Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

The newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness around the world.

May 21, 2006

Today’s announcements

Now onto the good stuff!

Today’s Mother’s Day Stories

~**~**~

Quiet Dreaming Part 2

By David Wainland

There was a lot of love crammed into that small apartment in The Bronx. Most of it emanated from my mother, a cheerful hard working type of woman that Jews refer to as a “Baleboosteh.” It served as the greatest compliment a Jewish wife and mother could receive.

“That Marion, she’s such a Baleboosteh!”

Every nationality in my neighborhood had a word that was comparable, the matriarch who did it all. She could cook, bake, clean, sew, feed and change three kids, satisfy her husband and play Mah-jongg while she hummed along with Arthur Godfrey strumming his ukulele on the Philco. 

In 1947 my father was injured loading a truck. He broke his hip and eventually developed complications. For three years he convalesced without the benefit of pay, disability or workman’s compensation. We virtually survived on the good auspices of family and friends and the few menial jobs dad could do while recovering.

Rent was a paltry $21 a month and they struggled to meet it.

Still, it was a happy three-room walkup filled with love and caring. We were poor, but well taken care of. I don’t ever remember going without. Mom could darn a sock with the best of them and adjust my outgrown pants to fit my brother Jerry so that they looked like they came off the shelf. Every outfit my sister Laurie wore came from her sewing machine and every sweater for the family from her knitting and many the nights I fell asleep to the clickety-clack of her metal needles creating another wonder.

I heard a joke many years ago, “If I had me some ham I’d have me a ham sandwich, if I had me some bread.”  Well, for a special occasion, mom could scrounge together enough money to by a tough Tom turkey and cook it until it was the tenderest bird in the world. She would serve it with roasted potatoes, greens of some kind, corn, rye bread and brown gravy.

The next day we would have sliced turkey served on two-day old rye bread covered with her velvety leftover gravy. The roasted potatoes would be mashed with butter, the greens and corn reheated.

Finally the third day; it was stale rye bread sloshed with the remains of the brown sauce dribbled with kernels of corn mixed with smashed potatoes and a side of fresh greens. There was always money for greens. That third day, that meal was my favorite and remains so till now.

“Eat up David there are people starving in Europe.” It came with a smile, a wink of a blue eye and a large dollop of crushed spuds.

Heck yes we were poor, but who knew. Mom never told us and the rest of the world never let on.

David Wainland

David @ DavidWainland.com

About Me:

I am a professional artist and metal sculptor known as Sculptoons and I’m the creator of custom tabletop items. I paint as well as cartoon. My work is displayed at art festivals in Florida.

My passion is writing and I have completed two novels, Matecumbe Key ©, about the 1935 Labor Day Hurricane and Red Absinthe ©, a murder mystery set in 1926 New Orleans. When I am not working on my art I write stories, poetry and essays about life.

I’m married and the father of two. My son passed away in July of 2003 and left behind a beautiful daughter. Just one of my three grandchildren. My daughter and her family live in New Jersey

~**~**~

Aunt June's Birthday 
by
Clara Wersterfer
cbwEST@webtv.net
 
June 15, 2006 will be a special day for
my Aunt June. She will celebrate 90 years of life. Looking at her, one
would not want to believe this fiesty, sharp tongued little woman is
that old. She's five feet tall and weighs about 100 pounds. Her hair is
almost black with very little gray. She sees and hears well.
She is active with a keen mind and
a great, kind heart.

 
Every week end, (weather permitting)
she opens her booth at the flea market.
This is very important to her. It gives her a sense of purpose.
She is constantly on the look out for things to sell, and craft items
she can make for her booth. Her wares are packed up and moved there
early on Saturday morning by one of
her sons. The unsold residue
is returned home in the evening.
She doesn't earn much
for all the work she does, but it really helps.
This money goes into her "fund." It
is not co mingled with other monies.
You see, it is earmarked for the poor
at Christmas time.
Aunt purchases as much food as she
she has money. It is then delivered to
her church where the pastor channels
it to needy families. Aunt June prays she will have enough for ten
families each year, and usually does, even if it requires
additional from her own purse. As mother to six sons, four daughters and
twelve grands, there are
always helping hands for which she
praises the Lord.

 
She doesn't work on Sunday, as she
has to attend church both morning and
night.
After the Sunday morning worship, she
stops by a different nursing home each
week to visit the sick and elderly. She
tells them of the morning church sermon and has prayer with them.

 
She has attended so many funerals, she
and the different mortuary attendents are on a first name basis.

 
Aunt loves a good joke and laughs heartily when she tells one, seeming
to remember them all. Her mind is clear and she is quick witted, most
times giving a sassy answer. A few weeks ago when it was cold she wore a
faux fur hat to
church. The pastor came up and admired
her hat. "What kind of fur is your hat?" he asked. "Don't know
Reverend," she
replied, "but it's warm fur and it's paid fur." she laughed, tongue in
cheek.

 
Perhaps Aunt's rules for living are the
reason she has achieved the age of 90,
is still able to live in her own home
to cook and care for her brother who is
83. She does things a much younger
person would do. The laundry may take her a little longer. She confesses
that she
doesn't cook like she used too, but uses a lot of "new and handy items"
She still enjoys shopping or a few days at the beach in summer,
where she's happy walking in the sand. Don't say "go" within earshot or
she will be in the car before you can get ready. Recently, she
made a nine hour trip (each way) to another state to see her
daughter's new home.

 
God has truly blessed this lady and she, in turn, has tried to pass the
blessings on.

Happy Birthday  and much love, Aunt June.
May you live to see 100!!

April 2006

~**~**~

Remembering the Plaza Theater
by Clara Wersterfer
cbwEST@webtv.net
 
"Hurry up and get dressed. Your daddy
will be home in about fifteen minutes and he will be ready to go. We
don't want to miss the start of the movie." Momma yelled from her
bedroom. Momma hated
to be late for anything. I knew she was putting the finishing touches on
her make up and patting her hair, recombing it and patting some more.
She always wanted to look her best whenever we went out. I had to change
from my play clothes into
a school dress and brush my hair. Momma came in and checked to see if I
met her approval. If I didn't look good,
Momma didn't look good. So she patted on my hair. combed it a little
more and re arranged my collar.

 
It was Friday night, the highlight of our week, when we attended the
movies.
It was our brief escape from reality.
They would select
which movie we saw and I would hope it
was showing at the Plaza.
We had four theaters in town, three of them you entered a foyer,
with concession stand and rest rooms, but the Plaza had class!. During
June, July and August the Plaza
would present the "Children's Theater"
on one Saturday each month. It was a
live performance of a fairy tale, such as Little Red Riding Hood or
Hansel and Gretel. How I looked forward to those plays! I loved fairy
tales and the Plaza.
I am still hooked on stage plays.
Dad would take me and he and other
parents would wait in the foyer until it was over to take us home.


You entered the theater
beside the ticket booth and walked down
a long hall with marble floor. There
was a set of double doors and the
next hall had red carpet. It too was long, but there were pictures on
the walls and posters of coming attractions in frames with a light
shining right on them. A
couple of straight backed chairs, unholstered in red, was placed down
this hall for folks who needed a rest.
We took our time
and stopped to see the coming attraction posters.This hallway led
to the concession stand and restrooms. We went into the restroom before
continuing. Momma didn't want to be disturbed during the movie taking me
to the bathroom, and I was not
permitted to go alone. Four steps down (with shining brass hand rails
and red velvet ropes on the steps) was a waiting area with sofas, chairs
and tables. The sofas was wonderfully soft. There were statues placed in
all the right places, paintings and photographs of movie stars on the
walls. A large fountain in the center sprayed water that was
illuminated by colored lights.
The lighting was subdued and eminated
from somewhere in the walls.. Two
ushers waited in black suits, white
shirts and bow ties.
They had flashlights in hand ready to
escort you to a seat. This was as close
to luxury as we ever saw, outside the
silver screen. We arrived a bit early
and had a seat in the "waiting room"
until the house lights came on, signifying the end of the movie. The
usher asked my father where we
wanted to sit. My dad said about midway. The usher found us good seats.

 
For the next two hours and thirty minutes we were all three lost
in another world, eyes glued to the screen, lest we miss something
important. The popcorn was
long finished and the Milk Duds eaten
when the movie ended.
"Do not throw stuff on the floor.
Take it with you for the trash can. Leave it clean for others"
admonished Momma.
I held it on my lap until we found the
trash can.
I hated for the house lights to come on
and "The End" displayed on the screen. Leaving the theater, we talked
about what we had seen and our favorite parts. Sometimes we would spot a
friend or
neighbor and stop for a chat. This was
nice as I had more time to look around
and admire the beautiful furnishing.
Mom and Dad would discuss the news reel, the movie and even the comedy
we had seen, as we drove home.
I sat in the back seat thinking how long a week was before our next
movie. Naturally, I hoped the movie we wanted to see next Friday would
be at the Plaza.
 
May 2006

~**~**~

Mother’s Day Poetry Section

~**~**~

Few And Far Between

Mary Dees

For all this time that has passed us by,

Reality drifts by like a dream.

For the time we spend as mother and daughter,

Now seems few and far between.

Our lives used to run so parallel;

We have shared so much, it’s true.

Although letting go was always something,

That was hard for me to do.

I try hard to just ensure you,

So that you won’t drift away.

Without knowing, I respect you,

For not looking the other way.

You could’ve let life keep dealing us distance,

And let me slip within reach from your heart.

But instead you discover a new method,

In which to love me from afar.

But, in retrospect, I know it,

And I’ve come to believe it’s true.

I couldn’t be the person you love,

If it hadn’t been for you.

You too are my precious friend –

My confidant, and my gift.

So even if the time we share is seldom,

At least you will know this.

The moments that we spend are sacred,

They’re essential and serene.

Even if they don’t happen as often,

Or if they are few and far between.

By Mary M. Dees

marlena7694@yahoo.com

~**~**~

  Promised Land

Mary Dees

He promised you unconditional love

And a life with him forever.

He said that he’d never leave you

And that you would always be together.

He showed you a piece of land,

His daddy gave him years ago.

He said, “This is where we’ll build our home,

And watch our children grow.”

Even though you ended up,

Living somewhere far away,

You held onto the dreams,

That he promised you that day.

As the years went swiftly by,

Hope was buried within your heart,

And only the children you were raising,

Kept you from falling apart.

You even had to mend the fence,

Because he wouldn’t help us anymore.

Eventually we found companionship,

Within our family of four.

Three different footprints,

Following from close behind;

We held on to each other’s hand,

With only contentment left to find.

Even when the money was gone,

And the road became so long,

It was your faith that cradled us;

God always made you strong.

Your willingness was endless,

And you always pulled us through.

Love couldn’t have given us a home,

If it had not been built by you.

By Mary M. Dees

marlena7694@yahoo.com

Mary M Dees resides in Ohio with her two children. She wrote her first poem at age 13 and has been writing ever since. She currently works as a hair dresser but has had a lifetime interest in poetry. She also likes to dabble in interior design.

~**~**~

Prayer Requests and Updates

Please keep Susan Robert’s husband in your prayer, he has just had major surgery.

Senior Writers

Chief writer: Sharon Bryant

                                     Chief researcher/historian: Hartson Dowd

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; Braun-Haley, Ellie; Harris, Kathy Anne; Hunt, Sharlett; Hymes, Christina; Jacobson, Gary; Kiser, Roger Dean; Kerens, Claudia; Kevin, Tim; Jenkins, Pamela; Liles, Norma; Lily Jodi Flesberg; Lock, Joyce; Marlor, Janice Bumbalough; Mazzella, Joe; Morris, Deepak; Ojeibge, 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, Gordon, K; Walsh, Sue; Weymouth, Barbara J.; Whirity, Kathy;

Wainland, David; Westerfer, Clara; White Robert;

Storytime Tapestry Staff

Carol Roach - Founder/publisher

Thelma Hartselle - Co-Founder, Moderator

Clara Westerfer – moderator

Bob Johnson - moderator