Memories

Somehow, today’s Friday Fictioneers story got posted on my Bible Study page. I’ve reblogged it to its appropriate place, but decided to leave it there as well. We need to remember. We like to say, “Never Again!” But it could happen again. The hearts of mankind don’t change from one generation to the next.

Linda's Bible Study

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Shlomo, bent and frail, watched as busloads of tourists filed under the Arbeit Macht Frei gateway. Loaded with water bottles–which made Shlomo smile –and cameras, they gazed with intense curiosity, as if they expected to see ghosts. Most became very quiet.

There wasn’t even any birdsong, as if nature itself revered the spirits of those who had suffered there.

Shlomo, aided by a grandson on each side, walked away from the tourists toward the barracks that he knew best. Wordless, he and his grandsons stood and gazed into the interior.

Wordless, they walked away.

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Sunday Morning Coffee: A Memory

Here’s a memory you may enjoy reading.

Linda's Bible Study

It’s snowing heavily. Wasn’t supposed to start until sometime after five tonight. Watching the big, fat flakes drift down has triggered a memory. I may have written this one before, don’t remember. So here goes.

We lived in southern Minnesota. I was 17, a senior in high school. My little brother, John, was three.

Mom had suffered severe problems for a long time with issues that finally led to her having surgery, a complete hysterectomy including her ovaries, which put her into medical menopause. It was March, when the area we lived in often got the worst blizzards of the winter. Dad had driven from St. James to the hospital in Madelia, a 15-mile trip, to spend some time with Mom. Johnny and I hunkered down for the day, played some games, read some of his favorite stories, and generally just relaxed.

I decided to make a big pot of…

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The Box

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Keeping their distance, Zing and Zang circled the box. “What do you think it is?” questioned Zang.

“How should I know?” Zing was irritated,

“What should we do?”

“Why do I always have to have the answers? I don’t know! What do you think?”

“Uh–I don’t think we should touch it.”

“Duh, Bright Boy! I’m sending images to Zirkon’s headquarters. They’ll direct us.”

Suddenly, the message came to them both: “Under NO circumstances are you to touch that box. Return home RIGHT NOW!”


Image result for cute aliens

Hope

PHOTO PROMPT © Jeff Arnold

No one was at the marina except for those who lived on their boats. They were few. It was quiet. No radios blaring, no children shrieking and splashing.

Old Pete stood at his living room window, his arm pulling Etta, his wife of 50 years, into his embrace.

“When will it be over?” Etta said.

“Don’t know. It’ll be over when it’s over,” Pete replied.

“I miss everyone.”

“Yup. But there’s hope.”

“Hope? Where? You’ve always been a cockeyed optimist!”

“Not optimism. God’s promise. Don’t you see the rainbow?”

Etta sighed, leaning in. “Yes. Thanks, Pete.”

Shooting Star

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Meredith snagged the lead role–Eliza– in her senior class play. Pygmalion! The whole cast was excited, looking forward to rehearsals, costumes, and, they hoped, crowds of people.

Meredith memorized tons of lines. A poor Cockney girl, Eliza became the subject of an experiment to change her into a lady of society who would fool all the members of the Ton. And she succeeded. At least, her instructor, Henry Higgins, succeeded.

Ultimately, she belonged nowhere. Her success in society was like a meteor flying across the heavens and disappearing.

Meredith considered her success as Eliza’s. Temporary.

Note: For those who may not know, Pygmalion was George Bernard Shaw’s play that was later to become the basis for the popular film My Fair Lady.

Pygmalion was a Greek mythological god who fell in love with one of his sculptures, which then came to life. The play has Henry Higgins “sculpting” Eliza into his own creation, but then Eliza falls in love with him, and there in lay the dilemma. The musical version has a happier ending 🙂

New Life

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

Cassie’s eyes, the same blue as the icy water below, sparkled with excitement. It was her first solo mission in her beloved Cessna 172! The weather was perfect, with no strong winds or ominous clouds. Alone in her little four-seater, she would return with precious cargo.

Five hundred miles north, Amka cradled her sleeping newborn. They had named her Uki, Survivor. Premature, she needed special care for her under-developed lungs. Cassie was their only hope.

The village listened for the plane’s engine. Reports from the radio shack encouraged them.

All for the life of one tiny baby.

______________________________________

I have to apologize. I just didn’t get to read everyone’s stories last week. Usually I read every single one, but for some reason I’m having trouble focusing on my usual routine. I don’t think I can blame it on jet lag any more 🙂 Maybe I’m just homesick for my kids and grandkids, and I really do love it in England. Anyway, I promise to try to do better this week.

Home!

My final post on our anniversary trip to England. You can find the rest athttps://lindasbiblestudy.wordpress.com if you’re interested.

Linda's Bible Study

There really is no place like home.

Our flights were problem-free. We had wheelchair help arranged at each place, from check-in to baggage. What a wonderful help that was. You get taken to the front of the line, and everyone seems to be perfectly okay with that. All our helpers were polite, kind, and efficient.

It’s very hot here in our corner of PA. Supposed to be record-setting highs tomorrow, up to 100. Ugh. I’m missing the cool mornings and evenings near Oxford. We had wonderful weather the whole time we were there. This heat saps my energy. I’m looking around at all that needs to be done, and I don’t want to do any of it! We do have central air, which is a huge blessing, but there’s just something about the atmosphere that changes with that kind of heat.

I was just looking through Dan’s pictures, and this…

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Sunday Through Wednesday Morning

Linda's Bible Study

We left home around 10:30 on Sunday morning.I had arranged with the airline to have transport (wheelchair) for both of us, because neither of us is good at walking a distance these day. The escorts who pushed our chairs were wonderful. They were kind, helpful, and completely pleasant. They took us right to the front of every line, and no one was upset or unhappy with that. We breezed right through TSA, and then they wheeled us through to our gate. It’s the first time I’d ever experienced that service, and it sure saved us time and a lot of pain not to have to walk all that way.

Our escorts left us in the seats designated for the handicapped, and told us they would return to help us board. Again, we were taken to the head of the line and right to our seats on our first flight.

When…

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Note to my Readers

I’ve been working on getting my photos to show up in my posts. This has taken a lot of tinkering, since I’m not a tech guru 🙂 This morning, however, I’m hoping I found the cure.

Would someone who was not able to see the pictures in “Our Story: 50 Years!” please let me know if you can see them now?

I sound like the old Verizon ad: “Can you hear me now?” 🙂

The Hive


PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

“Mrs. Peavy, don’t go into your room! “
“What? Why not?”

“HORNETS!” replied Ronnie. ‘Hundreds of ’em! All over!”

Ronnie was a known prankster, but he seemed genuinely upset.

Mrs. Peavy gathered her class and sent them to the gym. Then she contacted the janitor, who came with his hands full of various anti-hornet sprays.

He was the school hero for several days, especially to Mrs. Peavy. One sting could have sent her into shock, could even have killed her.

The hive was knocked down overnight, and everything settled back into its normal, boring routine.