Editor's Corner

By Mary E. Adair

January 2011

Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot -Unknown 
A New Year holds so much promise that we sometimes don't think that part of the promise is built upon the foundation of all that has gone before, experiences and friendships and always family. So no, never forget the "Auld Acquaintances." Our LC Van Savage celebrates her birth with the birth of the year annually, and that is a nice way to begin the season! However the year did get off to a rocky start with wild weather globally: Flooding in Queensland, drenching rains and mudslides in California, tornadoes in Missouri and Arkansas, and even threatening nearby states. Should we look on this as a wake-up call, and get our act together. Not just making resolutions, but planning for our future with the best safeguards we can provide?

Such looking ahead is an "Endless Trail," as suggested by John I. Blair in the poem by that name. Bruce Clifford says "I Can't Forget," and his other poem this issue is "Remembering," so we aren't the only ones in a reflective mood. Blair's other poems for January including more reminiscing are: "1642 South Washington," "Puddle-Seeking Plymouth," and "Looking For The Horse Thief." The next two, also by Blair, are more subtle: the bird lover in him makes "Canada Geese" a tone poem, while "Sensation" explores living in the moment awareness.

Awareness is what spurred Mike's blog, which can be read here: "My Christmas Bonus." Of course if you are reading this on our blog which is the dot net version (the ezine is the dot com version) you can simply click it on the sidebar.

Thomas F. O'Neill in his column "Introspective," is elated to announce that one of his mentors he worked with personally, Mother Teresa will receive special recognition. Mattie Lennon with "Irish Eyes" lets us in on the fact that his retirement is nigh. Congrats, Mattie.

The article by LC Van Savage on "Teachers and Heroes" is also about remembering, while her column "Consider This" delivers her promised truth about Snow White. Gerard Meister shares some insight on 'mothering' in a poignant manner in "Thinking Out Loud."  The Mail Bag features the letter from the Titans unit Commander, Cpt. Tim Heisler, who happens to be Leo C. Helmer's grandson. Two of Tim's sisters and his younger brother are also serving militarily as National Guard and Army Reserve. And yes, Grandpa has pictures to show.

The story "Doll Hands" will wake you up, and you'll likely recall it for awhile. It is by Bruce Clifford's collegiate daughter Brooke who graced our pages while still in High School. Speaking of stories, the continuing one, "Rabbo Tales," adds Chapter 6, part 1 bears the title "Full Moon," and our rabbit is growing up fast.

"Cookin' With Leo" by Leo C. Helmer brings us "Aztec Annie's Superbowl Coffee," and Eric Shackle gives us the low-down and where to on "Willie Wonky's Amazing Chocolate" in his column, so we have delightful snacking info. "Always Looking" John I. Blair's column and "Angel Whispers" by Peg Jones, are on vacation for January.

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. We invite you to become a fan of our publication at FaceBook.

See you in February for the first issue of the new volume!

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Click on Mary E. Adair for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.

Endless Trail

By John I. Blair

Whatever the fruit,
I mean to trace
This endless trail, to chase
What lies beyond the bend,
Desirable, elusive,
Unknowable place.

The wind blows in my face,
My eyes weep, skin tingles,
Gnats cling to my arms,
The sun beats down
On my sweating head,
Stinging with delight.

Around me, hints of night.
The long and glistening river,
The duck-dotted ponds,
Silently listen as I pass.
Every mile looms new,
Every mile’s the same.

I’m confident whence I came
But not sure where I’m going;
Nor do I much care.
I just devote my body,
My mind, my bliss
To the pure pursuit.

©2004 John I. Blair

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Click on John I. Blair for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.

Puddle-Seeking Plymouth

By John I. Blair

Where Grandma Braun had dwelled
Only the well adorned the spot
And the big barn, leaning just a bit
As the beams within began to rot.

We were two feckless teenage boys
Out on an early April lark
Deep in the Kansas countryside
Meaning to fly a kite before dark.

With Roger at the steering wheel
And mine the navigation part
We were in reckless trouble
Nearly from the start.

The car rolled down the rutted lane
As far as we would dare,
Looking for empty pasture
And unencumbered air.

And then a sucking mudhole
Swallowed us to the doors,
Mired us to the ankles,
Scared us to our cores.

A long hike on a county road,
A sympathetic farmer
A big green John Deere tractor
Left us feeling calmer;

But when we drove back to the city,
Our faces flushed and red,
Instead of abashed embarrassment
It was exhilaration instead!

Before that year was cold and done,
A year among our worst,
We’d stuck that car in two more bogs—
The best time was the first.

©2004 John I. Blair

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Click on John I. Blair for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.

Eric Shackle's Column

By Eric Shackle

Willie's Wonky Chocolate Factory Visited

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Intrigued by a TV series,Willie's Wonky Chocolate Factory, shown in Australia, we searched the internet for details, and found an amazing story about a charismatic guy, Willie Harcourt-Couze.

He was born during World War II to an Irish woman, His father was Burmese. After attending schools in Ireland he moved to London when he was 16.

There, he worked variously as a decorator, restaurateur, and part-owner of a nightclub, among other jobs.

In 1993, he fell in love with a lovely model, Tania Coleridge, a descendant of the famous poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge, author of Rime of the Ancient Mariner, and Kubla Khan. He flew to her home in California to marry her.

They spent their honeymoon in Venezuela, where they discovered and later bought a 1000 acre (400 ha) cacao farm.

A few years later, Willie built a factory in Uffculme, Devon, England. to make what he hoped would be the world's best chocolate. British TV Channel 4 cameras followed the project step by step for a series of documentaries.

In 2008 the TV show was recommissioned for a second series, the follow-up series Willie's Chocolate Revolution: Raising the Bar, aired on Channel 4 over three consecutive nights in April 2009. This followed Willie's attempt to introduce a high-cacao chocolate bar, "Delectable", to the British market.

Willie Harcourt-Couze has been dubbed an eccentric entrepreneur with a mission to educate the public in the delights of top quality chocolate.

He may be eccentric, but he's also very clever, and probably very rich ... like his chocolate.

To find out more about Willie, the farm and factory, visit Willie's World at WilliesCacao.com.

POSTSCRIPT.
We asked Willy's sister -in-law Sophie how we could taste his chocolate. She replied:

Dear Eric,
Thanks very much for your email.
We're very pleased to hear that you enjoyed the show.
You will find Willie’s Cacao in Australia in branches of jones the grocer, see www.jonesthegrocer.com.
Alternatively you can buy Willie’s Cacao at our online shop, please visit our website for details or contact enquiries@willieschocolateshop.com
Willie is currently looking at more beans from around the World so there should be some more interesting bars available in the future.
In his quest for more beans earlier this year Willie visited Colombia and Mexico see
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wCnKfFNUpP8&sns=em
Kind regards,
Sophie

So we emailed Jones the Grocer and asked about buying a few blocks of Willie's wonderful chocolate, only to be told stocks were "flying out the door."
Fortunately, they caught one for us.
Our report... Great chocolate: five stars. *****

Posted by shack at 9:08 PM to

LifeBeginsAt80

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Click on Eric Shackle for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.

Thinking Out Loud

By Gerard Meister

My constant readers know of my high regard for women. And I speak of an assembly of pertinent facts: they are both the “givers - of - life” and the keepers of the nest, while at the same time manage to weave into the warp and woof of the fabric of society some of their God given sensitivity into all of our lives, to wit:

My wife and I now use wheel chairs to get through the airport. Customarily, my wife receives a female attendant for the chair and I a male. This time I received a female attendant and my wife a male. While it is true that my wife has less ambulatory and balance problems than I do, the difference of being in a woman’s hands as opposed to the hands of a male are significant, in that the man stands by and watches as you progress through the TSA gauntlet, while the woman seeks to help proactively. For example, my attendant helped me take my shoes off – no mean feat while balanced on a cane; then she slid over a few bins and helped me off with my jacket and packed the bins for me; then walked around the metal detector with my cane so I needed only one step to grasp my cane (phew); then she brought me a chair to wait for the bins to come and helped with getting my shoes back on and getting my stuff together. In other words dear reader, she “mothered” me.

Then there was this: I watch the television show “Cops” quite often. I like the show because it is unrehearsed and save for the camera on the scene, the director lets things unfold without his/her imprint on the action. In this one segment, a young mother and father were caught while in their car buying heroin from a sidewalk drug dealer. This with their son – toddler of about 18 months – strapped into a car seat. The parents, particularly the mother, started crying as they were cuffed and dragged from the vehicle. The baby seeing his mother in tears started to whimper and a female officer on the scene quickly unstrapped the child and cradled him to her chest. The little boy immediately put his arm around the officer’s neck and stopped crying. Clearly, he knew instinctively that he was safe; he was being “mothered.”

Shortly, child protective attendants came on the scene and a young female officer smilingly took the little boy from the policewoman who protested by kicking and flailing his arms. “He’ll be fine,” she said as she turned to walk away and the little boy began to cry.

Now, the scene shifts back to the police officer, a young, blond woman probably in her mid-thirties seated in the front passenger seat of her patrol car. She is alone; her partner is nowhere to be seen. The director, in a Scorcese type move, keeps the camera out of sight and shoots the policewoman through the driver’s side window as she dissolves into shoulder-heaving sobs (we cannot hear her), covers both her eyes with the palms of her hands and the sobbing intensifies – no sound – but the shoulders heaving ever higher as the scene fades to black; not a sound from the narrator – no background noise, except for the tears flowing softly down my wife’s and my cheeks.

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Click on Gerard Meister for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.