“The herdsmen wandering by the lonely rills, marks where they lie on the scarred mountain flanks. Remembering that mild morning when the hills shook to the roar of guns, and those wild Franks surged upward from the sea.” –The ANZAC Book As morning broke on Sunday April 25th 1915, Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZAC), British, French, Indian, Irish, and Senegalese troops awoke before the sun to prepare for
On a blustery evening not long ago, I found myself witnessing one of the greatest nights of music I have heard in my forty years of playing and following R&B. This concert featured four of the most seasoned, savvy, and inspired vocalists, backed by a cracker-jack quartet, that this listener has ever been privileged to experience. The aforementioned ladies are Lila Mori, Juanita Martin, Erica Brown and Jill Watkins, and
Robert awoke in the middle of the night with a burning fever. The bed was soaked in sweat, and he was burning up from an intense fever. He crawled out of bed and staggered a few steps toward the bathroom for some water, but he was so weak and disoriented, he fell to the floor. Just before he passed out, he realized that if he was going to die, he
Many US Represented readers are writers, and no doubt, have heard the question, “Where do you get your ideas?” You probably agree with me that behind every story you write is a story. This is the story behind my children’s novel, Molly and the Cat Who Stole Her Tongue, published October, 2016. Out of the Box: The Story of a Story It was a dark and stormy night. Literally. The
“The Universe Bends Toward Justice” by Martin Luther King, Jr. / “The Peace of Wild Things” by Wendell Berry
Interlaced by Lucy Bell When our days become dreary with low-hovering clouds of despair, When despair for the world grows in me And when our nights become darker than a thousand midnights, and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, let us remember that there is a creative force in this universe working to pull down the
At seventy-two, my grandmother Linda recounted her memories of old with eager ease. The questions I asked triggered a flood of reminiscences of a young girl and her experiences with a now-very-distant world. The life Linda knew as a little girl is merely a distant memory of days gone by, and after our interview together, she realized just how far gone that world is today. Not better or worse—just different.