An Accident

     Life is precious. Once in a while we get a glimpse of that. You may have seen it if you're a parent who remembers holding their child for the first time. Or maybe you know someone who has a disease that is affecting them and you think about how their time seems unfairly cut short. In any case, I think that many people have had a fleeting glance at what life is, and how precious it is.
     Today I had a close encounter. I was in the car with my two brothers. We were out on a country road and Rob, the youngest, was driving. I was in the front passenger seat and Stu, my older brother, was laying on the back bench, as he often does. We had just pulled up to a stop sign. My brother saw a car coming and thought that he should cross the road quickly before the other car. So he pulls out, and from what I remember, there was a dull thud, tires squealing, all of us shouting, and glass breaking. We were hit by another vehicle in the back left corner of the car. The other vehicle was probably going about 55 miles and hour.
     I praise God because I realize, as a friend told me, it could have been a lot worse. I'll probably have a few bruises, but nothing serious. Rob was fine. Stu had a cut above his eye and, apparently a fractured bone in his nose, but other than that he was also all right. God's hand of protection was holding us.
     The other party, a middle-aged woman, was, of course, scared by what happened. From what I saw, it sounds like she may have broken or hurt her leg, as well as possibly hurting her arm. My instincts told me to go and ask if she was all right, but I was afraid. Maybe I was afraid that she would vent on me. In any case, though, I think my brother checked on her, and she seemed to be all right, as she was.
     Besides the miracle of no serious injuries, a man happened upon us just after leaving from his job at a hospital. He got involved right away. Seeing as Robert and I were all right, he attended to Stu, making sure he was conscious and that there were no serious injuries.
     I give God all the glory. Seeing that I could be dead right now shows me two things; A. God cares for my well-being, as well as yours. B. God still has a plan for my life. What my mind kept going to while waiting during the assessment and treatment of Stu was "What does God want me to take away from this?"
     I know, often, that mankind has a constant complaint against God, saying that He should stop all bad things from happening. I have a few responses to this; First, God has given us sovereign will. What does that mean? That means that he has given us the ability to make choices. While it may be true that not all of our choices will change what may or may not happen to us, we are given the privilege, and thus the responsibility, to make the best choices we can.
     The second is that God often uses our circumstances to test us and teach us. He wants to see whether we will give Him all the glory when we have the opportunity to turn away from Him. He will bless you for steadfastness, though we may not see those blessings here and now. We just have to keep trusting Him. When we don't know what He's doing, He may want us to trust and follow Him, even when everyone tell you not to.
     Again, I give all the glory for the miracles that he has worked in my life. I pray that you can find encouragement and comfort here. I pray that comfort will come. Sometimes, in the storms of this life, when we look around asking "Where are you, God?" I think that we don't see that He is holding us in the palm of His hand.

War and Peace

     From the title, it may sound like I'm going to give some sort of review of the book listed above. As it turns out, I'm not, I'm just writing those who decide to follow this blog that I've started reading War and Peace since yesterday. I'm discovering, more and more, a desire to read classic literature. As of yet I'm not very far into it, and my interest is already held by Mr. Tolstoy. One of my thoughts about why I decided to buy this book as compared to others is "Why not?". A second reason (and something of a justification) is that if I can read a 1,200 page book and finish it, I will prove to myself that reading much of anything else is, though cliche, a "piece of cake". My third, and most compelling reason (to me) is that I want to study classic literature; by reading the best, my subconscious can analyze it and be able to improve my own writing.
     From what I understand so far, the book looks at the personal lives of the Russian aristocracy during the early 19th century to get a glimpse of the times. This is during the period where Napoleon Bonaparte has visions of world conquest. One thing that confused me, at first, led to this question; "If France is trying to take over the world and, at the time, is a possible threat to Russia, why are the aristocrats speaking French? I looked it up online and, as it turns out, French was a popular language among the aristocrats because it sounded more refined than speaking Russian, their native language. Apparently, from what I read, one of the characters actually has to take Russian lessons to learn her native language! This shows how prevalent culture can be, influencing people of one nationality to take up the language of another.
     Of course the book is well written, and I do find it interesting. I would challenge you, whether it's War and Peace, the Bible, some book by Stephen King (as his seem to be, invariably, excessively long) to try reading something that you think is too long to hold your interest. Even if it's a chapter a day, introducing yourself to the possibility or idea of reading something of that length, I think, would be an encouragement.
     By the way, I'm not necessarily endorsing Stephen King's novels. I just threw them in as I know that they tend to be very long as compared to most novels out there. The Bible is a good one, though, especially to take a chapter at a time. Or several chapters at a time, whichever you prefer.
     As both a note and a piece of advice; if you do end up reading War and Peace, I might suggest buying it rather than renting it from a library, unless you read a lot at one time. This will take some of the pressure of having to finish it before your two or three weeks is up, unless you plan specifically to read it in that period of time. The edition that I got, Barnes and Noble Classics (paperback, much less expensive than any hardcover) has a list of characters in the front which I am immensely grateful for. Tracking a bunch of people with foreign names and intersecting yet separate stories is somewhat intimidating to me, which is why I'm so grateful for it. (I actually put a small sticky note there, for easy reference.)
     Above all else, one of my main reasons for reading is to learn as a writer. Most read for entertainment, so this book may not be your first choice, unless you want to study the structure of an epic, or to read selections of the worlds best literature. In any case I would encourage you to read; reading in and of itself develops the mind. You can learn from the mistakes of characters in what you read. Asking yourself "What would I do if I was in this situation?" can create some great sessions of thought or discussion, if not both.
 
   God Bless,
                   Jack

A Trip to the Supermarket

A Trip to the Supermarket

 The little old woman craned her neck to read the sign. Ed’s Emporium was a large superstore which sold anything and everything that you could think of. From milk to muskrats, couches to convertibles, you could find it all here. Taking up four city blocks, it was probably one of the largest superstores in the country and definitely the biggest of its kind in the city of Overton.  

  Mrs. Gwin stood just outside of the building. It was almost ridiculous, the contrast between the giant store and the old widow. Eunice was about five feet in height with a slightly bent upper back and curly white hair to boot. She was at this monstrosity of a store because she needed some flour for her special, homemade, Pumpernickel Sweet Bread.  It was a tradition of hers to make it every year at about Christmas time. She tried to think back to that special day so many years ago…

 

  On her thirteenth birthday, after many a slice of cake had been consumed and presents unwrapped, Eunice’s mother told her that they needed to talk privately. She led Eunice to the master bedroom, making sure no one followed, and proceeded to close and lock the door. Mrs. Gwin then told her daughter that, turning thirteen, she was old enough to be trusted with their family’s most closely-kept secret, the recipe for Great-Grandma Beatrice Gwin’s famous Pumpernickel Sweet Bread. This amazingly popular bread had won countless contests and received praise for its consistency, perfect moistness, and its undeniably good taste. There had been many attempts to copy and even steal this recipe. But Great-Grandma Beatrice, being prepared as she was, had made her thirteen year-old daughter memorize the recipe.

This is what Mrs. Gwin did with her own daughter. Each woman was to have her offspring memorize it (at the risk of being slightly obsessive) and the recipe was passed, in this way, down through the generations so that it would always be in the family, safe from harm.

  Eunice would usually have the ingredients delivered from Mr. McMillan’s store a block from her house, but it was closed for renovations, the first time in over thirty years. She didn’t know why the man suddenly decided to remodel his little store. The only people who shopped there were friends and neighbors who had shopped there for years. These people agreed that a small, family-owned business was better than a store where employees referred to each other as “that guy over there.”

   Hearing of this, one of Eunice’s friends, Muriel, had recommended that she shop at this the new superstore in town.

 “Besides, you could stand to get out of the house once in a while.” Seeing no alternative shopping opportunities, Eunice supposed, at the time, that she should at least see the inside of the store.

 

   Sighing, and wondering what she had gotten herself into, Eunice stumped towards the entrance, and the doors started to slide open. But then they stopped. There was about a three-inch gap between the two sliding glass doors.  

   Then the gap closed. The old woman stood and watched, somewhat flustered, as the doors opened again, this time leaving about a five-inch gap. Noticing the malfunctioning doors, one of the employees inside the building came to her aid. With much advising such as “Pull harder!”, “That’s it!”, and “Just a little more!” he had her pull the doors open. Slipping between the two doors, Eunice gave the employee a dirty look as he stared at the doors, talking about how “Someone really should get that fixed.” As Eunice passed him, she noticed the word Maintenance on his name tag.

   Eunice entered the lobby of the store and looked around. “My goodness!” she exclaimed. The store was huge. The ceiling seemed to be ten stories above her head. She looked towards what she assumed to be the back of the store. All she could see were the large metal shelves that housed every item imaginable. The aisles seemed to continue as far back as the eye could see.

  As she stood gaping at the cavernous warehouse inadequately labeled a store, she spotted a clerk. The gangly, teenage, sales clerk, obviously new to the job, was being lectured by his aging, ever-widening boss. The tall one, seeing an elderly woman needing assistance (and an opportunity to get a raise) rushed to her service, completely ignoring the protests of his vertically challenged supervisor.

  “Can I help you M’am?” Eunice smiled.

“Yes, could you tell me where-” but she was interrupted by the teenager who was reading a short sales pitch that he had copied down on the palm of his right hand.

“Might I interest you in our new, designer-” at this point he flipped his hand over to read the back of it- “series mega-wreath version 2.2 for this Christmas?” Eunice stopped and, with a confused look on her face, responded.

  “What was wrong with it?” The young man swallowed.

“What do you mean?”

“What was wrong with the first one that was made?” the young man glanced around nervously.

“Well there were several things wrong with the wiring of the lights, besides the fact that, to be able to offer something before our competition, we bought from some… questionable characters.” Glancing over the young man’s shoulder, Eunice saw that the older man had his head in his hand, probably wondering why employment standards had sunk so low. Realizing his boss’ impatience was increasing, the young man nervously cleared his throat and tried again. “Would you like to buy a wreath?” he tried.

“Oh, no thank you. I’m just here to buy flour-” Here he indiscreetly referred to his other hand.

“We also offer, at this fine establishment, our home-grown, pre-packaged, poinsettias in our conditioned greenhouse. That would be…”

He paused, thinking for a moment, “sector 3 in aisle 61 I believe.” The elderly woman stared at him for a minute and tried a third time, her exasperation evident.

“No, I need baking flour, not flowers.” The young man stared at her for a few seconds.

“Oh… well…” she watched as he grabbed his right leg, lifted it, and pulled up his pant leg to read something that he had scribbled along the inside of his leg, all the while, trying to keep his balance; “…are you sure you don’t need a new 72’, ultra-thin television set complete with a DVD player and Blu-ray capabilities?”

   After ten minutes of convincing the acne-covered teenager that she did not want a new garden hose or an inflatable reindeer he was dragged off by his older, now very angry associate, leaving Eunice Gwin to find the flour on her own. Seeing no particular aisle that would necessarily have flour in it, Mrs. Gwin set out for the aisle directly ahead. There were no signs to indicate what was housed in each aisle, but after seeing how the store was staffed, this didn’t surprise her.

   As she entered the first aisle, she saw that it had nothing in it but plates! Eunice was completely surrounded by plates. Plastic plates, glass plates, paper plates, square plates, round plates, there were more plates than you could count! But Mrs. Gwin didn’t need plates. So she trudged through to the end of the aisle and tried the next one on her left. As she approached it her vision was filled with books of fiction. They were everywhere; books by any author that you could think of, and many that you couldn’t. There was probably a collection there comparable to the library of congress. But Mrs. Gwin didn’t need books.

   Eunice sighed to herself. “This is going to be a long day.”

  Finding the few employees that she saw to be of no help, Eunice spent the next few hours scouting out about half of the store. Tired, bedraggled, and wondering whether it was worth it, she rounded the end of an aisle and started into the next. Suddenly her eyes lit up, she perked up, and her mouth opened in a smile. She was surrounded by flour. There was flour in all sizes. From crates to bags to boxes you could find it all here. She scanned over the shelves. There was rye flour, buckwheat flour, even flour made out of almonds! But Mrs. Gwin didn’t need any of those. All she wanted was some plain, white, baking flour. She walked down the aisle, looking for anything that looked familiar. Suddenly she saw it. There were rows of white flour made by all the major brand names that you could think of. Eunice quickly grabbed the first standard size bag that she saw and headed for the front.

   After another hour finding her way, Mrs. Gwin stood at the front of the building looking for a checkout lane. Finding one open, she made her way toward it. Placing her flour on the small conveyor belt, the small woman fished around in her purse for a five-dollar bill. Without looking up, the senior citizen decided to make small talk with the cashier.

   “So, have you worked here long?” The cashier pressed the button for the conveyer and responded.

“No not very long. Actually I was hired just a few days ago.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” Suddenly Eunice froze. Recognizing the familiar voice, she slowly turned her gaze upon the cashier’s face. It was the sales clerk whom she had met shortly upon arriving at the store. A wave of frustration rose up in Mrs. Gwin with the realization that with this guy even something as simple as checking out would be a hassle. But she decided that she should be friendly and make small talk. So, after having over two hours to wonder about it, she asked the question that had been at the back of her mind since she had first met the teenager.

“What is your name anyways young man?” The newly-dubbed cashier stared at her for a second and responded quietly, with a grimace in his voice; “Marlin.” Eunice almost winced at this (not finding taste in being named after a fish) but nodded instead.

  “I see.” Marlin scanned her item, punched a few buttons on the keyboard, and announced; “That’ll be $3.65.” Mrs. Gwin found a five-dollar bill and handed it to Marlin. He cleared his throat. “Well, seeing as that I owe $1.35 in change, would you prefer 135 pennies, 1 dollar bill and 35 pennies, 27 nickels-2 half-dollars-3 dimes and 5 pennies-” Eunice, being already impatient from wasting three hours buying flour, turned and stormed out of the store. Marlin shouted to her “Wait ma’m! What about the change?”

 “Keep it!” she called to him without looking back. As she exited the building, and headed for the bus stop, Eunice Gwin sighed to herself. When the bus arrived, she climbed on, found a seat, and rode to her small house.   

   When she arrived at her house, she unlocked the door, went inside, hung her coat up in the hall, and collapsed into her overstuffed armchair. As she sat trying to forget the events of the day, she decided that she should start making her Pumpernickel Sweet Bread. Only after she had entered the kitchen and prepared all the ingredients that she needed did she realize. She had forgotten the flour.  

copyright Jackson Kerr, 2012

An Introduction

     Hello all! This is something of an introduction to any and all who find this site. I have been writing creatively since I was about eight years old. I generally tend to stick to humorous short stories, though I have plans and ideas for novels bouncing around. I grew up and still reside in southwest Michigan. I have little to no interest in politics, but I like to look at the big picture, figure out how we got there, and how to fix it, if there is a problem with where we are.
     I have been raised in a Christian home which has affected me in most areas of life. If religion is something that you hate, let me tell you something; I agree with you! Religion, to me, is trying to put something incomprehensible into a box. The effects of doing this range from delusions that He can fit into the box, that He will stay in the box, and that He won't act until we open the box for Him. Mankind invented religion to try and control God. The problem is that God cannot be controlled, no matter what we may think. He loves us and wants the best for us, but we have to co-operate. Sometimes this means doing things that we don't want to do or admitting that we are not the center of the universe. I hold that America is, generally, a self-centered society (notice the name "Fiction by Jack"), and that we need to turn that focus onto God, the one who gives me life and loves me no matter how many times I may turn away from Him.
     I know that the paragraph preceding this one sounds like a mini-sermon, and I know that you probably didn't come here for that. That's all right! I'd encourage you to look around, read some posts, ask any question that comes to mind. I hope that you find encouragement here, as well as some humor and, hopefully, something that touches you and makes a difference in your life.

God Bless,
Jack