The Blue Doll From Daddy

My own short story:

When I was in hospital, having my tonsils out as a child, when my dad brought me a doll that was completely and totally ‘blue’ in color. blue hair, blue clothes, blue accessories.

I was lying in the hospital bed, feeling next to dead, when Dad popped this doll up next to me.

He said, “Since you have to be here, I bought “someone” to be ‘blue’ with you”. I’ll never forget it.

Daddy always brought me dolls…or M&Ms…or comic books from our newsstand. (grins)

Happy Little Elf Men

When I was 6 years old, I’d just moved from England to Canada. One night I woke up and saw 6 or 7 little men. They seemed so friendly and asked me about all my toys on the floor and what they did. But what amused them the most was my Softoy bunny rabbit at the end of my bed. When I showed them that it had a zipper and that’s where my pajamas were kept, well, they just cracked up. They stayed awhile, but my greatest memory of them is how happy they were. And I will always treasure that.

– tlittlebabs

My Neighbor, Louise Was Not There – Galveston, Texas – 1982

I was living in a one hundred year old house, with a 90-year-old lady in the apartment on the side. Actually, the house was moved on its spot more than one hundred years ago. It occurred after The Great Storm of 1900. My landlord leased to me as a single lady, and then brought Ms. Louise to rent to small apartment. He said, as he came up the back stairs with her, arm in arm, “I hope you two single ladies can / will look after each other. At the rental office, we felt as though you two could want to be together.” They made a good match in us two.

We shared the back porch. She had asked if I would please come if I heard her knocking on the wall and I promised I would. I came home one night and, ummmm, toiletting, I heard her signal knock on my bathroom wall that connects us together.

It was twice before I could get done. Twice, the exact signal knock. I ran right to her door, pulling at my clothes. I knocked, knocked, called, called. Dark and no answer.

Okay, she’s 90, right. So I decide to break in the window. I’ve got a good reason to break the window; after all, I ‘psychically’ know, by ‘psychic’ signal, that I just need to break this window, officer. Scouting the best window, I found one unlocked and went inside a very dark, spooky, after-dark, no electricity on, shadowy apartment. The bedroom window was open, the curtains were blowing into my face, blowing everywhere. The curtains made my breathe stop and nearly scared me to death.

I called her, I called her, I searched everywhere there a little old 90-year-old lady could fit. I wasn’t giving up because she needed help.

But, minutes were going by, I’m frantically searching. There are no answers to my calls, (‘Jeez, Louise’), nor my finding her. I was stunned. By the last looking-place, I was ever so confused. She just WAS NOT there.

Now, I did mention the curtains blowing in the windy night, the fact there was no lights (power wasn’t on, hmmmm). I couldn’t figure it out. I decided to call the landlord the next day and have them come in the daylight and look with me. But, she WAS NOT there and the holidays interrupted my calling the rental office.

I waited. Sometimes, I held my cat and stared at her door off my bedroom window. Her light didn’t come on. Her things were there, no one had come, surely, surely, she hadn’t passed away. I would feel alone with my cat, sorry she wasn’t there today, or that day. I realized I liked her ever so much.

I slept in the day each day, and by evening that seventh day, Louise’s front door was open. I was shaking as I went out and came around to her door. I was afraid. Yes, afraid. I just mentally pictured one of her relatives answering and coming to the door, to say Louise at 90 years young, had passed on. But … my croaking, “Louise?”, brought her voice back to me, “Come on in, Honey.”

Seven days later, she came home. She had been in the hospital. She said she was trying to tell me, from the hospital, that she wasn’t there, that she knew what time I went to work at night and what time I came home in the morning. She wanted me to, “know that  she wanted badly for me to know”.

I told her my story. That, yes, she “reached” me. And that, yes, I did know.

Hmmmm.

I Witnessed A WalMart ‘Prankster’

Quite a few of my stories may start out to read, “Yesterday …” or “Last Night”. This is because it takes me a bit of time to assimilate what has been. Quite a few of my encounterings are Unpleasant. So, to say, this one was amusing and had me smiling through it was a blessing.

Now, WalMart is a strange place to encounter strange people. But, if you wander around long enough, it sometimes can be that you encounter someone as yourself. That happened to me strolling toward the back of the store, with my buggy, beside the refrigerated units on my left.

WalMart was so doggone crowded, I had to Stop! I couldn’t go any direction, but in a second and a half, I was alone, deserted, looking around, and startled, whoa, they’re gone fast. Like, cleared out. As I turned and moved to heave my buggy forward, directly in front of me, a large yellow box of Cherrios fell off the shelf from a Full display, about waist-high to me, and landed on the floor a foot from the front of my buggy. I thought, “No, thank you, no Cherrios.”

At that moment and into some many seconds later, I’m anticipating the buggy that nudged that box from the other side of the aisle, to appear in view. And, it does. The small middle-aged lady who appeared in view, pushing her buggy, said to me, “How did it know I wanted to buy Cherrios.” She motioned to pick up the Cherrios box off the floor, looked at me and said, “But, I prefer to pick my Cherrios boxes, and not have my Cherrios boxes pick me.” She then placed the box in the display, just as one would place a brick in a wall, and she wheeled her buggy away.

This incident really had nothing to do with me except that I was the observer, probably the only observe. I was standing there smiling through the whole thing. I walked around that side to satisfy myself that the lady had not ‘nudged’ the boxes, but with palletted stacked six high on the other side, nudging could not happen. I knew that before I looked.

It was just natural, not a thing strange about it. Would like to meet up with her again though.

 

 

 

The Shadow Men

Our pesky one is a shadow man. Not extraordinary considering we live within the three different cemeteries (close up) on all sides, but then a canal on the fourth side. Shadow people are constantly using our driveway to stride directly toward the water, leap (suspend, whatever one calls it), onto the other side without missing a stride.

One September evening, my husband had been angry and we were facing each other on the patio talking, with him quieting down and calming.

At the same time, both of our heads whipped together in the same direction and we both saw two seven feet tall shadows ‘things’ striding directing down the driveway, then even with us with their heads turned toward us too, until we were all four looking at each others.

My husband and I were ‘glued’. We watched them continue to the canal edge (drop off), take a step forward, glide (if it’s gliding that it was), land one-footed on the other side into the cemetery, and continue walking forward out of sight. They both shadow people did the exact same time, not exactly the same way, but mirroring each other’s actions with some variation of individual. Too amazing to grip, my husband and I looked at each other and said, at the same time, “Did you see that?” He turned completely white and ghostly himself. I myself had already met shadow people “inside the house” before.

Vanilla Ice Cream Cups

We luvved vanilla ice cream cups from the Ice Cream Truck.

Daddy would tell us, “There’s that ice cream truck again.

Playing that song and ringing that bell again. Means they’re 

out of ice cream AGAIN. Don’t bother going out there. We’ll

MAKE some.”

Course, as a kid, dads know EVERYTHING (for real), so step

mom saved these self-same cups and sticks, and made the kool-

aid icees for all the trailer park kids. She was a fine lady

and supplied us all.

But, Daddy, … yeah, he was a scamp who loved kids, always was.

I had to grow up to learn the difference about the ice cream

truck. Now, icees are aluminum spooned and I still eat them.

MY Definition of the Phrase ‘Secular Christian’

This was a question posed on a esoteric board. I answered in this way …

Before anyone asks this question , we ALL need to know just what is your definition 

of the phrase “secular christian” as you have used it?  

Sent: Sunday, January 17, 2016 6:27 PM
Subject: Re: whats a “secular christian” ?

This is not an officially, proper response but I believe secular Christians are those much more “severe” to themselves in the performance of their faith. They revolve around a particular Christian precept difference, maybe only one differing existing, from “mainstream” Christianity.

My example is, just that, an example as a parallel only:

Opus Dei (a life-styled, very severe Ca-thol-ic group whose individual members involve self-punishment they validate in faith. (secular side)

Catholic Church (direct, main avenue to Opus Dei) (church is said to be Christian, or at least part of it is.)

Probably not the answer you expected right off after posting out to us. So … I will welcome anyone with “book” version of explanation.

Marie in Galveston

There’s Naked and There’s Nekkid

One is not bad

One connotates ‘naughtiness’ or ‘fun’ involved

We make that distinction here in Texas

Are you naked?

Or, are you nekkid and looking to make mischief?

You’re caught Naked in the shower

You’re caught Nekkid in the creek

Just sharing with all y’all

Jodi Foster – The Coppertone Child

Some many years ago, on interview talk show, Jodie Foster admitted she was this model at 3-years-old. She said she posed the pose, but that the painter did not a dog, or a tree, or a beach. That the painter used her pose.

Later, some years later, she admitted this on TV again. That she was this model, and that no, and in no way, did she suffer trauma for “modelling the pose”.

NO Idea – 1939 – Daddy’s Car

My dad once told me that in 1939, he was 18 years old, and he bought his first car; it was a NEW car. He paid cash, the whole $100.00, on the spot.

At this point of the story, my dad roared back laughing. It was so funny to him to tell me he had had to park that new car for nine months, covered up,because he didn’t have $.06, and nowhere to get $.06, for a gallon of gas, so that he could try driving it.

To write further, Dad went into the military shortly after this purchase, and came back

with money for gasoline…nine months later.