Everybody wants to live at the beach. Well, except for those who want to live in the mountains or in the dessert or in big cities…well, anyhow…I want to live at the beach and I do.
I must admit that it gets a tad lonely in the freezing cold of winter…especially at night.
Lots of my friends only come around in late Spring and Summer but it does tend to get somewhat crowded then.
What? Who am I?
Maybe I’ll let you guess. I’ll give you a few clues.
I can’t fly, although I would LOVE to be able to.
I’m actually not even very good at swimming. Silly huh, living and loving the beach and all that.
I also love to play hide and seek but NEVER want to get caught.
Have you guessed what I am yet? Well, have you guessed what I’m NOT yet?
Right! I’m not a fish or a bird.
And I’m not a tourist because I live here and even though some tourists can actually swim none can fly, by themselves that is.
Another hint: I’m not a grain of sand…EVERYBODY knows that sand can’t talk!
And I’m not a pebble which have the same silent problem of sand.
I do like to play with the tide and the waves as them come into the beach and then go back out.
GOOD GUESS! When you hear the term “Happy As A Clam”…THAT’S ME!
Opps…gotta go and dig fast and deep…someone’s coming down the beach.
Next time you are here…look for a tiny hole and maybe a bubble near the water’s edge and say “HI” but no digging please!

The birthday celebration was over and Sam the Kingsnake was writing Thank You cards to all of his friends that had brought presents to his party.
He thanked Carl the Centipede for the pair of new red leather shoes even though Sam had no feet, which even a casual observer should have noticed.
Of course Carl had a hundred feet and so, he naturally fancied himself a shoe “expert”.
Then Sam wrote to Roger Raccoon to thank him for the bright red comb even though, once again, it should have been noted by all that Sam had no hair. But being as furry as Roger was, the oversight was understandable.
Sam also was left wondering what he was going to do with all the leftover raw eggs and fresh mice parts that no one seemed interested in even tasting.
Sam decided to donate the shoes and comb to charity and consume the leftovers a bit at a time until they were gone.
One present he did get excited about was the baby rattle that Blackie the crow brought. Sam was a Kingsnake and not only did he NOT possess a rattle…he wasn’t even venomous. But he had secretly admired that rattling sound that the Diamondbacks made when they needed to scare something or someone.
But perhaps the most appropriate and thoughtful of all of his presents was the jar of skin creme that Tommy Turtle gave him. It was time for Sam to shed his old skin and Tom’s gift would aid in making the shedding immeasurably more comfortable.
Yes…all in all, Sam had wonderful friends of the forest, but occasionally he did get quite lonely.
He was very tired after a long afternoon of partying and as Sam was beginning to nod off on a much needed nap, he began to pleasantly wonder if there existed a snake species known as a Queen Snake.

“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!

Jibber, Jabber, Jibber
Is how it sounds to you
But just between us babies
It’s “Hey there Bud what’s new?”
You see we have a language
We infants fresh as dew
But we only use it when we see
Other babes who see us too

And we don’t like huge bulging heads
That suddenly appear
Staring down upon us
Too big and way too near
And what’s that you are saying?
Sounds faintly like some words we use
We like your smiles and funny face
But what’s with those “Goo Goo’s”?

It’s easy chatting babies up
We’re a friendly bunch
The only time we’ll stop our talking
Is when it’s time for lunch!
But the real tough thing for us is
Right before we’re two
We must learn a whole new language
Just to talk to you!

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.