Dave's Stories: Recent Episodes
David Armstrong
For several years I've published poems, photos, stories, and essays to my site http://davescreations.weebly.com Dave's Stories is my first attempt at posting audio stories.
The Torn SoleJosh's shoes were worn, torn. They flipped and flopped when he walked. He thought all the kids could hear his shoes and see his torn soul.
FADING LOVE
by Rebecca "Bo" Clinard KirkpatrickThis poem by Bo Kirkpatrick reflects on the loss of a loved one. Love may fade away over time, but there are always moments that jolt the senses to bring the faded love back to center state in the heart and the mind.
Thank you, Ms. Kirkpatrick, for sharing this poem.
Hicks, a local legend in the newspaper publishing business, owned and operated the Monroe County Democrat from 1967 until 1990. During his remarkable career, Hicks won several prestigious national awards including the Elijah Parish Lovejoy Award for Courage in Journalism and The Golden Quill Award for editorial excellence in 1969, and The John Peter Zenger Freedom of the Press Award in 1972. In addition, Hicks and his staff won dozens of First Place awards from the University of Tennessee State Press Association. During his career as a journalist, Hicks worked in various capacities for several newspapers in Knoxville, Clinton, Oak Ridge, and Virginia Beach, VA. Hicks was a 1949 graduate of the University of Tennessee School of Journalism, and served his country in the U.S. Army during World War II and the Korean War.
The Story of Samuel R. Bush
On August 12, 1909 Southern Railway Engineer Samuel R. Bush blew the whistle as his engine left the city at the Park Avenue bridge near his home on Park Avenue. A series of low, soft blasts signaled to his family that he was leaving the city on his daily run north toward Bristol. Loud blasts would announce his return later in the day.
Friends
This is a twisted little story just for fun....hope my 'friends' don't mind
Jerry fumbled with the the small bag of white powder
Concealed in the palm of his moist hand.
His eyes followed the steam rising from Drake's
Coffee until they met Drake's trusting face.
Drake spoke:
"Sure am glad to see you again, Jerry.
It's hard to believe . . . Jenny and I had thought
Our best man died four years ago. That's when
We got the last letter from you." A reminiscent
Silence gripped the room for a moment.
A breeze blew in from the adjoining gardens.
"What are you doing these days?" queried Drake.
Jerry glance at his hand.
"Just odd jobs -- for friends."
Drake suddenly leaned forward. "Why don't
You join my company? Good pay -- and I'll
See that you advance quickly. I'd do anything
For an old friend -- anything. How about it?"
Anything - Jerry paused for a moment. "Sounds great.
By golly, Drake, I think it's a grand idea."
The bag was open.
"Thanks for accepting," said Drake. "I'll go
Get Jenny. Will she be surprised to see you."
"Surprised?" thought Jerry as he poured
The powder into Drake's coffee. "Really?"
Mornings are Later Now
Mornings arrive later now; the methodical and predictable strolling of this vast universe through time makes it so. How calm, quiet and motionless feels this seasonal morning that hurls through time with incomprehensible speed and force; we ride along for only a brief moment on its infinite journey. But let us be thankful for our moment to ride along among friends; to do what we can to make each morning, however late, be better. Too soon our evening will come and we must greet it with no regrets.
As always, have a wonderful day
I have a confession to make...
During my year as a teacher of VIP math at Byington-Solway Technology Center, I violated Knox County Schools polity every Friday...hear the story to know how and why.
Growing Up On the Farm
Growing up on a farm is great fun -- especially when you no longer have to be a farmer. My grandparents' dairy business closed the year I was born and I was lucky enough to have the freedom to roam the farm as a kid growing up there...many wonderful memories and stories about the family farm can be told.
Reflections on Tomorrow Morning's night
Lucy awakened me in the wee hours of today (well, in the wee hours of today's night or maybe it is tomorrow's morning night). She went out, did what dog's do (even in tomorrow's morning night), returned and did something she has not done in, well, a few months: she came straight to 'her' chair that sat beside Ruth's chair, looked back at me and in her way asked "put me in my chair please..." and I lifted her gently into the arms of the waiting chair that often had kept her safe during the night. As if to get things right, she scratched and pawed for a full minute until her 'bed' was just right, then cuddled in to the chairs' waiting arms and fell fast asleep.
Yesterday's day and tomorrow's morning night were insightful in several subtle ways....
A story of two neighbor girls who come to bird watch but get a little - or a lot - distracted from the task at hand.
Dining across from an elderly but very exquisite lady at her grandson's wedding dinner brought a grand surprise.
My favorite poet, Robert Frost, wrote "good fences make good neighbors." Maybe so, but he didn't get home made brownies handed to him across his fence..enjoy the story.
The Tolling of the ChimesAs a graduate student at the University of Tennessee in 1975 I had some time between classes and was sitting on "The Hill" on campus just watching all the rush of life going on around me while the chimes in the tower steadily marked the quarter hour. I was inspired to try to capture the hundreds of elements in the hurried world - elements that, while existing together, were never really together at all. The chimes? Well, the chimes just marked the moving on of time.
On Watching Leaves Fall
Fall brings on a season of color marking the crossroads between summer and winter. Leaves turn colors in their final burst of brilliance and the tree loosens its life-giving grip. Fall winds return to complete the fall, giving each leaf its flying flutter of freedom before disappearing again among the thousands on the ground.
About "Whispering Walls"
While in graduate school at the University of Tennessee, I did my Masters' Degree research at Ramsey Elementary School where I attended as a child. Only one teacher, Mildred Asbury, was still there and she was a year from retirement. The school has since been torn down and only a monument with the school bell remains on the site. I have as a prized possession a brick from the old school. It makes a great foundation. Hope you enjoy this story and it takes you back to your youth.
Chatting for a TidbitI have great neighbors. Among them are the children who enjoy coming over to visit Lucy or to tell stories or to just visit awhile. This delightful window of childhood closes all too quickly as they grow up so fast. Enjoy this 'chat' with a friend.
What to do on a rainy day
On a rainy April day there's not much to do outside so we turned out attention to inside - inside cabinets above the washer and dryer. There we found some games to give away.
Each morning just before dawn dozens of species of birds gather to sing in a chorus of melodies sending their greetings to others often blocks away. We humans have learned to 'tune out' these sounds in our daily lives, but sometimes it's relaxing to just gather yourself in a rocking chair on the front porch, maybe sip a little coffee and to let the birds sing the songs to you.
Our old two-story white farmhouse had a front porch that spanned the entire front of the home. Six big maple trees provided cooling shade on hot summer days. Family, friends, and visitors spent many hours across many seasons on that old front porch and under those shade trees. America needs front porches again to bring friends and family together.
Aaron "Tip" Armstrong and Lewis Luttrell were good friends in the mid 1800s but what happened one cold night in 1867 proves that talking politics - even with best friends - can turn deadly in an instant.
It's just a little bird, but what a big voice it has. The Carolina Wren sings to a mate far off in the woods.
Jimmy Stewart brought Johnny Carson to tears with this recitation of poem about "Bo", Stewart's dog. I've dropped a sound track of "Fur Elise" underneath the story. Be sure you have some tissues handy before you listen.
This is an experiment in audio blogs. The story of Lucy the Elephant is my first attempt at blogging.