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Memories
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page.
Memories
By Frank Hulse
Confession is good for the soul. So here goes:
Something I’ve been gnawing on, off and on all day like a dog bone with just a little more flavor.
I can remember my combination lock from my freshman year in college.
I can remember what the locker room smelled like. It was directly adjacent to the indoor swimming pool so it was primarily chlorine—but there were more than a few other smells I won’t describe here.
If I see a post or a picture from a high school classmate, I can immediately hear her/his voice.
I can remember church camp out at Osage Hills State Park when I was in 8th grade and showing off in the swimming pool, more or less like a peacock when it fans out its train.
I can remember going on a snipe hunt with all the kids and one of the girls stealing a kiss (given freely).
I can remember the smell of frying bacon and coffee brewing on our first day of vacation and the new striped t-shirt, freshly laundered, ready to go, and corn on the cob from a street vendor in Estes Park, Colorado.
I can hear Barbra Streisand singing The Way We Were (Memories).
I’m happy to have these powerful memories . . . but I wish I could remember where I left my cell phone.
Yep, a mind like a steel trap, rusted shut and stuck in the 60’s.
William Frank Hulse III is a native Oklahoman, born and raised in the Indian Cowboy Oilman community of Pawhuska. He began his college career at Central State College in Edmond but enlisted in the U.S. Army in 1968. While serving in the military Frank completed his undergraduate degree with the University of Maryland. Upon his return to civilian life in 1975, Frank was employed by Phillips Petroleum Company for almost 30 years. Since retiring he plays guitar and writes.
Note From Marlene: You are welcome to comment on my Writers Forum Facebook Page.
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Too dangerous . . . Prompt #589
Writing Prompt: It’s much too dangerous to talk about . . .
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An idyllic afternoon . . . Prompt #588
Photo by Angeline Revitt I have the good fortune of belonging to a Facebook Group called Hygge Life. A group that posts phenomenal photos and all positive comments.
Recently, someone posted photos of her inspirational garden in Essex Coast, UK, with this invitation:
“Hygge friends! Come take a little stroll with me to my favourite corner of the garden! We can sit a while and sip on our tea/coffee/tissane and gaze at the craziness of our raised veggie beds, the beginnings of the sweet pea pyramid, the formal and wild flowers and listen and watch as the busy white bottomed bees gather pollen! We can stay a while and chit chat about all things Hygge or . . . just listen, smell, and look at the wonder of Mother Nature. Come join me!”
Writing Prompt: Imagine being in this garden, sitting at the blue table, across from a friend. What would you chat about? Or, what would your fictional characters talk about?
Maybe you are alone in this luxurious spot. If you could take the time to sit by yourself, what would you contemplate?
Me? I’m imagining a new friend on the Essex Coast. We’ve just met and have so many things in common that we talk for hours. Lunch leads to afternoon tea which leads to an evening meal, watching the sun pass over her garden. I breathe in the luxurious scent of her garden and listen to the cadence of her voice, enjoying the lilt of her speech. A blissful afternoon.
Another writing prompt: If you had all the time in the world, what would you like to do?
Be bold! Be brave! Go deep with your writing. Be honest! Be authentic! Just like this Hygge Life FB post . . . be open to a Hygge daydreaming moment.
Other prompts about Hygge:
I’ll say a little prayer for you . . . Prompt #574
Photo by Angeline Revitt -
Chance Encounters . . . Prompt #586
Writing Prompt:
Chance encounters . . . what are the chances?
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Belong. Prompt #584
The characters in the Broadway show and the movie, In The Heights, chase their dreams and ask: “Where do I belong?”
West Side Story is also about finding one’s place, illustrated in the song “Somewhere:”
Someday, somewhere
We’ll find a new way of living
We’ll find a way of forgiving
SomewhereThere’s a place for us
Somewhere a place for us
Peace and quiet and open air
Wait for us somewherePrompt:
Write about a time you felt out of place.
A place where you didn’t belong, but there you were.
What did you do? What did you feel?
Have you found Your Place?
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Baba Yetu . . . Prompt #583
“Baba Yetu” sung in Swahili by the Stellenbosch University Choir.
The Prompt: Listen to this amazing choir. Then write whatever comes up for you.
Or: Write about a musical experience.
Or: Write about connections.
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Post-Pandemic Songs and Second Chances
By Deb Fenwick
After fifteen months, it’s time to soar. A hundred, a thousand, millions of voices are calling, inviting us to share in a common song. There’s a brilliant bright light and an invitation to hope after all the darkness—to hope and to imagine possibilities. It’s a resonant call to lift off and soar. And it originates from that other place.
It’s a place of community where we remember our interconnectedness. It’s a place where there’s an agreement to work together to make something that transcends what one individual, no matter how magnificent, can do on their own. It’s a place where you work toward something with others, and it takes on its own magic. You can see it in a choir’s chorus or a road crew building a bridge. It’s there as an emergency room team saves a life, and as food pantry volunteers pack boxes. It’s that place where energy is transferred and transmuted as it moves from one heart to another. It’s a place where there’s enough joy to lift a spirit, raise a roof, and change the vibration of the planet, all at once.
This new phase can be our song. It’s a second chance. After all the darkness of a global pandemic we squint, almost in disbelief, as we lift our faces toward the light. Yes, we’ve made it. Even if we stumbled through losses no one could predict. Even if, some days, we felt like giving up as we struggled with shades drawn. Now, we can choose to work together to lift ourselves and others higher. Because we’ve traveled through dark times, we reflect and remember. We honor those who didn’t make it by vowing to love more, forgive fully and listen deeply. All we have to do is look and listen because there’s harmony present when we look to the light and listen to the music. Thank goodness for every second chance and every song that makes a heart soar. We’ve made it.Writing inspired after listening to “Baba Yetu” sung in Swahili by the Stellenbosch University Choir.
Deb Fenwick is a Chicago-born writer who currently lives in Oak Park, Illinois. After spending nearly thirty years working as an arts educator, school program specialist, youth advocate, and public school administrator, she now finds herself with ample time to read books by her heroes and write every story that was patiently waiting to be told. When she’s not traveling with her heartthrob of a husband or dreaming up wildly impractical adventures with her intrepid, college-age daughter, you’ll find her out in the garden getting muddy with two little pups.
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If you could … Prompt #581
If you could change some things in your history, what would you change?
