Okay, well, that officially brought a tear to my old eyes. Not just the comment, but that the comment came from the likes of His Nobleness, Terry Freedman. Yikes! Thank you.
He lasted as long as he could... made the best fun with his ability and made at least one lifelong friend. Seems like something we all aspire to. "Plum full up" is where we've all been sometime, yet we keep plodding on, cramming till we just stare. Which is the best choice?
Yes, exactly so. At least one person saw his worth, and knew of his pain. Sometimes that is all we need. Thank you, Kate.
And, yes, sometimes your beautiful, generous lace lessons make my head spin, and I just stare. But you haven;t lost faith in me, my friend, and I keep on plodding.
A fine opening line, among many in this story. The knife I stole "with the genuine artificial mother-of-pearl handle" was stolen from me by an older kid. I stole another, got caught for stealing. Love the "baloney sandwich on Wonder Bread." I can taste it. Another great story and voiceover, Sharron!
Yes, I can taste that baloney, too. And that soft, squishy white bread was an entry-level drug that has dogged me my entire life. Thanks for your confession of your proclivity toward theft as a child. I admit I was a thief, too.
Reminds me of a fellow I knew, born a blue baby, but grew into an ox of a man that found a toe hold in life with little education to drive big rig trucks cross country to make a living half the year. The other half went fishing with Samatha Slurp his more than friendly dog. He did have women all over the home state. Couldn’t go anywhere without someone asking him to come for dinner and stay the night. His laughter was infectious and his humor left you with funny true tales. When I visited him the door handle fell off. He said, “That’s how I keep my women from leaving
Hah! Great story, Richard. A guy you will never forget! My character, Clare, was loosely based on a junkyard boy I knew as a kid. And he DID smell of burned tires. I guess we all have memorable characters from our childhood.
Yes another lived near the city piggery and never washed. Kids in physical education class tossed hi shower. His skin scales fell off like fish scales. Poor habits run deeper than we know.
Sharron, your use of metaphor makes makes this story sing out loud. So gentle and poignant. Clare reminds me of my childhood boy friend, Dwayne. It's beautiful. And I'm glad it has a happy reunion ending. Many times, I've searched for Dwayne on the Internet, but he's lost in a shadow.
Thank you, Sue. As I mentioned to Richard ( above), I imagine we all carry around a memory of an oddball from our childhood. Or , as in my case, a "normal" child who reached out and was kind to those of us who WERE oddballs.
Ah, Ron. Yes. We still have our days when we know we are "different" from the others. But , then we also have days when we reach out to those who are "different". Maybe it balances out...
Oh Sharron! This was a great piece! Poor Clarence had a huge heart, and so did you! I went to the movies with a 6th grade boy, who was bullied by everyone, because he was odd looking, awkward and lacked the social skills that most sixth graders had navigated by the 4th grade. But I liked him, and could sympathize with his status in those days, with my braces and headgear.
Thank you, Sharon. The comments on this story tell me that most of us have a memory of some outsider kid we knew. I remember the conflict I personally felt as a shy child, wanting to make friends with someone who was bullied and at the same time fearing being stigmatized for associating with "losers"... A really hard test of values for a child.
You aced the test. It says a lot about, not only how you were raised, but about the strength you possessed, at that young age, to follow through and act on your compassionate instincts.
Glorgeous! Yes. It has a nice ring to it. Especially when applied to one of MY stories. Thanks Rebecca. I loved your post about potato chips today. You had me drooling and rooting around in my cupboards looking for a forgotten bag of these salty treats. None found. Rats!
ALL your writing qualifies for the word, Sharron. And LOL - I had such fun with my post about potato chips! I’m sorry that your search was fruitless - or indeed crispless! I’m a temptress, I know - or, perhaps better put, a bad influence….
You paint such amazing word pictures, Sharron, and this story is no exception. Clare's acting up was just his way of dealing with the challenges in his life. I cut-up from time-to-time in class because I got bored, I think, plus I enjoyed the attention. It is beautiful how open some of us were as children. We accepted friendship from whomever offered it regardless of race, social status, or appearance. This story offers a gentle lesson in seeing past appearances to the person inside.
KC, thanks for sharing your own story about acting up and why kids do it. I never acted up. My own coping strategy was to quietly blend into the background and just lick the paste... Note my comment to Sharon Hudson ( above) about the conflict we suffer when wanting to be friends with outsider children... Maybe you experienced something similar?
Rich in details, peppered with absolute killer sentences that deserve accompanying fanfares. How many Clares fill our world, mostly invisible but just needing the sort of love and attention shown in this beautiful short story.
Gosh, mine is just some light touch wordplay for the fun of it. Not an ounce on the depth and richness of your tale. I enjoyed playing around with the idea though. B
I love this story. And I want to paint brid on a birdhouse.
Oh! I think you should do that! Thank you, Vikki Dawn, for reading my story.
Brilliant writing
Okay, well, that officially brought a tear to my old eyes. Not just the comment, but that the comment came from the likes of His Nobleness, Terry Freedman. Yikes! Thank you.
My comments often make people cry. Sigh.
He lasted as long as he could... made the best fun with his ability and made at least one lifelong friend. Seems like something we all aspire to. "Plum full up" is where we've all been sometime, yet we keep plodding on, cramming till we just stare. Which is the best choice?
Yes, exactly so. At least one person saw his worth, and knew of his pain. Sometimes that is all we need. Thank you, Kate.
And, yes, sometimes your beautiful, generous lace lessons make my head spin, and I just stare. But you haven;t lost faith in me, my friend, and I keep on plodding.
Good piece!
Thanks for your comment on my draft., Linda. You notice ... I did leave out the word "snot". Though I didn't want to. ha ha ha.
A fine opening line, among many in this story. The knife I stole "with the genuine artificial mother-of-pearl handle" was stolen from me by an older kid. I stole another, got caught for stealing. Love the "baloney sandwich on Wonder Bread." I can taste it. Another great story and voiceover, Sharron!
Yes, I can taste that baloney, too. And that soft, squishy white bread was an entry-level drug that has dogged me my entire life. Thanks for your confession of your proclivity toward theft as a child. I admit I was a thief, too.
Reminds me of a fellow I knew, born a blue baby, but grew into an ox of a man that found a toe hold in life with little education to drive big rig trucks cross country to make a living half the year. The other half went fishing with Samatha Slurp his more than friendly dog. He did have women all over the home state. Couldn’t go anywhere without someone asking him to come for dinner and stay the night. His laughter was infectious and his humor left you with funny true tales. When I visited him the door handle fell off. He said, “That’s how I keep my women from leaving
Hah! Great story, Richard. A guy you will never forget! My character, Clare, was loosely based on a junkyard boy I knew as a kid. And he DID smell of burned tires. I guess we all have memorable characters from our childhood.
Yes another lived near the city piggery and never washed. Kids in physical education class tossed hi shower. His skin scales fell off like fish scales. Poor habits run deeper than we know.
Sharron, your use of metaphor makes makes this story sing out loud. So gentle and poignant. Clare reminds me of my childhood boy friend, Dwayne. It's beautiful. And I'm glad it has a happy reunion ending. Many times, I've searched for Dwayne on the Internet, but he's lost in a shadow.
Thank you, Sue. As I mentioned to Richard ( above), I imagine we all carry around a memory of an oddball from our childhood. Or , as in my case, a "normal" child who reached out and was kind to those of us who WERE oddballs.
So moving to me, this piece Sharron. There are the days we feel the odd man out. Thanks for painting this one.
Ah, Ron. Yes. We still have our days when we know we are "different" from the others. But , then we also have days when we reach out to those who are "different". Maybe it balances out...
This was a special one, Sharron. Loved it!
Thank you, my friend. I love your stories more.
Oh Sharron! This was a great piece! Poor Clarence had a huge heart, and so did you! I went to the movies with a 6th grade boy, who was bullied by everyone, because he was odd looking, awkward and lacked the social skills that most sixth graders had navigated by the 4th grade. But I liked him, and could sympathize with his status in those days, with my braces and headgear.
Thank you, Sharon. The comments on this story tell me that most of us have a memory of some outsider kid we knew. I remember the conflict I personally felt as a shy child, wanting to make friends with someone who was bullied and at the same time fearing being stigmatized for associating with "losers"... A really hard test of values for a child.
You aced the test. It says a lot about, not only how you were raised, but about the strength you possessed, at that young age, to follow through and act on your compassionate instincts.
Great story. I also like Brid on the wooden bird house to keep out the undesirable squirrels
I think you should do it Carol! Build a birdhouse and write BRID on it, because I don't think squirrels are much concerned with spelling...
My eyes overflowed at this line, Sharron:
"I pulled over and lowered the window and when he saw me, his face just lit up. "
Stunning writing, the whole thing. It's glorgeous (a word I've just made up because neither 'glorious' nor 'gorgeous' is quite enough).
Glorgeous! Yes. It has a nice ring to it. Especially when applied to one of MY stories. Thanks Rebecca. I loved your post about potato chips today. You had me drooling and rooting around in my cupboards looking for a forgotten bag of these salty treats. None found. Rats!
ALL your writing qualifies for the word, Sharron. And LOL - I had such fun with my post about potato chips! I’m sorry that your search was fruitless - or indeed crispless! I’m a temptress, I know - or, perhaps better put, a bad influence….
What beautiful prose, it almost sings like poetry.
Thank you, neighbor Wade. I have been waiting for more writings from your own hand...but, ahem, no pressure.
You paint such amazing word pictures, Sharron, and this story is no exception. Clare's acting up was just his way of dealing with the challenges in his life. I cut-up from time-to-time in class because I got bored, I think, plus I enjoyed the attention. It is beautiful how open some of us were as children. We accepted friendship from whomever offered it regardless of race, social status, or appearance. This story offers a gentle lesson in seeing past appearances to the person inside.
KC, thanks for sharing your own story about acting up and why kids do it. I never acted up. My own coping strategy was to quietly blend into the background and just lick the paste... Note my comment to Sharon Hudson ( above) about the conflict we suffer when wanting to be friends with outsider children... Maybe you experienced something similar?
You tell THE BEST Sharron! Amazing!!!
Thank you for sharing your beautiful ART!
Golly! Thank you, Deb, for your sweet comment. I appreciate it so much.
Rich in details, peppered with absolute killer sentences that deserve accompanying fanfares. How many Clares fill our world, mostly invisible but just needing the sort of love and attention shown in this beautiful short story.
Thank you, Barrie. I look forward to reading your Salty Tale this afternoon. I have read the preface and it promises to be really good!
Gosh, mine is just some light touch wordplay for the fun of it. Not an ounce on the depth and richness of your tale. I enjoyed playing around with the idea though. B
Not so, my friend. I was completely engaged -- in a true child-like way, with your sea-monster tale!
Too kind, Sharron. Very supportive, thank you.