Oops 🙊, I wrote a story using the words and punctuations. I give myself a big fat F (first one in my entire life) for missing the ‘Re’ part of re-create, and not checking the Roman numeral. Now, I am on empty…
I thought you may have seen it. I posted it this morning for a period of about 5 minutes or less, re-read the directions to check my work, then quickly deleted it. I pictured you saying to yourself; what the heck is she doing. Had a hot chocolate with extra marshmallows to drown my embarrassment.
You won a cookie! Once I put this out there, I realized I couldn't really comment until it was "officially" posted. You and Mary both found the core pieces, although I assembled them slightly differently. I burned an inordinate amount of time on a single sentence. I can't imagine paying this close of attention to an entire story's worth. 🍪🍪🥠
Wait! I think there is some sort of a penalty box. Not sure if Adam has specified, I created my own. Off to sit in the snow bank on the corner, hot chocolate in hand.
I remember the day I came home from work and both my children were standing shamefaced in front of the marble coffee table, shattered—struck by their faces: shattered. The tabletop was simply, cleanly broken in half like my heart now. Ben had told Sarah that they should clean before I came home from work. They'd tried to lift this heavy piece of marble that lay on two steel sawhorse stands. The marble, a treasured piece because it came out from the top of my grandmother’s high boy. My mother had saved it after my grandmother died, had given it to me and both children knew how much I treasured it. There it lay. There we stood. Ben explained, cried. “Don’t,” I said. Not once but twice. I took them both in my arms and thanked them for trying to help me. And there he stands now: the man/child, the son I lost who tried so hard. There he stands. And here I sit in the break, in the shatter that hit me.
Ha! I will go easier on myself, I am not the lone person standing in the corner facing the wall. I am still proud of my story, sans the correct instructions. Coloring outside of the lines, so to speak.
I know, I already received an F, but I wrote it, so here it is.
Once I heard this song on the radio, I can never un-hear it again. I turned up the volume while seated in the passenger’s side, on a country road in Anywhere, Vermont. I cried, along with my husband. Paul, like me, he heard it years ago, only now, somehow with age, comes a keener understanding of the metaphors we call life.
“A cabinet maker's son”, who chose a different road than his father’s. Words don’t carry the same meaning as they did 30 years ago. Closer to out of time, than ‘all the time in the world’. While my heart sings with his, we both know all too well, the truth of the soothsayer’s hit—a gorgeous tribute, a sad tale. Now I am solemnly wistful whenever the song plays on the radio. Dan Fogelberg, struck down by cancer, gone too soon.
”If I could have only written one song in my life, it would have been 'Leader of the Band' because of what it meant to my father and to me — there was no way I could quantify that or even explain it."
RIP, Dan. I hope you’re sitting on a cloud playing guitar, while your dad smiles a rainbow.
You're lucky, you know, to have a piece of art shared with a parent (and later a husband.) I see why this settled in a place near and dear, certainly for your father. It is a father's dream. Of course, D.F. knew that, right? Both his career and his song are a testament to his dad, in whatever private form that took. Admiration? Desire for connection? Adoration? Pride? Protection of the father? All of the above. There's so much to read into the lyrics. I'll confess I'd never really listened to the lyrics until you shared the song. Thank you for sharing it and for the wisdom of seeing how songs age in time.
And for sharing yourself in your words. While you always do in your comments, it's a pleasure to hear you share creatively, bringing something out from your own fiery cave in Somewhere, Vermont.
"I thank you for the kindness and the times when you got tough."
You only received an F from yourself. I am on business travel and it’s little morning to night but I will give your writing the attention and care you have given mine. Stay tuned.
And tell all the other students should you “see” them, no grades are coming back until Sunday when my co-authors and I “publish.” How exciting!
oh... on the delay responding... i hope you weren't checking your mailbox... i was traveling and got very sick on Thursday then came back to a whirlwind of tasks. It's only this morning I had the time to both listen and settle into a proper response.
Susie, you'll appreciate this, and I had to bite my tongue until I posted the actual on Sunday: three people got the core clauses right, but each of them (you, me, Jenny, Mary T. and Mary G.) came at the ordering slightly differently. Each carries a different shade. I weirdly obsessed over this sentence, and it took some time to settle where I did. I can see everybody's though. It's odd how sound and emotional logic hits meaning differently in each case.
I think I spent far longer over this than I should have too, each version held a different intonation and each time I read the words back, I thought, Adam will have done something clever and I’ve missed it!
Funny thing is I’ve played back all of yours, too, teasing out the subtleties, trying to hear it as each of you hear it, wondering if the “story” is the same. In the end, the crazy little writer’s word puzzle became the reason I included this in my 100.
Oops 🙊, I wrote a story using the words and punctuations. I give myself a big fat F (first one in my entire life) for missing the ‘Re’ part of re-create, and not checking the Roman numeral. Now, I am on empty…
Hahaha! I wasn’t tracking on your note. I even asked myself if you had inadvertently posted a comment to someone else! No harm, no foul.
I thought you may have seen it. I posted it this morning for a period of about 5 minutes or less, re-read the directions to check my work, then quickly deleted it. I pictured you saying to yourself; what the heck is she doing. Had a hot chocolate with extra marshmallows to drown my embarrassment.
I struck my son only once. He cried out, “we don’t hit.”
Same as mine but with the exclamation first!
Aha! Take two!
“We don’t hit” he cried out. I only struck my son once.
So Adam…did I win a cookie?
You won a cookie! Once I put this out there, I realized I couldn't really comment until it was "officially" posted. You and Mary both found the core pieces, although I assembled them slightly differently. I burned an inordinate amount of time on a single sentence. I can't imagine paying this close of attention to an entire story's worth. 🍪🍪🥠
I want to buy rights to the film.
$1
You won’t know until next Sunday. 😝
“We don’t hit” my son cried. I only struck out once.
Psss’t: you missed a word. Pour yourself a cup of hot chocolate with one extra marshmallow per your usual.
Oh crap! I did! Ok, trying again.
Wait! I think there is some sort of a penalty box. Not sure if Adam has specified, I created my own. Off to sit in the snow bank on the corner, hot chocolate in hand.
I remember the day I came home from work and both my children were standing shamefaced in front of the marble coffee table, shattered—struck by their faces: shattered. The tabletop was simply, cleanly broken in half like my heart now. Ben had told Sarah that they should clean before I came home from work. They'd tried to lift this heavy piece of marble that lay on two steel sawhorse stands. The marble, a treasured piece because it came out from the top of my grandmother’s high boy. My mother had saved it after my grandmother died, had given it to me and both children knew how much I treasured it. There it lay. There we stood. Ben explained, cried. “Don’t,” I said. Not once but twice. I took them both in my arms and thanked them for trying to help me. And there he stands now: the man/child, the son I lost who tried so hard. There he stands. And here I sit in the break, in the shatter that hit me.
I am honored now by a SECOND piece of micro fiction! See Lor’s! Clearly I’ve made this too difficult.
Ha! I will go easier on myself, I am not the lone person standing in the corner facing the wall. I am still proud of my story, sans the correct instructions. Coloring outside of the lines, so to speak.
I I didn’t get to acknowledge your work before accidentally hitting Post there. Here were the sentences that jumped out.
*
“There it lay. There we stood. Ben explained, cried. “Don’t,” I said. Not once but twice.”
This reminds me of the famous Leonard Cohen quote "there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in."
I know, I already received an F, but I wrote it, so here it is.
Once I heard this song on the radio, I can never un-hear it again. I turned up the volume while seated in the passenger’s side, on a country road in Anywhere, Vermont. I cried, along with my husband. Paul, like me, he heard it years ago, only now, somehow with age, comes a keener understanding of the metaphors we call life.
“A cabinet maker's son”, who chose a different road than his father’s. Words don’t carry the same meaning as they did 30 years ago. Closer to out of time, than ‘all the time in the world’. While my heart sings with his, we both know all too well, the truth of the soothsayer’s hit—a gorgeous tribute, a sad tale. Now I am solemnly wistful whenever the song plays on the radio. Dan Fogelberg, struck down by cancer, gone too soon.
”If I could have only written one song in my life, it would have been 'Leader of the Band' because of what it meant to my father and to me — there was no way I could quantify that or even explain it."
RIP, Dan. I hope you’re sitting on a cloud playing guitar, while your dad smiles a rainbow.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KmG8qnGReGQ
You're lucky, you know, to have a piece of art shared with a parent (and later a husband.) I see why this settled in a place near and dear, certainly for your father. It is a father's dream. Of course, D.F. knew that, right? Both his career and his song are a testament to his dad, in whatever private form that took. Admiration? Desire for connection? Adoration? Pride? Protection of the father? All of the above. There's so much to read into the lyrics. I'll confess I'd never really listened to the lyrics until you shared the song. Thank you for sharing it and for the wisdom of seeing how songs age in time.
And for sharing yourself in your words. While you always do in your comments, it's a pleasure to hear you share creatively, bringing something out from your own fiery cave in Somewhere, Vermont.
"I thank you for the kindness and the times when you got tough."
Oh, ugh. Sickness, the bane of traveling. Hope you’re feeling better.
I knew you would read it, commenting wasn’t as important to me. I am touched you noticed the warm glow🙏
You only received an F from yourself. I am on business travel and it’s little morning to night but I will give your writing the attention and care you have given mine. Stay tuned.
And tell all the other students should you “see” them, no grades are coming back until Sunday when my co-authors and I “publish.” How exciting!
Aye, aye,sir ! Safe travels.
oh... on the delay responding... i hope you weren't checking your mailbox... i was traveling and got very sick on Thursday then came back to a whirlwind of tasks. It's only this morning I had the time to both listen and settle into a proper response.
"We don't hit" he cried out. I struck my son only once.
Best I can find...
Susie, you'll appreciate this, and I had to bite my tongue until I posted the actual on Sunday: three people got the core clauses right, but each of them (you, me, Jenny, Mary T. and Mary G.) came at the ordering slightly differently. Each carries a different shade. I weirdly obsessed over this sentence, and it took some time to settle where I did. I can see everybody's though. It's odd how sound and emotional logic hits meaning differently in each case.
I think I spent far longer over this than I should have too, each version held a different intonation and each time I read the words back, I thought, Adam will have done something clever and I’ve missed it!
Funny thing is I’ve played back all of yours, too, teasing out the subtleties, trying to hear it as each of you hear it, wondering if the “story” is the same. In the end, the crazy little writer’s word puzzle became the reason I included this in my 100.
Did she do it?
Yes. Three "shes" did it.
Shhhhh
Stay tuned.
Tuned! You can do it!