Say What? This Little Girl is Retiring? NO WAY!

This little girl loves Christmas, although she does seem a little concerned with her big brother, who has just gotten a bat for Christmas.

This Little Girl loves the beach.  And she is dressed for a typical Great Lakes beach stay.  Well, we thought it might warm up, but not enough, so she puts on a coat, and buries her legs in the sand.

This little girl somehow became a teenager, with all their special charms and quirks.  

This little girl got married.  Her she is with her her husband of over 35 years, Michael Easlick.  Like my parents, it is an enduring love story for the ages.  They are posing here at the wedding of their son, Nick Easlick. Their daughter, Tiffany, gets married this May.

This little girl took extra good care of her daddy, who left us in body in September but will never leave our hearts, along with our dear mother.  I love my sister for many things, but I will always cherish how well she loved and took care of Dad in his final years.


Congratulations, Carol!  She is retiring today, after a great career, with many years as a legislative researcher for the Secretary of Education for the State of Michigan.  Am I jealous and envious that she is getting to retire before me?  You better believe it!  But she worked extraordinarily hard at her job, including evenings and weekends, putting in twice the energy and drive that I could ever muster.  She has had to contend with obstinate politicians, entrenched bureaucrats and a confused public, but I do believe that the education system in Michigan is better off for her having fought the good fight.  I'm proud of her.  I know my Dad and Mom were.

Bravo, Carol!  Enjoy your retirement, and know that not an hour goes by that I am not plotting on how I can join you!

Viva la retirement!

The Next Phase

End
Work
Begin
Next

Draw
Studio
Write
Den

Travel
Sand
Motor
Wave

Family
First
Job
Past

Taste
Space
Touch
Love

Open
Book
Breathe
Life

Ripping Good Yarns: Tom's Top Five Movies for 2013

From the best my dim little memory can conjure up, theses were my favorite movies of 2013.  This includes any movie that I actually saw for the first time in 2013, and not just those released.  There were a lot of great movies I missed, so they may show up in later years.

#5....I enjoyed this quite a bit, but there were two big surprises for me with this movie.  The first was that it was a kind of opera, and was completely sung.  I kind of missed having occasional dialogue.  The second was that the message of this movie, as well as Gatsby,  was pretty much missed by my conservative friends.

#4 is this movie based on a real incident in Oakland, California.  The two leads here are just outstanding in the movie, and I think Michael B. Jordan is going to develop into a major star.

#3 is the second movie in The Hunger Game series.  I found this substantially better than the first movie.  I had a much better sense of what they were doing and why.  

#2 was a great ride, even if it does stretch out Tolkien's simpler story of The Hobbit.  It moved better than the first, and did not seem as long to me as the first one did.

#1 with a phaser is this amazing Star Trek movie.  Everything a Ripping Good Yarn should be.  If you missed this movie because you just thought it was for Trekkies, you missed out on the best movie of the year!

Be Yourself Fever

Just to look at their pictures, they didn't seem like much.  But in person, they had a charisma that made them popular, sort of our school's Kennedy brothers.  George and Mike Eckes, two Catholic boys that were not afraid to speak out on politics, and whom girls swooned over.  Mike was my best friend in Junior High, and we ran for Student Council together, with him becoming President and me Vice President.  Whatever attention I got from girls, it was because I was with him.  George was a year older, and even more political than his brother, starting a club in high school centered on opposition to President Nixon, encouraging his impeachment even before most of the rest of us even understood what Watergate was.

We had a television station in our high school, and George was one of our anchors, our today show "Matt Lauer." One day he interviewed the candidates for Homecoming and became extremely exasperated that all the candidates answered every question he had to ask with virtually the same thing..."Be Yourself!"

After the interviews he started to mockingly chant it.  "Be yourself...be yourself...if I here that one more time, I'm going to throw a brick through a window!"  ...or some variation thereof.

It's easy to make fun of that vapid answer in context of beauty contestants, but many in our culture echo it.  My Facebook feed is filled with sentiments about being yourself and not living your life to the expectations of others.  Sometimes it's enough where I get to the point like George Eckes, and I just want to grab a metaphorical brick.

In theory, I don't disagree with it.  And I do have solid beliefs that run counter to many around me, and I'm less afraid to share them than most.  I pride myself in the fact that I often hear a quite different drummer.

Nevertheless.

I take great joy in acting.  I like slipping on other roles and persona, and getting in a zone where I am transported into the world of the play.  But the really big reason is that I can feel the audience,  I can sense their reaction to me, and it gives me energy and confidence. Call me shallow, but I love the applause and the accolades.

I start out in a play shy and withdrawn, not very talkative in early rehearsals, and then come out more and more as the play goes on.  I have a definite inferiority complex, and feel in the beginning that everybody deserves to be there more than I do, and it is only in proving myself, play after play, that I am worthy of being with others.

My accounting job is tough, partly because there are few applause lines.  Most people only recognize you when things go wrong.  I am rarely "myself" at work, because I am not secure in my contribution, and my hobbies and interests are alien to many of those around me.  I struggle to do the best I can, and play the role of "accountant" as best I can.  I have flashes of personality, but I am certainly not "Being myself".

I think that is how we all are.  We may have a small thread of identity, but mostly we just blend to our circumstances or different roles in life.  Actor, accountant, father, husband, church goer, writer - we are slightly different in each role as we try to match the expectations of others.

For me to pretend that I don't care how my writing is received is a lie.  I want approval.  I want recognition.  I want to go to the naysayers and have some achievement to show them and say. "Look!  I told you I could do it!"  And yes, rational or not, I want enough success at it so that I can finally close my extended run in my most difficult role - that of accountant.  I feel like one of those actors who got stuck playing in Cats for years and years.  It was interesting to start out with, but now you're ready to move on.

The Homecoming Queen nominees talked about being yourself, but I don't believe they had much of an idea what they were saying.  I think they said it because...they felt like they were expected to say it.  They all pretty much wore the same type of makeup, the same type of clothes, they all emphasized the most pleasing parts of their personality, and they all gave the same carefully bland answers to questions.

Be yourself, indeed.

Winter is Going

Another Winter Olympics have drawn to a close, and as the sports saying goes, "aaand nobody got hurt!"

Well, I'm sure there were some bumps and bruises, but I was very happy there were no major terrorist incidents, no explosive brouhahas.  Russia was unpleasantly anti-gay, some of the facilities not very good, the security presence overwhelming and all-intrusive, some events sparsely attended, some judging suspect, but at least it was relatively quiet.  Unlike Kiev.

I enjoyed curling, although I still have yet to quite comprehend the scoring.  But it looks cool.

I saw a good bit of figure skating.  That is one of the things Alison likes.  I think I liked the pairs best, whereas she liked the ice dancing best.  The team skate was an interesting concept, and created an event that allowed for more co-ed competition, which I like.  I don't know why some of the relay events couldn't also be co-ed.  Maybe in time.

Women's figure skating has been ruined by the inclusion of girls that are too young.  We did not have a fifteen year old win this year, but it could have happened.  I think the age limit should be seventeen or eighteen.

My favorite events this year were the snowboard cross and the ski cross.  Four to six competitors race against each other to go down a course that includes hills and turns, all downhill in a rapid fashion.  There are spills and crashes, almost like the NASCAR of Winter Olympics.  It was unpredictable and awesome.

Under my patented medal ranking system. giving three points for a gold, two points for a sliver and one point for bronze, the big winner was the host country Russia (surprise!) with 79 medal points.  In second was Canada with 55 medal points.  Tied for third were the United States and Norway with 53 each.  Fourth was Netherlands (thank you, speed skating!) with 47, and fifth was Germany with 39.  Some 62 countries came and did not win a single medal.

I don't watch a tremendous amount of sports on TV, so it will probably be another fours years before I focus on winter sports.  Unless the pond here freezes over.  Then I will find some skates and create my own Winter Olympics.

Until somebody gets hurt.  Most likely me.  Oy, it's been a long time since I put on skates!

After the Midpoint Monday Musings

Emily Beck performing as Amy in Flying Dragon's production of  Little Women.

After what seems like an eternity, tax season has finally reached it's half way point.  There is now slightly less time left than we have gone through.  I should be relieved, but it still seems like an incredible distance to go.

I got out to Little Women on its last performance.  I need to start going to community theater performances in their first weekend, so I can have a better chance to promote them.  I was trying to get a performance that the all three of us (Alison, Benjamin and myself) could go to, and it never worked out.

Little Women was an important performance for Flying Dragon.  It was a Drama Workshop and involved a wide variety of children to theatre and performing,  Some of them are already for larger community theatre stages, including Emily Beck shown in the picture above.  Sarah Setzer and her brother, Giuseppe Pitingaro, are also in this category, with an innate ability to connect with the audience. Some were very enjoyable to watch because you could see that they were improving and getting better - that is one of the true great joys of watching a children's theater over many productions - you can see children grow from being shy and tentative onstage, and grow in confidence and ability over time. Hannah Hayes and Marin Jeffords were impressive in their continuing improvement and growth.  Some were relative newcomers, and it was great to see them get their first experience.

Flying Dragon Arts Center is a tremendous community resource, serving an important role in developing children's confidence and artistic abilities.  It is not funded with government money, thriving solely on private donations.  It is a 501c3 and contributions are tax deductible.  I'll put it as simply as I can - 

Flying Dragon only survives with your help.  Without YOU, it can't exist.  See a show.  Help young ones you know participate.  Donate DOLLARS.

--------------

Alison and I finally got out on our Valentine's date this weekend.  We saw the movie Winter's Tale, which has been savaged by critics and ignored by the public.  So, of course, we liked it and though it was a pretty good movie.  Certainly not the massive bomb others are saying.  It wasn't a masterpiece, but it was a melodramatic romantic fantasy.  The very epitome of a Rippling Good Yarn.

We ate at Cavagnaro's, which has Italian food on the menu.  We had the grilled steak salad, which they do very well - a huge, filling salad. We ordered a calzone to bring back to Benjamin.  Their calzones are so far above anything Olive Garden has to offer, I'm almost ashamed to draw a comparison.

The Winter Olympics are now over.  I am glad they were conducted safely.  I love the Winter Olympics, but even I got burned out towards the end.  I was ready to return to regular television.  Such as The Walking Dead, which is still the best show Alison and I watch together.  Last night's episode was particularly harrowing, and Alison could barely breathe through most of it.  And the mystery of whether Kennedy Brice's character Molly is still in the show, or whether her character has met her demise continues.  There was not a super clear death scene for her and the other child, Luke, just some vague indications that Beth may have seen a boot form one of them, on a body too far gone to identify.  I tend to believe her run on the show is over, but we will see.

-----------------

There are some things that are easy to say, but hard to put into practice,  Love you neighbor, for one.  Another is that you should not live your life in accordance with the expectations of others.  Easy to say and agree with.  So very, very hard to put into practice.

But the ticking clock is slamming me out of here.  More on that later.

Until next time,

T. M. Strait

History of the Trap: August Blues Part 1

Chapter 7

August Blues

1

Sometimes I wonder about the value of this exercise, Doctor Duncan. It has taken me days to write this much.  It's not making it any easier for me, and I'm not sure if it will bring you to any real insight. I doubt if this will have any real credibility to you.

Nevertheless, it is better than simply staring at the walls, or watching television I no longer understand, or reading books that I cannot concentrate on.  I have three days to go before our first appointment to review what I have written, so I may as that the spectacular, so I will continue as far as I can until that time.  And remember I am doing this, in large part, so that you will leave the others alone.  You must keep your pledge on that.
With the spectacular, tragic failures of the month before, August was a time for absorbing the dashing of our hopes and expectations.  Some adjusted very well, almost thriving in our new little dominion, others found ways to muddle through, and more than a few you had a very rough time. A very rough time, indeed.

The Black Marketeers continued to thrive, despite the administration trying to run interference.  Smoking did become rarer, at least in public.  My Dad and Mr. Tate had done a fairly good job of rounding up contraband and disposing of it.  There were a few wild hair experiments in trying to smoke some of the grasses and weeds found in the area, but those attempts must have been pretty nasty as they did not take hold.    The monstrous addiction to nicotine was losing its grip on many, although not all.

The first council meeting of the month was horrendous.  Vice Principal Crowler was taking the full blame for the failed tunnel and flight experiments.  My Dad thought that was ridiculous, as did the rest of us, but he could not be dissuaded from shouldering the guilt.  Mr. Bruschow, the biology teacher who had worked with the tunnel team, was devastated as well, but was at least trying to lead the group to more practical considerations.  He reported on the continued success of gardening efforts, stating that we could reach some major harvests by November.  But he warned that we would need to continue to use the food stored in the fallout shelter. 

This led to much concern about the safety of the whole underground area.  The foodstores had not been cut off by the collapse, but there was more awareness that they were limited and finite in nature.  After much rancorousness, it was decided that a small group of teachers and staff would continue to go underground and bring up whatever they could.  The decision to exclude students from going down there would prove to be unpopular, as some of us, particularly some seniors, felt like this whole experience had aged and matured us, at least to the point that we should not be considered children.  Indeed, a good many in the upper grade had passed eighteen years of age.   If they were in the outside world, they could already vote and if they desired, join the military.

Mr. Cairn, the physics teacher who was in charge of our flight experiment was there, but he had little to say.  His eyes were bloodshot; under his eyes his skin was puffy and dark.  He couldn't figure out what wrong.  Scientific explanations completely eluded him.  He didn't know whether there was a scientific answer that lay beyond his ability to figure out, which made him feel stupid, or whether the answer lay more in the realm of magic, which made him feel terrified.

One of the recognitions that we were maturing in the Trap was the decision to allow marriage, under the condition that both parties were eighteen and they undergo a series of counseling appointments with Mr. Bowtin, our sociology and religions teacher who was also a preacher, and Mrs., Fourdyce, our elderly English Department Chair.  This was a small concession that might not have even covered Tom and Sue (they were not eighteen), but it was an important concession, the beginning of others that would occur over the next year and a half.

Special events were scheduled throughout the month, in order to try to improve morale (or at least distract us).  This included a special basketball tournament and a joint band/choir concert at the end of the month.  They were extending probation to Mr., Black, the band director caught with the moonshine stills, and allowing him, under supervision, to direct the band again.  Trials and prison had not yet come to our little world.  At most we had detention, including some that had been detained for a few days, but nothing formal.  Not yet.

The drama group would start up again.  My father recommended we do an old fashioned farce.  He brought up something he did as a kid, called Aaron Slick from Pumpkin Crick, but we were spared that when the Drama Director, Mr. Strang, said we did not have a copy in house.  The play Charley's Aunt was picked, which I thought was pretty old as well, but I guess it's what we had.  Would I try out for it?  I was very unsure.  My plate, what with writing the TV soap, The Sands of Loren, was pretty full.

If the meeting was not depressing enough, the count was now 1,065, down 74 from last month's count.  It was by far our steepest drop to date, and one that had touched us all personally.  Little did we know at the time how low our count would actually go.

Frabjous Friday Fiction

Every time I wake up, things are a little bit different.

This morning I grabbed my fishing pole and went down to the dock.  Sitting at the dock, my bare feet inches from the water, I extend the line out into the blue.  In the distance, I see three ripples as a large serpent rises out of the lake waters.  I fumble for my iPhone in order to take a picture, only to find that I do not have it.

Alison's father comes up from behind me.  "Tom," he says gently.  "What are you doing here?"

I knew the answer to that one.  "Fishing."

"That's nice.  I've never seen you fish before.  I didn't even know you owned a  fishing pole."

"Really?  Are you sure?"

"Yes.  And isn't this when you're supposed to be at work?  You normally don't have a day off this time of year."

Oh, yes.  That's right.  My mistake.

Every time I wake up, things are a little bit different.

This morning, I extend my hand down  and Hoover, our pet pig, nuzzles it.  "Honey!" I shout.  "Has Hoover been out this morning?"

Alison comes  to our screened in porch, where I am sitting, and looks at me with a puzzled expression.  "Who's Hoover?"

I look down and there is nothing there.  "Where did the pig go?"

"Pig?  What pig?  Aren't you getting ready for work?"

Oh, yes.  That's right.  Just great.

Every time I wake up, things are a little bit different.

This morning, I am finishing up my four mile jog, when Boatdock Bill Davis comes up beside me and reminds that I should be careful, as he doesn't think that I've ever done this before.

Oh, yes. That's right.  My heart can stop pounding.

Every time I wake up, things are a little bit different.

This morning, I'm giving instructions to my employees at Tommy T's, when Karissa comes up to me, and asks me why I'm bossing the people at Jerry J's around.

Oh, yes.  That's right.  My bad.

Every time I wake up, things are a little bit different.

This morning, I am putting the finishing touches on the sequel, Eric Reid & The Time Team In Dallas.  My biggest hope is that when Hollywood inevitably films it, they do not cast Justin Bieber in it again.  I am thrilled they got Nolan Gould to play Eric again, and Kennedy Brice to play Savannah.

Beautiful Alison brings me a steaming cup of coffee and reminds me that I should get dressed for another day of work.

Oh, yes.  That's right.  Reality sets in.

This morning, as usual, there is a loving family, which I am extremely grateful for.

There is also a tax season that never....seems...to end.

I have faith.  If not tomorrow, then very soon.  I hear the birds chirping.

Dreams may dissipate, but hope lingers.

Dragon Dispatch

Everything became dark
All the outcomes stark
The wingspan so immense
Nothing else made sense

We hugged the ground
As it soared around
The air itself turned very hot
The villagers screamed - a lot

"Shoot an arrow in to the underbelly!"
Whispering urgently, through the smelly
sulfuric ash, she place my bow in hand
The dragon still blotting the land

Quietly I pulled it back
Stealth I did not lack
Still I swear it heard me
Still I feared it would see

I got to knees and pulled it taut
The dragon heard and the sound it sought
But the arrow had gone soarin'
And had the dragon a-roarin'

As it carefully found it's part
Through the scales and into the heart
It's head turned and looked at us with hate
For us to run it was way too late

Crashing down from the sky
Right on top of you and I
And now my dearest darling bud
Our love is covered in dragon's blood

Thursday Throwback Up Picture Storytime!

Here I come to save the Day!

Mighty Mouse is on his way!

To save is sister trapped behind the gate...

By the mad scientist we all love to hate!

But with the aide of the Cowardly Lion and the Wizard we see.....

The future once again looks bright for my sister and me!!!!!

The End

And Now For Wednesday Wanderings

My mind, such of it that is left, continues to wander aimlessly across a synapse-snapped universe, unable to settle on anyone topic or thing.

I have run through a dozen ideas, and have been unable to focus long enough on any of them in order to write a coherently themed post.

Probably getting up at 5:20 and not having a solid clue as to the morning's writing topic is not a good thing.

I thought about the Winter Olympics, but nothing congealed fast enough to write about.  I do have a unique scoring method to determine a medal standing, that gives more weight to gold and silver, that helps show a fairer sense of placement.  If I demonstrate it, I need to get together before the Olympics are over.

There was great fear that there would be chaos in the area, but I'm not sure people expected it to be in Kiev the central city of Ukraine.

I wanted to do a listing of my favorite movies of 2013, but that requires more planning and foresight than I can do in the limited morning time I have to write.

I am having trouble with the picture my posts are displaying when I post them on Facebook.  It is wanting to show The Wizard of Oz I have in my advertising section, sometimes over anything else.  I have seen clearly that posts with a display picture get more clicks.  But when I tried to post the Dog and Cat Post to Facebook this morning, it wouldn't show an animal picture, just the Wizard picture.  I'm sure WACT doesn't mind the constant publicity, but I would like to have a little bit more control over which picture to run.

Speaking of Facebook, my original thought this morning was to write a post about the diversity of Facebook, only to remember that I had already done that months ago.  My only new thought on Facebook is that it seems to be somewhat of a fading force.  To most, it is just a "thing" and if it disappears like MySpace, so what.  But it is a way for someone with selective mutism and shyness to connect with people, and it helps promote my blog and other writings.  I have tried Google+ and Tweet, and at this point, they are a vast wasteland of emptiness to me.  I am doing much better with Wattpad, and I would do much better if I would just rename my stories after popular teen movies and books.  Like History of the Twilight, or Crowley Hunger Game Stories.

This is thematically exciting, isn't it?  It's like a whole week without coherence.

Can't wait to see what I do to Thursday!

Brain Fried Tuesday Tidbits

Brain fried.

Near but not at middle of tax season.  In that hopeless phase where it has gone on forever, and yet seems like it has forever to go yet.


Hard for me to stay on any one topic for very....

How 'bout those Olympians?  They are fun to watch, especially at triple speed.  Bobsleds go REAL fast that way.

All the ice dancers like to train in Michigan.  If I had stayed in Michigan, maybe that would've been me out there..................okay, probably not.

Benjamin and Alison are home today.....fifth day of five day break,  I'm a big person, though.  I'm not jealous.

---------------------------------------------------

Took a brief break.  Maybe I am a little jealous.  Probably should not have run through the house screaming, "I HAVE TO GET UP! SO YOU WILL TOO!"


--------------------------------------------------

Okay, I didn't really do that.  I just thought it in my head.  I realize that now that I've gotten some coffee.

I've never performed on Broadway, but I did have a small solo at Carnegie Hall once.  Long story.  Well, a little too long for me to stay focused on to

I should do a Ripping Good Yarns on the Oscars, but I ain't seen enough of them to count.  We diverse now, in movie going.  Some see at movie theatres.  Some see on premium channels or pay per view.  Some see on Netflix or Redbox.  Some see on TBS or TNT.  Some ain't seen a movie since Forrest Gump. Maybe if they make a movie out of Duck

Jimmy Fallon started the Tonight Show last night.  It was midnight which would have made it tomorrow, you know, like with Tom Synder.  Or would that make it Today?  No, then there would be Ann Curry.  No, Matt Lauer got rid of her, and then Matt Lauer is on the Olympics because the other guy's eye blew up, you know, that Bob

I have a stapler on my desk.  How long have I had a stapler on my

We may foster another dog soon.  Maybe we already have.  Let me go count the dogs.....no, I can't do that because they're in sleeping with Alison because SHE gets to sleep in because SHE gets a five day weekend but I swear I'm not jeal

Oh, man!  I saw ANOTHER stapler on my desk!  What are they?  Like multiplying?  Let me close my eyes and see what hap

Valentine Dance-arama and Other Monday Musings

Grace Episcopal had a wonderful Valentine's dinner organized by the Sunday School, that included a delicious Italian diner and was capped off by dancing.  Benjamin in the green jacket cuts a mean rug, under the tutelage of David Rollison, who also helps coordinate Cotillion.

Benjamin dancing again.  I tried to get some pictures of him waiting tables, but they turned out too dark.

A short but not too shabby weekend.

Alison started things out with a very special Valentine's dinner at home Friday night, including a special turkey Salisbury steak served over gravy and mashed potatoes.  Desserts included some homemade Oatmeal Chocolate/Butterscotch Cookies, and Strawberries dipped in chocolate.  It was much, much better than going out to a restaurant.  We plan on a date this coming weekend.

The movie winner this weekend was The Lego Movie, that I saw with Benjamin.  As the song in it goes, "Everything is Awesome!"  It was a very entertaining movie, and we both had a great time.  The story was clever and imaginative, fun and fast paced.  It included by far the funniest version of Batman I'd ever seen.

We brought Angel to the shelter late Saturday afternoon, and she is on her way to a very good rescue center in New Jersey.  It was very hard to part with her, but we think we left her in very good hands.  If we get pictures or updates, I will definitely share them.

As mentioned above, the church Valentine's dinner was very good, something everyone involved enjoyed a great deal, and the Sunday School raised some $460 to go towards the Sack for Saturday program, which helps feed hungry kids on the weekends.

I wrote the big finish to my three part Crowley Story, and another writing assignment for a local magazine (at least the initial draft of the story).  During tax season, that's about all I get to, even though I would love to do more.

Benjamin has three teenage boys over for Sunday night - their school is on a five day weekend for President's Day.  Alison is also off.  Me?  Eh, not so much.  My next scheduled holiday is Memorial Day.

Until next time,

T. M. Strait

Stories From A Stony Land: Last Will and Testament of Henry Straight

This is recorded by my Dad from original court documents.  As you can see, the document was in Olde English, and of low quality, so he had some difficulty with translation.  Henry Straight was the first generation Strait, living from 1652 to June 4, 1728.  This will was recorded only a few weeks before his passing.

In the name of God Amen this fifteenth day of May in the year of our Lord, Seventeen Hundred Twenty and Eight I Henry Straight of East Greenwich in the Colony of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations in New England in America, yeoman being sick and weeke in Body but in perfect mind and memory and understanding, thanks be given to God.  Therefore Calling to mind that mortalyty of my Body and that it is appointed for all men once to Die I do make and ordain this my Last Will and Testament (that is to say) Prinsepally and first of all I Give and Recommend my soul into the hands of God that Gave it, and my Body I recommend unto the Earth from whence it was taken to be Buried in Decent Buraill at the Descression of my Executorex here after named on thing Doubting but at the Glorious Resurrection I shall Receive the same again by the might Power of God: and Touching such Temporal Estate as it hath pleased God to Bless me with in this life, I Give Demise Dispose of the same in the following manner and form as followeth

Impri:  My will is that in some Resonable time after my Decese all my Just Debts and funerall Charge be Duly and truely Paid-

Itim:  I Give and bequeth unto my son Henry Straight five shillings, he having had his portion in full in Lands and moveables already Received before the Date of these Presents--

Itim:  My Will is and I Do Give to my son John Straight the one halfe of my farm whereon I noLive at the Ensealing of these Presents butted and bounded Eastward on the Land of Robert Voughaun north-ward on a highway westwardly to a maple tree thence south-ward to a white oke tree and is mentioned more plain in a Deed of Gift Drawn by Thomas Spenser Juont bearing Date April the 30:1726: Reference their unto being had the said Land I have Given to my aforesaid son John Straight after the Decese of my wife Mary Straight of marriage which shall first happen I say I Do give the said Land to him and his heirs and assigns forever---

Itim:  I Give and bequeth unto my beloved wife Mary Straight all my moveable Estate, Chatles beds Goods Household st uf (Eriton kiolos?)  my Dad notes here - GARBLED  - whatever to her and her heirs and assigns forever whom I Do Constitute and ordain and appoint my whole & sole Excutorex to this my Last Will and Testament further my will is and Doe Give unto my beloved wife Mary Straight my hous and Housing Barn Crib fensis orchard or orchards and Land to be Used occupied and Quietly and Injoyed and Peaceably Possesed During the time she remains my widow and then to Return to my son John as afore said and here by I Doe Revoke and Disalow and make void all my former Wills and Testaments, and Do ratifie and Confeirm this and no other to be my Last Will and Testament as Witness my hand and seal the Day and year above written.

As I do not have an original document, it is hard to say how much above represents mis-spellings in the original, or errors my father made in translation.  I chose to present as he did, with the exception of a few additional commas.

The document, particularly the first paragraph, appears to be written by some strange mixture of lawyer and preist.  Mary Straight survived a good long while after Henry, living until 1757 and reaching the age of 92.  This is the same age my father's mother, Florence, lived to, and my father lived one year less, passing at 91.

Confessions In the Garden of New Life Part Three

There he was, hunkered down between the azaleas and the large oak tree at the center of the courtyard, a garden of flowers and trees meant to be a soothing reprieve in the  middle of the New Life complex, something to look out on and be reminded of the beauty of God's creation.

Dabs was there, shivering, kneeling, his head down.  Pastor Dan wondered if it had been so smart contracting for Dabs to assist with the gardening.  It was hard to ignore the appeal of Sheriff Alan, and it might lead to the Denison clan joining the church.  Besides, the frank truth, off the books labor was very helpful to the bottom line.  No need to mess with minimum wage or that god-cursed government.

Dabs Denison was a veteran of the United States Army, having served in both Iraq and Afghanistan.  But something happened the last tour and he came back with that, what do they call it?  Post Dramatic Stress Disorder, something like that.  Pastor Dan promised himself that he would Google it later, and try to become better informed.

Maybe he had brought a time bomb onto the New Life grounds.  Everyone told him the Dabs wasn't dangerous.  But when dealing with something like this, who knew?  Maybe he was just a-waiting, just a-seething inside, just to lash out in one horrible, violent burst.

That certainly wasn't the way he looked right now.  Skinny, shivering, folded in on him self, looking close to tears; Pastor Dan couldn't see how Dabs would be a threat to anyone but himself.

He moved closer to Dabs.  "What's the matter, Dabs?  Anything we can help you with?"  Dabs looked up at him, with a seeking, confused expression.  "Do you want to take a break?  Do you want us to call Edna?"

"Father....I mean Preacher...sir," Dabs stuttered out.  "Do you take confessions?"

Father?  Confessions? What was up with the Catholic thing today?  First Janet Roper, and now this? They weren't enough Catholics in Crowley to fill a Volkswagen Beetle.  Oh well.  Shake it off, he thought.  This man needed his help.  "Well, Dabs, we really don't do 'confessions', but if you want to be counseled, then later give testimony and accept you savior, nothing would please me more."

Dabs grimaced.  "Oh, I accept Jesus, Father.  I'm just not sure he accepts me."

Then you really haven't accepted him, have you?  "It's Pastor Dan, Dabs.  We're not that formal or fancy here.  Just Pastor Dan will do.  And there is nothing that our Lord and Savior can't forgive, I promise you that.  Now if you'll just come over here and sit with me on this bench, I can counsel you."

Dabs got up slowly, reluctantly, but soon they were sitting at opposite ends of a bench overlooking the hibiscus and iris.  They sat quietly for a minute.

"Now, Dabs, what can I do to bring you to new life in Christ?" began Pastor Dan.

"I told you, Fath...Pastor, I believe."  Dabs paused and looked skyward. "Well, I used to believe.  I'm not sure anymore."

"Let me assure you.  God's love is for everyone."

Dabs suddenly dropped off the bench, genuflected, and folded his hands together, head bowed.  "Please forgive me Father; it has been ten years since my last confession..."

"Dabs!  I told you...."  Pastor Dan sighed.  Did it really matter?  If he could bring Dabs along, he could shake out the Papist crap later.  "It's all right, Dabs.  What is it you want to, uh, confess?"

"I...I...think," Dabs slowly, shudderingly started, and then, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper, "I think I killed him."

The hairs on Pastor Dan's neck rose.  He suddenly feared that being alone in the garden with this disturbed Vet might not be the smartest thing he's done.  He looked and saw tat the windows overlooking the garden Doc Stratton. Dana Montague and a few others.  He was grateful that his love of the second amendment included the ability to pack heat while on church grounds.  He didn't have one on him, but he was fairly sure Doc did.  But...Dabs couldn't, could he?  He started to sweat a bit.

"You....think you killed who, Brother Dabs?"  That's it, Pastor Dan thought.  Call him Brother, make him feel more included, even if he wasn't officially saved.

"The...the boy.  Not much older than my boys."

"You...you...killed a boy?"

Dabs did not look up at him, but continued talking.  "It was...over there.  We were told that this Afghani house, this mud hut, had a terrorist leader who was responsible for an attack that had killed three U.S. soldiers.  We got there, and there was just old men, women, and...and..."

Dabs stopped.  He stayed like that for over a minute.  Pastor Dan feared Dabs had gone catatonic.  "Go on, my...son," he said.  Ugh!  That was something he heard on M*A*S*H or some movie.  He would have to shower the Catholic off of him after this.

"We burst down the last door.  We saw...movement.  Will and I...we...we couldn't stop ourselves.  We fired, without really thinking.  By the time the fear cleared...."

Dabs was crying, shaking.  "H-he was a boy.  J-just a...boy.  And he lay there, shot a dozen times.  And he couldn't be put back together.  There was nothing I could do. I couldn't go back and make it not happen!"

He grabbed Pastor Dan's arm, fiercely.  "That's what I want, Father Dan.  More than anything!  I want God to go back and make it not happen.  I want more than forgiveness!  I want to make it not so!"

Pastor Dan's heart was racing a mile a minute.  He had spent a lifetime feeling in utter control, and now he felt completely lost as what to do.  "We can't turn back, the awfulness of what happens in war.  I wish we could, Dabs.  It's not your fault; you were doing the right thing.  Your intentions were good."

"I don't give a shit about intentions!  I give a shit about that boy!"  Dabs looked into Pastor Dan's eyes, trying to bore into his soul. "Please, Father, I'm sorry...so sorry!  I know it won't bring the boy back, but please, Father, forgive my sins!"

"I..I can't do that, Dabs.  It doesn't work that way.  You need to ask God for forgiveness, not me.  And the great news is, he will accept and you can testify before the altar, and Christ will enter your heart and you will be saved and you will dwell forever in new life in his love and grace."

Dabs started to chant.  "Hail, Mary, full of grace..."

Pastor Dan wanted to shout at him to stop but he stayed his voice.  Soon, Dabs was just sobbing. wretched sounds as if he was throwing up his soul.  Pastor Dan reached out his hand to put it on Dab's shoulder, but pulled it back at the last second, hesitating for some reason he didn't understand.  Before he could change his mind, he heard someone approach them.

It was Edna, Dab's wife.  She was a solid woman, about as tall as Dabs, but about twice the weight.  She looked pale and haggard.  "Come home with me, Dabs.  It's been a long day and it's time to rest."

Dabs let go of Pastor Dan's arm and got up from his crouch and said meekly.  "Yes, dear."  She took his hand and they turned to leave.  "I can't get forgiveness, Edna.  I tried but I just couldn't."

"God forgives him, Edna.  The light of Christ awaits him.  Let me check with some of the veterans in our brethren and I'm sure we could hold a meeting that would help Dabs walk towards that light."

Edna turned back and stared at him coldly.  "I think we've done enough for now.  Good day, Pastor."

"Let me know, Edna, and I will set that meeting up, pronto."

"We'll see."  Edna and Dabs walked out of New Life.

Pastor Dan was alone in the garden.

Except for a coral snake that Pastor Dan saw quietly slither by.

It's Little Women Time!

• This play chronicles the lives of four sisters, Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy March, as they mature from children to women. Each heroine experiences trials, as well as triumphs, as they slowly leave their girlhoods behind. Come join us in bringing this classic tale to life! Performances: Saturday, February 15th - 7:00 PM; Sunday, February 16th - 3:00 PM; Saturday, February 22nd - 7:00 PM; Sunday, February 23rd - 3:00 PM Ticket Prices: Ages 13 & Up - $8; Ages 6-12 - $5; Ages 5 & Under - Free

Flying Dragon Arts Center

405 Tebeau Street, Waycross, Georgia 31501

View Map · Get Directions

Come out and a see a great show, discover new talent, 

enjoy some delicious snacks, and help support the best

in Southeast Georgia's children's theater!

Ripping Good Yarns: To Mooovie or Not to Mooovie?

The surprise leading contender if my primary co-patriot in seeing a movie is Benjamin.

The leading contender for a Valentine's outing with Alison.  I read and enjoyed the book a number of years ago.

How to choose?  how to choose?  What do you go by?  Word of mouth?  Critical reviews?  Advertising?  Gut instinct?

Often I go by Directors or creators that I have enjoyed in the past.  That does not seem to be much of a help this weekend.  A story line that is intriguing to me will get a leg up (or a Lego up, as the case may be), including stories I may have read in the past (such as Winter's Tale).  I seldom pay attention to who is in a movie - an all star cast neither persuades or dissuades me (I'm looking at you, Monuments Men!).

So, anyways, based on what's playing at the local bijou, here are the leading possibilities , with Rotten Tomatoes current favorable percentage:

If Benjamin is my co-patriot:

The Lego Movie - 96%.  Yes, this movie has a higher critical rating than Frozen (89%).  At first blush, it sounds about as likely contender as a Barney the Dinosaur movie, but after seeing a trailer, and hearing about the story, and the subversive directors that made it, I'm on board to give it a try.  Amazingly, my 13 year old boy, who is a powerfully good Lego builder, seems a little less fired up than usual, so we will see.

Robo-Cop - 50%.  Benjamin is more fired up about this film, but it gives me a slight feeling of deja vu.  Now why would that be?  Anyways. it's promoted as a better acted and structured version, with less humor and satire.  I dunno.  I kinda liked the satire and humor.

If Alison wants to make it a Valentine's date:

Winter's Tale - 6%.  I really wanted to see this movie and it gets a rating like this?  That's when you really have to decide what critical reviews mean to you.  It could very easily be a very bad adaption of a fairly good book, but who knows.  My friends are no help, because even those I though would be interested don't seem to care about it.  But a romantic fantasy set in New York City and spanning 100 years?  On paper, this is right up mine and Alison's alley.  Oh, well.

Endless Love - 27%.  Now on paper, this sounds like a really bad 80s romance movie.  Not the good John Hughes kind, but the drecky Brooke Shields movie-without-a-sense-of-humor-or-soul kind.But after reading the description of it, I think it may even be worse than that.  Privileged girl attracted to the "wrong kind' of by.  For adolescents this may be a contender, but for Alison and me - eh, not so much.

If it's me:

The Monument's Men - 34%.  The premise is interesting - trying to locate and preserve art during World War II.  This is one where the critics have given a big meh, but the word of mouth has been good. The only problem is that since I'm the only one interested, it probably is wait for streaming release option.

So what will be the winner?  What will be the big choice?

Well, if this weekend is typical of most weekends, the choice will be....(drumroll. please)..................

Nothing.

Usually movies fall short to other things in the weekend.  We have a Saturday night Valentine's supper that the church Sunday School is putting on.  And Flying Dragon has Little Women (Saturday night at 7, Sunday afternoon at 3).  And there is work.  And the Olympics.  And a writing assignment I have to get done.

Ah, movies.  You may escape my grasp again!  Something to think about anyways.

Animal Crackers On the Good Ship Lollypop

She defined a generation.  The greatest generation.  A symbol of hope, of determination, of all that was best in America.

As the world's economic system collapsed, and as we slid perilously towards a global war, Shirley Temple came and put a smile on every one's face.

She was the number one box office draw for three years in the 1930s.  And her films lived on for decades after.  For my generation, the first one to grow up with television, her movies were as fresh and interesting to us as they were then.  Many stations showed movies in the afternoon, right after school, and we saw many of the gems from yesteryear.  So our generation was as much in love with her as the previous ones.

Girls would often try to emulate Shirley, in style and particularly curls.  Talent shows often had many Shirley Temple imitators.  The girl I had the biggest crush on in elementary school was almost a ringer for Shirley Temple. She was a great dancer too, and could dance up a storm like Shirley could.

Her mother was a large presence in her early career, but in a mostly positive sense.  She helped keep Shirley's head on straight during the massive maelstrom of attention.  When the mother wasn't there on set, a director tried to frighten Shirley in order to get a scared reaction from her.  The mother was never off set after that.

As Shirley became an adult, her movie career took a nosedive.  Not through any lack of talent, but through the public's lack of ability to see her in any other role.  Rather than turn to despair, she instead turned to family, and eventually had a great career in politics, where she was an effective ambassador, including at a crucial time in Czechoslovakia.

It is easy to condemn certain child stars that remain in the limelight, for turning their earlier innocence on its head.  Some descend into self-destructive behavior, some become the opposite of what they were, and some do both.

The entertainment industry is so diverse and fast-paced now, I wonder if any will endure now the way Shirley Temple did.  Would we know of Miley Cyrus if she had not defied the stereotypes of her youth?  There are other young adults far more "adult" and sexual in their performances, but  we stand most confused by her because she is so different than her earlier image.  But those who have not done what Miley Cyrus did have faded into obscurity.

If you have a little girl, do find a Shirley Temple movie and play it for her.  Show her what grit and determination, optimism and positivity, kindness and caring, talent and practice, can bring about.

Curls optional.

God bless you, Shirley Temple.  And what you brought to this nation in its darkest hour.  Bless you and the loving family you came from, and the loving family you raised.

Twirling Topical Tuesday

I freely admit.  I'm fairly fried as tax season wanders on and slowly consumes my limited mental processes.  But I'll give it a try.

How 'bout those Winter Olympics?  Watched about seven hours worth of recorded programs in one hour - it's amazing how fast they can get down that luge when you fast forward at 3x.  For the record the 15 year old Russian figure skater could do what she does.....BECAUSE SHE'S FIFTEEN....yes, a highly trained fifteen, but it's hard for the adult women to compete with that almost boneless flexibility.  I am glad that the Olympics have been incident free....lots of vacant seats, though.

How 'bout that Writer's Guild?  We had a great meeting last night, centered around local newspaper writer and talent Gary Griffin.  He shared many stories about his years in the newspaper business, and reminded me what we're losing as we drift away from print media.  The sense of localness is being slowly lost, and certainly the idea of getting local news and information from multiple sources.

How 'bout that Chris Christie?  The great hope of centrist (ha!) Republicans is being devoured (not an easy job, in his case), as the worst fears about him, being a bully and one who uses powers to promote the interests of his "cartel" and punishes those that don't play ball, is being confirmed over and over again.  He might not only have to give up his presidential ambitions, he'll be lucky to remain Governor and stay out of jail.

How 'bout the Flying Dragon?  Kudos to the many Dragoneers valiantly struggling to keep that organization going in difficult times!  They are pulling out all the stops they can, trying to raise the base money they need to keep going.  If you have not given what you can, you need to do so today. They have a great play, Little Women, starting this Saturday at 7 PM.  Please come out and show your support!

How 'bout that Benjamin?  Got his progress report, and he continues to do well grade-wise. He missed all A's by one 89 in math.  And he is enjoying Cotillion, River Keepers, participating in two churches, and as always, mastering video games.

How 'bout that blood pressure?  On a more personal note, I've been taking more readings of it lately, and I'm not sure how my medication is doing.  The one and only pill I take is a blood pressure medication that I've taken for about 14 years now.  I am trying to improve my diet and get more exercise (a real struggle this time of year).  As far as not getting so stressed about things, I'll do what I can but I'm not really up for a personality transplant.  The inevitability is that I will probably need a stronger medication, and I am really resistant to that.

How 'bout that clock on the wall?  Speaking of pressure, I see that my allotted writing time has shrunk to squat.  I will squirrel my brain and try to come up with a more thematically sound topic tomorrow.

We'll see.