"The divine beauty
Of heaven and earth!
All creation,
Members of
One family."
from Art of Peace
Read on and fall sound asleep
OH HAPPY DAY! OH FABULOUS JOY! TODAY, THE FIRST TIME IN 3 YEARS, FOR A SHORT TIME THE PAIN IN MY BACK DISAPPEARED. THE BIRDS ALL TOOK FLIGHT IN SONG. THE SUN SHONE! LITTLE BUNNY RABBITS BOUNDED ACROSS THE MEADOWS IN A DANCE OF CELEBRATION! ALL WAS GOOD! How, you ask, did this happen? I was in my recliner after returning from a vigorous end of study exam for the Testosterone study and reached for my Kindle. I missed the table top and jammed my right hand middle finger into the veneer peeling off the top of the antique table. A half inch sliver of the veneer slide under the fingernail and then broke off under my fingernail. I could see the dark streak of that sliver all the way back to the meniscus of my fingernail. In that brief period of time between the penetration and the first drop of blood my back did not hurt. I pulled out the sliver and was still pain free. Then I dabbed a little benzocaine on the injured nail. Immediately the back pain returned.
BUT…. My back did not hurt for 6 beautiful minutes today.
I opened the mail this afternoon and found a envelope from our daughter that lives in Austin. She sent us a belated Christmas card featuring her, her husband and three of the most perfect wonderful grandchildren. Their senior daughter has been in a school in Alabama so they haven’t have many opportunities to get together.
Leigh doesn’t take many photographs so each we see are examined until the colors are worn off. Her kids are growing so fast. Soon they will be out on their own. The picture looks like a snowy scene. I hope I get to Austin to visit them soon.
Today was my last visit for a study about the effect of Testosterone replacement therapy for aging men. I was told at the beginning that sometime after the study ended I would be told whether or not I was receiving testosterone. I don’t think I was because I saw no change in my person or mentality during the year. Tomorrow I will include picture of two of the women who helped me during the study.
Below is a story fragment I am having difficulty with. Can you spot my problem?
Johnny Stark, director of the department of Interplanetary Relations for Mars' Settlement One, reread the final paragraph of the note which he had found on his desk, upon returning from lunch earlier in the day.
His eye flicked rapidly over the moistly smeared Martian scrawl, ignoring the bitterness directed at him in the first paragraphs. He was vaguely troubled by the last sentences. But he hadn't been able to pin the feeling down.
... Our civilization predates that of Earth's by millions of years. We are an advanced, peaceful race. Yet, since Earth's first rocket landed here thirteen years ago, we have been looked upon as freaks and contemptuously called 'bug-men' behind our backs! This is our planet. We gave of our far-advanced knowledge and science freely, so that Earth would be a better place. We asked nothing in return, but we were rewarded by having forced upon us foreign ideas of government, religion, and behavior. Our protests have been silenced by an armed-police and punitive system we've never before needed. Someday you will awaken to this injustice. On that day in your life, you have my sympathy and pity!
Stark knew that the Settlement's Investigations Lab could readily determine the identity of the Martian who had written the note. But he hesitated to send it over. Under the New System, such troublemakers were banished to the slave-labor details of the precious-earth mines to the North.
Crumpling the note in sudden decision, Stark dropped it into the office incendiary tube. The morning visi-report had shown that there were more than 17,000 workers at the mines. Only five had been Earthlings. Let the armed-police system find the Martian through their own channels. It wasn't his job.
A glance at the solar clock on the far wall reminded him there was still time for one more interview before the last bell, so he impatiently signaled his secretary to send in the waiting couple.
Ordinarily, he liked his work and time meant little to him. He had jumped from interpreter to director in the ten years since the department had been created. But this day was different.
Stark was to announce his engagement at the Chief's monthly dinner party that evening and time had seemed to drag since his lunch with Carol.
When the door opened, he rose and nodded to the plump, freckle-faced girl who entered. The girl topped five feet by one or two inches, but she was no taller than the Martian man who followed her at the prescribed four feet.
After the girl had seated herself, Stark and the Martian sat down. Stark opened the folder, which his secretary had placed on his desk earlier.
"Your names are Ruth and Ralph Gilraut? And you want permission to move into Housing Perimeter D?" It was merely a formality, since the information was in the folder.
When the girl nodded, Stark placed a small check mark in the space beside her name. Then he turned to the Martian.
The large, single red eye set deep in the Martian's smooth, green forehead above the two brown ones blinked twice before he answered.
He spoke deliberately. "As is required of all Martians under the New System, I have taken the name of one of the early Earthlings to write and pronounce." The large red eye blinked again. "My wife would like to move into Housing Perimeter D. By regulation, I respect her wish."
Stark placed a check mark by the Martian's name. He wiped the smudge of ink off his hand and said, "You both know, of course, that Perimeter D is reserved for couples who have intermarried and are about to have offspring?"
The girl and the Martian nodded, and the girl passed Stark a medical report. Stark looked over the report and then made a notation on a small pink slip.
He said, "This permit certifies that you are eligible to move from Perimeter E to Housing Perimeter D. It also certifies that your husband has no record as a troublemaker." Stark looked at the girl. "You understand that you may visit your friends in Perimeter E, but, by law, they will not be allowed to enter Perimeter D to visit you. And, of course, the new law clearly states that neither of you may visit Earthlings in Housing Perimeter A, B or C."
The girl looked down at her hands. Her voice was almost inaudible. "My husband and I are familiar with the advantages and disadvantages listed under the section pertaining to intermarriage in the new law, Mr. Stark. Thank you."
Stark rose as they left. For a brief moment, he thought he had detected a sense of rebellion in their attitude. But that was not possible. The new law provided equality for all. And his department had been created to iron out relations between the two races—excepting complaints originated by troublemakers for the purpose of weakening the New System. In such cases, Investigations had stepped in and the Martian or Earthling troublemaker had been sent to the rare-earth mines.
The reddish light filtering in through the quartz and lead wall of his office showed that it was almost time for the last bell.
On the street below, shoppers were streaming out of the stores on their way to the various housing perimeters. Earthlings were climbing into their speedy little jet cars for the short trip to the recently modernized inner perimeters. Martians were waiting for the slower auto buses. The traffic problem had been solved, under the New System, by restricting the use of the Martian-built jet cars to persons living in the inner perimeters.
As Stark watched, a black jet car impatiently hurtled out of the line of traffic, bowled through a crowd of Martians waiting for an auto bus, and skidded to a stop at the curb in front of the building.
A tall girl got out. The red evening glow reflecting from her golden hair, made her breathing globe almost amber. Male Martians and Earthlings alike turned to stare in appreciation as she pushed her way through the crowd to the building's compressor lock. Carol was that kind of girl.
Almost at the exact moment that Carol opened the door into Stark's office, the yellow visi-screen of the vocal box upon Stark's desk flashed on brilliantly and the Chief's booming voice filled the office. The light from the screen picked up the highlights on the furniture and gave a sallow, greenish cast to Stark's features. Carol stepped back into the doorway to stay out of range of the two-way unit.
"Stark!" The automatic tuner on the box corrected to bring the Chief's image in wire-sharp focus.
"Yes, sir?"
"About the dinner tonight. Just checking to make sure you're planning to be there. We want a full turnout. An inspection team has come up from Earth and we have two visiting dignitaries from Venus."
Stark nodded and waited for the Chief to say something else, but the visi-screen blanked out.
Carol said, "That was Dad, wasn't it?"
Stark felt very depressed suddenly. "Haven't you told him yet?"
"No. He's been tied up with those inspectors all afternoon. And you know how Dad is, Johnny. There's a right and a wrong time to tell him things. Right now, he's only interested in hearing about Earth."
"But we're supposed to announce our engagement tonight at the dinner." He shook his head. "We can't go on forever with just a few stolen moments here and there, eating an occasional lunch or third meal together in little out-of-the-way places."
Carol laughed, the youthful swell of her breasts against the soft, spun-glass material of her blouse. "Don't worry so, Johnny! I'm a big girl now. This is my eighteenth birthday. Dad's bark is much worse than his bite. I'll tell him about us on the way home."
She moved closer to him, until he could feel the warmth of her body. He could see the warm, damp indentation where her breathing globe had rested against her shoulders and chest.
She asked teasingly, "What did you get me for my birthday, Johnny? Something real nice?"
"What did you want?" Johnny asked her gently.
Please see note below religion section.
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1/18: Dear God our guide, give us strength always to encourage and respect others. Amen. 1/19: O good and gracious God, we ask for your Holy Spirit to change us from within to help us become more like Christ. Amen. The prayers are from the Upper Room. For your own free E-Mail Devotional visit : http://upperroom.org/devotional/email/ and click on the link “Other Ways to Receive the Daily Devotional” | |
*NOTE: This is actually part of a short story by Bascom Jones Jr. called “Blind Spot”. To read the rest of the short story click HERE. Until I read this on my Kindle I thought my writing skills were bad. This short story has been published many times and is a classic of the science fiction genre. Maybe I ain’t so bad after all.
A man walks out to the street and catches a taxi just going by. He gets into the taxi,and the cabbie says, "Perfect timing. You're just like Frank."
Passenger: "Who?"
Cabbie: "Frank Feldman. He's a guy who did everything right all the time. Like my coming along when you needed a cab, things happened like that to Frank Feldman every single time."
Passenger: "There are always a few clouds over everybody."
Cabbie: "Not Frank Feldman. He was a terrific athlete. He could have won the Grand Slam at tennis. He could golf with the pros. He sang like an opera baritone and danced like a Broadway star and you should have heard him play the piano. He was an amazing guy."
Passenger: "Sounds like he was something really special."
Cabbie: "There's more... He had a memory like a computer. He remembered everybody's birthday. He knew all about wine, which foods to order and which fork to eat them with. He could fix anything. Not like me. I change a fuse, and the whole street blacks out. But Frank Feldman, he could do everything right."
Passenger: "Wow, some guy then."
Cabbie: "He always knew the quickest way to go in traffic and avoid traffic jams. Not like me, I always seem to get stuck in them. But Frank, he never made a mistake, and he really knew how to treat a woman and make her feel good. He would never answer her back even if she was in the wrong; and his clothing was always immaculate, shoes highly polished too. He was the perfect man! He never made a mistake. No one could ever measure up to Frank Feldman."
Passenger: "An amazing fellow. How did you meet him?"
Cabbie: "Well, I never actually met Frank. He died . . . I'm married to his bleepin' widow."
”The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug.”
Mark Twain
SGGP
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