Wednesday, September 14, 2011
I don't know why I was such a momma's boy. I saw my dad on weekends, and I had twin uncles in their early 20's whose sole purpose seemed to be "toughening me up" and "not allowing me to be such a big baby anymore". In spite of these factors, I grew in to a timid, chicken-hearted 12-year old. I was a risk-management specialist, and avoided all activity that carried the remotest possibility of pain.
When my mom re-married, she and my step-dad decided to move us to Covina, CA. This put me into an interesting predicament. I had never once attended a school in my own neighborhood, having always gone outside my district to accomodate my working-mom's schedule. Now I was finally going to attend Glen Oak Elementary, only a short walk from our new house.
This was a very significant change.
I had never gone to a local school before, and had grown accustomed to the solitary life of a latch-key kid, not venturing outside, content to read books and watch television when I was home early. I didn't have friends knocking on the door. My friends were the kids of my parents' friends.
In this new place, I would be forced to acknowledge the existence of other children who shared the same block, even the same cul-de-sac. Before I had started school I was wilting under the presumption of peer pressure, imagining the heinous rites of passage that would demand my blood, sweat and complete absence of tears in order for acceptance to be granted.
My initial response was to avoid contact with anyone at all costs. It was my great misfortune then to be the only neighborhood child in possession of a large and beautifully proportioned swimming pool. I don't know whether the kids on my block had a pre-existing knowledge of this pool, or if they just sniffed it on the air as they cruised by on racing bikes. Either way, they peeked over the back walls, or came to the door, at first feigning interest in me, working all the while toward the beckoning siren call of my last (private) resort .
My resistance was useless, and I was soon considered one of the guys, at least, on a trial basis. I knew that the time would come when my daring and nerve would be put to the test, my fearfulness and cowardice called in to question. I knew that soon summer would be over, and with it my brief run of acceptance.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Jesus is Three Persons.
Jesus is a soul. He is three persons. He is God. He is, of course him, and a Holy Ghost. He is good. On the other hand, God is the King. If you want to believe then you want to be a Christian. That is good. Think of it as a story book that there is a King, a Prince and a servant. The Prince is sent from a Magic Land to Earth to save us. Well that Prince is very brave. He died on a cross and that same cross represents him. Think about it.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Biggleton Rabbit emerged from his burrow holding a corncob pipe in paw. The violet radiance illuminating the heavens was a sight to be beheld this particular sunset; and Biggleton planned to enjoy every second of its glory. He nestled into thick blades of grass and lit his pipe, watching the silhouette of birds disappearing into the Lord’s bosom. “What’s a cute little bunny doing out of his hole this late?” a sinister voice came from the brush. “Uh (gulp) evening Mr. Fox, sir” Biggleton trembled. “You know little bunny, it has been such a long day and I still hunger,” said the fox. “Well Mr. Fox I have stored beautiful, thick blades of grass and some nuts should you wish to join me for an evening snack.” “Hehehe” the fox snickered, “I do not want your pitiful grass nor nuts dumb rabbit, but I wish to have you.” Biggleton’s eyes began to swell as a tear or two ran down his little face. “Bu-but Mr. Fox sir, I do not wish to die tonight. Please spare me good sir.” “Silence you pitiful little thing” the fox sneered, “don’t you know you are on the lower end of the food chain here in the forest? You are a disgrace, crying for my pity. I shall eat you and make jewelry of your bones little rabbit.” As the fox prepared to make his kill stoke, a larger voice came from behind. “I too am hungry this evening for there were few fish in the stream today.” The fox quickly turned and was frightened at the sight of a magnificent grizzly bear that had been watching the exchange between the two animals. “Uh-Mr. Grizzly good sir-I, I was just about to feast on this delightfully meaty little rabbit here sir. Would you join me?” “My hunger is such that I crave more than such a puny little morsel like that rabbit,” said the bear, “I think you shall suffice quite nicely little fox.” The fox began to weep hysterically. “No please Mr. Grizzly, good, wonderful and kind Mr. Grizzly. Please do not ea…” GULP.
The rabbit watched in horror as the grizzly bear ate the fox. The bear then walked over to the quivering rabbit. “May I little rabbit,” said the bear motioning over to the rabbit’s pipe. “Uh yes, YES Mr. Grizzly, here take a puff sir, it would very much please me.” And the bear did. The two sat upon the meadow watching the sunset and exchanging folktales of the forest. The bear thanked the rabbit for the company and bid him goodnight as he walked away into the horizon. The rabbit galloped about happily to his burrow, whistling to the bright blue moon. As he neared his burrow, he was surprised to see his new friend awaiting outside the burrow entrance. “Ah, little rabbit,” said the bear, “I am still hungry.”
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
“Here I am” he thought, unable to speak, unable to move. “But she couldn’t have”. He started to think of earlier; how he kept nagging at her, complaining about her. Why couldn’t he just appreciate her? Why couldn’t he see that eventually she could blow up, or worse… “I guess I can’t blame her” he thought, looking around. He noticed he was with the harvest crops. The pumpkin patch to be exact. “So what am I doing here? She’ll come back for me, we’ll sort this out” but somehow he knew that she had put up with him for too long, that maybe this time it wouldn’t end well. He tried again to move but to no avail. He saw her coming out of the house, walking towards him. “This is it”. She bent low and grabbed him. “Why is she holding me? Why am I so light?” She brought him into the house and passing a mirror he saw what he was. He began to tremble in fear as he noticed she had walked into the kitchen, the oven on with a cookbook on the table. He looked and saw it opened to the page for “pumpkin pie”...
The Rebirth of Francis
Francis was thoughtful, conscientious and, on the whole, concerned that he not compromise his morals in any aspect of his dealings with his fellow man. Since nobody is perfect, it fell to Francis’ subconscious mind to set about forgetting many of the smaller offenses that he committed on a daily basis, so as to keep him from a lifetime of mental self-flagellation. Still, recollections of minor offenses committed managed to slip through the cracks from time to time.
When awareness of moral failure reared its head, there was much pain to be distributed to his extremities. Often Francis would awake uncomfortably on the floor, a dull throb emanating from the area of his lower legs. Such is the life of a man of absolutes.
It was then, a bit of a shock to his circle of brotherly support
on the day that he walked in to the small, cramped community center basement where they met weekly, arm in arm with someone in a poorly made bear suit.