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The Director

             

Kenneth Wayne Martin

  

© Copyright 2016 by Kenneth Wayne Martin    

Photo of part of the Prygi Golden Tablet.


When a woman receives news she’s to have a baby, she might be congratulated with praises like, ‘Congratulations on your new baby!’ or ‘You and your husband must be so happy!’

 This was not the case for my sister, Rosa Lynn, who had just found out she was pregnant for the second time. All she received was a, “Good luck, girl!”. . .

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Your Government at Work             

 

Judith Nakken 

 
© Copyright 2016 by Judith Nakken   

 
 

 

Photo of Elvis Presley's social security card.


We changed banks, after 17 years. The new-building bank right there in Marysville was anxious for our business, and made the transition as smooth as possible. Social Security, however, in its infinite wisdom in the past month, had mandated that banks could no longer fill out the transfer of direct deposit of Social Security monies as a convenience to elders. The payees now must go to the local Social Security office. No problem, thought I, and asked the new accounts girl to notarize Dale’s statement authorizing me to do the transfer of both our miniscule remittances for fifty years of mostly hard work....

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Have You Seen My False Teeth?


Paul Marion Fleetwood

© Copyright 2016 by  Paul Marion Fleetwood
 

 

Photo of a dog digging a hole..


In 1942 when I was 12 years old we lived in Gary, Texas.  Gary was half a square with the other side closed in by railroad tracks.  We moved there from Southern Missouri when my Dad became disabled and needed to catch up with the rest of the clan who were in the sawmill business....

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How I Became a Dilettante

             

Richard Franklin Bishop

  

© Copyright 2016 by Richard Franklin  Bishop      



Photo of part of the Prygi Golden Tablet.


. . . Just how does one become a dilettante? By initially pursuing a hobby until it becomes practically an obsession. I first started chasing down Phoenician inscriptions back in the early 1980's; first it was one or two inscriptions, then I began building a home-made Phoenician Dictionary which just "grew and grew." Phoenician interested me more than any other language, but don't ask me why....

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A Day Trip to Bryant             

 

Judith Nakken 

 
© Copyright 2016 by Judith Nakken   

 
 

 

Photo of Bryant store.


Come thou……One day amid the woods with me…..” 19th century poet William Cullen Bryant’s “A Summer Ramble” haunted me as I left I-5 at exit 212, Stanwood-Bryant Road, and drove east a few minutes. Bryant, Washington, elevation 171 feet, has an official census population of zero (its mailing address is Arlington,) some magnificent history, building #1 on Snohomish County’s register of historic places, and trees, trees, trees. When I reached Highway 9 I had arrived; the Bryant Store was on my left and the current end of the Centennial Trail across the road....

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Orchestra Pit Memories



William Wayne Weems
 

© 2016 by William Wayne Weems


  
Photo of a school safety patrol badge.

Jon Keller has asked me to share my memories as a Theater Nashville player in the early 1960's at the Belcourt Theater.  There aren't too many.  I was on stage during only one of their productions. Today often called the Belcourt Cinema, at that time the subject building retained many of those antique features also seen in the downtown Lowe's "Vendome" theater (since destroyed by fire). Full stage equipment for live plays could be hidden by a drop-down movie screen at need, a common feature of depression era theaters that had to be able to switch between live "vaudeville" acts and the latest Hollywood offerings....whatever bought in the crowds....

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The Incredible Story of Uncle Bob

Nicole Van Zyl

© Copyright 2015 by Nicole Van Zyl

 

Image from the dust cover of his biography "Bob Rogers - his personal story as told by Roger Williams"

This is a biography of My late grandmothers cousin.I never met him but I remember my grandmother telling me about him.

     One story I remember my grandmother telling me was during WW2, (I don't remember which battle) he was in a plane flying and they spotted the enemy on the ground beneath them.They wanted to drop a bomb to finish them off but Bob stopped them saying "these men are exhausted and wounded.They have had enough.Let's leave them alone." With that they flew away.Every single one of Uncle Bob's medals were earned....

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Drones for People 

             

Richard Franklin Bishop

  

© Copyright 2016 by Richard Franklin  Bishop      


Photo of a single person drone.

To find out more about this one person drone Click Here...

Everybody has heard of Otto Lilienthal and his attempts to fly like a bird. His fame grew as he completed 2,000 glider flights between 1891 and 1896; where he died of a broken neck on the last flight that crashed.

And no less renowned were Orville and Wilbur Wright whose heavier-than-air and powered flying machine flew in controlled flight on December 17, 1903.

But, at the rate technology is now advancing, this puts them in back the “Stone Age” as far as mechanical (and now electronic) innovation goes....

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Romance Tale



Emily Hart

© Copyright 2016 by Emily Hart   

 

It's good for a woman to be able to recognize true love and weed through the faithless, as I learned at a young age....

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The Quiet Baby



Emily Hart

© Copyright 2016 by Emily Hart   

This threshold experience profoundly affected my childhood, yet it was never spoken about.  It was as if the events were buried. 

I was five years old when my mother asked one day "Would you like to come with me to see Uncle Paul and Aunt Martha's baby?"
 

I loved babies and welcomed any chance to hold one.  I knew how to support the baby's head so it would not wobble and keep the feet covered so the baby wouldn't catch a chill. . . .

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Hosing Down Lootie Seton

 
 

James Sclater
  

 

© Copyright 2014 by  James Sclater

 

. . . .Lootie Seton was a very large, very strong man with a lot of large demons rattling around in his head. He would go into a rage more often than not, and when he did, he regularly whipped up on his daddy, his mama, his sister Ellen and even his grandmother. I’m not talking small potatoes beatings, I’m talking end up in the hospital beatings. Lootie was just plain crazy as hell and everyone was healthier by staying on his good side, if at all possible. . . .

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The Twenty-Five Dollar Miracle          

 

Judith Nakken 

 

© Copyright 2015 by Judith Nakken   
 

 

Photo of an envelope containing money.

December, 1969. Brown and cold in Spokane, Washington. Cold and frightened in the privacy of my own room, away from the teenagers. Six months sober, I’d been fired for the first time in my life at Thanksgiving. I had to draw on California’s unemployment, which was great because I’d get $53 per week and the Washington max was $42. Not so great, because the checks kept not coming. Not coming, and Christmas was....

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Succotash Summer



June Huwa Whiting

© Copyright 2015 by June Huwa Whiting
 

 

This is a (mostly) true story of growing up on the farm and being blessed (or is it cursed?) with a father who had a strong work ethic. It's the story of a bitter relationship between two sisters and a field of pinto beans.   In comparison to how hard our parents had to work on their families' farms when they were growing up, we got off easy, but being kids, we were certain no one had ever suffered to the extent we did when sent out every summer to hoe one, and only one, field of pinto beans....

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My Uncle Edd, Captain, USAAF 

             

Richard Franklin Bishop

  

© Copyright 2015 by Richard Franklin  Bishop      

Photo of Uncle Edd.

It was hot in late June of 1946. There in Kalamazoo County we were making Hay as fast as we could to beat the bad Weather conditions that we knew were coming. We had just brought a wagon-load of Hay in from the field and I, not quite 16 yet, was preparing to use our 1929 Buick “Six” to pull on the Hay rope raising forkfuls of Hay to empty the wagon. My Father, Elmer J. Bishop, was just climbing up onto the Hay load to “set” the Hay fork when my Mother called from the house saying that there was a long-distance telephone call for one “ELMER BISHOP.” He climbed down and went into the house to take the call. That’s when he learned that on Monday, 24 June 1946, his Brother, James E. Bishop, Captain, USAAF, my Uncle, had died in the line of duty in a tragic accident. He was 46 years old....

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Up, Up Over The Alps 

             

Richard Franklin Bishop

  

© Copyright 2015 by Richard Franklin  Bishop      


I was stationed at Neubiberg AFB, Munich, Germany, during 1953 while assigned to the U.S. Air Force’s 433
rd Troop Carrier Wing (shortly afterwards it was redesignated as the 317th Troop Carrier Wing). We were equipped with Fairchild C-119 twin-engined Aircraft (Flying Boxcars)....

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A Christmas Miracle 



Andrew Kuzyk

© Copyright 2015 by Andrew Kuzik



 

A husband, wife and 3 grandkids had made their usual hurried, obligatory pre-Christmas visit to the little farm where dwelt their elderly parents with their small herd of 5 chihuahuas. This was where they had grown up and had been named Pine Country Farm because of the huge pine, which topped the hill behind the farm. Through the decades the old tree had become a talisman to the old man and his wife, becoming quite a landmark in the local countryside. The couple and grandkids had fond memories over the years there, but the city hustle and bustle added more excitement to their lives, calling them away to a different type of lifestyle....

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"Gorge Bratt"

 



Onie Grosshans 

 

© Copyright 2015 by Onie Grosshans
  

 

What an interesting drawing,” I said to my five-year old niece Lora as my eyes scanned the balloon-like stick figure drawing of a baseball player in a light blue uniform with a number 5 on its chest. “Who is it,” I asked?

Sounding exasperated at my ignorance, she answered in a huffy voice, “It’s George Brett.” I smiled. I did know George Brett, the third baseman for the Kansas City Royals, but I was tickled to see Lora was captivated by him....

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Confessions of a Computer Junkie

Donal Buchanan

© 2015 by Donal Buchanan
 

I’d been wanting a computer for over thirty years. It wasn’t something I talked about or was consciously aware of, but the desire was there. I remember, back in the 1940s, seeing those ads in Astounding Science Fiction (long before it became Analog): “Own your own computer! Only $19.95!” (or something along that line). I drooled, but I never bit. I figured that all I’d get for that price was some kind of mechanical hand-calculator when I wanted UNIVAC ! Like many another poor soul, I subdued my dream and decided to live in the real world....

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Pondicherry

A French Connection

Akber Ayub 

© Copyright 2015 by Akber Ayub 


From the sunlit patio of a beachfront café Pierre Stuyvesant squinted with ice blue eyes at the shimmering Bay of Bengal in between leisurely sips of coffee. The boundless blue-green of the sea and the brilliant October sunshine combined to cast a sanguine spell on the long arrow of Gourbet Avenue that skirted the sea. Stuyvesant, on his annual visit from Paris, relaxed, soaking in the ambience—just as his predecessors did more than three centuries ago.

French settlers first arrived in Pondicherry, Southern India in 1674. Soon they established a trading port and, dictated by the volatile conditions of the day, built a fort here and later as their settlement expanded, fortified the entire town—a bulwark against Dutch and English invaders with whom they fought pitched battles on number of occasions. Amazingly, those street plans created and reconstructed by the French after the ravages of the three intervening British rules remain almost the same even today. French dreams of an Indian empire might have begun and ended at Pondicherry, but the remnants of their rule, spanning four centuries till 1954, remain to this day—more vividly than the vestiges of British rule scattered over the rest of India....

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Ode to a River

Akber Ayub 

 

© Copyright 2015 by Akber Ayub

The birds are on a high and the air is filled with their toot and tootle. Underneath, the gurgling river tries to keep pace. A willowy breeze sweeping through the bamboo groves rustles its crisp, spiky leaves, adding to the medley. The resulting symphony is magical.

Some 75 km northwest of Kochi – Kerala‘s bustling seaport in Southern India – lies the trading town of Chalakudy. And a short 5 km away flows the river that carries its name. Go another few km and you are at the Athirampally falls. Here, water gushes over a large rocky knoll in white, effervescent waves. As you get closer, you feel the wetness; then you are surrounded by a fine mist, cool and bracing against your skin.

If you are a nature lover, be here at the break of dawn – and give yourself up to the magic in the air. You’ll find yourself being led downstream, as if by an unseen force, to an enchanting spot where, the river seems to bare its soul....

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I Am Unbroken 



Andrew Kuzyk

© Copyright 2015 by Andrew Kuzyk 

 

Battling cancer has changed my life. It's safe to say that I would not be the person I am today without undergoing this beast. There isn't a day that goes by that I do not think about cancer and how fortunate I am to still be here. Today, I am driven by the strength I had to fight and survive cancer 5 times and provide inspiration for all those fighting now. Inspired from my own intense journey and other cancer warriors, I am continuing to fight the good fight....

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Pounders Beach, 1968  
 

Kirby Wright


 
 

© Copyright 2015 by Kirby Wright
 
 
 

 

I sat on the floral-print couch between my big brother, Barry, and our mother. We were waiting for Dadio to get home. Nobody talked. Barry gnashed his gum and blew a bubble. We were both in eighth grade because he’d been held back. I looked at the reflection on the glass door in the living room—we all looked worried. It was as if we were waiting for the judge to hurl a guilty verdict. I looked strange sitting between two blonds, as if I belonged to another family with my dark hair and eyes. The only times I felt connected to them was when my father was in the house, since I took after him in looks. Barry ached for his attention. I’d always wondered if my brother resented me for looking like Dadio, especially after our Moloka’i grandmother said, “Mistah Kirby’s da spittin’ image of his fathah....”

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Deer Hunting Tales 

Deer hunting in Michigan’s Lower Peninsula             

Richard Franklin Bishop   

© Copyright 2015 by Richard Franklin  Bishop      

I was raised in Michigan where it was, as the old French-Canadian Trappers would say in neighboring Québec, Canada, de rigueur (obligatory) to go Deer hunting as soon as you were old enough to get a license and big enough to “tote” a large caliber rifle or a shotgun for that purpose....

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