tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59915656551472954562023-11-16T11:33:50.592-05:00Heart of Hollyhill Come back to the 1960s and walk with Jocie Brooke and her family and friends down Main Street in Hollyhill, a little Kentucky town where life can be strangely ordinary. Want more - check out The Heart of Hollyhill link.Ann H Gabharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03534433855885000926noreply@blogger.comBlogger129125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5991565655147295456.post-87897488801433107712015-07-08T13:21:00.001-04:002015-07-08T13:21:18.845-04:00A New Place for Jocie's Heart of Hollyhill Posts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlkDO6oSZH-_JEPLdUahjkY89cNQ5oRLg1gcpaknDjMYELrgxBBopY2ldc13zzb2uBYMOOqB43wHAVIm11sBsLmjxw7hVkxW7DUdTBEa5IEvpkRlB8W3HCsZ1BvLU2tq0lDbew3RoCDW0/s1600/iphone+pictures+ending+August+2013+607.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlkDO6oSZH-_JEPLdUahjkY89cNQ5oRLg1gcpaknDjMYELrgxBBopY2ldc13zzb2uBYMOOqB43wHAVIm11sBsLmjxw7hVkxW7DUdTBEa5IEvpkRlB8W3HCsZ1BvLU2tq0lDbew3RoCDW0/s320/iphone+pictures+ending+August+2013+607.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>CHECK OUT JOCIE'S NEW PLACE ON THE WEB </b> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Find Jocie's Heart of Hollyhill reports every week at a new place. Click on Heart of Hollyhill under Blogs on <a href="http://www.annhgabhart.com/">my website homepage</a> or go directly to Jocie's posts with this <a href="http://www.annhgabhart.com/category/heart-of-hollyhill/">Heart of Hollyhill blog</a>.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">New place. Same Jocie. Still the Sixties.</span></span><br />
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<br />Ann H Gabharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03534433855885000926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5991565655147295456.post-72945025788540493532015-06-29T22:34:00.000-04:002015-06-29T22:34:01.143-04:00Oh no! Cabbage Season Again<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">June 29, 1966.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Jocie Brooke here reporting from Holly County, Kentucky. </span></span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Oh no!! </span></span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Look what I spotted in Miss Sally's garden. If she's got cabbage about to start making a head, then I'm pretty sure every other member of the Mount Pleasant Church does too. That's a BIG oh no. I hate cabbage! Who could want to eat that stuff. Have you ever smelled it while it's cooking?? Maybe not as bad as mustard greens, but still plenty yucky. So yucky it draws flies. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The cabbage starts boiling, the flies line up on the screen door to find a way in to get to whatever is making that smell. You have to remember that flies like, actually like, dead things. So to them the smell is probably good. Great even. But not to me!! And then I have to eat it. At least, we do always have cornbread to go with the cooked cabbage. I do like cornbread. Pioneers lived on corn pone, didn't they? So I can make it on cornbread for a day or two. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sometimes Aunt Love boils a lot of cabbage because everybody at church wants to get rid of a few heads and passes them off to us. I have never understood why they never have an over abundance of strawberries or radishes or corn. Well, they do give us a lot of corn too. That's good. I like corn. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Dad says I should be thankful for the Lord's provisions. I suppose he's right, but I just can't put cabbage on my thankful for list. It's right there on my not thankful for list right below turnips. So when we say grace on cabbage nights, I just think about how thankful I am for cornbread. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">What food do you have to eat that you don't like all that much?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Of course, Bailey and Lucinda would have been thankful for any kind of food on their journey. They say it's a good thing for grasshoppers and mice. Right now they're not thinking much about food. They're thinking about their friend, Skelley.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">BAILEY'S BUG by Jocie Brooke</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> (Continued from a couple of weeks ago. The whole story is under the title up at the top of this article.)</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Chapter 17</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> They kept vigil over Skelley's body all night long. They couldn't let the coyotes have him. So, at first light, Bailey dug a hole in the soft ground. Then with care he scooted Skelley into the hole. Lucinda helped him push the dirt in on top of the old dog. Then she found a yellow flower and laid it on top the dirt. Bailey found a stick to put there too. It wasn't Skelley's painted stick, but it was the best he could do.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> Then they sat there for a long moment before Lucinda said, "I'll miss the old dog. Skelley wasn't like most." </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> Bailey stared at the grave. He didn't feel like talking. He did feel like howling, but Skelley wouldn't want him to howl. So instead he thought about the first time he saw him half in and half out of that big trash thing. He remembered Skelley's circus stories and the way the old dog was always ready for whatever adventure came his way next.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> Was Bailey ready for whatever happened next? He looked over at Lucinda who had started washing her paws. But then she stopped and just sat there with her eyes shut. He tried to wait until she said something else, but he couldn't. He had to know. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> "Do you think we can do it?" he asked.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> She opened her eyes and looked at him, but she didn't look mad. "We have to try. For Skelley."</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> So they started off, leaving Skelley behind, but somehow taking him with them too. He seemed to be running along beside them with more energy than he'd ever had and whispering in Bailey's ear that he could do it. By the time they left the woods behind and began across the open fields toward the town, he was beginning to think maybe they could.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> When they were halfway across the first field, they stopped for a drink at a little creek. He stared at the water to see if he could see Skelley's reflection. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> "Why are you staring at the water?" Lucinda asked.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> "I thought maybe I could see Skelley."</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> "We buried him." </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> "I know, but it's like he's still with us."</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> "Don't be silly," Lucinda said. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> "You don't feel him with us?" Bailey raised his head and looked around.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> "Of course not." But Lucinda wouldn't meet his eyes and her tail gave an extra twitch. So he knew she did even if she wouldn't admit it. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> It was almost suppertime when they got to the town. They stopped behind some bushes so that Lucinda could do a complete head to tail wash before they went on to Reid's house. Bailey rested his head on his paws and watched her. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> When she had finished washing to the very tip of her tail, he asked, "What if doing the trick doesn't work? What if Reid still doesn't know me?"</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> "It will work," Lucinda said, but she still didn't look at him. "Come on." </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> Bailey stood up. "Do you know how circus music sounds?" </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> "I think it has to be happy music."</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> "Skelley did look really happy when he heard it." Bailey remembered how the dog said his master was calling him.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> "He did." Lucinda looked up at the sky a moment. "He would say it's music that makes a circus dog step high and do his best tricks."</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> "I'll try to do my best," Bailey said.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> Lucinda looked over at him and sighed. "Well, just try not to trip over your own feet like you did the last time we tried this balancing act. That's all I ask."</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">(To be continued next week.)</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> </span></span></span>Ann H Gabharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03534433855885000926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5991565655147295456.post-90355672150761232862015-06-23T00:37:00.003-04:002015-06-25T08:14:23.073-04:00A Washing Windows Dad's Day Gift<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">June 21, 1966</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG2sdWvjME1bY7MM9Fk3MMvq9-xu56_0MbX1y9gHLXJXLISsxN1TofC0W6mvrBd5CBG9HP_1I5dpX757bx3Hun89vGw08GBCveUnSLjOtJAqSgMttM-CLVKuyaNanVWeJLbNOpObtCXJwU/s1600/file0001882315073.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG2sdWvjME1bY7MM9Fk3MMvq9-xu56_0MbX1y9gHLXJXLISsxN1TofC0W6mvrBd5CBG9HP_1I5dpX757bx3Hun89vGw08GBCveUnSLjOtJAqSgMttM-CLVKuyaNanVWeJLbNOpObtCXJwU/s400/file0001882315073.jpg" width="226" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jocie Brooke reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. Oh gosh, things have been so busy around here. I thought summer was when you could lie back and be lazy. You know, once school was out. But I've been spinning like a crazy top trying to do everything. I helped Miss Sally plant some late garden and wash her windows. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then Aunt Love said if I could wash windows for Miss Sally, I could wash our windows at home. I have about worn my hands out washing windows, but I thought since I was so practiced at it that I might as well wash the big picture windows at the newspaper offices. I mean somebody might bring in a potato that looks like a face or a shoe or something. People do like to bring that kind of thing to the paper and let Dad take their picture for the paper. Dad says everybody likes having their picture in the paper. Well, as long as it's not something bad, like they died or something. Then I guess they might still be happy if they went to heaven. That's supposed to be the happiest place there can be. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, I've been extra busy. So busy I didn't have time to type up the next scene of Bailey's Bug. Cause did I mention, that it was Father's Day? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I had to make Dad a card because he is the best dad ever. My mother might not have been best or even good, but Dad made up for it. So I made him a card and I gave him a hug and I washed those big picture windows at the paper. That was not an easy job. Those windows are BIG. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Zella wouldn't help at all, but all Wes did was tell me where I was missing a spots. I guess that was a help. Cat did keep me company by sitting in the window and watching me. Sometimes he grabbed for my window washing rag too. Then people in town started standing in front of the window watching me too. Or maybe they were watching Cat. I thought about passing out window washing rags to them so they could help and not just watch. But I didn't. I just kept cleaning the window because, like I said, I have the best Dad ever and he likes the windows to be clean.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Have you ever washed windows for someone as a gift? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'll get back with Bailey's Bug next Monday. We have to find out if they ever get home. I'm still sad about Skelley. But if he was hearing circus music that was good. </span>Ann H Gabharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03534433855885000926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5991565655147295456.post-67265877984642075852015-06-16T11:04:00.004-04:002015-06-16T11:04:33.940-04:00Summer Time and the Water's Fine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVah9O-liFnompVYwFw3g9gH8j_i_ogKr2uA6tTevErfJG_EmFhGA7_fIhyLsj4-Q7zCkLOftjoySH2Ym9W62mDKaWRf74e9qJs3fb5JJHR30twZFUHNpSxlMKUblYvCIHCG2uKI7ZQKgH/s1600/girls+swimming.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVah9O-liFnompVYwFw3g9gH8j_i_ogKr2uA6tTevErfJG_EmFhGA7_fIhyLsj4-Q7zCkLOftjoySH2Ym9W62mDKaWRf74e9qJs3fb5JJHR30twZFUHNpSxlMKUblYvCIHCG2uKI7ZQKgH/s320/girls+swimming.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">June 15, 1966</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. Well, actually I'm reporting from the swimming hole out in the county. A lake swimming hole. A beautiful place to swim and now that school is officially out - Yay!! - I can go swimming there with a couple of girls from church. Their grandparents own a house alongside the lake. Betty and Candace are great fun. And good swimmers too. I took some pictures before I hung my camera up in a tree way back from the water. Then I jumped in too. Took my breath but in a positively fabulous way. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I love getting in the water. I'm not great at swimming like Betty and Candace, so I stay where the water's not over my head. Drowning isn't on my to-do list for summer. Swim lessons are. Candace tells me anybody can learn to tread water but first you have to get in the deep water to learn. Seems like to me that makes for a little problem. You know, like drowning in water over your head while you're trying to learn to do something to keep from drowning. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, I'm learning that this summer at the pool. I know I'm kind of big for swimming lessons, but Dad says I can act like an undercover reporter and learn to swim while getting the story. Dad's the best. Anyway, at the pool, you have a side to grab hold of if things get dicey. Like you sinking to the bottom of the pool. I can sort of dog paddle, but I like to imagine myself swimming across the pool with graceful even strokes. I picture some kind of Olympian swimmer.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But the imagination sometimes works better than reality. Even a choppy swimmer is better than a no swimmer. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm using a little more imagination to see what's going on with Bailey and friends this week. They are nearing the end of their adventure.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">BAILEY'S BUG by Jocie Brooke</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(Last week Bailey and Lucinda had about given up hope. Skelley is trying to straighten them out.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "For a truth, I'm surprised at the both of you." Skelley lifted his head to stare at them. "After all the three of us have come through, ye let one minor discouragement get you down."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> The tip of Lucinda's tail twitched back and forth faster and faster. Bailey summoned his courage and spoke up before she jumped on Skelley with her claws bared. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "But what can we do?" Bailey said. "Reid didn't know me. He patted my head and didn't know me."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Folks have their shortcomings, for a truth. Even me own master had a few. Ye just have to come up with a way to get your boy to open his eyes a tad wider."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "How?" Bailey asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Do a trick only ye would know to do. Something he taught you. In the circus, we each had our own special trick that nobody else did. Signature tricks me master called them. Me, I walked on me front paws, easy as pie. Always made the children laugh."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "But I don't know any tricks." Bailey thought about the red plastic toy he used to chase, but it was back at the Robinsons' house.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> The tip of Lucinda's tail stopped twitching angrily. Now her whole tail swayed back and forth. "You could be right, Skelley," she said after a minute. "All may not be totally lost."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I knew ye would see the possibilities, Miss Lucinda." Skelley sounded pleased but tired. "Me thinks I'd best lie down a while. I'm feeling a wee bit strange."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> The old dog collapsed on the ground with a huff of breath. He kept his head up for another moment to stare at Bailey. "Ye do know a trick, lad. Ye told me about it yourself. How your young master taught you the circus trick where Miss Lucinda rode on your back."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "That's it." Lucinda sounded like somebody had just given her a can of tuna. "It was such a complete disaster Reid would have to remember it."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> At the sound of hope in Lucinda's voice, Bailey's tail started swishing through the leaves again. For a few seconds, he thought about how she'd stayed up on the top bookshelf for hours after they tried the trick, but decided against mentioning that. Instead, he started to thank Skelley for getting them to thinking right again. But Skelley's eyes were closed and his ribs were shuddering with every breath.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey crept over beside him, but Skelley still didn't open his eyes. "But you have to go with us. We can't leave you here."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Skelley eased open his eyes. "Ye won't have to, lad. I'll be leaving you first."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "What do you mean?" Bailey asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Lucinda moved closer too. "We need you, Skelley. To be our ringmaster to make sure we do the trick right."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "For a truth, I'd like that. Even without me master's baton." Skelley raised his head a bit to look at her. "But this adventure is over for me. I'm ready to start a new one."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "You can't go on an adventure without us," Bailey said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "The two of ye aren't ready for this adventure, Bailey me lad." Skelley raised his head up and his ears perked up. "Do ye hear the music?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey and Lucinda looked at each other. There was no music.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Skelley wobbled his head back and forth as though keeping time with some tune and got a dreamy look in his eyes. "Tis our coming on song. I'll be having to go. I see my master waving me on."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> The old dog laid his head on his paws and closed his eyes. He looked to be asleep, but his bones weren't trembling the way they usually did when he slept. His chest was too still.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey gently nudged Skelley with his nose, but the old dog took no notice. Lucinda swiped at Bailey to make him back away. Then she leaned down and washed the old dog's face with her tongue. Bailey raised his nose to the sky and howled once, long and sad. Then he rested his nose lightly on Skelley's back.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> For just a second, he thought he heard circus music. Bailey shut his eyes and there was Skelley. He looked young as he ran out to jump through the hoops his master held while a host of children laughed and clapped.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(To be continued. Remember, you can read the whole story under Bailey's Bug up at the top of this article.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Ann H Gabharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03534433855885000926noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5991565655147295456.post-69437646165542112402015-06-08T22:49:00.001-04:002015-06-08T22:49:16.926-04:00A Cat Like Lucinda<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">June 8, 1966</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. Do you like cats? I like dogs better. But you know that if you've read those books about Hollyhill. I wanted a dog so much I said a dog prayer and the Lord let me find a dog over in the woods and bring it home. I named him Zebedee, Zeb for short, because when he barked he sounded loud like thunder. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As soon as we got home and before I had even had a chance to ask, well, more like beg Dad to let me keep him, Aunt Love's cat, Jezebel, had tried to attack him. She doesn't call her cat Jezebel. That's my name for the cat from you know where. But Jezebel is sweet as sugar to Aunt Love and since she's also white all over that's what Aunt Love calls her. Sugar. Take my word for it. Jezebel suits her better. At least around me. She does not like me.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7-Pc39GTs0hBPLqhH5wYKLgdmWHF1GNEsXFLy35asvrKeVkAYrj69RoUqrYm8TEBjRJDE_3rYCjmRnnEsQmFuYAF7nB57XxVxdyVIbcl63Bj9dPMYfQa7mHe097bvvXiWG1B3U1fCmZ8d/s1600/Lucinda+in+a+tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7-Pc39GTs0hBPLqhH5wYKLgdmWHF1GNEsXFLy35asvrKeVkAYrj69RoUqrYm8TEBjRJDE_3rYCjmRnnEsQmFuYAF7nB57XxVxdyVIbcl63Bj9dPMYfQa7mHe097bvvXiWG1B3U1fCmZ8d/s400/Lucinda+in+a+tree.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So when I started writing Bailey's Bug and came up with my cat character, Lucinda, it could be that I used Aunt Love's cat as a model. Except I made Lucinda be black all over instead of white. But Lucinda has grown on me as I've written Bailey's story. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">She hasn't exactly turned into a sweet cat. Far from it. She gripes at Bailey and might swipe at his nose, but she hasn't deserted him. And Bailey likes her and thinks she's smart. But is she going to be smart enough to figure out a way for them to be welcomed home? She's tired of having to climb trees to get away from coyotes. If she never has to hunt for another mouse or bug to eat, she'll be happy. Cats need cat food. Out of cans. Or saucers of milk. She wants to curl up in the sun and forget adventures. But when we left her and Bailey last week, both of them had lost hope. Guess it's time to see what happens next. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">BAILEY'S BUG by Jocie Brooke</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> (Continued from last week. The entire story so far is under the Bailey's Bug title up top of the page. We start here with Bailey waiting for Lucinda to tell him what to do next.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> But Lucinda didn't say anything. She didn't even start licking her paw to wash her face the way she always did when she was thinking. She just kept staring at him while some of the light faded out of her eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey's tail stopped dead, and his heart sank even lower than it already was. All the way back through the woods and across the fields, Bailey had been sure Lucinda would know what to do next. But now he saw his own lost feeling reflected back to him from her eyes. They'd come miles and miles. He'd found Reid. That should have been enough.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> When he couldn't stand her silence a second longer, he said, "You could go. They'd know you. Your fur's always short and black."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "There are probably hundreds of cats in that town. Half of them black like me." Lucinda sounded very, very tired.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I'd know you from any of those other cats," Bailey said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Of course you would." Lucinda's voice rose. She sounded cross the way she used to sound when he did something to accidentally wake her when she was napping in the sun. "But people don't look with their noses like you. They'd think I was a stray. I would be a stray."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "That's what they thought I was. Mrs. Alexander even called the dogcatcher, but I took off before he got there. But they don't call the dogcatcher for cats, do that?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "For a truth, lad, sometimes they do." Skelley spoke up. "I knew a cat once. Never bothered a soul. Lived off what he caught. Jock did love to hear my circus stories, but one day the dogcatcher caught him in a net and carted him off."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> That wasn't a story Bailey wanted to hear. "We've got to do something." He looked at Lucinda.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> The cat was no longer looking at him. She seemed to be seeing something far away. All of the sudden, she let out a terrible yowl. Bailey thought she might be remembering saucers of food and windows full of sunshine.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Reid's got a porch with a railing. That will be a great place for you to lie in the sun." Bailey wanted her to feel better.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Lucinda let out an even louder yowl. She had never yowled like that before. Never. He wanted to put his paws over his ears. He didn't want to hear what her yowls were telling him, but he couldn't block it out.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> It was hopeless. They would never have a family again. They would be strays forever, raiding trashcans for food and dodging the dogcatcher. Worse, when Lucinda got all her yowls out, she was going to hate him. It was his fault they'd left the Robinsons where she had food and sunny windows. Bailey raised his nose and added his howls to her yowls.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey didn't know Skelley was beside him until he felt teeth clamping down on his ear. He was so surprised he swallowed his howl and stared at the old dog. He was even more surprised when Skelley let go of his ear to bump Lucinda with his nose. That stopped Lucinda's yowls as she turned to glare at Skelley.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> All that effort seemed to take all the old dog's energy and he had to sit down to catch his breath. Then he said, "Forgive me, Miss Lucinda, but I did have to get your attention." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "You might have asked. Nicely." Lucinda stood stiff-legged with her tail straight up in the air. The very end of it twitched back and forth. Bailey backed up a couple of steps just in case she decided to swat his nose, but Skelley didn't give an inch.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "It could be that I was mistaken, but it seemed to me that all this caterwauling the two of you were doing was keeping ye from thinking straight." Skelley stared at Lucinda.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I'd rather not think right now." Lucinda sounded fierce.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Now, Miss Lucinda," Skelley started.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Lucinda didn't let him finish. "What's there to think about except having to live out here with the coyotes and never having anyone set out a saucer of milk for me ever again."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey wished Lucinda hadn't mentioned food. It made him want to start howling again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(To be continued.)</span><br />
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Ann H Gabharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03534433855885000926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5991565655147295456.post-38688725530432909522015-06-02T12:27:00.002-04:002015-06-02T12:27:55.993-04:00Memorial Day in Hollyhill & More of Bailey's Bug<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">May 30, 1966</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jocie Brooke reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. This picture wasn't taken in Hollyhill, but you knew that. It's a picture Dad showed me of a cemetery in France to help me think about what Memorial Day really means. It's not just picnics and the local swimming pool opening for the summer and school being out. Memorial Day is for remembering the men and sometimes women who gave their lives fighting for their country. But look at all these crosses. And this is just a little part of the graveyard in the picture. All those people lost to the world. All dying in a war. Fighting for freedom. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Dad fought in World War II and I'm so glad he came home. He was in a submarine. He doesn't talk about it much, but he gets really sad on Memorial Day as he remembers those that didn't make it home. He told me we should all say a prayer for those soldiers' families. So I did. But I also said a very thankful prayer that my dad was one of those who did make it home. I went with him to our local cemetery and while we don't have rows and rows of crosses like the cemetery in France, we do have some men's graves there who gave their lives in service of their country. So we took roses from Aunt Love's bushes and laid a bloom on each of those graves and Daddy prayed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I've almost finished with Bailey's story. Right now it's pretty sad for Bailey since his boy didn't recognize him. Do you think Lucinda is going to be able to figure out a way for them to get back with their family?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">BAILEY'S BUG by Jocie Brooke</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> (Continued from last week. The complete story so far is under the Bailey's Bug title up top.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Chapter 16</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> The sun was going down when at long last Bailey pushed through the bushes back to where Lucinda kept guard in a tree over where Skelley was sleeping. The cat looked down at Bailey from her perch and then beyond him to where no Reid was following.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey placed the scraps he'd found on the ground. "I brought some food."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Skelley woke and raised his head to look at the meat. "That was good of ye, lad." The old dog's head wobbled a bit before he dropped it back down on his paws. "I'm sure I'll feel like a bite of two later."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Lucinda pounced down out of the tree and landed inches from Bailey's nose. "You didn't find him."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I did find him." Bailey scooted back a couple of steps. "It's not far from here. A town. Lots of trashcans." Bailey nudged the scraps toward Lucinda.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> The cat didn't even give it a sniff. "Then where is he? You were supposed to bring him back with you."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I tried." Bailey felt like a ball losing its air. His tail and ears were dragging the ground, but even worse, his heart had lost hope. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "You tried?" Lucinda looked ready to spring at something.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "They didn't know me. Reid fed me his sandwich and rubbed my head but didn't know who I was."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Lucinda stared at him for a few seconds and Skelley raised up his head again to listen. Finally Lucinda asked, "Did you do your silly hopping dance?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I tried everything. I hopped and bounced and jumped and barked. I even licked Reid's face, but it didn't help. Reid said I sounded like Bailey, that I ate like him. But I didn't look like him. Too skinny and not even the same color as his Bailey."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Lucinda twisted her head this way and then that as if to get a better look at Bailey. Her eyes were glittering strangely in the dimming light as night was creeping closer. Skelley was staring at him too. For a few seconds, Bailey was fearful they were were going to decide he really wasn't Bailey too.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Skelley spoke up first. "For a truth, lad, ye don't look the way ye did when I first laid eyes on you behind that trash bin. We've had a lot of adventures between then and now."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Bother the adventures," Lucinda hissed. "You may look different, but you're still Bailey. Are you sure you were at the right house?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "It was Reid. I'd know him anywhere. But he thinks we're still at the old house with the Robinsons. Guess nobody told him we ran away." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Surely they told them. That's been days ago. Weeks ago. A lifetime ago." Lucinda's tail shot up straight into the air. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "But we know where Reid is now." Bailey perked up a little. His tail swished back and forth in the dry leaves behind him. Lucinda would think of something. She was the smartest cat ever. "I came back so you could tell me what to do next." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(To be continued)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>Ann H Gabharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03534433855885000926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5991565655147295456.post-90878668997682186922015-05-25T21:32:00.000-04:002015-05-25T21:32:09.340-04:00Tests are the Price You Pay to Get out of School<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">May 23, 1966</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">School is almost out! Yay!! I really do like school, but I'm always really, really glad when summer comes calling. We have about one more week. Five and one-half day to be exact. We have tests and more tests. You have to take tests or summer can't come. But nothing much else is going on. No field trips. We did that last week. We went to the park over in the next town. Hollyhill doesn't have much of a park. Just some old swings at the Legion Field. And you have to be sort of brave to swing in those. They're getting very old. My dad says he used to swing on those when he was a kid. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway we went to a different park for a picnic. I don't know why we went to a playground park. We aren't exactly kindergarten kids. Maybe they wanted us to check out the physics of seesaws and monkey bars. But it was kind of fun and there was a softball field. I am the worst player on the planet. You'd think anybody could hit a big old softball. Most anybody can. But I'm not much of a hitter. I can run pretty good so if I can get my bat on the ball at all, I usually get to first base. May not be pretty, but as long as you get a score, right? And I'm usually not the very last person picked for a team. Almost, but not quite last. A few of the girls wouldn't play. They might get their shoes dusty. Eew-wee. Poor things. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Like I said, I'm not the best player by a long shot, but at least I'm playing. Wes says that's what's important in life. Playing whatever game you find. Oh yeah, and noticing the flowers as you pass along the road. That's Queen Anne Lace in the picture. Did you know if you put food coloring in water and then stick the stem of Queen Anne's Lace in the water, that will turn the bloom whatever color you put in the water? Well, it will. You should try it. It's fun.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Poor Bailey isn't having much fun. Do you think he's going to find a way to make Reid believe he really is his dog? Last week we left poor Bailey with Reid's mother calling the dogcatcher.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b>BAILEY'S BUG by Jocie Brooke</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b> (Continued from last week. Remember the whole story is under Bailey's Bug in the menu.)</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Reid's mother came back to the door with a piece of rope. "The dogcatcher says I should tie the animal to a post somewhere."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Aw, Mama, you can't just tie him up for the dogcatcher to get," Reid said. "He's a nice old dog."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "He tried to bite you, remember?" Reid's mother frowned. "And it's the dogcatcher's job to take care of strays and locate their owners or find them new homes."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "What if they don't find his home?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I don't know, but whatever it is, the old thing will be better off. Just look at him." Mrs. Alexander pointed toward Bailey.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey flapped his tail back and forth but without much energy. He wanted to look like a dog she could like even if he couldn't look like the old Bailey she knew. But his eyes caught on the rope in her hands and he remembered the awful leash that had tried to yank him under the monster bulldozer. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey's neck began to burn, his ears drooped, and his tail didn't have a wag left in it. Worse than all that was how a little growl gathered low in his throat as he looked at the rope.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> He tried to keep the growl inside where Mrs. Alexander couldn't hear it, but the rope swung in front of his eyes. It taunted him. His growl got louder. Mrs. Alexander stepped back. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey knew it was wrong to growl. He knew they'd never know he was Bailey if he growled, but the growl wouldn't stop. It just keep rumbling out of him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> He'd come miles and miles. He hadn't had a good meal for forever. He'd crossed wide rivers of roads, dodged monster cars, and braved the unknown in the woods. And now Mrs. Alexander wanted to tie him up for the dogcatcher. That woke up the growl inside him. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> What would Lucinda tell him to do? Stop growling for sure. She'd probably swat his nose for good measure. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Reid watched him from the door. His eyes were sad. Maybe because Bailey was growling. So Bailey swallowed his growl and wished he could think of what else to do. He couldn't think of anything. Nothing at all. Except that he better not hang around and wait for the dogcatcher to get there. He wasn't exactly sure what a dogcatcher did besides catch dogs, but no dog he ever knew wanted to be the dogcatcher's friend. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Skelley and Lucinda were counting on him. Bailey looked at Reid and stopped panting long enough to pull in as much of Reid's scent as he could before he turned away. There was nothing to do but go back and ask Lucinda what to do next. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey slinked away from the house, his tail dragging in the dirt behind him. He looked back once. Reid was standing outside watching him. Bailey wanted to go back and try one more time. He even stopped and started to turn around, but it wouldn't do any good.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> The growl started up again in his throat and this time Bailey let it grow until he happened to pass an unsuspecting cat out on its morning prowl. Bailey let out a big woof that sent the cat flashing for the nearest tree. That made Bailey feel just a wee bit better, but he didn't think he would tell Lucinda.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Not that scaring the cat solved anything. He was hungry and tired even though Reid's sandwich had been tasty. He still had a long way to go and with no help for Skelley when he got there. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> He knocked over three trashcans and finally found a package of meat scraps. He didn't eat even one scrap, but instead carried it in his mouth as he headed back out to the woods to give it to Skelley and Lucinda. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> It was a long walk back.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(To be Continued)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Thanks for reading.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>Ann H Gabharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03534433855885000926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5991565655147295456.post-2173014639439088762015-05-18T21:40:00.001-04:002015-05-25T20:24:49.400-04:00A Blind Man Healed with Mud<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">May 17, 1966</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky, the town where not much ever happens. Sigh. Dad says I should be glad not much happens in our hometown. Wes says I need to pay attention and see that things are happening all around me. And Zella says I need to quit making so much happen and stay out of her hair. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Funny, how people see things in different ways. Kids like me generally see things a lot different than people like Zella. Now Wes, he's not like other grown ups. He has that Jupiter point of view that makes everything a little zany. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHVrhuYnm38qKAbvqH6O8SMSTGAJ4B1rdSARLJWbbVEhFmy_ZAfbfiMEALnPL84Ejl4DpqRUheutODRi16d4_jdZ7O7XHWCVe7gsLwCDj2uasEWpBFgvA39nGgVBjCKWQeGZXS9cNJJul-/s1600/pool+of+siloam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHVrhuYnm38qKAbvqH6O8SMSTGAJ4B1rdSARLJWbbVEhFmy_ZAfbfiMEALnPL84Ejl4DpqRUheutODRi16d4_jdZ7O7XHWCVe7gsLwCDj2uasEWpBFgvA39nGgVBjCKWQeGZXS9cNJJul-/s400/pool+of+siloam.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Do you think there were zany people in the Bible? There are certainly some sort of zany stories. Like David killing a giant with a slingshot. Now if I told you that story without you knowing it was in the Bible, you probably wouldn't believe it. Or Jesus making mud to put on the blind man's eyes and then telling him to go wash it off in the pool of Siloam. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Think about that. I don't know how far the man had to go to get to the pool of Siloam but he had to find his way there without being able to see. With mud on his eyes. Can you imagine what he must have been thinking? He was just sitting there begging. In John 9 where his story is told in the Bible it doesn't even say he was asking Jesus to heal him. It says the disciples asked about why he was blind and then Jesus said it was so the works of the Lord could be revealed. And then Jesus mixed his spit with clay and made mud to put on the blind man's eyes and told him to go wash it off in the Pool of Siloam. What do you think the blind man was thinking about then? How do you think the mud felt on his eyes? Cool probably. Maybe he felt the Lord's love in the hands that put the mud on his eyes. Maybe that gave him the courage to do what Jesus said. Because he was still blind. He had to find his way to the pool. He might have had to go up to somebody with mud on his face and ask them to lead him to the pool. Or maybe one of Jesus' followers helped him. But somehow he got there and did what Jesus said. And then he could see. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">When you think about it that's kind of a zany story. Jesus could have just touched his eyes and made him see. He did sometimes, but this time he did it in a different way. Different can be good. And I doubt anything about that day ever felt boring to that man. So maybe I shouldn't worry about things happening and just do what Wes says and open my eyes and pay attention to what might already be happening. Might be something zany.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Poor Bailey is feeling like some zany things and not very good things are happening in his story. Nothing at all like he expected would happen when he finally found Reid. Now what? Time to find out.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">BAILEY'S BUG by Jocie Brooke</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(Continued from last week. The whole story up to now is under Bailey's Bug up at the top of this article.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Mrs. Alexander came out the door and swung her towel at Bailey again, but this time Bailey dodged. Reid followed her outside.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "This is not Bailey," she said. "Look at him. He's shaggy and a funny brown color and his ribs are showing."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey stopped barking and fastened his eyes on Reid. Reid would know him. Reid had to know him. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> But Reid's eyes were getting all watery as his mother went on. "You know that Bailey and Lucinda are with the Robinsons. Remember, we decided they had to stay there until we can get a fence built here to keep Bailey in."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey's tail sagged down to the ground when he heard Reid sigh. His boy said, "I know, but I wish this could be Bailey. Can't we feed him something anyway? He looks hungry." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I don't think we should feed a stray. Goodness knows what sort of fleas and such that dog might have. Now come along. You'll be late for school." Reid's mother reached to open the door.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey heard keys rattling in her hand. They were going to get in the car and drive away. He had to do something. In desperation, he made a dive to catch Reid's leg to stop him. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Mrs. Alexander shrieked and jerked Reid into the house. "That dog tried to bite you. I'm calling the dogcatcher."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "But Mama, you said I'd be late for school."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "You'll just have to be late. We can't leave a vicious dog like that on the loose."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Vicious? She couldn't be talking about him. Bailey wanted to bounce around some more, try one more time to get Reid to see it was really him, but the mouse Lucinda had brought him the morning before was nothing but a faint memory. He felt too tired to make his tail twitch. His head drooped almost the the ground.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> When Mrs. Alexander disappeared into the house, Reid slipped back outside. "Poor old dog," he said. "I know you weren't trying to bite me. You just wanted me to stay out here with you."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey found enough energy to flap his tail once or twice.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "You look so hungry." Reid pulled a sandwich out of his lunch bag. "Here. You can have this."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey gobbled it down in two bites. He'd almost forgotten how good people food tasted.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Reid laughed. "You eat like Bailey too." Then Reid's smile faded away. "I wish you were Bailey. I miss him."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey wagged his tail extra fast and tried to lick Reid's face. It did no good. Reid still didn't know him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "You're a nice old dog." Reid stood up to go back in the house. "But we can't keep you. Dad is going to build that fence so we can get Bailey and Lucinda again. Lucinda's a cat and she doesn't need fences but we couldn't get her and not get Bailey too. That wouldn't be fair."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey listened. If only he knew what to do. But he'd already barked until his throat hurt and done his silly stiff-legged jumping dance and gotten close enough for Reid to smell him. But Reid still didn't know him. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Before he shut the door, Reid said, "You better run away. Mama is talking to the dogcatcher. She doesn't like dogs much. Not even Bailey."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey wanted to tell Reid he wasn't afraid of dogcatchers. He wanted to tell him that he'd faced down monster bulldozers and coyotes and almost drowned and gone mile and miles without food to find Reid, but he couldn't say any of that so Reid would understand. All he could do was look at Reid and whine and wish Lucinda was there to tell him what to try next. She would surely know some way to make Reid see that he was Bailey.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(To be continued)</span><br />
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Ann H Gabharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03534433855885000926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5991565655147295456.post-15894890020233853742015-05-11T21:30:00.000-04:002015-05-11T21:30:06.801-04:00Good Mothers Don't Grow on Trees<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">May 10, 1965</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky on the day after Mother's Day. Everybody always makes such a big deal out of Mother's Day. I guess that's good. Most mothers need a day when they are a big deal. But I don't much like Mother's Day. You see, not everybody has a good mother. I didn't.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> As Dad likes to say, good mothers don't grow on trees. They're made by God. I used to wonder if that was true how come God didn't make me a better one. My mother never liked me. I was a pest. Unwanted. A bother. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">She never hit me or anything like that. I used to wish she would since that would prove she knew I was there. But no. She just pretended I didn't exist. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> Sometimes I wondered if I was invisible. And after I got over my mother wishing I was, I decided being invisible might be fun. That's when I started sneaking up close to people talking in the church yard after Sunday services to see if they would notice me eavesdropping. They hardly ever did, but unfortunately I was never invisible to Dad. I got into big time trouble with that eavesdropping stuff. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> But even though my mother was the pits, I had a great grandmother. Mama Mae loved me. She wasn't in a big hurry to go to heaven, but I guess the Lord was in a hurry for her to get up there and start planting flowers for Him. She died planting tulips one year. So whenever I see tulips, I imagine Mama Mae smiling down from heaven on me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> Aunt Love took over for Mama Mae helping Dad out at the house and trying to make me behave. The two of us have had our rough spots, for sure. I don't exactly act the way Aunt Love thinks a preacher's daughter should. Maybe I don't. But Dad loves me anyway and Aunt Love and I mostly put up with one another. She doesn't hug my neck or anything but she does sometimes say something nice to me now and again. And I try really hard to not get on her nerves. She has enough problems with the forgetfulness without me messing with her nerves too. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So everybody doesn't have a loving mother. Some mothers don't kiss their kids' skinned knees or teach them prayers at night or tucks them in at night. Some are like me with mothers who never wanted them and just don't like them all that much. What do we do on Mother's Day when everybody else is hugging moms and singing their praises? I guess I remember Mama Mae and think of her tulips. And sometimes I feel sorry for myself and cry.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">On to the next episode of Bailey's Bug.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">BAILEY'S BUG by Jocie Brooke</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(Continued from last week)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">CHAPTER 15</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> The next morning, the big yellow monster bus roared down the street and woke Bailey. That meant Reid would be shooting out the door and down the walk. The bus would stop, open its door and swallow Reid up. It would be hours before it brought Reid back.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailing jumped up and shook to get ready. He had to keep Reid from being swallowed by the bus. Instead he had to get him to follow Bailey back to Skelley and Lucinda.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey's throat got tight. The bus might be as hard to face down as the bulldozer. The monster bus was always blowing its horn if Reid was a second late coming out of the house. Bailey wouldn't have but a couple of minutes before Reid disappeared into the bus.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> If only Lucinda was there to tell him what to do. She'd know. Lucinda always knew.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> But she wasn't there and the bus was getting closer. Bailey stared at the front door of the house, ready to charge in front of Reid when he came outside. Just the thought of seeing Reid again made Bailey's tail do circles in spite of the bus coming.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> His tail lost its wag when the bus passed by the house without so much as slowing down. It didn't even honk. Bailey stared at the door behind him. Was he at the wrong house, after all? Bailey took a big sniff, and his tail started wagging again. Reid was there. He hadn't come out the door, but he was there, somewhere inside.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey couldn't wait a second longer. He banged his paws up against the door and barked for all he was worth. The door stayed closed. He ran around to the back of the house. That was how he had to go into the house. Through the back. He found the back door and jumped against it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> He couldn't quit barking. His ears were ringing. Bailey didn't know the door was opening until Reid's mother was there, staring at him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> The sight of Mrs. Alexander made Bailey bark even louder. He whipped his tail back and forth and hopped around the porch.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Reid's mother didn't look happy. She looked mad. She stepped out the door and smacked Bailey right in the face with a towel. "Get away from here, you mangy mutt." She snapped the towel at him again. "Go on. Get!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey looked behind him to see what she was chasing away. Nothing was there. She couldn't be intending to hit him with the towel. She couldn't be telling Bailey to get. He must have been making so much noise he hadn't heard her right.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I hear a dog, Mama."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> At the sound of Reid's voice, Bailey got so excited his barks were high, yipping sounds. Then Reid was right there in the door. Bailey tried to push past Mrs. Alexander to lick him. Mrs. Alexander swatted him across the eyes and started closing the door.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "It's just an old stray. I don't know why he's carrying on so." Mrs. Alexander looked back at Bailey. "Get away, dog. Go on now."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "He sounds like Bailey." Reid was at the door with his books and lunchbox. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "All dogs sound the same. Even strays."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I don't think so. Bailey sounds different. Sort of like this."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey barked louder and jumped even higher. Why couldn't they see it was him? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(To be continued. To read the rest of the story just look for it up above.)</span>Ann H Gabharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03534433855885000926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5991565655147295456.post-65775614507698062332015-05-04T21:31:00.000-04:002015-05-04T21:31:21.790-04:00Lucky Debonair Wins the Derby<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">May 3, 1965</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky where even though we're churchgoers who don't believe in gambling, we watch the Kentucky Derby. Even Aunt Love. I'm not sure, but I think maybe Aunt Love would put a bet down on a horse if she got half a chance. Just in the Derby, mind you. But still, that has to be way hard to believe about Aunt Love. Gambling is gambling. And folks shouldn't be taking the money their families need to throw away betting on the horses. But the Kentucky Derby seems different somehow. They sing "My Old Kentucky Home." There are all those beautiful horses. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I rode a horse once. An old workhorse on Miss Sally's farm. It was sort of like riding an elephant without a trunk. Not that I've ever ridden an elephant, but old Jack had a broad back and no spirit. I could have tap danced on his back and he probably would have kept eating grass. Even so, I've always thought it would be fun to ride a horse. A horse that likes to run.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Racehorses have to like to run. That's what makes the Derby fun to watch. It only takes about 2 minutes for the horses to run the race. The announcers do a lot of talking around the race though and show women wearing fancy hats and interview rich and famous people and talk to owners and jockeys. They sometimes even talk about the horses and of course, the betting odds. That last doesn't matter to us. We aren't about to lay any money down on horses. Except maybe Aunt Love if she happened to know somebody going to the Derby.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Lucky Debonair won the Derby this year. Isn't that a great name for a horse? Not as good as last year's winner. Northern Dancer. Now that's a great name for a horse. Lucky Debonair had the 2nd fastest time ever - right behind Northern Dancer who ran it in a flat 2 minutes last year. Lucky Debonair was one second slower than that. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So we watched the Derby on our little television. Oh to have a color set like some of my friends, but the picture was fairly clear Saturday. We could make out the numbers on the horses and see who was winning. Aunt Love said she knew Lucky Debonair would win. Dad laughed and said we'd had our racing fun for the year and not to talk about betting on anything. Dad has to worry about what the church people might say. But I bet, oops I mean I'm pretty sure most of them watched the Derby too.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Are you ready for some more of Bailey's story? Seems like it's taking me a long time to tell his story. Maybe I should cut out some of the parts, but it's hard to do that until you've written it all down. So here goes. If you remember, last week Bailey finally got up the nerve to tell Lucinda he'd lost the bug or hum in his ear and he was totally and completely lost. And Lucinda says, "You know where Reid is."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">BAILEY'S BUG by Jocie Brooke</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(Continued from last week)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "But," Bailey started.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Lucinda swatted him with her paw. "Don't say you don't. You do. You know in your heart, and that knowing was what put the bug in your ear. If you listen, really listen with your heart, you'll hear it again."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Lucinda flipped away from Bailey and found a shaft of sunlight pushing through the fog. Without so much as a glance back at Bailey, she began to wash her face. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey stayed stuck in his spot. He didn't know what to do. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Skelley spoke up. "Ye know, lad, me thinks Miss Lucinda could be right."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Lucinda's always right." Bailey raised up to look over at her. Lucinda paused in licking her paw and stared straight at him. Then she went back to work on her face.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Aye, she's a smart cat for sure and right as rain on this. For a truth, the tree might have knocked the bug, the hum, whatever it was out of your ears, but it's still there in your heart. It would take more than a bump into a tree to knock it out of there."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "But I can't hear it anymore."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Are ye sure you're listening hard enough, lad? With all your heart and soul?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Skelley hobbled away to find another spot of sun spreading out on the ground. Bailey was left sitting in the fog alone. The fog wasn't just outside him but inside too.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey stared at Lucinda washing in the sun and Skelley curled tight in his bit of sunshine but shivering as always. They thought he could do it. They really did. So he would have to try. Again. Bailey blew out a breath that stirred the fog in front of his nose and headed back out into the trees.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> The sun beat back the fog until only fingers of it remained. Bailey spotted birds flying from tree to tree. They were singing and why not? They weren't lost. A squirrel set up a chattering fuss when Bailey passed under his tree. Off somewhere Bailey couldn't see, crows cawed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> He was listening so hard, he could even hear bugs crawling and hopping through the ground leaves. He could hear everything but what he most wanted to hear. The hum. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> He tried to imagine he heard it. That didn't help. So he listened even harder and he thought maybe he was hearing the trees stretching their limbs up toward the sun and the worms crawling under the ground. But he didn't hear the hum.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> On he walked. At least he could see the sun now and could keep his shadow in the right place to keep from walking in circles. He did not want to end up in front of Lucinda again. Not yet anyhow. Not until he found Reid.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> But how could he find Reid without the hum? He was listening as hard as he could and there was no hum.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Don't listen with your ears, you big lummox." The words were so loud in his head that Bailey looked around, sure Lucinda must have followed him. But she was nowhere to be seen.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> He wished she was there even if she swatted his nose again. He was so lonely out there by himself. He sat down and shut his eyes. How could anybody listen with his heart? He shut his eyes. He heard birds and bugs and the whisper of the wind but then those sounds faded away as he started thinking about Reid.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> He remembered how Reid called him to go play. He sounded different than when he called him to eat. Bailey's tail swept back and forth on the ground. Inside his head, Reid was laughing when Bailey captured the plastic thing. He jerked it away from Bailey and then he stopped playing to rub Lucinda from her ears to her tail. Lucinda purred.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> His thoughts were so good he forgot about being hungry and alone and lost. His tail kept beating against the ground until Bailey was almost sure that when he opened his eyes Reid would be right there with him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> All at once something chirped a little in his ear. Faintly. Bailey made his tail stop thumping. He listened with every inch of him even to the tips of his fur. Then slowly he opened his eyes. Trees still shot up toward the sky around him, but the chirp had turned to a hum. A wonderful hum in his ears. Or maybe it had always been his heart humming.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey started barking like crazy and kicked up swirls of leaves. The bug was back. He could find Reid.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> He went faster then. He didn't worry about being hungry. Reid would give him food. He didn't worry about how much farther it was because the hum kept getting louder. Finally, when he came out of the trees, crossed an open field and climbed a hill, the hum was exploding inside him. He stared down at a road with houses all along it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> He couldn't keep his tail from flopping back and forth as he trotted toward the houses. It didn't even bother him too much when the first people who saw him yelled and threw rocks at him. They were boys like Reid, but they weren't Reid.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> He hurried past them, past all the houses, and across the road. He barely noticed the monster cars honking at him. Nothing mattered but the hum.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> But there were a lot of houses, and by the time he found the right one, all its windows were dark. It was a nice house with a wide railing around the porch where Lucinda could nap in the sun. A round rug was in front of the door that must be there for Bailey. Best of all, Bailey smelled Reid everywhere he sniffed. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey started to bark and jump on the door, but Reid's father always got mad if he barked in the middle of the night. So Bailey climbed up on the porch and curled up on the rug. He dropped his head down on his paws and let out a long sigh. Home at last.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(To be continued)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>Ann H Gabharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03534433855885000926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5991565655147295456.post-75133567039165229732015-04-27T21:47:00.000-04:002015-04-27T22:55:52.478-04:00Yum! Banana Croquettes!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">April 25, 1966</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. It's Monday. A quiet day at school. All the teachers wanted to talk about was finals and that we better study. I do study. Or at least I will before the tests. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Didn't have much time for studying this weekend. We had a dinner at church Sunday. That meant I had to help Aunt Love cook and stuff on Saturday. Aunt Love has some things she always makes, but since she's gotten sort of forgetful - Dad says it's hardening of the arteries and it happens to old people - Tabitha or I have to be in the kitchen with her when she cooks. We have to make sure she doesn't turn the burner on under an empty pan and then forget it. We have to watch and tell her if she's already put the sugar in her stewed tomatoes although the more sugar the better if I have to eat them. That's one of her most requested dishes. That and pineapple rice. Pineapple and butter does make rice better. And then she makes raisin pies. Not my favorite, but that's okay. Always lots of desserts to choose from at a church dinner. I picked Miss Sally's chocolate cake with chocolate icing. Delicious.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Miss Sally also made banana croquettes. I LOVE banana croquettes. What? You've never heard of them. Well, if you live in the south you surely have, haven't you? Or maybe they are a Kentucky special. Aunt Love won't make them. She says it make too big a mess, but sometimes she lets me do it. It's easy as pie. Well, except for that messy part. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">You take a banana and cut it into sections. Then you roll that around in a bowl of salad dressing or take a knife and slather the stuff on every side of the banana piece. Then you roll that around in a different bowl full of mashed peanuts. I like it better if you don't mash the peanuts too fine. Just let them be chunky all over that banana piece. Yum! Got to be angel food. Got to be. I gave Miss Sally a big hug when she brought a big bowl full of them in. She made so many I actually got to go back for seconds. Everybody else was going for those dressed eggs. I don't understand that. Not when they could have banana croquettes instead.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>Did you ever go to a country church dinner on the grounds?</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>Have you eaten banana croquettes?</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Okay now it's time to see what Lucinda is going to do to Bailey when he tells her he's lost the bug in his ear. Oh dear!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">BAILEY'S BUG by Jocie Brooke</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(Continued from last week. The whole story is up top under the Bailey's Bug title.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> <i>Twas a grand adventure.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> The old dog's words echoed in Bailey's ears long after the fog closed off any sight of him and Lucinda. Bailey had never felt so alone. He couldn't hear his hum. He couldn't hear any kind of bug. No bird either. The fog kept closing in on him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> When he spotted a smooth round rock that reminded him of his plastic toy, he stopped to rest his chin on it. Maybe that would help the hum come back. It didn't. After a while, he got up and walked some more.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> The fog was beginning to lift when he saw that same smooth round rock. He tried to tell himself it was another rock. Just one that looked like the first one, but then he spotted his paw prints in the soft dirt around the rock.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> He was going in circles. He might keep going in circles all day and all night. Forever. With Lucinda back there somewhere in the fog waiting for him to bring Reid back. He couldn't do that.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> With his nose to the ground, Bailey tracked his way back through the fog to Lucinda and Skelley. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> When Bailey bushed back through the brush to where they were waiting, Skelley looked up. "I knew ye'd find the courage to do what you must."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Lucinda was asleep after her night of hunting. Bailey sat down beside her to wait until she opened her eyes. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Skelley limped over to poke his nose against Bailey's side. "Best go on and wake her, lad."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "She gets mad if I wake her up."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "It'll be okay. She'll understand."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey gave Skelley a look. He really didn't know Lucinda very well. She wasn't going to understand at all. Not at all. But it had to be done. Might as well get it over with.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Lucinda," he whispered. Then he tried a little louder. "Lucinda, wake up. I have to tell you something."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Lucinda opened one eye, saw Bailey and opened her other eye. "Where's Reid?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I didn't find Reid." Bailey hesitated and Skelley poked him with his nose again. "I don't think I can find Reid."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Lucinda raised her head and glared at him. "Go on."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I don't hear the hum anymore." Bailey pushed his words out in a rush. "I'm lost. We're all lost and I can't do anything about it." He winced waiting for her to start yowling and swat him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Instead, she sat very still and sounded way too calm. "And when did the bug crawl out of your ear?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "When I ran into the tree. It was just gone. Sudden like."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Lucinda sat up. "I knew something was wrong, but I thought it was the storm." She was still calm as though she were discussing nothing more important than which tree she might nap in. "Why didn't you tell me?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey's ears drooped and he stared at the ground. "I thought you'd be mad."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Dogs," Lucinda muttered. She began pacing back and forth, her tail twitching sharply one way and then the other way. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I'm sorry. Really sorry. You were right. We should have stayed at the Robinsons."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Of course. That is what we should have done. What I should have done." Lucinda paused a moment in her pacing to glare at him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "We could go back," Bailey said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Go back? All those miles? Are you nuts?" Lucinda shook her head and didn't wait for him to say anything. "But of course, you're nuts. We all are. But we can't go back. Poor Skelley here can barely limp. Of all the dog-brained ideas."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey felt better with Lucinda yelling at him. That's how it was supposed to be, but Skelley took up for him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Now don't be so hard on the lad, Miss Lucinda. He simply wanted to find his boy. His heart was in the right place."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Lucinda stopped pacing and put her nose right up in Bailey's face. Her eyes glittered greener than Bailey had ever seen them. He wanted to back away from her, but he made himself sit still.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "His heart, yes," she said softly. "I've wondered plenty of times if he has a brain, but I never doubted he had a heart."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I just wanted to find Reid." Bailey wanted to lick her face, but he knew better. "I didn't know all this was going to happen."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "How could you? No one could have. Not even a cat. Certainly not a dog. But it has happened. We are out here untold miles from the Robinsons. Probably in another state and we have a friend who needs help." Lucinda kept glaring at Bailey. "You couldn't know that. But you do know something."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "What?" Bailey asked. Lucinda's eyes were getting even greener. And fiercer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "You know where Reid is."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(To be continued) </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">)</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> </span>Ann H Gabharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03534433855885000926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5991565655147295456.post-57740692019264142362015-04-20T21:05:00.000-04:002015-04-20T21:05:34.962-04:00The Legend of the Dogwood<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHr7oSyKyzJtTLZJKmekrwgAlxuR0Zk9sTkix1Gi4xJ7qgMdwNM5B0VT2fylSXa4uBQA9HRyTRiw_fUbY-7dLQBjLvmJmlEiT691WkRZT8gYoiKgiL1J9NHh-QFerAts1HJB_PwN29rLaO/s1600/iphone+pictures+ending+August+2013+083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHr7oSyKyzJtTLZJKmekrwgAlxuR0Zk9sTkix1Gi4xJ7qgMdwNM5B0VT2fylSXa4uBQA9HRyTRiw_fUbY-7dLQBjLvmJmlEiT691WkRZT8gYoiKgiL1J9NHh-QFerAts1HJB_PwN29rLaO/s1600/iphone+pictures+ending+August+2013+083.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">April 20, 1966</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. I like April. Do you like April? You can count how much more there is of school by weeks instead of months. You can forget about coats most of the time. You can see everything turn green. You can play out in the rain because sometimes it just showers down without thunder and lightning. It's sort of like going swimming standing up. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Spring flowers start blooming. Bright colored flowers like tulips. They always make me remember Mama Mae who died planting tulips. But she wouldn't want me to hold that against the tulips. She loved flowers. All kinds of flowers. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In April, she especially loved the dogwood trees when they bloomed. She told me the legend of the dogwood. She said it might not be exactly true and Dad said the same. He said the Bible doesn't have anything about the dogwood tree. Nothing at all. But that doesn't mean the Lord didn't plan the dogwood tree to remind us of what Jesus did for us. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, here's the poem Mama Mae read to me a long time ago. She said nobody knew who wrote it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><span style="background-color: white;">In Jesus' time, the dogwood grew</span><br /><span style="background-color: white;">To a stately size and a lovely hue.</span><br /><span style="background-color: white;">'Twas strong and firm, its branches interwoven.</span><br /><span style="background-color: white;">For the cross of Christ its timbers were chosen.</span><br /><span style="background-color: white;">Seeing the distress at this use of their wood</span><br /><span style="background-color: white;">Christ made a promise which still holds good:</span><br /><span style="background-color: white;">"Never again shall the dogwood grow</span><br /><span style="background-color: white;">Large enough to be used so.</span><br /><span style="background-color: white;">Slender and twisted, it shall be</span><br /><span style="background-color: white;">With blossoms like the cross for all to see.</span><br /><span style="background-color: white;">As blood stains the petals marked in brown,</span><br /><span style="background-color: white;">The blossom's center wears a thorny crown.</span><br /><span style="background-color: white;">All who see it will remember Me</span><br /><span style="background-color: white;">Crucified on a cross from the dogwood tree.</span><br /><span style="background-color: white;">Cherished and protected, this tree shall be</span><br /><span style="background-color: white;">A reminder to all of My agony."</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So whenever I look at the dogwood blooms, I see what the poem says. The bloodstains on the edges of the four petals and the notches that look like they could have been made by nails. Then the middle part with red berries that could be a crown of thorns marked with blood. Whether the legend is true or not it's still a good story to think about in April when the trees bloom. Mama Mae said it added to their beauty and now that I'm older, I know what she means. Had you ever heard the dogwood legend? Do you like the dogwood trees?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">On to the next episode of Bailey's Bug. Are you ready? Do you like Bailey and Lucinda and Skelley?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">BAILEY'S BUG by Jocie Brooke</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(Continued from last week)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Chapter 14</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey practiced how he might tell Lucinda about the hum while he waited for her to come back from hunting. Maybe he could simply say the bug crawled out of his ear. That could happen, couldn't it? He would scrunch down on his belly and tell her how sorry he was for getting her out here in the middle of nowhere. He'd beg her to pounce on him, bite his ears, scratch his nose or do whatever she wanted to if it made her feel better. He deserved it leading her out here where she had to hunt mice and climb trees to get away from coyotes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> He aimed to just blurt it out the minute she came back, but when she stepped out of the night in front of him, he lost his courage. Instead, he shut his eyes and pretended to be asleep. Too asleep to even notice when she put a mouse down right in front of his nose.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> The next morning, the mouse was still there. Bailey tried to give it to Skelley, but the old dog shook his head and told Bailey to eat it. So he gobbled it down. It wasn't much but it was something. Would he ever see a full food dish again?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Maybe he would be like Skelley and spend all his time raiding garbage cans and saving bones that didn't have even one good chew left on them. How would he look with bones sticking out in angles like Skelley's?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bones were already in plain sight on his sides in spite of the way his hair had gotten bushy with nobody to trim it off. He was a funny mud color too and didn't look much like the dog that had run away from Mr. Robinson. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> He didn't feel much like that dog either. That dog didn't think of much other than food dishes and fetching for Reid. This dog he was now had to worry about getting Lucinda and Skelley lost or worse and whether he'd ever see Reid again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Lucinda hopped down out of the tree. "Time to be on our way."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Thick fog hid everything except the trunks of the trees nearest them. No hint of the sun pushed through it. He couldn't go without seeing which way the sun was shining.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Maybe we should let Skelley rest a while longer. So his leg can get better." The sun would surely show up in a little while.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "For a truth, Miss Lucinda, I'm not sure if I can walk on it," Skelley said. "And I'm a wee bit too tired to hop along on me other three feet."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "We'll go slow," Lucinda said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "No, no, Miss Lucinda. I'll not be slowing the two of you down. Twill be better for ye to leave me here and go on your way."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "We can't leave you here alone," Bailey protested.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "And we won't." There was no doubt in Lucinda's voice.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "But you can't stay," Skelley started.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Lucinda interrupted him. "Let me finish. I'll stay here with you while Bailey goes on to find Reid. Then he can bring him back with him. People know about fixing hurt legs and such."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Skelley settled his sad eyes on Bailey. He was waiting for him to tell Lucinda about the hum, but Bailey just pulled his tongue up in his mouth and didn't say anything.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Lucinda went on. "We've gone miles and miles. Too many to count. We have to be in another state. Close to Reid. Your bug says so, doesn't it, Bailey?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey stared out toward the fog as though he were hearing something in the gray mist. He should tell Lucinda about losing the hum. He should. But the words wouldn't come out of his throat.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Instead he kept his eyes on the farthest tree he could see in the fog. "It can't be far."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Lucinda sighed. "Heaven knows, you've been saying that every day since we left, but maybe this time you'll be right."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> When Bailey didn't move, she nudged him with her paw. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go get Reid. Now."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I'll find him." Bailey tried to sound like he meant it as he skipped his eyes over Lucinda and Skelley and headed out into the fog. He had no idea which way to go. One way was as good as another until he got out of sight of Lucinda.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "It was a grand adventure, Bailey me lad," Skelley called after him. "A grand adventure."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(To be Continued next week. Remember, the first part of the story is up under the title at the top of my report.)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>Ann H Gabharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03534433855885000926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5991565655147295456.post-90044981278678750152015-04-13T21:51:00.000-04:002015-04-13T21:51:05.904-04:00Sunrise in Hollyhill<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic784KU2964ENclLLWz0td-jR0ovJl1WrcQ-B5bMbTyDr8tNEHIDpHGtw8aRM6RbG_mWL2czOhkGLCq3raPh9RS1Uml2cvc50t35QMh-YGNqXMjMx9OzqsYIpfsUroWDS4PUnWOENU1Na1/s1600/iphone+6+04-2015+750.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic784KU2964ENclLLWz0td-jR0ovJl1WrcQ-B5bMbTyDr8tNEHIDpHGtw8aRM6RbG_mWL2czOhkGLCq3raPh9RS1Uml2cvc50t35QMh-YGNqXMjMx9OzqsYIpfsUroWDS4PUnWOENU1Na1/s1600/iphone+6+04-2015+750.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">April 13, 1966</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. Not a lot to report today. Well, Dad says every day holds its own special blessings. Didn't the sun come up today, he'll ask me. If I say of course it did, he'll tell me that some things shouldn't be taken for granted. That the sunrise every morning is blessing. When he was serving on that submarine in World War II, he went weeks without seeing a sunrise. He says you can't imagine how amazing and special the sunrise is until you haven't seen it for a while. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I like the sunrise. I see it every morning on the way to school. Nobody would be so silly as to say they didn't like the sunrise. That means the gift of another day. But there are days when I'd like to pull the covers up over my head and skip the actual sunrise. I could always get caught up on the sunshine later in the day. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Aunt Love says sunrises like the one in the picture I took means bad weather's on the way. "Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning." Dad says they say sailors instead of farmers or grocers because sailors are out there on the sea where storms can dash their boats into the waves and capsize them. Like that story in the Bible where the storm is lashing the boat that Jesus and the disciples are in. Jesus is sleeping through the storm and some of the disciples go back and wake him up. Do you think they had to shake him or just speak his name? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Guess that part doesn't matter. But they ask him if he doesn't care if their boat sinks and they all drown. You see, they know he could do something about it. They're not exactly prepared for what he does do, but they knew who to go to for help. Dad says that's a lesson for us. To know who to go to for help. But anyway, Jesus tells the storm to be still and it is. That threw the disciples for another loop. They weren't prepared for anything that awesome. Dad says the sunrise every morning felt that awesome for him for a while after he came home for the war. Seeing the sun. Being alive to see the sun. So I'll be glad for the sun.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I think Bailey and Lucinda and Skelley will be glad for the sun after their rough time with the storm in the story. Wonder what's going to happen next. Here goes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Bailey's Bug by Jocie Brooke</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(Continued from last week. Remember, you can read it all so far under the title up at the top of this report.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> It was full dark when they reached the trees, and once they'd settled Skelley into a leafy bed, Lucinda went hunting. She disappeared almost immediately into the night. How many other things were stalking unseen in the darkness?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey shivered and went over to lay next to Skelley who was shivering even worse. Bailey's shivering slowed and stopped, but the old dog's shaking seemed to come from deep inside him with nothing to do with the cool air.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I'm sorry about your master's baton," Bailey said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "'Tis a sadness for a truth, lad." Skelley sighed. "It's taken the music with it."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "The music?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Aye, the music. Ye know I could always hear that music and fine music it was. Circus music. No matter what else happened, no matter whether there was food or not, I heard the music and was ready for the show to go on."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Skelley raised his head to stare out into the night as if listening for a new burst of music. For a moment he even stopped shaking. But then he dropped his head back down on his paws and his old bones began quaking again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I miss the music."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "It'll come back, Skelley. You're tired. In the morning, the music will be back."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I hope so, lad." Skelley didn't sound as if he thought it possible. "I don't think I can go on with the adventure without the music."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey shifted uneasily as though he'd just felt a rock under him. Talking about Skelley's music reminded him that he still couldn't hear the hum. The water was out of his ears. The storm was long gone but no hum was vibrating inside his head.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Skelley," he said after a moment. "Do you know which way the sun comes up?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Aye, lad. it's in the east, but I need some sign of it shining to point the way." He looked up at the sky. "Me master could do it, night or day. He knew the stars that pointed the way, but I never could make out which ones he said mattered the most."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey stared up through the trees to the sky. He saw stars, but none that helped him know which way to go.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> The night was suddenly so silent that Bailey wanted to jump up and bark just so there would be some noise somewhere. But he made himself lay still. If Lucinda heard him barking, she'd run back to see what was wrong. Then what would he tell her?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> He thought maybe Skelley was asleep, but then the old dog said, "Ye've lost what Miss Lucinda calls your bug, haven't ye, lad?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey perked up his ears and started to pretend. But what good would that do? He dropped his nose down on Skelley's bony back. "I'm afraid so. It wasn't a bug. It was a hum right in the middle of my head. Now it's gone."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> He waited for Skelley to tell him the hum would come back, that he just needed a bit of rest. Bailey wanted the old dog to say that, but he didn't.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Instead the old dog said, "Miss Lucinda's going to be a mite upset when you tell her, but tell her you must, lad. And soon."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(To be continued) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>Ann H Gabharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03534433855885000926noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5991565655147295456.post-48229318278811882882015-04-06T21:44:00.000-04:002015-04-06T21:44:04.041-04:00True Fans Hate Seeing their Teams Lose<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzPhqLM8jHQ9l94eREafPZnTJzHKuKIOgqr79xyTKEevTdAIaEIDNbQEEHLbFusIVP-ewC0-AQxfPmrQ5JSMa4Lvja2pOu82f-hsekO6KVxxXhS7JY8hy_TEKjPWnaoLR4o-3I2XpQ37Sq/s1600/Texas-Western-vs-Kentucky-NCAA-Tournament-1966.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzPhqLM8jHQ9l94eREafPZnTJzHKuKIOgqr79xyTKEevTdAIaEIDNbQEEHLbFusIVP-ewC0-AQxfPmrQ5JSMa4Lvja2pOu82f-hsekO6KVxxXhS7JY8hy_TEKjPWnaoLR4o-3I2XpQ37Sq/s1600/Texas-Western-vs-Kentucky-NCAA-Tournament-1966.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">April 6, 1966</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. Do you like basketball? We're big basketball fans at our house. Well, all except Tabitha who thinks watching boys bounce balls up and down a gym floor is about as boring as watching paint dry. I think she's crazy. Basketball is THE sport to watch. In fact, I'm teaching Stephen how to dribble a basketball. He may not be two yet, but he's catching on. A star in the making. Dad will be putting him up a basketball goal on the side of the garage before you know it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Even Aunt Love likes basketball. Every time there's a game on television, she's glued to the set. She can even remember the score. Her forgetfulness goes on hold when she's watching the games or listening to them on the radio. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">That's how it is here in Kentucky. Basketball is the sport. But Tabitha moved around with our mother all those years and never had time to really get behind a team. Not even UCLA out in California. But in Kentucky, we get behind our Wildcats. We thought sure they were going to win it all this year. But they ran into a better team. At least that's what Dad said. Texas Western. They were tall and our guys couldn't shoot over them. We ended up shooting something like 38 percent. That's not too good in basketball. You hit 380 in baseball, you're pretty good, but you've got to hit 50 percent of your shots in basketball to be any good. Sigh. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Everybody in Hollyhill has been depressed ever since the game a couple of weeks ago. You just look at the guys on the bench in the picture that was in the paper. Sad times. You don't get a chance to win the championship every year. Well, unless you're UCLA. They seem to be there a lot. But it's been eight years since Kentucky has brought home the trophy. I don't remember that. I was just a little kid then. So we had high hopes this year. Sigh. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The newspapers all made a big deal about Texas Western beating Kentucky because their starting lineup was all black players and Kentucky didn't have any black players on the team. I understand what they are saying. Noah, who works for Dad sometimes, has made me see what discrimination is like, but I didn't think about black and white in the game. I just wanted our team to win. Sigh. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But Dad says it's just a game and there are lots more important things in life than who wins a ballgame. Especially when you're just on the sidelines watching and not on the team. But it would have been more fun if our team had won. Sigh.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">When I left Bailey and Skelley last week, Skelley had just lost his painted stick and was feeling really sad too. Guess I'd better see what happens next.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">BAILEY'S BUG by Jocie Brooke</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> (Continued from last report. The full story under the Bailey's Bug report heading up top of the page.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "What's gone?" Lucinda raised her head up to look at Skelley.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I dropped me master's baton in the water." Skelley's voice was so low Bailey could barely make out his words.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Where?" Lucinda's ear perked up and she looked more like her old self in spite of the way her fur was sticking out in odd angles.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Out there." Skelley stared at the water and then dropped his nose back toward the ground. "For a truth, it's gone forever."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I tried to find it." Bailey's ears drooped down. "I really did."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "He did, Miss Lucinda. But some things can't be found."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Lucinda looked at the water again and then back at the old dog. "I'm sorry about your baton, Skelley." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Don't fret yourself about it, Miss Lucinda. Twas silly me packing it here and there all this time anyway, but it somehow kept me master with me."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "He'll still be with you," Lucinda said softly. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Aye, I suppose," the old dog said without much conviction.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Lucinda moved over right in front of Skelley's nose. "I thank you, Skelley, for pulling me out of the water. You're a remarkable dog like none I've every known before or ever expect to know in the future." She touched his face with her paw.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "And ye be a fine feline, Miss Lucinda. Me old stick was just that. An old stick."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Skelley tried to sound as though he meant it, but his eyes were so sad that Bailey wanted to dive back into the rushing water to hunt for the stick again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Lucinda noticed Bailey looking at the water. "Let's get away from here. I hate water. Please tell me we're on the right side of this river."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "The right side?" Bailey cocked his head to look at Lucinda.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "The one your bug says is right."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Oh, the right side. Yes, the right side." Bailey stood up, shook some more water out of his coat and started away from the stream. He had no idea which way to go for even though it had stopped raining at last the sun was hiding behind thick clouds.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> In fact, it looked near night. They needed a safe place to rest. Somewhere they didn't have to worry about coyotes surrounding them. Someplace where he could get the water out of his ears so that maybe the hum would come back.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey stopped on a little rise. Ahead was a line of trees where there would be some bushes for him and Skelley to hide and trees for Lucinda to climb. Maybe they could find some acorns or berries or bugs to eat. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> He thought of rabbits, and his mouth started watering. He pushed the thought away. Even when his legs weren't feeling so rubbery from swimming in the water, he couldn't catch a rabbit without Skelley's help. But Skelley trailed along behind them without seeming to care about catching rabbits or where the sun might be. In fact, he got so far behind that Lucinda and Bailey slowed way down to let him catch up. Finally Skelley stopped trying to keep up and lay down on the ground. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Me thinks the coyotes must have got hold me leg. It's paining me some. The two of ye go on, and after I rest a bit, I'll come along."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "It's not much farther. Just over to those trees. We can find a better place to rest there." Bailey pointed with his nose.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Skelley didn't even raise his head to look. "Aye. I'll be along in a little while."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "What about the adventure?" Bailey said. "You can't give up on that now."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Aye and it is a fine adventure, lad. I'm not quitting it. I'll be along as soon as me leg rests up a bit."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Lucinda let out a yowl and swatted Bailey. "Stop your nonsense about adventure. This isn't an adventure. It's a disaster, but it's a disaster we're all in together. And if you're going to stay here, the two of us will stay right here with you." Lucinda sat down beside Skelley and started licking the muddy water out of her coat.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Ye can't stay here, Miss Lucinda. The coyotes might find us and the trees are much too far away."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Lucinda looked up from licking her paw. "We fought the coyotes once. If they find us, we'll just do it again." She began washing herself again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> A bit of the old glint flashed in Skelley's eyes. "I guess you've got me, Miss Lucinda. Ye know I can't let you stay here in the open because for a truth, we may have fought the coyotes but we weren't winning."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "We got away, didn't we?" Lucinda said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "By the skin of our teeth with a bushel load of luck." Skelley clambered to his feet. "Could be, if we take it slow, I might make it to the trees after all."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> They moved so slowly now that Bailey had time to hunt for grasshoppers and to nose over rocks and grab a few crickets. He took some to Skelley, but the old dog shook his head.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Ye eat them, lad. Me appetite seems to have left me."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(To be continued)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
Ann H Gabharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03534433855885000926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5991565655147295456.post-70144249211828708272015-03-30T22:42:00.001-04:002015-03-31T12:17:14.251-04:00Spring Break - Time to Read!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg84M2fkt1j5xggbzLVjUYrMaUxcbf5A8rkyPjWUS3CHwx7AjxfK3VZnOx6nJ3-SwWnzLuJmxnUzW0y6KeG9uITu3hK3ft7SjGza_cu_dTNtWlv6nz3VIXNh7N1G4-zUyBQetKzPIC1-j16/s1600/boy+reading.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg84M2fkt1j5xggbzLVjUYrMaUxcbf5A8rkyPjWUS3CHwx7AjxfK3VZnOx6nJ3-SwWnzLuJmxnUzW0y6KeG9uITu3hK3ft7SjGza_cu_dTNtWlv6nz3VIXNh7N1G4-zUyBQetKzPIC1-j16/s1600/boy+reading.jpg" height="197" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">March 30, 1966</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jocie Brooke here excited to be reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky because it's SPRING BREAK!! No school for a whole week. We almost had to go to school on Monday and Tuesday, but then the Legislature said we didn't have to make up all our snow days. So the superintendent just tacked on a few extra days to keep us in school until June, but we get all week for spring break. And it's supposed to be pretty weather too.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Thank goodness, Aunt Love says spring cleaning can wait until later or I'd be dusting and washing walls all week. But now things are looking up. No homework. No housework. Well, other than the stuff I have to do every day. But I can do that quick and then go help Dad and Wes at the newspaper. Or go visit Miss Sally out on the farm. Or go to the library. So I can read like Jamie in the picture here. Jamie and I talk books all the time. He reads weird stuff like Wes. Science fiction. I like stories with romance or mystery. Or both. I want to read at least three books this week. At least. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Maybe I'll see Jamie around town. Maybe at the library. Then I can ask if he wants to go see Wes and borrow some of his books. Wes has stacks and stacks of books. He says they are like old friends. He can't just throw them away, but he can introduce them to new friends. He'd let Jamie have some of them for sure. Maybe Jamie and I can find a great place to read. And we can talk about what we're reading. You know, a boy who likes to read isn't so bad. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My sister, Tabitha, will laugh if she reads this and say I told you so. But talking to a boy about reading doesn't mean I'm falling in love or anything. Just falling in love with reading. That's all. That's absolutely all! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Still, it might be fun if we both read the same book so we could talk about it. Do you like to talk about the books you read to your friends?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Maybe I'll tell Jamie about the story I'm writing. See if he wants to read it. I don't know if that would be a good idea or not. What if he didn't like it? What if he made fun of it? It's scary letting somebody read what you're making up. Except for you all. I don't mind you reading it because I know you'll be nice and not tell me it's awful. Thank you. Because I don't want to feel all scared to report here from Hollyhill. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So on to the next chapter of Bailey's adventures.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">BAILEY'S BUG by Jocie Brooke</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(Continued from last time. The whole book is under Bailey's Bug up at the top of the page.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Chapter 13 </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey was almost glad when what was left of the barn floating along with them banged into a tree and began crashing down around them. Dodging falling planks was easier than telling Lucinda the hum in his ear was gone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Hang on, lad," Skelley called over the crash of the water. "We'll drift away from the mess of it in a minute."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey clung to his board and stared over at Skelley balancing on his narrow plank. He was leaning this way and that guiding it through the debris. Lucinda floated along behind the old dog on her own plank. Her back was arched and her tail pointed straight up to get as far away from the water as she could. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> A pole rammed into Bailey's board and knocked him into the water. He dog-paddled like mad to catch up with the plank, but it rushed away from him. Behind him more of the barn crashed down around Skelley and Lucinda. Skelley shifted away from the falling timbers, but a board slapped Lucinda off her perch. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Lucinda!" Bailey pushed against the water trying to get to her. She wasn't swimming. Her limp body bounced up and down in the water. Bailey paddled harder but the water pushed him the other way.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I'll get her, lad." Skelley jumped from plank to plank as though the boards were stepping stones. At last he floated on a board right beside Lucinda. The old dog hesitated as his mouth tightened on the painted stick.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> For a heartbeat, Bailey wasn't sure Skelley would be able to choose Lucinda over the baton. At last he placed the stick on the plank and clamped his paw on top of it. Then he plucked Lucinda out of the water with his teeth. All was well for a moment, but when he lifted the cat up, her weight threw him a little off balance. The board shot out from under him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Skelley's painted stick flew up in the air and splashed down into the water. Skelley watched it float away from him with large, sad eyes, but he kept his hold on the scruff of Lucinda's neck. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I'll get it," Bailey shouted.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> With no sign of hearing him, Skelley turned and swam toward the creek bank.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey swam back and forth, waiting for the stick to float past him. Bits of wood were everywhere, but none of them was the right bit of wood. It must have slipped past without him seeing it in murky water. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> He hated to give up, but if he didn't make for the bank, he might just float forever. Like Skelley's stick.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> The water had carried him far past the spot where Skelley had gone ashore with Lucinda. Bailey had to rest on the dry ground for a while before his legs could carry him again. He hurried back along the stream to find his friends.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> When at last he spotted them, he gave a little bark of joy to see Lucinda sitting up. She didn't look too good though with her head drooping down. Skelley's head drooped even lower and he was shaking so that the old dog's bones had to be clattering. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey caught his breath. "I couldn't find it, Skelley. I'm sorry."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "That be all right, lad." Skelley didn't look up at Bailey. "I knew it was gone, for a truth, the minute the water gobbled it up."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(To be continued) </span>Ann H Gabharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03534433855885000926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5991565655147295456.post-21031201491103988292015-03-23T21:24:00.002-04:002015-03-23T21:24:32.584-04:00You Can't Roller Skate in a Buffalo Herd<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-lgQVrseK9Xisvzjh1uU8_VOHGYsUc05SXNI4zBfyV2tdmhR8E8LafjTA-iPCXr_KLLjVnPZ2jQa3m_L7k1WYbI_gYhsksiPwAyFufEc9v_ru0V45JnNmOcu3iSsd3zY706Gd6ROcD9Yz/s1600/Roger+Miller+King+of+the+Road.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-lgQVrseK9Xisvzjh1uU8_VOHGYsUc05SXNI4zBfyV2tdmhR8E8LafjTA-iPCXr_KLLjVnPZ2jQa3m_L7k1WYbI_gYhsksiPwAyFufEc9v_ru0V45JnNmOcu3iSsd3zY706Gd6ROcD9Yz/s1600/Roger+Miller+King+of+the+Road.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">March 23, 1966</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky where not much happens in March. That's for sure. But it is spring and Miss Sally's chickens are getting cute little feathers and it's warm enough for me to ride my bicycle.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Leigh and I have even been digging up a new flower bed. She wants to plant tulips. She says she loves tulips. She never met my Mama Mae, but if she had, Mama Mae would have loved her because she makes my daddy laugh. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">That's a good thing. To marry somebody who makes you laugh. I want to do that too. Someday. Not in any hurry at all. So far every boy I've met is way weird. Leigh says I'll change my thinking on that when I get older, but gee whiz, I'm already 14. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Lots of girls my age are walking the halls at high school holding hands with some boy. I'm thinking it would be real hard to carry a whole armload of books while you had to hold somebody's hand. Leigh laughed when I told her that. She said the boys were supposed to be carrying the books for the girls. Yeah, like that would happen for me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Do you like Roger Miller? We watched the Grammy show the other night. Aunt Love said it was all foolishness, but Leigh likes music and records. She has this record of Roger Miller. He won a bunch of Grammy awards for "King of the Road." We got to watch the award show on television and see him sing that song. It's a good thing he wasn't singing "Chug a Lug." Aunt Love would have probably made us turn it off. But I think that song is funny. I can think about it without it making me want to take any chugs out of a moonshine jug. That would a crazy thing to do. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I like the way Roger Miller sings funny songs. One of the songs on the record is "You Can't Roller Skate in a Buffalo Herd." Have you ever heard that one? It says you can't take a shower in a parakeet cage and you can't take a swim in a baseball pool and can't go fishing in a watermelon patch along with other crazy things, but that you can be happy if you've a mind to. I like that. What other silly songs do you know? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Guess it's time to see how Bailey, Skelley and Lucinda are making out. We left them in a pretty big mess last week. Skelley had ended up in the middle of a bunch of coyotes before he was swept away by the flood. Lucinda was on a board floating along and you know how Lucinda hates getting wet. Let's see what Bailey does.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">BAILEY'S BUG by Jocie Brooke</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(Continued from last week. You can read it all under the title up top of this report.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey had almost given up hope when Skelley's head popped up out of the water in front of him. The old dog's ear was bleeding, but his eyes were full of fire as if the fight with the coyotes had been the best adventure yet. The painted stick floated up beside him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Skelley caught it with his chin and pulled it back toward him. "My leap fell a bit short, Bailey me lad, but those old boys weren't so tough." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey felt like he'd just been given a whole bag of dog food. He barked and jumped straight up, splashing water everywhere.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Stop that!" Lucinda ordered. "You're going to drown me." The cat jumped away from Bailey to a different board. "The water's getting deeper."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Lucinda was right. The water swept Bailey off his feet. He paddled to stay beside Skelley but the water kept pushing him away.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Grab a board, lad. Best try to ride out this flood. Swimming will take too much out of you in this current." Skelley clambered up on a board and balanced there easy as can be.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey tried to do the same, but the board tipped and dumped him back into the water. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Try to sit light in the middle, lad." Skelley nudged the board back toward him. "You have to shift when the board shifts.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> This time Bailey made it up on the board, but when he shifted, he ended up dumped in the water again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Shift the other way, lad. The other way. For a truth, you'd have a hard time riding a pony." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey tried to get on the plank again. He fell off again. He was so tired it all seemed like a dream. The flood. The barn breaking up and floating around him. The planks in the water. </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Skelley floating away from him. He couldn't see Lucinda. His legs felt like wood. He couldn't get up on the plank. He'd just have to go wherever the water took him. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> His head went under. It was quieter under the water. Easier. But he needed air. He pushed up above the surface and Lucinda was right in front of him. Her green eyes were fierce.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "You crazy dog! Get on that board before you drown."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey pushed up out of the water and got his front legs up over the plank. He didn't try to stand up. Just hung on with his stomach on the board and his paws trailing along in the water. He didn't dare fall off. Not with Lucinda glaring at him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Way to go, lad." Skelley shook his painted stick at Bailey. "There be more than one way to ride a pony, I'm thinking."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey clung to the board, panting. It wasn't so bad floating along like that. He could move his paws a bit and guide himself through the water a bit. He'd never had to ride out a flood before, but they were all still together even if Skelley did look a little worse for his fight with the coyotes. The old dog's ear would have a new scar for sure. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> He caught his breath and paddled a little closer to Lucinda. "What are we going to do now?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Don't ask me!" Lucinda snapped. She was wet all over. "This is your adventure. You're the one with the bug in your ear."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(To be continued)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> </span><br />
Ann H Gabharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03534433855885000926noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5991565655147295456.post-25731112464954914422015-03-16T21:40:00.001-04:002015-03-17T15:51:16.527-04:00Some Hard Spots<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDJpGEor7MY6W_RbOEBJ9PEj-0pngZJfy2vlFCMFeKVxQ5qsPZkSkN-UjCCv1XALAejqhi0og8f3eDdy08JWVDmnY-7WioqFf0jWENJx4_JVupdzuV4O8BXkx1zdBEj6jdD6pFIBv8H6rd/s1600/iphone+pictures+ending+August+2013+084.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDJpGEor7MY6W_RbOEBJ9PEj-0pngZJfy2vlFCMFeKVxQ5qsPZkSkN-UjCCv1XALAejqhi0og8f3eDdy08JWVDmnY-7WioqFf0jWENJx4_JVupdzuV4O8BXkx1zdBEj6jdD6pFIBv8H6rd/s1600/iphone+pictures+ending+August+2013+084.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">March 16, 1966</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. It's four days until the calendar says spring. Then it will be a while longer before I'll see any new dogwood blooms, but I can think about them coming. And all the other flowers too. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Back when Mama Mae was still living, she would be out in the yard as soon as it was warm enough to dig in the ground so she could start planning all the stuff she wanted to plant. She planted some of it in the fall. Things like tulip bulbs. I miss Mama Mae's tulips. Dad says I could buy some bulbs and plant some of my own, but Mama Mae's were always so cheerful and special. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Before she died when I was nine, I would get off the school bus there and in the springtime, those tulips would be waving at me. Happy to see me the way Mama Mae always was. It's good when people you love are happy to see you. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">See, it was never that way with my mother. I don't think she was ever glad to see me. But Mama Mae was. She would have a hug waiting for me and some kind of treat. She sometimes made this icing stuff out of confectionery sugar and butter and milk. Then she'd put it between graham crackers. She called them poor folks' sandwich cookies, but I felt rich when I was sitting on the porch beside her with a graham cracker cookie in my hand and looking out at her tulips. Sometimes I pretended those tulips were little girls all wanting to play with me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Mama Mae had dogwood trees too. A pink one and a white one. She told me that the dark spots on the center of the ends of the petals stood for the Lord's blood shed on a cross. The petals make a kind of cross shape too. Mama Mae always had ways of making the Bible come to life. I guess she was so good at loving and helping folks know more about the Bible that the Lord decided he needed her help up in Heaven. For the longest time, I had a hard time believing the good Lord might know best about that. Seemed like He would have had plenty of help up in heaven without my grandmother. I needed Mama Mae. But Dad says the Lord always knows best and helps us through every hard spot.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">That's where I left Bailey and Lucinda last episode posting. In a hard spot with coyotes surrounding them! Let's see if they can get out of that trouble without losing too much fur.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">BAILEY'S BUG by Jocie Brooke</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(When we last left Bailey, Lucinda and Skelley, they were surrounded by very unfriendly coyotes while the rain was beating down outside and flooding the barn they were in.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "What now?" Skelley asked. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey wasn't sure whether it was the baton in the old dog's mouth that made his words sound so shaky or whether it was the coyotes edging ever closer to them</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I don't know," Bailey said. "Do you know some kind of circus trick that might make the coyotes run away or decide we are friends?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "For a truth, I know all sorts of circus tricks, but none that would entertain a coyote, I fear." The baton rattled in the old dog's mouth, and he clenched his teeth tighter on it. "Old Asaph's not here for us to leap up on and ride away. Besides, even if standing on me head would help, I might just drown what with the water getting deeper around us. Sorry, lad."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey looked up at Lucinda.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Don't look at me." Lucinda spat out the words. "Even cats can't make coyotes disappear." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> The coyotes raised their noses toward Lucinda and sniffed. They started yipping and yammering between themselves.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I don't like the sound of that." Bailey shook his head until his ears flapped. The water was getting deeper under his belly and pushing him toward the coyotes. He needed to think of something. Fast. He gave Skelley a sideways look. "Maybe you could leap over top of them, Skelley, and get away."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Maybe I could, lad, but where would that leave you and Miss Lucinda?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "They can't get Lucinda up in the barn."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Bailey ran his tongue out around his mouth. "And if you fly over top of them, they could be so surprised they won't notice me slipping past them." Bailey didn't believe that would happen, but they had to try something.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "It's been many a moon since I made such a leap. It might be that I will just land smack in the middle of them."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey looked at the coyotes again with their narrow eyes and snarling mouths. "If you do, I'll jump in there with you and we'll fight them off." Somehow Bailey managed not to let his voice shake. "They aren't so tough and we have to try something. The water is getting deeper." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> The water was brushing his belly now. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Lucinda crept across a pole until she was directly over their heads. "You can do it, Skelley. Listen to the music in your head and remember how you did leaps for your master."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Skelley looked up at Lucinda. Then he tightened his mouth around the painted stick, shut his eyes, and stepped back a few steps. His head swayed back and forth as if he really were hearing music. Then he splashed through the water and bounded up into the air.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> The old dog sprang so high that for one heart-stopping moment, Bailey thought he was going to make it clear over the coyotes. But all of the sudden, Skelley stalled. He frantically scrambled at the air with his long, bony legs, but it didn't help. He plummeted down on top of the biggest coyote.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> With a silence more terrible than any amount of yips and yowls, the other four coyotes piled on top of Skelley. Bailey let go of the ground with his toenails and the he was swept into the middle of the melee. Up above him, Lucinda was making a terrible snarling noise unlike anything he'd ever heard come out of her mouth. She leaped down onto the back of one of the coyotes and dug in her claws. The coyote yowled and tried to knock off the cat.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey wasn't exactly sure what happened next. He kept trying to see Lucinda and Skelley, but with the coyotes biting and pulling on him, he couldn't. Teeth snapped. Mouths growled. And a surge of water pushed him off his feet. He'd be a goner if he couldn't get up on his feet.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> All at once, the barn creaked and groaned just the way the house back in the city had done when the bulldozer pushed on it. Bailey scrambled up to his feet and looked around for the yellow monster, but there was nothing but brown water. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "It's coming down." Lucinda leaped away from the coyotes to land on a broad plank. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> She floated past Bailey as more boards raining down around them. With an awful shudder, what was left of the barn shifted and started drifting on the water.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> The coyotes forgot all about Bailey as they howled and took off for dry ground. They disappeared through a hole in the side of the barn.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey looked around frantically for Skelley, but all he could see was muddy water. No old dog. Bailey dodged a plank as he fought against the current back to where Skelley had disappeared into the coyotes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Where is he?" Lucinda leaped from board to board back toward Bailey.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I can't see him, but he's got to be here. He's got to." Bailey stuck his head under the water, but he couldn't see the old dog. He popped back out of the water and yelled, "Skelley."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Lucinda was yelling too.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(To be continued)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Remember, the whole story so far is under the Pages title up top of my report here.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Thanks, everybody, for reading. Have you ever been in a hard spot?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>Ann H Gabharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03534433855885000926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5991565655147295456.post-21575906360289117812015-03-10T10:37:00.000-04:002015-03-16T20:20:38.490-04:00Colds are No Fun<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">March 10, 1966</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jocie Brooke reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. Well, actually not reporting. I caught a cold from Cassady at church. Now I can't do anything but sneeze and keep tissues close by. I didn't even go to school yesterday. Even Aunt Love admitted that I must be sick. I am going to school tomorrow even in my nose does look like Rudolf. You know that red-nosed reindeer. But I don't want to get too far behind or I'll be doing homework for a month. Yuck! That wouldn't leave any time for writing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Colds are no fun. What do you do to feel better? Aunt Love says I need some chicken broth. Another yuck! But Leigh brought me some chicken noodle soup home and that's not bad. Then Aunt Love says I have to smear Vicks salve on my chest. That stuff smells awful, but I guess it does help me breath. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm going to bed and pull my covers up over my head and stay there. Well, until I have to sneeze and blow my nose anyway. Maybe I'll feel like reading later.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">What do you do when you have a cold?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Maybe I'll have more of Bailey's story written by next week. If I can quit sneezing. </span>Ann H Gabharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03534433855885000926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5991565655147295456.post-73031808544702033542015-03-02T21:26:00.000-05:002015-03-02T21:26:15.480-05:00Did You Ever Buy a Box of Baby Chicks?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYsWRYcSkxSE7r7rhcn8y2Lrff_DrF8I_GLoLlWVxXuKh-T-5s_IlpmXiG72EeqfZhlDF7rzXfkMKUFO-O_uvHPLaJ2MyudrOXd15q7eI7MSxVvSLTOgvVTobo8lUUyExrynf4HAM8GzOG/s1600/baby+chicks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYsWRYcSkxSE7r7rhcn8y2Lrff_DrF8I_GLoLlWVxXuKh-T-5s_IlpmXiG72EeqfZhlDF7rzXfkMKUFO-O_uvHPLaJ2MyudrOXd15q7eI7MSxVvSLTOgvVTobo8lUUyExrynf4HAM8GzOG/s1600/baby+chicks.jpg" height="230" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">March 1, 1966</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. I'm out in Holly County today reporting from Miss Sally's farm. To be exact, and Dad says a good reporter should be exact, I'm reporting from Miss Sally's chicken house. Baby chicks are cheeping all around me. Miss Sally just got one hundred baby chickens in a box at the feed store. Can you imagine that? One hundred baby chickens in a box. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I went with her to pick them up. The heavy cardboard box had round air holes all over the top and sides. Inside the box were four different sections with the baby chicks divided out in them. Miss Sally said that was so they wouldn't mash one other by all piling together in one corner of the box. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">There was still one poor little chick that had ended up on the bottom of the pile in one of the sections and so when Miss Sally and I took them out of the box and put them in the place she had fixed up with a warming light for them, she only had ninety-nine. We took them out of the box one at a time. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO0RB1jDAKvlLqdtfrBeg88JnWzeVILCxssO3UzORRNli4u4EgRecfWLpbPg1M0M_TmJxQRG_loTKaWyoo-_jmv8KTiksapcrs_Q5KiX1APIBF0mAobUWcerDFiFnehUtjKivnfiCFrEMw/s1600/chicken+water+bottle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO0RB1jDAKvlLqdtfrBeg88JnWzeVILCxssO3UzORRNli4u4EgRecfWLpbPg1M0M_TmJxQRG_loTKaWyoo-_jmv8KTiksapcrs_Q5KiX1APIBF0mAobUWcerDFiFnehUtjKivnfiCFrEMw/s1600/chicken+water+bottle.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">They were soft little fuzzy balls in my hand when I gently picked them up and then set them down on the fresh straw Miss Sally had fixed for them under the lights. She had jars of water turned up on glass trays and little feeding troughs for them. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Miss Sally likes raising chickens. She says before she got electricity out on the farm she just put eggs under a setting hen and then let the hen raise the little chicks. But it was harder to raise as many then and sometimes something would happen to the chicks. She says you have to have the lights to keep the chicks warm or they'll pile up on one another and more of them will be mashed. The lights take the place of the mother hen that keeps her babies warm and safe under her wings and feathers. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It was fun helping Miss Sally with the little chicks. She says I can help her feed them whenever I'm at her house. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Did you ever buy a box of baby chicks? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now are you ready for more of Bailey's story? When we left him last week, he was thinking everything was too quiet.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b>BAILEY'S BUG by Jocie Brooke</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b>(Continued from last week. The whole story so far is under the Bailey's Bug title up top.)</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Chapter 12</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Lucinda hissing jerked Bailey awake. Eyes were all around him and Skelley. Suspicious, glinting eyes. Hungry eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Coyotes. He shot a look up at Lucinda crouched on the rafter, her tail rigid and her fur spiked up.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey stared back at the coyotes. They were like certain dogs he'd seen but leaner with a wild scent about that that made a growl want to rumble in his throat. Bailey mashed his mouth together to keep the growl inside.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> There were five of them, shifting first one way and then the other around Bailey and Skelley. They made no noise, at least none Bailey could hear over the rain beating against the barn and the roar of the stream outside. Water was running through the barn now. The only dry place was the hay pile where Bailey and Skelley were. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey slowly got to his feet. Skelley was already up, looking even more worried than when the monster bulldozer had pushed down his house.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "The look in their eyes puts me in mind of a tiger I knew once," Skelley whispered. "Always hungry, he was."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey swallowed down the growl that kept wanting to climb up his throat. He flicked his tail back and forth and thought hard of something friendly to say. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "We just came in to get out of the rain. We'll be leaving soon." He summoned up the nicest voice he could.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> The coyotes stared back at him. Two of them curled up their lips in a snarl.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I'm not sure they speak our language, lad," Skelley said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I guess we should try looking friendly then."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Me thinks in their eyes we look more like a meal."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "That can't be true." Bailey glanced over at Skelley. "Lucinda says nothing normal eats dogs."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Are you so sure they're normal?" Skelley picked up his baton and clutched it tight between his teeth. He talked around it. "Me thinks we'd best be making a break for it, lad."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Listen to him, you lummox," Lucinda hissed above Bailey.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey was listening, but he was also looking at the coyotes. Their legs were thin and long. Nothing at all like Bailey's. They didn't look like the kind of animals who would trip over their own feet the way he did.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> He inched backward. Skelley matched his steps. Bailey hesitated when he stepped into the edge of the swirling water, but there was nowhere else to go. So he kept backing up even though the water got deeper with each step and grabbed at his paws.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey dared a look behind him. Water was pouring in through the barn boards, pushing some of them aside. The barn shuddered and groaned and more boards lifted up to let a new rush of water inside. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey stopped moving and tried to dig his toenails into the soft ground. He was afraid if he lifted up even one paw, the water would sweep him right into the coyotes' mouths. The coyotes had followed them to the edge of the water, watching and waiting. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(To be continued.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>Ann H Gabharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03534433855885000926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5991565655147295456.post-56099749805778709942015-02-23T22:46:00.000-05:002015-02-23T22:46:50.755-05:00Floating on Clouds<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbDk-dpxNmcR6Skm2kCteLL-9b0aXRQE0G0KaaDzfL6P1e1TlVUZJ7TfeZYXGHKVLdIWUvnCAhTpx97Qnwk5kmDDVZtXSu3-FFqN901gI3fYIzausEG5MG1QWnDG5ccx2eSDVuL-s8EIET/s640/blogger-image-1125440861.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbDk-dpxNmcR6Skm2kCteLL-9b0aXRQE0G0KaaDzfL6P1e1TlVUZJ7TfeZYXGHKVLdIWUvnCAhTpx97Qnwk5kmDDVZtXSu3-FFqN901gI3fYIzausEG5MG1QWnDG5ccx2eSDVuL-s8EIET/s400/blogger-image-1125440861.jpg" width="300" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">February 23, 1966</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill. Not much happening around here. The snow melted. We went back to school. I guess I'm glad. Nobody wants to go to school all summer. Better to just get it over with in the winter. And school's not all that bad. One of those necessary things and I like learning stuff. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I like the winter skies too. Those great looking clouds in the extra blue sky. Did you ever wonder how it might be to float around on one of those clouds? Maybe like being in a hot air balloon. Free to float wherever. Nothing holding you down. You'd have a bird's eye view. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Of course, Wes says he knows all about that from when he was on that Jupiter spaceship. He says they were up pretty high because it's not good to let the earth people see those flying saucers. They get all excited when that happens. Wes is so funny. Sometimes I think he floats around on a cloud. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But I do like his Jupiter stories. I like stories period. That's the kind of class I'd like at school. One where you could just read and read and read. Without having to write book reports or look for hidden meanings behind every words. Just a class where you got to enjoy the story for the story. I guess that would be more like a school recess than a class. But I do like to read. Don't you?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Time to see what's going on with Bailey.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">BAILEY'S BUG by Jocie Brooke</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(Continued from last week. The whole story so far is under the Bailey's Bug link up top.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey pulled his tongue all the way into his mouth to sniff the air in the barn. Coyotes had been there, but not for a while. He told Lucinda that and then added, "And I do smell mice."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Then you catch them," she said crossly. "Cats can't hunt when they're wet."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> With that she climbed higher in the barn. Bailey sniffed around in the hay, but he couldn't concentrate on the smells. He wasn't any good at catching mice anyway. He couldn't creep up on them the way Lucinda could even when the thunder wasn't making his legs all trembly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey looked up at Lucinda, but she was hunched in a ball with her eyes closed. Maybe sleeping would make her feel better and then she could catch some mice. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey scratched out a hole in the hay close to Skelley. The old dog was already asleep with his nose on the painted stick. Bailey lay down with his head on his paws. He wished he had the plastic toy with him. That might help him hear the hum again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Beside him Skelley gave a shiver. Bailey stood up and brushed some of the hay over on the old dog.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Skelley opened one eye. "Thank ye, lad." Then he went back to sleep.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> But Bailey couldn't sleep. So instead he tried to work the cockleburs out of his fur. </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Still, he was sort of glad he had the cockleburs to pull and bite on. And when he finished with them, he could worry with the thorn in his foot. That might keep him from thinking about how hungry he was or how the hum wasn't humming in his ears.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Maybe the hum hadn't really left him. Maybe it was just the noise of the rain and the roar of the stream racing by outside that was keeping him from hearing it. The thunder was fading away, but the rain beat down harder than ever.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Even if the hum didn't come back, he could just keep walking toward the sunrise. He wouldn't have to tell Lucinda. Sooner or later they would have gone enough miles and Reid would be there waiting for them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> With that thought, Bailey quit worrying the thorn in his foot and put his head back down on his paws. Water was seeping in around the edges of the barn to join with the rain leaking through the roof. But it was dry where he and Skelley were and very quiet other than the pounding rain.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> For a minute before Bailey closed his eyes, he wondered if it wasn't too quiet. No birds. No owls. No raccoons. Nothing moving anywhere. Everything was probably just holed up sleeping through the storm the way they were.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(To be continued)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>Ann H Gabharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03534433855885000926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5991565655147295456.post-12866865779678074242015-02-16T22:53:00.001-05:002015-02-18T13:19:52.846-05:00Valentines and Cardinals<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCwwzIQig8-SjyRaaxFMT3HzIHJ8jW4RXs6gb089h52z2tcx73F7dG2M-3a2AoFXm_v7jK8IPl3Ek7_K7LN5nl5C2DT7Oxr0q2uTlVVYxYPmTfdhdceX7XW_pGz5XnM_fJPhmQa1c-qZr5/s640/blogger-image--1957149529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCwwzIQig8-SjyRaaxFMT3HzIHJ8jW4RXs6gb089h52z2tcx73F7dG2M-3a2AoFXm_v7jK8IPl3Ek7_K7LN5nl5C2DT7Oxr0q2uTlVVYxYPmTfdhdceX7XW_pGz5XnM_fJPhmQa1c-qZr5/s400/blogger-image--1957149529.jpg" width="266" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">February 14, 1966</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky on Valentine's Day. Not that Valentine's Day means much to me because I don't have a boyfriend. Thank goodness. Boys are nothing but trouble. My girlfriends are always liking this or that boy and then something happens and there's tears and gripes. But you have to be careful not to agree with them when they're griping about their boyfriends. That's because the next minute they're all "in love" again and you're the bad guy just because you went along with them fussing about the guys. I'm in absolutely no hurry to join that tears and jeers club. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Leigh says I'll change my mind when the right guy comes along. She sure changed hers when Dad came along. They are true Valentines. So maybe someday I'll be like that. But right now I'll just hug on my dog, Zeb and whip up some homemade chocolate candy and enjoy red cardinals instead of hearts. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I do love red. I wore red all week. And I made Dad and Wes Valentines with silly verses on them. This is what I put on Dad's.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> Roses are red.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> Violets are blue.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> I'm not sad </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> That you're my dad.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Okay, so I'm not much of a poet . I know I was supposed to rhyme that last word with blue, but nothing fit. I think writing rules can be broken if you want to. Especially for Valentine poems.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So you want to know what I wrote for Wes? Okay.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> Roses are red.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> Jupiter is green.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> You're on earth now</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> Part of a new scene.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">At least I rhymed scene and green. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I do better writing stories. You want to know what happens to Bailey next? You remember he lost the hum in his ear that was telling him which way to go to find Reid. What more can go wrong?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b>BAILEY'S BUG by Jocie Brooke</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b> (Continued from before)</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b>
<b> Just then thunder rumbled in the distance. Bailey's head came up, and his tail almost flopped back and forth. He never heard the hum when it was thundering. So if Lucinda opened up her eyes and noticed a tree she'd already seen, he'd have an excuse. He could say it was because of the thunder.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b> He stopped and sat down, his tail brushing back and forth on the ground in spite of his best efforts to keep it still.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b> Lucinda looked at him. "You do hear the storm come?"</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b> "I heard it a long time ago," Bailey said.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b> Lucinda's eyes narrowed on him. "Then why aren't you trembling?"</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b> "I am. Inside." Bailey wrapped his tail up around his body and put his paw on the end of it. He did his best to look afraid even though for some some reason the thunder was just bouncing off his ears without bothering him at all.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b> "That knock on your head must have done more to you than we thought." Lucinda glanced over at Skelley who was studying the sky between the tree branches.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b> "The lad could have a sore head for sure." Skelley looked at Lucinda and Bailey, then back at the sky. "But I think we best hunt some cover. These clouds put me in mind of a storm once that near blew away the whole circus. Folks were already in the bleachers and the clowns were peddling their balloons and such, but all the while me master kept going out of the tent and muttering up at the sky. He tried to get the ringmaster to call off the show, but he wouldn't. Then the wind picked up the tent and carried it clear away. People scattered pretty quick then."</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b> Overhead the trees bent over in the wind and the thunder let loose a great clap that didn't bounce off Bailey's ears this time. His tail jerked away from his paw and hid between his legs. </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b> The first raindrops banged against the leaves above them and worked down through the limbs to bounce off the ground. Not raindrops at all, but bits of ice. Skelley held his head over Lucinda to shield her.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b> "We'd best be getting out of these trees," Skelley said.</b></span><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> The words were no sooner out of his mouth than the wind grabbed one of the trees and knocked it part way out of the ground. It leaned toward them, catching on the branches of the other trees overhead and then falling again when those branches started giving way.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Lucinda yowled and took off as another tree crashed down. The hail changed to raindrops that hit almost as hard as the ice had. Skelley and Bailey chased after Lucinda.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Reid used to tell him that the thunder was only noise and couldn't hurt him, but these trees falling could hurt him for sure. For the first time since he'd run away from Mr. Robinson, Bailey wished he was back there under the bed where it would be warm and dark. It would be better to be under Reid's bed but with the hum gone, Bailey didn't know if he'd ever be safe under Reid's bed again.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> At last they ran out of the trees and found a tired old barn leaning downhill toward a rushing stream of water. Without so much as a sniff to see what might have gone in before them, Bailey shoved aside a couple of the barn's planks and led the way inside.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> The storm didn't seem so loud inside. Bailey shook the rain of his fur and felt better. While the roof didn't hold out all the rain, there were dry spots between the leaks.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "A fine barn it is." Skelley dug a hole in a pile of moldy smelling hay. "For a truth, we'll be safe and dry in here till the blow is over." He picked up his stick and place it close enough to touch with his nose, then curled up in the hay.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Safe," Lucinda muttered. "We're wet and cold. There's not so much as a mouse to be seen and I smell coyotes." </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> She climbed up a pole to perch on a brace up in the barn. Every few minutes she growled as she licked the rain off her fur.</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b>
<b>(To be continued)</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b>
<b>(The whole story, so far, is under the Bailey's Bug link up top.) </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>Ann H Gabharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03534433855885000926noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5991565655147295456.post-1471634084876738622015-02-09T20:51:00.000-05:002015-02-09T20:55:03.714-05:00 Dancing to the Tune of Life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4lCCd_oUjh2hM1qr7nBVjeOeYqVBIz8qYk4tUy84QzwamMPbWf17yHnIxESGEa1CFEFKQtiMACFkY1KmKXKJtMSi5zldvv8r-lxDwbThMfkTRWZZrDeWyiF2_Mi9tuGF85L0XQqjWvOPb/s1600/dancer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4lCCd_oUjh2hM1qr7nBVjeOeYqVBIz8qYk4tUy84QzwamMPbWf17yHnIxESGEa1CFEFKQtiMACFkY1KmKXKJtMSi5zldvv8r-lxDwbThMfkTRWZZrDeWyiF2_Mi9tuGF85L0XQqjWvOPb/s1600/dancer.jpg" height="400" width="337" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">February 9, 1966</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. Did you ever dream of being a ballet dancer? Or maybe any kind of dancer? I don't know how they can stand on their toes that way. I can't. And wonder why they started wearing those stiff little circle? Was it so they might look like a spinning top? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm no dancer. I can't stand on my toes. I can barely spin once without falling flat. I look like a clumsy clown trying to dance. But in my imagination I can dance. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">You know how Aunt Love is most always not too happy with me, but then sometimes she surprises me. Take the time she told me this in one of those books, <i>Scent of Lilacs,</i> written about my Hollyhill adventures last year. This is a talk we had right after she told me about the man she loved getting killed in the First World War. Sometimes what you don't know about people can matter a lot. Anyway if you read this you'll know why I'm thinking about dancing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> <i>After Aunt Love told me about her lost love, I didn't know what to do. I couldn't hug Aunt Love. I never hugged Aunt Love. It might give her a real heart attack if I did. So I just put my hand on her shoulder and said, "I'm sorry."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i> Aunt Love covered my hand with her own. Her skin felt dry and scratchy like oak leaves in the fall. "You should give thanks every day for the blessing of a kind and good father. You and Tabitha both."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i> "I do," I said.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i> Aunt Love pushed my hand away and picked up her teacup. "Now get on with your chores."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i> As I went out the door, I looked back at Aunt Love. Imagining her young and in love was almost impossible. But just because I couldn't imagine it didn't mean it wasn't true. Or that the memory of it didn't still make Aunt Love sad. I wanted to say something make her feel better, but I didn't know what. I couldn't very well say maybe Aunt Love would forget about it the way she forgot other things and then she wouldn't have to be sad. She hadn't forgotten it in fifty years. That memory was probably stuck in there with the Bible verses. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i> A Bible verse might help, but all I could think of was one of the Beatitudes. I decided to try it. "Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i> Aunt Love looked around at me. ""To every thing there is a season. A time to mourn, and a time to dance.' It's your time to dance, Jocelyn."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i> "I can't dance," I said.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i> And this is where Aunt Love said something really nice to me. She said, "You dance every day to the tune of life."</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And so I've been thinking about what she said and how she said I was dancing to the tune of life. Sometimes like an awkward camel. Sometimes like a sleek gazelle. Sometimes the steps are easy and sometimes they are way too hard. But the dance of life goes on and that's the way it's supposed to. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I didn't get any of Bailey's Bug written this week. I'll be sure to add a scene next Monday if I'm not too busy dancing. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Do you like thinking about life as a dance?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://ctt.ec/5vYzS">Tweet: Do you like thinking about life as a dance? http://ctt.ec/5vYzS+</a>
</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>Ann H Gabharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03534433855885000926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5991565655147295456.post-49094995239019635532015-02-02T22:13:00.003-05:002015-02-02T22:13:55.058-05:00Groundhog Day in Hollyhill<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaPQOuWf_WYmzRH54QVlMM37ktcAlocwaPx-fJ-MYWxDFR_CLMgR1JxhoWGecZ42dSaLFQvOb0OW5ucG9JJiYZsE9P5Hfvv-BiN-lBgOqG6J4gi9USUzAf1qAchpyUzgpiR8UFNP2FvIYE/s1600/groundhog+shadow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaPQOuWf_WYmzRH54QVlMM37ktcAlocwaPx-fJ-MYWxDFR_CLMgR1JxhoWGecZ42dSaLFQvOb0OW5ucG9JJiYZsE9P5Hfvv-BiN-lBgOqG6J4gi9USUzAf1qAchpyUzgpiR8UFNP2FvIYE/s1600/groundhog+shadow.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">February 2, 1966</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky on Groundhog Day. Too bad the powers that be don't think that's a day we should get out of school. Sigh. But no, I had to get up before the sun, catch the school bus and spend most of the day sitting inside at a desk instead of hunting down groundhogs to see if they saw their shadows. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And so what if they did? I looked up the history of Groundhog Day. I knew already that the legend had it that if the groundhog came out of its burrow and saw its shadow that meant we'd have six more weeks of winter and if it didn't, spring was supposed to be right around the corner. Aunt Love laughs at this and says in all her years, whether or not that old critter sees his shadow or not, we always have six more weeks of winter. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It seems the roots for our Groundhog Day started way back over in Germany. They had an ancient Christian tradition of Candlemas Day when the clergy would bless and distribute candles to bring light to the winter as Jesus brought "light" to the world. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, they had this little verse: </span><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">f Candlemas be fair and bright,</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Come, winter, have another flight;</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>If Candlemas brings clouds and rain,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Go winter, and come not again.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then for some reason that I can't imagine, they brought a hedgehog into the whole tradition somehow to see if it saw its shadow or not. Then when the Germans came to America and settled in Pennsylvania they didn't have hedgehogs and so they decided groundhogs would do. They had plenty of them in Pennyslvania and so do we here in Hollyhill. Starting around 1887, they began making a big deal of it all in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. Now they think their groundhog is the best weather predictor, but I suppose groundhogs all across the nation might stick their heads out to see their shadows. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I asked Dad if he'd ever actually seen a groundhog on Groundhog Day coming up to look for its shadow and he said no. I actually couldn't find anybody in school or town who said they'd seen a groundhog on February 2nd. Dad says he guesses that means we'll have six more weeks of winter for sure. Aunt Love said of course we will unless we decide to move to Florida or Arizona. Since that's not going to happen, I guess I'll keep my gloves and the snow shovel handy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It's not winter where Bailey and Lucinda are lost out in the woods. Last week, Bailey hit his head and now he can't hear the hum in his ears that was leading him to his boy, Reid. How will he tell Lucinda that? She'll never forgive him. So here's a bit more of the story.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Bailey's Bug by Jocie Brooke</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> (Continued from last week)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">CHAPTER 11</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Bailey lay still. He couldn't tell Lucinda the bang on his head had made him lose the hum they were following to Reid. He couldn't. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> He didn't want to move, but the itch in his ear went past bearing. He eased his paw off his eyes and lifted his head.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Are ye all right, lad?" The loose skin over Skelley's eyes was wrinkled with concern.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I think so." Bailey sat up and scratched his ear. Maybe if he dug at his ear hard enough, the hum would come back.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Lucinda jumped down from the tree in front of Bailey and swatted him with her paw. "Stop that. You're going to tear your ear off and unfortunately, we need your ears intact right now to tell us which way to go."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey stopped scratching with his paw up in the air. The itch was gone. Now his ear was ringing from too much scratching, but try as he might, he couldn't hear the hum.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey kept his head turned away from Lucinda as he put his paw down and stood up. "I'm sorry, Lucinda. I just shut my eyes so I could think about Reid and how he looked."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "You better keep your eyes open or you might never see him for real again." Lucinda muttered something about dogs that Bailey didn't quite hear because of the ringing in his ears. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Now, Miss Lucinda. It might happen to anybody. The lad's merely missing his boy." Skelley put his paw on his painted stick.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "We're all missing lots of things, but that's no excuse for running into trees." Lucinda twitched her tail back and forth the way she did when she was irritated.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I won't run into any more trees," Bailey promised.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I should think not." The cat sat down and began rapidly washing her face. When she was finished, she stood up and looked at Bailey. "So which way does your bug say go now?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey swallowed hard. He knew he should tell them the bug was gone, but instead he looked at the shadows of the trees. What was it Skelley had said about how they always headed toward the sunrise? If he could do that for a while, maybe, just maybe, the hum would come back.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "This way." Bailey took off along a trace of a path through the trees.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> It was easy enough to keep his direction for a while. He just made sure the shadows stretched out behind him. But then clouds piled up on the horizon and soon spilled all across the sky to cover up the sun. Even when the sun did slip out for a peek, the shadows pooled right under Bailey's feet and didn't point out a direction.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> He blundered on, trying to keep up a steady pace even though he wanted to stop and look around every other step. Out of the trees, it wasn't quite so hard. Bailey set his sights on some distant landmark and made a fairly straight line toward it. But then they were back in the trees and the clouds rolled in blacker and thicker. There wasn't the least bit of a shadow anywhere.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey kept moving tree to tree, but in spite of the way he kept his ears perked up as though he heard something, Skelley began giving him odd looks. Especially after they passed the same tree twice. Or was it really the same tree? Trees all looked a lot alike.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Lucinda must not have noticed. She had her eyes half closed following along behind them. She did that sometimes, almost as if she could nap while she walked. Still, she would open her eyes all the way eventually and see that he had no idea which way to go. He'd never been able to hide anything from Lucinda for very long.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(To be continued. Check out the whole story so far under the Bailey's Bug title up top of the page.)</span><br />
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Ann H Gabharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03534433855885000926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5991565655147295456.post-2160955669897720622015-01-26T22:50:00.001-05:002015-01-26T22:50:38.651-05:00A Day Off from Church and School<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdtb8gIrEj7GkSDmcS4kS223sX9S6Gv578wZrpcGwsWt6BNK2W5BhlrQB0hzUr91nfF7gqcx7V2qdMVbNjocX7-xr1ad0NnrKB08wK5kkX3-HD6UlkKCOM4AerQ9n3u9ZeaNUqH0F_n7-t/s1600/iphone+3+071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdtb8gIrEj7GkSDmcS4kS223sX9S6Gv578wZrpcGwsWt6BNK2W5BhlrQB0hzUr91nfF7gqcx7V2qdMVbNjocX7-xr1ad0NnrKB08wK5kkX3-HD6UlkKCOM4AerQ9n3u9ZeaNUqH0F_n7-t/s1600/iphone+3+071.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">January 26, 1966</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. It snowed on Saturday. The roads were too slick for us to have church at Mount Pleasant. Dad says it's better to be safe and cancel church rather than have some of the older members maybe slide off the road and get hurt or sick trying to get their cars out of the ditch. Besides, the parking area is all gravel. It's hard to shovel snow off gravel. Dad told everybody to just read their Bibles and say their prayers at home and make one of the prayers that the roads will be clear next Sunday. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I like going to church okay, but it's fun having a day off too. Especially when the day off keeps going and school is canceled on Monday the way it was this week. A few inches of snow slows things down in Hollyhill. Dad and I still make it to the newspaper office and so does Zella but she does complain mightily about the people who don't shovel their sidewalks in front of their houses in town. I don'r know why she gets so upset. It's not like she doesn't have boots. And of course, Wes lives in the apartment over the newspaper office, so all he has to do is come downstairs to work. Dad says the news is like the mail - neither rain nor snow nor dark of night will keep it from making it out to the people of Hollyhill. Or something like that anyway. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">On Sunday, I walked over in Mr. Crutcher's field next door to our house and took some snow pictures. I love taking pictures. I'd take hundreds if film wasn't so expensive. Do you like taking pictures of snow? Dad says snow scenes are okay but the pictures that get the most attention in the paper have people or animals in them. Monday, he told me to walk around town and find some kids making snowmen. That's always good to put in the paper. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I made a snowman myself, but I didn't take a picture of mine. It wasn't that good. A little lumpy and sideways, but fun anyway. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">No church and no school gave me extra time to work on Bailey's Bug. Last week you remember Bailey was shutting his eyes and thinking about his boy, Reid, while he was walking along with Skelley and Lucinda. Then Skelley yelled a warning. So what happened then? Read on to find out. And remember, the whole story is under Bailey's Bug up top.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">BAILEY'S BUG by Jocie Brooke</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> (continued from last week)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Bailey opened his eyes, but not quick enough to keep from banging into a tree. He bounced back on his haunches.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Be ye all right, lad?" Skelley looked at him with worried eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "What happened?" Bailey's head was spinning.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "You ran into a tree." Lucinda jumped up on a branch above him. She had no sympathy for his head at all.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey looked up and saw two black cats on limbs that wavered and shook. He tried to stand up, but that made everything shimmer and shake even more. He sank back on his haunches and shook his head until his ears flapped.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Skelley leaned over to sniff Bailey. Bailey saw two noses and four black eyes. It was too much. He lay down and put his paw over his eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I think the lad has hurt himself." Skelley touched Bailey's back with his nose.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "He's knocked himself silly," Lucinda said. "And what are we supposed to do now? Out here heaven only knows where."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Could be the lad merely needs a minute or so to come to his senses."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "He does't have a lot of sense to come to." Lucinda let out a sigh. "I guess I don't either or I wouldn't be out here with him in the middle of nowhere."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Now, now, Miss Lucinda. Ye did what any true friend would do. The lad needed you along. He needs the both of us."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "And I need a saucer of milk. And you need a truckload of food."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I've always been on the lean side." Skelley sat down beside Bailey. "That's how I got me name, you know. Skeleton, it is, but me master shortened it to Skelley. I always favored that name best."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Being bony doesn't mean you don't get hungry," Lucinda said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey wished she wouldn't talk about being hungry. It was making his stomach rumble and he was having enough trouble trying to keep his head from floating clear away. Even with his eyes tight shut, the ground was rocking under him. Not only that, but Lucinda and Skelley sounded faraway even though he knew they were right beside him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Skelley was still trying to reassure Lucinda. "Don't be worrying, Miss Lucinda. I mind the time I fell off old Asaph one night. Knocked me out cold for a bit, and then it was some time before I could think straight again. We'll just rest here a spell until the lad comes around."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> They quit talking and Bailey thought he should open his eyes and tell them he was okay. He was okay. His head wasn't spinning now and felt attached to his body again. When he peeked out past his paw, the trees were no longer dividing into twos. Everything looked the way it was supposed to look. But he didn't sit up.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> He kept his paw over his eyes and tried not to think about why he didn't want to open his eyes. Instead he thought about food, but that made his stomach growl. He thought about how the thorn in his foot hurt even when he wasn't walking on it. He wanted to lick his foot again to see if he could get rid of the thorn, but he didn't. Then his ear started to itch, but he didn't sit up to scratch it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Finally he thought about Lucinda in the tree over his head. She was why he didn't want to open his eyes. The hum wasn't sounding in his ear anymore. It was gone. He couldn't hear it at all no matter how hard he listened. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> How could he tell Lucinda that? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(To be continued.) </span>Ann H Gabharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03534433855885000926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5991565655147295456.post-46383478056156086312015-01-19T22:01:00.001-05:002015-01-19T22:01:12.855-05:00What's Freedom Mean to You?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">January 19, 1966</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. What does this picture make you think of? Mr. Brown, my social studies teacher at school, told us to look at this picture and write a paper on what freedom means to us. Not to the country or to somebody else, but to each of us as individuals. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Mr. Brown is always giving us hard assignments, but Dad says it's good to have to think about things like this. He says there's a lot about freedom in the Bible. Dad told me to look up Galatians 5:1. "Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free and be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Noah, my friend that I met and you got to know too in that book about us, <i>Orchard of Hope</i>, says freedom is what the Civil Rights movement is all about. I do want everybody to be free in America. That's what America stands for. Freedom. Liberty. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So I wrote about how great it is to be free to go to church without having to worry about somebody saying we can't like they do in Communist countries. I wrote how the Constitution says all men are created equal and that when it says "men" that means women too. I wrote about Noah and his little sister, Cassidy marching in the Children's March and how that was their way of fighting for freedom even though it turned out not so good for Cassidy. She ended up afraid for a long time after that. But in America everybody should be free. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Dad says I should remember that being free doesn't mean I can do anything I want. That my freedom stops where somebody else's begins. I'm not real clear on what he means by that, but I guess it's something like I'm free to sing as loud as I want to at the newspaper office. That is, until Zella tells me to hush because she can't think. Do you think that's what he means?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">What does freedom mean to you? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Freedom means a lot to Bailey in Bailey's Bug too. He's free now but sort of wishing he was back in a safe backyard with a fence all around and food in his dish every morning. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Bailey's Bug by Jocie Brooke</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> (Continued from last week. All the story is under Bailey's Bug up top of the page)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey shook the hair out of his eyes and looked Skelley gratefully. The old dog's bones were sticking out on his sides, but he never complained even when they had to go all day with nothing but grasshoppers to eat.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey looked at his own sides and was surprised to see his ribs beginning to show up even under his shaggy coat. Reid's mother always took him to get his hair clipped down to the hide when it started getting long.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Even Lucinda looked different. Slimmer. And not nearly so sleek as when she spent most of her day washing and smoothing down her black fur between naps.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "I'm sorry, Lucinda," Bailey said. "I didn't think it would take so long to find Reid." He looked over at the old dog. "And you too, Skelley. If it weren't for me you'd be in the city where you could find lots of food in trashcans."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Be I worrying about trashcans, lad? Nay, the three of us are having a grand adventure."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Some adventure." Lucinda snorted and stood up. "Whatever it is, we best be getting on with it. Which way does your bug say go now?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> So Bailey led the way past the cows, under a fence and across the way to another tree covered hill. He could hear the hum just fine, but for the first time he wasn't sure it was going to lead him to Reid. Bailey was tired and hungry. Especially hungry.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Skelley started telling a story to try to keep their spirits up.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "You know once when I was in the circus, they lost an elephant. Can ye imagine that? Losing an elephant. Of course, it was dark when Anne Marie went missing. Night isn't the best time for searching for elephants, being as how they are gray and all. Be that as it may, we poked around in folks' backyards and such for hours. Then, come morning, there she was waiting by her truck. Claimed to have been there the whole time, but we figured she wasn't telling everything about her escapade."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey liked Skelley's circus stories, but this time he couldn't keep his mind from wandering off to think about how many more hills, how many more nights of coyotes howling, how many more days trying to nose out something to eat until they would find Reid. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Bailey shut his eyes for a minute so could think about Reid. And there his boy was, laughing and throwing the plastic toy. Bailey shut his eyes tighter to see Reid better.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> "Watch out," Skelley warned.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(To be continued)<br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>Ann H Gabharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03534433855885000926noreply@blogger.com0