STORYTIME TAPESTRY

The Newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness throughout the world

May 13, 2005

Now on to the good stuff..........

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

It??™s A Girl

Bob Shaw

    It??™s been several years since we??™ve had a dog in the house, and when I heard about a new litter of puppies out on the bread route, I just had to see them. Laina and Bernadine run a little post office and general store ???out in the sticks???, and Laina arranged to have the puppies brought in to the store about the time I got there. One of the puppies, a little female, took to me right off. I have to say it was love at first sight, for both of us.

    I made it home that night, and told my wife Ronni that we were getting a puppy, a little Shih Tzu. Her name was already picked out. Baby, our Cockatoo, could already say ???Hello Amy???, our Niece??™s name, and figured Baby had already named the new fur baby. It was going to be a long week before we could pick her up. She needed to be eight weeks old before she could go home.

    When the day finally came, I finished the route early, and picked Ronni up to make the trip with me. She hadn??™t seen Amy yet, but had fallen in love with her from what I had told her, and couldn??™t wait. When we drove up to the store, Laina called Freddie, the puppy??™s owner, and told him we were there.

    Ronni rushed out to the truck and met them on the parking lot, and just melted when he handed her the puppy. I could see the expression on her face all the way in the store.

    They brought her in, and Freddie told me it was a different puppy. The expression on his face told me something was wrong. All of the puppies were born with a slight hernia, which was not serious, and he??™d taken them in to the Vet for minor surgery and a check up. During the exam, he??™d found a serious heart defect in Amy, and decided to put her down. The puppy he??™d brought in was from his Daughter??™s litter.

    We were saddened by the news, and Ronni said she wished she??™d met her, but the new puppy soon made her way into out hearts. Ronni grinned and said she wasn??™t any bigger than a pop corn poot, and the baby reached up and nibbled at her chin. They asked what we were going to name her. I said Aimee.

    On the way home, we decided to stop off at Wal Mart for some food and toys for the new ???kid???. Ronni stuffed her into her jacket and said she wasn??™t about to leave her out there all by herself. All the way in to the store, everyone looked and smiled, and she was a big hit in the store. Everyone wanted to see the baby. A friend of ours, Courtney, was at one of the checkouts, and fell in love with her. I knew it was against store policy to take her in, but I didn??™t think it would hurt since she wouldn??™t be put on the floor.

    When we made it home, she was a bundle of nervous energy. She played and ran until she was exhausted, and went off to sleep in her little bed, a converted flower basket just her size. First puppy I ever saw that didn??™t cry the first night. Baby??™s still pretty nervous about having her in the house. Probably trying to figure out what she is, and hoping she??™s not a cat.

    As it turned out, another little piece of my heart made an unexpected trip to the Rainbow Bridge. Amy will have some magnificent friends to play with, and someday, we??™ll pick up where we left off. She knew she was loved.

Bob Shaw CapeRabbit @SEMO.NET

Bob and Ronni live in the Cape Girardeau, Missouri area.

Today's Queue Stories
~**~**~**~ 

Yesteryear

Sharon Bryant

He piled wood into the wood burner.  She sat on the sofa and watched him.  She admired the thickness of his auburn colored hair, noticed the spark in those green eyes, the same eyes that captured her heart just a year before.  He glanced up at her and winked.  She wrapped her shawl around her body tighter and looked down at the floor.

"Why don't you go get into something warmer?" he said.  She nodded and raised herself from the sofa to walk into the tiny bedroom.

Her old tattered cotton nightgown was all she had.  Her heart beat as she removed her clothes and put the gown on.  She wrapped the shawl around her body once more and walked back into the parlor.  He was sitting on the floor stoking the fire.  Again he glanced up at her and winked.

"I guess I'll get ready for bed myself," he said.  She watched as he got up from the floor and walked into the tiny bedroom.

They were both eighteen years old.  It was their wedding night.  The year was 1914.

She was an identical twin that survived the dreaded Diphtheria when her twin died; he was an only child.

The room was still chilly so she decided to get closer to the fire.  I was told you could hear her screams for a block away when she let out the blood curdling scream as her gown caught fire.  He came flying out of the small bedroom to see his bride trying to beat the flames from her gown.  He grabbed her, threw her to the floor and began beating the flames.  He managed to put the fire out.  At the moment he did not know that her back side had been burned.  She told me many times it was days until she could sit down without it hurting.

Her name was Elma, his was Floyd.  And though this young couple began their life together half a century before I was born, I have always loved to hear the stories told to me of their life together.   Two proud Dutch and Irish people who went on to give birth to ten children.  My mother was one of them.

I can remember the nights when I was younger, sitting in the old rocking chair next to grandma, she telling me stories of her youth, her years with grandpa, the birth of each of their children, and the hardships in their lives.  But I will always remember that spark in both their eyes when they looked at each other right up until grandpa's death in '61.  I've watched grandma lovingly touch his photo with tears in her eyes saying, "I love him so much."

Both born in Elkhart, Indiana, they later moved to Michigan.  She ran a boarding house and he became a light weight boxer during the depression years. 

I was told about life alone for her when grandpa went to war in WWI.  And later in WWII.  I heard the stories of the birth of all her children.  And how when she lost the twins, they were buried in a matchbox.  Their first child, a son, Lloyd, was born stillborn in 1916.  Another child died between my mother and my one aunt.

I couldn't get enough of the stories.  I can remember each night as I curled up with one of them in the rocking chair, I'd say, "Tell me a story."  And that is how I learned the life of my grandparents, each night, tucking away in my memory bank, life in the early 1900's.

They were both fifty years old the year I was born.  My parents were living with them.  We had a big old house with plenty of room both upstairs and down.  I can remember sliding down that fat old wooden banister when I was younger and jumping off just before I struck the bottom, just missing the big knob at the end.  I laugh even today as I can hear grandma saying, "Land sakes girl, you're going to rupture yourself one day on that banister." 

By the time I was born, grandpa was a foreman at a brewery company in Detroit.  Gram was just gram.  My parents both worked so I was with grandpa and grandma a lot.  I think the thing I remember the most was the aromas that came from that old house.  She was the greatest cook in the world and I remember running home from school to see what we were having for supper.  Holidays were wonderful with bowls heaped with all kinds of wonderful food and pastries.

It was my grandmother who taught me how to cook, sew, and become the person I am today.  Honesty was number one in our household.  Even white lies were not allowed and I can still see myself telling one and gram finding out telling me to go out to the rose bush and pick my limb for my spanking.  My heart would sink when she felt my twig was not large enough and she would say, "Child, you can do better than that, now go get a nice limb."  I remember my brother always getting into trouble and I was sure one day gram would tell him to go get a two by four!

When I was a new bride and moved to Norfolk, Va. by the Naval Base, weekly letters arrived from grandma with recipes.  She never measured anything and I learned how to cook with "pinches" and "dabs" as she stated.  "A good cook doesn't need to measure, child," she would say.  I knew that was true because my mom cooked the same way.

Now I'm the age to be a grandparent.  But my children are not married so I don't know if I'll ever be a grandmother.  But if I ever am, I can only hope my grandchild holds the memories in their heart the way I have mine all these years of a wonderful man and woman who not only taught me, but left me with so much.

I lost my beloved grandpa when I was fifteen-years old.  I lost grandma when I was twenty-six years old.  And what I would give if I could have them back.  What I would give to be able to hug them one more time and tell them I love them.

As the Holidays approach each year, I still get the heart tugs from those days from yesteryear.  For they were some of the greatest years of my life.

God Bless you grandma and grandpa for loving me and leaving me with the beautiful memories I carry in my heart.

Sharon

Sharon Bryant

1946 @bellsouth.net

About Me:

 I am Sharon Bryant, 59 years old and reside in Alabama.

I lost my child in 1977 when he was five and I write
articles on bereavement often.

I am a chocolate/candy maker and also a wood crafter and knitter.

I am married to a wonderful man, and have two remaining children, a daughter 25,
Amy, and a second son, Randy, age 22.

My main goal in life is to help those who
have lost a child. My website is: www.angelsremembered.tk

  ~**~**~

Looks Can Be Deceiving

Kathy Whirity

I woke up at 7A.M, the ninth day of my hospital stay, to see the night nurse writing the day's shift information on the chalk board across from my bed.

Tracy would be the nurse's assistant for the day.  I looked to see who would be my nurse and saw the name Lady Di.  "Great, just what I need!", I thought.  "Some Queen Latifah wanna be with probably more ego than actual nursing experience.

I was definitely not in a good mood.  Recovering from emergency abdominal surgery had been a nightmare in itself.  The daily injections to keep my blood from clotting and the twice daily finger pricks to check on what suspiciously  appeared to be an acute diabetic condition had me at the end of my rope.

I had not eaten since days before the surgery, nothing, not even as much as a sip of water.  With tubes in every orifice of my body I looked like death warmed over.

My lips were dry and cracking from lack of moisture and my hair - well let's just say the matted mess was in dire need of a Clairol makeover.

The only good thing I could deduce from this dilemma was that I had lost ten pounds, and even that didn't seem to make much difference now -not with the six inch scar running up my middle.

Every day was a stifling repeat of the one before.  at least this day I had something to look forward to.  I was curious to meet the royal R.N dubbed Lady Di.

Tracy, my aide, came in to get me ready for my morning bath.  She helped to sit me in the bedside chair, placed the tray table in front of me with all the necessary toiletries, then left to help the nurse with a patient next door.

I may as well have had both my hands tied together, what with the tube down my nose and IV's  in both hands.  I sat there wondering how I was suppose to manage to soap up without getting tangled up in a mess of tubes and cords that were now an external part of me.

The water in the basin was nearly ice cold when an elderly woman poked her head in to see how I was doing. She took one look and correctly guessed that I was in desperate need of an extra pair of hands. She ran fresh, hot water and began the chore of helping me to clean up.

A friendly woman, I was having a hard time trying to place her.  She didn't wear the customary smock that the nurses' aides wore.  She certainly was not dressed like a nurse.  Her scruffy shoes, baggy clothes and tousled hair had me thinking cleaning lady, but they too wore special uniforms identifying their position.

She took a bottle of shampoo out of her pants pocket and began to lather my messy mane with a scent that smelled like floral paradise.

Out of the other pocket she took out body lotion, smoothing it onto my skin until I felt like sweet smelling silk from head to toe.

I still looked a little more than under the weather but my inner spirit was slowly beginning to shine.

I felt more fresh and alive than I had felt in a long time.

She made my bed, cleared everything away, and set up my bedside table so all my essentials were within easy reach.  She told me she'd be back in a little while to check on me. That was the first day, since my medical ordeal began, that I truly felt like smiling.  I looked into the mirror almost feeling human again, and knowing I owed it all to this mystery woman who whipped me into a better frame of mind with a little TLC.

Tracy returned, apologizing for being gone so long.  She immediately noticed I was coiffed and chipper.  I tried to describe the wingless angel who hovered around me like a mother hen, giving me a much needed lift with her loving touch of human kindness.

Tracy knew right away who I was talking about.

"Oh that's Diane, she's always helping out whenever she has the chance," Tracy said matter of factly.

That's when I found out that this kind and gentle woman was actually Lady Di, the R.N on duty that day.

I also found out it was the nursing staff who gave her the nick name, Lady Di.

Though she didn't resemble an R.N in appearance, she sure taught me that judging a book by its cover can, often times, be deceiving.

I often think of her, especially when I'm tempted to judge someone solely on looks.  Thanks to her I now know better.

I never did find out why hospital staff named her Lady Di but, if you ask me, I think it may be because she treats her patients like royalty; going beyond the call of duty to make a difference in the lives of those who are fortunate enough to cross her path.

There are angels among us, they are blessings in disguise.

The sight of their earthly presence shines a light on blinded eyes. 
?© 2004 Kathy Whirity

  ~**~**~

The Wall

Bill Walker

wildbill6807 @yahoo.com

I like going to a National Cemetery.  I have one, every time I am that way I always drive through.  I drive slow, sometimes I stop, and get out, walk along slow.  This is at Springfield, Missouri.

This place was started after a battle.  A few miles south of Springfield there is a place called Wilson Creek. The Boys in Blue, the Boys in Grey met there one day. It was a  terrible battle.

Many a dream, many a hope was lost that day.

The National Cemetery was started. There was a wall put up.  The Boys in Blue one side of the wall up front.  The Boys in Grey on the other side of the wall to the rear. A couple gates was put in the wall.

Over the years there has been more added to the front side. Boys from the later wars. The last few years space has ran out up front.  So now the ranks in the rear is filling up.  I for one can't understand the wall.  Never could for that matter.  I always thought of these as American Boys, they just fought for their ideas.  I have no idea who was right or wrong. Maybe they were just like so many soldiers before and since.  Fighting for their home.

I walk through, stop and look at a stone, some has a name, many has Unknown but to God. I stop and think a bit, wonder who this person was, even if there is a name.  Wonder about the hopes, and the dreams laying there, never to be fulfilled.  Most of the stones are just simple, don't tell much. Just a date, August 12th 1861.  Some do have a bit more.  One up front has a nice stone.  General Lyon. I don't pay to much mind to the fancy stones, I look more to the simple ones.  Those were Boys with hopes and dreams. I look at the graves on both sides of the wall.  You see those was American Boys, Blue or Grey. Who was right? Who was wrong? Makes no difference they were American Boys. Tear that Wall down.

About Me:

Well I??™m a story teller, not a writer. Never learned the art of fancy English. I

happen to live in Nebraska, but I??™m still Missouri. Never married, all the Dollies I

ever took a second look at was too smart. Now at 74, just turned that other day, I

figure they all home safe. I love Doggies and Dollies in that order. Lost my two

true friends this year, that be Tinker and Poo. So I found me a new one. This

time a little girlie Peke. She is a normal female. Got a mouth, talks all the time.

She will never be a great writers of stories like Tinker and Poo. They have

about 50 stories on HWS. And now writing back from Rainbow Bridge.

I just try to write about people, places and things best I remember. Have something

over 250 stories on HWS. under three names.   

Writers Feedback 

 The story by Al Batt.......about chocolate.......boy I can relate to that. I am not fond of chocolate either. And here I ended up being a candy maker.

If I did like chocolate, with the hundreds of lbs. of chocolate I make a year, I'd weigh 650 lbs.

Sharon Bryant

Official Senior Citizen Sharlett - I just loved your story. And I agree whole heartedly... too! You are an inspiration, God Bless you.
Barbara J. Ervin-Weymouth

Official Senior Citizen  - Sharlett, - I agree with this story I have reached the years of 75 now and I thank God for my health everyday so that I can still do for others less fortunate. Nat

Announcements

I would like to introduce you to Phil Evans and his business known the world over as People Stuff
Phil Evans produces PeopEmail - a FREE weekly inspirational e-newsletter and you can subscribe by visiting his website - going to Subscribe to FREE PeoplEmail button in the main menu - and following the simple steps.
There is also a virtual library of inspirational 'stuff' to be found by going to www.peoplestuff.com.au and checking it out.

Phil sends his love and good wishes to all.

Hey everyone if you have the time please help out a fellow member who is starting up

his own newspaper. 

Carol,

Just letting you know I have a website explaining the upcoming paper, should anyone ask. Thank you for running the ad for it.

www.christianlink.com/publish/mwwj

Thanks again, Jim

Prayer Requests and Updates

Leona is also a writer for storytime tapestry.   I would ask that you pray for Leona. She is a friend of mine. She took a fall and is having complications from that, plus the medication she is on, from heart and sugar problems. Her e-mail address is Wwjdleona @aol.com if you would care to write and let her know you are praying for her. It would uplift her spirits and make her feel better. She is a very sweet and Godly woman who writes many touching articles about the Lord. It would mean a lot to me if you could. We all need to help each other in any way we can and you know much more than I how pray helps. Thank you.

Have a wonderful day in the Lord.
A description of the upcoming newspaper.
www.christianlink.com/publish/mwwj
In Gods service.
Jim

Thank you, Carol,

The friend that I had requested prayer for passed away this morning. Today is a sad one for sure.

Hugs to you,

Dianna

SENIOR WRITERS

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

Boda, Ginger;  Bryant, Sharon;  Buhagiar, Victor; Cassady, B.J.;  Crider, Mark; 

Deming, Barb; Goodier, Steve;  Harris, Kathy Anne; Hunt, Sharlette; 

Jacobson, Gary;  Kiser, Roger Dean; Kerens, Claudia; Jenkins, Pamela;

Liles, Norma;  Mazzella, Joe; Ojeigbe, Georgewaters;

  Petry, Dianna Doles; Roberts, Susan;  Shaw, Bob; Sims, Richard; Swarner, Ken; Vaknin, Sam;

Walker, Bill;  Walker, Joe; Warner, Gorden K;

Whirity, Kathy;  White, Robert;

STORYTIME TAPESTRY STAFF

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Moderator: Thelma Hartselle-co founder

Moderator: Clara Westerfer

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