Tag: memoir
member name: Clyde Grauke
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October 05, 2007 11:03 PM EDT --
The Standing People, as the Native Americans referred to trees, are a special group among my circle of friends. It may have started when I met the old Cottonwood tree my mother knew down the road from . . .
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October 05, 2007 11:08 PM EDT --
It seemed like a simple-enough idea, and I was open to any idea related to exploring. I think I was with some other guys, about my age. We would have been between 8-12 years old. We were walking around . . .
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October 05, 2007 11:11 PM EDT --
The tip of my forceps moves gently through the small pebbles as I search the remnants of an ancient seashore. I sort the pebbles into different piles and then…there…the small spiral rock. . . .
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October 05, 2007 11:12 PM EDT --
When we two kids had tumbled into the back seat of the car, mom double checked to see that she had the Argus while Dad drove off down the caliche street alongside our house to head for the lake. The sun . . .
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October 30, 2007 09:34 PM EDT --
Most things around me were hand-made when I was growing up, including the gate to my backyard. The gate was painted white just like our wooden clapboard house, which my father had also built. . . .
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November 01, 2007 09:41 AM EDT --
We have wind chimes in the backyard. They have a pleasant, deep, natural sound that we enjoy if the wind is not too high. There are times when the wind chimes are playing soft and easy that I always think . . .
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October 05, 2007 10:57 PM EDT --
I carefully roll over to the side of my bed and reach down to turn the clock so I can see what time it is. 3:24AM. Too bad. I thought that maybe it was closer to 5:00AM. I carefully roll back and adjust . . .
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October 05, 2007 10:54 PM EDT --
The footsteps…you might think they were ponderous and heavy in their slow motion…their repetition…playing it over and over in my head with a strange fascination with the incongruous . . .
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October 05, 2007 11:10 PM EDT --
We have wind chimes in the backyard. They have a pleasant, deep, natural sound that we enjoy if the wind is not too high. There are times when the wind chimes are playing soft and easy that I always think . . .
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October 05, 2007 10:56 PM EDT --
The fisherman was standing beside the small, man-made lake. His line was in the water. I saw him standing still and alone on the shore, but I figured he was not alone…he was with the memories of . . .
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October 05, 2007 11:06 PM EDT --
I don’t go to reunions. I have never been to one of any type and I don’t plan to in the future. I just throw away those requests for updates, the announced plans to have a reunion, and stuff… . . .
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September 23, 2009 08:23 AM EDT --
He held his newly completed flint knife blade up against the clear blue sky of the falling leaves time. The cutting edge looked good. He rubbed the blade between his brown and weathered . . .
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October 05, 2007 11:02 PM EDT --
There was a comfortable softness to the long-familiar room as we watched the flames of the candles on our coffee table lighting up just enough…while the shadows, like a supportive audience, gathered . . .
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October 05, 2007 11:00 PM EDT --
The wheels…they go round and round…
The year was 1950, and I was seven years old. It was Christmas time and my parents, my sister and I all bundled ourselves into our old Model A Ford, that . . .
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October 05, 2007 11:07 PM EDT --
There was this old man. He lived alone, best I could tell. He lived way out in the wastelands between San Angelo and Robert Lee, among the cactus, mesquite, and rattlesnakes. He raised sheep, which was . . .
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