Jasmine's First Theater Show_Deep Woods_In the Envelope_BRINGING HOME, THE PRODIGAL SON
Catalog Guide:
Jasmine's First Theater Show
Everybody loves the theater, the music, the singing, the costumes, the dancing, and the beautiful scenes.The first theater show for anyone is the most memorable one. You don't forget your first show weather you live in New York or are visiting for the first time, going to the theater is a time honor tradition.The long lines, the long wait in the cold or the blazing sun is what's it's all about when you come to the theater, even spending lots of money for the tickets.The experience is worth it, spending time with family and friends is worth it, putting a smile on your love one's face is worth i...
Deep Woods
If you have ever been up in the hills of California around the Sierras near Truckee, there are some deep woods. As a younger man, I used to be employed by lumber camps. That’s where I met Jim Northrupt, another malcontent from the San Joaquin Valley tired of working on his father’s large alfalfa farm near Tracy. We were just kids back from the war in the Pacific and suddenly the world wasn’t as large as it had been when we left. We were in the same unit, Jim and I. We saw a lot of our buddies get chewed up and spit out by that war. We swore when we got home, we’d find our own way in the...
In the Envelope
There was something so final about the sealing of an envelope, pressing down the flaps just so. The address had been written beforehand, brown eyes darting between the glowing phone screen to where her hand waited, pen at the ready. Check.Double check. It would be too much, having this letter sent back from one simple spelling error, one wrong number, one pen running out of ink. The card was a simple one, a painted image of running water. Perhaps a stream, creak, river. Anne thought it was more of a waterfall, leaving out its end and beginning. Its beginning. Where was the beginning? What ...
BRINGING HOME, THE PRODIGAL SON
By William SnesrudDriving along Interstate 80, heading east toward Iowa, I was thinking about how it is possible that someone could just walk away from family and friends for most of the past thirty years.After five weeks of tracking him down, it had now been three days since I located my old high school friend Charlie, who was currently sitting very quietly in the passenger seat of my Chevy S-10 pickup. Sitting quietly because he was either mad at me for making him come back to Iowa or he was just outright nervous or scared about facing his parents, his family after being gone and out of touc...