Re: A Ghost Story for Gerry (Suzianne 40168)
- Dear Gerry,
I am so glad that you found the Crescent Moon. I spent a lot of Monday evenings there (in its two previous locations), basking in the glow of great company and poetry from the hearts and minds of some very interesting souls.
I still have my Crescent Moon coffee mug. Each time I use it, it brings back wonderful memories of the place.
Enjoy your time with Rex and those people. They are very dear to me.
--- In firstname.lastname@example.org, Gerry Merck <gerrymerck@...> wrote:
> Susan...I did my first reading tonight at a little coffee place in Lincoln
> called Crescent Moon. Met an old friend of yours, Rex Walton. He says hello!
> Small crowd. Great company!
> From: Susan Donahue <suzianne411@...>
> To: email@example.com
> Sent: Mon, January 3, 2011 8:43:53 PM
> Subject: [ticket2write] Re: A Ghost Story for Gerry (Suzianne 40168)
> Dear Wings,
> What a remarkable story about the ring and the dream. I am also glad to hear
> that there is a guardian angel watching over you. I suspect you have tried it's
> patience more than once.
> --- In firstname.lastname@example.org, "Wings081" <wings081@> wrote:
> > Dear Suzi
> > Re."No basement" That is one of the many things I would like in my house.Many
> >older houses in UK have cellars which primarily were for the storage of coal
> >that would have been tipped down a chute from road level through a round
> > While I think of it, let me tell you a true story about a coal cellar.
> > My mother's mother lost her wedding ring and was most upset until my mother
> >woke one morning and said she had a dream that the ring was under a large lump
> >of coal in the cellar.They all went down the cellar steps and Mother exclaimed
> >"There,that's the lump of coal I saw"
> > Sure enough ,when they moved it, there was the ring.Must have been a message
> >from the guardian angel who transferred its allegiance to me when Mother passed
> > Another time Mother awoke and said she had a terrible dream that a tram had run
> >over a flock of sheep.
> > Sure enough her dad came home and said there had been a terrible accident with
> >a tram losing control and running into a flock of sheep, killing more than half
> >a dozen animals.
> > Re. "Lost their house with all external walls blown away"
> > A tornado might strip my roof but would have its work cut out to demolish my
> >walls which are almost three feet thick, constructed of stone and cob built
> > Re. "Miracle of Facebook" Doan 'old with it myself.
> > I am continually being invited to become a friend on facebook but believe it to
> >be too invasive by far and reviewing the site I am disturbed by some of the
> >vituperative comments posted. So call me a happy hermit and let me paddle my own
> > As ever
> > Wings
> > ogroups.com, "Susan Donahue" <suzianne411@> wrote:
> > >
> > >
> > > Dear Gerry,
> > >
> > > Thank you for the kind words. It is a little bittersweet to read this story
> >again. Friday morning, I woke to the sound of tornado sirens. We don't take
> >the warnings any less seriously here in Rogers, Arkansas than we did in
> >Nebraska. Within a few minuts we knew the tornado had struck the tiny town of
> >Cincinnati, Arkansas about 20 miles SW of us. The pre-dawn storm was furious
> >here with terrible wind, driving rain and hail. We were listening to the radio
> >while I was making toast and frying up bacon and eggs, knowing that the
> >electricity was not likely to stay on long. There is no basement in the house
> >and no place to take shelter, so I figured nobody should go hungry if the worst
> >was to come.
> > >
> > > As the minutes flew by, word came that Cincinnati had been leveled. The fire
> >house and all the emergency equipment had been destroyed. The storm was heading
> >on a path directly toward us. I am not sure if it was by nature or prayer, but
> >the tornado lifted about two miles from us and passed over. Suddenly, the sun
> >came out. Well, phone calls and e-mails and the miracle of Facebook quickly
> >disclosed more information about what was left in the wake of the storm. Two of
> >my three friends in Cincinnati had lost their homes and had gone to take shelter
> >with their parents. One of the girls and her husband and baby had huddled in
> >their bathroom for what they guessed was about 30 seconds while the tornado
> >passed through. All the exterior walls of their home were blown away. Three
> >peopled died; an older couple and a farmer who had been milking in his cattle
> >barn. Many were injured, Fourteen homes and several barns, sheds and storage
> >buildings were gone. The town was all but gone.
> > >
> > > So, you can imagine how this old story came to mind. There is nothing like
> >nature's furry to remind us of how small and fragile life is and how little of
> >it is within our control.
> > >
> > > Well, sorry to go on and on...But, I am glad to see a new year. I am also
> >glad to have you here with us at ticket2write.
> > >
> > > Suzianne
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > > --- In email@example.com, Gerry Merck <gerrymerck@> wrote:
> > >
Dear Suzianne, it was a very moving story and I thought you wrote it. But even if you didn’t, it was very timely. Thanks for sharing it with us.
- Dear Gerry
Congratulations on your first reading.
I'm sure I don't need to tell you this but I always advise poets and writers about to embark upon their first public oration, to take particular note of the punctuation. Pause at the commas and semi-colons. Stop awhile at the full stop (period) and take a deep breath. This will allow your audience to absorb your words and hopefully teeter on the edge of their seats in anticipation of further words of wisdom. Also, if you are reading from notes, print the text at least font 16 or more if you suffer macular degeneration or other visual incapacity.
Of course you can use a little subterfuge such as I resorted to some years ago.
I joined an evening creative writers group at our local senior school for children. The tutor was a very knowledgeable, slightly sunburned gentleman, (my euphemism for coloured) who very soon got the measure of my peculiarities.
We met weekly and at the end of each session he would give us an exercise to be presented the following week.
One challenge was for the ladies to write a love story from the male POV and men to write from the ladies POV.
Right up my street and I turned in a real scorcher, hoping to embarrass the ladies.(as is my wont).
Came the time to read and both genders turned in some admirable compositions.
Time was advancing to end the session and our tutor called time. The girls weren't having it and clamoured to hear my paltry effort.
"OK" moaned our tutor "let's hear it then" to which I replied, with tongue in cheek: "I've got a tickle in my throat, would you do the honours for me"
So he took my manuscript and proceeded for a while until he suddenly stopped and said: "You may not believe this but we do blush under this colour".
There was one more story to be read by an elderly lady but she declined to read saying "You surely can't expect me to follow that one".
I should point out here that I do know how far to titillate a female appetite for scandal within the bounds of propriety. Mickey Spillane I aint. Which is why I am not a millionaire best selling author.
One last piece of advice Gerry: Never feel embarrassed standing in front of an audience. You are the boss and but for the odd heckler, the floor is yours.
The time worn advice from the masters is: Imagine your audience are naked and you are the only person with clothes to cover your modesty.
Tried that but I tended to stare too long at that pretty young filly in the back row. The one with the cleavage and skirt right up to her pelvic region.
Time to go.