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Total_Hits
· New Today: 8,775
· New Yesterday: 9,421
· Total: 6,542,545
Average_Hits:
· Hourly: 71
· Daily: 1,377
· Monthly: 41,939
· Yearly: 503,273
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About 50% of Americans live within 50 miles of their birthplace. This is called propinquity.
And Now You Do
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13:4, The soul of the sluggard desireth, and hath nothing: but the soul of the diligent shall be made fat.
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What About All This Stuff?
How on earth did I accumulate all this stuff? I wonder as I sit here, how many others have asked themselves that same question. I sometimes wonder why we don’t all realize that the accumulation is growing and growing as it is doing so. Why does there have to come a day of reckoning when we realize that something must be done about all this! Were we just irrational before the day of reckoning?
Goodwill?
Heavens to Betsy, my grandmother used to say at such a time. I’ve never before now in my life had a truck come to my house to pick up my cast offs. Well, of course not! I was too busy going to the Goodwill and Salvation Army to gather their treasures for myself to take home and gloat over and treasure in disbelief that the things cost so little.
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Foxtales: My Fantastic Story of a Slot Machine
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It was a well known fact in my family that my dad had a lot of different jobs in his life.
A particular one stood out in my memory all my life; probably because it included the counting of money. My dad went to work as a waiter at a place called the Sky View Supper Club in Dallas when I was six. He wore a tuxedo with a satin stripe down the side of his pants; you might know I’d remember that detail. Lol. I remember that he really looked spiffy…with his black hair and dark olive skin tone. There was a place to dance on the roof; open air, with a short retaining wall around it all. He got a lot of tips, and came home with heaps of coins in his pockets. He would pour them all out on the table and he and I would roll them with papers. I was in “hog heaven“, to use a Southern term, having so much money roll through my fingers. I had never before had the opportunity for such a good time, and had never seen that much money at one time! Just me and my dad; I loved that. We were buddies. Back in the day, tips were in coin form usually, as no one tipped big as they do now. There were very few bills. Mother and I rode over there one time on the streetcar to meet daddy as he was getting off work.
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SECOND IN A SERIES OF ESOTERIC EXPERIENCES
Thoughts and feelings are the hardest of all things to write about. This one is about coming unhinged in time.
THE SEVEN LAYER CAKE
This account of a simple, singular, incident, occurred when I was approaching the age of seven. It will barely qualify as a short story; because there just isn’t enough to it at all. It consists merely of walking from our garage, through the kitchen door, past the kitchen, past mother and the dining room, to the living room. All the while I was pondering very deep thoughts that were way above the head of a seven year old child. I asked my mother an unanswerable question while she was fast at work, and oh, so focused on beating the batter of my birthday cake, planning a different colored layer for each year of my life.)
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Foxtales: The Apparition At the Foot Of My Bed
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This experience was the granddaddy of them all! At age sixteen, while living in the Big White House, in Kerens Texas, I startled my entire family with a blood curdling scream! They ran to my rescue from all corners of the house, thinking, of course, that something horrible was happen-ing to me. Not the case. I still don’t know why I screamed; because after I did, I just kept right on, and after sitting up in bed, the appearance of a smallish man with a black satin top hat like Abraham Lincoln wore to his inaugural was still standing there. His face was slightly round, with a very kind countenance. There was light where he stood, but not in the room.
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For some strange reason, I have a strong aversion to those who mispronounce words that are a part of my vocabulary. I suppose the worst, and most aggravating is the incorrect pronouncement of the word nuclear,.making it into an incorrect, and harshly crisp word (nu cu lar). I’m fanatical, I know, but that word has become my new litmus test for everyone I meet or see on TV. Plenty of folks in very high places make that mistake in their every speech. I must be the only person on earth, besides David Letterman, that it aggravates to that extent.
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I had a "book club"/ study group in my home on Wednesday nights in 1993. It was a wonderful thing for me, because I was getting increasingly worse with the rheumatoid factor raging out of control. (Rheumatoid Disease) and affecting my ability to move about ,and even to stand alone or even to walk. For that reason it was good to stay in the comfort of my own home. It was a group of like-minded individuals meeting weekly to share ideas and review one book at a time. After two years I had to withdraw from my part in smoothing the progress of a superb activity. Luckily, a member of the group stepped up to the plate to aid in the study. It lasted for seven years and some of the group still meet. It was a good thing! It was an envelope of time, that when over, was sealed and added to the other wonderful comings and goings of my past; all similar in nature.
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It hasn’t been all that easy sensing, knowing, and seeing things some others do not;that is, others who aren’t Gypsy Artists or Extremely Eccentric Creators, or even those who possess the gifts of clairvoyance, clairaudience, and just plain finely-tuned intuition. I have always thought of these things as Divinely Given, and my own God-Given Gifts of the Spirit; although, sometimes I have to do more explaining than I have the expertise for doing. Mother always thought that most of what I said was purely my imagination. Giggs was always entertained by my stories; therefore, she was always a Safe Haven for me. A safe place to fall.
I’d tell my dramatic, colorful dreams to my parents each morning over breakfast, just knowing they would be excited. They weren't! Mother didn’t know how to easily explain my glimpses straight into the essence of reality and beyond, and more especially in living color. She always thought I was making it all up when expressing my exciting dreams. She had never had even one dream in color, so no wonder she didn't believe me. As I look back over my life, I can see all that now. "Poor Mommie", she didn't understand me at all.
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What About All This Stuff?
How on earth did I accumulate all this stuff? I wonder as I sit here, how many others have asked themselves that same question. I sometimes wonder why we don’t all realize that the accumulation is growing and growing as it is doing so. Why does there have to come a day of reckoning when we realize that something must be done about all this! Were we just irrational before the day of reckoning?
Goodwill? “Heavens to Betsy, no!“, my grandmother used to say at such a time. I’ve never before now in my life had a truck come to my house to pick up my cast offs. Well, of course not! I was too busy going to the Goodwill and Salvation Army to gather their treasures for myself to take home and gloat over and treasure in disbelief that the things cost so little.
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Foxtales: COMING UNHINGED IN TIME-MOMENTARILY FORGETTING MY OWN BEINGNESS.
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Thoughts and feelings are the hardest of all things to write about. Here goes the effort!
This account of a simple and singular incident at age seven will barely qualify as a short story; because there isn’t enough to it all. It consists of walking from our garage through the kitchen door, past mother and the dining room, to the living room…all the while pondering very deep thoughts way above the head of an almost seven year old child. I asked my mother an unanswerable question while she was beating the batter of my birthday cake.(A different color layer for each year of my life.)
The question was, “Mother, how long has the world been here?” This was quite a question for a mother rhythmically hand beating the batter for my cake. Her answer was almost instant, “Forever…and ever… and ever… saying forever at every down-stroke of the beater. She kept on beating the batter without missing a single beat with her whisk.
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Foxtales: NOTHING EVER STAYS THE SAME… NOTHING IS FOREVER
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If things did last forever, we would never have to buy a new car. How boring! I get tired of things, and need a change now and then. Just think how many people that would put out of work?
There is a positive side to things staying the same. I can think of several, and they are almost all, housework related. The dishes would stay washed, the beds would stay made, the floors would stay vacuumed, and kid’s faces would stay washed. The list is endless, but those are my favorites.
One that would be particularly nice, would be if we, alone, never grew older; but that really wouldn’t work either...because we would look as young as our kids, and some of them would not be pleased. Sometimes it’s nice to have a few fantasies, if only to smooth out the rough edges of life’s hardships. I love this Stay Young Thing!
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The first in a series of some "Into The Fringe" somewhat esoteric, but very true incidences.
I wrote this when I had newly formed a study group in my home for Wednesday nights, which was coincidently Don's weekly pool night with his friends. It was a wonderful thing for me, because I was getting increasingly worse with the Rheumatoid Factor raging through my body, and it was so good to stay in the comfort of my own home. After three years, I had to give it up; but hung onto it vehemently, and making no bones about not wanting to end a good thing. I have always had a problem letting go of good things, literally. It was an envelope of time, that when over, was sealed and added to all the other wonderful experiences of my past that were similar in nature. All good! I suppose I could reflect, and say that life is made up of a series of “envelope experiences” crammed full of wonderful things that I unenthusiastically had to end, or they were ended for me.
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Foxtales: Addendum for article entitled “Lithium”
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ATTENTION: ANYONE WHO GETS BYETTA SHOTS!
In the last article, I mentioned “Byetta”, a relatively new Diabetes medication doctors prescribe to keep you from having to go on insulin (administered by shot twice daily.) You start on 5 mg, for a month, then go up to 10mg. In my case, I was on two months of 5 mg, then 21 days on 10mg. I was on Metformin, and Glipizide as well. Three meds for high sugar. Even then my sugar didn’t drop that much.
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I love the name I chose for my newsletter, so I got a copyright for it, and also one for Reasonable FoxSimiles. With a name like Fox, FoxTales was an easy name to come by. Duh As for the copyrights; that's a real joke. People will steal your name, your text, your photos, and just about anything else they can get by with. They change it just a tiny bit, then claim it as their own. I'm not saying the things I write are clamored after by by,journalism thieves, just that a copyright is a bit of a joke in that respect. With that said, I got both copyrights because they can be such valuable tools if you ever need to take someone to court for copyright infringement. FoxSimile" is a take off on the word facsimile; but you knew that.
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I must warn you before you read this story that it is all about me. Duh; and all about doctors and ailments, and prescription drugs.
About fourteen years ago, I was having debilitating bouts with “Chemical Depression“. I finally figured out that I was expecting my body to perform as it used to do when I was much healthier. I’ve had “R” Arthritis and other chronic disorders for twenty-six years. I was used to running here, there and everywhere, pushing myself to the limit in spite of having early Rheumatoid Arthritis. Then came the crash! How disappointing!
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Foxtales: ( INSPIRATION FROM AN E-MAIL )
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An e-mail came to me yesterday out of the blue, and I print it below:
“So glad to see you writing something again. I had become quite concerned fearing you weren't doing well. Looks like things just might be okay. I only have one grandchild, but oh what a pleasure they are. I love reading about grandchildren.”
Above is an e-mail I received yesterday. I love getting feedback when I write. Someone else called me a while ago praising my writing, so it was time to start back, I thought. I've been very ill, is the reason I haven't written in a while, but I'm back, if only for a while.
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48 _STORIES (4 _PAGES, 15 _PERPAGE)
[ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 ] |
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 Confirmed bachelor:
A man who goes through life without a hitch.
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| Tuesday, September 02 | | · | A Strong Desire.. Not To Make Anyone Feel…“Less Than” |
| Monday, September 01 | | · | Two Touching Adventures |
| Monday, March 05 | | · | THE OTHER SIDE OF THE COIN |
| Wednesday, August 23 | | · | Two Personal Things That Can Go Terribly Awry |
| Saturday, February 11 | | · | And The Class Laughed On... In Living Color |
| Tuesday, November 29 | | · | The Eggs and I |
| Monday, October 17 | | · | The Foolish Foxter and her Big Red Can |
| Thursday, August 25 | | · | Times Then…Times Now |
| Saturday, August 13 | | · | Look Before You Leap |
| Saturday, July 23 | | · | DARRELL MABRY....LITTLE DARLIN |
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