The Spider Lady and Other Short Stories and Poetry is sold out with retailers all over the world following the holiday season. Distributors are out so books are on back order. This is a Print On Demand book so more copies are being printed and are on the way.
Most sold book February 2020 #13 Printed Book #62 eBook Meistbestellte Bücher im Februar 2020 #13 The Spider Lady and Other Short Stories and Poetryhttps://diebuchsuche.at/mb.php
Not long after becoming acquainted with Jimmy’s family John’s family next door to them moved away. The house was vacant for a time. One day Jimmy asked me to come along with him, his mother and younger brothers to visit with John. Apparently John’s family had bought a brand new house. Our neighborhood was that of very simple tract homes that appeared to have been built in the early fifties. John’s new home was sixties style, fancier and brand new. The tract of homes was even built on a hill and not on flat land. He lived at the end of a curving cul-de-sac. The home was so new that the land around it was dirt. There was no landscaping yet. We were taken on a tour of the new, fancy house.
This was only the second time in my life I ever saw the younger John. I remembered how cruelly Jimmy had treated him at the last meeting. Much to my surprise Jimmy now treated John with the utmost respect and friendliness. Something had suddenly changed. He seemed to treat me with disdain as if since we had been seeing each other regularly the familiarity had turned to disrespect and contempt. Very quickly he and John disappeared around a corner leaving me alone, alone outside a brand new house that seemed barren with no landscaping. All I could do was wait patiently until Jimmy’s family decided to leave. I wasn’t in a good humor on the drive back. I was quiet. I couldn’t wait until we arrived so I could walk back home.
Our yard was not perfect. It wasn’t like the Miller’s who were a retired couple across the street whose lawn was perfectly green and always cut and trimmed perfectly with its perfect flower beds. It was weedless all the time. Our lawn was not dry but was never completely green. There were always some weeds that needed to be pulled. At some point my father taught all of his three sons to care for the yard but left it up to us to do so. There was no pressure. I think I took up most of the responsibility myself but try as I might I could never make the yard look perfect. I watered in the evening, pulled weeds, mowed and edged the lawn and swept the walks. My father collected a lot of nice rocks and cemented them at intervals on top of the low wall that bordered our yard. Ours was a corner house and even though the corner of our front yard was rounded and not a sharp corner the neighborhood boys would cut across our yard for a shortcut. Sometimes some of them would push and pull on the rocks until they pulled them out. They seemed to want to do these things as a sign of disrespect and rebellion against authority. I had no idea why. I finally had to confront some of these boys and tell them they couldn’t do that. They would want to argue and say, “Why not?” but I got them to stop. I even got them to stop taking short cuts across our yard.
Try as I might our yard was never perfect. However we had a very tall mulberry tree in our front yard that gave an abundance of fruit every summer. Lots of neighborhood kids would be in our yard uninvited picking fruit including children we didn’t even know. Eventually there was even a grown Mexican woman who we didn’t know picking fruit with the children. My mother who was raised on a farm in Ohio knew how to bake pies from scratch and she would bake us delicious mulberry pies every summer. There was always a smaller, immature mulberry tree on the other side of the front driveway that as yet did not bear fruit. It was not planted by design but it looked very beautiful and perfect where it was at. It was obviously a child of the mother tree. Between the front sidewalk and the curb grew a Palo Verde tree. This type of tree was native to the Arizona-Sonora desert. It had a slender trunk and limbs with smooth, green bark. The branches hung down with leaves that were thin strands with tiny green, pointed ovals along each strand. This gave the leaves a feathery look. At times the tree, also, had tiny, yellow flowers. People who were driving by would stop their cars in front and tell me that the tree was beautiful. Another of these trees had begun to grow several feet away.
We had some bushes along the front wall of the house that had small, dark green, waxy leaves. They grew up to the roof of the house and had a low arch between them. We called them bird berry bushes because they grew berries that looked exactly like tiny apples that the birds loved to eat. They were bright red on the outside, white inside and had tiny black seeds just like tiny apples. We ate them ourselves sometimes. Sometimes we’d watch the birds go crazy eating them. My father later told me that the bird berries made the birds drunk. That’s why they loved them so much.
We, also, had two plum trees on the other side of the yard past the car port. They grew right up next to the backyard fence. These small, dark, purple and green trees gave fruit every summer. In the same area was a small palm tree that was only a few feet high and the pond, a small concrete pond that my father had made. It was bordered by large rocks that were good for sitting on. The pond was only filled when one of my brothers or I filled it with a garden hose. After the two rainy seasons in Tucson we would bring tadpoles from the desert in jars to put tadpoles in the pond. The cats would come and lick some of them up from the pond to eat them. We watched the ones that were left grow hind legs and front legs. Then they would lose their tails. Eventually they became little frogs hopping around the pond until they got bigger and hopped away.
And these were the treasures of the front yard! In back there was a patio where on summer days we would eat breakfast outdoors since it was already seventy degrees even early in the morning. We would eat cereal and cantaloupe. There was another fruitless mulberry tree that was a good climbing tree. Here is where we built a tree house in it of scrap wood. The mulberry tree, instead of growing fruit, grew yellow flowers. My mother just called it a fruitless tree. Later in life when I thought back on this it became obvious to me it was the male tree that pollinated the fruit bearing mulberry tree in the front yard. There was a lawn there and next to the redwood slat, back yard fence was the clothes line where my mother hung clothes to dry and sometimes lots of diapers. I often helped my mother with the laundry. We had an old fashioned, washing machine in the back yard with a wringer to wring the excess water out of the clothes. I loved to run through the lines of cotton diapers on the clothes lines when they got dry because of the fresh smell.
Next to the wall of the house in the flower beds was a peach tree. The mother of this peach tree was in a small patch of dry lawn on the other side of the patio. Every summer the peach trees were heavily laden with fruit. The younger peach tree was once so heavily laden with fruit that one of its branches broke from the weight. My mother would make us peach pie, peach cobbler and peaches with whipped cream for dessert. She made the whipped cream from scratch. We often had peach slices with our cereal in the morning.
Then there was the weeping willow tree on the other side of the back yard driveway. The entrance to the driveway had tall, wooden gates that my father built into the redwood slat fence that encircled the back yard. The tree grew from a square made of low, red brick walls. Its gnarled roots filled the earth inside the brick enclosure. Its long, thin branches hung down low over the roots with its long, green leaves. In the spring it was not good to be under the tree’s branches because the caterpillars would be spitting out green junk that would fall on us. Later came the beautiful butterflies as they emerged from the cocoons that the caterpillars had retreated to after having their fill of eating weeping willow leaves. For a short time butterflies covered the hanging branches before flying away. Then there was the summer when the tree would achieve its full, lush greenery and glory. It was nice and cool in the shade behind the green curtains of the weeping willow tree branches. I felt a sense of peace hiding in there on hot summer days.
In the back yard behind the weeping willow tree was a fallow area of dirt. At times we grew watermelon there, potatoes and carrots. My mother gave me packages of seeds and my father taught me how to grow things. We were able to grow some corn but the stocks of corn did not get really high like on my grandfather’s farm in Ohio. We tried to grow sunflowers and were successful but the birds ate all the sunflower seeds. The birds went crazy eating the seeds from the big, yellow flowers. At times it was hard for us to even get close to the plants because of the crazed birds.
We had a kid goat for awhile as a pet and then a desert tortoise. My sisters were afraid of the goat so my father sold it back to the feed store he had bought it from. The tortoise kept digging under the fence to escape out to the desert. He finally got too much of a head start on us so we couldn’t find him. Then we got a little dog and this patch of dirt became his potty area.
The weeping willow tree was not a great tree for climbing. It was not like the huge mulberry tree in the front yard. The mulberry tree had thick branches that separated at a low level on the trunk. It was easy to climb and there was a place high above from which I could look down on the world below. I could even look down on the roof of the house. It was a natural place where branches cradled me. I could recline there. It was a place I would go to when the noise of my brothers and sisters became too much for me. When I got upset I would climb up to my high spot in the tree to think and have peace of mind. It was a place where my imagination was set free from the troubles of life.
It wasn’t long before my younger brother, Samuel, became friends with Jimmy’s two younger brothers, Donnie and Ronnie. My younger brother, Samuel, is about three years younger than I. Jimmy’s two younger brothers were two years apart. They were close to the same age as Samuel and considerably smaller in stature than Jimmy.
One day I remember going along with Jimmy and his mom and little brothers to shop in the morning during the three month summer vacation time that we had from school. In Tucson in the sixties during the hot days of summer we, boys, wore cut-off jeans to look cool. It was at the beginning of summer vacation and before nine in the morning there was still a little coolness in the air. We were going to a large, discount department store in a new complex recently built in the desert. The modern four lane, divided road had an exit that looked like a freeway exit but this was Tucson so this was not a freeway at all.
We arrived in the old, station wagon that Jimmy’s mother drove. We were there at the doors of the new, modern looking department store in the desert where no greenery of landscaping had started to grow yet. It was before the store was open. The day was growing hotter in the Arizona sun as I noticed all the other housewives, most of them middle aged, who were waiting for the doors to open. It was the day of a sale that had been advertised. I had no previous experience or knowledge of these types of events at all.
I remember a tall, young man in a light grey suit unlocking the glass doors and then I was witnessing a site that I had never heard of. Everyone was pushing up toward the doors as they opened and then there was an insane, mad rush of women running to a certain department. I found myself caught up in the ebullience of the moment and rushing with all of the others to see what the excitement was all about.
Soon I came to a scene in which there was already a crowd of women gathered in a certain area and others were fighting their way to get in. I decided to become one of them to see what was going on. When I was able to push through the women and get close enough to the front I was amazed by what I saw. There were tables piled with women’s clothing that had been neatly folded and women were practically fighting over the clothing! It was a garish spectacle! After watching for awhile I turned and walked away.
One thing that really stands out in my mind is the way Jimmy’s mom placated her two youngest children by giving them candy. At a certain point in this shopping experience Jimmy and his mom left me alone in the old station wagon with Donnie and Ronnie. I sat in the back seat and Ronnie and Donnie turned to face me from the middle seat of the station wagon. I tried to talk to them as I would with my own younger brother and sisters but they seemed more keen on trying to impress me with the fact that they had candy. I found myself in a state of disgust looking at their dirty, little faces with candy coating around their mouths. Already their teeth were small and brown with gaps between them. They smiled at me triumphantly as if the mere state of constantly having candy showed superiority.
I sat in the back seat of the station wagon looking at the dirty, little faces smiling at me. Inside the station wagon was a feeling of dirtiness and smelliness. There was a gritty feeling. I just felt a sense of disgust. Needless to say I never went along with Jimmy and his mother when they went shopping again. When he asked me if I wanted to go along he seemed not to understand why I would say no.
I actually liked Jimmy’s mom. She was younger than my own mother. She had bouncy, blonde hair down to her shoulders. Often she wore shorts. She seemed pretty. She always acted nice. She seemed rather child like herself. She often talked to me as if I were an equal. There was an air of excitement about being in their home. It was something different, something new.
Jimmy’s father was a dark, shadowy figure who made his appearance rarely. It was a long time before I ever saw him. He was a burly, Mexican man with black hair, a dark complexion and a small moustache. He seemed unpleasant and never smiled. He was not like my own Mexican-American father. My father was known for smiling and joking. Jimmy’s father was a glazier and apparently made good money. His glass truck would sometimes be parked in the driveway of their home. Jimmy said that he often worked on Saturdays which was why he was rarely at home.
It seemed as if marriage for him was his wife only and not his children. He seemed to leave the raising of his sons to his wife. This may have had to do with the fact that all three of his boys turned out to have blonde hair like their mother and fair complexions. When he was at home he usually retreated to the bedroom.
I remember on a few occasions during this time in my life I found myself alone in the living room of my family home on a hot, Tucson afternoon. It was cool in the living room from the air of the cooler as I looked peacefully at the drapery. I became impressed with the sense of order and calmness in my mother’s neat and nice living room. There was the couch decorated with the Mexican zarape, the fireplace mantel with the clock ticking and the family photos. There were the paintings and old fashioned carpet with its oval shape, the coffee table, end tables and lamps. I was sitting in my mother’s comfortable upholstered rocking chair. There were the drapes gently swaying because of the one window that was slightly ajar from which the heat of the Sonoran desert and fresh air from outside radiated. From the front porch would be the sound of the wind chimes that were barely moving.
The peace and tranquility impressed me with the orderliness of the living room in its own afternoon twilight. Everything neat and simple. Everything dusted by my little sisters or my mother. When my sisters were babies I had helped my mother with the dusting. I had a feeling of transcendence and peace of mind. This was my pristine world, so different, I thought in contrast to Jimmy’s world.
Although there was an air of excitement in Jimmy’s home with his young, energetic mother I always felt a sense of uncleanness and lack of order and peace. There was never the clean, pristine smell of my family home. Often the living room was in need of picking up with loose articles here and there. Both of Jimmy’s parents smoked cigarettes which contributed to the general feeling of dirtiness. Often Jimmy’s mother would be sitting on the couch, laundry to fold at her side, with a cigarette in her hand, smoke going up to the ceiling. The ceiling was stained yellow and brown from the cigarette smoke.
a sunny day but with a chill from the ocean when I was on a pier
looking at the ships and gazing out to sea. Lost as I was in thought I
turned and started walking with no purpose back along the wharf to the
narrow ways along the waterfront. Between the same, old buildings,
wandering, eventually my feet led me, as I was between memories and
fantasies, to the realization that I wasn’t sure exactly where I was. I
turned a corner down a narrow lane and a few shops down to my left I
saw the curio shop. I was drawn to the front window and looked inside
at all the curious items from exotic places, the teak wood boxes and
I looked at the door and started towards it. I opened the door and
walked in. I looked to the left and right consciously aware that an
elegant, oriental woman beautifully dressed in dark, oriental clothing
with dark hair stood behind the counter. She was gazing at me with
slightly lowered eyelids and with a small but curious smile on her
face. As I took a few steps within and continued to look about I was
drawn more toward her than to all the ivory, beads and exotic décor I
was seeing. I started to walk toward her. She seemed so serene, calm
and wise. There was a light in her dark eyes and she had a knowing smile. She was very beautiful.
We spoke for quite a long time about many things but I cannot remember what was spoken. My eyes fell upon the talisman beneath the glass counter top. I asked her about it. She reached under the glass counter top
and gently grasped it. She paused a moment and then gracefully pulled
it out from its resting place. Soon she was displaying it in her two
hands in front of me.
I took the talisman in my own hands with her soft hands brushing
against mine I felt the smoothness of it. There was something about the
craftsmanship of it and character and
the feeling of it in my hands made me feel an attachment to it, a
connection to the worlds within and without myself. There was something
about the perfect balance of it.
I purchased the talisman, said goodbye to the oriental lady and smiled
as I turned to leave. She smiled back mysteriously. I wasn’t sure why I
had purchased the talisman that felt so smooth and good in my hands. I
admired its craftsmanship. It had fallen into evening and began to
grow dark as I wandered aimlessly. Somehow my weary body made its way
to the tenement building I stayed in. I made my way up the outside stairs to my room.
That night I fell into a deep sleep and had many vivid and curious
dreams. I was in exotic places with strange and unusual birds and
plants. I was with foreign people who spoke very little but said
strange and mysterious things.
I felt I was lost in a foreign country I had never heard of and would
not be able to find my way back when I suddenly awoke. I could tell by
the light in the room that
it was already late in the morning. The talisman was still there on
the table next to my bed. I took it in my hands and walked to the
window. I opened the curtains and opened the window to smell the fresh,
sea air. I looked out beyond the harbor at the open sea.
Poem from The Spider Lady and Other Short Stories and Poetry
on a path
A path of
knowledge and enlightenment
idea where it will lead
that it will never end
open doors with more to open
reaches a plateau
everything is easy
And one has
all the answers
everything goes smoothly
goal is more knowledge, more awareness
consciousness, more Living
The path of
knowledge and enlightenment
Is a door
that opens on more doors to be opened
There is no
knowing where it will lead
Only that it will never end
تتعلق سيدة العنكبوت بسائق سيارة أجرة شاب يقابل امرأة أكبر سناً غريبة. إنها مذكرات مظلمة. يهتم شارع ماك آرثر بصبي نشأ في توكسون في الستينيات وصراعه مع الخير والشر. إنها أيضًا مذكرات. الكثير من القصص الخيالية والخيالية. والكثير من الشعر. إلهام جيد لمن يحبون القراءة ويطمحون إلى الكتابة. جيد للشباب والكبار. الأمثال الأصلية والفكاهة.
The Spider Lady se refiere a un joven taxista que conoce a una mujer muy extraña y mayor. Es una memoria oscura. McArthur Street se refiere a un niño que creció en Tucson en los años sesenta y sus luchas con el bien y el mal. Es, también, una memoria. Muchas historias de no ficción y ficción. Y mucha poesía. Buena inspiración para los amantes de la lectura y que aspiran a escribir. Bueno para adultos jóvenes y adultos. Proverbios originales y humor.