In his firelit parlor, in his little house at Valley Forge, old Michael Kuch sits talking with his daughter. But though it is Christmas eve the talk has little cheer in it. The hours drag on until the clock strikes twelve, and the old man is about to offer his evening prayer for the safety of his son, who is one of Washington's troopers, when hurried steps are heard in the snow, there is a fumbling at the latch, then the door flies open and admits a haggard, panting man who hastily closes it again, falls into a seat, and shakes from head to foot. The girl goes to him. "John!" she says. But he only averts his face. "What is wrong with thee, John Blake?" asks the farmer. But he has to ask again and again ere he gets an answer. Then, in a broken voice, the trembling man confesses that he has tried to shoot Washington, but the bullet struck and killed his only attendant, a dragoon. He has come for shelter, for men are on his track already. "Thou know'st I am neutral in this war, John Blake," answered the farmer,—"although I have a boy down yonder in the camp. It was a cowardly thing to do, and I hate you Tories that you do not fight like men; yet, since you ask me for a hiding-place, you shall have it, though, mind you, 'tis more on the girl's account than yours. The men are coming. Out—this way—to the spring-house. So!"
Before old Michael has time to return to his chair the door is again thrust open, this time by men in blue and buff. They demand the assassin, whose footsteps they have tracked there through the snow. Michael does not answer. They are about to use violence when, through the open door, comes Washington, who checks them with a word. The general bears a drooping form with a blood splash on its breast, and deposits it on the hearth as gently as a mother puts a babe into its cradle. As the firelight falls on the still face the farmer's eyes grow round and big; then he shrieks and drops upon his knees, for it is his son who is lying there. Beside him is a pistol; it was dropped by the Tory when he entered. Grasping it eagerly the farmer leaps to his feet. His years have fallen from him. With a tiger-like bound he gains the door, rushes to the spring-house where John Blake is crouching, his eyes sunk and shining, gnawing his fingers in a craze of dismay. But though hate is swift, love is swifter, and the girl is there as soon as he. She strikes his arm aside, and the bullet he has fired lodges in the wood. He draws out his knife, and the murderer, to whom has now come the calmness of despair, kneels and offers his breast to the blade. Before he can strike, the soldiers hasten up, and seizing Blake, they drag him to the house—the little room—where all had been so peaceful but a few minutes before.
The culprit is brought face to face with Washington, who asks him what harm he has ever suffered from his fellow countrymen that he should turn against them thus. Blake hangs his head and owns his willingness to die. His eyes rest on the form extended on the floor, and he shudders; but his features undergo an almost joyous change, for the figure lifts itself, and in a faint voice calls, "Father!" The young man lives. With a cry of delight both father and sister raise him in their arms. "You are not yet prepared to die," says Washington to the captive. "I will put you under guard until you are wanted. Take him into custody, my dear young lady, and try to make an American of him. See, it is one o'clock, and this is Christmas morning. May all be happy here. Come." And beckoning to his men he rides away, though Blake and his affianced would have gone on their knees before him. Revulsion of feeling, love, thankfulness and a latent patriotism wrought a quick change in Blake. When young Kuch recovered Blake joined his regiment, and no soldier served the flag more honorably.
Myths and Legends of our Own Land, by Charles M. Skinner, [1896], at sacred-texts.com
Hey! Guess what! It's Presidents' Day! The
annual celebration to honor all of the Presidents of the United States. Now when I was a child (a very long time ago) we actually celebrated only Abraham Lincoln (on his birthday) and George Washington (on his birthday). We had two federal holidays off in the month of February. Then that all came to an end when Congress brought the two presidents' birthdays together and included all the other ones on this one day of celebration and remembrance. Awesome! But we lost one day off and have you have noticed that people don't even know what the holiday is for?
That's right! Ignorance reigns supreme in this country at times! Okay, I know I am being very cynical and sarcastic, but I have a reason for it. You see, a number of years ago one of the local news channels went out among the people and asked them if they knew what day it was. They interviewed a large number of people across the scope and parameters of class, age, sex, racial, whatever. Do you know that none of those individuals interviewed had no idea what the day was, and when told actually asked "what is that'? Oh yeah, a very, shall we say bluntly sad and ignorant look at our fellow citizens.
Now, I have known people who can rattle off about Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. A large quantity are not complimentary about it, however, they know what it is. If you ask them about Presidents' Day, they have no idea or go off bitching about the president in power right now. After all, in today's way of thinking, if one doesn't know what it is, blame it on Obama. Really, just how small and uneducated have we become. Or is it the need by some to funnel all their hatred, bigotry, and fear at the one individual who they hold accountable for all the problems in the country? Who knows, but enough of that. It is a day of celebration and honoring the "men" who have led our country.
Men, like, John Adams, James Madison, Abraham Lincoln, Woodrow Wilson, Franklin D. Roosevelt, and others who have dealt with conflicts either within the country or in the world. These men thought about the impact of their decisions on the people as a whole and though, they may have brought forth unpopular ideas, these men stood by their convictions that this country could and would strive to be more than just a people of limited views. They knew the people would (in time) declare their diversity and acceptance of such as being the driving force of the nation.
Along with these men were Andrew Jackson, Ulysses S. Grant, Dwight D. Eisenhower, George Washington, who were the military leaders leading the soldiers, sailors, marines, coast guardsmen, and air force into battles. Battles which cost untold death and heroic deeds, yet, discovery of the rugged solidarity of the troops as they fought to save their country from the ruinous wanton destruction of freedom and democracy. They moved from the battlefield to the presidential field and worked at securing the solidarity and inclusion of all Americans. They did this in their own way and manner, some not as well as other, but how many of us can say we do the least they did when compared to the most they did?
We have had great presidents and really bad ones. We have had those who worked for the common goal of all and those who worked for their party. We have had tall, short, heavy, lean, woodsmen, city, lawyers, gay, straight, bi-, cultural, redneck, white, bi-racial, explorers, educators, religious, nonreligious, heroes, gallants, and well, just about everything you can think of to put a label on. And let's face it, when the men became incapacitated for awhile, their wives were known to take control. Eleanor Roosevelt being the most well known and Nancy Reagan being another one. Hopefully, a woman will become the next president of the United States to end this atrocity of sexism; however, women may not have had the title legally, but they did and have done a great deal of the work for and with their husbands, fathers, grandfathers, uncles, and brothers.
So, here's to Presidents' Day! Celebrate, honor, and cherish the Presidents of this nation. Better yet, read about one of them and learn what they did. Happy Presidents' Day! Enjoy the day and live the dream they gave us by being Americans who see past political parties, conflicts, and complaining, and become the nation of diversity which we are!
Watching the sun as it dips to the horizon
Searching for a sign to change my mind
The gulls scream as they fly across the sky
As though they too, are tired of the same old grind.
Through the beams of setting sun
Colours of orange, red, yellow, and flame burst forth.
A signal of favor upon the seas of the next day
Send a memory from the past of the North.
The reminisce solves the dilemma
For it brings the thoughts to rest
Life is too short to engage in old miseries
Of which the past has often wrest.
Nay, the present is filled with beauty
Upon the joys of love and truth
With the ones who challenge not in haste
But challenge with instincts of the sleuth.
Who brings forth discoveries
Of one's own gifts
Whom others had deadened
With disparaging remarks leading to the widening rift.
Yet, here as the night broaches
Inspiration is found embolden
By those who bring encouragement
but do not allow them to be beholden.
The gulls continue their screech
The sun has past
The moon arises
A smile is cast
A new dawn will be soon
Life renewed has begun
Stars twinkle from the heavenly loft
Now has at last won.
I haven't been feeling well, so no writing has been done. When your head is full and pounding, the throat is sore, and coughing is your past time, nothing much is completed. So instead, I am going to put up this wonderful little story about why Mary Todd married Abraham Lincoln...Happy Belated Birthday to a great American President.
WHY SHE MARRIED HIM.
There was a "social" at Lincoln's house in Springfield, and "Abe" introduced his wife to Ward Lamon, his law partner. Lamon tells the story in these words:
"After introducing me to Mrs. Lincoln, he left us in conversation. I remarked to her that her husband was a great favorite in the eastern part of the State, where I had been stopping.
"'Yes,' she replied, 'he is a great favorite everywhere. He is to be President of the United States some day; if I had not thought so I never would have married him, for you can see he is not pretty.
"'But look at him, doesn't he look as if he would make a magnificent President?'"
Project Gutenberg's Lincoln's Yarns and Stories, by Alexander K. McClure
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Lincoln's Yarns and Stories
Author: Alexander K. McClure
Release Date: February, 2001 [EBook #2517]
Last Updated: November 10, 2012
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LINCOLN'S YARNS AND STORIES ***
Produced by Dianne Bean, and David Widger
It always begins the same way. I'm talking to someone about a piece of furniture I would like. It's someone I know, but I never see who it is for the person is in the shadows. He or she, I can't even distinguish that, tell me to go to Gramp and Gram's house, for they will have what I am searching for. I laugh and say "You're right! I'll go see them." Funny thing is I don't get into my car; not at all. Instead, I grab my bike which is lying next to me and take off on it. My old teal colored 5 speed bike my sister, Dawn had given to me for Christmas one year. I loved that bike, but I digress. I ride into Taylor, zip into my grandparents' driveway and place my bike by their front porch. The front porch where I had spent many hours with Gramp and Gram, sitting there watching the cars go by. So many times.
I trot into the house, making sure I rang the doorbell, cause it was always fun to turn it and hear the "Ding-dong" chime. I know, little things amuse me. Then in I go. Now this is where it gets a little different. Sometimes Gramp and Gram are sitting in the room in their usual chairs. Gram's was a wooden rocker and Gramp had a beat up comfy chair. Other times Gramp would be in the living room, laying on the sofa with it red blanket on it "to keep it clean" and Gram would be sitting in her rocker in the main room, I guess you would call it. Then there are times when Gramp and Gram are in the kitchen and I would watch Gramp go through his routine of drinking coffee. Gram would pour it into his cup and place it on the saucer; then Gramp would put whatever into it, take the cup and pour some of the coffee into the saucer. He would blow on it and drink it from the saucer. It was always fascinating to watch this. Meanwhile, Gram was hustling about the kitchen checking on her dinner. That would change too. Sometimes it was pork chops, potatoes, and a vegetable. Other times, it was fried chicken, potatoes and gravy. Once in a while, it's spaghetti and these huge meatballs. And always at the end, there was pie, apple, cherry, strawberry rhubarb, raspberry, or blackberry. I can always smell and taste the meals.
They would talk with me, and I would ask them about whatever I am looking for. The answer is always the same. "Go upstairs Vonnie, and check in the attic, I bet we've got something". I would get up and go up the stairs. Now, I think you have realized just how vivid it always is. I can see every detail, every plant Gram had in the dining room and kitchen. I can smell the ordours of the house. I hear the coocoo clock, my grandparents voices. I look into Gram's old bedroom and look at the trees and house next door. I stop and glance down the small hall at gramp's bedroom. There next to me is the bathroom, with its 'claw foot bathtub. All famimliar and known. Now comes the part that is different. At the head of the stairs and to my right is a door. The door to the attic. Okay, so what's strange about it. For the life of me, I don't remember it being there. Nothing. I have no idea if it was really there. But in these dreams it always is.
I go to the door, open it and turn on a light. Inside is a huge room, filled with furniture of all sorts, bedding, books, bric- brac, lamps, bedroom suites, I mean really it is like an antique store and a furniture stare. Here's another difference though. Sometimes it's like a maze I have to walk through with only a couple of lights on and it is filled with all sorts of things. Other times, there are windows with the sun shining brightly lighting up the whole room. It is airy and filled with colours. When it is the maze I find all sorts of goodies to look at and enjoy. Books, including comic books which I promptly sit down and enjoy. The weird thing is I see they are Superman comic books and the panels of the story are so very familiar. When It is books, I gather the ones I love and bring them with me. Funny thing I never remember the titles, but I can see the comics...crazy. Anyway whether maze of show floor, I always find what I am looking for. But it takes time. . I am always thrilled with finding it. Once it was a bedroom set. Another time a living room suite and a desk, and always bookcases.
Funny thing is, when I find what I want, my aunt appears and says, "Vonnie, did you find it",,, I answer her always with a "Yes"...She smiles at me, and tells me to "come on then, let's get it loaded". Then it ends. I never see Gramp and Gram again. My aunt had disappeared as fast as she appeared. I open my eyes, and find myself wondering where exactly I am. Then memory returns just as swiftly as the dream left.
I find myself wondering why it's always the same dream, but different items are wanted. I always find it and have books with me as well. It always ends the same way. I find it. Why Gramp and Gram? Why my aunt? Always, their house in Taylor. Strange huh? Always the same dream....It always begins the same way....
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18070005-the-belial-stone" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px"><img alt="The Belial Stone (The Belial Series - Book 1)" border="0" src="https://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1371043706m/18070005.jpg" /></a><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18070005-the-belial-stone">The Belial Stone</a> by <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7127850.R_D_Brady">R.D. Brady</a><br/>
My rating: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/847227975">5 of 5 stars</a><br /><br />
The first book by new author, RD Brady, is a fantastic adventure which combines real archaeological finds, science, biblical references, political intrigue, ...and a whole bunch of adventures! The Belial Stone is fun and gives the reader new avenues of historical and biblical myths to explore. To those who have read the reviews of individuals criticizing the political characterization of one of the antagonists; don't worry the politics describe the desire for power and showcase the words of the Book of Enoch where Wisdom found no place to reside on Earth but iniquity did. The Belial Stone is a good and enjoyable read. Now on to The Belial Library....RD you have a good career in front of you!
I like this quote from the Book of Enoch....I don't know why, but I like it.
1Wisdom found not a place on earth where she could inhabit; her dwelling therefore is in heaven.
2Wisdom went forth to dwell among the sons of men, but she obtained not a habitation. Wisdom returned to her place, and seated herself in the midst of the angels. But iniquity went forth after her return, who unwillingly found a habitation, andresided among them, as rain in the desert, and as a dew in a thirsty land.
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Lincoln's Yarns and Stories
Author: Alexander K. McClure
Release Date: February, 2001 [EBook #2517]
Last Updated: November 10, 2012
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LINCOLN'S YARNS AND STORIES ***
Produced by Dianne Bean, and David Widger