Chapter & Verse

Day 4: Write about a loss: something (or someone) that was part of your life, and isn’t any more.

Overdue Library Books 2I love books. Life has gotten busy so I don’t nearly visit the library as often as I used to. This is a good thing for libraries and for other patrons. Yep, I’m that borrower–the one who keeps the book that you’ve been dying to read, that you’ve reserved, long after it’s due. It’s partly, no slightly, no barely due to forgetfulness. It’s more like I don’t want to really part with the books. I’d like to keep them in my collection.

As you can imagine, I’ve racked up some library fines. And a few times I’ve decided to return the book without owning up to it. Here’s how it’s done. You go to the library, to the shelf it should be sitting on and slide it back into the spot. Then wait maybe one-two weeks. Take the overdue notice with you to the main desk and tell them you’ve turned the book in weeks ago. The librarian will most likely say they’ll search for it. And then you say okay knowing it’ll be okay because the book will be found.

The Christian Science Monitor has a section called Chapter & Verse and one of the articles was a challenge for bibliophiles to engage in a bit of spring cleaning by whittling down their collection of books to 30 books. It got me to thinking what books if they were lost forever to the world would result in a void in our collective knowledge?

Dear Diary

Day 5: Be Brief

Today’s Prompt: You stumble upon a random letter on the path.You read it. It affects you deeply, and you wish it could be returned to the person to which it’s addressed. Write a story about this encounter.

Today’s twist: Approach this post in as few words as possible.

Sometimes it gets so bad that I feel hard and
crusty like burned toast. I wish I was a genii
or something with special powers so I could tap
my wand ABRACADABRA, snap my fingers and POOF.

Dad got a wishing tree today and Mom made him
take it back. Mom said we can’t afford a tree
and wishing up a 1000 clouds won’t make one tree,
not 1 tree grow without rain. And Dad said it was
to cheer the blankety-blank-u-know-what house up.

Mom’s practical. Dad’s a poet. A spy? Ring? poet.

This year I don’t want/don’t care if I don’t get
some Guess jeans, Nikes, or a swatch. I only
wish for people to be nicer so my parents will
stop fighting, my brother will stop pushing me
around, and the girls at school will STOP
calling me Chunky.

Just so you know I’m not some kid anymore that
thinks you’re real. I’m writing you cause at
least you’re someone I can drop my thoughts/
feelings/worries, you know, and wishes to.

Cause writing is as good as asking and that’s
as good as Dad’s wishing so though I don’t really
still believe in you this year I’m writing/wishing/asking,
Can you make me skinny like Olive Oil?

If I Had A Hammer…

Daily Prompt: If I Had a Hammer

If you could learn a trade — say carpentry, electrical work, roofing, landscaping, plumbing, flooring, drywall — you name it — what skill(s) would you love to have in your back pocket?

My grandma says the trouble with American schools is that kids graduate without a trade. She says that when she went to school and was raising her kids, there was an academic track for those who found school enjoyable and a trade track for those who found school hard or uninteresting. Of course the system wasn’t as simple as that, as there was a strong vein of classism built into it. Nevertheless, my uncles came to the US with a trade (mechanic, electrician, etc) and these skills allowed them to create a life for themselves in America. One of my uncles often said he didn’t have a head for learning, but he was a mechanic. The skills he brought with him eventually took him to work for a major airplane manufacturer. So having concrete skills–hence a trade–was something that worked out well for him. What would I do with a hammer?

Mad Scientist

If I had a hammer, I’d be a tinkerer,  building thingamabobs sprawled around the floor for unsuspecting feet to trip over, leaving the unaware in sobs.

I’d get some wood with this thingamabob, a pretty one like redwood or maybe more practical like pine or maybe one that’s bendable yet dependable like bamboo  that I’d hold together with glue.

Once that’s settled, I’d look for a string of wire, something strong and long enough to take me light years, through the roof and straight outta this world. Yep that would be my desire.

I’d come back down to the exact spot of the first crop circle to see if it was by human or alien hand. Or better yet, to when (wo)man lived in caves and had to be brave before the wide, watchful world.  If I had a hammer, I’d  be a mad scientist, tinkering and inventing contraptions to take me through time and space.