Stories Through The Ages
There is still time to submit your story forĀ āStories Through The Ages Baby Boomers Plus 2018ā. Submissions close June 15.
We are excited that the winners for āStories Through The Ages College Edition 2018″ have been chosen and notified. There were a lot of great entries and it was hard to pick the stories to include in the book. We will be announcing the names and stories on our website and Facebook page soon.
“The Memory of you” by Henry E. Peavler
āWhose gonna play this old piano
After Iām not here.
Whose gonna play these sad songs to ya
Cause your eyes to fill with tears.ā
Ah, Jerry Lee Lewis, The Killer, One of a kind. I hope his memory never dies, flaws and all heās one of my favorites. Just like the singers from my momās generationāFrank Sinatra, Perry Como and Doris Day. And from my grandmotherās generation, Mamie Smith, Ethel Waters and Al Jolson. My goodness that man could sing. I still listen to Al, but it wonāt be long before the memories have faded away completely, like full service gas stations. Youād better get the recollections down on paper or everyone will forget or never know in the first placeāNO, I donāt mean the memory of Jerry Lee, I mean the memory of you!
Boulder, Colorado, July 21, 1969 a date of stupendous importance. Neil Armstrong stepped down the lunar ladder onto the surface of the moon āOne small step for a man, one giant leap for mankindā. I watched it from a rundown shack up past two mile canyon--must have been 20 of us long-haired flower children gathered around an old Magnavox secreting a snowy blur of a picture that could have been filmed in a warehouse in Burbank for all I know. āOne small stepā¦.ā But that wasnāt the stupendous part--that occurred earlier when I had my first toke on a joint passed ceremoniously back and forth with Janet Patron who captured my heart in a haze of smoke and the witnessing of history. The secrets of life were revealed to me with crystal clarity, the lights of Boulder shimmering below that airless cathedral of my youthāas soon as the show was over I professed my undying love to Janet then spent the rest of the evening trying to disentangle myself from the lizard lock her boyfriend put on me until I cried āuncleā and swore never to molest her again or even come near her--scouts honor.
The humiliation was complete later that night when Rich told me that there wasnāt any weed it was just oregano that I smokedāI was high on a condiment. They laughed at me for years after, āRemember that night up at Richās place when you got high smoking oregano?ā
Yeah, I remember, thanks for the memories.
Shouldnāt these precious moments be recorded and left for all eternity for our loved ones. Maybe choose a different memory but you get the idea.
I know they donāt give a damn now but someday, after weāre gone, they may be combing through an old box of scrapbooks and find that story and say āGood God Almighty, great uncle Hank got high on oregano and fell in love with some lady during the first moon landing.ā Thatās history right there. You donāt want to let it slip away never to be remembered by anyone again.
Bennett, Colorado, November 22, 1963. The news spread like the plague, President Kennedy had been shot. We were devastated and seriously thought that the end was nigh. Not just the end of life as we knew it but the end of the world. Rumors were flying, the Russians had launched the A Bomb, Castro was invading Miami. We were ducking under our desks and praying for deliverance.
Don and I took it upon ourselves to lower the flag to half-staff. I donāt remember the thought process but somehow, in our addled adolescent minds, we felt it was incumbent upon us to do so. Maybe it was because it was noon and we were walking to lunch and happened to be standing nearby when we heard the news. Looming above us was the gloomy old elementary school, shrouded in mist like a haunted specter from a bad horror movie. One of the upper windows flew open and the new fourth grade teacher screamed at us, āWhat the hell are you doing, Iām a Veteran.ā Don and I stopped, embarrassed that we didnāt know that only veterans could lower the flag to half-staff.
āThe man isnāt even in his grave,ā he shouted. āGet the hell back to class you assholes.ā And he slammed the window down leaving us there scarred to death, the flag snapping in the breeze and the sound of the ropes banging against the flag pole, a sound that, to this day, summons a melancholy feeling in my soul that almost reduces me to tears. The truth is that our lives did changeāwe just didnāt know it yet.
Where were you when it happened? Write it down, leave the memory for your family. Someday someone will want to know.
Hijacked and Piggybacked
If you order āStories Through The Ages Baby Boomers Plus 2018ā and receive āThe Devil in the White Cityā in addition to notifying Amazon, please let us know.
Putting a book for sale on Amazon is usually fairly painless Ā - not so for Baby Boomers Plus 2018! After completing the process to make it available and receiving the Amazon ASIN number I went to Amazon to verify the listing. I searched using the number. Lo and behold Baby Boomer Plus displayed, but a book called āThe Devil in the White Cityā also displayed. The ASIN is supposed to be unique, so this wasnāt good. I contacted support, asking what was going on. My inquiry was immediately escalated. I got a response back that they didnāt know how this happened and would try to figure it out. I really didnāt care how it happened ā I just wanted it fixed.Ā They eventually assigned Baby Boomers a unique number, but the damage was done. In Amazonās mind, memory or whatever Amazon has, the two books are the same.
āThe Devil in the White Cityā is a popular book, which is good and bad for Baby Boomers. The good is that it is getting exposure that it normally wouldnāt. The bad is that the scammers have come out of the woodwork. There are now over 100 sellers who have piggybacked on our listing with Used, New and even Collectible books to sell. The listing has been hijacked twice āLiving Springs Publishers was replaced as the seller and any book sales credited to the hijacker. Ā Not only that, they sent the customer involved āThe Devil in the White Cityā instead of Baby Boomers Plus. There are actually videos online that tell people how to hijack other sellerās listings.
What I have learned:
We need to check our Amazon listings daily. A Living Springs Publishers listing that has:
Ships from and sold by Amazon.com
has not been hijacked.
A Ā listing that has:
Sold by āSome companyā and fulfilled by Amazon
has been hijacked.
It makes me wonder, when shopping on Amazon ā who am I really buying from.Ā āJacqueline Veryle Peavler
Undertoad by Henry E. Peavler (Part 2)
I can float for a long time, surely someone will see me. Larry and Diane are in the palapa reading. Donāt they realize Iām in trouble, havenāt they missed me yet? I canāt even see the palapa, how far have I floated, how long have I been out here? At least twenty minutes.
I panic again, oh my God, swim hard for shore, harder, oh Lord. Iām wearing myself out. Iāll pray; oh, you hypocrite, Iāll pray anyway, it canāt hurt. Lord, please help me, I promise I will believe in you and not be a sinner. Iām not that bad a sinner anyway. Oh Christ, what a double-dealer I am. Whatās the matter with me, donāt give up, just keep floating, block negative thoughts and think positive. Iām positive the sun is burning my face; Iām positive that I wish I had my sunglasses; Iām positive I am going to die.
Think logically, once Larry figures out Iām missing heāll go into the restaurant, raise a commotion and theyāll call the Salvavidas. Then theyāll find a boat or Jet Ski and come find me; thatās plausible. Iām rested again, Iāll try and break free, swim hard, wait for a wave to help me toward shore. Swim now, harder, Go, Go.
Jesus Christ! Iām getting further away from shore. Donāt fight it, roll over and float again, and breathe, for Godās sake; donāt panic. Iām not dying, I havenāt heard Godās voice or seen any Angels, my life hasnāt flashed before my eyes; this isnāt dying. Iām just in danger of dying, in grave danger. Is there any other kind? Ha, ha! Thatās good, thatās the ticket. Iāll think of famous quotes and float on my back, I can float forever.
The sun is incredibly hot and the atmosphere is bright, surreal like a high plains winter freeze when the air is so frigid that that it looks white, but the temperature is 100. Even the hotels look white, blanco, but itās not winter, I think I am hallucinating. I feel sick, Mother always said, āNever go swimming until an hour after you eat or youāll get cramps and drown.ā It wasnāt 30 minutes ago that I ate and now I am going to drown, you should never argue with a known saying.
āItās not unheard of for a sceptic or agnostic to think in religious terms,ā my professor 50 years ago said, and he was a renowned sceptic, agnostic and atheist and expert on all religions; he was an ordained minister and an arrogant bastard. There were 50 people in the class, I came in late one time and he called me out in front of everyone, told me I was an inconsiderate buffoon. I wasnāt sure what he meant, I assumed it was akin to being a religious heathen. Is this what they mean by my life flashing before my eyes? I had forgotten about that embarrassing episode.
Maybe I should look to sea instead of the shore, think outside the box. Iām past the big waves so wait for a swell and when Iām at the top look for a fishing boat; they should be returning to take their catch to the market. Nothing there, and now I grow weary, my muscles are starting to fatigue and Iāve swallowed so much salt water. Suddenly I see the reality, I see where this is headed and it isnāt good. I think of my children and hate the thought of them being told that I was lost at sea, presumed drowned, isnāt that how the papers describe it?
I should be better prepared for this, maybe if I were raised according to the Quran or Buddhism or if I were a Hindu or even a Catholic; Presbyterian is what I am and it seems so inadequate now. I went to bible study every week, Church on Sunday, choir practice, Sunday school and Bible camp, but right now at this crucial moment all I remember from those 18 years of lessons is how to prepare for a nuclear attack, dive under the pew and bury your head in your hands. What was Reverend Ryersonās lesson about dying, about how to die, I donāt remember, we go to heaven, I recollect, but how does it work? I had college courses but I am not an expert in religious doctrine, like the arrogant professor.
If I were God everyone would live forever, that was a game we used to play: what you would do if you were God, but I remember now, it isnāt true and I didnāt say that. Living forever wasnāt part of my personal God world, I made the same inane comments as everyone else, end world hunger, stop children from suffering, no more wars. Mary Jane Thomas made the comment about living forever but there were so many objections to it, you would get bored, no need to make babies. We made fun of her, she was the only person I knew who had three first names and one of them was a boyās name.
I did say, āThat must be why God allows children to suffer, because heās bored, heās been up there so long and seen so many babies, and so many people come and go that heās just bored; it doesnāt mean anything to him anymore, people slaughtered, no big deal, Iāll just make some more.ā I heard my motherās best friend talking about that idea and it appealed to me so I borrowed it; that made Mrs. Thomas very mad. She said I was a Religious Heathen for talking about God that way and I was embarrassed much like in my freshman religious studies class. Thatās why I thought an inconsiderate buffoon was the same thing, both terms embarrassed me.
Iām hallucinating, these things happened over 50 years ago. I should open my eyes, but they hurt, I should see where I am, floating is no problem, thinking is counterproductive so I wonāt think.
But this is all wrong, not the way Iām going to die, I just know it. Itās all a big lie, Iāve been swimming here before, how can this be happening? Betrayal, thatās what I feel, like when you learn that your mother isnāt all powerful, or all knowing, and in fact, she lied to you about certain things; Biff Noonan telling me that there is no Santa, and laughing when I expressed dismay; I felt betrayed when I went to Mother asking for the truth but I could see it in her eyes, so my seven year old world was re-arranged again.
Donāt it always seem to go that you donāt know what youāve got till itās gone, thatās a known saying right there, impossible to argue against. Double down on all my problems on shore and I would still take it over this.
Iāve got to see where I am, keep my head up, wait, I see someone on shore, āHelp, help me,ā I shout as loud as I can and I wave my arms like crazy, āHelp, pleaseā oh no, itās the hat salesman. He has about 10 hats piled on his head, he looks like a deformed cowboy, a long necked vaquero seeking disoriented cattle on a deserted beach. I am in that absurd Marquis de Sade play, Iām the star. (to be continued)
