THE
CAT’S MEOW
FOR
WRITERS & READERS E-ZINE®
Where we take care to bring you stories and poems for your
reading pleasure
plus helpful information of all kinds, and author’s books to
purchase!™
Not Your Typical
Electronic Magazine!
DECEMBER 2009
Issue 53,
Volume 09, Ezine: ISSN#: 2237-65
PLEASE NOTE: Although
this is an Internet based magazine, we have 3,000+ subscribers who receive
notification when a new issue is on this website. And we would like you to know
that our subscriber list is NOT made available to others, including companies.
We value every subscriber and respect your privacy. But, we are NOT responsible
for web site links that do not work unless they have been inserted into Rosanne’s
corner; then she is responsible, she apologizes and will correct it as soon as
possible… However, please notify us at The Publisher’s Box™ if any links are not
working or are the wrong links so we will know. Thank you!
IN THIS
ISSUE:
BIRTHDAY & ANNIVERSARY WISHES
CORNER
COFFEE HOUSE 4 READERS CORNER:
CONTRIBUTORS
FOR DECEMBER 2009
Rosanne
Catalano, aka R.C.Kayla
“Heart
of a Man [Part I]” and “Whatever Happened to The Acadians”
“God’s
GPS” and “The Gift of Love”
“God’s
Precious Holy Light” and “A Little Dradle Am I”
“Hunger”
and “Couplets to Grandpa”
“The
Doctor’s Office” and “Letters Without Promises”
“This
Might Help” and “Are You Helping God Help You?”
“Carrying
My Cross” and “Why Am I Here?”
CONTRIBUTORS
FOR DECEMBER 2009
“When Women were not
considered Persons” and “Early Champions of Women’s Rights”
“Twelve Touches Before They
Buy”
“Seven Keys to Lasting
Success”
“How to Make Your Own
Christmas Wreaths”
“New Years Party – Supplies
Every Host Needs”
“Feel the Christmas Spirit
throughout the Year”
“How to Bring Christmas
Spirit Home This Season”
“Surviving Family Drama
during the Holidays”
LOOKING
FOR A GREAT BOOK TO READ?
THE BEST
IN LITERATURE BY MANY AUTHORS CAN BE PURCHASED THROUGH HERE!
Hello my dear readers! As you know the holiday season is upon us
once again. Besides the
holidays, however, there
is another important event this month and that is our 5 Year Anniversary! Five whole years have
passed since we began publishing this magazine and a lot has happened – good
and bad – since it’s inception but we have weathered all the storms to bring
you our 5-Year-Anniversary-Issue! In this special issue, we have lots of
Wait!
Before you continue on,
I’d like to reiterate that to see a
picture of our new fur baby please go to my Facebook page where our Nikko’s picture is under “Photos”: www.facebook.com/rosanne.catalano
I’m sorry I can’t transport our new fur
baby’s photo into this magazine but, for some
reason, I have forgotten how to input pictures; it may have something to
do with going through the ‘change of life’ just now – ‘forgetfulness’ is just
one symptom! So I promise that I will have
Now, before I bring you the rest of “Rosanne’s Corner” and
our contributors’ goodies, I would like to inform my
writers
that if your work is
NOT published in this issue do not fret it will be published in upcoming issues
instead. Enjoy our Five Year Anniversary Issue! And do have a very Merry
Christmas, a Happy Hanukkah, a Happy Kwanzaa, and a Happy
DON’T FORGET
TO PICK UP YOUR COPY
OF MIRRORED IMAGES,
A COLLECTION OF MY
STORIES & POEMS
JUST FOR YOU!
News from Our Contributor BARBARA DEMING!
“THE PUPPIES HAVE BEEN
BORN!
Pink Poodle Pie (Other Tales of How
Women Get Even) by BARBARA DEMING has been released! All those stories
are just "yapping" to be read by all of you. This is what my editor
calls "mid-life chick-lit." I say it is a blueprint of how we
gals can get even with those cheatin' males in our lives, or dream of what we wished
had happened to such guys in our past.
If you've ever been cheated on, dumped, or
mentally/physically violated by a yahoo in any way, this is a must read for
you. You will grin, gasp--maybe even give an "atta girl" yell at the
antics of these strong women.
Yours Truly, BARBARA DEMING,
offers nineteen women, many like us, who write their own ending to the stories
of an important time in their lives.
You can find "Pink Poodle Pie"
at iUniverse.com,
Amazon.com,
B&N.com,
Books-in-a-Million.com, or
receive an autographed copy of the soft-cover edition by sending your check for
$16 (includes
media postage-mailing) to: Barbara Deming, 1175 La Moree Road #68, San Marcos,
CA 92078. I welcome questions, discussion, and comments at mailto:demingwrites@att.net
Happy
* * * *
News from Our Contributor SANDRA HOYNACKI!
“To all, I
finally have a web page for viewing and purchasing my book;
my very first Novel...’ON
CALL’…Go to the page
at the below link, and if you would like to order it, or any of the three,
please follow directions on the page. The novel has taken me almost two years
to write. I have been through deep valleys while writing it. Many of you know,
I lost my father during this time of working on it. I set out to conquer my goals
and I have.
Please refer my link to your friends and
everyone. I promise you that you will NOT REGRET purchasing the novel. It is
spine tingling from beginning to end.... Take my word...The ending is nothing
like you could ever imagine…Not in your wildest dreams.... Leave a note in the
guestbook as some of my friends already have. Let me know that you were at
least there......” – SANDY
“ON CALL” By Sandra Hoynacki can be purchased at Sandra’s web site: www.SandraHoynacki.com
* * * *
News from Our Contributor ROGER DEAN KISER!
“As some of you know, my self published book “The White House
Boys” was pulled from the market and the new book has been released
by HCI (Chicken
Soup for the Soul publishers). Most books and stories I write are
very tame in language and content, especially when dealing with child sexual
abuse issues. But in this book the coarse language was necessary in order to
portray the cruel and deplorable treatment many boys received while in the care
of the
ROGER’S
book, “The White House Boys,” is now available at Amazon.com
at this link:
This YouTube video (below) tells the true
story in less than 40 seconds. It shows that child abuse lasts a lifetime:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8neSnpAXTro
“The
purchasing of my books helps me continue my work with American Orphans and
abused children” -- ROGER DEAN KISER,
author and child advocate: http://www.geocities.com/trampolineone
White House
Boys Web Site:
http://www.thewhitehouseboys.com
* * * *
News from Our Contributor DR. HARMANDER SINGH!
CAROL ROACH, publisher of “Storytime Tapestry” and my
dear friend, had announced the following in her publication:
“I am proud to announce that DR. HARMANDER SINGH has published a new book on The Gurbani,
the collection of the teachings of the metaphysically transcendental souls; the
enlightened ones! It does not matter to which religion, cult, sect or ism they
belong. The belief in it is that the whole of the Creation is having the
governance from One God, called and known by many different names. The word
‘Omni’ as a prefix has ‘
In the Gurbani, there are many transcendentally universal (or natural)
laws and the principles; however, we may take the main of fifty-two in the
series. These are to support us metaphysically about what the Comparative
Religious and
Please check out “MYSTICALLY NATURAL LAWS
AND PRINCIPLES BY DR. HARMANDER SINGH”, available at Lulu Press,
just click on this link to order your copy today: http://www.lulu.com/content/3962886
CAROL
ROACH
Publisher – Storytime Tapestry
”
============================================================================================================================
Calls for Submissions!
From CAROL ROACH, publisher of Storytime
Tapestry:
“Storytime Tapestry is in need of more stories, please keep them coming in. Also help support the continued running of
Storytime Tapestry by joining me on myLot and getting paid while we talk to
each other and others all over
the world: http://www.mylot.com/?ref=winterose
(if the link doesn’t work just copy and paste).
From
my son Steven Roach:”
“I was thinking you should advertise this
link regularly in your newsletter (if the link doesn’t work just cut and paste)
http://greenhorse.com/join_now.ghc?r=177952857 Tell them it would help support the
newsletter and they can earn money from it. They need to sign up and install it
but they don't need to do anything else. They just do what they normally would
anyways on the net and they earn money while it’s on. In other words they just
keep it running while they are online. Its small doesn't take up much system
resources and they can earn more if they advertise their own link and get
people under them as well. Let them know some people make 5-10$ a day on it and
it’s been open since 2002.”
From ERNEST DEMPSEY,
co-publisher of The Audience Review:
I would like to tell you about
our Call for Opinion on ‘Intelligence among Men and Women’ to be included in
our upcoming issue of the print
quarterly publication “The
Audience Review.” You are welcome
to submit your opinion as well as to notify your readers about submitting
theirs too. To read the submission guidelines (there are only a few), please
visit: http://cspsapc.blogspot.com/2008/08/men-or-women-whos-more-intelligent.html
Best
regards,
ERNEST
Co-Publisher of The Audience Review
========================================================================================================================
AN EXCITING POETRY CONTEST!
High
Prairie Poets
ELIGIBILITY: ALL POETS –
12 point Font
is a must. DON’T “CAP” Titles.
DEADLINE: POSTMARKED BY The 20th
OF THE MONTH.
LINE LIMIT: There is a 32 line limit.
ENTRY FEE: $2.00 entry fee for the
first poem and $1.00 each for additional poems. NO EMAIL ENTRIES.
PRIZES: $25.00 1st
Place; $10.00 2nd Place; $5.00 3rd Place; 3 HM’S; WE DO
NOT PUBLISH ANY POEMS.
SUBMISSION: Please send TWO
COPIES of each poem (poet‘s choice), ONE BLANK
and THE OTHER WITH NAME, ADDRESS,
and TITLE OF
POEM. DO NOT SEND COVER LETTER OR
BIOGRAPHY; One Poem on a Page; 66 characters per line. No Themes.
NO OBSCENE LANGUAGE.
NOTIFICATION: By the tenth of the
following month, IF you include a SASE. ALWAYS INCLUDE A “SASE.”
JUDGING: Qualified, blind judging;
Judge’s decisions are final.
NEXT
CONTEST: JANUARY
20, 2010.
ADDRESS:
SEND ALL
ENTRIES TO: CAROL DEE MEEKS, Silver Arrow
Estates,
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
YOU
DEFINITELY DON’T WANT TO MISS OUT ON THIS INFORMATIVE E-BOOK BY BETH ANN
ERIKSON!
BETH ANN ERIKSON, “The Queen Bee of Filbert
Publishing,” wrote
an excellent book that makes a wonderful gift for the writer in your life! In her book, Beth
helpfully guides you on how to earn more than pennies for your freelance
writing. To purchase her excellent eBook titled “101 No Cost or Low Cost
Techniques to Turbo Charge Your Freelance Income,” go to Filbert
Publishing today!
YOU ALSO
DON’T WANT TO MISS OUT ON THIS VERY INFORMATIVE SOCIAL MEDIA REPORT BY PHYLLIS
ZIMBLER MILLER!
Now I’m
going to ask you if you think marketing your book is expensive or are you
looking for ways to get the word out about a
new hot novel you’ve written? If you answered “yes” to
these questions, then you must read PHYLLIS ZIMBLER MILLER’s Special
Report SOCIAL MEDIA CAMPAIGN FOR BOOK AUTHORS! For
only $14.95, PHYLLIS will show & tell you how to use
Facebook, Twitter and other social media websites to sell your book or novel.
Before you know it you’ll be conducting your own ‘free’ online social media
book promotion campaign! So, definitely don’t miss out on this great opportunity
to learn how to promote your novel! Just click on the link above that says:
“SOCIAL MEDIA CAMPAIGN FOR BOOK AUTHORS”, and PHYLLIS
will send you your Special Report
today!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Don’t
forget to check out the ‘Helpful Links’ and
Home Page on this web site for other
interesting, fun and informative sites for you! Plus the link to The
SHINE! Journal, where PAMELA TYREE
Please do let our author CONTRIBUTORS know what you think of their work via email, or you can visit their websites
once you have read their stories, poems and articles. [ Email addresses and websites are listed in the author’s bio. ]
See
you all in the New Year… until then, wishing you
A MERRY CHRISTMAS,
A HAPPY HANUKKAH,
AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
PLUS
A HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!
“Cats Rule! Dogs FollowJ”
Copyright © December
2009 Rosanne Catalano.
BIRTHDAY
& ANNIVERSARY
WISHES
CORNER!
‘BELATED’
BIRTHDAY
TO:
SHIRLEY SHAR, Birthday: December
10th
VINCENT C. CATALANO, Birthday: December
11th
ROSALEE
HAPPY
BIRTHDAY TO:
DAVID FOX, Birthday: December 23rd
HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO:
NO ANNIVERSARIES THIS
MONTH
To see your
birthday and/or anniversary wishes here,
Email us
with your name (first & last, or just first name) and birth-day or
anniversary date (year is optional for both)!
COFFEE HOUSE 4 READERS CORNER!
(Bringing You
Published Written Talent
Every Month
for YOUR
Christmas
with Grandma
By
Rosanne Catalano (aka R.C.Kayla)
Author of “Touch of Tomorrow – In Loving
Memory” and “Mirrored Images”
Christmas growing up meant going to my grandmother’s or grandma coming
to ours. We loved when it was at our grandmother’s.
My mom and grandma traded years, because my grandmother also had a
little boy to raise; my uncle who was also my mom’s kid brother. One Christmas
Eve I remember walking into her home, the hallway long, narrow and dim. After
passing the bedrooms to the right, my grandma’s two-family house opened up into
the kitchen further in back of the house. If you ask me, the builder designed
the entrance strangely…most people either walk into a kitchen or the living
room of your home, not the bedrooms. But we all loved visiting our grandmother;
in spite of the house’s generally depressing interior. She was our maternal
grandmother. The only grandparent we ever knew.
When we got to her kitchen, my grandmother was bending over the stove
and pulling out the dish that contained her mouth watering sausages &
peppers. I saw the mozzarella cheese half cut, half not on her kitchen table
and sat down. She was still in the process of preparing her lasagna. “Grandma,
can I help you slice the mozzarella cheese? And while I’m at it, have a slice
to see how it tastes?” I pleaded mischievously.
She smiled, and hugging me, said, “Try some; I know you love cheese.”
My grandmother was not a demonstrative woman who smiled often, but she
gave her grandchildren lots of hugs and smiles. Her hugs always made me feel
loved and protected.
My grandmother walked out of the kitchen to go to the bathroom, and it
was just me alone. With the mozzarella cheese! My mom, dad, brother, sister,
and uncle were all in the living room, watching football. As they always did on
Christmas. And I couldn’t just eat one slice; I ended up eating the entire
pound of mozzarella.
Oh no! Now I was in trouble… my grandmother didn’t have any more
mozzarella cheese! I quickly checked her refrigerator to make sure, none! No
mozzarella cheese for her lasagna in the refrigerator. Only what she had had on
the table, which I had just eaten!
I panicked… ‘Now what do I do?’ I wondered.
Then in a flash I got a brilliant idea and knew what I was going to do…
Getting my winter coat and scarf on, I quickly went into the living room
and told everyone I would be right back; that I was going to buy something for
grandma with my allowance money. But I didn’t tell anyone what it was I was
buying… my plan was to secretly buy another pound of mozzarella cheese. And put
it on the table so grandma had it for her lasagna. Hopefully this way, she
wouldn’t find out I ate her earlier mozzarella cheese!
“Okay Rosanne, just be back in time for dinner,” my mom said, her eyes
never leaving the crossword puzzle she was working on; everyone else was still
watching the football game.
*******
I sprinted around the corner into the deli and told the owner, who was
behind the counter, that I needed a pound of Polly-O mozzarella cheese for my grandma’s
lasagna!
‘Thank god the deli is still open!’ I thought.
I proceeded to tell the deli owner my secret, of how I ate the
mozzarella cheese my grandmother had on her kitchen table all ready to be cut
up for her lasagna. And that I was there to replace it for her…
He smiled at me and said, “Luckily for you, young lady, I have exactly
one left!”
Walking over to his refrigeration case, he reached in and pulled out a
one pound chunk of Polly-O mozzarella cheese. He rang it up at his cash
register, then put it in a bag and handed it to me. I gave him the correct
amount of money for it, and he put the cash into the register draw and closed
it.
Before walking out of his Deli, I wished him a Merry Christmas and told
him, “Thank you! You just made my Christmas a happy one!”
“Tell your grandmother I said ‘Merry Christmas, Pauline!’” the deli
owner told me as he waved goodbye. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell your
grandmother about our little secret!”
*******
Pulling off my coat and scarf while walking into my grandmother’s dining
room; just off the kitchen, I heard my family laughing and talking all at once.
“What’s going on?” I innocently asked, sitting down at the one empty
seat. Everyone was smiling at me, with huge mischievous grins…
“What???” I asked with confusion.
“Grandma already had an extra mozzarella cheese! She hid it in her bread
basket because she knew that you wouldn’t be able to help yourself, and would
eat the cheese that was on her table already,” my mom said, getting up to hug
me.
“Oh my God, and here I ran to the deli to buy her more…thinking nobody
would ever know!”
“What that shows me, child, is that you have a good heart,” my
grandmother said smiling. “Now, I want everyone to mon-ja! And forget about
what happened with the cheese. Merry Christmas!”
There on the kitchen table was a hot, steaming Pyrex dish of my
grandmother’s delicious lasagna. The mozzarella cheese was already melted into
it on top…
My mom and grandmother sat back down. My dad said “Grace” and we all
began to eat Christmas dinner at grandmas that year. Everything was made from
scratch, except the mozzarella cheese of course.
And here I thought I was in trouble if I didn’t replace my grandma’s
mozzarella cheese when she had an extra pound hidden all along! My grandmother
knew her grandchild Rosanne very well; that I wouldn’t be able to resist eating
all of the cheese I so loved.
Copyright © December 2006
Rosanne Catalano.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Rosanne
Catalano (aka R.C.Kayla) is a native New Yorker who is an author,
writer and the publisher and editor of “The Cat’s Meow for Writers &
Readers”, an Internet literary magazine that she founded and created in 2004.
She, her husband and their two fur babies now reside in
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Heart of a
Man [Part I]
By
Carol Roach
Author of “Picking Up The Pieces: A
Woman’s Journey” and “Angels Watching Over Me”
“Avi is the most important man in the
land, he is wise and famous but most of all he has a good heart and obeys the
laws of the land. Ima is lucky to have such a husband when so many women have
less than desirable men at their sides.”
“Assad your son is a genius and you say
Micah is only six years old. He is an old soul in a child’s body.”
“Yes, dear friend, Micah is an old soul
and one who is dear to my heart. I have such great plans for this young man. He
should follow in my footsteps. I want only the best for him. Unfortunately it
will not be here in my country. I worry for his safety in a Muslim land.”
“Assad, are you saying that you regret
marrying a Jewish woman because of the problems that your sons will have to
face in the future?
“Silence, Hamid, do not speak of such
things in front of the boy, it is not acceptable. Do not think of such things
about me, it is not respectful.”
“I beg your forgiveness, afwan, I am
sorry, Mohami. Assad, you know I did not mean to be disrespectful to you or
your family. You are a good friend and an excellent lawyer. A thousand pardons,
I beseech you. I only wanted to know what was in your heart.”
“Hamid, my beloved wife and my children
are the reason for my existence. My worldly goods, my health, and my
possessions mean nothing without them. I would rather die in this land at the
hand of the tyrants who rule it than to have anyone disgrace my family or speak
ill of them in anyway. I married a Jewish woman, and I would do it over again
in the eyes of Allah and the world.”
“You are a proud man and a good man as you
should be my friend, again please Samehni, forgive me, I meant no disrespect.”
“Hamid, rise your head, do not bow down in
shame, you have done no wrong you merely wanted to understand what I meant but
that statement. Perhaps I was not clear
enough. I simply want the best for my sons, and I do not believe that they will
have the best that life can offer them in
“Thank you my Sahibi, my friend. Our
coffee is getting cold shall we order some more? I certainly would like some
tobacco. I will order the nargile (pipe) as well.”
“No sahibi, I must take Micah home, the
sun will soon be setting and my wife will want him to eat the evening meal”.
“Allah be with you, Alla maak"
Assad and Micah left the restaurant to
make their way home. It was a hot summer day, 112 degrees in the shade. Assad
left his office early on Fridays to be home with his wife for the Sabbath
dinner. Before going home he always dropped by the school to pick up Micah for
their Friday afternoon ritual, a sweet treat at the local restaurant for Micah
and a chat with Hamid, Assad’s oldest dearest friend from childhood.
Assad enjoyed his hectic life. He was a
celebrated attorney in their city of
********
Rivka put down her sewing and glanced out
the window gazing upon the luscious lawn.
The roses were in full bloom and they were beautiful, their intoxicating
scent entered every room of the house and mingled with the scrumptious flavours
of the evening meal.
The sun was about to set and Assad and
Micah had not arrived yet. Even Sami who
was usually the last one to come home on Shabbat was up in his room completing
his homework. He too had already come down twice to check on dinner. Rivka had
already dismissed the servants for the day so they could enjoy Shabbat with
their respective families. All that was
left for Rivka to do was to serve the meal when her husband finally arrived.
From out of nowhere she heard the familiar
sound of a child’s laughter. Micah was
home. How could that be she wondered?
She did not see them come up the walkway nor did she see or hear the car pull
in? Rivka entered the foyer just before
her husband went to wash up for dinner?
“Did I startle you Rivka, I am sorry we
are late, Micah and I decided to walk home instead of asking for the limousine
to come pick us up. It was getting late
and we thought that Tareq would prefer to be with his family for the evening
meal.”
Rivka smiled as she thought how well
suited they were as a couple, both of them so concerned about the welfare of
their servants. She had known too many
men in her day who mistreated the help. Assad could never disrespect
anyone. He was too kind and loving a man
to do that.
Assad would sit and have long discussions
with a beggar on the street in the same way, as he would entertain royalty in
his own home. Men were men, and even
though he was an accomplished lawyer he felt he was no better than the beggar
in the eyes of Allah. Assad was a humble
man. He did not judge anyone on the basis of his or her worldly goods or their
religion. After all he had married her
didn’t he? She knew he had suffered a
lot by marrying a Jewish woman. There
were those in the community who did not approve of such a union. However, the
waging tongues often remained silenced because of Assad’s status in the
community.
Rivka often wondered what it would have
been like if Assad was a poor man. Even with his status, there were incidents
of prejudice all through their marriage like the time Sami was bullied in
school by the Arab boys who questioned his nationality and his devotion to Allah.
Assad took the situation in stride and explained to Sami that he was free to
choose whichever religion he preferred, Yahweh and Allah smiled down upon him.
Rivka was happy that for now at least, the
boys were learning what it was like to be Jewish in an Arab world. She knew it
would not be easy for them but Assad insisted that they choice their own way in
life and follow the God and religion that spoke intimately to their hearts.
Rivka knew with every fiber of her being
that she could not have chosen a better husband even if she had listened to her
parents and married a Jewish man.
“Assad the table is set. I will bring in
the meal, can you light the Shabbat candles?
Micah go wash up for dinner and call your brother. We are ready to eat.”
Rivka just needed to bring out the food
from the kitchen. The hummus and bread were already placed on the table. The
maid had left the rice and eggplant dishes in the silver warmers, and the fish
was in the oven. Rivka quickly brought these items to the table. Assad lit the
candles, said the pray and they broke bread between them.
After dinner Micah was sent to prepare for
bed and Sami went along to assist him.
Assad left the table to sit in the family
room, relax and smoke his pipe. Rivka would clear the table, quickly wash the
dishes and bring him his coffee and then the two of them would sit down, talk
and enjoy one another’s company.
Rivka placed the coffee before him. She waited for her husband to be the first to
speak. Yet tonight he seemed rather pensive and not much in a talking
mood. He seemed to be off in another
world oblivious to the fact that she had entered the room. It was so out of
character for him.
While she waited she gazed lovingly at her
husband, studying his fine strong features. She examined his face with the
piercing chocolate brown eyes that held the wisdom of the ages, the long rather
distinctive nose, the small red lips, the tan skin and silky flock of thick jet
black hair.
Assad was as handsome as the day she had
met him, the day she fell in love with him.
Assad was her Arabian prince though in reality he was her ustadh. Her parents had hired him to teach her Arabic
so she would be better equipped to deal with life in Bashra. Little did they
know that their 14-year-old daughter would learn much more than the Arabic
language from this ustadh. He would teach her the ultimate lesson; he would
teach her how to be an Arab man’s wife.
The family was against the marriage. They
told her that she would never be accepted in the Arabic world. She was a Jewess and she would always be a
second-class citizen, a social pariah.
Assad was a man that was destined for great things. A Jewish woman could
only keep him back.
Rivka did not care. She would not listen.
She knew in heart that this man would be the only man for her no matter how
long she lived. Assad was her soul mate and mate for life. He would protect
her. Even if the whole of Bashra disapproved of their union. As long as she had
her ustadh she had everything she needed.
“I am sorry my wife, I must have drifted
off, I did not see you come into the room,” Assad vocalized as he reached for
his coffee. “How was your day?”
“It was a productive day. I made a little
outfit for Micah. Wait till you see it, you will approve. I think I will let
him wear it when you entertain your guests tomorrow.”
“I am not sure if I will have him with me
tomorrow Rivka. I might just ask Sami if he could entertain him for a while. We
are experiencing unusually hot weather, the boys can go to the pool or to the
beach to cool off.”
“The weather is no hotter than usual
Assad. I don’t understand, you are so proud of Micah and you know how much your
friends enjoy his company. They ask about him whenever he is not with you. They
marvel at how a six year old boy can beat them at chess.”
“I know my wife, but he is a little boy
and he should not be around adults so much, he needs to be a boy. Before too
long he will be a man and he will have to act as a man, for now let him be a
child.”
“Assad, what is troubling you? It is not
like you to talk this way.”
“Rivka, I fear for my sons. They will grow
up and what will the world be like when they are men? I do not feel that it
will be a good place for them. My sons
are gentle souls. I never wish for that to change. Sami is preparing to go to
the West and I wish for Micah to follow him. Their futures are in the West not
here in this land.”
“Assad what are you saying? What world, they will grow up as you did,
they will make their way in Bashra like you have.”
“No Rivka, my world will not be the world
of the future. King Faisal II will not always be with us and those that come
after will be destroying our land and our way of life.”
“Assad you are not making any sense, how
can you project the future, have you been reading the coffee leaves again? Have
you been teaching Micah that foolishness as well?”
“It is more than coffee leaves predictions,
I have this feeling Rivka. I have this feeling the world as we know it will be
very different.”
“No Assad, I cannot believe that. I may
loose Sami to the West but I cannot lose Micah too. We will find a way to make
life good for our boys in Bashra. We just have to.”
*******
Rivka wiped the tear from her eye as she
read the last part of her mother’s letter over once more,
“I am so happy to announce that your baby sister Liesel has finally
given birth. After two miscarriages since we came to
“Liesel was in labour for over 18 hours and it was blessing that she
made it through. She has been so ill. She cannot weigh more than 88 pounds. I
shall not dwell on that, you know the story of the hardships we suffered
leaving
“All of that is past now and I know I must move on and be thankful for every
precious day we have on this earth. Liesel is finally happy, she and Ari have a
beautiful baby girl. They have not settled on a name yet. Liesel wants to break
with tradition to name her daughter a name that is not even in the family. She
is thinking about Janais, meaning for G-D has answered her prayers. Ari still
believes in tradition and she should respect the family and name the child
Avigail after his grandmother. They promised Ari’s grandmother that their first
daughter would carry her name and now that the baby is born Liesel has changed
her mind. Ari does not want to go back on their promise, the grandmother is old
now, and Ari is the only grandchild. If they don’t do it now, she may never
know a baby named in her honour. But you know your sister, when she gets
something in her head, no one can get it out. It may be that they will not know
until the simcha bat, when Ari presents the baby to the rabbi and announces her
name.”
Rivka carefully folded the letter and put
it back into the envelope and slid it into her dress pocket. Today was her turn
to entertain the ladies in her sewing quarters. They were a group of 15 ladies
in total, all Muslim women, not one of them Jewish.
It was a blessing to her that her family
thought it important that she learn Arabic as a young girl. For if not, she
would not be able to communicate with her dearest Arabic lady friends today.
They were all ladies of means. They were the wives of Assad’s colleagues from
the courthouse, and his office building.
Though all Iraqi Jews’ first language was
Arabic, beyond that, if she had not learned Arabic, she would never have met
Assad and been able to make her new life in Bashra. She would be in
Rivka could still remember Liesel’s
piecing scream. Her sister was determined that she would not leave Rueben
behind. It was such a terrible, terrible time. Liesel had to be dragged away
with Rueben promising to follow as soon as he was able.
The memory of the anguish in Liesel’s eyes
would stay with Rivka the rest of her life. Their own mother stood by
helplessly as she looked on while their father and brother had to pry away
Liesel’s tight grip from around Rueben’s waist. They had very little time to
get her into the car and off to
Rivka was unable to cry that day; she was
unable to feel anything. She was numb inside. It all came out in the aftermath;
she had pains in her stomach for years.
She had bad dreams and restless nights for years as well. Rivka would not cry. She made her life; she decided to live as an
Arab man’s wife. Did she even have a right to mourn over her family when she
could have remained with them instead of taking an easier path? Rivka felt this
was her burden to bear and hers alone.
She created her own destiny and she would live it out.
Assad was very fond of King Faisal II yet
Rivka had to wonder where the King was when all of this was happening? Where
was the King when the Jews were expelled from
Assad was able to smuggle the family out
of
Rivka had lost contact with her family
directly after they left for
Rivka debated as to whether or not she
would tell Assad that she received a letter from her mother. The letter was
written in haste and smuggled out of the country by a person that Assad did not
even know she knew. If he found out she
had done this, he would not be happy. She was taken a big chance by getting
this sporadic information from her family. It was dangerous, perhaps downright
foolhardy. If the government ever found out she had communication from the
expelled hated Jewry, trouble would surely befall upon Assad and their family.
Furthermore, putting aside the political
feeling of the day in her country, she also knew he bore the guilt of marrying
her and thus separating her from her precious family. Rivka also knew what her
husband really meant when he made that revelation on Friday night. He could never fool her. Yes, it was true
that he did not want his boys to grow up in
She could hear the hustle and bustle going
on downstairs. The servants were receiving the guests. She must compose
herself, go downstairs, entertain the ladies and pretend like nothing happened.
No one must know of her inner pain especially her best friend Nudar, who was
Assad’s best friend’s wife. If she mentioned anything to Nudar it would
eventually get back to Hamid and then pass on to her husband. She had to stay
strong for the whole family; she had no other choice.
Copyright
© Carol Roach, M.Ed, B.A.
Check out Carol’s newest
book, “Angels Watching Over Me”: http://www.lulu.content/964306
To
read more of Carol's stories and articles, visit her at Associated Content: http://www.associatedcontent.com/join.html?refer=9214 or at her own Blog where she’s got activities going on
too: http://carolsstorie s.blogspot. com/
STAY TUNED FOR PART II OF “HEART OF A MAN” BY CAROL ROACH
COMING IN THE JANUARY 2010 ISSUE!
* * * *
Whatever
Happened to The Acadians?
By
Carol Roach
Author of “Picking Up The Pieces: A
Woman’s Journey” and “Angels Watching Over Me”
The Great Upheaval also known as le grand derangement, the
Acadian expulsion, the Great Expulsion and the Great Deportation represented a
bleak period in the days of British rule over the territory now known as the
sovereign country of
These French settlers along with the
British settlers of the time form the two distinct cultures of Canada
today.
The Treaty of Utrecht of 1713 was the catalyst for the great
expulsion.
As a direct result of this refusal to
comply with the British Crown, over 14,000 Acadians were deported; losing their
land and belongings.
Many Acadians migrated to
This deportation was not without its
hardships on the French-speaking people. Many died of disease
along the route to find a new homeland and others froze to death during the
harsh Canadian winters.
Subsequent to the conquest of New France,
many returned to the newly renamed area now called
Note: It took the Canadian government over 200 years
to finally acknowledge The Acadian deportation. In December of 2003, Governor General Adrienne Clarkson of Canada
representing the British Crown finally acknowledged the deportation and
subsequent loss of property and livestock confiscated by British authorities of
the time. No apology was issued to the descendants of the Acadian people. July
28 was designated as "A Day of Commemoration of the Great Upheaval."
Copyright
© Carol Roach, M.Ed, B.A.
Check out Carol’s newest
book, “Angels Watching Over Me”: http://www.lulu.content/964306
To
read more of Carol's stories and articles, visit her at Associated Content: http://www.associatedcontent.com/join.html?refer=9214 or at her own Blog where she’s got activities going on too:
http://carolsstorie s.blogspot. com/
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Carol Roach,
M.Ed, B.A., a native of
Montreal, Quebec, is an author, freelance writer and publisher who is the
author of “Picking up the Pieces: A Woman’s Journey” (www.publishamerica.com) and “Angels Watching Over Me” (www.lulu.com/content/644485); more info about Carol’s second book, “Angels
Watching Over Me,” can be found in our Off The Press! column below! Carol holds a Bachelor’s in Psychology and a Master’s
Degree in Counselling Psychology from McGill and
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
God’s GPS
By
Joseph J. Mazzella
I saw one of
those new Global Positioning System units today. Those are the ones that hook
up to satellites to tell you where you are and what turn to take to get where
you are going. It wasn’t in my car of course. Like a lot of men I prefer to go
where the road takes me even if I do get lost once in a while. Some of my best times
too have come when I have taken my old car on a wrong turn or down a road less
traveled. I find that the scenery is always a bit more exciting too when
everything isn’t mapped out for you.
In fact, life
itself is full of wrong turns, missing maps, and frequent potholes. That is
what makes it such an interesting drive. Thankfully, there is one GPS that we
all can use when we find ourselves lost on this road of life. This GPS won’t
give us a lighted map or step by step directions. It will, however, help us to
make the right choices to get where we need to go. This GPS will even let us
make a wrong turn if we want to, but it will always gently nudge us back to the
right highway to take us home. This GPS is God’s love.
God’s love is
always there to nurture us and guide us as we travel on. It is there to help us
make every choice and decide on every turn. It is there to help us drive our
lives down the right road and to enjoy the scenery along the way. It may even
guide us off the highway at times to help a stranded motorist or pick up a lost
hitchhiker. One thing is sure though. God’s love will always lead you home in
this life and in the next.
Dannion
Brinkley said that: "When love alone acts as your compass, your life is
always right on course." I may never want a GPS telling me how to drive my
car, but I will always welcome God and His love to guide me on how to drive my
life. He may not always let me see the map, but I trust that He knows where we
are going.
Copyright
© 2009 Joseph J. Mazzella.
*
* * *
A Gift of
Love
By
Joseph J. Mazzella
I have always
loved Nativity scenes ever since I was a boy. I remember growing up seeing the
great care my Grandma always took unwrapping ours. She would gently lift each
ceramic statue out of the box and lovingly arrange them in the tiny, wooden
barn. The baby Jesus was always the last one lifted out and she would always
smile before placing Him in the manger.
It was at another manger too that I saw the most beautiful picture of
the real meaning of Christmas. This was years ago when public Nativity scenes
were everywhere at Christmastime. It was before the fear of offending others
made most of them sadly disappear from parks and town squares. I remember
taking a moment to look at one of these public Nativity scenes during a cold,
December day. A snow was gently falling on each of the statues and even in the
manger. About this time a mother walked up with her young son. The boy
couldn’t have been more than three years old. As they too stopped to stare at
the beautiful sight the little boy removed his scarf and walked over to the
Nativity. Then he folded it and placed it over the manger. He smiled as he
walked back and said, "Baby Jesus looked cold." I thought that his
mother would make him go back and retrieve the scarf, but thankfully she was
made of wiser stuff than me at that time. She just smiled, wiped away a
tear, and kissed her son on top of his head. Then leaving his gift of love,
they slowly walked down the snow covered street together while the boy happily
sang all the words he knew to "Silent Night."
It took a lot of years for me to grow as wise as that child, but when I
did I realized that Christmas truly is about Love. It is about a love that is
both joyfully shared and unconditional. It is about a love that sacrifices,
cares, and gives. It is about loving each other just as much as God loves us at
Christmastime and always.
Copyright
© 2009 Joseph J. Mazzella.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Joseph J. Mazzella is a writer who was
born, raised, and still lives in the mountains of
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
God’s
Precious Holy Light
By
Cynthia Groopman
God's precious holy light,
Sparkles in my mind, so vivid and bright
Although its glorious aura and splendor, I
cannot no longer physically see,
Its magnificence is so special to me.
God's precious holy light is so warm
and a comfort to all,
Reassuring those who are weak, downhearted, ill
or small
As it sprightly dazzles us with regal joy,
Negative and depressing feelings and thoughts
will be destroyed.
For God's precious holy light crowns our life
with majesty,
As we bask in its blissful glow, each day is
laden with mirth and festivity.
For God's precious holy light is like a blooming
flower embracing us in the spring,
Optimism, hope smiles and sunshine each little
light ray will melodically sing.
Copyright
© 2009 Cynthia Groopman.
* * * *
A Little
Dradle Am I
By
Cynthia Groopman
A
little Dradle am I
Spinning
round and round
Children
smile and cheer with mirthful sounds.
Each
letter on each of the sides does say
that a
great miracle happened there and
God
saved the Jewish people in a glorious miraculous way.
Round
and round the Dradle does spin.
Copyright
© 2009 Cynthia Groopman.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Cynthia Groopman is a poet and writer who
became a senior writer at “Storytime Tapestry” (an Internet-based daily e-zine;
http://subs.zinester.com/98907) shortly after submitting her work on December 31, 2006.
When not writing, Cynthia volunteers her time and has won an honorary Police
Precinct Civilian Observation Patrol (114th Civ-OP) Presidential
Award. She received this Award on March 21, 2007 at the
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Hunger
By
Mike Berger
My dreams are haunted by a disturbing
image.
The little African girl with her big brown
eyes never leaves me.
There was hunger and pain in those shy
little eyes.
She reached out her hand begging for help.
Tattered clothing hung from her frail
body.
Her mother had given her the last bit of
food before she died.
The little orphan was left to die alone
and body haplessly tossed in to the
garbage pit.
The rains have failed for three years.
All of the villagers moved on leaving
behind the old, the maimed and the orphans.
I picked up that emaciated little body and
carried her to the rescue camp.
Her tears splashed onto my shoulder;
her tiny body quivered.
We tried to feed her rice water,
but her tiny stomach revolted.
We tried medication to calm her stomach,
that didn't help.
He frail little body had enough.
She curled up in a tormented fetal ball
and some time later she slipped into
death’s abyss.
Copyright
© December 2009 Mike Berger.
* * *
*
Couplets to
Grandpa
By
Mike Berger
Green apples and stories were a treat
as we sat and listened at grandpa's feet.
We listened and chewed apples to their
cores
till angry mom tugged us off to do our
chores.
The stories always started slow.
Little by little, he made them grow.
He watched and to his total joy,
as a swamp monster gobbled up little boys.
We closed our eyes, so we couldn't see
if that hairy beast was after me.
And the apple cores went in the old tin
tank.
When it stunk, grandpa would turn the
crank.
The ooze from the tank was brown and
rough;
his stories got better when he drank the
stuff.
When he finished we would all sigh,
and grandpa would have a twinkle in his
eyes.
Then one dark and dreary day
Freddie knocked and asked if grandpa could
play.
With flowing tears my grandma said, “He’s
gone away”.
On that somber day, part of our youth
slipped away.
In our young minds, we knew not why,
or what had made my grandma cry.
The rains came, and the heavens cried,
the day my grandpa died.
Copyright
© 2009 Mike Berger.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Mike Berger has a Ph.D in clinical psychology and was a practicing
psychotherapist for 30 years. At 72 years of age, he is now fully retired from
that profession and has been a freelance writer full time for more than 20
years. Mike has authored two (2) books of short stories and has been published
in numerous professional journals. His humor pieces “Clyde and Goliath”, “Good Grief
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The Doctor’s
Office
By
Sandra L. Hoynacki
Author of “Purple Latches”, “Whispers From
The Ledge” and “On Call”
Calmly
we wait for the calling of her name
All march in lockstep and all feel the same
Would that we were offered a cup of light
To penetrate through our cover of night...
A picture of roses hang crooked on the wall
Climbing to the top on a laddered string tall
Someone needs to fix the broken exit sign
Can we find the way out when it comes time?
The television blares in the corner of the room
Fragments of news flushing out gloom
I silently ponder if God sees my need
Within my being lies the mustard seed
Tones of depression written on their faces
The room is divided into fevered spaces
Blank stares and frowns; a baby starts to cry
Somewhere across the room I hear a lullaby…
Copyright © December 1, 2009 Sandra Hoynacki.
* * *
*
Letters
Without Promises
By
Sandra L. Hoynacki
Author of “Purple Latches”, “Whispers From
The Ledge” and “On Call”
Each had crept inside
the other ones dreams
As crossroads of time intersected their world
Where a chess game of words wove colorful themes
They unraveled their thoughts one on one
While sitting in the shrine of a quiet afternoon
Watching the hours slide into patches of warm sun
Lives that had been woven by yesterday's hand
To forever dwell in a fabricated time
Of rose petals falling on snow white sand
Echoes tracing copies of one another's face
While carving letters without promises
Presenting effigies in a world without a place.
lettres sans promettre
Copyright © November 8, 2009 Sandra Hoynacki.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Sandra Hoynacki, a resident of
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
This Might
Help
By
Conrad S. Cardinal
Do we make life
harder than it needs to be?
Are there things
we ignore that we should see?
Free will is a two
edged sword, it cuts both ways.
It can lead to
easy or extremely hard days.
Choices abound,
what should we do?
It’s the same for
me as it is for you.
The scripture says
ask and you shall receive.