sorry i got to get this out.... late nights i hear her calling.
the house quiet , her voice is clear.
the memories uninvited.
Sorry I got to get this out...
Late nights I hear her calling
the house quiet , her voice is clear
the memories uninvited
linger, sweet and dear
Deep in the Cottonwoods
late shadows creeping down
the porch was wide and inviting
I still see her now
Our days were filled together
and the nights were all to short
We longed to melt together
and hold each other near
I hear her calling
her voice is soft and clear
the time we had together
way to short and all too dear
i mean could that be the reason behind no sex with maria he had a boy friend like that guy menta sturgeon.. from his account of his last days with russell seem quite emotionally attached december1 1916:.
http://www.ctrussell.us/::r6001 : page 360::.
after several hours his robe proved to be rather inconvenient, because the sheet and blanket could not be kept together.
If one does a little reasearch of his time period Celabacy (sp) was a little bit in vouge...especially with the other Miller-adventist type folks.
Release of semen was thought to be bad for the body, mind and spirit of a man.... an evil thing only for procreation...
Russell was just a product of his times (na- he was a fruitcake!)
----------Hill
i plan to call up the branch office and pose as an 'interested one' and ask a bunch of difficult questions i am almost positive no jw witness will be able to ansewr.
1. if the supposed "light is getting brighter" then does that not mean that it is possile that many of the teachings that the society is teaching now may be false such as blood transfusions and the 1914 teaching?
2. since any witness who speaks against the wt and refutes one of their teachings and is therefore disfellowshipped for it, what if the very teaching that they spoke against turned out to be wrong later on?
yea-- please ask how I can get my whites whiter and my brights brighter.... and that unslightly toilet bowl ring has to go...the Cheese and cracker boy (junior grade) who handles the phones should have a little insight....
----------Hill (it's your dime honey!, class)
just a lil rough draft.... the short stories come out from time to time and live in a notebook....
this was not the usual january night in pemmiscott county, missouri.
it was cold, cold and clear.
(((((((((((((Lisa)))))))))))) you are always a sweetheart! True stories are always the best, are they not?
I guess 25 years is a long time to carry a torch....but we are the sum of our parts.
------------Hill ( the "He Stopped Loving Her Today" is a long time off class)
just a lil rough draft.... the short stories come out from time to time and live in a notebook....
this was not the usual january night in pemmiscott county, missouri.
it was cold, cold and clear.
BTT-- never come in here for pity folks but I'm hurtin a lil bit tonight....
just a lil rough draft.... the short stories come out from time to time and live in a notebook....
this was not the usual january night in pemmiscott county, missouri.
it was cold, cold and clear.
about a week after this happened the song "What a Fool Believes" by the Doobie Brothers came out...sorta became my anthem for a long time.
The rest of the story may come along if you guys care to hear it..
-------------Hill (i get whiskey bent and hell bound class)
.
my seven year old daughter just asked me this and i am stumped couldn't find anything on the net either.. can anyone out there help me answer this for her?
thanks
What? We're not.... sh*t , you guys never tell me anything before it happens!
Hill (always 180 outta sync class)
just a lil rough draft.... the short stories come out from time to time and live in a notebook....
this was not the usual january night in pemmiscott county, missouri.
it was cold, cold and clear.
Brian-- Just livin my dream best pal.... how have you been?
Hill ( the good beers at the bottom of the cooler class)
just a lil rough draft.... the short stories come out from time to time and live in a notebook....
this was not the usual january night in pemmiscott county, missouri.
it was cold, cold and clear.
just a lil rough draft.... the short stories come out from time to time and live in a notebook.... This was not the usual January night in Pemmiscott County, Missouri. It was cold, cold and clear. Along the west bank of the Mississippi river fog was common this time of the year, not this night. This night was clear and the rural sky was bright with stars to the east. The full moon was resting on the shelf of prairie to the west... just sort of sitting on the horizon like momma's favorite plate on the sideboard. This was the night I'd always remember. Patrica Gayle was the kind of girl dreams are made of. She was full of life and gentle..had the soul of a poet. When Patty kissed , you knew you'd been kissed. The Irish blood that flowed in her veins fueled her passion for life and love. Patrica had no lack of male attention. She was about 5 foot, 3 inches tall and weighed 110 pounds soaking wet. The first thing you noticed about Patty was her eyes, two wonder full hazel pools, full of fun and a twinkle and a bit of the Devil. The auburn hair was striking... a torrent of the most gorgeous red tresses caressed her shoulders, and framed her delicate face. If looks count for much, I had been damned lucky to have caught her eye and dated her as long as I had. Patrica was the kind of girl men dream of their whole life and I was in love with her. It had been snowing in the Mississippi Valley that day. Southeastern Missouri and Western Tennessee are usually cold, dark and damp in January. The snowfall was a novel surprise. My day had been a usual young man's Saturday, sleep a little late to recover from Friday night, then a day doing chores and running errands. The whole day thoughts of a night out with Patty were in the background adding texture to all my other thoughts. She was wonderful to think of. About 4 pm, I headed west across the River. The new bridge was a gateway to new and greater things and the trip west never failed to perk up my imagination. The snow- bearing front had passed and I faced a bright sun. Four inches of white show coated the fallow bean Fields and winter wheat as I crossed the bottoms heading for the Mississippi River. This land looked like a fantasy in white.... my mind had always seen those bottoms as plowed brown mud or green... as far as the eye could see. The white seemed a little mystical as I let my imagination run for a moment. The date went as most 19 year old dates go. A forty mile dash to Blytheville, Arkansas. "Big City" to us... At that age you make your own fun... and Patty was the best. She could dance and sing and was a free spirit. I loved her so. Her hands were small and warm. She was always fun...trips to Memphis... or shooting pool at a rec hall in Deering, Patty was the belle of my ball. The sky was black, but the moon was bright enough to read a paper under. Patty's folks lived in a little house surrounded by soybeans. Pemmiscott County is a rolling prairie that takes one gently uphill from the River to the foothills of the Ozarks. My ancient pick-up rounded the turn onto Patty's road. A couple of miles later, we pulled up into her yard... the usual din and ruckus of happy dogs was absent, the cold kept them in the shed. We lingered for a second. I was as sure as anything- and had made up my mind. I was going to ask her hand in marriage. Right then. Ring or not. I went around and opened her door. She stepped out...the moon was behind us and she was facing right into the most wonderful moon light. Patty put both hands on my chest and stepped in closer. My mind was racing as my tongue tried to wrestle out the question I was about to ask. She laid her cheek on my chest and looked up at me. "I love you and would never want to hurt you, but..." came out of her mouth. " I need to go back with Robbie...". The she opened my old GI Flying jacket and slipped her arms around me. I felt her shudder, it was cold. We stood there, holding each other on a moonlit, prairie sea of white for what seemed like hours. She was gently crying... I'm sure I said something as I walked her to the porch, but whatever it was wasn't enough. For a long time cold, clear winter nights hurt like hell. I'd walk out on the snow, count the diamond stars on the black sky... and look at that moon shining like Sunday china on the shelf. If any of ya'all know Patty...or is Patricia please let me know--- ---------------Hill
for those that were raised in an authoritarian religion, this ought to be a very interesting show.
i think the jw teenagers should get rumspringa too!
'amish in the city': nobody drives buggies in l.a. .
Dan- you close to EtnaGreen?... I used to work Elkhart, and down that way and still have a cousin or two in the area
----------Hill
