Whatever Happened?

What happened to a child’s universe being its home, then expanding into the surrounding community, local schools, and churches? What has happened when the parents relinquish their skills of raising and controlling the child and reduced the influence of the home? A change occurred, and not for the better. Larger schools and school boards that are no longer community based have replaced the one room school houses and built mega-structures that herd our children through their lessons, paying more attention on indoctrination than to education.

A child’s universe was once very isolated and close to home. Children’s morals were learned in the home taught by family, clergy, teachers, and neighbors. That reflected a time when we knew our neighbors, we chose our teachers, and we decided on which church to attend. Then world expanded as a child aged, but they had a solid foundation upon which to stand and raise their own families.

Things have changed. More and more worldly influences have become the base of morals and examples for them to follow. Single parent homes have become the norm. A child’s life’s now are pulled into a much larger world, first by the radio. Then it was by television, computers, smart phones, and the internet. Our children’s examples for morality have become decidedly much worldlier.

Increasingly, those teaching our children lead them astray into secular views. The taint of following progressive liberal views is that there’s no set absolutes, no anchors to which children may cling, and no boundaries set. Kids are advised to “follow their hearts.” There’s no longer anything right or wrong; everything’s relative. People paraded before our children are presented as icons and heroes, but many only promote casual sex, drugs, and violence without the child seeing the outcome.

I understand it’s necessary for children to escape the limitations of a one room schoolhouse to keep abreast of technology, but as parents we cannot abandon our children’s innocence to be slain on the altar of the world. Children in the past have learned much more with the smaller classes. Latin, Greek, math, and yes, even the Bible were taught. There wasn’t time or need to teach how to place a condom on a banana. It was the families who selected the curriculum and teachers, not a government imposed choice of text books or new methods like teaching the burdensome and confusing path of “common core math.”

On top of that, the government steals the same money they give schools to educate our children by forcing the schools to follow “regulations,” keep records, and show compliance. When our children lose a solid local foundation, they’re compelled to adopt a more worldly view.

Fact, Fake, Fantasyland

Whether it’s fact, fiction, or a mixture of both this quarantine from the Covid19 virus is wreaking havoc and devastation on nearly every person in the United States other than the paid politicians. They’re still drawing a salary, paid from our taxes and imposing their will on us. Many Americans will lose their homes and face financial ruin. Small businesses are failing and can’t get bailout loans…unless they’ve already obtained a loan from that bank. Many businesses never took a loan and aren’t eligible. I’m just going to share some sarcastic remarks to lighten this heavy post.

Beauty salons may curl up and dye. Barber shops will feel cut off and have to shave their expenses. Carpenters are cutting corners and feel nailed to the wall. Electricians are shocked at their lost charges. Manicurists feel rebuffed and know that they’re being clipped. Plumbers are feeling drained and hose piped. How about the jeweler who’s chained with bailout promises and left with an empty ring? Bars left with mixed thinks and feel all tapped out. Liquor stores having bad spirits and whine because of lost revenues. Cruise lines starting to go under, awash with debt having no smooth sailing and risk sinking. Then there are florists who can no longer branch out because they’ve been nipped in the bud?  How about boot shops that are told to heel and can’t march on. Athletic stores who can no longer run and are now not good sports. What about print shops that are being discarded, then having their shirts ripped off their backs? Restaurants feel their goose is cooked and can’t take off with only take out; their servers are out of work and waiting around. Farmers can’t reap what they sow and many are straying far afield.

Then there are craft shops told not to sell material things, masked by intrusive rules. What about strip joints that can no longer bare the government’s song and dance; casinos that can’t spin the wheel of chance, their other games only shoot craps. Taylors seam to be just sew-sew and having fits. Sports teams; football’s fumbling, baseball’s striking out, hockey’s left holding the short end of the stick, wrestling’s taken to the mat while on hold, boxing’s acting punchy round after round, race drivers are no longer on track, and soccer teams getting kicked in the seat of their pants.

Tanning salons are seeing the light but are still turning pale. Cycle shops are barely keeping their wheels spinning and may have to peddle their wares elsewhere. Airlines may crash with their wings clipped. But bankers are gathering interest. Abortion clinics are still making a killing. Toilet paper manufacturers are on a roll and bringing up the rear and politicians are still living off tax payers’ dollars.

Honey Bun Anyone?

A physician would often have his office patients report to the emergency department for testing that he thought needed to be done. Without any inconvenience to him, he could extend office hours by using the emergency room staff. We’d make a chart for each patient, do their assessments, disrobe them, gown them, and take the patient’s vital signs. Once the person was settled in one of the beds we’d call the doctor for orders. When he thought the results would be back he’d stroll over to see the patients. Usually we’d have two or three beds tied up for just his clients until he finished

rounding and came to see them.

Eventually he got tired of answering our telephone calls as each patient would arrive. He knew how many patients he’d advised to come to the hospital and he’d wait until he thought that they had all arrived before he would return our calls. We’d then have fill out the needed requisitions for tests and wait for the results to come back. All the while our beds were being tied up with his patients limiting beds for true emergencies. Once the all of results were back, we’d again page him and he’d eventually decide to see his patients.

We’d heard through the grapevine each morning he liked to grab a cup of coffee and talk with the radiologists before he visited his in-patients, so we started to call x-ray to see if they could prod him into answering our pages.

This worked for awhile until one day someone called the radiology department and asked if the doctor was there. Apparently he’d told the technicians and the secretaries not to interrupt him or tell us whether he was in the hospital or not. He obviously didn’t want bothered until he was ready. He was married but it was also rumored that he had a girlfriend who worked in the radiology department as well.

It was a very busy morning and had four of his patients filling our beds. The emergency department only had a total of eight beds at the time. We were trying to work around his patients and take care of those arriving for emergency treatment. The limited number of beds hampered us and made our jobs so much more difficult. Of course this was one of the days he refused to answer his pages.

I got frustrated at his lack of concern and felt the devil crawl out of me and climb up onto my shoulder. I snatched the telephone and dialed x-ray.

“This was the x-ray department. How may I help you?” a female voice demurely chimed.

I said, “This is Tom from the emergency room. Would doctor Malden happen to be there enjoying a cup of coffee and a honey bun?”

Now a honey bun could have been one of those sweet, sticky, swirled pastries or….?  Well you get the idea.

I heard a small gasp on the other end of the phone and then a soft chuckle before the super sweet voice said, “Hold on, I’ll check for you.”

Dr. Malden returned my call shortly thereafter. I don’t know if she ever told the doctor or the honey bun what I’d said, but when I called the x-ray department from then on, someone would always check to see if he was there. I guess my “innocent” comment had at least gotten passed along to fellow employees.

Post Wedding High Jinks

I am not sure what else to call the post wedding harassment of the newly wedded couple’s vehicle and or their luggage. It’s been a long standing tradition to hang cans, shoes, and other noise making items to the back bumper of the nuptial’s car with a sign of “just married” to announce the newlywed couple to the world. Sometimes the prank may be to completely fill the “escape” vehicle with dozens of balloons or thousands of Styrofoam peanuts. There have been other incidents when wrapping the car with cellophane or toilet paper by jokesters. The wrapped vehicle greeted the bride and groom as they left the wedding or the reception and barred a swift departure. (I imagine the Corona virus has limited the number of weddings ceremonies and the amount of toilet paper they use.)

Other tricks well-wishing tricksters used would be to stick a note inside of the gas cap cover saying, “Wish us well. Just married.” The attendant would greet them and the confused couple would often wander around their car to see if they’d missed removing any “decorations.”

I’ve heard of jokesters smearing limburger cheese on the manifold of the engine, sliding an opened can of sardines beneath one of the seats, or hiding several shrimp inside of the hubcaps to rot and smell.

Two rather large families in my area became involved in the “one upmanship” of tricks; where brothers, cousins, sisters married people from the other family. These pranks became more involved and sometimes more intense. The original small stunts escalated. No longer would hiding sardines or smearing limburger cheese would suffice.

After the act of crushing shredded wheat and spreading the crumbs in the suitcases of honeymoon clothing, the pranks and pranksters were kicked into high gear. The last escapade that I heard was for a wedded couple who had plans to celebrate their honeymoon in Florida. After they arrived at their hotel and opened their suitcases for a change of clothing, they found that someone had substituted their swimwear, sandals, and shorts for sweaters, coats, and mukluks. It was necessary for them to go shopping for a change of clothes while they waited for their parents to make an overnight shipment of climate appropriate clothing.

Many couples I know who have recently been married or are planning a wedding now include a trusted family member who keeps their luggage under lock and key until their escape to their honeymoon destination.

A Good Sport

My brother Ken is an avid sportsman. He has always enjoyed golf, baseball, hunting, or almost anything that occurs out of doors. When he played golf on his downtime as a caddy, he would come in one or two strokes either behind or in front of the course’s golf professional.

In hunting, only the seasons change as to what game he was hunting and the weapon he used not the desire to hunt; bow and arrow, rifle, or shotgun. He enjoys fishing as well, but not as much as hunting. He went out West to hunt elk one year, riding a horse into the mountains on the tour. He helped the guides setting up camp.

When he played baseball, he played in a local league for young men. The league played their games on Sunday afternoons. If we wanted to know if he had a game that Sunday, we’d tease by saying, “Are you going to the church of the swinging bat today?”

He often got roped into being an umpire at his son’s little league games. Ken didn’t like when coaches verbally abused their charges and at the beginning of each game he told them, “I’m giving you two warnings about cussing at the kids before I toss you out…and this is the first.”

He was attracted to fast cars, motorcycles, and A.T.V.s. They were a past passion in his life although the A.T.V. is an integral part of his hunting now.

I think his two favorite cars were a pale yellow mustang, his first car and a 1976 Dodge Demon that was black with white stripes painted across the hood, roof, and trunk. I always thought it looked like a skunk. Ken tricked and souped it up for speed and took it to the drag races to compete. There was a large air scoop that rose above the hood.

He’s slowed a bit since then and has just finished restoring a Jeep, painting it red. Red was our dad’s favorite color. It’s Ken’s baby and it stays up on blocks during the winter in the garage. His cars are a little less powerful than before, but he still likes to work on them.

The one thread that has wound through all of his other passions was to meet and date women, looking for that one special person that he loved as much as he did all of his other passions. My grandmother Miner had a favorite saying, “There’s never a pot too crooked that a lid won’t fit.”

Addiction

I have a desire that’s developed over the years and intensified with the recent imposed quarantine. It’s not drugs, not alcohol, but the need for a phone. As a child and early adulthood the phone only commanded attention when its loud incessant ringing caused someone to answer it to stop its intrusion.

The first telephone I remember was a wooden box hung on the wall with a crank handle and a black receiver that dangled from its cradle. It was a party line and not always available for use. Others might be talking. Patience was required to place a call. When the line was free, the person making the call would twist the crank to get the attention of the switchboard operator who would transfer thr call to the intended phone number. When we received a call, we had to listen to the length and number of rings to know whether the call was for us or not. One problem happened when someone on your line forgot to hang up essentially blocking the line.

The local phone system and telephones improved. No party more lines and we could make our calls directly with a rotary dial, you knew the number. If not, there was always the telephone book or directory assistance…for a small fee.

Push button dialing was the next innovation. Curly plastic covered wires connected the receiver to the telephone body. The phone could sit on a desk, a table, or hung on the wall. Cords became longer and conversations could continue while raiding the refrigerator or lying comfortably on the floor.

I became more attached to my phone when I worked as a nursing supervisor. Initially when I was needed an overhead page system would summon me to phone or go to certain areas of the hospital. Next came the pagers, its beeping caused me to look to see the number march across the miniature screen. The next invention was the cell phone. It wasn’t my favorite. It demanded immediate attention, even in the bathroom. A person couldn’t find a few minutes to relax even there.

When I came home from work and our house phone rang, I allowed someone else to answer it. I was burned out and really didn’t care who was calling.

My kids finally talked me into my first cell phone, a small flip phone. I disliked the tiny key pad and my fat fingers often fumbled when making a call. Slowly the cell advanced and thus began my addiction. I don’t panic if it’s not with me, but I do struggle when it’s on silent and I can’t find it. Now I have access many aps and unless I silence it, I get notifications then am drawn to see what is happening.

The View

I shared the first meeting with my wife to be, Cynthia Louise Morrison on Monday’s post. She was a complete stranger, but we became connected through the wedding of my cousin Alan Bottomley. She was an usherette and I was the best man. It was completely a happenstance meeting. We were both in college and I wasn’t looking for a date at the time. I was concentrating on completing my studies after my stint in the Navy.

Debra Firestone was Cindy’s childhood friend as well as her best friend. Cindy knew Bill Detar too. They attended the same university, California State College and probably met him through Debbie as well. Debbie saw my teasing Cindy at the wedding and played matchmaker. She invited me to go on a blind double date with Bill and her and Cindy of course. I needed a break from my books and agreed.

The date was for the dance cruise on the Gateway Clipper in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Debbie and Bill decided that we needed to eat before the cruise and stopped at Peasant Village Restaurant. The restaurant’s menu listed full meals as well as a la carte items. I was nervous and chose veal steak only. I was afraid of eating too much. When the veal came it covered the entire meat platter. I was glad that I hadn’t ordered more. It was delicious. Desserts, no thank you. Not another bite.

Back in the car and into Pittsburgh. We boarded the Clipper before the time it would leave the dock and wandered onto the upper deck. A soft cool breeze felt so wonderful. A large group of men were gathered at the pier side of the ship. Curiosity piqued, we wandered over to the railing to see what the attraction was.

Down on the dock stood a small group of people chatting, but there was only one person who was causing the stir. It was a rather busty blonde woman. She was wearing a powder blue outfit in a time where pantsuits were in style. The bodice of this suit was quite revealing. From perches along the railing, the men had a perfect view of the woman’s navel. Had the pants not been cinched tightly, I’m not quite sure what we would have seen. We kidded afterward, if one more man would have crowded the rail, the Clipper would have surely capsized.

The rest of the cruise was rather uneventful, but it eventually led to a second date and our marriage in May. Debbie and Bill’s wedding was in June. Our lives and families have been intertwined ever since. Their kids and ours were more like brothers and sisters than friends.

Until We Meet Again

I first met my wife Cynthia Morrison at the wedding of my cousin Alan Bottomley and his wife-to-be Gloria. It was also the very first wedding I attended where I was a member of the wedding party. I was to be the best man. I’d only seen weddings from a distance in the audience and had never been an integral part of the chosen few. Now I was to be the lead person of the male back-up team. I wasn’t that young at the time and must have been in my early twenties. I’d never given a speech before an audience other than as a kid in church Christmas recitals or in high school in speech class. I was nervous.

I’d also been given the chore of carrying the bride’s wedding band. Not so big of a deal, right? Not so, I was nervous that I might drop Gloria’s ring and what made it a big deal was that very close to the spot I was to stand was a large, in the floor-mounted heating grate. It’s dark maw seemed as though it was waiting to swallow up any misstep I might make as I retrieved the gold band and transferred it to Alan’s waiting hands.

Cynthia, Cindy as she preferred to be called, was an usherette. She had people sign the guest book and other small tasks. I talked with her and the rest of the wedding party as we mingled for the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner, but it wasn’t until the wedding was over and we were at the reception that we really had any more interactions.

I have always liked to tease people, usually in a good way but I’m sure I’ve irritated a few folk who didn’t like my puns or small tricks. As we sat at the bride’s table and my speech was over, I began to tease her. I don’t remember what I said in my best man speech. To be honest, I barely remember much more of my interactions with her of the rest of the actors in the wedding.

I scarcely recall that Cindy kicked off her shoes because her feet hurt and I kicked them away in opposite directions. She’d have to search for them. Much later, I found out that several people saw the comfortable way Cindy and I were mingling and socializing. Others thought we were already dating. Her best friend Deborah Firestone Detar saw it too and decided that we should have a blind date, but I’ll let our ride on the Gateway Clipper for another time.

Passover taken from my book The walls Came Tumbling Down.

“Jehovah said He would send a death angel to pass through the land of Egypt that very night and smite the firstborn males in the land, both man and beast. He executed judgment on the gods of Egypt. ‘I am the LORD,’ He said, and the blood shall be to you for a token upon the houses where you are, and when I see the blood I will pass over you and the plague shall not be upon you to destroy you, when I smite the land of Egypt.

“Did you hear that? The blood of the lamb was a sign that death and judgment of the LORD will pass over all of the people who have gone under the blood. They would remain safe inside of the house. It happened as Jehovah said it would. All the children of Israel were in their houses and praying to the LORD for safety and deliverance. Some were fearful; some were hopeful, but all sought to find the face of the LORD. It wasn’t long until most of the children of Israel had fallen into a deep sleep after a day of back-breaking toil.

“At midnight, the LORD sent the death angel to pass through the entire land of Egypt and smite all of the firstborn males, from the firstborn of Pharaoh on his throne, to the firstborn of captives in the dungeon, and all of the cattle.

“Pharaoh woke in the middle of the night and found his firstborn son dead. He awakened his servants. They also found their sons were dead. The hue and cry that started in the palace, quickly spread throughout the land. The sound of great mourning filled all the land. No house was spared throughout Egypt, save those who had passed under the blood of the lamb. The weeping and wailing soon wakened all of the children of Israel.

Just then the wind outside the tent moaned shaking the tent flap. The tent creaked and the lamp hanging overhead began to sway causing the shadows in the corners of the tent to shift and move. The children at his feet looked around anxiously, as if the death angel was outside of the tent. “For there was not a house where there was not at least one dead.” The children shivered feeling the emotions of the story. The soft moaning of the wind seemed to resurrect the grief-filled cry of those who were visited by the death angel.

“It was then that the LORD God Jehovah broke the hardened heart of Pharaoh. He called for Moses and Aaron that very night and said, ‘Rise up and get you and yours out from among my people. Get yourselves and all of the children of Israel and go and serve your LORD. Take your flocks and herds and be gone from my sight, and bless us also lest we all be dead men.’ That was the first Passover,” Salmon said. “And that is how the LORD God Jehovah delivered our people from the years of captivity and freed us from the hands of the hardened task masters of Egypt.” 

Lost and Found

Have you ever lost something and then spent hours or even days searching for that item? I just had one of those days Monday. I ran out of my allergy medication and left home to buy some. The worsening of my spring hay fever couldn’t have happened at a worse time with the CoVid 19 scare in full swing. I really needed to purchase some more. Claritin is the over-the-counter medication my physician recommends that I use. Having hypertension limits the brands I can take. I bought the medication and batteries that I needed and came home. Later that afternoon, I noticed that the back of my cell phone case was missing. I looked in its holster, in my jacket pockets, my pants pocket, and in my car. I retraced my steps to the mailbox and back. No such luck. I searched places that I’d been: the computer room, the basement, my bedroom, and the living room, nothing. I was in a near panic after remembering all of the other places I’d been. I thought perhaps it had fallen off while I was shopping, but I was certain that I hadn’t removed it from its holster. I gave up, then as I was walking to my recliner I found it on the floor, although I was sure I’d searched there before.

This brought to memory the time I lost my wallet. I was in more of a panic then. I worried about my driver’s license. After searching for two days with my wife Cindy helping, it remained missing in action. I cancelled one credit card and was about to begin the process to obtain another driver’s license, social security and medical insurance card. I was almost out of options and of hope in finding my billfold.

From my previous search efforts the items on top of our bedroom highboy dresser were out of place. I began rearranged them to their original positions, but not quite. A framed photograph of my mother-in-law toppled over and fell behind the dresser. I didn’t hear it hit the floor. I fetched a flashlight to see what had happened. I was afraid if I moved the highboy it might fall the whole way to the floor and shatter the glass. I shined the light behind the bureau. It hadn’t fallen to the floor, because my wallet stopped it. Only about eleven inches down it was wedged there. I was able to reach the photograph to prevent it from falling farther, then I could move the chest of drawers and retrieve my wallet. I was blessed and thankful that I didn’t have the trouble of having duplicate documents made.

Will You Crucify Him?

Pure without denial, Jesus went to trial

Yet the crowd yelled, “Crucify Him.”

Barabbas was set free and of Christ it would be

That the crowd called, “Crucify Him.” 

When the scourging was through, they mocked King of the Jew

Crying loudly, “Crucify Him.”

Parading Christ around on the blood coated ground

They led Christ to crucify Him. 

From two trials was led, thorny crowd on His head

To mobs calling “Crucify Him.”

Guards cried, “Take up your cross. You’ll not be a great loss.”

And the crowd roared, “Crucify Him.” 

A spear thrust in His side, made sure that He had died

In response to “Crucify Him.”

Friends wrapped burial clothes from His head to His toes

After others crucified Him. 

A great stone rolled away as He rose the third day

Of whom they cried, “Crucify Him.”

Even tomb couldn’t hold the one prophets foretold

And of men who’d crucify Him. 

If you’d been in the crowd with them screaming out loud

To Pilate to “Crucify Him.

And if you, standing there with their calls would you share

With their plot to crucify Him?

Today’s fear, quarantine, and  rationing made me think of this fictional story I wrote in 2014.

Just Junk to Some

It was December7, 1941. I can remember sitting on the floor in front of Dad’s Crosley radio with its dark oak cathedral case listening to The Lone Ranger. The program was interrupted by John Daly’s voice announcing, “The Japanese have just bombed Pearl Harbor. With no warning at all, we have been invaded. Japan has viciously attacked the United States, killing American citizens on American soil.”

We eventually learned that the unprovoked air attack on Honolulu sank or damaged five battleships, three destroyers, two cruisers, a minelayer, and a target ship. The attack destroyed ninety-two naval planes, seventy-seven army planes, and one hundred fifty-nine other planes were damaged. Two thousand, four hundred and two men were killed and one thousand, two hundred and eighty-two men were injured. America was saddened at the loss of life, but it quickly turned to anger. It was an insult that we couldn’t ignore. Our fathers, brothers, uncles, aunts, and cousins rushed to the recruitment offices to enlist.

We were much too young to join the ranks, but we scoured the neighborhoods with wagons, carts, and even sleds to collect every bit of scrap that we could find, beg, and carry by ourselves. It became our duty to collect everything that we could locate to make our soldiers and sailors safe. We had no money to buy bonds, but our daily excursions kept us busy supplying the recycling center with tires, tin cans, pots, pans, bed springs, and even newspapers. Each morning found us marching up and down the streets and alleys scouting for anything that could make lives of the enemies more difficult and ease the hardships of our brave men and women overseas.

Although we were just kids, in our young minds we just were just as patriotic as the men and women who volunteered for military service. We stayed at home; too young to join, but we were doing what we could to support to our military.

Every evening, we headed for home, tired and covered in dirt and rust. Because moms knew the reason we were coming home dirty, they didn’t often complain. Smiling, they would say, “Get washed up and change before supper.”

In the dim yellow light of the radio dial, we would hover at our parent’s feet listening for any updates and items of news on the war. We waited quietly to hear any tidbit of information about wins and losses. We learned the names of battle sites in Europe; Dunkirk, Normandy, Dresden, Maginot Line, and Asian places like Guadalcanal, Bataan, Corregidor, and Iwo Jima.

Rationing and coupons became an integral part of our civilian lives. It caused each family to tighten belts. Sugar, butter, gasoline, shoes, coffee, meats, cheeses, and tires were just a few of the things that were restricted, but our sacrifices were nothing compared to the sacrifices being made by warriors fighting overseas for freedom.

The Finish Line

I believe that I have just put the finishing touches to my next book. It’s not quite long enough to be called a novel; it would fall into the novella category. Novella is the term for a little or short novel. I think I completed my last review and it is now in the hands of my dear friend, editor, cover designer, and general fix-my-mistakes and fellow writer, Jan McLaughlin. She is my go to in times of need.

She’s been the designer for the last four of my books. The cover for my mystery book, “Partners for Life” is the fourth in the series of the Tommy Two Shoes Mysteries. Tommy Miner is a retired homicide detective from Pittsburgh that’s now a private eye. The second cover she designed was for “The Walls Came Tumbling Down.” This book shares a speculation of how Rahab the Canaanite harlot met, fell in love, and wed Salmon, a Jewish enemy that helped to destroy her town of Jericho. Offspring from their union were in the line of David the King and Jesus the Messiah. I did find some name mistakes in the text that has to be remedied some day.

My third book cover that Jan did was for my novel called, “Addie.” The story is filled with tenderness and several surprises. A woman who was raised almost completely void of her mother’s love, finds an orphan boy. Her feelings of love begin to blossom when the police find a relative. Addie is left to deal with her unexplored feelings of charity. I try to let my readers feel the emotion and humor with all of my characters. Addie is one of my favorites. It has less action than my other books, but is a very good read.The book I’m now putting the finishing touches is a sequel to “Addie.” I wrote it because several people wanted to know what happened to Ron, Addie’s adopted son. This novella answers that question and introduces Ron’s wife Debra and Addie’s granddaughter Hannah to the growing list of characters.

Jan has designed another great cover for this book called “Hannah’s Messiah.” The people in this tale are caught in a series of births, deaths, love, and sadness, and establishes friendships that are able to cross the lines of age, gender, and economic boundaries. It also deals with how the tender heart of a young girl can affect so many people around her and how those friendships can change lives.