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Welcome! to your web site!
This is a website where you can express yourself, share your writing skills,
opinions, ideas, or just sound-off about something you are passionate about.
This site is primarily for writers
,{beginners or accomplished} to participate in the writing of songs; poems; short stories; novels; opinion pieces; rebuttals
of public statements from elected officials and evaluations of products or services...... Approved submissions will be
forwarded to newspapers,magazines, websites etc. Songs,stories poems and novels developed through this process will be "pitched"
to the proper publishing venues. Recognition and compensation will be provided for the authors according to the user agreement .We
want you to have fun, develop your writing skills and make a difference!
We are very pleased to have this website, and hope
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opportunities, additional categories, weekend writing retreats,etc. call or email,share your ideas,interest,expectations and
let us know what would be most helpful to you. We look forward to getting to know you!
THIS IS A NEW SITE: THE WORK OF OTHER WRITERS
WILL BE ADDED SOON!
PERMISSION MUST BE GIVEN IN WRITING BEFORE
ANY PART OF THIS SITE
MAY BE REPRODUCED! AFTER READING THE POSTED ARTICLES, PLEASE MAKE COMMENTS IN GUESTBOOK.
SUBMIT
YOUR IDEAS,THOUGHTS,OPINIONS,CREATIVE WRITING ETC,IT WILL NOT
BE POSTED UNTIL APPROVED BY BOTH PARTIES. SEND AS AN ATTACHMENT TO:
 ARTIST- AGENT OF CHANGE BY: JIM CAULDER MARCH 28, 2010 THE SOUL OF AN ARTIST IS CONTINUALLY TROUBLED. EFFORTS TO EXPRESS THEIR
PERCEPTIONS ARE KNOWN BY THEM TO BE INCOMPLETE OR INADEQUATE. EACH PIECE OF THEIR WORK IS AT BEST A FRAGMENT. THEIR LIFE LONG
BODY OF WORK ONLY A GLIMPSE OF THEIR DELIBERATE LABOR TO UNBURDEN THEIR SOUL BY EXPRESSING THEIR PERCEPTION OF HOW THEY PERCEIVE
LIFE AS IT WAS, IS,HOW IT COULD OR SHOULD BE. ARTISTS
ARE HISTORIANS, DOCUMENTING OUR PAST. GUIDES, INCREASING AWARENESS, SENSITIVITY, AND EASING OUR NAVIGATION THROUGH LIFE ISSUES
IN THE PRESENT. PROPHETS, PROVIDING INSIGHT INTO OUR FUTURE. THE REALM OF THE ARTIST BEGINS BEFORE ANYTHING WAS {IMAGINATION} AND EXTENDS BEYOND
MORTAL EXISTANCE.THE IN BETWEEN IS MUDDLED BY EXPERIENCES, TEMPERED BY LOVE, TRUST AND HOPE. THE ARTIST DESIRES TO REVEAL IN FULL COLOR, THAT WHICH THEY
THEMSELVES HAVE SEEN ONLY IN SHADES OF GRAY. THE
BRUSH TOUCHES CANVAS, THE CHISEL COAXES AN IMAGE FROM MARBLE, THE PEN ENCOUNTERS PAPER, FINGERS STROKE KEYS OR STRINGS, THE
LARYNX FORMS A NOTE. ARTISTS NEED TO UNBURDEN AND REVEAL THEIR SOUL WHILE ENLIGHTENING/AWAKENING THE SOUL OF ALL THAT ARE
READY TO BE CHANGED.
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| And the LORD God planted a garden eastward in Eden;and there he put the man whom he had formed.Gen.2 |
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A
CALL TO ACTION JIM CAULDER 5-7-07 THE PROPHETS HAVE BEEN BOUGHT.PAID FOR WITH SHARES OF STOCKS. THE POETS ARE SILENT, BEHIND DOORS
WITH DOUBLE LOCKS.
OUR FOOD IS “HOMEGROWN”
IN A FOREIGN PLACE. WE ARE TOLD “IT`S THE BEST” BY A SMILING FAMILIAR FACE.
OUR LANDFILLS ARE FULL OF THINGS WITHOUT WHICH WE COULD NOT LIVE. OUR NATIONAL MOTTO “IT IS BETTER TO RECEIVE THAN TO GIVE”.
EVERYTHING IS INSTANT…GRITS, RELATIONSHIPS, And A SPRAY ON TAN. WE ARE TOLD WHAT WE THINK, BY OUR NIGHTLY NEWSMAN.
WE KNOW SOMETHING IS WRONG BY THE EMPTINESS OF OUR SOUL. WE KEEP MARCHING THROUGH DARKNESS,
AS THE BELLS OF DOOM TOLL.
OUR PRISONS ARE FULL, THE SCHOOLS
ARE LOCKED DOWN. FEAR IS OUR RULER IN EVERY VILLAGE AND TOWN.
ELECTED BY ABSENTEE BALLOT OR HE RAN UNOPPOSED. THEY PROMISE TO PROTECT OUR FREEDOM, BUT THE CONSTITUTION MUST BE RE-COMPOSED.
WE STILL HAVE A CHOICE “TO BE OR NOT TO BE”. IT`S STILL OUR COUNTRY “FROM SEA TO SHINING SEA”.
THERE IS MUCH WRONG…BUT ALL IS NOT LOST. THE LONGER WE WAIT…THE
GREATER THE COST.
LIFT UP YOUR VOICE, CAST YOUR
CONSIDERED VOTE. RUN FOR OFFICE; WRITE YOUR REPRESENTATIVE A NOTE.
BEFORE A PLEASANT SONG CAN BE SUNG IN OUR LAND, NEW WORDS MUST BE WRITTEN.TAKE YOUR PEN IN HAND!
WAIT NOT FOR ANOTHER, FOR ANOTHER CANNOT DO YOUR PART. WHEN OTHERS SEE YOUR EFFORTS,
THEY TOO WILL TAKE HEART.
SO BEGINS THE REVOLUTION, ONE
BRAVE SMALL STEP AT A TIME. WE WIN BY JUST BEGINNING, LET THE VICTORY BELLS CHIME!
A Native American Account of Creation
By: Jim Caulder 1994
The Great One, that is, was and shall always be,
was surveying the sum of all that did exist. There was found to be a place where nothing was. The Great One delights in creating
and commenced with the pleasure of creating a universe. When the universe was complete, The Great One saw that it was good
to look upon and to contemplate its movements. The Great One desired to create a human being to whom the universe could be
given. A human being that could unlock the mysteries, understand the beauty and share this creation of The Great One.
The
Great One, being spirit needed no place to stand or rest, but the human being would be physical and would need a place to
reside. The Great One created the earth as a habitat for the human being. The sun was placed in the sky to promote order,
to provide energy for all living things and to manage time. The moon was set in motion around the earth to rule the tides,
to indicate seasons, inspire creativity and influence emotions. The Great One created
the fullness of the earth, and in it was found all material things that the human being would need to flourish. When the universe
and the earth were finished, The Great One stood upon the earth to observe all that had been created. It was found to be good
and nothing was lacking. The Great One was conflicted, observing the wonders of all that had
been created for the human being. Yet, in agony over the knowledge of the struggles, pain and suffering that would face the
human being. The Great One shed tears of joy and sadness. The blended tears fell upon the soil of the earth. The sun caused
a shadow of The Great One to be cast upon the moist earth where the tears of The Great One had fallen. The Great One formed
a human being from the moist soil where the sun had cast the image of The Great One, and so the human being was created from
the image of The Great One. The Great One embraced the human being, breathed life into the human being, and he became a living
soul. The sun was near the center of the sky. The Great One spent the remainder of the day teaching the
human being all he needed to know about the universe, the earth, himself and The Great One. The human being was given instructions
on how to live successfully and was given dominion over all other creations on earth. The human being was advised to manage
the earth, its resources, to be a good steward, to act without greed and the earth would furnish all his physical needs, forever.
The plants, animals, mother earth and the universe would teach the human being all other things he would need to know, when
he needed to know them. When the evening had come and The Great One saw that the human being
was alone and needed a companion to share his duties, and the intimacies of his heart and mind. The moon was full and shown
bright upon the earth. The light from the moon caused the image of the human being to cast a shadow upon the moist earth in
the same place the first human being was formed. The Great One formed a companion for the human being.
From the same soil that the first human being was formed, was formed also the second. The first human being was called man
and the second human being was called woman, for she was created from the image of the man. The man was created under the
sun and was given the ability to understand the science of the earth and the mechanics of the universe. The woman was created
under the moon and was given understanding of the cycles of the universe, the earth, the seasons, and was one with the earth,
the mother of all. The Great One, who is all life, bestowed a portion of life to remain within the man
and woman so they would never be alone. Authority was given to the human beings to make decisions concerning themselves, the
earth, and all the inhabitants of the earth. The human beings were informed, when they make choices that honor The Great One,
enhance life, protect and preserve the earth, then The Great One and the earth will be in harmony with the human beings. If
the human beings fail to do these things, the earth will not feed, clothe or support them, furthermore sickness will be their
companion, and the elements will assault the human beings. The Great One will not hear the cries of the
human beings. Mercy will be withheld until harmony with the will of The Great One is restored. The
life the human beings were given is a portion of The Great One who is all life. The Great One is, was and shall always be,
so also is the life the human beings share. The will of The Great One is: human beings will exist in harmony with the earth
while on earth and will reunite with The Great One from whom life comes, when the body rest again in the soil. Walk in peace,
hold no evil thoughts, and hurt not the earth that sustains you. Pursue a greater understanding of the will of The Great One,
praise and honor The Great One for all things. Place no trust, nor honor nor worship any object, image,
person or thing. Only The Great One is worthy of worship and only the pure of heart is worthy to worship,
The Great
One.
please sign guestbook and make comments.
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REWARD OFFERED FOR MISSING DOG! BY: JIM CAULDER 1-10-10 Dogs are never allowed in our house except on Christmas Eve.
Rowdy, our dazzling white Eskimo Spitz and beloved member of the family, was ritualistically, washed and blow dried. Then
stuff was sprayed, sprinkled and dabbed on, until he looked good, smelled good and sparkled like a stripper at The Doll House
Lounge. Then he was brought into the den. He was so excited, jumping up and down yapping in short high pitched squeals. Rowdy
would run back and forth, helping anyone that was opening a present, to tear off the wrapping paper. Then he would look at
the present, look at the person and bark as if to say “I like it, do you like it”. We all love Rowdy. He always
added so much to the evening. This Christmas started out the same as usual.
The evening went well. I did notice that grandma MaggieOdealia, was consuming more eggnog that usual, but she seemed happy,
and it was Christmas! About mid-night the presents had all been opened,
the children had calmed down, the grown-ups were exhausted, and Rowdy was dozing on the hearth by the fireplace. Promises were made to assemble what needed assembling, to locate the missing parts, to
exchange those items that did not work, and to purchase batteries for everything that needed batteries. Now, we could go to bed. Happy the evening that had been anticipated for months was over and all was well. Grandma MaggieOdealia, volunteered to put away the food, straighten up a bit and blow out the candles before
she called it a day. While putting away the food, Grandma MaggieOdealia
found the extra pitcher of eggnog in the back of the refrigerator. While we peacefully slept, Grandma MaggieOdealia sipped
her way into The Twilight Zone. We awoke the next morning to find Grandma MaggieOdealia
passed out on the sofa, with a half glass of eggnog spilled on her lap and the electric clippers running in her right hand.
The pretty red tablecloth had been pulled from the table and spread in the center of the floor in front of the fireplace.
On the tablecloth was a half-leg deep pile of sparkling white wool/hair. We
woke up Grandma MaggieOdealia, asked her what had happened. She could tell us nothing. The last thing she could remember was
thinking Rowdy`s hair would make a nice Santa Claus beard. We finally found Rowdy, naked,
shivering, looking embarrassed, hiding under towels in the laundry basket. Grandma
MaggieOdealia had too much eggnog and shaved the dog! Grandma
MaggieOdealia seemed as shocked as the rest of us. She slowly started to recall the events of the previous evening. Grandma
MaggieOdealia was sooooo remorseful. She swore off eggnog, hard lemonade, all alcohol, except for medicinal purposes, begining
right after New Years Eve. She grabbed Rowdy, hustled into the kitchen, opened a bucket of lard and applied
a generous layer of lard all over the surface of Rowdy`s still shaking bare to the skin body. Grandma MaggieOdealia said this
would soothe his razor burned skin. Rowdy didn`t like the lard any better than he liked the close shave. Rowdy broke away, slipping from Grandma`s grasp. He made a wild run for it across the floor, tripped over
a ribbon, tumbled then rolled through the pile of discarded wrapping paper .The paper stuck to the lard covering his hairless
body. Rowdy was now tightly wrapped and he skidded through the open front door, landed on the front porch, beside the box
containing the 3/8” drill I had given my wife for Christmas .She said she was returning it to Sears because it was not
variable speed. The UPS man was just bending over to pick up the drill box. He also grabbed up Rowdy, threw both packages
into the back of that big brown truck and sped off down the street, while we stood speechless with our mouths open, but no
sound would come out. WE called UPS. They were very
understanding of our dilemma, apologized repeatedly, but could not offer much help because we had no tracking number. All
they could do was guarantee that Rowdy would be delivered somewhere by 4:00 pm the next day!
please make comment in Guestbook,thank you!
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| The Mostly Bluegrass Spring Festival,Holden Beach,N.C. |
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THE ORIGIN OF GOLF JIM CAULDER 3-01-04
This story was passed on from father to son, on the Scottish side of my family. The
Scots have a long and honorable history of being truthful, sober, and thrifty people. This account of the
origins of golf should be accepted without reservation. There is no reason to doubt its authenticity.
The other
side of my family is of Irish decent. It has been well documented that many of Irish decent, have huge
heads, enormous egos, are flaming alcoholics, loose with the truth, spinners of yarns, tellers of tall tales, or just bald
faced liars. Some say that an Irishman would climb a tree to spin you a yarn, rather than stand on the
ground and tell the truth. Apparently the Irish genes are recessive and have little or no influence on
me, my appearance, habits, personality, or character. This is exactly as the story came to me: All agree that golf started in Scotland.
What most don’t know is that it started as a result of another famous export of Scotland, and was an indoor sport
originally. Scots are renowned for their ability to manufacture fine liquors/ales from anything available,
including potatoes. Their pursuit of perfection required frequent testing/tasting. Not
for pleasure, but as an act of quality control. During the harsh winters much needed product quality control
was accomplished. Those long hours of duty driven sampling the product, lead to loss of coordination, blurring
of vision, slurring of speech, some stumbling, but never falling down. They were not drunks, just highly
dedicated to the task at hand. As the jug was passed around, a small potato was stuck in the neck as a
cork to prevent evaporation or spillage. As the hours passed, hands became a little less steady, occasionally,
a sudden breeze, a mild earthquake or some mischievous spirit from the afterworld, would cause the potato to roll off the
neck of the jug and fall onto the floor. After many hours of testing, none could or would attempt to bend
over to retrieve the potato. It was disgraceful not to be able to hold your liquor for the duration of
your duties. There were plenty of small potatoes; everyone kept a few in their pocket, so another one was
substituted. After testing ended for the day, the floor would have several small potatoes that needed to
be rounded-up. The Scots frugal nature would not allow them to leave the potatoes for vermin to claim. My Great, Great, Grandfather, being the thinker of the
clan, devised a plan. He would take his walking cane turn it upside down; use the hand-grip to putt the
potatoes around the room, until he could get them near the door. He could then hold onto the handrail,
go down a couple of steps where he could reach the potatoes without bending over. This arrangement worked
well, but there were several knotholes in the floor. When a potato fell through a knothole it was difficult
to recover and meant someone had to make a trip under the shed. One evening, while under the building seeking errant spuds, an idea was born.
He nailed tin cups under each knothole to catch any potato that might fall through, thus saving him the trouble of
this nightly chore. The potatoes could be reclaimed the next morning before work began, while the head
was not as heavy. The Scots being imaginative and highly competitive soon made a sporting event of putting
the potatoes into the knotholes. Wagering ensued, as well as bragging rights as to who could get the potatoes
into the holes with the fewest strokes. The interest grew into a passion. When
spring came, outdoor putting competitions were arranged. Holes were laid out on the green hillsides or
near the marsh where nothing else of value could be placed. There were eighteen knotholes in the shed floor, so
eighteen holes became the standard. Their product sampling centers [clubhouses] were built on the putting
greens, so their activities could be called work related, and some claim tax deductible. Obstacles were
planned into the designs. A harder ball was created to allow for the greater distances between holes,and painted white
so it could be found in the rough. More strokes "Handicaps” were
allowed for the in-firmed, foreigners and those that were willing to lie about their skill level. The walking
cane evolved into a bag of specialized clubs, one for every situation. Special shoes with spikes were worn
to prevent slipping, or falling down. Falling down is still frowned upon, no matter how much sampling you have done.
What a wonderful sport that encourages consumption of spirits before, during and after the event. You don’t have
to maintain any physical or athletic standards. You can even have someone carry your clubs and ride from
hole to hole. You are allowed to keep your own score, as well as cheat and wager on the results.
The only protection afforded the public is the custom that golfers wear odd clothing; usually bold plaid to warn people
that an alcoholic and liar is present.
WHAT A GAME! SEE YOU ON THE LINKS!
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TRAPPED, BY CIRCUMSTANCES
AND CHOICES! JIM CAULDER 7-22-09 IT IS
MY FAVORITE TIME OF THE DAY. THE SUN IS JUST BEGINNING TO CRAWL OVER THE HORIZON. SENDING ITS FIRST RAYS OF LIGHT, WARMTH
AND HOPE FOR A NEW DAY OVER THE VALLEY.
THE VALLEY LIES SECRETED UNDER A LAYER OF FOG. THE VEIL OBSCURES
THE IMPERFECTIONS OF A NEIGHBORHOOD IN DECLINE .STRUGGLING WITH SOCIAL, POLITICAL, CURTURAL AND ECONOMIC ISSUES,LIKE
SO MANY OTHER COMMUNITIES . THE VEIL ADDS INTEREST AND INTREIGUE TO A SUBJECT IF SEEN IN FULL LIGHT, MIGHT
NOT MUSTER MUCH APPEAL. THE FOG VEIL IS KIND TO THE VALLEY, SOFTNING A HARSH REALITY.
OUR VALLEY IS PEACEFUL
IN THIS MOMENT, NOT YET AWAKE, NOT YET EMERGED FROM UNDER ITS FOG COVER . SILHOUETTES ON THE OPPOSING
HILL, RANDOM CHURCH STEEPLES, FLASHING RED AND GREEN LIGHTS ON RADIO ,T.V. AND POLICE COMMUNICATION TOWERS, AN OCCASIONAL
NEON SIGN, ALL COMBINE TO CREATE A COMPELLING COLLAGE. STILL HIDDEN ARE THE CRACKED, POT HOLED, LITTER
LINED STREETS.THE ABANDONED CARS WITH NO WHEELS AND BUSTED WINDSHIELDS. YOU CAN`T YET SEE THE RUN DOWN HOUSES, WHERE PEOPLE
ON FIXED INCOMES LIVE. BARELY SURVIVING FROM MONTH TO MONTH. WHERE THE WORKERS LIVE
THAT RAISE ,PREPARE , COOK AND SERVE THE FOOD IN NEARBY RESORT COMMUNITIES.THE HOMES OF THOSE THAT DO THE HOUSEKEEPING,YARD
WORK,CHILD CARE FOR THE MORE FINANCIALLY FORTUNATE.
THE FIRST LIGHT WILL SOON REVEAL A
NEW SCAR ON THE EARTH, WHERE BULLDOZERS HAVE SCRAPPED OFF THE TOPSOIL, MAKING READY FOR ANOTHER CONVENIENCE STORE. A CONVENIENCE
STORE WHERE GASOLINE AND MILK WILL BE SOLD FOR TOO MUCH AND ALCOHOL WILL BE SOLD TOO CHEAPLY. A CONVENIENCE
STORE WHERE THE PEOPLE NEVER HAVE ENOUGH MONEY TO FILL UP THEIR TANK AND GO FIND A BETTER LIFE , BUT ALWAYS
MANAGE TO FIND ENOUGH NICKLES AND DIMES FOR CHEAP BOOZE TO HELP THEM ESCAPE FROM THEIR REALITY ,ONE MORE DAY.
MY MOMENT OF TRANQUILLITY IS....... WOULD
YOU LIKE TO HELP CREATE THE CHARACTERS AND WRITE A PORTION OF THIS STORY? sign guest book and leave comment please |
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A CURE FOR
THE ITCH
By Jim Caulder 11-27-03 I
GREW UP JUST SOUTH OF TOWN. MY BEST FRIEND WAS A BLUE-TIC
HOUND. WE’D BEEN TOGETHER
SINCE OLD BLUE WAS JUST A PUP.
LIFE WAS SIMPLE AND LIVED WITHOUT HASTE. WE LEARNED NOT TO WANT AND NEVER TO WASTE. EVERYTHING CHANGED WHEN I WAS ABOUT TWENTY-ONE.
LATELY I’D DEVELOPED AN AWFUL ITCH, THAT I COULDN’T SCRATCH AND BLUE COULDN’T
FIX. WHAT I NEEDED WAS TO FIND
MYSELF A WIFE.
THE PICKINGS WERE SLIM AROUND OUR PLACE. MY ONLY KISS WAS BLUE LICKING MY FACE. SOMEWHERE WAITING FOR ME WAS THE LOVE OF MY
LIFE.
I TALKED TO MY MAW, I TALKED WITH MY PAW. THEY WEREN’T MUCH HELP – BEING
FROM ARKANSAS. I THINK THEY NEVER KNEW OR
MAYBE THEY FORGOT.
ALL THEY TOLD ME ABOUT THE BIRDS AND THE BEES, WAS – ONE MADE HONEY, THE OTHER LIVED
IN TREES. THANKS, BUT THAT DIDN’T
TELL ME SQUAT!
BEING AWARE THAT I WAS ON MY OWN, I SET OUT FOR PARTS UNKNOWN. TO THE OTHER SIDE OF TOWN, IN SEARCH OF LEVI
JONES.
NOW LEVI JONES I’D HEARD IT SAID, WAS GOOD AT CASTING SPELLS, COULD EVEN TALK
TO THE DEAD! I WAS GOING TO SEE WHAT HE
COULD DO FOR ME.
I HAD BEEN WALKING FOR QUITE SOME TIME, IN SEARCH OF SOMEONE I COULD CALL MINE. HAS ANYONE EVER DIED FROM BLISTERED FEET?
LADY LUCK IS A FICKLE FRIEND, SHE WILL LEAD YOU ON, THEN DO YOU IN. MAYBE LOVE WAS JUST NOT MEANT FOR ME!
THE CLOUDS PARTED JUST IN TIME, THERE WAS LEVI’S SIGN, THE SILVER DIME, “DON’T KNOCK JUST COME ON IN”.
I WALKED RIGHT THROUGH WHAT WAS A SCREEN DOOR. FOUND MYSELF STANDING IN THE CENTER OF THE
FLOOR. IN A ROOM TOO DIM TO SEE
A HAND IN FRONT OF MY FACE.
AS MY EYES GREW ACCUSTOMED TO THE ABSENCE OF
LIGHT, SOMETHING CAME INTO FOCUS,
AND WHAT A SIGHT. I BEGAN TO QUESTION IF I
WANTED TO BE IN THIS PLACE!
A FAIRLY LARGE MAN, OR AN AVERAGE SIZE BEAR, WAS ASLEEP IN THE CORNER IN WHAT PASSED AS
A CHAIR. I HELD MY BREATH AND TRIED
NOT TO MAKE A SOUND.
ALL OF A SUDDEN IT CAME TO LIFE! I WAS FAST LOSING INTEREST IN FINDING A WIFE. AND WAS READY TO HEAD BACK TO MY SIDE OF TOWN.
THE EYES FLASHED OPEN, IT SCRATCHED ITS HAIRY CHIN. HE GRUNTED AND YAWNED, I SMELLED THE STENCH
OF SIN. IT WAS COMING OUT OF THAT
HOLE WHERE HIS TEETH HAD BEEN!
HE JUMPED TO HIS FEET AND LET OUT A ROAR! “HOWDY STRANGER, WHAT CAN I DO YOU FOR?” FOR A MOMENT I FORGOT WHY I HAD COME. MY FIRST INSTINCT WAS TO TURN AND RUN.
I WAS RECITING A PRAYER MY MAW HAD TAUGHT ME, RUBBING THE FUR OFF A RABBIT FOOT MY PAW HAD
BOUGHT ME. MY HEART COULDN’T ANY
LOWER SINK. I WAS SURE I WOULD WIND UP
IN SAUSAGE, PATTIE OR LINK!
THEN MY PRAYERS WERE ANSWERED OR MAYBE IT WAS
LUCK. MY OLD HOUND JUMPED THROUGH
THE WINDOW OF LEVI’S TRUCK. HE
WAS SETTING DOWN ON THE HORN AND KICKED OFF THE BRAKE, A HOUND DOG DRIVING,
THAT TAKES THE CAKE!
OLD
BLUE ROUNDED THE CORNER, TOOK OUT THE SIDE WALL, I
JUMPED IN THE BACK AND WE WERE READY TO HAUL. AS
OLD BLUE CUT CIRCLES AROUND THAT SHACK, I
WAS HANGING ON FOR DEAR LIFE TO THE LADDER RACK.
A CROWD STARTED GATHERING AND BEGAN TO CHEER, OLD BLUE DOUBLE CLUTCHED IT AND CAUGHT SECOND
GEAR. THE CROWD WAS GOING CRAZY,
SOME FAINTING, SOME SINGING. EVERYTHING
WAS A BLUR – MY EARS WERE RINGING.
THE SMELL OF OIL, THE BLASTING OF THE HORN, IS THIS HOW NASCAR WAS BORN?
IN THE FRONT OF THAT ASSEMBLED CROWD AN ANGEL STOOD, EACH TIME AROUND I WAS LOOKING FOR HER OVER
THE HOOD. SHE WAS FAIR, BLONDE, LONG
IN THE THIGH, FROM THAT MOMENT ON SHE HAD
MY EYE.
THE NINETY-NINTH TIME AROUND THAT OVAL TRACK, I HELD OUT ONE HAND, KEPT THE OTHER ON THE
RACK. SHE GRABBED MY ARM, I PULLED
HER FROM HER NICHE. I HAD FOUND THE CURE FOR
MY RAGING ITCH!
SHE CLIMBED THROUGH THE WINDOW LIKE DAISY DUKE, LOOKED BACK AND SMILED, I WAS COOL AS A CUKE. WAVING AT THE CROWD, THROWING THEM KISSES, I WAS PROUD AS A PEACOCK OVER MY NEW MISSES.
WE RIPPED THROUGH THE CROWD IN A CLOUD OF DUST, ROLLING SOUTH IN THAT BUCKET OF RUST. HEADED HOME LIKE ROLLING THUNDER, TO TIE THE KNOT, NO MAN COULD PUT ASUNDER.
TIME HAS PASSED, THE YEARS HAVE FLOWN, WE NOW HAVE KIDS OF OUR OWN. WHEN THEY GET THE ITCH, WE’LL KNOW WHAT
TO DO! WE’LL JUST TELL THEM
THIS STORY ABOUT US AND OLD BLUE.
WE LOOK BACK AT THAT FATEFUL DAY, WHEN A DOG LEARNED TO DRIVE AND LOVE MADE A
WAY. HAPPINESS, FOR SURE WE’VE
HAD OUR PART. AS FOR OLD BLUE, I CHANGED
HIS NAME TO EARNHART !
THE VALUE OF FIDELITY IN
ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS
a response to an inquiry posted on QUESTION FISH
BY:
JIM CAULDER-12-25-09 Fidelity is a term used mostly in romantic relationships. There are many other specific meanings
and proper uses for the word. However, in this discussion I will explore its negative counterpart, infidelity, which has a
much higher emotive potential. I am going to use as a working definition for infidelity the following: failure to behave in
a manner you have promised, or are expected to, having knowledge of the expected or committed to expectation, with the ability
to have conformed to the expectation or commitment. The stated causes for infidelity are numerous, but none are acceptable to the betrayed partner.
The general public also is not accepting of infidelity, for it undermines a primary building block of society. The person
guilty of infidelity may offer excuses but, usually does not approve of this disruptive behavior, either. The origin of infidelity is rooted in a lack of understanding and acceptance of the value
of honor and trust in all personal relationships. Immaturity, insecurity, and a failure of impulse control also play a part
when a susceptible mind meets opportunity. There are many stages, levels
or degrees of infidelity. Beginning with discontentedness with some aspect of the relationship, the mind is allowed to conjure
up justification for thoughts, fantasies or actions. The ego gets a boost from the attention of another. The conscience is
troubled by the betrayal, anxiety increases. The primary relationship becomes strained. This is usually when questions begin
and there is a general feeling something is just not right. The offender looks for comfort and validation, since they are
being rejected by their partner.The offended partner may be torn between blaming themselves, trying to salvage the relationship or just wanting
to be rid of the cause of their troubles. Unless both partners are strong enough and committed enough to engage
in honest, factual based, non-judgmental communication, or get professional help, the relationship is in real trouble. The emotional cost of infidelity is incalculable. The first emotional cost is a further devaluation
of self. Initial disappointment in oneself may be followed by a sense of relief that the deceit is not publicly known…yet.
When the deed is first suspected, the first response is usually denial, followed by feint surprise or outrage at such an accusation.
Under continued pressure, the offender sometimes confesses, may offer excuses, ask for forgiveness, and promise not to let
it happen again. Damage has been done to the relationship. Trust has been lost and all parties to the indiscretion have
a duty to perform. When I say all parties, I mean ALL parties. Even the partner that suffered the infidelity has a duty to
understand, forgive and willingly participate in the salvage, repair and strengthening of this vested relationship. This is
important whether they continue in the romantic relationship or not. It may certainly be an unpleasant task. A better understanding
of 0neself, the importance of boundaries, honoring commitments, self love, tolerance and the value of earned trust, are worth
the effort. The relationship may emerge stronger, with renewed appreciation for each other. If this work is not done, suffering
is prolonged, mistakes are apt to be repeated, and the risk of additional infidelity is increased. For all actions there are consequences. Infidelity causes both partners emotional
pain as well as pain to those close to the partners, especially children from the relationship. There is a loss of motivational
investment in the relationship, work suffers, spiritual development is hampered, alienation from family, friends and civic
involvement occurs. Anxiety is increased , and has an impact on all aspects of his/her life and other relationships. The financial cost of infidelity is unknowable. Loss of work time, sick days, medical
expenses, low creativity, slowed upward mobility in the social and professional arena, flowers, gifts, attorney fees, child
support, unplanned pregnancies, cost of maintaining separate households, the list has no end and the damage is multi-generational. In the end, the individuals that have no responsibility for the infidelity, minor children,
suffer the most.They must overcome the broken family relationship, lack of proper role models, fractured social,
educational opportunities, and emotional distress with a risk of having difficulty in their own relationships. In conclusion, know yourself, love yourself, respect yourself, honor your commitments and DO UNTO OTHERS AS YOU
WOULD HAVE THEM DO UNTO YOU!
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LINGER ! By: Lori Ann Bernard
I've come to realize there are two kinds of people. There are "lingerers" and there are what I like to call
"fly-bys". I am a lingerer. It doesn't matter where I'm going. It could be my parents' farm, the beach,
the zoo, church, whatever. I linger.
I like to take it all in. I like to see what goes on when the spotlight goes out. I can sit...inhale deeply,
and soak in the scenery. I am the person that falls behind in the tours, staying in the room behind when the group has hurriedly
moved on.
There are those, though, that scurry through life, seeing it all, but not really experiencing it. It's
the folks that go on vacation, but have an agenda and a planned schedule in half hour increments. It's breakfast at six,
para-sailing at seven thirty, golf at nine, and so on. Not that I mind a schedule and a routine, we all need them.
I just feel we sometimes need to linger as well. Take the extra ten minutes. Watch the waves lap at your toes a bit longer.
Feel the breeze through the trees a few more times. Breathe. Soak it all in.
Linger.
I promise you it will
be worth it.
please
make comment in Guestbook!
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Adding Insult to Fear
by Kim Knisely
10-31-09
He approached without a sound. The stench of human blood was still upon his breath. Still, he
craved more. Zoning in on a single young heartbeat in the next room, his fangs bared in anticipation of his next kill. He
stepped from the shadows… “Dad, seriously! Take that stupid Vampire costume off, you look ridiculous!”
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SHAKING THE PECAN TREES AND OTHER
IMPORTANT EVENTS OF NOVEMBER 22, 1963
by: Jim Caulder
I
finished my dinner, picked up my jacket and put it on, said good-bye to my mother and father who were still sitting at the
table sipping coffee and talking. They knew where I was off to, because my father had told me the night
before that my Uncle wanted me to help him shake his pecan trees today. They both cautioned me to be careful
and out the door I went. I started up our Farmall–140 tractor, let it warm up while I wound a log
chain around the back hitch. I climbed on the tractor, zipped up my jacket, pulled my cap down tight on
my head and drove onto the private drive that lead to the paved road 300 yards down the hill. Once on the
paved road, I dropped the gear stick back into fourth gear and started the mile and half drive to my Uncle’s house.
The temperature was mild enough considering it was late November. The speed of the tractor and a
slight wind made the ride a little chilly. It didn’t take long, and I was pulling into my Uncle’s
yard. My Uncle Quincy Smith and his wife Beattie were
in the yard waiting. It was only 12:30 PM and they had said afternoon, so I wasn’t late. They had
nothing else to do, so they were ready and waiting. My
Uncle Quincy was born in 1900, so it was always easy to remember how old he was, 63, because it was now 1963.
Uncle Quincy smoked a pipe and it was always hanging from his mouth, whether it was lit or not, or it was being packed
with more Prince Albert tobacco from the red can that he carried in the top pocket of his bib overalls. Uncle Quincy married my Aunt Beattie when she was 14. She wanted a little boy and a little
girl. They had been blessed with 13 children. Their next to the youngest boy, Homer, was the same age as
me and we had grown up not only cousins, but good friends. Homer had recently been drafted, was in Ft.
Ord, California for training and was expecting to be sent to Vietnam. That was why they needed me to help
shake the pecan trees. My Uncle Quincy lived in the old Nash Lamb home
place. It was a big, wood-frame white house with porches on the front and back. Four
large pecan trees stood on the south side of the house. The pecan trees were probably set-out right after
the house was built in the late 1930’s. The custom was to order Stuart pecan trees from the Progressive
Farmer magazine. They would usually arrive in about 3 weeks by mail. The trees would
be set-out a short distance from the house, about 50 feet apart, where they would provide shade for family functions, children
playing and a place for farm hands to relax in the shade while eating their dinner. (noon meal, as country folks always called
the noon meal dinner and the evening meal supper) In the fall,
after the first frost, some of the pecans would fall of their own accord. The wind would help dislodge others.
Some would hang on and needed jarring loose by other means, if not, they would fall a few per day for months.
That was what I was there for today, to shake loose those that had not made up their mind to fall. I
climbed up the tree about 20 feet, tied the chain around a big limb, got on the tractor and let the weight of the tractor
jerk lightly against the chain shaking the limb, making the pecans fall. They would rain down like summer
hail! The ground was soon covered with pecans. The pecans were used in chocolate cakes,
nut cakes, fruit cakes, pecan pies, etc. Many were cracked and eaten as a snack while sitting around the
fire at night. A hand full of pecans and a hammer would occupy children for hours. We had finished
shaking the first tree. My Aunt Beattie went into the house to get more bags for pecans. She
came back outside without the bags. It was 1:33 PM, November 22, 1963. She said they
had interrupted the stories on television, to announce that President John F. Kennedy had been shot in Dallas, Texas, and
was dead!
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A Happy Death!?!
By
~ Kimberly A. Southward Look at me! Can't you see? I am happily dying inside.
Ah, you'll look at me now and think to yourself what kind of person am I.
You think that I am strange for dying with glee?
It is not I who's strange but you and your morbid curiosity!
For I am not dying physically but spiritually instead
I am making room for my LORD JESUS, for that the old me must be dead
And so I happily let her go piece by broken piece
I am free for the first time all that anger, fear, and hurt released.
So when you see me again you will not see..
What I once was but what the LORD in making of me!!!!
please make comment in Guestbook,thank you!
EARTHQUAKE
VICTIMS AND
OTHER IMPENDING LOSSES
OF LIFE AND LOVE By:
Jim Caulder 1-15-10 I thought not knowing if they were dead or alive was worse than if I knew
they were dead. Now I know and knowing is worse! For knowing removes all hope, forces you to think about someone you love
,only in the past tense. Knowing, Denies the spirit and the mind the comfort of imagining circumstances
that would allow hope to continue. Knowing brings a different perspective of time. Before you knew, time was of the essence.
Time demanded ,something must be done! Every moment seemed like an eternity. After knowing, time is endless, abundant.
You are drowning in time but nothing can be done. Knowing leaves you alone to ponder why, what if and should have.
Knowing with finality provides you with answers but the points are moot.
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SHE
and ME!
By~Kimberly A. Southward 09-14-09
There is a beautiful woman who lives inside of my dreams.
When I look into the mirror it is her face that peers back at me.
But in the waking world we are nothing remotely alike...
We are as
different as the day is from the night.
She is strong and kind and always owns control....
Where I am weak and afraid and chaos has its hold.
Will there ever be a time when she is me and I am she?
I need the
answer to this question so desparately!
Until that time I will continue to dream....
And try to remember that things in life aren't always what they seem.
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BLOOD ON YOUR HANd
JIM CAULDER 7-7-O6
THERE IS NO INNOCENCE FOUND
IN THE LAND. CHILDREN ARE BORN , WITH BLOOD ON THEIR HAND.
THE SINS OF THEIR FATHERS
HAVE ROBBED THEM BEFORE BIRTH. WE HAVE POISONED THE LAND AND LOOTED THE EARTH.
MOTHERS TOO WRAPPED UP IN HOW THEY LOOK. NO TIME TO NURTURE, ENCOURAGE
OR COOK.
FATHERS OBSESSED WITH
JOBS, MONEY, POSSESSIONS THAT DEFINE WHO THEY ARE. TOO BUSY, TOO TIRED,
WORKING LATE…AT A BAR.
LESSONS
OF LIFE LEARNED FROM A T.V. SHOW. I POD, RADIO, CELL PHONE,
WITH THEM WHEREVER THEY GO.
SURROUNDED
BY NOISE, WITHOUT END IT SEEMS. DEPRESSED AND ALONE WITH
NIGHTMARES FOR DREAMS.
BORN
INTO A WORLD THEY DID NOT MAKE. AN
ACT OF PASSION, AGGRESSION, OR A MISTAKE.
THEY
GROW UP BELIEVING "ANYTHING GOES". BODY
ART, GREEN HAIR., A RING IN THE NOSE.
DRUGS,
ALCOHOL, AND PROMISCUITY. EVERYONE HAS A GUN, BUT NO SECURITY.
WE THAT DO NOTHING, OR LESS THAN WE CAN. BECOME PART OF THE PROBLEM, NOT PART OF THE PLAN.
LET HOPE TAKE HOLD. END DESPAIRS RE1GN.
LOOK UP! STAND UP! SPEAK UP! SING A NEW REFRAIN!
AN OPEN
HEART AND A WILLING MIND, CAN CHANGE THE COURSE OF MANKIND.
YOU BE THE ONE ON YOUR BLOCK OR STREET. TALK
TO THOSE AROUND YOU, AND THE STRANGERS YOU MEET.
SHARE
THE "GOOD NEWS", STILL THERE IS HOPE. WE
ARE NOT YET AT THE END OF OUR ROPE.
WHEN
WE MEET ON THAT DAY-THE GREAT AND THE SMALL, TO RECEIVE OUR JUST REWARD,
ONE AND ALL.
EVERY
KNEE SHALL BOW BEFORE THE KING OF THAT LAND. MAY WE BE FOUND WORTHY, WITHOUT BLOOD ON OUR HAND.
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Untitled Poetry
II
Remember when, way back then
When your touch would send shivers through my skin
When we touched
it was like magic
Minds & Bodies electric with passion
We talked, shared and dreamed of a life of bliss
Now this
Strangers laying in the dark
Can’t remember the last time we really talked
United,
but divided by a silent wall
Trying to figure out what happened
Where did this go wrong?
Our relationship
was so strong
Are those days long gone?
We have traveled far together side by side
You have been
an important part of my life
The love we shared no words can express
We have had love at its best
So
now what, as perfect strangers
Do we put our growth in danger?
By staying still although we know
It’s
time to part; time to go
Always we will love each other
Forever-Universal sister and brother
LadyBey~©
Penned August 29, 2008
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