• No results found

Man! That Was Close! Nancy Kuester

N/A
N/A
Protected

Academic year: 2021

Share "Man! That Was Close! Nancy Kuester"

Copied!
8
0
0

Loading.... (view fulltext now)

Full text

(1)

Issue 128 October 2016 Published monthly since February 2006

The Writers’ Exchange is a group of people who enjoy writing. The purpose of this Anthology is to promote the art and spirit of writing as a pleasure, to share literary ideas and expressions, to stimulate and encourage writing, to consider publication opportunities and to contribute to the community arts. We invite writers of this area to contribute to this Anthology and to attend our meetings where we share our works, and encourage new ideas. The Writers’ Exchange meets on Thursday, usually twice a month, at the Pioneer Bank, 200 Miner Ave., Ladysmith, Wisconsin. Our next meeting is November 10 from 2-4 PM. For more information call Bill Fucik (715) 532-6606, wolfhill@chipvalley.com, or Ruth Ralston (715) 532-6815, slograndma123@gmail.com.

Writing Challenges

Dark & Stormy Night My Favorite Season Pets

Quik Thot My favorite football team

Man! That Was Close!

Nancy Kuester The house was quiet at last. This was rare lately with

schools on summer vacation and guests sharing their summer with us. I had grabbed this opportunity to do some final editing of the next anthology. I learned from experience that absolute quiet in the house was required if I was to get any flawless editing done. Nothing was disturbing me and I heard none of the outside noises even though the screen door to the deck was the only closed door.

I don’t know how long I had been totally absorbed in my task when I happened to look up, glance out the door and down to the river. Suddenly it occurred to me that there was something on the deck that had not been there before. I uttered, “Oh, my God!” as I jumped up off my chair and dashed to hide behind the standing fireplace. Catching my breath, I mumbled, “That’s a bear! And it’s on our deck!’’ Even with my brain in a befuddled state I managed to observe that the bear wasn’t real big, that he had torn down the bird feeder, and was lying prone shoveling the spilled bird seed into his mouth. He’s kind of cute, I thought. My second thought quickly followed: Now what am I supposed to do? Jerry went to town and I’m here alone. Mumbling something about a husband never being around when you needed him I grabbed for the phone and shakily dialed Jerry’s cell. Excitingly I informed him of our visitor and that he should come home immediately. Quickly I murmured a little prayer asking that the bear stay on our deck until Jerry got there so he wouldn’t think I’d been hallucinating.

I should get a picture of him; then there will be no doubters, I thought. Stealthily I reached

around the corner of the fireplace and grabbed my smart phone off the table. Well, darn! I thought. I can’t remember how to work this thing! Determined to get a picture, I played with all the whistles and bells on the screen that showed the picture of a camera.

Finally I saw my foot in the view finder, then the screen door, and at last the round black blob chomping away on our deck. With my most adequate thought process I managed to aim the camera and snap four or five pictures of our guest. At that point he looked up from his chomping and focused straight in my direction. Once again I dashed behind the fireplace and into obscurity. It was at this point that I heard Jerry drive in.

“See?” I asked Jerry excitingly. “I wasn’t imagining a bear – he’s right there and he tore down the bird feeder and he’s pigging away at the feed!” Jerry strode purposefully to the door, opened it wide and stepped out onto the deck. Now he had the bear’s attention! Waving his arms wildly, he shouted loudly, “Get out of here! What are you doing up here? Get out!!!” With that, the

little guy tore down the steps, across the yard and toward the river. Then he stopped, turned around and thought about coming back for more bird seed. But Jerry had other plans. He raised the shotgun he held and fired up into the air. Now I really have to admit that I always thought I could outrun a bear but after seeing that little guy going 50 mph I’ve changed my mind.

I now have a new simple plan. If ever I encounter a bear eating our bird seed again I’m going to say, “Eat all you want. I’m going to find a new hiding place!”

(2)

Midnight Madness

Pegeen Snoeyenbos

It was a dark and stormy night -- or at least the weatherman said it would be by late evening. This was to be expected after the hot, muggy days we’d been slogging through for almost a week. But we upper mid-westerners take these things philosophically: we know a few days of extreme heat often bring violent thunderstorms, and the odd tornado, which clear the air until the next heat wave makes itself unpleasant. However, by eleven o’clock, when there hadn’t been so much as a hint of lightning, Milt and I decided to pack it in for the evening. We tucked away reading, fluffed up the pillows, amiably ruffled the fur of whichever cat was on the bed at the moment, and turned out the lights. We were just nodding off when I became aware of a faint flickering. I sat up. Lightning. And it wasn’t just flickering, it was doing a frenzied, uninhibited fandango across the southern sky.

“Storm’s coming, and it looks like a bad one.” My husband’s reply was unintelligible.

“Don’t you think you’d better take down the electric bug zappers so they don’t short out?” I had his attention. We had set out the zappers in preparation for a Fourth of July party, and the last thing we needed was to wreck them before the big day.

“I’m on it,” Milt said, jumping out of bed and searching in the darkened room for his Crocs. “And I’ll start unplugging stuff,” I said, stumbling toward the computer room.

Through our years by the Flambeau, Milt and I have learned the hard way that the swampy lot between our house and our nearest neighbor is a Great Attractor -- drawing lightning bolts to it like moths to a flame with any major thunderstorm. So after losing one computer, two printers and a set of phones to the elements, we’ve learned at the first rumble of thunder to unplug everything in the house that’s connected to our phone line.

“Done,” Milt reported, starting back to bed.

“Me too,” I replied, yawning. “Oops! The umbrella is still up on the deck table. Would you roll it down? And I forgot to close the upstairs windows.”

We both scurried to batten down the hatches as the flashing and rumbling grew louder and more menacing. “That’s that,” said Milt, climbing in bed.

“Mmm,” I replied, plumping up my pillow.

Suddenly Milt sat bolt upright. “Hail! The new van could get pounded to bits. I’d better get it in the pole barn.” With that he was out the back door at just under the speed of light.

“Are the windows in the old van rolled up?” I asked when he returned. Groaning, my husband turned around and trudged back to the driveway.

“They were down,” he replied tersely.

Wearily we headed back to bed, just as the storm struck in its full fury. “Yipes! I hope the cats won’t be traumatized by all this flashing, crashing and blowing,” I said, with a nervous glance at Milt.

“They’ll be fine,” he said reassuringly. “What if they got outside?”

“What do you mean ‘got outside’?”

“They could have slipped out while you were going in and out,” I replied. “You’re not going to shut up until we find them, are you?” asked my husband. “I don’t think so.”

So the next five minutes were spent looking behind the sofa, under the beds, inside the laundry basket, in the basement, on top of the refrigerator and anywhere else terrified cats might hide in a raging storm. Nothing. Fighting tears, I was steeling myself to grab a flashlight and go looking for them outside when Milt called from our bedroom. I came in to find all three cats curled up calmly on the spread, looking like a cover shot for Cat Fancy.

Relieved and exhausted, we climbed back in bed and once again turned off the lights. Two or three minutes passed. “What now, my love?”

“I think we left the cushions on the deck furniture.”

There was a long pause in which I sensed my husband struggling with himself. “Say goodnight, Gracie.”

Dark and Stormy Night

Marg Ellmann

It was a dark and stormy night. My weather cube warned of severe thunderstorms with locally damaging winds, to watch for local flooding in low areas. I was too tired to wait up for possibles so I went to bed. As I lay there a bright flash lit up the room followed by a loud crack of thunder that rumbled into the distance. I could hear the wind whipping the tree branches. Another flash followed more quickly by a boom that shook the walls. A branch or something hit the roof. I worried about the maple tree near the house that already was severely damaged by a straight line wind a few years ago. Also what about the huge basswood riddled with holes excavated by pileated woodpeckers? Another flash. I covered my head to block out the thunder. Then I heard, "The time is 6:30, and for your Friday it will be sunny and in the upper 70's".

(3)

Beauty at Autumn Dawn

Ruth Ralston

A red sunrise peeking through

Thick branches of autumn colored maples, The rising sun seen throwing rays

Upon white trunked yellow birch leaves Turning them to glowing gold,

The quietness of dawn waiting for a gentle Twitter in silent unruffled trees,

A stray white daisy outstanding Amidst frosted grey plants, The dawn white river Reflecting the changing sky, The patient expectation Of day and life to begin.

Halloween Haiku

Char Lovely

Shouting “tricks or treats” Costumed children run the streets

Happy as can be

Children in costumes Shouting with glee, “tricks or treats”

Parents smile proudly

Haiku

Audrey Riphenburg

Time for tulip bulbs Plant the corn four inches

deep Color in the spring Snappy colder nights Lacy ice edges the creek

Beauty that shivers

Hummingbirds fly south Snowbirds and geese follow, too

Mom’s in Miami

Fill your bird feeder Suet is so tasty, too Keep the birds happy See the steel-grey sky It portends cold icy winds

A lovely snow flake

Raking

Janet Krings

We rake the lawn, Needles and leaves pile high,

Some branches thrown in, From where they lie. Raking cleans the lawn,

Making it look nice; We look it over, Maybe look twice. The debris is all gone,

Done so easily, Picked up and removed, To a place quite distantly. Sometimes our hearts also

Need a good raking, When we give Him permission,

God begins the cleaning. He forgives and heals Our sins and weaknesses;

His rake is gentle, It is loving -- Jesus.

A Plea from an Earthling

Phyllis Stevenson

I call to you, O Cosmos, Mother of my soul.

Hold me closely ‘mongst the stars, Your other children. Teach me what I am to do

With eternity.

Give me strength to walk my path, Wherever it is leading, Knowing that I’ll never find The answers that I’m needing,

Nor whether there is anyone To even hear my all! The icy stars crowd all around.

They laugh at me with scorn! There is no message, so they say!

O Cosmos, prove them wrong!

I Believe In Ghosts

Michael Doran

in memory of Pat Dailey I believe in ghosts,

Not the scary kind That haunt old houses, But, for lack of a better word, The images of our dearly departed,

Fixed in our memory’s eye Like the retinal burn From a camera’s flash. We see their apparitions In all the accustomed places,

Across the table, In the car seat beside, In a pew, a doorway, a bed.

We hear, too, their voices, Their laughter, their talk, their

whispers.

Their residual energy warms us Like the sands on a beach

Deep down, long after The sun has set.

(4)

My Favorite Season

Judy Heintz

Fall really is the most perfect season, when the leaves turn all different colors of red, yellow, orange, and brown. Then the “fall monsoons,” as we used to call them, bring wind and rain and soon all the leaves are falling. There is something about a walk in the woods in the fall. Leaves are crunching with each step you take and there is a moist, woodsy smell to the clear, crisp air, like a combination of fir trees, moss, and dirt. It's an earthy aroma, for sure!

One of my favorite memories is of picking mushrooms with my father when I was growing up. In the fall, after a cold rainy day, the next morning we would go, toting five gallon buckets, looking for wild mushrooms. These mushrooms usually grow around old stumps and dead elm trees. We picked two varieties that we knew were safe to eat. The buttons were a favorite, but then the ones with a yellow skirt around the top of the stem were good also. The buttons were firm and rounded like a hat over a big thick stem. Often the stem was as big as my thumb. When fried in butter with a little seasoning salt they were so tasty, especially when sautéed with venison and onions! It takes a lot of mushrooms to fill a fry pan, though, as they shrink up in the cooking process. Oh, but the sweet, spicy, earthy aroma!!

Fall is the best time for walking, hiking, biking, ATV or horseback riding! The leaves are coming off the trees and all kinds of wildlife can be observed scampering to and fro. From an opening in the trail an over-look appears and you can see for miles across the rolling landscape below. Red, orange, yellow, and green colors appear. A tall silo, or four, a church steeple and a water tower protrude above the trees in the distance. What a breath taking view!

Rolling rows of corn fields that will turn brown with the first hard frost -- now there is another memory I won't forget. I remember the sweet smell of freshly chopped corn and the grinding sound of the silo filler blowing that fresh forage way up a small pipe and into the tall silo. All the while, the tractor's motor is revving and makes it hard to communicate with each other until the chopper wagon is finally empty and all motors shut off. The process is repeated many more times to fill a huge silo to the top. This sound will soon be silent as most farmers today are using cement ground silos or those long, white, wrinkled silo bags lined up like huge prehistoric worms with messages or smiley faces painted on them. Here, as in all silos, the corn will ferment and become brown silage with a new and different smell that the cattle just can't

wait to dig into!

Fall is such a busy season. Most farmers are working frantically to get their crops harvested for the winter's feed. Gardens must be harvested and potatoes dug, along with onions, carrots, and beets. Cabbage is made into sauerkraut. One cannot truly appreciate fried potatoes until you have dug them out of your own garden. I love the feel of the dirt and sand falling off the newly dug potato. The gritty feel of the brown bakers and the earthy, slightly musty smell of the fruits of your labor! It is almost a pleasure to dig them all, carry them up the hill to the house in five gallon buckets, and let them dry in the sun before carrying them into the basement for winter storage.

Endless work must be done to prepare for winter, which is my next favorite season!

Heart Lights

Sandra Weiler A young woman sits alone,

waiting quietly, obediently, eyes downcast,

at the little table next to ours. “Cheerios, Julia?” Her dad calls as he gathers her favorites from the motel breakfast bar. Her mom rushes in; they all relax. Friendly stranger, proud new grandma, Julia’s mom replays their holiday travel. Something moves me to engage silent Julia. “Did you see the new baby?”

Dark eyes dancing, broadening smile carving deep dimples in her cheeks,

an awakened life force ripples through her every vessel and nerve.

“Did you hold the baby?” I continue, clinging to this moment.

“She’s autistic,” volunteers her mother. “She just observed.”

“Oh, I bet it was fun to watch her,” I offer. Julia smiles again and nods,

her love outpouring, overflowing. Heart lights outshine autism…again.

-Marilyn Zielke – I’m a Vikings fan because I’ve been a Minnesota football fan since watching the U. of Minn. Players practice in my home town of Northfield when I was a teenager – and Teddy Bridgewater is so cute!

-Pat Bourne – Green Bay Packers - I appreciate the player’s comments of their team being like a family & respecting each other.

(5)

October

Audrey J. Riphenburg

October is the tenth month of the year and has 31 days. In the northern hemisphere we call this autumn and in the southern hemisphere it is called spring. We think of Halloween when we think of October.

There are many special days in October: The first Monday of October is World Architecture Day, and Labor Day is the first Monday after the first Saturday in October. National Fire Prevention Week is October 7th-13th and International World Teachers’ Day is the 5th

. Then there is Free Thought Day on the 12th along with Columbus Day, which is observed the second Monday of this month. World Food Day is the 16th and Sweetest Day is the 3rd Saturday. Spirit Day is the 20th and Apple Day is the 21st. United Nations Day is October 26th and then, finally it is Halloween, when we celebrate All Hallows Eve, October 31st.

October is a month of awareness for: breast cancer, dwarfism/little people, eczema, National Arts and the Humanities, national cyber security and International Walk to School Month.

This entire month observes: mental illness, 3-D ultrasound, pharmacists, world blindness, sudden infant death syndrome, dental hygiene, Down’s syndrome, infertility, lupus, physical therapy, spinal bifida and Rett syndrome, which is a neurological disorder of the brain which usually affects females. I was married October 13th. Maybe I had Retts.

October has monthly culinary observances, too: National Pizza Month, Popcorn Month, Pork Month, Sausage Month and American Cheese Month.

October is dedicated to the devotion of the rosary for Roman Catholic members. Eric Whitacre wrote the song October, a concert work featuring woodwinds. Neil Gaiman wrote the scary story October in the Chair, and Ray Bradbury wrote a series of short macabre stories titled The October Country.

Some of the symbols of October are the birthstone tourmaline or opal and the calendula flower. The Zodiac sign is Libra from October 1st-22nd and Scorpio from the 23rd-31st.

The last week in October, all four major North American sports leagues schedule games: basketball begins the season, hockey is about a month into their season, football is one-half way through the season and baseball is concluding its season with the World Series.

Oh! October, October, October, with your startling colorful leaves, crunchy sounds as we walk through those pretty curled drifted piles of phenomena and catch whiffs of burning autumn brilliance.

Carve a pumpkin, stick a lighted candle in it to show the smile and say, “Boo.”

An Essay

William C. Fucik

Well, I wanted to refresh my understanding of an essay. The American Heritage Dictionary has several definitions, as do several other sources. I like: “A short literary composition on a single subject, usually presenting the personal view of the author.” Also, I like: “A testing or trial of the value or nature of a thing.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-82) was an essayist, poet and philosopher. I consider myself a rank amateur in those areas of learning. However, the subject I want to address which intrigues me is: Why are human beings entertained by violence?

“Whoa!” you say, “Homo sapiens deplore brutality and violence.” Well, a definition of violence is: “Physical force exerted for the purpose of violating, damaging or abusing.” That is why I have always disliked the so called sport of boxing. Your goal is to knock your opponent senseless or damage him so severely, he can’t stand up.

Back, 2,000 years ago, in the heyday of the Roman Empire, people came to the coliseum on Sunday to watch and cheer as lesser human beings were mauled to death by lions. Great sport! Since that time humanity has evolved to a more technical expression of the excitement of violence through Hollywood movies and television. I don’t understand, but people seem to enjoy being frightened or excited by mayhem of their fellow humans as entertainment. Are we born with this trait as a primitive survival mechanism? Can evolution, coupled with enhanced intelligence, reduce or eliminate our thirst for the “excitement” of violence?

It has been about 2,000 years since the height of the Roman Empire -- that is approximately 100 generations. During that time we have definitely improved our intellect and substantially reduced our taste for extreme violence. Carbon 14 dating of buried fossils by geologists and paleontologists estimate humans, homo erectus, started about three million years ago. So, that is about 150,000 generations, figuring about 20 years for a generation. Therefore, the question is, “How many generations will it take to reach my dreamed of goal, which would be to eliminate the trait of so called harm or violence against a fellow homo sapiens? Is that possible? I believe it is. However, I speculate it will take at least 300 generations or 6,000 more years!!

In this prognosis, I of course assume no serious calamities will befall our earth or species and our intellectual capacity will grow exponentially. Heck, the dinosaurs were around for about 180 million years. So 6,000 years is nothing!

I may be a little optimistic, but wouldn’t it be nice to be surrounded by nothing but love? Stifling? What would you do for excitement? I can think of a few things!! But alas, they say my life assurance expires in the near future. So this is my essay of hope!!

(6)

Dragon Slayer

Joe Willger

In the days of fast food, pop cans, beer cans, micro packaging, large factory farms, and huge industrial manufacturing, a huge dragon began to lurk in, and around, the cities and towns. He seemed to be everywhere. One could find the dragon roaming the open fields, dense forests and green pastures. The dragon became more visible and larger each year. It became so horrible that parents would no longer allow their children to play in the out of doors. The children would spend hot summer days in their houses instead of enjoying the beaches and the seashores. Children would no long go hiking or walking or chase butterflies. In addition to the fact that many were not enjoying the outdoors, people had become very distrustful and were blaming the dragon plague on each other. The dragon had everyone living in fear. Children were becoming ill; some wild life was on the verge of extinction.

The adults began to look for some help, some relief. The adults had high hopes that the community leaders could stop the dragon. Law enforcement agencies said that they did not have the resources or the jurisdiction to kill the dragon. Doctors and medical experts did not know what to do for those who had been hurt by the dragon. The leaders of the land began to search for some sort of solution to the impending disaster. They sent envoys to the far reaches of the world to look for anyone, anything to bring relief. They found a man, St. George, at a small university in Ohio, USA. St. George was willing to help the people rid the land of the dragon. When the envoys asked about his background, he responded that he did not know where he came from. He told them that he had been left at this orphanage/university called Josephinum in Ohio by someone. The University staff nurtured St. George and taught him the ways of the world.

St. George proclaimed a simple message: “Beware of the dragon"; " Do not feed the dragon"; "Do not give the dragon an opportunity to rest". This message had no effect. The monster became more ferocious. St. George continued to fight the dragon. It was to no avail. He became exhausted. He would not, however, allow defeat to enter his mind. Exhausted and weary, in search of new strength, he took a long nap. He had a dream that victory could come in solidarity.

He called together the men and asked them to cooperate and work with his plan. They mocked him and told him to get a real job like they had. They told him that they needed to make money and become rich. The dragon continued to thrive. The Saint then called a meeting of the women. They, too, were busy working. Moreover, they had to provide for the children and protect them. His message was falling on deaf ears.

At last, he decided to speak to the youth, young children in cities and in the countryside. He told them that he had come to slay the dragon in their midst. They were familiar with the dragon. He then taught them to love the earth. He told them not to feed the dragon by throwing trash and paper on the streets. He told them to respect the earth, to enjoy the trees and the lakes and the rivers. He taught them how to enjoy the out of doors. He also taught them how to make the earth beautiful, to plant flowers, trees and vegetable gardens. He went on to tell them to give the same message to their parents and families; to tell them not to contaminate the air and the water with waste from factories and manufacturing.

The parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts and friends began to follow the advice of the Saint as it was delivered to them by the youth. They began to take time to plant flowers, gardens and trees. They began to make business decisions to promote clean air, clean lakes, rivers and streams. They made decisions that also promoted healthy forests and fertile rich soils to grow organic vegetables. They made all these changes at the request of the youth.

The dragon disappeared. He disappeared like the white of the snow. St. George also disappeared. The people remembered what he did to save the land and made him the patron of the land. Everyone became happy and neighborly AGAIN.

-Audrey Riphenburg Packers yellow & Packers green! Bestest team I’ve ever seen Packers green & Packers yellow! Bestest team & each Packer Fellow

-Bill Fucik – Detroit Lions - I bite, I claw, I growl, I roar, I leap, I snarl – so don’t mess with me!

-Char Lovely – Packers – because they are our Wisconsin team!

-Janet J. Krings - Watching the Green Bay Packers play against another football team is like watching two groups of boys fighting over a small football.

-Karen Wiltrout – I do not have a favorite football team. I do enjoy watching games so I can check out their tight pants showing off all their butts.

-Nancy Kuester – Packers – their marvelous sense of fair standards & good sportsmanship.

(7)

Precocious Polly’s Road Trip

Holly Bertling

Polly bolted upright in bed, awakened by noises coming from downstairs. Usually she slept until the sun rose, but this Saturday she was too excited to fall back asleep. She hoped both her parents were up already. They better be, she thought, today is the day we are going to visit Auntie Emily and Uncle Eddy in the country. And the best part of the trip was getting to see her very best favorite cousin Olivia. No, the absolute best was that Polly planned to bring Livy home with her during the school holiday.

Polly tossed back the blanket, bound out of bed and got dressed in a flash. She put on her blue jeans and pink knit top with the kitten on the pocket. Quickly brushing her teeth and hair; on went her matching pink socks and tennis shoes and down the stairs to the kitchen she flew.

“Good morning, Mommy,” she beamed, glad to see that breakfast was almost ready. That meant that they would get an early start – and more time to spend with Livy.

“I’m so excited,” chirped Polly, “I have so many plans for Livy and me today. We can work on the club house if Uncle Eddy has more old scrap lumber and we can go berry picking and maybe fish in the pond and hike in the woods and play with our dolls and, and…”

“Polly!” slow down, scolded Mommy. “You’re going a mile a minute. Sometimes you’re just too much. Now finish your breakfast if you want to get going, I still have things to do.”

Mommy’s pancakes topped with homemade syrup were so delicious that Polly wanted to savor every bite of the rich maple flavor. Uncle Eddy is a genius at getting foods from nature, thought Polly. She especially liked it when he picked wild berries for Aunty Em’s jellies to go with her hot-from-the-oven, fresh baked bread. Sometimes he would take her and Livy along to pick berries by the roadside. The girls always ate as much as they brought home.

As soon as breakfast was eaten, they piled into the car and started the hour-long trip and Polly was reminded of another favorite roadside delight, something that her parents also appreciated, happy for any diversion for their precocious daughter.

The drive seemed like an eternity and she could hardly wait until they were out of the city and well on their way. Then the signs would begin to appear. Not signs of nature or of the countryside, but the sets of six little red and white signs that popped up along the route to give rhyming messages for travelers to enjoy.

On their last trip Daddy had told Polly how the signs came to be.

“It’s an advertising campaign started in Minneapolis way back in about 1925,” he informed her, “a reminder to buy the product. A few years later clever writers started displaying a puckish sense of humor on the signs.” Daddy liked to use words that peaked Polly’s curiosity.

“What kind of humor is ‘puckish’?” Polly asked. “That’s just another word for playful or rascally,” he replied, “you know, amusing.”

“Oh, yes, some are kind of funny, but some give good advice too.” Polly thought about her favorite verse and hoped she would see it again on today’s journey.

After about twenty minutes into their country drive Daddy smiled, “Sign alert,” he warned, “get ready.”

Polly was all eyes as she pressed her face to the back seat window and suddenly there it was. Daddy slowed the speed as much as he safely could so they could read:

“The monkey took / One look at Jim / And threw the peanuts / Back at him / Burma Shave.”

“Ha, ha, ha,” they all laughed.

“This is better than counting horses,” remarked Mommy, “especially since you have to count the legs and divide by four. That’s the way my mom taught me to do it.”

Mommy always reflected Nana’s and Papa’s humor whenever she could.

Soon they came upon more signs and Daddy quoted, “The safest rule /No ifs or buts /Just drive like /Everyone else /Is nuts! /Burma Shave.”

And Mommy always watched for her favorite, “Dinah doesn't /Treat him right /But if /He’d shave /Dyna-mite! / Burma Shave,” she chuckled, giving her husband a coy glance.

Polly giggled when her parents flirted like that. It was her turn to read the next set of signs and was glad to see, “Past /Schoolhouses /Take it slow /Let the little /Shavers grow /Burma-Shave.” “That’s a good message, isn’t it?” she commented. Her parents agreed. On they drove repeating the rhymes and laughing. Then Daddy slowed down a bit and alerted Polly, “Here comes your favorite one just past this farm; are you ready?”

Polly knew it by heart but always read it slowly, sign by sign, “If harmony /Is what /You crave /Then get /A tuba /Burma Shave.” It made her laugh as she pictured a man in a red and gold band uniform marching in a parade with his tuba full of shaving cream and huge bubbles floating up into the sky with every “Um- pa- pa.” She could hardly wait to tell Livy and they would laugh and blow bubbles together all weekend long.

-Marg Ellmann – Badgers – I like the “tubas.”

(8)

A Gift from the Road

Patricia Bourne “Please, Mom, can we get a dog? A pet would be so

nice!”

Does every parent of a ten year old hear that question? I know I posed it over and over.

My mom always said, “We’ll think about it, but you know with both Mom and Dad working it might be difficult to care for a dog.”

“I’ll take care of it,” I said. But Mom gave me a questioning glance--she knew I wasn’t the most responsible kid!

And so time went on. I did get a goldfish in a bowl, but that didn’t satisfy my longing at all.

One warm spring evening after driving to Gilles’ frozen custard stand for a cone, Dad was driving the long way home on country gravel roads. He suddenly slowed and woke me as I dozed in the back seat.

“There’s something in the road,” he said and stopped the car. A closer look proved it to be

a large coal-black rabbit.

“Oh, Dad, let’s see if we can catch it.”

We slowly opened the car doors as Dad cautioned, “We have to move carefully – we don’t want to scare it.”

But after a few slow steps, I charged ahead and tackled that rabbit! “I’ve got to get him. It’s my only chance for a pet!” I did catch him and he didn’t mind at all being in my arms. I had my pet.

Mom and Dad agreed we should keep the rabbit, because out in the wild a tame animal would be easy prey for predators. We watched ads for lost pets, but saw none for a black rabbit. So he was ours!

He proved to be a docile and friendly rabbit, happy to be in our home, with his endearing tricks to make us laugh. He was also sort of house trained. He went downstairs to the basement and did all his jobs in the coal bin!

Sr. Editor: Nancy Kuester – Editor: Sandra Weiler – Layout & Graphics: Holly Bertling

Subscriptions Available

$12.00 per year to cover the cost of printing & mailing, prorated to January.

To subscribe contact: Jim Kurz

N4015 Sisters Farm Road Ladysmith, WI 54848 Published by: The Writers’ Exchange

Send your writing contributions to: The Writers’ Exchange

N1351 Ranch Road Holcomb, WI 54745

References

Related documents

What is the correct sequence of the following layers of the Earth as one moves from the surface to the

(not on the label – just dietary fiber) my favorite online store doesn’t have a filter. my favorite online store doesn’t even show ingredients

A political drama which looks into the life of the Secretary of State as she tries to balance work with family. Selfridge 7.6 2013 – 2016

On the other hand, significant differences in leaf area, shoot biomass and epiphyte biomass were detected by ANOVA at the large (location) spatial scale and in epi- phyte biomass

Promjene u obiteljima i kućanstvima te kretanje nupcijaliteta i divorcijaliteta u Hrvatskoj usko su vezani uz prirodno kretanje, promjene u sastavu stanovništva prema dobi,

Results: As for other Elite Controllers, CASE1 is characterized by low to undetectable levels of plasma HIV-1 RNA, peripheral blood mononuclear cell (PBMC) associated HIV-1 DNA

TIEC Entrepreneurs SMEs MNCs Universities incubators VCs Angel Networks policies Education Regulations Infrastructure.. TIEC's main role and objective is to act as a catalyst and a

The number of babies weighing less than 2,500 grams, as reported by the NJ Department of Health and Senior Services, Center for Health Statistics, New Jersey State Health