STORYTIME TAPESTRY

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

July 11, 2005 

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

The difference I want to make in life is...
Jan Verhoeff
Everyone is special. Each moment of life is a blessing. Every minute we are alive, we have an opportunity to love someone, share something, say something important, make another person feel loved. Each moment opens up life for an eternity. The opportunity to give someone a hug, make a difference, share a thought, hold a moment - is right there in front of us. What are we doing to make that moment happen?

Often we find it too easy to just let the moments drift past, while our family and friends are wondering if they are important, if their lives have meaning. Capture this moment. Tell someone near you they are loved. Give a hug to the next live body you see. You may make a difference in someone's life. You just may make a difference in YOUR life!

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

~**~**~ 

MR. KARSIAN

By Ron Gold

Ted Karsian walked off the jetliner and into the car rental counter.  It was the first time Ted had ever been west of Brooklyn.  And since it was 85-degree weather in Tucson, and snowing and sleeting in New York,  he smiled naughtily as he ordered the big white convertible.

His public cover story was simple: he would be opening a new sales office in Arizona, hire and train some sales representatives and, five years down the line, he would move to Los Angeles and inherit Fred Chase's plum spot as Western States sales manager.

Ted had a short list of people to meet that day. The first name was Doctor Fred Kearns, a physician who, among other things, performed insurance examinations for Western Life.

The size of Ted's policy ($1,000,000) was more impressive than the medium built man with slightly balding red-brown hair,  brown eyes and a limp he received in an auto accident a few years ago.

Dr. Kearns was finishing treating Tommy Gomez' bunions when Karsian entered the office. 

"G'morning, Mr. Karsian," Tommy said.

"'Morning, Tommy" Ted answered.

"Have you fellows met before?", the doctor asked. Both men shook their heads negatively.  They all smiled as Dr. Kearns changed the subject.  "Mr. Karsian, while I finish with Tommy, you can change in the  dressing room.  There's a fresh gown there for you."

After his exam, Karsian went to breakfast at the building's coffee shop.

"Good morning, Mr. Karsian," the waitress smiled.  "What can I serve you today?"

"Well, Kelly, how about some orange juice, scrambled eggs, bacon,

toast and black coffee?"

After his leisurely breakfast, Ted Karsian returned to his rental car.  At  the first red traffic light, a police officer approached him.  "Welcome to Tucson, Mr. Karsian.  Hope you'll enjoy your stay with us."

Karsiaan glanced at the sheet of paper he kept on the front seat. "I'm sure I will, Officer Carroll," he said with a smile.  "Have a good day."

"You, too," the officer smiled back.

The traffic light changed and Karsian drove on, slowing down in traffic near a shopping mall.  Two boys on bicycles waved. "Hi, Mr. Karsian."

Ted glanced at his notes, smiled and waved.  "Hi, Bobby.  Hi, Everett."

Mr. Karsian then made a left-hand turn and headed into the desert. After ten minutes alone on the sandy, cactus-spotted road, he drove into the paved parking lot at the old Spanish mission church.

An organist was playing, a few paritioners were silently praying  and the pews were warmed and lit by the sun filtering through two large stained glass windows.

"Good morning, Ted," the padre said.  "I feel honored you came to my church.  How might I help you?"

"I'm new to Tucson, Father, yet everybody seems to know me by name.  It's as though they expected me."

"Did you notice what all these people had in common? Did you see the aura about them?  It's God's nimbus.  Did you notice their warm welcoming smiles? Like you and me, Ted, they are special people --people touched by God;  Angels.

"I know you for who you really are and I have great respect for you.  Yours is not an easy or simple job.  If you're here to take me, please tell me now.  I prepared for this journey throughout my life.  I'm ready now."

"Yes, Padre," Ted said softly as he kisses the old priest's hand and   pressed a solitary black feather in it.

"Who will I be travelling with?"

"A very mixed group of souls: a single mother who waited tables in a coffee shop,   A retired letter carrier with bad feet.  An aging physician with a bad heart.  A brave policeman who, right now, is badly wounded trying to stop a bank robbery.  Two young , innocent lads  accidentally shot in the bank robbery.

"Then there's Miss Jenny Taylor,  who passed away in her sleep at a nursing home.  And three hospital patients:: a  young mother who died giving birth to her only child.  And the child.  And an elderly Alzheimer's patient who could not remember his name, his life or the people who cared for him and loved him. 

"After midnight I go to state prison to fetch the soul of an executed murderer.  I stop to collect The Reverend Browning's soul at the hospice.  And then I visit the home of a man who, three hours from now, will kill himself 

"Then we all fly to heaven together in peace."

"Even the suicide?"

"Yes, father, even the suicide.  We make no judgements here.  Heaven is  a  way station where  all souls are judged.   Some have earned the right to stay.  Others will be escorted away.

"As we enter the afterlife we become happy although our survivors

grieve for us.  They loved us and we still love them. They print our

biographies in the newspaper.  Most survivors visit graves on the anniversaries of our passing."

The priest stares at the black feather in his hand.  "So, Ted Karsian, you are really the angel of death."

"No, padre, I'm  an  angel of death -- this is a very well populated planet served by too few angels,  I gave you  my feather for your interview.  You are a wise man who lived beyond expectations. I'd like you to become an escort angel, too.

"Together we will gather souls and escort them to a new, better, eternal life in Paradise."

Ron Gold

outthinkresumes@aol.com
About Me:
Ron Gold has been writing professionally for some 50 years--in public relations,
advertising and motivation agencies. He now writes
inspirational and humorous stories for the Internet. He also creates
professional resumes from a recruiter's viewpoint, ethical wills and
personal love stories. He also edits college essays students submit
to undergraduate and graduate schools. He was graduated from the
University of Bridgeport and served as a Public Information Specialist
in the U.S. Army. He resides in West Orange, NJ He can be reached at
outthinkresumes@aol.com

~**~**~ 

My Mom
Mary B. Heist

My mom was slim, trim and beautiful.  She always looked pretty with becoming makeup, attractive hair styles and fashionable clothing.  I remember going to her one day, my arms out to hug her.  I saw a shocked look on her face and felt a cold, stiff response.  That wasn't the response she gave my brothers.  Why did she look at me that way?  I
felt dirty - like I'd tried to do something awful.  I wasn't sure why she froze when I tried to hug her but I decided it had something to do with her looks.

"I wish you were fat," I'd tell her.  "Your bones hurt me when I hug you."  Well, that wasn't exactly true, because after that one try, I never approached her again.
 

We used to go into town on Saturday morning and the men would stop to stare at my mom.  Even the policeman came over to talk with her while we waited on the corner for the light to change - she was that beautiful.

I, dressed in blue jeans and sweatshirts, never tried to compete with her.  In fact, I took pride in being tough - like a good bodyguard. Mom took me to the stores and had me try on suits and dresses.  She would tell me I looked beautiful, but I could see myself in the mirror, bigger than she, with glasses covering half my face and short hair, frizzy from
the "lilt" home permanents she gave me.  The figure beside me - small, trim, dressed neatly and attractively, hair done just so, makeup perfect, fingernails long and painted - that's who looked beautiful - not me.  I could see that.  The saleswoman saw that.  My mom saw that.

Years after I married and moved far away, I would sometimes see that beautiful, cold woman staring at me in the mirror.  She would say, "You look beautiful, like a lady."
She would say it with her mouth, her lips forming the words that slid through her teeth but her eyes were saying something different.  Her eyes said, "NO! You are WRONG!" And I'd do the same thing then, years later, that I'd done back in the dressing room.  I'd take off the dress I'd been modeling and put on my jeans and sweatshirt.  Then she'd smile, my beautiful mother, and we'd leave the dress shop and we'd walk back to
the car and go home.

marybheist @juno.com

I am Mary B Heist, a daughter of heavenly parents who want me to reach
my highest potential.
I am Mom to seven children, mom-in-law to five, grandmom to eleven and
great-grand-mom to one.
I am ex-wife to three, the first of whom reached into my chest, tore out
my heart and squeezed the life from it.  It hurt so badly I died.
I am.

~**~**~  

Poetry Section

~**~**~

Temple

Lillian Cauldwell

Within my temple of stone,
I watch the daily rites of my Keepers.
old soldiers and young men, virgin maidens,
slaves, a prisoner or two.
I wait, excited for my gulp of eternity
that helps averts my hunger from greediness.
This flamed tradition, or disciple of the dark,
I care not what it's called.
As long as it slacks my thirst,
soothes my pains, I can wait
a little bit longer, for my everlasting
life to begin.
Lillian Cauldwell

thru-the-cracks@writeme.com

~**~**~

Carnival Mirrors
Lillian Cauldwell

Carnival mirrors make me fat,
make me lean,
as I pass through a shadowy hall.
Matching lights spit at their faces
bouncing to, bouncing fro.
The reflections of a statue,
the hump and the lame,
shortened feet, a scar-twisted brow
all together, alone, in one room.
Horror of horrors, for one single night
the clowns, they throw roses
and tumble on their heads.
Faces sneer as eyes appear
and follow the gnarled hands,
and distorted feet.
Gloved or bare, it matters not,
the room is spooky,
and full of reflecting lights.
As I and my poodle speed by
with evil delight.
My mirror hangs crooked
all nailed to the wall
as creatures of flesh
walk past the remains of my guests.
Two gutted frames of whimsical delights
the hall of mirrors, at last,
becomes ours tonight.


Lillian Cauldwell

thru-the-cracks@writeme.com

Ms. Lillian Cualdwell is a Poet, Author, Book Reviewer, and Host of The Lillian Cauldwell Show, a live web radio talk show.  Her first book, Teenagers! A Bewildered Parent's Guide was released in 1996.  Her second book, Sacred Honor was released in August, 2003.  Ms. Cauldwell's four poems were accepted and published this year::  The Storm by The Long Story Short, March 2005; The Spider and the Fly by Eintouist, April, 2005, Black Death and Carnival Mirror by The Funhouse, May, 2005.  Ms. Cauldwell's article. The Value of a Publisher's Rejection was accepted and published by Banyon Publications for their June Newsletter and The Writer's Gazette accepted and published Investigations In:  Writing the Synopsis and the Query Letter on their website..

SACRED HONOR - American Historical Speculative Fiction from PublishAmerica. Spanning the centuries from 1774 to 2276.
Available on Amazon.com
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1592864376/104-20502770-6969768
http://www.simegen.com/writers/lcaldwell
http://www.authorsden.com/lcauldwell
http://www.sacred-honor.com

~**~**~

~ Truth Is Stranger Than Fiction ~

Janice Bumbalough Marler

Truth is an awesome thing,
One can always remember
What came from the heart
And out of the mouth,
But when deception and
Lies are about
It's more difficult to
Recall where you've been,
And a little seed can conjure
A wicked sprout.

In the boxing arena
Truth will always win the bout
When pitted against lies,
For God has said lying is one sin
He doth despise
Out of the abundance of the heart
The mouth speaketh,
It isn't what goes into the mouth
That defiles a person,
It's what comes out.

There is never anything to
Gain from lying,
But there is everything to
Gain from being truthful,
Some people can not handle
The truth...
Nor it's diction;
Yes, Truth is stranger than fiction

~*~

Janice Bumbalough Marler ?© 2005

poetrybyjan@msn.com

~**~**~

Writers Feedback

 I love Pamela's story of hats which brings to mind my Dad who I always remember seeing him 'tip his hat' for the necessary respects.

I love hats and I wish that they would come back in full style.  I would like to belong to the red hat society as I feel that their garb makes a statement of women's lives?

Norma Liles

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Prayer Requests and Updates

Dear prayer Warriors:

Please join me in prayer to protect those in harms way of Dennis...

Nothing is impossible with God, he can tame a hurricane as if it were a gentle breeze.  Please join me in agreement that those in the path of Dennis will be kept safe from harm.  HomeS can be rebuilt, but our precious friends and families cannot. Lord, Please keep them safe from all harm in the hollow of your mighty hands. 

Father please give them your peace Lord that passes all understanding. And thank you Lord for  directing me to receive the best medical care for my Rosie and her injury, Dr. Case is so kind and gentle, I thank you for her and her staff.  We thank you for these and all blessings in our lives, Dear Lord...  Amen and Amen

Thank you for your love and prayers...  Love, Barbara

here are some notes I've received:

Barbara, please remember my family during the hurricane, They are in Gulf Shores, Alabama.

Hope Rosie is feeling better today. Bama

Good morning!

I don't know how many of you will read this on Sunday morning; I hope some of you will.

We are sitting here under a tornado warning, skies are black, wind blowing.

Last night we had some wild weather, all due to the bands of that monster storm in the Gulf.

I was really surprised as I sat on my bed listening to the pelting rain and hearing the intense howling winds.  I didn't understand how the weather could be so fierce so far from the storm, but it was and I knew at that moment this storm was truly a monster.

I am writing to ask you to PLEASE hold up a prayer for the people, animals and property that are in the path of this storm. If we are seeing this kind of weather so far away from it, what kind of hell will be unleased at the core? My heart is breaking for them and I sense a real urgency to pray harder.

Always remember, what goes around comes around.  If we can't take a moment to pray for those facing such a monster, perhaps no one will be urged to pray for us when we face ours.

We plan to take the entire church service today to pray, worship and ask God for mercy, please agree with us. May you be protected in His wings and love,

Shirley

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;

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