Not Z’s
Five not-so-bright Englishmen stand on a hill talking to the Nazis (who the Englishmen think are British)
The general huffed. “I zaid, do you zink we are British?”
“I mean, who else could you be?”
“We are ZE Nazis,” he spit.
“If you’re not zees, then what are you?” Tommy asked.
The General looked at his captain, who looked at him, who looked back at Tommy.
“What?”
“What are you if you’re not Z’s?”
“WE ARE ZE GERMANS.”
“Ohh, you're... our enemies?”
“Zyes.”
“Eh, at least you’re not French.”
The Fedora Wear’n Adventure Lov’n Lady Wand’rin Free
A fedora wear’n adventure lov’n lady wand’rin free.
She rides about through cities and towns
Looking for you and me.
She rides up hills and right through dales,
Whenever she sees someone she hails.
The world is large and full of glee,
She is whatever she wants to be.
A fedora wear’n adventure lov’n lady wand’rin free.
Her cowboy hat in Mexico turns quickly to a sombrero,
It’s where she wants to be.
Turnin' round and round and round again,
A sheriff for you and me,
A singer on a darkened stage,
She loves to laugh and shout and play,
A Ballerina for a day,
When all see her they shout, “Hurray!
Let’s see it again. Don’t go away!”
Round and round and round again,
A spaceship full of light.
She leaps around a String of Pearls,
And sings to In the Heights
Whirlin’ swirlin’ twirlin’,
Again and with a grin.
She’s come to meet so many friends,
They’ll be with her until the end,
And on them all she will depend,
And you can bet she will extend
Her friendship down to thee,
That fedora wear’n adventure lov’n lady wandrin’ free.
She’ll tell you oh so many things,
Until your ears begin to ring;
She’s passionate for the little things,
All seasons to her are like the Spring,
That fedora wear’n adventure lov’n lady wandrin’ free.
Her desire is for you to come along
To bring you near,
Show what is dear,
To paint a picture,
And make it clear.
She wants you to know,
She wants you to see,
The whole wide world,
“just for you and we”.
That fedora wear’n adventure lov’n lady wandrin’ free.
Leap up little one!
Leap up old one!
To gallop on her horse.
Ride through sunset,
Go far beyond,
Till all you know is long far gone.
Come see her world beyond the sky,
As far as your imagination will fly.
That fedora wear’n adventure lov’n lady wand’rin free
Your cowboy hat in Mexico turns quickly to a sombrero,
If that’s where you want to be.
The Fedora Wearin' Adventure Lovin' Lady Wandrin' Free represents the limitless possibilities and beauty of imagination. She rides around through cities and towns looking to share her adventures with you and me, that Fedora Wearin' Adventure Lovin' Lady Wandrin' free. Thanks for reading!
Lasts
I'm ready to leave,
but I'm not.
I'm ready to be done with lasts,
And ready find new firsts.
I'm ready to leave,
but I'm not.
If it weren't for the band,
I would leave without tears,
Only sad to leave my friends,
And mourn for my childhood.
If it weren't for band,
I would leave without tears,
But now I can’t help but cry.
Our last concert is tonight.
I cried for the end of marching,
With hope of the fun year to come,
But now that year is over,
I realize my whole life,
I’ve looked forward this,
And now that it’s here,
I want to go back.
Soon I'll have my first game with the Tiger marching band,
In a land far from home.
Soon I'll have my first concert in the orchestra,
As one of their only oboes.
But before I know it,
I'll mourn my tiger marching band,
And give my last concert in the orchestra.
I’ll be ready to leave,
But not,
Thinking that if it weren’t for the band,
I would leave without tears.
Oh how time flies by,
And we are powerless to catch it!
I'll think to where it all started,
In my own dear high school band,
That I tearfully leave today,
That will never be the same again.
I'm ready to leave,
but I'm really not.
I'm ready to be done with lasts,
And ready to find new firsts.
I'm ready to leave,
but I'm not.
He’s Mine
He listens to what I say,
and he is patient when I'm accidentally unkind.
He goes silent, contemplating my beauty,
and he looks me in the eyes.
He holds me when he wants to be held,
and he sacrifices his time.
He saves his money to spoil me,
and he holds my hand.
He walks me to class,
and does his best to understand.
He opens doors for me,
and he compliments me.
He supports me,
and he helps me.
He talks to me,
and he gives me his time.
He loves me.
He's mine.
Layered Crepe
Imagine a crepe, light, beautiful, and slender. The top is covered in tasteless whipped cream, but beneath is a pile of sweet strawberries.
When you first eat me, you may think I’m too sweet, but inside me is a lemony cream. The cream, although sour, is still pleasant, but if you eat the cream by itself, you may think otherwise. Please eat the sour inside with the sweet strawberry simultaneously for the best experience.
If you delve even deeper, you will find dark chocolate below the lemon cream. It is a slightly bitter chocolate, but it is deep and rich. I understand that dark chocolate is not for everyone. Most who eat me eat around the chocolate, but some delve into it, tasting the bitterness with its depth. If I ate myself, I would eat around the dark chocolate too, but it is a part of this me that you cannot get rid of.
I want to warn you that if you eat a lot of me, I can be a bit much. I'm afraid that if you eat me too much, you will get sick of me. I would like to remind you though, that this is the case with most foods.
You must dive past the quiet exterior to reach the sweetness within, but I must warn you, once you get to know me, you will find the lemon. I beg that when you find the lemon, you will remember the strawberries, and please, don’t eat too much of me. When you finally get past the lemon, you will see what hides underneath: a deep feeling. Thoughts too deep for anyone’s good. Sometimes these thoughts may be tinged with sadness, and the depth of the dark chocolate may frighten you, but it is part of the crepe. It is part of me; try as you may, you can't get rid of it.
Why Worry?
Why are you frightened all the time?
What do you have to worry about?
Yes, it's scary that time passes, and you can’t hold onto it…
Yes, it's scary, leaving your childhood behind…
Yes, it's scary, facing an anxiety diagnosis…
Yes, it's scary to heal…
Yes, it's scary to hurt before you heal…
…But, as time passes, you find more adventures.
…But, leaving your childhood means building your own life.
…But, healing will free you.
…But, the hurt is worth it.
Why are you frightened?
What do you have to worry about?
Worry only stops you from seeing and enjoying the beauty around you, and I want you to
know that if you let go, not only will things work out… they will be beautiful too.
The Forbidden Key
The chest was bolted shut. I stared at it, sitting among scattered papers, in a cloud of thought.
He warned me not to open it, but he was gone. The last paper was in there, and even though I was flooded in notes and stories, that paper was the key. I held a hammer. If I dropped it on the chest, would they hear? I decided to chance it. It thundered against the chest, but to no avail.
Footsteps. They heard it.
They stormed in, and rained threats on my head, but those threats weren’t without action. They took me to the place I dreaded most, a rounded hole in the forest beside that old mansion. A hole shaped like a funnel, rounded, with a slippery slope leading down, down, down. It was deep enough not to see the bottom, and wide enough to fit at least four people. They threw me down, and showered the papers over my head as I fell.
Laura’s backstory (The Sheriff of Dry Creek)
“Get away from the window Laura.” Luke locked the door and shooed me away. He and David peered out. I pushed my head back up enough to get my eyes above the window sill, and there I saw Mama and Papa, standing on the other side of the street. I wondered why they didn’t stay inside the bakery, but now that I think about it, they were probably just going to run home to make sure we were safe. At the same time Mama and Papa ventured from the bakery, a girl, maybe three or four, ran out into the street. Later I learned that her name was Annabelle. She was lost and frightened by the noise, so she ran to the only place she knew: the church.
A bullet crashed through the window on the other side of our door. Luke pushed us away from it and closed the curtain. I grabbed the rifle and unlocked the door when Luke and David weren’t looking. I cracked it open and peeked out. One of the men in the brawl I recognized. He disliked Papa, and now, burning with rage, he saw his chance. To me, it was all in slow motion, though it all happened in a few seconds.
Papa saw the child stumbling across the street, and he ran after her. He swooped her into his arms, Mama behind him. BANG! Papa’s eyes opened wide, and he stumbled forward. As he fell, he put the terrified child in Mama’s arms. Screaming, my brothers and I rushed out of the house. We gathered around him, lying face down, blood pouring from the hole in his back. There was nothing we could do.
It would’ve been easy for our family to fall apart that day. Our stunned grief followed us wherever we went. It was a feeling we couldn’t shake, a weight we had to carry every day. Every morning we rose to lift that weight, but over time we got stronger, and the weight that seemed so heavy at first got a little easier to bear.
Mama was the strongest of us all. She held tight to God and saw to it that we helped each other through our grief. It hurts to think about that day, and the days following, but it was one of the most important parts of my life.. This event and the actions of my parents shaped me into who I am today, and as I grew older and approached the age of independence, I thought of my family when I thought of who I wanted to be. Like my father, like my mother, I wanted to do something important with my life. I just wish I knew earlier that the important things in life aren’t the big things, but the small ones. It wasn’t my father’s death that changed me, but how he lived every day of his life until the last moment.