STORYTIME TAPESTRY

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

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Aug 23, 2005

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Today's Queue Stories
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The Prayer Bit

Bill Walker

wildbill6807@yahoo.com

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I? am not one that is all fired up on the praying bit. I think there is two prayers to be said in any day.?  One is the one called "The Lord's Prayer." If anyone looks at it, it covers all the bases and gets one home. That is you make a round trip from home plate to home plate. In other words you have hit a home run. It asks for what is needed for today, nothing more, nothing less.?  Yesterday is history, nothing can be done about it. Tomorrow is yet and may not come. The Lord's Prayer is today.

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I think at the bed time is a good time to say a prayer. It too will cover the bases. As your falling in the bed, most of us after a hard day does that you know, fall into bed. Say "Thank You Dear God for getting me through this day. Thank you for the blessings of the day.?  I may have not noticed all you have done for me, but thank you. If I have sinned and? I am sure I have, please forgive me."?  Never mind the all the prayer for please take care of my troubles, or others troubles. We never know if a trouble is a curse or a blessing.?  One must remember?  health, and money troubles, and other troubles? will always be with us. We sometimes are the major cause of our health, money, and other troubles.

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There is something else one should remember.?  Sometimes a problem saved us a bigger problem.?  I remember something that happened here in B.Town many a year ago.?  There was to be a meeting at a small church at a certain time. We are talking about 20 or so people.?  Each and every one that was to been there had a problem. A couple different ones, the car would not start, did a bit later. A dress had to be rush ironed. A couple looked at clock wrong. one or two ran into a old friend and talked?  a couple minutes. There was all sorts of strange things that happened.?  At the minute all was to have been there. The church blew up. At the time?  something happened to cause a delay? for each, all they thought about was why did this happen now? ? I'm in a rush to get to the church. I am going to be late. I ask was they? not? most richly blessed??  Anyone that had made it on time would have been killed.

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There is times that something happens, it is what we think is bad. We get really upset,? I know I do.?  Anyways maybe it slowed us down or stopped us from something worse. We may never know what we were saved from. That why I say one should always say.?  "Thanks for the Blessings of Today."

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This is one I wrote sometime ago. It is humerous and fun... and all about writing. Hope you enjoy it. We all could use a little chuckle and I think many could relate to my story. A a few months after this, I wrote my 1st book <grin> Take care, Karin

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? About Me:

Well I??™m a story teller, not a writer. Never learned the art of fancy English. I

happen to live in Nebraska, but I??™m still Missouri. Never married, all the Dollies I

ever took a second look at was too smart. Now at 74, just turned that other day, I

figure they all home safe. I love Doggies and Dollies in that order. Lost my two

true friends this year, that be Tinker and Poo. So I found me a new one. This

time a little girlie Peke. She is a normal female. Got a mouth, talks all the time.

She will never be a great writers of stories like Tinker and Poo. They have

about 50 stories on HWS. And now writing back from Rainbow Bridge.

I just try to write about people, places and things best I remember. Have something

over 250 stories on HWS. under three names.? ? ? 

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~**~**~? 

The Bank Robbery

Roger Dean Kiser

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I met Donald Watts one evening, when he came walking through one of the back alleys of Jacksonville, Florida. I had already been living for almost a week.

I was standing next to the garbage can, raking my finger around the sides of a can of tuna, trying to get whatever fish might be left.

"You ain't eating that, are you?" he asked, as he stopped in front of me.

I was a little embarrassed, and threw the empty tin back into the garbage can.

"If you're hungry, I??™ll take you over to my house and I'll get my Mom to fix you something to eat."

He turned and began walking away. I followed him, several paces behind.

Donald was a much taller boy than I was, but I could tell that we were both about twelve-years-old. He might have been thirteen, maybe. I had a hard time keeping up with him, because his legs were so long.

After walking for about half an hour, he stopped in front of an old house on the corner of Park and (?) Streets. I just stood there looking at the old board structure, with its peeling white paint. I had seen old houses before, but this was really old, like a shack. I looked at Donald to see if he might be playing a joke on me, or something. Just about that time, the front door opened and there stood an old woman, bent over at a forty-five-degree angle.

"Mom, this is Roger and he is hungry," Donald told his mother.

"Roger, you come on in this house, right this minute and let??™s see what we can find you to eat," said his mother.

I followed the two of them into the house, looking in every direction as I walked. Donald and I stopped in the living room and his mother headed off to the back.

The house was very dark inside. There was only light in the front room. It was hanging in the center of the ceiling, by an old green cord, which had its paper covering falling off. I stood there watching as Donald screwed the bulb into the socket, giving us light.

"Have a seat," he told me.

I looked around and saw several old couches, which had the stuffing falling out. There was a large stuffed chair in the corner, but it had no seat, just old black springs, and some cotton stuff.

"I'm going to the bathroom," he said, as he walked toward a dark opening at the end of the living room.

I sat down on the edge of the couch and watched as he pulled a curtain over the doorway. Finding that strange, I looked around and saw that not one of the openings had a door. I looked to my left when something flashed in my eye. I could hardly believe what I was seeing. I could see the cars passing by, through the boards in the wall.

"How come these here walls ain't got any insides to 'em," I thought to myself.

Donald came out of the bathroom and asked me if I wanted to sit out on the front porch. I sat down on the unpainted wooden deck and stared at the traffic.

"Here you go, young man," said his mother, as she walked out onto the porch. She handed me a large plate of fried potatoes and a slice of bread.

I had not had anything hot to eat for almost a week. I know they must have thought I was a pig. They watched me gobble down the entire plate of food in less than a minute.

"Would you like for me to cook you another plate of food?" she asked.

"No Ma'am. I had plenty. Thank you."

I do not know why or how it happened, but I ended up spending the night with them. When his mother prepared supper, we once again ate fried potatoes with one slice of bread.

His mother had a small army cot in the corner of the kitchen. Donald and I slept on several old, stained mattresses on the living room floor. After they fell asleep, I lay there for hours watching the traffic through the cracks in the walls.

The next morning his mother was up early, getting ready to go to work. Donald had told me that she worked at the Goodwill Store. I did not know how anybody could work on a job, walking all crippled like. It took her a long time to even get from one side of the living room to the other, much less walk to the bus stop and catch the bus to work.

"Donald, you make sure you go to school today, son," she told him as she headed out the front door.

Several minutes after she left, Donald got up and began getting ready for school. I was already dressed because I had slept in my clothes. I folded the small mattress in half, and walked out to the front porch to wait for my friend.

As he walked out on the porch, he told me I could stay at their house until he got out of school at three-thirty. Then he walked down the street, disappearing around the corner.

I sat on the porch for several hours, before I went back into the house to use the bathroom. When I had finished, I began to walk around the house. When I looked around the kitchen there was hardly any food. There were several bags of potatoes in the corner, and some of them were rotten. There were four or five cans of beans and a can of carrots sitting on the old wooden shelf. In the refrigerator, there was some cheese and a jar of pickles. I opened the small freezer and found one small package of meat that had ice stuck all over it.

I walked back out onto the porch and sat there wondering. I couldn??™t figure out why anyone would share their food with me, when they had so little for themselves.

I do not know what got into me but I jumped up and ran down the street until I came to the A&P Grocery Store. I walked in, walked right up to the man at the meat counter and said, "I need to get some real good meat, and I need it really bad too. I'll work hard for it, I really will," I told the man.

The man reached over, picked up a white apron, and threw it at me. I just stood there looking at him.

Get your little butt behind the counter and get to work," he said, smiling at me.

For five hours, I worked cleaning counters, shining glass, and mopping the floor. At two o??™clock, I told the man that I had to go. He wiped his hands on his apron, and walked to the front of the store to the cash register.

How much do I owe you?" he asked.

"I don't want no money. I just want food and meat."

"Why do you want food? You??™re just a kid."

"I got a friend who don't have much food, and his mom is real crippled like. She walks funny, and I need the food for them."

Though I had probably earned less than five dollars, the butcher gave me almost twenty dollars worth of meat, and canned goods. It took me three trips to get all the groceries to Donald's house.

I was sitting on the porch when Donald returned from school. I did not say anything to him about the groceries. He and I walked down to the park at Five Points, and watched the ducks swimming in the small pond. When his mother came home, we were sitting on the porch talking to each other. She, out of breath, hobbled up onto the porch, smiled at me and sat down. She opened her purse and took out several dollars.

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"Son, you and Roger walk down to the grocery store and get us a small package of hamburger for supper."

"There??™s a hamburger pack in the refrigerator," I told her.

"Well, I ain't bought hamburger meat in a long while," she said, getting up from her chair and walking into the house.

About a minute later, Donald and I walked inside to get out of the sun. I looked up when I heard Donald??™s Mother coming out of the kitchen. She stood in the doorway crying.

"What's wrong, mom?" Donald asked his mother.

"Oh God, did you boys steal all this food?"

"I did not steal any food, really! I was in school all day."

His mother looked directly at me.

"I worked at the A&P all day, and I got paid in groceries," I told her.

Donald's mother sat down on the end of the couch and cried for more than five minutes. He and I just sat there, our hands folded on our laps, having no idea what we should do.

That night I thought that everyone would be celebrating and happy, but no one said a word as we ate our supper. I watched Donald and his mother scarf down their food, in the same manner as I had eaten the potatoes and bread the day before.

After supper, Donald and I washed and dried the dishes. Then we joined his mother, who was sitting out on the front porch.

An hour later, Don and I had unrolled our mattresses and were about to go to bed. His mother asked me to come out on the front porch for a minute.

She and I talked for almost fifteen minutes. I told her that I had run away from the orphanage several weeks earlier, and that I could no longer take the abuse.

"You are a very good boy. Thank you for the wonderful dinner," she told me. She wrapped her arms around me, and squeezed as tightly as she could.

I am not sure what it was that I was feeling at that very moment, but it was a wonderful feeling. For the first time in years, I felt needed and felt that I had a worth, to someone.

When she let loose of me, I looked at her and I said, "If you will let me stay here, I will take care of you, if you will take care of me."

Once again, she began to cry.

Donald stuck his head out the doorway to see what was happening.

"You can stay here and you don't have to take care of me," she said.

Donald walked over and hugged his mom.

I stayed with them for almost four months. I worked very little during that period, and I contributed very little to our support. Mrs. Watts' income was less than thirty dollars a week. There were just no jobs available for twelve-year-old boys.

Four days before I left Jacksonville, Donald and I were walking down the street. He told me that he wanted to finish school, and get a good paying job. That he wanted to buy his mother a couch and chair that did not have holes in it, and that he wanted to buy her a comfortable bed so she wouldn??™t hurt so badly at night. He also told me that he wanted to buy her some of those fancy little glass statues that sit on the shelf, like the ones in rich peoples houses.

Late that night, when Donald and his mother were asleep, I got up, went outside, and sat down on the porch. Across the street was a restaurant and small bank. I watched as a car pulled into the bank, open the night deposit box, and dropped in a small bag. When the car drove away, I walked over and stuck my hand inside the box to see where the bag had gone. The back of the box had a metal plate on the back, so that no one could reach inside. I went back to the house and I lay there all night trying to figure out how to get that money out of the bank.

The next day after Donald and his mother left the house, I spent hours collecting Coca Cola bottles. Late that evening I cashed them in, took the money, and went to the store. I purchased a cardboard box of tinker toys, fishing line, and ten fishhooks, which I hid in the bushes.

The following morning I walked around the corner to Mr. Lewis' machine shop, where I had him drill holes in each end of the two-inch sticks. I then glued the sticks into the small circle, and attached a long fishing line to one of the sticks. Through the other holes, I attached numerous fishing hooks.

Late that night I sat out on the porch waiting for the car to arrive at the bank. About 1:00 a.m., it drove in and made the deposit. Ten minutes later, I walked to the bank and opened the metal drawer. Holding onto the long fishing line, I placed the Tinker Toy apparatus into the drawer and I shut it closed. When I heard the wooden structure hit the bottom, I began pulling the fishing line up and down, until I felt the fish hooks snag something. Then I pulled on the fishing line until I could pull no farther. I opened the night deposit drawer, and there before my eyes, sat the bag of money.

I opened the bag, took out the money, folded it, and stuck it in my two front pockets. I took the white bag out behind the machine shop and threw it in the garbage can, covering it with paper and trash.

After returning to the house, I went into the bathroom, pulled the curtain shut, and counted the money. All together, there was $842.00.

The next day, after Donald and his mother had left the house; I walked downtown to Rhodes Furniture. I bought two new beds, a new couch, matching chairs, and a dinette set. I paid for the furniture, and then rode with the deliveryman because I did not know the address of Donald's house.

After the new furniture was in the house, and the old stuff hauled away, I walked down to Five Points where I purchased as many ceramic trinkets as I could carry. I took the little treasures back to the house and sat them in every nook and cranny that I could find.

I took forty dollars and stuck it in my pocket, just enough money for me to hitchhike to Albany, Georgia, later that evening. The remaining money I put in the freezer, for Donald and his mother. I closed the front door of the house and I walked out onto the sidewalk. Slowly I turned around, looked at the old shack, placed my hands over my face, and I cried.

Roger Dean Kiser

trampolineone @earthlink.net
Roger Dean Kiser is the author of thebook "Orphan, A True Story ofAbandonment, Abuse and Redemption."Roger also writes non-fiction shortstories which he displays on hiswebsite "The Sad Orphan" located at:www.rogerdeankiser.comRoger's short stories have also beenpublished in: Chicken Soup, Heartwarmers Heartwarmers of Love, ACool Collection I and II (Israel),
"The Bully" was made intoa short film by Nicholas Delfinoand has been entered into several majorfilm festivals in the United States.
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? ? ~**~**~

? ? ~ One Day at A Time ~

Joyce C. Lock

? ? ?  If just for today, Lord, I??™ll keep my eyes and heart in tune to Your ever-loving presence.?  I??™ll walk with You, talk with you, and glean upon Your every word; be ready to go, ready to stay, and bask in the fullness of Your day.

? ? ?  If just for today, Lord, I??™ll find joy in whatever comes my way; give You glory in each situation, smell the roses, pat the dog, and enjoy the wonder of Your creation.

? ? ?  If just for today, Lord, I??™ll check my thoughts, motives, and ways.?  I??™ll see through Your eyes all You??™d have me to see and be all You??™d have me to be.?  I??™ll reach out to my fellow man, give others a helping hand, and let Christ live in me.

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The life of a true servant can only be lived 'One Day at A Time'.

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?© by Joyce C. Lock
http://our.homewithgod.com/heavenlyinspirations/
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Poetry Section

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I Believe

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By Sharon Bryant

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I believe for every parent

Who has ever lost a child

That the sadness will lessen

Yet this all takes a while.

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I believe for those who feel

They will again never laugh or sing

These things will come back to you

Like the wonder of a new spring.

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I believe we can't get answers

To the questions that we ask

I believe our time will come

When we can shed our masks.

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I believe in God and Heaven

Though things I don't understand

Will one day be revealed to us

When we enter that wonderous land.

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I believe our lives have changed

And we have to learn to cope

Because if we give up our faith

We've also lost our hope.

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I believe in God

And all the Bible says He'd do

I believe He loves all of us

And His love will carry us through.

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I know when our lives are weary

And we don't know how to cope

When our tears seem endless

And we feel there is no hope. . .

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God will step in to help

And give us a hand

For I believe there's something else

Than this earthly land.

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I know the tragedy of losing a child

Is the worse thing a human can feel

I also believe by experience

Healing comes from helping others to heal.

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I believe our hearts that broke

Will always have a piece missing

I believe our children want

All of us to go on living.

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Remembering the good times

That we all once shared together

I believe our memories carry us through

Because I believe eternity is forever.

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I believe!

Sharon Bryant

1946 @bellsouth.net

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? ~**~**~

THE COMPUTER

Sharon Bryant

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I've come to the conclusion

With each day that goes by

I get nothing done at home

This computer's the reason why

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I grab my cup of coffee mornings

And run into this room

I push the little button

The screen pops up so soon

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I sit here and laugh

At emails that come in

Sometimes I nearly fall off my chair

Then sometimes I rub my chin

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The dishes in the sink

Are yelling out my name

The carpet needs vacuuming

The dog's water dish is empty again

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If hubby needs me

He just yells out my name

I yell back, "What"

"Are you cooking supper today?"

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I'm in my little world

As I sit by this screen

Seeing all the jokes and howdy's

That my friends send to me

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If I were retired

And didn't have to leave

I'd probably sit here forever

Just me and my little screen

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But life goes on as they say

And I do have things to do

But what I enjoy the most

Is getting emails from you

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It's cheaper than a phone call

It's more fun than a phone

I get to see the pictures

And laugh till I groan

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So keep sending those emails

I like music too

Especially the "oldies"

Just to name a few

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Who cares about the house stuff

I've found life is too short

I'd rather sit at my computer

And laugh until I snort!

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I have to go to the grocery

And I race to the store

Grab what I need

Hubby can go back and get more

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I'm so happy with my computer

So in my "golden years" I will be

Just watching this screen

To see what you sent me!

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LOL

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Sharon Bryant

1946 @bellsouth.net

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About Me:

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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

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? ~**~**~

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By the Sea ??“ A Poem

Tim Kevin

The water trickled back out to sea
Sweeping the morning sands clean
Erasing slowly all traces of you an me
Maybe it was just some imagined scene
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Or a bad joke played on a lover's dream
The footprints in the sand are long gone And the passion like a fading
moonbeam
Has been abandoned and lost it's steam
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Sands shift and blow in the wind again
Like images of a love always on the move Ever changing promises hard to
contain
In a relationship with nothing left to prove
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I hope the storm clouds stay out to sea
So you can sleep away this dream we had
Knowing that it was something not to be
An cherish the happy times an not the sad ??“

The IrishWarlock @webtv.net,
Tim Kevin, is the owner of the Yahoo adult
humor group, BICs_Jokers_Wild and resides in Punta Gorda, Florida.

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Writers Feedback

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Good writing and great poems!?  I enjoy reading what you write as you describe things so well.?  I am learning.?  I was just thinking I would like to have an interview with Nicole on the newsletter.?  Those radio interviews might be too long and personal for me to start off with.?  If there is a list then I better get on it.?  My book will be released Oct. 17.

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Hi Carol,
Your might consider preparing brochures for tour promotion companies.
You have sold me the idea of signing on when you are placed in charge on
any organized trip.

Seriously your discription of your trip does put a desire in my heart.?  I
remember so well my trips to Peru and Mexico.?  Both were exciting and
refreshing.?  In all probability the trips that I take in the future will
be on the Animal and Discovery channels.

I did enjoy your discription of your friends and the places that you
went.?  I enjoyed sitting with Matt as he sat on the front porch and
watched as he saw the dawn, the work traffic, the neighbors as they
walked their pets and then as he viewed the day closing out and the night
stars appear.

Thanks, Bob

Sounds like a blast you two had. Glad you got to go on a nice vacation.
They're good for whatever ails you.
You may be suffering from all the smog. Thought of that?

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Joyce Lock's America Growing Cold hits the nail on the head.
Our politicians merely vote themselves a largesse and piddle
around.
Our government should only defend our shores and the politicians should
have to pass the Texas TAKS test to hold office.
I wish Texas could get out of this mess that's been heaped on us over
the years. The feds have broken their treaty with us so we need to bail out.
We can handle it.? 

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Carol.. Joyce nailed it good on the taxes, the church,
the money grabers. I have said this for most of my
life. We are taxed on the tax over and over. People
give to the churches, so called preachers, only to
find they have been suckered many times.?  People give
to the so called worth while cause, same deal. People
hands the pan hander a dollar, and may find the pan
hander is making 50,000 or even more a year. Case in
point. Many years ago, in the 40s and 50s, there was a
man. This man showed up here in Beatrice. He had no
legs, sat on a board with skate wheels on the sidewalk
on the main cross road of town.?  People felt sorry for
him, would put money in the tin cup. People that may
have needed the 50 cents. One day it came to light. He
owned two large farms in Kansas.
Seems to me one is taxed and charged to come into this
world. Then taxed and charged all through life to
death. Only to find out will be taxed and charged even
after death.

Bill

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? SENIOR WRITERS

Chief Writer: Sharon Bryant

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? Agee, Vance;?  Apted, Violet;?  Baker, Kathy;?  Batt, Al;?  Berry, Nell;

Boda, Ginger;? ?  Buhagiar, Victor; Cassady, B.J.;?  Cavalera, Robyn; Crider, Mark;? 

Deming, Barb; Goodier, Steve;?  Halley, Ellie Braun; 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;?  Shiveley, Debra; Shaw, Bob; Sims, Richard; Swarner, Ken; Vaknin, Sam; Verhoeff, Jan

Walker, Bill;?  Walker, Joe;? Warner, Gorden K;

Whirity, Kathy;?  White, Robert;

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STORYTIME TAPESTRY STAFF

Publisher: Carol Roach-founder

Moderator: Thelma Hartselle-co founder

Moderator: Clara Westerfer

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