Katy Huth Jones's Blog, page 28

Blog Hop for Writers

I've been tagged by my writer friend Megan Cutler aka Striker to participate in a blog hop.  I like this one because it's easy—just answer four questions:
(1) What are you writing?  In addition to smaller projects I am currently writing the rough draft of book three in a fantasy series which will take at least five books to tell the entire story.  The first two books were about 130,000 words each, and each took about a year to write, so this is a long-term commitment.  I'm calling the series He Who Finds Mercy, with books one and two titled Mercy's Prince and Mercy's Gift.  Not sure what the third book will be called, but I usually don't have a title until I finish the story. A Mercy doll I made this summer.(2) How does it differ from your last work?  My last major work was also fantasy but much shorter and deliberately more structured.  Both Leandra's Enchanted Flute and its sequel Return to Finian Jahndra were twenty chapters and both ended with the word "chocolate."  I'd still like to write one more book about that world and its characters, but I want to finish the series I'm working on first. The publisher went out of business but I'm trying to get it back on Amazon with a new cover.(3) Why do you write?  I write because it's as important as breathing to me.  I write because if I go too long without writing my head threatens to explode from all the words pressing, pressing to get out.  But mostly I write because I love the process of condensing a mountain of bare facts into a readable narrative (for nonfiction) and in fiction I love creating new worlds populated with fascinating people, dragons, and birds (horses, too). Songcatcher from LEF & RTFJ is a talking Carolina wren(4) What is your process?  Since I wrote a lot of nonfiction early on, mostly for magazines, I became adept at researching, planning, and outlining, but when I tried to do that with my fiction it tended to sound too sterile and the plotting didn't always fit with the characters' motivations.  So with my current project I've been writing more organically.  I'm listening to the characters and letting them tell their story.  Sometimes I'll argue with them:  "Are you SURE that's how it's supposed to happen?"  But so far within two and a half novels their choices and consequences have been the right ones to be true to the story. 
Often I'll have to pause and research to make sure facts line up with the action and situations in my story.  Research is actually one of my favorite things to do, especially if I get to interview an expert, as I did recently with a horse trainer, or experience something "hands on" as when my hubby took me to Medieval Times in Dallas. Medieval Times--we had a front row seat!I occasionally have to cut scenes I really like because they end up as "fluff," not really moving the story forward, but writing this way is helping me be more "honest" about emotions and situations that are difficult for me to write about.  I tend to want to step back and remove myself from painful things (such as the deaths of characters I've come to love) but pushing forward, even writing through tears, has benefitted both me AND the story.  I don't even care of this one is ever published; it's been a joy to write and therapeutic, too.
Now I get to tag the amazing Ann Swann so you can read her answers.  If you are friends with me on Facebook, you'll get to read my friend Ali's answers.  She is an up-and-coming young writer and I expect to see her name in print someday.
Thanks for tagging me, Megan.  You're not only a wonderful writer, but a wonderful person, and I'm glad we "met" on Twitter! 
NOTE:  Both Megan's ("Cosmic Desire") and Ann's ("Ann's Afterthoughts") blogs are linked in the sidebar, too.

The "Problem" of Suffering

One of the oldest and most recurring questions in all of history is, "Why do we suffer?"  It's not possible for me to cover every aspect of this question in a simple blog entry, so I just want to share some thoughts and observations based on my own experiences.
From my Dad's memorial service two years ago.This post is prompted by thoughts and prayers for a friend today as doctors take his dying father off the ventilator.  My heart aches for him and his family and brings into focus all sorts of heartaches I've had in the last few years: my own cancer journey as well as the deaths of my father and several friends who were my age and younger.

There is no way to avoid suffering and death in this life, even though people spend a lot of time and money trying to do just that.  Wouldn't any sane person want to avoid unpleasantness and agony?  I used to think so, too.  After all, what good could possibly come from suffering and death?

Here's a short and incomplete list of what suffering can accomplish, even in a hard-headed German like me:

*Compassion for others who are suffering.
*A greater appreciation for and delight in each moment of life.
*The ability to discern what is truly important in life.
*Growth in character and maturity.
*And the most important of all--greater faith and trust in God as a result of humility learned during the suffering.

I would never, NEVER downplay the agony someone is suffering while in the midst of their pain.  I did not understand all the tangled-up feelings of a cancer patient until I became one.  I did not understand the heart-wrenching despair of watching a loved one suffer an agonizing death until I walked through the valley of the shadow of death with my father, step by step.  I did not understand the guilt of surviving cancer when so many my age and younger have lost their battles with the monster until the first friend died.

But I know there is hope.  I am completely and utterly convinced of this.  As we learned when I taught Latin to homeschoolers, "Dum spiro, spero." ("While I breathe, I hope.")  For the Christian our hope is "a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul" (Hebrews 6:19).

I now also know that paradoxically, there is joy to be found in suffering.  Not joy DURING the suffering, but after the suffering comes the joy of truths learned and growth experienced.  (I Peter 1:6-7, James 1:3-4, II Corinthians 12:7-10, among others)

As near as I can tell, the biggest "problem" with suffering is that so many fail to learn its life-changing lessons.  We have a phobia of death in America and avoid talking about it or preparing for it.  But it is unavoidable; all of us will die someday.  Instead of fearing suffering and death, we can turn our focus to that which follows death and the One who by His great suffering opened the Way to heaven (Hebrews 12:1-2).

"Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of His saints."  Psalm 116:15

Fun Friday: Paradise Island

This is another "play" I wrote for a fairly large writing class after asking them to pick their favorite fictional character. You'll probably notice many of the girls were "into" Twilight.  This was by far the most difficult "plot" to figure out!  As with the others, feel free to use with your own classes....



Cast of Unlikely Characters
Captain Jack SparrowSponge Bob SquarepantsPatrick the StarfishFlower the SkunkSanka Coffie Nacho Libre Scarlett O’HaraMelanie WilkesHolly Golightly Alice CullenBella SwanKip Brom Paul BlartBuddy the ElfBob WileyBuddy Love/Julius Kelp Professor Minerva McGonagall Victoria (the vampire)
Scene:  A deserted island in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle.  The Black Pearl has capsized in a storm, leaving Sparrow and his three mates stranded on a beach.  Enter SPARROW, SPONGE BOB, PATRICK, and FLOWER.
SPARROW:  Unless there’s a hidden cache of rum somewhere on this island, we may be here a while, lads.
SPONGE BOB:  Oh, tartar sauce.
FLOWER:  Gee whiz.
PATRICK:  Who wants to look for food and shelter?
SPONGE BOB:  I do!
FLOWER:  Me, too!
SPARROW:  Why don’t you do that while I stretch out me legs and ponder our situation.  Savvy?  (Lays down and pulls hat over eyes.)
PATRICK:  The inner machinations of his mind are an enigma.
SPONGE BOB:  Huh?  Is that the same as crazy?
FLOWER:  Well….yes.
(They exit)
SPARROW:  (Singing) Yo, ho, yo, ho, a pirate’s life for me….
(Enter SANKA and NACHO)
NACHO:  Look, Sanka.  A dead guy.  Does that mean I have to do dead guy duty?
SANKA:  (Nudges SPARROW with foot)  Hey, mon, ya dead?
SPARROW:  Go away.
SANKA:  Rise and shine!  It’s butt-whippin’ time!
NACHO:  Whose butt?
SPARROW:  (Draws pistol)  Yours unless you intend to rescue me.
SANKA:  Why would you want to be rescued from paradise?
(Enter SCARLETT, MELANIE, HOLLY, ALICE, and BELLA)
SPARROW:  (Jumping up)  I see what you mean, lads.
SCARLETT:  Great balls of fire!  Who are you and how did you get here?
SPARROW:  (Kissing her hand)  Hello, darling.
SCARLETT:  (Pulls hand away)  Don’t bother me, and don’t call me darling.
MELANIE:  Scarlett, dear, don’t be too hard on the gentleman.
SCARLETT:  That, Melanie, is no gentleman.
SPARROW:  Peas in a pod, darling.
HOLLY:  You can call me darling.  (Holds out hand)
SPARROW:  (Kissing her hand)  It’s wonderful to meet you.
HOLLY:  Did I tell you how divinely and utterly happy I am?
SCARLETT:  Fiddle-dee-dee, Holly.  You’ve just met the scoundrel.
SPARROW:  Scoundrel?  I like the sound of that.
MELANIE:  Oh, I am sure you’re not a scoundrel, Mr.---
SPARROW:  Captain.  Captain Jack Sparrow.
BELLA:  He’s not just a scoundrel, he’s a pirate.
MELANIE:  Oh, my!
BELLA:  I’m not afraid of him.  You shouldn’t be, either.
ALICE:  (Stepping closer to SPARROW)  Mmmm.  He does smell good.
SPARROW:  I’m sure you do too, love.  (Reaching for her hand)
ALICE:  Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.
SPARROW:  (To Sanka)  Well, my dread-locked friend, you are correct in saying this is paradise.  I wouldn’t mind being stranded here forever with these lovely ladies.  What is your name, governor?
SANKA:  I am Sanka Coffie.  I am the best pushcart driver in all of Jamaica!
SPARROW:  So this is Jamaica?
SANKA:  No!
SCARLETT:  And it’s not Tara either.
HOLLY:  Or Tiffany’s.  I’m just CRAZY about Tiffany’s!
BELLA:  We can’t say there’s zero weirdness here.
ALICE:  Shh!  (Closing eyes)
BELLA:  What is it?  What do you see?
ALICE:  More weirdness approaching.  And her.
(Enter KIP, BROM, PAUL BLART, BUDDY, and BOB)
BOB:  Baby steps to the beach.  I’m on the beach.
BUDDY:  I passed through the seven levels of the Candy Cane forest, through the sea of swirly, twirly gum drops, and then I walked through those palm trees over there.
BROM:  Well then, perhaps I’ve underestimated you.
KIP:  I can’t possibly live without my computer.  How am I supposed to chat with babes?
PAUL:  Peanut Blart and jelly!  There’s a whole herd of babes standing right there!
NACHO:  (To SPARROW)  Those guys are a bunch of wussies, eh?
BUDDY:  (Sniffing at SANKA)  You smell like beef and cheese, you don’t smell like Santa.
SANKA:  I am Sanka, not Santa.
KIP:  And I’m training to be a cage fighter, in case you babes hadn’t noticed.  (Flexes muscle)
HOLLY:  You’re just gruesome.
BUDDY:  (To HOLLY)  I’m Buddy the Elf.  What’s your favorite color?
HOLLY:  Not reds or blues.
MELANIE:  Why not?
HOLLY:  The blues are because you’re getting fat and maybe it’s been raining too long.  The mean reds are horrible.  Suddenly you’re afraid and you don’t know what you’re afraid of?  Do you ever get that feeling?
ALICE:  That just means that Victoria is getting closer.
PAUL:  Who’s Victoria?  I’ll headbutt her!
ALICE:  Victoria is a very dangerous—
BELLA:  Say it.  Say it out loud.
ALICE:  Vampire.
SPARROW:  I think I’m having a bad dream.
KIP:  Don’t worry.  I’m sure there’s a babe out there for you.  Peace out.
(Enter BUDDY LOVE)
LOVE:  Hiya, chickie babies!  I thought I’d visit your beach.  Cute.  Cute sand.
SPARROW:  You seem somewhat familiar.  Have I threatened you before?
LOVE:  Not me.  But maybe you’ve had a run-in with that little twerp, Professor Julius Kelp.
BUDDY:  Does somebody need a hug?
LOVE:  You look like a nice kid, but no.  Crazy.  Who are you, anyway?
BUDDY:  I’m a cotton-headed ninny-muggins.
MELANIE:  Don’t say that about yourself.
LOVE:  (Struts over to MELANIE)  I know what you’re thinking:  Where’s he been all my life?  Right?
MELANIE:  I don’t believe so, sir.
SCARLETT:  Fiddle-dee-dee, Melly.  Don’t you know a flirt when you see one?
LOVE:  (To SCARLETT)  Well, honey, I always say, if you’re good and you know it, why waste time beating around the bush, true?
SCARLETT:  (To MELANIE)  Ooh, if I just wasn’t a lady, WHAT wouldn’t I tell that varmint.
HOLLY:  (To LOVE)  She’s a model, believe it or not, and a thumping bore.
BOB:  This reminds me of my favorite poem, which is, “Roses are red, violets are blue, I’m a schizophrenic…and so am I!”
BUDDY:  Sounds like somebody needs to sing a Christmas carol.  The best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear.
KIP:  I don’t know any Christmas carols, but I wrote a great song that goes like this.  (singing) “I love technology, but not as much as you, you see…”
LOVE:  Did anyone ever tell you you couldn’t sing?
NACHO:  I have a better one.  (singing) I ate some bugs, I ate some grass—
SPARROW:  You don’t want to be doing that, mate.
SANKA:  You are all club-toting, raw-meat-eating, Me-Tarzan-You-Jane-ing, big bald bubbleheads that can only count to ten if you’re barefoot or wearing sandals!
BELLA:  These mood swings are kinda giving me whiplash!
ALICE:  Shh!  Someone’s coming.
(Enter Professor Minerva McGONAGALL)
McGONAGALL:  (To ALICE)  What are you doing here with all these Muggles?
ALICE:  I know, I know.
McGONAGALL:  You can’t possibly protect them by yourself.
MELANIE:  Protect us from whom?
ALICE:  Someone deadly.
BELLA:  A vampire.
HOLLY:  It’s useful being top banana in the shock department.
BOB:  (To McGONAGALL)  Hi, I’m Bob.  Would you knock me out, please?  Just hit me in the face.
PAUL BLART:  I’ll headbutt the vampire.
ALICE:  She’d tear off your head before you could do that.
BROM:  She?
BELLA:  Her name is Victoria.
MELANIE:  Oh!  Whatever shall we do?
SANKA:  You want to kiss my egg?
NACHO:  In order for you to become empowered by the eagle, you must climb a cliff, find the egg, crack it open, and then eat the yolk.
BUDDY:  We elves try to stick to the four main food groups:  candy, candy canes, candy corns, and syrup.
KIP:  Does that give you special powers against vampires?
BOB:  With this kind of manic episode, I would think Librium might be a more effective management tool.
ALICE:  Librium won’t stop Victoria.
SPARROW:  Does anyone have a weapon?
PAUL BLART:  Weapons aren’t safe.  And safety never takes a holiday.
BELLA:  Neither does Victoria.
SANKA:  It’s butt-whippin’ time!  You dig where I’m coming from?
BROM:  That’s the spirit—one part brave, three parts fool.
SPARROW:  All of you!  Do you have the courage and fortitude to follow orders and stay true in the face of danger and almost certain death?
ALL:  Aye, Captain!
McGONAGALL:  Do you, perhaps, need a map?
SPARROW:  Thank you, but I have my compass.
McGONAGALL:  You’ll need more than a compass if you wish to live another day.
KIP:  I have skills.
BROM:  Right, then, let’s see these skills of yours.
KIP:  I need a cage to demonstrate my cage fighting skills.
HOLLY:  I’ll never let ANYBODY put me in a cage.
PAUL BLART:  (talking to himself) What are you trained to do?  Nothing!
NACHO:  I have the desire to wrestle, but I am such a stinky warrior.
BOB:  Snot face!  Belch breath!
MELANIE:  Why did you call him that?
BOB:  I think I have Turrette’s.
McGONAGALL:  (sighs)  Ms. Cullen, I believe it will be up to us to save this babbling, bumbling band of baboons.  (transfigures into a cat)  Mraow!  (Exits)
SPARROW:  Amazing!
HOLLY:  She’s all right.  Aren’t you, cat?  Poor cat!  Poor slob!  Poor slob without a name!
ALICE:  Captain Sparrow, come with me.  Everyone else, wait here.
SPARROW:  Do us a favor.  I know it’s difficult for you, but please, stay here and try not to do anything…stupid.
(ALICE and SPARROW exit)
BUDDY:  I just like to smile.  Smiling’s my favorite.
LOVE:  (Hands a handkerchief to SCARLETT)  Here y’are, baby.  Take this, wipe the lipstick off, slide over here next to me, and let’s get started.
SCARLETT:  If I said I was madly in love with you, you’d know I was lying.
MELANIE:  I believe the gentleman is more in love with himself than with anyone else.
(Enter SPONGE BOB, PATRICK, and FLOWER)
PATRICK:  Where’s the captain?
BELLA:  He went with Alice and Professor McGonagall to stop Victoria.
FLOWER:  Who’s that?
BELLA:  A vampire.
SPONGE BOB:  Oh, tartar sauce!
(Enter VICTORIA)
BELLA:  Speak of the devil….
VICTORIA:  Close, Bella.  Very close.
BUDDY:  (To VICTORIA)  I think you’re really beautiful.  I feel really warm, and my tongue is swelling up.
VICTORIA:  I get that reaction a lot.
SANKA:  Greetings, vampire god.  Uh, goddess.
NACHO:  I am probably going to die.
PAUL BLART:  (talking to himself) When are you gonna give up, Blart?
LOVE:  (To VICTORIA)  Hiya, chicky baby.  You’re here to see me, right?
VICTORIA:  I’ve waited all my life for someone like you.
KIP:  (Singing)  “Sure the worldwide web is great, but you, you make me salivate….”
VICTORIA:  But I’ll take care of you first.  (Grabs KIP by the neck)
KIP:  Let go of me!  I think you’re bruising my neck meat!
PATRICK:  Who’s a big, yellow cube with holes?
SPONGE BOB:  I am!
FLOWER:  He is!
PATRICK:  Who’s ready?
SPONGE BOB:  I’m ready!
FLOWER:  Me, too!
PATRICK:  Who wants to save the world?
SPONGE BOB:  I do!
FLOWER:  I do!
(They attack VICTORIA)
BROM:  Take care of the little bones.  Hate to see you choke.
(Enter ALICE, McGONAGALL, and SPARROW)
ALICE:  I’ll take it from here, boys.  (Exits with VICTORIA)
SPONGE BOB:  Oh, tartar sauce!
FLOWER:  We were just getting started!  I hadn’t even sprayed her yet.
PATRICK:  I’m glad about that.
NACHO:  Pretty exciting, huh? (holds up hands to SPONGE BOB, PATRICK, and FLOWER)  High five!
BUDDY:  (burps)  Did you hear that?
HOLLY:  Tough beans, buddy, ‘cause that’s the way it is.
MELANIE:  Thank heavens the vampire is taken care of.
SANKA:  Feel the rhythm!  Feel the rhyme!  Get on up, it’s bobsled time.  COOL RUNNINGS!
BOB:  Baby steps to bobsled.  I’m Bob, and I sled.
BROM:  I always say, better ask forgiveness than permission.
KIP:  That’s true, that’s true.
SCARLETT:  Fiddle-dee-dee.  I’m so bored I could scream.  (turns to leave)
LOVE:  Just a minute, sweetheart.  I don’t recall dismissing you.
FLOWER:  I think he’s twitterpated with himself.
McGONAGALL:  (transfigures into her human self)  If we were at Hogwarts, I’d give you 50 demerits for being so self-absorbed, Mr. Love.  But since we’re not…. (changes LOVE into Professor Julius Kelp)
KELP:  Well, actually, this is my real self.  I’m sorry, ladies, if I embarrassed you in any way.
SCARLETT:  (puts her arm through Kelp’s)  After all, tomorrow is another day.
McGONAGALL:  (to BELLA)  Inside every girl is a swan, waiting to burst out in flight.
BELLA:  I’m glad I amuse you.
SPARROW:  There’ll be no living with her after this.
SPONGE BOB:  We’re gonna party ‘til we’re purple!
PATRICK:  Yay!  I love being purple!
FLOWER:  I think I’d like to stay black and white, if it’s all the same with you.
The End :)

My Middle Name is Grace

My legal name is Catherine Grace, named in part for my grandmother, Grace Wakefield Bowbeer, who WAS a graceful lady in every way. Grace & Paul WakefieldUnfortunately the name has not manifested itself in my life.
I'm sure part of it has to do with my vision problems which began when I almost lost my eye at age 3, had a cornea transplant the next year, and had to wear an eye patch for "lazy eye" (which didn't make the vision come back, unfortunately). Me with eye patch and my more graceful cousin BrendaI tend to trip over my own feet, always fell out of my grandpa's hammock, and never could get the hang of our skateboard—even while trying to sit on it.  I couldn't play any games where a ball came AT me because my depth perception was off and I couldn't coordinate myself to catch it.
My father filmed me with his 8mm movie camera when I finally (sort of) learned how to ride a bike at age 8.  I haven't seen that movie in years, but I still remember, cringing, how I wobbled all over the place and stopped the bike with my shoes instead of the hand brake. 1st day of 3rd grade--what a dork!I was the awkward kid who was always picked last for teams in P.E. because I couldn't run, couldn't throw, couldn't kick, etc.  I didn't make the all-A honor roll one time in junior high because I wasn't able to turn a cartwheel, and the P.E. teacher thought I wasn't trying hard enough. Me & my little sistersI did manage to do pretty well in high school marching band.  At least I have a good sense of rhythm when it comes to music. 
But I remember one day in seventh grade when I was trying to run while carrying my books, and I tripped and fell in the grass in front of some eighth grade boys (cute ones, of course).  When I stood up, my knees were green, and one of them said, "Green knees never made it in Hollywood."  The rest of the year those boys called me "Green Knees."
I used to dress up in my mother's full slips, pretending to be a princess.  So I was thrilled when I joined a Spanish club in high school and we got to go to a convention in San Antonio AND I got to wear one of those beautiful Spanish dancer-type skirts.  Several of us were walking along the sidewalk to the convention center when I stepped on a grate and the air currents WHOOSHED that full skirt up over my head.  A taxi driver nearby gave a wolf whistle.  I must have turned three shades of red.
A similar incident happened before one of our symphony concerts two years ago.  About 30 minutes before each concert, we're given finger sandwiches, fruit and bottled water.  Most of the musicians eat outside behind the stage.  I had my hands full and stepped outside, forgetting that I had a very full skirt and it was a windy day.  Ooops!  I did a "Marilyn Monroe" right there in front of a whole lot of men. The principal trumpet player was standing right in front of me as I dropped my stuff to grab my skirt.  He started laughing and saying how my face was SO red.  Then the piano player started laughing, too.  I said, with as much dignity as possible, "Just call me Marilyn."  And then I prevailed upon the trumpet player to save a damsel in distress and carry my food back inside while I held my skirt in place.  Just before the concert began the piano player looked at me and started laughing again.....he sits waaay too close to me.
I admire graceful, coordinated people.  Long ago I gave up trying to be more like them.  My talents lie in other areas, and I'm finally okay with that.  I just try to be vewy, vewy careful, especially around tripping hazards. . . .
 

The Mistress of Misfit Pets, Part 5: Snakes

A new fad in jewelry?
I've always been fascinated by snakes, but my mother has a STRONG phobia, so it was the only critter she wouldn't let me keep as a kid.
*Ahem*  That didn't stop me from catching them.
One day I found a particularly nice garter snake and put it in the only large container I could find—my baby sister's old diaper pail.  For some reason I put the pail (with the snake hidden under a pile of grass) on the hearth in the living room, and since my Mom was cleaning for company that evening she tossed the pail out in the backyard.  I didn't find it there until the next morning, and of course woke up Mom to ask where she'd put my snake.  She woke up instantly.
"WHAT snake?"
"The snake in the diaper pail."
"You had a SNAKE in my house?"
Needless to say, that was the last snake I had until my oldest son was eight years old.  I found a checkered garter snake in our vegetable garden, but he eluded capture for a while.  One day I grabbed his tail before he could slip into his hole, and it was a tug-of-war before I had him.  We put him in a 10 gallon aquarium and bought a screened lid to keep him contained.  My son named him Arthur ("because you like knights and stuff, Mom," he said) and we kept that snake for several years.  Checkered garter snakeArthur was the best and easiest pet we ever had.  He would eat fish and tadpoles but preferred earthworms.  (My son made a sign for his habitat that read "Arthur's House: Worms Welcome.")  Arthur liked to curl up inside his water dish after eating, and sometimes we'd put 2-3 inches of water in the bathtub and watch him swim.
We might still have Arthur except one day the lid of his cage was not securely latched, and he escaped.  I turned the house upside-down but never found him.  I called the city water company and asked if it was possible for a water-loving snake to get into the pipes if he crawled into the toilet, and was told it was highly possible.  So poor Arthur probably ended his days in the city sewer system.
The next garter snake we had escaped the same way.  This one was beautifully colored and preferred to eat fish.  I wasn't as attached to this one, especially since it preferred fish.  (One of the "rescued" feeder fish eventually became Goldie, who was memorialized in a previous post.) Me holding our colorful garter snakeAfter "snake sitting" for a boy's boa constrictor, I decided I preferred garter snakes because they have friendlier eyes with round pupils (constrictors and other snakes have slit pupils so they look more "sinister") and I didn't mind feeding our snakes earthworms and tadpoles and fish, but I did have a problem watching the constrictor eat a white rat. Close up of its friendly eyeEven though snakes do a lot of lying around, it was fascinating to watch the skin shedding process.  A day or two before it happened our snakes would become more aggressive, probably because they felt insecure.  Their eyes would cloud over as the old skin prepared to break away, and then they'd rub their snouts against the branch in the cage, catch the edge onto a sharp edge, and pull out of it, just like you would take off a sock, leaving it inside-out.  We kept all the skins until they eventually crumbled.
I highly recommend garter snakes as pets, even if just temporarily.  Just make sure you securely latch the lid.

Fun Friday (on Wednesday): A Redneck Balcony Scene

This was one of the assignments I gave my Shakespeare class: to rewrite a scene in a different time and place, to show the students how setting influences character.  As usual, I wrote a "sample" to give them an idea, and my son and I dramatically read it (with me on a ladder as our "balcony").



A Redneck Love Story  Act 2, Scene 2 
In the hills of Tennessee outside Capulet’s two-story log cabin.
ROMEO:  Well, lookie there!  It’s a light in yonder winder.  But Juliet’s so bright she don’t need no sun.  She’s my woman, but she jest don’t know it yet.  Lookie how she leans her cheek on her hand.  Yessirree, Bob, I’d shore like to be a glove on that thar hand!
JULIET:  Ah, swanee.
ROMEO:  She’s a talkin’.  Can’t quite make it out.  Say somethin’ else, why don’tcha?
JULIET:  Romeo, Romeo, why in tarnation is yer name Romeo?  Deny yer kinfolk and get yourself a new name.
ROMEO:  Should I keep my trap shut or say somethin’ now?
JULIET:  It’s only yer name that causes this here fussin’ and feudin’.  You are yer cornpoke self, not a Montague.  What’s in a name, anyhow?  What we call a mess o’ greens would taste just as good if we called it hog waller.  Romeo, toss yer name in the creek and take all o’ me!
ROMEO:  (Coming forward)  Sure enough, honey lamb!  Jest call me “lover boy” and I’ll change my name to Festus or somethin’.
JULIET:  Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat!  Who’s out there?
ROMEO:  Since you hate my name so much, I wish it was writ on a piece o’ paper so’s I could tear it up.
JULIET:  I know yer voice.  Ain’t you Romeo, and a Montague?
ROMEO:  Not Romeo.  Not Montague neither, since you hate them names so much.
JULIET:  I’m shore glad you can’t see me blushin’ jest now.  Do you love me more than coon huntin’?  I know you’re a gonna say yes.  And you already heerd me say that I love you. 
ROMEO:  Sweetcakes, I swear by yonder moon—
JULIET:  Oh, don’t swear by the moon!  It don’t stay the same.  Don’t swear by nothin’.  This is happenin’ too fast.  Goodnight, and next time we sees each other, our tadpole of love will grow into a bullfrog.
ROMEO:  Are ya gonna leave me with my tongue hangin’ out?
JULIET:  What in tarnation are ye talkin’ about?
ROMEO:  I love you.  You love me.  Cain’t we jest lay our cards out on the table?
JULIET:  Well, I do love you more than coon huntin’.  More than shoofly pie, even.   (Nurse calls from within the cabin)  I’m a-comin’!  Stay here and I’ll be right back.  (Exit Juliet)
ROMEO:  She makes me feel happier than a tick on a coon dog!  A really fat tick!
JULIET:  (returning) Just a little more and I really better git.  If you really want to get hitched, I’ll send someone to you in the mornin’ to find out what time and who’s gonna do the hitchin’.  Then we can git ourselves outta this here feud and build our own cabin somewheres.  (Nurse calls)  I’m a comin’!  But if yer just messin’ with me, then git outta here and leave me to cry myself to sleep.  (Nurse calls again)  I said I was a comin’!  Good night!  Sleep tight!  Don’t let the bedbugs bite!  (she exits)
ROMEO:  I must be dreamin’.  If I is dreamin’, I shore don’t wanna wake up!
JULIET: (returning)  Psst, Romeo.
ROMEO:  Yes, Honeydew?
JULIET:  What time tomorry should I send my messenger?
ROMEO:  How ‘bout nine?
JULIET:  Okey dokey.  It’ll feel like twenty years ‘til then.  (pauses)  I cain’t remember why I called you back.
ROMEO:  I ain’t in no hurry.  I’ll jest wait ‘til you remembers.
JULIET:  I’d be happy as a dead pig in the sunshine if you stayed all night, but I don’t want nobody to find you and fill you full a’ holes.  So goodnight!  Sayin’ goodnight is so hard to do I wish I could jest keep sayin’ it ‘til the sun came up.  (exits)
ROMEO:  I hope you can sleep, ‘cause I shore don’t think I can close my eyes.  I better go find Brother Rastus and see about gettin’ hitched.  (exits)

Hair and Back Again: A Hair-Razing Journey

Now that it's been over eight and a half years since I had nuclear-bomb strength chemo for fast-growing lymphoma, I don't mind people seeing what I looked like during that sickly time. If you know someone going through chemo, this might encourage them that their hair WILL grow back.

I wrote this poem about a year after chemo, and later published an article with Coping With Cancer magazine (link below), but this is mostly a photo journal.
age 21--my preferred lengthI've always had long hair.
It was part of what defined me.

Hair doesn't make a person, though,
does it?

So why do I feel as different
on the inside
as I do on the outside?
First I dyed my brown hair red
for fun, I said.

When the red hair began to fall out
I cut it short
to lessen the mess, I said.
Going.... Going...Then it all poured off one day
except for two stubborn strands
and I shaved them so I could feel
that bald was my choice.

It wasn't.
GoneFor weeks I had three personas:
Long brown curly wig,
Short red sassy wig,
Scarf topped with hat.
Before I lost eyebrows & eyelashes Not one hair left on me--this was the worst I felt.Under each of them I hid,
trying to figure out who I had become.
No hair yet but now in remission!At last the hair began to grow back
very
very
slowly.
Marine recruits had more than I did.
Hats were still my best friends.
3 months post-remissionNow it's longer, very curly
and people tell me, "Cute."
But still I mourn my old hair,
and the old me.
7 months One year Two years Three years (goofy bangs!!!)I did ask my oncologist if she'd put "Miracle Gro" in my chemo, because not only did my hair come back, I've stayed in remission for eight and a half years--and counting!

Link to Coping With Cancer article

Fun Friday: American Idyll

Here's another "play" I wrote using favorite characters (and in this case a few live people, too) of a class of students at a local private school. I even included their teacher, and they enjoyed it so much they put on a production of it at the end of the school year and invited me to come see it. So fun!

American Idyllby Katy Huth Jones
Cast of Characters:
Students at Ogden Nash High School:Troy BoltonGabriella Montez Vanessa DoofenschmirtzHannah MontanaLondon Tipton Shaun White Napoleon DynamitePatrick Starfish Elizabeth Swann Bobby BoucherIndiana Jones
American Idyll Judges:Simon CowellTony RomoSarah Palin
Mrs. Gordon (as herself)
Scene 1:  English class, last day before Easter Break.  MRS. GORDON is standing before her distracted English class which includes TROY, GABRIELLA, VANESSA, HANNAH, LONDON, SHAUN, NAPOLEON, PATRICK, ELIZABETH, BOBBY, and INDIANA.  Students are whispering among themselves.
MRS. GORDON:  Your Easter Break begins in just a few minutes.  (Students cheer as she holds up a hand for attention.)  Please give me your attention for an important announcement.
(Students give her their full attention.)
MRS. GORDON:  When we return after Easter Break, we'll begin a special unit on poetry.  (Students groan.)  Now, now, hear me out.  (Students get quiet.)  Before radio and television were invented, people used to gather and listen to others recite poetry.  Sometimes the poet would recite his or her own poetry, and sometimes others would memorize well-known poems and recite them.
VANESSA:  Mrs. Gordon, that sounds really boring.
LONDON:  It sure does.
INDIANA:  I'd rather visit the Reptile House at the zoo than listen to poetry.
(Students talk among themselves.)
MRS. GORDON:  (Holding up her hand for silence.)  Since our school is named for Ogden Nash, a famous American poet, I've decided that our class will have a formal poetry recital.  Each of you is required to recite two poems by memory.  (More groans are heard.)  You will recite one original poem and one by another poet.
GABRIELLA:  Is there a minimum word count, Mrs. Gordon?  I read ahead in the book and some of Ogden Nash's poems are only two lines long.
TROY:  Haikus have only three lines.  I might be able to memorize one of those.
HANNAH:  Sweet niblets!  If only we were singing, I could do that all day!  (Students sound enthusiastic.)  Who wants to have a singing recital?
PATRICK:  I do!
ALL:  Yes, music!
MRS. GORDON:  You've already had a music recital this year.  We're going to do something different.  After all, many song lyrics can stand alone as poems.  Perhaps you can think of this recital as singing without music.
ELIZABETH:  Actually, I quite like this idea.  The only song I know is "It's a Pirate's Life for Me," and I'm tone deaf anyway, so I'd rather recite the words.
MRS. GORDON:  You don't need to stress yourselves.  I just wanted to give you plenty of time to plan ahead.  We'll begin writing poetry next week and then decide a date for our recital.  I'd like for you to invite your families.
NAPOLEON:  My family would never come.  They're just too weird.
SHAUN:  Reciting poetry is not as exciting as snowboarding, so I'm not sure mine would come, either.
BOBBY:  I think my Mama would come.
MRS. GORDON:  Have a good Easter Break and we'll make our plans when you get back.
(Bell rings.  Students gather up books, backpacks, etc. and begin to leave.)
HANNAH:  I sure wish we could sing instead.
GABRIELLA:  So do I.  But a poetry recital might not be so bad.
TROY:  You're kidding, right?
GABRIELLA:  No, I mean it.
LONDON:  I think it sounds dumb.
NAPOLEON:  More than dumb.
BOBBY:  Maybe a little dumb.
VANESSA (to the girls):  Did you hear that Sarah Palin is coming to Kerrville for a book signing in May?
HANNAH, GABRIELLA:  Really?
SHAUN:  What day in May?
VANESSA:  The Saturday before Mother's Day.  Why?
SHAUN:  Well, that's the same weekend Tony Romo will be visiting my uncle.
BOBBY:  Tony Romo?  Are you kidding me?
SHAUN:  No, it's true.  Romo and my uncle were roommates in college.
TROY:  Cool!
LONDON:  Who cares about Tony Romo.  I want to know more about Sarah Palin.
SHAUN:  Who cares about Sarah Palin?
GIRLS:  We do!
ELIZABETH:  That's a busy weekend.  Simon Cowell will also be in Kerrville.
NAPOLEON:  Sweet!
PATRICK:  Who's that?
LONDON:  What do you mean, "Who's that?"  Don't you watch "American Idol"?
PATRICK:  I don't have TV.
LONDON:  No TV?  How do you live?
INDIANA:  American idol.  Is that the one made of gold in a secret cave in South America?
SHAUN:  You're kidding, right?
INDIANA:  We don't have TV either.  Dad only lets me have books.
TROY:  Don't even try to explain American Idol to them.  It would take too long.
VANESSA:  You know what?  I just had a really crazy idea.
ALL:  What?
VANESSA:  How often do three famous people come to Kerrville in one weekend?
HANNAH:  During the Folklife Festival?
LONDON:  She means really famous people.  Like Simon Cowell!
BOBBY:  Like Tony Romo!
GABRIELLA:  Like Sarah Palin!
NAPOLEON:  What's your crazy idea, Vanessa?
VANESSA:  What if we had our poetry recital and asked them to judge it?
LONDON:  No way!
PATRICK:  Yes way!
HANNAH:  You mean they judge our poems instead of songs and stuff?
VANESSA:  Sure, why not?
ELIZABETH:  I think it would be rather exciting!
BOBBY:  What if I got stage fright and forgot my poems?
SHAUN:  There'd be nothing to fear at a poetry recital.
INDIANA:  That's what scares me.
GABRIELLA:  But would they agree to judge us?  How could we pay them?
LONDON:  With money?
TROY:  Whose money?  I'm sure they'd charge a lot.
GABRIELLA:  We could have a bake sale.
PATRICK:  Why don't we just ask them?
VANESSA:  Good idea, Patrick.  I'll ask Sarah Palin.
SHAUN:  And I'll ask Tony Romo.
ELIZABETH:  And I'll ask Simon.
NAPOLEON:  So we just need to see what Simon says.
PATRICK:  Simon says, "Have a good Easter Break!"
ALL:  Good-bye, Patrick!
Scene 2:  Mrs. Gordon's class, sometime after Easter Break.  The students are talking before the bell rings.
GABRIELLA (to Vanessa):  So, what did you find out?
TROY:  Yeah, the suspense is killing me.
VANESSA:  Sarah Palin finally got back with me, and she said she would be honored to judge our poetry recital after her book signing on that Saturday!  I asked her how much she charged, and she said she would do it for free.
LONDON:  Wow!
SHAUN:  When my uncle called Tony Romo, I got to talk to him too, and he said Saturday night was his only free time.
BOBBY:  How much?  A million bucks, I bet.
SHAUN:  No, he said he would do it for free, since I'm like family.
NAPOLEON:  Yesssssss.
INDIANA:  And how about this idol guy?
ELIZABETH:  He said he might be able to do it.
VANESSA:  Not definitely?
ELIZABETH:  No.  But he is supposed to let me know by the first of May.
GABRIELLA:  Well, even if he can't do it, we still have two famous people.
TROY:  Shouldn't we have three on the judge's panel, though?
HANNAH:  Three is much better than two.
PATRICK:  Especially when it comes to meals.
(Bell rings.  Students take their seats.)
MRS. GORDON:  I'd like to take a few minutes to talk about the poetry recital.  (Vanessa raises her hand.)  Yes, Vanessa?
VANESSA:  Mrs. Gordon, we have an idea.
BOBBY:  A really good idea.
PATRICK:  A really, really good idea!
MRS. GORDON:  Well, what is it?
VANESSA:  We'd like for the poetry recital to be judged.
MRS. GORDON:  Judged?  By whom?
LONDON:  Sarah Palin and—
SHAUN:  Tony Romo and—
ELIZABETH:  Simon Cowell, if he can make it.
MRS. GORDON:  You're kidding, right?
ALL:  Oh, no!
GABRIELLA:  Sarah Palin and Tony Romo can judge for sure the Saturday night before Mother's Day.
TROY:  But Simon Cowell won't know for sure until May 1st.
MRS. GORDON:  It sounds like you want to follow the format from American Idol.
HANNAH:  Oh, yes!  We'd like to recite our poetry dramatically, or in costume, or whatever.
NAPOLEON:  (Striking a pose) "I like my tots.  Lots and lots."  Is that dramatic enough?
INDIANA:  Dramatic?  No.  Dumb?  Yes.
HANNAH:  Ya think?
MRS. GORDON:  With such notable celebrities as judges, do you want to open this to the public?
(The students look at one another with their mouths open.)
GIRLS:  Yes! }                       (Simultaneously)BOYS:  No! }
TROY:  We should keep this at the school, Mrs. Gordon.  If word got out, it could turn into a circus.
VANESSA:  But couldn't this give our school great publicity?
BOBBY:  I'm not reciting poetry in front of the whole city!
HANNAH:  But what if Simon really likes you?
LONDON:  Yay, me!
MRS. GORDON:  I'll just step in and make a decision to keep this within our school. 
GIRLS:  Awwww. }                                (Simultaneously)BOYS:  Yea!!!!!
MRS. GORDON:  And since you will be judged, you only have to recite your original poem.
ALL:  Yea!!!!!!
GABRIELLA:  What should we call our recital?
ELIZABETH:  "Poetry Recital" does sound rather lame.
VANESSA:  Can't we call it "American Idol"?
SHAUN:  No, silly.  It won't be exactly like it.
PATRICK:  How about "Ogden Nash Idol?" 
BOBBY:  Naw, that's dumb.
TROY:  What about "idyll" spelled I-D-Y-L-L?
LONDON:  What does that mean?
INDIANA:  If that means what I think it means, it would be perfect.
GABRIELLA:  Let's check the dictionary.  (Opens book)  "Idyll.  A short poem depicting a peaceful, idealized country scene.  A long poem that tells a story about heroic deeds or extraordinary events set in the distant past.   For example, Idylls of the King, by Alfred Lord Tennyson, is about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table."  (Looks at Troy)  How did you know it had something to do with poetry?
TROY:  (Shrugs)  Just a lucky guess, I guess.
HANNAH:  That sounds like the perfect name for our recital!  American Idyll!
NAPOLEON:  Yessssss!
Scene 3:  The Saturday before Mother's Day.  An empty stage with three desks lined in a row to one side and a sign that reads "American Idyll."  VANESSA is pacing nervously.  HANNAH stands nearby.
VANESSA:  What if the judges don't show up?  What if they get lost?
HANNAH:  Don't worry, Vanessa.  It'll all work out!
(LONDON enters.)
LONDON:  They're coming!  They're all coming!
(Enter SARAH PALIN, TONY ROMO, and SIMON COWELL, followed by all the others.)
VANESSA:  (Hugging SARAH)  I'm Vanessa.  Thank you so much for coming, Mrs. Palin!
SARAH:  You betcha!  And please, call me Sarah.
VANESSA:  Thanks, Sarah!
HANNAH:  (To Tony Romo)  Thank you for coming, Mr. Romo.
TONY:  (Shakes Hannah's hand)  My pleasure.  I'm a football guy 24/7 but I'll give poetry my best shot.
ELIZABETH:  Everyone, this is Simon Cowell.
ALL:  Hi, Simon!
SIMON:  Thank you for inviting me.  I am looking forward to this.  I really am.
MRS. GORDON:  Well, if you will take your seats, the parents are coming in now and we'll get started.  (Waits while everyone is seated.)  Good evening, and welcome to American Idyll.  I'd like to welcome and introduce our three distinguished judges.  First is Sarah Palin.  (SARAH stands and waves while everyone claps.)  Next is Tony Romo.  (TONY stands and nods while everyone claps.)  And last, but certainly not least is Simon Cowell.  (SIMON stands and smiles while everyone claps.)  The students will be reciting their own original poetry.  Our first contestant is London Tipton.
(As each student recites, he or she moves to center front.  After Simon's "pronouncement" he or she moves back with appropriate facial response.)
LONDON:   Ice cream, bananas and caramel topping,Strawberry, chocolate—oh, I am not stopping!Candy bits, sprinkles and three kinds of nuts,Whipped cream and cherries—I'll have happy guts!
SARAH:  Nice imagery.
TONY:  Your rhymes are technically correct.
SIMON:  The last word—it was like watching a horror movie.  Next, please.
MRS. GORDON:  Next we have Bobby Boucher.
BOBBY:   The caiman is a wee black 'gatorWith a cuter face than most.See him now, or see him laterBut don't get close or you are toast.
SARAH:  That was just a bit—weird.
TONY:  I'd have to give you a technical foul on that one.
SIMON:  You're like a little hamster trying to be a tiger.  Or a 'gator' in this case.  Next!
MRS. GORDON:  Next is Elizabeth Swann.
ELIZABETH:  The Black Avenger is my name,I plunder ships of the Spanish Main.My two mates are with me here,and our names inspire fear:Mad Dog Jack and One-Eyed Joe.Ladies faint where’er we go.We’ll keep sailing together forever—At least, that is, ‘til suppertime.
SARAH:  I think I understand what you were trying to do with this mask poem, but it falls flat.
TONY:  Like a football with a hole in it.
SIMON:  It was actually a bit cheap.  I actually think you're better than that as an artist.  Next, please.
MRS. GORDON:  Next is Shaun White.
SHAUN:  If a pig's evading captureWhile he's slogging through the muck,Would you call his movements pig-zag?Or just call it dumb pig luck?
SARAH:  Great action words!  I like the visual you've got here.
TONY:  Yeah, it reminds me of some rainy day football games.
SIMON:  You're like an enthusiastic dog, aren’t you?  Next!
MRS. GORDON:  Next we have Vanessa Doofenschmirtz.
SIMON:  Seriously?  (To Vanessa) Your name should get you at least partial credit.
VANESSA:  Betty likes spaghetti,Norman likes it, too.But don't give any to Baby BennyOr he'll throw it back at you.
SARAH:  Cute rhymes, cute poem.
TONY:  A little too cute, in my playbook.
SIMON:  It was rather like eating ice for lunch.  It leaves you with nothing to remember afterwards.  Next!
MRS. GORDON:  Next is Indiana Jones.
INDIANA: I am a warrior, bold and brave.I fight the ogres who live in the cave.I guard the king when he travels the landAnd serve him true with head, heart and hand.I'm good at chess, but I like archeology better.
SARAH:  If you just cut that last line, it was a lyrical mask poem.
TONY:  I really wanted you to win badly.  But that one fumbled.
SIMON:  Until the last line, you were brilliant.  But then it actually sounded stupid.  Next.
MRS. GORDON:  Next is Troy Bolton.
TROY:   The bumpy, lumpy wart hogWill never be a beauty.But if you tease her hoglets,Those tusks will shake your booty!
SARAH:  Just a tad bit forced.  I like the bumpy, lumpy part, though.
TONY:  I'm not sure that booty really rhymes with beauty.  Another ref might have a different opinion.
SIMON:  There's something about this poem….but I'm not sure what it is.  Next!
MRS. GORDON:  Next we have Gabriella Montez.
GABRIELLA:  My dog has got a boneBut likes to use my phone.Don't be shockedBut he's unlockedThe keypad on his own.
SARAH:  That was great!  Unexpectedly delightful!
TONY:  You just may have scored a field goal with that one.
SIMON:  I'm going to make this brief.  Brilliant.  Next.
MRS. GORDON:  Next is Patrick Starfish.
PATRICK:  Rainbow fish, rainbow sky,Rainbow birds, rainbow pie.I really wish I could catch a fish.Let's go eat cake beside the lake.
SARAH:  Nice try, but I think you need to keep working on that one.
TONY:  Fumble.  Reeeeeeally bad fumble.
SIMON:  I really wish you had forgotten the words, because it was such a pointless performance.  Next!
MRS. GORDON:  Next we have Napoleon Dynamite.
NAPOLEON:  The liger, the ligerIs only half tigerThe other half is lionAnd I'm not lyin'.
SARAH:  Uh, what can I say?
TONY:  You're gonna have ups and downs in this game.
SIMON:  That poem actually gave me a headache.  Next, please.
MRS. GORDON:  Our last poet is Hannah Montana.
SIMON:  Even her name is a poem.
HANNAH:  (Spoken with a strong beat so that the audience starts clapping in time.)Miss Mandy Mouse cleans her wee little houseon this bloomin' fine spring day.She sweeps each room with her pine needle broomand her tail chases dust away.
When the tables and chairs and the beds and the stairsare as tidy as they can be,Miss Mandy will sit and drink a little bitof her dandelion tea.
(Everyone applauds, even the judges.)
SARAH:  What a perfect little poem!  You are quite the performer!
TONY:  I like your passion for this poem.
SIMON:  You're the best tonight by a clear mile.  (Everyone cheers.)
MRS. GORDON:  Well, that ends our American Idyll.  We want to thank everyone for coming, especially our distinguished judges.  (Everyone claps.)  And to each of my students I'd like to say that you are a poet, and I'll bet you didn't know it, even though your feet show it, because they're Longfellows.
ALL:  (Groaning) Aw, Mrs. Gordon!
END

An Aussie time of sublime rhyme

Cancer unlocked my poetry muse that had lain dormant for several years. But a poetry workshop I attended about six years ago sent that muse hopping into places I never would have otherwise ventured.

This was not your ordinary "workshop."  It was more like sitting in the middle of a whirlwind as a poet named Thom from Australia spent 3 hours hyperactively pouring out music, extemporaneous poetry, and many, many prompts for us to write our own poetry (which we were to do WHILE the music was playing and he was speaking, speaking, speaking with his darling accent). Most of the poetry he recited from memory or made it up on the spot. Several times he read from poetry books and would call out, "Did that one speak to anyone? Do you love it?" If you nodded or raised your hand, he would tear out the page, toss it to you and say, "It's yours--you own it!"

I sat on the floor for those 3 hours except for one time when I got up to read a poem. Normally I need a quiet place to write, but my head was spinning with ideas! :)

This is the poem I read out loud, which was prompted by a 3x5 card: one side said "loss" and the other side said "generosity".

I die a little every day
I don't know how to stop it
My burden is so heavy
I'm afraid I'll have to drop it

And then I see the outstretched hands
Surrounding me with hope and trust
They lift me with their light and love--
The burden crumbles into dust

And this one I wrote at the end to give to our Aussie poet, sort of a minimalist summary of the evening:

Thom's Place

a word
a laugh
a twinkle in the eye
a song
a joke
a moonbeam in the sky
a tale
a poem
a place to write and fly

My First Guilty Conscience

Judy was my friend and neighbor in the first grade.  Our dads were stationed at Schofield Barracks in Hawaii, and we spent a lot of time in one another's homes.One day while playing at Judy's house, I saw a quarter on her dresser.  Wow!  A whole quarter!  I earned pennies and occasionally nickels for chores, so a quarter seemed like a lot of money to me.  I was surprised Judy would be so careless about such a valuable a piece of change.The whole time we played with our dolls, I kept thinking about that quarter.  I could buy a lot with twenty-five cents.  Judy certainly didn't need it; she had twice as many dolls as I had.When it came time for me to go home, I decided I was going to take that quarter with me.  I waited until Judy walked out of the room, then I picked up the coin and slipped it into my pocket.  My stomach felt a little funny as I followed her down the stairs, but maybe it was because it was almost suppertime.I went home.  I ate supper.  I took my bath.  I went to bed.  But I didn't fall asleep right away.  I kept thinking about the quarter I'd put in my piggybank.  And thinking about it brought me no pleasure.  It had seemed, when I took it, that I was going to be the happiest kid in the world.Instead, I felt terrible.All the next day in school I thought about that quarter.  I didn't feel like playing at recess."Are you sick?" my teacher asked me.
"Yes, ma'am," I answered.The teacher felt my head, said I was fine, and told me to sit down.  It seemed the day would never end.I went home without going to Judy's first.  I ate supper.  I took my bath.  But before I went to bed, a dam burst inside me.  I fished the quarter out of my piggybank and took it to my mother.  I held it out to her in my clammy little hand."I took this," I wailed.  "From Judy's dresser.""Is that so?" my mother said, looking down at me.  I expected lightning to shoot from her eyes at any moment.I sniffed, rubbing the tears from my cheeks.  "I'm sorry, Mom."She nodded.  "You have to take it back."
What?  Take it back?  Judy would never be my friend again!
"Tomorrow morning," she said.  Tomorrow was Saturday.I tossed and turned for hours, it seemed.  When I fell asleep, it was with a heavy heart.I finally awoke.  I did not turn on the television to watch cartoons.  I played with my cold cereal for a while.  Mom did not let me forget what I was supposed to do.  How could I forget?She walked with me as I held the quarter in my sweaty hand.  At the edge of Judy's yard, she bade me go to the door alone.I walked the last few steps very, very slowly.  The sidewalk never seemed so long.  I timidly knocked on the door, afraid to push the doorbell.  Judy's mother answered with a smile."I'm sorry," I said, my voice all trembly.  "I took this from Judy."  I placed the quarter in her hand.Before she could say a word, I turned and ran all the way home.Mom never said another word about the quarter.  But I never forgot what I'd done, and I never, ever, wanted to steal another thing after that.  Not even a quarter.  1st grade muu-muu wearer with family