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Uncle
Ruble served in the Army Air Corps during World War II. Dad explained
to me that Ruble was a tail gunner on a B17 Bomber, a position that
required immense bravery and skill. He flew numerous missions over
Germany and France, facing danger every time he took to the skies.
The exact number of missions he completed is unknown to me, largely
because Dad cautioned me never to ask Uncle Ruble about "The War."
I respected that warning and avoided discussing his wartime
experiences, which are explained further in this story. . . .
It stood along the edge of the path, just before the turn where the pavement curved out of sight. Not set apart from anything, not marked by a sign or placed to be noticed. It was simply there, in the same position it had always been.
|
Criminals Ronnie Dee
(c) Copyright 2026 by Ronnie Dee
|
|
One
night we were out stealing spinner hubcaps and Dan was getting some
off of a car in the driveway next to a house. It was a noisy
occupation and a lady came out on the front porch and asked, "What
are you doing?"
Dan answered, "I'm stealing these hubcaps."
She chastised, "You better stop that."
Dan says, "No. Not till I get 'em all."
She warns, "I'll call the police."
Dan counters with, "Go ahead. We'll be gone by the time they get here.". . .
More...
Sleeping AroundDeon Matzen (c) Copyright 2025 by Deon Matzen  |
 Photo by Matthew Ang at Pexels. |
. . . .Last
night my husband and I slept under the stars for the umpteenth time
in our lives. It is summer and this summer it's really summer. Living
in western Washington, summer is an iffy thing. Usually three
out of four Fourth of Julys it rains, which is better than having
brush fires start from carelessly fired fireworks. This summer the
days are dry and temperatures are in the seventies. Nights are in
the low to mid fifties. It is clear. Since we live in the
countryside, we can run around outside in the all together. (Maybe
this is X rated.) We can also sleep outside. . . .
|
My
First Kentucky Derby Ronnie Dee (c) Copyright 2026 by Ronnie Dee
|
 Kauai King and Don Brumfield in the winners circle 1966 Kentucky Derby. Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons |
My
first remembrance of the Kentucky Derby was in 1948. I was nine years
old and I became aware of the race by listening to the radio and
reading the sports pages of the Courier Journal. I was already a
sports fan and was fascinated with baseball box scores, as I still
am, when I noticed the articles about the great horse race coming up
right here in Louisville, Kentucky. . . .
More...
The City That Never Tells You EverythingA Personal EssayKainat Hamza Shaikh (c) Copyright 2026 by Kainat Hamza Shaikh  |
 Photo by MADDCREATOR PHOTOGRAPHY at Pexels |
Everyone
who has never been to Pune imagines it a certain way -- a clean,
progressive city of colleges and MNCs, of pleasant weather and easy
living. The kind of city that is always described as "up and
coming." I know this version of Pune well. I was born into it. I
have walked its roads at noon when the jacaranda trees scatter purple
on the pavement, and I have eaten vada pav at corners so familiar I
could find them with my eyes closed. But I also know the other Pune --
the one that breathes differently after midnight, the one that holds
its stories close and releases them only in whispers. This is that
Pune. . . .
|
Tail Gunner - WW II
James L. Cowles(c) Copyright 2026 by James L. Cowles 
|
 B-17 photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons |
One
of the most devout and honest men I have ever known, was my Uncle
Ruble Cowles, of Brownsville, Kentucky. He was certainly one of my
favorite uncles, and between Mom and Dad, I had nine of them.
The Water BarrelWhere Innocence Drowns With WormsRadia Benmenni (c) Copyright 2026 by Radia Benmenni  |
 Photo by sippakorn-yamkasikorn at Pexels. |
Dusty
alleyways smelled of mud after rain.. Sun bathed house walls in gold
each morning. I was a nine year old child. The world felt
limitless. Life lasted until my grandmother called, "Come,
sweety.. lunch is ready."
Yet
I wasn't that sweet. I was no princess kind of girl. I didn't
know fear. I held dirt with my hands, chased butterflies and bees
until breathless, and turned over stones for secrets. . . ants carrying
crumbs.. . black beetles shining and digging for worms within earth. . . .
Go For GopherLillian Kruzsely (c) Copyright 2026 by Lillian Kruzsely |
 Photo courtesy of the author. |
Remember
the Kenny Loggins song from the movie Caddyshack? How did it go
again? Something along the lines of... I'm alright, nobody needs to
worry about me. Why do you have to give me a fight? Can't you just
let it be?
So
you were not expecting me to start this article by paraphrasing Kenny
Loggins, but here we are. . . .
Heads Up!Lola Spencer (c) Copyright 2026 by Lola Spencer |
 Photo by Tumwinekenneth at Wikimedia Commons. |
Many
people think that zoo animals are pets; let me say right here, such
thinking is a serious mistake. Unfortunately, some of the zoo animals
have been treated that way, even by staff who should know better.
Exotic animals that have been hand raised or treated as pets often do
not learn how to interact with their own kind. If you are trying to
save endangered species by breeding them, you need them to learn
correct species behaviors. That is the reason most zoos don't
want the animals tamed. However, most people have watched a lot of tv
shows and videos that give them the opposite impression. . . .
More...
|
Funny
Thoughts
|
 Photo by James-Anthony at Pexels |
(April
28, 2026--
Richard,
I loved going to Churchill Downs and have been to the Derby a
couple of times. My Uncle Kenny had a box on the homestretch
and
I went with him a lot. I loved betting and in the old days, Derby Eve
was for the locals. We even got off half a day if we wanted to
go to the track. That was great. Unfortunately, I don't get
around so good any more and so I don't bet either. It
is
too much hassle to bet online, so I just try to pick a Derby horse
for fun. My last was Mage in 2023. I do love the Derby and
all
that leads up to it. Do you have a Derby horse yet? I like
Renegade, and the No.1 post may chase some bettors away, but I don't
think it will too bad for him.--Ronnie)
I
wonder what is wrong with people. I am thinking all of the time and I
assume that everyone else does too. But what are they thinking?
Certainly not anything funny. I mean, when was the last time you saw
a solitary person laughing. Just all by themself, laughing. I'll bet
it's been a while. Hell, I do it all of the time. I guess
people
think I am nuts, but it doesn't much matter what strangers think of
me. . . .
Summer CampScott Kraverath (c) Copyright 2026 by Scott Kraverath |
 |
I'd
seen him fall, that was true, from the big green rusty steel
fifty-gallon drum-turned trash can that we were all taking turns
staying atop while rolling it under our feet like Canadian
lumberjacks. That he had been injured, though, I didn't notice.
He wasn't a popular kid, to be sure, but even if he were I'm
still not convinced that I would have realized that anything was out
of the ordinary. Kids fall all the time; it is a fact of life, a
circumstance of our early existence when joints are made of rubber
and our bones of green, flexible wood. A two--foot fall, and he got up
and slunk away . . . who's up next? . . .
More....
Fear
sent cold fingers squeezing through my stomach. I glanced to my left
and beheld it--a giant, hideous creature, moving with a liquid
stealth as it prepared to strike.
That's me: sweet, sure, but with a cunning streak. Stubborn as a goat, always chasing change in my own peculiar way. I'd refused to go to church that morning, planting myself defiantly beside the old tyre in the yard. Then. . .boom. A cobra decided it wanted to play kissy with my leg. . . .
Snake In The HouseKumbirai Viola Mbavarira Copyright (c) 2026 by Kumbirai Viola Mbavarira |
 Photo by Marathekedar93 at Wikipedia Commons. |
That's me: sweet, sure, but with a cunning streak. Stubborn as a goat, always chasing change in my own peculiar way. I'd refused to go to church that morning, planting myself defiantly beside the old tyre in the yard. Then. . .boom. A cobra decided it wanted to play kissy with my leg. . . .
CaughtArianna Fobbs (c) Copyright 2026 by Arianna Fobbs |
 Photo © 2026 by the author. |
All
was serene on the bright summer day, clouds lazily drifted, and the
sun was bright in the sky. Most adults were at work, and kids had
already left on yellow school buses for their last weeks of school.
It was not a sweltering summer hot day yet since it was the morning,
and the sun just woke up in the sky a few hours ago. I pulled up to a
little park in my car, and grabbed my beach site testing
forms.
This is the place I murmured to myself. Finally I had to turn around
once already. As I get out I try not to be too hard on myself. Beach Site
1# is a small park with one tree and a trash can in between houses. I
grab a cardboard water testing sign with stakes, and decide to put it
next to the nice sized park oak tree for good visibility. . . .
More...
|
The
Handicapper Caper
|
Photo by James-Anthony at Pexels |
(April 28, 2026--
Richard,
I loved going to Churchill Downs and have been to the Derby a
couple of times. My Uncle Kenny had a box on the homestretch and
I went with him a lot. I loved betting and in the old days, Derby Eve
was for the locals. We even got off half a day if we wanted to
go to the track. That was great. Unfortunately, I don't get
around so good any more and so I don't bet either. It is
too much hassle to bet online, so I just try to pick a Derby horse
for fun. My last was Mage in 2023. I do love the Derby and all
that leads up to it. Do you have a Derby horse yet? I like
Renegade, and the No.1 post may chase some bettors away, but I don't
think it will too bad for him.--Ronnie)
Back
in the 1960's or 70's, Winn-Dixie grocery stores sponsored a syndicated TV show
called, "Let's Go To the Races". It was broadcast every Saturday around
6:00. It was very popular because you could win money. Winn-Dixie
grocery stores gave out these tickets to every shopper which contained
the numbers for that week's races. There were five races each program,
and if you had a winner, you could collect up to $250. Of
course most actual winners won $2 to $5. But $5 back then was enough to
buy quite a few groceries. . . .
The Double-Diamond MistakeFredrick Hudgin (c) Copyright 2026 by Fredrick Hudgin |
 Photo by Bao zi on Unsplash |
It
was 1983, and I loved to ski. My wife had introduced me to skiing,
and we often went to the ski resorts around Lake Tahoe. It was about
a three-hour drive from our home in a San Francisco suburb to Tahoe.
We would drive out Friday night, get a hotel room for two nights,
spend all day Saturday and Sunday skiing at one of the resorts around
the lake. The views from the mountains as we skied down the various
manicured slopes were phenomenal. . . .
KinJill Sisson (c) Copyright 2026 by Jill Sisson |
 Photo by Yathin S Krishnappa at Wikimedia Commons. |
It's
past noon when I stroll into the oak-pine woodland. The mountain air
is warm, the forest duff muffling my footsteps. This is where I'll
sit for a spell.
It's
easy to make myself comfortable on the forgiving ground. I gaze up at
a labyrinth of limbs, some green with life, others death-hollowed
silver and white, all backed by scraps of cloudless blue.
Interrupting my reverie, crisp rustles ripple the air. I quickly spot the source: a pair of buff-brown ground squirrels
clambering among the branches. . . .
Change Of PerspectiveLaura Steidl (c) Copyright 2026 by Laura Steidl |
 Photo by Andrew Cannizzaro at Wikimedia Commons. |
Shrill
squawks of distress interrupted our picnic-style lunch of hot dogs
and potato salad that my husband, Bill, and I were enjoying at our
kitchen table. The open windows in the room put us in the path of a
warm May breeze meandering through the house. At times the breeze
gently rustled our hair and attempted to steal our napkins with
flirtatious gusts. The air carried a pleasant smell of sweet grass
and rich earth.
"It
sounds like the birds are going crazy out there. How dare something
disrupt our lazy peaceful day. What do you think is wrong?" I
asked. . . .
| When
Hunger Draws Near Faiza Abid (c) Copyright 2026 by Faiza Abid |
 Painting by Anton_Mauve_at Wikiamedia Commons. |
That
winter, the snow was more than a season; it was a vast, white
erasure. It swallowed the slopes, the stone markers, and the familiar
trails I once navigated by instinct alone. The world had fallen into
a silence that didn't feel like peace--it felt like a held breath.
I led the flock out anyway. They were restless with hunger, and I harbored a thin hope of finding a patch of yellowed grass spared by the gale. The air was a blade against my skin, and with every step, the drifts pulled at my boots, trying to claim me. I remember the weight of my coat, the rhythmic crunch of ice, and the way I began to listen with my whole body. . . .
|
Mischief
And Games
|
 Image by free stock photos from www.picjumbo.com from Pixabay |
Mrs.
Downs was the neighborhood "mom." When my friend
Dumpy moved away, the Downs family moved in. They lived on the corner
and we lived on the side street right behind them. There were eight
of them: Mr. and Mrs., Granny and five children. Well, there was only
one actual child, Kenny, who was my age. The others were all older.
Their house, especially the kitchen, was the unofficial gathering
place for neighborhood kids. Mrs Downs loved all of us and we sought
her advice and comfort often. . . .
| The
Salt In Her Blood Ayesha Mansoor (c) Copyright 2026 by Ayesha Mansoor  |
 Photo by Marlon Alves at Pexels. |
Chapter
one: The Birth
Most maps ignored the colony.
Built around Halcyon Station, a British research facility, this unsaid community sat on the boundary of a frozen coast in East Antarctica. Prefab homes tinted rust-red, a medical unit whose walls were stained over decades of hopelessness, a chapel no one visited but to keep emergency food, and a weather tower moaned like a dying animal in violent gusts. . . .
Most maps ignored the colony.
Built around Halcyon Station, a British research facility, this unsaid community sat on the boundary of a frozen coast in East Antarctica. Prefab homes tinted rust-red, a medical unit whose walls were stained over decades of hopelessness, a chapel no one visited but to keep emergency food, and a weather tower moaned like a dying animal in violent gusts. . . .
CrunkAlvin Wang (c) Copyright 2026 by Alvin Wang |
 Image by Helmut Er from Pixabay |
This
strange new word is used either as a noun or an adjective. In either
case, the origin of 'crunk' is only partially known and
its distant etymological roots have yet to be uncovered. . . .
There's A Monkey On My BackAlvin Wang (c) Copyright 2026 by Alvin Wang |
 Graphic from a 14th Century Book of Hours in public domain. |
The
origin of this quirky phrase is contested. Nowadays, to have a 'monkey on one's back' means that you are
experiencing a vexing, difficult problem. In the 1930s, the phrase
referred specifically to having a bad habit like drug addiction or
chain smoking. Back in the 1860s, 'having a roof on one's
back' referred to a house mortgage. The notion of having
something 'on the back' soon meant anything that was
burdensome -- like a drug addiction. To kick an
addiction or smoking habit meant that you got the monkey off your
back. . . .
The Bench That StayedDiyora Kabilova (c) Copyright 2026 by Diyora Kabilova |
 Photo by David Kiribwa on Unsplash |
It stood along the edge of the path, just before the turn where the pavement curved out of sight. Not set apart from anything, not marked by a sign or placed to be noticed. It was simply there, in the same position it had always been.
The
paint had worn down unevenly across its surface. In some places, the
color still held; in others, it had thinned enough to show the
material beneath. The wood along the seat had been smoothed by use,
not polished, just worn into a shape that no longer felt new.
|
The Truth Review
James L. Cowles(c) Copyright 2026 by James L. Cowles
|
 Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash |
It
is said you will see your entire life pass before your eyes at the
very end. Perhaps it is because I search for things about which to
write, that I believe I have already reviewed my life, over and over,
so at first thought, such a review doesn't bother me. However, this
is a subject that deserves further thought from every person,
especially writers. Whether you write truth or fiction, you probably
use anecdotes to tell stories, and sometimes, mostly all the time,
you may add to it a bit to make it more interesting. . . .
| The
First Thing We Buried Sofia Platias (c) Copyright 2026 Sofia Platias |
 Photo by Ideli Dalva Ferrari on Unsplash |
This
is based off a true story that happened with me and my friends when
we were young. . . .
More...
|
Becoming
My Dad
|
 Photo of the author. |
Dad,
as you know, when I was growing up, my goal in life was to play
center field for the New York Yankees. When I realized that
athletically I didn’t possess the gifts to accomplish that
dream, I thought about being a disc jockey on the radio. . . .
|
The
Handkerchief In My Father's Pocket
|
 Photo by Abedal Baset at Pexels. |
My
father never left home without a handkerchief.
It was always freshly washed, neatly folded, and placed in his pocket with quiet care. As a child, I thought it was simply an old-fashioned habit. To my father, it was part of being a gentleman. A man, he believed, ought to be prepared, respectful, and mindful of others. He taught his children the same lesson: carry a handkerchief, stand straight, and never move through the world carelessly. . . .
It was always freshly washed, neatly folded, and placed in his pocket with quiet care. As a child, I thought it was simply an old-fashioned habit. To my father, it was part of being a gentleman. A man, he believed, ought to be prepared, respectful, and mindful of others. He taught his children the same lesson: carry a handkerchief, stand straight, and never move through the world carelessly. . . .
| The
Sentinel Of The South End Ginny Brown © Copyright 2026 |
 Photo by Tim Wilson at Unsplash. |
The View From Lisa's WindowLisa Epple (c) Copyright 2026 by Lisa Epple |
 Photo by Diana Roberts at Pixabay. |
. . . .The
most frequent, and most entertaining, visitors to our yard are the
deer. White-tailed deer are nervous and skittish, tending to stay
constantly on the move, snatching a mouthful of grass or having a
quick nibble at a flowering shrub as they go along their way. But the
ones who live in this subdivision have found a pleasant sanctuary on
our not-quite-six acres in rural Virginia. . . .
Travel Notes From A NoviceMarielle Guth (c) Copyright 2026 by Marielle Guth |
 Photo of pool at Hotel Luz courtesy of Wikimedia Commons. |
It
was the middle of last summer that I hit "submit" on the
Chestnut Review workshop application with the same energy I use when
I agree to plans I know I'll panic about later. Truly, I had no
idea what I was signing up for. I was a full-on retreat virgin. Was I
even qualified to be there? A book of poems published in another
country (in another language!) and a half-formed novel that mostly
lived in my Word app didn’t exactly scream literary
powerhouse. . . .
The BirdsHannah Lee (c) Copyright 2026 by Hannah Lee |
 Photo by Lan Lin on Unsplash |
In
my childhood home, during the third week of the fifth grade, I
watched a pair of birds slowly build its nest in the upper right
crook of my front porch. Small, restless, and hardly more than a
flicker against the edge of the roof, they flew in and out in
uncertain bursts. I saw them every morning and every night. Landing,
leaving, and returning again with something thin and frail between
its beaks: A strand of grass, a piece of string, a fragile twig.
Their nest slowly began to grow, crowding the space between the two
walls. . . .
Buck UpJonathan White (c) Copyright 2026 by Jonathan White |
 Photo by Doncoombez on Unsplash |
Japan's
got a suicide forest. I'd bet that it looks a lot like this one right
here.
The wife said that I've gotta get out more for personal time. I'm gonna go crazy if I keep going like this. This is all I've got though. Two jobs, plasma center, cooking, cleaning, kids. The sun's not even up yet, still a few inches of snow in these hills, fog's so thick I can barely see my feet, and this wind is starting to get to me, but it's the only time that I've got for "me time." . . .
The wife said that I've gotta get out more for personal time. I'm gonna go crazy if I keep going like this. This is all I've got though. Two jobs, plasma center, cooking, cleaning, kids. The sun's not even up yet, still a few inches of snow in these hills, fog's so thick I can barely see my feet, and this wind is starting to get to me, but it's the only time that I've got for "me time." . . .
| Kindness
Is Not Always Returned Elena Tretvachenko (c) Copyright 2026 by Elena Tretvachenko |
 Photo by Dan Edge on Unsplash |
I
had a brilliant student, Anna. She had been playing the piano since
the age of two, and that year she was already performing with an
orchestra on a big stage. I went to her house to teach her English
through games and simple conversations. Over time I became part of
the family, and I grew close to them. . . .
| The
Tiger And The Milky Way Matteo Preabianca (c) Copyright 2026 by Matteo Preabianca |
 Photo by Sriyantha12003 at Wikimedia Commons. |
Tiger
Canyon, South
Africa
I was there, standing on a balcony in the middle of the Karoo, and I could not hear a single human sound. No traffic. No airplane. No distant radio. Just wind rubbing its hands over dry stone and thornbush. That was the first thing I noticed after the six-hour drive from Gqeberha: the silence. It was so complete that my ears rang.
| The
Tenure Of The Displaced Ginny Brown (c) Copyright 2026 |
 Drawing (c) 2026 by Ginny Brown. |
. . . .I
took the job expecting the steady, muted dignity of a courtroom
drama--mahogany desks, leather-bound archives, and the hushed
hum of justice being assembled like clockwork. I assumed, with a
quiet arrogance, that my life might finally fall into place the way
it does in movies: purposeful, orderly, framed in warm light.
| The
Oldest Baby In Town Oleg Daugovish (c) Copyright 2026 by Oleg Daugovish |
 Image by Petr Ganaj from Pixabay |
At
thirteen, I'm the oldest Baby in town. A gray-feathered senior
by canary standards.
My life could have ended in thirteen days. The first memory after the egg shell cracking was of sunlight blinding my sticky eyes and three hungry beaks snapping and screeching from above. My brothers pushed me down every time mom coughed up the yellow puree. Already a skeleton of a chick, I got nothing. Dad jumped around tilting his bald head, surprised that mom wouldn't want to mate. After avoiding his advances and stuffing the insatiable throats for a moment of calm she'd shut her brown eyes and sit on the edge of the perch swaying in a trance. I was so afraid she wouldn't wake up. . . .
More...
The Long White ExitMeghan E. Brown (c) Copyright 2026 by Meghan E. Brown |
 Photo courtesy of the author. |
We did not begin our hike out of Assiniboine in a panic.
That
is important, because fear always looks neater in memory than it does
in life. In life, it arrives in pieces. First as inconvenience. Then
as uncertainty. Then as the slow, unmistakable understanding that you
are very far from help, the weather is changing, the trail has
vanished, and something large enough to kill you may already know
exactly where you are. . . .
The Wonderland TrailMorf Morford (c) Copyright 2026 by Morf Morford |
 Photo by the author. |
The
Wonderland Trail is a trail that goes around, at approximately
mid-point, (most of the time) Mount Rainier.
It is about 93 miles long and traverses glaciers, rivers, crevasses, wetlands and, of course, stunning alpine views. And is an active volcano. . . .
It is about 93 miles long and traverses glaciers, rivers, crevasses, wetlands and, of course, stunning alpine views. And is an active volcano. . . .
More...
|
Dump-Trucks And Eyesores
James L. Cowles(c) Copyright 2026 by James L. Cowles
|
 Photo of Danny courtesy of the author. |
Randall
lived almost directly across the street from our house, with his
family. Just like me, he had three sisters, but he was the oldest, while I was the youngest. His sister's
names were Arlene, Helen and Bonnie. Arlene and I were the same age,
and when we were in the first grade, our parents put us together to
walk about five blocks or so, to James Russell Lowell elementary
school. I didn't care about that very much, and when we were
out of sight of our houses, I would let go of her hand and try to
ignore her, sometimes running on ahead. She fought dirty, threatening
to have her brother give me a lesson in what for. . . .
|
Down
At The Ox And Bull
|
 Photo by Aconitum on Unsplash |
I
had noticed here lately, that due to my sedentary lifestyle since my
retirement, my legs seemed to be getting a little weaker. I tired
more easily than I once did and I just didn't have that same old
pizzazz. . . .
Riding The Rails With JackMorf Morford (c) Copyright 2026 by Morf Morford |
 Photo by ConfinedRiley at Pexels. |
I
have encountered more than my share of memorable and colorful
characters, but few were as visible as Jack Falk.
Jack died a few years ago, but up until then, he could be seen around my town with his pin-wheel, flag and pom-pom festooned bicycle (those who looked closer might see clocks, televisions and various other bright or vibrantly moving parts not usually found on a bicycle). . . .
|
Friends
And Neighbors
|
 Image by Carolyn Booth from Pixabay |
My
next door neighbors, Randy and his younger brother, Ray were always
in trouble. I think Randy was a psychopath. His view of crime was:
there is nothing wrong with it as long as you don't get caught. The
police knew them as well as me. One humorous incident happened one
night about 2:00 am after Randy and I had been out stealing hubcaps.
I had just about gone to sleep when there was a pounding on the door.
I could see immediately that it was the police. . . .
Musical EncountersGalina Barashka (c) Copyright 2026 by Galina Barashka |
 Photo by Gundula Vogel at Pexels. |
. . . .I
don't know when exactly I came up with the idea that I should become
a writer. Maybe after several desired professions I didn't have the
talent or the skills for. My outcasting of the school choir due to a
tiny mishap put an end to my singing career. I couldn't become a
teacher because I wasn't able to choose what discipline to teach. As
to the astronaut's ambition - after one week of eating food
that came out of a tube, my stomach said "enough". So, I
chose something less stressful for me and the people around me. A
writing career. . . .
A Boy, His Cat, And A Lady Doctor In AfricaJackie Greenwood (c) Copyright 2026 by Jackie Greenwood
|  The author doing surgery in Africa. Photo by JEG. |
Like
so many young girls, when I was eight years old, I declared to the
world that I wanted to be a veterinarian. Then, came the TV show "Daktari" about an animal doctor in South Africa. This
became the second part of my dream; to travel to Africa, or at the
very least, becoming a zoo vet. . . .
I Am A SwimmerJackie Greenwood (c) Copyright 2026 by Jackie Greenwood |
 Photo by Diogo Miranda at Pexels. |
I
am a swimmer. Any body of water calls me--pool, lake, river,
ocean--I’ve jumped into all of them. At our cottage I tow a
canoe, often with a dog as lifeguard, and swim until I’m tired
despite knowing that beavers, bears, even snakes may cross my path.
I have
a brother in the Bahamas and love to swim the beach in front of his
house. My nephews, who are experienced divers, have warned me about
sharks. I swim parallel to shore, my right hand grazing the bottom
with each stroke so I can throw sand in the shark's eye before I
punch him in the nose. That's what they've told me to do, and I
believed them. . . .
More...
|
Those Were The Days
James L. Cowles(c) Copyright 2026 by James L. Cowles
|
 PPhoto courtesy of the author. |
By
the time I was twenty-three, I was married and already had two little
ones who had captured my heart. I wanted to give them the world,
which meant providing for their every need and desire in life. I was
intent on providing them with all the things I never had. That’s
what a father does; he lives vicariously through his children.
Everyone who becomes a father dreams of their children having a
wonderful and very successful life. Maybe my little girl would be a
Miss America, and my little boy, a major league baseball player.
Meanwhile, I just wanted to make them happy. . . .
FandancerFrom Swiftwater Valley StoriesJoseph Kantor (c) Copyright 2026 by Joseph Kantor |
 Photo by Eugene Golovesov at Pexels |
In
the Swiftwater Valley near the town of Friendship, the great ladies
sit in choir-like tiers with swooping branches like fine draperies
arrayed from the mountain tops to the riverbank. They move in the
wind like strutting torch singers, dipping trailing sequined shawls
and feathery boas into. . .and reflected by. . .the water. Some
were eighty feet tall or more, bending and twisting harrowingly. . . .
Are You Death?From Swiftwater Valley StoriesJoseph Kantor (c) Copyright 2026 by Joseph Kantor |
 Image by congerdesign from Pixabay |
The
sound..."nuh,gnuh,gnuh,gnuh"...a mix of
moaning, growl, and the grinding of teeth, got louder as I strode
down the hallway toward the nurses’ station. Fifteen silent
elderly men and women sat staring at a pablum-spewing television
tucked into an alcove.
The sixteenth person, a delicate, bird like woman sat perfectly still in her wheelchair backed against a wall, only her mouth moving with the incessant sound of her voice. She wore an immaculate navy-blue dress dotted with tiny periwinkles, lace collar and cuffs completing her ensemble. I had not seen her before.
A Winter Visit to Dundurn Castle National Historic SiteIngrid Carlaw (c) Copyright 2026 by Ingrid Carlaw |
 Photo courtesy of the Archives of Ontario at Wikimedia Commons. |
I
recently visited Dundurn Castle National Historic Site in Hamilton,
Ontario, and from the moment I arrived, it felt as though I was
stepping into a world suspended in time. The quiet presence of the
estate, combined with its layered history, immediately invited
reflection. . . .
|
nd
Don't Come Back
|
It
is a fact that music, or the playing of it, changed my life
completely. It gave me a great deal of confidence and much
joy.
One of the best things it did was to entice Donna's
sister Beverly,
to become a fan of my music and a close personal friend. She invited
me to her parent's house for Thanksgiving one year and while there I
met Donna Sue. At first, it was no big deal. I thought she was
gorgeous, but obviously out of my league. . . .
The Red Pulse Of Tsavo: A Calculus Of the UnseenMartin Willis (c) Copyright 2026 by Martin Willis |
 Photo owned and shared by the author. |
The
earth in Tsavo is not just holding in heat, but is cold enough to
produce blood on the surface of the planet. By the late afternoon,
everything in the park is a very deep, oxidised reddish-brown; the
park's famous "red dust" has coated every acacia leaf,
every blade of parched grass, and the skins of the elephants that
roam these vast, semi-arid plains. This is a landscape of extremes,
where the Yatta Plateau is the longest lava flow on Earth and appears
as a blackened, ancient rib skull (or backbone) stretching across the
horizon. This is a witness from a different time into a million years
of predator and prey. Being in the heart of Tsavo at dusk is to feel
the weight of a wilderness that is not only indifferent but has
existed for so long as to have forgotten your very existence
completely. . . .
The Bonneville BearTim McCarty (c) Copyright 2026 by Tim McCarty |
 Paw prints on tailgate. Photo by the author. |
My
name is Tim and my wife, Jan, and I lived most of our lives in
Alaska. My wife was born and raised in Alaska. I spent about 12
years in Montana before moving to Alaska where I felt I had finally
found home! We both loved our lifestyle, our work and had never
really considered leaving Alaska, until my father passed and my
mother needed a little help. Unfortunately, she and my father had
been retired and living in NW Florida for many years so,
transplanting her from NW Florida to SE Alaska did not work as well
as we had hoped. . . .
HerneFrom Swiftwater Valley StoriesJoseph Kantor (c) Copyright 2026 by Joseph Kantor |
 Image courtesy of Freepik Spaces |
I
saw him on a clear, cold October night bedazzled with crisp stars and
a gleaming sliver of white moon in the sky.
I
drove my antique Lincoln Continental across the acre of hardened
ground between the road and the back door of my farmhouse. The
headlights of the car bounced over the wavy lawn. . .an old
pasture really. . .and danced on the white side of the house until
the sensor lights above the back porch blazed alight. The other three
acres of property remained dim or completely dark. . . .
|
Harry S. Truman
1884--1972
Give 'em Hell Harry! The buck stops here. Dale Fehringer (c) Copyright 2026 by Dale Fehringer |
|
Born
May 8, 1884, Harry S Truman ("S") was his middle name) led
a sheltered childhood in rural Missouri. His poor eyesight required
thick glasses and limited his physical activities, and he spent much
of his free time reading and playing the piano. After graduating
from high school in Independence, he attended business college for
one semester, dropped out because of lack of money, and worked in a
mailroom, as a timekeeper on a railroad crew, and on his family farm.
He joined the Missouri National Guard and served six years as a
clerk, managing records, correspondence, and personnel data. He was
discharged as a corporal in 1906 and went back to the farm. He
seemed destined for a secluded life. . . .
Don'tFred Cheney (c) Copyright 2026 by Fred Cheney |
 Photo by Annaëlle Quionquion: at Pexels. |
I
sat on the bench, absently watching the cars at the traffic light. I
kept going over in my mind the events of the last half hour.
I
hadn't gone into Marty's Music-Mart with the idea of stealing a CD. I
had just wanted to fill some time while my mother and sister picked
out dresses for a wedding the next day. So in I went. I wasn't even
thinking about any particular music. I was just filling some time,
and then it caught my eye: "Reckless Kelly Was Here.". . .
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Some
People
|
I've known a lot of different people in my life and some of them thought they were real tough guys. Most of them weren't tough at all, and some were just bullies. But I knew a few legitimate tough guys back in the seventies.
The Bees That Saved My GardenToya L. Walker (c) Copyright 2026 by Toya L. Walker |
 Photo by Ruslan Sikunov on Unsplash |
When
I first planted my garden, I thought I was the one doing the work. I
imagined the rows of collard greens, beets, and watermelons standing
tall under my care, my hands shaping the soil, my attention coaxing
life from the earth. But I was wrong. It wasn't me alone. It
was the bees. The humming, buzzing, dancing bees that arrived long
before I understood their importance, and that quietly demanded I
change how I saw the world. . . .
More...
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Odds amd Ends
James L. Cowles(c) Copyright 2026 by James L. Cowles
|
 Photo by Warwick Brooke at Wikimedia Commons. |
| Bears
And Rumours Of Bears Zane Fanning (c) Copyright 2025 by Zane Fanning |
 Photo coutesy of Wikimedia Commons. |
. . . .Environmental
concerns were little more than an afterthought in the early 1960s,
and garbage was simply burned, buried, tossed over a hill, or thrown
from a car window. In rural society, if a designated dump wasn't
conveniently close, new ones were cultivated like garden plots.
Typically, these junkyard nurseries sprang up in old gravel pits or
in hollows along neglected roads. All it took was a discarded fridge,
a car body, and a few empty cans to get one started. Before long,
others added to the mix, and an unofficial landfill would soon
blossom. Broken glass, dead batteries, nail-infested wood, and
expired medications were accepted without question. Civil and Human
Rights were still on the drawing board, but when it came to garbage,
there was no discrimination. . . .
|
Characters In My Play
James L. Cowles(c) Copyright 2026 by James L. Cowles
|
 Image by Monica Volpin from Pixabay |
"Memory,"
is a wonderful thing. We tend to appreciate it more as we get older,
and at my age, I am thankful I still have it. After all, almost every
story I write is about my life, and those who have touched it, and I
need a good memory.
Each of us runs into many people in our life experience. I see them as "actors," "characters" who step on and off our stage to become a part of our theatrical support during our brief stay on this earth. I am not a theologian, nor would I consider myself a deep thinker, but I sometimes wonder if we aren't just acting out a part in life's play, one that is written, produced and directed by a much higher authority. . . .
When The
Atlantic Hits The Wall
Ana Bohane (c) Copyright 2026 by Ana Bohane |
 Photo by Jarno Colijn on Unsplash |
As
a child, my mum would take me to the boardwalk in Cascais, no matter
the weather. Rain, shine, or wind, nothing stopped her from dragging
me out the door, always geared with snacks, i.e., cucumber
sandwiches. It was a 30-minute walk until we hit the stairs of a very
smelly underground passage that would finally get us to the paredao
de Cascais (the boardwalk). . . .
|
Just
When I Needed You Most
|
Oddly,
the song that best depicts despair and grief the most is a wonderfully
listenable song, so very well performed and produced. It came out when
I was at the peak of my life. It was 1979 and I was madly in love and
engaged to be married in September of the following year. I was
performing music often and I was the happiest I had ever been. . . .
Hidden Gems Of San Miguel de AllendeRoger Funston (c) Copyright 2026 by Roger Funston |
 Mask of Payoso (clown). Photo by the author. |
When
most North Americans think of Mexico, they think beach resorts,
Mexico City, pyramids. . .and cartels. But Mexico is a large,
culturally and biological diverse country not easily catagorized,
much the same as the United States. One must use common sense to
avoid known areas of gangs and crime anywhere in the world.
My wife and I have visited San Miguel de Allende four times and will shortly leave for our fifth trip. A UNESCO World Heritage site, San Miguel de Allende is famous for its baroque and neo-classical Spanish colonial architecture. The buildings have colorful fasades, often with ornate stone carvings and heavy wooden doors, some from the 18th century. Cobblestone streets and intimate courtyards with elaborate fountains are commonplace. . . .
My wife and I have visited San Miguel de Allende four times and will shortly leave for our fifth trip. A UNESCO World Heritage site, San Miguel de Allende is famous for its baroque and neo-classical Spanish colonial architecture. The buildings have colorful fasades, often with ornate stone carvings and heavy wooden doors, some from the 18th century. Cobblestone streets and intimate courtyards with elaborate fountains are commonplace. . . .
Chance Encounters Of A Repetitive NatureElizabeth Alvera Mullock (c) Copyright 2026 by Elizabeth Alvera Mullock |
 Image by Ekaterina from Pixabay |
A story about encountering a
seventy-year-old man in my neighbourhood on numerous occasions and
realizing that I may have met the individual before. Initially, I had
some cause for concern with regard to the man's welfare and
well-being. I eventually came to learn that he possessed a home in
the neighbourhood and social supports in the community. . . .
| Whatever
Flyeth Or Creepeth Upon The Earth Karen Radford Treanor
(c) Copyright 2026 by Karen Radford Treanor
|
 Image by PublicDomainImages from Pixabay |
One
of my late mother's more endearing qualities was her boundless
love for all things that crawl, fly, or swim upon the earth. She
took it as her civic duty as a country resident to ensure that any
ill, injured or incapacitated creature that dragged itself to her
door was nursed back to health. . . .
Sprinkle, Pour, Or HoseGrowing Up As A PK Bonnie Crandall (c) Copyright 2026 by Bonnie Crandall |
 Photo courtesy of the author. |
My
ten-year old voice was firm and full of authority. "By the power
invested in me by the church, I now pronounce you man and wife. You
may kiss the bride."
As
usual, this was the point when the giggling started from the lawn
chairs in the back of the play-yard, and Bryan, who was the most
sought-after "husband," would begin to redden from the neck
up. . . .
More...
|
The
Shotgun
|
Beverly's MagicAbbie Creed (c) Copyright 2026 by Abbie Creed |
 Photo by Kampus Production at Pexels. |
I
wrote this story following my first visit to the beauty shop after
the pandemic quarantine was lifted. It was like a little bit of
heaven! When the order to shut in and stay safe came, one of the
first things I missed was my weekly trip to the beauty shop. When I
started teaching at St. Raphael many years ago, I treated myself to a
weekly visit to the beauty school on Bardstown Road, where Beverly
was a student. She worked her magic the whole time she was in school
there. . . .
|
Cadiz Giles Ryan (c) Copyright 2026 by Giles Ryan |
 Photo courtesy of the author. |
It's
a pleasure to walk down the narrow streets of Cadiz, where few
cars pass, and they going one way and taking great care with scant
margin for error, turning the corners slowly, lest they scrape their
paintwork. Most of the buildings are no more than three or four
floors, and all are old stone and stucco and the streets are cobbled,
which gives a strong impression of permanence altogether fitting for
one of the oldest cities in Europe, first settled by Phoenicians,
followed by Romans, Visigoths, and Moors, and then reconquered by
Catholic Spain in 1262. Columbus sailed from here, and other
explorers too, in their search for the wealth of other lands, the
silks and spices of the East which they paid for, and the silver and
gold of the Incas and Aztecs which they simply took. . . .
| Summer
Of The Peacock Sara Etgen-Baker (c) Copyright 2026 by Sara Etgen-Baker |
 Aunt Betty working at the Western Union office in Cape Girardeau, Missouri. Photo of courtesy of the author |
I
was 14 when the
Greyhound rumbled into the Cape Girardeau bus depot, its chrome nose
gleaming like the eye of some futuristic mechanical beast. I stepped
onto the concrete, the air smelling of diesel fuel, oil leaks, and
the metallic tang of brake dust. The wind blowing off the Mississippi
River was hot and rattled the thin plastic umbrella I'd bought
at Stuckey's earlier that morning. Mother's departing words to me earlier that morning echoed in my head, a thin thread of reassurance. "Aunt Betty will take
good care of you, Sweetie Pie. Two weeks. That’s all.". . .
More...
Damn Hippie VansGeorge R. Frost (c) Copyright 2026 by George R. Frost |
 Image by gweno333 from Pixabay |
You
never know when you will collide head-on into history. You may even
end up in a chapter as a minor character in a major even. That’s
what happened to us when dad decided he wanted to go on a nice
peaceful Sunday ride on a hot muggy August afternoon. Little did any
of us suspect we would find ourselves smack-dab in the middle of
major historical event. . . .
A Home Away From HomeAbbie Creed (c) Copyright 2026 by Abbie Creed |
 Photo courtesy of the author. |
Growing up in the
1930's was certainly quite different from today, but some
things don’t change. I came from a large, strong Irish Catholic
family. We lived in an Irish community called Limerick, where our
church, St. Louis Bertrand was at the center of our life. There were
nine children. All of us graduated from the parish school. My
brothers were altar servers, my dad sang in the church choir, and the
girls joined the Young Ladies Altar Sodality. . . .
More...
Jamaican Delightful DishesPoor Black Creation Now Expropriated By The Rich and Ethnic MinoritiesWinston Donald (c) Copyright 2026 by Winston Donald |
 Photo by Tim Samuelat Pexels. |
As
Black History
Month reaches its climax, there is one notable achievement by a black
majority country such as Jamaica that has not been mentioned
or rarely recognized--the food it currently shared with the
world. Jamaican dishes and food are delicious tasting food and
dishes, now expropriated and exploited by the ethnic minority,
especially big capital bearing white Jamaica. People may be
indifferent to this or just do not care, but what is factual cannot
be thrown under the carpet. . . .
|
Donkey Giles Ryan (c) Copyright 2026 by Giles Ryan |
 Painting by Honore Daumier: at Wikimedia Commons. |
I
am out and on the road quite early, when the moon still loiters in
the sky. She is a gibbous, left-handed moon, just off my shoulder as
I walk out in the half-dark, looking for a sign that will show me the
road. But soon the moon is gone, her soft light replaced by the
waking sun. I have not slept so very well and I walk on somewhat all
a-grumble, hardly a proper Nazarene spirit for someone who slept the
night in a church, but this soon passes, for I am cheered by the
rooster's reveille, the cheerful greetings of the farmyard dogs, and
the chorus of the songbirds, filling the air with their dawn
devotions. . . .
| The
Portal To Another World Sylvia Eze (c) Copyright 2026 Sylvia Eze |
 Image by Armin Forster from Pixabay |
Oh,
I remember when someone once asked me, very confidently, "So…
how many countries have you been to?"
I said, "Six."
| The
One Who Thought She Had Arrived Sylvia Eze (c) Copyright 2026 Sylvia Eze |
 Photo by Naele Souza at Pexels. |
I remember when I
first came to America. I'm a woman who grew up in the western
part of Africa, and I arrived with dreams.
Not small dreams.
| Water
And The Things With It Sylvia Eze (c) Copyright 2026 Sylvia Eze |
 Photo by Glenn Haertlein on Unsplash |
I
remember watching Aquaman when I was
little--especially
the scene where the child actor, for
Jason
Momoa role's who was the main
character, was
being bullied. Because he was the king of the sea, he commanded all
the fish and sea creatures to thump against the glass, his eyes
glowing wildly. It terrified his bullies. Then there were the
underwater action scenes--dramatic, powerful, alive. . . .
|
Jim and Ronnie Dee
James L. Cowles(c) Copyright 2026 by James L. Cowles
|
 Ronnie, Gramps, and Jim in Boonville, North Carolina. Photo courtesy of the author. (Click here... to listen to some of the music.) |
For
those of you who love reading these short stories, you have no doubt
noted the writings of my dear friend, my old pal, Ronnie Dee. I knew
there was a wealth of stories up there in his brain, and I was
anxious to get him to open the recesses of said receptacle, get his
life adventures out, dust them off, and put them in writing for us
all to enjoy. I am happy to say my gentle nudging has met with
remarkable success. Look him up! . . .
More...
What To Do If You Set A Moose On FireGeorge R. Frost (c) Copyright 2026 by George R. Frost |
 Photo by Chris Zhang on Unsplash |
Somewhere
in the Fish and Wildlife manual there is a small section about what
to do if you happen to set a Moose on fire. You know if there is a
section like this, it got there because it happened. Sure enough, a
story appeared in the Anchorage newspaper. As outrageous as it
sounds something like an O'Henry story coming to life, I will attest
that this account is one hundred percent true. The reason I am so
sure is because there was an eyewitness to this bizarre event who
provided photographs which the newspaper included along with the
story. . . .
|
TORNADO! |
In
the Spring of 1973, I ordered a brand new car. It was an AMC
Gremlin. AMC, at that time had Roger Penske, who was having a
lot of success in NASCAR and TransAm racing with two top of
the
line drivers, Bobby Allison and Mark Donahue at the wheel of the AMC
Matadors and Javelins. AMC and Penske later had a big dispute over
modifications to the cars and Penske went off on his own, with better
success than AMC, I opine.
For
the less financially successful folks, like me, they had the Gremlin.
It was a very nice car. It was small, but they even made a V8 model.
My sister-in-law and her husband bought one, with a stick. I bought
the six cylinder, red, automatic. We both went for the denim
interior. As I said, it was a neat little car with big tires and it
was the easiest car in the world to spot in a parking lot. . . .
| The
Incredible Orchard Karen Radford Treanor
© Copyright 2026 by Karen Radford Treanor
|
 One of the last of the unfortunate apple trees, still surviving--barely--in 1973. Photo courtesy of the author. |
. . . .Do
you have an Uncle Charlie? That may not be his name, but they share a
characteristic: an enormously fertile brain and little or no common
sense. Uncle Charlies have the most wonderful schemes for making
money fast--but for them the motherlode almost always turns out
to be fools' gold. They can dream up any number of ways to do
a task faster, easier, or cheaper--but somehow the result rarely
achieves any of those goals. . . .
|
Shadows On The Nile
|
That
evening, the Nile moved like a long breath under the fading sun,
quiet but alive, as if it carried secrets too heavy for the sky to
hold. In our village, we used to say that the river remembers
everything. It remembers the footsteps of fishermen who never
returned, the laughter of children who learned to swim in its shallow
edges, the whispered promises of lovers who believed the current
would carry their vows into forever. I did not understand what that
meant when I was younger. I only knew that when the sun began to sink
and shadows stretched across the water, something inside me would
grow still. . . .
More...
After high school, and a few wasted years, I finally got serious about something positive, playing music, and it started my transformation into an actual productive human being. I think I had been looking for a way out of my wicked ways, I just didn't know where to look.
I was always a singer. I learned my first song at age five, "I'm Always Chasing Rainbows," a lovely tune taken from Frederick Chopin's Fantaisie-Impromptu, Op. 66, which was my mother's favorite song during World War II, and I serenaded her often. My second was Hank Williams', "Lovesick Blues," which I enjoyed singing the most. . . .
|
Music |
After high school, and a few wasted years, I finally got serious about something positive, playing music, and it started my transformation into an actual productive human being. I think I had been looking for a way out of my wicked ways, I just didn't know where to look.
I was always a singer. I learned my first song at age five, "I'm Always Chasing Rainbows," a lovely tune taken from Frederick Chopin's Fantaisie-Impromptu, Op. 66, which was my mother's favorite song during World War II, and I serenaded her often. My second was Hank Williams', "Lovesick Blues," which I enjoyed singing the most. . . .
Her Last DayOllie Matthews (c) Copyright 2026 by Ollie Matthews |
 Photo by Jovan Vasiljević on Unsplash |
It's
the last time she'll do this. The last time she'll look
up from her desk at the audience of uninterested heads, some sleeping
on their workbooks, some chatting and playing. The last time she'll
get up and write the date on the whiteboard, the last time she'll
wait for silence, then call for it. The last time she'll shout
at this kid--the last time she'll shout at any kid. . . .
More...
I'm Not Afraid, So Don't You Be AfraidOllie Matthews (c) Copyright 2026 by Ollie Matthews |
 Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan on 16 November 1581. Painting by Ilya Repin courtesy of Wiikimedia Commons. |
Just
one place is all I need. I don't even need a table, just a
surface and a chair will do. I'm looking through the windows.
Every room in the pub is packed. Every chair is taken; the tables are
piled high with plates and glasses and bottles. There are people of
all ages, even children--football fans in their sky-blue shirts
and scarves. The hubbub escapes through the windows. The rain seeps
through my coat onto my shoulders. My hands are pink, stinging from
the cold. The buses and taxis rip across the wet asphalt. Umbrellas
clash at the crossing. The lights in the puddles are brighter than
the street lights above. . . .
More...
The Main Thing In Life Is MumOllie Matthews (c) Copyright 2026 by Ollie Matthews |
 Photo by Katja Rooke on Unsplash |
A
platoon of Russian servicemen were the only other guests in the
restaurant. Their table was piled high with glasses and bottles. They
were all late thirties and forties, short-haired, muscular. They were
clinking fresh glasses of beer and shouting over each other.
|
Milestones
James L. Cowles(c) Copyright 2026 by James L. Cowles
|
 Photo courtesy of the author. |
In June of 1960, I turned nineteen. Back then, all of us guys were
concerned about the draft, and I had been thinking about it since
registering. Those friends who were in college were safe, as long as
their grades were good, but I had chosen to go to work right out of
high school and take a few classes at the University of Louisville at
night, until I had a better idea of what the heck I wanted to do with
my life. Vietnam had begun to heat up, and when Lyndon Johnson became
President, it would worsen. . . .
Hate Sees Only A Part Of A BeingLaura Labno (c) Copyright 2026 by Laura Labno |
 Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons. |
'To
the Man who loves, people are set free from the qualities of good and
evil, wise or foolish, and confront him in their singleness as Thou.
Hence love is not an enjoyment of a wonderful emotion, not even the
ecstasy of Tristane and Isolde, but the responsibility of an I for a
Thou.' - Martin
Buber
More...
|
Hair |
Photo by Sasun Bughdaryan on Unsplash |
I
got my first haircut when I was three. I had long, curly blond locks
and my mother cried when Louie the barber cut it off. I got my hair
cut a few more times by Louie the Barber and I was always good. He
would wave his straight razor around and threaten to "make a
baloney sausage" out of me if I misbehaved. . . .
|
Billy
Joe |
|
I
don't know if there was a kid like this in every neighborhood, but
there should have been. Billy Joe was a real hoot. Even us kids knew
he was looney. The first thing the neighborhood mothers told a new
arrival was, "Keep your child away from Billy Joe," and we
would be so admonished. So naturally, the first kid we saw on the
street would be asked, "Hey, where does this Billy Joe
live?". . . .
| Jacelyn An excerpt from a work in progress Bruce Rosenke (c) Copyright 2026 by Bruce Rosenke |
 Photo by Susan T. Cook at Wikimedia Commons. |
Jacelyn
Hiram had her double bed moved out, although it wasn't
necessarily an easy decision, the urge to keep it as a shrine was
strong!
She now sleeps on a bottom bunk, Mary, Sasha, and Stanley, sleep together on the other bottom bunk every night. Bruce had built safety rails on the top bunks, and since they are installed, a 'sleep-over' for 6 is possible, but that hasn't happened yet, 'If William was here it would have happened often!' are Jacelyn's thoughts as she cleans the room. She does enjoy the extra floor space, this room of less than 150 square feet barely had room to shuffle sideways, let alone touch-dance; her and William did that on the bed. Jacelyn's body misses William, but not as much as her soul does. . . .
|
The Earth That Sustains
Us Kelly Maida (c) Copyright 2026 by Kelly Maida |
 Photograph by Nolen Boyd at Wikimedia Commons. Young Rial Redding, third generation of Reddings who have ranched in Sarpy Basin, joins the resistance movement. The Reddings have refused to sell to the Westmoreland Coal Company, 06/1973. U.S. National Archives' Local Identifier: 412-DA-6657 |
I
started writing this because of the litter that I see on a daily
basis. I see people throwing their cigarettes and garbage around.
This turned into something much more than that. Littering has
a
ripple effect that harms us all.
I grew up watching commercials that talked about the importance of not littering. Some had owls saying give a hoot and don't pollute. Or Indians crying over the mess that is on the earth. I wish that we had more reminders of this now. . . .
I grew up watching commercials that talked about the importance of not littering. Some had owls saying give a hoot and don't pollute. Or Indians crying over the mess that is on the earth. I wish that we had more reminders of this now. . . .
More...
A Fireside ChatValerie Forde-Galvin (c) Copyright 2026 by Valerie Forde-Galvin |
 Photo courtesy of the author. |
It's
late
evening at the Meredith home. The family is asleep upstairs while
here in the living room, from my established place on the sofa, I
observe the domestic scene. Dog lies by the fireplace where the
remnants of a fire still produce some heat. In her cage hanging from
the rafters, Canary appears hypnotized by the dying embers. But don't
be fooled. The girl is smarter than she looks. As usual, Goldfish
takes his methodical laps around his bowl, unaware of his
surroundings. And yet there are times when even Goldfish displays a
glimmer of intelligence. . . .
The Man Of RenownAbbie Creed (c) Copyright 2026 by Abbie Creed |
 Image by Artur Skoniecki from Pixabay |
When
the youngest of my six children and the last of my five boys, was a
2nd
grader attending our parish school, he had many friends, including my
next-door neighbor's son. The school was large, having three
classrooms for each of the eight grades. Some of them walked to
school cutting through our back yard.
When
one of the 2nd
grade teachers had a health breakdown, the pastor called and asked me
to teach that class for the next half of the school year. I was not a
certified teacher but was the 2nd
grade teacher of religious education for our Sunday School. Since I
had five boys, he felt strongly that I could do what needed to be
done. . . .
More...
|
Chasing Rabbits Kelly Maida (c) Copyright 2026 by Kelly Maida |
 Image by love4musoc1972 at Pixabay |
Is
your food and drinks sending you down rabbit holes?
Did you ever notice life was like an Alice n Wonderland story? Pretty packages on our foods and drinks that basically say eat me or drink me! While they send you down a rabbit hole craving more? Maybe the white bunny stands for sugar. And the world is constantly chasing it. The bunny keeps running because we newer seem to satisfy the sugar or food cravings. . . .
Did you ever notice life was like an Alice n Wonderland story? Pretty packages on our foods and drinks that basically say eat me or drink me! While they send you down a rabbit hole craving more? Maybe the white bunny stands for sugar. And the world is constantly chasing it. The bunny keeps running because we newer seem to satisfy the sugar or food cravings. . . .
Cheap Beer And PizzaGeorge R. Frost (c) Copyright 2026 by George R. Frost |
 Photo of the author. |
This is the story
of the last dinner I shared with my mother on December 23, 2002.
My brother Tom called me to let me know that mom's lymphoma had gone terminal. I called Alaskan Airlines for a flight out of Anchorage, Alaska to Syracuse, New York. It was the holiday season, but I managed to get a flight out that day. . . .
More...| More
From 35th Street Ronnie Dee (c) Copyright 2026 by Ronnie Dee
|
 Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons. |
The
first little adventure of my life happened on Amy Avenue when I was
just a few months old. I was in my Taylor-Tot walker one morning when
the Donaldson man delivered the bread. They would actually open the
front door and put the stuff inside. This was 1939 and bakery goods,
ice, and even groceries were delivered daily. Doctors made house
calls and medications were delivered. The Donaldson Bakery was the
most well known in town. They delivered baked goods of all sorts all
over town. They used horse drawn trucks into the mid 1950's when they
switched to motorized vehicles. . . .
| The
Magic Table Ronnie Dee (c) Copyright 2026 by Ronnie Dee
|
 Photo by Photo by Llyfrgell Genedlaethol Cymru / The Nation Gallery of Wales at Unsplash |
My
family had a little bit of magic or something else going on for
years. I have seen references to something like this from time to
time, but no one can explain exactly what it is. But I have witnessed
it and I have no reason to make up something so
silly. . . .
A Blast From The PastValerie Forde-Galvin (c) Copyright 2026 by Valerie Forde-Galvin |
 Photo courtesy of the author. |
When
lightning strikes, our tour bus skids to a stop. A clap of thunder is
immediately followed by an ominous crack and a giant oak tree crashes
onto the road. Suddenly an entire tree top looms in front of us. The
engine cuts out and, from the driver's seat, Manny leans
forward to look out the still intact windshield with its view now
completely blocked by leafy branches. He holds up two fingers. "Two
inches," he proclaims theatrically. "Just two friggin'
inches there was between us and death.". . .
Circus DaysThomas Turman (c) Copyright 2026 by Thomas Turman |
 Image by Sasin Tipchai from Pixabay |
The
door of the red, worn railroad car is scraped open by a short, bald
guy and the breath-stopping animal smell whooshes down the wood ramp. I
wait, straining to see into the opening. Then my world changes
forever. Out comes an elephant and then another and then another
right toward me. The three of them delicately sway down the ramp
confidently backing up all of us there to greet them.
But I take two tentative steps toward them. . . .
But I take two tentative steps toward them. . . .
|
My New Sparta
James L. Cowles(c) Copyright 2026 by James L. Cowles
|
 Photo courtesy of the author. |
It
was 1951, and my Christmas present was a new Sparta box camera, with
a flip open viewfinder, and a flash attachment. I couldn't wait
to get that thing working, and since there were no film or flashbulbs
included in the box, I asked dad if "Stiles Drugstore might be
open," and he said, "Brent is always there, and I’m
sure he’s open today.". . .
More...
| A
Broken Humerus Is Not Funny Ronnie Dee (c) Copyright 2026 by Ronnie Dee
|
 Photo by Chrisnorlin at the English Wikipedia courtesy of Wikimedia Commons. |
This
time I got hurt. I totaled three cars during my adventures and
received minor injuries in the other two, but this time I got it
pretty good. It began like the others. I was driving home drunk one
rainy night in February, 1971. I don't remember exactly what
happened, but when the road took a sharp right, I kept going straight
and ended up banging into a tree and broke my right arm in half. I do
remember being awakened by two policemen helping me out of the car. I
had been knocked unconscious and was in great pain. I didn't know how
long I had been out. . . .
|
Strange Bedfellows
Valerie Byron (c) Copyright 2026 by Valerie Byron |
|
The
Bells were a strange family. Not that I knew them that well,
mind
you. I'd lived next door for just a few years and from what the
neighbors told me, the husband seemed quite hen-pecked. I'd see him
sitting in front of the window as I walked by, just staring into
space. She was always there, constantly nagging at him, pulling and
pushing, wanting her way. I often wondered why he put up with it,
seeing as how he was such a sweet, mild-mannered sort. . . .
When The Words Came BackCybil Koudsi (c) Copyright 2025 by Cybil Koudsi |
 Image by Cornelia Schneider-Frank from Pixabay |
For
as long as I could remember, I had been terrified of public speaking.
Not a mild nervousness, not the kind of fear that fades once you
start talking, but the kind that felt alive, like it knew exactly
when to show up and how to corner me. Every time I was told I had to
present in front of my class, it felt as though the world itself were
collapsing inward, the walls closing in while public speaking stood
there waiting, patient and smug, daring me to fail. . . .
Stephanie's LightJudith Nakken (c) Copyright 2026 by Judith Nakken |
 Photo courtesy of Wikipedia. |
She
was sitting on her backpack outside the Welcome to Oregon rest stop,
and it was beginning to rain. Hippie-type bands and jangles were
incongruous on the fortyish face that asked a silent question through
the open passenger's window, there on a summer Sunday in 1989.
"I'm going almost to Portland," I answered, "staying here on I-84 all the way. But I'm late for a rendezvous and can't stop for anything.". . .
"I'm going almost to Portland," I answered, "staying here on I-84 all the way. But I'm late for a rendezvous and can't stop for anything.". . .
More...
| Spin
Out Ronnie Dee (c) Copyright 2026 by Ronnie Dee
|
 Photo by Dextar Vision on Unsplash |
This
one may have been the most puzzling encounter of
all. It
was 1970, I still had my 340 Duster, and as always, I was zooming
down the Watterson Xway one early evening when I almost missed my
turn off at Breckenridge Lane. I guess I was just daydreaming, which
was nothing new for me, and I swerved onto the ramp, but turned too
sharply and began to spin. A bad driving mistake by me. I don't know
how fast I was going, but I was sliding down the ramp going around
and around real fast.
|
Boy
Scouts vs. Wrestlers
|
|
One
thing my grandmother and some of her church friends tried to do to me
was get me in the Boy Scouts. Now, I have nothing personally against
the Boy Scouts. I am sure it is a wonderful organization for boys. It
just so happens that I was not one of those boys.
I knew at this point in time there were some rumblings about my behavior and what to do with me. I know that she did not want me incarcerated, but she was reaching the end of her rope. So some misguided soul from church suggested to her that I might like the boy scouts. . . .
I knew at this point in time there were some rumblings about my behavior and what to do with me. I know that she did not want me incarcerated, but she was reaching the end of her rope. So some misguided soul from church suggested to her that I might like the boy scouts. . . .
| Chasing
Sunsets Sara Etgen-Baker (c) Copyright 2026 by Sara Etgen-Baker |
 Mike and Sara 1967. Photo of courtesy of the author |
I
remember the day I first saw him. Glancing out our living room
window, I noticed a boy about my age slowly walking down the
sidewalk. He wasn't just any boy, but a boy whose face and arms
were completely wrapped in white bandages, resembling an Egyptian
mummy as he shuffled down the leaf-covered sidewalk. . . .
The School Of 3 CornersAlbert W. Caron, Jr. (c) Copyright 2026 by Albert W. Caron, Jr. |
 Photo by Sven Kucinic on Unsplash |
Sex,
drugs and Rock ‘n Roll. Those were the major subjects of
The School of 3 Corners. I attended this street school six decades
ago for three consecutive summers. This school was popular for us
adolescent boys since we learned more about awkward changes in our
bodies and voices than at home. Disguising these "educational"
courses from my parents, I told them that we "studied"
biology, chemistry and music to get a jump on some subjects in
preparation for high school in the fall. They bought it. . . .
|
Memories From The Heart Kelly Maida (c) Copyright 2026 by Kelly Maida |
 Photo by Pixabay at Pexels. |
Certain
photos we love having around us to remind us of beautiful memories.
It took me a long time to be okay to actually have pictures out of
Klaus. My cat Niklaus passed away a year ago. I called him Klaus or
Klaus mouse for short. He had a lot of cute nicknames. I also called
him poppers for Mr. Poppers Penguins because he liked that movie. I
put all his stuff away hidden in a closet when he died. It took me a
year to start taking out his pictures. I slowly started taking out
pictures and I just put his ashes by my bed. It takes time getting
over grief. I didn't think I would ever be able to look at his
pictures again without breaking down. . . .
|
35
For 35 |
|
We
had some kind and helpful neighbors on 35th Street. This was in the
West End of Louisville in the fifties, when people weren't so
suspicious of each other. Neighbors would knock on your door and ask, "Do you need anything from the grocery today?"
In
today's society my family would never have been able to live our
lives pretty much unaffected by bureaucracy as we did back in the
forties and fifties. Somehow we always had enough to eat and
wonderful Christmases. . . .
One Way BridgePamella Laird (c) Copyright 2026 by Pamella Laird |
 Photo by Eric A. Hegg
Photographs at Wikimedia Commons.
|
The
thud of the hull against the jetty woke Jock Duncan from a feverish
sleep. "Bloody hell! What was that?" His whole being
throbbed.
A
fierce draught, swirling and moaning from the mast and stays, like a
blast from a polar ice cap, added to his misery. He struggled to pull
a padded jacket around his shoulders. As awkward as an old man, he
searched for the sleeve-holes. Not in his wildest nightmares had it
ever crossed his mind, that living this unconventional life of
freedom, might one day be his downfall. . . .
|
Duster
and Maverick |
|
No, this is not about a cattle drive. It is about a couple of automobiles.
There
was one especially scary incident that I remember clearly to this
day. It was the night I turned Indiana Highway 62 into a speedway. I
was leaving the Storefront Congregation, a folk music bar in
Louisville, when some guy I barely knew asked for a ride home. I was
feeling generous and said, "Sure, why not," and off we
went. . . .
|
The Sun and The Sea Savannah Ucha (c) Copyright 2026 by Savannah Ucha |
 Photo courtesy of the author. |
It
isn't until the clearing of trees, wet and happy from the
recent rains that have come down on Santa Barbara, that I can finally
see the top of the mountain. My legs rumble beneath me, threatening
to give out. With the sun shining through at its peak, the hand
before me unrecognizable, the leathered skin sprinkled with sunspots
so foreign, signaling a life long lived. The power of the sun
reflects through the vast ocean's surface, a mixture of blue
whiteness speaking to me, commanding me to stay as my own life ebbs
away. . . .
|
Goodbyes |
My wife, Donna, had a thing that she told me about several times. It was a recurring dream in which she was killed in an automobile accident when she was thirty five years old.
I
tried to reassure her that it was only a dream and not to dwell on
it. On October 5, 1983 we received a phone call at about 10:00 pm
that Beverly, her older sister, had been killed in a single car
accident. It still pains me to think of that night. Beverly was
thirty seven years old, Donna was thirty five. . . .
|
Adventures
In The Green Truck |
|
One
drunken night in the Pub Steakhouse, closing time came and as often
happened, I still wasn't ready to call it a night. It was 2:00, but
the only person left to party with was some old guy with whom I had
conversed off and on during the evening. I didn't even know his name,
but it didn't matter if he wanted to drink some more, so off we went
in his car. . . .