Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapters Ten & Eleven
Epilogue
Chapter 7
I had the most fidgety daughter in the history of church attendance that Sunday. She wasn’t fooled by my attempts to distract her. She wore her watch for the first time in about a year. She had set her alarm so she could get up and make her final play date preparation. It was odd because she had many friends and they had come over on a regular basis. She had never invested this much time and effort into their play dates.
Whatever the reasons for her excitement, it certainly made the morning insufferable for me. I was very glad when the doorbell rang at 2 pm on the nose. Maria was there waiting and the door was opened before the chimes had finished their echo through the house. Melissa was in a purple jumper, with her hair in pigtails, not dissimilar to Maria’s outfit and hair. Had there been some conversation about what to wear during their brief time together the week before or had some girl sixth sense taken control of them both? I had no idea. But they could have passed for twins and they were obviously overjoyed at seeing how well they matched. They were both gone in a flash up the stairs before Velma was fully past the threshold of the door.Velma smiled a bit and said, ‘You have no idea what a handful she has been waiting for today.”
“Oh, yes I do, trust me.” I responded.
Velma lost her smile rather quickly and said, “I need to get back, Angus is feeling under the weather. When should I come pick her up?”
“I think they could easily spend the whole afternoon together so why don’t we say around 6. They should be worn out by then.”
Velma smiled again and said, “I reckon that’s a good time. See you then.” She yelled a goodbye up the stairs and we heard a laugh and a bye from Melissa in response.
I didn’t see the two girls again for about 2 hours. I heard them plenty, but I didn’t hear anything break and I didn’t smell anything burning so I left them alone while I caught up on some office paperwork I had been avoiding for too long.
The weekend had been relatively quiet until they started playing because Daria was gone for the weekend, camping with her best friend’s family in Arkansas. Caria had moved out of the house a year before to go to college and was now doing a summer project in Chicago through her school so she hadn’t been around for a while.
I was enjoying the sound of girls playing in the distance, it reminded me of the years all three daughters were young and excited to play together. Daria was now a new teenager, 3 years older than Maria. She wasn’t always amenable to Maria’s pleas to play dress up or build a fort. She was more into experimenting with crazy makeup and asking leading questions about how many piercings I would allow her to get and where. Caria, 5 years older than Daria, would always indulge her younger sisters but once she got her license she just wasn’t around very much. She had done an excellent job filling in a bit when their mother left, but since I worked from home she never had to take on that role full time. All the girls were changed by the departure but we had managed well to keep a strong feeling of family intact.
At 4 o’clock the girls bounded down the stairs and announced they were hungry and were going to make a snack for themselves. What that was going to entail I had no idea but Maria knew the rules of the kitchen so I was confident there would be no sharp knives or gas turned on without me being there to supervise.As I heard drawers open and shut, dishes clatter, and more giggles I also heard another sound. It wasn’t a sound you hear often in Sunrise. When you do it makes you wonder what is happening and to whom. The sound traveled from east to west, probably coming within a ½ mile of our house before moving away again. The siren sounded like a fire truck.
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by Marty Coleman | Jun 1, 2011 | Joseph Joubert |
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by Marty Coleman | May 31, 2011 | G. K. Chesterton |
Are you bored with life? Don’t know what to do, where to go? Guess what? It’s YOUR fault. It’s not where you live, who you are with, what your job is, what your leisure is. It’s not the fault of those things. It’s YOUR fault. It’s a fault within you. Am I being too harsh to say it’s a fault? I don’t think so. A fault is something that diminishes, detracts, debilitates, and can even destroy a person. Not being interested in the world, even a small part of it, leads to a small and atrophied life. Not having enthusiasm, curiosity, open-mindedness about what is happening in the world around you keeps you bored and boring.Go get a magnifying glass of your own making and look deeper at the world around you. It is fun, interesting, exhilarating and fulfilling. If you let it be.
Quote by G. K. Chesterton, 1874-1936, English writer
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by Marty Coleman | May 29, 2011 | Marty Coleman, Sunday in Sunrise - A short story |
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapters Ten & Eleven
Epilogue
Chapter 6
Angus and his wife were indeed foster parents. They had been foster parents for more than 35 kids over the years. It looked like they had as many as 7 at one time a decade or so back. “Wow, that’s a lot of kids” I thought to myself. “I have trouble handling three!” I kept wondering how they would keep all their names straight.
My method for remembering the names of my 3 girls was easy enough. My wife had insisted they all be named similarly. We named our first Caria. She was named after her mother’s great aunt. She was the one who traveled the world and changed her name to Caria from Mildred after a year-long trip to Italy during the 1920s. She left with the name Mildred Smithers and came home as Caria Anastasia. She legally changed her name and would never answer to her old name again.
My wife, Pam, had always loved her great aunt. She had given her trinkets from her journeys, let her play with the incredible clothing and fabric she brought home, and would tell the most mesmerizing stories of exotic locales.
Our second child was named Daria. She was named after a multinational corporation. We went on a road trip vacation to Canada one summer and we found these little bite-sized pieces of chocolate glory called Twigg’s Shortbread Snacks. My wife became addicted to them during the trip. We found out later that she had just become pregnant and it was the first of her many obsessive cravings for the next 9 months. She would mail order the chocolates once we got home and while the chocolate was from Twigg’s, the boxes came from a company named Daria, LTD. in England. So, in true eccentric fashion we named her Daria to rhyme with Caria. Her nickname was Twiggy.
Our third child was named Maria. She was named to rhyme with the first two. If I ever had to corral all three at one time I would simply yell out ‘CaDaMa, It’s time to go!” or “CaDaMa, Clean your rooms NOW!” It made it easy.About a week later, I was back at the Post Office. I was returning yet another letter that was put in my box to Bettina. This one was a boring business letter and when I handed it to her I said, “You know, if you are going to put wrong envelopes in my box you could at least make them like the colorful one from a few weeks ago.”
Bettina exclaimed, “OH, guess what! That little girl, Melissa, came in just yesterday and gave me the most beautiful envelope to send. She had painted it herself. It was of a sunrise and she was SO proud of it. It was amazing.” I smiled and told Bettina about the watercolor lesson and Melissa’s foster father.
Bettina said, “Yea, I know Angus. He’s been around here forever. He comes across as a crotchety old geezer but he really is a kind man. His wife is even nicer. They have been taking in kids forever.”
“Maria really wants Melissa to come over to play, but I got the distinct feeling Angus wasn’t to hot on the idea.” I said.
“I bet if you talk to his wife she will allow it. Like I said, she is nicer than Angus. He tends to stay to himself and isn’t big on socializing. I am surprised you haven’t seen her before. She comes in every other day around 2:30. Come by then and see if you can catch her.” Bettina suggested.
The next day I was there at 2:30 and Bettina introduced me to Velma Billet. Actually, once I saw her face I realized I had opened the door for her a few times at the Post Office. She had stuck in my mind as having the look of the quintessential farm wife. She was thin on top in a tan work shirt, with a bit of roundness in her jeans below. Her face was tan and deeply lined, made more so by the big smile she always had on her face. She had a rich pony-tailed cascade of brilliant silver hair that fell all the way to her butt.
As we talked she told me all about Melissa’s further attempts at painting. She had gone through 25 envelopes before she finally had one painted the way she wanted. She said Melissa had talked non-stop that first day about learning so much and about the new friend she had made.
Velma loved the idea of Melissa having a playmate and agreed to have her come over later in the week. When I got home I told Maria that Melissa would be coming over on Sunday after church. Maria was beside herself with joy and set about planning their afternoon adventure.
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by Marty Coleman | May 27, 2011 | John Kenneth Galbraith |
Beauty is ever evolving. Yes, we have certain culturally prevalent inclinations. But they are also changing, they always do. Look at fashion, furniture, appliances, surfaces, landscapes, decorations, makeup, hairstyles, etc. What is the one consistent thing about all of those? They are always changing. ALWAYS.
What about the ‘beauty’ you don’t like? I had a long conversation in a Facebook thread this week. We were talking about some people’s discomfort at how much skin is shown in today’s American society. The other person in the conversation (a woman) thinks most of a woman or man’s body should be seen only by their spouse. She thinks it demeans and dilutes a marriage for people to show off their bodies in skimpy attire and skimpy bathing suits.
The two of us have very different opinions about this. BUT what we do have in common is the belief we both have the right to define beauty for ourselves. She should not be made fun of or pressured to show more than she wants, nor should she be pressured to not state her opinion about what is, in her mind, appropriate to be worn in public.
The flip side is to make sure that, while she has the freedom to express and pursue her own ideas of beauty, she shouldn’t take that idea of beauty and make it absolute for others (and neither should anyone else).
The truth is YOU get to decide what is beautiful, whether in yourself, in others or in the world. You have the right and freedom to pursue your idea of beauty.
Pursue and enjoy it.
Drawing and commentary by Marty Coleman
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by Marty Coleman | May 26, 2011 | Dorothy Sarnoff |
Do you know who spoke BEFORE President Lincoln at Gettysburg in 1863? It was Edward Everett. He was the main speaker that day. Do you know the first sentence of his speech? No, of course you don’t. Here it is.
Standing beneath this serene sky, overlooking these broad fields now reposing from the labors of the waning year, the mighty Alleghenies dimly towering before us, the graves of our brethren beneath our feet, it is with hesitation that I raise my poor voice to break the eloquent silence of God and Nature.
Two hours later he finished his speech. I bet the audience had stopped listening long before he stopped speaking.
After he spoke, President Lincoln delivered his Gettysburg Address. Do you know the first sentence? If you are an American (and even if you are not) I bet my bottom dollar there is a great chance you do. Here it is.
Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
9 sentences later he finished his speech. 138 years later and we are still listening.
Drawing and commentary by Marty Coleman
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by Marty Coleman | May 25, 2011 | Anonymous, It's A Tornado! - 2011, 2013 |
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You know the saying, ‘All good things must come to an end’. And it is true. But the napkin quote today is also true, ‘All bad things must come to an end, too.’
We have had a wicked week of weather. The town of Joplin, Missouri is only 125 miles from my town. As most of America knows, it got hit a few days ago by the most damaging tornado ever measured in the last 60 years. There are 123 less people in that town today, all killed by the tornado. Yesterday the weather situation in Oklahoma was terrible as well. 8 people died in the Oklahoma City area, about 100 miles from Tulsa.
That sort of destruction and life loss is a terrible thing, a bad thing, to live through, witness, experience or just watch. But just as good things don’t last forever, these bad things are now passed as well. The damage lingers, but new life and new determination to overcome emerges.
In our case we were very lucky. Storms passed but didn’t have the ability to suck in enough energy to become tornadic. We had our emergency plan, which included bolting across the street to our neighbor’s underground storm shelter if a tornado was coming. Luckily that was not the case, though we did spend about 15 minutes in our bathroom with our pets just to be sure.
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| In the bathroom, riding out the storm. |
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| Emergency supplies! |
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| Our freaked out pets waiting out the storm with us. |
Quote by Anonymous
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by Marty Coleman | May 24, 2011 | Anonymous, Writing Lessons - 2011/12 |
I have been writing a short story lately. You have probably been reading it as I am posting it as a weekly series on Sundays. I have taken on a new appreciation for proof readers as a result! It’s hard work, made HARDER by spell check, not easier.
If you ever notice a mistake in my writing, be sure to write to someone else who has read it and talk together about what a bad writer I am, ok? Don’t write me about it. JUST JOKING, I want you to write me if you have good suggestions!
Drawing and commentary by Marty Coleman
Quote by Anonymous
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