Writers Group - Archived Stories

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  • Missing School to See an Historic Event - November 22, 1963 by Jane Johnson (23 May 2024)
    • There are not many of us left.  We are now in our late 60s to mid-70s.  The few feet of film footage shows there were infants held by parents and some small children, but they were too young to remember the airplane landing, the motorcade of black cars, Jackie's gorgeous ensemble, and the subsequent assassination of President John F. Kennedy in Dallas. 
  • Thoughts on Growing Old by Alden Davis (7 April 2024)
    • Well, who am I kidding?  This is not really thoughts on growing old.  I am old.  Older than dirt.  Older than any of my living relatives.  I always thought I could count on Cousin Betty to be the oldest one, but she went and died on me. Recently I learned of the death of a woman I had worked with.  I knew her for 42 years.  I was sad.  Not that I liked her; in fact, I didn’t.  But when someone that you knew for 42 years dies, it leaves a little hole in the fabric of your own life.
       
  • The Death of My President by Alden Davis (11 February 2024)​​
    • John F. Kennedy was my president. When I first taught school his Pulitzer Prize winning book Profiles in Courage was on the bookshelf for my eleventh-grade English class. Everyone knew that during World War II he was the commander of PT 109. 
  • Are You a Morning Person or an Evening person? by Gloria Alexander (16 July 2023)
    • ​Definitely a morning person….. Spring and Summer, my joy is reading scripture first, then taking my hot coffee in hand and walking thru the garden to see how much each plant has grown. Some grow an inch or more, some grow less, some have formed buds, some have open flowers or tiny fruit, maybe a hibiscus flower or two opened this morning, possibly more.
  • A Christmas Memory --- Marching to the Manger by Robert Mullis (1 January 2023)
    • In the fall of 1971, I was cast in the Christmas Show at Radio City Music Hall.  That meant several weeks of work in the city and no need to tour.  Our daughter Jenna had just been born in July and this would be her first Christmas.  Our first Christmas as a family in New York City.
  • Firecrackers and Bottle Rockets by Joel Blackwelder (15 December 2022)
    • More and more, I find that it is almost necessary to write things down. Oh, I  so want to remember in vivid detail the joy that a trip to Hardees fast food restaurant could bring to our family. Charbroiled burgers slathered with thousand island dressing and chocolate shakes for the sweet desert. Hurry on down to Hardees, where the burgers are charcoal broiled.
  • The Last White Gullah Speaker on Johns Island by Alden Davis (24 October 2022)
    • ​Robert Davis, the last white Gullah speaker on Johns Island SC left us on September 25, 2022. True, there are probably elderly black folk on the island who speak Gullah, but the people to whom they can speak in their native tongue are growing fewer and fewer with every passing year. More often than not, standard English is the norm today. Those who have learned Gullah as a celebration of their heritage seldom speak it the same way as the old ones did.
  • Wiley Cash, The Last Ballad by Joel Blackwelder (19 June 2022)
    • “He found her lying in the dirt between rows of cotton, the front of her dress soaked with blood. Her open eyes stared toward the sky.” Some will say that the life of Ella Mae Wiggins was ordinary. Others say it was extraordinary. She worked in Bessemer City, North Carolina in the American Mill 102. When we’re talking about mills here, we’re talking about cotton mills in Gaston County. A place where you could make nine dollars and fifty cents a month for running a spinning frame. The year was 1929. Ella Mae was a spinner, a mother, a labor union organizer, a singer-songwriter. Her journey began in Cowpens, South Carolina and ended up in a cotton field. Death came too early for Ella Mae.
  • Critters be Gone by Tommy Beatty (30 May 2022)
    • If this hadn't happened to me, I don't know if I would believe it. As a hunter and outdoorsman, I've grown to respect nature and all or at least most of the critters that call nature home. When I was a child, one of my greatest thrills was the annual trip to my great uncle Jim's for the family rabbit and squirrel hunts at Thanksgiving. This was one of the few times I got to spend time with Dad since he worked six days a week. When the hunts were done Uncle Jim and my grandfather cleaned the meat and Aunt Carrie prepared the game to cook and eat. You would think these are the folks that taught me to perform the same tasks but no, it was my mother that taught me to clean and prepare quail, rabbits and squirrels. Other animals are pretty much the same but on a different scale. As an example, I clean a deer the same way I would a rabbit.
  • Thomas Hall and a Glimpse of Life Withheld by Marilyn Jones (15 March 2022) 
    • ​On the waters of Duck Creek in the backwoods of 1760s’ Mecklenburg County, North Carolina stood a small rugged one-room log cabin, home of the Hall family. Before daybreak, candlelight flicked in the darkness of their earthen ‘sleeping corner.”  Martha laid on the straw tick* listening to Thomas preparing for the day’s work. He had a blazing fire on the grate and the children, still asleep at this pre-dawn hour, would be awake shortly and hungry for nourishing food to get through another heavy workday. The night chill was still on the room, so she quickly dressed to begin their morning meal. What will it be, she thought. We had johnny cakes yesterday, maybe hominy with molasses this ‘morn. Surely, we have ham to go with it.
  • Aunt Cletis' Bishop's Bread by Alden Davis (8 February 2022)
    • I first met my Aunt Cletis when I was married and the mother of a three-year-old. She lived in Indiana and I lived in Florida, but we met in 1969 when I took my father, his new wife and another aunt to Indiana for a family reunion. Aunt Cletis was a warm, loving person and I regarded her as a second mother. I knew her for forty years after we first met and never heard her say anything bad about anyone. She loved cooking and canning for her large five-generation family.
  • Elvie Lee Beatty Jr, "The One Armed Bandit" by Tommy Beatty (11 January 2022)​
    • My father, Elvie Lee Beatty Jr was born November 24, 1923 and died July 10, 1995 the fourth of seven children. By the time of his sixth birthday, the country was cast into the Great Depression that led to WWII, times that challenged everyone to survive. It's likely that he observed his father doing everything he could to house and feed the family.
  • Edgar Lee Johnson by Marilyn Jones (11 January 2022)
    • ​Like his father, Edgar was a stonemason. By 1907 he was also employed by the city as a police officer, holding the positions of patrolman and desk sergeant. His brother, Wallace, was a prison guard in Mint Hill, Mecklenburg County NC. Edgar was also a Mason, belonging to Excelsior Lodge #261.
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