Simply Put

Short Stories

2009-01-07T07:50:00.004-07:00

Heat. Surely this is the devil's parlor. The baked landscape leads farther than my fading will. How long have I been governed by the law of this heartless red world? The beast that carries me labors to breathe. I dismount. Blowing sand finds its way through my keffiyeh, stinging my eyes. I am surrounded by endless dunes. I fall to my knees and lift my hands to the sky...

The Shepherds

Come. That's it. A little further now. Follow me," I say, as we reach the fields of Bethlehem. The animals protest the steep climb. My sheep follow my voice and separate from the flock of my brother...

Keep The Change

The frantic midtown Manhattan street was an uproar of busy buses, cranky cab drivers and determined pedestrians. One by one, mom and pop flipped their signs from closed to open...

A Ghost Story

Check the window. No sun yet. She wasn't there last time. I look toward the door, it's almost shut. Who shut it? I look hard at the door. Green light. Gotta hold it. She's definitely there...

Billy "Busker" Branett

On a bench, next to the sign proudly proclaiming Fabulous Funnel Cakes, Voted Ocean City's Best Funnel Cakes, lay the rig of a one-man-band. Instantly, I am replete...

Abandoned

The desk stands in the shadowed study, oblivious to the knowledge that relies on its strong legs for support. Ideas sit forsaken and scattered...

Delmon and the Dragon

The creature had the shape of an alligator. Its scaly jacket glistened with the oily liquid that ambled it's way over and past...

Cyclone

ferocious energy courses through my black wind as the cold accelerates toward the ground, fusing with heat. the rain stops and the dismal sky begins its spin...

Poetry

2009-01-07T07:45:00.002-07:00

Once Called Saul

One and Another

The Harley

Smitty's Year in a Minute

White Riders

Articles

2009-01-07T07:30:00.002-07:00

Places I've Never Visited, and That's Just Fine - Part One

Unbeknownst to me, there are around 100 nude beaches in America. At least 26 of these are in California.

The Shopocalypse

I recently saw this documentary "What Would Jesus Buy" about the commercialization of Christmas.

Long Walks on the Beach

I don't know about you, but this really creeps me out.

My Hero

For the most part, that title has been reserved for a fictitious character in a comic or a movie.

The Ballot

Please use a black or blue medium ballpoint pen only. If one is not available please come back in 4 years and try to be more prepared.

Californian's Don't Need to Pee

Recently, the Black Magic Woman and I packed up the cast members and headed across the desert to the Mouse's House.

Hooky

A couple of weeks ago, my wife informed me that the third installment of the latest Disney cash cow had arrived: High School Musical 3.

Tagged

My four legged friend Nooter the Dog has tagged this blog.

The Boardroom

From FluSoft Home Office:

The Yankees

I parted ways with the Yanks about the time Boggs came over from the Sox.

Places I've Never Been, And That's Just Fine - Part Two

Lurking just below the surface, thinking that you look very much like a big juicy strip from The Outback Steakhouse, may be a man-eating crocodile.

Places I've Never Visited and That's Just Fine - Part Two

2009-01-02T17:25:00.000-07:00

The Outback of Australia

I know what you're thinking. This has been done a million times. Yep, and now it's a million and one. What can I say? I need the practice. Anyway, where was I? Ahh yes, the Australian Outback, home to such tourist attractions as the most dangerous snake in the world, the hottest place on the earth, and man-eating crocodiles. If that does not get you pumped for some fun in the Aussie sun, how about the Sydney Funnel Web Spider, capable of killing a person within 15 minutes of a bite.

Let's start with the infamous Inland Taipan. This snake is considered the most poisonous in the world. A fang full of its killer juice could do in 100 people, no problem. Lets put that into perspective, shall we? I'm from Arizona, a place that is no stranger to venomous snakes, however, the bane of the Inland Taipan is 50 times more toxic than that of most rattlesnakes. Ouch! Okay, no worries mate, we'll just watch where we step.

Who doesn't like a day in the sun? Warm temps, no rain. Sounds great. In 2003, according to MODIS, the hottest place on the earth was in Queensland, Australia with a temperature of 157 degrees! Are you kidding me? 157 degrees! That, my friend, is ridiculous unless, of course, you fancy trying to fry an egg on your forehead. No thanks!

No big deal, right, we'll just take a quick dip in the creek and cool down. Yeah, you might want to reconsider before stripping down to your skivvies and taking the plunge. Lurking just below the surface, thinking that you look very much like a big juicy strip from The Outback Steakhouse, may be a man-eating crocodile. Australian saltwater crocodiles kill 1.5 people a year. I guess the other .5 is that guy who only lost his lower half. Australian crocodiles are the largest reptile on the earth. The males can get as big as 21 feet long and weigh a ton. So it would be like being eaten by a Hummer. With teeth. Big, sharp teeth.

So, if your first name is "Johnny" and your last name ends in "ously" or your idea of a close shave involves one of those knives they sell on the Shopping Network, you know, the ones with the compass in the end, then the Australian Outback is just the place for you. As for me, this is one of the many places I have never visited, and that's just fine.

White Riders

2009-01-01T18:30:00.000-07:00

Now men've seen storms come and go

with all their wicked fright,

but few have lived to tell the tale

bout them there riders white.

Was camp not far from border town

where holed up cowboys lay.

Gainst sand and wind they fought real hard

and made it through the day.

With water gone and night not far

the horses just dropped dead.

The cowboys weak too tired for talk

curled up in sandy bed.

Now men've seen storms come and go

with all their wicked fright,

but few have lived to tell the tale

bout them there riders white.

The storm raged on no end in sight

young cowboys all but lame,

when suddenly from some unknown

through sand and wind they came.

They rode in pairs all dressed in white

out of wind and sand a blow.

A ghostly crew of ten plus two

with extra horse in tow.

Now men've seen storms come and go

with all their wicked fright,

but few have lived to tell the tale

bout them there riders white.

The riders stopped in front of them

and two of them got down.

As they helped one up the other

watched with a worried frown.

They put the man on empty horse

and start to ride away.

The cowboy left cried out to them,

don't leave me here to stay.

Now men've seen storms come and go

with all their wicked fright,

but few have lived to tell the tale

bout them there riders white.

When daybreak comes and storm is gone,

the cowboy lifts his head.

The first thing he sees next to him,

his friend lying there dead.

It hits him like a ton of bricks,

he tries to catch his breath.

Those riders in the storm last night

were the riders of death.

Now men've seen storms come and go

with all their wicked fright,

but few have lived to tell the tale

bout them there riders white.

Smitty's Year in A Minute

2008-12-31T08:12:00.003-07:00

th' year in a minute

thar's nah enough time in it

thar were strumpet 'n ale

'n plenty a tale

a few walked th' plank

but most jus' drank

The Harley

2008-12-27T15:30:00.001-07:00

The Harley

Torque force

Heat from the seat

Energy with drive

Horsepower divine

Action from within

Renegade rider

Lioness of the asphalt jungle

Every man's hog

You better hold on.

One and Another

2008-12-23T16:15:00.004-07:00

Desert

tawny, desolate

thirsting, limiting, dying

baked, null, moist, plenty

satisfying, thriving, growing

verdurous, populous

Jungle

The Shepherds

2008-12-21T19:40:00.003-07:00

"Come. That's it. A little further now. Follow me," I say, as we reach the fields of Bethlehem. The animals protest the steep climb. My sheep follow my voice and separate from the flock of my brother as we part at hill's crest. When the flocks are apart, I say, "Stay, rest, eat and I will watch over you." Circling, I count heads and meet my brother between our herds. I see that he is happy. I am happy, too. We have come far and lost little. Tonight we will watch, and tomorrow our flocks will feed off the land of our ancestors. Read More

Keep the Change

2008-12-21T16:57:00.003-07:00

The frantic midtown Manhattan street was an uproar of busy buses, cranky cab drivers and determined pedestrians. One by one, mom and pop flipped their signs from closed to open, just in time for the blitz of professionals expecting coffee and their morning paper. A delicate fog caressed the tip tops of lonely skyscrapers and drifted swiftly in the breeze that skimmed off the Hudson. Messengers on bikes expertly weaved their way down the crowded street, in and out of the crawl of delivery vans, police cars and construction workers. Doormen hailed cabs for late tenants and shop owners swept the front walks. 7:01:32 a.m. Business as usual. Read More

Places I've Never Visited, and That's Just Fine - Part One

2008-12-20T17:09:00.002-07:00

Unbeknownst to me, there are around 100 nude beaches in America. At least 26 of these are in California. As far as I can tell, it is illegal to flaunt the birthday suit when catching some rays at a public beach in the Golden State, however, not all California counties agree on what would be considered "in the buff." Read More

Delmon and the Dragon

2008-12-20T17:03:00.004-07:00

As Delmon walked down the dusty gravel road toward the creek, he began the important task of planning his summer vacation, of which today was the first day. There would be the ordinary everyday things which would include a stroll to the drug store for candy and baseball cards, a game of war with the neighborhood kids and a flip through the latest Avengers comic. There would be the much anticipated trip to grandmama's house for the Fourth of July and fishing for mud puppies at the Blackmore's pond. Mama's apple pies and catch with Dad after work. Maybe even time for little sis. All of these ideas blossomed into a brilliant mosaic of anticipation in Delmon's mind. Read More

Keep the Change

2008-12-20T11:44:00.001-07:00

7:01:33 a.m. Time stopped. Everything froze. No wind. No sound. No movement at all. Birds suspended in animation. Hot coffee hung like a rope, mid-pour between pot and cup. Even the steam swirling from the manhole covers ceased rising, creating eerie ghostlike shapes over the street.

Lying on an ancient wrought iron bench, beneath a warn out old overcoat, was a man. A second ago, the man was invisible to the hurried passersby. Just another bum sleeping off last night's whiskey. No one had noticed how or when the man had gotten there. Too busy.

With a swoosh, the man threw off the overcoat, raised it over his head and, like a cowboy about to rope a calf at the rodeo, swung it in a wide circle. He released it and watched as it flew through the air and landed on a woman sleeping a few benches down. The man wore a robe extending down to his feet. A broad golden sash at his waist. His hair was as white as snow.

He blinked and was instantly across the street standing next to a petrified street vendor who had been about to hand a young woman a pastry cake. The woman was dressed in a couture business suit, a thick briefcase in one hand and the other extended toward the vendor, clutching a five dollar bill. The man with the white hair blinked again and the bill became a hundred dollar bill. The man touched the arm of the vendor and the business woman, whispered something in an ancient language and disappeared.

Time started again.

"Thanks, Joe," the woman says as she hastily grabbed for the pastry.

"No problem," the man replied as he took the bill from her, "Hey, Lucy, I know you're busy and all, but I was wondering if you wanted to, you know, maybe come to my Tuesday night bible study, you know, if you're not too busy or anything?" he asked nervously.

"Oh thanks, Joe, that's very sweet, but, with the presentation to the board of directors tomorrow morning, I have to really stay focused for the next 24 hours," Lucy said as she began to move backwards. "Keep the change, Joe. See you tomorrow." she added already out of reach of any reply.

Joe wondered why in the world he had decided to ask Lucy to bible study. The notion had never crossed his mind before. It just sort of came out. He looked down at the bill Lucy had given him. A hundred? He looked up to see Lucy taking the first step down the stairs to the subway.

With the eye of a quarterback, Joe quickly looked over his options. There was a policeman across the street. No, the cop would ask too many questions. How about Vinny the Magician who was setting up shop a little earlier than usual. No way. He'd have the cart broken down and sold for parts in 5.3 seconds. He turned around. Walking towards him was a guy he recognized. He had given the man his leftover pastries a few times in the past. The man walked as he usually did, a slight limp, head down and covered by the hood of his dirty sweatshirt. Joe covered the short distance between them and took the man's arm.

"Hey brother, I'm kinda in a pickle here. Could you, you know, watch over my stand for a minute?" Without lifting his head, the man nodded and Joe said, "Thanks, man, it'll just take a sec." Joe began to sprint in the direction of the subway. At the stairs, he turned to see the guy standing behind the cart, head still down. Joe took the stairs two at at time, scaling the last four in a single bound. At the bottom of the stairs he excitedly scanned the subway station. He spotted Lucy standing next to a support column to his left. Lucy saw him and waved. He walked to her.

A little out of breath, Joe said, "Hey there, Lucy, you gave me a hundred dollar bill, you know, by mistake."

Lucy looked down to her purse and noticed that the five she had placed in the clip of her cell phone the night before was still there. She held it up. "Would you look at that? So much for detailed planning."

They exchanged bills and Lucy said, "Thank you so much, Joe."

"No problem," Joe replied.

As Joe turned to walk away, Lucy looked down at the hundred she held. Looking up she said, "Hey, Joe, what time did you say that bible study was?"

Joe stopped, turned around with a beaming smile and replied, "Six-thirty in the old YMCA building at the corner of 42nd and 11th."

Lucy looked down at the bill, then back to Joe, "I'll see you there."

Just as Joe had entered the stairwell to find Lucy, the man behind the pastry cart smiled. He reached up with both hands and lifted the hood from his head, revealing hair white as snow. He grabbed the spatula in one hand and a bag in the other and called out, "Pastries anyone?"

Once Called Saul

2008-12-18T09:00:00.001-07:00

As I blindly walked along

To my tradition, I stay

The Lord blessed with a new song.

Judging those who did not wrong

From my destiny, I stray

As I blindly walked along

Flesh is weak, Your will is strong

To You offered, come what may

The Lord blessed with a new song.

King on high, I shall belong

Ready is mine, for that day

As I blindly walked along

Soon I'll gather with that throng

For You wiped, my sins away

The Lord blessed with a new song.

The road is narrow and long

At Your feet, my burdens lay

As I blindly walked along

The Lord blessed with a new song.

A Ghost Story

2008-12-18T08:39:00.001-07:00

I have to go so bad.

I can make it until morning. No I can't.

I can make it to the bathroom. I kick the covers off one foot. Oooh, that's cold air. Okay, just go. Maybe she won't be there tonight. Maybe she won't turn around this time.

Last time she turned around. If she turns around this time, I won't make it. I can't.

It's starting to hurt. It's now or never. I kick off the rest of the covers and run. Out the door. Don't look. I look. She's not there.

It's next time.

Check the window. No sun yet. She wasn't there last time. I look toward the door, it's almost shut. Who shut it? I look hard at the door. Green light. Gotta hold it. She's definitely there.

Morning. Made it.

Turned down that second glass of milk with dinner. That should help.

Wake up. Here we go again. I try to remember her pattern. Was it there, there, gone, or was it gone, there, gone? Can't remember. I don't see any green light. What am I scared of anyway? I'm eight now. Big enough not to be scared of ghosts. I slip out of bed. I'm not scared, I think, as I force my legs to walk. I close my eyes as I round the corner into the hall. Entering the hall with eyes still closed, I know I'm in trouble. The green light penetrates my eyelids and I feel a cold air that can only be her dead breath. She must be right in front of me.

I freeze. My eyes open. She's there, but in the chair by the desk where she usually is. She turns. I pee. She stands. I cry. She comes. I run. Forward, because the bathroom door is closer. I slam the door in her face. Green light under the door. Will she come in? She's never come in before. The light fades. I get in the tub and stare at the crack under the door.

This started when I was six and continued until my family moved to Arizona seven years later.

I never told anyone.

Then, one night over dinner, about a year after we left Missouri, we began to discuss reasons why we were glad we had moved. Without thinking, I blurt out, "Well for one thing, there's no ghost at the end of the hallway." My dad and mom both look at me, somewhat amused.

"Ghost?" mom asks with a smile in her voice.

"Yeah," I reply, already wishing I had kept my mouth shut.

"What did this...ghost...look like?" she chuckles.

"Well...she was green."

"Yeah, and she had a big head!" chimes in my eleven-year-old sister. We all turn to her.

"What did you say?" I ask.

"She had a really big head, and when I would come out of my room at night she would turn around and look at me."

In that instant, I realized there are times when you must tell your heart to beat. Times when you must remind yourself to take the next breath and let out the previous one. No more of this involuntary stuff.

My dad adds, "Well, we did live on a cemetery, you know."

Beat...Breathe in...Beat...Breathe out...Beat...

"Honey, it was not directly on the cemetery. It was more like our backyard was next to the cemetery," mom corrects.

"In, next to, on. What's the difference? The fact is the kids were being haunted and we lived on, sorry, next to a cemetery."

Of course! The cemetery. This obvious detail had never crossed my mind before now. The ghost must have been from the cemetery. Maybe our house was built on her grave and, in order for her soul to be set free, she had to get us out and burn the house to the ground. Or maybe it was her baby's grave, and she thought my sis and I were little Timmy or Tina. It made perfect sense now. How could I have overlooked the cemetery?

My sister says, "I thought ghosts were afraid of churches. That old church across the street from our house shoulda scared that ghost away."

The church! I forgot about the church. What else had I missed? A creepy motel on the corner run by a guy and his mother? A driverless car with a girl's name terrorizing the Buicks and Chevys left out at night? Did I ever really get to know the neighbors to our right, the ones who painted their house black and the front doors orange? Whoa. What la la land was I living in?

As usual, the conversation turned into an argument between my parents about whether the likely stomping grounds for a green ghost would be a church or a cemetery.

It's been twenty years since that conversation but I still get the heeby jeebies when I think about it. Sis and I bring up the lady in the hall sometimes, but I like to keep it way down deep. Down with all the other things that should not be. A lot of my friends say they would love to visit their childhood homes. Unh uh, no way. Not interested. Thank you very much, but I'll pass.

As I sit here writing, alone...in the dark...I look at the street in front of my house. No ancient abandoned church, no weird neighbors, well, not that weird and the only thing dead in the back yard is the ferret buried next to the swimming pool. All is quiet. I yawn, turn the computer off and stand up. Stretching my arms, I turn and walk away from my desk, glad to have gotten the demons out. As I reach the door. I hear the whine of my computer restarting. Funny, I thought I shut it down. Before I can turn around, I feel cold air on the back of my neck and the room is flooded with light...green light.

Billy "Busker" Branett

2008-12-17T12:57:00.001-07:00

As I leisurely make my way along the boardwalk, in neglect of the general, yet burdensome duty to watch where I'm going, I nearly decapitate an older gentlemen crouched near the entrance to The Fabulous Funnel Cakes shop.

"Hey man! Watch where you're going," the dude says in a voice that I have not heard since my "Up In Smoke" Cheech & Chong days. You know, "Hey man, where'd you put the bong, man? I'm gonna need that later, man."

I quickly apologize and bend to peel him off the ground. "I'm so sorry," I weakly offer. "I did not see you there. Are you okay?"

"It's okay, man. I'm alright." As I get him upright and dust him off, which consists of me kind of patting his back and then holding my breath to keep from inhaling the cloud that forms from the guy, I redirect my attention to where he had been when I so rudely laid him out.

On a bench, next to the sign proudly proclaiming Fabulous Funnel Cakes, Voted Ocean City's Best Funnel Cakes, lay the rig of a one-man-band. Instantly, I am replete with delight for, you see, I am absolutely, categorically, decidedly, quite positively and to those who know me, uncharacteristically, crazy about a one-man-band. There is something about the metallic rhythm, the melodic vibration and the carnival racket that comes from the getup.

Trying to subdue my elation, I ask knowingly, "So, do you play?".

"No, man, I just like to carry this thing around for exercise, man." he replies, obviously ready for me to make my way out of his life in the same exuberant and hasty fashion in which I had entered.

"Sorry, brother," I say with as much humility as I can muster. "It's just that I love a one-man-band. When I was a child, my Uncle Tim had a kit very similar to yours. I would follow him to the fairgrounds and watch him and the other buskers perform."

"That's cool, man. Whereabouts did your uncle get down?"

"Down south. Allentown Fairgrounds."

Smoke starts to trail from the music man's ears as memory's wheels begin to grind. "Oh yeah, man, I know the spot. I used to jam with a couple old timers in front of the farmer's market, man."

I can hardly believe my ears. What are the chances?

He continues, "What did you say your uncle's name was?"

"Tim."

"I knew a cat way back when, went by the name of Two-Tooth Timmy."

"That's him!" I scream, realizing that I've scared the crap out of a little girl walking by with her family. "That's him!" I repeat, bringing my voice down a notch.

"Right on, man. How's that busker doin' now, man?"

"Actually, he passed in '87. Got in the way of a Conrail down by the Norfolk Southern Corp. stock yards," I say.

"Oooh, that's too bad, man. Old Two-Tooth loved the trains," he responds.

"Yeah, the trains and the whiskey," I add. "By the way, I'm Jason," realizing I had not introduced myself, "Jason Conti."

I offer my hand. "Billy Busker Branett, a tune for a treasure, at your service." He takes my hand and begins to skake it like there's no tomorrow.

We discuss the good old days for a while as I help him get his rig on and ask again if he is okay. He assures me he is fine. I slip him a $20 and watch him bounce down the boardwalk. I see him, every once in a while, banging away on his bass drum while strumming a guitar and moving his lips expertly between harmoninca and kazoo. Man, I love a one-man-band.

Abandoned

2008-12-16T17:25:00.001-07:00

The desk stands in the shadowed study, oblivious to the knowledge that relies on its strong legs for support. Ideas sit forsaken and scattered, half lives known only to the writer. A brown leather journal, bound with a strap, longs for an entry. A picture lies face down, once the muse, now the block. Crumpled papers litter the dusty floor, evidence of frustrating attempts at perfection. A stack of books leans impossibly to one side, like the mind of the writer, unable to endure the smallest disturbance. The desk, once the birthplace of brilliance, abandoned for peace of mind.

Places I've Never Visited, and That's Just Fine - Part One

2008-12-15T20:00:00.001-07:00

A California Nude Beach

Los Angeles County, by far the most specific, considers "the genitals, vulva, pubis, pubic symphysis, pubic hair, buttocks, natal cleft, perineum, anus, anal region or pubic hair region of any person, or any portion of the breast at or below the upper edge of the areola thereof of any female person" to be a pubic, I mean, public nuisance. Marin County leaves a little less to the imagination by prohibiting "pubic hair, genitals, buttocks or any portion of the female breast below the top of the areola." Most of the other counties are somewhere in between. San Diego County's Law just says "No person over the age of ten years shall be nude and exposed to public view." I was not able to find any restrictions for Humboldt County, specifically College Cove Beach.

Sunny College Cove Beach offers surfing, volleyball, jogging, sunbathing and swimming, all which can be enjoyed without the annoyance of apparel. Of course, the average temperature of the water is cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey. According to the "truenudists" website, no, it's not saved as a favorite, about one-fourth of the beach is sand and the rest driftwood. The location is popular with young singles and even more popular with gawkers. Duh.

So, if building sand castles while bare or boogie boarding au natural floats your boat, saunter on down to College Cove Beach and get your nudist on. As for me, this is one of the many places I intend to be just fine never visiting.

Delmon and the Dragon

2008-12-13T07:31:00.002-07:00

The road began to bend in the direction of the aging farmhouses on the far end of town. Delmon skipped off the path to the right and started down the tangled bank of the creek. His target was a lengthy steel tube that spanned the distance from one bank to the other. This was the only spot to ford the creek for two miles in either direction. The duct extended about five feet above the crawl of the black water beneath. Delmon had observed the older boys negotiate the divide by foot, but he elected to manage by straddling the tube and scooting along on his backside.

As he settled himself on the pipe, a disturbance from below captured his attention. At first glance, the part of Delmon's brain that refused to believe that the things that go bump in the night were anything but ancient wood lamenting on time's callousness toward materials of decay, saw only a fallen tree, left behind by the ravages of an arduous winter storm. Nothing more than natures way of renewal. However, this thought was quickly replaced with the ghastly shock of comprehension at what lay below.

The creature had the shape of an alligator. Its scaly jacket glistened with the oily liquid that ambled it's way over and past, polluting everything downstream with the dross of the loathsome monster. The limbs were submersed in the water but, without a doubt, ended in razor sharp talons capable of dissecting with the certainty of a surgeon's scalpel. It's tail coiled into a tight sphere that appeared to lay on the surface of the water, quivering with the current. The savage head was that of a dragon. Two spiked horns rose from its crown flanked by many smaller spikes along both sides of the face. The hideous mouth was partially open revealing columns of bloodthirsty teeth. But by far, the most unsettling of the creature's grotesque appearance were the eyes. They were a deep shadow of red, sunken within the dragon's skull and seemed to convey the torment that undoubtedly followed the nightmare of this alien's wretched existence. These eyes were hungrily fixated on Delmon.

Delmon was unable to move, completely paralyzed by the vexing glare of the demon. It spoke.

"You realize that I am going to eat you?" the dragon seemed to breathe more than speak. Delmon remained silent. "See, I've been waiting for you all winter and I am very hungry."

Delmon, figuring that, if he is to escape and avoid the terrible wrath of the dragon, he will need to accommodate it with conversation. Accessing a courage he did not know he possessed, he replied in the best Avenger voice he could muster, "Surely there are bigger kids that will come by today and provide you with a larger meal."

The dragon seemed to ponder this for a few moments. Delmon took advantage of the beast's pause searching the alcove of his recollection for a similar situation wherein one of his comic book heros triumphantly slew the beast and saved the world.

The dragon spoke again, "Yes...yes, I agree that you are quite small and the warm weather likely will bring more boys and girls to the creek, but you see, I am very hungry and you look soooo appetizing." Delmon shivered. "I would be kicking myself if I let you pass and nothing came my way for several more days."

Delmon began to formalate a plot in his seven-year-old mind. His mother was always telling him that what one fears most, most of the time, does not even exist. If he could convince the dragon that it did not exist, maybe it would just disappear. Delmon said, "What if I told you that I don't think you're real, that you are just and old tree laying down there in the water?"

The dragon growled and replied, "You can clearly see that I exist and am on the verge of devouring you."

Delmon said, "No, I think you are an old tree, not a scary dragon. I'm going to count to three and you will be nothing but a dead tree. ONE, TWO..."

"Wait!" cried the dragon, "let's talk about this a little longer. Assuming you are correct, that I am just a figment of your imagination: what would a lowly dragon like myself have to do to maintain his existence?"

Delmon thought about this for a long time. On one hand, if he just wished the dragon away, that would be that. No more worries. But on the other hand, having your own personal dragon may have extraordinary benefits. Delmon resolved to ask, "Do you promise not to eat me when I pass over the pipe each day?"

The dragon responded, "Well, I may need to think..."

"ONE, TWO..." interrupted Delmon.

"Okay, okay, I won't eat you when you pass each day," blurted the dragon.

Confident that he had the monster right where he wanted him, Delmon began to scoot across the pipe. The dragon watched with those dangerous eyes, a costant discharge of drool poured from the beast's gape. When Delmon reached the other side of the creek, he turned to the dragon, closed his eyes and said, "THREE!" He opened his eyes and the dragon had turned into a fallen tree. Delmon muttered, "Just in case," and continued on his way, reminding himself to thank mom for the great advice.

The Shopocalypse

2008-12-12T14:41:00.001-07:00

I recently saw this documentary "What Would Jesus Buy" about the commercialization of Christmas. I watched it with my wife who, it just so happens, is pretty fed up with Christmas. The past few years have went something like this: We buy a bunch of stuff, give it to a bunch of people who bought a bunch of stuff and gave it to us. The End.

Although we were not very impressed with the good Reverend Billy of the Church of Stop Shopping, we get it. We're addicted and have been "led like Sheeple to the Christmas slaughter." We have fallen prey to the wolf that is Walmart.

We started to think about what material items we have that we really would not want to wake up on Christmas morning without. Aside from the obvious and most important answers, shelter, clothing, indoor plumbing, the first thing that came to my mind was a plastic gorilla that I found in my grandpa's truck after he died. It is about 5 inches long and has definitely seen better days and to anybody else would no doubt be junk. However, to me it is priceless. This may not be a very good example because it was not actually a gift, but if it were, it would be the best gift I could have gotten. And, now, don't miss this, it was FREE. No long lines at Walmart, no back ordered Elmo dolls or Wii stations, no inconceivably ridiculous price for a piece of plastic that certainly won't make it until next Christmas.

I guess what I got most from this weird and mostly annoying movie was this, I have no idea what was the hot item for Christmas the year my grandpa died, but I'm pretty sure it was not a little plastic gorilla long forgotten that was on the dash of a beat-up old pickup.

What Would Jesus Buy

Long Walks on the Beach

2008-12-11T11:04:00.001-07:00

I don't know about you, but this really creeps me out.

I went to the dentist last week. Let me stop there. The dentist sucks. We can move on now.

While I was in the waiting room, I started to peruse the local paper and came across a story out of Hawaii. It read "Two sisters-in-law who were walking along a rocky Kauai shoreline apparently drowned when a large wave struck the women and pulled them out to sea." Please note, it did not read "Two sisters-in-law who were walking along a rocky Kauai shoreline during a hurricane" or "Two sisters-in-law who were attempting to hang ten on a hyper fierce gnar gnar." No, they were just walking.

Just to clarify, apparently it is possible that while my sweetheart and I are walking down the beach, enjoying a beautiful sunset, not a care in the world, minding our own beeswax a freak wave can come out of nowhere and swallow us up. No warning, one second, a cold Corona and oceanic bliss, the next, gulp. I decided to look into this disturbing phenomenon and discovered it to be an all too familiar headline.

In February of this year a freak wave hit a Durban beach killing 1 and leaving 18 others in need of immediate rescue. In September, also this year, a rogue wave at Middle Cove Beach on the coast of Newfoundland sent water 20 meters inland into the parking lot. One of the startled survivors had this to say, "This big wave just grabbed me and washed me out". Perhaps the most disturbing was in Acapulco, April of 2007. Six people were rescued after being swept out into Acapulco Bay when an unusually large wave washed over part of the coastal road. The six people were apparently walking along the beach when the wave hit. The wave occurred on a sunny, hot day with no storm in sight, and its source was not clear.

Of course, there are several perfectly plausible reasons why these freak waves can occur. Land formations, earthquakes, weather disturbances and currents just to name a few.

So this is my suggestion. The sign on the beach should read. 1. Swim at your own risk. 2. Alcohol and glass containers are not allowed. 3. No pets on the beach. 4. No vehicles on the beach. 5. Watch out for random, 30 foot walls of water that could crash down at any moment and drag you out to sea. Enjoy your day at the beach.

My Hero

2008-12-11T07:13:00.001-07:00

For the most part, that title has been reserved for a fictitious character in a comic or a movie. Other times, it gets used as kind of a joke. "Ferris Bueller, you're my hero". Of course who could forget Bette's ballad "The Wind Beneath my Wings". But I gotta tell you, aside from the incredible men and women in our Armed Service, past and present, heros are tough to come by lately. That is until October 2, 2008 when I discovered, right under my nose was a real live hero.

On that date, I was surfing the blogosphere, making my usual rounds to blogs of interest. I happened upon one of my favorites. I was excited, a new post. I started to read and immediately realized this was not a regular, run of the mill, how the world is treating me post. This one was going to make me cry. Here is the just of it.

The author apparently woke up one day in early February of 2008 and saw one of those news stories that produces that lump in the back of your throat. You know the kind, man jumps in front of a bus to save a little girl or a group of citizen's gets together to help a homeless mother of two get back on her feet. I don't know about you, but I always feel a little guilty, like, why didn't I jump in front of a bus or climb a tree to save a kitten. However, as inspiring as these news stories are, its in one ear and out the other. Back to our hero. This particular story was about a woman who anonymously donated bone marrow to a teenager, saving his life. To a mere mortal this could possibly inspire one to donate some time, maybe some blood, but to a superhero it meant something a lot more, shall we say invasive.

Our fearless crusader began to research being a kidney donor. She called around to all the local hospitals, who it turns out, had no idea what to do with her. Here is how the conversation would go:

Hero: "Hi, I would like to be a living kidney donor."

Nurse: "Are you dying?"

Hero: "Not that I know of."

Nurse: "Do you know of someone that needs a kidney."

Hero: "No, that's why I'm calling you."

Nurse: "Sorry, but we do not have a program for anonymous kidney donors."

This is where I would have said "Well, I gave it a try, it just wasn't in the cards, maybe next time" and then I would start to breathe again realizing what I almost did. But again, not our hero. She continued to research and eventually found a young boy who needed a kidney. After vigorous testing, it turns out that her kidney is more of a match then the child's own family's. There are still lots of tests to do, but it looks good that this will happen.

Before you go to this blog and read it, I don't want you to miss the fact that our hero refers to all of the positive results of the testing done by the doctors as "miracles". It is true, they are miracles, but there is one miracle that stands above and beyond any of the medical ones. That is the entirely selfless and absolutely incredible choice of our hero, my sister, Cynthia Bowers. Because I know that it is possible that the family of this little boy may never know what you have done, let me and your family say, "Thank You".

http://thiscanwork.blogspot.com/

The Ballot

2008-12-10T17:33:00.001-07:00

Please use a black or blue medium ballpoint pen only. If one is not available please come back in 4 years and try to be more prepared. Please notice the box to the left of your choice, do not fill in that box. Please count 2 boxes down and 4 boxes across, do not fill that box in either. Instead, look for the box that is marked A,B,C or K and place a check mark under all of the above. Make no stray marks on the ballot or else your vote will be applied to the opposing party. Do not use inks that soak through the paper or that may be mistaken for a white powdery substance. To vote for a write-in candidate, completely fill in the box provided to the left of the words "Write-in" and write in the name of the candidate on the line provided or refer to your common sense. If no line has been provided please start over, you are using the wrong ballot. To cast a straight-party vote, your favorite movie cannot have starred Doris Day or Liza Minelli. Selecting a party automatically selects all candidates associated with that party including but not limited to known or unknown felons, terrorists or close talkers. If you select a candidate associated with a party other than the straight-party selection, your vote for that candidate will be counted in that particular contest, but in no particular order, and will be applied to the candidate that is most likely to be affiliated with the mob. You must be at least 18 to vote. Exceptions can be made if your birthday falls between August 12 and October 23 and you have never been to or no anybody from the states of Montana, Nebraska or New Mexico. Pursuant to Code 66,567,980 Section 23-15-367 (Set Game & Match) the order of candidates for each office was predetermined by a wet T-shirt contest. The orders are interchangeable and in no way reflect the opinions of this blogger dude.

Californian's Don't Need to Pee

2008-12-10T16:30:00.001-07:00

Recently, the Black Magic Woman and I packed up the cast members and headed across the desert to the Mouse's House. The trip was outstanding, thanks in most part to St. Rosemarie for lending us the time share. But that is beside the point, or in this case, the post. I wanted to bring your attention to a little known fact about Californians: it appears they never have to pee.

"Hello, I am Arnold Schwarzenegger and let me be zee first to velcome you to de grand state of California, vhere ve do not need to pee. Because ve have no need to pee, I have removed every toilet from vithin 175 miles of any freevay outside of Los Angeles."

Well that's just great, however, in Arizona, "ve" have to pee like every 20 minutes. This created a problem when travelling with four females from the Grand Canyon State. At one point on our way home, we were somewhere just past Riverside, when Daughter Who is Smarter Than I said, "Dad, I need a toilet."

"But, honey," I reply, "We are in California. You know that there are no toilets anywhere near this freeway. Why didn't you go four hours ago before we left the hotel?" I get the expected, "Are you seriously that stupid?" look from the back seat.

Then Daughter Who is Still in Diapers says, "Daeey, I nee toyett too."

"No, you are still in diapers. You don't need a toilet." I remind her. "Just go pee pee in your diaper and we will change it as soon as we can."

"No I nin't go pee pee in my diaper animore!" she furiously yells from the back of the minivan.

"It has been quite a while since we stopped," the Black Magic Woman chimes in.

Mutiny!

"Do you have to pee too?" I ask Daughter Who Misses Her Cats.

"Yea, and poo."

That settles it. I get off at the next somewhat-civilized looking exit and begin to use all of the common sense I have for restroom hunting. First I enter a residential-type area, thinking that these people have to eat. There will be a fast food joint or a grocery store around. Nope. Then I make my way downtown toward the industrial side. Nothing. Finally, while passing a greenbelt, Magic says "The door on that building over there says 'Women'." I make a sharp right and pull over. The girls get out and use the bathroom which Black Magic describes as having a hole and a handle, the latter apparently just for decoration.

As everyone gets buckled and Still in Diapers gets changed, I realize that it is quite possible that we are in Mexico somewhere. It's getting dark and there is Mariachi playing in the background. I set off to find the freeway, making a mental note that flying may be a good idea next time.

Arnold, if you find your way to this here blog: Seriously man, I've seen The Terminator and assume you have a modulator or something that you hook up with to get rid of waste, but the rest of us Sarah Conner types need toilets.

Cyclone

2008-12-08T17:00:00.001-07:00

the warm flank unyielding, desperately seeks the heights of cold air necessary for birth. violence spreads my potential over the helpless land below. rotation is my master. my time is not yet. the cycle starts again. i await my chance to destroy. my power builds and pulsates with wicked anticipation. my eye catches a row of silos. wooden staves held together by pitiful nails. ferocious energy courses through my black wind as the cold accelerates toward the ground, fusing with heat. the rain stops and the dismal sky begins its spin.

birth.

my genesis modest as i gather inches above the ground, plucking shrubs and small trees, testing the turbulence of my vortex. the warm darkness above my engine, fueled by the debris below. my destructive dance begins. i jump over cornfields for a red barn. more fuel. the sound of splintering wood barely audible against my deafening howl. a farmhouse prostrates in submission to my fury.

growth.

with the savagery of a hungry wolf, i carve my way through countryside. i feel the sudden call of my new master, cold air. i thrash and twist towards the warmth of the valley, but icy wind encircles my core, squeezing life from me. i avoid buildings and seek the welcoming dale, but my time has come. in my final rage, i focus my viciousness on a large water tower. with an unharnessed rage unknown to worldkind, i release a mangled piece of metal and the tower crumples. my wretched existence gives in to the persistence of the cold and i retreat upward to my crypt.

death.

You Must Believe

2008-12-07T19:32:00.000-07:00

"My Lord, where is thy path? Has thy servant met his ruin in this forbidden habitat? Father, hear my desperate plea for life."

My cries are barely audible against the sweeping fury of the wind. The beast falls, takes in the breath that will be its last and then is still. My eyes close. Exhaustion overwhelms my soul. Then, an impossible sound. A voice. Far off at first, now closer.

"Halim! Halim!" the voice calls.

I open my eyes to a small boy standing in front of me.

"Halim! Arise. Gather your beast and follow me!" the child shouts over the noise of the storm.

My chin drops to my chest, "My camel has died. I have not water, nor food. Here will be my grave. Save yourself, my young friend, for it is my iniquity that has caught up with me."

"Your beast lives and you shall share in its fortune. Now quickly rise. Your King has heard your lament and granted you salvation."

"Salvation? You do not know what you say, my child. No salvation can be offered to a man such as me. You see, I have stolen from the King himself. I have entered into his house and taken what I did not deserve. See there in my bag? The items I speak of are inside. They convict me by their very nature. They are mercy and grace. They were offered freely, yet in my own wisdom I have stolen them, abused them for my own gain. Let me die, boy. For this is my lot."

"But master, what is mercy if it cannot forgive and what is grace if it cannot save? These gifts are offered freely as you have stated, but you must accept them freely to reap their rewards."

"Your words are like those of a much older man. I long for this salvation you speak of. Surely it is too late for me. Yet I know what you say to be true. What must I do to receive this salvation?"

"You must believe."

Hooky

2008-12-07T09:45:00.001-07:00

A couple of weeks ago, my wife informed me that the third installment of the latest Disney cash cow had arrived: High School Musical 3. You can imagine my elation. So in preparation for this glorious event, I scheduled to take the day off of work. This tactic is to impose my own version of crowd control by attending the feature during hours when the most likely clientele are absorbed in the menial tasks of high school. Ironic, huh?

First my credentials. You may be wondering if a middle-aged dude whose favorite pastime is watching two men kick the crap out of each other in a steel cage should be critiquing a musical. I have compiled what I believe to be an impressive resume showcasing my ability to address this issue. First, I have seen High School Musical 1 & 2 437 times each; been to the off-broadway version; listened to my girls belt out "Bop To The Top" 17 times in a row via the Wii version. By the way, it is not a good idea to engage in this before bed. I have played the DVD High School Musical Trivial Pursuit game; been involved in a stampede to secure a decent position to witness the California Daze live float version in Anaheim; spent $2.5 million on clothing, purses, backpacks, CD's, dolls, playing cards, pencils, notebooks, board games, table cloths, plates, cups, posters, jewelry, candy, and, my favorite, High School Musical chapstick.

So after much hype and news that the flick has broken all imaginable box office records, the magical day has finally arrived. Like an athlete on game day, my girls prepare for the event with an hour or so on the Wii system, followed by twice through the soundtrack and a warm-up round on the Nintendo DS version. From past experience, my wife and I have determined it necessary to apply the Three Hours Per Child Preparedness Rule. This rule states that no less than three hours of preparing per child is required in order to arrive anywhere on time. There is the need for snacks, drinks, diapers, hair products, extra clothing, more diapers, and various other crucial items that, if forgotten, will indeed provide for a less-than-perfect outing. So after making our list and checking it twice...

we're off.

Wait, we forgot the diaper bag.

And we're off.

We make a stop at a local fast food joint for lunch and make it to the theater about 30 minutes before the movie is scheduled to start. As we approach the box offices, it becomes clear that no one is there to give us the warm welcome one would expect when about to drop a 50 note. Instead we are greeted by 5 ticketing kiosks. They stand side by side in a row and I expect to hear the opening drums for the royal changing of the guard wherein the machines would stand at attention, salute and begin the ritual replacement by 5 identical machines. This would have been worth a 50 note.

I have come to realize I have absolutely zero talent with anything electronic. This has been proven, without fail, on numerous occasions. When I need cash, it's a difficult decision: try panhandling or lose my card to the merciless ATM. Go ahead, hand me the tin cup and accordion. Needless to say, when I saw that we were going to have to battle the corps of card crunching kiosks, I turned to my wife and said, "Well it looks like they're closed. Maybe we should try back later." My wife who, in our family has earned the title of "Our Fearless Leader" stepped up to the machine, inserted our payment card, and began furiously pushing buttons and pulling levers. With several beeps and slurs, and some smoke, okay not so much smoke, we were given the message that maybe the most annoying message ever created. "Loading, please wait." This is a problem on a couple of fronts. First, how long am I supposed to wait? A minute, an hour, maybe until Nursing Home Muscial comes out? Second, what to do if nothing happens, which was the outcome this time. Fortunately we notice a commotion near the box office. A young man setting up his cash drawer. We jump into line and purchase our tickets. A quick glance at the watch reveals 15 minutes to spare.

We found our theater to be empty save an elderly woman in the back row, probably a music teacher or maybe someone from the original cast of "Grease" there to check out the new breed. After sitting through what seemed an endless stream of previews, and previews of the previews to come, the featured presentation began. In a nutshell, the movie was brilliant. The production, writing, acting and choreography were spectacular as were the first two installments. But the day was so much more than just a great show. The sky was an endless sea of blue, the temperature was cool and my wife and kids were the greatest company anyone could ever ask for. Playing hooky with these girls was the greatest fun and I can't wait to do it again.

Tagged

2008-12-06T12:37:00.001-07:00

My four legged friend Nooter the Dog has tagged this blog. Don't worry, I'm told that our expert cleaning crew has purchased several bottles of the best pet odor removal products available. We should have this cleaned up as soon as possible. While you are waiting for the blog to reopen, please enjoy these seven weird facts about myself:

I am 6"4, look like Captain Ahab and can deadlift a pickup truck, however, I cannot resist a bubble bath. (Seriously, don't tell anyone I wrote that.)
I have seen High School Musical 437 times. (That either.)
Just recently, my wife caught me looking at another woman's blog.
I cannot speak Canadian.
I feel more like I do now than I did when I came in.
I have a dog called "Dupwarduddabuds" named after that french guy in that one movie.
I have three beautiful little girls who once wrote "fart pig" on their uncle's forehead while he was sleeping.

Okay, here are the rules:

1. Link the person who tagged you.

2. Post the rules on your blog.

3. Share seven random or weird facts about yourself.

4. Tag seven others and include links to their blogs.

5. Let each of the other people know by commenting on their blogs.

And now for the seven nominees:

1. It's Just Diary-A

2. Titus 2 Woman

3. Omah's Helping Hands

4. This Can Work

5. Simply Heather

6. Wind Canyon Writings

7. Dwell & Cultivate

You have been tagged.

The Boardroom

2008-12-05T06:55:00.001-07:00

From FluSoft Home Office:

Good morning! Let's begin with introductions. Starting on my left is Bob Type A Influenza from Production; Larry Type B Influenza from Marketing; Max Type B Influenza from our Bug Resources department; Karen Type A Influenza from Public Relations; Jenny Type A Influenza from Legal; our CEO Donald Type B Influenza and I'm Shelly Type A Influenza, Vice President.

Okay, let's get started.

As you are aware, at the end of this month we will introduce FluVista, our latest Nasal Transfer Operating System designed to improve the state of infection in a market saturated with Superbugs. Donald and I have called this meeting to discuss any last-minute strategy changes that may be beneficial to the smooth rollout of this revolutionary product. Let's start with Bob from Production.

Thank you, Shelly. We are excited in Production to see the fruit of our intense commitment to the quality production of this product. You can be assured that all of our Flu Bugs will be equipped with FluVista at rollout. In fact, we only have about 27 bazillion bugs remaining who have not received the download. We anticipate that small number of bugs should receive the installment by the end of the week.

Thanks, Bob. Now let's turn our attention to Larry in Marketing who will discuss the release date of our largest competitor Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus's new product.

Thank you, Shelly. While it is true, MRSA has a scheduled release date for their latest product, the iMRSA, we should not see any decline in infection this quarter. However, due to our competition's incredible breakthroughs in the area of resistance to antibiotics, we may see a drop in overall earnings by this time next flu season. That being said, I had a meeting with one of our promising young research bugs last night wherein I was assured that production of the Avian influenza strain we have all been anticipating should begin by the next flu season.

That sounds wonderful, Larry. Thank you. Karen from Public Relations has a quick word on the Flu shot epidemic:

Good morning everyone, I am sure you have heard the recent news about the massive quantity of flu vaccinations available to the hosts. Rest assured, our media resources have advised that these vaccinations would have worked against our grandparents, but will be utterly useless against us. On another note, we are in the finishing stages of a partnership with one of the oldest and largest Bacteria Corporations known to bugkind: E. Coli. The merge will aid, finance and assist us in the ever changing field of bacterial infestation without having to create another business entity.

Thank you, Karen. Max, do you have anything you would like to add?

Just that we need to remember that, with any merger comes diversity. In the future we may find the very blood vessels we work in and the stomach's we eat in may be needed by E. Coli employees. Just try to be nice. That all.

Thanks, Max. I'm sure, as leaders, you will all convey to your bugs the importance of maintaining an environment free from prejudices.

How about you, Jenny? Whatever happened to that lawsuit from the bugs over at The Common Cold?

Dismissed for lack of evidence. They're just jealous.

Okay then... Donald has a few words in closing.

Good morning and thank you all for your hard work and dedication to this project. As you are aware, I have spent an enormous amount of time promoting my BugTV program "The Apprentice Season 79". I thank you, Shelly, for holding down the fort in my absence. You are the greatest team ever assembled at FluSoft and together, we will set the standard for infectious disease across the world. Remember our slogan hear at FluSoft: Your potential. Our infection.

About

2008-10-31T19:03:00.008-07:00

Simply Put is a place where the author can practice his writing.

*Do you like short stories?

*Do you like funny articles?

*Do you like poetry?

If you answered yes to any of these questions, you will find value in this blog.

It's really nice to have you here at Simply Put!

Who is Chris Bowers?

The author of this blog is also the author of "Worth a Thousand Words." He has published work at Associated Content.

Besides writing, he is the father of three beautiful girls and husband to the Black Magic Woman. He is interested in photography, theology, wine and sports.

Your welcome to contact Chris anytime. Please enjoy your stay here at Simply Put!

The Yankees

2008-10-13T07:22:00.001-07:00

I parted ways with the Yanks about the time Boggs came over from the Sox. I was not able to get along with upper management after that. Growing up in the baseball tight midwest, all who peed standing up followed the Yankees, even if you did not like them, which we all lied and said we didn't, you had to know how they did last night. How many did Guidry strikeout, or Mattingly went 4-4 with a walkoff dinger.

Although I never actually saw Yankee Stadium, I feel like something is just not right. Every time a piece of the past as big as this goes away, I wonder if it can ever be replaced. Sure the new stadium will rock, but in 85 years will it have that Yankee mystique. Will we look back and say it was the house that Chamberlain or Cano built. I not sure the Yankees can still be "The Yankees" now. You have to wonder if the outcome of this season was not the magical mystical powers of the legend that is Yankee Stadium quoting the great Yogi ""So I'm ugly. So what? I never saw anyone hit with his face."

I love the game so I will make it through this, but after Wrigley and Fenway go, we will have truly lost a great part of baseball history. That being said, one thing is for sure, The Cardinals will be back in the series next year. Go Cardinals.

game over for "the house that ruth built"

The Shepherds

2008-10-01T19:30:00.002-07:00

As the sun sets, our bellies warm with food and drink, we prepare for the chill that will come with night. I lay rod on the backs of the sheep for a final count. A scan of the valley yields no sign of wild beast. My brother lies down behind a large boulder to sleep. I sit, wrapped in sheepskin, atop the rock for first watch.

I try to focus on the valley, but my mind wanders to the rejoicing that will accompany our arrival. The children will see first and run to meet us. Once news reaches father, a feast will be prepared. My wife! I close my eyes and my mind is filled with her beauty. Soon I will feel the warmth of her embrace and taste the honey of her lips. One more watch. I open my eyes to a man standing not an arms length from my perch.

Terrified, I stumble backward off the rock onto the ground. Regaining my balance, I put my back to the boulder and shake my brother awake. Suddenly the dark of night is replaced with a brilliant light. My brother sits up and looks to me, his face glowing. I look down at my hands. They also glow. The rocks, grass, mountains and even the sheep are alive with light. With fear and trembling, my brother asks, "Where does it come from?"

"I do not know. There is a man in front of the rock. He has eyes like stars." I am filled with warmth and hear a faint song from the hills and rocks themselves. It is as if they remember the light and have been expecting its triumphant return. From the days of my youth, ancient scriptures float in an out of my conscience and I know what stands in front of the boulder. It is an angel of the Lord.

"Do not be afraid!" the voice surprisingly gentle.

My brother looks at me. He too, must have heard the soothing tone of the angel's voice. I nod and motion him to rise. Together, we stand and turn. The angel is clothed in white and wears a breatplate of gold. Save his eyes, which glisten and twinkle like sunlight off still water, he has all of the features of man.

"Listen carefully, for I proclaim to you good news that brings great joy to all the people. Today your Savior is born in the city of David. He is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign for you. You will find a baby wrapped in strips of cloth and lying in a manger."

As the angel's mouth closes, the valley is filled with an army of angels. Their voices, like a thunderous waterfall, rise to the heavens singing, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among people with whom he is pleased!"

Then they are gone. Replaced by the returning darkness of night.

As we stand in silence, a cool wind rises from the valley below. For several minutes, we stare into the darkness of the hills in search of evidence. As my eyes adjust to the shadows, I see the lights of Bethlehem in the distance. I turn to my brother and say, "To Bethlehem."

He replies, "To the Christ!"