STORYTIME TAPESTRY

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

July 20, 2005 

 Today's Queue Stories
~**~**~**~

Charley

B.J. Cassady 

My stepfather and I went to a fast food place for

supper Saturday.  He stayed in the car.

The guy sitting next to me was obviously a bit tipsy. 

We entered into a conversation.

His name is Charley and an ex-Marine who fought in

Korea.  One thing about Charley, he had the bluest

eyes I have ever seen.  Mine are blue but his are sky-

blue.

Charley was one of 105 survivors out of 600 marines

who fought their way to the 38^th parallel.  The thing

that stays with him is not the women and children/and

soldiers he killed, but the rats.  He lived in caves

because the ground was frozen.  He built a small fire

at the opening of the cave to keep the rats out, but

they jumped over the fire.  He killed them with a

bayonet.  He said the rats were as large as alley cats

and you could hear their teeth chatter.  Charley

stepped on a land mine and was blown about 40 feet

into the air, he lost 1/2 of his stomach and almost

lost his right leg. 

The restaurant treated him well because he stopped

three men from robbing the place once by pulling his

own pistol out and told them to leave or he would kill

them.  They left.

I wish I had more time to visit with Charley.  If one

wonders about the cost of freedom, go find the

Charleys of the USA.

B.J. Cassady

Guthrie, Oklahoma (2002)

~**~**~ 

SHIVAREE

B. J. Cassady                      

            There are some happenings from the past that are best forgotten and

some that sadly, have disappeared.  Alas the shivaree is one happening that is

either gone or is almost gone.  Another story to be told is of a barn raising, but

today let's have a shivaree.

           When I got married in 1969 in El Dorado, Kansas, I had never heard

about shivaree or being shivareed.  After the wedding, we traveled to my aunt

and uncle's farm a few miles from a small town called Peckham, Oklahoma.  

Our plans were to visit for a few hours then travel to Ponca City for our

honeymoon.  

          About an hour into the conversation, I heard car horns honking, guns

being shot off and a Lot of hoot n' hollerin'.  About a dozen cars or so had

driven to my uncle's farm and I knew we were being shivereed.  Shiveree is

about a two thousand year old tradition that has changed over the years. 

Initially a spiritual and a celebratory manner of rewarding the newlyweds, in

recent times it has become more of a light-hearted good-natured joke on the

unsuspecting newlyweds.

        The women took my wife and off they went, the men took me to Arkansas

City, Kansas, about 25 miles away.  There we went to a local bar where I bought

drinks for the conspirators.  After about an hour or two they took me back to my

uncle's house.

      My wife was taken to Blackwell, Oklahoma where she bought candy for the

children and goodies for the wives/women.  Thinking back on this event, I

realize how lucky I was to be apart of a celebration, outlawed in most

communities, and forgotten in the rest, by my friends, my family, the good and

great people of this farming community.

                    B.J. Cassady

                    Guthrie, Oklahoma

~**~**~ 

When I Learned About Love

B.J. Cassady

         I grew up, married, divorced, and married again, but always wondered...am

I really in love?  Do I love her?   Sharon, my wife was laying on the couch

after one bout of her chemo treatments, feeling ill and looking sick.  I was

sitting across the room when the thought came to me....Am I in love?  How

much would I sacrifice?

         Shhh...she is asleep now.  I looked at her face, her 40 something year old

face and thoughts raced through my head.  The night she woke up in

tremendous pain.  Even liquid morphine would not stop it.  I took her to the

hospital for her pain.  I did not know what else to do.  The times she woke up

from God knows how many operations and I was there.  Finally, I knew the

answer to my question.   I looked at her asleep on the couch and wished with

all my heart that it was me on  the couch with the cancer and her sitting in

the chair.  Yes, I would have taken her cross from her and bore it as well as I

could. 

         The answer was before me, around me, yes, I know what love is, yes I

am in love and yes, I  am loved.  

         Sharon though you may not be here today, I wish you a very happy

Valentine's Day.

         Thank you for teaching me about love, for allowing me to learn about

sacrifice, honor and committment.

         Yours forever,

         Your Hublink,

          B.J.

B.J. Cassady

Guthrie, Oklahoma

~**~**~ 

Poetry Section

~**~**~

Those Once A Month Blues

Janice Bumbalough Marler

All my body parts are swollen,

Nothing fits;

Feet are too big for my shoes;

My blouse is gaping open

From Baby fat,

I'm having 'Once A Month Blues',

These hot flashes are getting the best of me,

I'm called impudent and aggressive,

And I'm being accused of apathy,

Just because I stoned the neighbors pet squirrel

And it made headline news;

Everyone and everything gets on my nerves;

I'm ready to pull my hair out,

Because of these 'Once A Month Blues';

Dishes in the sink, bed's unmade,

Bill's outstanding,

Can't seem to get them paid,

I don't understand why

My children aren't listening

To anything I say,

Their father isn't any better

I'm not asking them to be perfect,

Just want them to do their best,

And their best is doing it my way.

They look at me strangely as if I'm to blame;

What's with them?

PMS? What a tacky name!

I run to the bathroom, throw open the door,

Rummage through the bottles until at last

I find what I'm looking for,

(Why did God put this on us

And not on the men?)

Haven't we paid our dues?

Ahhhhh, there it is...My salvation!

My family's redemption...

My miracle drug...Estrogen.

No more 'Once A Month Blues'.

First Serial Rights

Janice Bumbalough Marler ?© 2005

poetrybyjan@msn.com

~**~**~

Go And Be Filled

Janice Bumbalough Marler

I asked for help today, I was pat on the back and

told, "Go and be filled." The 'Christian' I asked,

turned me away. I desperately needed

assistance with transportation and was met with,

"You need to stop making Doctors a habit. It's

difficult finding enough time in our busy day. We can help

this week, but then you'll need to find another way."

That statement brought tears to my eyes;

As for my broken heart, there is no repose.

If only this 'Christian' knew how

badly it makes me feel

upon others my needs to impose.

"Go and be filled."

I'm getting on in years; my physical body doesn't do

the youthful things it did before,

I live in constant pain and it's this constant pain I abhor.

"If only you had a vehicle," I'm told,

"Your mental outlook would be so much better."

"I can't afford a car." I tell this 'Christian' who's so bold.

"Don't you understand, I would if I could?"

My fellow 'Christian' said, "Well, you should."

How easy it is to judge another when they've not

walked through your door?

I guess they don't understand 'Disabled'

and perhaps they've forgotten what 'Poverty Level' stands for;

"I can help you this time, but I want you to know

it's going to be quite a chore."

I don't have family or children who live near by;

They live far, far away; upon them I'm unable to rely.

Check me if I'm wrong, but I understood Jesus to say,

"If you see a brother or sister in need of food or clothing,

(or any other kind of necessity), and you say,

"Well good-bye and God bless you;

stay warm and eat well"

(James 2:15 New Living Translation)

Who will God hold accountable on judgement day?

The person in need,

Or the 'Christian' that turned them away?

Janice Bumbalough Marler ?© 2005

poetrybyjan@msn.com

First Serial Rights

May 11, 2005

~**~**~

A Mother's Broken Heart

Janice Bumbalough Marler

I live in the city of Broken Heart,

On the streets of Desperation and Despair,

The number on the mail box has faded

 And is no longer there.

The house appears to be empty,

 But it's not, do come inside;

Here you will be met with tears...

This is where loneliness resides.

This dwelling full of pain, from words sharp

 As arrows, that has perforated its heart,

The house is filled with darkness black as ebony,

 Where once was light;

Erstwhile the wonder of children's laughter

Illuminated its night.

The arena feels their absence;

They've taken their leave

And have not looked back.

My soul rents; I am desolate.

Who am I?

 It's not their pity I seek;

I have not lain upon their

Threshold my responsibilities;

Nor do I bespeak.

My head I placed, once again,

Upon the chopping block; I visit, and I call,

The axe of rancor finds its target; it falls!

I hide the tears that wail up from my bowels;

It's time to take my leave I fear.

What do they care?

Quietly I slip out the door;

My heart is heavy as I wonder back

 To the streets of Desperation and Despair.

"What heinous crime did I commit?"

I mull over and over in my mind;

Perhaps I misinterpreted Motherhood

Because it's definition wasn't clearly defined.

My days are numbered; my time draws near.

Of death I am not afraid,

For I know that God will wipe away every tear,

With him I will not be dismayed.

None of us are assured of living another day;

Just like those who have gone on before us,

In the end death WILL have its way.

 Janice Bumbalough Marler ?© 2005

poetrybyjan@msn.com

   ?© May 30, 2005

~**~**~

Writers Feedback

Carol,

I am so happy to hear that you have a publisher for your book, "Angels Watching Over Me."  That is fantastic news.  I am looking forward to purchasing and reading it.

I enjoyed today's story written today by JennaKay Francis, "Hiraeth: the intense longing of the soul for home -- Ireland."  I have experienced that longing for "home," when encountering a few places on this earth that seem to speak to me.  I look forward to reading more of JennaKay's work.

Sherri Hosieni

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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