One evening, not too long after the History of Mt. Moriah book arrived in the mail, my Dad and I were casually leafing through it – checking out all the photos.
One evening, not too long after the History of Mt. Moriah book arrived in the mail, my Dad and I were casually leafing through it – checking out all the photos.
“Yoo hoo, it’s me, my name is Pinky Lee” he sang, as he danced his odd little sideways shuffle back and forth across the stage.
In the course of my lifetime I have watched America devolve from a nation of hardy self-reliant individualists into a nation of namby-pamby hyper-sensitive crybabies.
I went to the dark end of the inventory shelves, pressed my forehead against the wall, and indulged myself in a few moments
of quiet despair.
On June 17, in the year 2 B.C., there was a conjunction of the planet Venus with the planet Jupiter.
Artists speak the language of Aesthetic: a polyglot of image, sound, gesture, and form.
Every Sunday morning the Story Lady would read the text of all the nationally sydicated comics over
the radio. I would lay the pages of the Des Moines Sunday Register out before me and do my best to follow along. I couldn’t actually
read yet, but I sure
wanted to.
“Love hurts”, the poets sing. Over and over they remind us that Cupid’s arrow pierces the heart.
We took a month-long vacation and went on a rambling tour of the Great America West. We didn’t have any real iterery, although we did have one planned stop. A vist to Les, who had finally made parole.
Knock briskly. Look straight into the narrowed suspicious eyes behind the screen door. Extend your hand as though to shake hands and say. ”Hi, got a minute”?
Three resolute watchmen patrol the echoing emptiness. Their probing flashlights scanning for any slight thing amiss. The silence broods heavily around them.
It’s the middle of May, the lilacs along my driveway are in full bloom and, as always, they remind me of Aunt Arlene.
I believe Steve King was the first to take the trail north in search of fortune.
By the time I was 6 or 7 years old most of my Shipley relatives had moved to someplace other than Mt. Moriah.
My Aunt Maxine has lived her whole life in the simple straightforward manner of children, animals and saints.