I remember by Joyce Ray Wheeler “I remember, I remember the house where I was born.” This is the first line of a poem Mrs. Iva Butram had her fourth graders memorize at Rocky Hill School in 1935. Yes, I do remember “the house where I was born.” It stood in the middle of little […]
PICKLES AND CHOCOLATE by Joyce Ray Wheeler Actually this title sounds a lot like the wild cravings of a pregnant woman ! Instead it refers to the totally unorganized, disconnected bits and pieces this article contains. Allow me to try to clarify. People who know me well are fully aware that I’m a confirmed chocoholic . I […]
NAME THAT TUNE by Joyce Ray Wheeler It happens frequently! On a busy morning of routine scheduling, I find myself almost inaudibly humming just a snatch of a tune. In fact, I don’t realize I am humming until all of a sudden I pause and ask myself “What is the name of that old tune? […]
THE MORAL OF THE STORY IS …?? By Joyce Ray Wheeler Remember when the stories and poems in children’s school books concluded with a message of preferred behavior? I hold in my hand my fourth grade reader, copyright 1925. Among my old books there is also a much worn copy of Grimm’s Fairy Tales. . […]
GIRL BITES DOG By Joyce Ray Wheeler It hasn’t been comfortable choosing to write this article for two reasons. First, I’ve written about dogs before, and second, I’m reluctant to admit that I am the girl who bit the dog! Once again we’re in my tiny hometown in rural Kentucky. My parents owned the house […]
CONTOTALLYFUSED By Joyce Ray Wheeler One of the dearest friends I ever had was also one of the most caring persons I’ve ever known. She believed firmly that no one who came to her for help should leave without feeling better. It was troubling to my friend when she felt she’d failed to meet a […]
INNERMOST THOUGHTS By Joyce Ray Wheeler The best stories begin with “Once upon a time” – so – Once upon a time a college student at age 18 began to teach Sunday School for primary age children. This was a joy and a blessing to her. She continued teaching this age group wherever she attended […]
Unhappy Gardener by Joyce Ray Wheeler Most every family in my childhood had garden big enough to grow beans for canning and corn for creamed corn as we called when those tender kernels were cut from the cob. My dad had a large garden although his profession had nothing to do with gardening. At the […]
I Had a Mother Who Read to Me By Joyce Ray Wheeler The Reading Mother is the name of the poem from which my title is taken. Written by a little known poet, Strickland Gillilan, the closing words are these: You may have tangible wealth untold… Caskets of jewels and coffers of gold… Richer than […]
LILACS AND SUNSETS When my mother, Nancy Ray, was a little girl, there were lilac bushes all around her house. Each house where my parents lived while I was growing up had at least one lilac bush! As mother aged, she developed macular degeneration which seriously affected her vision. As the disease progressed, whenever she […]
