When he was done, I fished into my wallet. "I'm going through my hundred dollar bills," I said. I only had twenties so I gave him $40 and asked him what he'd use it for.
Gas, he said.
I asked Scott what I should write a poem about and he said Cranaleith, hence my poem "High-Powered Women," which I brought to group.
I also wanted to start a short story and looked at my "idea list."
Death Bed Scene, said one of my ideas.
Thing is, "Whose deathbed?"
I did sit at my dad's death bed when he died of cancer at age 59. But, no, I wanted to use my imagination.
Then I had an idea. "The Power of Love," I called my short story. The group really liked it. I was SO HAPPY. In fact, when I was driving over to the Giant I felt a surge of happiness. I had written two things I really liked, plus I refined another poem, whose name I can't remember.
She wrote two great poems.
In one, she stood outside a house, thought about knocking and going inside, but changed her mind, and wrote a poem about it instead.
It painted a nice visual picture and ended with "The flowers radiate with such happiness."
Her excellent creative nonfiction "In My Day" was a reflection about how times have changed, as they do from one generation to another, esp. in the Internet age, when people look down when they walk.
Lines include: parents spank their kids and don't get arrested, pregnant women wore loose tops and don't discuss their bloating.
"In my day, no one was concerned with gender fairness. Boys were boys and played with trucks. Girls were girls and played with dolls. Girls played dress up and ‘mommy’. Boys played with sticks and cap guns. They were in training for their future roles as gentlemen and ladies."
Floyd said Only a woman could write that. He'd be considered 'chauvinistic' if he wrote it. Men, back then, were the breadwinners, and when women worked out of the home, they did so in proscribed jobs (not careers) such as seamstress or laundress. Housewives were IN!
You would not believe the idiot Sam Firmhold - should be named Flimsyhold - who writes a letter to his next-door neighbor Fred Fuchsole - where does he come up with these imaginative names? - apologizing for all the damage he's done to his neighbor's property. He had erroneously concluded the neighbor was gonna sell his farm and acted in anger.
She also wrote a poem "In the Beauteous Backyard."
"What's that sound?" Turns out it was a nuthatch.
Floyd said that at his country home in West Virginia a pileated woodpecker hammered holes in his wooden porch steps.
Where's my rifle?
She wrote a poem which she may rename - Floyd's idea - to Josephine's Sacrifice - about a nun married to
Hello, darling, how was your day?
Floyd found the poem very sad b/c Josephine will never have children but instead will teach the "little cherubs" their lessons.
Donna had actually gotten close to a nun, who told her the story. Her name has been changed but I think Josephine is a great choice.
So, who do YOU know named Josephine?
I asked Floyd what he's gonna do after group?
He said his township is giving out free trees and Lauren is picking them up. Plus she's driving all the way to Wayne - is it? - to pick up a special tree.
Hmmm, wonder who's gonna dig a hole and plant it?
Floyd quoted a Canadian writer who said:
The true meaning of life is to plant trees, under whose shade you do not expect to sit.- Nelson Henderson
Save me a seat. Hope there's no ant hill underneath.