when a god loves a person inappropriately

when a god loves a person inappropriately

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


Time past Zeus might visit a maiden hidden in a rain shower. Innocent and modest would she be charmed and conquered. If a maid was inclined she might run, if caught she might pray to be turned into a tree to maintain her modesty.

Nearly seventy Basia had been pursued by a lesser goddess since she was twenty. It was not a pleasant experience.

Basia of Oakwood Parish arrived to 7AM mass each morning and nervously twirled her rosary beads and rocked until Father Walter came to sit with her after lunch break and walked her to her car about 2PM.

After Father Walter retired and went to live in group rectory in Mansfield Father Paul asked one of the Psychologists from the Bishop's office in Cleveland to meet with Basia.

Father's Paul's estate when probated in 1987 contained Doctor Warren Bender's case notes on Basia Johnson and the case notes have been made into a sensational movie based on a short article on the subject that appeared in the Journal of the American Psychological Society in June 1988.

The Catholic diocese of Cleveland, Ohio  has filed injunctions to stop or detain release of the movie " Subdued by Epona Goddess of Hope" directed by Sheila Walters for release by Harmony Film LLC Summer 2014.
end part 1

fend for yourself

fend for yourself

fiction
Edward w Pritchard






Fend for your self but worry for others.
Worry for others but do what you can to aleve suffering.
Aleve suffering of others and you shall become at peace.
Become at peace and you worry less.
Worry less and you become still.
Become still and you hear God's pulse.
Hear God's pulse and you can rest.
Rest to fend for yourself.

Stillness in the heart of a crowd
Melody in the noise of the world
Calmness in solitude
Scoreless in comparison
Shameless in regret
Silent in remorse
Purposeful in inactivity
Peaceful in movement

there's a lot of companies swimming naked at the beach these days

there's a lot of companies swimming naked at the beach these days

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


Warren Buffet says you can't tell who is swimming naked until the tide goes out. The tide is money, liquidity and when the Federal reserve board tightens credit, even a very little, from huge levels of expansive credit growth  all the American companies with too much leverage on borrowed money are exposed.

Confidant ambitious fast talkers have dreams. They sometimes become CEO's and everybody at their companies ride along. Ratio analysis of financial health is pooh poohed in internal meetings at businesses large and small as irrelevant and outdated thinking. Outsiders tasked to regulate things are looking out the window. Then the tide goes out so to speak. The bull market ends and guess what? The growth of the last few years was a mirage.

Watch the lawsuits, watch the allegations fly. The financial  bull market in America is teetering. Real business in America has been staggering for years, customers are tapped out or no longer in a keeping up with the Jones mood. Where will the growth come from to propel the American economy forward?

America has been nearly drowned in a flood of liquidity. Government tries to stimulate demand by providing easy money. The wealthy, the informed intelligent well situated investors profited as the stock market went up 100% from the February 2009 lows. The gap widens between rich and poor grows as the wealthy make large profits from passive investing activities.

What now America. How can our leaders pull the next rabbit out of the hat to keep America growing?

Maybe it's better to have less interference by Government in the first place. Well intentioned or not too much financial intervention into markets by government turn out badly. Distorted signals sent by government to ambitious confidant fast talking CEO's end up in aggregate hurting every body.

I have lost my faith in our leaders. Time to fend for myself I suppose.

should we follow our first mind

should we follow our first mind

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


The veil drops for a moment and the entire adventure stem to stern is revealed from our subconscious in a blazing instant of insight. Should we follow our first mind? Or, should we retreat and tempt the fates hoping to ignore what we must hereafter bury deep in our subconsciousness, that first gleaming of recognition.

Better to live superficially. Ignore your first mind. Stumble through life drifting with breezes. Revelation is better left till later. Things must simmer before they are examined in a blazing instant of insight.

all the places we won't go to

all the places we won't go to

fiction
Edward w Pritchard





Tonight I definitely realized that there are thousands of place I will never get to visit.

It's January in Ohio, cold and dark and the world has collapsed in on me. My dreams of travel to exotic places seem like the thoughts of someone else. A brief brush with early impending death, limited resources and imagination and a collapsing will strand me where I stand. Cold and alone I wait for Spring in my own backyard.

Light lunches on trains are no longer imminent for me. Hopping a plane to travel a fast thousand miles in six hours for some sightseeing is no longer foreseeable.

Venice and it's narrow alleyways between canals, St Petersburg museum tours in frigid Winter or Istanbul during Ramadan are no longer in my travel fantasies. Cold and alone I wait for Spring to come to my own backyard. Give me a clear night and I will watch for meteors and discern the subtle colors of distant stars during super nova. Sitting by a crackling campfire I will imagine candles flickering in Hagia Sophia in Istanbul or the squeak of oars under the Rialto in sinking Venice.

Is there a collective unconciousness for the entire world?

Is there a collective consciousness for the entire world?

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

The London stock markets open in a few minutes after a tough couple of days on Wall Street Thursday and Friday last and a bad day in Asia so far this Morning. The boys at the JP Morgan desks around the world need to cook up a consensus to stir into the US stock market open at 9:30 AM later this morning on Wall Street.

Here where I live the weather guys have predicted 8 below zero mid day tomorrow, that is Monday January 27th, 2014. Right now it is mid 30's degrees with strong winds aloft at 2:30 am. Will my local weather forecast be correct for tomorrow? Will my day Monday be dictated by below zero weather conditions when I feed the horses tomorrow mid afternoon? The weather guys look like they could be wrong in tomorrows forecast. I hope real weather here tomorrow is 30F rather than -8F mid afternoon Monday Jan 27. It would make my day much better for tomorrow.

Is there a collective unconscious for the entire world? How can an economic consensus be established by a few hundred traders at desks around the world, across different time zones, competing political systems, and by irrational local interests? Is there an economic stew that can be stirred to produce a stable hearty product for everyone everywhere in the entire world?

Have faith. The Fed meets Tuesday and they will taper less or maybe more again, or some other secret mantra will be leaked that will dictate the direction of interest rates, aggregate commodity usage worldwide and industrial capacity across the globe. Hopefully steady economic growth will result benefiting us all.

The economists and bureaucrats wish to influence events to achieve modest sustainable growth worldwide. Distribution problems resulting in inequalities can be worked out later.

Is there a collective economic consciousness for the entire world? Is it like predicting tomorrows weather to predict where the stock and bond futures will drift tomorrow? Or is the direction of markets irrational and beyond human control or understanding?

In a few minutes the London stock markets will open and a consensus will form that establishes DJI futures for the Wall Street open tomorrow. It's usually quite accurate at predicting how tomorrow's wall street trading will unfold.

As for me and feeding the horses tomorrow when I get out of bed about 7:30 AM Monday I will check the weather locally outside and determine how to go about my day. By then Sunday's weather forecast for Monday will be moot. Meanwhile winds aloft are howling, it's 3:20 am and I want to finish this writing and check the London stock market open to see how the rest of the year will go for me.

The high road, Sante Fe to Taos

The High road Santa Fe to Taos

fiction
Edward w Pritchard





The High road Santa Fe to Taos beckons me return. In America's time scale it's an ancient route. Five hundred years have passed.

Adobe houses, homes in communal cliffs and hard difficult living. Great beauty of landscape and vast sweeps of solitude. Heat and wind and lonely sky. It's a difficult place to scratch out a living.

There is nothing to say about New Mexico. It leaves one feeling small, a miniscule part of the magnificence of creation. At the horizon the dry landscape abuts the distant stars.

Once we sat next to a wagon and watched a fire blaze on the high road from Santa Fe to Taos. Stew was pushed around a plate with Navaho bread and Spanish whiskey warmed cold nights.

People and animals each mind their own business in New Mexico. Native Americans proffer pots in the square in Sante Fe and blankets are sold in Taos.

History is not studied in New Mexico, it unfolds each day.   

the caricature artist

the caricature artist

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


A caricature artist who doesn't follow the unwritten code of the profession can hurt a client deeply.

What lies beneath should be hidden and private. But, in a moment of spontaneity, a day at the beach or a walk in a park, a patron pays a few lira to have his picture sketched in wiggly lines for his best girl. An unflattering silhouette suggesting future rotundity, a beaking red nose hinting at future lechery or an sagging behind offends and startles both involved.

Why won't these young caricature artists follow the ancient criteria of daily practice? Must they shout every one's secret flaws?

Use your pen to entertain not to startle our unsuspecting public and our generous patrons. Let a walk along the boardwalk be pleasant and memorable in a fun way for our customers. Caricature artist don't lay bare your customer's soul.

alone in my tent/ part 2

alone in my tent part 2

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Often have I been alone in a crowd but never alone in my tent. Relationships challenge me, solitude fortifies and exhilarates. I let God attend to those I love and worry about; into his hands I accept their safety.

A proper tent may be swung in the rear bed of a Ford pickup truck. A tarp, wires and rope provide a proper nest for up to four days and nights. Three inches of foam and a four season sleeping bag ensure a warm rest. A working radio is a plus.

A burbling racing River is an ideal location for a pup tent. A small fire started with a flint and steel from tenders of oil soaked Birch bark and flood debris ignored of late by the raging stream provide warmth. In a pinch I drink lake or river water with no long term harmful effects since boyhood, not recommended for others however.

Companionship with a woman in a tent is fine provided we are on a short significant quest. Such as with Marilyn Monroe on the " River of No Return", at least until we get back to the gold camp. Then, it's on my way alone again.

Wood is in the public domain. Use it sparingly but as needed for fire and light. A bright fire fortifies the drooping soul.

Red sunrises are inspirational. Arise early and easy from your tent. A fish, a squirrel or rabbit provide adequate nourishment for up to three days. After that it's McDonald's fish or Wendy's chili. Convenience store beer at dusk is good.

There are no sacred sparks in the flint and steel I use and no spirits in the fire. If I kill an animal for food I am just grateful not to be hungry. Nature is harsh but does not anthropomorphically challenge me.

After a few days in nature I can appreciate the bounty of civilization. It helps me to appreciate clean abundant water, a roaring furnace silently working day to day all winter, and the dollar menu at McDonald's, always waiting for a half pocketful of small coins.

Often have I been alone in a crowd but never alone in my tent.

an invisible insidious epidemic never the less

an invisible insidious epidemic never the less

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Students have been loosing text books, forgetting when or where  the math test is, soldiers have lost rifles and forgot which unit they are in, policeman have misplaced squad cars and professional football players have confused where is their locker and have no football jersey or shoulder pads for the playoff game.

 It's seldom talked about in polite society but it is an invisible insidious epidemic never the less.

Fully 15% of people in all walks of life and in all the Countries of the world are plagued with the problem.

It's not forgetfulness that causes the situation. It's anxiety resulting in fear and loathing that things are not properly planned. A secret fear that events will not unfold properly.

Normal things, routine activities are not accomplished because a fireman has misplaced the fire truck, a third baseman finds himself without his mitt in the home half of the second inning or a new Mother has forgotten the new baby. Where can that child be?

God gives the 15% per cent this unfortunate nature. Fully 15% or even more of people in all Countries have lost even God himself. What's the evolutionary value of a substantial portion of persons of all societies fretting and suffering with an invisible insidious epidemic?

Day by day a little sweet water relieves the tedium of life

Day by day a little sweet water relieves the tedium of life

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

The hunters return singing as they come down the winding path to the village when instead of passenger pigeons or rabbit they have scored two buckets of sweet water. Each of the community gets to dip his cup into the cold sweet water bubbled from the ground of hidden springs, sometimes there is enough for seconds. If you are a favorite of one of the hunters a little extra of the clear water may be sent home for cooking or use as tonic.

Sometimes one of the hunters will be dragged home wrapped in vines. Gored by a boar or tumbled down a cliff have one of the hunters been. Silently walk the other men with eyes skyward rounding the path the group returns sadly home.

Singing loud is each hurrying hunter when elder berries have been found and shook into wine. Sometimes even children get a taste or two.

You never know what the hunters will bring back. Its always better to have some walnuts or acorns buried underground rather than count on a successful hunt. Rabbit tastes good stewed but water lily stems make a fine soup if sprinkled atop boiling broth. Best still is a broth made with sweet water. Day by day a little sweet water relieves the tedium of life and is a pleasant surprise if brought home in a sloshing bucket.

second chances/ part 2

seconds chances/ part 2

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Second chances are a one legged man dancing backwards on his good leg. The least little bump or knock will upset the enterprise.

Time has passed since the end of the enterprise between two lovers. Now some circumstance has allowed a second chance. Partners approach second chances nervously with trepidation. Chance has dealt against them once already. A brutal ending occurred, time lapsed and tentatively a new start commenced. Hope blossoms anew, time is fresh, all can be original again if both wish it to be. Neither partner can trust the other or anyone else and neither knows what the others motivations and objectives are. Still a small start occurs. Potentiality moves cautiously toward execution.

Second chances are a one legged man dancing backwards on his good leg and his blind folded partner leading the dance on a slippery floor covered in broken shards of glass. Dancing couples must trust each other, experience destroyed trust. Second chances are a solo dance with the odds of finishing the performance stacked against you. Still we listen for the music to commence and anxiously await the touch of our lost partner. May the performance begin anew.

Better yet, make the second time enterprise an intellectual infatuation; without the spills and chills that come with real life, experience and real partners.

Why can't we fulfill our expectations? First chance, second chance nothing measures up to expectations. Why a blindfolded dance on a slippery dance floor? So much we wish for smoothness and lack of disruption.

I listen for the music to start the dance but I am standing alone. If music be the food of love ... The song is gone but an echo of forgotten notes remains. Hang onto receding music. The tune is gone. What is there to listen for? Much ado about not, adieu, Shakespeare again said it all first.

the Virginia clipper whistles to Ohio this time each year

The Virginia Clipper whistles to Ohio this time each year

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


The Virginia Clipper whistles to Ohio this time each year. The Virginia clipper is a strong Northerly wind. It starts in Damascus, Virginia down around Mount Rogers and whistles up the Appalachian trail a bit to Wytheville, and then heads straight North up 77 through West Virginia to my home in Ohio.

The northerly wind from Damascus bids me prepare to hike the Appalachian trail again. Although I am  merely a day hiker I have began to stretch my legs, build my weak heart and lungs and dream again of walking in the long dark tunnel of the Appalachian trail. I hope to log a few more miles toward Maine this Spring.

Januarys in Northern Ohio are cold, dark and depressing. Now I have something to look forward to. In a few months I will be at Mount Rogers State Park following the wild horses through Grayson Highlands North along the Appalachian trail.

It doesn't mean anything and there is no reward for walking on the trail. You see a million trees, a thousand vistas and a few wild animals. Food never tasted so good and water is precious. You would give a hundred dollars for a real bed to sleep on.

Spring comes to the Appalachian trail. Will you be hiking the trail this year? Join me for mosquito bites, continuous rainfall, bee stings and sleeping on the ground while listening for bears.

It's a great time.

Unemployment; no talent no tap dance/ edit 2

Unemployment; no talent no tap dance/ edit 2

fiction
edward w pritchard

No talent, no tap dance; I had to slide and shuffle down the ramp near Kline's bar at the after party following  graduation. I had just became a certified barber  here in Juxston, fifty  miles to the East of Louisville, Ohio. I felt a fraud because I just couldn't seem to get the knack of cutting hair.

Five years later I was a bulldozer and heavy equipment operator in Canton, Ohio. Hubener trucking company, I got to take my 25 ton truck home after my shift; my landlord Mr. Owens didn't much like that but he was glad to get the rent paid on time for a few months. I hit the corner of Little Drop coffee shop with the back hoe, sacked again. Darn shootin, it's hard to make an honest living with no God given talent in America in 2104.

I remember exactly to the day when my employment problems started.

Napoleon's French army was about to enter Moscow. We Russians were leaving the City without a fight. Just like that on September 1st, or second I think, 1812, all us inmates of the madhouse there in Moscow were turned out. Just like that, to protect us from the French armies, I guess. But what was I to do, I had no talents, no God given skills, and along with others I was thought crazy because of it. Should I flee Moscow or wait for the benevolence of the French. I decided to go, Napoleon would be in a foul mood that we had not officially surrendered the City to his Majesty. Then what direction should I go, toward St. Petersberg, to find friends and allies or along the Smolensk road where Napoleon's grand armee  had come from after conquering most of Russia.

Well I escaped Napoleon's army but how shall I support myself now. Here in Central Ohio in 2014?

I've lost my Barber's license, what's to come of me? I need to focus, stop the dreaming and acquire some marketable skills.

No talent no tap dance I suppose.

retreat and renewal/part 1 draft 1

retreat and renewal/ part 1 draft 1

fiction
Edward w Pritchard



Five centers for State, regardless of State size. Every American is invited to reinvent themselves at Government expense.

Travel to any State and attend a five day retreat and renewal session. Learn American history, values and acquire skills and attitudes to attack the next twenty five years of your life. Americans age seven to 94 sign up to attend. Learn to use technology to leverage your personal aptitudes and skills. Help America redesign it's space program as well.

Two hundred fifty centers will be built by under employed and unemployed Americans. Union builders will train and supervise. The end product will be a cross between a colossus hotel, a mall and a church. Each site will hire two thousand temporary employees to build and nearly a thousand full time permanent employees to run.

Tax credits, mystery lotto, galaxy bonds and equity vouchers raise the money. American businesses suggest the training focus. American educators design the curriculum and supervise and advise.

A great public works project to revitalize the spirit of America, payoff government deficits and release the trapped potential of American citizens.

Look to the sky and space America. Tomorrow the stars.

Bernie Kosar, a quarterback about the kitchen

Bernie Kosar, a quarterback about the kitchen

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

I saw Bernie Kosar going to work at his new restaurant at the Rocksino at Northfield. He walked right past me apparently he didn't remember that I had bought an autographed picture of him for my son for charity 25 years ago and that he shook my hand heartily back then. Maybe he has changed in twenty five years and didn't recognize me.

I see Bernie is taking another shot at the restaurant business. I didn't make it to the fast food restaurants he owned before but I am going to eat at the wood fired grille at Northfield one day. I'll try the grilled seafood soon.

Bernie was with a pretty girl and he is a lot taller than I remember. Why is it that celebrities never remember you and walk fast and tall when they rush by you?

A quarterback about the kitchen. Good luck Bernie with the new enterprise. Get to work early and wow your customers with fine affordable food. That's good advice from a bank workout officer who bought a picture of you for charity and used to workout defaulted restaurant loans and auction off plates, pans and dishes, well never mind that negative part.

It was nice to see you Bernie. Good luck with the new venture and I look forward to being a guest at your restaurant soon. Still a fan.

a union plumber comes to Harlem

A union Plumber comes to Harlem

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

It's not raining and he's carrying an umbrella and it's not cold and he's wearing a gray silk scarf. It's not the 1940's and he's talking about count Basie and it's not Saturday night and he wants to hear swing music. A union plumber comes to Harlem.

Grandma wanted a white man to fix the problem with the pipes.

It's the same each time. Southern cooking is the best they ate it as a boy. Langston Hughes is a significant writer and Duke Ellington is a consummate artist.

Southern cooking killed Grandpa of heart attack and we just want to get our pipes fixed at a reasonable cost.

It's not raining and he's carrying an umbrella and it's not cold and he's wearing a gray silk scarf. A union plumber comes to Harlem.

express yourself

express your self

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


If nobody listens as I talk I will lower my voice. If nobody notices when I help a teacher buy used books for children I will pay in quarters. If nobody hears when I rage against injustice I will learn new skills. If nobody says thanks as you give what you can give again.

Express yourself though you only receive gratitude and reward in your dreams. The permanent record has been noted and marked. Repeat, smile repeat.

Those phantom characters who live in shadows in your nightly dreams record all that you do and spin their whims to create your secret story. Your secret story drives your destiny.

In the morning stumble East toward sunrise. At evening stretch your steps toward approaching darkness. Turn twice to see the full Moon and setting sun in the sky at the same time.

Each tune produced by whistling birds is used by your phantom characters to spice your understanding. Each moment spent in reflection over injustice helps your phantom characters tune your voice.

Raise your voice, lower your eyes, stretch out your hands. Movement is significant. Understanding is rehearsed. Existence is sacred.

Sit very still. Close your eyes. Hear your voice. Still your mind.

Pay the piper for the tune in crisp two dollar bills.

Move about your territory. Existence is sacred. Use your hands. Lower your voice.

Express yourself.

the duty of a poet

the duty of a poet

fiction
Edward w Pritchard





Endure infamy in silence,
reveal not personal information.
Smile at barbed innuendo and left handed compliments from intractable friends.
Look to nature for solace.
Keep revelation to weeping boughs,
bursting galaxies or remorseful suns.
The duty of a poet is to praise others
not to leak persona confessions.

how can we change the world if the goverment keeps sending us certified mail?

how can we change the world if the government keeps sending us certified mail?

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Once I wanted to change the world and vowed to do so. Before I was broken by our government when I had fight left in me everyday I took notice of all that was wrong and unfair and I did things about it.

Our government has sent me one too many pieces of certified mail through the enforcement division at the local rural post office. Now I lay low, keep out of site, stay underground. I try to avoid the mailbox, too many disruptions, too many challenges.

I got a piece of certified mail last Saturday. Monday while driving up to pick up the notice I was stopped by local sheriff, missing blinker, rear left, and a torn insurance verification card. At the post office the certified notice was from the IRS; 2006's return had an error against me of $14 and I owed counting fines, fees, interest and penalties $849. 88. The IRS will take a credit card.

Back at the house I got certified mail from County health department. The horses have been making too much manure. An inspection for bacteria count is called for. There is a fee for the service.

When I was without health insurance recently I was stricken with ill health. Human services has fined me $ 200. for no health insurance. A list of providers is enclosed in the certified letter I received from our State's attorney generals collection agency. All providers of health insurance take credit cards for monthly premiums. Since I was recently ill I will have rated premiums as I am high risk.

The local  prosecutor has sent me certified mail about not paying the ticket given me by the local sheriff for a torn auto insurance verification card. A fifty dollar fine is due and $475 in court costs and expenses. Prosecutor's office accept credit cards. Jail time is assessed for a fine for a torn auto insurance verification card if said fine is not paid in thirty days.

How can we change the world if the government keeps sending us certified mail? Before I was broken by our government, when I had fight left in me everyday I took notice of all that was wrong and unfair and I did things about it.

On a positive note unemployment rates have plunged due to a surge in government hiring.

Suburban cowboy; Saturday night, Sunday morning

Suburban cowboy; Saturday night, Sunday morning

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

The fears and tribulations of lonely Saturday night have been blown away by hostile winds, sweet dreams have reinterpreted events and Sunday morning breaks sunless and gray redux.

Time for some old time religion. To you tube for Eric Clapton, Bonnie and Delaney, " Will the circle be unbroken".

Stumble on heartless pilgrim, there's a better world awaiting bye and bye, bye and bye.

suburban cowboy Saturday night redux, alone in a crowd

suburban cowboy Saturday night redux, alone in a crowd

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Waiting.

Who will paint my picture?

Me lost in my thoughts. Alone, isolated and alone.

I am sitting in my room waiting, alone, isolated and alone, waiting for Edward Hopper.

Glance from a passing train, glimpse from a speeding automobile, espy me from a theatre.

Paint my picture Mr. Hopper. Put it on display at an art museum. Isolated and alone, Suburban cowboy Saturday night redeux, alone in a crowd.

Mauvais foi [ bad faith], I don't think so. I'll try to look natural. Sure I know you are coming to notice me and paint my picture. The emotions are real. I don't know when or if you are coming to notice. Alienation and isolation, Suburban cowboy Saturday night redux, alone in a crowd.

Who will paint my picture?

dear Jesus

dear jesus

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Dear Jesus, forgive me for I am weak.

I know you told us love our neighbors but how can I. These red necks shooting their rifles on weekends for fun sound like the beginning of the battle of Gettysburg as imagined by a southern born Hollywood director with a substantial prop budget.

How can anyone love a redneck?

should a man tell a woman the truth

should a man tell a woman the truth

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

I pounded the bass violin on stage in a five piece jazz band after graduation from Julliard. Wanting to be a classical performer and unable to find work I ended touring Europe where at the leaders orders, a woman I pounded the face of the " fiddle" like a drum while she played European style jazz. It was a distant cousin of American boogie woogie and I was embarrassed to have to do it merely for  money.

I certainly am not a good looking man but my boss Orleana, Swedish, blond, blue eyes and arresting has taken to me to upgrade her musical technique and further her career; she is very ambitious. She keeps asking me to give her my honest opinion of her boogie woogie playing. She is currently the rage of piano players here in Europe.

My Father listened to Albert Ammons piano records when I was a boy. I loved to here Pete Johnson back up big Joe turner on boogie woogie piano in " roll em Pete".

I lost my job as a bass violinist and lost a beautiful woman in one admission of truth. I told Orleana that no matter how much the audience liked to see her legs or her swing her blond hair and bat her blue eyes, her playing of boogie woogie  sounded like a broom's straws brushing the piano keys. No power, depth or soul.

Of course I lost the girl. Should a man tell the woman the truth? Never unless it concerns boogie woogie piano.

technique stills and smiles in the middle of rage

technique stills and smiles in the middle of rage

fiction
Edward w Pritchard



When first time delivers a metric caliber bullet technique stills and smiles in the middle of rage.

Rage triggers action. Technique has been brewing inside rehearsed secretly many times as each insult and innuendo is endured in silence.

With a cool eye and still mind watch delivery.

Remorse or recrimination later, for a brief moment on stage time is stopped. Technique stills and smiles in the middle of rage.

alternate version two/ pre 1750 version

When first time delivers a sharped blade technique stills and smiles in the middle of rage.

Rage triggers action. Technique has been brewing inside rehearsed secretly many times as each insult and innuendo is endured in silence.

With a cool eye and still mind watch delivery.

Remorse or recrimination later, for a brief moment on stage time is stopped. Technique stills and smiles in the middle of rage.

Head to toe in fine leather

Head to toe in fine leather

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


see a " man about the kitchen" the post somewhere in authors blog a time or two, no relation between the stories however, both about cooking sort of
start

Maurice dressed in fine leather head to toe when he cooked in Myron's kitchen.

Maurice arrived early and carried his expensive tools and displayed them properly and always in the same order on the counters of Myron's studio. Myron kept his place meticulously clean.

Maurice planned the menu carefully when he cooked for Maurice but he remembered that Maurice sometimes surprised him with an unexpected guest. Then planning went out the window when mayhem ensued.

Myron always arrived thirty seconds early for dinner dressed in the flowing red cape and clutching near extinct orchids or French perfumes for  Myron.

Long after Myron liked to sit in the kitchen at the small counter and smoke one thin French cigarette before he collected his fee and took a taxi back down to the Village.

author's apology

author's apology

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

In my waking I have prayed for Shakespeare's technique and In my dreams I have received my answer.

In " four  score ducats and a ring for a monkey" written by myself I discovered Shakespeare's secret to fantastic writing.  Will Shakespeare watches and listens to those wise and witty about him and then he includes those snippets of inspiration in his work. Like in his notable work " the merchant of Venice" having a daughter who has broken her father's heart top it off by trading her Mother's ring for a monkey. Manifique.

Now however that I know Shakespeare's secret I may not have enough time to develop it. I hear from learned Doctor's that my heart is well broken and nature placed it in the wrong place originally and my days are severely numbered.

I beseech you Christopher Marlowe critic of Will Shakespeare's clumsy technical writing skills and pirating of other's material and ideas grant me time to produce more output and less bad writing.

If so St. Christopher I will toil to my end for God's glory as usual without numeration or fame or glory or gratitude or recognition or free beers now and then in a bar by someone I have tried to praise in print.

end

previous post for continuity /
thanks to readers
ed

I could be another Shakespeare if I could explain the Satanic subtlety of the imagery of my dreams

 fiction
Edward w Pritchard

repost/ edit


dreams


Why does the hidden detective of our subconscious wait forty years to say his piece in our dreams. Couldn't our subconscious have spoken to us originally when the information was relevant.

We dream about someone we have not seen or thought of in forty years. Then we glimpse a significant part of that person's character that we were never consciously aware of delivered in the middle of the nightly melodrama our dreams have become. We glimpse a part of a person we knew forty years ago that is subtle like a Shakespearean observation revealed about Hamlet or King Lear.

Afterward we spend the rest of the day trying to interpret our dream references and to figure out what is the significance of that revealed information to us here and now.

If I could understand, recall and connect with the detective, psychologist and scribe of my unconscious mind as revealed in my nightly dreams, I could be another Shakespeare. If I could only explain the Satanic subtly of the imagery of my dreams, what significant things would I write.
end

don't blame the government and federal reserve for low labor force participation rates

don't blame the Government and federal reserve for low labor force participation rates

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Don't blame the government and federal reserve entirely for low labor force participation rates and extended persistent unemployment rates in the US above 5%. They are only 75% to blame.

The blame for the other 25% of the problem goes to a new generation of management and personnel persons in US business. Orwellian Prescreening of applicants, not calling back non selected potential employees who will cease to be potential customers going forward and high handedness by hiring personnel in the trenches are the other 25% to blame. Looking for a job is a chore, not an opportunity. Upper management shields itself from new workers and new hires and then lets human resource professionals sabotage the companies reputation locally by being a poor citizen, being un-neighborly and being unlikeable and insensitive to the community of unemployed persons.

There are too many reasons to list of what constitutes insensitivity but one is online computerized prescreening tests that are unrealistic deterrents for a job paying minimum wage and that the companies wishes to eventually eliminate or make a part time position. Companies treat unemployed people as worthless and break most federal regulations by their de facto hiring practices.

American businesses, get off your asses and treat potential employees like neighbors, friends and future customers before it's too late for your business. More and more Americans are choosing to do with less rather than work for you and more and more Americans are dropping out of the materialistic lifestyle necessary to keep full employment and the sacred 3% plus GDP growth that makes the merry go round that is the US economy work.

four score ducats and a ring for a monkey

four score ducats and a ring for a monkey

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

A sympathetic portrayal of Shylock the money lender in Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice is hard for a Director to pull off if he follows the script as presented by William Shakespeare. Shylock has been wronged, by Antonio, by his daughter Jessica and Venice itself has wronged Shylock for being a Jew. In his grief and madness at the loss of his daughter and damage to reputation Shylock seeks to enforce his contract with Antonio and extract his pound of flesh for the default of the money lent from Shylock to Antonio.

Al Pacino presents the  consummate Shylock to modern audiences in the 2004 " Merchant of Venice". Pacino's Shylock is a tour de force performance. 

Shakespeare depiction of Shylock confuses and embarrasses the modern audience. The "Merchant of Venice" is an easy play to over analyze and many critics do that with the character of Shylock. Like some other notable roles in Shakespeare the Character of Shylock comes alive on stage and in the script.

Shylock is talking to a fellow Jew and has just found out that his daughter who left Venice against his wishes with a large part of his fortune has been partying in Genoa and spent 80 ducats [ 8000 American dollars] in one night's revelry. To top off that Jessica has denounced her Jewish faith, stole a large part of her Father's hard earned money and wants to marry a Christian opportunist.

Shylock goes mad with rage when he hears that on top of spending 80 ducats in one night of partying
Jessica has traded her deceased Mother's ring for a monkey. What a fantastic piece of writing by William Shakespeare. Who that sees the play can forget 80 ducats and a ring for a monkey?

Portia and the three caskets, Portia dressed as a man and disguised as a Doctor and acting as a learned attorney, and Portia defeating Shylock in court ends with Shylock disgraced and forced to convert to Christianity. The morality play has ended with the comic villain Shylock getting his deserved justice. Portia's friends split Shylock's remaining fortune.

Shylock stumbling about boggy Venice after the end of the play runs through your head thereafter. What has Shylock done to deserve being spit on and what happened to him in court in Venice a city known for providing Justice for all? What will happen to Shylock if he leaves the protection of the Jewish ghetto?

Too bad for us that Shakespeare did not do a sequel to Shylock. What more might Shakespeare have done with the evolving character of Shylock; what might Al Pacino have done with the role.

See the masterpiece "Merchant of Venice" with Al Pacino as Shylock, it's intriguing.

mayberry new years resolutions, 1961

mayberry new years resolutions 1961

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

My new year's resolution 1961 is to open a Chinese Restaurant right here in Mayberry North Carolina. True, Mayberry doesn't have a China town, having just the one house with Chinese inhabitants but I foresee that within eighty years China will be the most important country in the world and some of that spill over will enable Mayberry to support a fine Chinese restaurant. I am going to ask my nephew Andrew Taylor for permission to invest the money I made back in the 1930's when I was a show girl in a Chinese Restaurant.
Bee Taylor

My new years resolution for 1961 is to own my own gas station
Goober

My second new years resolution for 1961 are to get a girl friend and become a stand up comedian and singer on a Country western variety show within the next ten years. Then I won't be a straw in the wind anymore.[ like Andy calls me]
Goober Pyle

I am going to start doing one hundred push ups a day so I can get a beautiful captivating Southern belle like Miss Lou Anne Poovie, join the marine corps as a private within five years and fulfill my secret desire to sing the Impossible dream on stage somewhere north of the Mason Dixon line for good money.
Gomer Pyle

I want to double my allowance in 1961, save money to become a movie director someday, get a souped up fast car to drive around in when I am in high school and learn to dance the new dances.
Opie Taylor

I want my own show now. I would like to be the main character on an innovative show where I live upstairs from two curvy girls and a dopey guy who pretends to be gay. I could be the repair man on the show as long as the show did some ground breaking material about something besides traditional American cornball values.
Barney Fife
deputy sheriff

I would like to remember my deceased wife's name, where she came from and some other personal information about her. We never talk about her on the show.
Andy Taylor
fisherman, singer, beauty show judge, pickle connoisseur, raconteur

I would like to have 1961 be a year in which America and Russia took steps to disarm some of the Atomic weapons they both have stock piled, I would like to get a full time job as a choir director[ and quit my hotel clerk job] and I would like to meet a loose woman preferably one without a southern accent and nineteenth century Values.
John Masters
choir director, hotel clerk, former handsome leading man in radio

I would like to move North,
I would like get out of this small town,
Mayberry's only Chinese man, and Mayberry's only Native American

I would like to become a deputy in Mayberry.
I would like to become a politician in Maybery, maybe the mayor
Warren,
Sam

I would rather see a colored man be American President than a woman be President within 50 years as some people here predict.
over heard in Floyds, the local Mayberry men only barber shop

how you spend new year's eve is how you will spend the next full year

how you spend new years eve is how you will spend the next full year

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

stolen material here, from my Mother

How you spend New Year's eve is how you will spend the next full year. If it's a fancy dinner, you will spend the next year eating and eating. If it's drinking over priced champagne from a passed bottle around a trash container on Main street you will spend the next full year fighting and hating those you used to clink crystal glasses with.

January gets prime emphasis as a barometer of how the year will go. In your life, in your world what determines such things as how the year will go are your habits, your repeated behaviors. One full week gone in this New year. What are we doing different?

Eat less, exercise more, write in your daily journal, save 15% of your income, get an income, be less sexist toward women, awake an hour earlier, help the poor, love your neighbor; all are good ideas.

What if you took in a movie New Year's eve? You will spend the next year watching some else earn a good living and you will watch another young woman shock us with her new ways of displaying a tight black dress.

It's all the same over and over. Change yourself to see things differently. Watch your world in a mirror for a few hours, spend two hours in China town, sit on the floor and play with four handicapped six year old children; you must stop looking at the shadows on the back of the cave wall to see life as it really is.

Life as it really is? It's all the same, it doesn't mean anything and one persons life means just as much but no more than anyone Else's; we are all equal we are all unique.

The hard part of life this year? Love thy neighbor, it's the hardest part.

White folks can play the blues but it always ends up as somewhere over the rainbow

White people can play the blues but it always ends up as somewhere over the rainbow

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

a back up black blues singer plays with Jeff Beck, or Eric Clapton or Duane Allman


The bass player sets the beat. I'm just a hard working black man working here to make a living playing a few more gigs.

You lead I follow.

 Let me sit in the back, off center stage and let me set the beat for the audience, for them. We don't all have your inspiration. They came tonight to be entertained for an hour, that's all. Let's work together to make music.

I am just glad to work tonight. Yes, I agree white people can play the blues, but well white people can play the blues but it always ends up as some where over the rainbow.

 My name, don't matter, I am just the bass player.

after the weather breaks/ part 2

after the weather breaks

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

After the weather breaks, after the cold subsides, after the wind stops suddenly in the dark we feel for everyone who came this way before us. Through their tears we see the brief tenure that life is and we feel their regrets for what came and went too quickly for them and everyone we have ever known, heard of, read about, dreamed about or imagined. With a smile we hope those who came before us  were happy more than sad and they kept busy with significant things that made their days seem important to them.

Thirty mile an hour winds that drives sub zero temperatures across the face of the earth howl and shudder then suddenly the howling winds stop. Meanwhile the Earth we stand on hurls through space at 87,000 miles per hour day in and day out for all the weeks and months of our lives regardless of local weather disruptions. No sound that the Earth makes dashing through space following the Sun around the Milky Way Galaxy do we hear. Over ten billion years the Sun retraces it's path round and round the moving Milky way galaxy. Every human who fretted over the briefness of time is a blink to the dashing Sun and it's entourage of planets endlessly searching across perimeters of the galaxy.

A baby cries and then twenty years have passed. Through our tears we feel for the babies lost innocence as we adapt to being happy that a baby has acquired the skills and toughness to survive an indifferent environment. Soon we will be gone and that baby comes of age acting it's part on the stage of the Earth as it races across our Galaxy.

Move to California, retire to Florida, triple the value of your portfolio; you still ride on the face of the same planet chasing one local star through nearby space.

Soon when the warm returns we can sit by a fire again, outside and watch outer space approach us each night. May you recollect your life with a smile and we hope you are happy more than sad and you keep busy with significant things that make your measured days seem important to you.

cold ain't cold anywhere but here

cold ain't cold anywhere but here

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

How do you compare one Mother to another?

Is cold temperatures on Mars comparable to cold temperatures on earth? Well my instructor back on earth in balmy Venice thought so; I heard him say so one night over beers with a dozen of us cadets near the Rialto.

Cold on earth is not like cold on Mars because Mars is a brutal lifeless place and all the optimists wishing to make it otherwise have one thing in common, they have never been to Mars.

One hundred twenty five below zero Fahrenheit is not all that unusual on Mars. I have experienced it. Your lungs refuse to take a deep breath from your oxygen tank and your skin recedes into your body. Your heart won't pump blood to your limbs even though you are protected from Mar's brutal cold by the latest life suit.

 Mars  receives 50% of the sunlight as Earth, only the Sun can warm a human. Artificial suits, simulated warmth and training on Earth cannot prepare a space explorer for his first few months on Mars.

Was your first broken heart the same as someone else's? When you first saw you first child's soul in their eyes did they seem like just another baby? Cold on Mars and Earth's record cold temperatures are not comparable.

The only training that can prepare one for the brutal life stifling cold on Mars is being there. Triple duty pay sounds great when listening to your Space officers lecture at a café in Venice, Italy. What do they know. Don't take advice about Mars from anyone who hasn't been there.

Cold ain't cold anywhere but here, and here is desolate, lifeless Mars; living as a geology miner for a two year sentence 800 earth miles South of equatorial central. Cold is cold just on Mars.

ornery author with no beer in house in a cold freeze

ornery author with no beer in the house in a cold freeze

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

repost/ edit

Recycling- repost

author liked this and posted it again, and now again

for my brothers


Here in Louisville, Ohio  we are very environmentally conscious. That's why I am taking my brother Few to be recycled. It's not the money.

Few died last night. Everyone will miss Few.

Green movement or not I will not pay the transport fee. In it's obsession with taxation my township has imposed a transport fee on bringing bodies in for recycling. At the recycling center, right next to the canister for broken glass and old papers is a chemical reducer to return a body to it's original elements. Few would understand why I decided to have him recycled. Life is expensive and Few is dead; my Brother would understand me saving a few bucks on his burial and it's PC and environmentally responsible to recycle him.

I put my brother Few in the backseat of the car and we are just now pulling into the recycle facility. I didn't wrap my brother Few in a plastic trash bag, that would be wrong. Plastic bags take a long time to decompose. All of the containers are green here except the chemical reducer which is a very soft shade of blue. Like moonlight after a storm at sea. I stripped old Few of his clothes and dumped him into the blue chemical reducer. It gave a whirl and there was a whiff of sea water and then old Few was decomposed.

I think I will hire the minister on duty over there in the trailer to perform a brief service. Few was my Brother after all. Few would have liked the idea of the smell of the ocean, he always liked fishing and fishing always called for a couple of beers. I will use some of the recycling money I received from the County to send old Few off properly with a couple of cold beers down at Donley's Lakeside Inn. I'll sit by the window and watch the moon shine across the Lake. Old Few would have liked that.    

Posted by edward pritchard at 8:41 AM 0 comments

Soon as the weather breaks

Soon as the weather breaks

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

As soon as the weather breaks I'll go up town and find some new friends. It's hard to express yourself properly in this extreme cold so I'll just lay low here for a while. There's too much duplicity, there's too much artifice and there's too much bad weather here for my taste. Every year bad weather gets worse but this year extreme cold weather has got me down, got me rightly tired and got me in solitaire.

Just a few more months of being down, hurt, and broken hearted then I'll head uptown and make some new friends.

Soon as the weather breaks some changes will be coming around here.  In the meantime I'll just lay low here for now and wait things out. It's too damn cold for anything but contemplating my next move. Maybe uptown, maybe to the far outskirts of town, maybe soon. Soon as the weather breaks.

life flounders below zero/ part 2

life flounders below zero/ part 2

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Civilization is a good well, dry sorted wood for fire and an enclosed outdoor toilet. A cold spell is good for the well, it kills harmful bacteria and sweetens the water to have a spell of below zero days each Winter.

This winter though we worry about our well. It's twenty five below zero so we worry if the well will freeze and we worry if all the beneficial bacteria that keeps us healthy will all die off and we will pay the price next Summer.

Five days of sub zero temperatures and we haven't been to town once. It's too dangerous to let the Horse get over heated and then be out in this extreme cold. We have plenty of food and wood at the ranch but it's monotonous without store candy for the children and City whiskey paid for by the glass for the Men. The women are double busy in a cold snap. They work harder to keep the household's spirits up and to clean up after the men who drag in a mess each time they leave the house.

 Feeding the horse goes on twice a day as usual despite the temperature. Horses are finicky but they can stand the cold very well. They hate it when we give them a blanket to wear. Horses hate to drink well water too when it's below zero, maybe they know instinctively that all the beneficial bacteria gets killed below twenty below.

Everyone has a hundred ways of predicting tomorrow's Weather when it's well below zero. Ultimately everyone, even the children just hope and pray for warmer weather in the middle of a long cold spell. Sometimes it seems like it never will get warm again. We sit around and read all the old books over and over and then one of the women tries to get us all to sing. I just wander off and stare out a frosty window to the south and wonder where Spring is. I wish to see one more Spring bloom and hopefully not anymore winter sub zero spells of prolonged twenty five below zero weather.

It's confining being in a cramped house day after day in a cold snap but I always worry for those who don't have a snug house to stay in when it's below zero. Sometimes when I am wishing for Spring to return I hope that someone is thinking about others who have no where warm to rest when it's sub zero. I guess I can stand a few more sub zero spells in the Winters with me living in a snug house if others less fortunate can sleep outside under a blanket or two when it's twenty five below day in and day out.

When the circus packs up and leaves town/ part 2

when the circus packs up and leaves town/ part 2

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

repost, edit when the circus packs up and steadily moves out of town:



Farmers, store keepers, women and children milled around a long time after the circus packed up and steadily left town. The ground shook from the trump of the elephants, the squeak of the wagon wheels carrying the fat lady and the fire eating boy could be heard for a long, long way off and you could see the red hair of the world's tallest man for over a half mile before the entire circus retinue was out of sight; steadily traversing Cario hill off southwest to Centerville the next venue, more than 500 miles south by West. Old men shared a bottle of store whiskey, women sat alone lost in private thoughts and children traced notes and pictures with fingers in the rutted dusty roads embedded by the wagon wheels after the squeaking of the circus caravan could be heard no more.

For four glorious days our lives were transformed by all the performers of the three ring circus but now the strongman who wrestles a giant bear, the woman who trains miniature horses, and the rest of the troupe are all gone. Off to the next paying gig. We here in our little town have many new things to think about for our lives have been changed by exposure to the troupe. The wanders stir up new thoughts and philosophies in us and we feel we have a new way of seeing our tired little town. Secretly we hope that we have changed the performers a little; as if they will remember our ordinary town as a special place, not just one of a hundred they have set up and broken down their tents in.   

Back to our lives tomorrow. Bills, lingering illnesses and diet foods will return to our center stage. Still a gleam in our eyes and a smile across the heart is a residual memory of the moment we first heard the thud of the circus caravans rolling into our ordinary insignificant lives.

There is a part of us that likes to believe that the performers in the three ring circus remember us nostalgically too; as if our place is a unique special place and not just one of hundreds they will eventually perform their act in. We know that on cold Winter evenings alone we will take out the old fading circus posters and stare at the bright faces of the performers and late at night we will dream of the sites and sounds of new places where our old friends in the circus troupe sit at small square tables in rickety chairs smoking French cigarettes and drinking  Irish whiskey and share tales of all the places they have been. In their old beaten water soaked trunk, where they store the exploding cigars, collapsible knives and green wigs we secretly hope there is a folded old map of our town, waiting for important use the day, someday in our future, just south of Cario hill that the circus troupe rolls ceremonially into our vanishing lives again.

Life flounders below zero degrees

Life flounders below zero degrees

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Life flounders below zero degrees and civilization is extinct.

Human kind shrinks and shutters below zero degrees as animals are slaughtered by man for warm blood and thick skins. People huddle underground likes rats waiting for the protective cloud cover to return to the sky that bring the communal urges fostering man's altruistic outpouring. Below zero degrees there is no cooperation. Entire forests are burned for one day's sustenance. A hundred buffalo are driven over a cliff for meat. Strangers are driven away.

Elderly persons expire when it's below zero and stiffen where they fell. Children cannot talk and parents lay still, rocking, without comment fearful of winds aloft. Relatives disappear and neighbors vanish when the temperature is below zero. Freezing winds screech from distant mountain peaks driving snowy darkness.

When it's below zero strong men venture forth into the elements to return with secret rocks heated to explosion to surround sickly coughing children. Bent women strain against driving snow to distribute dried berry and seeds from ancient hutches. Wood piles are pirated for warmth when it's below zero. The oldest most venerated Grandmother chants and sloshes boiling sacred waters in polished gourds stirring black waxy barks and dried red plants into swirling heated potions for use as medicines to return cheerful spirits.

Envy the tribe that sits in a twenty buffalo skin tee pee when it's twenty below zero. Envy the tribe that has meat and wood to share when it's twenty below zero. Sit, listen, hope and pray when it's below zero. Who will return the heated air to the earth?

first wall street trading day 2014; and Saint Veronica with the Sudarium

first wall street trading day 2014; and Saint Veronica with the Sudarium

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

What should we worship?

Veronica was a creation of legend. When Jesus was carrying the cross to be crucified Saint Veronica offered Christ her veil. The veil became imprinted with the face of Jesus. The picture of Christ on a veil became a popular image and pilgrimage to Rome to view a Sudarium earned one many indulgences in the Middle ages. It was also thought viewing the image protected one from sudden death.

Rather than contemplate Christ suffering horribly on the cross it is softer to view his sad face staring at us across the ages. The Sudarium was a different way of looking at the familiar information central to Christianity. The image presented above by the Master of St. Veronica, Cologne 1400 presents Jesus' sorrow without the brutal edge of the Cross and Crucifixion.

The first day of stock trading in 2014 resulted in a drop in the Dow of 135 points. Is it as January goes so goes the year for Stocks or as January's first trading day so goes the year? If so not a good start to the trading year of 2014. Seventy five percent of advisers seem to be bullish. Was today's losses profit taking from the year end run up, a traditional January effect, or an augury of something more? Nearly every prognosticator expects a bullish year for stocks in 2014.

What are the futures telling you?

What does the year hold for the American stock market? Do we need a new way of looking at the same old information? Can anyone accurately predict the stock market and the future?

Bullish or bearish in 2014. Day by day yesterday's predictions become exposed to reality.

Is the January effect or a first trading day of January prediction model a case of over elaborate data mining? Yale Hirsch, author of " Don't sell stocks on Monday " back in 1986 wrote " while stocks do indeed fluctuate, they do so in well defined, often  predictable patterns which reoccur too frequently to be the result of chance or coincidence."

Is all of existence random; explainable as one interaction followed by another ad infinitum? Or is there a underlying pattern to everything, caused and created by who knows what or who knows whom?

What should we worship? Oracles and auguries abound, the future is certain we are told. Who knows what will happen tomorrow? What are the futures telling you?

Who will you worship?

come into my parlor

come into my parlor

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Come into my parlor
I will slice red apples for snacking,
pour chilled white wine for sipping,
play soft music for relaxing,
wrap you in the favorite warmed blanket
and discuss your interested topics for nearly one hour.

Come into my parlor
I will keep my back 90 degrees divan,
feet and hands on the floor
smile at polite conversation,
scrape your windshield in snow storms,
and wave from second floor windows when hobbled with aging
when it's time to depart.

oh the wonder

oh the wonder

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

My secret reasons were anything but altruistic. I founded the school for pregnant teenage girls for money. For the reward money.

It was difficult to get a permit to open a classroom. The teacher's union in town objected because I would be teaching classes without a teaching certificate. A local baker's union officer wrote an editorial in the local paper that we were serving non union bread at lunch time. A few of the churches in town somehow objected to helping pregnant teenagers as encouraging promiscuity. Conservative political groups locally object to our school receiving State Aide to buy text books and supplies. Liberal political groups locally object to our school taking jobs from Licensed teachers. [ I am the only paid employee]

Three million dollars is a lot of motivation to a man like me and I overcame all obstacles to try to obtain the reward money. Lauren Murphy the heiress is pregnant and missing from her New York apartment and I have conceived of an elaborate plan to find her. I hope the opportunity to receive  education and comfort will entice sixteen year old Lauren to show up at my school here in Ohio.

Each night I stay up late to prepare a lesson plan. I focus on life skills, practical things that a new parent can use. But, I also make sure that each class I teach has traditional classroom subjects emphasized. Most of the young women work hard at our school. They keep a notebook for each subject and prepare homework each night for the next day.

My task of running the school and teaching got easier about two weeks ago. The Mennonite church counsel in our State has been providing me with teaching aide volunteers. Older retired women help in the class room. I have taken to letting them teach the parenting skills classes. Their assistance is invaluable, they are angels of mercy.

We now have eleven students in our morning class and fourteen in the afternoon group. My day starts at seven AM and I get home about six. Each evening I spend an hour or two in preparation for tomorrow. I haven't had trouble sleeping since I became a teacher, I am very tired at night.

Sometimes when I connect with some of the students in a class I enjoy the teaching for the work itself. At such times the wonder of what I do as a teacher  comes upon me and the effort is worth all the headaches I put up with to teach my students. At such times I forget that I entered teaching for the big reward money and just enjoy my day to day life as a teacher.