The Twenty-Five Word Stories 2

Twenty-Five Words 2

By John W. Vander Velden

 

I had thought it impossible – to tell a story with only twenty-five words – no more no less.  However, I found it challenging – and fun.  So here is my second collection of these Micro-stories.  I hope you enjoy these “Ramblings”.

 

Hello  

The gates are closed, the windows locked, the dogs have been released.  You’ll find the security system engaged and ready.  Oh, the price of paranoia.   (25 Words)

 

Back

Mike had dozed the numbing hours driven across Kansas.   Later as he opened an eye, “Oh,” his friend Steve said, “you’re not in OZ anymore. (25 Words)

 

Lumber                  

Captain Kirk was surprised by the 2X4 in his hands, while the fearsome creature advanced.  After all he had asked Scotty to beam him aboard.      (25 Words)

 

Starter

Henry wondered why the key did not work.    A rap on the window came just before the words, “Hey buddy get out of my car!”      (25 Words)

 

 

Significance

Significance                 

By John W. Vander Velden

There comes a time in each of our lives when we wonder -- wonder about significance….

It is only natural that we consider the effects our existence has had on the world around us.  Too easily, we buy into the notion that the individual spends their lifetime doing invisible acts of no value, in a world populated by masses nearly innumerable. That only a few -- the famous -- the powerful -- have any effect upon the world we know.

Yet we -- the ordinary -- live our lives, dealing with the everyday, facing continually changing challenges, and in doing so have the capacity of profoundly influencing the world.

Perhaps you have gone to a funeral and overheard some of the many conversations… “…I remember when she…”, “During that terrible snow he…”, “There was that time he helped me before I asked…”, so on and so forth.

There is nothing ordinary about ordinary people.  Each person brings a unique gift to the world and its inhabitants.  Each, paying bills, raising kids, mowing their yard, and countless other ordinary things -- acts that like a pebble thrown into a pond, sending out ripples that touch many lives in ways seen and unseen.

Each of us change the world -- and many of us change it in ways we never realize.  Does this give us a right to brag -- to puff ourselves up in arrogant self-importance?  No!  For we humbly accept that all others share in this honor -- that everyone brings their special talents accomplishing unique tasks benefiting a few it might seem, but in truth benefit us all.

A digital photograph is made up of millions of tiny squares of color.  These squares are grouped to form shapes.  These shapes are grouped to form things, like trees, cars, or even faces.  These nearly microscopic squares may be different or similar to the squares that are assembled together.  It would be easy to say that because there are so many, each particular square does not matter.  But as a photographer I can assure you, you would notice if one was missing!  Without you, there would be a hole in the photograph that is our universe!

GOD placed you with care -- in the place HE chose -- to fill an important square at an important time!  HE gives each of us value -- He gives each of talents -- whether we recognize them or not.  But most of all GOD gives us significance!

(413 Words)

To Reach Skyward

         

By John W. Vander Velden

 

If time is a teacher, then what can we learn from spring? 

 

When the sun grows stronger, warming the countryside dampened by recent rains, we see the first leaves that have escaped the swollen buds, as trees awaken from their long rest.  Along fence rows and roadside, we notice slender green shoots that have pierced the matted brown of last year’s remnants. And our eyes notice the small wildflowers, of white and blue that decorate the floor of our neighbor’s woods.  A fresh breeze fills our nostrils with the sweet scent of violets and carries the sound of the wood thrush from the tree tops high above.  The fortunate notice the black and white Holstein as she coaxes her new born calf, to rise unsteadily on wobbly legs in the nearby pasture.  Yes, we see new life popping up all over, yard and field, roadside and forest.

But not all we see is new.  Though we might not notice, much of spring is the reawakening of nature that has dozed through the cold months, only to stretch and yawn to another year.  Starting again is not necessarily starting over.  And moving forward does not mean abandoning everything that was before.  Spring is a time for beginnings – fresh from scratch, or to take off from what had been, to places new.

Too often we feel trapped by our past.  Too often beginnings seem impossible.  But if we look at spring, and see how the mighty oak can shake off the winter.  How the robin returns from a distant place to nest once more.  Then we should know that we too can cast off the past, to build something new, or find the courage to complete older endeavors.  We need not wait until spring to reawaken our best or to try new things.  Spring reminds us, we always have the ability to change and to grow. 

This is the time, to begin new possibilities and to build upon the things that are your best.  This is the day to reach skyward. 

(339 Words)

The Real World

The Real World                                            

By John W. Vander Velden

 

Once someone told me, I didn’t know the real world.  That statement troubled me.  I suppose I had lived in a sheltered realm, separated from many of the things others had to face.  I understood that.  But did that mean I had no concept of “reality”?  I wondered.  By chance, I bumped into my pastor in a fast food joint.  We sat together and spoke on a wide variety of subjects…as people might do with their pastor.  At one point I told him about this person’s charge… That I didn’t know the real world.  The words he shared then left a mark.  He told me that if I did not know the real world, then nobody did.  Rev. John pointed out that my profession engulfed me in life’s reality…daily.

From that conversation, I came up with a phrase I have used in a few of my stories, “The mud and blood of life.”   I begin my forty-third year as a full time farmer…well these days it is a little less full time.  And feel myself fortunate that this life has given me opportunities few of my generation share.  Only two percent of our nation’s population can call themselves farmers.  Oh, how agriculture has changed during my tenure.

My world…real or not…is made up of earth and sky…of new life bursting into my environment…of growth and maturity…and yes, of death’s reality as well.  I have lived more than forty years in “the mud and blood of life”, and am grateful.  Does that mean each day has been a joyful experience?  Oh no, by no means.  For to face the challenges of an ever changing world…driven by so many things beyond human control…is often a difficult, heartbreaking task.  Too often failure seems the only possible result as onward I trudge, to daily face carefully laid plans that are tossed aside as new ones must be generated “on the fly”.  But when the dust settles…on those days when the soil is dry enough…most days I can look back and see things achieved.  It may be less that I had originally hoped, but my world, real or not, has moved forward.

Soon I begin again the task that has framed my life.  Soon the roar of tractors will be heard on our farm.  The work of this season lies before me.  The total of that job seems too great for these “bones” to do.  But I must not look too hard at the “total” but rather at the smaller “bites”, as daily I pick up the load and stretch forward, making small steps of the grand journey.  Soon I will see the rows of new life reaching upward against all odds.  Green will return to the now barren land.  I will have no time for pride, for the task goes day after day.

I will not tell you that my world, or life, is more real than your world.  For each of us find ourselves surrounded by so many things…things that form our own personal “real” world.  Our jobs, our families, our homes, our neighbors, the places we shop, the people we meet and how we come to meet them, these people, places, and things surround us as we live our lives.  These are the things that are real to each of us.  Understanding that, means you know your “real” world…. It is indeed a real place.

Though each person’s “real” world is as unique as the wonderful people that fill it, we have something in common.  For though not all know it, there is one thing we all share.  I am fortunate that my profession exposes me to so many “earthy” experiences.  That in these simple things I could see something that modern technology…the rush of the world and society…has hidden.  For I have come to grasp, what to me, is the greatest reality of all.  You see I have never been in charge…not really.  In all my years of experience…with all the training that the school of life has provided…can I cause the simplest seed to sprout?  Oh, I can carefully place tens of thousands in neat rows.  Place those seeds in prepared soil at precise depth.  Provide correct amounts of nutrients for its health.  But then it is completely beyond my control.  I trust that GOD will cause the tiny thing I have placed in the soil to become…eventually…the plant producing the grain I will harvest.  Too easily taken for granted is the “magic” of real life.  Too easily we overlook the unexplainable…trying to force fit explanations that leave out…or worse…ignore GOD’s part of the equation.  For GOD is the most “real” part of our world!

(798 Words)

Traveler's Reflections Part 3

Traveler’s Reflections

Part 3

By John W. Vander Velden

 

Here friends is the last part of our vacation story….

Our next day began with a jaunt to Jekyll Island…two L’s.  Now Jekyll Island is a little different kind’ place.  It’s smaller for one thing, and it had been a privately held island until the late 1940s, an escape for the very wealthy.  You pay a parking fee before they let you over the bridge to get to the island itself.  Well, you have to park somewhere.  We spent the largest part of the day in the area near the Jekyll Island Club.  What is now a very grand hotel and was the

Jekyll Island Clubhouse

center of society from 1897 until 1942.  To live on the island during those years required membership to the club.  That took money…lots of money…and the approval of those that were members.  Mr. Tiffany did not make the cut, windows and all.  We were told at the islands height the members held one sixth of all the money in the world.  Simply beyond my ability to understand.  We moved among the cottages, the small places the wealth used to enjoy their winters…you know the cozy thirty room places with three floors and servants…you get the idea.  The whole place is done up in glorious fashion.  There are now shops and art galleries a book store…which I did not have the opportunity to see…and several restaurants.  The weather was great.

"Doc" was a gentle beast...well trained and lovingly handled.

We booked a carriage ride and filled the time by playing miniature golf on the other side of the island.  Later while Jackie and I took the tour…a grand gentle horse named Doc pulled the white coach…Nick walked a real golf course, the width of the island.  Our time on the island ended with a walk on the shore watching the day slowly fade.

Nick on the beach at Jekyll Island.

The following day was moving day once again.  We took a short stop at Fort Frederica before we headed south.  It is an important place in history.  The point the British used to secure the southern boundary of the colonies from the Spanish.  Again we were surrounded by fourth graders…”Little people…you know who you are…” were the words that floated across the morning air from one of the teachers doing her best to hold “court”, and failing it seemed.  



On a beautiful sunny morning we walked among the ruins
 of what had been the British Fort Frederica, Saint Simons Island.

We then drove down to almost Orlando, Orange City this time.  The hotel there was just off the interstate, only thirty minutes from the airport.  We found an interesting…you guessed it…Mini-Golf place not far away and laughed at our ineptitude. You would have thought that by then we might have learned how to putt…well, if you did, you’d be wrong.  I mean on the practice green I shot three holes in one, but by the end of eighteen I was almost a “gazillion” over par.  But we laughed…Oh, how little it takes to amuse.



Five Guys…have you eaten there.  It’s one of Nick’s favorite places.  So driving in and around construction with errant turn signals and the most patient fellow motorist, we had our last supper at the “unique” burger joint.

Conga River Golf.

We had some time to kill the next day before our flight so we…went…you already know what we did.  Nick found another Mini…well they call it adventure golf…course.  I will admit it was the “coolest” we had played.  I mean how many courses do you go where the attendant asks if you want to hold an alligator.  We passed.  They had several, and we watched a father and a young daughter feed the reptiles from a spike on the end of a rope tied to a fishing pole.  The gator’s eyes might be closed, but they’re not really asleep you know.  They also had the largest painted turtles I had ever seen.  Jackie was astounded that the gators didn’t use the turtles for lunch.  One alligator considered a shelled critter a reasonable pillow…much to the turtle’s disappointment.  He kept stretching his head as if to say, “Hey buddy I would really like to leave now!”  But I figur’d Mr. Shell had to watch his “P’s and Q’s”…if you get my meaning.

So on a sunny afternoon…in the 80s we left Florida and two and a half hours later found ourselves in 34 degree South Bend…Hmmm…

It’s good to get away from time to time.  And over the last twenty-five years we have gone to a great many places.  During those trips we have had the opportunity to climb lighthouses, walk beaches, see humpback wales breaching, prong horn antelope sleeping at the road’s edge, stood on the brink of a five thousand foot cliff, walked wooded trails, and visited many quaint shops.  A dear friend told me once it wasn’t so much where you went…but rather what you left behind…if only for a few days.  I have kept that in mind when I call our outings…escapes.  Because that is what they are.  A few days away from the everyday…into something just a little different.  I will remember this trip…sort through the seven hundred plus pictures…and remember just how fortunate I am to have had the chance to share this special time with the people I consider most special.

Who knows where the road will lead us next time…but I expect it will be fun….

(870 Words)