Original Leisure & Entertainment

Do you think it means I’m growing old
When thoughts of winter snow
Mean icy streets and frozen toes
And cars that just won’t go?
Of shoveling walks and clearing drives
Wet mittens hung to dry,
Of late to work, . . . 

For years I’ve been able to watch the Christmas time of year through the eyes of a retail hardware store owner in Waynedale. But I started 43 years ago as a teenager that swept the floors and cleaned the bathroom in dad’s store. Christmas sure . . . 

I was dozing on the couch a few days before Christmas, when the scent of warm pine needles and candle wax permeated my consciousness. Still in my semi-conscious state, I was transported back through the years to a rough, little house perched on the . . . 

I’d like to climb on the wooden sled with Larry, and let Daddy pull us across the snow to hunt the perfect pine tree. We would have to stop and look at the intricate formation of the snowflakes that were falling on Daddy’s brown jersey gloves, . . . 

Old Jasper Blankenship bought a deer license again this year, just as he’s done every year since Eisenhower was President. He sticks nickels and dimes in a jar all year long and smiles each time he contributes. By Fall, he’s saved up enough for . . . 

The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,
Of wailing winds and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere.
Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead;
They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit’s . . . 

Cyrus was an old farmer and had worked hard all of his life. He was independent, but he was getting older and everything was just a little bit harder. Still, he was determined to maintain his independence and pride.

When the Boy Scouts came around wanting . . . 

Summer was dying; they all agreed. It was evident in the pallor of her early morning fogs, and in the encroaching coolness of her nights. She was a little slower in getting up in the morning, and evening found her creeping off to bed just a little . . . 

O, suns, and skies, and clouds of June,
And flowers of June together,
Ye cannot rival for one hour
October’s bright blue weather;
By Helen Hunt Jackson

The heavenly blue sky of October overshadows our hills today; such an expanse of color that it . . . 

To look at Herb Collins, you wouldn’t think he was like that. A nicer, kinder guy you never met. But for one evening each year … one little slice of time … he’s downright diabolical.

Every small town has one, of course. There is always that . . . 

This story concerns a 92-year-old, petite, proud man who is fully dressed each morning by eight o’clock, with his hair fashionably coifed and face shaved clean, even though he is legally blind.

Since his wife of 70 years recently passed away, it was . . . 

 Donna and I had barely started dating. She played in the orchestra for a musical, so I went almost every night. One night after the musical finished, she invited me backstage. As we were mingling with other cast and orchestra members, one of them . . . 

A Christian writing club at the Waynedale Public Library, 2200 Lower Huntington Road meets every month on the fourth Tuesday (no meetings in December).

Recently author, Kayleen Reusser, announced at one of the writing club meetings that she will be . . . 

The Golden Delicious apples are being picked on farms in Clay County, sending housewives for their cookers, pans and paring knives. This particular apple is a native of Clay County, West Virginia, being discovered on the Mullins farm at Bomont. The . . . 

Betty couldn’t believe what Maxine had just whispered in her ear. “Say that again.”

Maxine leaned across the arm of her wheelchair, raised her hand to her mouth, leaned in close to Betty’s ear and repeated her statement.

Betty raised her hands . . . 

When Florencio Ortiz sent off for that new slicker, everyone in town and out at the ranch knew about it. He described in detail how waterproof it was and how a cowboy just couldn’t possibly get wet with this slicker on.

Then it came, and Florencio . . .