I remember working with a nonverbal child (mental retardation instead of autism) named Debbie in the fall of 1974.
She was about the same age as my cousin, Cathy, and I remembered feeling sad that she would never get to do the things that Cathy got to do.
Then, the thought occurred to me that she also had no idea about Watergate, the unrest in the Middle East, and the other things that were going on back then.
Her world would always be one like the world of a baby or toddler. She would have her frustrations, of course, but her world would still be a carefree world! AJ wants U 2 meet The CanMan!
With every item (one poem and two stories) I've read here at your port, each one seems even more beautiful than the last one! I have the feeling that this will continue to be true as I revisit your port time and time again!
So glad that I discovered you after you did my MadLib. Welcome to WDC! It looks as if you've been here for almost a year but are a best kept secret! I'll see if I can change that. Your daughter wrote a very meaningful poem and did a wonderful job at it. I'm anxious to read the other two items in your port and am looking forward to reading more! AJ wants U 2 meet The CanMan!
Fifteen MadLibs! What a feast for warped brains!!!
Because I don't want to provide a spoiler for these juicy, little creations, I never give a MadLib a public review--at least, not when I'm sending the MadLib results back.
However, I'm giving you a review on having a folder full of MadLibs, and the only way you could improve upon it would be to create even more!
Just as soon as I finish writing this review, I'm going to play with them--all fifteen of them!!!
Reading about your wonderful son never ceases to make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside! He's absolutely precious! You weren't just given a son--you were given a very special angel!
I wish that he would become a member here just so I could give him a merit badge!
This is a wonderful tribute to your big brother who never had the chance to grow into a man--yet, he was more mature during his short stay in this realm than many men three or four times the age he was when the leukemia took him.
I hope that your son wears the name of his special uncle with pride!
My desire to be an organ donor was influenced by a little girl whom I never had the chance to meet but I was blessed both to read her story and to meet her family: Janis Babson who passed away the spring before she would have turned eleven and who lived in a suburb of Ottawa, Ontario, Canada called City View.
Even before she was diagnosed with leukemia, she made up her mind to donate her eyes to an eye bank after watching a documentary on TV when she was eight or nine years old.
She told her folks of her wishes just in case she died first--though nobody expected for this to happen.
Janis was described as having a heart-shaped face--and it's very fitting that a tiny red heart is what now appears on my driver's license to show my desire to be a full-body donor.
It's amazing how little ones can make such a big difference at times--just as in my favorite movie where George Bailey saved the life of his little brother, Harry, and Harry went on to save the lives of over 1000 men who were on a Naval Transport ship that was about to be attacked during World War II.
I believe that Jesus comes to us with a still, small voice, too, so I don't believe that the less bouncy services are by any means dead, but this certainly seemed to be where Jesus wanted this family to be. Perhaps, this was so that they could more often experience the feeling of real and original conversations instead of simply repeating the prayers composed by others!
Do you remember that Shirley Temple movie about the little princess and how the nasty housemother said a very formal grace but Sarah (the girl Shirley played) continued the prayer with a conversational tone? I think she did the same thing in the movie, Heidi, if I remember correctly.
Now, this is what I would call really sweet, simple, heartfelt, and well-crafted! I could see it illustrated with delicate pictures and becoming a wall poster or a greeting card. In short, great work!
I wonder if another name for the story of Hansel and Gretel might be Guess Who's Coming To Dinner. LOL
I've heard of Chicken Fingers, but was that old bat wanting Children Fingers?
Anyway, that's one great fractured fairy tale, and all I can say is that I hope that old hag can stand the heat, because she's going to be stuck in the kitchen BIGTIME!
A tall, black man, eh? Anyone we know? Will he be writing a book about this?
It sounds as if our young singer should have gone with her gut-feelings and not gone to the door. At that point, she probably wished that she were taking part in the family vacation.
I wonder why the man was covered with blood and what his motives were for coming to kill her.
Of course, this is just a peek into 300 words worth of an event, and you did a great job of capturing this slice-of-life.
I've seen things, but don't think of them as ghosts but, instead, as signs and visitations.
Like the first New Year's Eve after my dad passed away, my mom and I were on our traditional drive into New Year's Day--something the three of us had done together for so many years.
We were both thinking at the same time how we missed having him with us when this red dot of light began dancing merrily all over the dashboard for several seconds.
In October of 1992, one of our church members passed away on Friday. There had been a wedding scheduled at the church on Saturday, and, during the rehearsal, a sparrow got into the sanctuary from somewhere and alit temporarily on the altar. Our minister remembered how George's widow had requested His Eye Is On The Sparrow for one of the songs to be played at his funeral that Monday, and he saw it as a comforting sign.
During a sermon about The Holy Spirit at a friend's church, a dove flew into the church through an open window and alit on the minister's shoulder.
While I was out driving somewhere, the favorite pop song of a friend who had passed away when we were both sixteen came on the radio--and I suddenly was looking at an amazing sunset.
Mike had been an artist, and my dad had once said that God would probably let him help to paint the sunsets some of the time.
Sometime after that, the song came on the radio again--and, not only was the sunset a knockout, but, also, I passed by some storage sheds (located close to Indianapolis) called Flat Rock Storage.
Mike had drowned in the Flat Rock River in the Shelbyville area on May 31, 1969.
This is a wonderful idea, and I hope you get lots of people interested. I'm writing a public review of it and have just presented an awardicon to it, as well as sharing three links and two bitems that you might find helpful.
Give your pastor my best, as he's doing something very meaningful that will touch a lot of people's lives in positive ways!
This is great flash-fiction. It can either be kept as flash-fiction or it can serve as an introduction to a longer story or novel.
The first part of it is so intense while the last part of it is so simple.
This, to me, symbolizes how simple it can be to get help for a problem--whether an emotional one or a practical one (e.g. getting someone to assist you in some task)--by merely asking.
It just shows that to be erotic doesn't have to mean to be crude!
I somehow imagine your star being one that is all glittery around the edges and has a sweet smile on its face, and you and your lover look like that sweet "LVE IS" couple from back in the sixties and seventies.
Let me go see if I can find some kind of website for them. brb...
I'm one of those believers, but I also believe that what you've written is very honest and worthwhile. Let me suggest a really good book that will be a breath of fresh air after the way that you were introduced to the concept of God.
THINK AGAIN A Response to Fundamentalism's Claim on Christianity by Dr. Gary Cox
Your essay was most enjoyable to read, and I really like your ideas. I believe that you see God more clearly than many who call themselves believers, and I'd like to paste in a poem (by another writer, but giving him full credit) that I was reminded of while reading this.
You will find the poem by scrolling down past my closing and signature.
Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight of his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold:-
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said,
'What writest thou?' - The vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered 'The names of those who love the Lord.'
'And is mine one?' said Abou. 'Nay, not so,'
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still; and said 'I pray thee then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow-men.'
The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names who love of God had blessed,
And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.
I wonder if there's something in the water here that makes writers and others kinds of artists, because there certainly are plenty of them.
A couple of good friends (a brother and sister) are witty, and the sister is crafty (and they also have two other witty sisters), but they aren't writers. However, one of their ancestors (James Whitcomb Riley) certainly was! Of course, we have Mellencamp and The Wright Brothers, and a man whom I've known since he was seven or eight years old drums for them at times and now has his own band. His name's Dane Clark. His mom is a retired special ed teacher, and I used to help out in her class when I was in high school. Here's a story I wrote about those special times:
And there are others from our state, too, as you likely know.
Let's compare Indiana backgrounds when we both have time. For starters, I was born and raised in Anderson, graduated from Pendleton Heights H.S., graduated from University Of Indianapolis back when it was still called Indiana Central University (Class of 1976) and took some graduate studies at Ball State.
Better go ahead and send this, as computers have a way of becoming unpredictable and evaporating what's there! AAARRRRRRRGH!
I'm making this a public review to introduce everybody else to you!
This is a really beautiful tribute to your sister! Does she write here, too? I hope that she will get to read this, because I know that it will really move her!
This poem is going to haunt me for a very long time, and I'm already in the process of sharing it with others. I've taken a quick look at your port and see that you also have lots of other great things to be reading, so I'm glad that you've decided to make yourself at home here and share your wisdom.
Already, I've shared you outside of this site, and you can find what I've said by going here:
The words of this poem can be anything from someone looking in the mirror and talking to herself as she views herself in the present and realizes that she has become exactly what she had hoped to become since many years ago to a great pick-up line for a guy to use when picking up a girl.
I've watched short dramas that tell a story about someone encountering either a past or future incarnation of themselves at some time when he/she needs some words of wisdom from that person--or, sometimes, they encounter someone (such as a future child or grandchild) who hasn't been born yet and will never be born unless the person who encounters this person-from-the-future changes directions such as deciding not to have an abortion or deciding not to commit suicide. Still other times, there have been stories about someone encountering a child who will grow up to be that person's parent, teacher, etc. and will come to a greater understanding of what has made that person the person she/he is today.
I like this subtile, verbal catfight! Makes me think back to high school days when there was this one girl, and we always ended up picking on each other.
Because I was chubby, she, one day, made this sign language of a fat person and pointed to me. So, I ran my hands over my C-cup body to sign a straight-up-and-down figure and then pointed to her!
I really love this story! It's so sweet! Have you ever seen the movie called Jack Frost where the boy's father comes back as a snowman? There was some kind of sequel made to it (or something having the same name), but I've never seen it, and I hear that it was awful. But this movie was good, and your story makes me think so much of it. I hope that you'll get the chance to watch it.
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.19 seconds at 6:46am on Jul 11, 2025 via server WEBX2.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** 
