THE LION ROARS ALOUD, “A
HAPPY HOLIDAY TO ALL!”
THE KING OF THE JUNGLE IS ADORNED
IN AN EVERGREEN WREATH AND PRESENTED IN A GIANT RED BOW
IT IS HIS CONTRIBUTION TO NEW
YORK AT THE HOLIDAY SEASON WHICH HE IS GRACIOUS TO BESTOW
IN A PERFECT CIRCLE THE
WREATH IS CONFIGURED, A GREEN GEOMETRIC GIFT TO ALL
BE
THEY POLITE OR UNPLEASANT, MILLIONAIRE, PAUPER, JUDGE OR THIEF, EACH CITIZEN
RECEIVES THIS GREETING AND IS NEVER MAULED!
HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ALL
JIM - DECEMBER 24’
Every morning around 6:45, on my way to work, I walk past a small tree that has the loudest chatter of birds I have ever heard! They’re all shouting at once and it sounds like they’re all angry at each other. I thought to myself, “It sounds like a company board meeting, no, it sounds like a company bird meeting,”
They are all screaming so loudly that I can hardly hear the piles of autumn leaves crunching under my shoes. The crunching sound reminds me of eating a Nestle’s Crunch Bar when I was a little girl.
The cars passing by are lazily making their
way in and out of the roads. By the sound of the humming of their tires, you
can tell there’s not much traffic at this early hour.
Well, I had done it again procrastinating until the last
minute in my search for Halloween candy. It had been a busy morning running out
to the stores to buy bags of candy that had somehow been
overlooked by hurried shoppers and finding the Trick or Treat bags that had
been stored away in my closet since last year. Now with steep piles of each
confection in their shiny wrappers displayed across the kitchen table my sweet
assembly line moved along quickly. Picking up a brightly colored trick or treat
bag from the left side of the table emblazoned with an orange, black and white image
of a haunted house above a cemetery with a yellow harvest moon hanging in the evening
sky,I moved mechanically across the table throwing a few samples of each confection
inside the bag until it was overflowing with delicious delicacies and twisted
the bag shut and then tied it with a
striated orange ribbon.Next I placed it in my large plastic pumpkin serving
bowl to my right for the day’s festivities. The bags accumulated quickly but I
knew that they would disappear just as quickly as the hordes of marauding demons,
witches, ghosts, and goblins descended on the block, sweeping it clean like a
ravenous infestation of locusts. But it was always a fun day which brought back
fond memories of my own childhood Halloween experiences. I finished preparing
the treats a while before the school day finished and well before the children
ran home to jump into their costumes to start their fun. I waited for the
invasion to commence.
Soon
the crackling sound of little feet crushing and kicking dried leaves could
unmistakably be heard. It didn’t take long before the doorbell began to ring as
many brightly colored characters arrived on my doorstep, each one scarier than
the last, proposing that ominous question “TRICK or TREAT?” to which I
responded “TREAT!” not wishing for any tricks to be visited on my property or
person. My planned inventory had been accurate as the supplies of candy had held
out for the afternoon rush and there were even a few bags left over as the
evening came on and all the children dissipated. As the time for childish play
was waning and nighttime was coming on, and as innocent tricks were ending , a
different intelligence was coming into its own as an old evil thrived and malingering
ne’er-do-wells emerged. Slimy, slithering things appeared now that crawled out
from cracks and oozed out of swamps, stepped out from the shadows or rolled out
of their hideous, malignant hovels and foul conditions showing themselves, as
good people and the innocents retreated to hearth and home. A time for light to
recede from the gathering darkness and goodness to evade evil, a time for the
Lord of Misrule and Darkness to reign as the impure, malignant and compromised engulfed
the land. I sat down with a bowl of steaming beef stew from my cauldron,
actually a crockpot, and enjoyed the delicious meal. Eventually I began to eye up
the leftover candy plotting its demise. It would not survive the night.
Suddenly the doorbell rang once again. I immediately grabbed my bucket of
treats and as I was approaching the door I felt a chill as if cold tiny spiders
were running up and down my spine, despite the considerable warmth of the room.
I opened the door. Before me stood a huge figure well over six feet tall
wrapped in a black cloak and it was hard to make out a face under the hood but I
could distinguish two eyes burning like red hot coals. A terrible stench emanated
from the apparition and there were maggots crawling around its boney feet and hands.
The hands had no flesh on them and appeared to be boney digits covered in skin.
It grunted unintelligibly presumably asking the question “TRICK or TREAT?” and
held out its boney hands to receive the treats. I dropped two bags of candy between
its boney digits, but the apparition grunted its disapproval shaking its hands
for more treats, so I emptied the bowl into them not wishing to experience its
retribution! This supply seemed to quench the apparition’s thirst for sweets as
a different sound, that could have been a low chuckle, emanated from deep inside
the monster as he hopped off the ground and clicked his boney heels together dislodging
a number of infuriated maggots in the process, who were not entirely thrilled with
this sudden and revolting display of mirth. The apparition noticed a loose
unwrapped spherical jawbreaker in the bottom of the serving bowl and picked it
up with two of its digits and popped it into its mouth. I could hear the candy
as it bounced down his entrails like a steel ball in a pinball machine at an
arcade of the damned, eventually rolling out between his boney toes as the
maggots tried to corral the sphere in what resembled a game of maggot soccer! The
creature stuffed the bags of candy into the folds of its black robes as it backed
away from my door and as the maggots regained their composure and jumped
onboard this skeletal train to hell. It began to dematerialize and then levitate
above my porch and floated all the way back down the hill to the cemetery
across the road and disappeared between the tombstones.
Sometimes you just need something sweet. That night I had a
second bowl of stew. The apparition craved the candy more than I did and it
would be quite some time anyway before I were reduced
to skin and bones.
Jim- OCT 2024
HAPPY HALLOWEEN TO ALL!
I miss my granddaughter. She lives on the other side of
the world. Not all the way on the other side but far enough so that it is very
far away and very expensive to get there. She lives in Athens which is 4,937 miles
from New York City or 26,067,360 feet. I can only walk 2 feet with each step or
13,033,680 steps. I would need a backpack filled with many pairs of new shoes
in it to make it there and maybe a bottle of water and a sandwich. By the time
I would get there she would be all grown up!
We see each other on FaceTime. It is different from being there and
there are no hugs or walks to the candy store, but it still makes things
better.
Jim October 24’
It was a
beautiful day without a cloud in the sky and the heat of summer had subsided a
little. The cooler temperatures of fall would soon be arriving, but today was as
beautiful and peaceful a day and everything was wonderful in New York City.
However, hidden behind that cloudless sky was an invisible malevolence full of
dark clouds of hatred and lightning bolts of mechanized aggression intent on
destroying the city and its reputation for being a place where there was
tolerance and acceptance of cultural differences and perspectives for its
melting pot of residents…
The weather would be fine if she wasn’t so moody. When she’s happy, pleasant, sunny weather comes our way. When she’s feeling sad, pouring rain comes down from the sky, drenching everything and even causing floods. It’s when the weather is feeling mad that you really have to watch out! This is when she sends windstorms, hurricanes and even tornadoes.
It reminded me of a time a few years ago, on a Saturday, during the summer. The weather was bright and sunny with not a cloud in the sky. It was so inviting outside that my family, and I decided to drive a little way up a nearby mountain and go row boating on North Lake.
After renting the boats, we sat two in each one for a total of six of us in three boats and headed out to the lake. There is nothing more relaxing than gliding on the calm water of the lake and being out in nature.
We weren’t out on the lake for more than twenty minutes when we saw several black clouds in the sky quickly headed in our direction. All of a sudden, we started feeling raindrops the size of quarters hitting us and everything around us. The rain started coming down harder and now we could see lightning making its way toward the lake and us!
The owner of the row boating business yelled for us to come back in right away. At the same time, I realized that the boats were made of metal. It was a race against the lightning. “Row, row as fast as you can!” I yelled loudly to whoever could hear me.
We all managed to reach the docks in time. None of us got struck by lightning but boy oh boy everyone and everything was sure flooded from the rain. My family couldn’t believe how suddenly the weather had changed.
That’s when I told them my theory about how moody the weather can be. She started out happy and we had beautiful weather for North Lake. Her mood quickly turned to being incredibly sad. That’s how we got flooded. Her mood was also becoming quite angry and that’s how we almost got struck by lightning. As we drove back to the house, my family seemed skeptical about the weather’s moodiness, but me? I was convinced of it after the volatile weather we experienced at North Lake.
Ellen
The caravan of brightly painted canary yellow cheese
buses wound its way into the cobble stoned horseshoe driveway of the AMERICAN Museum
of Natural History. The buses were practically bouncing up and down from the
unrestrained excitement of all the children on this novel excursion outside the
restrictive walls of the classroom. An unusual bouquet assailed the senses with
a mixture of red roses from the museum’s gardens and carbon monoxide from the
buses as they maneuvered for position before coming to their final stop.
Although it was only 10 in the morning, the bus drivers appeared to have
already put in a full day.
Deep
in the recesses of the first floor in the drab overlooked southeast corner of
the museum near 79th street and Central Park West sits The Hall of
North American Forests at the base of the Astor Turret and the surrounding
area. Untouched by renovations as far back in time as I can remember, it is clean
but dreary, dark and old. The redeeming feature of the hall are the huge,
magnified model reproductions of diverse types of bugs, visible in all their
glory with six-foot millipedes, two-foot ants and even a four-foot mosquito in
his own case set in the middle of the hall to attract attention.
The
children are a joy to the museum and the walls of the old complex are alive
with excitement looking forward to stimulating these young minds with the many
wonders and insights that the museum has to offer at this critical time in
their lives while their minds are open to new ideas, perspectives and
possibilities before the vicissitudes and difficulties of life start to wear
them down over time as they age and their minds become fossilized and rigid, retreating
from new and innovative ideas into a shell of comfortable old cliches for solace
and self-fulfilling prophecy.
Far off in the building can be heard the first excited utterances of the school children as they make their way into the interior of the complex. The invasion has begun. The first group of exploratory pioneers enters the hall of North American Forests including Rosa with her teacher Miss Portent. Rosa looks at the various display windows before being drawn to the old wooden case set off in the middle of the hall with a giant mosquito in it!
He was very ugly with a segmented body and six long skinny legs all covered in
hairs like the quills of a porcupine. He has wide hairy antennas like a moth, a
set of palms for detecting the proper chemicals of an acceptable host and a
long proboscis jutting out above his sharp mandibles which are used for
breaking through skin before sucking blood or nectar. The sign explains the the
model is seventy -five times his true size! Rosa is utterly fascinated by the
mosquito and pushed her nose up against the case to see him better. Rosa is a
very imaginative girl. In her mind's eye Rosa imagines that her classmates have helped
her lift the glass cover from the display and she has asked the mosquito if he
would give her a tour of the enormous museum. The mosquito agrees, needing some
exercise after standing in the display case for ninety years. Rosa climbs up onto
the wooden base and carefully sits down on the insect while having gently pulled
a pink ribbon around his neck to harness and steer him.
Now
his wings have lifted up and began to flutter, faster and faster until he lifts off the display case and shoots through the hall. Rosa finds the ride
thrilling as the mosquito leaves The Hall of North American Forests behind and streaks
through The New York State Environment Pavilion, then through the Fritter
Gallery bordering the south drive often used in the past to bring large
specimens into the museum to add to their collections. He shoots straight ahead
into The Hall of Human Origins where our early ancestors are on display in all
their splendor. A quick right turn leaves us in The Hall of Meteorites with huge, pockmarked pieces of iron that have plummeted to earth through the ages. Next,
Rosa is star struck by an enormous glittering, dazzling purple geode of amethyst
,welcoming the visitor into The Hall of Gems a treasure trove of impressive diamonds,
gems and minerals all illuminated to accentuate their beauty, including The
Star of India ,the largest opal in the world weighing in at 563.35 carats that had
been stolen for a time from the museum along with The Delong Star Ruby and the
Eagle Diamond on October 29,1964. Rosa is infatuated by the spectral display of
a star on the opal. Rosa pulls back on the reins to see her birthstone in a
case dedicated to this subject, one stone for each month of the year. Rosa travels
through many interesting halls including Ocean Life with the enormous life-sized
model of a blue whale suspended from the two-story high ceiling. Rosa and her
winged steed fly past the many displays of sea life that surround the whale
including Killer whales, Penguins, Walruses along with hundreds of other sea
creatures. She even rises to the whale’s eye to stare into it.
Next,
she shoots out through the Hall of Biodiversity showing the infinite number of
species that life had evolved into and then into the Theodore Roosevelt
Memorial Hall filled with star struck tourists and visitors buying entry
tickets from long desks of museum employees. There are guards giving directions
to visitors while other visitors stand entranced by towering fossilized
dinosaurs positioned in mock combat. Rosa does not linger long gently nudging
her Pegasus to lunge up the open marble
staircase to the second floor through the exotic hall of Asian Mammals then
past the next level of the Astor Turret wizzing through the Hall of Asian Peoples,
and onto Birds of the World and African Peoples straight on to a trip through
time on the Cosmic Pathway of the Rose Planetarium starting billions of years
ago with the Big-Bang and flying in concentric circles all the way down to
historic times and the beginning of agriculture.
Rosa’s
mind seemed ready to explode with all the information that she is learning but
now her teacher Miss Portent breaks into her dream state, “Rosa please move
back and take your nose and hands from the glass to avoid picking up any germs.
You will be able to see the mosquito better. I do not want you to catch a cold.”
“Yes, Miss Portent “says Rosa, wishing that she could have continued her imaginative tour through the museum. Walking through the museum would be fun also as she stuffs her pink ribbon back into her pocket. She would not be wrangling any more giant mosquitos that day. Being at the museum was much more spectacular than just reading the book about the museum that she has read many times with her mother about being there.
Jim
My baby brother Harold went missing today, and we couldn’t find him. When he disappeared, I looked at my sister, Jeanne, who is two years younger than me. She looked like she was going to burst into tears any second. I put my arm around her and told her everything was going to be all right. Neither of us thought anything like this could happen. It all started when I asked my sister to come to the park with me.
Now, with the moon peeking through my bedroom window, and me trying to fall asleep, I think back on the things that happened earlier this morning when my sister and I decided to walk to the park. It was a very hot and humid day, and we couldn’t wait to get in the sprinklers. We didn’t want to take my baby brother Harold, but he was crying and begging to go so we decided to take him.
It was a long walk to the park, and we were tired and hot, but we kept thinking of how good we would feel when we got in the sprinklers. As soon as we saw them, we jumped in and got soaking wet. The three of us played and played in the water until our fingers were all wrinkly. Then we got out and played on the swings, monkey bars, seesaw and slide. As soon as we headed toward the park bench to take a rest, my baby brother said he wanted to go home. “What?” my sister and I screamed at him. We just got here a little while ago. We’re not going home yet! I dragged him by the hand and started our walk back to the sprinklers.
As soon as I let go of his hand and my back was turned, Harold was gone. “Well, there goes another turn playing in the sprinklers,” I thought. My sister Jeanne and I walked around the entire park at least five times and we could not find him. We decided to run home as fast as we could and tell our parents we lost our baby brother at the park.
I
was very surprised that my parents didn’t stop what they were doing and spank
us hard. Instead, my father put the keys in the ignition of the yellow taxi he
used for work and drove us all up to the police station. My mother was upset. You could see it in her eyes. My father was just MAD. My father walked up
to the counter and explained we were there because his child Harold was lost. My
father gave the officer all the details. The police officer started smiling and
said to us, “Follow me.” He took us to a
small office that had a closed door.
When the officer opened the door, there was my baby brother Harold sitting
on top of a desk, eating pork chops.
After the first initial shock of seeing him, we all started laughing in relief. “How did you get here?” “Who found you?” “How long were you lost?” “See how hungry you get when you’re lost and alone?” We all started asking baby brother questions at the same time.
My
mind stops thinking back on everything that happened on this hot summer day and
I think to myself, “I’m so happy they found my brother.” Just before I fell
asleep, I remembered something one of the police officers said, “Well, how old are the three of you, seven,
five and four? Maybe this wouldn’t have
happened if you went to the park with some grownups. We’re all very lucky this event had a happy
ending. Next time, wait till you’re all
much older before going to the park on your own.”
Ellen
Summer heard Autumn call and ran the other way
I’m not leaving yet
There’s still more time
coming my way
After all it’s only Labor Day
I’ll Fall to you
Your work is done
Beautiful bright flowers, fresh fruit and vegetables for everyone
Bringing pumpkins, spice and bright leaves in the crisp morning air is my seasonal task — when you step aside.
Autumn kisses Summer good-bye.
When I’m through it’s Winter
for me and you!
Spring into new beginnings
Laura McManus
In autumn, New York City hums with divergent energy. Crisp leaves swirl and crunch beneath hurried footsteps, their dry whispers carried by the cool breeze. Central Park is a symphony of rustling gold and amber, punctuated by the distant honks of cabs and the soft murmur of people lingering by coffee carts. The wind, now sharper, threads itself through the towering buildings, letting out a fleeting whistle as it slips through narrow alleyways. It’s a sound that signals the season’s shift, as the warmth fades and the city settles into the crisp embrace of fall.
Georgia
One day during summer vacation a little boy was wandering along the lazy summer creek not far from his home. The water was very clear, but it flowed slowly as there had been little precipitation since the summer had started. Across a meadow a Crepe Myrtle tree caught the boy’s eye. He remembered seeing this tree the previous summer, but it had been bursting with bright red and fuchsia flowers at that time. The little boy walked towards the tree now, but he could see very little color as the flowering tree’s petals were faded and wilting with none of the wonderful, perfumed smells of last year. He remembered how the flowers formed upside down ice-crème cones last year but were now losing their shape. This made the little boy sad, and he decided that he would help the tree.
The very
next day the boy returned with two wooden pails from his garage. The little boy
found a spot in the creek where the water dropped down a little embankment.
Here the boy dug down into the riverbed so that there would be enough room for
the pail to catch the water. It worked perfectly well but it took a while to
fill the pail as the water flowed so slowly. The boy began to sing himself a
little song to pass the time as the pail filled up.
“Oh Mr. Myrtle Tree I am bringing you some cool, crisp
water to drink,
You should feel
better after this tasty drink, I think,
Your roots will gulp the water, your trunk will sigh with
relief,
Your branches will grow stronger, it is my belief,
Your flowers will turn brighter,
Your leaves will shine again,
Your canopy will resemble a lion’s mane,
As a specimen you will be a Ten! “
He was quite eloquent for a little boy.
The little ditty went on for a few more lines in a similar fashion until the
boy realized that the pail was almost filled with water. Now the boy lifted the
pail out of the creek and replaced it with the empty pail. The first filled pail
was heavier than he expected but he was able to carry the pail to the tree. The
boy approached the tree and said,” Hello Mr. Myrtle Tree, I have brought you
some water to drink” and poured the water on the roots of the tree that were exposed.
A breeze blew through the tree’s branches and the boy thought that he heard the
words “Thank you for being so kind” whispered on the breeze.
The boy
returned now to the creek to find that the second pail was almost full, so he
switched the pails and marched back to the tree to water it again. He repeated this
process five times until he was very tired. Each time the breeze blew he heard
the whispered words again.
“Thank you for being so kind “
That
night the boy prayed for rain and slept very soundly. The next morning, he went
out again with his pails and repeated his task of watering the tree. The boy repeated
his task each day and soon the tree began to bloom with new flowers and to look
healthy again. The tree’s perfumed scent returned and soon bees, butterflies
and hummingbirds were visiting the tree. The tree was no longer lonely visiting
with and hosting his various assemblage of guests.
Each
night in his prayers the boy asked for rain to fall in the meadow and one night
he got his wish as it rained through the night. The next day when the boy
visited the tree the creek was roiling, rolling and rushing downstream with the
rain that had fallen in the mountains the night before and was no longer rambling
downstream to the meadow. The boy was able to fill his pails immediately and
complete his task quite quickly. The tree looked very healthy and happy now!
Like
the quickly flowing river of life itself, the summer was quickly advancing now,
and the new school year was rapidly approaching. The boy came to say goodbye to
the tree. “Hello Mr. Myrtle Tree, I have to go back to school tomorrow and I
won’t be able to visit you each day as I did during the summer, but you are
healthy now and I can still visit you on the weekends. As the boy was about to say
goodbye and walk away, the tree began to creek and bend and all the flowering branches
came towards the center of the tree bringing the flowering fuchsia cones close
together and formed a huge fuchsia heart and the breeze blew again whispering
“Thank you very much for all your kindness “. The boy smiled knowing that he
had done a good deed and said “Goodbye, You’re Welcome “. The boy knew now what
he would write about for his first school composition of the new year, WHAT I
DID ON MY SUMMER VACATION.
Jim-Aug 24’
