Roast Beef in April is a journey into the heartwarming yet difficult life of a young boy and his family which takes place during the turbulent period surrounding the Great Depression and World War II. In this nostalgic memoir, young Bob takes you down his path of boyhood adventures during the 1930s and 40s. You will meet his family whose ancestry evolved from Irish and Slovak descent. You will get to know Pop who had little education but always managed to remain employed and optimistic and Mom who worked hard at the Endicott Johnson Shoe factory. They survived gas rationing, food shortages, job insecurity and the unimaginable stresses of a world war, yet still managing to raise two successful sons. The book explores their numerous residences in the Upstate New York communities of Binghamton and Johnson City. During this period Bob and his older brother Matt attended five different schools before the sixth grade, finally settling into a stable environment in Windsor, New York. Bob's April first birthday made him the subject of bullying throughout primary school, but you'll enjoy reading how the "April Fool" learned to fight back when he entered Windsor Central School. You may shed a tear over the shocking demise of his pet crow Elmer and be surprised to find out what really happened to his pet calf April. His youthful narrative about juvenile sexual exploration, at a time when the subject was "taboo", will make you snicker Just imagine a young boy's daily life without television, a cell phone or the internet, all things that at that time seemed like the stuff of science fiction. As you join Bob in sharing his memories and embarrassing moments you will also get a glimpse into the history of the Southern Tier area when life was a daily struggle for most everyone in America.
Tulips in April is a collection of poems written through the years. Most of the poems were written out of a sense of joy. They simply emerge from the thought of someone, an event, a scent, a sense . . . an inner thought. Some of the enclosed poetry comes from rhythm set to words. And some are mirth, simply mirth.Poetry is energy--a palpable sense of energy. It comes out of relationships and my response to relationships with people, the earth and its seasons, passions, a sense of the spirit, wonder, awe, the shadow of pathos, and gratitude for the gift of it all.This book reveals the interiority of my life. One takes a chance when presenting to the world that which springs from deep within. In that chance it is hoped "Tulips in April" will quietly find its way to souls who recognize the love of a small boy who gave his mother a bouquet of tulips on an April day many-many years ago.
Tulips in April is a collection of poems written through the years. Most of the poems were written out of a sense of joy. They simply emerge from the thought of someone, an event, a scent, a sense . . . an inner thought. Some of the enclosed poetry comes from rhythm set to words. And some are mirth, simply mirth.Poetry is energy--a palpable sense of energy. It comes out of relationships and my response to relationships with people, the earth and its seasons, passions, a sense of the spirit, wonder, awe, the shadow of pathos, and gratitude for the gift of it all.This book reveals the interiority of my life. One takes a chance when presenting to the world that which springs from deep within. In that chance it is hoped "Tulips in April" will quietly find its way to souls who recognize the love of a small boy who gave his mother a bouquet of tulips on an April day many-many years ago.
It's a curious and wonderful thing how so many of us take full ownership of "our" day - our birthday So it is only natural to have a sharp curiosity about what else happened on that date. This booklet takes a look at two millennia and contains dozens and dozens of those events; birthdays, deaths, wars, coronations, celebrations, weather catastrophes, sports triumphs, achievements in the arts and entertainment, and much, much more. A perfect birthday gift for anyone on your list, they'll love it
With the onset of the Russian Spring Rasputitsa or 'muddy season', the German assault to the north of Army Group South grinds to a halt having completed the objectives of recapturing Kharkov and Belgorod. The thaw of snow adds to logistical problems, wheeled and tracked vehicles virtually unable to move on all but tarmacked roads. The front line across Russia now virtually mirrors that of the previous year before the drive on Stalingrad, Von Manstein having stunned the Red Army with a dazzling counterstroke or 'back hand' offensive, destroying several Russian Armies and perhaps resetting the balance as enemy offensives are reluctantly cancelled. The Germans resupply, eager to maintain the initiative and drive further into the Soviet heartland. The Russians dig in, awaiting the next move of Axis forces, their own divisions heavily depleted and in need of resupply. 'General Mud' may have once again come to the rescue of the Red Army. Before the Germans lies a large salient with Kursk in the centre of the Russian defences...destroying this 'bulge' will not only shorten the front line sparing up desperately needed divisions, but may once again prove to be the decisive blow that finally finishes the 'Russian Bear', or at least cripples it. With British Intelligence breaking the German codes...the Russians may even be forewarned. Leutnant Hausser and a replenished squad, now attached to Grossdeutschland Division with Army Group South, will continue in a bitter struggle for survival as the Axis leadership deploy new tanks, assault guns, and ground attack aircraft for the forthcoming operation...factories in Germany now producing at a frantic rate to assemble the strongest force available. Virtually all armoured vehicles and aircraft on the Russian Front will be deployed for the coming offensive...on the Axis side, nearly 800,000 men and 5,200 tanks will attack, faced by just short of two million Soviet soldiers and a similar number of armoured vehicles...the Germans could muster approximately 2,200 aircraft against the Soviet 3,000. These were odds that would have favoured the Wehrmacht in the past, but this is 1943, approaching the third summer of campaigns in the east...opportunities have been squandered, some of the most experienced troops killed, the enemy more competent and with improved weaponry. The war is now turning ominously against the Axis states as heavy allied bombing begins to reap dividends and a deteriorating if not precarious situation in North Africa heads towards conclusion. More and more fighter aircraft are being transferred back to the Reich to protect industry. The clock of war is ticking and time may be running out...could this be the final throw of the dice in Russia? Time is short for a final victory...perhaps too short. The author aims to provide a thoroughly enjoyable and imaginative reading experience at an affordable price for the reader. The WW2 series is historically accurate, placing fictional characters in the maelstrom of war amongst accurate equipment and units. All three works from the author's World War 2 Stalingrad Series have achieved Best Seller status on Amazon in the UK and many more stories are outlined. Imagination is personal, free and to be cherished.
Mrs. Wilkins had never yet spoken to Mrs. Arbuthnot, who belonged to one of the various church sets, and who analysed, classified, divided and registered the poor; whereas she and Mellersh, when they did go out, went to the parties of impressionist painters, of whom in Hampstead there were many. Mellersh had a sister who had married one of them and lived up on the Heath, and because of this alliance Mrs. Wilkins was drawn into a circle which was highly unnatural to her, and she had learned to dread pictures. She had to say things about them, and she didn't know what to say. She used to murmur, "marvelous," and feel that it was not enough. But nobody minded. Nobody listened. Nobody took any notice of Mrs. Wilkins. She was the kind of person who is not noticed at parties. Her clothes, infested by thrift, made her practically invisible; her face was non-arresting; her conversation was reluctant; she was shy. And if one's clothes and face and conversation are all negligible, thought Mrs. Wilkins, who recognized her disabilities, what, at parties, is there left of one? Also she was always with Wilkins, that clean-shaven, fine-looking man, who gave a party, merely by coming to it, a great air. Wilkins was very respectable.
