The stories here are my memories, some poems, and some short stories that I have written. I hope you enjoy a peek into my chaotic mind and leave my page with a laugh or two. Feel free to leave a comment with your thoughts on my stories. Have a great day!
I bumped into a man stocking shelves in a local store in a nearby town. He apologized for having to turn his wheelchair around in front of me. I told him that I wasn’t in a hurry, and it wasn’t a big deal. I told him that he was an inspiration. In a time when able bodied people claimed they couldn’t find a job, a man in a wheelchair was working harder than most of today’s young people would want to. He told me he didn’t want to be an inspiration because of his handicap. He wanted to be an inspiration for his love of God. He was humble because God says that we shouldn’t be prideful. He did what he did because God gave him the strength to carry on each day. His body wasn’t a reflection of him. The Holy Spirit and what filled his head and heart was what made him who he was. He shared the gospel every chance he got. He said that he often talked to people that came in th...
My grandpa and grandma always had three big garden plots. One was strictly potatoes, one was tomatoes, and the last one was green beans and a mixture of whatever odds and ends grandpa decided to try. Canning was a big event when the tomatoes and green beans were ready, but the biggest crop was potatoes. We all had jobs when it was time to harvest potatoes. The adults dug them up with potato forks and put the biggest of the potatoes into baskets that would be deposited into the root cellar/storm shelter/cave. (That’s a whole different story on it’s own.) That left the grandkids to gather the small baby potatoes from the dirt and the vines. If the job was done right, there’d be dirt under our nails, on our hands and faces, and our knees as we crawled from hole to hole, plucking taters from the roots of the plants, sifting through the dirt, and filling the holes. But that was the end of the gr...
Thanksgiving was a family event back in the Seventies. My grandma and grandpa Townsend had nine kids. Each of those kids had at least two kids. Most of them had four and five kids. We’d all gather at my grandparents' house on Thanksgiving. There was a ton of food on the table, but nothing really sticks out. I don’t remember if we had turkey, dressing, ham, green bean, or peas. I do know we had mashed potatoes since no meal was allowed to pass without potatoes in grandma’s house. The one thing I do remember is pie. There were lots of pie. There was a table in the back room of the house that pies were placed upon as they were cooling. There was pumpkin, apple, and cherry pie, but my favorite was black raspberry. In the summer, we’d pick the raspberries that the Rogers family hadn’t harvested yet. My grandpa had several rivalries in the neighborhood for different things, but with the Rogers family, it was raspberries. If ...
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