Archives - February 2014

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Feb. 8

Daddy

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The Little Cemetery on the Hill

“Daddy’s dead.”  Two words you never want to hear linked together.  But the deed is done and cannot be undone.

            My sister Dena and I carried Daddy home to the rolling hills of Panola County, the place of his birth 75 years before.  He grew up in Gary, Texas, a little freckle-faced boy who loved fishing and playing dominoes but hated plowing.

            A lot of water passes under the bridge over the course of 75 years.  High school and college graduations and jobs in the city and thousands of hours playing dominoes and cards and the births of three children and the death of one and retirement back home to raise cows and vegetables and a move to live with a daughter and too many jokes and quips and one-liners and quick come-backs to count.

            Daddy was a trickster of mythical ...

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Listening to the whispering pines

Hello. My name is Donna Cozart Pauley. Welcome to The Whispering Pines, a literary blog dedicated to my love of the written word. It is an eclectic collage of my life -- from my poems to my stories to my family to my pets to my causes to my photographs to my recipes to my love of teaching to my favorite literature. Please feel free to comment. Words are only important if they are heard or read. Just like those soundless trees falling in the forest.

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