STORYTIME TAPESTRY

March 31, 2005

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 Now on to the good stuff..........

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

 The Fid   

 Bob Shaw

    For those not in the know, a FID is a feathered kid. Ours is a Goffins Cockatoo. We??™re constantly trying to improve on her door locks. She??™s named Baby, but I??™ve thought several times about renaming her Houdini. I think she can open her cage door faster than I can.

    Her vocabulary is steadily improving. Her favorite is Hello Baby, with C??™mere hitting a close second. She??™s been working on saying Mamma, and just about has it. Vacations and days off throw her for a loop. She starts fussing and jabbering to wake me up. I guess she thinks I??™m late for work. Should never have hung that clock so close to her cage. We??™re convinced she can tell time. Especially at bedtime. Nite nite??¦I finally tell her nite nite varmit, and wander off to bed, getting a dirty look.

    We??™ve tried to train her to wave her ???fingers??? at us and say Bye Bye, but she seems to prefer waving her head up and down. Same way she answers questions, just nods. And sometimes she??™ll shake her head no. And at times, her yes??™s and no??™s are frighteningly accurate. Like the time during the Elections. Ronni asked her if she was a Democrat. Shook her head no. Republican? Shook her head no. Independent? She nodded her head yes. Ronni just looked at her and said ???she knows???! I still think it??™s just a lucky lazy streak. Easier to nod than talk.

    Lately, we??™ve been thinking adding a hairy kid to the household. Ronni has been wanting a Shih Tzu puppy. I told her when she learned to pronounce it, we??™d talk it over. She??™s been working on it, and it??™s starting to sound a bit closer to something that could be said to the folks at Church. Some folks I know out on my Bread Route have one that just dropped a litter. She had four puppies, two of them black and white. Ronni picked out a name already, Amy, after her Niece. And besides, Baby can already say her name; Hello Amy. I REALLY hope the one we pick out is a girl??¦

    I taught Baby how to bark. Should be pretty interesting. But if Baby teaches puppy how to talk, I??™m really gonna be a bit nervous. I can just see puppy looking up with her big dark eyes and funny little face saying MAMMA??¦..Hmmm, maybe this one isn??™t the end. To be continued???

    Bob Shaw CapeRabbit @SEMO.NET

Bob and his wife, Ronni live in the Cape Girardeau, Missouri area. Bob is an award winning writer, with publishings in Angel Animals, Warm and Fuzzy Stories, Write 2 the Heart, 2 the Heart, Heartwarmers, Petwarmers, Storytime Tapestry, and many others. His stories have also been printed in newspaper columns, featured on several web sites, and has co-authored four books in the United States and the Netherlands.

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Today's Queue Stories
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Shoveling Out

Michael Smith

How do you deal with Grief?

I stood at my window and watched another snow storm quickly cover my
driveway. In a little while, when I am ready, I'll shovel it away. We've had

a lot of snow this year. It seems like every few days I have to gather my warm

clothes, put on my boots, grab my shovel and clear a path for my car.

Of course, as soon as I'm finished, the plow comes along and blocks me in again.
Standing by my window, I realized winter is a lot like the process of grief one
must suffer after losing a loved one. Our lives moved forward at a steady pace with
nothing blocking us. The path was clear. Then winter came with its cold and snow and
blocked our way. Given time, we managed to clear our way and move on, but that

plow kept coming, blocking us temporarily, and slowing us down.

We continued to move forward, and then winter dumped more snow, a major
setback. It may have been a card or note from the person we are grieved over that

We found in a drawer. Maybe it was hint of their perfume or cologne. The grief

stormed back and blocked us in with more snow. We shovel our way clear again,

and keep moving on. Each time we shovel we get stronger.

Where you live determines how much snow you get and how long your winter
is going to be. Each person is different and their winter of grief varies in length and
how often they get blocked in. They shovel out when they are ready.

When winter first starts, with its cold and snow, spring seems so very far away,
but we all know that spring will come. The snow will melt. We will have nothing to
block our way. Grief too will go away, but only in time. How long this takes varies
on the individual, but have faith, spring will come again. Keep on shoveling. There

 is a clear path ahead.

Michael Smith
mtsmith @qwestonline.com 

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Life is a Bag of Frozen Peas
Michael Smith

A few weeks after my first wife, Georgia, was called to heaven,
I was cooking dinner for my son and myself. For a vegetable, I decided

on frozen peas. As I was cutting open the bag, it slipped from my hands

and crashed to the floor. The peas, like marbles, rolled everywhere. I tried

to use a broom, but with each swipe the peas rolled across the
kitchen, bounced off the wall on the other side and rolled in another
direction.

My mental state at the time was fragile. Losing a spouse is an
unbearable pain. I got on my hands and knees and pulled them into a

pile to dispose of. I was half laughing and half crying as I collected them.

I could see the humor in what happened, but it doesn't take much for a

 person dealing with grief to break down.

For the next week, every time I was in the kitchen, I would find a pea that

had escaped my first cleanup. In a corner, behind a table leg, in the frays at

the end of a mat, or hidden under a heater, they kept turning up. Eight months

later, I pulled out the refrigerator to clean, and found a dozen or so petrified

peas hidden underneath.

At the time I found those few remaining peas, I was in a new relationship with

a wonderful woman I met in a widow/widower support group. After we married,

I was reminded of those peas under the refrigerator. I realized my life had been

like that bag of frozen peas. It had shattered. My wife was gone. I was in a new

city with a busy job and a son having trouble adjusting to his new surroundings

and the loss of his mother. I was a wreck. I was a bag of spilled, frozen peas.

My life had come apart and scattered.

When life gets you down; when everything you know comes apart; when
you think you can never get through the tough times, remember, it is just a
bag of scattered, frozen peas. The peas can be collected and life will move on.

You will find all the peas. First the easy peas come together in a pile. You pick
them up and start to move on. Later you will find the bigger and harder to find
peas. When you pull all the peas together, life will be whole again.

The life you know can be scattered at any time. You will move on, but
how fast you collect your peas depends on you. Will you keep scattering them
around with a broom, or will you pick them up one-by-one and put your life back
together?

How will you collect your peas?

Michael Smith
mtsmith @qwestonline.com 
 

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Poetry Section

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TOWARD OBLIVION

Gordon K. Warner

Please come along with me and let me share your life again

for together we shall truly see an end to all the pain.

and in the end that is the end, we shall wait for our lover's touch

and the tenderness of her voice again which always helps so much.

The loneliness that has riddled our hearts and held them oh so fast

will finally flee forever and be replaced by something that will last.

Yet, could we truly love again or should we even deign to try

the passion of her soft sweet voice marked her frantic reply.

Don't take the time for heroics or that (rest) will from us fade

as if we'd seen a boring movie or watched a long parade.

Who really knows how love works or why we end up feeling this way

I hoped that when I chose this one she'd decide for once, to stay.

Love is such a tender thing it's hot, it's sweet and it is bold

take heed my friend and grab on fast before you're left out in the cold.

Gorden K. Warner Sr.

gkwppw1963@cox.net 

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Memories and Pain

Gordon K. Warner

Jagged bits of memories that flood into my mind

looking for an outlet that I truly wish I could find.

They leave me full of feelings so hard for me to express

and still they keep on coming, filling me to excess.

Can't say as tho I understand what brings it all to be

some loving, kind and precious while others trouble me.

I wish that I could vocalize what's going on inside

maybe if I just took a chance, at least I'd know I tried

It's all so very confusing, some bring pleasure and some bring pain

never knew that it would be this way but it happened just the same.

Some are rich and oh so pleasant as they reach across the years

while others taunt and torture me and I choke upon the tears.

How I wish those bits of memories would finally find their place

so I could know more happiness and keep a smile upon my face.

Only God can help me now to ease this awful pain

maybe if  ask Him, He'll let me start all over again.

Gorden K. Warner Sr

gkwppw1963@cox.net 

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Prisoner's Lament

 Gordon K. Warner

Will there ever be a memory that doesn't break my heart

will there ever be true peace for me instead of tearing me apart.

So long I have struggled just to hear approval upon their lips

instead of having to worry about what they carry on their hips.

I feel I'll never have a chance to be the man I could have been

cause all the hate and prejudice will raise it's ugly head again.

How long must one man suffer before there is relief

how many years of insults will be added to the grief?

Won't they ever say that I'm welcome, is that so hard for them to say?

will they always shun my presence and wish I'd just go away?

The system will deny the harshness and the beatings that I got

in all their eyes I deserved the pain and suffering incarceration brought.

The fact that they've condemned me, make them just like all the rest

and since they refuse to extend a hand, it makes folly of my quest.

but why should they be different from all the others that I must face

it's really nothing at all to any of them to leave me here in disgrace.

So whenever I hear justice and all it's supposed to bring

I cringe a little cause when you're poor, it has such a hollow ring.

So if you want forgiveness, don't look to your fellow man

cause chances are that he'll deny you as many times as he can.

Gorden . Warner Sr.

gkwppw1963@cox.net

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Writers Feedback

re: Easter Ducks
by Clara Wersterfer is such a sweet/unique story that really touched me. I could almost see Clara struggling to get the little babies to the water! Thank you, Clara!

Norma Liles

I am writing in regard to the Terry Schiavo case. I believe it is not God who was keeping her alive but science. If it were not for science God would have taken her home a long time ago. My prayers are with those who have tried to keep her here but won't she be happier in the arms of God than merely existing? I pray that everyone can get some peace with life after terri .

Nathalie Symonds

Phoenix Rising ??“ Carol Roach

Thank you for this. it expresses so beautifully the worry and disappointments in life. It also expresses some of the dealing that i have at this time. But I will survive . I always do

Nathalie Symonds

Storytime Tapestry ??“ March 29^th, this was just what I needed and I thank you from TERRISHOPE @aol.com Lisa

Carol Roach ??“ The Lady of Despair -So relating to this poem and problem right now hugs

Leona

She Died Today  - My heart goes out to this woman, for going on, putting one foot in front of the other at times, is the hardest thing we can experience as a parent on this earth when our child dies.

It is a pain that only those who walk in these shoes can know.

This is why I always want support to be there for those who are just beginning this journey.

My webmaster knows, in the event of my death, my dream will go on, to give hope when a child dies.

For when a child dies........there is help......there is hope.



God Bless,
Sharon Bryant

Carol - your piece on Josee-Anne Desrochers was so very well written and touching. Sad, as well, that the world should lose such an undaunted soul. Thank you for writing of her story!

Kathy Anne Harris

Carol,
She Died Today - This is truly a moving piece.  You dug deep to bring up some of your thoughts.