The Inheritance

The writing prompt for this piece was a set of words to choose from to start our writing. I chose all of the words to include in this piece. The words were: And, Maybe, Time, Wait, Before, Now, and Thanksgiving. 

The Inheritance

And the time had come. It was difficult to wait this long. The decision had been made before I was born. Now was the moment that I was to use my inheritance. 

I never believed I would be able to do this. 

My first Thanksgiving as a teenager was when my grandfather pulled me aside and explained it all to me.  

“Harvey, you have been given a gift,” he said, “The firstborn male child of every other generation inherits it. When you reach your 21st birthday, at the exact time you were born, you must say these words:

The time is right. 

I have no fright. 

I need to use the power of flight. 

Back in time is where I will go, 

To the ancestor, that will let me know

The power that I hold within.“

My grandfather couldn’t tell me what that power he spoke of was. He told me that only the first one could explain. My grandfather was clear that my words would send me back in time to where the power originated and that all questions would be answered. 

I had eight years to ponder this. Eight anxious, frustrating years of letting my imagination go wild. Just the thought of being able to travel through time was enough to feed my dreams with all sorts of alternative realities. 

I couldn’t talk to my parents about it, for they were not of the chosen generation. They would have no knowledge of what was to happen. 

You should note that a few days after my grandfather gave me the words, he passed away. At least, I think he did. He just disappeared one day and was never seen again.  When I asked my mother about it, she informed me that all my grandparents had passed away before I was born.

Despite arguing that I had seen and talked to her father, she said I must have just been dreaming.

 

So here I stand, twenty years old at 4:22 in the morning, waiting for the second hand to reach 12. 

Was it all a dream? Time travel isn’t possible, right? This is a foolish thing to do. But no one is here with me. I mean, it doesn’t hurt to try. Maybe this power that I have in me can be used to help this world. It certainly needs it.

 

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1:

“The time is right. 

I have no fright. 

I need to use the power of flight. 

Back in time is where’ll go, 

To the ancestor that will let me know 

The power that I hold within.” 

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My Thanksgiving Wish 2024

Thanksgiving Message 2024

I’m sorry I’m late with my Thanksgiving wishes this year. There are too many issues that fill up my thoughts. The continuation of wars and conflicts, the steps toward a solution to climate change, and political decisions that have caused much anger, anxiety, depression, and hate. Add to that diseases, homelessness, and food shortages around the world. Where is our future headed? All these pressing concerns made it difficult for me to create a Thanksgiving message.

The path that we’ve chosen to take is a difficult one. Our unity seems shattered by a change in our perception of who we are. As a nation where we were one, willing to disagree but accept each other, we are now divided into groups. Groups of individuals that are unwilling to accept each other, hence, do not work with each other for the common good. 

As I said in last year’s message, the seeds needed to grow and nurture things to be grateful for must be planted deep into our hearts and minds. Let them grow and flourish this year to build a world where people listen to each other. A world where individual differences are accepted and compromises made. A world of peace, not destruction. A world of beauty. 

I know it’s hard now. The anger we feel, the frustration, and the sense of hopelessness block those seeds from germinating fully. We cannot let those hindrances block what we need to survive. 

Don’t give up. Don’t distance yourself from what we can do together despite those who threaten to prevent us from working together. 

Change happens, not always for the good; however, we still can overcome the blocks. We just need to focus on who we are and want to be. 

It’s okay to be angry and frustrated sometimes, but don’t let it overshadow you: my friends, family, and all I work with and care about. Stay strong. For then, we will have lots to be thankful for. And we can continue to celebrate Thanksgiving every day of the year. 

To all my friends, family, acquaintances, and everyone else, that is my wish for you, a little late, for Thanksgiving day, 2024 and on. Be well. Stay safe. 

 

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It Happened on the Overnight Express

The prompt for this piece was “A ride on a train.”

It Happened on the Overnight Express

It was to be a long train ride. Jeremy had never been on a long train ride before. The longest ride he’d been on was for a couple of hours. But this one was an overnight ride. It had sleeping compartments and catered meals. It was a big deal for him. The best part was that his company was paying for it. Also, as a part-time storyteller, he hoped that the trip and meeting he was to attend would be fodder for stories he could use when he performed.

This meeting was of top executives and planners involved in creating a new form of communication. It was known as the Let Individuals Attune Reality System (L.I.A.R.S.). It allowed one to send instant information to the global community that was authenticated and factual based on research and public interest – sources withheld. Jeremy’s boss managed to get an invite for Jeremy.

The L.I.A.R.S. had been tested in Russia, China, and the U.S. for how it could be used to impact real-time knowledge, with much success. Now, Jeremy’s role was to become part of it. 

There were several strange individuals on this voyage. Some were well-dressed males with slick-backed hair who must have been going to the same meeting as Jeremy. He overheard several conversations in the dining car reflecting on the recent election’s results and how it turned out so positively for them.

There were also a few women involved in these conversations. They were inputting some rather radical ideas into the discussion. Jeremy didn’t believe they were active implementers of the L.I.A.R.S. project but that they certainly had participated as subjects.

It was overnight, when all were in their sleeping compartments that the incident occurred. There was a scream, and as Jeremy rushed out to find out what had caused it, he tripped over a body on the floor.  He recognized the person immediately as a reporter for the Times. The reporter was dead. 

This train ride now became a Murder on the Orient Express event. There happened to be a famous detective on the train. All the passengers were interviewed about their knowledge of the deceased, where they were when the scream was heard, and any connections they had with the reporter. Unfortunately, Jeremy became the lead suspect as he was the one who found the body first. 

Something about the L.I.A.R.S. project was the motive for the person who did it. Jeremy, being a storyteller, meant that his testimony was considered unreliable. 

Jeremy’s cover had been blown. He was not a supporter of the Let Individuals Attune Reality System, and it was clear that he was at the meeting for some other nefarious purpose. 

As circumstantial was the evidence. He was taken away and charged with the murder. 

Of course, Jeremy’s boss at the Telling Rational Underlings True Happenings (T.R.U.T.H.) company denied all knowledge of him or why he was there.

Guess that is the way the world works now.

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These times they are a-changin’

This week’s writing Spark was a picture prompt. I chose the first picture in this writing as my inspiration

These Times They Are a-Changin’

I grew up in the Bronx in the 1950s and 1960s. I have fond memories of all the places and things I did there. My mother passed away in 1998, so that was the last time I got to visit my old stomping grounds. The picture of the old RKO Marble Hill Movie Theater that I found online reminded me of when I used to go there to see movies with my parents and sisters. As I aged out of children’s prices, I was taught the art of lying about my age, as I was short for a 12-year-old. I was asked to do that for many years.

Seeing that picture inspired me to return to my home grounds and see how it changed. I was not in the mood to travel there by car, train, or subway, usually a two-hour trip on a good traffic day, so I decided to take a virtual one using Google Maps Street View. I was astonished at what I saw. 

Where the movie theater used to stand, there is now a Walgreens pharmacy. Across the street, where my mother used to work as a dental assistant, there is now an AmeriTel T-Mobile exclusive dealer. 

Around the corner where the Dale Movie Theater was (the other place we occasionally went to see movies) is a parking garage and an H&R Block office.

Moving up Broadway, a few blocks away, where there used to be a public swimming pool in the summer (in the winter, it was an indoor ice skating rink), there is a shopping mall. I spent most of my early childhood and teen years either swimming (and when I was old enough lifeguarding) at the pool or winter skating (note: In 1971, when I was playing ice hockey for Stony Brook University, we played an away game at that rink. It was one of the only games I ever scored a goal and my parents were there to watch me).

Seeing those changes, I became reticent to check where my old apartment house was. There were so many memories that I didn’t want tainted, but I couldn’t resist.

My parent’s apartment house was on the street opposite Manhattan College in a section of the Bronx called Riverdale (not the one where all the Archie comics and TV shows refer to, though I was an Archie comic reader). There was a small park adjacent to the building, as was the hill on which our apartment building was built. Half of the building was on the lower street across from the college (the basement and first five floors), and the rest was built on a parallel street at the top of the hill (floors 7 through 11. The 5th and 6th floors were where the two halves connected.

I’ve written about the bare hill on the side of the apartment building before: https://www.hdhstory.net/Storyblog/?p=2755,  Notice the bottom of the hill next to the apartment.

The lower part was easy to sled on. The part you don’t see going up to the other street was steep. That was not used for sledding at all except for in the warmer months. That’s when we broke down cardboard boxes and used them to slide down the dirt-covered hill. That was until someone decided to build a house there, ending all attempts at sledding there. 

Returning to the old neighborhood, I expected to see the apartment and the house blocking the steep hill. Google Maps allows me to see pictures taken in different years. In the most recent year (2022), the house was demolished. In the 2019 picture, it still stood. They are building a mixed-use apartment complex in place of the destroyed building. What was woods and greenery will now be an apartment building. 

     

I know that as we move into the future, we look for improvements in our lifestyles—better housing for everyone, more access to things we need—but let’s not forget where we came from. Let’s not take away all of the things in life that nurture us and that we enjoy. Let’s make the places that we live in the ones that we want to return to in reality, not just virtually – the parks, the swimming holes and public pools, the frozen lakes or rinks, the walks through the woods and quaint villages where people sell wares at outdoor markets, and good places to eat that aren’t fast food or cost a fortune Places that we are proud to be part of. 

Yes, these times, they are a-changin’, but let’s slow down and make the change enjoyable. Don’t relive the past, but also, don’t forget it. 

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A Blank Page

Today’s writing spark was A Paper Chase. We had a list of different papers from which we might find our stories: a Baby Book, Diary, Gift Wrap, Letter, Sheet Music, File Folders, Sewing Patterns, Report Card, Scrapbook, Maps, Postcard, or blank page. We had to choose one or more, pick ourselves or a character, and write about it. 

A Blank Page

Before me sits a blank piece of paper.

The journey has begun

Dreams of the night filter through my head

There is a need to capture a thought

A need to crystalize its meaning

I stare at the blank sheet, her presence beside me

She is holding back, not choosing to inspire

So I sit and wait

 

The keyboard gets cold, awaiting my touch

It knows I am near

The warmth of my hands is everpresent

Not but a single reach away

 

She understands the need

She has been here before

She knows not to push

She knows I will prevail

 

It is the itch I feel first

The tender sensation of an idea

The field of flowers blossoming in my heart

The light of creation bursting  through the haze

 

I look to her for guidance

She senses I am ready

Nods her head in agreement

My road is clear

 

I write

My journey is complete.

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A Peaceful Place

The writing prompt for this were the words “A peaceful place.” We had 5 minutes to write something. 

A Peaceful Place

It’s the noise and the sounds

It’s the music and the rounds

It’s my mind with endless thoughts

It’s my dreams that go for naught

Where to think and be myself

Leave behind, put on a shelf

In the here and when I’m calm

With my family, can’t go wrong

I’m at peace, I can relax

Be who I am to the max

 

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The Last Stand

The writing prompt I took was a quote by Anne Lamott, “The very first thing I tell my new students on the first day of a workshop is that good writing is about telling the truth.”

The Last Stand

“You need to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.” the judge said.

“Excuse me,” was my reply. “Who’s truth am I supposed to tell? I mean, there’s the truth, the way I see it. There’s the truth the way the witnesses see it. There’s the truth the way the law sees it. There is the truth the way the Almighty sees it.  There’s the truth, the way the victim sees it. There are truths the way the lawyers see them. And there are truths, the way politicians see them. So, which truth do you want to be heard?

The judge was about to answer when a politician in the back of the court called out. “I object! Clearly, there are biases in those questions.”

The judge banged her gavel, declared the politician out of order, and made him sit down.

Again, the judge was going to answer my question when another politician stood up and said, “I object! We have a right to hear all truths as each individual perceives them.”

The judge banged her gavel again. “You’re out of order. One more outburst from any politician, and you will be charged with contempt!”

For the third time, the judge appeared to be about to answer my question when the defense lawyer stood up and said, “May it please the Court.”

The judge took a deep breath and acquiesced. “Go ahead,” she said.

“Isn’t there only one truth, regardless of who answers the question?”

“I object,” called out the prosecuting attorney. “The defense is trying to lead the witness.”

The judge looked at them all and said, in a rather loud and annoying tone, “EVERYONE SIT DOWN! This is not a debate on who is telling the truth and who is not. The facts should clarify what we should believe. This is a court of law. If I hear any more discussion on what is truth, I will clear the court and hold you all in contempt. Do I make myself clear?”

There was stunned silence in the courtroom.

After a thoughtful pause, the judge continued, “Now, considering the nature of this crime and the number of outbursts and control issues of the people in this courtroom, I suspend all trial procedures and declare the defendant guilty.”

 “But…” was called about by pretty much everyone in the room, along with a cacophony of screaming names and threats. 

This time, the gavel was not rapped. Instead, the judge pulled an air horn from under her bench and played it very loudly… quieting the room.

The judge then calmly said, ‘I’ve had enough of this. Day in and day out, I must listen to all this bickering and tripe. So, by declaring that the trial is finished, you can all appeal the decision to another court and judge. You always do that anyway. Let it be their problem.  Court dismissed!”

The judge got up and left. 

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Trick or Treat

Today’s writing prompt was – overabundance or too much.

Trick or Treat

It was early October. Meg and her husband, Wally, better known as Doctor Wally to his dental patients, sat around the breakfast table, having a discussion.

“You know,” Meg started, “Halloween is just around the corner; maybe it’s time to stock up on some Halloween treats for this year.”

“What!” was Wally’s reply. “It’s practically a month away. We never get many kids here. Why would we want to stock up now?”

“Because that’s when all the candy sales are. We should get a couple of bags before it’s too late.”

Wally said, “Why? My toothbrushes and toothpaste treats aren’t enough?”

Meg quickly replied, “Your toothpaste and toothbrushes may be why we don’t get many visitors on Halloween. I say we go with candy this year.”

“But, then we have to contend with peanut allergies and the like. Who knows what to choose?”

“Leave the candy to me. Now, what costumes do you think we should wear this year?”

Wally responded as if he already had planned that part out. “This year, we’ll dress up as pirates. We can take that old trunk we have that is full of old clothes we’ll never wear, empty it, and donate all the clothes to the church. We can put the candy, or whatever we have, in the trunk and have the kids pick out what they want.”

Meg liked that idea. First, she would finally get rid of all the old clothes that he’d been hanging on to, and second, whether he realized it or not, he had agreed to have some candy instead of dental supplies. She told him, “Okay, you empty the trunk, and I’ll get the candy.”

October, as any month will do, moved on. By the time Halloween came around, everything was in place. The old clothes were stacked where the trunk had been. Meg had purchased one bag of Fun Sized Snickers bars and one bag of pretzel packages. There should have been enough for about 15 kids, which would be twice as much as usually was distributed. All was prepared by the front door. 

The temperature was a little cool, but the weather was good for trick-or-treating. Meg and Wally dressed in pirate outfits and makeup and awaited their visitors. 

The number of children coming to their door for treats varied. The older kids loved the outfits Meg and Wally wore and were okay with the choice of treats. The very young kids were too frightened by the pirate costumes to stay long enough to venture up to the trunk, fearing the pirates might kidnap them and got nothing. 

As a whole, Meg and Wally got rid of about one-half of their booty. 

Before going to bed, Meg asked, “What should we do with all of the leftover candy?”

“Don’t worry,” Wally answered, “I’ll take care of it.”

 

After Wally went to work the following day, Meg noticed the leftover candy was gone. “What did he do with it?” she thought. She went into the room where the trunk was stored. The trunk was there, but the clothes weren’t. “Could Wally have put all the old clothes back in the trunk?” She was surprised that the trunk was locked as it had never been before. This wasn’t normal. She went to the basement and found three filled garbage bags that hadn’t been there the day before. Opening each one up, she found them stuffed with the trunk’s old clothes. That eliminated the possibility that Wally had stuffed his old clothes in the trunk.

So, what was so valuable that it had to be locked up? She had to find out.

Grabbing a screwdriver and a claw hammer, she returned to the trunk. The trunk was so old that it took little effort to pry the locked clasp off and open it. What she saw both shocked and amazed her.  Wally was in for a big surprise that night.

 

Meg waited until Wally came home, and it was time for supper. Sitting at the table, he asked, “What’s for supper?”

In a very sweet voice, Meg replied, “Well, since you were so cooperative with the Halloween plans last night, I thought I would serve you your favorite food tonight.” So saying, she placed a covered casserole dish before his place. 

With much anticipation, he lifted the cover to see what Meg had made. His eyes opened wide at what he saw.  Meg raised her eyes and simply said, “Surprise.”

 On the platter were four Twix bars, three full-sized Almond Joys, five full-sized packages of peanut M&Ms, a bag containing packages of Skittles, an assortment of Gummy bears and tootsie roll pops, and the leftover candy from Halloween. 

 

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The Night is Upon Us

This week’s writing prompt was, “Tell us what you feel like just before you fall asleep and then right after you wake up.”

The Night is Upon Us

It’s time for bed. Time for my nightly ritual. The first step is to take out my “Last Thoughts” notebook and write about what I’m thinking. It might be an event that happened today, or what Christina and I did, a class or workshop I had or have to prepare for tomorrow, some interesting quote I heard that I need to write down, a conversation with David or a neighbor, or just pondering about things going on in the world. I keep it short, no more than 2 or 3 sentences. Some weeks I choose to make each entry for that week only a 6-word sentence. I love a challenge.

Once written, I get ready—teeth brushed, meds taken, PJs on, dealing with whatever I need to set up electronically, like a wake-up alarm or batteries to charge, and then it’s into bed.

What will I read tonight? The book that I’ve been trying to finish? The 76 e-mails I haven’t gotten to yet?  The comics that I subscribe to that I didn’t get to? Oh, that’s right. First, I must set my iPad to reduce white point, so it dims my screen and doesn’t interfere with Christina, who might be trying to sleep. 

Before I shut down, I set my pillow speaker, connected to my iPad, so I can listen to music (again without bothering Christina). The music helps me unfocus. No incessant thoughts rambling through my brain, and even though the tinnitus hiss is ever present, I focus on the music so I can sleep. I set the timer so the music turns off after an hour and a half. Well before that time is up, I’m be asleep.

Of course, that’s when the adventures begin. It’s off to dreamland. In the past few nights, I’ve created a folktale and a mystery. If I were by myself, as soon as I realized I was dreaming, I would get up and write these thoughts down in my writer’s notebook. However, I don’t want to wake Christina, so I continue to follow the paths of dreams in bed to their inevitable non-conclusion. 

When I wake up, I feel refreshed, and on occasion, I remember some of my more vivid dreams. I share some of the sketchy details with Christina. The response usually goes, “You’re so weird. Nobody dreams like that.”

All it takes is a couple of minutes to get out of bed and make it to the bathroom for me to completely forget whatever it was that I had dreamed. Another tale of wisdom down the toilet, so to speak. 

And then I start my day. I do what I do, think what I think, and create whatever needs to be created. 

As night returns upon us, it’s “last thoughts” time, and I repeat the process all over again. 

 

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Sensory Awareness

The writing spark for this piece was Sensory Highlights. Here’s is my take on that.

Sensory Awareness

We all have five senses

At least that’s what they say

They tell you in school

You use all every day

Sight for your eyes and your nose handles smell

Your ears let you hear, and your mouth tastes so well

Whole body claims touch. That all. But they lied

I claim there are more. Here’s a list. You decide.

 

There are things to accomplish. There are things you must do.

It’s your sense of purpose that will carry you through.

 

Your house is on fire or you just cut your hand

It’s your sense of urgency. Just don’t sit there and stand

 

There’s a mountain to climb. There’s a river to ford.

It’s your sense of adventure. Go pull that ripcord

 

You are clever and witty. You can tell a good joke.

It’s your good sense of humor. Makes you one happy bloke

 

You fight for what’s right. You protect those in need.

It’s your sense of duty. Such an honorable breed

 

You turn in when due. You catch the last train

It’s your good sense of timing. That’s using your brain.

 

You flow with the music. You clap to the beat

Your good sense of rhythm is always a treat

 

Those are a few – of the senses I share

Though the one we use most,

has become rather rare

For you see it’s quite common,

And here I must tell

It takes thinking, good judgement, to use it quite well

Common Sense’s what they call it.

They are many who choose

Not to use it at all. And for that we might lose.

What we’ve built, what we have, all the freedoms we need

To sustain our existence, all because of their greed

 

So schools hear my warning. Don’t teach our kids wrong

Start with listening and thinking, That shouldn’t take long.

Then the five senses, just to mention a few.

Use them all with each other; get a logical view

Then people can preach, they can put up a fight

But we’ll use learned thought to determine what’s right

“Common sense is not so common,” Voltaire once said.

Time to prove he was wrong, or we’ll all end up  ______.

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