The Battle Begins: Samuel and Ginger

 

Thanks Pam and Dawn! See*Photo*Write

 

Heavy rain pelted the old church door and Samuel coughed.  It was a wet cough followed by yellow goo from his nose.  Misery was running high.

The Mommy had cleaned him up, wiping his nose again.  ‘Just let it flow, woman!’  Samuel had already found the sofa and chairs useful enough. 

The doorbell rang, and Aunt Tammy came whooshing through the door.  An irritatingly cheerful woman, “Oh, whittle Sammie Whammy has duh sniffuls?” as she scooped him up.  “Oh, who’s duh cutest…” 

Samuel let loose with a full-bodied snotty sneeze right into her open mouth.  ‘Just for you, Tammy Whammy!’

The Mommy carried in a gift from Tammy’s car:  a round fish bowl with a deep-red fish swirling around, its fins fluttering in clear water.  Setting it on the table, she wiped Samuel’s nose again and took him from the retching Aunt Tammy.

Putting Samuel down by the table, the Mommy called, “Here’s some tea!”  Tammy stumbled, retching all the way to the kitchen, leaving Samuel.  Eye level with the fish bowl, Samuel considered it.

Ginger-the-old-fat-tabby appeared on a chair next to Samuel.  Their eyes met, thoughts were exchanged, and challenges made.  Who is faster?  Who is better?  Who will win this battle?

Samuel saw only one way. Giving it his all, Samuel screamed and cried, “Whaaaa!  Mommmmmmammmmmmaaa…”

The Mommy came, saw the crying child pointing at the cat, and grabbed the Ginger.  She scolded the old cat all the way to the front door.  Ginger and Samuel exchanged looks.  ‘So this is the way it is to be,’ Ginger glared through slotted eyes.

Time enough.  Just time enough.  Samuel grabbed the fish bowl between snotty hands, pulling it to the edge.  ‘Be free, my friend.  Be free.’  The bowl dropped.

 

I created a series in which Samuel is a rambunctious, clever toddler. This is from 2011.   Fun write.

Jim Phelps: IMF or IEP? NEA or FBI? NHS or CVS? DMV or PHS?

 

Jim Phelps with his best friends

 

The slamming cargo hold door jolted Jim Phelps awake.  In moments, darkness enveloped him. Dumped again. 

Damn! This is so classic.  That IMF  have screwed me over for the last time!  Apparently the IMF had always had no patience with the slightest infractions.  He refused to remember the shady deals he had made over the years FOR the IMF. 

 Comes in solid colors as well!!

 

Rays of light cut through large rusted metal hole in the corner. Opening a crate of Speedos , Jim formed a chain of the colorful swimwear and retrieved his “Grappling hook in minutes!” from his secret spy tool belt. Having won First Prize in Grappling Hook Throw at the annual "IMF Olympics", Jim was up and over like a flash.
 

Jim disappeared in the dark, making his way home to his classy house.

 

Escaping and surviving was his existence. Jim Phelps opened the garage to view his ever-faithful blue convertible with white leather interior.’ He slid in behind the wheel.

...with white leather interior and robin egg blue exterior...

 

As he revved up the powerful engine, his silver hair gleamed in the sunlight.  He chuckled in a wry way, Tomorrow let’s just see if the CIA has any job openings...

He drove off into the sunset, a man on a mission…a mission only he and his team could appreciate.

Note: Mission Impossible was a risk for Desilu Productions.  It paid off.

The underlined bold words were a gift from Delores, who created the Wednesday Words challenge.  This use of the words was from August, 2014.

Some words are a stretch:  Speedos? Fun to play with.

Showing Respect to the Flag and the Pledge

 

Whitney Houston, Superbowl 2011

When the Music Stopped

 

For those who are unaware:  Since before the 1960s, at all military base theaters all over the world, the National Anthem is played before a movie begins. What did the soldiers do?

I recently attended a showing of “Superman 3” here at LSA Ananconda.  We have a large auditorium that is used for movies as well as memorial services and other large gathering.

As is the custom at all military bases, we stood at attention when the National Anthem began before the movie began.

All was going well until three-quarters of the way through the National Anthem, the music stopped.

Now, what would happen if this occurred with 1,000 18-to-22-year-olds back in the States?  I imagine that there would be hoots, catcalls, laughter, a few rude comments, and everyone would sit down and yell for the movie to begin. Of course, that is, only if they had stood for the National Anthem in the first place.

Here in Iraq, these 1,000 soldiers continued to stand at attention, eyes fixed forward.  The music started again, and the soldiers continued to quietly stand at attention, Again, though, at the same point, the music stopped.  What would you expect 1,000 soldiers standing at attention to do?

Frankly, I expected some laughter, and everyone would eventually sit down and wait for the movie to start.

No!!  You could have heard a pin drop while every soldier continued to stand at attention.

Suddenly, there was a lone voice from the front of the auditorium, then a dozen voices, and soon the whole room was filled with voices of a thousand soldiers, finishing where the recording left off:

And the rockets’ red glare, the bombs bursting in air, gave proof through the night that our flag was still there. Oh, say, does that Star Spangled Banner yet wave, o’er the land of the free, and the home of the brave.

It was the most inspiring moment I have had in Iraq, and I wanted you to know what kind of U.S. Soldiers are serving you/us. Remember them as they fight for us

Written by Chaplain Jim Higgins, LSA Anaconda at the Ballad Airport in Iraq, north of Baghdad.

National Anthem, Super Bowl 2011, 

sung by Marvin Gaye

Flying to Romance

Entomology

 Sheila was not pleased. No, not pleased at all.

     Her BFF Brenda said that flying down to Florida in October would be a real hoot, and all the gang would be hanging around.  So Sheila, Brenda, Kimberly, and all the other damsels headed down to their winter spot in Florida.  “Eddie will be there!” Brenda had said. 

          

  So they went, and hit the water at high speed, skimming over the shimmering glassy pond, trying out new maneuvers, out-spinning the other.  It had all started so perfectly.  The dragons, including Eddie, were keeping all their eyes on the damsels as they made the first pass-by.  Brenda turned to give Eddie that coy look that said so much.

            That was her mistake.  Out from the depths of the quiet waters came a wide-mouth bass, and gulped her down in one smooth motion before sinking down into the waters.  Gone, just like that.  Brenda was gone.

big mouth bass

                                                           

            The tragedy hit them all like a strong wind, and the damsels headed to the shade of the cypress at the edge of the water.  “What happened to her?!  Didn’t she see that one coming?”  Kimberly spoke bitterly.  She was always that way, so quick to speak, to judge the other damsels.  The others hushed her, while Sheila came to terms with the loss of her friend.  Kimberly was right.  Brenda knew better, but dammit, Eddie caught her eyes, and that was all it took.

            This was to be their season, their time to connect with the dragons and leave some larvae in the quiet waters.  Brenda let that get in the way of survival, and see what happened to her.  Sheila shook out her gossamer wings, and turned to face Kimberly.  

“Brenda was a fool.  We know that.  But, we have to watch out for each other, and we forgot that.”  All the lenses in her eyes scanned the water, the trees, the sky, the grass—looking for the predators that came so quietly.  “Now, let’s get out there, and do what we do best:  feast on mosquitoes and bugs, shake the air with our wings, and be the damsels we were born to be!”

            As if one, the damsels rose into the air, and skimmed down across the swamp grass, catching insects as their laughter rang behind them.

            Some dragons angled in to catch up with them.  Eddie grew level with Sheila, “Say, uh, Sheila,” he stammered.  “Awful sorry about Brenda.  She seemed a good sort.  Uhm, would you like to go over to the willow, and check out some lower branches with me?”  Eddie’s eyes glistened with deeper meaning.

            Sheila kept her course and eyes searching around, but she devoted a few lenses to observe Eddie.  He was attractive in that bad-boy way, and she could see what made Brenda focus on him.    She gave the matter some thought, and then gave him the only answer she could, which was.......

                              This was the photo used for the photo prompt.

This was one of the first blog posts I wrote  ten years ago. That anyone read it (12 people) with 3 comments surprised me. Just one of my silly little stories!

 

Samuel: the introduction

 

 

 

The door swung opened for Samuel and one of his parents. The Mommy dropped the groceries on the table and tossed Samuel into the playpen. “Be right back!” Mommy whisked out the door.

Samuel waited, listened. He had the time, the strength, and he could do this. Throwing the blue pacifier over the railing, Samuel hoisted his pwesuss whittl weggees over the railing and did a practiced roll. With his hands up for balance, Samuel began the newly discovered walking power: stagger-stagger-wobble. 

‘Focus, man, focus!’ The words hammered in his 14 month brain. ‘Ignore the Cheerios under the couch!”

Samuel reached the spot where he nailed Grammie with projectile vomit. She was saying, “Gwamma wuvs dose pwessus whittle wehgees…” Blaaaagh, and she stopped. Good times.

Almost there, Samuel pictured the freedom:  chase the kitty, taste the flowers, squish  mud. Such fine adventures, and he was almost there.

The Mommy swooped through the door and knocked over Samuel. She swept him up. “Mommy wuvs dose pwessus whittle waygees…”

Samuel tried to say, “Dammit woman! Can’t you speak the King’s English?” All that came out was a cry and some spit-up. The door swung shut.

This is from one of my blogs, the Chronicles of Samuel. This from 2011 or so.  I really loved Samuel's character. 

In the dark, sounds and lights

 

close encounters of the third kind

 No respectable newspaper as we all know by now would write this.  Nothing else had happened 1968, except for the wedding of Elvis Presley and Priscilla something, and the birth of their only child (Lisa Marie—exactly nine months after the wedding!!) on Feb. 1, 1968

1969 rolled in with an endless winter.  When spring and then summer arrived, we gladly opened the windows and put in the screens.

NOW this is what happened:

I was woken after midnight by a whirring sound and flashing lights outside my bedroom window.  I sat straight up and curled up into the corner of my bed against the wall, watching the lights and hearing the strange sound.  The sound and lights lasted maybe three minutes.  Then suddenly the show ended, and I forced myself to look out the window at the total darkness.

Somehow I fell asleep and had a strange dream in which the aliens took out two of my brothers, Robert and Bill.  For some reason that gave me a  degree of pleasure.

I told my mom about the incident.  Oddly enough, Mom had heard the same sounds, but saw no lights because her room was on the north side of the house.  My room was on the south side.

Is there something to be fathomed from this experience?  I do not know.

HOWEVER,  if this appeals to you, go to this On the edge of my Bed.

This really happened to me...hard to explain...

Illinois was apparently UFO ridden. Illinois was a hot spot.

 

 

Courage is going back.

 

 Hero, born 1933-1982

 

Few people would have done this. 

January 13, 1982 was the day when an Air Florida plane crashed into the frozen Potomac River on the edge of Washington D.C.  The water was 31 degrees F., one degree below freezing.  Massive ice flows and slushy water paralyzed most of the passengers, resulting in a loss of 74 passenger lives.  Four other people on the overhanging bridge also were killed.

Six people were still alive and clinging to the tail section of the plane, the only part above water.

Six people, but only five were rescued.  One man, Arland D. Williams, Jr., age 46, did not survive.

Why not?  Each time the life line with a float was lowered, Mr. Williams passed the ring onto someone else.  He swam to one woman whose arms could no longer hold onto the ring and secured her in the device.

Five times Arland Williams, Jr., passed the ring to other passengers, helping them to be pulled to safety.  When the ring was lowered a sixth time, Mr. Williams had disappeared into the icy water.

Crash on the Potomac, 1982

He was the man who went back. 

My brother was born January 13, 1951.  This date always sends me searching for Jan. 13.

This is a re-post of 2013.

 

Hey, Sis, let's make something...

 

                                                    Robert Kent Peck 1951-1997, in red cowboy shirt

 All my life, my family has called me "Sis".  Now that there are only three of us, hearing "Sis" comes less and less frequently. That fact pulls out stories  about a few of those times.

My brother Robert was born January 14, 1951.  Then about eleven months later, I was born on December 4, 1951.  We were inseparable, sometimes enemies and sometimes friends.  But, always always we were ready to be there for the other.  

Robert was able to talk me into cook or bake a treat for him.  How, I don't know.  "Sis...let's make some..."  only he did not do the work. 

He convinced me to make deep-fried onion rings on Sunday afternoon. My hair smelled like onions even when we went to church at night.  Had to shampoo several times to remove that odor.  Then he thought frying up some bologna sounded good and I made that for him.  

But, Robert's favorites were anything sweet.  Again, he would say, "Sis...let's make some..." I would sigh, but there would quickly be some dessert of any type.

Here are some of his favorites, taken from Mom's cook book given to her as a wedding present in 1946. The binding is gone, pages fragile and crumbling. Lots of splatters and wear speak volumes.

God bless Betty Crocker.

Sis. How I would love to hear Robert say "Sis...let's make some..." again.  I probably would mix up hundreds of batches, just for him.

Old Man no longer a Young Man

 

 This means a lot more to me now.

It is strange to see this video from 40+ years ago. Neil Young was young when we were young. Now we are all old together.