Mary sat at the old spinning wheel that was passed down to her from her grandmother. Spinning wheels were formerly used to make thread that was then used to make clothes. Mary lived deep in the hills of Appalachia and she was preparing to start making the family’s clothes again.
The children couldn’t find jobs. The new autocratic government cut off unemployment benefits and all financial assistance. Her grandmother had taught her the basics of life, just for fun then. Now, she was glad she knew as her fingers flew on the spinning wheel, making magic.
The old man and the little girl parked at the farmer’s market. The old man sold flowers, although in the desert, they were hard to come by. His granddaughter helped him pick and arrange them. He often wondered where she found them. All his customers said that she could make a bedraggled bunch of flowers beautiful.
As they were driving home, he asked the little girl where she found the flowers. She pointed out the spot. It was sand. She jumped out and as she walked, the flowers popped up with every step she took.
She finally told him that she had breast cancer and that it was advanced. The next morning, he left for work and on the way, he had a massive stroke. Then surgery. He would be in the hospital for a long time.
Months went by and she passed away without seeing him due to COVID19. A few days later, he was released from the hospital. He walked into his empty home and there was the flower arrangement on the table. She had left a note. He wondered what he would do without her and then he sat down and cried,
“And the people bowed and prayed To the neon god they made And the sign flashed out its warning In the words that it was forming And the sign said, “The words of the prophets Are written on the subway walls And tenement halls And whispered in the sounds of silence.”
From the Sound of Silence by Simon and Garfunkel
Watch the January 6 hearings on most U.S. TV Channels. More hearings during June 2022:
Good Saturday morning and welcome to #weekendcoffeeshare #72! If we were having coffee, I’d have a selection ready for you – espresso, cappachino, and more. I’d also offer you tea. I buy flavored black teas (cinnamon is wonderful!) and a selection of green tea. Please help yourself and thank you for stopping by!
Now that you have your beverage, how was your week? It’s been an interesting week for me. How do you feel about high school class reunions? Not only did I have a high school class reunion this week but an ”all-school” reunion. I went to a small, private school on the local university campus for grades 0-12. Each class had about 30 kids and we moved lock-step through the grades. The bottom line is that we got an excellent education and grew up more like siblings than classmates. The school was for the purpose of training student teachers. It is long since closed and student teachers are trained out in communities in the public school system.
We’re still close, those classes that went my school – Breck. We still have individual class reunions and all-school reunions and this week was our 5-year all school reunion. Of course, we enjoy seeing each other. But as the years pass, it starts getting a little sad. Maybe someone has passed away since the last reunion. Maybe we’re just all starting to look and feel old. Maybe….well…a thousand other things. I only went to an event or two this year, but it was a little sad for me and since I’ve been feeling particularly aware of my age anyway, the reunion didn’t help! Something to think about, I guess.
I’m used to living a pretty quiet life. Quiet both figuratively and literally. The reunion shook that up this week. This may sound contradictory, but I’m also used to living as a bit of an activist for causes I believe in, so I’m around people who tend to have similar viewpoints. At a reunion, you find many different viewpoints and some of them, at least for me, were fairly shocking. But this is the country we live in these days.
Speaking of both silence and activism, do you remember the Simon and Garfunkel song, ”The Sound of Silence,” from WAY back? There is a version of that song covered by another band that I love. I think it could be an anthem for the times we live in now as it was 50 years ago. Here’s a clip. Hope you enjoy it!
Are you reading anything particularly good these days? I’m reading ”Bleak House” by Charles Dickens. When I retired, I promised myself to read a great deal, both classics and new literature. It’s really good so far!
It’s been cool in northeastern KY this week. The nights have been very cool for June, but the heat and humidity are supposed to arrive soon.
They found the map to the treasure among the pages of an old book in his grandfather’s library. The search would be long and rigorous. Even though they had to brave the jungle to find it, they were on their way.
They slashed through vegetation and reached the great waterfalls on the treasure map. The treasure was supposed to be behind one of the waterfalls. Which one? Their native guide suggested the only way to find the treasure was to explore them one by one.
The guide said, ”Put on your wet gear. We’re going in.”
The older lady was only trying to cross the street..A nice gentleman came up along side her to kindly help. As they stepped up on the curb in front of her apartment building, like a flash, a young man flew by and snatched the lady’s purse.
The kind man who helped her cross the street took off, chasing the boy. Gretta waited in front of her building, hoping he’d catch him. Out of nowhere, something came flying through the air. It was her purse, thrown off the fire escape. He was trapped atop the fire escape.
Little Michael and his parents traveled to the beach a few hundred miles away from their home town. Carol and John Henderson, Michael’s parents, were trying to find something to help little Michael. The nine year old boy had been through a traumatic time at his school. After the trauma, he had refused to ever go back to that school building. He was also afraid of leaving his house and of just about anything new. When someone came to the door of his house, he hid under his bed. Most of the time, he preferred to play in his room with his Legos.
Carol and John were at the end of their rope. They had tried everything and they couldn’t seem to help their precious son. They were so thankful that he wasn’t one of the victims at his school that they just wanted to keep him home and safe. They knew that the school shooting would scar him for life. They also knew that they needed to take some positive action to try to help Michael, so they planned a beach trip thinking that a change of scenery might help the little boy.
The Henderson’s were staying right on the beach. When they got to their hotel, they took Michael outside to play on the beach and see the ocean. The beach was crowded. Carol took Michael’s hand and led him to the edge of the water, hoping he would enjoy the ocean. She noticed that his eyes kept darting around the crowd at the beach and he refused to even get his feet wet. He just wanted to go back inside their hotel room. They walked right by a big bucket and spade that had been placed there for the kids to enjoy. Michael ignored it. He almost ran back to their hotel room.
Carol and John waited until the next day to try to lure Michael to the beach. They had conversations with him about his fears. No words seemed to help. Carol insisted that Michael try to beach again, so they once again took Michael outside. When they got outside, Carol noticed a small boy, Michael’s age, working on the beginning of a sand castle using the bucket and spade. Michael noticed him too and Carol saw his eyes light up. As they walked by the boy building the sandcastle, he stopped them to say hello. Michael walked over to him and watched him build the sand castle.
Finally, the boy asked Michael if he could play and would he like to help build the sandcastle. Michael jumped at the chance and the two children played all afternoon. After he came back to the hotel room, he was very quiet.
Later that evening, Michael said to Carol, ”Mom, my new friend had the same experience I did.” Carol asked what he meant. Michael went ahead to say, ”His school got shot up too, but it was a year ago. He felt like I feel. However, he has now gone back to school and wants to get to play again. I want to be like him.”
Carol had to turn away because of the tears in her eyes. For the first time, she had hope for Michael. As their week at the beach progressed, Michael, and his new friend, Gregory, played every day. One day when Carol was at the beach with Michael, she actually heard him laugh with Gregory. She also saw him and his friend stick their toes into the ocean. She felt like Michael was on the road to recovery.
After the family returned to their hometown, Carol and John put Michael into counseling. It was slow going with the little boy, but months later, he went back to school, but to another elementary school.
Michael’s scars will be permanent, As he grow up, he’ll realize that he was much luckier than some of the children that day. He came away with his life, but it will be different now. Michael told Carol that he wants to help other kids like Gregory helped him.
It’s Memorial Day weekend and that’s an important holiday in the U.S. Memorial Day, also called Decoration Day in some areas, is a holiday that honors those soldiers lost to war. It’s been expanded in our consciousness to honor all of our deceased love ones. In the region of the U.S. where I have lived most of my life, it’s a special holiday. I live in the state of Kentucky in the U.S. which is located in the mid-southeastern region of the country. The area of the state in which I live is part of a larger region, the region of Appalachia. Here, Memorial Day falls on a weekend when families reunite, have large meals together and decorate the graves of their deceased loved ones with flowers. Veteran’s graves are also decorated with the U.S. flag. Across Appalachia, Memorial Day is most often called Decoration Day.
When I was growing up, and even now, the family would congregate where most of the relatives were buried. In my case, when I was a child, that was near my grandparent’s home deep in the heart of Appalachia and about 55 miles from where I live now. Every individual family within the extended family would bring beautiful flowers and flags to decorate each grave. Often, that would involve going to three or four cemeteries.
Memorial Day at the cemetery was also a social occasion. Families who seldom saw each other would have a chance to talk and catch up while decorating the graves.
During Memorial Day, everyone would go to my grandmother’s house for a large meal and a visit with each other afterward. It was one of the most important family holidays of the year.
We still honor our lost loved ones in Appalachia in much the same way. Families are smaller. There are fewer large family meals. Instead of meals in grandma’s kitchen, they are often prepared on the grill where each individual family lives. You will still find people hunting flowers a few days before the Memorial Day weekend to decorate gravesites. They still enjoy visiting with family and friends in and around the cemeteries and some people travel in order to decorate the graves.
No matter what country we are in, or its traditions, let’s all celebrate our war dead this weekend and every weekend.
Clara stopped at a nearby gift shop to find out who owned the self-service vegetable stand down the road. The clerk said, “An old man is the owner. He struggles to make ends meet from just that income from that stand and it is the end of the season.” The wheels in Clara’s brain started to turn.
The next morning, on her morning drive, she stopped at the stand. The old man was there, singing and whistling. He said to her, “We have a wide selection today. A Good Samaritan has assured that I will make it through the winter.”
The Write Scribe 