“Tommy…it’s time to practice your piano lesson Dear.”
“Aww Mom…can’t I just skip today? I promise I’ll practice twice as long tomorrow.”
“I’m afraid not Tommy….you know the rules.”
“But the guys are having a great neighborhood soccer tournament…and we’ve just GOT to beat those guys from Waverly!”
“You can play AFTER your practice…it’s only for thirty minutes Tommy!”
“It’ll be too late then…AW MOM….PLEASE?”
“Sorry Dear…one day you’ll thank me for insisting that you practice your piano…you’ll see.”

Tommy hung his head and trudged off to the living room and sat down at the piano.”I hate you!” He grunted at the piano making sure not to say it too loudly because he didn’t want his Mom to hear him. Then he banged a D Major seventh chord as hard as he could!
“Ouch!”
Tommy’s eyes grew as big as saucers as he stared at the piano. Then he banged a C Minor chord and heard “Hey…take it easier please.”
“You….ah….can….t-talk?”
“I can complain when I’m struck in anger!”

Just then Tommy heard his Mom yell out to him from the kitchen…”I don’t hear those scales that you are supposed to be playing Tommy. Your thirty minutes doesn’t start until you do!”
“Ah…yes Mom.”

He began playing his practice scales and after the series of scales and chords in his routine warm up he realized that the piano hadn’t “said” another word. As Tommy progressed through his lesson he started to think that maybe he had imagined the “conversation” that had transpired with the piano. He played “Clair de Lune” for his final practice selection without one error. That had never happened before. “Maybe the piano is…helping me……Naw…that’s crazy!”

“That was beautiful Tommy…I actually had a tear in my eye listening to your playing.” Tommy’s Mom stood at the door to the kitchen smiling wider than Tommy had ever seen her smile.
“Oh great!” thought Tommy…”Now I’ll never be able to give up those stupid piano lessons!”

It was years later when Tommy was sitting in a field box in England watching Manchester United versus the Italian National team playing a crucial soccer game when a young boy came up to him.

“Sir…would you sign my autograph book please. My Mom took me to see your appearance with the London Philharmonic and we have all of your recordings…in fact….I chose to play the piano because of you.”
“Sure son…I’ll be glad to sign your book.”
After signing and watching the boy return to his seat, Tommy turned to the person sitting next to him and said “Thanks Mom!”

“Shhhh….hey hold it down….Tommy is not quite asleep yet.”
“How about now….I got this great idea….”
“NO…shhhh…just a few more seconds…..ah….OK Now…WHAT was such a great idea that it just couldn’t keep?”
“Well…Tommy’s dog Brownie gets lost and Tommy finds him in the woods stuck in a trap and frees him.”
“Naw…we did that one …let’see..last…..September….the….ah….18th….remember?”
“No….not really but then I’m not a memory cell just a dreamaker cell.”
“Yeah well….that’s the greatest cell to be in a brain. Those memory cells never have any fun unless Tommy has fun…but us….we’re different…we make our own fun for Tommy.”
“Yeah…I guess you’re right…I wouldn’t like being a memory cell at all.”
“OH NO!!!”
“What?”
“Here comes that awful nightmare cell….hurry….let’s give Tommy a fun dream….QUICK!!!”
“ICE CREAM STORE….where everything is free!!!!”
“Yeah….and you don’t get sick no matter how much ice cream you eat!”
“Yeah….good one …GO….HURRY…and NO BRAIN FREEZES either, and he takes Brownie!”
“So….you GOODY GOODY DREAMAKERS gettin’ ready to give the kid a dream?”
“Ah…well sorry…Horribulis…we already took care of it…you’re just a bit late tonight!”
“DRAT! I’m not gonna be late tomorrow night….and if Tommy tries to take a nap in the afternoon he’ll have the worst daymare he’s EVER had!” Horribulis left in quite a huff!
“What a grumpy cell….I’m glad he’s gone.”
The next morning Tommy woke up with a big smile on his face and his dog Brownie was smiling too!

He didn’t mind being cold…frozen even, but Sammy the Sad Snowball wanted to be more than just temporary winter sports ammunition.
“Maybe I could be part of a great snow sculpture or even part of a snowman or snow-woman, although I’ve never seen one of those.”
“Those were kind hands that shaped me into what I am today, and by the way, I do feel lucky that I wasn’t thrown at someone and maybe hurt them as I hit!”
“But I just have the feeling that I could be something more important, more helpful, part of something big and wonderful.”
Sammy was just sitting there, along the side of the park pathway when a warm knitted gloved hand lifted him up and caressed him, rounding him even more than he had been.
He was then carried over to the newly dedicated Memorial statue of a soldier and a cannon that was covered in snow.
“What a great statue ” thought Sammy. “Someone made that with their hands just as I was made. Of course bronze isn’t snow but the method is kinda similar.”
Then Sammy was gently placed down on the top of the base of the statue where he had a good view of the soldier and the cannon and of all of Main Street and the people.
Then an older couple came up to look at where Sammy was. They brushed off lots of snow from the soldier and the cannon and then stepped back to view the newly revealed sculpture.
The woman said to the man “Isn’t it a nice tribute to the soldiers?”
Then the man replied…”My yes…and so creative too. I think the best part is how someone used a single real snowball to represent the cannonball. It makes the whole tribute just perfect!”

“Get your heel outta my face please!”
“Hey…like I can help it or somethin’!  I got some ugly argyle toe in MY face!”
“Ah watch who yer callen ugly Laddie.”
“Yeah…well…I just want my mate…I haven’t seen Lefty in weeks.”
“Me too…it’s so nice in that sock drawer chattin’ with those other matched pairs…ah…I really  miss it.”
“The WORST are those athletic socks…they never really do get completely clean and they’re so thick and take up so much of our space here!”
Then there was a whimper and sob coming from the top of the pile.
“There there…you’ll be OK little one…we’re all here with you.”
The baby sock with it’s pink ruffle was very sad having just come from the last dryer load.
“I….I….think my match is…..ooohhhh….still in the dryer….CAUGHT!”
“Yeah…happened to golf sock over there…never did find his mate. Oh I shouldn’t have said that should I?”
“Boo Hoo…I’ll never see him again.”
“Now Now….it’ll be OK…you’ll see.
Then all of a sudden the woven basket that held them was lifted and dumped on the big bed. Then soon after, another pile of socks was thrown onto the bed.
“Hey….there’s my….HEY OVER HERE!”
Then human hands started matching up all the socks and folded and tucked the pairs together and threw them into the sock drawer. All of the socks were happy except one old striped one with a hole in the toe.”So long guys maybe I’ll see you all again soon.”
The little baby sock with the pink ruffle was still sad so the striped sock let it snuggle up as they were placed back into the woven basket.
“Maybe next time little one.”Then whispering to himself….”I HATE dryers!”

It was a bright and sunny night and all of the animals and people in all of the houses and barns and pastures and well, you get the idea, were wide awake.
After all, this was the Village of Backwards and there was a tradition to uphold.
The sign at the entrance to town read “EMOCLEW” and the red octagonal traffic signs on the corners spelled “OG”
The local driving populace stopped on green lights and drove down the middle of the streets…backwards of course.
The pedestrians also very naturally walked backwards and as they passed each other, frowned and said “Goodbye”
When you were 6 or so years old you started College in The Village and after 12 or so years you graduated first grade.
All of the front entrances to stores and even the “ECILOP” station were locked and you entered….YES you are correct, through the rear.
New Years Eve was a day late and celebrated on January First with fireworks at noon.
It was a sad town which made everyone happy. Dogs walked their Masters in the park and the garbage truck brought new trash every Saturday.
Then one day a little blond haired six year old boy named Otto stood in the middle of the town round and yelled…”I want to start school in First Grade and I want to walk my dog and walk down the street forward so that I can see where I’m going!”
A crowd started to form as the boy continued citing all of the backward things that he thought to be rather silly and for the very first time the people started to think about their town in a whole new darkness.
The very next day as Otto climbed into his first grade school desk, the sign man was repainting all of the town signs and especially the one that read “WELCOME TO THE VILLAGE OF FORWARDS.”
That was many years ago now but there is still one stubborn family who lives in a house with the basement on the third floor and yells “Goodbye” to everyone that strolls past.

“I’m really getting full already and it’s only…I have to wait until he stops shaking his head so that I can see the clock…ah….yeah…WOW 6:46 AM… that’s a new record.”
“You know some of this stuff he throws away isn’t all that bad. This one about the five legged cat is pretty good…oh but wait…um… dangling participle in that second paragraph and inconsistant tense…and….yeah…he was right to chuck that one.”
“OUCH! Another paper cut. HEY…CAN’T YOU WAD THEM UP TIGHTER BEFORE YOU THROW THEM AT ME HEMINGWAY!!!”
“Oh what’s the use he can’t hear me anyhow. What was that last one about?”
“A two headed cow that argues with himself constantly…he’s into the “weird animal syndrome” again. Didn’t work before…LAST FIVE TIMES!”
“I wonder if I can get moved to the spare bedroom so I can finally get some sleep. Naw…won’t happen. He likes the fact that I look like a basketball goal and I guess my decor won’t integrate into that lilac and pink bedroom anyway. I’m doomed!”
“Hey…you know what…I just noticed? It’s been 14 minutes since he’s trashed me with a reject wad and he’s been typing like crazy.
You don’t suppose…Naw couldn’t be…but then….he’s still at it. Do you think….”
“He’s jumping up and down and whooping…you know I think he actually finished writing something…He’s holding the pages…let me see if I can….OH JUST TURN THEM TO THE LEFT A BIT SHAKESPEARE SO I CAN SEE…”
“Well…I’ll be…there’s the title…”SILLY GRANDPA’S WASTEPAPER BASKET!”

All of my socks are but a size two
They wouldn’t hold much so I knew what to do
I borrowed my Grandpa’s…his feet are really big
And I hope that Dear Santa doesn’t think I’m a Pig!

I hung Grandpa’s stocking by the chimney with care
If I’d hung up size two…well it wouldn’t be fair
Most kids I know hang socks that are HUGE
I hope no one thinks that I’m being a Scrooge

But I have something that I want to report
And I’ll try to make this long story short
When I woke up early last Christmas morn
Left instead of MY sock was one that was worn

It was all red and fuzzy with a tear in the toe
It looked like it had been left out in the snow
And there was a note on the table nearby
It was written by Santa and it started out “HI…

“…I hope you don’t mind and your Grandfather too
But I tore my stocking when I slipped on your roof
So I borrowed your sock to aid me tonight
To help keep my toes warm and solve my small plight”

Well I thought Santa’s sock was the best gift EVER
And I told lots of folks but…believe me?…NEVER!
But I know it’s true and it’s just like I said
It’s Santa’s real stocking and it’s really quite red!

But the neatest of all I’ve yet to tell
About three days later I heard the doorbell
It was UPS and a guy dressed in brown
“I’ve a package from the North Pole’s Lost and Found

Sign here if you want it”…and so I did
Then guess what was there when I opened the lid?
YEP! Grandpa’s stocking…as good as new
And a note from Santa that just read “Thank You!”