[stylist] Christmas exercise

Tue Dec 20 00:44:34 UTC 2011

Donna,

I really like this. You drew us right in to the 
surprise ending. I didn't really see it coming, 
but hind sight it should have been obvious, I 
think that is to your writer credit. I don't 
think you need the bit on the end of Diane's 
sister being blind as it gives me the thought 
that she then ought have known about working dogs. Very nice though.

Brad

On 12/19/2011  06:14 PM Donna Hill said...
>Hi Friends,
>
>I dug this piece out of my old files. It's an experiment done in the first
>person -- everything in the first person is a bit of an experiment for me,
>as I'm much more comfortable with third person even when writing about
>myself. An older woman is telling the reader a story while taking care of
>her granddaughter , as though you were sitting in the room with her. Anyway,
>I thought I'd share. I've copied it below and attached it.
>
>Donna
>
>
>
>The Christmas Bazaar
>
>
>
>
>
>I saw Diane this morning -- Snyder, I think her name is now.  She asked me
>to have coffee with her at Molly's.  It still bothers her, even after all
>these years.  Of course I've never told her that I saw the whole thing; she
>feels bad enough as it is.
>
>
>
>No, sweetie, stay away from Grandma's china.
>
>
>
>Where was I?  Yes, well it happened years ago, when I was the director of
>the interfaith ministries and thrift shop.  It was a good job -- not much
>money but lots of nice people, and Jim's practice was thriving, so it's not
>like I really had to work.
>
>
>
>Anyway, every December, we would have our Christmas Bazaar for families in
>need.  People donated toys, mostly store-bought, but we received some
>hand-made things too.  The Tyler's gave us adorable doll cradles - he made
>them in his shop and then she'd paint them. I had another lady who made rag
>dolls with beautiful peasant dresses.  One old guy - I can't believe I don't
>remember his name!  But, he made wagons and other toys, yoyos and puzzles,
>that sort of thing.
>
>
>
>And of course, we had Susan.  She liked to knit and she brought in beautiful
>afghans all year round - lap warmers, she called them - for our ladies in
>assisted care.
>
>
>
>To tell you the truth, I was a bit skeptical when I first took over.  I
>didn't know that she had been doing it for years.  I was confused about what
>to do with them.  What price could I put on them that wouldn't be an insult
>to her or too high for our patrons!
>
>
>
>So, I mentioned something to Susan and she set me straight, said they were
>to be given away, either to old people or new mothers.  She told me that
>would be worth more than any money we could get, and she was right.
>
>
>
>The first one that fall -- I'll never forget it -- it was pale blue and so
>soft!  There was a ruffle on top, and the sides and bottom were scalloped.
>It looked like a picture frame, borders of different patterns one inside the
>next with a leafy vine in the middle.
>
>
>
>I went along with Joan - she had the elder ministry in those days -- to
>Jenny's place.  She really makes it nice for them, so homey, you know?  I
>remember that day; she had Indian corn on the mantle.Isn't it strange how
>some things stick with you?
>
>
>
>My goodness, was I nervous going there the first time!  But, I suppose we're
>all a bit uncomfortable with that sort of thing, seeing how frail they are
>and the oxygen tubes and such.  I shouldn't talk; I'll be there soon enough
>myself.
>
>
>
>Sweetie, hold still.you're going to trip over your laces!  Someday, you'll
>be able to do this all by yourself.There you go.
>
>
>
>She's such a blessing!  Anyway, the lap warmer.   I didn't know who to give
>it to.  I looked around for quite a while.  There was this one little old
>lady in a rocking chair by the fireplace; she didn't have anyone, and she
>was so sweet.  Still had a twinkle in her eye, you know?  She was thrilled
>to have something hand-made, said that shade of blue was her favorite color.
>I felt great about it!  I still can't help smiling to myself whenever I
>think of it.
>
>
>
>That Christmas Susan made the cutest little pillow and afghan sets for dolls
>and brought them in for the bazaar.  The pillows had a multi-colored design
>on the front.  I don't know a thing about knitting myself, but they were
>like miniature decorator pillows, fringed and -- I can still remember
>touching them -- the backs felt like wide wale corduroy.
>
>
>
>Diane was one of the young mothers that year.  She had it rough; the father
>of those children never lifted a finger to help.  Anyway, she came in and
>picked out some things for the kids.  I had seen her before. She had been in
>a few times with the little girl while the other two were in school.  I
>always tried to talk to the customers.remember their names.make them feel
>like there was some connection.  Anyhow, I noticed Diane looking at the sets
>and went over to talk to her a bit.  She seemed so down, wouldn't even look
>at me.  She rummaged through them for quite a while and then asked if she
>could take a lilac one.  She said the little girl was crazy about anything
>purple. Naturally, I told her she could.that's what they were there for.
>She actually smiled at me.  It's the little things like that, that make you
>think you're really helping.
>
>
>
>I didn't think anymore of it.  Then, one evening - it was just after
>Christmas -- I stopped at the market after work for a few things.
>
>
>
>I saw Diane up ahead. She looked exhausted. I don't think she noticed me.
>The older two were fussing with each other and the little girl was prancing
>around.  She was such a beautiful child!  About three years old at the time,
>I'd imagine.  I could see her looking across the store.you know how they do
>at that age with their eyes wide and their mouths hanging open?  I heard
>Diane tell her to go pet the puppy.  When I looked up, I saw them standing
>by the shopping cart.  I guess she was waiting for her husband to get
>something down the aisle.  Her guide dog was just standing there as proud as
>you please.  Oh, he was a beauty, shiny black coat and huge brown eyes!
>
>
>
>I guess Diane didn't know that you're not supposed to pet them.  I started
>toward them, but I was too far away to say anything. It all happened so
>fast.
>
>
>
>So, the little girl went running over to them as happy as all get out.  I
>guess she had heard Diane and then the little one running toward them,
>because she bent down and touched  her dog's head and said something like,
>"No, no, sweetie, this is a working dog, we don't pet dogs when they're
>working."
>
>
>
>The child was disappointed, of course and ran back to her mother.  Diane was
>just about there anyway, and I guess she had heard her coming because she
>turned right to her and explained it to her, about how you can't pet them
>when the harness is on and to teach her children to always ask.
>
>
>
>She wasn't unkind about it, I didn't think, but Diane . Well, I can't repeat
>it all, but she went away grumbling, "What?  You can't even pet the bleeping
>dog?  Who the bleep does she think she is anyway?"
>
>
>
>I couldn't believe my ears!  I didn't want her to see me, to know that I'd
>heard her, so I ducked down an aisle.  It bothered me, you know?  I didn't
>know how to deal with it.  I thought I should say something.  I mean, I
>wanted to slap her mouth for one thing, and what kind of attitude is that
>anyway?  We're all human, aren't we?
>
>
>
>I said to myself, "Just let it go, it's none of your business."  When I got
>up front with my cart though, there she was, Diane, I mean.  It was pretty
>crowded and we were in different lines but next to each other.
>
>
>
>She said hello, and we chatted about the holidays.  She thanked me for the
>bazaar and went on about the kids all liking their presents.  The little one
>was skipping up and down the aisle.  She said she particularly liked the
>doll pillow and blanket, couldn't be separated from them.
>
>
>
>So I say, "I'll have to tell Susan - she'll be tickled."  Then, I mentioned
>that I had just seen her earlier.
>
>
>
>I should have stopped right there, but for some reason I looked around just
>then, and there they were, headed out - her husband pushing the cart and
>Susan and the dog following.
>
>
>
>"There she is," I said - it just came out so naturally, "Just going out the
>door with the black guide dog."
>
>
>
>Well, Diane lost all of her color.  I still couldn't stop myself, but I
>thought she should know, and I think it was as tactful as it could have
>been.  I said, "I want to pet him so badly, but you aren't supposed to, not
>when they're wearing that harness."
>
>
>
>Diane has never mentioned it specifically, but she says things, especially
>since her sister lost her sight.  They say it's genetic, but no one in there
>family ever . Well, I guess you never know.
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>=======
>Email scanned by PC Tools - No viruses or spyware found.
>(Email Guard: 7.0.0.21, Virus/Spyware Database: 6.18910)
>http://www.pctools.com/
>=======
>
>
>_______________________________________________
>Writers Division web site:
>http://www.nfb-writers-division.net <http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/>
>
>stylist mailing list
>stylist at nfbnet.org
>http://nfbnet.org/mailman/listinfo/stylist_nfbnet.org
>To unsubscribe, change your list options or get your account info for stylist:
>http://nfbnet.org/mailman/options/stylist_nfbnet.org/lists%40braddunsemusic.com

Brad Dunsé

"Tell me, and I'll forget. Show me, and I'll 
remember. Involve me, and I'll learn." --Unknown

http://www.braddunsemusic.com

http://www.facebook.com/braddunse

http://www.twitter.com/braddunse