tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30071229615338416522023-06-20T21:37:41.716-07:00Mary S. PalmerMary S. Palmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07251622165634913012noreply@blogger.comBlogger89125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007122961533841652.post-11609587802629733852015-09-23T06:46:00.000-07:002015-09-23T06:48:08.576-07:00Support Literacy with Grammarly<a href="http://www.grammarly.com/blog/2015/celebrate-international-literacy-day/" target="_blank"><img alt="Literacy Day" src="http://www.grammarly.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/Literacy-Day-1.jpg" width="575" /></a>
Source: <a href="https://www.grammarly.com/plagiarism-checker">Grammarly </a>Mary S. Palmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07251622165634913012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007122961533841652.post-29774640170683400242014-11-03T09:50:00.001-08:002014-11-03T09:50:23.226-08:00
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">Success Breeds Success</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">How do you win a contest? The first requirement is to enter
it. However, some fear the disappointment of rejection so much, they won't try.
Failure is heartbreaking and if you don't try, you don't risk suffering
disillusionment, but you also deny yourself the chance of winning and
experiencing the elation of success. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">I recently entered a contest in a new genre of writing, the
first contest of its type in the world. It deals with Tourism Writing and it
started in my home state of Alabama. Patrick Miller is the founder and the
concept is to write fiction using real places and inserting photographs and
links to interest tourists in visiting the highlighted locations. The first
place featured was Moundville, Alabama; the second was DeSoto State Park at
Lookout, Alabama; and the third was Mobile, Alabama, where I reside.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">Entrants must focus on a particular place or event. I chose
Mardi Gras, giving its history, and stressing its family-friendly atmosphere.
Using the point of view of a masker riding a float enabled me to show how
people from all walks of life—from former members of the royal court to the
homeless and physically challenged—enjoy catching moon pies, beads and other
trinkets. It's a great equalizer as attendees at parades, adults and children,
end up scrambling for grabs they often share with others. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">My entry, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Raisin'
Cain, </i>won first place. The Alabama Tourism Department co-sponsored the
contest and the prize was $500.00. The story is posted on the internet. The big
thrill, though, was Congressman Bradley Byrne coming to the Mobile Carnival
Museum for the Awards Presentation to present a plaque to me October 15, 2014.
He also made a comment in the House of Representatives entitled <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Highlighting the Value of Tourism through
Literature </i>(September 18, 2014). This becomes a permanent part of the
Congressional Record. In it, he mentions that I won the 2014 Southeastern
Literary Tourism Initiative Tourism Writing Contest and that Dr. Sue Walker is
currently teaching tourism writing to several of her English classes at the
University of South Alabama. He suggests incorporating tourism writing into
other college courses in all states.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">This new genre has another spin-off. It can boost the
economy in an area. When people read about places that interest them, they
often decide to visit. Tourists spend money. Also, if enough people discover attractions
that intrigue them, places become considered tourist destinations. But that
only happens if they hear or read about those things; otherwise, they'll never
know they exist.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">I am happy that my story won this contest and the $500
prize. I am happier that it can lead to bigger things by promoting a
challenging, innovative category of writing while boosting the economy. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">I hope others will consider this and enter writing contests.
If you don't try, you can't win. Better yet, if you win once, you may win
again. Success breeds success.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">Link: </span><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"> </span><a href="http://selti.org/congressman-bradley-byrne-presents-2014-selti-tourism-fiction-award-to-mary-s-palmer-at-mobile-carnival-museum/" target="_blank"><span style="background: white; color: #1155cc; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">http://selti.org/congressman-bradley-byrne-presents-2014-selti-tourism-fiction-award-to-mary-s-palmer-at-mobile-carnival-museum/</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">Mary S. Palmer</span></div>
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Mary S. Palmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07251622165634913012noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007122961533841652.post-7314887978761530122014-09-24T05:18:00.000-07:002014-09-24T05:18:15.642-07:00Upcoming Spooky Month - AnticipationThe end of October<br />
Is a time for fear<br />
That all the children<br />
Hold very dear.<br />
<br />
They don their costumes<br />
And get their sacks<br />
To trick or treat<br />
And bring candy back.<br />
<br />
That night they eat<br />
Until they're stuffed<br />
And go to bed<br />
With stomach puffed.<br />
<br />
With dreams of goblins<br />
Filling their heads<br />
They toss and turn<br />
While in their beds.<br />
<br />
It's all in fun<br />
And the next day<br />
Fear has gone<br />Quite far away.<br />
<br />
<br />
Mary S. Palmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07251622165634913012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007122961533841652.post-82387039509576753872014-08-11T07:02:00.004-07:002014-08-11T07:02:51.952-07:00Play-ONE LIFE, MUCH INFLUENCEMy play will be produced at St. Dominic's Murphy Center, October 11, 2014. It is the life of Msgr. Francis Murphy who has served the Diocese of Mobile over sixty years. The dinner theater, sponsored by the Knights of Columbus, is being held to contribute to the support of seminarians.Mary S. Palmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07251622165634913012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007122961533841652.post-52312667948237030652014-07-16T13:25:00.001-07:002014-07-16T13:25:16.711-07:00
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">Alabama Writers'
Conclave</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The Alabama
Writers' Conclave was held in the quaint, artsy town of Fairhope last weekend,
July 11-13. It hosted people from all over Alabama and some from Tennessee,
Mississippi and other states. For the first time, I had the honor to attend.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>In her
introduction, Jeanie Thompson, Founding Director, Alabama Writers Forum,
pointed out that Alabama was twenty-third in funding for the arts. That's a
good position. Other speakers included presentations on both prose and poetry,
fiction and non-fiction and play writing. All were impressive but one point
that stuck with me was literary agent Katharine Sands' statement that all
novels need a person, a place and a pivot. Having all three start with a
"p" makes it easy to remember.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Other speakers
included the passionate Michael Martone, witty Jim Murphy, amusing T.K. Thorne
and Linda Busby Parker, and Scott Wilkerson, Barry Marks, Terri French and
Keynote Speaker Pulitzer Prize Winner Rick Bragg, Rob Gray, Susan Luther, P.T.
Paul, all who gave eloquent and informative presentations. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>President Sue
Walker and Vice President P.T. Paul made sure everything, including the food,
was first class. If you didn't learn something from the experience, you weren't
listening. One particular thing I learned would have justified attending. It
was simple, it was obvious, but it took a new reader to spot an easy change
that may make the difference in whether my mystery novel is accepted for
publication. When I read the opening paragraph, the speaker suggested moving
one sentence to the top and opening the novel with that line. I could then see that
sentence as the grabber which would set the scene and the tone for the entire
book. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">Such conferences are truly worthwhile. As one speaker
pointed out, you may not be told anything you don't already know, but we don't
always do what we know we should. And we forget. Reminders serve us well. These
events do, too. They also reinforce our belief that we can write and encourage
us to write on and write right. We may have a message only we can give to the
world.</span></div>
Mary S. Palmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07251622165634913012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007122961533841652.post-18434081530869537522014-04-30T12:31:00.001-07:002014-04-30T12:31:27.504-07:00<br />
I'm taking on a new challenge by teaching a Contemporary Literature class this summer. The five week course will be at Huntingdon College at the Daphne, Alabama campus. It should be very interesting and a change from any other English classes I've taught in the past, including Creative Writing.<br />
<br />
Since my science-fiction novel QUESTION OF TIME (a sequel to TIME WILL TELL) is being released May 9, 2014 and the third book of the trilogy, TIME WAS, will be released September 9, 2014, I'll also be busy promoting those. I have two other books under consideration with a publisher, too. It keeps me busy, but we always find time for what we really want to do.<br />
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Mary S. Palmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07251622165634913012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007122961533841652.post-17849639769644708512014-04-30T12:24:00.001-07:002014-04-30T12:24:35.741-07:00May Be NewThe month of May<br />
May bring new challenges,<br />
And opportunities.<br />
<br />
The showers of April<br />
And its storms<br />
Are long gone.<br />
<br />
Flowers begin to bloom<br />
And sparks of new life<br />
Are evident, too.<br />
<br />
All should forget the past<br />
And take advantage<br />
Of new chances.<br />
<br />
Use challenges to change.<br />
Benefit from <br />
Life renewing itself.<br />
Mary S. Palmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07251622165634913012noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007122961533841652.post-78261365970915603162014-04-04T17:03:00.004-07:002014-04-04T17:03:40.406-07:00April
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">BlogsApril</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">New Life</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">Weather warms and</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">Hearts overflow</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">With love.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">New life refreshes</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">As flowers break out</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">In their blossoms.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">April showers</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">Water and nourish</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">Plants bursting alive.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">People, too, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">Become refreshed</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">And revitalized.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">The Earth</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">Renews itself</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">In the springtime.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">April Fool's Day, or All Fool's Day, reportedly began in the
Middle Ages in Europe. Some claim it started with the Romans. So, we had
mischief-makers way back in time. The pranks vary from a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Kick Me </i>sign sneaked onto the back of a shirt, to a phone call
asking for help when none is needed. It's all done for fun. No harm is
intended. And we all fall for these jokes. Just this morning, I was thinking
about what April Fool's tricks I might encounter today when I got an E-mail. It
was from a doctor who elaborated on how he gained more time by finding a drug
that allowed him rest without sleep. He claimed he got down to two hours a
night. I was beginning to wonder about the safety and sanity of taking this
drug when his writing took a turn. He said he discovered how it was to be on
the receiving end of psychiatric help. Then the twist: APRIL'S FOOL. GOTCHA!</span><br />
Mary S. Palmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07251622165634913012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007122961533841652.post-81913310227735230902014-02-15T06:56:00.002-08:002014-02-15T06:56:17.941-08:00The Match
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">The Match</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Peggy's children
were grown and she didn't have a pet, but she loved Sally. She provided for her
well, giving her good shelter, spending a lot of money taking care of her other
needs and keeping her clean and neat. She also showered her with attention; they
went everywhere together. One Valentine's Day, Peggy put a huge red bow on
Sally, but Sally didn't care. In fact, she didn't even know the bow was there. Despite
her limitations, Sally was Peggy's pride and joy. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Talk about true
love--one day Peggy told me, "My dad had her a long time and he took
excellent care of her. When I inherited her from him, I made a promise to do
the same, no matter what. We fit together; we're a match." She sighed. "I
know she's getting older now and can't move as fast as she once could, but I
still love her."</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I scratched my
head. Peggy was less than realistic. Sally had more problems than moving fast.
She was slow starting in the morning, then she'd sputter around before getting
into gear. Even when she got going, nothing went smoothly. Sometimes, at the
worst possible times, she'd come to a complete standstill. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Nonetheless, at
Peggy's insistence, the three of us often went places together. I really didn't
like to be involved with her. But, despite my reservations, I couldn't tell my
friend that; she'd be too offended. I couldn't even tell Peggy, who had
physical problems, that Sally took more care than she could feasibly provide.
At twenty years old, it was time for Sally to go somewhere else. But I didn't
express my opinion. Saying those things was useless. I knew Peggy wouldn't have
listened to me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>However, one day,
after Peggy told me, "My friend's son is interested in Sally," I spotted
my chance to speak up and took the leap. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"You can't do
anymore with her, Peggy," I insisted. "Why don't you give Hal a
chance? Maybe he can fix her up." I thought this might be Peggy's opportunity
to break the bond.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She dismissed the
idea then. But, to my surprise, after a lot of deliberation and indecision, Peggy
did let Hal take Sally. At first, he took good care of her. But that was
short-lived. Before two months were up, he had a wreck. Knowing how Peggy would
react if she saw Sally all bent in on one side, barely able to move, Hal's mother
called her. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"I'm sorry,
Peggy," she began. "I hate to give you bad news, but there's been an
accident and Sally was hurt. Hal did what he could to steer her out of harm's
way," she said, "but a truck ran a red light and then plowed right
into them and, well,"--she stammered--"Sally got the brunt of the
damage. I had to let you know. I didn't want you to come over here and see what
happened and be shocked."</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>With eyes
downcast, Peggy shook her head as she told me, "I boo-hoo'd. My baby was
hurt bad. I haven't been over to their house yet. I just can't bear to see her
like that."</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Lines crossed my
brow. "She's just..." I began. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When Peggy blinked
and her shoulders stiffened, I decided my next words would hit a nerve, so I
chewed on my lip, cutting off my statement. Then I asked a question. "Doesn't
Hal have insurance?"</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Wringing her
hands, Peggy nodded. "Yes, he does. But if he makes a claim..."</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She couldn't
finish the sentence. So, I did. "They'll cancel his insurance."</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Worse than that."
Peggy pressed her hands tightly against her cheeks. "They'll consider her
a total loss." Sobbing, she added, "And my poor baby, my beautiful
1994 Buick Park Avenue, will end up in some old car junk yard." She
shivered. "Oh, my! They may even put her in one of those horrible car
crushers and crush her into a tiny cube. That's barbaric! If I could, I'd
rather have her cremated." </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I went over and
put my arm around her, wondering what words would provide appropriate sympathy
for a car. I was also beginning to wonder if I'd personified this car like
Peggy had. Was this getting to me, too? I was stumped, but it turned out that I
didn't have to say anything.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Taking a deep
breath, Peggy looked up at me and cocked her head. "I, I sure hope,"
she sniffled, "I hope there's a car heaven." </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>All I had to do
was nod and be gratified at the consolation in my friend's eyes.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span> </span></div>
Mary S. Palmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07251622165634913012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007122961533841652.post-21482132660585655802014-02-05T08:48:00.002-08:002014-02-05T08:48:55.426-08:00Acceptance<br />
<br />
Every year brings new challenges. Sometimes we are involved with people we can't understand. They do things that are illogical, inconsiderate and different from the norm. Their actions may be inconsistent with the values they've been taught. We tend to want to break the barrier, to make them see our viewpoint. But that quite often doesn't work. They have their own ideas and cannot be convinced otherwise.<br />
<br />
<br />
In such cases, as difficult as it is, we have to realize that we're not supposed to understand everything, or everybody, on this Earth. It isn't Heaven. Problems exist.<br />
<br />
<br />
Then how do we deal with such situations? Maybe the only way is with acceptance. First, though, we have to note that acceptance does not mean approval. It does not mean we condone the actions of others that are against our principles, or against principles that are considered morally correct.<br />
<br />
<br />
In the end, we have to understand our limitations, change what we can, resign ourselves to accepting what we cannot change, and pray for the wisdom to know the difference.<br />
<br />Mary S. Palmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07251622165634913012noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007122961533841652.post-83880854557172026432014-01-12T16:33:00.001-08:002014-01-12T16:33:43.225-08:002014In the new year, 2014,<br />
Resolutions will be made<br />
Some kept; some broken.<br />
<br /><br />
Things will change<br />
Time will move fast<br />
And it will stand still.<br />
<br /><br />
Excuses for failures<br />
Won't affect those changes<br />
Nor make anything better.<br />
<br /><br />
It's not what happens <br />
To us that matters--<br />
Not at all.<br />
<br /><br />
The outcome of situations<br />
Depends entirely on<br />
How we deal with things.<br />
<br /><br />
Mary S. Palmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07251622165634913012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007122961533841652.post-59216033189821910772013-12-14T07:32:00.002-08:002013-12-14T07:32:38.462-08:00Christmas Cheer<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
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Christmas Cheer</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><o:p> </o:p><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span>At Christmastime it seems<br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
There's some kind of a trick.</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
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An unexpected gift</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
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Makes you take action quick.</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"></span> </div>
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To have a fair exchange</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
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You give a gift back to</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
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The person, by surprise, </div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
Who just gave one to you.</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"></span><br />
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And there's always the joke</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
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That someone has to make,</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
That in the whole wide world</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
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There's only one fruit cake.</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
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<o:p></o:p> </div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span>It just goes round and round<br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
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Till it gets back to you,</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
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And if you take a bite,</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
Your life may soon be through.</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
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Oh, Christmas is a day</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
Of all kinds of good cheer,</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
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Along with many reasons</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
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To try to hold it dear.</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span>Remember as you struggle<br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
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To keep it full of fun,</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span>The reason for the season<br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
Is Jesus, Number One.<br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span>Mary S. Palmer<br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
12/14/13</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span>Mary S. Palmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07251622165634913012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007122961533841652.post-67316222682639969902013-12-10T08:54:00.003-08:002013-12-10T08:54:56.685-08:00The Reverend's Rambling - Christmas thoughts<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
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The Reverend's
Rambling </div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Two days before
Christmas, following an altar girl with the cross held high, Reverend Timothy
O'Hara walked down the center isle of Saint Mary's Catholic Church. He moved
slower than in the past. Knee surgery and his eighty-two years were telling on
him. </div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Why am I still saying six a.m. Mass every
morning? </i>he mused. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I'm retired; I
don't have to do this. Too many innovations nowadays. I never liked the idea of
girls as altar servers but I have to tolerate them; I have to read some of the
liturgy because it's been updated and my memorized version isn't in vogue; and
I stumble on the words, embarrassing myself. Hell, I can't even recite the
Lord's Prayer anymore without missing a beat sometimes.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Hell? I said Hell on the steps to the
sanctuary. God forgive me. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></i>The deacon at his side held onto the
priest's elbow as he walked up the steps and over to the lectern to face the
parishioners. "In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy
Ghost--" The Mass had begun. As soon as Father O'Malley sat for the
readings by the lecturer, his mind wandered again.</div>
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</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I guess it's the Irish in me, I always get
sentimental at Christmastime and when a new year approaches. More so now that
most of my family's gone and I never had one of my own. I think about regrets. Over
fifty years a priest. I've baptized many children, and their children</i>. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I've watched them grow up. Some turned out
fine; others, well, not so good. I've buried many parishioners, too. And
visited them in jail. Plus, listening to their woes and trying to advise and
console them, promising them God never forgets them. I've also reminded a few
why they're on Earth--not to rack up millions but to serve God and reach
heaven.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></i>He stared at the deacon who had begun reading
the gospel but he wasn't listening to the words of it.</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hmmm, I wonder what my life would have been
like if I'd gone to medical school like I planned? Maybe not much different. As
an internist, I'd still be counseling people, listening to their problems. But,
God willing, I would have had children. Would I now be proud of them, or would
that have been a disaster? Although I never let them know it, sometimes the
school children get on my nerves. Maybe I wouldn't have been a good father. </i>He
suppressed a smile. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Was I any good at
being a "father" to my flock? <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></i>Father O'Hara blinked when he realized
the deacon had finished reading the gospel. He rose for the Prayers of the
Faithful; following them, he stepped over to the altar and recited the Mass
prayers almost in a sing-song fashion. The congregation stood and joined in
when he reached the Lord's Prayer. At the Sign of Peace, he looked out at the
pews and waved to the O'Hara's, who always attended daily Mass, the general's
wife who came most of the time alone, and to Sister Louise, now retired. He blinked
when he spotted the young couple who'd just lost the month old baby he'd
baptized in a back pew on the side area. As they hugged each other, he could
see the sadness in their eyes. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I'm glad I never had to suffer through losing
a child,</i> he consoled himself. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></i>The Mass ended. After telling the
congregation, "Go in peace to love and serve the Lord," he received
help down the steps. On the way down the aisle, he passed a lady he didn't
recognize, but she looked familiar somehow. She followed him to the back of the
church.</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As soon as they
reached the holy water fount, she touched his arm and motioned him over by the
sacristy door.</div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Father O'Hara,"
she said with a twinkle in her blue eyes, "I guess you don't remember me.
It's been many years, but I'm Susan Stein Lewis." She lowered her voice to
a whisper. "But I bet you remember the night you kissed me goodbye and
said you were going to the seminary."</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Father O'Hara cut
his eyes in all directions. He hoped the parishioners passing by didn't hear
her remark. "Oh, Susan. What a nice surprise. How has life treated
you?" he asked, recalling what a tease she'd always been.</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Actually,
I've had a very good life. My husband, John, is very successful. He's an
engineer, retired now, so we moved back to my hometown. We have two children,
the oldest, John, Jr., is also an engineer. The younger one, Timothy, she
chuckled and blinked, "well, he's almost middle-aged but still finding
himself." She pulled out a picture of a handsome man with carrot red hair
and a winning smile and held it up. Her voice lowered. "John doesn't know
it, but I named him for you."</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She edged closer. "Look,
Tim, er, Father, he's in jail on drug charges and burglary. I came to ask you
to say some prayers for him." Her mouth twisted in a smug look that he
remembered fondly. Then she added, "If things had been different, he might
have been your son," and Father Tim caught his breath.</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He put his arm
around her shoulder. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oh, dear God, my
memories are flooding back. No, I never forgot that last kiss. I think I loved
her. My decision, was it right? Timmy? He's got red hair like mine was before
it turned white. Would he have been different if I'd been his father?" </i>He
blinked. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">How am I going to handle this?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He stiffened his
body, stepped back, and held Susan at arm's length. "Since Timmy is your
son, Susan," he said in a firm tone of voice, "I'm sure he's enough
like you to overcome adversity. Give him a little time and keep praying for him
and he'll be all right."</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Father O'Hara steadied
himself by leaning his back against the wall. "Suz," he used his pet
name for her, "I'm convinced that you know the right things to tell Timmy
to turn him around, back to God. And I'll keep him in my prayers."</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The tears in his
former girlfriend's eyes melted his heart. He hoped he was telling her the
truth. But it was time for dismissal. He looked at his watch. "I'm sorry,
but I have to go. A baptism. Thank you for coming by." He squeezed her
elbow. "Keep the faith." He didn't extend an invitation to come
again.</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It wasn't till Suz
left that he realized how ludicrous his statement--"Keep the faith"--was.
Suz was not Catholic; she was Jewish and deeply entrenched in her religion. It
reminded him that their marriage could have turned out to be a very shaky one.
A definite obstacle to happiness. </div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Walking back to
the rectory, Father O'Hara raised his eyes to the sky. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">So, the baptism's not till this afternoon, but I had to have an excuse
to leave, Lord, before I got in some real trouble. Ah, age doesn't end
feelings. Suz was quite a looker and she's still a charmer--and a tease.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></i>He turned and looked back at the church
he'd just left. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This isn't the first time
I've had doubts about being a priest, either. But I think it's the last. I may
be an old man, but I learned something from that encounter: The church is my
home; I made the right decision. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span>Mary S. Palmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07251622165634913012noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007122961533841652.post-24555250771866436682013-11-16T12:26:00.000-08:002013-11-16T12:26:15.372-08:00<br />
My latest post, <em>Anticipation, </em>a Thanksgiving story, won First Place 11/16/13 in the Baldwin Writers' Group contest. It was a nice gift certificate from Books a Million and an autographed book by our guest speaker. I'm sure I'll enjoy both.Mary S. Palmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07251622165634913012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007122961533841652.post-78651411790366700992013-11-16T12:23:00.002-08:002013-11-16T12:23:49.712-08:00<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">
ANTICIPATION</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Lottie looked at
her watch. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It's already noon. They'll be
here in a minute. </i>As in Thanksgivings past, she placed Haviland dinner
plates on the table, admiring the tiny pink flowers of the Varenne pattern.
Next, she put her sterling silver knives, forks and spoons in the proper order
on either side of the plates. She slipped pure white cloth napkins into brass
rings and made sure they were exactly parallel to the spoons.</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Oh,"
she said with a little tremor in her voice, "someone's knocking at the
door. That must be Susu, she always gets here first."</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When Lottie opened
the door, she got a big hug. "Glad to see you, Mama. How are you
doing?"</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"I'm fine.
You want to help me finish setting the table? Get the turkey platter. It's on
the bar in the kitchen." She smiled. "I didn't carve the bird yet. I
wanted you to see how pretty it is."</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"It's lovely,
Mama." She put the turkey in the center of the table.</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Lottie poured some
iced tea in each crystal goblet. "I hope Jansen gets here on time.
Everything's hot and I don't want it to get cold."</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The door opened
and a tall, slender man walked in. "I'm here," he announced. Putting
his arm around his mother's shoulders, he said, "Good to see you."
Then he sat at the table and Lottie sat across from him.</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Let's say
the blessing." Reaching out, Lottie took each of their hands. "Oh,
Lord, thank you for the many times we had Thanksgiving at this table in the
past. And please bless those who can't be with us today." She reeled off a
list of grandchildren's names. "Please bless all of us, too. Thank you for
all the gifts you've given us, including our family being together today
enjoying this meal."</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They said an <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Amen</i> in unison.</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Lottie pointed to
the turkey, "Could you please do the honors, Jansen? Use that electric
knife, it slices more evenly and..."</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Her words trailed
off as she slumped forward in her chair. When it tilted sideways, she fell to
the floor with a thud. </div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Seconds later, two
nurses who'd received an alert from a monitor rushed into the room. They shoved
a card table out of the way and, following procedure, carefully rolled Lottie
onto her back. </div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"She's still
breathing, but her heart's beating erratically. I don't think we'll be able to
resuscitate her this time," one of them said as she frantically administered
CPR.</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Minutes later, despite
their efforts, Lottie was gone. The older nurse had tears in her eyes.
"Miss Lottie was a sweet woman, kind and patient, not like some of the old
biddies in here. She rarely complained." She looked at the lifeless
figure. "It's sad. She's been in Baytime Nursing Home ever since I have.
Four years and not once have her two children visited; the only time I saw them
was when she was admitted. I guess they think they're too important to be away
from their offices. The son's a psychiatrist in Atlanta and the daughter's a
big-shot literary agent in New York."</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The other nurse raised
her brows. "Really? That's awful that they don't come see their mother."</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Well, they
seldom call to check on her. Oh, the daughter sends expensive clothes for her
birthday and Christmas. But I think that's to ease her own conscience."</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"You're
probably right. But Miss Lottie never spoke ill of them. I'm new here but Miss
Lottie's one of the patients I took a liking to right away." She looked at
the table with paper plates, cups, and plastic serving pieces wrapped in a
paper napkin, all were in disarray. "What's all the stuff on that card
table about?"</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Oh, we
humored her. Every Thanksgiving we'd set up a table and let her pretend her
family was coming for dinner," she replied as she bit her bottom lip.
"She'd talk to them, but I don't know if she really believed they were
here. She did have a little dementia." She looked at the pale pink blouse
with the lace collar they'd pulled back to work on Miss Lottie. Stepping
closer, she re-buttoned it and pushed her patient's white hair off her
forehead. "But she didn't forget her nice designer clothes and she always
made sure we dressed her up for this occasion."</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The nurse backed
away and shook her head. "So, whether this dinner with her family was
pretend or real in Miss Lottie's world, I guess it doesn't really matter.
Either way, for her, it was Thanksgiving and she used it as a time to give
thanks, even if her family didn't show up and she didn't have much to be
thankful for."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She pulled a
tissue from her pocket, roughly wiped her eyes, and kicked a folding chair
beside the card table out of her way. "I'll notify her son and daughter.
Maybe they'll make it to the funeral." She shrugged. "But I wouldn't
bet on it."</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span>Mary S. Palmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07251622165634913012noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007122961533841652.post-21767551575223504582013-10-25T08:15:00.002-07:002013-10-25T08:15:33.434-07:00SpookedThe little boy walked<br />
Up the stairs<br />
That creaked on every step.<br />
<br />
He held his nose<br />
To stop the smell<br />
Of old food that was kept.<br />
<br />
Then suddenly<br />
He heard a sound<br />
Like one not heard before.<br />
<br />
As he shook<br />
And turned around<br />
He heard a slamming door.<br />
<br />
But in the dark<br />
He could not see<br />
What creature lay in wait.<br />
<br />
Nobody lived here<br />
For many years,<br />
And he knew not their fate.<br />
<br />
Behind him then<br />
A step did squeak<br />
And he knew all was over.<br />
<br />
So, terrified,<br />
He froze in place<br />
Till it said, "I'm your mother."<br />
<br />
MSP<br />
10/25/13Mary S. Palmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07251622165634913012noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007122961533841652.post-13689320318954979382013-10-23T11:31:00.001-07:002013-10-23T11:31:25.701-07:00HalloweenGhosts and goblins<br />
Walk around<br />
Scaring children<br />
All over town.<br />
<br />
Trick or treat<br />
Is the word<br />
Treat's the one<br />
That is heard.<br />
<br />
At other levels<br />
Adults live<br />
Not so happy<br />
As they give.<br />
<br />
But fun abounds<br />
And problems wane<br />
As we become<br />
Children again.<br />
<br />
10/23/13Mary S. Palmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07251622165634913012noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007122961533841652.post-68428534878094778182013-09-17T09:42:00.001-07:002013-09-22T08:28:49.813-07:00Writer's blockI'd like to know what the term <i>Writer's Block </i>really means. For some writers the definition is simple. They say it's when they sit with a pen in hand or at the computer, like I do, and nothing comes to mind. How can that be true, though? As far as I know, people always have something, whatever it may be, on their minds. A mind is never really blank. Of course, we can have things drifting through like what we need at the grocery store or whether we have enough time to go there before picking up Johnny from baseball practice, but some thoughts are always there.<br />
<br />
True, writers are a different breed. Some want a full outline before beginning to write. But it may work to just sit down and type whatever IS on your mind. That thought, no matter how insignificant, could lead to a story. I avoid using cliches, even in dialogue. That requires effort. Instead, I'm trying to use more original metaphors and similes in my writing, so, I plan to write down random thoughts and see how I can transform them into figures of speech. That should give me a way to use those seemingly useless ideas floating around in my brain.<br />
<br />
I also discovered that almost any incident can find a place in a manuscript. Especially the humorous ones that happen to all of us. I generally jot down notes on these on the spot. As soon as possible, I develop them into a couple of paragraphs. Later, I find a home for them in another story. Quite often, they provide comic relief. The serious ones which pop into my subconscious can be more difficult to place. One example was a time I rescued a toddler wandering on a highway at night. I forgot the incident for years. Something may have triggered my memory because one day I found myself wondering what happened to him as he grew up. I didn't have the answer but I found a place to use the incident in a book. <br />
<br />
I've been told that I don't waste anything. I either eat leftovers or save them for soup. I suppose that habit spills over into my writing. If I find words wandering around in my brain, I latch onto them, put them into sentence form, develop the batch into paragraphs and, finally, I will tuck them into a manuscript. Does this help turn the key to unlatch <i>Writer's Block? </i><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Mary S. Palmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07251622165634913012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007122961533841652.post-23932054998087385892013-09-10T16:38:00.001-07:002013-09-10T16:38:13.054-07:00HAPPY DAYHAPPY DAY<br />
<br />
<br />With good news,<br />
It's a good day<br />
I'm having one<br />
I'm glad to say.<br />
<br />
The sequel to<br />
TIME WILL TELL<br />
Is coming soon,<br />
I hope it sells.<br />
<br />
QUESTION OF TIME<br />
Is in Musa's hands<br />
I hope it climbs<br />
To a status grand.<br />
<br />
And then TIME WAS,<br />
The third book,<br />
Will be published, too,<br />
Please take a look.<br />
<br />
When a contract's signed<br />
It's a step on the way,<br />
Hopefully leading to<br />
More happy days.<br />
<br />
Mary S. Palmer<br />
9/10/13<br />
<br />
<br />Mary S. Palmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07251622165634913012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007122961533841652.post-34756766347612082452013-08-06T08:48:00.000-07:002013-08-06T08:48:09.992-07:00END OF SUMMER<div class="MsoNormal">
I used grammarly.com to check this because:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Though poetry is subjective,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Readers still spot misspelled words.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I would rather write it right</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I won't be corrected. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
End of Summer</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Summer's waning,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But Daylight Saving Time</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Still provides</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Long evenings.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As August creeps along</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And Labor Day approaches,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Children reluctantly</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Return to their classrooms.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Beachgoers return home,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And settle in</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For the chilly days</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Of fall.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Work resumes</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At a faster pace.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Multitasking sometimes</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Causes waste.<br />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Writers try to tell</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Of the beauty </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Seen in the changing</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Of the leaves.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But no words</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Can adequately describe</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The pictures</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
God draws on the wall.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
MSP</div>
Mary S. Palmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07251622165634913012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007122961533841652.post-41982443999620600022013-07-25T08:55:00.000-07:002013-07-25T08:55:01.996-07:00NITPICKING<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">"I used Grammarly to </span></i><a href="http://www.grammarly.com/" target="_blank"><span class="yshortcuts"><i><span style="background: white; color: #1155cc; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">grammar
check</span></i></span></a><i><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"> this post, because </span></i><i><span style="background: white; color: red; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">I don't
want any nit-pickers finding errors in it.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
NITPICKING</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It's always
amazing how some of the worst readers, those who can't spell <i>I</i>, can find errors in books. Although
such criticism can be instructive, it's often nitpicking.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The source of the
phrase is gross. It comes from the task of removing eggs of lice from someone's
hair and clothing, a tedious job that requires close attention to detail. It's
interesting to note that fifty percent of Civil War soldiers had lice, so one
of their favorite pastimes was having lice races.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Maybe that's what
some readers are trying to prove--that they can find flaws in an author's
writing, even though they themselves can't write a complete sentence. Such
fault finders never seem to make any suggestions for improvement, either.
Perhaps their goal is just to win the lice race by finding the most errors.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Should authors
listen to them? I'd say <i>Yes. </i>It's
possible to learn something from anybody. However, don't be discouraged because
your writing isn't perfect. You should also make your own final judgment
regarding whether the criticism is justified with an eye to considering the
source. Remember, monkeys nitpick all the time. </div>
Mary S. Palmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07251622165634913012noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007122961533841652.post-84019642269456016322013-05-12T06:23:00.000-07:002013-05-12T06:23:10.805-07:00To Mother with LoveFor all the things I didn't say<br />
The compliments not paid.<br />
For times of night, and of day,<br />
I could've been less staid.<br />
<br />
I wish I'd told you that I cared<br />
More often than I did.<br />
So many things we might have shared<br />
Were left alone, unsaid.<br />
<br />
Perhaps you knew it all along,<br />
And words unspoken came<br />
To you in terms of things like song<br />
Each time you heard my name.<br />
<br />
Still there will be another day<br />
When we both meet above<br />
To have my chance to simply say<br />
I'd like to share my love.<br />
<br />
MSPMary S. Palmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07251622165634913012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007122961533841652.post-68121748982917488102013-05-07T08:47:00.001-07:002013-05-09T12:32:48.466-07:00Presentation in MetairieDoing the presentation to writers in the New Orleans area was very interesting. The Fiction Writers' Group, which meets at the Jefferson Parish Library, has serious writers who are attentive. They liked the exercises I gave them and I also learned a few things from their responses and participation.<br />
<br />
I sold a few copies of my most recent book, CHANCE FOR REDEMPTION, and the library is going to purchase copies of that and of my other titles. It takes a little time to prepare a program for two hours, but making such appearances is great PR and it helps build a writer's platform. It's also fun and a great excuse to visit New Orleans.<br />
<br />
Mary S. Palmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07251622165634913012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007122961533841652.post-2938803364635830032013-05-03T07:02:00.002-07:002013-05-03T07:02:35.946-07:00I'm excited to announce that my latest book, CHANCE FOR REDEMPTION, a fantasy novella, is now in print and will soon be on Amazon.com. I will have copies available immediately--5/3/13. If you are interested, you can contact me at my e-mail address: mlsp1@bellsouth.net.<br />
<br />
In this story, mercenary Jerome Strait discovers that his wealth will not help him get into heaven; to be redeemed, he must return to Earth and correct all of his mistakes. However, an angel named Ezekiel is sent to guide him.<br />
<br />
It has been compared to IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE. It would be "wonderful" if it is as successful as that story was.<br />
<br />
I appreciate all who take and interest in my work.<br />
<br />
<br />Mary S. Palmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07251622165634913012noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007122961533841652.post-8884574906806026432013-04-25T08:40:00.002-07:002013-04-25T08:40:24.804-07:00On May 6, I will be doing a presentation to the Writers Group at the Jefferson Parish Library in Metairie, LA. It will focus on elements of writing such as lead-in's and cliff hangers as well as using figures of speech in novels.<br />
If anyone is in the area, it starts at 7 p.m.<br />
<br />
Thanks,<br />
<br />
Mary S. PalmerMary S. Palmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07251622165634913012noreply@blogger.com0