Sunday, February 1, 2026

Editor's Corner

 

By Mary E. Adair

“February is the uncertain month,
neither black nor white,
but all shades between
by turns. Nothing is sure.”

— Gladys Hasty Carroll

We waved bye bye to this year's January at midnight and cautiously welcomed February, the shortest month, hoping for warmer weather. But, then we are one of those who tenaciously long for summer, whatever the month. Only a few of our incoming compositions discussed weather and quite casually then.


Four of our wonderful poets are each represented by three poems so we can present our readers with a nice rounded dozen. Walt Perryman's three are "As Old As I Am", "Fine Thursday Ramble", and "Old One About Children." Bud Lemire's poems are "Freeze Me!" "I Ask My Cousin," and the triumphant "Cherokee Daughter."


Bruce Clifford shows "Before You," "I Love Her More," and "Lipstick Girl." The three encores by John I Blair are "Daniel Boone and Me," "What Is It About Cats?" and "The Year We Had A Crazy Neighbor."


Mattie Lennon of Dublin Ireland discusses in his column "Irish Eyes," writers and all types of writing they do, and how they can research their craft. He tells us about an upcoming treat, "The Marian Hotel" and describes it as a powerful stage drama.  Pauline Evanosky's column "Woo Woo" encourages those interested in finding or increasing their own psychic abilities to ease up and approach it in a simple manner.


Judith Kroll's column "On Trek" has her recalling a chat where various people were adamantly expressing their opinion, unsurprisingly about a subject no one knew what the correct answer could be. Marilyn Carnell's subject in "Sifoddling Along" points out how where one grew up inevitably adds to their vocabulary.


The column "Introspective" has an interesting explanation by author Thomas F. O'Neill, of Spirituality and Religion and how they differ. Melinda Cohenour's "Armchair Genealogy" includes personal information that family trees can now include within Ancestry, for instance. Her recipe in the column "Cooking with Rod's Family" is a long time favorite.


Mike Craner's column "Mike's Place" explains how actual memories can be diluted or enhanced while dreaming. He advises that incidents, events, and such memory making occasions be recorded while the facts are fresh.


It is nice to have our co-founder and webmaster present for this first issue of the new Volume 29 of Pencil Stubs Online. He does manage to stay pretty busy doing such interesting things as being the Santa for train excursions during the holidays. We are always grateful that he keeps our eZine functioning.


We look forward to seeing you in the March issue of Pencil Stubs Online.


Click on the author's byline for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.
This issue appears in the ezine at www.pencilstubs.com and also in the blog www.pencilstubs.net with the capability of adding comments at the latter.


Mike's Place

 

By Michael L. Craner

Just read and article about how our memories may not be 100% true, and it basically confirmed what I have long suspected.


Ever have someone relate a shared experience but with different details than you recall? This could be an example of that.


Especially as we get older, we have more and more experiences. Then we go to sleep each night (hopefully) and our brain processes these experiences.


The result can produce altered impressions of the experience and since in dream state we typically re-run the experience multiple times it begins to cement itself in our minds, thus making it a "truth" in our memory, even though some or many details may be false to reality.


Much like how a habitual liar can truly believe their own lies if they tell them often enough.


Keeping a daily diary or journal can keep this in check. For most I'm sure the altered memory is innocent. Something happened, they processed it in sleep, and the new "story" is how their brain dealt with it. It may not be wrong, but its also not historically accurate.


Now, this is akin to digital news, Wikipedia, and such where content can be easily edited and altered, or even deleted (for the most part) changing the facts as seen fit by those who control them.


You can't change what is written or printed so easily. It can be analyzed, amended, or redacted, but you can't easily change what was initially put down.


Even our own minds deceive us unless we keep it in check. So.... write it down. With ink and paper.


Click on the author's byline for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.
This issue appears in the ezine at www.pencilstubs.com and also in the blog www.pencilstubs.net with the capability of adding comments at the latter.


Armchair Genealogy

 


By Melinda Cohenour

USTel and the Magnolia Building

One of Dallas Texas' most famous landmarks is the Flying Red Horse known as Pegasus which sits stop the majestic old building erected by the Magnolia Petroleum Company back in 1922. Known as The Magnolia Building it is dressed with some of the most lavish interior materials. Pegasus was added in 1934.


I had the good fortune to office in that magnificent building as one of the first handful of employees of USTel, which would become the predecessor corporation of Sprint. This month's column documents my early introduction to this prominent Dallas landmark as it was being restored after being saved by the Dallas Historical Commission from the destruction process that had already begun. What incredible memories!!


When USTel was first established, the old Magnolia Building had just survived a close call with demolition, thanks to the work of devoted citizens to salvage the historic edifice. Recognizing the proximity to SWBT's downtown Central Office as key to clear telecommunications transmission, USTel had leased several floors including a group of offices on the 24th floor, the prior executive floor for Magnolia execs. The ancient yet still beautiful woodwork included wooden blinds, custom made for each window, paneled walls of exquisitely matched woods. Deep green velvet drapes still graced each window though covered in decades of dust. The elevator foyer was embellished with pale green tiles, in the center a medallion of tiles, a mosaic featuring Pegasus.


Anita Rufus and I sat on the floor, typewriters (old IBM Selectrics) perched on cardboard boxes, busily drafting up the legal documentation by which the company's Articles of Incorporation, name preservation, and other corporate necessities to meet all legal requirements would ultimately be filed.


Entering the building was quite daunting as the entry foyer housing all the elevator shafts was undergoing restoration. Sand had drifted into rows along either side. Scaffolds stood around the foyer, to provide artisans access to restore the intricate metal ceiling tiles.


That was strange, but once an elevator opened, one was faced with perhaps the scariest ride imaginable: the walls of each car were clad in plywood and many hosted dim or no lighting. One was eerily aware of the resemblance to a wooden, upright, coffin. My first ride featured a few horrific 'Steven King' style surprises. The only floor selected was 24; however, the elevator jerked its way up a few floors, the doors opened revealing the 3rd floor, the space selected for USTel's core of operations - its switch room. This floor contrasted sharply with the entry, a sterile white space of futuristic impact: raised floors, a bank of #5ESS switches, their electronic indicators flashing red and green and yellow twinkling lights. As the doors opened, an influx of chilled air cooled the car. Stark, sterile, vacant, robotic.


A few floors later the doors again flung open to reveal a partially demolished area, ceiling mostly open with huge black cables draped, haphazardly, about the space. Jackhammers had been used, apparently, to break into the walls of concrete bricks. Gaping holes, rubble, more drifts of sand. Just before the doors slid shut, I spied two huge rats!


My, my, my. The memories.

* * * * * *

The Magnolia Building

Texas Historical Commission

April 11, 2020


The Magnolia Petroleum Company’s Pegasus, a forty-foot long and thirty-foot high red neon horse, was placed atop a 50-foot tower anchored to the roof of the Magnolia Building in 1934. At the time, the Pegasus and its 1,000 feet of neon tubing rotated every minute and a half.


It was the city’s tallest point for almost a decade and remains one of its most famous landmarks. Soon after its installation, Dallas citizens could claim that the city, still considered a provincial outpost of cowboys and cattle by the rest of the nation, was no longer a one-horse town.


The Magnolia Building was completed in 1922, at the time the 16th-tallest building in the country, and housed the offices of the Magnolia Petroleum Company.


The building’s architect, Sir Alfred Charles Bossom, British royal baron and member of Parliament, created a blend of Beaux-Arts classicism and modern 20th-century high rise in his design for the building.


Today, the building serves guests as the Magnolia Hotel, a boutique hotel in the heart of downtown Dallas. The building and its red Pegasus are listed in the National Register of Historic Places and is considered a Texas Historic Landmark.


Click on the author's byline for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.
This issue appears in the ezine at www.pencilstubs.com and also in the blog www.pencilstubs.net with the capability of adding comments at the latter.


 

Irish Eyes

 

By Mattie Lennon

Calling All Writers And Wannabe Writers
And THE MARIAN HOTEL


Are you a writer? Do you want to become a writer? If you answer yes to any of those questions there is one publication that you can’t afford to be without. The Irish Writers Handbook 2026.If you have this publication on your desk or kitchen table you are in a position to consult a team of experts.


If you have published your first book and you are not too well up about publishing you have access to the wisdom of no less than ten writers. Among them household names like who will give you a step by step account of how to deal with defamation law in Ireland.


On the other hand if you are the type of person who sees something in the course of your everyday life but it becomes a persistent image which won’t go away. What do you do about it? Una Mannion quotes another famous writer, Claire Keegan, who tells the reader what she does, “I have to write a story to make the image go away. It’s like an elbow nudging you into examining something you don’t quite understand, but need to."


An essay has been described as something that’s too short to be anything else. Be that as it may, if you are an essay person Susan Tomaselli’s ,Walk the Line: A manifesto on Essays is for you. Ms Tomaselli starts off with, "I came across the phrase ‘taking a line for a walk’ in the notebooks of Swiss-German painter Paul Klee, and I’ve been carrying it with me for decades now. I don’t think it matters that he was talking about drawing: it’s a perfect description of what an essay is.”


Or why not get a few like-minded people and set up a writing group? I did this some years ago and it was a very fulfilling exercise. Apart from fighting with fellow members about deadlines there were no serious hitches. We brought out two collections of writings which went down very well. We even managed to get the foreword of each written by world-renowned literary figures, the late Professor Brendan Kennelly and Lawrence Block. Peter Clarke gives a blow by blow account about what anyone setting up a writers’ group needs to know He even tells you “where to meet!”


If you want to be a poet; and who doesn’t? You have Milena Williamson, Jessica Traynor and Mark Ward to guide you every step of the way.


If you are a competitive person, there are nineteen pages of a directory which gives a list of publishers, eleven pages of agents and seven pages of journals. And contact details for fifty competitions.


What does a commissioning editor look for in a book proposal?


What is the function of a literary agent ? Or do you want a glimpse into the working life of a children’s book illustrator? How do you present your work to a literary festival such as Listowel Writers’ Week? Each and every one of your questions will be answered in the 426 packed pages of this writer’s dream.


Whether you write crime fiction, memoir, YA or want to just find out a little more about how the publishing industry works, the Irish Writers Handbook will be your guide along the way. In this collection you will find some of Ireland’s most talented authors, editors, publishers and creative pro Details from; Wordwell Books, Suite 5, 17, Corrig Rd, Sandyford Business Park, Sandyford, Dublin 18, D18 N6K8.Email: helen@wordwell.essionals offering insight, practical advice and beautiful essays on craft for writers at all stages.


Details from; Wordwell Books, Suite 5, 17, Corrig Rd, Sandyford Business Park, Sandyford, Dublin 18, D18 N6K8.Email: helen@wordwell.ie

* * * * * *


From The Irish Post.


A POWERFUL stage drama written by a survivor of Ireland’s Mother and Baby institutions will be performed in Liverpool next month, bringing personal testimony and lived experience to audiences in Britain. A critically acclaimed play written by a survivor of Ireland’s Mother and Baby Homes is set to arrive at Unity Theatre this February as part of a UK and Ireland tour.


The Marian Hotel, written by Caitriona Cunningham, draws directly on the author’s own experience of giving birth while confined in the Marianvale Mother and Baby Home in Newry. The production will run in Liverpool on February 6 and 7, following a sold-out run across the north of Ireland. Produced by Sole Purpose Productions, the play is set in 1979 during the Troubles and follows 19-year-old Kitty as she enters the institution after becoming pregnant outside marriage. Alongside other young women, she is subjected to a harsh regime of discipline, shame and forced labour — conditions that reflect the wider reality of institutional confinement experienced by thousands of women in Ireland during the 20th century.


Despite the severity of its subject matter, the play also captures moments of humour and solidarity among the women, who ironically dub the institution “The Marian Hotel” as a small act of resistance and shared humanity. The production has been widely praised for its emotional honesty and compassionate storytelling. Director Patricia Byrne has said the play confronts “a dark time in Irish history, bringing the voices of women who were silenced and shamed back into the heart of our communities”.


Cunningham said she hopes the play will encourage open discussion about a history that continues to affect survivors and their families. “I want it to open conversations that challenge shame and silence around experiences that still resonate today,” she said. The Liverpool performances are supported by Fréa Renewing Roots, which provides emotional and practical support to survivors of Irish institutions now living in the north of England. Former residents of Mother and Baby Homes, Magdalene Laundries, residential schools or reformatories who are seeking support can contact Patrick Rodgers at Fréa Renewing Roots on 07432 138682 or by email at patrick.rodgers@frea.org.uk.


One audience member, who was adopted as a child, described The Marian Hotel as “more than just a play — it is a cathartic experience, a call for acknowledgement, and a tribute to all the mothers, daughters and children affected by this history”.


The production is supported by Arts Council England and Culture Ireland, with Sole Purpose Productions core-funded by Arts Council Northern Ireland. Additional funding has been provided by public donations and The National Lottery.


The Marian Hotel


February 6-7 at the Unity Theatre


1 Hope Pl, Liverpool L1 9BG

* * * * * *


See you in March.


Click on the author's byline for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.
This issue appears in the ezine at www.pencilstubs.com and also in the blog www.pencilstubs.net with the capability of adding comments at the latter.


Woo Woo

 


By Pauline Evanosky

Letting the Woo-Woo Flow


Routines are something you don’t have to think about. Having a routine as a writer enables me to succumb more easily to the thoughts that want to be heard. As a psychic, and because I often write about things psychic, I include opportunities to really let the Woo-Woo flow.


At one point in my life, I thought my ordinary side and my psychic side should remain separate from each other.


Thirty-three years into the psychic side of my life, I’ve changed my mind. It is all one piece of fabric. And it’s much easier to think like that rather than to cordon off pieces for one lane or the other.


Just let it flow.


So, I do. At least, I try to.


What is also interesting to me is that my psychic and ordinary sides are both intertwined with my spiritual side. That, too, was something growing up that both knew which side of the room they were relegated to. Now, it is applesauce.


I awaken with a glad heart. And, if I don’t happen to feel very glad about anything, I coax myself with writing exercises, also something I do every day, to get me into the mood. I keep a journal every day. No rules there. Just a place nobody is ever going to read where I just spill it all out. Sometimes, if I have a problem, I can find a solution just by writing. It’s easier for me than going out to play tennis or going to the gym.


The great thing about a journal is that good ideas to write about sometimes leap onto the page. Sure, I’m the one writing, and I have control over my thoughts, but sometimes they leap of their own volition. I call it the magic of writing. If there is woo-woo in it, fine. I’ll accept that. More than likely, it’s just magic that any of us has. Woo-woo is part of that.


In retrospect, once I became a flaming psychic, I realized just how much of my life before was intertwined with being psychic. It’s interesting. I’m sure the same would happen for you, too.


Imagine you were a little kid. It’s easy because you once were a little kid. We’ve got some common ground, so you shouldn’t get confused. You’re at the playground with a bunch of other little kids. You wander over to the sandbox and see kids building forts and streets. They are running little cars over the roadways, under bridges. You’ve never done such a thing. Sure, you’ve played in the sandbox before, but it was always to make cakes and forts. You’d never thought to smooth out roads and sidewalks in your imaginary sand-built world. You take a moment to watch what they are doing, and then you ask if you can join them. It’s how you play. It’s how you meet other people. It’s easy. You’re a kid.


Now, imagine that what I refer to as my woo-woo side of life is the same. I describe it to you. I am matter-of-fact about it. This is what it is like for me. You ask if you can play too. I say sure. That’s all you need to do.


Because you just asked. You don’t need to take a course. All I have are pointers for you. Mostly, what I did was read books and then become a kid as I dived in.


Let’s do this! Let’s do that!


As the years went on, I realized this was my life as it had been before, except it was more fun. It wasn’t all rules. In fact, you make your own rules. This is why no two psychics are the same.


In fact, thinking of them as rules makes me think of areas where you don’t do this and do that instead. Maybe think of them as guidelines. My first one was for the very first days of my talking to Spirit. Everybody and their uncle came in to talk. It was overwhelming to me. It was confusing. I was off balance. I needed time to catch up.


My first rule for the woo-woo: Everyone takes their turn. No talking over each other. I can’t understand. One at a time!!!


The adjustment period was quick. I took one of the recommendations from the book I was using to learn to do psychic channeling to heart. They said for the first year, just talk to your Spirit Guide. Yes, there are a gazillion FIS (Folk in Spirit) out there who would love to talk to you, but just for that first year or so, talk only to your guide. It turns out that was really good advice.


My second rule: Just talk to your Spirit Guide for the first year.


Everybody has a Spirit Guide. He or she is sort of like your guardian angel. In fact, it was explained to me by my own Spirit Guide that folks have more than one during the course of their lifetimes. It varies from person to person, but basically, you’ve got one for when you are young. There is another, or a team, that steps in as you get older. And so on. A lot of times, the Spirit Guides you have when you are a baby are relatives, like grandparents or great-grandparents who have passed on.


These Spirit Guides are not there to ensure we don’t have accidents, because everyone does, and we all learn something from them. My Spirit Guide told me, “We can’t prevent you from having accidents or making mistakes, but we can help you stand up again and brush off your knees.”


I think people like artists and musicians have a better appreciation of their inner selves or their inner spirit than others do. I could be wrong about that; it’s just a feeling I have.


One of the things I had to do to learn this psychic way of life was to lose myself in dreams, in visions, in music. I’m sure it is different for everyone, but it was necessary for me.


Once I realized that there was no way I was going to get lost, I was fine.


I suppose the best way I could describe it is going with the flow. Rather than dividing your day or your year into chunks of morning, noon, and night or the seasons, or even the months of the year, you think of it all as a flowing river. A river where you eat, you sleep, you dream, you work, and all of those things are the same. Getting there will be your own journey.


Imagine that you can take your heart’s desire and move toward it. In a very real way. It’s not hard. You just think about where you want to go and then, with desire, with a determined feeling, you move toward that. It could be having a clean house. It could be earning a college degree. It could be a pleasant garden. It could be a beautiful quilt. It could be a car that you’ve rebuilt.


It could be talking to God.


Hey, thanks for reading. The Woo-woo is not a place to be feared. It is your heart’s desire.
Pauline Evanosky


Click on the author's byline for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.
This issue appears in the ezine at www.pencilstubs.com and also in the blog www.pencilstubs.net with the capability of adding comments at the latter.


Cooking with Rod's Family


By Melinda Cohenour



After completing an extended gig in Sarasota, Florida for Global Signal, I was so pleased to be back in my own Ahwatukee, Arizona home with my own appliances! Mother, Shaun and our little chihuahua Tito really lucked out when I found a fully furnished and equipped home in Sarasota with a lanai, a lovely backyard and a divine adjacency to the barrier islands, including Bird Key and Longboat Key. The experience was one I shall never forget but it took great creativity to cook a meal using the tiny antiquated gas stove that cottage offered. The recipe I share this month is one I adapted from a much earlier Cheesy Ham & Potato Casserole I created when we lived in Dallas, Texas. Many of my memories are tied to special dishes made to please my loved ones. Hope you find enjoyment with this recipe as well.

Bon appetit ~!

MELINDA’S CHEESY HAM CHOWDER

September 2006

INGREDIENTS:

Prepare ham:

    * Meaty ham bone
    * Water to easily submerge bone

Reserved ham chunks to add to soup

Chowder Vegetables:

    * 4 Irish potatoes – peeled and sliced in ½” thick slices
    * 3 carrots – peeled and sliced in ½” slices
    * 3 spines celery – de-stringed, sliced lengthwise and finely chopped
    * 1 large Bermuda or Spanish onion, sliced and diced
    * Pepper to taste
    * Celery salt – scarce ¼ teaspoon for this quantity

Cheesy Bechamel Sauce:

    * 1 cup butter
    * 1 cup flour
    * Pepper to taste
    * 2 cups milk
    * Shredded cheese, preferably Cheddar – Monterrey Jack blend – full 8 oz bag for this quantity chowder. Shred the cheese yourself as pre-packaged shredded cheese has additives you don't want in this dish.

To Finalize the chowder: * 1 can corn, drained

    * 2 Tbsp dried parsley (less for fresh)

INSTRUCTIONS:

1. Prepare ham stock:

    Simmer ham bone in water until tender and stock looks hearty. Remove ham bone, cool until capable of being safely handled. Remove ham from bone and cut in ¾ “ chunks. Stock should be poured into tall, narrow pitcher and refrigerated until fat rises to top and congeals. Remove fat.

2. Prepare chowder vegetables:

    When stock has been de-fatted, pour into bottom of large Dutch oven and add sliced and chopped vegetables. Cover, bring to boil, reduce heat and cook until vegetables are crisp tender.

3. Prepare classic béchamel sauce:

    When chowder vegetables are cooked, prepare cheese sauce. Place butter in sauce pan and melt. When butter is completely melted, whisk in flour, season with pepper and dash celery salt. Permit to cook 1 minute while stirring to prevent scorching. This prepares the roux and rids the flour mixture of its “raw” taste.

    Begin adding milk slowly, whisking while adding. Bring mixture back to boil, stirring constantly. Do not permit to scorch. When béchamel sauce has thickened, remove from heat, add cheese and whisk briskly. This creates a thickened cheese sauce.

4. Complete the chowder:

    Add the cheese sauce to the hot stock and vegetables. Add the cubed ham, can of drained corn and parsley, then taste. Adjust seasoning if necessary. Stir until liquid is evenly velvety.


Serve hot with crisp salad, hot bread and fresh fruit for dessert. Serves 12 easily. To prepare for four reduce ingredient list as appropriate.


Click on the author's byline for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.
This issue appears in the ezine at www.pencilstubs.com and also in the blog www.pencilstubs.net with the capability of adding comments at the latter.


Introspective

 

By Thomas F. O'Neill

True Spirituality Can Bring About Peace


September 11, 2001, changed our nation profoundly, and those who remember what our lives were like prior to 9/11 realize how egregious that attack was and how it changed us. Since then, there is a growing number of Christian fundamentalists in America who depict Islam as nothing more than radical suicide bombers waging war on the U.S. There is certainly a terroristic threat against America by radical Islamic fundamentalists, but they do not represent all of Islam.


Christian fundamentalists also have a habit of distorting history to show how superior they are over the other religions of the world. However, their Islamophobic rhetoric is far from the truth.


When the Christians were experiencing the Dark Ages (400-1400 A.D.), brought on by religious extremism. Muslims were writing about Plato, Aristotle, and other great philosophers.


It was the Muslims' deep thirst for knowledge and wisdom that preserved some of the early literature of antiquity's greatest philosophers. They also preserved the writings of early Christian theologians.


Most contemporary historians - but not all - believe that during the Dark Ages the Christians burned the library of Alexandria in Egypt. The library contained hundreds of thousands of scrolls, literature, and knowledge of the ancient world's greatest thinkers.


The Christians at that time, however, believed that the Bible contained all the knowledge necessary for man's salvation. That belief resulted in the burning of the library and the loss of a treasure trove of knowledge.


There is a particular Islamic sect known as the Sufis, who believe all knowledge is sacred because the human intellect is ours for the enhancement of humanity.


St. Francis of Assisi (1182-1228 A.D.) was greatly influenced by the Sufi belief system. He and the Sufis believed that the spirit of God is implicit and can be known intrinsically by all people, regardless of their religious upbringing. The Sufis and St. Francis of Assisi's spirituality stood in total contrast to mainstream Islam and the Catholic Church's teachings at that time.


The Sufis sought to bring spirituality into the Islamic faith by living and communicating it altruistically. St. Francis was trying to accomplish a similar mission within the Catholic Church of his day.


In the 13th century, Muslim and Christian extremists were slaughtering one another in the name of religion. St. Francis, however, walked into the Muslim camps without harm. He talked to the Muslims about Sufi spirituality and how similar it was to his own.


He was revered by Muslims and Christians alike for his implicit understanding that if you want to be understood, you must touch the hearts of others. He did not accomplish his mission by imposing his will and beliefs upon others. He simply lived his life as he would want others to live their lives; in doing so, others embraced and emulated his way of life.


The Sufi Muslims have a similar mission: to bring about peace in the world through a genuine, authentically lived spirituality.


We mustn't judge all Muslims by fanatical fundamentalists. On the contrary, there are many good and spiritual followers of Islam.


Fundamentalism is dangerous - it forces ill-willed people to live their lives ignorantly due to a lack of spiritual insight and a narrow-minded belief system. You can find these extremists in every religion throughout history.


Religion is shaped by one's parents and by their parents' parents, but our spirituality is what we are born with. Spirituality is the spark, the essence, and the spirit that sustains us and all things. It's beyond rituals and religious symbols because it's the core of our existence. True spirituality is the torch that lights the way, not religious principles that are imposed or mandated on others. It is lived and expressed freely in one's character for others to emulate and embrace.


I did not write this with the intent of offending the religious. I wrote this as a way of expressing how religious beliefs and differences separate people. On the other hand, spirituality can and does unite those who are searching for an altruistic way of life.

Always with love,

Thomas F O'Neill

    Email: introspective7@hotmail.com
    Phone: (410) 925-9334
    Twitter: https://twitter.com/Thomas_F_ONeill
    Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/thomas-f-o-neill-6226b018/
    Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/thomas_f_oneill/
    Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61577967478775/


Click on the author's byline for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.
This issue appears in the ezine at www.pencilstubs.com and also in the blog www.pencilstubs.net with the capability of adding comments at the latter.


Sifoddling Along

 

By Marilyn Carnell

Ozark Speech

I moved to a Senior Living apartment a year ago. It has been a pleasant experience, but sometimes I find that when an Ozark expression or idiom slips into my speech people don’t understand what I am saying. I have a similar problem when they use Scandinavian terms like “Uf Dah” (amazement) or “biffy” (toilet).


Recently I went “down the rabbit hole” of my computer (to use a current example – to follow a random path deep into the internet). I stumbled upon several blogs discussing Appalachian words and customs. Their creators assume that the reader will find the terms new and unique. I am familiar with most of them because the Ozarks and Appalachia share a common language. When I was growing up in the 1950’s some of the following words or terms were still commonly spoken. Sadly, they are dying out and the colorful vocabularies shrinking.


One of my favorite words is poke - depending on the circumstances it can mean an edible weed, a punch in the eye, or a paper bag or sack. Lately it is pronounced Poke-ay and is an Asian bowl of fish and vegetables.


Much of my interaction with others is in the dining room. I have to restrain myself from saying things like: “John ate a “bait” or a” passel” (large amount) of beans. No wonder he has a belly ache. I thought he would founder (overeat). It can also happen when I try to explain a word with an example. “Back in the day when we had free range (no fences) the hogs would fatten up in the fall on mast (acorns).” No wonder they look at me anti-gogglin (sideways).


A statement like “I reckon (think) I can. After supper (dinner) I will do that dreckly (directly, immediately). It is as incomprehensible to a furriner (foreigner, not from this place) as asking him “jeet” (did you eat, spoken rapidly).


The end result has been my renewed interested in speech patterns and wonder at how many of the old expressions I absorbed in my youth.


Click on author's byline for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.


On Trek

 

By Judith Kroll

My Trek

I was in a discussion on the internet, that I found quite interesting. Of course, I had to examine the ins and outs of the discussion within myself.

There was talk about pictures of Jesus, and how he looks, and people claiming he should have brown eyes and some say blue and or green. From his birthplace, he should be brown eyed, people said.

Now, I got to thinking how to answer that. I love to watch the TV show, ¨Ghost inside my child¨. It is all about reincarnation of little children who remember who they were in a past life.

When they come back as another person, they have different parents. In one picture they were brown eyed, and in the new life they are green or blue eyed. Some were of different races. Some were once in China and now the United states etc. Mendel's peas don't seem to matter anymore once one passes on.

When we return to spirit form, it really doesn't matter, we can be blue eyed one day and green another. I did notice that when a medium talks to those who have passed, they come to the reader in the same form they left, either brown or blue eyed, tall, bushy hair etc, so that those left here on earth having the reading, can recognize the person.

So, if Jesus comes as a blond to someone, we should believe them, because it was their visitation!

I have come to the conclusion that everything is temporary, even our looks. When I return to spirit, I am going to be taller.

Judith

Encore of 1/24/15


Click on author's byline for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.


Daniel Boone and Me

 

By John I. Blair

In my heart it makes me proud
To claim my sixth-great grandfather
Is Daniel Boone, the Pathfinder,
Who settled Boonesborough, KY,
And Booneville in Missouri.

I guess my pride’s irrational;
Once I’ve calculated out
What portion of my DNA
Might stem from him
It’s less than two percent.

But genes are not the point;
I figure my excuse is
Rather who he was, and
Who I am, and how we have
Connected through the years.

I love to read about his exploits,
His hunts for bears,
His skirmishes with Indians.
(Although he was a peaceful man
He’d found that passion had its uses.)

He mapped the trackless wilderness
And made his name by taming it,
Yet said if neighbors lived so close
That he could hear an axe
The time had come to move.

Well I can hear my neighbors sneeze;
The bears I dread all trade on Wall Street;
But when I’m scouting fearlessly
Around a freeway traffic jam
I channel Daniel’s frontier glory.

©2006 John I. Blair
Encore


Click on the author's byline for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.
This issue appears in the ezine at www.pencilstubs.com and also in the blog www.pencilstubs.net with the capability of adding comments at the latter.


Cherokee Daughter

 

By Bud Lemire

She was a full blooded Cherokee
With her daughter at her knee
"Mom, can we change shapes like our ancestors did?"
She asked these questions, because she was a kid

She wanted to know all about her ancestry
And how they lived in the land of the free
She wanted to fly as high as she could, into the air
And to explore her spirit and to be aware

A beautiful little girl, with dark black hair
The prettiest smile upon her face, was placed there
She could learn to be brave and be strong
And learn the difference between right and wrong

For her people, things did change
In her life, it turned out to be strange
Voices heard, within her head
They came to her, from the dead

They showed her visions of things to come
Reminded her of where she was from
She stood tall, and she was so proud
Of her heritage, while in a crowd

It wasn't easy, with all they've been through
But they did what only they could do
She became a woman, and raised a family
The Cherokee Daughter, proud of her ancestry

©Jan 11, 2006 Bud Lemire
Encore


Click on the author's byline for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.
This issue appears in the ezine at www.pencilstubs.com and also in the blog www.pencilstubs.net with the capability of adding comments at the latter.


Fine Thursday Ramble

 

By Walt Perryman

I am just rambling this fine Thursday morning,
However, some could see this as a warning.

As I age, I have many more good memories than bad,
And that’s good, considering how many bad ones I’ve had.

I believe that believing in God can always ease our pain.
However, if your heart is not true, then to believe is in vain!

I believe our actions will always show who we really are,
And, to believe and live God’s way, is always better by far.

This may not make sense to everyone anyway,
But I have a question: how are you living today?

©January 2026 Walt Perryman


Click on the author's byline for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.
This issue appears in the ezine at www.pencilstubs.com and also in the blog www.pencilstubs.net with the capability of adding comments at the latter.


Lipstick Girl

By Bruce Clifford

Lipstick girl in this chaotic world.
You bring calm to me.
You help me believe.

Lipstick girl, you’re the heart in the pearl.
You allow me to see.
You’re my everything.

I know you never leave your home
Without your lipstick, lipstick girl.

Lipstick girl in this turbulent world.
Pretty pink or in red.
You’re in the dreams in my head.

Lipstick girl, you’re the smile in my world.
The same moon that we see.
You brought faith back to me.

I never leave my home
Lipstick girl, as we take on the world.
As we’re divided by the sea.
You’ve helped me believe.

There’s no one more beautiful
Than my lipstick, lipstick girl.

©1/10/2026 Bruce Clifford


Click on author's byline for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.


The Year We Had A Crazy Neighbor

 

By John I. Blair

It was the year we had a crazy neighbor.
On moonlit nights he’d haunt the yard,

Staring at the treetops where, he told me,
Men were perching, talking to him.

I never knew precisely what to do,
So I’d say something dumb, then look away.

They didn’t scare him much, the treetop men;
But he wondered what they had in mind,

For it was his mother’s house
Where he was allowed to live at large

Instead of at the hospital
As long as he remained improved.

I guess he feared his visitors
Were putting that at risk.

Funny thing: although I thought
I ought to testify that nobody was there,

I never gained the confidence
To tell him that for sure.

©2006 John I. Blair
Encore


Click on the author's byline for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.
This issue appears in the ezine at www.pencilstubs.com and also in the blog www.pencilstubs.net with the capability of adding comments at the latter.


I Ask My Cousin

 

By Bud Lemire

I ask my Cousin, she knows all about it
She's researched it well, and has some great wit
I usually don't research, unless it's something I like
Like genealogy, or what looks great on my bike

She knows things, with business, life, and more
I'm lucky to remember, what to get at the store
She likes to be informed, and up to date
I try to be on time, just so I'm not late

I ask my Cousin, what's happening out there
She has her sources, and she's quite aware
For me, I just wonder, inside my mind
Always something happening, is what I find

Hey Cousin, what do you know
Have you looked out, to see a rainbow
She tends to pick up, on all the news
Me, I'm uninformed, but that's what I choose

There's enough to know out there, but what is true
Too much fake news all over, so what can I do
My Cousin lives it, she knows the truth is happening when it does
I always ask my Cousin, she knows what is and what was

©Jan 25, 2026 Bud Lemire

                       Author Note:

My Cousin would be the first to tell you that she doesn't know
everything. One thing for sure, she likes to keep up on the
latest news and what is happening locally and in the world.
Many times it affects us in so many ways. She keeps me
posted on the important things that affect me as well.
Thank you Cousin, for the answers I don't look for
myself.


Click on the author's byline for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.
This issue appears in the ezine at www.pencilstubs.com and also in the blog www.pencilstubs.net with the capability of adding comments at the latter.


Old One about Children

 

By Walt Perryman

The Bible has many Verses on how we should raise a child,
If we’d read and obeyed them, our world wouldn’t be so wild.

We do have many Godly based children being raised today,
But we have many more, that has never known God’s way!

Many of our children are never taught about God at home.
And so many of those are left alone and are free to roam.

Too many bad parents allow their children to run around wild,
It’s not a schoolteacher’s job to try to fix a bad parent’s child.

I believe all children need boundaries and rules to live by,
Otherwise, most of them will learn how to cheat and lie.

Many children do not have a father living at home with them,
To help their mother enforce Gods rules and their future is dim.

Now don’t get me wrong, there are many good kids too.
All I’m saying is, I don’t believe there are as many of you?

I believe our children are the future of God’s green earth,
And I also believe they need God in their lives from birth.

Our problem is we have had too many Godless generations,
And I believe it is the reason for the fall of many great nations.

Children need fertile soil to grow, as does, Gods beautiful flowers.
And folks, God knows it is not the children’s fault, it is, ours!

©January 2026 Walt Perryman


Click on the author's byline for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.
This issue appears in the ezine at www.pencilstubs.com and also in the blog www.pencilstubs.net with the capability of adding comments at the latter.


I Love Her More

By Bruce Clifford

It was once written in the stars.
Long ago and from very far.
The vertical cosmic reign.
Feeling this way is hard to explain.
I love her more every single day.

I was once drifting in the sky.
Long ago before you and I.
Monuments and raccoon slippers by the sea.
Feeling this way, the only way It can be.
I love her from here to far across the sea.

We were once hovering above the clouds.
Drifting in tandem, singing out loud.
A moment in time while space keeps us alive.
Together we are elevated in this cosmic rhyme.
I love her more than all space and time.

©1/7/2026 Bruce Clifford


Click on author's byline for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.


What Is It About Cats?

 

By John I. Blair

What is it about cats

That they never come straight toward you

Like a dog?

Instead they angle slightly to the side,

Pretending they’ve a different agenda

That just by chance will take them

Into your vicinity. And,

If you should wish to pet them as they pass,

They might tolerate it.

©2006 John I. Blair
Encore


Click on the author's byline for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.
This issue appears in the ezine at www.pencilstubs.com and also in the blog www.pencilstubs.net with the capability of adding comments at the latter.


Freeze Me!

 

By Bud Lemire

Freeze me! It's so damn cold
Either that, or I'm getting old
Below Zero temps, old winter is here
Need something warm, to cover my ear

I'll put on my beaver hat today
Not going to freeze, it's not my way
I'll bundle up tight, if I go out
Not going to freeze, but I may shout

In below zero temps, I'll stay at home
A warm apartment, and I'll be alone
I'll work on a project, I have plenty to do
Getting things done, is what helps me through

Don't go outside, if you don't have to be
Stay inside, be warm, be just like me
Don't expose your skin, to the frigid cold air
Wait for the summer, then you can bare

Visions of me on a warm summer day, on my bicycle
While I stare out the window, at a hanging icicle
A car drives by, and starts to slide
Freeze me! I'm not going outside

©Jan 25, 2026 Bud Lemire

                       Author Note:

Don't go outside and freeze,
if you don't have to
These below temperatures are nasty.
Stay inside and stay warm.


Click on the author's byline for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.
This issue appears in the ezine at www.pencilstubs.com and also in the blog www.pencilstubs.net with the capability of adding comments at the latter.


As Old As I Am

 

By Walt Perryman

As old as I am, I thought that I would know,
What I should not do and where not to go.

As old as I am, I should have life figured out,
And be doing what I should without a doubt.

As old as I am, I still need to change my ways,
And not try to live like I did in my younger days.

As old as I am, I feel like I am still learning
That our lives are like a candle that’s burning.

As old as I am, I am still not all that clever,
I often forget; candles don’t burn forever.

©Jan 4, 2026 Walt Perryman


Click on author's byline for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.


Before You

By Bruce Clifford

I can’t imagine my life without you.
You’re the girl who make makes me think.
You mean everything to me.
I can’t imagine my any of my dreams without you.

We can both see the same moon no matter how far apart we are.
In September and in June we align a cosmic star.

I can’t remember what life was like before you.
You’re always in my thoughts and oh how I adore you.
I can’t imagine any of my dreams without you.
You mean everything to me.

We can both see the same moon no matter how far apart we are.
In September and in June we align a cosmic star.

I can’t imagine my life without you.
You’re the girl who make makes me think.
You mean everything to me.
I can’t imagine my any of my dreams without you.
I can’t remember what this life was like before you.

©1/5/2026 Bruce Clifford


Click on author's byline for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online