STORYTIME TAPESTRY

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

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Nov 23, 2005? 

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Now on to the good stuff..........

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Today's Queue Stories
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JFK

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Sharon Bryant

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How well I remember the day John Kennedy was shot in Dallas.?  I was sitting in biology class.?  My teacher's name was Mr. Kennedy.?  He had left the room for a few moments.?  A kid from another class ran into our room and screamed out, "Mr. Kennedy has been shot!"?  Thinking it was our teacher, the class went into shock.?  None of heard any gun shots.?  We sat in our seats staring at each other.

Just then Mr. Kennedy appeared in the classroom and said, "May I have your attention, the intercom is about to start, please, everyone listen."?  The intercom began, "Students, our President, John Fitzgerald Kennedy has just been shot in Dallas, Texas.?  May we all say a prayer.?  We are getting the buses ready to send everyone home, please stay seated until the bell rings, then go to your buses."

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I remember? some of the kids? were staring at the blackboard, some at the walls, each in our own thoughts.?  I couldn't believe it.?  I kept thinking, "There must be some kind of a mistake."

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Our buses were ready, we were released from school.?  When I walked into my house, my grandmother was visiting for the day, and she and mom were sitting on the couch crying.?  Mom looked up at me and said, "I can't believe this."?  I told her neither did I.?  Gram kept saying he was such a good man, such a good leader, why did this have to happen?

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The next few days our television was on constantly.? ?  I too saw over and over Jackie Kennedy trying to reach her husband, our President seconds after he was shot.?  I think one of the saddest scenes was when John-John stood in his little coat and saluted his daddy when his daddy was being put to rest.

This nation cried.? 

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I watched as Lyndon B. Johnson was sworn into office to become our next President.?  I kept thinking, "It's not the same, it'll never be the same again."

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I was almost eighteen years old that year.?  I saved the newspaper with the photo of John-John saluting his daddy.?  I wanted my own children to? know what they would read in history class one day, happened in their? mom's? lifetime.

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A year later I went to Dallas, Texas.?  There's a marker where President Kennedy's car was at when he was shot.?  I looked at the building that was said to be where the shot came from.?  It seemed impossible.

It also seemed impossible when Lee Harvey Oswald was shot by Jack Ruby.

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When Bobby Kennedy's life was taken, I could not believe it happened again to the same family.?  Two sons, both in Politics, lives taken by a bullet.

When I grew older and became a mother myself then lost that child, I thought of Rose Kennedy many times.?  I often wondered how she went on after losing two sons.?  I never thought I could endure that kind of pain again without losing my mind.

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I would guess each year on the anniversary of JFK's death, we? who are old enough,? remember where we were when we heard, "The President has died."

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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 26,
Amy, and a second son, Randy, age 24.

My main goal in life is to help those who
have lost a child. My website is: www.angelsremembered.tk

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? ? ~**~**~

Right From Wrong

Michael Smith

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  I was the youngest of three boys. We lived in a four-room house
with our parents. Dad liked to say we had four rooms and a "path," referring

to the well-worn trail to our outhouse. There was no hot-running water. We

heated water on an oil stove, which doubled as our heating source in the winter.

We washed our hair in the kitchen sink and took baths in our rooms, using a

cloth and a bucket of hot water.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  I guess you could say we were poor. Dad had a job, but he spent
all extra money on alcohol. There were many nights when I would be roused from

sleep by loud voices. I would lie still and listen, instantly aware it was Thursday

night, and like every Thursday, dad had come home drunk.

Thursday was payday for my father. After work, he and his co-workers would
go to the tavern and drink. It was the start of four days of hell. On Friday he
would go to work hung over and return in the evening drunk again. For the rest of the
weekend he would be drinking with his buddies. I remember a time, when he came

home so drunk, when he got out of the car, he lost his balance, and staggered 20 feet,

to smash his head into the front porch. Yes, he was that drunk, and he drove.

He was nasty when he drank, not violent, just mean. He would yell at us for
the smallest infractions. Even though we tried not to disturb him, he would lash
out with complaints about our behavior. There was no pleasing the man. Four days of
the week we cowered from him.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  I know more about him now, and can even understand his
bitterness toward the world. He was born out of wedlock, and spent many years

in a Catholic orphanage. I don't even want to think about the abuse he may have

received there.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  As the school week wound down, my stress increased, knowing the
weekend, the drinking and the arguing were coming. How my mother tolerated

him, is a mystery. I believe she had no where to go, where she would be able

to support three boys on her own. She stayed for us. My biggest fear: she would

give up, walk out, and leave us with our father.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  I was sitting in my classroom one morning. I believe I was in
first grade. From my seat, I could look out the large windows, and see my house

and the store across the street from it. At that time we had a small bus service. It

came once a day, stopped at the store, and took people to the city. On this morning,

I saw a lady with a red jacket getting on the bus. My mom had a red jacket! I began

to cry in front of my classmates. Mom was leaving.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  The teacher calmed me, by saying my mom would not leave without
telling us she was going. I wasn't convinced. When we were released for lunch, I ran home
to find my mother making my lunch. I was so relieved; I ran up, clutched her around the
waste and began to cry again.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Dad went by the rule "children should be seen and not heard." If
he was home, we were not to make a sound or he'd punish us. This is not necessarily a bad
rule, but when he was drinking, he was overly sensitive.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Mom would do everything for my dad. She made his lunches,
cleaned, cooked, and took care of us. Dad did very little. He worked and in the evening he
sat. I would grow frustrated, when I needed his help, because I knew he would grumble. He
would come home from work, expect his dinner waiting, and complain about the lunch
made for him that day.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  I was afraid to ask him for anything. The chain on my bike was
loose and would fall off the sprocket. It took me forever to figure out how

to tighten it myself, but I did it.

I learned to manage on my own.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  My brothers grew older, got the driver's license, and were
blamed for every mark, dent, or scratch on the car. Later, I got my license, and refused to
drive dad's car. I was not going to be blamed for anything that happened. I walked or
biked, and gave dad no excuse to yell at me.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Christmas was always bad. Dad would be drunk on Christmas day
and have no patience for smalls boys enjoying their new toys. There would be more
fighting than laughter from my parents. When my brothers and I were older and slept late
on Christmas morning, dad would come to our room, drunk as usual, and wake us,
expecting us to get up and open our gifts. We would tell him to go sleep it
off. Perhaps he wanted to make up for the times he lost when we were smaller.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  One night, when I was a teen, he was sitting at the kitchen
table drunk. He seemed very depressed. I figured it best I went to bed. As I lay trying

to sleep, I heard the distinct sound of his shotgun being loaded. I snuck from my room

and saw him going out the door with his gun. I reached him, I grabbed the barrel,

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"Dad, no! Let me have the gun. Go to bed."

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Luckily, he did as he was told.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  I learned a lot of things from my dad: how not to treat a wife,
to make my own lunch, help with cooking and cleaning, and give my children love. He didn't
do it by example; he did it by making me aware of what is wrong. His drinking caused
a lot trouble, but all three of his boys came out of it better people.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Dad passed away in the early '90's. Mom, a strong and beautiful
woman, was freed from his abuse. My brothers and I all said, "Now mom can be free to
enjoy her life."

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  I don't hate my dad. He was my dad; he gave me life. I can't
hate him for that.

However, I am disappointed he never experienced the good things a family can
provide.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Dad, I love you. One day we will be able to meet again. I will
hug you and forgive you.
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Michael SmithFort Lee, NJ
Read my Stories at http://heartsandhumor.com/blog/

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~**~**~

~ Given Much ~

Joyce C. Lock

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? ? ? ?  When you read the scripture, "For unto whomsoever much is given, of him, much shall be required," Lu. 12:48, do you think of a pastor who walks and talks with God or a professor, abounding in knowledge??  Maybe, you think of a gospel singer, whose voice surely must be likened unto an angel, or a musician, whose hands touch the heart of God.?  Perhaps, someone, in prominent places, comes to mind; positions of prosperity, power, and such.

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? ? ? ?  But, did you count those saved from near death, those whose homes have been restored, those who've received the miracle of healing, or those saved from financial ruin?

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? ? ? ?  Did you count those with food on their table, a roof over their head, someone to love, and a pillow for their bed?

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? ? ? ?  Did you count those born, in this day and time, in a country where we still have freedoms; to consider the privilege of education and worship, to work and provide for your own, to have privacy and ownership?

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? ? ? ?  Did you count that Christ died for you, sent the Holy Spirit to be with you and in you, and gave His Holy Word that you could discover, for yourself, the truths to your rich inheritance?

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? ? ? ?  If you can consider that you've been given much, then might this verse have also been written for you?

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? ? ? ?  "And that servant, which knew his lord's will, and prepared not himself, neither did according to his will, shall be beaten with many stripes ... for unto whomsoever much is given, of him, much shall be required," Lu. 12:47-48.

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? ? ? ?  Paying very special attention to Jesus' words, you may notice He didn't say God would beat you.?  Could it be that you would've done it to yourself?

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

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Writers Feedback

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Carol,

? ? ?  Keep your faith my friend.?  God will see you through all these terrible times and you will grow stronger, better, and more loving

because of them.?  I am keeping you in my prayers.?  Wishing you every joy, Joe

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May God greatly bless you my dear Carol.?  Thank you so much for all your sharings of the writings?  and for taking time to always be there for me..God needed a special person to make others know how needed and important they are and he gave us you Carol, our Winterose.....hugs?  Leona

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I loved your story about your sister, I could feel your pain.

God Bless you,

Barbara

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How Can I Say Goodbye? By Carol Roach: Beautiful story but still sadden because of the dieing sister.?  I thought I wasn??™t going to be able to write my experience about my uniting with my biological mother and found younger brother after 35 years this year 2005.?  I should be able now after reading about Carol??™s own.?  I felt the same way Carol and her other sister felt and I am still feeling same now.?  My mother and brother look strange to me.?  Finding it hard to understand a family bond.?  Georgewaters Ojeigbe ??“ Lagos, Nigeria

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On Death and Dying by Carol Roach: I don??™t want to feel sad about this but I pray that there would be a testimony of total deliverance from the cancer itself.?  I am short of words now.?  It lies in Jehovah??™s hands now.?  Let him take control if faiths on her behalf to live still remains.?  Georgewaters Ojeigbe ??“ Lagos, Nigeria

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Prayer Requests and Updates

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Am Home,? weak and feeble as a calf, but home.? ? ?  Sugar level was 116 at noon,

a far cry from the 706 on Friday.? ? ?  Doc was elated.?  ? On Thursday night, I went? into diabetic arrest.

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? ? ?  Blood pressure was 113/78 today,? so it is well.

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? ? ? ? I was released in 3 days.? ?  Dr. said that he usually had to keep patients 5-7 days,

with numbers as high as mine, but God gave me favor.? ? ?  I had the best nurses I have ever seen.? ? ?  I praise God for my wonderful care and attention, and for Dr. Stinson.

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? ? ?  Thanks to all for your continued prayers, as I am as weak as I can be right now.

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? ?  I love all of you, Sandra

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? Prayer Requests:

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Linda, Jan, and Bud - buried their dad (my uncle) today.? ? I missed the funeral.?  :-(

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Nathan - safe trip to Orlando and return.

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Bob - healing in hip, leg; no pain.

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Soldiers - safety, in all duties; may they feel our love and support.

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? ?  Thanks to Jay and Ann for keeping everybody informed.?  They are both a

blessing.?  Thanks to Nurse Holly for keeping me strong, and informed.

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SENIOR WRITERS

Chief Writer: Sharon Bryant

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

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

Deming, Barb; Doherty, Maria; Goodier, Steve; Halley, Ellie Braun;

Harris, Kathy Anne;? Hunt, Sharlette;? 

Jacobson, Gary;? Kiser, Roger Dean; Kerens, Claudia; Jenkins, Pamela;

Liles, Norma; Lilly, Jodi Flesberg; Lock, Joyce; Mazzella, Joe;? Morris, Deepak; Ojeigbe, Georgewaters;

?  Petry, Dianna Doles; Roberts, Susan;?  Shiveley, Debra; Shaw, Bob; Sims, Richard; Streidel, Saskia; Swarner, Ken; Vaknin, Sam; Verhoeff, Jan

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

Weymouth, Barbara; Whirity, Kathy;? White, Robert;

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