STORYTIME TAPESTRY

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

June 8, 2005

I am very happy to introduce Sue Walsh as writer # 211 for Storytime Tapestry.   She is a poet who writes from the heart and reveals her soul in the process ??“ just my kind of writer!  Please give her a warm welcome to our wonderful family.

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

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

The Plague of The Carpenter Bees

Sharon Bryant

When my husband and I went to the Amish town in Ethridge, Tennessee and got our two wooden homemade rockers for our porch I was tickled pink.  We sit in them all the time.  "Bob" our Corgi loves to jump in one when he wants to come in and he rocks back and forth, barking to get back inside.

You all know we have chickens and roosters.  Not to mention that we have them in flower pots now.  Our one hen had 10 babies and she's moved into my big flower pot on the porch.  But the birds love the rocker also.  It's nothing to open the door mornings and see two sitting on the back of the rocker, one on an arm and one just standing there on the seat part.

But something else loves our rockers.  An intruder and if I catch the sucker, I'm going to kill him and all his relatives he keeps bringing to our house.

We got home from work the other day and saw a pile of sawdust on the porch floor.  Neither one of us could figure out where it came from.  But "Bob" kept running to the back of the rocker barking. Sure enough..we found out what happened.

We have big bees here, they call them carpenter bees.  They will drill into wood and I mean DRILL.  The hole they make is not small.  And they will keep on drilling until your porch or anything wooden is filled with large holes.

Yesterday I saw the one bee working on the hole.  I grabbed the fly swatter.........man, what a mistake that was.  I figured as big as he was, I wouldn't miss one shot at him.  I didn't know he can do an acrobat act in mid air.  He came at me, buzzing like you read about, and I swatted at him.  And there he came again, and got right in front of my nose.  I was eye to eye with that sucker.  My dogs were barking loudly, hubby came running outside and saw me with the fly swatter, and I was hitting at that bee like you'd swing a baseball bat.  I couldn't get him.  He moved with speed faster than sound.  Then he landed on my back......and let me tell you, it is NOT true that older women can't dance REAL fast.  I did the Tango, the Limbo, and the Twist all in one movement.

I called my "bug man" and he said there's a solution for $60 a gallon I can use that those bees don't like.  I told him to get me some ASAP. 

This morning I stepped outside and four of those bees were buzzing around my rocker.  I thought, "Oh man, I've GOT to be able to hit ONE of them with this many so close."  I ran for my fly swatter.......and they saw me coming this time.

When I began swinging at them, they buzzed louder, the roosters and chickens were outside the porch watching, so they all got riled up as I was yelling, "You stinking bee, I'm gonna KILL you."  Hubby came out running onto the porch when he heard the dogs barking wildly because they were upset because the roosters and hens were making noises like Jurassic Park.  And I swung again and missed again.  The bees got real mad this time and two got in my face.  I jumped back, sure they were going to sting me.

Then hubby grabs the fly swatter.  This became hysterical.  They came after him and he's swinging the fly swatter like a wild man yelling, "What the h......"  We can't catch these bees.  And though they haven't went after the hole they've made in our rocker yet, they are going at the cross studs on the porch roof.  I need a ladder to get up that high.  I even put aluminum foil in the hole in the back of the rocker and they took it out!

But you watch, I'm NOT going to lose this war.  It's bee versus woman..........and I'll squash them before it's over with.  If they'd just leave their relatives home and quit bringing so many, I'd have had the problem taken care of by now.......I think.

So if you ever hear on the news, woman hospitalized in Alabama fighting with a bee, that's me!

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

Today's Queue Stories
~**~**~**~

~**~**~

 The Caller

Sharon Bryant

Yesterday was a typical day.  A day at work, making candy, listening to a talk radio show I listen to every day.

The topic yesterday was speed traps.  People were calling in complaining about how much a ticket costs, how the cops hide in the bushes or behind buildings and catch them, etc.

I listened to callers calling in for two hours.  And then THE caller called in, and my blood pressure exploded.

He was laughing saying he drives the freeway and back roads at 125 mph and he's never had a ticket, saying the cops probably can't catch him.  He bragged of how fast he can get from one major city to another.  Behind his call was another, telling close to the same story, laughing about how fast they drive, how they've been ticket free all their lives and the cops could keep their speed traps, because no one is going to catch them.

Suddenly my mind went to my Angels Remembered site to the face of a young girl killed when a speeder ended her life one night.  I remembered the set of parents that contacted me wanting to take their own lives when they're only child, an 8 year old little girl lost her life one morning in their driveway when a speeder came flying down the street, lost control and ran into their yard and drive way striking the little girl.

I thought of all the hours I have spent in chat rooms with parents who can't cope, who ask WHY? WHY? WHY?  WHY my child? a thousand times.  I remembered the mom I held and told her she'd make it, that it was not going to be easy, but time helps the pain lessen some and that our memories will carry us through the rest of our lives.  And yet a bereaved parent learns to live with pain and somehow through that pain, we still survive.  It is the hardest thing we've ever had to do, go on without our child here with us.

Then I picked up my phone, dialed the radio station and said to the ceiling, "God, let me get through, please."  The woman answered on the other end and I said, "I've got something to say about speeders."  She told me to hang on.  There were four calls before mine, but finally, I heard my name called, and in an instant, I was on radio.  And this is what I said.

"I have listened to the show all morning and for two hours have heard folks calling in complaining about getting tickets, complaining about the cost.....when the truth is, if they were not speeding, they wouldn't have got a ticket.

Now I'd like each one of you who did call in and bragged about how fast you drive and how you are ticket free, to get a pen or pencil ready, I have something I want you to write down.  It is a website, and an easy one to remember."

I then gave my website address and said, "Go to the angel boys pages and the angel girls pages, see the cause of death of that person, and see how many lives were taken by speeders.  Go to their websites the parents have had made for them, hear their own words of how they are struggling with daily life, trying to cope, trying to find a way to survive when their hearts are broken.  Then think, what if that were YOUR child, mother, wife, sister or brother who had to have their story told to try and get speeders to slow down.

Look at the crosses on the roads that you see daily.  That cross represents a life taken, and some parent or family member has put that cross there, hoping others will see it and slow down before another life is taken."

Then I said, "I've got one question to ask to all those who think it's so funny to fly down the roads.............if you took a life by speeding, could you live with it?"

The radio announcer went silent for a moment, and I heard it in his voice when he said, "Thank you Sharon, for calling in, maybe you opened some eyes today."

I hope I have.  Anyone who has a blow out at 125 mph will be picked up with a shovel on the highway, not to mention who else's life you may be taking at the same time.

Anyone who drives like that and brags about it, is a real goofball in my eyes.

And anyone with common sense would think, "She's right, I COULD take someone's life, and could I live with it?"

Think about it.

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

~**~**~

A Family Member

Jan Vanhoeff

I still hear her, in the early morning sun, whistling that familiar tune... My heart sings along.

"There once lived an Indian Maid,
A shy little prairie maid,
Who sang a lay, a love song gay
As o'er the plain she'd while the away the day;
She loved a warrior bold, this shy little maid of old,
But blythe and gay he rode one day
To battle far away.
Now the moon shines tonight on pretty Red Wing,
The breezes sighing, the night birds crying;
While far beneath the stars her brave is sleeping,
Poor Red Wing weeping her heart away.

She watched through the day and night,
She kept the campfire bright
While under the sky each night she would lie
And dream about his coming by and by;
But when the braves returned,
The heart of Red Wing yearned,
For brave one day her warrior gay
Fell bravely in the fray."

I'd lay there in my bed listening to her whistle as she weeded the sweetpeas, and picked the fruits from the tree. Her tune would get quiet occasionally as she got busy with her work, but it never ended, and she never missed a beat. Her apron would be a muted color pattern with matching sashes over a soft calico fabric dress. Her gray hair would be combed back and twirled into a soft flat bun on the back of her head, held in place with soft plastic clips. Heavy mercerized cotton stockings in a pale beige skin tone kept her legs warm; and lace-up granny shoes dressed her feet.

She never drove a car, and after her youngest daughter laid down in front of her bike, she never rode a bike either. She was too afraid of hurting someone. She was never too busy to bake a pie, mend a tear, or hold a baby. Life always left time for the important things that came her way. She was a lady who knew her place. She worked as hard as any man I ever knew, but she was soft, gentle, and kind.

She laughed. Her laughter spilled over into the night. It lit up our days.

After Granddad passed on, Grandma moved her night clothes, her bed, and her feather pillows to our spare room and spent her nights there. She didn't want to stay alone, though her home was just across the street in our very safe rural town. She'd never spent a night alone before he passed, and I remember none she spent alone after.

One particular night her baby sister came to visit. Almost 23 years separated them, her baby sister, Lois, was just older than her oldest daughter. Grandma invited Aunt Lois to spend the night and they sat in the living room and chattered the time away, laughing like school girls at the antics of other siblings and memories they shared. AFter they finally retired to Grandma's room, they settled in for hte night. Lights were out and all was still in the house, except for the occasional outburst of giggles from Grandma's room. They talked until the twilight hours of the morning, and were up at the crack of dawn gathering supplies and preparing their favorite breakfast for our family.

The two of them had never had an opportunity before to have a 'slumber party' without the interfearance of husbands, children, or other family members. That was the last opportunity they had. Grandma passed away that next summer, shortly after her 85th birthday. Aunt Lois passed away this summer just before her 85th birthday.

They are both sadly missed by their children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, and many nieces and nephews. As two of eleven children, neither of them ever lacked for sibling attention, but they found their special night to be one that made memories for many years, for many more than just the two of them.

The tape recorder I'd hidden under the bed and turned on just before they drifted that direction, was replayed many times over the next several months by my grandmother. A copy of it was sent to my Auntie. I've found hundreds of inspirational articles in those hours of tapes.

Jan  

 You may contact Jan Verhoeff at janverhoeff@yahoo.com or by replying to this newsletter address.  Your thoughts and comments are welcome.

Poetry Section

~**~**~

Love in a tea cup
Maria Stepek Doherty

My love is not a romantic love,
No red roses on Valentine's day,
No card charged with loving words,
Just a gentle kiss and a cup of tea.

My Jim has not a romantic bone
In his otherwise most attractive body,
I've searched for one for 17 years,
And all I've found is a kettle.

He never pretended otherwise,
An honest man from a gentler age,
He wooed me with those cups of tea,
Another woman's diamonds.

He knows just when I need one,
Appearing silently on my desk,
A steaming hot refreshing token,
Of his own personal blend of love.

My love is not a romantic love,
And yet in his own strange way,
He ignites an incredible passion
In a kiss and a cup of tea. 

Maria Doherty

mariadoherty@blueyonder.co.uk 

~**~**~

I have written this poem in memory of Annie, 27 years old, who left this world on the wings of angels much too soon..

To soar to her heavenly home, to dwell in the house of the Lord forever.  Amen

Mother Theresa - Angel of Mercy

She was the Angel of Mercy

Loved by all the world

A lady small of stature with a heart as big as the sky

I'm sure she sits close by Him

Now that she has gone from here

She took the sick and dying and washed their feet

And she found Joy!

Sue Walsh

Adelseal @senet.com.au

~**~

My Search

Sue Walsh

I searched for heaven in despair

I looked for it here there and everywhere

I looked high and low and all around

But Heaven was nowhere, nowhere to be found

I looked in books and songs and poetry

I looked in religion and in other types of mystery

I looked in money and materials but still it would not be

In the end lost and forlorn I turned round and there was Heaven

Waiting, Waiting inside of me!

Sue Walsh

Adelseal @senet.com.au

Bio

My name is Sue Walsh - I live in Adelaide, South Australia with my husband and two children.  I worked as a Legal Secretary for 25 years and then my husband and I started our own engineering import/export business.  I love to learn about spiritual subjects and have study many different areas.  I love to write spiritual/religious poetry and peace prayers, I am also endeavouring to complete a novel. 

Writers Feedback

Hello Carol,

Thank you so much for running my tribute to my dad.  I have received so many lovely comments from many people.  They have touched my heart like a great big hug.  Dad died after a terrible three year struggle with colon cancer.  It is a brutal disease.  He endured eight surgeries in the last six months of his life.  His body could take no more and his soul had to fly free.  I include this information as many have inquired as to how he passed at such a young age.  I thank each and every person for their kind words and encouragement.  It means so much to me.

Sherri

What a cool story about Banjo, the teddy bear by Sharon Bryant, my fellow Alabaman.  Very imaginative.  Thanks.  Blessings, Sharlett Hunt

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

Publisher: Carol Roach-founder

Moderator: Thelma Hartselle-co founder

Moderator: Clara Westerfer

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