humanity
Humanity begins at home.
People in my Life
Most of what I write about are my memories and sometimes just my thoughts in general. So far it has been very uplifting and I am proud to say that my stories have been read over four hundred times so that’s something. This story probably should have come first, but Kevin Trost had been urging me to write for years so naturally I made him my first project. Trost was such a likable person and I have been writing about him for a while, so I chose to go the easy way. I've written about others that I care deeply for and still live on in my heart. More are to be written. This next person had almost the most influence on my life as a whole. This is my tribute to my dad, Big Jim Carr.
By James S. Carr6 years ago in Families
Miss Virginia Pilgrim
Virginia Marguerite Pilgrim killed her father on August 22, 1949. It was a Tuesday. She was almost thirteen. Confusion erupted after she pushed one of the heavy stone urns off the top terrace onto him. No one guessed what had happened. She walked off in a daze without looking down. Then Ginnie – everyone called her Ginnie – walked to the small arbour, where someone had placed an empty basket and a pair of secateurs on a bench; where she was later found by a maid, snipping white roses into a heap on the ground.
By Rosanne Dingli6 years ago in Families
The Sequence of The Sun
She opened her eyes and took a moment to appreciate the half-light of the beautiful May morning. Never one for heavy curtains or alarms, Ellie loved rising with the sun. Shrugging into her dressing gown, she tapped on her son’s door on her way downstairs to make tea. She smiled to herself as the customary grunt issued from the depths of his bedroom and trilled “morning darling!”
By Gina Harmon6 years ago in Families
His Timing is Perfect
As it was - The widow was gathering sticks to make a final meal for herself and her son before they died from the famine. Elijah requested a drink of water and a small bread cake. The widow told him of her plans to make a final meal for herself and her son - that she only had enough meal and oil for one last final meal. Elijah insisted on his small cake and then she could make the meal for herself and her son. She did as Elijah instructed. His timing is perfect.
By Michael W. Hurst6 years ago in Families
To Vivlio ton Oneiron
Darius was a poor young man in ancient Roman times, but a good and loyal Roman citizen. The only opportunity for a young poor man was to join the army. The pay and benefits were good enough to make a promising future and the possibility to fulfill one’s dream, who dared to dream. His family originally came from Greece hundreds of years before as philosophers and dreamers, thinking they would spread knowledge and enlightenment. What they found was prejudice, General Lucius Mummius and the total domination of the world and all they left behind in Greece. Darius could read and write and that was worth more than its weight in gold and also a way to possibly rise in the ranks as a Centurion. Darius was being talked about around the camp as the soldier with a pen in the right hand and a gladius in the left.
By Maria Hernandez6 years ago in Families
Fence Posts
The loneliness that blows in on a winter wind is comforting in a way. The depth of its darkness, the bite of its chill, the stultifying silence are all old friends, telling the same story over and over again. No surprises. Of course these thoughts were not formed so much as felt by Carl Odegaard the night he left the farm late, entirely too late, to check on that one fence post. The one near the southeast corner of his cow pasture that leaned no matter what he tried, dragging its neighbors down with it.
By Tiffany Hanssen6 years ago in Families
Stories from "La Frontera"
Stories from “la Frontera” La Espiguita Mom was from the south, way south beyond the Equator closer to the Strait of Magellan, from a thin lengthy winding strip of land. Mamá came from an immigrant nation, looking remarkably like the other white women in the United States. Long white-blond hair and light blue eyes, a slender sparrow, her South American identity doubtless the moment her accented English was heard, succinct and direct speech patterns were her trademark. She was a firecracker, quickly enraged by signs of injustice, with a profound sense of independence despite her displacement from her homeland, and the fact that until the late 20th century, it was isolated from the world. Mountains and distance gave her people a singular sense of security while keeping them insular and provincial.
By Marci Valdivieso6 years ago in Families
