‘A CHRISTMAS CAROL’ — THE REST OF THE STORY??? — # 4

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

A few years ago, with my sincere apologies to Mr. Charles Dickens, I created a series of futuristic vignettes that take a look at a few of the characters of his heart-warming novel and what their lives may have been like decades beyond the words “The End” at the close of his masterpiece. Recently, I decided it would be fun to dig those stories out of my archives and dust them off. Maybe they will make this Christmas a little more fun. These tales are simply the result of my imagination being given free rein, but I offer them in the spirit of the season, hoping you’ll enjoy them. You can also find them in my Christmas anthology Stocking Full of Stories, available from Amazon.

Today’s story focuses on the Spirit of Christmas Present

THE REST OF THE STORY # 4 — THE SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT: LIVING IN THE HERE AND NOW

Reggie sat slumped in his chair, his right leg carelessly propped over the chair arm, gloom written all over him. He’d been this way for weeks, and hitting the bottle wasn’t helping him any. It just gave him a horrible headache the next morning. So tonight, he’d left off the booze, but he sat in a stupor anyway.

“Well, what a pretty picture you make tonight, Reginald, old boy!” The voice jolted him upright; he looked around.

“Who’s there?”

The voice took shape: on the sofa to his right, a well-tailored man gradually came into focus, lounging with his feet propped on the coffee table. “I’m generally called Spirit of Christmas Present. That’s what your Uncle Ebeneezer called me.”

“Oh, so you’re the one who supposedly helped him straighten out his life, huh?”

The figure shrugged. “Among others.”

“Well, you can go back where you came from,” Reggie said, at the same time making a shooing motion with his hand. “I don’t need anything you have to say!”

“You need a hammer to your head!” his visitor replied. “It’s just a shame I’m not allowed to give it to you.”

“Hey, where do you get off talking like that to me? Threatening to hit me in the head with a hammer! For what?”

“For constantly trying to live in a time dimension that it’s impossible for you to inhabit. You’re always trying to live either in the past – sucking on your memories the way a baby does his thumb – or in the future – always focusing on next week or next year. It’s stupid. Your memories make you miserable, and your future makes you anxious and edgy because it holds problems you don’t have answers for yet.”

“Oh, I get it. You’re here because you think you’re going to fix me?”

“No … I’m going to tell you how you can fix yourself.”

“Well, just maybe I don’t want to be fixed. What do you think about that?”

“Your uncle didn’t think he wanted to be fixed either – until he saw where his life was leading him. Do we have to give you the same kind of detailed, guided tour of your life that we gave him?”

“Who’s we?”

“You know – the Spirits of Christmas Past and Future, and yours truly.”

Reggie shivered in his chair. He would never consider admitting to this strange visitor that he believed what had happened to his old uncle, but he did have to admit to himself that he’d seen the changes in Ebeneezer first hand. And when his uncle had described his experience, it had sent cold chills down Reggie’s spine. He certainly didn’t want any more of that.

“Okay, okay. Just give me your spiel and let me get back to my contemplation.”

“What you were … contemplating … as you call it … was how sorry you are for yourself. And what I’m going to tell you will set you free from all your self-pity and wasted life if you’ll take heed to it.”

“Okay, okay, get on with it.”

“Well, it’s actually very simple, Reggie. You simply have to make yourself be where you are.”

“Huh?” Reggie shook his head briskly and sat forward in his chair, looking more intently at his visitor. “What the heck does that mean?”

His visitor sighed. “It means, Reg, that you need to live in the present hour — every hour of your life. Live now. You can’t re-do yesterdays, Reggie, and the future is nothing but a long series of ‘now’s’ that you’ll eventually experience one at a time. But when you get to them, you’ll have what it takes to deal with each of them. Trying to worry ahead of time about what might or might not be in those ‘now’s’ is ridiculous because you can’t even begin to know what they’ll be like. So why exhaust yourself worrying about them? And why drive yourself to drink by sitting around pitying yourself for the things that have already happened and can’t be changed?”

Reggie hung his head. “Yeah, I guess I have to admit my life’s a bummer coming and going.”

His visitor jumped up from the sofa, and Reggie looked up at him, a little fearful.

“Then for heaven’s sake, man, quit coming and going – hopping from your sad past to your unreadable future! Start living where you are and when you are. Take one day at a time, and one hour at a time. Look at it, feel it, taste it; let it soak into you; enjoy everything you can about it, and if you can’t enjoy it, then learn something from it. But live it. Start really living each one of those moments in your life, Reggie, and you’ll be surprised at the outcome.”

“But I don’t think I know how.”

“It isn’t rocket science, Reggie. As I said at the beginning of our conversation: it’s simple. You just have to decide to do it. And I’m not telling you everything will be the way you want it. Your life – like anyone else’s – will have its ups and downs. It may not always be great – but at least it will be real.”

Reggie hung his head again, trying to get a better handle on the fact that he was listening to some vision that had just suddenly appeared in his living room. He had to admit that what his visitor said gave him the first inkling of hope that he could actually have a better life. He looked back up to the visitor to say so — then blinked. The room was empty.    ♦

 

Tomorrow, our final story featuring The Spirit of Christmas Future

‘A CHRISTMAS CAROL’ — THE REST OF THE STORY ??? – # 3

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

A few years ago, with my sincere apologies to Mr. Charles Dickens, I created a series of futuristic vignettes that take a look at a few of the characters of his heart-warming novel and what their lives may have been like decades beyond the words “The End” at the close of his masterpiece. Recently, I decided it would be fun to dig those stories out of my archives and dust them off. Maybe they will make this Christmas a little more fun. These tales are simply the result of my imagination being given free rein, but I offer them in the spirit of the season, hoping you’ll enjoy them. You can also find them in my Christmas anthology Stocking Full of Stories, available from Amazon.

Today’s story focuses on the Spirit of Christmas Past

THE REST OF THE STORY # 3:  THE SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS PAST — REQUEST FOR TRANSFER

“Mr. Alexander, the Spirit of Christmas Past is here for his 2:00 appointment.”

“Send him in.”

As the door opened, his boss could see that Past was unhappy.

“Good to see you, Past. We haven’t had a talk in – what – three or four years?”

“Four years, Sir,” Past said, taking a seat.

“I get a lot of good reports about your work. But you look unhappy. Is something wrong?”

“Yes, Sir. Something’s very wrong!”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Can I help?”

“Well, Sir, I was wondering if I couldn’t trade places with Christmas Present for a while.”

“But you’re an expert at what you do, Past. Why would you want to have to learn a whole new job?”

“Because I never get a chance to use any of the new stuff, sir – any of the new technology and advanced equipment and devices that men have invented in the last several decades. I never get to play video games, or use cell phones, or those gadgets they call iPods. Why, do you realize I’ve never even had a chance to use a computer?”

“Well, I have to admit that I hadn’t given that point any thought, Past, but you don’t need any of those devices in your work, do you?”

That’s just the point, sir. I don’t need any of those things in my work, so I get none of the fun involved with using them. And there’s something else that’s just recently come out – a brand new thing-a-ma-jig that they call Oculus that lets you experience hundreds of different virtual worlds and lets you perform feats and play games that go beyond the imagination!”

“Oculus, huh?”

“Yes sir.”

Mr. Alexander just shook his head in consternation. He didn’t understand all this new-fangled equipment either, but that fact hadn’t bothered him before now. Maybe he was starting to fall behind the times himself. He looked back at Past, unsure what to say because he knew there was no way The Boss would go along with moving Past to a totally new time dimension.

Past looked at him hopefully. “It just isn’t fair, Sir! And that’s why I’m asking for a transfer. I was sure you’d understand when I explained.”

Mr. Alexander leaned back in his chair and looked at Past kindly. “Let me think this over for a bit, Past, and, of course, I’ll have to run it by The Boss.

One week later, Past walked back into Mr. Alexander’s office, having been summoned there to discuss the troubling issue again. When he arrived, he saw several gaily wrapped packages of various sizes on Alexander’s desk.

“Have you just finished your Christmas shopping?” Past asked.

“Not exactly, Past, but I have been doing some shopping for some special gifts.”

He motioned to a chair in front of his desk. “Sit down, Past, and I’ll tell you about these packages.”

Past took his seat, his eyes alight with excitement, and Mr. Alexander stood with his hand on top of one of the larger gifts. “The Boss says we just can’t possibly reassign you to a different job, Past. You’ve been trained specifically for what you do, and you bring centuries of experience into every case you handle. So we need you to stay where you are.”

Immediately Past’s mouth drooped and his eyes lost their light, but before he could say anything, Alexander continued.

“But The Boss and I also understand you naturally feel cheated in certain areas because of the need to focus uniquely on people, facts, and events from a dimension of time that has none of the benefits of the present day. You don’t get to spend any time in the present, and certainly have no possible involvement in what’s coming down the road in the future.

“So –” he turned and lifted one of the gifts, smiling at Past – “we felt the least we could do was to give you some of the devices that you’ve longed for the last several years. You may not get to use them on the job, but you can have fun with them personally in your time off.” At that point, he handed Past the gift he’d been holding.

“Receive this with our deep appreciation for the terrific job you do, Past. And all these other packages as well,” he added, sweeping his hand over the entire collection. “There’s one of everything you mentioned to me in our last meeting, and we hope they will, in some small way, make up for all that you’ve missed out on.”

Past was speechless. He was barely able to reach out and take the package from his boss’ hands. “I’m … I’m … Well, I just don’t know what to say,” he stammered. “All of these are for me?”

“Indeed they are, Past. Enjoy them as much as you can. It’s the least we can do for you considering all the people you’ve helped and the lives you worked so hard to change for good during your many years of faithful service in the … well … you know . . . the past.”  ♦

Stay tuned for Parts 4 & 5 over the next two days.

‘A CHRISTMAS CAROL — THE REST OF THE STORY??? – # 2

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

A few years ago, with my sincere apologies to Mr. Charles Dickens, I created a series of futuristic vignettes that take a look at a few of the characters of his heart-warming novel and what their lives may have been like decades beyond the words “The End” at the close of his masterpiece. Recently, I decided it would be fun to dig those stories out of my archives and dust them off. Maybe they will make this Christmas a little more fun. These tales are simply the result of my imagination being given free rein, but I offer them in the spirit of the season, hoping you’ll enjoy them. You can also find them in my Christmas anthology Stocking Full of Stories, available from Amazon.

Today’s story focuses on Tiny Tim.

THE REST OF THE STORY # 2: GETTING A SECOND CHANCE

“Excuse me, Mr. Alexander. You wanted to see me?”

“Oh, yes, Christmas Past. I’ve called for Present and Future as well. Oh … here they are now. Come in, gentlemen.”

“Is there a problem, sir?” Present asked.

Mr. Alexander sighed deeply. “Indeed there is! Come over to the Earthglass, gentlemen, and take a look. We’re going to listen in on a businessman’s dealings, with a poor couple.”

****The Earthglass brings a large, modern office into view.****

“Don’t blabber to me about Christmas! I told you months ago that if you didn’t have all the money by today, I would foreclose on this date.” His eyes gleamed and he rubbed his hands together in delight, envisioning the two-story mall he planned to build next year. Then he looked at them again. “And by tomorrow morning, I’ll have the three houses south of you as well.

“Please, Mr. Cratchit —”

“Silence! Enough begging. Go home and pack!”

“ But it’s Christmas Eve!”

“Christmas! Bah! Humbug!”

Christmas Past looked at Mr. Alexander. “Sir … is that ….?”

“Recognize him, Past?”

“Not … surely not Tim Cratchit!?”

“Yes.” Mr. Alexander let out another lengthy sigh. I’m afraid so, gentlemen. Tiny Tim. Although he’s about 300 pounds past tiny now. He eats only fats and sugars. Too stingy to buy decent food.”

“Is he why you’ve called us, sir?” Future asked.

“Yes,” Mr. Alexander answered, turning from the Earthglass and sitting back down at his desk. The other spirits sat in chairs across from him. “After Ebeneezer Scrooge changed his ways so dramatically, he grew very close to the Cratchit family and eventually left the business to Cratchit – who left it to Tim. But human nature being what it is, greed always manages to seep back in, and now Tim’s become another Scrooge.”

“You want us to visit him, Sir?” Present asked.

“Yes. That’s why I’ve called you.  It will take all three of you again.  But greed has become so much worse in the world this century that I have serious doubts about the success of your venture this time.”

Present leaned forward, looking his superior in the eye. “Sir, surely you don’t think Tiny Tim is beyond hope.”

With another sigh, Mr. Alexander leaned back in his chair before answering. “I honestly don’t know, Present. But we’re going to pull out all the stops to try and turn him around. I’m sending Ebeneezer ahead of you three. He’ll prepare the way just as Marley did for Scrooge himself. Tiny Tim grew to really love that old man before Ebeneezer left the earth, so if anyone can get through Tim’s hardened heart, it would be Ebeneezer.

“Beyond that, it’s all in your hands, gentlemen,” Mr. Alexander said, rising to see them out of the office. They rose as well, shook his hand in turn, and promised to give the project their highest effort.

“I have no doubt that you will,” he said, “and I certainly wish you God speed. It’s Christmas after all – the season of hope. I’ll hold onto that hope as tightly as possible while you do your work.”  ♦

Check back the next 3 days to read ‘the rest of the story’ for the spirits of past, present, and future.

‘A CHRISTMAS CAROL’ — THE REST OF THE STORY??? – # 1

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

A few years ago, with my sincere apologies to Mr. Charles Dickens, I created a series of futuristic vignettes that take a look at a few of the characters of his heart-warming novel and what their lives may have been like decades beyond the words “The End” at the close of his masterpiece. Recently, I decided it would be fun to dig those stories out of my archives and dust them off. Maybe they will make this Christmas a little more fun. These tales are simply the result of my imagination being given free rein, but I offer them in the spirit of the season, hoping you’ll enjoy them. You can also find them in my Christmas anthology Stocking Full of Stories, available from Amazon.

Today’s story deals with Ebenezer. But be sure and come back for the next 4 days as I tell you “the rest of the story” about Tiny Tim, and the Spirits of Christmas Past, Christmas Present, and Christmas Future.

THE REST OF THE STORY PART 1:  EBENEZER THE SUITOR

Ebenezer had never felt his heart stop beating before. Was that what was happening, or was he just forgetting to breathe? He wasn’t sure, but He did know he was looking at the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen, and he was glad he’d worn the new suit.

“Ebenezer, meet my cousin, Marilee Cratchit,” said Bob.

Marilee extended her hand, and Ebenezer took it, becoming submerged in the magical cloud of her cologne. He’d been nervous about attending this party, but since his regeneration on Christmas day last year, he was welcomed everywhere. Right now he felt ten feet off the ground. It seemed being a kind, generous man really was the most important thing in life.

“Ebeneezer, I’ve been dying to meet you,” Marilee cooed. “Come sit with me and talk.”

His heart danced. He couldn’t believe anyone so beautiful and fragile would be interested in spending time with him. His heart skipped a couple beats as he wondered: was he actually going to get another chance at love?

“What shall we talk about?” he asked her, contemplating ways to express his renewed heart to her. Ever since his transformation, he found that he wanted to tell everyone how good life was when you learned that people are more important than money.

“I’d like to talk about your money, of course!” she said. “They say you’re the richest man in London!”

Disappointed at her words, he answered: “Uh … I don’t know. Is it important?”

“Well it is to me! Without a lot of money one can’t own a fine home, or fashionable clothes, or beautiful jewelry. And there’s no chance to travel and have fun without a lot of money either. Surely you, of all people, know how important it is.”

“Well, I admit that I used to feel that way. In fact it cost me the love a wonderful woman when I was quite young. But last year I had a most unusual experience that taught me a valuable lesson about life.”

“Oh? What lesson was that?”

“That people are much more valuable than money and that unless you care about people money doesn’t really do you any good because no matter how many things you buy with it, it cannot take away loneliness and give you love.”

“Well, I’ll take my chances,” she said. “I do not intend to be poor or to do without all the finer things in life.” She gave him a saucy look, her seductive smile in place. “I may as well warn you, Ebbie, I’m looking for a rich husband, and I have my eye on you.”

He squirmed just a little where he sat and cleared his throat. “Marilee,” he said, “I think perhaps there’s a book you should read. I’ll loan you my copy. It’s a little Christmas story by Charles Dickens.”  ♦

Another Haiku Day

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

 

I know I just posted several haiku recently, but I seem to be in that kind of mood currently. So I thought I might as well share a few more new ones with you. Hope you enjoy.

AMERICAN INDIANS

Natives of the land:
American Indians,
Owners dispossessed.

COLLEGE CRUSH

Edward was his name.
My history professor.
College crush that hurt.

Took it all in stride.
Lesson learned from college crush:
Wounded hearts do heal.

ADVENT

Advent has begun.
Focusing on Jesus’ birth
And His soon return.

‘THE PASSING’ — NATIVE AMERICAN HERITAGE MONTH

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

As we near the close of Native American Heritage Month, I decided to share a poem I wrote last year that focuses on the heartache and loss that came to so many of the American Indian tribes at the hands of greedy people and government agencies. This particular poem emphasizes the history of the Cherokee people because they are part of my personal heritage. But we want to remember that every tribe was affected negatively — even in heart-breaking ways — and unfortunately, all the prejudice and ill-treatment has not completely disappeared yet.

Original watercolor by Sandra Pavloff Conner


THE PASSING

Today the old chief passed,
Enwreathed by potent memories
Of battles fierce, of freedoms lost,
Of smoking pipe with enemies
Who swore to keep the peace treaties
But quickly spurned such promises
When greed for lands gained upper hand.
Today the old chief passed
And hastened to his ancestors,
To mountains, valleys, fertile plains,
Sparkling rivers, fields of grain,
Miles and miles of vast domain
Where Cherokee live free again,
Never again to be betrayed.
The old chief passed today.

THANKSGIVING POEMS

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

I sometimes like to go back and browse through my holiday writings from past years. The poems and stories I wrote 2 or 3 — or  8 oar 10 — years ago meant a lot to me and still do. So I often recycle them when those holidays roll around again. I hope you enjoy these recycled Thanksgiving poems.

`

AH, THANKSGIVING, HOW I LOVE YOU!

Ah, Thanksgiving, how I love you!
Golden crowning jewel of Fall,
Beacon of warmth and cam’raderie,
Sending glad invitation to all:

“Gather to worship; gather to visit;
Gather to focus on all that’s worthwhile;
Feast from tables resplendent with harvest;
Feast on the love in a touch and a smile.”

All the year’s labors weigh heavy upon us.
All the world’s problems seem bigger by far.
But out from that wearisome struggle you call us,
And laying it down, we run to where you are.

And whether in cottages, mansions, or churches,
Community buildings, or tables in parks,
We gather with gratitude full – overflowing;
To the Giver of blessings lift voices and hearts.

Then we return to life’s pattern awaiting.
Filled up with joy, we set off on our way,
Warmer and richer and kinder in spirit
For pausing to celebrate Thanksgiving Day.

*** 

THANKSGIVING ACROSTIC

Thursdays come and go; in every month there’s four or five.
Hardly anyone’s attention they demand.
Ahh, but there’s one month when Thursday is a special day.
November’s got the situation well in hand.
Kinsmen young & old along with neighbors, best of friends,
Stop their normal labor briefly and, instead,
Gather close, declare a feast, and celebrate all day
In churches, homes, and civic halls – wherever led.
Voices glad and warm with love fill up the heart and soul,
Inviting those attending to lay burdens down.
Neath autumn’s healthy harvest, tables beckon us: so come;
Giving thanks to God, now let us gather ’round.

***

WHAT’S FOR DINNER?

I spot him there, behind the barn,
A full-plumed, regal bird.
He looks up, straight into my eyes.
I speak no single word.

It’s happened thus, in passing years —
At least for two or three:
Each mid-November I’ve set my mind;
He’s been there to greet me.

Now, lifting his head in challenge strong,
He gobbles loud and long.
I lower my gun and heave a sigh:
To kill him would be wrong!

So, wrestling with my double mind,
I trek home to my wife
To explain why, once again this year,
Ham will greet the carving knife.

***

HAVING A HAIKU DAY

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

I just felt like having a haiku day today. No particular subject matter. I’ve been all over the place subject-wise. So sit back and enjoy these 5 little capsules of my thoughts over the past 24 hours.

KEYS

photo courtesy of MSA-90 @ pixabay.com

Where there is a key
There is a door to open:
Adventure awaits.

SMOKY MOUNTAINS

`

The mountains call me:
“Come nestle in our bosom.
Your dreams are safe here.”

CHRISTMAS TREES

photo courtesy of Gerd Altmann @ pixabay.com

Stately sentinels:
Evergreens with glitter dressed,
Guarding Christmas joy.

FEATHERS

`

Feathers fascinate.
Fluffy soft, yet not fragile.
Plumage fit for flight.

AUTUMN

photo courtesy of Visions Seen Photography

Favorite season.
The year preparing for sleep
‘Neath blanket of leaves.



JUST NEEDED TO LAUGH A LITTLE

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

The Word of God says, “A Merry heart does good like a medicine.” (Proverbs 17:22). And Reader’s Digest used to have a joke page with the heading “The most completely lost of all days is that on which one has not laughed.”  I agree whole-heartedly with both those sentiments, and I wanted to post something really light-hearted. But I didn’t have time today to write a brand new short story, so I pulled this one from my archives. I wrote it some time ago for a writing challenge, but it still makes me laugh even though I’ve read it a few times now.  I hope you get a chuckle out of it too.

ANTHROPOLOGY 101

`
My marriage to an anthropologist was educational – and short. Herman loved his work and was really quite vain about it. He honestly believed that there was no people group that he could not figure out and eventually befriend – even when scores of others in his field had failed.

For years, he had been studying one particular tribe of natives on a tiny island in the Pacific that most ship’s captains refused as a port of call. The tribe was said to be cannibalistic, but my Herman just knew that he could convert them after explaining how much he had studied them in order to become their friend.

On looking back, I suppose that I should have put my foot down and refused when he insisted we honeymoon on the island. But he was so certain that he could convince the natives to help him with his research. So, as usual in our relationship, I acquiesced. My friends and family scolded me for my attitude. They said Herman should be treating me like a goddess rather than just ordering me around and dragging me off to some God-forsaken island to begin our marriage.

When we booked passage on the ship, we had to pay for a skiff as well because the captain told us that he would anchor far offshore, and we would have to go the rest of the way on our own. When we left the ship, he reminded us again what fools he considered us. But Herman insisted that he had everything under control.

We hadn’t been on the island more than an hour before the tribe captured us. They were quite large – both men and women – and exceedingly dark in coloring. They bound Herman immediately and tied him to a large pole at one end of their village. I was shaking like a leaf as they approached me, but they just looked at me with wide eyes and smiles, while making the most excited conversation with each other. I could understand only a very small part of what they said – mainly by their actions.

Then four of them brought a huge carrier – sort of a chair supported between two long poles and carried by the natives. One of the men – seemingly the chief – took my hand and escorted me to the chair. They then carried me ceremoniously into the center of the village and escorted me to an elevated area on which sat a throne – all inlaid with gold. I sat, still quaking inside, but almost too overcome by my curiosity to concentrate on being afraid.

Next they placed a crown of the most exquisite jewels on my head and then bowed down to the ground in front of me. Finally, I spoke and asked in my own language for an explanation, hoping maybe at least one of them would understand me. One young man came forward and spoke to me in my native tongue to explain.

Evidently my golden blond hair was a sign to them. They had been expecting the goddess of their tribe to come to them in person for many years, and the sign of her true identity was that her head would shine like the sun. So I’m to be worshiped and given every one of my heart’s desires forever. I suppose one might say that, in a way, it’s thanks to Herman that I’m being treated like a goddess.

Of course, they prepared a huge feast in celebration of my arrival, and I guess everyone would have to admit that Herman truly did give his all for the cause of getting to know this tribe of people better. Naturally, I declined any food.

I certainly miss Herman, but I have to admit that what worries me more is what will happen when my roots start to grow out.    

 

LOOKING FOR FAITH-CHALLENGING CHRISTIAN FICTION ON A SUPER SALE?

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

 

SLATE:
A story of faith, temptation, and sacrifice.

I just discovered today that Amazon has put this book on a super sale at 52% off. The paperback normally sells for $7.99, but right now is on sale for $3.81. Amazon has their own funny way of figuring prices, but I don’t ask questions. I just take advantage of them when they do it.

The E-book edition is $0.99.

 

‘A WALK IN THE WORD’ – BY TED PAVLOFF

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

I just published another book of my dad’s messages from God’s Word. Although he is now in Heaven being rewarded for his 70 + years of faithful ministry, he wanted his teaching to continue to bless people. In keeping with that wish, I have tried to continue publishing works by him, so that they are still available world-wide. This particular book is unique, in that it contains, not only anointed messages from the Word, but also two of my dad’s inspirational short stories. Both of these stories are based loosely on some of his experiences as a Marine during World War II, and are uplifting and encouraging. The book is available in paperback currently, but will also be out as an e-book next month.

You can check out the details and purchase a copy on Amazon.

 

A DRINK CALLED ‘JOE’

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

I’m still working on my coffee poetry book, and I’m thinking about including this poem in the mix. I’m not sure yet, because I’m not positive it’s clear and understandable. If any of you who read it on here have an opinion about whether the point is clear — or confusing — let me know in the comments. Thanks. And — hopefully — you’ll enjoy it.

A CUP OF JOSEPH DANIELS???

I heard the story this way,
And perhaps it’s mostly true:
That way back when, in World War I,
Coffee’s popularity grew.

It seems a Joseph Daniels,
Navy Secretary then,
Made efforts strong to change some things
And bolster moral men.

He instituted new rules
So Navy guys would think,
And contemplate the consequence
Of inebriating drink.

Banned alcohol consumption,
And, naturally, that led
To stewards brewing coffee more
For sailors to drink instead.

According to the legend,
This mark the guys did toe,
But much disgruntled at their loss,
Nicknamed their coffee “Joe.”