Kat, or maybe it was akabukowski, once said to me that everyone thinks their life would make a good book.
She is probably right. What do you think?
Here is your chance.
Let's all tell stories from our experiences as we traveled through time.
Ahh, but there has to be rules. They will be pretty loose, but rules there must be.
1. It can be any experience that you want to tell us about.
2. It can be as short as one line. Or as long as fifty. Anything over thirty will be deleted.
3.You do not have to end the story at fiftyy lines, but you have to quit writing at the end of fiftyy lines. You can not post again until at least one other person has posted something.
This ensures that everyone gets a chance.
4.You can continue on the same subject or jump to a new one.
5. Nothing is required to be in chronological order.
6. Very Graphic Sexual discriptions should be posted in the sex talk group. You can direct us to go there if we want to read about it.
7. No one will be checking the facts
8. Additional rules will be posted and implemented as I see fit.
Step right up and post. who knows, the next knock on your door may be Spielberg asking for the movie rights.
*through tears and smiles*
I am in awe of all of you. I am humbled and honored to read this thread. You have shared your funnies and your sorrows willingly.
This is the fabric of life...
I thank you.
Wow, these stories are so touching. . . . I'm not such a good storyteller, but I sure enjoyed reading all these.I was always a tomboy. Grew up in a neighborhood of mostly boys, but there were lots of kids, and the parents were all friends. Most of the men in the neighborhood worked in the steel mills, or at a Westinghouse plant. My dad was an ornamental ironworker and mom was home most of my childhood. For awhile she worked in a drug store, but I think I was in grade school then,and she only worked until I got home from school. Someone in the neighborhood had a black dog, part cocker spaniel, named Sparky. Sparky was everyone's dog. He stunk though. Like a wet dog, but he was everywhere, and we all loved him. . Anyway, during the day, we'd ride bikes for hours, pack lunches and eat anywhere when we got hungry. We'd hike along the creek, through those big sewers, under the roads, and sometimes even eat our lunches in those sewers, always exploring. . we'd climb trees, and swing across the road on vines. . . and I had the BEST tarzan yell. . or we'd go to the "rec center" which was sort of a mini day camp in the neighborhood that offered tennis, archery, painting, softball, all kinds of activities, everyday, and it was open all day long. I'm sure we checked in at home during the day, but I just remember playing every day and knowing there was always someone around to hang out with, even if it was Sparky. Summer evenings, the parents and kids often got together in someone's yard. . . I hated that I had to get a bath before dinner (I probably smelled like Sparky though), the men drinking beer and telling stories and we'd have a fire going in a fire pit, telling ghost stories. . . we'd sleep outside in sleeping bags, scare each other and I always ended up going inside undoubtedly. But we had fun, and I think I had a great childhood, and I know I was loved and cared for. We had a drive-in close by, a penny candy store (Ted's), and a 5 and 10 that sold those painted turtles and colored peeps at Easter time. I have great memories of being a kid, with two older brothers, and a HUGE extended family.
don't ever say again that you're not a good storyteller, Cat. You had me right there w/you the whole time.
What a beautiful childhood you had. You are very fortunate.
I have lead an ordinary life.
I remember standing next to my Mom while she was driving. I had just gotten an innocculation of some sort and my arm was swollen and I was crying. She put her arm around me.
I remember holding her withered aged hand and counting her breaths and feeling her pulse. I remember kissing her good bye forever that night.
I remember watching my father..intriguing and distant. I remember coming to emotional blows with him as I grew up. I remember kissing him for the first time and the last time after not seeing him for five years.
I remember carrying a very hoped for and wanted baby in my belly. Feeling her grow and move...twitch and stretch. I remember going to hospital so ready and excited. I remember letting my body do what it needed to get that wonderful little creature into my life.
I remember the doctor saying "it's a baby but it's not normal". I remember not holding on to her while she died.
I remember trying to breath life into a baby brought in by young distraught parents. They found her cold in the the crib. It didn't work. I remember a woman brought found by family when she wanted to leave this world...it worked.
I remember a man having a massive MI...he was conscious and combative. He wanted to know what was happening. I told him the truth and he calmed down and survived.
Some things I remember more clearly than others.
I can only echo Robbie...