The Pilgrims Prayer (Another Speech Another …)

Welp, it’s another year therefore another speech and another prayer.

Actually, the only thing new is the year and boy did that one fly by.

I’ve been sharing variations of the Pilgrim’sPrayer and a similar speech since … I reckon since the pilgrims sat down with the Indians… or last year.

Ha! I crack me up.

Anywho I’m sure it’s been a couple of decades, maybe more.

So today while my herbs and chicken are boiling, the cornbread is in the oven and I’m resting from all of the chopping and prepping I anticipation of tomorrow’s dinner I thought I would share with you, family and friends, my ponderings and hopes for all of us one more time.

[drumroll]

A Pilgrim’s Prayer

I didn’t really know any of the original Pilgrims but I did see a few John Wayne movies. John knew a pilgrim when he saw one; he seemed to know a lot of pilgrims.

I never actually knew a pilgrim in the sense of an early settler but I suppose that we are all pilgrims. Not a lot of us sailed across the ocean in a ship to arrive here at this moment in time yet, each one of us on a journey of sorts. We are all looking for something. Be it a quest for affirmation or confirmation, for a certain truth, enrichment or a cure; we are all seeking a measure of comfort, or a friend, a lover, a job, a meal or simply a place to lay our weary head at the end of another day.

Life is a journey, a pilgrimage if you will, for each and every one of us, or at least it should be.

I’d hate to think any we are just flailing through this experience killing time on this giant floating gum ball or this massive flat plane, which ever explanation of earth satisfies your mind.

Whatever your preference is we all have one destination, true we may travel many different roads in getting there. 

Hopefully we will choose our roads well.

When we do take a wrong turn [and we will from time to time] I pray that we have enough sense and humility to stop and ask for directions; the sense to know good from evil direction and what directors to trust.

When that room turned presents itself well after the fact, I pray we have the courage to admit we took a wrong turn and learn from it. That may be the best that any person can hope for.

To learn from our mistakes.

So here’s wishing all of you pilgrims a Happy Thanksgiving and may we all, whatever road we’re on, take the time to look ahead, pause and bow our head in thanks.

My personal prayer:
Thank you Father, The Creator of all things, for this day and all it holds. Thank you for the days past and Father forgive me for my wrong turns. Thank you for the day to come and guide me to make better choices. Thank you for all the persons in my life and the ones who read this prayer. And Thank You Father for the beacon that lights my way.
In Jesus name. Amen.

Waiting ( A Poem for Friday’s Free for All)

Waiting

For hopes that hung on a chicken bones. For hearts that lived in chains
For pods of green that died unknown. While waiting for the rain

𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒏𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒊𝒏𝒅 . . . Oh man, I freaking love that line.

𝑾𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘮 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮  Getting me Back (The Voices Within) 𝘗𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘰𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 . 🫶🏼

Smoke Free (Tuesday’s Tell All)

Smoke Free is a weird little story conceived in the smoke of a brush fire. I was out in the woods snapping pictures one day, the images forming in the smoke combined with a twisted imagination and tada! The rest is history. 

The photos below show the cover; from the first photograph to the finished cover.

Smoke Free is probably the only book cover we have not changed at least a dozen times. The truth is I have never wanted to change it. I love this cover and the image of that little pumpkin smoking a cigar never fails to amuse me. (I have the husband to thank for that.)

I had never heard of Irwin Smutter before that day and he (like the cigar smoking pumpkin) still amuses me with his absolute weirdness; him and the bizarre world he resides in.

And here’s a bite sized sample of the lunch break tale …

The room appeared empty other than an oversized sofa. Irwin reposed himself against the frigid vinyl, crossed his feet and sighed. A lively timbered scene covered the wall opposite the door, designed in such a way it almost looked like a window. Beyond the dull sheen of the pretend window was a forest where rays of sunshine cut through a smoky haze. The remaining walls were un-textured, pale and bare. The room smelled of sandalwood and acetone, a bizarre sweetness that sickened and comforted him at the same time. Irwin shifted nervously on the stiff upholstery in search of a warm spot. There was none.

The faux leather, the lifeless walls, the fake window – it was all too unsettling. Nothing is real, he thought, stretching his arms until his hands met above his head. Fads! The world has been reduced to kooks, phonies, and fads. Reassured by his own summation, Irwin interlaced his fingers and stretched further. When the joints in his entwined hands refused to pop, he rested them at the base of his neck.

Smoking cessation. Yeah, right. It was not Irwin’s idea. Irwin enjoyed smoking. The pungent smell of a fresh-lit cigarette made bitter coffee sweet. Smoking was one of the few things he looked forward to each day. A good smoke, a little booze, a lot of caffeine and Evie. 

_________________________

These type short shorts were written at a time I was really into the flash fiction form of writing.

Oh. Oh. Oh. I can’t wait until you reach the end. 

Famine & Fortune — Where Truth & Fiction Collide

“ All eyes were on Wall Street, but truth be told, the market crash paled in comparison to the Navarro County drought.

The news of Black Tuesday came and went as little more than dry morsels between flapjacks and red-eyed gravy.

Black Thursday was no different. Margin calls and ticker-talk; it was all a foreign language to the average man of Navarro county. New York, Chicago and any place not adjacent to the dying province could have just as well been another country – another planet.
Suicides headlined newspapers across the globe. Although desperate men (and women) chose gas or bullets; poison or tablets to avoid poverty the stories of men leaping from windows sold more papers and it seemed to pacify the masses, at least for a while.


EIGHT MORE TAKE THE PLUNGE.


The headlines went on and on. Tales of a brutal bearish market where stock prices were plummeting and fortunes were being dissolved. The days grew long and the soup lines grew longer…

From Famine & Fortune (the Sharecropper’s Son) Available on sale at your favorite retailer. 

And psssst Google still has it listed at 98¢

Happy Friday Y’all. 🍻

Nostalgia

She would be 66 years old today. Instead, she is frozen in time at 17 and I ….

I sit with what I have left of her – a lot of cherished memories, a handful of photographs, her purse, her wallet, her 45 records and her old scrap book.

𝘏𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳. 🥂