Happy New Year, to all of my compadres at Friday Fictioneers. I truly look forward to this every week and appreciate the time and care you all take to read and give feedback on my stories; thank you! I’m currently traveling and not sure how much I’ll get done between today (stuck in Newark) and when I can finally get on line and read again. Please forgive me if I’m slow getting around. Also, due a post-holiday uptick in contributions to the #BloggersUnite for #50HappyThings blog hop, I’ve extended the deadline until January 10th. So happy to see Rochelle, Siobhan, Louise, Dale, and Lish join in! All posts are linked at the bottom of my post. What are you grateful for? What makes you happy? If you’d like to contribute, please check out the details and join us!
An exciting aside: Waiting in Denver for my flight to Newark, which was delayed, I found myself sitting across from Peter Yarrow of Peter, of Paul and Mary fame. I can’t write a meaningful enough story to fully say how much PP&M meant to me as a child, living a traumatic life, or how I’ve carried their music with me all these years. I was totally awe-struck and emotional, and reached across to introduced myself. We talked until boarding and when he walked away, I was very tearful. On the plane, he came and found me and we talked for about 40 of the most amazing minutes ever. One of the most humble, gentle, and caring people I’ve met, he is every bit the amazing human being I always thought he was. While I missed my flight to Israel by less than 5 minutes (the plane was still at the gate, but doors closed), my time with Peter Yarrow, made 2017 special forever!
Please visit Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog for more details about Friday Fictioneers, and thanks to Sandra Crook for this week’s photo. As always I welcome your honest and constructive feedback. Please leave a comment.
The Cost of Bread
When we were lil,’ Pappy ground corn and wheat for everyone around. Folks lined up to get flour… sit’n t’share news from all over th’county–– sometimes further. Pappy’s mill was where just ‘bout evr’one got news. Weren’t always the official news, but ‘twas news we cared ‘bout most.
When I was twelve, Pap got his shirt caught in the giant wheel and lost his arm––nearly died. He was hurt mighty bad.
All those folks came ‘round with food and help, ‘til Mama and me could find work. Weren’t never the same again, but that mill saved us more’n once.
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KAPOW! I didn’t meet the 2016 goal for Likes on the Tales From the Motherland Facebook page; missed it by 14! So this year, I’m not setting a goal. I’m grateful for each Like I get. Have you stopped by to spread some fairy dust? Follow me on Twitter, LeBron James does (yes, for real)! Most importantly, if you like a post I’ve written, hit Like and leave a comment. Honest, constructive feedback is always appreciated. Click Follow; you’ll get each new post delivered by email, no spam.
©2017 All content and images on this site are copyrighted to Dawn Quyle Landau and Tales From the Motherland, unless specifically noted otherwise. If you want to share my work, I’m grateful, but please give proper credit and Link back to my work; plagiarism sucks!