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A L 2009

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Expressions from the Ridge Thursday, July 30, 2009 • Special to the Paradise Post

Two locations to serve you!

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PARADISE POST • A rts & L etters • Thursday, July 30, 2009


F. Brian Andrews “Lookout Point” “Greystone” (below)

Welcome to the annual Arts and Letters. For the second year in a row, The Post has decided to put all the Arts and Letters into a single product. We believe it’s better than the old format that we published over a period of four weeks. Now it’s in a format readers can leave on a coffee table for a year and return to periodically. We had an outstanding response with more than 78 submissions, however, space is limited. Submissions that didn’t make this print version can be found on our Web site

Background: Live here in Paradise and enjoy photographing the beauty around the area. I'm currently enrolled at Butte College for a degree in Photography. Previous publications: Some previous photos of mine were printed in The Post. Most recent is the front page shot of the lightning, June 6th, 2009.

Go to to see all the submissions!

Age: 42


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Thursday, July 30, 2009 • A rts & L etters • PARADISE POST




Cover Artists D Ashton Boni

See more of this artist on page 33

Margie Chapman See more of this artist on page 39

Katie Stecher See more of this artist on page 33

Julie Graulich “Sunrise at Grey Lodge” See more of this artist on page 34

See more of this artist on page 36

Janet Bauer “Patrick’s Point” See more of this artist on page 33

(See artwork of this artist online) URING the middle forties just after the end of Background in art or writing: Retired Art & Elementary WWII-1945/1946, when I was 13 or 14 years old, subject teacher, college art classes my favorite pastime was being involved in Previous publications or awards: Ed magazine articles sports and to a lesser degree, boys. The movies came in published, CTA-DEA Newsletter, Paradise Post third. Medium: Creative writing During my 7th and 8th grade years boys really began Inspiration: Observations of nature, people and children to get my attention. Several boys in my classes would send me love notes and wink often, but none took my Oklahoma and I dropped in to his father’s hardware breath away like a boy named Gerald, who lived in the store in the same town as the old theater, which was next town and worked in the movie theater some seven now gone. I asked about Gerald after telling his father miles away. Gerald’s father owned the theater and who I was. He said that Gerald had married a local girl Gerald would help his father on weekends when they and they now lived in Nebraska. They had children. showed movies. There was a matinee, an early show Later that same year Gerald visited his father and did and then the late show on Saturdays. The late show was some TV repair work for his father. He visited my an adult type movie. Some of these movies were very grandmother’s house to repair her TV. She lived nearadult as I remember. One was titled “The Outlaw”, feaby. Gerald saw my picture on my grandmother’s desk turing Jane Russell, a very sexy lady for her time. She and said to her “I know her; we had a thing for each wore a very low cut blouse exposing her bosom-almost. other”. Then he asked where I was now living. My This was very risqué for the forties. Other movie grandmother told him that I was teaching school in queens were Betty Grable and Rita Hayworth, and California. He also visited my hometown some time child star Liz Taylor who starred in “National Velvet”. later and asked the locals about me. They told him that Well, I just had to see these late shows for two reasons. I was in California. One, they were the best and latest We never made another connection from Hollywood and second, I would but I have thought of him often and of get to see Gerald. He ran the projecthe late show when love and infatuator. So, on my favorite Saturday tion first took a firm hold on a very nights, I would get invited to come young girl’s heart. and sit with Gerald upstairs, This past September, Gerald came to my away from all others, while he hometown looking to find me. He asked operated the projector. I thought ing Love is not winn the locals if I was still alive and how he he was so responsible and grown or losing might find me. He was told to contact up. I was 14 and he was 16. He was my mother or brother for more informatime spent or unspent my first love and my first kiss. He tion. He was given my phone number was gorgeous. He had dark hair and giving or taking by my brother. He called and we have blue eyes and a smile to die for. He made a connection after 61 years. We Love: Just is seemed older and more experienced have talked, shared our life stories in love matters. I knew nothing except alive in spirit memory and he has come here in Paradise to that he made me feel all grown up, t ar he and see me. His wife had died and he almost. I saw Gerald when I could all not to feel it’s wanted to see if we still felt as we did during the 8th grade, but our budin our teen years. We are different presence is love ding romance ended when my people now, tempered by time and family and I moved to California lost experience but our memories are in 1947. I never saw Gerald again, still intact of the late night shows. but some 20 years later I visited

A Place To Call My Own


Breaths of Autumn kiss my cheeks, A whispered promise of colder weeks. I take a brisker step from town, In search of places to lay me down.

We four Running across the grass Grasping vainly into the wind Each missing the string, the ribbons Running faster, stronger, reaching further Till we stopped and stood forlornly on the precipice. Watching the prize sail higher and higher into the blue sky Till we stopped and stood forlornly on the precipice. Running faster, stronger, reaching further Each missing the string, the ribbons Grasping vainly into the wind Running across the grass We four

Within my pockets of vacant time Frozen fingers twist a lonely dime. And a fear strikes deep inside my head That eternity will watch me tread. Midnight cold swirls around my feet As thru the silent streets I sleep. I try to capture the yellow eyes That peek from castles floating by. At last, a place to call my own. A shallow grave below the moan. Of night winds that howl and blow And drift above the world below. The moon sails by and laughs with me My bedtime friend smiles cheerfully And calls me King of all around But still, I’d rather have a bed in town.


Shonnie Davidson

“The Late Show,” “Love - a thought”

Love - a thought

“Moon Necklace”

Jim Robertson

The Late Show

PARADISE POST • A rts & L etters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

Paul Westbrook - Age: 73 Background: BS Degree in public relations & communication. Professional public relations, marketing and institutional development consultant. Previous publications: “Vapor Trails and a few Grains of Sand” Medium: Creative Writing, items from my book Inspiration: Experience of life. (See page 11 for more of this artist)

Isabel Edmonds - Age: 86 “The Puzzle” (above) “Lillies” (below) Background: Five years of art instruction at Paradise Art Center. Participation in gallery shows and placement in businesses in Paradise Inspiration: Instructors at Paradise Art Center. Love of nature & color Medium: Watercolor

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Thursday, July 30, 2009 • A rts & L etters • PARADISE POST


Tammy Dibble “Sitting Bull" Background: Self taught by watching Bob Ross on public television Previous publications: Last years Arts & Letters submission of my Tina Turner oil painting Inspiration: Bob Grimm, my significant other, inspires me to create and be the best I can be in all things. Medium: “Sitting Bull” is water based oil on canvas “Wire Pass” in Utah digital photograph (published online)

See all the submissions at

Bob Grimm - Age: 57 “Along the Narrow” (top) taken along the Virgin River, Zion National Park; “Peace in the Valley” (above) taken in Yosemite Valley, Yosemite National Park “Mystic Summit” (published online) taken at Lakes Basin near Graeagle/Gold Lake Background: Pursuit of recreational enjoyment Previous publications: Paradise Post and Chico News & Review Inspiration: The beauty of natural landscape Medium: Digital photography

Donna D. Drickey- Age: 73 “Poppies of Tuscany” (above) “French Lavender of Provence” (right) “Mt. Shasta/Lake Siskiyou Sunset” (published online)


Background: I consider myself self-taught and have enjoyed dabbling in oil painting since my early 20’s. As an active member in the Paradise Pines POA Art Guild, I have enjoyed sales through the gallery at the POA Library and on-line web sites. Previous publications or awards: Paradise Post Arts Issues and have received awards from the Lassen County and Silver Dollar Fairs. Inspiration: I have always found my greatest joy in creating landscapes and seascapes. My love of the ocean and mountain lakes is shown as an obvious subject for many of my paintings. Having retired in 2002 after many years of working at the PPOA, I consider it a real blessing to be able to continue living here in the Pines where nature’s beauty remains a constant inspiration. Medium: Oils & acrylics PARADISE POST • A rts & L etters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

Marianna Love “Butterfly Spring”

Tammy Parker - Age: 44 “Toby” “Pine Under Amethyst Sky” (below) “Milo” (published online) Background: Drawing since I was 5 years old, mostly self-taught. A member of Paradise Art Center, have been in a showing through the club as well as a solo exhibit in the Women’s Center. Also several Juried shows. Took Barbara Ramsey’s colored pencil class where she helped teach me the art of blending. Previous publications or awards: First prize in a book cover design contest and honorable mention in a juried show. Published in Arts & Letters for past 3 years. Inspiration: My cats and the beauty around me Medium: Colored Pencil

Background: I have been painting in watercolor since 1982 and teaching "Painting from the Heart: Enhancing Your Inner Artist, Taming Your Inner Critic" since 1998. Awards: I have been juried into 12 National Watermedia Exhibits. My painting "Streams of Light" was selected #1 in the healing art book, "Making Connections". Inspiration: Beauty is my inspiration. I paint with rainbow colors as I want my art to have a healing vibration for the viewer as well as for me the artist. Medium: I paint in watermedia, mostly watercolor, but sometimes using mixed media including collage. Age: 70

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Play Ball Leaping high in the air, Landing with grace and flair, Ball between her paws, She waits for my applause. Back and forth she goes, Running up and down the hall, After the ball. She sits grinning, waiting for me, to throw the ball.

Don Lapedes “Mother and Fawns” Background: Amateur writer, artist, and photographer. My attempts at depicting life by written or visual means are based on specific incidents that have an emotional content for me. Previous publications: I have had the good fortune to be published by the Paradise Post in previous years; one time for a written work, another time for art work. Inspiration: This scene shows deer (mother and fawns) in the process of sustaining life by a mother's love and nourishment. Medium: Digital Photography

Exhausted into my chair I fall. She jumps in the air into my chair. And sings to me there.


in the Trees

Trees are alive in the wind Swaying to music of a heavenly orchestra

Ariel Edmundson Background: Written Poems, Short stories and a Stage Play Previous publications: Under the Big Top by Senior Circus Works-2005 Inspiration: Life Age: Senior

om t, just like while. y career.

Rhonda Kennedy Kirshner Foundation’s “Baby Liger” “Praying Mantis” “Zebra manes” (published online) Previous publications or awards: I have been published in the local papers, on the web and was published on the National Geographic Website as a daily editor selection with my photo of a praying mantis. I also have won several awards at the local and state fair for photography. Inspiration: Life and nature. I love to capture a moment and be able to share it with others. Medium: Mainly digital 35mm format photography.

Brian Vickery “Baldy with fish at Paradise Lake” “Bucks in Velvet” (published online) Background: Started photography in the mid-sixties. After becoming a commercial pilot I used my aircraft for aerial photography Inspiration: The world is a stage Medium: Canon 10D EOS digital camera and various lenses, filters and other equipment Age: 68

Reenie Franchi Go to to see all the submissions! 8

PARADISE POST • A rts & L etters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

“It made a difference to this one” Inspiration: I took this picture of Zeta Taylor at a Beach in Fort Bragg reminded me of the story where a person tells another person who is trying to save all the starfish that had washed up on the beach that it was hopeless, there were just too many to make a difference. When the optomist threw a starfish back she said,“well it made a difference to that one.”

COUNTERFEIT Counterfeit would you recognize it? If the teller in your bank gave you a counterfeit bill, or if the druggist gave you a counterfeit pill, or your pastor preached some counterfeit doctrines would you know it? Counterfeits are in proliferation today. They can cause trouble, sickness and death, even eternal death Fictional movies thrill and scare us with invasions from outer space, but the truth is we have been invaded. Myriads of evil angels have been exiled to this earth (Rev. 12:79) They are invisible to the human eye unless they choose to reveal themselves. Their leader was once the commander of the heavenly host. Then pride and jealousy took over his mind and he chose to rebel against God and mislead his friends who were deceived and persuaded by his lies. They have become master counterfeiters, counterfeiting every good and perfect gift our God has created for us. “For such are false apostles, deceitful workers, transforming themselves into the apostles of Christ. And no marvel for Satan himself is transformed into an angel of light. Therefore it is no great thing if his ministers also be transformed as the ministers of righteousness; whose end shall be according to their works.: (2 Cor. 11:13-15) Any minister who claims to speak for God and teaches the Ten Commandments were nailed to the cross is a counterfeit. Any church that believes and teaches a counterfeit gospel is in league with these counterfeiting angels. Jesus warns of a counterfeit road in Matt. 7:13,14. Ministers determine the destiny of their flock and their own destiny by what they teach from the pulpit and believe themselves. All scripture is given by inspiration of God and is to be used for reproof, correction, and instruction. Jesus says “Think not that I came to destroy the law or the prophets ... I came to fulfill.” (Matt. 5:17ASV) He was the Lamb that was slain from the foundation of the world, Rev. 13:8. Jesus gave the Law at Mount Sinai, kept it while living with us here on earth and His Holy Spirit will give us the same power that it gave Him if we ask for it and believe that all power has been given to Him. He says “If you Love Me Keep My Commandments”, (John 14:15). Are you a Genuine Christian or a Counterfeit?

Ruth Graves Background: Poetry in assorted publications and prizes for oil paintings in County & District Fairs Inspiration: Bible Medium: Creative Writing & Oil Painting Age: 87

~ Acquisition ~

tle, which means that his ribs aren’t showing as much as they once were, and he seems to like me well enough. He stays in my spare room at night, out of the weather, and each day resumes his azalea bush “watcher” position at the front of my house. He is a “talker” as cats go, and constantly meows at me to fix whatever he feels isn’t right with him. He wants his own home back. I also want him back in his own home. Dropping Chuck off at the local animal shelter as a solution is out of the question. Despite the efforts of many volunteers and the good intentions of shelter employees and Ridge veterinarians, the number of pets euphemistically “put to sleep” far exceeds the number of pets found by their owners or adopted out into the community. Two days ago I related the tale of Chuck to my son living in the Auburn California area. He and his girlfriend are the owners of six cats. Do you think?—I proposed as my son started laughing, chuckling, as it were, and replied before I could say another word”—I think you’re stuck with Chuck”. Postscript: I wrote this article in the Spring of 2004. Chuck still lives with me and takes care of the front yard.

My feline guest arrived seven days ago. For lack of access to his true identity, I’ve elected to call him “Chuck”. Chuck the cat is, by definition, a darkly striped short haired tabby and, I suspect, a many fathered version of his species. We discovered each other purely by chance. Had I not opted to trim the abundance of azaleas growing across the front of my property, we might not have met at all. So it was, on that fateful day, armed with Smith and Hawken shears and little red garden gloves, I trudged into the front of my yard ready to take on Mother Nature’s overgrowth. My task for the day was scarcely launched when a slight rustling noise from a nearby bush caught my attention. “Meowwwwl” said the bush. “Meowwwwl”. Oh no! I concluded. Another cat! Kitty? Kitty cat? Here kitty kitty. “Meowowowow” offered the bush. The first meow had been tentative and questioning, but, the second meow was long and loud—clearly a feline SOS. The trembling bush parted and Chuck the cat emerged from its underside glancing warily at me, the person. He took a few cautious steps and then sat himself down a few feet away from my pile of azalea trimmings. We regarded each other. Chuck had Mary Long certainly seen better days. I estimated that he Background: High School and College was down about two pounds from what might be newspapers. Some poetry published in Poetry considered normal weight for an adult cat. The Anthologies (the you buy the book kind). red safety cat collar someone had placed around Inspiration: Everything and anyone. his neck now hung loosely and the bell attached Medium: Creative writing to it was worn on one side. Chuck’s huge green Age: 70 eyes never left my face. His scrutiny of me was just as intent as mine was of him. I leaned down toward him and offered my hand. For the space of a second or two he hesitated and then launched himself in my direction, purring and trilling, confident that he had found a friend. He Ø ORDER HERE: had. The bowl of cat food I produced shortly Dad orders a Burger, convinced him, I am certain that he had done and asks “don’t forget the cheese” just that. Mom orders a Cola, What to do? My immediate concern for the cat and says “make it diet please” was to feed and water him. But, uppermost in my mind was the fact that I needed to find out Johnny orders a Childs Meal, where this cat had come from. I didn’t want and a toy truck that hauls another cat, and it was apparent that at some Susie orders a Child’s Meal, time, someone had loved and taken care of this pet. I am the owner of five pets as it is, and any and a small pink doll addition to this quotient was more than I wanted to handle. Or so I thought. The ads I placed in ØPICK UP HERE: the “found” column of two local newspapers Don’t forget the lids and straws, produced not one reply. Both newspapers allowed a “found” notice to be placed free of grab some napkins too charge to the finder. I fervently hoped that a Oh no! Johnny’s trucks a tractor connection would be made and that Chuck and Susie’s doll is blue would soon be back in the bosom of his family. Mom’s Cola isn’t diet, If Chuck had been my pet, I would certainly have been looking for him. I entertained the though she told them “please” notion that Chuck had been deliberately abanDad did get his Burger, doned as sometimes happens in beautiful but they forgot the cheese Paradise. I also considered the notion that Chuck’s owner had been elderly and that at some point had become unable to care for him Kathi Hiatt or had passed away. This kind of situation also Background: Chico State and Butte College classes occurs in Paradise. Inspiration: Life Chuck, for his part, continues to “look” for his Medium: Poetry owner. He keeps vigil at the front edge of the Age: 60 property, crouched down in the clusters of azalMore on page 16 ea bushes, watching most of the day for someone to find him. He is beginning to fill out a litThursday, July 30, 2009 • A rts & L etters • PARADISE POST 9

Fast Food

Janet Logan Background: Amateur writer of original true short stories or essays of personal experience of my life. Graduate of Pennsylvania State University with a BA degree in Liberal Arts. In 1972 I undertook studies for a Masters degree in Library Science at CSU San Jose. Previous publication: “Pioneer Medical Women of California” theses, 1976 bicentennial exhibit, Santa Clara Valley Medical Center in San Jose. Inspiration: I seem to want to tell some personal experiences as it gets a humorus reaction or interesting reactions of delight from my firends. I submit one such experience with a humorous ending. Age: 85


50th College Reunion Surprise Returning to my 50th college class reunion, I had not anticipated remembering many classmates due to the large number of graduates attending. I was also returning to my home town where I had resided for 8 years, including my high school days. I joined a sorority to give me exposure to campus life. It was customary for town people to rent extra bedrooms to incoming male freshmen who chose to live off campus, away from their homes for the first time in their lives. Meals were provided at the college dining halls. My mother rented one of our large bedrooms to twin brothers, with whom I had a casual acquaintance. I was already “going steady” with another student. In those days, “going steady” meant dating only one guy. This was a relationship. No girl ever lived with a man outside of marriage; that would have been an unthinkable arrangement. At the reunion, my husband and I chose a table at random, joining a group unknown to me, except for one former high school classmate who identified me by name. A man opposite me rose to his feet, introduced himself and hurried around the table to greet me with a hug. It was then that I recognized him as one of the twin brothers of long ago, who had lived upstairs in my home, their freshman year at college. I returned his embrace. He turned around to the group, surprising everyone at the table, and explained his friendly affection toward me with a proud: “This is the girl I used to live with.”

ere at Pa ra d i s e Cemeter y we take pride in the spectacular beauty of our surroundings. We’d like to invite you to visit and enjoy the majestic, flowering Japanese Cherry Trees, towering Pines, ornate Cedars and elegant Camellias. A great reverence for those who have preceded us is truly evident in the appearance of the grounds. Our staff and trustees also care about the

services we provide and they are performed with compassion and dignity. The gazebo is now available for services; it is built over the creek and is a soothing place for our families. Memorial plaques may be placed on the pillars. We have niches, as well as in ground burial plots. Because we are supported by a portion of Paradise property taxes, we offer very low cost burials for Paradise residents.

980 Elliott Road • (530) 877-4493 10

PARADISE POST • A rts & L etters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

Bob Durham - Age: 79 “Alpenglow 13 &17” taken at sunrise during a photo safari to western Canadian National Parks “Tranquility” Paradise Lake, winter (published online) Background: Took up photography as a serious hobby while living in southern California in the 1960’s. Took adult evening photography courses at Reseda Hi under award winning instructor Warren King. Previous publications or awards: Article on Bodie, CA with pictures in a Trailer/Camping publication. Various awards in photography competitions: Photography West, L.A County Museum of Natural History, LA County Museum of Science and Industry, Reseda High School Annual Competitions, Butte County Fair. Inspiration: Ansel Adams, Edward Weston, but mostly the beauty of God’s creations here on earth.

Untitled For The


The moon you likely reconsider, As you might death or Danish pastry, Incapable as a bleak outsider, Of contemplating its mere majesty. A nightly course through cloud and cover, Myopic, heavenly eye, Shamelessly spying through curtain and shutter, Impassible when we die. Your idle madness blots surrounding star, Apparitional beams do seal a lover’s plight, A crone I find of you, bizarre! And withered memories I share? When swans whisper and take flight. Ennui and misfortune do not rile you, Wan orb of poets’ inspiration; Enchantress of the poets who beguile you, With grace and gilded declination.

Bill Collins - Age: 1st Wave Baby Boomer Background: Began writing in college with inspiration from fellow students and teachers. Previous publications: Sweet Thief, CSUC ‘70, Phantasm ‘73 Inspiration: Nature, events, people, history. Working with sight rhymes or near-rhyming words Medium: Poetry

Joan/David Peisley Background: Amateur photography Inspiration: Beautiful night sky in Paradise Medium: Photography

Jake Guild - Age: 24 “Storm, June 2009” Background: No background in art, just like to take pictures been doing it a while. Hopefully, I'll be able to make it my career. website: Medium: Photography (See Jake’s rodeo pictures online!)

JOIN US FOR SUNDAY SERVICE —10:00 a.m. Meditation — 9:30 a.m.

Sometimes in a Storm Sometimes in a storm When the moon turns off her light And packs the night with fear. The wind picks up the mystery And sings a song of terror. Down the hall and into my bed A tiny patter comes trembling. He crawls in close to me And pulls the covers tight And lays ashivering To welcome my security.

Sometimes in the morn When the sun shines full and bright And packs the day with cheer. The wind picks up a memory And sings a song of pleasure, Thru my mind and into my head. A terrible thought comes thinking. While he plays happily Can he sense my fright And feel me aquivering, From my insecurity?

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David Ullman Previous publications or awards: Honorable Mention in Silver Dollar Fair, 2008 Paradise Post Medium: Photography Age: 48

Mad Banners In days like these When only monsters matter Our forcefed passions are stoked To ends we cannot know, Cannot understand; Croaking half-hearted slogans And fingering blunted weapons We rattle chains and watch, trembling Assemblage- Sculpted phonograph As steel kingdoms and invisible dominions records, turntable stylus, wood Rise and fall around us With each passing headline; Grady Manion We rush in all as lions, “Requiem 1 (A Rose For And then we grovel all like dogs Things Forgotten)” As we gnaw at the last bones “Mad Banners” Of our birthright; And we can only fear “A Death In The Family” (published online) Because fear is what we’ve chosen; Background: College art educaWe are all the children of our own demons tion, various showings, publicaAnd we sing the songs tions, reading, commercial art And we lift our mad banners Inspiration: Everything, chaos, And we march through the gates paradox, synchronicity Medium: Sculpture, Assemblage, And into the prison Poetry That we’ve built for protection Age: Ageless From the monsters we have summoned to guide us.


PARADISE POST • A rts & L etters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

Brett Elise Lumbley - Age: 45 “Spillway” (below) “The Hunter” (bottom) “Best Buds” (published online) Background: I bought my first camera when I was sixteen and have always seen life as snapshots waiting to be caught. Previous publications and Awards: Post Arts and Letters Inspiration: I get pleasure from getting a shot that really captures a person or a moment. Medium: My beloved Nikon

Susan Herring “Newport Sail” (above) “Spring Garden” (right) “Persimmons with a Latin Touch” (published online) Background: Lifelong interest in sketching and painting, studied with local artists Previous publications: Paradise Post, Chico ER Buzz Inspiration: Desire to create art Medium: Watercolor Age: Adult

The Sea The Sea

As I gaze upon the open sea I wonder what draws people to its shores. Whether it is in the early morning or, the early evening thousands of people gather on the shores to watch the magic of the sea. Is it the serenity of a wave slowly building up until it crashes on the shore and then returns to the sea. As lovers stroll along its shores; hand in hand, contemplating what their future brings for them. This is the mysterious magic of the sea. Can we forget though that all this can change. Like a woman who is unpredictable, so is the sea. A typhoon in one ocean, in another a hurricane The rage of the sea is unpredictable. With waves that can reach tremendous heights. Crash with a force of destruction that is unequal to the most destructive bomb ever made. This is the sea.

Joseph Medico “The Sea” Background: I’ve always had the gift to put my thoughts on paper and they form a poem or story of what I feel. Inspiration: Nature, my surrounding, life situations Medium: Poetry Age: 82

Go to to see all the submissions!

Then like a woman she will return to the people watching as a gentle rolling wave upon the shore. The lovers will return to their strolling. Life will be as tranquil as before. Thursday, July 30, 2009 • A rts & L etters • PARADISE POST


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Thursday, July 30, 2009 • A rts & L etters • PARADISE POST

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Words Never Written The baby needs feeding The laundry’s not done The Telephone’s ringing The day has just begun She does so long to write She’s bursting from within She has tales to tell Why can’t she just begin They hide between her legs Wipe their noses on her dress The demand a glass of milk Then spill and make a mess It’s finally gotten quiet The chaos in now calm She picks up her pencil Then they holler MOM!

Cheryl Wilkinson - Age: 53 Background: One and a half years of watercolor classes at Paradise Art Center Previous publications: Paradise Post Inspiration: The world around me Medium: Watercolor

Kathi Hiatt Artist info on page 9

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PARADISE POST • A rts & L etters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

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The Cherry Tree What a day it was. It pants and shirt resembling a Taking couldn’t be fifty years ago. How could I remember so far back in time with such vivid detail? The tall cherry tree, the old one-car garage, the black-berry patch, and Hank the old gardener. They all come back to me with a smile. The twenty-five foot cherry tree that stood in my folks front yard was clearly the “climber” out of all the fruit producing trees cluttering the yard. The smell of warm, wet dust filled my nose and the taste of bing cherries was in my mouth as I walked at a quickened pace to the base of the tree. I looked up at the extending branches that invited me to a climbing challenge. The first step was the most difficult because the slick bark had to be grabbed just right to swing my leg around the second limb to start my assent. My goal was to get almost to the top where two branches formed a chair and a camouflaged cover of leaves and berries to hide behind. It was easy for me to climb, but not for that brat of a brother and I didn’t need to worry about parents because they never degraded themselves by showing any climbing dexterity… It was a safe spot for me and my songs. The tree was good to me and never hurt my hands like it could others…it was my tree. Quickly up to the chair to take my seat, better my throne. From my position in the tree I looked down directly over that a one-car garage that leaned away from the tree on an angle. The tilt must have occurred over the years to accommodate the growth of the cherry tree. I observed the black-berry patch that covered an acre, or so it seemed and Hank the old man next door who constantly puttered around his yard, pulling weeds or prodding the ground with well worn tools. He watered his vegetables with a grey metal can dented on both sides. I never once saw him fill that can yet there was always water in it. It’s odd to think about Hank now. He made such an impression on me, but he never knew it. He always wore a grey felt hat with a wide brim and khaki

character from “the Grapes of Wrath” . I never looked directly at him because I was taught to respect older people and not speak unless spoken to. The other kids in the neighbor hood taunted him as they crossed the bridge that bordered his property on their way to the baseball field. They yelled, “Hank Hank the water tank” and then ran away. I guess they were afraid of things they didn’t understand but I thought I knew this secret. He had lived long enough to be able to use the elements of nature in harmony with his surroundings. He understood the beginning and the ending of all things. Knowing these secrets gave him some kind of edge on life and he held this quiet attitude of natural knowing behind his tanned and weather beaten face. His gaze, his stature, his walk confirmed what few people realized…All good things come from within. High atop my tree and having surveyed my realm, the next part of my routine was to sing. I started out with something soft, almost inaudible as I stared out on the summer heat waves rising from the roof tops. Hearing only my song, I would imagine myself standing before a great crowd of people who had come to see me perform as only I could. I seemed so fortunate and special that nothing could stand in the way of that natural talent. I would never know failure. Those love songs coming from me out of that tree. Gradually more audible and with more feeling than a boy of fifteen is able to amass until at the full range of my voice I ended with a long sustained note. I was singing to the world and they didn’t even know it. Maybe someday they would hear me. Taking a moment to clear my throat with a ripe bing cherry and going on to a great capitulation in my mind I could hear the hundreds of people cheering with the ending of my song.

a moment to bow my head with forced humility I smiled. At that instant I was brought to reality when I heard, “Keep it up son, sounds pretty good”, Hank the gardener said. My face turned red displaying my embarrassment. He had heard every note, every word, as he worked in his yard. I never spoke another word after I quietly said “thanks” and slowly climbed down the cherry tree. I slid down below the roof of the old one-car garage and out of sight of the black-berry bushes but before I reached the ground I heard my mothers voice calling from inside the house, “lunch is ready Rob…better come in now and wash your hands”. I swear it was just yesterday, but of course it wasn’t. Oh, what a day that was fifty years ago.

R.H. Ingram - Age: 65 “The Cherry Tree” Background: I've been writing poetry, essays and short stories for over thirty years. Previous publications: A “Book Musical” produced in San Francisco (1982). Inspiration: My wife Arlene, who has given me her time, energy and ideas for my latest endeavor “the Last Voyage of the Pheership” an adventure novel in progress. Medium: Short Story

Happy Valley Birds are flying over the hill tops, Squirrels are playing beneath the trees. The creeks like bubbling fountains, Are starting their journey to the seas. Cool breezes are softly passing, Over flowers of every hue. White clouds are slowly drifting, Across a sky of azure blue. The folks when you are passing, Will give you a friendly nod. They seem to be always smiling, These Happy Valley friends of God.

Old Man


Old man, what of this life What were your dreams Did they all come true What has this life handed you

There’s a picture on the counter Of a girl that’s seventeen The years have all passed her by Now she’s somewhere in between

Was it wonderful, did it shine Was its toll worth the time Did you laugh, did you cry Did you ever really wonder why The sun rose on a day that it rained Heads bowed and tears that stained Empty words that rolled away Into the beginning of another day Solitude stood behind the door Answers sought came no more Sorrow uncovered, truth laid bare Lost in a silence of despair So did you laugh when the summer came Did it really matter anyway Or did you hide behind the winters wind Protected from lies hidden within Old man, what of this life What were your dreams Did they all come true What has this life handed you

Remembers she when days were long The burning sun rose in the sky All those days are shorter now She reminisces with a sigh She recalls her youthful beauty When she was just a girl It was just the other day When she stood on top of the world The days have come and gone And to think of them makes her sad But the years have all been good to her Through the good times and the bad A gladiator one day appeared

Charles “Chick” Seltzer Age: 93 Hobbies: Photography, gardening, nature study Previous publications: Post, Echoes Inspiration: Nature, people, the Bible

Long ago when the sky was black And to a strange and foreign land He took his new bride back The girl became a woman Her homeland left behind She bore a child unto this world A new life that was mine And now I see a picture Of a girl that once was seventeen Her eyes are filled with tears She’s somewhere in between I see this beautiful lady That the young girl has become And I love her very much I’m proud to call her Mum

Marc Barrett Lewis Background: Writing all my life

Inspiration: Comes from what is all around me, and sometimes from what isn’t. Medium: Poetry Age: 54

Thursday, July 30, 2009 • A rts & L etters • PARADISE POST





A man from Marin County wrote a letter to the San Francisco Chronicle in which he praised a member of the Marin county Sheriff ’s Department who had recently won the lottery. The Sheriff ’s deputy, or Sheriff ’s deputy couple, as he described the fortunate ones, had won a $75 million jackpot while playing Super Lotto. The writer praised the winner’s vow to donate a portion of his or her winnings to the families of the four Oakland police officers who died at the hands of a berserk gunman a few weeks ago. Quite commendable, I thought. And I thought to myself: what would I do with a fat Lotto jackpot like that? How would I spend my money? What a thought. But the statements that the Marin writer made in the second paragraph of his letter stopped me cold in my tracks. “Just a further reminder,” he crowed, “that only fellow law enforcement people will support these fallen officers. The general public certainly cannot be relied upon.” Nothing sparks our generosity more than a nice chunk of extra money. Especially $75 million. I wondered how much the lucky winner planned to pony up for these unfortunate families. $5000 each? A million each? And what about our Marin writer himself ? How much did he plan to donate? And the rest of the sheriff ’s office… how much money did they kick in? I suppose when a potential donor is dipping from the grocery fund or the mortgage money, he’s not as likely to be so generous. Maybe a few more fat jackpots would help.

I’ve always admired the way law people in law enforcement band together in times of tragedy. I’ve watched processions of mourners that stretch miles in which officers, men and women alike, pay respects to fallen comrades. However, I don’t believe that they are the only ones who share that dedication. I too, did feel a deep sense of loss for these families. But I know they will come away much more fortunately than many others who have lost their lives or the lives of loved ones on the streets of Oakland, or numerous other crime ridden cities in the US. These families will have death benefits to look after them over the coming years. Unfortunately, all of the Lotto jackpots in the world will not for one second bring back any one of these fallen officers. Our world is full of places where we can donate money. We have churches, charities, and various special interest organizations. Some work toward making our world a better place. Others focus upon making good on the times when our world is not so good. And, what about the culprit in this case? According to the news, on the same day that he had shootouts with police, he raped two women. He obviously had a busy day. But what do we do? We could toss him into jail and throw away the key. Then he could be someone else’s problem. We could execute him. Then we could presume the problem solved. That is, until the hundreds more culprits with the same unreconciled problem come along to commit similar crimes. Lotto money, anyone? I regard myself as a part of that “general public”

Steven R. Butler - Age: 58 “Lotto to the Rescue” an editorial. Background: I majored in English at Solano and Napa Valley Colleges. I completed a program in Technical Communications through UC Berkeley Extension. I have attended several writers’ conferences, and I participated in a writer’s workshop at Sonoma State University. Previous publications or awards: Wrote for the Sports section in the Vallejo Times Herald in 1985, freelance for “Concord Life,” a city feature magazine. I won an award in the eighth grade for a short story,“The Tidal Wave Scare,” and first prize this year in Bonnie Sitter’s love story competition for the Paradise Post. Inspiration: I’ve always loved to write. I published my first work in The Petaluma Argus-Courier in 1963 under the direction of my grandmother. My story covered a San Francisco Giants baseball game. I’ve written off and on since. Medium: Non-fiction articles and narratives, short fiction, editorials

Scotti Butler “Tracker” Inspiration: My inspiration is pretty self-evident - a big orange Maine Coon cat couchant in a birdbath. Tracker (his name) is a genuine character in all aspects and I enjoy his companionship with renewed appreciation every day because of his personality. Age: 73


PARADISE POST • A rts & L etters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

to whom our writer refers, and I personally, took exception to the claim that the public “cannot be relied upon.” Public tax money pays theirs and many others’ salaries. Those monies also pay their death benefits. Over 70% of a city’s budget pays for fire and police protection. These benefits are not “freebies.” No, I did not donate money to the families. But I do donate to my own chosen beneficiaries on a regular basis. But I also feel as though my non-monetary contributions support our dedicated law enforcement officers just as much as money would. I don’t do drugs, nor do I manufacture or sell them. I don’t support people who do. I don’t carry a gun, nor do I traffic illegal ones. I avoid breaking into places where I have no business, or stealing the property of others. I try to treat fellow citizens with the respect they deserve. All in all, I tend to think in a manner that helps to keep our enforcers out of harm’s way. If left to me, these officers’ lives would have not been in jeopardy in the first place. In fact, their lives might have been a bit more like that of our proverbial Maytag repair man. Boring. I know I’m not alone. The majority of ordinary citizens think just like I do. But one thing stands clear that all citizens need to bear in mind. As much tragedy as we see our fellow human beings suffer, we should never lose sight of the part we play, and while we might not be able to fix it easily, we certainly don’t have to contribute to it. With enough of us, perhaps we can make changes. We can always make that our determination. I’m sure a few nice fat Lotto jackpots could help.

Paradise Medical Group, Inc. has a new physician coming in October.


We are proud to announce the addition of Amy L. Darwin, MD to Paradise Medical Group arriving October, 2009. Dr. Darwin completed her Family Medicine Residency in Grand Junction, CO (2005) and has practiced medicine in Melbourne, AR. New patient appointments are currently being accepted. Most insurance accepted. Located in the new Paradise Medical Group facility on the corner of Pentz and Bille Roads, Paradise.

Please call

877-8855 for your appointme nt

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Dusk Dusk steals softly across the sky The whispering wind drops to a sigh The moon appears its face so round The crickets sing Their evening sound The coyotes howl Their mournful call The mosquitos hum and join it all The stars softly twinkle in the dusky light THIS is the beginning of the night

Sylvia Marshall “Dusk” Poem, Cabin artwork Previous publications: Paradise Art Center, Paradise Post Inspiration: Things I see, my feelings and imagination. Also photos I take. Medium: Acrylic, ink, colored pencil Age: 77

Roger Honzik “Bearers, All” Background: Write with a “Creative Writing Class” which meets each Thursday from 10 a.m. until noon at as the Paradise Ridge Family Resource Center. Our group has about a dozen faithful who meet weekly and most of us try to write something new for each meeting. Previous publications: I have two printed volumes of poems and three “chapbooks”, two of poetry and one of short essays. Inspiration: I love to write! Age: 75

Michelle A. Wickham “Bodie State Park”(left) “Red Rock Canyon” (below) “Mono Lake” (published online) Background: Ph.D. in creative writing Previous publications: Paradise Post, Avenue 9 Gallery, Chico Art Center, Inspiration: Nature Medium: Photography

Bearers, All The tattered cloth of fading dreams That was a banner long before Now seems as little more than threads It ravels still in the summer’s breeze But will not go away. This is the day of bitter truth The time to stand or fall When freedom scrapes and slips away Or swells with new though ragged breath And bends once more to freedom’s call. What murmur swells within our hearts, What trust remains to heed? Might we recoup what near seems lost From what was given long ago But still is ours to share? Deep within our heart’s reserve We carry on in sacred trust The hopes and dreams of those before Who gave their very best to us That we might do the same. We stand amid our deepest dreams And look to those who take our gift The torch and flame we hand to them That they will somehow bear is on As we have done before.

Thursday, July 30, 2009 • A rts & L etters • PARADISE POST


Michael Miles “Coutolenc Road Snow” “Mossy Tree, Humboldt County” Background: Learned photography in the military at the Defense Information School where Military Journalists were taught print and broadcast skills. Army Public Affairs NCO, Editor and Chief Photographer “The Fir Tree,” official magazine of the 91st Division, USAR Previous Publications: Paradise Post,“The Fir Tree Magazine, “Run for the Wall” Website Inspiration: The glory of the world around us Medium: Photography

D iamonds Water spraying From the hose in my hand Breaks into A thousand crystal droplets And falls, Like a handful of diamonds Tossed out For anyone to claim, To the waiting,

Deborah Miles “Nisqually River MoraineMt Ranier, Washington” Background: Learned photography from my husband Inspiration: The beauty around me Medium: Photography

Go to to see all the submissions!


PARADISE POST • A rts & L etters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

Thirsty garden earth.

Abigail Hope Schatz “Diamonds“ “Sunset from Skyway“ Background: I love to write and take pictures! Previous publications: Short story (children’s) for “Wee Lambs” publications Inspiration: The beauty of creation and everyday life! Medium: ““Diamonds” – poetry Sunset from Skyway” and “Four Trees” (published online) – Photography; Age: 16 (11th grade)


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In this economy, it is more important than ever to join the largest business organization on the Ridge. Call the Chamber today to inquire about membership. In good times and bad, we are here to serve the local business community. Thursday, July 30, 2009 • A rts & L etters • PARADISE POST


Garth Nielsen “Brunswick Canyon” (far left) “High Desert” (left) Inspiration: Painter of Nature Medium: Acrylic

Go to to see all the submissions!

Wilma Witt Offner “Boots-For a day in Butte Valley” (below) “Tail Lights - For Debbie Lou” (right) “A Tree - For Mt. Lassen” (published online) Background: I have had an assortment of cameras which highlighted opportunities for joy & sharing. Previous publications or awards: Paradise Post Arts & Letters and a photo credit in video “Naomi’s Gentle Yoga” Inspiration: Human juxtaposition, classic design, God’s glorious handiwork in his creation Medium: Photography


Savior when your ready To take me home with you I’ll know by thenGod has been so good to me And to those who will let him come in What I’m suppose to do ......... My heart than clean and pure He gave his one and only son And a body all anew ............... For sinners just like me. Lordhow I love you night and day For showing me the one and only way You teach me the goodAnd wash my sins away ............ So my kingdom is ready ... When I meet you face to face.

When the streets of GOLD ARE READY And the PEARLY GATES ARE MANY And the GEMS OF LIFE YOU’LL SHED UPON ME! Ending is repeated:

This song was written in September 2002 Master your beside me with your son ...Introduced December 1, 2002. Words have not Your grace and glory are awards I’ve been changed. Given to me exactly this way in a matter of five to ten minutes. Lyric’s going to a won Your blessing are many-as I give you friends home and Music going home from my friends home in Paradise, Ca. all the praise I’m trying to find a way to publish it ...and and let And I’ll hold this feeling ....... everyone hear what the LORD gave me to share For the rest of my days. with the world. I Thank You LORD for this song. I know we all want to be like this in the END. 22 PARADISE POST • A rts & L etters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

Time We are in a time to love, We are in a time to share. We are in a time to give from our heart If we really care. And if you can’t see beyond this time, Just don’t bother to do Anything for anyone . . . Because we don’t have time for you.

Francine Rowlette - Age: 73 Background: Just a hobby. When words, music and feelings come to me I quickly write them down. Previous publications: Poem “Time” published in two books, Timeless Voices and Twilight Musings Inspiration: Everything comes from my heart and soul

David Raco no bio submitted

The Sands of Time The sands of time are a blessing in disguise and a curse that drains the light from your eyes Frustration, numbness, feelings so rotten testaments to a childhood long forgotten. The present is now, the future not yet the past is an illusion, easy to forget Another day gone, another grain of sand Time slips away, sinking where I stand. Up to my knees, can you hear my pleas? What was it that I once tried to seize? What was I grasping, what have I lost? Each grain of sand has a cost. Caught in the hourglass, imprisoned in time the sand slowly buries memories in my mind Forgetting faces, places, and precious connections as I lose myself in time's convection. Up to my waist, hiding my face They say it's okay, but I still feel disgraced Living on in a skewed version of reality because I couldn't handle two fatalities. Wasting my life away in denial A boy all alone, forgoing the trial Why wrestle with days full of pain when I can let my past simply wane? Up to my chest, wondering what's best Do I just let go and let fate handle the rest or do I hold on and let despair steal my breath until I find some measure of solace in death? Whatever the case, the outcome's the same I can't go back and I can't take the blame I can't do a thing, no matter how hard I try I can't bring them back, I can't say goodbye. Up to my neck, I'm sick of this trek I wish I had been with them in that wreck Alive without them, or dead by their sides there's nothing to feel, there's no point to this ride. So what should I do with a world misconstrued? Tear it all down, let it all come unglued? Should I cut them loose, or string up the noose? Am I lost without them, or do I still have a use? Up past my eyes, blocking out the sky I am buried beneath the sands of time No more tears to shed, nothing left to grieve No memories of my past left to reave. Is it grace, or is it a sin? Was it even a game I could win? Did I give up too early, or did I wait too long? Maybe something right can still feel wrong.


(A fun word game)

As former teacher of Latin and Romance languages, I created this word game for my Latin students and for word lovers everywhere. Almost everybody is intrigued by word origins. Sixty percent of our English vocabulary is derived from Latin. To play this game, match the Latin word in Column A with its English derivative in Column B. For example, item 1 in Column A (“Cras”) matches the item in letter n. in Column B (“procrastinate”). Column A

Column B

1. Cras (tomorrow)

a. incarcerate

2. Humus (soil, earth)

b. verify

3. Rus (countryside)

c. nocturnal

4. Donum (gift)

d. undulate

5. Tonsor (barber)

e. taciturn

6. Unda (wave)

f. exhume

7. Canis (dog)

g. rusticate

8. Semen (seed)

h. inseminate

9. Carcer (prison)

i. donation

10. Obitus (death)

j. tonsorial

11 Tacitus (silent)

k. ubiquitous

12. Noctu (at night)

I. digital

13. Ubique (everywhere) m. canine 14. Verus (true)

n. procrastinate

15. Digitus (finger)

o. obituary

Answers: 1-n, 2-f, 3-g, 4-i, 5-j, 6-d, 7-m, 8-h, 9-a, 10-o, 11-e, 12-c, 13-k, 14-b, 15-1

Larry Mak “In A Word” game “Casino Secrets” (published online) Background: Free-lance gaming writer. Write monthly column on casino gambling for “Bingo Bugle”, a nationwide bingo/gaming publication Previous publications: Author of how-to gaming book “Secrets of Modern Slot Playing” carried by and others. Inspiration: Casino goers are unaware of the tricks and traps casinos set for them. My articles tell them how to manage their time, money, and emotions in the casino. Age: 84

Go to to see all the submissions!

Hope Lumbley - Age: 14 “A Little Bit Farther” “Take a Chance” (published online) “Splashed”(published online) Background: I’ve been painting for about 3 years. It was an elective and I have enjoyed it ever since my first year. Previous publications and Awards: Post Arts and Letters, Voice magazine and School Awards Inspiration: I love painting because it’s a fun way to show what you are feeling. My art teacher, Stephen Moore, showed us all a new way to look at painting and I thank him. Medium: Pencil, Acrylic, Photography

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530.877-2323 Thursday, July 30, 2009 • A rts & L etters • PARADISE POST


pporters ar u S et r e t he l e ... Sh Cat’s



nimals are available for adoption at the American Way facility from 11am to 3:30pm Monday thru Saturday. Dogs can be adopted for $25.76 and cats for $19.04. Pets will be spayed or neutered before going to their new home. PASH will pay for the spay/ neuter. Open from 11am to 4pm, Monday thru Saturday. Call 872-6275 for more information. You can contact PASH at PO Box 1021, Paradise Ca. 95967




Thank You Thank You

Thank You


Your Pet Friendly Realtor

Animal Shelter

Relocation specialist

Susan Doyle DRE# 01458848

Hours: Mon.-Sat. 11am-4pm


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PARADISE POST • A rts & L etters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

MUDDY PAWS Thanks to all my loyal customers!

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Professional Quality Grooming

Poodle Puppies available.


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Please help support our local shelter

877-2900 5878 Clark Rd., Paradise

Please check out our website at and see our adoptable pets! Or call Tamara at 872-8112 or Beth at 876-9866 Donations may be mailed to P. O. Box 2281, Paradise, CA 95967 Your donations are tax deductible.

"adoption special $10."

Carolyn Melf “Do ya wanna play some football?” “Puffins” and “Decadence” Background: BS Communication, CSU, Chico Previous publications: Contributor: Paradise Post, Insideout Magazine, Newsletter column "Melf Musings" for Paradise Garden Club Inspiration: 1-The pleasure of owning my 1 year old shih tzu, "Iris" 2-Oregon Coast Aquarium, Newport, Oregon, Puffin Flight Enclosure 3-Owner of iris and peony garden called Iris Spring. This iris is called "Decadence" Medium: Digital photography

The Gift: MINDY even-tempered, and very sweet; she was our then losing her was devastating. Her little Angel. But this little dog!!!!!! Is determined to body just wore out and we couldn't let her suf- get her own way, no matter what she has to do, fer any more. We took her to our Veterinarian or how long it takes her to do it. She pesters, and he put her to sleep. She went quickly and she barks, she whines with so many different peacefully. However, I did not take it peaceful- intonations, until it gets to an unnerving ly and had to flee the office, get away from the shriek! However, she does mind us and if we building entirely. It was one of the hardest tell her to knock it off, she does. She would be things we ever had to do. It was her time. She a tyrant and a dictator if we let her. We will not!!! However she makes it known that she calmly accepted it and went gently. We were not ready to go out anytime soon does not like it one bit. She will plant herself and get another dog just to fill space. As far as right in front of us and with her head on her I was concerned no dog would or could ever paws she proceeds to give us the dirtiest take her place. I did not want to go through looks. She is pouting!!!! Big Time! Hopefully, that kind of pain and hurt again, ever! As it she will grow up and get over herself, but in the meantime patience, patience, patience! turns out I was very wrong. The credit for the “Modern Shih Tzu” goes After several months of missing Tessa’s kisses, playing, and especially her exuberant to the Dowager Empress, who was considered greetings that she bestowed upon us after to be the most powerful figure in China durrunning errands and leaving her, we received ing the last half of the 19th Century and the a call from our Veterinarian that his wife first decade of the 20th Century. She was the breeds Imperial Shih Tzu’s and that they just last Empress influential in the development had a batch of puppies, three to be exact, so I of the Shih Tzu as we know it today. The Shih Tzu was nearly completely decided to go over and check them out. There was one female and two males. We really destroyed in Post-World War II in China. The weren’t sure we wanted another Shih Tzu. We breed had already made its appearance into thought another breed might lessen our England and America where it eventually thoughts of Tessa and her breed, maybe a was distinguished as a separate breed from Pug, Chihuahua, poodle? Besides it was like a the Lhasa Apso. In 1955 the AKC allowed the betrayal to Tessa and her breed. I told myself Shih Tzu to be shown in all breed dog shows. it was just my curiosity to check these pup- Finally in 1969 the AKC allowed Shih Tzu’s to pies out, with no intention of getting another be registered and five months later the Shih Shih Tzu. Right? Wrong! We fell in love the Tzu was eligible to compete in AKC shows for minute we stepped inside the door and saw championship points. Mindy’s father was Sire those beautiful tiny puppies playing and hav- “Sam I Am the Tzuaa” from a long line of ing so much fun. There was one in particular champions. Her mother was Dame Zoey’s that was really enjoying every minute of beat- “Miss Mimi Sparkles.” These little dogs go ing up her brothers, She was relentless, biting back as far as 1000 BC and they are all of ears, tails, anything she could get a hold of. “Tibetan Origin.” They were originally bred They were having so much fun tumbling and exclusively for Chinese Royalty and were romping, I fell in love with them all. But it called little temple dogs. Imperial Shih Tzus was MINDY, that really caught my eye, she were given as gifts to China as early as the was the ONE!! She was definitely the Moxie Ching or Manchu Dynasty. female, who would not let her brothers get the Mindy was given to us as a gift from Tessa, best of her, the tough one, and without a all 7 pounds of attitude and moxie, yet so full doubt, THE BOSS!! The Alpha Female. This of love. And we don’t have to be Royalty. We little girl was not taking any guff from her thank Tessa, our Angel for her precious gift. brothers, no way, no how. She was” MINDY” Just hope Mindy doesn’t wear us out before and she was going home with us. our time. We love animals, it doesn’t matter This was the “GIFT.” We got to take her what kind of an animal, as long as it has legs home a week before Christmas! Mindy was 8 and doesn’t slither. I would love to have anothweeks old, and a handful, but we loved her to er companion for Mindy, but we can’t have death. Christmas that year was the Best and more than one dog where we live, maybe some the Worst. The best was, we had Mindy, the day. In the meantime Mindy is more than Worst? Well, we didn’t have Tessa (after 15 enough. For those who are wondering, Shih years of Christmases) and she was very much Tzu is pronounced “Shid Zoo”. missed. It seemed strange not to have her A footnote: Mindy will be 4 years old this year with us. But we will hopefully, have that many and is still full of attitude and moxie! She is as Christmases with our gift, Mindy. Mindy is gorgeous, she has the longest flow- bossy as ever, but we love her more each day ing eyelashes you have ever seen. Any woman and she us. would die for those lashes. She has a little black button nose that matches her huge black eyes. She is a beautiful mix of white Joan Peisley and gold, a hint of black here and there. She “The Gift: MINDY” is very spoiled. She is pampered, and most of Background: One class in writing all she is loved. But of course she knows that and she gives us back so much of that love Inspiration: My love of words and animals. totally and unconditionally. She is so very difMedium: Short Story ferent from our Tessa. Tessa was so laid back, Thursday, July 30, 2009 • A rts & L etters • PARADISE POST 25

Having our Shih Tzu (Tessa) for 15 years

Mike Morrow - Age: 81

James Rosenkranz

“Ebb Tide” (below) “Paris Street” (right) “Mountain Lake” (published online)

Background: I started writing well in grammar school Previous publications: Paradise Post Inspiration: My mother Age: 50

Background: Casual, at home for my own enjoyment Inspiration: My late brother the artist and Professor of Art at Chico State, Ken Morrow, who inspired and encouraged me to pursue by own talents. Medium: Water-based oil on canvas

I Treasure My Voice I treasure my voice even though most people do not hear it anymore After church I can not talk to help someone and when I do speak I have only one to three seconds to the idea across The speed of computers and television is quick sound bytes and visual images Everyone is talking and not too many people are listening

James Whitehouse - Age: 69 “Corinth Canal, Greece” “Albuquerque Balloon Festival, Albuquerque, N.M.” “Frans Joseph Glacier, South Island, New Zealand” (published online) Inspiration: I enjoy bringing home and sharing the beautiful places that we have visited. Medium: Photography


PARADISE POST • A rts & L etters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

What’s real important is the four principles I live by: calmness, moderation, kindness and thankfulness. Those principles are rare in our society now. So I treasure my voice and speak only when someone can listen.

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Sharon Whitehouse - Age: 63 “Grand Canyon, Arizona” (above) “Cruise ship docking at Mykonos, Greece” (top right) “Panama City, Panama” (published online) Inspiration: I have always enjoyed the beauty and uniqueness that photograph can capture. Medium: Photography


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Paradise location only. Marilyn Burton - Age: 72 Background: The creation of a line of Greeting Cards and Bookmarks which I developed and marketed. I’ve now compiled these poems into a book.

Previous awards: Merit award in a songwriting contest. Songs selected to be played both in church and at social dances. Inspiration: The music and lyrics of my father’s small country band. Creative writing just followed naturally Medium: Poetry (see more online)


7008 6371 Skyway • Paradise • 872-7

FOOD TO GO Thursday, July 30, 2009 • A rts & L etters • PARADISE POST


The Witch on Pomona Avenue “Mamie Lally” When I was a little girl, 6 years old, I walked to school 2 blocks up the street I lived on, Almond Avenue, and up to Pomona Avenue, where I turned right. Sometimes, I joined my friends. Other times, I walked alone. This was in Chico, California, where I was born. About midway between my house and school, there lived a little old lady. She was very tiny, for she had already gone through shrinkage. That is something that happens to older folks, like me. It is like the “grow spurt”, you children have, only in reverse. Anyway, this little old lady always stood at her fence, watching us children go by. She wore a faded little housedress and wore funny pointed shoes. Her salt and pepper hair was pinned up in a bun and always had an unruly sprig sticking out of it. She had a wee little voice, and when I was alone, she would crick her finger in a come hither fashion saying, “come here, come here”. I would stop eyeing her warily from a distance. I would say, “uh, uh”. You see, I had heard she was a witch. I had also read the book, “Hansel and Gretel”, so I was natural-

ly suspicious. My imagination running wild, I said to myself, “she isn’t going to boil my bones for soup”. Still, I was very curious and always looked for her on my way to school. One day my friends and I were coming home from school. There were about eight of us. She was standing there by the fence, as usual, watching us with her emotionless face. The others all started to run and chanting: “Old Mamie Lally Standing by a tree She looks like a horny toad And smells like pee” They stopped and sang it again, and they all laughed. I stood apart from the group, and wanting to be part of them and the fun, “the devil got ahold of me”. Putting my hands on my hips, I marched straight towards her, saying “Yeah, and I am not afraid of you one little bit”! Then throwing my sweater and lunch sack to the ground, I stopped before her saying, “you are just a mean old witch”! Looking up

with, my defiant face, I saw big teardrops falling from her pale, blue eyes. It made me feel so bad; I turned away; grabbed my sweater and lunch sack; and rejoined my friends. They threw their arms around me and said, Ha! Ha! Ha! You really told her off; that mean old witch! I said, “Yeah”, but already that little voice, “my conscience” was speaking to me. I could only think of the pale blue eyes, and the teardrops falling down the cheeks of the old witch. When I got home I could not eat my dinner. I was very unhappy. When I went to bed that night, I pulled the covers over my head hoping God would not see me. For I knew I was going to be thrown into the “Pits of Hell”, a burning hell, like our preacher at church said; because I had made a witch cry and I was bad; real bad! I told myself that. I picked flowers from my moms garden the very next day. I needed to make amends, but I could not say, “I’m sorry”. We did not do that in our family. I never remember anyone saying, “I’m sorry”. I went straight to the witches house. She was outside, bent over her garden. I called out to her

saying “Hey watcha doin? I brought you some flowers”. She looked up in surprise. She invited me in, and I went in warily. I peeked around the corner, into her kitchen, looking for a pot of boiling water; but there was none. She was just a lonely old woman; not a witch. Her house was covered wall to wall with books, which she shared with me. She had lots of kitties, which she shared with me also. They were special to me. Mamie became my friend, “very special”. She saw me grow up and everytime I came after I married, she came to see me and my babies. She was a beautiful person. Note: Do not judge others by what you hear. Listen; observe; make your own judgment. “Be your own person”.

Jane Carnagie Witt Background: Have always enjoyed writing - many good “stories” to share. My sister-in-law loves my stories Inspiration: My family, children and nature. Sometimes my imagination just takes over. Age: 90

Olivia Stabler “Heidi” (below) “Sassy & Muffy” (right) “Sally” (published online) Background: High School art classes, 1990s community college, water color and pastel. Currently painting oil on canvas Previous publications or awards: Paradise Post Arts & Letters Inspiration: Currently human and animal faces Medium: Oil on canvas Age: Adult

rts A ters L e t2& 009 PARADISE POST

Go to to see all the submissions! 28

PARADISE POST • A rts & L etters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

Picking is a sport? Yes! On California’s North Coast, picking means fishing for red abalones. Picking is difficult, but if you’ve gone once and gotten your abalone, you’ll be hooked. Northern California has many rocky beaches. The ocean crashes over hidden rocks, until nature provides a low tide. When this happens, the abalones’ homes (the rocks) are exposed. Abalones grow in an ear shaped shell. They’re called “abs.” They are attached to the shell by a muscle which contains the “foot”. This foot is a suction cup which clamps on to rocks. As the abalone feeds on algae, it eases up on the suction. You may be lucky enough to find one eating, making it easier to pry it loose. Children should always go with a parent or other adult. You’ll need a tide book to know when there is a tide low enough to find abs. To pry the ab loose, you need an iron, similar to a tire iron, about a foot long and slightly curved. You will also need a gauge to be sure you measure the abalones correctly, and a gunny sack for carrying them. These can usually be bought where licenses are sold. When your adult buys a license, you will both receive a report card. Children under 14 won’t need a license, just the card. The date of picking, length, and time of day must be recorded on the card. Taking an abalone under 7 inches long is illegal. You may take only three in one day, and 24 in one year. There are game wardens on the beaches checking cards to make sure everyone follows the rules. Sea otters and man are natural enemies of abalones. California’s abalone population was once plentiful. Because of otters and people, they are now scarce. This is the reason for report cards. The only place left where it is legal to fish for or “pick” them in California is the Northern Coast, mainly Sonoma and Mendocino

Counties. Abalones grow very slowly. It takes about 11 years for an abalone to reach 7 inches. If the small ones are picked before growing to adults, soon there will be no abs. As you move on to the beach early in the morning, shivering your way carefully across rocks, you’ll see skin divers. These are people wearing black rubber suits which fit “skin tight”. They’re often referred to as “the black tide”. If you wear only tennis shoes, a sweat shirt and jeans, as some brave souls do, you’ll probably shout something like, “This is ice water!” when you step into the cold pools between rocks. (Abalones like temperatures of 45 to 65 degrees.) Friendly shouts and laughter fill the air. You’ll soon be right in the middle of what looks like a picnic of black monsters, with a few hooded beings in jeans, all eager to pick their abs off the rocks. Hearts beat faster when that first ab is located. The shells are beautiful, but when in the ocean they are covered with barnacles and seaweed. The outside of the foot is surrounded by a squishy black substance which contains the entrails of the abalones, (“guts”) Spotting abs is difficult. They hide up under crevices in the rocks. Once you find one, measure it. If it’s big enough, start prying carefully with the iron. Make sure you don’t cut into the abalone. Wedge the iron between the shell and the rock and push down firmly. Keep pushing with all your might until you feel the suction pop and pull away. The ab will fall off. Catch it and pop it into your gunny sack. Just remember to follow the rules, and be careful! Don’t forget to keep an eye on the tide. When you’re standing in deeper water, it’s time to go in. The tide has changed. Don’t let yourself get too cold, and watch those slippery rocks! Are you ready to pick abs?

Diane Schultz - Age: 73 Background: I’ve published a few articles and stories. I like to write children’s stories. I have a book making the rounds of publishers now, so far no luck. Previous publications or awards: Published in “Touch” and “Family Fun.”Won second prize in “Stepping Stones” contest. Inspiration: The world, my surroundings

Madeline Stringer Inspiration: I get my inspiration from my family and friends, but also a famous photographer, known as Ansel Adams, I admire his photographs a lot, and I hope to be as good as he was. Medium: Photography Age: 16

Mia Lumbley - Age: 10 “Deep Sea” and “Early Californian” “Lazy Wood Duck” (published online) Background: I have always loved to draw. It’s my favorite thing to do. Previous publications and Awards: Post Arts and Letters Inspiration: I love to draw and paint. Dreaming up something in my head and putting it onto paper is so fun. Medium: Watercolor paints Thursday, July 30, 2009 • A rts & L etters • PARADISE POST


SALLY VERTREES, CRS 6635 CLARK RD. PARADISE, CA. 95969 530 872-5895 DRE #00836546

of Paradise

I believe in good, old-fashioned personal service - and the success of my real estate business reflects that belief. Working for you since 1985 doing something I truly love!!


Celebrating 98 years

Experience the legacy 2531 Forest Ave., Chico • 893-1909 1453 Downer St, Oroville • 534-1911


341 West Third St., Chico 342-4291


PARADISE POST • A rts & L etters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

Moving the Ridge since 1980!. Steve Williams CRB, CRS, SRES Real Estate Broker


Select Real Estate, Inc. 5350 Skyway, Paradise CA 95969

LEADER IN SALES 1983-2008 7030 Skyway Suite C, Paradise CA 95969



Each office independently owned and operated.


1985 I have been serving the Ridge community for over 20 years with pride, integrity and the experience to help you with all your real estate needs. Let me share my knowledge of John Hosford our area and get you into your own piece of Paradise! Select Real Estate, Inc. 5350 Skyway, Paradise CA 95969



Realtor CA DRE #01774815

Bidwell Chapel


Broker Associate


Bidwell Chapel was founded in 1880 as Fetters and Williams Funeral Home. In 1993, the Brusie family purchased the funeral home and has since redecorated and refurbished the building. The Brusie family continues a tradition of service and commitment to the community at Chico Cemetery, Bidwell Chapel, Glen Oaks Memorial Park, and Brusie Funeral Home.

Let the Steve Williams Team

Susan G. Thomas••

Artfully Serving the Community Since . . .

I have been serving Paradise and the surrounding communities since 1982. Real Estate is my passion and I Thank all of my friends and clients for all their support and referrals over the years. I look forward to helping you with all of your Real Estates needs in the future.••www.vertreesreal


(530) 828-1203

Let me help you find your piece

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SaraLyn Austin

Diana DeSpain

11 YEARS COMBINED IN THE BIZ... & COUNTING WE HAVE GOT YOU COVERED • Distressed Properties • Relocation Specialists • First Time Home Buyer Friendly • Farms and Ranches • Commercial/Business Opportunities Butte County

WE LIVE HERE - WORK HERE - PLAY HERE CALL US 876-3307 / 876-3309 205 Pearson Road Paradise, CA 95969

2000 Walking you through it, one step at a time. Alisha Bennett-Fickert

530-624-2111 First Time Homebuyer Specialist! DRE 01764899

Johnson Real Estate


PONDEROSA REAL ESTATE Each office independently owned and operated.


We agreed to meet... Pat Snyder DRE 01803898

Bruce Snyder

DRE 01836290



she waited at the shop downtown I went to the new one at the mall

The Pit Stop

Imported Car Service Realizing the need for an automobile shop that specialized in foreign car repair, Keith Morris and his partner, Bob Poteet, combined their talents and opened the Pit Stop. The original shop was located in the north end of town, on Morseman Ave. It was Chico’s original imported car service shop. As the town grew, the Pit Stop was enlarged to meet the needs of foreign car owners. They are presently located at 645 Mangrove. Keith has a 10-bay service shop to provide his customers with the finest quality work available for all types of foreign and imported vehicles.

we agreed to meet at Starbucks

Get the TEAM ADVANTAGE: We are available anytime, anywhere in Butte County. We are here to help you with all your Real Estate needs. We specialize in Providing you with Professional Service Above and Beyond. 6393 Skyway Paradise, CA 95969

530 327-1519

645 Mangrove Ave., Chico • 343-5852



if we can't even get a little thing like this right how can we save the world? (This poem first appeared in April 2009 in the Poem-A-Day Challenge on the Writer's Digest blog.)

Bidwell Mansion 1868 John brought his young bride from the East

The Rose Chapel Mortuary and Crematory in Paradise has been operated by three generations of the Cosgrove family since 1958. With prices comparable to other mortuaries, Rose Chapel provides services to all cemeteries, regardless of where they are located. Their full-time staff can assist you with notifying Social Security, insurance companies, unions and other concerned parties.

6382 Clark Rd. Paradise Mortuary & Crematory 877-4923 FD899


to a wedding cake house with piano, library indoor plumbing r a c k R e p a i r

C String g Instrumentt Repair Reasonablee Rates Setup/Restorations 425 Teagarden Ave. Yuba City, Ca 95991 (530)673-0526

B o w R e

among settlers, ranchers Mechoopda Indians Annie lived in style

H a i r

Lookout Point


A jumble of crumpled cars lies beneath the bluff marks a score of suicides one failed attempt No one knows how many stop gaze at the ravine, distant cliffs meandering creek below

Noe’s Budget Towing and Automotive We at Noe's are happy to announce that we continue to REPAIR CARS AND TRUCKS and do SMOG INSPECTIONS. Our Towing Service now covers Paradise and surrounding areas. We also use the latest in towing to insure damage-free service for your vehicles. Our motto is "We tow anywhere for less." VISA, MasterCard accepted, as we also do insurance towing billing and , independant contractor.

2675 Hegan Lane • Chico 891-5172 891-6468 - CHICO

877-3876 - PARADISE


The Enterprise Printing Co., founded in 1895, incorporated with Green’s Printing and two other firms in 1958 to form Quadco Printing, Inc. After 114 years, 2 locations, service, quality and integrity still reign supreme.

114th Anniversary 2535 Zanella Way, Chico 894-4061


peer over the rim measure descent against despair

Joy Harold Helsing - Age: 78 Background in art or writing: Twelve years of working in educational publishing Previous publications or awards: too many to list Inspiration: Anything around me Medium: Words, words, words Thursday, July 30, 2009 • A rts & L etters • PARADISE POST


Shyness Is All Alone

Jan Hasak - Age: 56 “Grand Canyon”

Feelings surface, anxious to be heard, weary of lying dormant in my brain. Shyness is aching to speak, too timid to find the way. “Has the cat got your tongue?” The taunting words tear at my senses, while silence sinks deeper within me. To utter a sound in this room of stillness, might become a terrible roar. Then everyone would stare — at me! No, I shall swallow my words. I shall suffocate the roar. I will not speak today. I am a child. Dorothy S. Hardin I am shy. Background: A love affair I am all alone. with the written word Previous publications: “Fireside Companion,” “Reminisce,” “Good Old Days,” “ Valley Times” - Bay Area Medium: Paper & pen Age: 84

Background: I have painted using acrylics since I was in my early twenties. I have most recently dabbled in poetry, and read some of my poems at the open-mike session at the Paradise Public Library in April 2009. Previous publications: “Mourning Has Broken: Reflections on Surviving Cancer” (Xulon Press 2008) Inspiration: For the paintings: God's beautiful creation For the poem (published online): My recovery from cancer Medium: Acrylics

A Wish for the Millennium May your hair, your teeth, your facelift, your abs, and your stocks not fall. May your blood pressure, your triglycerides, your cholesterol, your white blood count, and your mortgage interest not rise. May you get a clean bill of health from your dentist, your gynecologist, your cardiologist, your gastroendocrinologist, your urologist, your proctologist, your podiatrist, your psychiatrist, your plumber, and the IRS. May you find a way to travel from anywhere to anywhere in the rush hour in less than an hour, and when you get there may you find a parking space. May Friday evening, December 31st, find you seated around the dinner table, together with your beloved family and cherished friends, ushering in the New Year. You will find the food better, the environment quieter, the cost cheaper, and the pleasure much more fulfilling than anything else you might ordinarily do on a New Year’s Eve. May you awaken on January 1st finding that the world has not come to an end, the lights work, the water faucets flow, and the sky has not fallen. May you go to the bank on Monday morning, January 3rd, and find your account is

in order, your money is still there, and any mistakes are in your favor. May you ponder on January 4th: How did this ultramodern civilization of ours manage to get itself traumatized by a possible slip ... of a blip ... on a chip ... made out of sand? May you have the strength to go through a year of presidential campaigning and may some of the promises made, be kept. May you believe at least half of what the candidates propose, and may those elected fulfill at least half of what they promise, and the miracle of reducing taxes and balancing budgets, happen. May the telemarketers wait to make their sales calls until you finish dinner, and may your checkbook and your budget balance, and may they include generous amounts for charity. May you remember to say “I love you” at least once a day to your spouse, your child, your parent, but NOT to your secretary, your nurse, your masseuse, your hairdresser, or your tennis instructor. May we live as intended, in a world at peace and the awareness of the beauty in every sunset, every flower, every baby’s smile, and every wonderful, astonishing miraculous beat of our hearts. May what you see in the mirror, delight you, and what others see in you, delight them.

B.J. Bryan (Bonnie) - Age: 74 “A Wish for the Millennium” written Jan. 1, 2000 Background: When working at the State Bar of California, Los Angeles office, I wrote articles for the Bar News regarding genealogy called Cradle, Altar, Tomb. When living in Douglas City I used to write articles for the Weaverville newspaper. Previous publications: My first book published, Oceans of Love, A Collection of World War I Letters. My second book has been submitted but not yet published. It is the true story of one of our troopships involved in a collision with a French aircraft carrier while in convoy. We lost 68 young men; the French lost 4. Entitled The Ship That Never Was.


PARADISE POST • A rts & L etters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

Joy Joy danced with her sisters beneath the cloudless sky, arms reaching toward the sky, her feet tapping rhythmically. Hooped earrings swayed and bracelets jingled as they moved, free as spirits. It was the same every day and even long into the nights, although the sisters never noticed the darkness that matched their soft-as-cotton skin. As so often happens with sisters, their personalities diverged, for although they were conceived by the same Creator, each was constructed individually. One day, Joy lowered her arms and told them, “I’m going away to dance to the beat of a distant drummer.” The others reached for the sky and their feet lifted and pranced. They knew that Joy was the adventurous one and they danced on, in farewell. “Be careful,” they warned, “that the Creator doesn’t see you.” Joy lowered quietly to the plush, dark green path and tiptoed until she found the source of the cool syncopation she had often heard in the background— nine musicians, their skin white as teeth. Never had she seen such tuxedoes, as these figures cavorted between a clamshell backdrop and a blooming dogwood. And their music! Joy danced and swirled, entwining with the eighth and quarter notes bouncing from the walls. It was a jazz attack, as the horns, bass, flute and harp joined the swelling riffs from the baby-grand’s keyboard, its ivories teased and cajoled by a turquoise-tailed guy, a real hep cat. Cat! Joy pressed against the wall attempting to become invisible as an enormous grey cat—with real fur!—peered with huge green

eyes through the glass door. “Meow,” it hollered with huge teeth. “There you are, Vel!” Joy pressed even tighter into the wall. The Creator! Her heart pounded; her knees quivered. She nearly gasped aloud as the clock reported bong, bong, bong, bong, bong, bong. The bespectacled Creator, eyes blue beneath hair the color of moonlight, opened the screen door, placed a bowl in front of the monster, and then returned inside, sliding the door shut and shuffling into the distance. Joy exhaled. Slowly her feet began to tap to the jazz. How she loved these vibes from these cats! Who could believe they had such chops? Her sisters sure weren’t going to believe it. Joy’s stomach growled. She eyed a large bowl filled with apples, halfway up to the ceiling. I’ll grab this grapevine. Joy shimmied past two placid goldfish swishing in a deep bowl. She grabbed the shiniest of the red fruit and munched its juiciness while admiring the vast blue collection of vases, jars, and teapots. Joy descended the grapevine until her bare feet touched the green path. Tossing the ropey strand behind her she yawned. Think I’ll rest, here, in Grandma’s Flower Garden. Settling between the polygon patches of pink and green, Joy stretched her long limbs and closed her eyes. I wonder if my sisters are thinking about me. Beneath the glowing sun, her sisters danced and lived their dreams, the Creator stitched brave new worlds, and Vel licked her lips.

Laura Dvorak Inspiration: Dedicated to my mother, Ann McAlister of Magalia, an avid creator of fine quilts and other fabric artwork. Medium: Flash fiction

Judy Soto “I’m In Love With You” “Dove in Hand” (published online) Background: I have been writing since I can remember, but the rush of writing started in 1990 and hasn’t stopped since. If I am quiet and daydreaming the words start flowing and a new poem or story is born. Previous awards: First place in Gold Nugget Museum writing contest Inspiration: Nature, meditation, being in love Medium: Automatic writing Age: Adult

I’m In Love With You There is no doubt, my thougths of you, never cease. They fill my mind day and night. Even tho we’re not together. In my thoughts it will go on forever over and over again. The memory of our first kiss. When you held me tight.

Katie Stecher Background in Art: I have varied artistic hobbies including mosaics, stained glass, crazy quilting, altered art and assemblages and beadwork. Several of my mosaic pieces have appeared in past issues of Arts and Letters as well as in a juried mosaic show at the Institute of Mosaic Art in Oakland, CA. I am, for the most part, self-taught. Inspiration: I picked up a “how-to” book on bead mbroidery and was so dazzled by the beauty of the pieces made by the author, I just had to try it myself. These are the first pieces I’ve made. More online! Medium: Beads, cabochons, crystals, pearls

All through the night. Oh! how my heart took flight. Like the Eagle on a March winds night. I will always remember how it could have been. In my dreams I became your wife. And no more did I live in strife. If Dreams come true I would always be with you. No other forever and ever. I will be yours for ever more. Until we both flew into the darkness of the night. I wait to fall asleep again to continue our flight. To you my darling I say “GOODNIGHT.”

Ashton Boni Background: Co-Founder of 10 years as a professional photographer. Have just finished being the senior photographer for an Emagazine for 3 1/2 years that covered music festivals, concerts, and music events in the Bay Area. I have a BA in three different fields Theatre, sound engineering, and Business Marketing. Previous publications: Have had work featured on the global photography community Smugmug Inspiration: The constant need to see the world Medium: Digital (Canon 5D) & Medium format 120 film Age: 46

Janet Bauer - Age: 74 “Spring at Pt. Cabrillo”, “Port Orford” (published online) Background: Classes at Albright Art Gallery in Buffalo, New York when young. Also classes in oils and sculpturing. Currently: A member of the Paradise Art Center, Chico Art Center, Mendocino Art Center and the Coast Redwoods Art Assn. in Crescent City. My artwork can be seen at various art shows and fairs. Inspiration: Pacific Coast Medium: Acrylic

Lou Legerton - Age: 81 Previous publications: one published story - co author: Black Bart the Poet Bandit and a number of articles published Inspiration: This is a factual story 1...This ship served three nations 1914 - 1945 peace and war. 2...This ship served Germany in WWI 1914 to 1917 3...Seized by the US. in 1917 and interned at New Orleans 4...Converted to the NAVY and renamed the U.S.S. Montpelier Navy ID # 1954 - 1919 to 1927 5...Sold to American Hawaiian Steamship co renamed NEVADAN 1927 to 1939 6...Returned to the U.S. Government converted to 1939 7...Military Supply Ship -S.S. NEVADAN 1939 TO 1943 8...Lease to the U.S.S.R. 1943 to 1944 renamed the YAN TOMP 9...Returned to Military sea Transport Service 1944 to 1945 renamed the NEVADAN 10..Assigned to moth ball fleet 1945 and scrapped at San Francisco ship yards 1946.

Going to Sea At sixteen, Karl stood taller than most at 6’1” and stood rigidly at attention as one of the 36 new Kaisers’ Marine Sea Cadets mustered on the fore deck of the Friedrich August to begin Cadet Seamanship training. “Kapitan,” Wallis addressed the young fresh faces. “You stand on one of the newest and finest in the German training schools afloat. Who can tell me about her?” A long pause ensued. Finally Karl raised his arm half way. The Kapitan’s eyes widened as he studied Karl critically. “Right, you, the tall one, what do you know about your ship?” Karl took a deep breath and spurted a flurry of words, “Built in 1913, of steel, by Tecklenborg, in Geestemünde, as a schoolship for the German merchant marine. She was given the name Grossherzog Friedrich August and she is 84 meters from bow to stern, 12 meters abeam, and draws 4.7 meters....

Due to its length, the rest of the story is published online.

TRAINING SHIP — the FRIEDRICH AUGUST Thursday, July 30, 2009 • A rts & L etters • PARADISE POST


Julie Graulich “Jack Rabbit” “Hawk/Sacramento Wildlife Refuge” Medium: Digital Photography Age: 49

Butterflies are Flying Flowers

Margaret Joinville - Age: 75 “Butterfly” “Miracle Hummingbird” Background: Amateur photographer, painter, ceramic artist Inspiration: Love of Nature Medium: Photography

Barbara Anne Ramsay Age: 66 “Makin’ A Choice” (top) 18 x 24 Colored Pencil “Out of the Woods” (top) 11 x 14 Oil “Steppin’ Out” (published online) 20 x 24 Oil Background: Professional Artist for 35 yrs. teach art at the Paradise Art Center, self taught with a few collage classes. Publications Western Horseman Magazine, Equine Images Magazine, Art Of The West Magazine. Best Of Colored Pencil II and several news paper articles. Awards: Awards, Best of Show Western and Equine Art Show Grass Valley, CA, Best of Show Western Art Roundup and Buckaroo Heritage Silver Spur Award Western Art Roundup Winnemucca, NV 2007. Inspiration: My love of the western way of life and the wildlife of North America give me the inspiration to paint and draw the grace and beauty that I see in the wild animals and the life style of the Buckaroo of Nevada, Northen California and Oregon.


PARADISE POST • A rts & L etters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

What is more gorgeous than a butterfly? He is even prettier than the butterfly bush he loves!

Miracle Hummingbird I was just visiting a neighbor, photographing her gorgeous flower, the focus already pushed, when I felt a knock on my left knee. This lovely hummingbird landed on the flower just as I finished the shot. It is as if he was saying, “Hey, lady, that is MY flower and I am hungry!”

More Chronicles Of Casper The Cat

Thomas N. Drake Andrea Drake Medium: Photo Essay Age: 78 & 48

With last year’s submission you may recall a photo of a kitten comfortably ensconced in a wash basin. My daughter, Andrea took that photo to accompany her dad’s non-fiction piece about a certain kitten who was introduced into his home by a very determined wife. Now, Casper, a full grown “Oh, rats - there goes my tomcat has developed some nap. That sounded like Puss-in-Boots type traits which the doorbell.” Andrea has captured with her camera to be utilized in this photo essay...

“I’m not in any mood to have my butt sniffed in the manner of dogs. I will be one furtive feline and hop up on a chair to camouflage me from this mutt, no matter that he is one friendly pooch I recently spent quite some time with at his home.”

“It’s the doorbell alright...And darned if it doesn’t sound like a friend of my family who generally brings her dog along.”

“Ahhh Lucky Me. They all detoured to the garden. Now I can pose for a photo that will best illustrate my true regal self - one that may remind you of the Egyptian Sphinx.”

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877-3344 1007 Buschmann Rd. Paradise Lic. #045001879 Thursday, July 30, 2009 • A rts & L etters • PARADISE POST


RJ Lukens Background: I have been a student painting at Butte College for two semesters. Inspiration: My inspiration is that of personal growth and sharing ideas with others. Medium: Acrylics Age: 47

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Background: Self taught Inspiration: The world around me Medium: Acrylic

Jim Robertson Background: 40 years making pottery Inspiration: Family Medium: Stoneware & porcelain clays I was first introduced to clay when my wife took a pottery class, she soon lost interest, but mine elevated. I started with lessons at Shibui Galleries in Paradise and went on to do reading and experimenting on my own in clays glazes shapes. I have been a potter for thirty-five years, more recently specializing in vineyard designs which I like making and please my customers. I truly love my work, I like making practical articles that can be used in everyday life. The aspect of the actual artistic, mental and physical work involved in producing pottery is enjoyable. Clay is a very soothing medium to work with, it can also be very easy or maddening. I have worked in wood, metal, fiberglass, and clay, but always come back to clay.


PARADISE POST • A rts & L etters • Thursday, July 30, 2009

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It’s Their Road Driving in Chico can be an interesting, if not hazardous adventure. The people in Chico are quite happy to drive down the streets and avenues of this cozy little town oblivious of other entities. Cell phones in hand, fifteen inch “woofers” in the back, a twelve pack in the cooler, and “They be happening’.” “It’s my road, and I’ll drive the way I want,” is the feeling one gets while motoring through the streets of Chico. Sadly, this attitude causes more ill feelings than harmony, and sometimes results in tragedy. It is not unusual in Chico to be stuck behind a long line of cars, moving at a snail’s pace, only to find the driver of the first car is talking on their cell phone. You know that driver is blathering on about how Aunt Millie lost her dentures in the toilet last week and is not able to eat anything but soup until she gets her new set. There is also the missing driver. It’s the car that when you pull up behind it, you can’t see anyone’s head. They have the seat pulled up so far that their nose gets rug burns from the steering wheel as they turn it. They’re sitting on a book, straining to see over the hood, while creeping along at fifteen miles per hour. Stop signs in Chico are only there for looks. Nobody believes them, or listens to them, or understands what they have to say. They don’t say slow down, creep on through, nor bid us don’t even bother, as many in this little town must think they do. We also have the guy with the dark tinted windows, and the “woofers” in the trunk. He has the stereo up so loud, and with his sunglasses on, he does not see or hear the emergency vehicles, and just keeps on “cruising.” Some drivers in Chico will watch you coming down the street, and just as you get close, they will pull out in front of you so that you have to slam on your brakes. They will extend a finger at you as you peel your groceries and the dog off the windshield, then

they will proceed to drive ten miles per hour under the speed limit. Don’t you just love that driver that is heading down the road in the left lane, going slower than the speed limit? You look in the right lane, there is another car just ahead, but driving at the speed limit. You determine that you have enough room to pass the car in the left lane, so you signal move to the right and begin to overtake the “slowpoke.” He then speeds up, and that little move almost makes you rear end the other car. This jerk then paces you, making it impossible to pass him. Construction Zones can be “War Zones” in Chico. Where you see signs that say, “Right lane closed ahead,” you will always find the “Crowder.” The “Crowder” is the driver that will drive down the lane that is being closed as far as he can, turn on his signal and crowd in front of the other cars that have been waiting in an orderly manner. Sometimes this action draws stern reactions from other drivers. Some may extend a finger; maybe they are testing the wind? Others may yell some sort of greeting that may result in a finger being pointed in reply. This exchange will almost always prompt another single fingered response from each participant. Occasionally closer contact may result. One driver might exit his car to have a more personal, if not more meaningful conversation with the other. Sometimes the driver remaining in his “noble steed” might roll his window down to more clearly hear what the one approaching has to say. This rolling down of the window may allow the approaching driver a sort of ritual contact. Other times, the driver initiating the conversation may not realize the window is up, and will accidently put his hand through it in his haste to greet his fellow traveler. Most enjoyable to watch, is when the two drivers demonstrate what the “Mosh Pit” was like at the last concert they attended.

David A. La Barbera Background: Writing as a hobby Previous publications: Editor for a Day, Letters to the Editor Inspiration: I love to write. I once considered writing for a newpaper. Age: 57

On a more serious note, their car was struck one morning as I was driving at the intersection to my place of business, I of Bruce Road and passed the aftermath of a Highway thirty-two. tragic accident. It was in A well maintained front of Chico High School. memorial marks An older brother, after drop- the place where they died, that caused their paths to cross, or Divine providence? ping his younger sibling off November 30, 1997. Now that I am older, and at school, was killed by a Elijah was seventeen, and careless driver who ran a red his brother Isaac was four- when I get into my car and light. The young man’s vehi- teen, when they left the drive in Chico, or anywhere cle was hit broadside with house to return a videotape for that matter, I have learned such force that it would have to the store. Elijah was an to take these things to heart. I spun three hundredsixty excellent student. He was find myself wanting to snug degrees had the center also an athlete, competing on up the seat belt just a little divider not stopped it. The both the wrestling and foot- tighter, drive a little slower, offending driver was picked ball teams. Elijah was active and be a little more courteup down the street, after in his church. He was a help ous to the other driver. I catch abandoning his vehicle and to his mother who cared for myself looking a little more fleeing on foot. I thought to developmentally challenged carefully before entering that myself, “What a perfect children in their home. Isaac intersection. For you never example of the total disre- was in his own right a talent- know where or when that gard for life” (no surprise in ed artist and musician. He careless or drunk driver Chico). I was sure then, by studied the violin. He also might be rounding the next the looks of the mangled attended church and helped corner, heading for his deswreckage, that I would be see- his mother as his elder broth- tiny. Hopefully, driving a liting the occupant at the ceme- er did. Sadly, the two brothers tle more defensively, comtery where I was then work- were cut down before they bined with a little luck, might ing. I saw far too many young really had a chance to live. be enough to avoid being the lives wasted by other people’s Wasted also in this tragic tale frontpage story of the Chico stupidity and carelessness. I was the life of the drunk newspaper. I remember each had to look into those griev- driver. He was only in his corner I round, and each ing families’ faces, a witness early twenties. They are intersection I come to, “it’s to their anguish. I had no buried in the same cemetery, their road.” 1 Information on the deaths of the Howell brothanswer for them as to why at opposite sides, just as was found on the Elijah and Isaac Foundation these things happen, why the opposite as their lives must ers website; innocent had to die. I tried to have been. Was it coincidence ease their pain the best that I could. What words can you say that can really help them? Another serious problem in Chico is that guy with the cooler full of beer in the back of his pickup truck. It is not necessarily the cooler of beer that is the problem, but what the driver does with his pickup after he has consumed the beer. A well-known incident and good example of this is the deaths of the Howell brothers.1 That guy who consumed that cooler of beer, and Patricia Van Stavern thought he could drive, killed them. He untitled (published in color online) was driving extremeBackground: Local display of art work. Instruction by local artist ly fast—about 80 Sylvia Smejkel. M.P.H.—as he ran a Previous publications: Last years Post Arts and Letters. red light. The brothInspiration: What is around me and what I see. ers had no chance Medium: Watercolor that fateful night, as Thursday, July 30, 2009 • A rts & L etters • PARADISE POST


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Go to to see all the submissions!

Walter Pierce “Beach at Fort Bragg” (left) “Foothills” (below) “Ocean Avenue, Carmel” (published online) Inspiration: To get a break from work at the Town of Paradise Medium: oil Age: 73

Game Rules • Submit your entry to the Paradise Post by noon, Friday, August 7, 2009. • Mail entries to SEEK A WORD Game, P.O. Drawer 70, Paradise, CA 95967 or may be dropped by the office at 5399 Clark Road. • All correct entries will qualify for a drawing to win a Family 4 Pack to the Outlaws. Drawing to be held Friday, August 14, 2009 at 4PM. One winner will be drawn. • Must be 18 years or older. One entry per household. Paradise Post employees and their families are not eligible to win.

Margie Chapman “Llama” “Deers in the field” Background: Took a few classes but mostly self taught Inspiration: Love of animals, flowers and nature Awards: Won some ribbons at Butte County Fair. Medium: Oils

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Thursday, July 30, 2009 • A rts & L etters • PARADISE POST


Corner of Clark & Pearson • 877-4442

Arts and Letters 2009  
Arts and Letters 2009  

Collection of Ridge Artists and Writers works.