Pedaler’s Prayer

Last June I was humbled by the generosity of a great number of friends and family members who supported me financially and with continued encouragement in The Great Cycle Challenge. Nationally over $8 million was raised by some 15,000 riders for children’s cancer research, and personally, after riding a bicycle 603 miles for the month, we raised just over $3,000 – No. 1 in the state of West Virginia and in the top 230 in the nation!

Those totals came after more modest goals – 500 miles and $1,000 – were originally proposed. Because, after returning to work in March, I rode a total of only 62 miles in March, April and May in (lack of) preparation – no base from which to build upon. Ol’ friend Matt Mandeville shamed me into upping my mileage goal (putting his money where his mouth is), even though I was essentially starting from scratch and having to ride little chippy 14 to 20 milers initially while I got my legs, lungs and big arse in better shape. In truth, I had no idea what to expect concerning donations. My brother Barry Thaxton got it started – maybe the donations rolled in more heavily when it appeared I could actually exceed half my goal. LOL.

Why did I do it? One, WE ARE BLESSED! How can I not do something? Two, eradicating all cancer is the true goal – my sister and three of my closest friends have been taken from us – but a child suffering and losing that battle is especially heart-wrenching and incomprehensible. We’ve seen that the fear and uncertainty involved in a child being diagnosed is beyond devastating. I pray this can help end that. We need hope! Three, I was gifted a worthy bike by a special person – Rich Harper, proprietor of John’s Cyclery. I feel I must continue to do what I can to pay his generosity forward. If you care to read that story, please click on:     https://andrewspradling.wordpress.com/2016/08/20/immeasurable-kindness/

This spring, I was able to ride 476 miles in March, April, and May – the last six on Hilton Head Island yesterday – and am prepared to attempt 188 miles a week to reach 750 for the month (800 would feel REALLY good). Optimistically, I set my fundraising goal where we left off last year – $3,000. To put the mileage in perspective, I flirted with these numbers 28 years ago (at 28-years-old), when Derek Watson got me hooked and we rode nearly every day – and were occasionally joined by fitness legends Rick Robinson and Dave Walker.

Unfortunately, like everything else, due to Covid-19, The Great Cycle Challenge has been postponed until September. This creates a degree of uncertainty for my participation at that level. Myssy suggested better lights and 4:30 a.m. starts – not the worst idea safety-wise. I will keep you posted and with the help of health-purist Larry Ellis, keep pedaling over hill and dale with lofty goals, songs, and suspenseful tales in mind. Have a great summer!

Learn more at https://greatcyclechallenge.com/   Thanks for reading, A.S.

 

 

 

the genius of Andrew Spradling (a repost of Joseph Bird)

Here are some hints and clues as to the nature of my next project. A sincere thanks to Shelton College Review member Joseph Bird, who is completing his FIFTH novel, for these flattering thoughts and comments – please follow link and read HIS post, my reason for writing today. 

Let me add that if you are an independent writer at the beginning stages of this game, find yourself a writers group to bounce ideas off, help edit, support, and encourage. Along with our founder Larry Ellis, Joe and I are in a positive, fun, informative situation that very much helps me in my quest for completing a third novel, following The Long Shadow of Hope, and The Lost Lantern. The photo, for photography buffs, is from a recent Charleston (WV) Live On The Levee, and is a situation in her game of cat and mouse that Harper Stowe might find herself in. Thanks for reading and keep slinging ink! A.S. 

via the genius of Andrew Spradling

A New Day Rising

A new day rising

Brings us hope

The week gone by

had firsts and lasts

Lifelong memories

sad goodbyes

Godly welcomes

gatherings

Help to heal

races, tests

body blows

chapters, charity

coffee cake

humble pie

growing grass

spinning spokes

familiar faces

introductions

soulful songs

learned and

forgotten

But a new day rising

Brings us hope.

 

©2018

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Ballads of Two Thin Men

HUNTINGTON, WV – Had the pleasure of seeing Lyle Lovett and John Hiatt together in concert, two chairs, taking turns, accompanying each other, singing harmony, Hiatt playing leads. If you get the chance and are so inclined, don’t miss it. Well worth it. Had to borrow some words to get this ball rolling again. Thanks for reading, A.S.

 

Heard the ballads of two thin men, yet I’m empty of all words.

For a song that is in search of, a bridge and a third verse.

Now Hiatt he would blues it out, Lyle would take it deep,

The difference would be negligible, their writing not discreet.

 

“She’s no lady,” he proclaims, although she wears his ring,

“She’s my wife,” he coyly lets us in, complete is his slow zing.

That image always makes me smile, unlike the next great find,

Sad to think, without a blink, “She’s already made up her mind.”

 

Johnny tests the great conquest, with this the perfect line,

From narra’tor – “His beer was warmer, than the look in her eye.”

If his “Smashing a perfectly good guitar” don’t tickle,

Neither “Tennessee Plates,” nor “Baby Drive South” – you’re fickle.

 

“Honey it’s so early, we probably shouldn’t speak yet,”

So “I’m gonna wait, just a little bit longer,”

“My Baby Won’t Tolerate” an “Icy Blue Heart,”

So if you failed to Lovett, “It Feels Like Rain,” and “You’re Paper Thin.”

 

© 2017

 

The Grade Savior

Author’s note: Mr. Tom Morgan, center, and a former star-student Loretta (Franciose) Goolbsy last month at the Art Walk, in downtown Charleston, West Virginia. Mr. Morgan taught English Composition for the college bound at our high school, and I never learned more in a class. He was an inspiration and 35 years later I was proud to be able to hand him my second novel. Thanks for reading! A.S.

 

In a town that was booming from a chemical craze,

A time not forgotten, but most certainly changed,

The vitality caused by the brilliance of many,

Their children raised with expectations a’plenty.

 

Inside walls that held so many young minds,

Was a wizard of sorts, who gave sight to the blind.

The tool that he used was his Grade Saver Sheet,

From a standpoint of learning it couldn’t be beat.

 

Prepositions, slang, expressions deemed trite,

The comma, if questioned, must take a quick hike.

If you naively asked how to spell a tough word,

D-I-C-T-I-O-N-A-R-Y was what you heard.

 

Compositions completed was just half the fight,

Cause a pronoun misused dropped your “A” out of sight.

“Express, not impress,” his writing decree,

Two spliced indie clauses a comma fait accompli.

 

“A lot” was a place and if it made your paper,

A great deal of anguish was soon to come later.

If you shifted a tense, or let a sentence run on,

Used You and Your pronouns, you best just be gone.

 

You could take those themes on with you to college,

’Cause the 101-ers you met didn’t have your knowledge.

Just correct, re-write and turn them on in,

With the time that you saved you could go for a spin.

 

If you look back with less than a smile you ain’t tryin’,

And if you say you learned little I just ain’t a-buyin’,

And if “ain’t” was uttered, he would show no restraint,

Tom Morgan, by God, would express his complaint.

 

© 2017

 

Loner

Dusk came as he worked his boat,

too focused to notice his surroundings.

Toiling for that which he loves, that which pays his bills.

Solitary in effort.

Daily grind or sprucing for a guest?

One that might make him forget being alone

for long, long hours.

For charter, or for pleasure?

The waves that rock him daily

are as comforting as his mother’s arms,

which he can only remember

in his dreams.

Yet he avoids sleep,

and the journeys that come

with slumber.

 

 

 

What I’ll Be For You

Author’s note: Changed a few words in the fifth stanza because I didn’t properly convey my meaning. I am blessed with the most wonderful wife and children. Thanks for reading, A.S.

The beauty of a Sunday stroll,

Not through meadows, not by knolls,

But through the preface of our souls,

Combined, as we raise our young.

 

The day invited outdoor fun,

March kicked off with the warmest sun,

But viewing memories would all but trump,

Invitations just begun.

 

Forgotten phrasing, remembered touches,

Darling eyelids that can’t stay open,

Rolling balls and baby dolls,

And voices that can’t return.

 

Halloweens and carving pumpkins,

Juxtaposed by scary somethings,

Laughter that can save this bumpkin,

From heartache yet to come.

 

Tiny toes imprint the sand,

A picture Momma sees and plans,

Dolphin fins and ceiling fans,

When napping comes so easy.

 

The interaction between the other,

As they begin to discover,

What’s a sister, what’s a brother,

And what I’ll be for you.

 

© 2017

Questions Still Yet To Ponder

My two little brothers, from a fraternity sense,

A lifetime gone from the daily pretense,

Of growing, posturing, searching, competing,

Of thinking, choosing, studying, completing,

Both giving more than they could possibly take,

Both leaving borders for not-too-far-states,

Yet somehow their stories were always nearby,

Small-town existence leaves a well of close ties,

After thirty-five years, in a space of two months,

Tragedy brings them to the mind’s forefront,

One lost his wife, the other, his daughter,

The worst two fears of a husband or father,

Each with a healthy respect for our Lord,

The healing a bill they both can afford,

That doesn’t soften the pain of departure,

Or answer the questions, still yet to ponder.

copyright 2017

Picture – From The Woodpile At Dusk, 2-15-17 by Andrew Spradling

  

Ode To A Blank Page

Author’s note: Borrowing the most-used title in poetry… thanks for reading. A.S.

 

At first glance there is a gleam,

A fresh take – potential,

A mountain not yet trampled,

A field allowed to be … itself,

As life flutters about curiously,

Over virgin snow,

Like finely-tuned strings and a long bow,

Hope of growth and development,

Knowledge that the equation starts at zero,

Like invigorating silence allowed to breathe,

And the page is the color of optimism.

Thoughts can be in many places,

Focused or forever floating,

The words can become willful,

Twist and turn like a twig in a rapid,

As frustration pours over the rocks,

Uncontrollably.

It will choose a path,

One can breed a darling,

One can breed contempt,

One can become trapped and entangled.

Until the ride ends,

The answer is unclear,

And may remain unclear,

Ripe for speculation,

And ridicule.

 

© 2017

Morning Light, Morning Shadows

 

As you prepare to wow and beguile,

To impress for success,

To brilliantly provide,

I search,

For words,

For explanation,

For courage,

For Faith,

For strength,

To put in the past events of the present,

To let go of disappointments,

To forgive offenders,

To purge bitterness,

When the morning light

Finds its way

Through the window.

 

 

©2017