starting the car.

It took a long time, many years, for me to forgive myself. I do not know if my parents ever did. They never mentioned it. We never talked about him. It was as though he had never existed. They cried, changed in many ways and then tucked him away like an old forgotten photo album. If I mentioned Jerry they changed the subject and for a long time I wished it were me instead of him.

A year and a half later, September of ’64 I got married. Our first child was a girl, Lisbeth; I decided not to name her after him. Our second child, a boy, died an hour after being born. We gave him a biblical name and buried him in a cemetery I have never visited.

Then we had Jeremy, my son, the namesake for my brother. I nursed him, pampered him and edged him on to manhood, all the time fearing his eighteenth birthday.

He grew up smart, handsome, a college graduate an entrepreneur and then at thirty, a father. Six months later while driving from Ashville, N.C. on our way home to Boca Raton we received a telephone call from the emergency room of a Florida hospital. My son was gone.

Two years ago I made a pilgrimage to my brother’s grave. I sat alone and cried, talked and straightened a lot of things out between the two of us. We agreed, despite foolishness and arrogance, I would no longer blame myself and that he would watch over my son.

There will be no more Jerry, Jeremy or any name that begins with a J or a G in my family. I have asked that of my daughter and his fianc?e. .

Most of my issues are resolved and those that are not I write about for a catharsis.

Still April 4 carries a heavy burden and for just a small moment I wish I had never flipped that coin.

April stuff from here on

Poetry Corner

~**~**~

I Am in Sight

Sandra Lewis Pringle

I walk with you, in darkness,

and I shed forth My light.

You seldom notice that I'm near,

but I am always in your sight.

In Me, you are secure,

even in the darkest of the night!

I am here to protect you,

from the fear,

from the fright.

Whenever you are kind,

or lend a helping hand,

Do you not see Me?

Right in front of you,

I stand.

When storm clouds gather,

and you try to run and hide,

It is Me, that you run to,

and it is IN Me,

that you are able to abide!

Never will I forsake you;

Never are you alone.

I am your Comforter,

When you are with Me,

you are home.

© 2008  Sandra Lewis Pringle

From "Morning Glorythoughts" Devotionals,

by Sandra Lewis Pringle

 SLPEnt1@aol.com

http://www.GrtgsfrmtheHeartandSoul.net

~**~**~

 God's Power

Sandra Lewis Pringle

Whether storm clouds are rising,

or a day, sunny and clear,

we know that God, our Savior,

as we cry out,

draweth near.

We know His hand of mercy;

we've seen His supernatural supply.

We know that, no matter what happens,

He's in control,

and He knows the reason why.

We feel confident in His blessing,

and we feel tiny,

enveloped in His great love.

 But, we know He's our Father,

and that He rules over all things,

from Above.

We know that His hand is reaching,

towards us,

to help and guide.

We know that from His Presence,

we can never hide.

We know that IN His mighty Presence,

we have chosen to abide!

Sandra Lewis Pringle

SLPEnt1@aol.com

 http://www.GrtgsfmtheHeartandSoul.net

  Mailbox

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