Merry CHRISTMAS!

How many of you who read this during this blessed Christmas time  have a short story to share?  Let us Share!

December 17, 2010


                                                  A Short Story For Christmas
                                              By Marcus Wilder, The Naive Abroad

Thank you Debbie at Right Truth, and Marcus Wilder

It was cold. The street was wet. A blustery wind blew the thin hair of a stooped old man walking uncertainly with a cane.

The old man looked carefully into each lamppost trash can. He reached into one to pull out a folded newspaper. Holding the newspaper securely under his free arm the old man returned the way he came.

In his tiny, shabby apartment, the old man carefully separated two sheets of newspaper from the rest and spread them on a battered table.

The old man went to his closet and selected a tie, five inches wide and spotted with spilled food. He returned to the table to fold the tie carefully.

He took two wrinkled ribbons from a drawer

The old man carefully wrapped the tie in newspaper and bound it with a ribbon. He tied a clumsy bow and set the wrapped tie aside.

From a china cabinet with chipped paint and a cracked glass, the old man took a cracked cup and a chipped saucer. He set these carefully in the center of the remaining sheet of newspaper.

Carefully, with shaking hands, the old man gathered the newspaper around the cup and saucer and tied it with the other ribbon. This bow too was clumsy.

From a side table the old man took a small, framed photograph of a young woman with a 1940s hairstyle. He placed the photograph on the table with the wrapped presents and set the presents carefully before the photograph.

"It's Christmas, Margaret. It's time to open our gifts. Shall I open mine first?"

With great care, the old man unwrapped the tie.

"A tie! It's a beautiful tie. You've always had such wonderful taste, Margaret."

"Shall I open your gift?"

Again with great care, the old man unwrapped the cup and saucer.

"It's a cup and saucer to match your tea set, Margaret. I knew you would like it."

The old man sat for a long time looking at the photograph before getting up to clear away the newspaper.

He replaced the ribbons in their drawer.

He arranged the gifts carefully before the photograph.

"It was a wonderful Christmas, Margaret."

* * *
This Christmas, carefully count every blessing.
Leave nothing out.

Note from Debbie: Marcus Wilder is a fine writer and friend of Right Truth. Please thank him for sharing his work with us and check out his website and books  here

GOD Bless you all and Merry Christmas 

WHERE IS UCHI?

Somewhere in the dark past, I was with KMAG in Korea.  The compound I was on was Out of Kwangji to the west.  This compound was A training Base and near the entrance was a statue of ULCHI MUN-DOK.

This was in 1955-56 and really did not think of it till I ran across some old ! film from that period.  I started looking and not found him as yet.  WHERE IS ULCHI?

Bill Lowery Kmag Kwangju 1955-56

   

                                                               NEAR KWANGJU

NEAR BUYEO?

Reward  1 billion, $.01 MPC 1956

A Man's strength

Behind most Military Warriors stands a figure of strength

THE SILENT RANKS

I wear no uniforms, no blues or greens

But, I am in the military, in the ranks rarely seen

I have no rank upon my shoulders. Salutes I do not give.

But in the military world is where I live and am rarely seen.

I am not in the chain of command, Orders I do not give or get

But my husband is one who does, this I can not forget.

I am not the one who fires a weapon, who puts his life on the line

But my job is just as tough, I'm the one who is always left behind.

My husband is a patriot, a brave and pride filled man.

And the call to serve his country not all can understand

Behind the lies, I see things needed to keep this country free.

My husband makes the sacrifice, but so do my kids and me.

I love the man I married. The military is his life.

So, I pledge to support my hero and stand among the silent ranks

 

known as THE MILITARY WIFE

Thanks to my granddaughter Annetta Ramos

"OUR FLAG"

THIRTEEN STRIPES ALTERNATING RED AND WHITE

A BLUE FIELD IN THE UPPER LEFT CORNER

FIFTY WHITE STARS  ONE FOR EACH STATE

I PLEDGE ALLEGIANCE TO THE FLAG OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA AND TO THE REPUBLIC FOR WHICH IT STANDS

ONE NATION UNDER GOD WITH LIBERTY AND JUSTICE FOR ALL

As first grader in 1941, I and my classmates learned this pledge.  We recited this statement of allegiance almost everyday during school, at assemblies and at sporting events.

The star spangled banner, and America the Beautiful were also part of my life day after day.

My Military life seemed to be an extension of what I had experienced My early life.

After my Military service and until now, I still get a lump in my throat each time I hear or recite those words.

MAY THOSE WORDS NEVER BE TAKEN AWAY FROM US!

Today I was repaid for my loyalty to our flag and witnessed an unknown persons respect to our flag.  While checking my storage building, I noticed a small plastic American flag taped to a straw.  Someone found it on the ground  scratched and wrinkled and placed it next to my lock.  Thank you whoever you are, for saving that flag and showing the respect it deserved, I carefully stored it in hopes everyone will save our flag one more time

TAKE TIME FOR OUR TRIBUTE TO THOSE WHO MADE OUR NATION FREE AND THOSE WHO KEEP IT FREE!

MEMORAL DAY

REMEMBER THOSE WHO FOUGHT TO MAKE US FREE

In Flanders Fields

John McCrae, 1915.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

In 1915, inspired by the poem "In Flanders Fields," Moina Michael replied with her own poem:

We cherish too, the Poppy red

That grows on fields where valor led,

It seems to signal to the skies

That blood of heroes never dies.

THE BUDDY POPPY WAS BORN, BUY ONE OR MORE

OBSERVE MEMORIAL DAY

POP

Lowery's got a lot of girls!

Who say's there is no GOD?

OLDEST GRANDAUGHTER, and her three "Kittens"