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2009 & A rts L etters E xpressions from the Ridge n Thursday, July 30, 2009 Special to the Paradise Post

Arts and Letters 2009

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22000099&Ar t s

Le t t e r s

Expressions from the Ridge

n

Thursday, July 30, 2009 • Special to the Paradise Post

2 PARADISE POST • Arts &Letters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

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Thursday, July 30, 2009 • Arts &Letters• PARADISE POST 3

Go to paradisepost.com

to see all thesubmissions!

WelcomeWelcome to the annual Arts

and Letters. For the secondyear in a row, The Post hasdecided to put all the Arts andLetters into a single product.

We believe it’s better thanthe old format that we pub-lished over a period of fourweeks. Now it’s in a formatreaders can leave on a coffeetable for a year and return toperiodically.

We had an outstandingresponse with more than 78submissions, however, space islimited. Submissions that did-n’t make this print version canbe found on our Web sitewww.paradisepost.com.

F. Brian Andrews “Lookout Point”“Greystone” (below)

Background:Live here in Paradise and enjoy photographing the beauty around the area.I'm currently enrolled at Butte College for a degree in Photography.Previous publications:Some previous photos of mine were printed in The Post.Most recent is the front page shot of the lightning,June 6th, 2009.

Age: 42

P

Robert B. Anderson CFP®

CERTIF IED FINANCIAL PL ANNER TM profe ss ional

ANDERSON

Ponderosa Professional Center

7054 Skyway • 877-4111Securities offered through Securities America, Inc., member

FINRA/SIPC, Robert B Anderson Registered Representative.Advisory services offered through Securities America

Advisors, Inc., Robert B Anderson Investment AdvisorRepresentative CA Insurance License # 0631042

I’m proud to say that my staff and I havebeen helping Ridge residents with theirinvestments for more than twenty five years. I am an Investment Advisor Representativeand licensed stockbroker with SecuritiesAmerica, which has selling agreements withnearly all major investment companies. As arepresentative of Securities America, I amfree to choose investments that are best suited to my clients.

ROBERT

Paul Westbrook - Age: 73Background: BS Degree in public relations & communication.

Professional public relations, marketing and institutional development consultant.

Previous publications: “Vapor Trails and a few Grains of Sand”Medium: Creative Writing, items from my book

Inspiration: Experience of life. (See page 11 for more of this artist)4 PARADISE POST • Arts &Letters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

Cover Artists

Janet Bauer“Patrick’s Point”

See more of this artist on page 33

MargieChapman

See more of thisartist

on page 39

AshtonBoni

See more of this artist

on page 33

JulieGraulich“Sunrise at

Grey Lodge”See more of this

artist on page 34

DURING the middle forties just after the end ofWWII-1945/1946, when I was 13 or 14 years old,my favorite pastime was being involved in

sports and to a lesser degree, boys. The movies came inthird.

During my 7th and 8th grade years boys really beganto get my attention. Several boys in my classes wouldsend me love notes and wink often, but none took mybreath away like a boy named Gerald, who lived in thenext town and worked in the movie theater some sevenmiles away. Gerald’s father owned the theater andGerald would help his father on weekends when theyshowed movies. There was a matinee, an early showand then the late show on Saturdays. The late show wasan adult type movie. Some of these movies were veryadult as I remember. One was titled “The Outlaw”, fea-turing Jane Russell, a very sexy lady for her time. Shewore a very low cut blouse exposing her bosom-almost.This was very risqué for the forties. Other moviequeens were Betty Grable and Rita Hayworth, andchild star Liz Taylor who starred in “National Velvet”.

Well, I just had to see these late shows for two reasons.One, they were the best and latestfrom Hollywood and second, I wouldget to see Gerald. He ran the projec-tor. So, on my favorite Saturdaynights, I would get invited to comeand sit with Gerald upstairs,away from all others, while heoperated the projector. I thoughthe was so responsible and grownup. I was 14 and he was 16. He wasmy first love and my first kiss. Hewas gorgeous. He had dark hair andblue eyes and a smile to die for. Heseemed older and more experiencedin love matters. I knew nothing exceptthat he made me feel all grown up,almost. I saw Gerald when I could allduring the 8th grade, but our bud-ding romance ended when myfamily and I moved to Californiain 1947. I never saw Gerald again,but some 20 years later I visited

Oklahoma and I dropped in to his father’s hardwarestore in the same town as the old theater, which wasnow gone. I asked about Gerald after telling his fatherwho I was. He said that Gerald had married a local girland they now lived in Nebraska. They had children.

Later that same year Gerald visited his father and didsome TV repair work for his father. He visited mygrandmother’s house to repair her TV. She lived near-by. Gerald saw my picture on my grandmother’s deskand said to her “I know her; we had a thing for eachother”. Then he asked where I was now living. Mygrandmother told him that I was teaching school inCalifornia. He also visited my hometown some timelater and asked the locals about me. They told him thatI was in California.

We never made another connectionbut I have thought of him often and ofthe late show when love and infatua-tion first took a firm hold on a very

young girl’s heart.This past September, Gerald came to my

hometown looking to find me. He askedthe locals if I was still alive and how he

might find me. He was told to contactmy mother or brother for more informa-tion. He was given my phone numberby my brother. He called and we havemade a connection after 61 years. Wehave talked, shared our life storiesand he has come here in Paradise tosee me. His wife had died and hewanted to see if we still felt as we didin our teen years. We are differentpeople now, tempered by time andexperience but our memories are

still intact of the late night shows.

Love - a thoughtLove is not winning

or losing

time spent or unspent

giving or taking

Love: Just is

alive in spirit memory

and heart

not to feel it’s

presence is love

lost

KatieStecher

“MoonNecklace”

See more of thisartist

on page 33

JimRobertson

See more ofthis artist on

page 36

The Late Show Shonnie Davidson“The Late Show,” “Love - a thought”

(See artwork of this artist online)Background in art or writing: Retired Art & Elementary

subject teacher, college art classes Previous publications or awards: Ed magazine articles

published, CTA-DEA Newsletter, Paradise PostMedium: Creative writing

Inspiration: Observations of nature, people and children

arm.

A Place To Call My OwnBreaths of Autumn kiss my cheeks, A whispered promise of colder weeks. I take a brisker step from town, In search of places to lay me down.

Within my pockets of vacant time Frozen fingers twist a lonely dime. And a fear strikes deep inside my head That eternity will watch me tread.

Midnight cold swirls around my feet As thru the silent streets I sleep. I try to capture the yellow eyes That peek from castles floating by.

At last, a place to call my own. A shallow grave below the moan. Of night winds that howl and blow And drift above the world below.

The moon sails by and laughs with me My bedtime friend smiles cheerfully And calls me King of all around But still, I’d rather have a bed in town.

THE RUNAWAY KITE

We four Running across the grass

Grasping vainly into the wind Each missing the string, the ribbons

Running faster, stronger, reaching further Till we stopped and stood forlornly on the precipice.

Watching the prize sail higher and higher into the blue sky Till we stopped and stood forlornly on the precipice.

Running faster, stronger, reaching further Each missing the string, the ribbons

Grasping vainly into the wind Running across the grass

We four

Thursday, July 30, 2009 • Arts &Letters• PARADISE POST 5

Go to paradisepost.com

to see all thesubmissions!

WE ACCEPT FOOD STAMPS /EBT

Visit our website at www.groceryoutlets.com

Toll free and direct connect to a store near you.1-877-GR8-BUYS 1-877-478-2897

Paradise Grocery Outlet6026 Clark Road

Paradise, CA 95969(530) 876-9687

Open 8am-10pm Everyday Locally Operated byPat & Mike Ward

Shop us first and SAVE on your food bill!

We reserve the right to limit quantities. No sales to dealers. Sizes and varieties may vary.

•Fresh Meat Department•Frozen Foods

Department•Deli/Dairy Department

•Grocery Department•Carl’s Produce

Department•Beer & Wine Department

•G.M./Health & Beauty Department

Isabel Edmonds - Age: 86

“The Puzzle” (above)

“Lillies” (below)Background: Five years of art instruction at Paradise Art Center.

Participation in gallery shows and placement in businesses in ParadiseInspiration: Instructors at Paradise Art Center.

Love of nature & colorMedium: Watercolor

Bob Grimm - Age: 57“Along the Narrow” (top) taken along the Virgin River, Zion National Park;

“Peace in the Valley” (above) taken in Yosemite Valley, Yosemite National Park “Mystic Summit” (published online) taken at Lakes Basin near Graeagle/Gold Lake

Background: Pursuit of recreational enjoymentPrevious publications: Paradise Post and Chico News & Review

Inspiration: The beauty of natural landscapeMedium: Digital photography

Tammy Dibble“Sitting Bull"

Background:Self taught by watching

Bob Ross on public television

Previous publications:Last years Arts & Letters submission of my Tina

Turner oil paintingInspiration: Bob

Grimm, my significantother, inspires me to

create and be the best I can be in all things.

Medium: “Sitting Bull”is water based oil on

canvas“Wire Pass” in Utah digital photograph(published online)

See all thesubmissions

atparadisepost.com

Donna D. Drickey- Age: 73

“Poppies of Tuscany” (above) “French Lavender of Provence” (right)“Mt. Shasta/Lake Siskiyou Sunset” (published online)

Background: I consider myself self-taught and have enjoyed dabbling in oil paintingsince my early 20’s. As an active member in the Paradise Pines POA Art Guild, I have

enjoyed sales through the gallery at the POA Library and on-line web sites.Previous publications or awards: Paradise Post Arts Issues and have received awards

from the Lassen County and Silver Dollar Fairs.Inspiration: I have always found my greatest joy in creating landscapes and seascapes.

My love of the ocean and mountain lakes is shown as an obvious subject for many ofmy paintings. Having retired in 2002 after many years of working at the PPOA,

I consider it a real blessing to be able to continue living here in the Pines where nature’sbeauty remains a constant inspiration. Medium: Oils & acrylics

6 PARADISE POST • Arts &Letters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

Thursday, July 30, 2009 • Arts &Letters• PARADISE POST 7

Marianna Love“Butterfly Spring”

Background: I havebeen painting in

watercolor since 1982and teaching

"Painting from the Heart:Enhancing Your Inner

Artist, Taming Your InnerCritic" since 1998.

Awards: I have beenjuried into 12 NationalWatermedia Exhibits.

My painting "Streams ofLight" was selected #1 in

the healing art book,"Making Connections".Inspiration: Beauty ismy inspiration. I paint

with rainbow colors as Iwant my art to have a

healing vibration for theviewer as well as for me

the artist.Medium: I paint in watermedia, mostly

watercolor, but sometimes using mixedmedia including collage.

Age: 70

Tammy Parker - Age: 44“Toby”

“Pine Under Amethyst Sky” (below)“Milo” (published online)

Background: Drawing since I was 5 years old, mostly self-taught.A member of Paradise Art Center, have been in a showing through the club as well

as a solo exhibit in the Women’s Center. Also several Juried shows. Took BarbaraRamsey’s colored pencil class where she helped teach me the art of blending.

Previous publications or awards: First prize in a book cover design contest andhonorable mention in a juried show. Published in Arts & Letters for past 3 years.

Inspiration: My cats and the beauty around meMedium: Colored Pencil

Rodney Clay, Pharm. Dr.14137 Lakeridge Circle

MAGALIA 873-0460

Mon-Fri 9-6

Our entire family

the carewe receiveat

appreciates

ParadisePines

PharmacyStop by and see

for yourself

Reenie Franchi“It made a difference to this one”

Inspiration: I took this picture of Zeta Taylor at a Beach in Fort Bragg reminded me of the storywhere a person tells another person who is trying to save all the starfish that had washed up on the

beach that it was hopeless, there were just too many to make a difference.When the optomist threw a starfish back she said,“well it made a difference to that one.”

8 PARADISE POST • Arts &Letters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

omt, just likewhile.

y career.

Rhonda KennedyKirshner Foundation’s

“Baby Liger”“Praying Mantis”

“Zebra manes”(published online)

Previous publications orawards: I have been

published in the local papers,on the web and was

published on the NationalGeographic Website as a daily

editor selection with myphoto of a praying mantis.

I also have won severalawards at the local and state

fair for photography.Inspiration: Life and nature.I love to capture a moment

and be able to share it with others.

Medium: Mainly digital35mm format photography.

Don Lapedes“Mother and Fawns”

Background: Amateur writer, artist, and photographer. My attemptsat depicting life by written or visual means are based on specific

incidents that have an emotional content for me.Previous publications: I have had the good fortune to be published

by the Paradise Post in previous years; one time for a written work,another time for art work.

Inspiration: This scene shows deer (mother and fawns) in theprocess of sustaining life by a mother's love and nourishment.

Medium: Digital Photography

Go to paradisepost.com

to see all thesubmissions!

Play BallLeaping high in the air, Landing with grace and

flair, Ball between her paws, She waits for my

applause.

Back and forth she goes, Running up and down

the hall, After the ball. She sits grinning,

waiting for me, to throw the ball.

Exhausted into my chairI fall.

She jumps in the air intomy chair.

And sings to me there.

Windin the Trees

Trees are alive in the wind

Swaying to musicof a heavenly orchestra

Ariel EdmundsonBackground: Written Poems,Short stories and a Stage Play

Previous publications:Under the Big Top by Senior

Circus Works-2005Inspiration: Life

Age: Senior

Brian Vickery“Baldy with fish at Paradise Lake”

“Bucks in Velvet” (published online)Background: Started photography in the mid-sixties. After becoming

a commercial pilot I used my aircraft for aerial photographyInspiration: The world is a stage

Medium: Canon 10D EOS digital camera and various lenses, filters and other equipment

Age: 68

Mary LongBackground: High School and College

newspapers. Some poetry published in PoetryAnthologies (the you buy the book kind).

Inspiration: Everything and anyone.Medium: Creative writing

Age: 70

~ Acquisition ~My feline guest arrived seven days ago. For

lack of access to his true identity, I’ve elected tocall him “Chuck”. Chuck the cat is, by defini-tion, a darkly striped short haired tabby and, Isuspect, a many fathered version of his species.

We discovered each other purely by chance.Had I not opted to trim the abundance of azal-eas growing across the front of my property, wemight not have met at all. So it was, on that fate-ful day, armed with Smith and Hawken shearsand little red garden gloves, I trudged into thefront of my yard ready to take on MotherNature’s overgrowth. My task for the day wasscarcely launched when a slight rustling noisefrom a nearby bush caught my attention.“Meowwwwl” said the bush. “Meowwwwl”. Ohno! I concluded. Another cat! Kitty? Kitty cat?Here kitty kitty. “Meowowowow” offered thebush. The first meow had been tentative andquestioning, but, the second meow was long andloud—clearly a feline SOS. The trembling bushparted and Chuck the cat emerged from itsunderside glancing warily at me, the person. Hetook a few cautious steps and then sat himselfdown a few feet away from my pile of azaleatrimmings. We regarded each other. Chuck hadcertainly seen better days. I estimated that hewas down about two pounds from what might beconsidered normal weight for an adult cat. Thered safety cat collar someone had placed aroundhis neck now hung loosely and the bell attachedto it was worn on one side. Chuck’s huge greeneyes never left my face. His scrutiny of me wasjust as intent as mine was of him. I leaned downtoward him and offered my hand. For the spaceof a second or two he hesitated and thenlaunched himself in my direction, purring andtrilling, confident that he had found a friend. Hehad. The bowl of cat food I produced shortlyconvinced him, I am certain that he had donejust that.

What to do? My immediate concern for the catwas to feed and water him. But, uppermost inmy mind was the fact that I needed to find outwhere this cat had come from. I didn’t wantanother cat, and it was apparent that at sometime, someone had loved and taken care of thispet. I am the owner of five pets as it is, and anyaddition to this quotient was more than I want-ed to handle. Or so I thought. The ads I placed inthe “found” column of two local newspapersproduced not one reply. Both newspapersallowed a “found” notice to be placed free ofcharge to the finder. I fervently hoped that aconnection would be made and that Chuckwould soon be back in the bosom of his family.If Chuck had been my pet, I would certainlyhave been looking for him. I entertained thenotion that Chuck had been deliberately aban-doned as sometimes happens in beautifulParadise. I also considered the notion thatChuck’s owner had been elderly and that atsome point had become unable to care for himor had passed away. This kind of situation alsooccurs in Paradise.

Chuck, for his part, continues to “look” for hisowner. He keeps vigil at the front edge of theproperty, crouched down in the clusters of azal-ea bushes, watching most of the day for some-one to find him. He is beginning to fill out a lit-

tle, which means that his ribs aren’t showing asmuch as they once were, and he seems to likeme well enough. He stays in my spare room atnight, out of the weather, and each day resumeshis azalea bush “watcher” position at the frontof my house. He is a “talker” as cats go, and con-stantly meows at me to fix whatever he feelsisn’t right with him. He wants his own homeback. I also want him back in his own home.Dropping Chuck off at the local animal shelteras a solution is out of the question. Despite theefforts of many volunteers and the good inten-tions of shelter employees and Ridge veterinar-ians, the number of pets euphemistically “putto sleep” far exceeds the number of pets foundby their owners or adopted out into the commu-nity.

Two days ago I related the tale of Chuck to myson living in the Auburn California area. Heand his girlfriend are the owners of six cats. Doyou think?—I proposed as my son started laugh-ing, chuckling, as it were, and replied before Icould say another word”—I think you’re stuckwith Chuck”.

Postscript: I wrote this article in the Spring of2004. Chuck still lives with me and takes care ofthe front yard.

Kathi HiattBackground: Chico State and Butte College classes

Inspiration: LifeMedium: Poetry

Age: 60More on page 16

Thursday, July 30, 2009 • Arts &Letters• PARADISE POST 9

COUNTERFE ITCounterfeit would you recognize it?

If the teller in your bank gave you a counterfeit bill,or if the druggist gave you a counterfeit pill,

or your pastor preached some counterfeit doctrineswould you know it?

Counterfeits are in proliferation today. They can cause trouble, sickness and death,

even eternal deathFictional movies thrill and scare us with invasionsfrom outer space, but the truth is we have been

invaded. Myriads of evil angels have been exiled to this earth

(Rev. 12:79) They are invisible to the human eye unless they

choose to reveal themselves. Their leader was once the commander of the

heavenly host. Then pride and jealousy took over his mind and hechose to rebel against God and mislead his friendswho were deceived and persuaded by his lies. Theyhave become master counterfeiters, counterfeiting

every good and perfect gift our God has created for us.“For such are false apostles, deceitful workers, trans-forming themselves into the apostles of Christ. Andno marvel for Satan himself is transformed into an

angel of light. Therefore it is no great thing if his ministers also be

transformed as the ministers of righteousness; whoseend shall be according to their works.: (2 Cor. 11:13-15) Any minister who claims to speak for God and teach-

es the Ten Commandments were nailed to the cross isa counterfeit.

Any church that believes and teaches a counterfeitgospel is in league with these counterfeiting angels.

Jesus warns of a counterfeit road in Matt. 7:13,14.Ministers determine the destiny of their flock and

their own destiny by what they teach from the pulpitand believe themselves.

All scripture is given by inspiration of God and is tobe used for reproof, correction, and instruction.

Jesus says “Think not that I came to destroy the lawor the prophets ... I came to fulfill.” (Matt. 5:17ASV) He was the Lamb that was slain from the foundation

of the world, Rev. 13:8. Jesus gave the Law at MountSinai, kept it while living with us here on earth andHis Holy Spirit will give us the same power that it

gave Him if we ask for it and believe that all powerhas been given to Him.

He says “If you LoveMe Keep My

Commandments”, (John 14:15).

Are you a GenuineChristian or a

Counterfeit?

Ruth GravesBackground: Poetry in

assorted publications andprizes for oil paintings in

County & District FairsInspiration: Bible

Medium: Creative Writing & Oil Painting

Age: 87

Fast FoodORDER HERE:

Dad orders a Burger, and asks “don’t forget the cheese”

Mom orders a Cola, and says “make it diet please”

Johnny orders a Childs Meal, and a toy truck that hauls

Susie orders a Child’s Meal, and a small pink doll

PICK UP HERE:Don’t forget the lids and straws,

grab some napkins tooOh no! Johnny’s trucks a tractor

and Susie’s doll is blueMom’s Cola isn’t diet,

though she told them “please”Dad did get his Burger,

but they forgot the cheese

10 PARADISE POST • Arts &Letters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

Bob Durham - Age: 79

“Alpenglow 13 &17”taken at sunrise during a photo safari to western Canadian

National Parks

“Tranquility” Paradise Lake, winter (published online)

Background: Took up photography as a serious hobby while living insouthern California in the 1960’s. Took adult evening photography courses

at Reseda Hi under award winning instructor Warren King.Previous publications or awards: Article on Bodie, CA with pictures in a

Trailer/Camping publication. Various awards in photography competitions:Photography West, L.A County Museum of Natural History, LA County

Museum of Science and Industry, Reseda High School AnnualCompetitions, Butte County Fair.

Inspiration: Ansel Adams, Edward Weston, but mostly the beauty of God’screations here on earth.

Janet LoganBackground: Amateur writerof original true short stories

or essays of personal experience of my life.

Graduate of PennsylvaniaState University with a BA

degree in Liberal Arts. In 1972I undertook studies for aMasters degree in LibraryScience at CSU San Jose.Previous publication:

“Pioneer Medical Women ofCalifornia” theses, 1976

bicentennial exhibit, SantaClara Valley Medical Center

in San Jose.Inspiration: I seem to want

to tell some personal experiences as it gets a

humorus reaction or interesting reactions ofdelight from my firends.

I submit one such experiencewith a humorous ending.

Age: 85

50th College ReunionSurprise

Returning to my 50th college class reunion, I had notanticipated remembering many classmates due to the largenumber of graduates attending. I was also returning to myhome town where I had resided for 8 years, including myhigh school days. I joined a sorority to give me exposure tocampus life.

It was customary for town people to rent extra bedroomsto incoming male freshmen who chose to live off campus,away from their homes for the first time in their lives.Meals were provided at the college dining halls. My moth-er rented one of our large bedrooms to twin brothers, withwhom I had a casual acquaintance. I was already “goingsteady” with another student. In those days, “going steady”meant dating only one guy. This was a relationship. No girlever lived with a man outside of marriage; that would havebeen an unthinkable arrangement.

At the reunion, my husband and I chose a table at ran-dom, joining a group unknown to me, except for one formerhigh school classmate who identified me by name. A manopposite me rose to his feet, introduced himself and hur-ried around the table to greet me with a hug. It was thenthat I recognized him as one of the twin brothers of longago, who had lived upstairs in my home, their freshmanyear at college. I returned his embrace.

He turned around to the group, surprising everyone at thetable, and explained his friendly affection toward me witha proud: “This is the girl I used to live with.”

Here atParad i s eC e m e t e r y

we take pride in thespectacular beauty of oursurroundings. WWee’’dd lliikkee ttoo iinnvviittee yyoouu ttoo vviissiittand enjoy the majestic, flowering Japanese CherryTrees, towering Pines, ornate Cedars and elegantCamellias. A great reverence for those who havepreceded us is truly evident in the appearance ofthe grounds.

Our staff and trustees also care about the

services weprovide and they

are performed withcompassion and dignity.

The gazebo is now available forservices; it is built over the creek and is a soothingplace for our families. Memorial plaques may beplaced on the pillars.

We have niches, as well as in ground burialplots. Because we are supported by a portion ofParadise property taxes, we offer very low costburials for Paradise residents.

980 Elliott Road • (530) 877-4493www.paradisedirect.com/cemetery

Jake Guild - Age: 24

“Storm, June 2009”Background: No background in art, just like to take pictures -been doing it a while. Hopefully, I'll be able to make it mycareer. website: www.simpleskye.comMedium: Photography (See Jake’s rodeo pictures online!)

Thursday, July 30, 2009 • Arts &Letters• PARADISE POST 11

Bill Collins - Age: 1st Wave Baby BoomerBackground: Began writing in college with inspiration

from fellow students and teachers.Previous publications: Sweet Thief, CSUC ‘70, Phantasm ‘73Inspiration: Nature, events, people, history. Working with

sight rhymes or near-rhyming wordsMedium: Poetry

Untitled For The MoonThe moon you likely reconsider, As you might death or Danish pastry, Incapable as a bleak outsider, Of contemplating its mere majesty.

A nightly course through cloud and cover, Myopic, heavenly eye, Shamelessly spying through curtain and shutter, Impassible when we die.

Your idle madness blots surrounding star, Apparitional beams do seal a lover’s plight, A crone I find of you, bizarre! And withered memories I share? When swans whisper and take flight.

Ennui and misfortune do not rile you, Wan orb of poets’ inspiration; Enchantress of the poets who beguile you, With grace and gilded declination.

Personal Growth through

Spiritual Awareness

JOIN US FOR SUNDAY SERVICE —10:00 a.m.Meditation — 9:30 a.m.

www.Paradisecrs.com789 Bille Road • 877-5673

Rev. Andy — Rev. Dotty

Meditation garden available for weddings

Joan/David PeisleyBackground: Amateur photography

Inspiration: Beautiful night sky in ParadiseMedium: Photography

Sometimes in a StormSometimes in a storm When the moon turns off her light And packs the night with fear. The wind picks up the mystery And sings a song of terror.

Down the hall and into my bed A tiny patter comes trembling. He crawls in close to meAnd pulls the covers tightAnd lays ashivering To welcome my security.

Sometimes in the morn When the sun shines full and bright And packs the day with cheer. The wind picks up a memory And sings a song of pleasure, Thru my mind and into my head.

A terrible thought comes thinking. While he plays happily Can he sense my fright And feel me aquivering, From my insecurity?

Paul Westbrook info on page 4

David UllmanPrevious publications

or awards:Honorable Mention

in Silver Dollar Fair, 2008Paradise Post

Medium: PhotographyAge: 48

Mad BannersIn days like these When only monsters matter Our forcefed passions are stoked To ends we cannot know,Cannot understand;Croaking half-hearted slogans And fingering blunted weapons We rattle chains and watch, trembling As steel kingdoms and invisible dominions Rise and fall around us With each passing headline;We rush in all as lions,And then we grovel all like dogs As we gnaw at the last bones Of our birthright;And we can only fear Because fear is what we’ve chosen;We are all the children of our own demons And we sing the songs And we lift our mad banners And we march through the gates And into the prisonThat we’ve built for protection From the monsters we have summoned to guide us.

Assemblage- Sculpted phonographrecords, turntable stylus, wood

Grady Manion“Requiem 1 (A Rose For

Things Forgotten)”“Mad Banners”

“A Death In The Family”(published online)

Background: College art educa-tion, various showings, publica-tions, reading, commercial art

Inspiration: Everything, chaos,paradox, synchronicity

Medium: Sculpture, Assemblage,Poetry

Age: Ageless

12 PARADISE POST • Arts &Letters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

Brett Elise Lumbley - Age: 45

“Spillway” (below)“The Hunter” (bottom)

“Best Buds” (published online)

Background: I bought my first camera when I was sixteen andhave always seen life as snapshots waiting to be caught.

Previous publications and Awards: Post Arts and LettersInspiration: I get pleasure from getting a shot that really

captures a person or a moment.Medium: My beloved Nikon

Joseph Medico“The Sea”

Background: I’ve always had the gift to put my thoughts on paperand they form a poem or story of

what I feel.Inspiration: Nature,

my surrounding, life situationsMedium: Poetry

Age: 82

The Sea

Susan Herring“Newport Sail” (above)

“Spring Garden” (right)

“Persimmons with a Latin Touch”(published online)

Background: Lifelong interest in sketching and painting, studied with local artists

Previous publications: Paradise Post, Chico ER BuzzInspiration: Desire to create art

Medium: Watercolor Age: Adult

The SeaAs I gaze upon the open sea I wonder what

draws people to its shores.Whether it is in the early morning or,the early evening thousands of people

gather on the shores to watch themagic of the sea.

Is it the serenity of a wave slowly building upuntil it crashes on the shore and then

returns to the sea.As lovers stroll along its shores; hand in hand,

contemplating what their future brings for them.This is the mysterious magic of the sea.

Can we forget though that all this can change.Like a woman who is unpredictable, so is the sea.A typhoon in one ocean, in another a hurricane

The rage of the sea is unpredictable.

With waves that can reach tremendous heights.Crash with a force of destruction that is unequal

to the most destructive bomb ever made.This is the sea.

Then like a woman she will returnto the people watching as a gentle rolling

wave upon the shore.The lovers will return to their strolling.

Life will be as tranquil as before.

Go to paradisepost.com

to see all thesubmissions!

Thursday, July 30, 2009 • Arts &Letters• PARADISE POST 13

14 Thursday, July 30, 2009 • Arts &Letters• PARADISE POST

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Thursday, July 30, 2009 • Arts &Letters• PARADISE POST 15

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Cheryl Wilkinson - Age: 53Background: One and a half years of watercolor classes at Paradise Art Center

Previous publications: Paradise PostInspiration: The world around me

Medium: Watercolor

Words NeverWritten

The baby needs feeding The laundry’s not done

The Telephone’s ringing The day has just begun

She does so long to write She’s bursting from within

She has tales to tell Why can’t she just begin

They hide between her legs Wipe their noses on her dress The demand a glass of milk Then spill and make a mess

It’s finally gotten quiet The chaos in now calm She picks up her pencil Then they holler MOM!

Kathi HiattArtist info on page 9

What a day it was. Itcouldn’t be fifty years ago.How could I remember so farback in time with such vividdetail? The tall cherry tree,the old one-car garage, theblack-berry patch, and Hankthe old gardener. They allcome back to me with a smile.The twenty-five foot cherrytree that stood in my folksfront yard was clearly the“climber” out of all the fruitproducing trees cluttering theyard. The smell of warm, wetdust filled my nose and thetaste of bing cherries was inmy mouth as I walked at aquickened pace to the base ofthe tree. I looked up at theextending branches thatinvited me to a climbing chal-lenge. The first step was themost difficult because theslick bark had to be grabbedjust right to swing my legaround the second limb tostart my assent. My goal wasto get almost to the top wheretwo branches formed a chairand a camouflaged cover ofleaves and berries to hidebehind. It was easy for me toclimb, but not for that brat ofa brother and I didn’t need toworry about parents becausethey never degraded them-selves by showing any climb-ing dexterity… It was a safespot for me and my songs.

The tree was good to me andnever hurt my hands like itcould others…it was my tree.Quickly up to the chair totake my seat, better mythrone. From my position inthe tree I looked down direct-ly over that a one-car garagethat leaned away from thetree on an angle. The tilt musthave occurred over the yearsto accommodate the growth ofthe cherry tree. I observedthe black-berry patch thatcovered an acre, or so itseemed and Hank the old mannext door who constantly put-tered around his yard, pullingweeds or prodding the groundwith well worn tools. Hewatered his vegetables with agrey metal can dented on bothsides. I never once saw himfill that can yet there wasalways water in it. It’s odd tothink about Hank now. Hemade such an impression onme, but he never knew it. Healways wore a grey felt hatwith a wide brim and khaki

pants and shirt resembling acharacter from “the Grapes ofWrath” . I never lookeddirectly at him because I wastaught to respect older peopleand not speak unless spokento. The other kids in theneighbor hood taunted him asthey crossed the bridge thatbordered his property ontheir way to the baseball field.They yelled, “Hank Hank thewater tank” and then ranaway. I guess they were afraidof things they didn’t under-stand but I thought I knewthis secret. He had lived longenough to be able to use theelements of nature in harmo-ny with his surroundings. Heunderstood the beginning andthe ending of all things.Knowing these secrets gavehim some kind of edge on lifeand he held this quiet attitudeof natural knowing behindhis tanned and weather beat-en face. His gaze, his stature,his walk confirmed what fewpeople realized…All goodthings come from within.

High atop my tree andhaving surveyed myrealm, the next part of myroutine was to sing. Istarted out with some-thing soft, almost inaudi-ble as I stared out on thesummer heat waves risingfrom the roof tops.Hearing only my song, Iwould imagine myselfstanding before a greatcrowd of people who hadcome to see me perform asonly I could. I seemed sofortunate and special thatnothing could stand in theway of that natural talent.I would never know fail-ure. Those love songscoming from me out ofthat tree. Gradually moreaudible and with morefeeling than a boy of fif-teen is able to amass untilat the full range of myvoice I ended with a longsustained note. I wassinging to the world andthey didn’t even know it.Maybe someday theywould hear me. Taking amoment to clear my throatwith a ripe bing cherryand going on to a greatcapitulation in my mind Icould hear the hundredsof people cheering withthe ending of my song.

Taking amoment tobow my headwith forcedhumility I smiled. At thatinstant I was brought to reali-ty when I heard, “Keep it upson, sounds pretty good”,Hank the gardener said. Myface turned red displayingmy embarrassment. He hadheard every note, every word,as he worked in his yard. Inever spoke another wordafter I quietly said “thanks”and slowly climbed down thecherry tree. I slid down belowthe roof of the old one-cargarage and out of sight of theblack-berry bushes but beforeI reached the ground I heardmy mothers voice callingfrom inside the house, “lunchis ready Rob…better come innow and wash your hands”.

I swear it was just yesterday,but of course it wasn’t. Oh,what a day that was fiftyyears ago.

R.H. Ingram - Age: 65

“The Cherry Tree”Background: I've been writing poetry, essays and

short stories for over thirty years.Previous publications: A “Book Musical” produced in

San Francisco (1982).Inspiration: My wife Arlene, who has given me her time,energy and ideas for my latest endeavor “the Last Voyage

of the Pheership” an adventure novel in progress.Medium: Short Story

Happy ValleyBirds are flying over the hill tops, Squirrels are playing beneath the trees. The creeks like bubbling fountains, Are starting their journey to the seas.

Cool breezes are softly passing, Over flowers of every hue. White clouds are slowly drifting, Across a sky of azure blue.

The folks when you are passing, Will give you a friendly nod.They seem to be always smiling, These Happy Valley friends of God.

Charles“Chick”Seltzer

Age: 93

Hobbies:Photography,

gardening,nature study

Previous publications:Post, EchoesInspiration:

Nature, people,the Bible

The Cherry Tree

MumThere’s a picture on the

counterOf a girl that’s seventeen The years have all passed

her by Now she’s somewhere in

between

Remembers she when dayswere long

The burning sun rose inthe sky

All those days are shorternow

She reminisces with a sigh

She recalls her youthfulbeauty

When she was just a girl It was just the other day When she stood on top of

the world

The days have come andgone

And to think of themmakes her sad

But the years have all beengood to her

Through the good timesand the bad

A gladiator one dayappeared

Long ago when the sky wasblack

And to a strange and foreign land

He took his new bride back

The girl became a woman Her homeland left behind She bore a child unto this

world A new life that was mine

And now I see a picture Of a girl that once was

seventeen Her eyes are filled with

tears She’s somewhere in

between

I see this beautiful lady That the young girl has

become And I love her very much I’m proud to call her Mum

Old ManOld man, what of this life What were your dreams Did they all come true What has this life handed you

Was it wonderful, did it shine Was its toll worth the time Did you laugh, did you cryDid you ever really wonder why

The sun rose on a day that itrained

Heads bowed and tears thatstained

Empty words that rolled away Into the beginning of another day

Solitude stood behind the door Answers sought came no more Sorrow uncovered, truth laid

bare Lost in a silence of despair

So did you laugh when the summer came

Did it really matter anyway Or did you hide behind the

winters wind Protected from lies hidden within

Old man, what of this life What were your dreams Did they all come true What has this life handed you

Marc Barrett LewisBackground:

Writing all my lifeInspiration: Comes from

what is all around me, andsometimes from what

isn’t.Medium: Poetry

Age: 54

Thursday, July 30, 2009 • Arts &Letters• PARADISE POST 17

Steven R. Butler - Age: 58“Lotto to the Rescue” an editorial.

Background: I majored in English at Solano and Napa Valley Colleges. Icompleted a program in Technical Communications through UC BerkeleyExtension. I have attended several writers’ conferences, and I participated

in a writer’s workshop at Sonoma State University.Previous publications or awards: Wrote for the Sports section in theVallejo Times Herald in 1985, freelance for “Concord Life,” a city feature

magazine. I won an award in the eighth grade for a short story,“The TidalWave Scare,” and first prize this year in Bonnie Sitter’s love story competi-

tion for the Paradise Post.Inspiration: I’ve always loved to write. I published my first work in The

Petaluma Argus-Courier in 1963 under the direction of my grandmother.My story covered a San Francisco Giants baseball game.

I’ve written off and on since.Medium: Non-fiction articles and narratives, short fiction, editorials

Scotti Butler“Tracker”

Inspiration: My inspiration is pretty self-evident - a big

orange Maine Coon catcouchant in a birdbath.Tracker (his name) is a

genuine character in allaspects and I enjoy hiscompanionship with

renewed appreciationevery day because of his

personality.Age: 73

LOTTO TO THE RESCUEA man from Marin County wrote a letter to the

San Francisco Chronicle in which he praised amember of the Marin county Sheriff ’s Departmentwho had recently won the lottery. The Sheriff ’sdeputy, or Sheriff ’s deputy couple, as he describedthe fortunate ones, had won a $75 million jackpotwhile playing Super Lotto. The writer praised thewinner’s vow to donate a portion of his or her win-nings to the families of the four Oakland policeofficers who died at the hands of a berserk gunmana few weeks ago.

Quite commendable, I thought. And I thought tomyself: what would I do with a fat Lotto jackpotlike that? How would I spend my money? What athought. But the statements that the Marin writermade in the second paragraph of his letter stoppedme cold in my tracks.

“Just a further reminder,” he crowed, “that onlyfellow law enforcement people will support thesefallen officers. The general public certainly cannotbe relied upon.”

Nothing sparks our generosity more than a nicechunk of extra money. Especially $75 million. Iwondered how much the lucky winner planned topony up for these unfortunate families. $5000 each?A million each? And what about our Marin writerhimself ? How much did he plan to donate? Andthe rest of the sheriff ’s office… how much moneydid they kick in? I suppose when a potential donoris dipping from the grocery fund or the mortgagemoney, he’s not as likely to be so generous. Maybea few more fat jackpots would help.

I’ve always admired the way law people in lawenforcement band together in times of tragedy.I’ve watched processions of mourners that stretchmiles in which officers, men and women alike, payrespects to fallen comrades. However, I don’tbelieve that they are the only ones who share thatdedication.

I too, did feel a deep sense of loss for these fami-lies. But I know they will come away much morefortunately than many others who have lost theirlives or the lives of loved ones on the streets ofOakland, or numerous other crime ridden cities inthe US. These families will have death benefits tolook after them over the coming years.Unfortunately, all of the Lotto jackpots in the worldwill not for one second bring back any one of thesefallen officers.

Our world is full of places where we can donatemoney. We have churches, charities, and variousspecial interest organizations. Some work towardmaking our world a better place. Others focusupon making good on the times when our world isnot so good.

And, what about the culprit in this case?According to the news, on the same day that he hadshootouts with police, he raped two women. Heobviously had a busy day. But what do we do? Wecould toss him into jail and throw away the key.Then he could be someone else’s problem. Wecould execute him. Then we could presume theproblem solved. That is, until the hundreds moreculprits with the same unreconciled problem comealong to commit similar crimes. Lotto money, any-one?

I regard myself as a part of that “general public”

to whom our writer refers, and I personally, tookexception to the claim that the public “cannot berelied upon.” Public tax money pays theirs andmany others’ salaries. Those monies also pay theirdeath benefits. Over 70% of a city’s budget pays forfire and police protection. These benefits are not“freebies.”

No, I did not donate money to the families. But Ido donate to my own chosen beneficiaries on a reg-ular basis. But I also feel as though my non-mone-tary contributions support our dedicated lawenforcement officers just as much as money would.I don’t do drugs, nor do I manufacture or sell them.I don’t support people who do. I don’t carry a gun,nor do I traffic illegal ones. I avoid breaking intoplaces where I have no business, or stealing theproperty of others. I try to treat fellow citizenswith the respect they deserve. All in all, I tend tothink in a manner that helps to keep our enforcersout of harm’s way. If left to me, these officers’ liveswould have not been in jeopardy in the first place.In fact, their lives might have been a bit more likethat of our proverbial Maytag repair man. Boring.

I know I’m not alone. The majority of ordinarycitizens think just like I do. But one thing standsclear that all citizens need to bear in mind. Asmuch tragedy as we see our fellow human beingssuffer, we should never lose sight of the part weplay, and while we might not be able to fix it easily,we certainly don’t have to contribute to it.

With enough of us, perhaps we can makechanges. We can always make that our determina-tion.

I’m sure a few nice fat Lotto jackpots could help.

18 PARADISE POST • Arts &Letters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

Amy L. Darwin, MDFAMILY MEDICINEWe are proud to announce the addition of Amy L. Darwin, MD to Paradise MedicalGroup arriving October, 2009. Dr. Darwincompleted her Family Medicine Residency inGrand Junction, CO (2005) and has practicedmedicine in Melbourne, AR. New patientappointments are currently being accepted.Most insurance accepted.

has a new physician coming in October. Paradise Medical Group, Inc.

6480 Pentz Rd., Ste. C, Paradise877-8855

Paradise Medical Group, Inc.

Please call 877-8855

for your appointment

Located in the new Paradise MedicalGroup facility on the corner of Pentz and Bille Roads, Paradise.

Thursday, July 30, 2009 • Arts &Letters• PARADISE POST 19

DuskDusk steals softly

across the skyThe whispering wind

drops to a sighThe moon appears

its face so roundThe crickets sing

Their evening soundThe coyotes howl

Their mournful callThe mosquitos hum

and join it allThe stars softly twinkle

in the dusky lightTHIS is the beginning of

the night

Michelle A. Wickham“Bodie State Park”(left)

“Red Rock Canyon” (below)“Mono Lake” (published online)

Background: Ph.D. in creative writingPrevious publications: Paradise Post, Avenue 9 Gallery,

Chico Art Center, magaliaweather.comInspiration: Nature

Medium: Photography

Sylvia Marshall “Dusk” Poem, Cabin artwork

Previous publications: ParadiseArt Center, Paradise Post

Inspiration: Things I see,my feelings and imagination.

Also photos I take.Medium: Acrylic, ink,

colored pencilAge: 77

Bearers, AllThe tattered cloth of fading dreams

That was a banner long beforeNow seems as little more than threadsIt ravels still in the summer’s breeze

But will not go away.

This is the day of bitter truthThe time to stand or fall

When freedom scrapes and slips awayOr swells with new though ragged

breathAnd bends once more to freedom’s call.

What murmur swells within our hearts,What trust remains to heed?

Might we recoup what near seems lostFrom what was given long ago

But still is ours to share?

Deep within our heart’s reserveWe carry on in sacred trust

The hopes and dreams of those beforeWho gave their very best to us

That we might do the same.

We stand amid our deepest dreamsAnd look to those who take our gift

The torch and flame we hand to themThat they will somehow bear is on

As we have done before.

Roger Honzik“Bearers, All”

Background: Writewith a “Creative Writing

Class” which meetseach Thursday from 10

a.m. until noon at asthe Paradise Ridge

Family Resource Center.Our group has about a

dozen faithful whomeet weekly and mostof us try to write some-

thing new for eachmeeting.

Previous publications:I have two printed

volumes of poems andthree “chapbooks”,

two of poetry and oneof short essays.

Inspiration:I love to write!

Age: 75

Abigail Hope Schatz“Diamonds“

“Sunset from Skyway“ Background: I love to write and

take pictures!Previous publications: Short story

(children’s) for “Wee Lambs”publications

Inspiration: The beauty of creation and everyday life!

Medium: ““Diamonds” – poetrySunset from Skyway” and “Four Trees”

(published online) – Photography;Age: 16 (11th grade)

DiamondsWater spraying

From the hose in my hand

Breaks into

A thousand crystal droplets

And falls,

Like a handful of diamonds

Tossed out

For anyone to claim,

To the waiting,

Thirsty garden earth.

Go to paradisepost.com

to see all thesubmissions!

Michael Miles“Coutolenc Road Snow”

“Mossy Tree, Humboldt County”Background: Learned photography in the military at the Defense Information School

where Military Journalists were taught print and broadcast skills.Army Public Affairs NCO, Editor and Chief Photographer “The Fir Tree,”

official magazine of the 91st Division, USARPrevious Publications: Paradise Post,“The Fir Tree Magazine, “Run for the Wall” Website

Inspiration: The glory of the world around usMedium: Photography

20 PARADISE POST • Arts &Letters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

DeborahMiles

“Nisqually RiverMoraine-

Mt Ranier,Washington”

Background: Learnedphotography from my

husbandInspiration:

The beauty around meMedium: Photography

Thursday, July 30, 2009 • Arts &Letters• PARADISE POST 21

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Go to paradisepost.com

to see all thesubmissions!

Francine Rowlette - Age: 73Background: Just a hobby. When

words, music and feelings come to me I quickly write them down.

Previous publications: Poem “Time”published in two books, Timeless Voices

and Twilight MusingsInspiration: Everything comes from my

heart and soul

Garth Nielsen

“Brunswick Canyon” (far left)

“High Desert” (left)

Inspiration:Painter of NatureMedium: Acrylic

TimeWe are in a time to love,

We are in a time to share. We are in a time to give from our

heart If we really care.

And if you can’t see beyond thistime,

Just don’t bother to do Anything for anyone . . .

Because we don’t have time for you.

HIS SONG TO MEGod has been so good to me And to those who will let him come in He gave his one and only son For sinners just like me.

Lordhow I love you night and day For showing me the one and only way You teach me the good-And wash my sins away ............ So my kingdom is ready ... When I meet you face to face.

Master your beside me with your son Your grace and glory are awards I’vewon Your blessing are many-as I give youall the praise And I’ll hold this feeling ....... For the rest of my days.

Savior when your ready To take me home with you I’ll know by then-What I’m suppose to do ......... My heart than clean and pure And a body all anew ...............

When the streets of GOLD ARE READY And the PEARLY GATES ARE MANY And the GEMS OF LIFE YOU’LL SHEDUPON ME!Ending is repeated:

This song was written in September 2002...Introduced December 1, 2002. Words have notbeen changed. Given to me exactly this way in amatter of five to ten minutes. Lyric’s going to afriends home and Music going home from myfriends home in Paradise, Ca.I’m trying to find a way to publish it ...and and leteveryone hear what the LORD gave me to sharewith the world. I Thank You LORD for this song.I know we all want to be like this in the END.

Wilma Witt Offner“Boots-For a day in Butte Valley” (below)

“Tail Lights - For Debbie Lou” (right)“A Tree - For Mt. Lassen” (published online)

Background: I have had an assortment of cameras which highlighted opportunities for joy & sharing.

Previous publications or awards: Paradise Post Arts & Letters and a photo credit in video “Naomi’s Gentle Yoga”

Inspiration: Human juxtaposition, classic design, God’s glorioushandiwork in his creation Medium: Photography

22 PARADISE POST • Arts &Letters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

David Racono bio submitted

Larry Mak“In A Word” game

“Casino Secrets” (published online)Background: Free-lance gaming writer.

Write monthly column on casino gamblingfor “Bingo Bugle”, a nationwide

bingo/gaming publicationPrevious publications: Author of

how-to gaming book “Secrets of ModernSlot Playing” carried by Amazon.com

and others.Inspiration: Casino goers are unaware ofthe tricks and traps casinos set for them.

My articles tell them how to manage theirtime, money, and emotions in the casino.

Age: 84

IN A WORD(A fun word game)

As former teacher of Latin and Romancelanguages, I created this word game formy Latin students and for word loverseverywhere. Almost everybody isintrigued by word origins.

Sixty percent of our English vocabularyis derived from Latin. To play this game,match the Latin word in Column A withits English derivative in Column B. Forexample, item 1 in Column A (“Cras”)matches the item in letter n. in Column B(“procrastinate”).

Column A Column B

1. Cras (tomorrow) a. incarcerate

2. Humus (soil, earth) b. verify

3. Rus (countryside) c. nocturnal

4. Donum (gift) d. undulate

5. Tonsor (barber) e. taciturn

6. Unda (wave) f. exhume

7. Canis (dog) g. rusticate

8. Semen (seed) h. inseminate

9. Carcer (prison) i. donation

10. Obitus (death) j. tonsorial

11 Tacitus (silent) k. ubiquitous

12. Noctu (at night) I. digital

13. Ubique (everywhere) m. canine

14. Verus (true) n. procrastinate

15. Digitus (finger) o. obituary

Answers: 1-n, 2-f, 3-g, 4-i, 5-j, 6-d, 7-m, 8-h, 9-a, 10-o, 11-e, 12-c, 13-k, 14-b, 15-1

The Sands of TimeThe sands of time are a blessing in disguiseand a curse that drains the light from your eyesFrustration, numbness, feelings so rottentestaments to a childhood long forgotten.

The present is now, the future not yetthe past is an illusion, easy to forgetAnother day gone, another grain of sandTime slips away, sinking where I stand.

Up to my knees, can you hear my pleas?What was it that I once tried to seize?What was I grasping, what have I lost?Each grain of sand has a cost.

Caught in the hourglass, imprisoned in timethe sand slowly buries memories in my mindForgetting faces, places, and precious connectionsas I lose myself in time's convection.

Up to my waist, hiding my faceThey say it's okay, but I still feel disgracedLiving on in a skewed version of realitybecause I couldn't handle two fatalities.

Wasting my life away in denialA boy all alone, forgoing the trialWhy wrestle with days full of painwhen I can let my past simply wane?

Up to my chest, wondering what's bestDo I just let go and let fate handle the restor do I hold on and let despair steal my breathuntil I find some measure of solace in death?

Whatever the case, the outcome's the sameI can't go back and I can't take the blameI can't do a thing, no matter how hard I tryI can't bring them back, I can't say goodbye.

Up to my neck, I'm sick of this trekI wish I had been with them in that wreckAlive without them, or dead by their sidesthere's nothing to feel, there's no point to this ride.

So what should I do with a world misconstrued?Tear it all down, let it all come unglued?Should I cut them loose, or string up the noose?Am I lost without them, or do I still have a use?

Up past my eyes, blocking out the skyI am buried beneath the sands of timeNo more tears to shed, nothing left to grieveNo memories of my past left to reave.

Is it grace, or is it a sin?Was it even a game I could win?Did I give up too early, or did I wait too long?Maybe something right can still feel wrong.

Hope Lumbley - Age: 14

“A Little Bit Farther”“Take a Chance” (published online)

“Splashed”(published online)Background: I’ve been painting for about 3 years. It was an

elective and I have enjoyed it ever since my first year.Previous publications and Awards: Post Arts and Letters,

Voice magazine and School AwardsInspiration: I love painting because it’s a fun way to show whatyou are feeling. My art teacher, Stephen Moore, showed us all a

new way to look at painting and I thank him.Medium: Pencil, Acrylic, Photography

Go to paradisepost.com

to see all thesubmissions!

Thursday, July 30, 2009 • Arts &Letters• PARADISE POST 23

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24 PARADISE POST • Arts &Letters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

Carolyn Melf“Do ya wanna play some football?”

“Puffins” and “Decadence”Background: BS Communication, CSU, Chico

Previous publications: Contributor: Paradise Post, InsideoutMagazine, Newsletter column "Melf Musings" for Paradise Garden Club

Inspiration: 1-The pleasure of owning my 1 year old shih tzu, "Iris"2-Oregon Coast Aquarium, Newport, Oregon, Puffin Flight Enclosure

3-Owner of iris and peony garden called Iris Spring.This iris is called "Decadence"Medium: Digital photography

Thursday, July 30, 2009 • Arts &Letters• PARADISE POST 25

Joan Peisley“The Gift: MINDY”

Background: One class in writingInspiration: My love of words and animals.

Medium: Short Story

T h e G i f t : M I N D YHaving our Shih Tzu (Tessa) for 15 years

then losing her was devastating. Her littlebody just wore out and we couldn't let her suf-fer any more. We took her to our Veterinarianand he put her to sleep. She went quickly andpeacefully. However, I did not take it peaceful-ly and had to flee the office, get away from thebuilding entirely. It was one of the hardestthings we ever had to do. It was her time. Shecalmly accepted it and went gently.

We were not ready to go out anytime soonand get another dog just to fill space. As far asI was concerned no dog would or could evertake her place. I did not want to go throughthat kind of pain and hurt again, ever! As itturns out I was very wrong.

After several months of missing Tessa’skisses, playing, and especially her exuberantgreetings that she bestowed upon us afterrunning errands and leaving her, we receiveda call from our Veterinarian that his wifebreeds Imperial Shih Tzu’s and that they justhad a batch of puppies, three to be exact, so Idecided to go over and check them out. Therewas one female and two males. We reallyweren’t sure we wanted another Shih Tzu. Wethought another breed might lessen ourthoughts of Tessa and her breed, maybe aPug, Chihuahua, poodle? Besides it was like abetrayal to Tessa and her breed. I told myselfit was just my curiosity to check these pup-pies out, with no intention of getting anotherShih Tzu. Right? Wrong! We fell in love theminute we stepped inside the door and sawthose beautiful tiny puppies playing and hav-ing so much fun. There was one in particularthat was really enjoying every minute of beat-ing up her brothers, She was relentless, bitingears, tails, anything she could get a hold of.They were having so much fun tumbling andromping, I fell in love with them all. But itwas MINDY, that really caught my eye, shewas the ONE!! She was definitely the Moxiefemale, who would not let her brothers get thebest of her, the tough one, and without adoubt, THE BOSS!! The Alpha Female. Thislittle girl was not taking any guff from herbrothers, no way, no how. She was” MINDY”and she was going home with us.

This was the “GIFT.” We got to take herhome a week before Christmas! Mindy was 8weeks old, and a handful, but we loved her todeath. Christmas that year was the Best andthe Worst. The best was, we had Mindy, theWorst? Well, we didn’t have Tessa (after 15years of Christmases) and she was very muchmissed. It seemed strange not to have herwith us. But we will hopefully, have that manyChristmases with our gift, Mindy.

Mindy is gorgeous, she has the longest flow-ing eyelashes you have ever seen. Any womanwould die for those lashes. She has a littleblack button nose that matches her hugeblack eyes. She is a beautiful mix of whiteand gold, a hint of black here and there. Sheis very spoiled. She is pampered, and most ofall she is loved. But of course she knows thatand she gives us back so much of that lovetotally and unconditionally. She is so very dif-ferent from our Tessa. Tessa was so laid back,

even-tempered, and very sweet; she was ourAngel. But this little dog!!!!!! Is determined toget her own way, no matter what she has to do,or how long it takes her to do it. She pesters,she barks, she whines with so many differentintonations, until it gets to an unnervingshriek! However, she does mind us and if wetell her to knock it off, she does. She would bea tyrant and a dictator if we let her. We willnot!!! However she makes it known that shedoes not like it one bit. She will plant herselfright in front of us and with her head on herpaws she proceeds to give us the dirtiestlooks. She is pouting!!!! Big Time! Hopefully,she will grow up and get over herself, but inthe meantime patience, patience, patience!

The credit for the “Modern Shih Tzu” goesto the Dowager Empress, who was consideredto be the most powerful figure in China dur-ing the last half of the 19th Century and thefirst decade of the 20th Century. She was thelast Empress influential in the developmentof the Shih Tzu as we know it today.

The Shih Tzu was nearly completelydestroyed in Post-World War II in China. Thebreed had already made its appearance intoEngland and America where it eventuallywas distinguished as a separate breed fromthe Lhasa Apso. In 1955 the AKC allowed theShih Tzu to be shown in all breed dog shows.Finally in 1969 the AKC allowed Shih Tzu’s tobe registered and five months later the ShihTzu was eligible to compete in AKC shows forchampionship points. Mindy’s father was Sire“Sam I Am the Tzuaa” from a long line ofchampions. Her mother was Dame Zoey’s“Miss Mimi Sparkles.” These little dogs goback as far as 1000 BC and they are all of“Tibetan Origin.” They were originally bredexclusively for Chinese Royalty and werecalled little temple dogs. Imperial Shih Tzuswere given as gifts to China as early as theChing or Manchu Dynasty.

Mindy was given to us as a gift from Tessa,all 7 pounds of attitude and moxie, yet so fullof love. And we don’t have to be Royalty. Wethank Tessa, our Angel for her precious gift.Just hope Mindy doesn’t wear us out beforeour time. We love animals, it doesn’t matterwhat kind of an animal, as long as it has legsand doesn’t slither. I would love to have anoth-er companion for Mindy, but we can’t havemore than one dog where we live, maybe someday. In the meantime Mindy is more thanenough. For those who are wondering, ShihTzu is pronounced “Shid Zoo”.

A footnote: Mindy will be 4 years old this yearand is still full of attitude and moxie! She is asbossy as ever, but we love her more each dayand she us.

James RosenkranzBackground: I started

writing well in grammar schoolPrevious publications:

Paradise PostInspiration: My mother

Age: 50

26 PARADISE POST • Arts &Letters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

Mike Morrow - Age: 81

“Ebb Tide” (below)

“Paris Street” (right)

“Mountain Lake” (published online)

Background: Casual, at home for my own enjoymentInspiration: My late brother the artist and Professor of Art at Chico State,Ken Morrow, who inspired and encouraged me to pursue by own talents.

Medium: Water-based oil on canvas

I Treasure My Voice

I treasure my voice eventhough

most people do not hear itanymore

After church I can not talkto help someone

and when I do speak I haveonly one to three seconds

to the idea across

The speed of computersand television is quicksound bytes and visualimages

Everyone is talking andnot too many people arelistening

What’s real important isthe four principles I liveby: calmness, modera-tion, kindness and thank-fulness. Those principlesare rare in our societynow.

So I treasure my voice andspeak only when some-one can listen.

James Whitehouse - Age: 69“Corinth Canal, Greece”

“Albuquerque Balloon Festival, Albuquerque, N.M.”“Frans Joseph Glacier, South Island, New Zealand”

(published online)

Inspiration: I enjoy bringing home and sharing the beautiful places that we have visited.

Medium: Photography

Thursday, July 30, 2009 • Arts &Letters• PARADISE POST 27

Marilyn Burton - Age: 72

(5 1/3oz) served with soup, salad, choice of potato, dinner bread & a scoop of ice cream.

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Background: The creation of a line of GreetingCards and Bookmarks which I developed and

marketed. I’ve now compiled these poems into a book.

Previous awards: Merit award in a songwriting contest. Songs selected to be played both in

church and at social dances.Inspiration: The music and lyrics of my father’s smallcountry band. Creative writing just followed naturally

Medium: Poetry (see more online)

Sharon Whitehouse - Age: 63

“Grand Canyon, Arizona” (above)

“Cruise ship docking at Mykonos, Greece” (top right)

“Panama City, Panama” (published online)

Inspiration: I have always enjoyed the beauty and uniqueness that photograph can capture. Medium: Photography

Go to paradisepost.com

to see all thesubmissions!

Olivia Stabler“Heidi” (below) “Sassy & Muffy” (right) “Sally” (published online)

Background: High School art classes, 1990s community college,water color and pastel. Currently painting oil on canvas

Previous publications or awards: Paradise Post Arts & Letters Inspiration: Currently human and animal faces

Medium: Oil on canvasAge: Adult

28 PARADISE POST • Arts &Letters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

When I was a little girl, 6 yearsold, I walked to school 2 blocks up thestreet I lived on, Almond Avenue, andup to Pomona Avenue, where I turnedright. Sometimes, I joined my friends.Other times, I walked alone. This wasin Chico, California, where I wasborn.

About midway between my houseand school, there lived a little oldlady. She was very tiny, for she hadalready gone through shrinkage.That is something that happens toolder folks, like me. It is like the“grow spurt”, you children have, onlyin reverse.

Anyway, this little old lady alwaysstood at her fence, watching us chil-dren go by. She wore a faded littlehousedress and wore funny pointedshoes. Her salt and pepper hair waspinned up in a bun and always had anunruly sprig sticking out of it. Shehad a wee little voice, and when I wasalone, she would crick her finger in acome hither fashion saying, “comehere, come here”. I would stop eyeingher warily from a distance. I wouldsay, “uh, uh”. You see, I had heard shewas a witch. I had also read the book,“Hansel and Gretel”, so I was natural-

ly suspicious.My imagination running wild, I

said to myself, “she isn’t going to boilmy bones for soup”. Still, I was verycurious and always looked for her onmy way to school.

One day my friends and I were com-ing home from school. There wereabout eight of us. She was standingthere by the fence, as usual, watchingus with her emotionless face.

The others all started to run andchanting:

“Old Mamie Lally Standing by a tree She looks like a horny toad And smells like pee”

They stopped and sang it again, andthey all laughed. I stood apart fromthe group, and wanting to be part ofthem and the fun, “the devil got aholdof me”.

Putting my hands on my hips, Imarched straight towards her, saying“Yeah, and I am not afraid of you onelittle bit”! Then throwing my sweaterand lunch sack to the ground, Istopped before her saying, “you arejust a mean old witch”! Looking up

with, my defiant face, I saw bigteardrops falling from her pale, blueeyes. It made me feel so bad; I turnedaway; grabbed my sweater and lunchsack; and rejoined my friends.

They threw their arms around meand said, Ha! Ha! Ha! You really toldher off; that mean old witch! I said,“Yeah”, but already that little voice,“my conscience” was speaking to me.I could only think of the pale blueeyes, and the teardrops falling downthe cheeks of the old witch.

When I got home I could not eat mydinner. I was very unhappy. When Iwent to bed that night, I pulled thecovers over my head hoping Godwould not see me. For I knew I wasgoing to be thrown into the “Pits ofHell”, a burning hell, like our preach-er at church said; because I had madea witch cry and I was bad; real bad! Itold myself that.

I picked flowers from my moms gar-den the very next day. I needed tomake amends, but I could not say,“I’m sorry”. We did not do that in ourfamily. I never remember anyone say-ing, “I’m sorry”. I went straight to thewitches house. She was outside, bentover her garden. I called out to her

saying “Hey watcha doin? I broughtyou some flowers”. She looked up insurprise. She invited me in, and Iwent in warily. I peeked around thecorner, into her kitchen, looking for apot of boiling water; but there wasnone.

She was just a lonely old woman;not a witch. Her house was coveredwall to wall with books, which sheshared with me. She had lots of kit-ties, which she shared with me also.They were special to me.

Mamie became my friend, “veryspecial”. She saw me grow up andeverytime I came after I married, shecame to see me and my babies. Shewas a beautiful person.

Note: Do not judge others by whatyou hear. Listen; observe; make yourown judgment. “Be your own person”.

Jane Carnagie WittBackground: Have always enjoyed writing

- many good “stories” to share.My sister-in-law loves my stories

Inspiration: My family, children andnature. Sometimes my imagination just

takes over.Age: 90

The Witch on Pomona Avenue “Mamie Lally”

&Ar t sLe t t e r s

PARADISE POST

2200009922000099

Mia Lumbley - Age: 10“Deep Sea” and “Early Californian”

“Lazy Wood Duck” (published online)Background: I have always loved to draw.

It’s my favorite thing to do.Previous publications and Awards: Post Arts and Letters

Inspiration: I love to draw and paint. Dreaming up something in my head and putting it onto paper is so fun.

Medium: Watercolor paints

PPiicckkiinngg iiss aa ssppoorrtt??Yes! On California’s NorthCoast, picking means fishing forred abalones. Picking is diffi-cult, but if you’ve gone once andgotten your abalone, you’ll behooked.

Northern California has manyrocky beaches. The ocean crash-es over hidden rocks, untilnature provides a low tide.When this happens, theabalones’ homes (the rocks) areexposed. Abalones grow in anear shaped shell. They’re called“abs.” They are attached to theshell by a muscle which con-tains the “foot”. This foot is asuction cup which clamps on torocks. As the abalone feeds onalgae, it eases up on the suction.You may be lucky enough to findone eating, making it easier topry it loose.

Children should always gowith a parent or other adult.You’ll need a tide book to knowwhen there is a tide low enoughto find abs. To pry the ab loose,you need an iron, similar to atire iron, about a foot long andslightly curved. You will alsoneed a gauge to be sure youmeasure the abalones correctly,and a gunny sack for carryingthem. These can usually bebought where licenses are sold.When your adult buys a license,you will both receive a reportcard. Children under 14 won’tneed a license, just the card. Thedate of picking, length, and timeof day must be recorded on thecard. Taking an abalone under 7inches long is illegal. You maytake only three in one day, and24 in one year. There are gamewardens on the beaches check-ing cards to make sure everyonefollows the rules.

Sea otters and man are naturalenemies of abalones.California’s abalone populationwas once plentiful. Because ofotters and people, they are nowscarce. This is the reason forreport cards. The only place leftwhere it is legal to fish for or“pick” them in California is theNorthern Coast, mainlySonoma and Mendocino

Counties. Abalones grow veryslowly. It takes about 11 years foran abalone to reach 7 inches. Ifthe small ones are picked beforegrowing to adults, soon therewill be no abs.

As you move on to the beachearly in the morning, shiveringyour way carefully across rocks,you’ll see skin divers. These arepeople wearing black rubbersuits which fit “skin tight”.They’re often referred to as “theblack tide”. If you wear onlytennis shoes, a sweat shirt andjeans, as some brave souls do,you’ll probably shout somethinglike, “This is ice water!” whenyou step into the cold poolsbetween rocks. (Abalones liketemperatures of 45 to 65degrees.) Friendly shouts andlaughter fill the air. You’ll soonbe right in the middle of whatlooks like a picnic of black mon-sters, with a few hooded beingsin jeans, all eager to pick theirabs off the rocks. Hearts beatfaster when that first ab is locat-ed.

The shells are beautiful, butwhen in the ocean they are cov-ered with barnacles and sea-weed. The outside of the foot issurrounded by a squishy blacksubstance which contains theentrails of the abalones,(“guts”)

Spotting abs is difficult. Theyhide up under crevices in therocks. Once you find one, meas-ure it. If it’s big enough, startprying carefully with the iron.Make sure you don’t cut into theabalone. Wedge the ironbetween the shell and the rockand push down firmly. Keeppushing with all your mightuntil you feel the suction popand pull away. The ab will falloff. Catch it and pop it into yourgunny sack.

Just remember to follow therules, and be careful! Don’t for-get to keep an eye on the tide.When you’re standing in deeperwater, it’s time to go in. The tidehas changed. Don’t let yourselfget too cold, and watch thoseslippery rocks!

Are you ready to pick abs?

Thursday, July 30, 2009 • Arts &Letters• PARADISE POST 29

MadelineStringer

Inspiration: I get myinspiration from my

family and friends, butalso a famous

photographer, known asAnsel Adams, I admirehis photographs a lot,

and I hope to be asgood as he was.

Medium: PhotographyAge: 16

Diane Schultz - Age: 73Background: I’ve published a few articles and stories.

I like to write children’s stories. I have a book making the roundsof publishers now, so far no luck.

Previous publications or awards: Published in “Touch” and “Family Fun.”Won second prize in “Stepping Stones” contest.

Inspiration: The world, my surroundings

30 PARADISE POST • Arts &Letters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

Art

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...

Art

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ving

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I have been servingParadise and the

surrounding communitiessince 1982. Real Estate ismy passion and I Thank

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SALLY VERTREES, CRS6635 CLARK RD.PARADISE, CA. 95969530 872-5895DRE #00836546

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I believe in good, old-fashioned personalservice - and the successof my real estate businessreflects that belief.

Working for you since 1985 doing something I truly love!!

Select Real Estate, Inc.5350 Skyway, Paradise CA 95969

SSuussaann GG.. TThhoommaassBroker Associate872-6847

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Steve WilliamsCRB, CRS, SRES

Real Estate Broker

LEADER IN SALES 1983-2008

stevewilliamsteam.com

7030 Skyway Suite C,Paradise CA 95969

530-872-54441-800-794-1199x344

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I have been servingthe Ridge communi-ty for over 20 yearswith pride, integrityand the experienceto help you with allyour real estateneeds. Let me sharemy knowledge ofour area and getyou into your ownpiece of Paradise!

530-872-6816Select Real Estate, Inc.5350 Skyway, Paradise CA 95969

John Hosford

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2531 Forest Ave., Chico • 893-19091453 Downer St, Oroville • 534-1911

Celebrating 98 years

[email protected] www.tracyrealtyco.com

Experience the legacy

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Bidwell ChapelBidwell Chapel was founded in 1880 as Fetters andWilliams Funeral Home. In 1993, the Brusie familypurchased the funeral home and has since redecorat-ed and refurbished the building. The Brusie familycontinues a tradition of service and commitment tothe community at Chico Cemetery, Bidwell Chapel,Glen Oaks Memorial Park, and Brusie Funeral Home.

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Thursday, July 30, 2009 • Arts &Letters• PARADISE POST 31

We agreed to meet...we agreed to meet at Starbucks

she waited at the shop downtown I went to the new one at the mall

if we can't even get a little thing like this right how can we save the world?

(This poem first appeared in April 2009 in thePoem-A-Day Challenge on the Writer's Digest blog.)

Bidwell Mansion1868

John brought his young bride

from the East

to a wedding cake house with piano, library

indoor plumbing

among settlers, ranchers Mechoopda Indians Annie lived in style

Lookout PointA jumble of crumpled cars

lies beneath the bluff

marks a score of suicides

one failed attempt

No one knows how many stop

gaze at the ravine, distant cliffs

meandering creek below

peer over the rim

measure descent

against despair

Joy Harold Helsing - Age: 78Background in art or writing: Twelve years of

working in educational publishing Previous publications or awards: too many to list

Inspiration: Anything around meMedium: Words, words, words

11996622

Realizing the need for an automobile shop that specializedin foreign car repair, Keith Morris and his partner, BobPoteet, combined their talents and opened the Pit Stop. Theoriginal shop was located in the north end of town, onMorseman Ave. It was Chico’s original imported car serviceshop. As the town grew, the Pit Stop was enlarged to meetthe needs of foreign car owners. They are presently locatedat 645 Mangrove. Keith has a 10-bay service shop to pro-vide his customers with the finest quality work available forall types of foreign and imported vehicles.

645 Mangrove Ave., Chico • 343-5852

The Pit StopImported Car ServiceThe Pit Stop

Imported Car Service

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32 PARADISE POST • Arts &Letters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

B.J. Bryan (Bonnie) - Age: 74

“A Wish for the Millennium” written Jan. 1, 2000Background: When working at the State Bar of California, Los Angeles

office, I wrote articles for the Bar News regarding genealogy calledCradle, Altar, Tomb. When living in Douglas City I used to write articles for

the Weaverville newspaper.Previous publications: My first book published, Oceans of Love,

A Collection of World War I Letters. My second book has been submittedbut not yet published. It is the true story of one of our troopships

involved in a collision with a French aircraft carrier while in convoy. Welost 68 young men; the French lost 4. Entitled The Ship That Never Was.

JoyJoy danced with her sisters beneath the

cloudless sky, arms reaching toward the sky,her feet tapping rhythmically. Hooped ear-rings swayed and bracelets jingled as theymoved, free as spirits. It was the same everyday and even long into the nights, althoughthe sisters never noticed the darkness thatmatched their soft-as-cotton skin.

As so often happens with sisters, their per-sonalities diverged, for although they wereconceived by the same Creator, each wasconstructed individually. One day, Joy low-ered her arms and told them, “I’m goingaway to dance to the beat of a distant drum-mer.”

The others reached for the sky and theirfeet lifted and pranced. They knew that Joywas the adventurous one and they dancedon, in farewell. “Be careful,” they warned,“that the Creator doesn’t see you.”

Joy lowered quietly to the plush, darkgreen path and tiptoed until she found thesource of the cool syncopation she had oftenheard in the background— nine musicians,their skin white as teeth. Never had she seensuch tuxedoes, as these figures cavortedbetween a clamshell backdrop and a bloom-ing dogwood. And their music! Joy dancedand swirled, entwining with the eighth andquarter notes bouncing from the walls. Itwas a jazz attack, as the horns, bass, fluteand harp joined the swelling riffs from thebaby-grand’s keyboard, its ivories teasedand cajoled by a turquoise-tailed guy, a realhep cat.

Cat! Joy pressed against the wall attempt-ing to become invisible as an enormous greycat—with real fur!—peered with huge green

eyes through the glass door. “Meow,” ithollered with huge teeth.

“There you are, Vel!”Joy pressed even tighter into the wall. The

Creator! Her heart pounded; her knees quiv-ered. She nearly gasped aloud as the clockreported bong, bong, bong, bong, bong, bong.

The bespectacled Creator, eyes bluebeneath hair the color of moonlight, openedthe screen door, placed a bowl in front of themonster, and then returned inside, slidingthe door shut and shuffling into the distance.

Joy exhaled. Slowly her feet began to tap tothe jazz. How she loved these vibes fromthese cats! Who could believe they had suchchops? Her sisters sure weren’t going tobelieve it. Joy’s stomach growled. She eyed alarge bowl filled with apples, halfway up tothe ceiling. I’ll grab this grapevine. Joyshimmied past two placid goldfish swishingin a deep bowl. She grabbed the shiniest ofthe red fruit and munched its juiciness whileadmiring the vast blue collection of vases,jars, and teapots.

Joy descended the grapevine until her barefeet touched the green path. Tossing theropey strand behind her she yawned. ThinkI’ll rest, here, in Grandma’s Flower Garden.Settling between the polygon patches ofpink and green, Joy stretched her long limbsand closed her eyes. I wonder if my sistersare thinking about me.

Beneath the glowing sun, her sistersdanced and lived their dreams, the Creatorstitched brave new worlds, and Vel lickedher lips.

A Wish for theMillennium

May your hair, your teeth,your facelift, your abs, andyour stocks not fall. May yourblood pressure, your triglyc-erides, your cholesterol, yourwhite blood count, and yourmortgage interest not rise.May you get a clean bill ofhealth from your dentist,your gynecologist, your cardi-ologist, your gastroendocri-nologist, your urologist, yourproctologist, your podiatrist,your psychiatrist, yourplumber, and the IRS.

May you find a way to travelfrom anywhere to anywherein the rush hour in less thanan hour, and when you getthere may you find a parkingspace.

May Friday evening,December 31st, find you seat-ed around the dinner table,together with your belovedfamily and cherished friends,ushering in the New Year. Youwill find the food better, theenvironment quieter, the costcheaper, and the pleasuremuch more fulfilling thananything else you might ordi-narily do on a New Year’sEve.

May you awaken on January1st finding that the world hasnot come to an end, the lightswork, the water faucets flow,and the sky has not fallen.May you go to the bank onMonday morning, January3rd, and find your account is

in order, your money is stillthere, and any mistakes arein your favor. May you ponderon January 4th: How did thisultramodern civilization ofours manage to get itselftraumatized by a possible slip... of a blip ... on a chip ...made out of sand?

May you have the strengthto go through a year of presi-dential campaigning and maysome of the promises made,be kept. May you believe atleast half of what the candi-dates propose, and may thoseelected fulfill at least half ofwhat they promise, and themiracle of reducing taxes andbalancing budgets, happen.

May the telemarketers waitto make their sales calls untilyou finish dinner, and mayyour checkbook and yourbudget balance, and may theyinclude generous amounts forcharity.

May you remember to say “Ilove you” at least once a dayto your spouse, your child,your parent, but NOT to yoursecretary, your nurse, yourmasseuse, your hairdresser,or your tennis instructor.

May we live as intended, in aworld at peace and the aware-ness of the beauty in everysunset, every flower, everybaby’s smile, and every won-derful, astonishing miracu-lous beat of our hearts.

May what you see in themirror, delight you, and whatothers see in you, delightthem.

Laura DvorakInspiration: Dedicated to my mother,

Ann McAlister of Magalia, an avid creator of finequilts and other fabric artwork.

Medium: Flash fiction

Dorothy S. HardinBackground: A love affair

with the written wordPrevious publications:“Fireside Companion,”

“Reminisce,”“Good Old Days,”

“ Valley Times” - Bay AreaMedium: Paper & pen

Age: 84

Shyness Is All AloneFeelings surface, anxious to be heard, weary of lying dormant in my brain. Shyness is aching to speak, too timid to find the way. “Has the cat got your tongue?” The taunting words tear at my senses, while silence sinks deeper within me. To utter a sound in this room of stillness, might become a terrible roar. Then everyone would stare — at me! No, I shall swallow my words. I shall suffocate the roar. I will not speak today. I am a child. I am shy. I am all alone.

Jan Hasak - Age: 56“Grand Canyon”

Background: I have painted using acrylics since I was in my earlytwenties. I have most recently dabbled in

poetry, and read some of my poems at the open-mike session at theParadise Public Library in April 2009.

Previous publications: “Mourning Has Broken: Reflections onSurviving Cancer” (Xulon Press 2008)

Inspiration: For the paintings: God's beautiful creationFor the poem (published online): My recovery from cancer

Medium: Acrylics

Katie StecherBackground in Art: I have

varied artistic hobbies includingmosaics, stained glass, crazy

quilting, altered art and assem-blages and beadwork. Several of

my mosaic pieces haveappeared in past issues of Arts

and Letters as well as in a juriedmosaic show at the Institute of

Mosaic Art in Oakland, CA. I am,for the most part, self-taught.

Inspiration: I picked up a “how-to” book on bead

mbroidery and was so dazzledby the beauty of the pieces

made by the author, I just had totry it myself. These are the firstpieces I’ve made. More online!Medium: Beads, cabochons,

crystals, pearls

II’’mm IInn LLoovvee WWiitthh YYoouuThere is no doubt,

my thougths of you, never cease. They fill my mind day and night.

Even tho we’re not together.

In my thoughts it will go on forever over and over again.

The memory of our first kiss. When you held me tight.

All through the night. Oh! how my heart took flight.

Like the Eagle on a March winds night.

I will always remember how it could have been.

In my dreams I became your wife. And no more did I live in strife.

If Dreams come true I would always be with you. No other forever and ever.

I will be yours for ever more.

Until we both flew into the darkness of the night. I wait to fall asleep again

to continue our flight.

To you my darling I say “GOODNIGHT.”

Judy Soto“I’m In Love With You”

“Dove in Hand” (published online)Background: I have been writing since I canremember, but the rush of writing started in1990 and hasn’t stopped since. If I am quiet

and daydreaming the words start flowing anda new poem or story is born.

Previous awards: First place in Gold NuggetMuseum writing contest

Inspiration: Nature, meditation, being in loveMedium: Automatic writing Age: Adult

Ashton Boni Background: Co-Founder

of www.1crazynite.com10 years as a professionalphotographer. Have just finished being the senior

photographer for anEmagazine for 3 1/2 years

that covered music festivals,concerts, and music eventsin the Bay Area. I have a BA

in three different fieldsTheatre, sound engineering,

and Business Marketing.Previous publications:

Have had work featured onthe global photographycommunity Smugmug

Inspiration: The constantneed to see the world

Medium: Digital (Canon 5D)& Medium format 120 film

Age: 46

Janet Bauer - Age: 74

“Spring at Pt. Cabrillo”, “Port Orford” (published online)Background: Classes at Albright Art Gallery in Buffalo, New York when

young. Also classes in oils and sculpturing.Currently: A member of the Paradise Art Center, Chico Art Center,

Mendocino Art Center and the Coast Redwoods Art Assn. in Crescent City.My artwork can be seen at various art shows and fairs.

Inspiration: Pacific Coast Medium: Acrylic

Going to SeaAt sixteen, Karl stood taller than most at

6’1” and stood rigidly at attention as one of the36 new Kaisers’ Marine Sea Cadets musteredon the fore deck of the Friedrich August tobegin Cadet Seamanship training.

“Kapitan,” Wallis addressed the young freshfaces. “You stand on one of the newest andfinest in the German training schools afloat.

Who can tell me about her?”A long pause ensued.Finally Karl raised his arm half way.The Kapitan’s eyes widened as he studied

Karl critically. “Right, you, the tall one, whatdo you know about your ship?”

Karl took a deep breath and spurted a flurryof words, “Built in 1913, of steel, byTecklenborg, in Geestemünde, as a schoolshipfor the German merchant marine. She wasgiven the name Grossherzog Friedrich Augustand she is 84 meters from bow to stern, 12meters abeam, and draws 4.7 meters....

TRAINING SSHIP —— tthe FFRIEDRICH AAUGUST

Thursday, July 30, 2009 • Arts &Letters• PARADISE POST 33

Lou Legerton - Age: 81Previous publications: one pub-lished story - co author: Black Bartthe Poet Bandit and a number of

articles publishedInspiration: This is a factual story

1...This ship served three nations1914 - 1945 ....in peace and war.

2...This ship served Germany in WWI1914 to 1917

3...Seized by the US. in 1917 andinterned at New Orleans

4...Converted to the NAVY andrenamed the U.S.S. MontpelierNavy ID # 1954 - 1919 to 1927

5...Sold to American HawaiianSteamship co renamedNEVADAN 1927 to 1939

6...Returned to the U.S. Governmentconverted to 1939

7...Military Supply Ship -- S.S. NEVADAN 1939 TO 1943

8...Lease to the U.S.S.R. 1943 to 1944renamed the YAN TOMP

9...Returned to Military sea TransportService 1944 to 1945 renamedthe NEVADAN

10..Assigned to moth ball fleet 1945and scrapped at San Franciscoship yards 1946.

Due to its length, the rest of the story is published online.

34 PARADISE POST • Arts &Letters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

Barbara Anne Ramsay Age: 66

“Makin’ A Choice” (top) 18 x 24 Colored Pencil

“Out of the Woods” (top) 11 x 14 Oil

“Steppin’ Out” (published online) 20 x 24 Oil

Background: Professional Artist for 35 yrs. teach art at the ParadiseArt Center, self taught with a few collage classes. Publications Western

Horseman Magazine, Equine Images Magazine, Art Of The WestMagazine. Best Of Colored Pencil II and several news paper articles.Awards: Awards, Best of Show Western and Equine Art Show Grass

Valley, CA, Best of Show Western Art Roundup and Buckaroo HeritageSilver Spur Award Western Art Roundup Winnemucca, NV 2007.

Inspiration: My love of the western way of life and the wildlife ofNorth America give me the inspiration to paint and draw the grace

and beauty that I see in the wild animals and the life style of theBuckaroo of Nevada, Northen California and Oregon.

Butterflies are Flying

Flowers

What is more

gorgeous than

a butterfly?

He is even

prettier than

the butterfly

bush he

loves!

What is more

gorgeous than

a butterfly?

He is even

prettier than

the butterfly

bush he

loves!

Butterflies are Flying

Flowers

MMiirraaccllee HHuummmmiinnggbbiirrddI was just visiting a neighbor, photographing

her gorgeous flower, the focus already pushed,when I felt a knock on my left knee. This lovely

hummingbird landed on the flower just as I finished the shot. It is as if he was saying,

“Hey, lady, that is MY flower and I am hungry!”

Julie Graulich“Jack Rabbit”

“Hawk/SacramentoWildlife Refuge”Medium: Digital

PhotographyAge: 49

Margaret Joinville - Age: 75“Butterfly”

“Miracle Hummingbird”Background: Amateur photographer,

painter, ceramic artistInspiration: Love of Nature

Medium: Photography

Thursday, July 30, 2009 • Arts &Letters• PARADISE POST 35

More Chronicles Of Casper The CatWith last year’s submission

you may recall a photo of a kit-ten comfortably ensconced in awash basin. My daughter,Andrea took that photo toaccompany her dad’s non-fic-tion piece about a certain kit-ten who was introduced intohis home by a very determinedwife. Now, Casper, a full growntomcat has developed somePuss-in-Boots type traits whichAndrea has captured with hercamera to be utilized in thisphoto essay...

“It’s tthe ddoorbellalright...And ddarned iif iitdoesn’t ssound llike aa ffriendof mmy ffamily wwho ggenerallybrings hher ddog aalong.”

“Oh, rrats - tthere ggoes mmynap. TThat ssounded llikethe ddoorbell.”

“Ahhh -Lucky MMe.

They aalldetoured ttothe ggarden.

Now II ccanpose ffor aaphoto tthat

will bbest iillus-trate mmy ttrue

regal sself - oonethat mmay rremind

you oof tthe EEgyptian SSphinx.”

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“I’m nnot iin aany mmood tto hhave mmy bbuttsniffed iin tthe mmanner oof ddogs. II wwill bbe one ffurtive ffeline aand hhop uup oon aa cchair ttocamouflage mme ffrom tthis mmutt, nno mmatterthat hhe iis oone ffriendly ppooch II rrecentlyspent qquite ssome ttime wwith aat hhis hhome.”

36 PARADISE POST • Arts &Letters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

Jim RobertsonBackground: 40 years making

pottery Inspiration: Family

Medium: Stoneware & porcelain clays

I was first introduced to clay when mywife took a pottery class, she soon lostinterest, but mine elevated.

I started with lessons at ShibuiGalleries in Paradise and went on todo reading and experimenting on myown in clays glazes shapes. I havebeen a potter for thirty-five years,more recently specializing in vineyarddesigns which I like making andplease my customers.

I truly love my work, I like makingpractical articles that can be used ineveryday life. The aspect of the actualartistic, mental and physical workinvolved in producing pottery isenjoyable. Clay is a very soothingmedium to work with, it can also bevery easy or maddening.

I have worked in wood, metal, fiber-glass, and clay, but always comeback to clay.

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Joni Silva - Age: Over 21

“Flower Seller” (above)“Feline Fantasies” (below)

“Zen Cat” (published online)Background: Self taught

Inspiration: The world around meMedium: Acrylic

RJ LukensBackground: I have been a

student painting at ButteCollege for two semesters.

Inspiration: My inspiration isthat of personal growth and

sharing ideas with others.Medium: Acrylics

Age: 47

Driving in Chico can be aninteresting, if not hazardousadventure. The people inChico are quite happy todrive down the streets andavenues of this cozy littletown oblivious of other enti-ties. Cell phones in hand, fif-teen inch “woofers” in theback, a twelve pack in thecooler, and “They be happen-ing’.” “It’s my road, and I’lldrive the way I want,” is thefeeling one gets while motor-ing through the streets ofChico. Sadly, this attitudecauses more ill feelings thanharmony, and sometimesresults in tragedy.

It is not unusual in Chico tobe stuck behind a long line ofcars, moving at a snail’s pace,only to find the driver of thefirst car is talking on theircell phone. You know thatdriver is blathering on abouthow Aunt Millie lost her den-tures in the toilet last weekand is not able to eat any-thing but soup until she getsher new set. There is also themissing driver. It’s the carthat when you pull up behindit, you can’t see anyone’shead. They have the seatpulled up so far that theirnose gets rug burns from thesteering wheel as they turnit. They’re sitting on a book,straining to see over thehood, while creeping along atfifteen miles per hour.

Stop signs in Chico are onlythere for looks. Nobodybelieves them, or listens tothem, or understands whatthey have to say. They don’tsay slow down, creep onthrough, nor bid us don’teven bother, as many in thislittle town must think theydo.

We also have the guy withthe dark tinted windows, andthe “woofers” in the trunk.He has the stereo up so loud,and with his sunglasses on,he does not see or hear theemergency vehicles, and justkeeps on “cruising.” Somedrivers in Chico will watchyou coming down the street,and just as you get close, theywill pull out in front of youso that you have to slam onyour brakes. They willextend a finger at you as youpeel your groceries and thedog off the windshield, then

they will proceed to drive tenmiles per hour under thespeed limit.

Don’t you just love thatdriver that is heading downthe road in the left lane,going slower than the speedlimit? You look in the rightlane, there is another car justahead, but driving at thespeed limit. You determinethat you have enough room topass the car in the left lane,so you signal move to theright and begin to overtakethe “slowpoke.” He thenspeeds up, and that littlemove almost makes you rearend the other car. This jerkthen paces you, making itimpossible to pass him.

Construction Zones can be“War Zones” in Chico. Whereyou see signs that say, “Rightlane closed ahead,” you willalways find the “Crowder.”The “Crowder” is the driverthat will drive down the lanethat is being closed as far ashe can, turn on his signal andcrowd in front of the othercars that have been waitingin an orderly manner.Sometimes this action drawsstern reactions from otherdrivers. Some may extend afinger; maybe they are test-ing the wind? Others mayyell some sort of greetingthat may result in a fingerbeing pointed in reply. Thisexchange will almost alwaysprompt another single fin-gered response from eachparticipant. Occasionallycloser contact may result.One driver might exit his carto have a more personal, ifnot more meaningful conver-sation with the other.Sometimes the driverremaining in his “noblesteed” might roll his windowdown to more clearly hearwhat the one approachinghas to say. This rolling downof the window may allow theapproaching driver a sort ofritual contact. Other times,the driver initiating the con-versation may not realize thewindow is up, and will acci-dently put his hand throughit in his haste to greet his fel-low traveler. Most enjoyableto watch, is when the twodrivers demonstrate what the“Mosh Pit” was like at thelast concert they attended.

On a more serious note,one morning as I was drivingto my place of business, Ipassed the aftermath of atragic accident. It was infront of Chico High School.An older brother, after drop-ping his younger sibling offat school, was killed by acareless driver who ran a redlight. The young man’s vehi-cle was hit broadside withsuch force that it would havespun three hundredsixtydegrees had the centerdivider not stopped it. Theoffending driver was pickedup down the street, afterabandoning his vehicle andfleeing on foot. I thought tomyself, “What a perfectexample of the total disre-gard for life” (no surprise inChico). I was sure then, bythe looks of the mangledwreckage, that I would be see-ing the occupant at the ceme-tery where I was then work-ing. I saw far too many younglives wasted by other people’sstupidity and carelessness. Ihad to look into those griev-ing families’ faces, a witnessto their anguish. I had noanswer for them as to whythese things happen, why theinnocent had to die. I tried toease their pain thebest that I could.What words can yousay that can reallyhelp them?

Another seriousproblem in Chico isthat guy with thecooler full of beer inthe back of his pick-up truck. It is not nec-essarily the cooler ofbeer that is the prob-lem, but what thedriver does with hispickup after he hasconsumed the beer.

A well-known inci-dent and good exam-ple of this is thedeaths of the Howellbrothers.1 That guywho consumed thatcooler of beer, andthought he coulddrive, killed them. Hewas driving extreme-ly fast—about 80M.P.H.—as he ran ared light. The broth-ers had no chancethat fateful night, as

their car was struckat the intersectionof Bruce Road andHighway thirty-two.A well maintainedmemorial marksthe place where they died,November 30, 1997.

Elijah was seventeen, andhis brother Isaac was four-teen, when they left thehouse to return a videotapeto the store. Elijah was anexcellent student. He wasalso an athlete, competing onboth the wrestling and foot-ball teams. Elijah was activein his church. He was a helpto his mother who cared fordevelopmentally challengedchildren in their home. Isaacwas in his own right a talent-ed artist and musician. Hestudied the violin. He alsoattended church and helpedhis mother as his elder broth-er did. Sadly, the two brotherswere cut down before theyreally had a chance to live.Wasted also in this tragic talewas the life of the drunkdriver. He was only in hisearly twenties. They areburied in the same cemetery,at opposite sides, just asopposite as their lives musthave been. Was it coincidence

that caused their paths tocross, or Divine providence?

Now that I am older, andwhen I get into my car anddrive in Chico, or anywherefor that matter, I have learnedto take these things to heart. Ifind myself wanting to snugup the seat belt just a littletighter, drive a little slower,and be a little more courte-ous to the other driver. I catchmyself looking a little morecarefully before entering thatintersection. For you neverknow where or when thatcareless or drunk drivermight be rounding the nextcorner, heading for his des-tiny. Hopefully, driving a lit-tle more defensively, com-bined with a little luck, mightbe enough to avoid being thefrontpage story of the Chiconewspaper. I remember eachcorner I round, and eachintersection I come to, “it’stheir road.”

1 Information on the deaths of the Howell broth-ers was found on the Elijah and Isaac Foundationwebsite; http://www.gsweb.com/Eandl/about

Thursday, July 30, 2009 • Arts &Letters• PARADISE POST 37

Patricia Van Stavernuntitled (published in color online)

Background: Local display of art work. Instruction by local artist Sylvia Smejkel.

Previous publications: Last years Post Arts and Letters.Inspiration: What is around me and what I see.

Medium: Watercolor

It’s Their Road David A. La BarberaBackground: Writing as a hobby

Previous publications: Editor for a Day,Letters to the Editor

Inspiration: I love to write. I once considered writing for a newpaper.

Age: 57

38 PARADISE POST • Arts &Letters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

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CCaarrppeett VViinnyyll LLaammiinnaatteess HHaarrddwwooooddss

876-1282Fax 876-1117

88116655 SSkkyywwaayy,, PPaarraaddiissee CCAA 9955996699

JJiimm EEaakkiinnssLic. #609246

PPaarraadd iissee AArrtt CCeenntteerr5564 Almond StreetParadise, CA 95969

(530) 877-7402Serving the Community for over 40 years

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BEST WINDOWCLEANING SERVICE

ResidentialCommercial

FREE QUOTESInsured

873-4747Serving Butte County

Thursday, July 30, 2009 • Arts &Letters• PARADISE POST 39

Walter Pierce“Beach at Fort Bragg” (left)

“Foothills” (below)

“Ocean Avenue, Carmel” (published online)Inspiration: To get a break from work at the

Town of ParadiseMedium: oil

Age: 73

Margie Chapman“Llama”

“Deers in the field”Background: Took a few classes but

mostly self taughtInspiration: Love of animals, flowers

and natureAwards: Won some ribbons at

Butte County Fair.Medium: Oils

GGGG aaaammmmeeeeRRRRuuuu llll eeee ssss

Locate and circle the 9 hidden words listedinside this labyrinth:

ajoverheaddoorbestwindowcleaningfloorsunlimitedfitonegraymattermikegoggiaparadiseartcenterrosechapelsmalley

• Submit your entry to theParadise Post by noon,Friday, August 7, 2009.

• Mail entries to SEEK AWORD Game, P.O.Drawer 70, Paradise, CA95967 or may be droppedby the office at 5399 ClarkRoad.

• All correct entries will quali-fy for a drawing to win aFamily 4 Pack to theOutlaws. Drawing to beheld Friday, August 14,2009 at 4PM. One winnerwill be drawn.

• Must be 18 years or older. One entry per household. Paradise Post employeesand their families are noteligible to win.

HHHHoooowwww tttt ooooPPPP llll aaaayyyy

Go to paradisepost.com

to see all thesubmissions!

TALL PINESEntertainment Center

•Bowling•Video

Arcade

•Cardroom•Sports bar

5445 Clark Road872-BOWL

Corner of Clark & Pearson • 877-4442