Photo Finish

The title of my friend's magazine is Photo Finish.  It is a magazine catering to amateur photographers pursuing their passion in photography and developing film.

The featured article "The Fall and Rise of Film" features a round table discussion among top professional film advocates Ryan Pfluger, David Benjamin Sherry, and Ellen Rogers; as well as celebrity analog film aficionados Jeff Bridges, Elijah Wood, and Michael Stipe. 

In this issue, Photo Finish with also begin a campaign for readers to submit letters and photographs to the magazine sharing their passion for analog photography to be published in future issues. 

The star-powered article and reader campaign will surely revitalize this floundering magazine.  Not only that, this issue hopes to rejuvenate interest in shooting pictures with film and rediscovering the magic of film photography; inspiring readers to fall in love with it all over again, and lay the groundwork for the next generation of film enthusiasts.

“There’s a spirituality that’s connected to it. I go out to take the pictures and at the end of the day I’m by myself, alone with my thoughts, in the dark room. It becomes very meditative.”

-- David Benjamin Sherry 

It Starts With an Earthquake

Lenny was contently reading the morning paper, savoring every sip of his steaming cup of black coffee, when all of a sudden the house began to jangle and pop.  As the rumbles subsided, he got up from the kitchen table, folded the newspaper and silenced the radio.  Peering outside, he thought to himself,

“Great, my day starts with an earthquake.”

As he studied the view from his kitchen window, he saw a mesmerizing murmuration of starlings dominating the sky. As he gazed at the dazzling cloud of birds swirling, pulsating, and drawing together to the thinnest of waists, his attention was diverted to a pit of snakes unearthing themselves from their den. Puzzled, his eyes then shot up towards the sound of aeroplanes rumbling across the sky. Such an odd way to start the morning, birds and snakes and aeroplanes, but Lenny was not afraid.

As much as he would have liked to continue to stare out the window, Lenny had to get to work. The radio offered no relief to the oddities at play that started his day. First, he heard an NPR news report on how the eye of a hurricane mysteriously seemed to come to a standstill on Daytona Beach, Florida. Then, as he was stopped at a traffic light, Lenny saw a petulant vagrant brazenly hoisting a sign and shouting, “World serves it’s own needs, dummy serve your own needs!”

Lenny grunted, “No.”

As Lenny finally got downtown, he saw a building ablaze and a local fire department ladder in the midst of a fearful fight down at the Height building. A frayed wire started the firestorm and the whole block looked like a combat site. He slowed down to check out the scene, but a stream of cars behind him blasted their horns as they were coming in a hurry, breathing down his neck.

At the next block, he saw team by teams of reporters looking baffled, trumped, tethered, and cropped.

“Look at that," he said to himself, "How can they be low playing that fire at the Height building?” 

He then saw the soup kitchen overflowing with people, "Fine, then, population common food. It’ll do.” Lenny chuckled.

A businessman on the corner dashed out and pounded the hood of Lenny’s car, yelling, “Save yourself, serve yourself, world serves it's own needs!”

Lenny refused to listen, “Bleeding heart dummy. What does he think this is the rapture? That’s only for the revered and the right, right?”

With a sense of vitriolic fervor, Lenny pulled in to his parking spot at work feeling pretty psyched.

Six o’clock couldn’t come soon enough after an uneventful work day tucked away in his cubicle. It was time for Lenny’s favorite TV hour, and he just missed getting caught in the traffic jam at the foreign towers. But instead of a new episode of “Slash and Burn: Return”, the network continued its coverage of the day’s events; Lenny could literally listen to himself churn. The networks were stationed at several major metropolitan cities; as the military was uniformly locking in. In the streets, there was book burning, blood-letting, every motive escalating, automobiles incinerating. The news reporters were telling the viewers to light a candle, light a votive, step down to the lowest level of your home.

Just then, Lenny’s roommate Lester bangs through the front door, shouting, “If you go outside, watch your heal, there is crushed glass everywhere! There was also a swath of no fear, cavalier renegades; so steer clear!”

Lenny replied, “I know! Have you watched the news today? It’s like a tournament of lies. They want to offer me solutions, offer me alternatives, and I decline.”

As the two sat down for dinner, Lester proceeded to tell Lenny about how the other night he dreamt of knives and continental drift divide. All the mountains sat in a line, and how Leonard Bernstein was there. All of which was extremely peculiar, to say the least.

Lester continued, “The weirdest thing about it was that it was my birthday party and we were having cheesecake and ..... jellybeans. Boom! I hate jellybeans.”

Lenny chimed in, “That dream is kind of symbiotic of all the events that have happened today, right?”

“Right!” Lester agreed, “It’s almost like it’s the end of the world as we know it.”

As he loaded the dishes into the dishwasher, Lenny expanded on that thought, “If it’s the end of the world as we know it, I feel fine. It's time I had some time alone.”

The Tide Stumbles In

The sky laughs at my misfortune
The venomous yowls breach my soul
The stars instinctively know they have won
The moon separates from the sun

Footprints vanish as the tide stumbles in
The seagulls flicker and dance on the bay
Life is ever so easily undone
The moon separates from the sun

Envelopes of light peer off the moon
The sea mechanically lathers and fades
Freedom was never so easily won
The moon separates from the sun

The fish and the flora never knew me by name
Whirls of the clouds temper and flail
The threshold is simply and perfectly done
The moon separates from the sun

The brilliance and the light
The pain and the pride
Destiny calls us one by one
The moon separates from the sun

Brownie Empire

Mike was an aspiring chef, or at least in his mind he was. His passion was baking, so in reality, he was more of an inspiring baker, but he was too naïve to know the difference. Even in his naiveté, he was an excellent baker; he always seemed to have just the right touch with no matter what he made. Everything that came out of his oven was the essence of perfection, or at least in his mind it was.

Armed with his grandmother’s old recipe cards, he honed his craft by donating his delicacies to bake sales, taking desserts to potlucks and just eating a lot of them himself; for quality control, of course. Over time, he noticed the demand for his German’s chocolate brownies outweighed requests for any other item he made. And why wouldn’t it be? These brownies were rich, dense, chocolaty, sweet and chewy, with just the right amount of crunch around the edges. Not to mention the icing. Oh, the icing. Made with semi-sweet chocolate to cut the sweetness of the German’s chocolate, the icing was gooey, fudgy, and oh so delightful.

Those brownies were the first things gone at every bake sale, every potluck, and Mike could sit down and eat a whole pan while they were still warm, with or without icing (a daunting feat that is not recommended). With the undeniable success of these brownies, Mike had an idea,

“I should be making money off of these things!”

He became a man on a mission. Having no experience working in a bakery, he figured he should start small. Work the farmer’s market scene, maybe upgrade to a food truck from there, and then finally have his own store front. Mike was dreaming big, and he was letting his imagination run wild with possibilities.

“I could build an empire with these brownies!” he thought.

Then, Mike took the hardest step of all; the first one. He contacted the local farmer’s market and reserved booth space. He was in. He bought a pop-up canopy, a 6-foot table and spent the whole day Friday furiously baking his German’s chocolate brownies. He meticulously packaged each brownie, and arrived bright and early Saturday morning to set up his table.

It was a beautiful morning. The birds were singing, a gentle breeze filled the air, and there was not a cloud in the sky. The market was bustling with shoppers, and Mike stood confidently at his table, ready to sell every last brownie he so lovingly made. Person after person walked by, but Mike had no takers. Every once in a while, children pointed at Mike’s booth begging for chocolate as their mothers dragged them away by the arm.

Mike had an idea.  Since most of these people had never even tried his brownies, he set out some bite sized samples and waited for the crowd to flock in. He got many takers for his samples, and he finally managed to sell one to a kid who outlasted his parents with uncanny persistence.   However, most people just took the sample, smiled, nodded, and walked away. Mike was dejected. The farmer’s market was almost over. He set out a few more samples and then slumped into his chair.

A local baker passed by Mike’s tent and swiped a sample.  She was curious about the new kid on the block. Upon tasting it, her eyes lit up a bit. She knew these brownies were something special, she knew they were almost perfect. She walked over to a nearby booth that sold gourmet salts and purchased a small bag of fleur de sel. She walked back over to Mike’s booth, picked up another brownie sample, and dusted it ever so gently with the fleur de sel. Then she got Mike’s attention, held the brownie out to him and said,

“Take it…with a grain of salt.”

Mike just looked at her. He reluctantly took the sample of his own brownie and took a bite. His eyes opened wide in disbelief and he stood straight up. The brownies had a much fuller chocolate flavor that danced and sparkled on his taste buds. The chocolate taste just popped so wonderfully, and he couldn’t believe it. All this extra burst of flavor from a simple grain of salt.  This was a definitive “aha!” moment for Mike, and he couldn't believe the difference it made in his brownies. He just looked at the baker and smiled. Then she said to him,

“Now that’s a good brownie. It’ll be nice to have a little competition around here. Good luck.”

Then she walked away. Mike’s confidence was restored and he furiously unpackaged, salted, and repacked his brownies. He sold a few more brownies before the market closed, and his samples began receiving rave reviews from the shoppers. Mike ended up giving most of his product away that day, but he had new hope. His brownie empire was still on the horizon, all because of one friendly baker and the bite taken with a grain of salt.

 

Not much has changed since I was last here, but there is a sense of calm and peace in spite of the hullabaloo.  The new memorial is a beauty, I'm sure you would like it.  All in all, not a bad trip on the governments dime, now if I could only ditch this attendant.  Seventy-five years and I can still picture it like yesterday.  The field. Oh, the field.  I kept my pro There are only about twenty-five of us here and they still couldn't give us enough whiskey.  All is well, traveling home tomorrow.

--

O.G.

Life Lessons

The sun comes up, it’s a new day dawning.
Greet your friends, smile and say “Hello!”
What’s this? You find your best friend is out to get you.
Have no fear; it’s soon over, don’t you know?

Life lessons come quick
Life lessons come easy
Life lessons come cheap
Life lessons easy peasy

The work day ends, get home hang up your keys.
Greet the dog; kiss your daughter on the cheek.
Through the door, find a car crashed through the kitchen.
Have no fear; it’s back to normal by next week.

Life lessons come quick
Life lessons come easy
Life lessons come cheap
Life lessons easy peasy

Life lessons come in many different ways
Life lessons come and go without a trace
Life lessons come in many different ways
Life lessons come and end with an embrace

So when you’re tired, the world is out to get you.
Sit down, relax, you’re the star of the show.
No matter what, the music starts to play soon.
Have no fear; remember now you know.

Life lessons come quick
Life lessons come easy
Life lessons come cheap
Life lessons easy peasy

Life lessons easy peasy

Life lessons easy peasy

So I Set Out

So I set out, not really with a plan, just a sense of determination. The path is dry, the leaves are green, the birds are singing. The morning beckons. A sheen of dew glistens in the sunlight, not a cloud in the sky. I am home. I am happy. I am lost.

I can’t help but hold my chin up, close my eyes, and breathe it all in as I take my first steps. A cool breeze sweeps over my face and I am gone. I want my bicycle, but the terrain calls for something less sophisticated. My feet are the vehicle this path demands as the gravel crunches under my soles.

I open my eyes, look down from the sky and study the horizon. Step by step, it seems to stay the same, as if I will never reach the hazy hills in the distance. Do I even want to? My foot suddenly catches on a root protruding from the path and I realize I should focus a little more on where I am now. I steady myself on a wooden fence post, dust off my hands, and continue on.

I can see the path winding as I begin to raise my eyes again. It’s like something out of a fairy tale. A row of small trees line a knoll as the path curves again. The grass sways freely in the breeze as it has lost the grip from the dew. I pass by a field of clover, pick a flower and breathe in its delicately sweet scent. My sights set again on the hills, still hazy, still out of reach. I don’t want to stop.

As I continue my trek, the path suddenly splits into two. As if out of nowhere, a choice is before me, no markers tell me which way to go. For the first time, I want to stop.  Both ways look the same, both seem to lead to the same destination. I have no map, just a sense of direction. I warily make my choice, head down my chosen path, and the hazy hills are still on the horizon.

As I continue to make my way down the path, it suddenly begins to narrow. The gravel turns rough and it is becoming difficult to walk. The sun still shines bright, but it begins to feel hot on my face and the once cool breeze slowly goes away. The path no longer winds and I find myself only walking in a straight line. I no longer want my bicycle. I keep my eyes down, watching the path, making sure I don’t trip on a rock.

As I wearily navigate the stony terrain, a spot of green catches my eye. A patch of clover peaks out from under the rocks and a single flower blooms. I kneel down on the path and put my nose down to the tender little flower. I gently breathe in its sweet scent and remember the field of clovers from earlier in my journey. I lift my eyes to the sky again and breathe it all in as if I were taking my first steps.

The path remains rocky, though not as bad as before, and I feel like I am learning to navigate it. The path steadily begins to widen and wind again; and a gentle breeze fills the air. As the sun crosses the meridian I hold my chin up and close my eyes again. I open my eyes, look down from the sky and study the horizon. I see the hazy hills in the distance but I no longer recognize them. I don’t want to look back to see how far I’ve gone.

Brewed by the Sun

Early morning, sun rising
Summer breeze in the air
The day before you
Clouds passing
Time is of no care

Leap the sprinklers
Ride and skate
Intemperate summer fun
Mason jar, tea bags steep
Brewed by the sun

Simply sweet, crisp and mellow
Savor the time and care
Back porch glider
Sunset horizon
Serenity everywhere

Limerick Laughs Submission

My submission for the Saturday Evening Post limerick contest Aunt Sue told us about.  Click here for contest details.

Caught off guard as the pins crack and tumble.

In those stockings she surely would fumble.

She kept me unaware,

I thought maybe a spare.

Smile, nod, and try not to grumble.

Pink Carnation

It was a crisp, cool mid-October night; the signs of summer slowly giving way to fall. The moon shined bright on Chesterton High School where the gym was full of students celebrating the big homecoming victory. Sarah had introduced Mike to her group of friends and they were all hitting it off. Mike had met Sarah that night at the homecoming game. He was finally coming out of his shell. Mike's freshman year was awkward at best, and he did not make as many friends as his parents told him he would. He never could find his niche.

He went into his sophomore year with a newfound determination to enjoy school, but it had been no different from last. Until that night. Maybe it was meeting Sarah, maybe it was the new car he finally saved up enough to buy, or maybe it was because he was wearing his favorite argyle sweater. Whatever it was, Mike was finally enjoying the company of his classmates. There was a freeness, a sense of confidence that Mike had never felt before. All he wanted was to fit in, and it seemed as if this was the night he had been waiting for.

The first slow song of the night came over the speakers and Mike tried to get enough nerve to ask Sarah to dance. She looked at him, he looked at her, but neither said a thing. She was so beautiful with her curly brown hair and her yellow dress. What if she said no? The song came and went without Mike asking. He told himself he would ask her to dance to the next slow song. Feeling a bit overwhelmed, Mike went to get Sarah some punch. As he was filling her cup, another slow song started playing. Mike was ready to ask Sarah to dance, and he grabbed a pink carnation from the centerpiece on the table to give to her.

As he was heading back, a student busted through the double doors in the gym and shouted, "Hey guys! There's a bunch of cops and an ambulance out here! I think there's been some sort of an accident!"

Everyone ran out to see what was going on except Mike. He sat the punch down and stood there holding the pink carnation waiting for Sarah to return. But, she did not return.

Mike decided to go see what was going on. As he left the empty gymnasium, he saw a bunch of students mulling around the parking lot. About a half block down the road, he saw the lights of the emergency vehicles and approached the scene. As he got closer, he saw the back of Sarah's yellow dress and she was facing the wreckage. He tapped her on the shoulder; when she saw him, she screamed and ran. Mike then saw what she was looking at; his new car smashed into an old oak tree. He looked over at the ambulance and saw a gurney being loaded into the back. A jolt knocked an arm of the body down, and as it swung, Mike saw the sleeve of his argyle sweater.

Without a word or expression, Mike walked back to the now dark gymnasium, delicately picked up the pink carnation, and patiently waited for Sarah to return; where he continues to wait to this day. Every year during the homecoming dance at Chesterton High School, strange sightings occur. From ghostly visions in the gymnasium, to pink carnations appearing out of thin air, Mike is there waiting for Sarah to return; holding a pink carnation, ready to ask her to dance.

An Unorthodox Burial

My wife and I are painstakingly preparing their house for a third open house. My wife dusts the picture frames that line the mantle, while I mow the lawn. The house is impeccably spotless and everything is in order, just as it had been for the previous three. Our realtor arrives, gives us a kindhearted smile, and sprays the kitchen with the smell of fresh baked cookies. My wife and I leave the house and eagerly anticipate the results of the open house, hoping someone would fall in love with their home just as we had.

Our house has been on the market for over a year, and showings have been few and far between. The previous open houses yielded a paltry two visitors, but we try to remain positive. We really are in no rush to move, just seeking a larger home for our growing family. However, we are growing impatient with the lack of interest in our house, and cannot afford to drop the asking price any lower. We purchased this house within a week of it going on the market, and we really didn’t foresee any difficulty reselling it when we were ready to move again.

Upon returning to our house after the open house ended, our realtor tells us that only one person came to see the house; an elderly fellow. She mentioned that he was quite frail and he really enjoyed the family pictures that were on display throughout the house. The realtor did not anticipate him to make an offer because he said the stairs would be an issue. In fact, he didn’t even go upstairs and she wondered why he came in the first place because it was clear to see that it was a two-story house. The realtor also noticed that after he left the home, he spent a lot of time in the front yard looking at house. She thought, perhaps, this was the house he grew up in, and he just wanted to return to see how it looked so many years later.

Needless to say, we were a little discouraged and we seriously considered taking our house off the market. We could stay in the house for a few more years before we really outgrow it; the housing market would surely be different by then. We schedule an appointment with our realtor to discuss our options. As soon as my wife gets off the phone with the realtor, the phone rings. It is the realtor calling back asking us if she can show our house tonight.

We are excited, but trying not to get our hopes up; we decide to go out to dinner during the showing. As we finish our meal, my wife’s phone rings and it is our realtor with news that someone has put an offer on the house. My wife literally almost fell out of her seat.  We meet with our realtor to discuss the offer only to find out it is for the full list price of the home, so we joyously accept. As it turns out, a young couple is moving to the area due to a work transfer and our home is exactly what they are looking for.

The sale of the home goes off without a hitch. With the sale finalized, the realtor gives me the “SOLD” sticker to place on the for sale sign in front of their home. As I approach the sign, I notice a small area on the lawn that looks as if someone has been digging a small hole. As a man who pays meticulous attention to his lawn, I kneel beside the area to investigate. Indeed, the area is a whole that was subsequently filled. My curiosity peaked, I move away some of the dirt with my hands and find a small statue of Saint Joseph buried in the ground.

I stand in the lawn holding the statue of Saint Joseph, wondering how it came to be buried in my front lawn. As I stand there, I feel a presence behind me. I turn around and see an old man standing on the sidewalk.

“Nice statue you got there,” the old man says to me.

“Uh, thanks. I just found it buried in my front yard,” I reply.

“I know. I put it there,” replies the old man.

I look at the old man as if he was crazy and simply ask, "Why?"

The old man rests his arms on the fence post and explains,
"As I'm sure you are aware, Saint Joseph was the earthly father of Jesus of Nazareth. Besides being a good father, he was also a skilled craftsman. He taught Jesus the craftsman’s trade and always made sure Jesus had a roof over his head. This is the reason why he helps people locate the house they are looking for, which in turn helps the people who need to sell their homes. I buried the statue in your yard so that Saint Joseph would direct a new family to this house, just as he directed you when you found it."

"You mean there was a statue buried in the yard when we bought this house?" I ask.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Let’s just say this old house means a lot to me, and I believe Saint Joseph will only bring loving families to such a wonderful home," replies the old man.

I plead to him, "Please tell me, I really want to know!"

With tears swelling, the old man looks away and says, "Maybe some other time."

With that, the old man takes hold of his cane and walks away. Still grasping the statue of Saint Joseph I call out to the old man, "Thank you!"

The old man does not turn around, just holds up his hand and gives a friendly wave.

Man of the House

(Wednesday night. Spotlight opens on LUKE who is sitting in his recliner in the living room watching TV. The television program is paused as he waits for his wife VALERIE to finish a telephone conversation. An image of the actor making an unpleasant face is frozen on the TV and LUKE cannot decide whether to stare at it or look away.

After staying idle for too long, the TV goes into power save mode and now just shows a blank screen. VALERIE, still talking on the phone, ignores a bell ringing in the kitchen. WALTER, a spry looking beagle, patiently waits by the back door to be let outside after ringing his bell. LUKE looks at VALERIE motioning for her to let the dog out. VALERIE ignores LUKE. Exasperated, LUKE gets up to let WALTER out. As LUKE is getting out of the recliner, he hears a loud popping sound coming from the bottom of the chair. LUKE gets on the floor in order to look for an obstruction beneath the chair. Meanwhile, the bell rings again and WALTER lets out a pitiful moan.

LUKE lets WALTER out and retrieves a flashlight to further investigate the recliner. He immediately hears WALTER barking at what he can only assume is a neighborhood cat and shakes his head in disgust. Back in the living room, LUKE directs VALERIE, still on the phone, into the chair so he can check for the popping source with someone in it. VALERIE rocks back and forth while LUKE presses his head against the carpet shining the flashlight underneath the recliner.

LUKE notices a spring rubbing against the wood in the inner workings of the recliner. LUKE flips the chair over on order to see if the problem can be easily remedied. LUKE sweeps away the collection of dust and pet hair with his hands only to find that the metal bracket holding the spring to the chair has broken. He points at his discovery in order to show VALERIE, still on the phone, who gives him an "I told you so" look for letting the kids play on the chair.

Defeated, LUKE flips the chair upright and goes to let the barking WALTER back into the house. WALTER darts ahead of him as LUKE walks back to the living room. Entering the room, LUKE sees that WALTER is now in his recliner and VALERIE, off the phone, has the remote and is now watching one of those pregnancy shows on Discovery Health. LUKE goes to bed.)

Nature loves limericks with lessons

Nature’s hardly rude brash or garish.
In fact, she is what we should cherish.
Regard the lush land.
Keep gentle your hand.
Or else we may untimely perish.
.

A Sincere Apology

I just want to apologize for not writing anything for the June topic. The month kind of got away from me and before I knew it, July was here and I hadn't written a thing. Please understand that I didn't completely forget about Ditalini Press during the month of June. I thought about sitting down and writing a fib few times throughout the month, but every time I did, something prevented me from following through.

I actually had something written fairly early in the month, which is rare for me. I’m not too proud to say it was a masterpiece, some of my finest work. I was in the living room making the final edits to my epic tale when my laptop crashed. It completely froze, and I had to take out the battery just to get it to shut down. When I turned the laptop back on, my operating system wouldn't even load. The laptop was dead and my whole story was gone; I was too devastated to start writing again. So, I abandoned that idea and waited for inspiration to strike again.

It was about two weeks later when I finally had another idea for a story. My laptop was still inoperable, so I had to type it on my desktop computer. When I got to the computer, the keyboard was gone! I looked outside and saw the kids swinging by the cord over their heads as if to use it as some sort of makeshift weapon. I ran outside to stop them and was struck in the head. When I regained consciousness, I was no longer in the mood to write, so I put it off for another few days. The kids said the whole ordeal was an accident, but the 'destroy dad' carvings on the keyboard hinted otherwise. I guess I spend too much time on the computer.

With the end of the month looming, I decided just to type my story at work. Not the most inspirational of places, but at least I'd get something done. I logged on, got situated, and then, out of nowhere, the bio hazard alarm sounded. I spent the rest of the day crammed in a tiny room with all my co-workers until we were told the alarm must have just malfunctioned. Hooray. On the bright side, I at least got to help tape the doors to prevent any airborne pathogens from getting in; and was able to see my family again, too. Needless to say, I didn't get my story written that day either.

So, here we are, July first, and I still am without a story. It's not like I didn't try though; a few extenuating circumstances just got in my way. I hope you understand.

About X

X would be happy to never hear the word IRREGARDLESS again. X prefers to just use REGARDLESS. X is even more distraught by the fact the word originated in western Indiana.

X would also like to eliminate the word AT, though only when used to end a sentence.  X also proposes the use of an 'AT Jar' where the guilty party would deposit one quarter every time he or she ended a sentence with AT. 

X longs for the elimination of the letter S, though only when added at the end of a store name where it is not already present.

X is leaning toward the removal of the word WHY, but only after the seventh time hearing it in less than a minute.

X would be pleased to never see the phrase NEW IMPROVED FLAVOR on products he plans to purchase, because it almost always eludes to the addition of MSG.

X is in favor of the elimination of the word IDIOT. For reasons unknown, the word resonates poorly with X, cringing every time he hears it.

This is a list of words X would like to see eliminated, though, it could also be viewed as a list of X's pet peeves. Go figure.

Honeydew

"It's dark, can anyone hear me?"
She called as she opened her eyes.
She turned, looked up, got a better view.
"Aha! I see sunny skies."

"The warmth of the sun would feel so good
If only I could find a way out."
She pushed and nudged and shoved
And out popped a little green sprout.

"Oh, so much better, now where is that sun?"
She asked as she viewed her world new.
She looked all around, fixated her gaze
This new life this new honeydew.

A Bewildering Encounter

"Mr. Leger! Mr. Leger! Could I trouble you for a few minutes of your time?"
"Not now, I'm already running late. Sorry."
"Please, sir. I'm with MPF Quarterly and I just have a few questions."
"I've never even heard of MPF Quarterly. Now if you don't mind, I've really got to get going."
"I'd like to talk to you about Treasure Chest."
"What did you say?"
"Treasure Chest."
"How do you know about Treasure Chest?"
"I'm not at liberty to reveal my sources, sir."
"Alright then, I suppose I can answer a few questions."

That's how their conversation started. The young man escorted Mr. Leger to a picnic table in the park and began conducting his interview.

MPF: What was it that started your love of film making?
Mr.L: I wouldn't necessarily call it a love of film making; it's more of a simple pleasure. I guess it all started when my cousins and I did a short film for our club A.B.L.E. using an old camcorder. It turned out remarkably well, and we had so much fun that we wanted to continue making more films. So, my cousins Eva and Katie along with my sister and I started saving all our money in order to buy our own camcorder. Then, Eva and Katie received a camcorder for Christmas one year, and their parents let us use it as much as we wanted. We ended up using the money we saved to buy most of the materials for a clubhouse my Uncle Marc built for us.

MPF: What kind of films did you start out making?
Mr.L: Well, we mainly did satires of commercials we saw on television. We also would do 'QVC' segments or just film ourselves hanging out or playing. We would also do the evening news, human interest stories, and another A.B.L.E. video. We really made all kinds of videos.

MPF: What led you to do lengthier projects such as Treasure Chest?
Mr.L: Eva and I used to talk on the phone all the time and we would write scripts to these movies. I don't remember exactly how Treasure Chest was conceptualized, but I do remember countless nights talking to Eva on the phone working on the script. We would each type the script as we came up with the lines, so we really had two versions once we were done, they were almost exactly the same, though. Mine always had more spelling errors.

MPF: What was it like filming Treasure Chest?
Mr.L: One word really sums it up: "Fun". I remember after finishing the script we planned a day to get together at Eva and Katie's house to film it. My parents had an old jewelry box that looked like a treasure chest and we filled with a bunch of silver and gold items. It was so much fun, and we had never worked on a project so big before. We used make-up, lots of different wardrobes, music, and some of us even played multiple characters. We did our best to follow the script and it turned out really well. I remember such a feeling of accomplishment and pride when we showed it to our family. The four of us worked so hard on it, it was so rewarding to see it come to fruition.

MPF: So it only took one day?
Mr.L: I think we actually filmed it over a two day period, but I'm not sure.

MPF: Any plans for a sequel?
Mr.L: Funny you should ask. Eva and I started working on a sequel years ago, but the script was never completed. We pretty much wrapped everything up in the original; we didn't leave much room for anything else to develop. Because if that, I think we just couldn't find a clear direction for the plot, and it just went to the wayside. I think I still have the partial script at home, though, so anything is possible.

MPF: You all had such great chemistry on the screen. Any chance of getting back together for any new film projects?
Mr.L: I've thought about that, but it's just a matter of getting everyone together at the right time. It's not as easy as it used to be. In fact, I was just talking to Eva a few months ago about making some new films. She liked the idea and seemed pretty excited, so something may be coming down the pike.

MPF: I can't wait to see what happens! Well, I won't take up any more of time. Thanks for the interview, Mr. Leger.

Mr.L: It was my pleasure, really. Your questions brought back a lot of fond memories, so I should be thanking you. Those were some of the best times of my life.

With that, the two men got up from the picnic table. As Mr. Leger was putting on his bike helmet, he looked at the young man and said, "Sorry I was so rude to you at first. I thought I may have taken your claim and you had some questions about it or something." The young man simply replied, "No hard feelings Mr. Leger. Thanks again for your time. I'm glad I was able to help you."

With that, Mr. Leger got on his bike and rode back to work; bewildered by a lunch encounter he won't soon forget.

The Field

The wind swirls the grass
Floral essence fills the air
I know you, I've seen you before
As we walk through the field

I stand here in disbelief
These feelings so foreign
These feelings so familiar
As we stand in this field

Do I know you from somewhere?
Your face unfamiliar
Your presence so calming
As we talk in this field

What brought us to this place?
Two strangers beforehand
Two strangers reunited
As we discover this field

Do I reach for embrace?
Should I speak of these feelings?
What is coming over me?
As we pause in this field

The picture becomes clearer
Though I can not explain
I have been here before
I have been in this field

As if hypnotized I remember you
I remember this place
But I don't think you know
As we stray from this field

As I watch you walk away
I want to tell you my story
But I stay here unsettled
As I lay in this field

I hope we will meet again
Our paths have crossed before
Though, will it ever be the same
As when you cried in this field?

You were meant to be near me
You will always be part of me
Your image etched in my mind
In the field where I died

inner strength

examine within.
challenge demeanor innate.
grasp tight the new dawn.

Porch of Paradise

"Ain't it somethin' ma?"

"What's that dear?"

"The sunset."

"Yes. It is quite lovely."

"Ah. It really is somethin'."

If only he could tell her what he was truly feeling at that time. Caught in a moment of deep peace and reflection; surveying his life, his dreams, his accomplishments. As he methodically rocked on his front porch, he felt a sense of absolute peace and comfort he had never experienced in all his life.

"Have you heard from Johnny?"

"I talked to him last week."

"Did he say anything about paying us a visit?"

"Yes. He and Michelle are bringing the kids over this weekend."

A smile crept to his face as he continued to rock while the golden sun slowly dipped behind the horizon. Though he didn't necessarily show it, he loved it when his son came to visit. His grandchildren, too, were a greater joy than he ever could have imagined. He may not have been the best father, but his son turned out to be a fine man; and for that, he was proud.

"I'm thinkin' I should mow tomorrow."

"Oh? Didn't you just mow the other day?"

"Yeah. Well, I see some areas that are startin' to need it."

"That's fine dear, it does look like it could use a trim."

He didn't want to retire, but he was put in a position where he really had no other choice. He made a good honest living for nearly fifty years and always planned to work until he could no longer do the job. He was afraid to not work; he didn't know what he would do with his time. He tried to keep himself busy with odd jobs around the house, picked up a hobby or two, and dedicated himself to maintaining a well kept lawn. He's been a better husband since his retirement, now he wonders how he got anything done when he was working sixty hours per week.

"Do we have any of that pie left?"
"Yes we do. Would you like for me to get you a piece?"
"Nah. I'll get one myself when I go in for the night."

"Alright dear. You're right, it really is a beautiful sunset."

He couldn't ask for anything more, yet, he never knew this is what he wanted. He had no regrets, though. He was able to provide for his family, put his son through college, and was now able to reap the benefits of his hard work. He was still on the front porch when his wife walked up next to him, handed him a piece of pie and gently kissed him on the cheek. He looked at her, stared deep into her eyes, and felt a swell of emotion from deep within his soul.

"I love you."
"I love you too."