Storytelling

With more opportunity to read these days, I've given it some thought as to why I'm attracted to the type of books that are somewhat lighthearted. In doing so, I've concluded that what I like is "storytelling." I like discovering information about the characters, finding that a series of events in their lives all seem to interconnect with a much larger picture. By connecting the dots, I can eventually see the whole picture. In good story telling, the truth is actually masked until almost like magic, the truth is revealed. I suppose my enjoyment of storytelling began long ago as a child, hearing stories told by a beloved character named Uncle Remus. Writer Joel Chandler Harris, a white man, is given credit for these black folktales, but from what I've read, he only wrote what he heard when visiting a plantation, owned by his employer. White and black children then and now enjoy hearing tales of critters like Brer Fox, Brer Bear and Brer Rabbit. I would have to say ole Uncle Remus had a handle on good story telling, having some great characters,struggling in some very exciting plots, that all seemed to come together magically revealing a truth or a valuable moral lesson. At a young impressionable age, I learned quite a few lessons from this old gentleman. Now days, I do a pretty good immitation of Uncle Remus's voice and dialect. A few of his stories I know by heart, having told them so many times to my children, and now my grandchildren. I also have some pretty good stories of my own, although not quite as exciting as Brer Rabbit's tales. I'm hoping storytelling will continue on in my family so that future generations can share in beliefs, faith, traditions and folktales once told by Dee Dee.

Mermaid Spotted

Our little village has a lot to offer on its streets and back alleys. Proud to be home of the Toronto Blue Jays baseball team spring training camp, things are kept in pristine condition. You could spend hours wandering these quaint streets, where you'll find antique shops, cafes, coffee shops, restaurants and museums. The marina and pier are popular places most evenings and the most perfect place to watch for a beautiful Florida sunset. I never seem to tire of walks in these same places again and again, and nearly always see something new and unexpected. On a more recent occasion, down by the marina, I spotted a "Mermaid."

A Time To Read

Not often do we have rain all day long. We began the day listening to the bad weather reports, and learned that severe storms had caused a good bit of damage to several homes north of our area. Trees had been uprooted and roofs torn away by suspected tornadoes. The skies looked threatening, and a few palm fronds on our trees, succumbed, from the constant whipping back and forth. The forecast indicated that rain would most likely continue on throughout the day and into the night. What to do, what to do.

The time to read is anytime: no apparatus, no appointment of time and place, is necessary. It is the only art which can be practiced at any hour of the day or night, whenever the time and inclination comes, that is your time for reading, in joy or sorrow, health or illness.~Holbrook Jackson

We should read to give our souls a chance to luxuriate.~Henry Miller

A blessed companion is a book,-A book that, fitly chosen, is a lifelong friend,......a book that, at a touch, pours it's heart into our own.

~Douglas Jerrold

A Reliable Source "The Manor"

You know, there's lots of positives about this thing called blogging. I have favorite blogs that I visit each day, and all of them contribute a bit of "food for thought." I've learned to rely on certain folks, in making suggestions for movies, books, travel and recipes. From the very beginning, I found a reliable source in all such matters, from a lady who lives in an old Manor. In more recent times, I took her suggestion and purchased a book of poems by Donald Hall, titled White Apples And The Taste Of Stone. It came with a CD that was specially recorded by Hall with more than an hour of his favorite poems. Hall has a most distinctive sonorous voice and reads with a most unusual humorous style. I went on to watch him on YouTube, and found his poetry not only to my liking, but thinking him pure genius.

The Pilot Of 1918

He discovers himself on an old airfield. He thinks he was there before,

but rain has washed out the lettering of a sign. A single biplane, all

struts and wires,stands in the long grass and wildflowers.

He pulls himself into the narrow cockpit although his muscles are stiff

and sits like an egg in a nest of canvas. He sees that the machine gun has rusted. The glass over the instruments has broken, and the red arrows are gone

from his gas gauge and his altimeter.

When he looks up, his propeller is turning, although no one was there to snap it.

He lets out the throttle. The engine catches and the propeller spins into the wind. He bumps over holes in the grass, and he remembers to pull back on the

stick. He rises from the land in a high bounce which gets higher, and

suddenly he is flying again. He feels the old fear, and rising over the fields

the old gratitude. In the distance, circling in a beam of late sun like birds

migrating there are the wings of a thousand biplanes.~Donald Hall

His Name Was William

It's been quite a few years, but now and then I think back on an older gentleman friend named William. He was in his seventies when I was introduced to him, and he looked every bit his age and maybe a good bit older. He was a small man who walked with a cane. William and his wife Martha, married for over fifty years, had no children, and both devoted their years to educating other people's children, in the public school systems of Pennsylvania. Martha had been his whole life, and he missed her every single day. When she died, William went through a period of grieving that would almost end his time here on earth. When I met him, he had learned to cope quite nicely. He had settled things in his mind, and found that he could talk to Martha each evening before sleep, right after talking to the Lord. Somehow this made life okay, that, and Louis L'Amour paperback novels. I would say William had been reading these western fiction stories for years, evidenced by his bookshelves. He could tell you about each and every one of L'Amour's stories and loved to do so. One time I thumbed through a few pages of one of his beloved books, and kind of wondered what this older gentleman saw in these kinds of stories. They seemed more suited for younger boys, with childlike imaginations, encouraging the reader in adventures of the wild west. William has long ago been reunited with his sweet Martha, in heaven, but now and then something will happen that reminds me of him, and such is the case today. While reading Jan Karon's "A New Song," I came across something Louis L'Amour wrote. Listen to this...."We are finally, all wanderers in search of knowledge. Most of us hold the dream of becoming something better than we are, something larger, richer, in some way more important to the world and ourselves. Too often, the way taken is the wrong way, with too much emphasis on what we want to have, rather than what we wish to become." You know, just maybe, my old friend William may have been on to something in those books he would read. Mr. L'Amour sounds like a mighty smart man.

HE IS RISEN!

Believe and celebrate that Jesus is the living Lord and Savior.

Blooming In Time For Easter

A few days ago I brought home Tulips for Easter. This morning they have quite beautifully opened and just in time for the celebration. "Hmmmm......so pretty and again I say...God does good work!"

Easter Preparation

This is going to be a high energy day and I'm up to the task. I seem to enjoy the maddening crowd at the grocery store, and you'll always find me there at the last minute, gathering special foods for our holiday dinner. Baked ham, at the center of the affair, will be served with favorite and traditional dishes. Of course, there will be "kid friendly" foods in abundance, for the "wee folk." Well, I have lots to do, so Ill be on my way....Sending you positive thoughts today!

The Crucifixion

Behold the Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world. John 1:29

Celebrating Poetry Month

Picture Puzzle Piece by Shel Silverstien

One picture puzzle piece lying on a sidewalk,

One picture puzzle piece soakin in the rain.

It might be a button of blue on the coat of the woman

who lived in a shoe.

It might be a magical bean, or a fold in the red

velvet robe of a queen.

It might be the one little bite of the apple her

stepmother gave to Snow White.

It might be a veil of the bride or a bottle with some

evil genie inside.

It might be a small tuff of hair on the big bouncy

belly of Bo Bo the Bear.

It might be a bit of the cloke of the witch of the West as

she melted to smoke.

It might be a shadowy trace of a tear that runs down

an angel's face.

Nothing has more possibilities

Than one old wet picture puzzle piece.

You've probably heard of Shel Silverstein and quite possibly have read one of his many books. But, did you know that not only did he write children's books, he was a song writer, screenwriter, composer, cartoonist and a poet? You might know of The Giving Tree, a moving story about the love of a tree for a boy. Silverstein once talked of the difficult time he had trying to get the book published. Everybody loved it, they were touched by it, they would read it and cry and say it was beautiful. Some thought it too short. Ultimately, both adults and children embraced the book. What a legacy, thank you "Mr. Shelby" for everything. Enjoy the Shel Silverstein website at: http://www.shelsilverstein.com/