STORYTIME
TAPESTRY
The Newsletter
devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness throughout the
world
July 5,
2005
I am pleased to introduce two more new writers for Storytime
Tapestry -- let us all welcome Frederick A. Babb as writer # 222. I am happy to have this great poet and
writer in our fold. Also we have a
budding new writer, James Booth, writer # 223, who shares his story about his
cat Pearl. Please give
both this writers the usual Storytime Tapestry
Welcome.
Now on to
the good stuff..........
Animal awareness
series endorsed by Shiloh and Hank our
mascots; all stories must receive their approval.
Pearl
James M
Booth
Sorry I never
got a picture of Pearl for
you. She was not just another one of my cats, somehow. Spring of
2003 is when I first noticed her, wandering the neighborhood. I would see
her going over a fence or under a garage door somewhere up and down the
street. She did not really come to see me as much as see what I was doing,
and so she came more often. When I was standing on the front porch talking
with someone, she would come right up the steps and be there with us, listening
to every word. I found that she was spending the hot part of the days in
the rafters in the garage, but she came and went as she pleased.
About
this time two years ago, she appeared in front of the window where I had my
breakfast, and from then on was there every morning. When I first stepped
out, she would be right there at the door waiting ... and so it went through
that summer and into Fall. In October that year, we had a big snow --
earlier than usual. Pearl came
in that day and settled into a big blue blanket in the garage and seemed to
sleep for almost a week uninterrupted. From then on, she stayed here full
time, spending winter nights in the house with me.
The first time Nermal
(another cat) saw Pearl, she chased
Pearl out
of the
garage, and Pearl wisely went
over the fence - something which Nermal does not do. Strange and funny I
thought, because I had never seen Nermal chase anything - ever in 16
years. It was a long, slow, humourous and enlightening process to watch
those two make peace with each other ... to the day I saw
Pearl sit and watch
Nermal eat. When Nermal was somewhat satisfied and stepped back for a
minute, without getting up, Pearl moved her head closer to the dish for a sniff,
then reached her right front paw and touched the food, looked at Nermal ... and
sighed. Pearl was never much
interested in what Nermal ate - or any other cat for that matter.
Pearl
wanted only dry food - seldom taking anything else.
A Persian,
Pearl had
long, fine silver hair - curly cream colored undercoat.
Though I brushed her
as much as I could, something she seemed to like up to a point, she would still
get very matted. One day early last year, she
diappeared - nowhere to
be found, though I looked everywhere I could think of for five days ... and then
one evening my sister called down the stairs, "Hey. "Your cat's
outside."
I went out and looked around but did not see
Pearl. There
is another grey cat that hangs out here and I thought maybe Phillis was confused
... but then I looked over the car, and there just off the curb was
Pearl. I had to suppress a laugh, because she looked so
funny ... only about half her size. Someone had cut her hair ! Have
never found out who did that ... how they captured and held her, or what really
happened there. Of course she needed the haircut - not something I
could pay for at that time. Soon as she saw me and I made my
clicking sound, she came running ...
Which is part of what was so special
about Pearl. She is the only cat that
ever came running,
that was eager and ready to come in when it was time. When she wanted to
go out, she would pry at the door - even open it herself sometimes, because she
had to go out ... and she did enjoy being outdoors - not to get me wrong, but
she was happy to be able to spend nights inside. She had her special
places in here - usually up high. Liked her special beds, and even so,
would come burrow into my lap while I worked, for as long as I would sit still -
happy to go back to her bed after ...
Whenever I did not know where Pearl
was, I went looking, always worried that she might go out in the street.
More often than not, I would find that she had come back and settled in to sleep
in one of her spots - sometimes tucked in so well that she was hard to
see. On Tuesdays, I made sure Pearl had
time for her morning walk, then brought her inside to stay while I was gone, so
she would be safe. I knew I was adopted - that she had chosen me for some
reason, and I took it seriously. She was not a cat that looked at me as
though to say "Feed me" ... but instead, with those great, yellow eyes, it was
like, " Is it okay ? " or " Do you approve ? " or " Is that really what you are
thinking ...
? "
I never had a Persian before. Without
her hair, I was surprised at her shape - more like a lion than most cats appear
more similar to a cougar or tiger. I liked that. She seemed to know
when I would be going out - happy to be sheltered inside, knowing she would be
"free" again when I returned; whereas most cats would not seem to care one way
or the other. If only she could have spoken in English ...
I had to
do some special things, like protect my printer, since I knew
Pearl
would explore and I did not want things broken as she walked over them,
or knocked off a high shelf. She made it up to the ceiling where she could
find a way, checked out all the cabinets, opening the doors and going inside if
there was any room at all ... and then when everyone was gone upstairs, and all
the dogs too, Pearl would explore that area, and sometimes preferred to sleep
through the high part of the day up there, which is where she was all day
yesterday ...
With her hair all grown back this Spring - matted again -
being able to afford it, I wanted to get her cut, but had to wait until after
taking care of
getting Dad moved into assisted living. Paid over $200
for all her shots and checkups before I could get tranquilizer for the groomer
to use ... but after a mixup in scheduling,
Pearl sat for an
hour without any medication -- seemed to like it well enough, considering ... and
afterward, she was so happy - rolling around and chasing herself like a
kitten. It was clear that she really liked having all that hair gone, and
she showed it - shared it with me.
About four years old, I think,
Pearl
rattled more than purred - like an old
tractor is the way I describe
it. When I went to bed, she would come make
sure I was tucked in, then
get up on my chair where she would spend the night - waking me at sunrise with
her tiny meow. I would get up and let her out, make breakfast, and when I
stepped out, she was ready to come in, though not necessarily to stay. She
would sit in the sun on my outside chair, then take a walk and come back in an
hour or so.
For most of the last two or three weeks, I think she had not
been quite right
... hard to notice unless you knew her. Little
things. She actually showed
some aggression a couple times - as if out
of sorts, unusual, but she was
eating regularly. She did not spend much
time in my lap the last couple weeks - instead, she would come in and get up
beside me, then walk across in front of the keyboard, wait to get petted, and
then be ready to move on ... kind of restless, but could be attributed to
finally having warm weather ?
Yesterday she spent all day sleeping on a
pillow upstairs, until I took my
dinner up there. She got up then, went
and looked out the back door for a
bit, then sat by the top of the stairs
watching me, until she came and got up
beside me. Then she climbed up
on the back of Phillis' chair and stayed
there, watching me as usual ...
until I went back down. About 15 minutes
later, I knew she had come
down, but was shocked to find her lying lifeless on the garage floor. I
thought maybe I could do something to save her, and I tried for a while -
mouth-to-mouth and heart massage - but she was clearly already gone
...
_______
James M Booth
webmentor
oneworld@idonate.com
jamonbo
trading
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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Today's Queue
Stories
~**~**~**~
Through a friend
of mine, and from a diary she has and let me read, I thought it would be fit to
share a few things from the words of a soldier. The diary begins on July
20, 1943.
It belongs to a man who served
in the United
States Marines.
I read the diary. I read
of this man's fears at times as a young man. I read about when he
landed on Okinawa. I read about maneuvers,
the enemy, the front lines, captures, and death. A lot of
death.
DIARY OF A
SOLDIER
On his first furlough, he
wrote, and I quote: (dated March 7,
1944)
"I returned
yesterday for a 15 day furlough. It was my first one since I have been in
service. I am homesick as hell right now and I had rather had my arm cut
off than come back to this base. It was hard to leave home this time than
the first. I didn't realize how much I love my folks until I had to leave
them this time. I realize it was just as hard for them to see me leave as
I was but I am just hoping this war will soon be over and we can all go home for
good."
Another entry on
September 20,
1944, and I quote:
"I have finally
left the states and as I write this, I am on guard duty. The trip so far
has been pretty dull and the boat is pretty crowded with over 4,000 troops
aboard. The name of this ship is USS General C.G. Morton.
I have gotten in
trouble since I got on the ship. I missed the guard one night and I had to
go up in front of the Major, so he took my chow card for 5 days. We only
get 2 meals a day anyway so I managed to get hold of another chow card so I have
been doing very good. In fact I think I've gained a few
pounds."
October 4,
1944 and I quote:
"This is my second day on
the Russell Islands and already it is beginning to
get dull. We haven't done anything but lay around and wash a few
clothes. We have an old home made washing machine that doesn't work so
hot. Some of the fellows have been messing around with it all day.
We had several showers this afternoon but they didn't last long. I took a
shower today, the first one in 19 days. I really was beginning to
smell. The chow isn't so good here and the chow lines are almost a mile
long every day. By the time you get your chow you are almost too tired to
eat it."
Tuesday October 24,
1944 and I quote:
"I have never
regretted a minute of having joined the Marines and I still think today as
I did when I joined up. That is the greatest military service in the
world. For those who have never had the experience of being a Marine,
there's nothing like it even tho our hardships are great at times, we get
through."
November 1,
1944 and I quote:
"As I make this
entry in my diary, it is raining to beat all hell. When I say raining I
don't mean a little shower. A stream of water is flowing through my tent
and at the present time, my bunk is about a foot in mud.
Rats are pretty
bad around here as they were in the states. Another one crawled in my bunk
with me the other night and when I woke up he bit me on the little toe.
Last night troop
transport and two cruisers brought back some men from Palabin. It really
was a picturesque scene just to stand there and watch those war weary Marines
walk slowly down the gangplank. The band was there to welcome them
back. There were many who didn't come back.
I missed the blitz by a few
weeks but I am hoping I get in on the next one which will probably be the
China coast. I hope it's the
China coast."
November 31,
1944 and I quote:
"As I sit here on my sack this
morning I can hear the trucks getting ready to pull out for the docks with
another bunch of boys to go back to the
United
States. They are really happy
and I can see why. They have been over here for two years rotting away in
these Islands. Sometimes I wonder if
the folks back home appreciate and realize just what we go through for
them. I have only been overseas 2 1/2 months and already I feel like
cracking up. Whether I live on depends upon the outcome of the next 21
months.
There has been a
series of attacks upon Marines sleeping. Someone is going around cutting
them with a knife. The guards have been doubled but so far he hasn't been
caught. No one knows who he might be, one of the enemy who hides out in
the hills till its dark and then comes among the troops. He hasn't
succeeded because we are Marines and our spirits will never be broken until the
last one of us is laid to rest."
January 30,
1945 and I quote:
"While a swell USO
show is going on, I am stuck with the duty tonight, the first one in months and
this happens to me. Oh well. If I didn't catch it someone else would
have.
There is something
in the air around here and I think it means we are going to hit somewhere
soon. We have been instructed quite a bit in gases lately. They
think the Japs will attempt to use gas this next time but we will be ready for
it. We have good instructors and darn good gas masks.
Every day I am
beginning to like these officers more and more. Still there is some doubt
in my mind as to how they will act when in combat. It is reported they
acted pretty badly on Peblin. I'll know from experience soon."
February 9,
1945 and I quote:
"It is noon here in the
Russell Islands. I know for sure now
that the first division will strike within a month or two. Everyone is
dressing equipment. We are also getting shots again. We have
received four so far and will get four more before leaving. My duty on
this blitz will to be to stick with the Sgt. Maj. I don't feel scared as I
thought I would but I'm not actually in the midst of it yet.
I took my
examination for Corporal today and made a score of 98 which is pretty
good. It will probably be my luck to get knocked off before the votes come
through. It is my ambition to make Sergeant before I go home.
Went to the show last night and
saw 'Hollywood Canteen'. It was a
wonderful picture but just a bit exaggerated. I have been to the canteen
and they treat you swell there."
February 23,
1945 and I quote:
"This is the last
entry I will make until after our next operations. It wouldn't be wise to
take this diary with me,not that there is anything of importance to the enemy in
case I am captured with it, but because I am really not supposed to have a
diary.
I expect to go
aboard ship either tomorrow or the next day. Everyone is busy now getting
equipment aboard. When I return I will give a full account of the
blitz. In the event that I am killed I hope whoever finds this diary will
see that it gets to my parents as I think they would like to have
it."
August 3,
1945 and I quote:
"Since my last
entry in this diary, I have been through quite a bit of hell but I came through
alright with only a few scares. The names and dates of different
happenings may not be accurate as I did not keep records from day to day but I
will try to give an up to date account of all I've done since my last
entry.
On the morning of the 25th of
February, I with the rest of my outfit went aboard the USS Effingham. We
had to climb up rope ladders which wasn't exactly easy because of our heavy
packs. Everyone was in a jovial mood as we stumbled down into the
compartments to find a sack. That evening we pulled out of
Paruvee Island and I stood at the rail
wondering if I would ever see the place again. About four hours later just
as it was getting dark, we dropped anchor at
Benika Island which was about sixty miles
away. We lay off shore there a week watching for other troop ships to
arrive so we could proceed in a convoy. While we were there I went ashore
one time for a beer party. We each had six cans a piece.
Day by day troop ships arrived
until it seemed there were hundreds there. At the end of a week, I was
pretty tired even tho we just lay around most of the time sleeping and writing
and attending movies every night. We finally pulled off of Baniko around
4:00 one afternoon and were finally
on our way. For approximately eighteen days we traveled without seeing any
land. All I did those eighteen days was lay around. We could take
showers but only at certain times. Sometimes there was a line twenty feet
long waiting to take a shower. But only one fresh water shower so a person
would have to go through the line just to get wet then step aside to soap down
and fall in line again to rinse off. It was quite a problem to keep clean
but it could be done.
About once every
three days we were able to purchase ice cream but in order to purchase this ice
cream a person would have to fall in line which extended practically around the
troop ship."
On or about the
26th of March we once more resumed our journey only we all knew that the next
stop would be our destination. Each day we spent time oiling our rifles
and getting our gear ready for the invasion. Alerts became more often as
we neared our destination and each time we had an alert it scared me half to
death. Everyone was scared so I wasn't alone.
We weren't allowed
on topside during these alerts but on the second night before D Day I slipped up
topside to see what was going on. I was standing there by the rail and the
night was so black I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. Suddenly
all hell broke loose and I hit the deck immediately. The noise was
terrific and bullets were flying thick as rain. I never did see an enemy
plane but I'm sure there was one out there in the darkness. It only lasted
a few minutes and as suddenly as it started it stopped.
The night before the attack
everyone was in good spirits but a person could sense the tenseness in the
air. I tried to sleep but it was a no go. All night the crew aboard
our transport were making preparations for unloading the cargo. I walked
up on deck that morning and there in the distance I could see the battlewagons
throwing ton after ton of shells into the
Island of
Okinawa. Our planes were
everywhere and it left me with a sense of security. My outfit didn't go
ashore that day but I stood and watched the never ending line of higgin boats
take the 5th, 7th, 11th and 1st. regiments to the beach. Our casualties
were very light that day and at 12:00 there was less than fifteen
casualties. The men were all surprised that there was no opposition on the
beach. We fully expected at least two or three hundred to be killed on the
beach but there wasn't.
Yantan airfield
was captured the first. Everyone thought, "Where are the main body of the
Japanese troops?" With casualties so light I began to feel much more at
ease. We were always on the alert for Japs but didn't encounter any that
day.
We walked on forth
and then in the middle of this village the street was covered with the
dead. It was an awful sight,one woman lay naked in the street and over to
one side lay a Jap soldier. Already they had begun to smell. We went
up on the airport and there was what remained of the Jap planes laying wrecked
all over the field. The Japs had many planes sitting up on oil drums to
make it appear that they had more planes than they actually did.
I was on the beach
for three days waiting for our equipment and all this time we were constantly
having to run for cover because of Jap planes that would slip in and straight at
us. One day I was standing there eating chow when all of a sudden all hell
broke loose and I damn near broke an arm getting in my hole. A Jap plane
had broken through and was striking the beach. We got him but we paid a
price.
Finally our equipment came in
so we moved inland a few miles (approximately 10) to a little village that was
once known as Chibana. It was wrecked when we moved in. Then our
work began. We began to haul supplies to our troops which they were in
need of. The Marines still hadn't met up with any resistance other than a
few Jap snipers but the convoy had met with organized resistance in the
south. The Marines quickly secured the northern part of the
Island and then turned south to help
the Army. The roads were nothing more or less than a pig trail and it made
traveling in trucks very difficult but we did it. Trucks would get stuck
and break down under the stress but we managed to get supplies when they were
needed.
On or about
the 20th of May
1945 the 5th Marines run into quite
a bit of trouble and their casualties were very high and they called for
stretchers from my outfit. I was one of the eight out of our outfit to
go. We were loaded into trucks about 4:30 in the evening and started for
the front lines. As we drew near we could hear the shell cams screaming
overhead. In the distance we could hear the sound of machine guns and
rifle fire. I was a bit nervous about the whole matter but still managed
to get up on the line. The truck let us off a mile from the front lines so
we dug our fox holes and tried to sleep the rest of the night."
This diary goes on. But I
will stop here. Perhaps to give you a picture what our
previous troops endured many years ago. The picture he describes in
this diary is not a pretty one. But war is never pretty. It never
was and never will be. The war that we have going on now is the topic of
conversation around many dinner tables evenings. Some say we should have
stayed out of Iraq, some say we had to do
something because of 9-11. I'm not going to take any sides. I
only know our troops are over there, as well as troops from other
countries. I know they are living in a manner they never dreamed of
before. So many are so young. And yet, they enlisted. When war
time comes, they are called. They must go.
I have had this diary for
several weeks now and thought it would be the best to show it to you on the date
of the birth of our nation. July 4th is a Holiday for a reason. I hope
many of you remember why we celebrate this holiday. Think of our men and
women who would give anything to be home on July 4th. What they
would give to sit down at a picnic with green grass beneath their feet, sipping
a tall cold glass of ice tea and smelling the aroma of ribs on the grill.
Smiling with family members and loved ones.
I can't help but
think of this. I guess it's because I once knew a lot of military
people. I knew the hardships. I knew how tough a war can be for a
father or mother with children overseas, a husband or wife separated, and I know
that freedom is not free. I wish it were.
The man who wrote
the diary above passed away three years ago. Yet he left behind something
that some never see. He left behind a diary of a young man who faced the
dangers of war, the face of fear, and the expectations of surviving in
war. I never knew this man, but as all who have seen the face of battle,
he is a hero. He left behind a wonderful wife whom I've become to
know. Thank you, my friend for sharing this with 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
~**~**~
The Party Line
Nanci
Stroupe
Ring, Ring ........Ring, Ring, that was our phone ringing, the
reason I knew was because the Potter's ring was like this Ring.....Ring. Do you
get it? Well, if you do you are probably as old as I am and remember the
telephones back in the '50s. The Potter family had a teenage son named Skippy
and he was a doll baby and very popular. My sister, Rosalie had a crush on him
and I kind of did too even though I had a steady boyfriend. Well, you remember
how it was? Those cute boys could really make your heart skip a beat. It never
failed when Rosie got a call and was well into her conversation, she would hear
a familiar voice miming whatever she was saying and it infuriated her. She would
scream at him like "Skippy Potter, get off of this phone, this is my call and I
am going to report you to the police" which she never did but she was hoping
that would scare him which it never did. He got the biggest kick oout of making
her mad. Sometimes Mama would pick up the phone and say, "Now, Skippy, you
shouldn't listen to someone else's conversation, do you want me to have to speak
to your daddy?" and Skippy would say "Oh no, Mrs. LaBarbera, I am so sorry,
really, I didn't realize Rosalie was on the phone, please forgive me and tell
Rosalie I am so sorry" That would appease Rosie and Skippy could charm the
rattles right off of a snake. I really don't remember him teasing me like that,
oh, he would interrupt my conversations but usually it was like "Hi, Nanci,
whatcha doin? Want me to come over to your house and make out?" or some such
nonsense and I would say "Skippy, you know I am going steady" and he would laugh
and hang up. I tried to tell Rosie to just not get so angry with him because
that was why he was doing it to her. He loved to make her mad. Rosie was so shy
and she was very embarrassed about being so chubby. Heck, all of my family was
chubby. In my house we ate lots of one dish meals. Spaghetti, Beef stew with
lots of potatoes and vegetables and Chicken and dumplings, and Corned Beef hash
and cabbage, and that was my favorite. Mama always told me she hated to fix it
because I ate so much she was afraid it would make me sick. It never did because
I ran outside to play in the street with my friends after we cleaned up the
dishes. We played kick the can, Red Rover, and basically we just ran and had a
good time. I never owned a bicycle or a pair of skates but I would borrow
someone elses and sometimes. a friend of mine and I would borrow another girl's
skates and she would skate with one and I would use the other one. I learned
early in life "where there is a will, there is a way".Getting back to the
dishes. That was a job Rosie and I shared and I dreaded it. She would always
insist on drying and when I washed she would hold it up to the light and say it
wasn't clean enough and put it back in the wash water. It would make me so mad.
She did it because she knew I wanted to go outside or to the teen club with a
friend, I was always on the go. I decided when I was very young that I was not
going to be like my sisters. Although I loved both of them very much. They were
so shy because of their weight and they wouldn't go to dances or anything and
they both hated school and I loved it. I just decided if someone didn't like me
for me then I was not going to worry about it. Shirley was my oldest sister and
I adored her. She quit school to go to work to help Mama make ends meet. She was
always either working at her job or working in the kitchen with Mama. No wonder
she is such a good cook now, she learned from Mama.
Skippy didn't bother
Shirley on the phone. I think he was afraid of her. When we had a party at our
house, Mama would let Shirley chaperone and nobody messed with Shirley. She was
tough. Well, she was six years older than I so most of us kids towed the line
when Shirley was around. Oh, she was pretty lenient with us and let us play Spin
the bottle and Post Man and both of those were kissing games. Most of the time
we would put on some good ole Rhythm and Blues Music like The Ink Spots or The
Platters and of course good ole Rock and Roll. We could really go to town on
Mama's linolium floors with our shoes off. Mama always said her floors shined
like diamonds after a party of ours. Skippy was a good dancer and he always came
to our parties and danced with all the girls. Rosalie always forgave him for his
Party line jokes especially when he asked her to dance with him. That was long
ago and I really am glad we no longer have those party lines. When I get to
gabbing on the phone, I don't want anyone else listening in on me. I like my
conversations to be private.
Nanci
Stroupe
onenoni@aol.com
About Me:
Nanci has written numerous
stories for a lot of different editors and really loves to write and also to
read all of the talented writers who send their stories in. She also gets a lot
of pleasure just being with her husband of forty-seven years, Doug Stroupe. He
has been her Guardian Angel all of these years.
Poetry
Section
~**~**~
After The
Talk
Ashish
Gorde
There are some
people who do not understand shades of grey
They live in a universe of black
and white, no hues intrude
Their cosmos and no textures determine their point
of view.
Their world has no colour, their perspective tinted
And their
ideas like concrete slabs are immovable
And do not shake the earth from its
axis. Perpetually.
Constantly. Like words etched on stone, they exist
As
reminders of what we can all easily be someday,
Without even trying.
PS. I wrote this after trying to "reason" with someone who was
completely obstinate and totally
stubborn.
My email,
however, is ashbg@rocketmail.com
As far as bio is concerned, let me try.
I was born on 19th November
1965 in an obscure town in south central
India called Miraj.
But when I was four years old, I went with my family to
Bahrain, an island in
the Arabian Gulf (or what most
people call as Persian
Gulf). I grew up and interacted with people of different
nationalities and ethnic backgrounds in
Bahrain and that has
been one of the main reasons why i feel and consider myself cosmopolitan. I went
to India for my higher studies and eventually got myself an MA in English
Literature but university life was also the time when I indulged in a lot of
writing and, in particular, theatre. After my studies, I came back to
Bahrain (and went to
Bangalore, too, in
between) and worked as a copywriter for many years. Presently, I am the Editor
of the University of
Bahrian's official magazine and I, also, teach
English on a part-time basis.
~**~**~
The Gratitude of His
Affliction
Frederick A. Babb
Sacrificed
By His Father
Betrayed
By His Friends
Killed
By His Enemies
He was
Our sacrificial
lamb
His image casts
His protective
shadow
Throughout the
world
Of all of
mankind
He died
On His cross
Many years ago
His pain was
our pain
His bleeding
was our cleansing
His death was
our future
He died
So that we may
live
He suffered
So that we may
enjoy
He endured
What we could
never tolerate
Today, we
forget
His agony
Today, we
question
His existence
Today, we damn
His word
Yet, in silence
He still
protects us
Awaiting our
heart
Awaiting our
trust
Despite our
ignorance
He still loves
us
Frederick A.
Babb ?© Copyright 2005
Fred.Babb@excite.com
~**~**~
Until Forever
Tim Kevin
-
Until stars have lost
their sparkle
Until the sun refuses to shine
Until the flowers fail to
bloom
You will always be forever mine.
-
Until lightning ceases to
strike
Until the snowflakes stop falling
Until rainbows have no
ending
Your name I'll always be calling
-
Until eternal time stops
ticking
Until skies are no longer blue,
Until my heart stops
beating
I'll always be in love with you
-
by ... The Irish Warlock c
2004
About Me:
-
Tim Kevin, is the owner of the Yahoo adult
humor
group, BICs_Jokers_Wild and resides in
Punta
Gorda,
Florida.
Writers
Feedback
Carol, all those aromas add up to a sensational mix which we are indeed
lucky to taste in the guise of your writing. Great thoughts, in a special piece.
Gabrielle.
Hi Carol, I just read
your story, The Happiest Day of My Life and still have tears. What a
touching story of the love between a mother and son. Truly, none can know
who hasn't felt this joy. Blessings, Sharlett
Prayer Requests and Updates
Johnny is out of the hospital, and back in
Minn. He has to go to the
hospital where he lives tomorrow for a checkup, and also to see a
Cardiologist. He road back with Anne, and her friend's....He told me he
might not have to have his spleen removed, so that's good news. I want to thank
you all again for all the prayer's. Without them, who knows where Johnny would
be today.
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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