STORYTIME TAPESTRY

March 13, 2005

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<p>Animal awareness series endorsed by Shiloh and Hank our mascots; all stories must receive their approval.</p>

<p> Now on to the good stuff..........</p>

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  LITTLE MISSY

Roger Dean Kiser

It was very relaxing getting away from the house for a change. Judy and
I had decided to spend five days with our grand-kids at a local
campground located about 15 miles from our home in Brunswick, Georgia.

The second day we were there I ran a large steel spike through my right
hand which took about twelve stitches. But worse than that was the six
hours of waiting in the emergency room lobby in order to be treated.

After returning to the camp site I found that I was unable to really do
much of anything with the kids. So most of the next five days I just sat
by myself as everyone fished, played volley ball and played cards.

On Thursday, Thanksgiving Day, we deep fried two large turkeys. It was
the first time in my life that I had eaten Thanksgiving Dinner outside.
I must say that it was very enjoyable. At dusk we started a large fire.
Everyone grabbed a lawn chair and sat around for hours talking and
roasting marshmallows. About twelve a.m. everyone decided to hit the
sack.

Early the next morning we were up breaking down the camp sites. I stood
to the side trying to stay out of the way as my hand was still very sore
and there was very little that I could do that would be helpful. As I
stood there I saw a black pick up truck driving very slowly by the
bathroom. I watched as the passenger threw a brown paper bag at the
garbage can, missing it. As they drove away I walked over to pick up the
bag. When I picked it up it was rather heavy. I opened the bag and saw a
small kitten inside.
"Well hello there Little Missy" I said to the small female kitten, as I
lifted her out of the bag.

I look down the road to see if I could get the license tag number of the
black truck but it had already left the camping area. The kitten did not
look well at all. It was dirty and it looked as though it had not eaten
for quite some time.

After we returned home I tried to telephone one of the three vets
located in our town. But it being the Thanksgiving Holiday none were
available until Monday morning.

I took the small kitten to the kitchen sink and I tried to wash it off
with a clean warm wash rag. I tired to get it to eat something but it
was just to weak. I kept it in my lap all that evening as I watched
television. About ten o'clock I decided to go to bed. I laid the small
kitten down beside my pillow. I went over and I turned out the light.
Then I climbed into the bed. She pulled herself up next to my face, as
tightly as she could. All the while curling herself tighter and tighter
into a small ball of fur. Then she settled down and bundled up next to
my ear.

I did not move a muscle as she tried to clean herself. Once in a while I
would hear a faint "meow". After she was done I carefully reached over
and I ran my fingers across her little head causing her inner motor to
make a purring sound. Over the next few minutes her motor became less
and less frequent.

"I love you little missy." I whispered to her as I carefully moved my
finger back and forth against her ear.

At that very moment her purring stopped completely and her tinny head
fell limp onto my hand. Slowly I picked her up and I carried her into my
office where I laid her down in a shoe box on top of my computer desk. I
turned around and saw Judy standing in the office doorway.

"Is she doing ok?" she asked me.

I stuck out my hand motioning for her to please go away. That I could
not speak to anyone right now. I sat in my office for more than an hour
wondering how people could so cruel to such an innocent little creature.

I left "Little Missy" on my desk until the next morning. I then went out
to the flower bed where our other two cats are buried and I prepared a
special place for her.

I am not sure what the feeling is that comes over me when something is
unloved and discarded. Maybe it's all the years of my having been raised
as an orphan. Maybe it is all the terrible things that I too suffered as
a young boy at the hands of grown up adult people. Years of going
hungry, being kicked, hit and then thrown away. I really do not know.
Maybe I will never know.

I do know this for sure. Every living thing on this earth should be
cared for. No human being or animal should ever leave the face of this
earth without having been given a chance to served it's useful purpose.
I hope that when "Little Missy" left this earth last Friday night that
the last thing that she will remember was the love shown to her by
something known as a human being.

Stories from The Life and Times of Roger Dean Kiser:
Roger Dean Kiser
trampolineone @earthlink.net

Roger Dean Kiser is the author of the
book "Orphan, A True Story of
Abandonment, Abuse and Redemption."
Roger also writes non-fiction short
stories which he displays on his
website "The Sad Orphan" located at:
www.rogerdeankiser.com
Roger's short stories have also been
published in: Chicken Soup, Heartwarmers
Heartwarmers of Love, A
Cool Collection I and II (Israel),

"The Bully" was made into
a short film by Nicholas Delfino
and has been entered into several major
film festivals in the United States.
www.tajmahalreview.com
www.rogerdeankiser.com

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<p>Today's Queue Stories</p>
 

<br>THE LIFEBUOY PHANTOM

<br>Loren Moore

IT??™S HAPPENED AGAIN. I GOT ANOTHER PACKAGE IN THE MAIL. IT HAD A BAR OF LIFEBUOY SOAP IN IT. THE PACKAGE WAS MAILED IN GLADEWATER, TEXAS, MY OLD HOME TOWN. IT HAD A RETURN ADDRESS ON IT THAT READ ???1950 MEMORY LANE??? BUT THERE IS NO MEMORY LANE IN GLADEWATER. I CALLED CITY HALL TO MAKE SURE.

THERE WAS A NOTE IN THE PACKAGE WITH THE BAR OF SOAP. IT SAID;

???HELLO, IT??™S ME AGAIN. THIS WAS NOT WRITTEN ON A TYPEWRITER SO DO NOT LET YOUR DETECTIVE WASTE TIME TRYING TO IDENTIFY A TYPEWRITER. THE PAPER IS CLEAN (NO FINGERPRINTS OR IDENTIFYING MARKS). IT IS XEROX PREMIUM MULTI-PURPOSE PAPER THAT MAY BE PURCHASED AT ANY DISCOUNT CENTER. DO NOT ADMIT YOURSELF TO THE HOSPITAL. IF YOU AND/OR YOUR DETECTIVE DO NOT SOLVE THIS MYSTERY WITHIN 30 DAYS I WILL REVEAL MY IDENTITY (IF I STILL KNOW WHO I AM).???

IT WAS SIGNED ???THE LIFEBUOY PHANTOM??? AND I AM BEGINNING TO BELIEVE IN PHANTOMS.

I??™M STILL WAITING FOR THE 30 DAYS TO BE OVER BUT I DON??™T KNOW WHITHER TO BELIEVE THE PHANTOM OR NOT. IF HE/SHE HAS KEPT HIS/HER IDENTITY SECRET THIS LONG WHY REVEAL HIS/HER SELF NOW.

ANOTHER THING, IS THE PHANTOM THE ONE WHO SENT ME THE LIFEBUOY SOAP TIN BOX? THAT COULD BE SOMEONE ELSE ALTOGETHER.

THEN THERE IS SOMETHING I??™VE BEEN KEEPING SECRET ALL THIS TIME. I RECEIVED TWO BARS OF LIFEBUOY SOAP FOR CHRISTMAS 2001. THE CHRISTMAS PRESENT DIDN??™T COME IN THE MAIL IT JUST SHOWED UP UNDER OUR CHRISTMAS TREE WRAPPED IN CHRISTMAS PAPER WITH A BIG RED BOW ON IT.

DOES THIS MEAN THAT JOHNNIE IS IN ON THE CONSPIRACY? I DON??™T THINK SO. I??™VE LIVED WITH HER TO LONG FOR HER TO GET AWAY WITH SOMETHING LIKE THIS FOR THIS LONG. BELIEVE ME I WOULD KNOW. YOU CAN??™T STAY MARRIED TO SOMEONE FOR 52 YEARS WITHOUT GETTING INTO THEIR MIND.

BUT THAT??™S A WHOLE NOTHER STORY FOR A DIFFERENT TIME.

?© COPYRIGHT 2003
EPISODE 2 OF FALL SEASON
 
 

Loren Moore
caddo @ digitex.net

MY NAME IS LOREN MOORE AND I'M 72 YEARS
OLD AS OF 11-12 04. I HAVE BEEN MARRIED
TO MY WIFE JOHNNIE FOR 53 YEARS AS OF
11-14-04. NOW THAT I'M IN MY OLD AGE I
DECIDED TO WRITE ABOUT SOME OF THE THINGS
THAT HAPPENED TO ME AND MY FAMILY. THESE
STORIES ARE 90% TRUE AND 10% FICTION. MY
WIFE JOHNNIE SAYS THEY ARE 10% TRUE AND
90% FICTION. MAYBE THEY ARE SOMEWHERE IN
BETWEEN. BE THAT AS IT MAY HERE ARE MY
STORIES. I HOPE YOU ENJOY THEM.

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 What??™s Your Life Puzzle Looking Like?
Claudia Kerens

"We all take different paths in life, but no matter where we go, we take a little of each other everywhere" --- Tim McGraw
Many people have strolled through the crosswalks of life never looking to the right or to the left because they were so sure of where they were going that they sped past some of scenic panoramas or the rest stops or didn??™t take the chance of stopping by and testing the waters of a ???greasy??™ diner or its denizens along the way. In other words they kept their eye on the ball.
What happens when people lose sight of the ball? Are those the homeless? Are those the people sucked off the life path by addictions? Are those the ones who compromised with life early through teen pregnancy or they accepted life as a hand to mouth existence living day by day? It sounds almost like they made a deal with the DA on ???Law and Order??? for a lesser punishment to just live and breathe and then die.

Those are questions that wander through my mind remaining unanswered because each person has experienced some event or situation that caused them to stop in their tracks for a moment, gaze around to discern where they are and make the choice to go forward or to stay put- at least for a while or so they say.
There is no real, concrete answer.
Things aren??™t in the ???black and white??™ or ???right or wrong??™ mode any more. Rather, there are airbrushed shades of gray life experience that make the golden apple of the life dream held early on look a bit tarnished.
Some people label this adulthood while reminding those young high schoolers to live it up because they are in the best time of their lives. Given that high school is four short years are we saying that those are the only good times out of an 80 year life?
What happened?

Did reality set in? Is that why adults say the high school years are the best years of one??™s life ??“ ???Hey kids, live it up now because later on it??™s not that easy!???

What happened to that ???golden??™ ???apple-lized??? like future we thought we were not only promised but also deserved?
For some, not attaining that ???golden??™ apple there are a host of ???excuses??™ usually blaming other people as the reason why the goal went unfulfilled rather than examining their own actions and taking responsibility for their choices. For others, the golden dream wasn??™t as golden as they through it would be, so they made course corrections and new goals. And still others maybe didn??™t have a goal in the first place as they had determined that they would flow like flotsam in the sea from birth to death, taking life as it came.
For whatever reason anyone has for being where they are at THIS moment in time, their life is still a mosaic of all experiences no matter how minute, how tragic, how beautiful or how stupendous.
And, no one??™s mosaic looks exactly like anyone else??™s.
Oh, some may share a similar color scheme or palette or pattern, but none of the tiles of life experience will be the same exact mechanized size or depth. And the grout holding it all together will reveal firmness in some spots and a mercurial, quicksilver consistency in other spots. Some will have a dazzle of glitter sparkle through and others will be like a worn caulking around a well-used bathtub.

That is the uniqueness of humanity.
For all of that though, we come together and share our lives in a myriad of places and mediums. This place is one such example while there are also places in our daily experiences dealing one on one with other members of the human race.

And we all react differently to the response we receive through these interactions. Face it, the world is constantly telling us what we are supposed to be, look like, buy, age, go, etc., etc., etc. And for all the trillions and trillions of dollars spent to try to pigeon hole us all in one category, it was money spend frivolously, foolishly, and for naught.
In the end we are where we are, still working on the composition that is our life and no one else??™s until we die, right? Well, not exactly!
For all of our own ???life tile making??™ we leave shards of emotionality in our wake where ever we go. Those shards can be as little as a warm fuzzy of a smile or a comment like, ???Hey! You look very nice today!??? or the other end of the spectrum of calling someone a ???cootie.??™
The meat of the shards experienced, though are the more intense pieces found in the middle of the spectrum. The moments when we truly related as one human to another showing we cared, we loved or we didn??™t care and didn??™t love.
Those who follow us pick up those shards and add to their own mosaic based on their perception as to how they viewed the event or the relationship. Sometimes, particularly when viewing my own life, this smacks of the genes I have inherited, enhancing some of the natural abilities that everyone says ???were passed down??™ through the bloodlines.
Or maybe I??™ll be doing something that a long ago friend who has passed away and I did together. I then recall the memories and cherish them a bit more for having experienced them as well as learned from them.
And, there are parts of all of the students who have ever graced my classroom. I may remember how they viewed their own adolescence along with the fears and their joys of success. The ultimate high is when I played that small part in how they may have achieved one goal or another and they come back and tell me ???I finally get it! I understand now what you were saying to me!??? Or, ???I couldn??™t have done it without you!??? Or, ???You believed when I didn??™t and no one else did.???
As I review those sentences, I really do wish I had a high school teacher I could say that to- one that had taken an interest in the ???ugly??™ duckling that had yet to grow into the swan. But you see, I didn??™t have such a teacher.
My teachers attempted to measure me against my siblings and being the rebel, I did the best I could to be different. I was not going to get straight ???A??™s??? and I was not going to do what ever they wanted me to do without asking questions first. So, I frustrated my teachers knowingly while pumping the ???Why??? questions into any conversation or class discussion.
I suppose that??™s why they thought I was stupid. Maybe that??™s why my high school transcript is almost one big ???C??? ??“ which I was grounded for every one of them. I used to tell Millie, my mother, that I received ???C??™s??? because my first name began with a ???C.???

Millie didn??™t buy it. Mothers do know better. And even when the high school counselor told my parents to not bother with college for this dumb kid, Millie gave him what for. Bob stepped big time into the act when he had the piece of paper with my stellar ACT scores ??“ made me think he didn??™t know what my intelligence was until he had some kind of proof.
I do know that I make every effort to ???not??™ ever be like any of my high school teachers. I search out the wallflowers or those who try to hide out and just wait us out until they have that diploma. I search out the ones who need a pat on the back or need to be excited about something new to learn or just about life! I am their cheerleader.
Any way I look at it, I still carry some of those adolescent shards or rejection around with me because I don??™t know where they belong in my life??™s mosaic puzzle.

I assume I will know before I become worm food. If not, then I want to destroy those shards so no one else picks them up and feels as bad as I did when I first acquired them. I would rather we all remember it just takes a word or a look or a response for anyone to become a shard in someone else??™s life mosaic puzzle.
Use the power wisely and with compassion as those shards have a bit of immortality dusted into them.

Claudia Kerens
mina1986 @ midwest. net

About Me:

General Bio - 51 year old educator who has
worn several hats in the broadcasting,
office and restaurant worlds. Turning 50
is a freeing experience thus most of my
writing revolves around lessons learned
and wisdom to pass on so that others don't
hit the same brick walls I did. The sooner
folks love themselves, they can give love
to others. And that, is the greatest
gift of all.

 The Home Place

Pamela Perry Blaine
?© January 2005


It was a long time ago, yet it really happened. There was a place in time where people lived, worked, and played just like we do today. Oh, they may have dressed differently, had different modes of transportation, and a slower pace of life, but like us they had many of the same hopes and dreams. We discover many of them as we search for our ???home place???.

Some of these home places began when a man bought a small plat of ground to work. He took a team of horses, some tools, and brought his new bride to the house he had built with his own two hands.

In time, the farm or ranch would grow and expand. There would be a large barn and other outbuildings to hold the increase of the land. A room or two would sometimes be added on to the house to handle a growing family. The house became a refuge or sanctuary to the family. It was a place of shelter from the cold and the rigors of life and a place to find love and acceptance. It became ???the home place???.

Life was often difficult and families coped with hard times as best they could. It was a time when losing loved ones was common. Many babies, children, and the elderly succumbed to illnesses that are preventable in today??™s world. There were hard times with suffering and even the loss of life from accidents and disease.

These were the steadfast people from which many of us descended. We look through family photographs, visit cemeteries, shuffle through boxes in attics, and visit genealogy sites on the Internet in search of our home place.

Some people search to trace their lineage, thinking that perhaps they might find a link to someone of great importance, even royalty, so they themselves might feel a tie to their home place. Others do it out of curiosity or to actually find someone that they feel they have lost connection with because of situations such as adoption or divorce. At any rate, there is something within us that often wants to know about our beginnings as we search for our home place. It brings us perhaps a sense of security in belonging to something greater than ourselves. We find that there is more than just the here and now as we find ourselves a part of something much larger. We discover family that we are linked with even though they are no longer on the earth.

For some people the search for home doesn??™t take them far at all, while others search long and hard. Perhaps the search for our home place is a desire that God created in our hearts, a longing for more than what we can grasp or see with our human eyes.

Like me, you might find many home places. There is the home place where I grew up that I often drive past, ever so slowly, and for a moment I remember the carefree days of my childhood. I have also found the home place of my father and that of my husband??™s father. The houses no longer exist but there are pictures of them. I can show you the pictures of all of these and perhaps you have a picture of your home place too. Yet, the search for our home place continues, and we are still unsatisfied, for there is a home place that is not of this world.
I believe Jesus spoke of the ultimate home place when He said,
"In my Father's house are many mansions".

???Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.???
(1 Corinthians 2:9)

Pamy Blaine
e-mail: pamyblaine @blaines.us

My husband and I live in Missouri. We have 4 children
and 5 grandchildren. I enjoy writing, music, and country living.
I write "Pam's Corner" for the local newspaper and many stories have been published on the internet as well as in several books.
I have loved music and writing ever since I can remember. I play piano at church and I'm an avid reader. One of my goals is to be able to write for my children and grandchildren so special memories will not be forgotten. We have recently made a new CD entitled "I'll Walk You Home". If you would like one, they are available by freewill donation. More information as well as a clip from the CD is on the website at: http://blaines.us/PamyPlace.htm

http://www.greatcom.org/laws/englishkgp/default.htm

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<p>Writers Feedback</p>     

   I am still smiling after reading the story of the Lifebuoy soap mystery by Loren Moore.  I really enjoy all the stories I read that he writes and really enjoy the sense of humor I seem to feel from his stories about life.  Thanks Loren!  Blessings,

Sharlett Hunt 

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Announcements

Help If You Can ??“ Operation We Care

I'd like to ask if anyone would take the time to write a letter, send a note, or just a card to a soldier in Iraq.

She is the sister of my post master.  She's been deployed for over a month in Iraq.

She's left behind four children.  She misses her family, and she's pulling long hours of duty. 

Her brother is also military and is leaving for a two-year deployment to Germany.  Many of you will recall, his baby was diagnosed with cancer at 6 months and many stepped in to send a card when his life was in total turmoil.  Again, I thank all who helped make his and his wife's life brighter knowing people cared.

If you'd like to write to this solider, would you please email me and I will give you her address.

Thank you,

Sharon

Operation We Care

1946 @bellsouth.net

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<p>Prayer Requests</P>

<P>Dear Prayer Warriors,</p>

<p>We have some mighty good new to report here today!

Rejoice, for your prayers have made a difference, God

Bless and keep each one of you in His Tender, Loving Care!<p>

Love to each one of you,

Barbara

Here is Alaine's (her mother) note attached here below:

Dear Prayer Warriors

Please keep Dee in your prayers, she is in a crisis

situation in her home and she in need of our Savior's Touch...!!

Note from Dee:

They had to come & shut our gas line...There is another gas leak in our house.
They fixed one thing and broke another. They just came at 2:30 AM...I am filled with despair.

Dee

Dear Heavenly Father

Please keep Dee and her neighborhood safe from harm, and fill them with your peace that passes all understanding You are in charge and we trust you for your infinite faithfulness and mercy.

In Jesus Precious name,

Amen

Love,

Barbara

 his blood work and the doctor told him that ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SENIOR WRITERS

Agee,Vance,  Apted,Violet,  Baker,Kathy,  Batt,Al,  Berry,Nell,

Boda,Ginger,  Bryant,Sharon,  Cassady,B.J.,  Crider,Mark,  Deming,Barb,  Goodier,Steve,  Harris,Kathy Anne,  Hunt, Sharlette,  Jacobson, Gary,  Kiser,Roger

Kerens, Claudia

Dean,  Jenkins,Pamela, Liles,Norma,  Mazzella,Joe,  Moore, Loren,  Ojeigbe,Georgewaters, Sims,Richard, Vaknin,Sam, Walker,Joe,  Whirity,Kathy,  White,Robert

<p>STORYTIME TAPESTRY STAFF

Publisher: Carol Roach-founder

Moderator: Thelma Hartselle-co founder

Chief writer: Loren Moore-co founder,

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Moderator: Clara Westerfer</p>

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