STORYTIME TAPESTRY

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

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Jan 6, 2006? 

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

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Animal awareness series endorsed by Shiloh and Hank our mascots; all stories must receive their approval.

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? Bakers Dozen

Bill Walker

wildbill6807@yahoo.com

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If you remember what a Bakers Dozen is, you have to be at least 50 years in the tooth. This has nothing to do with Ma Bakers gang of dogs. She might have a Bakers Dozen of those by now, don't know for sure..

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You would get a Bakers Dozen when you went to the bake shop, donuts, rolls, ? and cookies. That is you found? twelve plus one in your sack. If you asked for day old, you might even get twelve plus two.?  Yes they had day old. Those was made the day before, for the most part didn't look a day older then to days, but the baker wasn't a crook either. Back then you could get a Bakers Dozen for a quarter, that is day old. To days fresh might be 35 cents, maybe 50 cents. Depends on what you got in the sack.

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You stopped at Walker's Burwood Cafe, for a slice of pie, and a cup of coffee. You got pie fresh made today.?  Coffee and pie was 25 cents. Coffee cup had no bottom, that is it got refilled at least a couple times. Pie was a slice, 6 slices to a full pie.?  Oh and you got a glass of water, with out begging for it too. You got the water the second you set down at the table or counter. Some would leave a nickel or dime tip. Eat a meal for a buck and quarter, some of those would leave a dime. That dinner would run meat wise, roast beef, roast pork, pan fried chicken, ham, fish, some times liver. You had soup, or salad, potatoes, and?  chose 2 of at least 3 veggies.?  If you wanted a steak. A? mouth watering T-bone with the trimmings would cost a buck 75. ? That big spender might spring for a quarter tip. Congressman Jack always left a quarter. Waitress Rose, said next day, she found a box of Stovers with nuts by her door after Congressman Jack was in town. Eat your heart out Miss Teri.

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You would go to the local hardware store, needed a few nuts and bolts to hold something together, you would find a Bakers Dozen in the sack. There was a lot of Bakers Dozen back then. Didn't have to be the local bakery to get the Bakers Dozen.

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Folks ran a bill at Lang's fine foods.?  Dad pay the bill of 5 dollars and 32 cents for the last couple weeks. Mr. Lang would put some candy in a small sack for the kids.?  Mr. Lang would still know you when you got on your feet and was buying at Safeway, paying cash. Safeway didn't give candy away when you paid cash. Mr.Lang would, most people said he charged a couple pennies more to make up for it. He also had things on the shelf, Safeway didn't. Like cans of Gator meat. Old Gator meat from a football game.? 

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The days of Bakers Dozen is long? gone, never to return. Those of you that didn't live those times, don't know what you missed. The days of a man's word was his bond. The days of honest measure, in your favor. The days of feeling like you were welcome in the place, not someone to be a trouble. Why did that person come in the door to buy 15 cents of something, got me out of?  my easy chair? The clerk, made no difference owner, or just a employ, was happy you stopped by.?  They took your 15 cents, no tax, said thanks for coming in, please stop again. The heck of it is they did mean it too.

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There was the store keeper, if you was looking for something. He had sold the last nut and bolt of the size you needed. Didn't happen till today, but he has sold out of that one size. He will say, "sorry, I am out," nothing said about will have them next week. He will say, "try Joe's Hardware, in the next block."?  And as you leave, your going to hear. "Thanks for coming in, maybe next time I will have what you need."? 

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I would like a return of the good old days of Bakers Dozen. The days if you needed a Bakers Dozen you got twelve plus one.?  If you need only one, you could buy only one. Not like today. Need one, get a sealed? package deal of ten. What the heck am I in need of ten for beats me? And the package isn't a Bakers Dozen, twelve plus one.

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Tinker and Poo; The Boys Write

http://www.iuniverse.com/bookstore/book_detail.asp?&isbn=0-595-35741-5

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

? Boy

Michael T. Smith

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? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  I grew up a somewhat normal boy, a bit on the heavy side, very shy, and with a

very sensitive heart. With a head too large for my yet to grow body, I was often teased

with names like: Big Head, Block Head, and even Specimen Head. I had all the qualities

required to become a target for the schoolyard bullies. The few close friends I had, were

in the same category. They were drawn to me, knowing I would not allow the natural

cruelty, children contain, to surface. We were a small group, who gathered for protection

near the rear of the schoolyard, away from the taunts of others.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  I had a system to avoid the bullies who taunted me. I would use it whenever they

decided I was their target and threaten me. ???I??™m going to get you, Big Head! After

school, Pal! You??™re going to be dead meat.???

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  I would try to leave school before them, and if possible, through an alternate door.

If this was accomplished successfully, I would run as fast as I could for home. In the

privacy of my room, I would try to concentrate on my homework while forming my plan

of evasion. My plan usually required me to stay as far away from my tormentor as
possible, for at least a week. I knew most of the bullies had lower than normal IQ??™s,

and after a week they would have forgotten why they wanted to pick on me. If I could

avoid them for at least a week, they would have moved on to another poor kid.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  To my good fortune, there was a large crabapple tree across the street from the

school. This tree became my hiding spot during my week of exile. Before school began,

during lunch, and even during recess, I would hide behind it. When the bell rang, I would
dash for the school door, often running serpentine through the crowd, to reach safety.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  When my week of solitude was over, I would meekly come out of hiding and

attempt to blend into the crowd. If the bully noticed me again, he would have forgotten

me, and why he wanted to beat me up. His anger abated, I would be just plain ???Specimen

Head??? again.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  I played alone. There was comfort in my imaginary world. In winter, I would

spend a great deal of time building snowmen. They were the enemy. I was the brave

knight. With a sword from the nose of a swordfish, which I found at a local fish plant,

I would attack, and the snowman would become just a pile of snow. The maiden would

be saved from the hands of the evil villain.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  All boys find pleasure in destruction. I was no exception. If it wasn??™t a villainous

snowman, it might have been an enemy castle, who faced my wrath.?  I would spend hours

building snow castles, then stand back, and lob snow balls at them, until they were

rubble. I imagined myself a hero being carried through the streets of my homeland,

crowds of people lining the streets, cheering my heroics.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  I imagined enemy bomb raids. Snowballs were planes; power lines became my

defense line. Tossing snowballs into the air, I would watch them approach the lines.

Most times they hit and became puffs of snowy smoke and crashed to the ground, to the

cheers of my comrades. Other times, they made it through my defense lines and wrecked

havoc on my imaginary countryside.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  In the warm summer, my friends and I would spend whole days running through

the shadows of the forest. With our toy guns, we would shoot and maim each other.

Flat on the ground, we??™d pretend to be wounded, moaning or screaming for help. One of

our comrades would run up, touch our arms and yell, ???Patch!??? We??™d be healed, and head

back into battle.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  One friend??™s dad worked for the Department of Highways. He always seemed

to have a pile of fresh dirt to play in. We would build our own highways to push our

toy cars and trucks from one imaginary town to the next. Joe always seemed to be the

truck driver. The name seemed like a great name for a guy driving a truck. When we

got bored in our game, Joe would end up crashing his truck at a bend in the road. Poor

Joe suffered greatly from our imaginations.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  If we were lucky, on the day after Halloween, we would find unlit firecrackers.

Poor Joe would be blown to bits, as his mighty truck crossed a bridge made from dirt.

Those explosions were pure joy to our young hearts.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Other times, I would head into the woods with my buddy Steve and search for

small trees to climb. We??™d climb to their tops. The young trees unable to hold our

weight, would bend. We??™d begin to rock back-and-forth, until the tree broke with a

loud snap, and we were sent tumbling into the brush below. It was thrilling to sail through

the air. It never occurred to us, we could have been seriously hurt.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  One friend, Timmy, had a camp he built from spare lumber and other wood he

found. He invited me to sleepover. I was excited. It wasn??™t until later that I realized I had

never slept anywhere but my own bed before. With my blankets, comic books, and

snacks, I left my comfort zone, and headed out into the unknown.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Thirty minutes after arriving at the camp, I knew there was no way I was

going to survive the night. It was beginning to grow dark, when I had an idea. I took

one of my comic books, hid it in my bag, and claimed it had been stolen. No amount

of coaxing from Timmy could keep me in that den of thieves. I gathered my belongings

and walked home, disappointed in myself, ashamed I wasn??™t brave enough to spend

a night at the camp.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Times have changed. I have moved many times and am no longer afraid

of the little things life throws at me. I still have that imagination, but I won??™t have

to hide a comic book ever again.

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? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Michael Smith

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Michael Smith
Fort Lee, NJ
Read my Stories at http://heartsandhumor.com/blog/

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Poetry Section

~**~**~

Say Something

Bobby Harris

When you're asked to give expression

On a question in dispute,
And you feel that certain errors

And mistakes you should refute,
If your mind is rather hazy

On the subject, just be mute

Say Nothing.

Are at times your best intentions

And desires understood?
Are your motives branded evil

When you know that they are good?
Do not waste your time explaining,

Even though at times you could

Say nothing.

When it seems that you have trials

Almost more than you can bear,
And you stagger beneath the burden

That seems larger than your share,
There is one whose arm is mighty

Go to Him with all your care

Say nothing.

Like the Master who reviled not

When so shamefully reviled,
Suffer silently reproaches,

Are you not His own dear child?
To your losses and your crosses

Troubled heart, be reconciled

Say nothing.

Can you help the ones around you

By the kindly words you say?
Can you speak a word to cheer them

On their long and toilsome way?
Can you lift a heavy burden

By some gracious word today?

Say something
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Bobby Harris

Bobby1137@comcast.net

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Haiku's

Christina Hymes

1.
Patterns form
on lit stairways to heaven
falling like a pine

2.
Journey through birth
dark, timid tunnel of hell again
only to travel that road

3.
Trapped in cold, buried
filtered lungs unbreathable
crushed in my soft mind

--
Christina Hymes
CDRC Marketing Assistant
hymc0001@unf.edu

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Writers Feedback

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Thank you for the birthday wishes! I hope that 2006 is good to all of you here with Storytime Tapestry.? ?  Dianna Doles Petry

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Prayer Requests and Updates

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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; Gilbert, Robert Jr; Goodier, Steve; Halley, Ellie Braun;

Harris, Kathy Anne;? Hunt, Sharlette;? Hymes, Christina

Jacobson, Gary;? Kiser, Roger Dean; Kerens, Claudia; Kevin, Tim 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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STORYTIME TAPESTRY STAFF

Publisher: Carol Roach-founder

Moderator: Thelma Hartselle-co founder

Moderator: Clara Westerfer

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