STORYTIME TAPESTRY

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

July 19, 2005 

Sometimes it is really strange how things happen.  Yesterday I send out The Study and mentioned how it is a glimpse of the life of Carissa Forbes, the heroine in my book Angels Watching Over Me.  Yesterday I mentioned that I still did not have a publisher but would keep you posted.  Well today I have a publisher.  Angels Watching Over Me has found a home with White Schooner Books.  I will sign the contract at the end of the month.  Stayed tuned for details on how to purchase it.

Also tonight I had my first interview on a radio show in New York City, hosted by none other than our wonderful Nicole Stevenson, of first Cuts and Fireside Chat.  I was nervous and Nicole thought it was funny, lol.  Stayed for more about Nicole and her endeavours.  And if you haven't joined our sister site, First Cuts, Nicole's newsletter please do so.  Since she has a poem published today scroll below for more information on how to reach her.

Introducing JennaKay Francis, writer #226, for Storytime Tapestry, she brings us a wonder story about Ireland. Please give her the usual Storytime Tapestry welcome.

And now unto the good stuff

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

Hiraeth: the intense longing of the soul for home -- Ireland.

JennaKay Francis 

I think there are two homes. The home of the physical being, and the home of the heart. I was born in Washington state, but my father was military so I lived in several different places. I had never really felt like I was 'coming or going home' on visiting those places. There were just places I used to live. Strange when I think about it. But in 1999 I went to Northern Ireland. For the first time I felt like I was 'home'. It felt right. Like I belonged there.
There were so many places that sparked a 'memory', sometimes vivid, sometimes faded. We stopped at a little fishing village on the way up the coast. It seemed so familiar. I had been carsick because of the winding road, and just wanted to sit and recover. My feet found the path to the little inlet all on their own. As if they had traversed it before. The log I sat on, the boats I looked at, the smell, the sounds -- everything was exactly right. But from another time. I knew, without turning about, that there was a pub up on the shoreline, with a huge glass mirror behind the counter, and dark wood, and music and smoke. I'd been there. But not in the 20th century.
A castle -- Monea Castle -- it was out in the middle of a pasture, alone, forgotten, falling to ruin. Yet, it evoked family and warmth and laughter. You could hear it in the stone walls. There was much love there, much happiness. I'd been there. But not in the 20th century.
I still have Irish days here in Washington - days when it feels Irish to me. The clouds, the lighting, the temperature. Certain things all add up to remind me of Ireland. And, then, I feel like I am 'home' in my heart. Life dictates that I stay here - my family, my children, my husbands work, etc are here. But my heart is in Ireland. I miss it.  Jenna (whose familial name is Murphy) 

jennakayfrancis@yahoo.com

and a short bio - anything you would like my readers to know abut yourself:
JennaKay Francis has been writing since she was 12 years old. She has written in many different genres - science fiction, children's, mainstream, poetry - but truly found her voice and love in fantasy. She writes fantasy adventure, fantasy romance, dark fantasy and children's picture books. She has been published in several local newsletters, several print magazines, as well as numerous online magazines in both fiction and non-fiction.
Jenna majored in English, with an emphasis on Creative Writing. She has attended dozens of writers' conferences, and taken part in numerous critique groups. She was a finalist in the prestigious Pacific Northwest Writers Conference for Children's Picture Books. She was also a finalist in the EPIC conference for a picture book. In addition, she was the grand-prize winner in a contest sponsored by Half Price Books. She has been an editor for four online magazines, as well as doing acquisitions for a small electronic press.
You can find a listing of her books on her homepage at www.jennakayfrancis.com
Jenna lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her husband, their three delightful children, two wild cats, a chihuahua that thinks he's really a dog, one hamster, and a several tanks of tropical fish, frogs and newts. Oh, yeah, and a forest full of elves, fairies and magic.

~**~**~ 

How did we do it?

Sharon Bryant

I sat today and watched.  I watched kids.  I watched adults.  I kept thinking.....how did we do it when we were younger?  How did we live without all the luxuries there are today?

Look around you.

Everyone has a cell phone.  Adults, kids, even LITTLE kids are all carrying cell phones.  I keep wondering, how do these families afford all these extras in life?  And how did we get by without a phone in our pocket when we were kids?

I look at the "toys" kids play with today.  Gas operated 4-wheelers, skateboards, motorized bikes, and I wonder, how did we live without these things?  We had nothing that was motorized.

I look at what's sold in grocery stores today.  Meals already prepared in a little paper box, stick it in the microwave, and BINGO, your supper is ready.  Whatever happened to walking in the house and smelling the aroma of a pork roast in the oven, homemade apple pies bubbling, making things from "scratch."

I look at the lines at fast food places.  Order through a little window, get the whole family their meal in a little paper bag, bingo, you don't have to cook.

How did we get by without all these things?

Computers, games, email, more modern things of today.  Unheard of when I and you were a kid.  Our highlight was waiting for the mailman to see what he was bringing!

But I think back to my days growing up......and you know what, I wouldn't trade what I had, what my family had, for anything today.  I couldn't wait to get home from school and see what gram or mom was cooking.  My mouth would drool just walking home from school hoping it was homemade spaghetti sauce bubbling on the stove, or homemade lasagna, or a good old boiled dinner in the oven.  I'd run faster just thinking about what we would be having.

After school, we came home, changed from our school clothes into our play clothes and you passed the word, a baseball game was in the making in the acre behind us.  Mom would have a big plate of chocolate chip cookies and a big jug of lemonade for us.

If we wanted to go anywhere and get there other than walking, we rode our bikes or used our roller skates.  I can close my eyes and still see myself sailing down the sidewalk, hair blowing in the wind, yelling out, "Hi Mrs. Kravet," as I passed the neighbors house.  I can still see her waving and yelling, "Well howdy there little Miss."

One memory I have is looking at refrigerators today with ice makers.  Unheard of when I was growing up.  I remember the old wooden ice pick by the ice bin and when we wanted a glass of ice, we chipped away at the big block of ice to get enough for our drinks.

Ah, modern technology sure has changed many things.  We didn't need cell phones, our parents knew where we were.  We didn't need beepers, we knew when to be home.  We didn't have cars to drive at 16-years old.  We were lucky to have one car for the whole family and looked forward to weekends and our family drives out in the country.

We learned beauty, and respect for this earth on those drives.  We took in the scenery and learned flowers and trees.  Our parents made sure they told us a story with each new wonder we learned about, a story that would stay with us for many years to come.

We had tree houses.  Not the manufactured ones of today, but real ones, with ladders you could pull up once you got up in your tree house.  Ones made right in the tree, our hideaways, our hang-out.  I can remember gram putting cookies in the bucket we had strung with a rope and we'd haul that thing up for our snack time.  They were SO good.

I look at all these "toys" today.  Everyone has to have motorized, no one wants to stay home, everyone's got to be on the move, and I keep asking myself, "Why?"  I loved staying home.  I loved our baseball field my dad made, our football field he made, our ice skating pond he made in winters.  I loved staying home.

We didn't hear of meth clinics, drugs on the streets, killings, rapes, none of the things we hear of so often today.  No one I knew ever was molested, abducted, or came up missing.

We didn't even lock our doors at night. 

We ate everything.....at home.  Butter, homemade breads, pastries, home cooked meals.  We never heard that those things were bad for us.

Hmmmm.........I've lived for almost sixty years on this planet, doing things no one does anymore.  Eating things that are a thing of the past for so many.  But you know what, I made it this long, so all those things must have been good for us. 

I just can't imagine life any other way.

I'll take a pot of homemade stew any day compared to a can of Dinty Moore on some grocery store shelf.

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

~**~**~ 

WHERE I FOUND GOD

B.J. Cassady

My wife had died from cancer resulting in the following questions.  Why?

What to do with my life? To resolve my personal/spiritual issues, I took a

two week vacation to New Mexico.  I will skip all the natural beauty I visited

in that state and tell of meeting God.

South of the Carlsbad Caverns, past Rattlesnake pass lies an isolated area

where few people visit.  I had a friend drop me off in the middle of this

desolate area with water, food and plenty of sun screen.   I was alone for

the first time in my life.  No cars, no phone, no buildings within view. 

No people, nothing but the solitude of the desert.   I wondered how many

people have the courage to face themselves alone?  To face ones fears, ones

disappointments, ones shortcomings is not a task easily dealt with.

A large boulder became my "home base".  At the base of the boulder was

an area good for kneeling  and praying.  I opened my heart to God.  I prayed

for hours on end asking,  thanking, searching for my soul to be filled. 

There amongst the lizards and creatures of the desert, one man searching for

his identity.  The desert answered my prayers.  God directed the answers.

I am important in the scheme of His plan.  Enduring well to the end is what

I must do.  He had a plan for me, "Be not disheartened" was the theme I

learned that day.

My friend picked me up towards evening  and within a couple of hours

I was back in civilization.  I was transformed, changed, a different person.

A power had filled me.

Did God really talk to me, did He tell me the truth?  Results are the answer

and within a year, I met my future wife, Carolina.  She is a beautiful person

inside and out.  I learned that life is worth living, that God in His place and

time, not ours, will provide us with all we need.

B.J. Cassady

Guthrie, Oklahoma

B.J. Cassady

BJ.Cassady @ af-group.com

B.J. Cassady is a Stephen Minister at

Edmond Trinity Church and ISD professional

in Guthrie, Oklahoma.  A disabled Vietnam

era USAF vet,  BJ enjoys giving back to

the world with his writings and is putting

together a CD audio collection of his best

writings.  For further information please

write: bj.enterprises @juno.com

Also look for his story 'Medals' in

"More Patriot Hearts" by Lt Col William

Coffey and "The Quilt".

~**~**~ 

Poetry Section

~**~**~

death of a marriage

A Lament

Robert White

Two torn souls jagged and ragged

Each to their corners drawn.

A ringside viewing a battle brewing

With hope bereft, forlorn.

Two sworn vows, iced frigid omens

Embattled, embittered, worn ...

Aside vain trials, a lawless summons

An ending, to be born.

Youth's mourned voice, distant and stranger

Lamenting what ceremony adorned.

A voyage begun, ever in danger

Casted adrift, storm-torn.

Two sawn souls, aggrieved and grieving,

Each to their endings foregone.

No more a cleaving, now a leaving

A deadly severance shorn.

Robert White

poeticrob@hotmail.com

~**~**~

Living

Robert White

I want to climb the highest heights

To soar and glide where eagle and hawk do rove

To look afar at far and distant shores

And beyond the looking ...

To feel and hear the ocean's roar.

Yearnings come from inmost planted seeds

Encased in soils too deep to gaze within.

A heart of flesh bleeds unfettered fertile breeds ...

'Free me! Let me be who I am and who I know I've seen'.

What is this cue that calls so much from such a place?

Is this not enough that a world of trial, sorrow and pain

Brings about a caution, a care about the end.

So man so much as covers himself,

Seeking not to be exposed ...

Naked, standing out all alone.

On the cliff face, I peer upwards and out.

No backward glances or steps,

I breathe again, taking breath to draw in

Air so pure, so clean. And~~

Fresh~~

Driven landwards by the mighty winds.

No looking back, I plunder the fancy spoils

Which many miss for they are hidden, hidden away.

And yet there are those kindred kind who share my sight.

Lonesomeness need not be my plight.

Look, eyes of my soul. Look!

Over there ... beyond the faint horizion

Where Sky and Earth do meet. Look!

What say you, my soul?

Is this not the time to launch and step right out?

Keep your eye upon God's Light from the other shore.

Listen for His Voice,

Attend to His Word,

Hearken His Spirit ...

For He speaks to the depths within ...

And there within I find that piece

I puzzled so long in looking for.

Life is found in the blessing of the living,

The joys new found in open giving,

And the freedom which comes to those forgiving ...

How I fly and soar above the Earth.

Following eagle and hawk as their airstreams float closeby.

I gaze about to seek the hidden Springs

And follow them past river and stream and falls

Past sounds where seas and oceans call...

To a place where solace and rest are there, for all.

And I find life all the more in ...

Living.

Robert White
poeticrob@hotmail.com

About Me:
I'm a christian, 47 years of age, divorced with
2 children - Rachel who's studying to become a
nurse and Jonathan [Jonno] who is fast growing
into a fine young man.

I'm interested in writing - since early 2003
anyway, and have now written over 20 poems, 6
or so songs, a couple of short stories and some
other works. I love music and would love to write
songs with meaning touching on all parts of life,
from love to grief, from death to new life, from
Australia to the world. You could say that I see
the world now in ways I hadn't noticed when I was
younger and I want to leave a legacy which will
bless and build up others.

~**~**~

Original Writer

Nicole Stevenson

Working hard at what I do

Striving and rising against all odds

Never knowing what I will come up with next

Writing to be heard,

Helping others is what I want to do

Never can I imagine being anything else

Criticizing with proper mannerism

Never trying to undermine someone else

Respecting everyone else because we are different

Unique in my own right not trying to copy

Original writer that's who I am

Thinking out of the box

Strong as an ox

Never letting anyone tear me down

No matter how hard they try

Striving to be all that I am destined to become

Words, stories, pictures, art, photos

Original Writer that's who I am

Think fast because I'm growing

My mind expands and explores

Turn around and you know who's there

Original Writer that's who I am

U thought I retrieve to a shell

Never knew how fast I'd become

Right behind you stepping on your tail

Original Writer that's who I am

Now you know my name

Written by Nicole M. Stevenson

Nicole Stevenson

Stevenson15n@aol.com

Bio

Nicole M. Stevenson born in Queens, NY. Attended York College. Mother of two beautiful and talented children. She is also a self taught Artist/Poet/Journalist/Editor/Freelance Writer/Manager, with many aspirations outside of my regular job as a counselor. A journalist for www.thecheers.org , www.vainquer.net , Writer's Desk, and www.heartswithsoul.com an online newsletter. Her poetry is on over six sites www.poetry.com, www.ilovepoetry.com , www.wrightsight.com and www.mommytoo.com ; redbridge Review and www.blackberryspeaks have published her poems. She has been nominated for Poet of the Year five times and awarded Certificates and Editor Choice Awards, Certificates of Merit for her Poetry. Last summer was asked to read her poetry at the Harlem Book Fair. Channel 13 requested a summary of her play for review, and there are several publishers interested in her manuscripts. Her poem was chosen for publication in Gumbo For The African American Soul. Contributing to www.brownsugarlounge.com , www.sunpiperpress.com , Consciousness Magazine.

She manages two online groups, http://30talent@msngroups.com Which is an online group that promotes talents upcoming and already established. http://30talent@yahoogroups.com  which let's you get Up Close with some of the authors, playwrights and other talent that you admire through their interviews. From our group spun the idea for our online newsletter which goes out to over 500 people and I'm the editor, writer for 30talent's newsletter First Cut which is a BI weekly online newsletter. I've interviewed Authors TL Gardner, Victoria Christopher Murray, Playwright Wambui Bahati, Publisher Tiffany R. Love and others.

Volunteer at TDC former school where she was a Teacher's Assistant for six years. Volunteer with Author/Song Writer Tania Michael's founder of Maximum Glory Productions. Also she writes quotes, and has aspirations toward becoming a song writer, novelist, children's fiction writer, playwright and writer of greeting cards.

Author of If Walls Could Talk, Postal Blues, Black Rain, and Poetry from the Bottom of My Heart.  Now available on Amazon.com.  http://www.vincentalexandria.com & www.theliteraryevent.com/symposium, http://www.tricompublicityinc.com

~**~**~

Writers Feedback

Carol, I really entered that study, I could sense and visualise it, and well imagine the occupants.  Good work.  Gabrielle.   

Prayer Requests and Updates

Dear Prayer warriors

Please pray for my cousins, Sean (age 7) and Margaret as they begin another week of Chemotherapy treatments. Father give them strength and courage to face and hold up under this traumatic stress...  I know with you and through you all things are possible.  I claim strength, grace, freedom from nausea, love of family and friends, kindness and compassion from all doctors and caregivers.  I claim these things in Jesus' most precious name!

Amen and Amen

Thank you for your prayers and love,

Barbara

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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