Reincarnation of a small pot

When we moved to the United States, one friendly family brought to us a small saucepan. It wasn't new. We used it every day: to boil water for coffee, to boil the eggs, for heating one can of spagettious, ravioli, or spaghetti with meatballs. We cooked many other things in this pot. We never returned little saucepan back. It travelled with me from Pennsylvania to Texas. White layer of minerals replaced original non-sticking coat. The cat liked to drink water purchased in the store from it. It tasted better than water from the wells too rich on minerals. I brought little saucepan with me back to Pennsylvania. I looked at it when I was unpacking. It wasn't brown anymore, the bottom bulged, so it began to dance on the stove. The saucepan was all worn out. It's cooking carier was over. It has a little hole in the holder, so I used it for a string and suspended little saucepan from the knocker on the door. Little saucepan serves now as the knocker. I hope one day there will be somebody who will use it and I will be coming to open the door smiling. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann 2/2/2010

Umbrella

I delivered newspaper in Port Carbon. I was on the third street. It's called Shantytown. I had one address: Austin Drive. What is Austin Drive doing in Port Carbon? I was looking for the street, I asked people, I even stopped at Borrow Hall. It was somewhere there. I came back to look for an address. It was raining hard and I was third time on 3rd street. There was a confederate flag hanging on the garage. So I new I was close. I stepped out of the car, planning to go on foot, I opened my beautiful, expensive umbrella, with the white clouds on the blue sky. Suddenly the wind blew, turned upside down the umbrella and broke it - and it stopped blowing. It still rained, but there was stillness in the air. I wrote down the address wasn't in my area - and left. My supervisor found the house later. She said: it's kind of spooky there. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Port Carbon, 2/2/2009

Immigrant

I am an immigrant. What do you want from me? I am the immigrant with long family tradition. My grandfather was an immigrant. My father was an immigrant, and I am also one. For variety each of us picked different country. My grandfather left and my father came back. I left, and so far, didn't come back. I am also a citizen of a country, where I am now, and I feel like one. Some people still call me the immigrant. When I am cheeky I answer: We all are a nation of immigrants - except - - of course - Indians. It's New Year, so I propose a wish: Good health to all immigrants, and Happy New Year! Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 1/4/09

A doll

Once I had a doll with porcelain head and stuffed body. The doll could open and close its eyes. The doll didn't last long. I wanted to know what kind stuffing was used for this particular doll. So I played a doctor. What kind stuffing? I do not remember anymore. I wasn't able to reverse my deed. My sisters called me a wrecker and refused to do repair, or buy me another one. No more dolls for Marie, the wrecker. I discovered an eye mechanism, too. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville,12/29/09

Beginnings & endings

I have to hem a skirt, which is too long. Where is the beginning? Where is the end? They are two seems. One will be the beginning, second seem is in the middle and the ending is at the beginning. It's a circle. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville 1/1/2010

Dog's poop

My sister and her friend walked one sunny fall afternoon to help to clean closed down allotment gardens. They found and dug out bulbs of all kind of plants. Her friend had a back yard garden with some flower beds, so they were very pleased with their findings, and it was time to return back home. They boarded tram with their plastic bags and took a place on the back platform. After a while they began to sniff and sister's friend says: "I smell something. Do you smell something also?" And after a while: "It stinks like dog's poop." They sniffed the content of their bags, but it was O.K. They sniffed follow travelers but they were also O.K. Finally they began to sniff each other until her friend discovered a dog's poop on her shoe. They had to get out off the tram. The friend cleaned her shoe very carefully until the shoe was free of smell, and everything was O.K. again. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, New Year's Eve 2009

Taxi Continued

you have to go." Eventually I found out the town recently has no Taxi service, but old phone books have mine phone number under Taxi. For a while I was playing with the idea to take Taxi Service as my second, evening job, but my common sense talked me out of it. "Girl, don't be dummy, you are capable get lost everywhere, and now you want to deliver people in the area you are not familiar with." So I started to talk to people and tried to pursue them, that this town definitely has a market for Taxi Service, so the town should do something about it. Into the phone I patiently explained: the town doesn't have any taxi service right now, and I am very sorry for inconvenience, and I was thinking: Oh, boys, you will have to walk tonight, when I went to make myself a tea. The last taxi phone I received at 6.30 in the morning on Christmas Day. It was freezing outside and icy, unusual whether for Texas. Young lady asked me to take her to the airport - about two hours of fast ride from town. Young lady was desperate. I told her I am sorry, she has an old phone book and I can not help her,