In recognition of Dr. Seuss’s birthday, on March 2, I participated in Read Across America Week. I read to third graders at Creekside Oaks Elementary School in Lincoln, CA.

One of my favorite Dr. Seuss stories is “The Cat In The Hat.” But as a writer, I did not want to read another author’s story. Therefore, I wrote my own, in a form similar to that used by Dr. Seuss in writing his story, as you will see in . . .

The Mouse In The House

Emma and Logan sat on the couch in their living room. It was a cold winter day. Emma shouted, “There is a mouse in the house.”

“I do not see it,” Logan said. “It must be your imagination playing tricks on you.”

But there it is again,” Emma yelled.

What happened next that day would change their lives.

The day was cold and dreary.
Two children had nothing to do,
so they sat on the couch
and dreamed, Emma and Logan, too.

Emma stared off into space.
and so did Logan, too.
Then she said aloud, “I wish
we had something to do.”

“Maybe we should go out
into the snowy backyard and play?”
Logan said, “It would be better
than doing nothing all day.”

Emma did not know what to say.
Go?
Go?
Go?
Go?
Out into the cold wet snow.

“Not for me, oh, no!”

But then she began to scream,
so loud it made Logan jump.
She had seen
a cute little thing—

maybe a mouse

running through the house.
“Logan, look
at what I saw.
It is a tiny mouse, I am sure.

Logan looked all around,

but did not see a mouse.
“Emma, it must be all in your mind.

There is no mouse in the house.”

“I know it was a mouse,

and there it is again.”
Logan looked,

but still there was nothing to see.
But all of a sudden,
this cute little creature
ran up his leg and sat on his knee.

Neither Emma nor Logan

knew what to say.
So they sat and stared at the tiny thing
on this cold winter day.

The mouse looked at Logan

in a strange way.

It was almost like

it wanted to play,

but it did not say.

And then it began to bounce

up and down on Logan’s knee.

It was a really a weird sight to see.

Emma watched,

as the mouse

spun around.

It was like

it was doing

a dance

without making

a sound.

But then its mouth

opened wide

and it began to speak.

Emma shrieked, “Eek!”

“Have no fear my dear,

for I am here.

I will help you play

and make your day.

This will be good, as you will see.

We will stay inside the house.

No need to go
out in the snow,” said the mouse.

“Follow me.
Follow me now,

for we must go.
And by the way,
my name is Oscar,
this you should know.

I have a secret I want to tell you.
But you have to promise

to keep it to yourself
and not share it
with your mom and dad.

For if you do,

This will make me very, very mad.

“Follow me.
Follow me now,

for we must go.

Time is running out.
This you should know.
The clock is ticking.

And I cannot make it stop.”

Neither Emma nor Logan
knew what to do.
Should they follow
a mouse
all through the house?
And keeping a secret
from Mom and Dad
made both of them
very, very sad.

But the longer they sat,

without moving from the couch,

caused the tiny mouse
to become a big bad grouch.

And his behavior made them shake,

in a way that felt like a huge earthquake.

Emma looked at Logan, and asked,

“What should we do?”

Logan shook his head and responded,

“I do not have a clue.

This is not a good game.
The mouse is our boss.
I do not think we have a choice.

We must listen to his voice.”

“You are so right,”
the mouse shouted out.

“You must do what I say.

There is no other way.
So follow me, for I am the mouse,
who will lead you through the house.
So get off the couch now,
or I will make your life miserable, I vow.”

Logan slowly slid off the couch,

and stood on the floor

facing the mouse—

now the master of the house.

Emma stayed on the couch,

wondering what she should do.
She did not want the mouse

to take control of her, too.

“I am my own boss,”

she said in a strong way.

“Now, you must go away.”

The mouse roared,

“I will NOT go away.
I do NOT wish to go!
No.
No.
No.
I will show you who is boss,
so you always will know.”

And then he ran out.
Emma looked at Logan.

“Now what do we do?”

Logan just uttered, “Whew!”

But before he could say
anything more,
the mouse came running

back in
through the door.

Then he got up on top
of the coffee table.

It rocked back and forth,

not appearing too stable.
Dressed in a black hoody
and carrying what looked

like a small water gun,

he laughed and shouted,
“Now we will have some real fun.”

“I am the boss,

but this you already know.
Now both of you stand up.

We have got to go.”
Not knowing what else to do,
Emma stood at attention,
and Logan did, too.
Then the mouse yelled

in a big loud voice.
Jump up and down.
You have no choice.

So Emma and Logan

did as they were told.
They could not refuse.
They were not so bold.
Then the mouse commanded,
“Get into line

and march down the hall.
Wave your arms up and down
and please do not frown.
And do not stop
until you reach the wall.

“Put a smile on your face
and laugh out loud.
These things are good,

and you know you should.
If you do not do them,

it would be a shame.

You must follow my instructions
and play the game.”

Emma asked,

“What is this game?

Does it have a name?

Please tell me,
or I will not play.”

 “Oh, yes you must,”

said the mouse.

“You must do as I say.”
“Well, what if we do not want to?”

Logan asked.

“But you do not

have a choice.

And it is not okay.”

So Emma and Logan

decided to obey

the mighty mouse.
It was the only way
to keep peace

in the house.

All seemed

like a total loss.

For they would have to listen

to the mouse in the house—

the boss.

But then things turned around

and went in another direction,

one they had not expected.

There in the hall appeared

the craziest cat,

dressed in a red bow tie
and a tall red and white hat.

To Emma and Logan’s surprise,

He was accompanied by

an ugly gray rat.

They could not believe their eyes.

The cat looked at them

and took a bow.

He smiled and said,
“No need to worry.

We are in control now.

And that funny looking mouse

has got to go.

This is no longer his show.”

To Emma and Logan’s amazement,
the tiny mouse yelled, “No.”

But this was not

his decision to make.

The cat in the hat screamed,

“You know the way out,

so go.”

And the mouse began to shake.

And then, with the ugly gray rat

chasing him,
he ran through

the front door,

as fast as he could,

since he knew

he should,

and was seen nevermore.

Emma looked at Logan,

and said,

“Now what do we do?”

Logan turned

toward the cat in the hat
and the ugly gray rat

and whispered,

“Thank you.”

The cat in the hat stood tall

And he and the ugly gray rat

Ran down the hall, yelling,
“That is that!
“That is that!
“That is that!”

Emma and Logan wondered

what this was all about.
Then from the end of the hall,
they heard the cat in the hat shout,

“I am the boss now,

and you will play my game.”

They shook in horror,

for this was strange.

Was everything meant
to remain the same?

Was nothing meant

to change?

And THEN,
the cat in the hat

laughed in a weird way,

and said,

“I am just kidding—

having fun.

“We have to be going now.
So we are done.

I have nothing more to say.”

And with that,

the cat in the hat

and the ugly gray rat

disappeared into the night,

in a very mysterious way.
Emma and Logan,

now in total fright

had nothing to say.

They hugged each other

and shook their heads.

They hoped that

what happened today,

then could be tucked away

and never happen again.

And so they crawled

into their beds

and pulled the pillows

over their heads.

They wished

for a restful sleep
and a peaceful night,

hoping tomorrow,

all would be right.

Logan looked at Emma,

breathed a sigh of relief,

and said ,”Goodnight.”

Then he reached over

to the nightstand

and shut off the light.

Copyright © 2020 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.

Aging is something we try to avoid. Cosmetics, dress, and fitness programs may obscure the inevitable for a period of time.

Yet, as each day passes, we are forced to face reality. This becomes clear in . . .

Reflections In Time—Accepting The Inevitable

He was considerably older than I thought he should be.

I wondered out loud why he was staring at me.

His eyes were tired and showed the passage of time.

His brow wrinkled, life’s stresses indicated by each line.

As I moved my head to better see,

His eyes followed, as he continued to look at me.

There was a familiar expression upon his face.

It made me think I knew him, but from where I could not place.

His beard was thinning, mixed with shades of white and gray,

Neatly trimmed and closely cropped, a precise nature was his way.

His facial skin was smooth and pleasant to the eye.

This created a sharp contrast to the wrinkled brow of this aged guy.

While aging was present in places upon his face, his hair was mostly black,

Depicting a battle of youth lost to the travels of time’s train down life’s track.

As I mused about this strange old fellow and why he might be interested in me,

I could see he was just as confused as to why I was focused on a man such as he.

It was unclear as to why we were brought together on this particular day.

It was troubling as he looked me over and over again, but had nothing to say.

Yet how would I come to grips with this elderly intruder who seemed to be   
     saying to me,

“We are not all that different, I am just a reflection of what you don’t want to see?”

With a grimace, I turned away from this old man still looking intently at me.

I wished I would not meet him again and hoped he would agree.

But life does not always work the way we would like it to, and so my wish did 
     not come true.

For everyday, to my dismay, as I stared in the mirror, the aged guy I would view.

As time went by, I attempted to avoid the aging image that appeared to be my destiny.

Yet, as hard as I tried, it was difficult not to acknowledge what was happening 
     right in front of me.

My heart pounded for I could no longer deny what had become clear.

I could not ignore the presence of this elderly man, nor could I make him disappear.

He was not my grandfather or father or anyone else I might have wanted him to be.

He obviously was the reflection of who I had become—the man I must live with in harmony.

Copyright © 2018 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.

It is not uncommon for husbands and wives to see the world differently. But what if their difference in opinion concerns what is real and what is not in the life of one of them.

The wife believes the husband is going crazy and pushes him into getting help. What happens next might surprise you, as you will see in . . .

The Nighttime Traveler

Or . . . My Wife Thinks I Need To See A Shrink

     My stomach rumbled and my head throbbed, as we walked from the car toward the main entrance of the medical building on 5^th Street. Entering the building, we made our way to the third floor. I didn’t want to be here. I couldn’t hold my feelings in anymore, and they poured out of my mouth. “Okay, Laura, you know I don’t want to do this. It’s ridiculous. So now what?”

     “Just open the door and go in, Adam.”

     “You open the door. This was your idea, not mine.”

     “But you agreed to see Dr. Freed.”

     “Only to keep the peace, dear. You’re the one who thinks I need to see a shrink.”

     “All right, it’s open. Now, go in.”

     I didn’t move. So Laura pushed me gently through the door and over to the front desk to check in. Then she tugged me, not so gently, toward the seating area. She sat down, and I collapsed into the seat next to her. I sat there staring off into space. And then . . .

     “Oh, she’s ready for us.”

     Dr. Freed ushered us into her office and we sat down on the couch across from her plush leather chair, Laura on one side and me on the other.

     She closed the door and joined us. “Good afternoon. I’m Dr. Simone Freed.”

     “I’m Laura Sage, doctor. And this is my husband, Adam.”

     “Hey, I can talk for myself. I’m Adam . . . Adam Sage.”

     “Okay, it’s nice to meet both of you. Now, tell me, how can I help you?”

     “I don’t need any help. But Laura doesn’t believe me. She thinks I’m going crazy. And that, doctor, is why we’re here.”

     “Well, Adam, before we make a decision on whether or not you do need help, please tell me about yourself.”

     “I’m sixty-eight years old. I’m retired. And I’m trying to figure out what I’m meant to do for the rest of my life? Is that what you want to hear?”

     “That does sound quite normal, Adam. It’s the process all retired people go through. Some find the answers sooner than others.”

     “Yeah, probably. But while I was working, I knew who I was and my purpose in life was clear. But now . . .”

     “Oh, Adam, you’ve only been retired two years. So you’ve got plenty of time to figure it all out. For heaven sakes, we live in Sunset Ridge. It’s a wonderful Active Adult Community. There’s so much to do there. You’ve already joined the Actors Club and the Writers Group. You’re blowing this all out of proportion.”

     “It appears you are making strides toward finding out who you are, Adam,” Dr. Freed stated.

     “Yeah, I create lives and live out the dreams of others. I’ve become so many different people that, at times, I’m not sure who I am.”

     “Adam, you’re my sweet, loving husband. That’s who you are,” Laura said, with a lilt in her voice.

     “Okay, maybe so, Laura. But you don’t always see things my way. You have trouble understanding what is real and what is fantasy in my life.”

     “Oh, come on. You can’t be serious. That’s not true.”

     “Now, calm down, folks. I think we’re making some progress. Adam, why do you think Laura doesn’t see things your way?”

     “Because she doesn’t. I never sleep. And I’ve told her this.”

     “Sure you do! Once you’re in bed, it takes about thirty seconds and you’re off to dreamland.”

     “I’ve tried to tell you before; I don’t go to sleep. I’m off, yes. But I travel to different places and become a part of other societies and times. Sometimes I take on the lives of people I don’t know, and at other times, I revisit my own life.”

     “See doctor, this is getting really weird.”

     “Why do you say that, Laura?” Dr. Freed asked in a soft voice.

     “Because it’s just his imagination. He’s reliving the roles he plays on stage or the lives of the people he writes about. That’s not reality, doctor.”

     “See, she doesn’t understand me at all. What I do at night is real. It has nothing to do with my acting or writing. And I do so much, that when I awake in the morning, I’m always tired.”

     “So am I,” Laura sighed. “I can never get comfortable. My arms hurt from my arthritis, and the cramps in my legs drive me insane.”

     “But that’s not my problem, Laura,” I groaned.

     “Okay people, we’re getting a bit off track,” Dr. Freed emphasized. “What is your problem, Adam?”

     “My fatigue occurs because I’m not here. I’ve spent the night fulfilling my destiny as a traveler in worlds past, present, or future.”

     “Adam, you’re scaring me. You do need help. Honey, you do sleep. Most mornings when I wake up, you’re fast asleep.”

     “That’s because, most mornings I’m at peace, for I enjoyed the trip I took.”

     “You’ve got an explanation for everything. I don’t think this conversation is going anywhere. I’ve had it,” Laura blurted, in total frustration.

     “I think this is a good time to stop.” Dr. Freed stated. “I’d like to see you again, possibly on the day after one of Adam’s nighttime adventures. Would you both be willing to try this?”

     “Okay, if you think it will help,” Laura said.

     “If I have to,” I grumbled. “But I’m not sure it’s worthwhile.”

     After we arrived home, we ate dinner and watched a little TV, but said nothing about that afternoon. In bed, I rolled over and kissed Laura goodnight. “See you in the morning, if I’m here when you get up.”

     Laura looked at me with a scowl on her face, shook her head, and muttered, “Just keep it up, Adam. You’re not helping matters. I’m going to call Dr. Freed’s office in the morning and see if we can get in to see her tomorrow afternoon, since it appears you will be gone during the night.”

     Well, I did travel. And this frustrated Laura. However, she was able to get an appointment that afternoon. I wasn’t too excited about going, but I went anyway.

     “Good afternoon, Laura, Adam. I’m glad I had an opening this afternoon. My office assistant said you sounded quite upset on the phone, Laura.”

“More fed up, than upset, Dr. Freed.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean by fed up, Laura.”

“Well, it’s Adam. I think he’s going . . .”

“So say it, Laura. Don’t keep the good doctor waiting.”

“Say what? Now you think you can read my mind, Adam?”

“Maybe I can. You think I’m going crazy. So, say it, if it makes you feel better.”

“Please Adam, relax. Let Laura finish what she was going to say. Laura . . .”

“I love Adam, Dr. Freed. But he’s losing touch with reality, and I can’t take it anymore.”

“You can’t take it anymore? What about me? Why won’t you listen to me? What I do is real. If I knew how to make you part of it, I would.”

“Maybe you can, Adam,” Dr. Freed interjected.

“I can? Are you serious?”

“What are you talking about, doctor?” Laura queried, somewhat dismayed by Dr. Freed’s statement.

“I have an idea for our next session. For now, go home. Love each other for who you are, even if you don’t fully understand what that is. I’ll see you one week from today at 2 pm.”

     Sun snuck in through the bedroom shutters the next morning, creating magical, colorful circles on the ceiling. I stared in awe at them. I was at peace. I’d gone to Rob’s high school reunion last night. And, for a period of time, I was Rob. He learned how time has a way of leveling the playing field. People do change. Those who ignored him or treated him with disdain in high school no longer placed themselves above him. They saw him for what he had become—a success. “What an evening!” I blurted.

     “What a what? What are you talking about?” Laura shrieked.

     “”Rob’s class reunion.”

     “Who’s Rob?”

     “The guy whose life I led last night.”

     “You are nuts, Adam. But if living in your fantasy world makes you feel good, then enjoy it, but leave me out of it.”

     I shook my head, as I watched Laura leave the room. I needed to prove to her my travels were real. And maybe, just maybe, this could be accomplished at our visit to Dr. Freed’s office next week.

     The week passed with little discussion about my travels. Laura called to me, “Adam, are you ready?”

“Yes, my sweet, I’m coming. Just got back from my latest trip, so I’m running a little late.”

“Don’t start that again.”

“Why not? The good doctor said you’d be going with me next time.”

“If that happens, she’s as crazy as you are.”

“You’re the one who picked her out, Laura. If you don’t have faith in her, why are we wasting our time?”

“Believe me, I’m beginning to wonder. But we did agree to go today, so let’s be on time.”

We drove the six miles to Dr. Freed’s office without saying a word. We arrived, parked the car, entered the building, and made our way to the third floor.

“Okay, open the door, Adam.”

“You know, I don’t really want to do this.”

Laura pushed passed me and opened the door to Dr. Freed’s office and we entered. Dr. Freed was standing at the front desk chatting with her assistant. Hearing the door close, she turned toward us and smiled.

“Laura, Adam, it’s so nice to see you again. Come into my office. Rachel, please hold my calls—and no interruptions.”

“So, how have you both been since our last visit?”

“I’m doing fine,” Adam chanted. “Still a little tired from my last nighttime excursion. But fatigue is a small price to pay for the benefits I receive from going—a thoroughly amazing experience. I’m looking forward to my next adventure.”

“He’s utterly impossible,” Dr. Freed. He’s playing me and you, too. I think this is all a game to control me and make my life miserable. He says he loves me, but sometimes I wonder if he really does. Because the way he shows it is anything but loving.”

“And I suppose calling me crazy and making me go to a shrink demonstrates your love for me.”

“Adam, I want to help you. Isn’t that what a wife does for a husband she cares about?”

“Oh, my! If that’s caring, I’d be better off if . . .”

“Okay, okay. I think I’m getting the picture of what’s been happening in your lives since we last met. It’s obvious little has changed for the better. So please sit down, so we can begin today’s session.”

“Should we sit close to each other rather than on opposite sides of the couch, since you said Laura will be traveling with me today?”

“You just won’t drop it. Will you, Adam? I’m sure the doctor didn’t mean I’d be going anywhere with you. She’s just going to help me understand why you believe you travel at night, so I can support you in working through your problem.”

“Problem? My only problem is a lack of sleep. This is your problem. I told you, I shouldn’t be here.”

“I’d like you both to stop your incessant bickering. It’s not getting you anywhere,” Dr. Freed ordered. “Adam, you sit on one side of the couch and Laura, you sit on the other. Are you both comfortable?”

“Yes, I think so,” Laura replied in a soft, polite manner.

“Fine. Now what?” I responded, somewhat angry.

“I’m going to hypnotize you both. Hopefully, I can help you to gain a better understanding of your respective positions with regard to Adam’s nighttime traveling. Laura, I will start with you.”

“Okay, if you think it’s going to help, doctor.”

“I do.”

Laura looked somewhat apprehensive, but appeared to be willing to follow Dr. Freed’s instructions. Softly and slowly, Dr. Freed began.

“Please sit back and try to relax, Laura. Stretch your legs out and wiggle your toes. Now stop and let your feet drop to the floor. Wiggle your fingers. Stop and let your arms and hands rest on the couch. Relax. Focus on your breathing. Take a deep breath, and as you let it out begin to feel yourself relax even more. Concentrate on each inhale and each exhale, as you let yourself sink even deeper into a trance. You are feeling tired, sleepy. When you hear the words, ‘pleasant journey,’ you will be asleep in a world of silence. This silence can only be broken when I say, ‘Journey with Adam.’ Do you understand?”

“Yessssss.”

“Okay, Laura, ‘Pleasant journey.’”

“Is she asleep, doctor?” I asked.

“Yes, very much so.”

“Can she hear us?”

“No, not at all.”

“Thank you for doing this for me, doctor.”

“You’re welcome, Adam. When we met on your nighttime journey that night three months ago, you helped me to save my daughter from a life of drugs. You took on the life of Detective Richard Angel and you, as him, became my angel. I told you, if you ever needed my help, I would be there for you. And I meant it.”

“You are here for me now. And I really need you. But you never told me just how you were going to help me.”

“I couldn’t tell you that, Adam. I had to let you believe the therapy sessions would be focused on you. I wanted you to protest what was happening. I wanted to elicit natural responses from you.

“You certainly did that.”

“May I ask you a question, Adam?”

“Yes.”

“How did you get Laura to call me?”

“One night when she was really frustrated with me, I handed her five business cards I got at the ‘Home and Health Expo’ I attended at our clubhouse. Your card was one of them—the only therapist. I didn’t know if she’d use it, but, obviously, she did. Now what do we do?”

“By the end of today’s session, Laura will believe that you and she traveled back in time, three years to be exact, where you worked together for a social work agency to save Johnny Morgan from ruining his life. This will become very real to her. And, hopefully, she will believe what you tell her in the future about your adventures as the ‘Nighttime Traveler.’ If not, we’ll just have to have a follow-up session.”

“All I can say is thank you for supporting me and for helping me to save my marriage.”

“You’re welcome. Now let me finish my session with Laura.”

I listened as Dr. Freed created a tale that mesmerized even me—one that Laura would have a very difficult time questioning. And then, I heard the words . . .

“’Journey with Adam.’ Open your eyes Laura.”

“Oh my God! It is real. Your travels do happen. Adam, I’m so sorry for questioning you. I’d love to go again. That is, if you want me to. Would you take me?” Laura implored.

“Maybe, if you say you love me.”

“Oh, Adam, I do love you.”

Copyright © 2020 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.

We look forward to a neighborhood picnic on a warm, sunny day. To enjoy good food and interesting conversation with friends and neighbors is something we appreciate.

But what happens when the “children” aren’t invited? This becomes evident in . . . 

A Picnic To Remember

     It was a beautiful day for a picnic, sunny and warm. Rosa entered the kitchen and stared at George.

     “George, if you don’t get a move on, we’re going to be late.”

     “Okay, okay, I’m coming. Wish we could bring the kids. You know how they like playing in the park.”

     “But they weren’t invited. Remember, at last year’s event, when they destroyed the Lindquist’s picnic basket, they ruined their chances for any future invitations.”

     “Yeah, and then Sam Lindquist dug into our food, as if he hadn’t eaten in a week.”

     “The way he eats, it was more like a year, George. He didn’t leave anything for us.”

     “Okay, I got the chairs, two cokes, and two Bud Light beers. That should do it, if you have the food, honey.”

     “All ready to go, George.”

     George and Rosa loaded their Toyota RAV4. Rosa crawled into the passenger seat and George rolled into the driver’s seat. He was a miserable passenger, so he’d grab the steering wheel whenever they went somewhere together. As they drove down Marshall Avenue and turned onto Augusta Street, George looked at Rosa with a weird expression on his face.

     “What’s wrong, dear?” she asked.

     “You sure we have everything? Did we lock up the house? And the kids?” . . .

     “George, you worry too much. Cousin Kathryn said she would drop by and check on them. Let’s just go to the picnic and enjoy ourselves. All the neighbors will be there.”

     “Are the Lindquist’s invited?”

     “Yes, our whole neighborhood is invited. But why do you ask?”

     “Maybe we should have brought more food.”

     “Come on, George. That was last year. The kids won’t be there today to get into their food basket. Everything will be fine.”

     They pulled into the parking lot at Grafton Regional Park, a luscious tree-filled place with the greenest grass you’ve ever seen. It was a special spot, in which to relax and have a good time. They unloaded the car and carried their chairs, food, and drinks to the beautiful east end tented picnic area, as indicated in the invitation. They set up the chairs around one of the six-foot tables provided by the park, left the food and drinks next to the chairs, and walked about sixty feet from the picnic area to join their neighbors under the oak trees. This was going to be a wonderful day.

     Back at home, Max gave Lucy a thoughtful look. And she seemed to know exactly what it meant. We’ve been left out of a great spring party and that’s wrong. Just because we caused a little trouble last year is no reason to keep us from going this year.

     Lucy shook her head from side to side and then pointed to the front door of the three-bedroom ranch house they shared with their mom and dad. The door had been left open.

     Max thought about the situation for a moment. Dad probably forgot to close it again. Yes, again. He’s done it many times before. Then he turned and headed for the door, as Lucy followed. They both knew what they had to do. Since the park was only a mile away, they would be there in no time.   
     As the two youngsters made their way down Marshall Avenue, they noticed Jasmine and her brother, Gus, playing alone on the front lawn of their home. Four sets of eyes met. Max and Lucy nodded their heads indicating they wanted Jasmine and Gus to follow them. And so the parade to the park began.

     By the time they reached Grafton Avenue, Max and Lucy, had attracted the attention of four more of their best friends. Running and jumping and very excited about what awaited them at the picnic, the eight pals entered the open park gate and headed toward the tent-covered eating area. The thought of what they might find there—delicious food—was a lure they couldn’t resist.   

     As the neighbors socialized, they heard strange noises coming from the tent area. George looked at Rosa and asked, “Do you hear that?”

     “Yeah. What do you think it is?” Rosa inquired.

     “I don’t know. Maybe I should go and see.”

     Before Rosa could respond, “Sam Lindquist yelled, “I’ve got this. I’ll go check.”

      And so he headed toward the picnic area to investigate. Arriving there, he let out a horrible scream, “Oh, my god, they’ve got my food again.” The others jolted by Sam’s yelling, raced toward him to see what had happened.

     To their amazement, eight dogs—two cocker spaniels, two schnauzers, two beagles, and two Pomeranians—yelped, played, and enjoyed the food they had discovered. Empty baskets and paper bags covered the area. The dogs seemed to be dancing. The neighbors couldn’t believe their eyes. At least for the “children,” this was the best spring picnic ever.

Copyright © 2020 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.

Valentine's Day is celebrated as a holiday for lovers. Traditionally, there is an exchange of gifts of candy, Valentine’s cards, flowers, or other significant items between couples in love or those who would like to be.

However, what is the very best gift you can give that special person in your life? It is, as you will see, . . .

A Gift Of Love

Valentine’s Day is a time for romance.

On this day, I will leave nothing to chance.

My mind paints a picture. My heart begins to dance.

My very special lady, her life I will enhance.

I am fortunate she has been in my life.

She is my lover, my confidante, and my darling, sweet wife.

We have shared a world of happiness, a world of dreams.

Without her, life would come apart at the seams.

We have supported each other in good times and bad.

Her smile lights my fire. Her words make me glad.

Together we create life’s beautiful scenes.

Hand in hand we walk, realizing all that it means.

We began as friends, and as friends we remain.

It is through this friendship our love does sustain. 

I reflect on the years, with memories blessed.

Now it is Valentine’s Day, and I am put to the test.

I must show her how I feel on this special day.

And I will do it with flare, in my own unique way.

What gift of value will let her see

Just how much she still means to me?

She is the center of my life, my reason for being.

It all becomes clear now, what I am seeing.

The only gift of value is to reaffirm my love.

I do this now, in the eyes of the world and the Lord above.

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!

Copyright © 2010 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.

As we approach Valentine’s Day, we think about love and relationships. But sometimes life doesn’t allow love to proceed as expected.

What if you get caught in a crowd? Then you hear something rather disturbing. It is hard to decide what to do, when asked what you . . .

Overheard

“The Innocent Bystander”

It is amazing the things people say.

Let me tell you what I overheard.

I was standing behind these two guys in a crowd.

It was pretty noisy, but I still was able to hear every word.

The first man looked at the second and began to lament,

“Why am I not able to be happy with my wife?”

The second man responded in a clear dulcet tone,

“It is just one of the burdens in a married man’s life.”

Tears welled up in the eyes of the first.

“I try and try to do things right,” he cried.

“But the more I give, the more she wants from me.

I am losing both my mind and my pride.”

“My wife is pretty smart, but I do not let her control me,” the second man

     said.

“To each of her requests,” I meagerly reply, “Yes honey, I will do my best.”

“In my mind, however, I am thinking, no way am I playing your game. 

You are not my boss. I am my own man. So let us give this a rest.”

The first man, in quite a tizzy, jabbered about killing his wife.

He groaned, “It is either that or putting a gun to my head.

I have thought about it quite seriously, I am sorry to say.

Sometimes I think about smothering her as she lies there in bed.”

“I am sure you will get caught,” the second man gasped. 

“It is better you take another direction and explore divorce.”

“But,” the first said. “She will take all my money, all the things that make my

     life worthwhile. 

There must be another way, one in which I do not take a huge loss.”

Their conversation went on and on, with no end in sight.

The first guy kept coming up with all kinds of ridiculous and unworkable

     ploys.

The second refuted each and contributed laborious conversational noise.

But then, he looked at his friend and said, “You know, we boys must be

     boys.”

He patted his pal on the back, turned, gave him a wry smile and sauntered   
     away.

The friend stood there at a loss for words and not too enthused.

He hung his head down and seemed in total despair.

Now, more than ever, he was confused.

As he looked up, he saw me standing to his rear.

He wondered aloud how much of the conversation I had overheard.

I looked at him in dismay, thinking to myself, What should I say?

Slowly, I shook my head and stammered, “Overheard? Not a word, not a

     word.”

Copyright © 2013 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.

Sometimes we lose control of things in life. We swerve off the path we need to travel.

The future seems bleak. However, the unexpected may occur and we may be given . . .

A Second Chance

Where the road swerved right,

a light

glared at him.

The signal of something ahead

clouded the vision in his eyes.

Looking away in search of clarity,

his sports car veered

toward the shoulder of the road,

skidding over

the gravelly

pavement.

He jerked the wheel to the left.

Sand flew

across the windshield.

Darkness obscured his future,

now a question in his mind.

Fear welled up inside.

A deep pain

felt in his gut

sent chills

through

his body.

He gasped, 

attempting to catch his breath,

as his head

hit the steering wheel,

sending it back

into the headrest.

The car, 

out of control,

zigzagged toward

an unknown

destination—

one absent

of life.

 

Visions drifted through his mind—

signs of a life lost,

taken

all

too soon.

 

The world became black,

the glare of the lights gone,

quiet

descended

upon the scene

of the wreck.

One week passed,

a second began,

as light

penetrated

a hospital room.

His eyes opened

to the smile

of his cherished wife

and a second

chance

at life.

Copyright © 2016 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.

Update! Update! On September 30, 2019, “Murder Mystery” was published on my blog.

Since then, new facts have been uncovered in the murder case. Life does have its twists and turns. And things do not turn out as planned, as you will discover in . . .

Murder Mystery: Update

     Please reread the original “Murder Mystery” posted on September 30, 2019, to fully understand the twist in the story that has occurred. And now, a short recap and the new, unexpected end to the story.

     Mr. Pruitt, an insurance agent, is called during the night and told by Detective Jonas Pride that a client of his is in the hospital in a coma and may die. As the conversation proceeds, the prime suspect becomes his wife, Sherry, who would inherit $2,000,000 upon his death. And the cause of her husband’s death emerges as a drug overdose.

     Detective Pride asks Pruitt if he would come to the police station at six o’clock that morning to have his statement taken. The detective says he will pick him up. However, when he arrives at the house and rings the doorbell, Pruitt yells from behind the door that he knows nothing about the telephone conversation and says he has to get ready for work. This behavior leaves Pride totally bewildered, as he walks down the driveway to his car.

     Seeing Pride drive away, Pruitt calls his accomplice, Sherry, the wife of the now deceased man, and tells her he will be getting the insurance money to her as soon as possible. He states, “For now sit back and relax. When things quiet down, I’ll see you on the beach in Aruba. I love you.”       

     And that was the end of the story. But was it? . . . Not quite, as Pruitt discovers. And this is the rest of his story.

     Two months after my telephone conversation with Sherry, my company completed the process allowing her to receive the insurance policy money. They gave me the check to send to her. However, instead of sending it, I packed my suitcase, tucked the $2,000,000 check in the inside pocket of my sport coat, and headed to the airport to catch the plane to Aruba to meet her.

     After parking my car, I took the shuttle to Terminal 2. Once inside the terminal, I got my boarding pass and took the escalator to the second floor. I got in line to go through the security checkpoint. I had to remove my jacket to clear security so I could get to the gate to board the plane. I completed the process without incident. Picking up my jacket off the conveyor belt, I reached into the pocket to get the check. “Oh, my God!” I screamed. The check was gone.

     I took out my cell phone and called Sherry. “Hello,” she said.

     “Sherry, it’s me. The check has disappeared.”

     “No, it hasn’t,” she responded. 

     “Huh?”

     “Detective Pride has it.”

     “What are you talking about?”

     “Security people love to please detectives. You should have kept your eyes on your jacket.”

     “What do you mean?”

     “Pride is on a private plane to Aruba right now. He’ll be meeting me for dinner tonight at a beautiful restaurant on the beach. Goodbye, my love. You’ve been a big help in making me very rich and my future much brighter.”

     And this is the end of the story.

Copyright © 2020 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.