Wednesday, November 12, 2008


My precious daughter, Abigail Ann, was born on November 12, 1982, during a time of great trial for my family. She proved to be a joy during that difficult time. I remember well the comfort she brought me when I held her in my arms after my hard days. There's nothing like a soft baby to ease a man's tension and help him forget the harsh trials of time. She was our seventh child, our good luck baby. And she has had good fortune. Early in 1983, her mother fell down the hard wooden steps of our home in Merchantville, while carrying little Abby. Momma broke her foot, but Abby was not injured in any way. Heavenly Father has held His protective hand over our Abby all throughout her life. She knows this is true. I love my Abigail! She is entwined around my heart like a morning glory vine. She has brought me so much happiness. I continually pray that the best of Heaven's blessings may come to her in her marriage and motherhood. I believe she has a glorious destiny.
Happy Birthday, Abidoo! I'll love you forever.

December 1982



May 1986, Take One
Take Two

Saturday, November 8, 2008


St. Holiday, a briefly-mentioned figure in anecdotal lore, in a footnote here and there, was as calm as a beanless casserole today following an experimental operation fraught with risk, performed by the clinical cooperative group of the White Mountain Brain Center. Tests have confirmed that he is still alive. His first words after the operation were, "Call me Fliptop." His wife, the Lovely One replied, "We may have to call you, Scooby Doofus." Long known to reject the blind application of standard solutions to personal difficulties, solutions such as suicide or euthanasia, the suffering soul opted for radical, invasive surgery to remove vast areas of necrotic tissue from both sides of his cerebral Partisan Divide. Sources report that when the top of his skull was removed for the debulking procedure, a cloud of dead brain cells, having the consistency of vacuum cleaner dust, caused a fit of sneezing among all present in the operating room. Oddly enough, what remained after the necrotic tidbits and itty-bitties were excised could not accurately be called "gray matter," for it had the multi-colored appearance of tutti-frutti icecream. The second part of the operation involved a revolutionary breakthrough in science. Surgeons sought to stimulate mitosis, or cell division and proliferation, by injecting an extract of cocoa into the Golgi apparati of his remaining brain cells. Only time will tell if the operation is successful. Now St. Holiday faces a long, hard struggle to recovery, as he has for the past fifty years.

The patient was awake throughout the operation and was able to carry on a conversation of sorts with the circling surgeons, nurses, media reps and members of the Obama Transition team. "I feel rattled," he said. "Someone Kevork me; I hurt," he mumbled. When asked if he would like an analgesic for the pain, St. Holiday replied, "No, that part of me is fine. Do you have a headogesic?"

A sort of minor figure among Show Low's Holy Illuminati, St. Holiday, whose very voice in days long past could make a preacher cry, confess and check into rehab, had noticed a diminishment of all his geek signifiers ever since his days as a Cold War superspy (code name: Deep Thought) and his debut in the national tabloids. Many have mentioned that every time he speaks, something ordinary comes out of his mouth, something mundane and unremarkable.

Upon seeing him for the first time, laid out on the operating table, a nurse said, "I can't believe how powerful he looks in person!" One of his surgeons replied, "Except for his body and soul, he is just like you and me." "Doesn't he look natural!" another said. "With his head shaved like that and his tongue hanging out, he kinda looks like a capital Q," added the saintly one's wife, who has a fondness for surgical procedures and insisted upon being in the operating room during the entire 16-hour operation. As a nurse shaved his head in preparation for the craniotomy, St. Holiday amused her and onlookers by singing a jingle from the '50's, made famous by Fearless Fosdick himself, "Wildroot Cream-Oil, Charlie!" This was followed by his stirring rendition of another old jingle, "Bryl-Cream, a little dab will do ya. She'll love to run her fingers through your hair."

Prior to the operation, St. Holiday put in brutal 8-hour shifts at his tee-shirt factory, The Bustin' T Party, and struggled to find energy for his quirky adaptation of the play "Death Takes a Holiday." When the Spirit moved him, he spent time playing rap records backwards, listening for cloaked messages from the angels. If the operation proves to be a success, we might hope that the holy man will recommence his retreat from private life and continue to make his small contribution to society by varnishing harsh truths for the sake of his posterity and his adoring disciples. It is also to be hoped that the surgery will influence his sins of humor.

St. Holiday's children tried to talk him out of the risky surgery, saying, "Dad, you're just doing this for your insanity defense. Besides, you haven't made your will yet or chosen your taxidermist." Despite his children's preference for cryogenic taxidermy, St. Holiday often speaks of his desired interment at Coopertown Burying Ground, where many of his ancestors are awaiting the morning of the First Resurrection. Now it appears that his burial will be accomplished on an installment plan, inasmuch as his excised dead brain cells and a canister of dead skin cells from a Kirby Vacuum Cleaner demonstration on his own bed were collected and mixed together for early burial at his Coopertown plot. A special graveside service is planned for the event, with Tina Turner singing, "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot."

As a sidenote, St. Holiday has named his new dog, Bark Obama, in honor of the victor in the Nation's presidential campaign. There is hope that the pup icon will become the first dog on the moon, a true lunar rover.

Monday, November 3, 2008


Saint Holiday broke away from his handlers at the executive brainstorming session of the semi-annual conference of the Show Low Temperance and Abstinence League to issue the following statement: "My permanent state of apology will end soon. I'm sorry it has lasted so long. I regret that I must cut it short. I beg the kind indulgence of the public during this period of personal transition, as I attempt to transcend the monotony of my exciting life. Beyond this, it grieves me to admit that I have nothing more substantial to add to current discourse."

Saturday, November 1, 2008


The first meeting of the White Mountain Sacred Cow Society, held in the Show Low Library on Friday, was a surprising success. There has been a remarkable flowering of consciousness in these parts, leading to a shift toward true bovine tolerance in a broader "reverence for life" movement, which has taken hold of the people here like a fever. The venerable St. Holiday welcomed a standing-room-only crowd (someone forgot to set up the chairs) of dignitaries and residents from Show Low, Pinetop-Lakeside, Linden, the White Mountain Apache tribe and other surrounding communities. After a good-natured roasting of the inspired founder of the newly-organized society by prominent members of the ranching community, time was given to a special guest, His Divine Grace B. S. Bhaktishiva Swami Bhagadung, to explain the rudiments of true ruminant enlightenment. After his stirring presentation, many made their way to the front of the room to kneel and renounce their former carnivorous ways, swearing ever after to abstain from the eating of red meat, together with green or bluish meat. Wal-Mart and Safeway are said to be gearing up for a surge in sales of soy-based products. The question of whether to admit bulls to the sacred order was tabled indefinitely. There was widespread resistance to the notion of allowing calves to participate, based upon a literal reading of the Biblical book of Exodus. A women's auxiliary was appointed and charged with fashioning colorful head-dresses for our sacred cows as a fundraising activity. It is anticipated that these floral crowns will be available for purchase in a variety of sizes and styles at the Show Low City Hall in about a month. Representatives of the governing bodies of major White Mountain cities and towns expressed their willingness to introduce municipal ordinances permitting sacred cows to freely roam throughout the communities. This prospect of bovine emancipation was met with such wild cheering and applause that several shushing librarians rushed to the scene of the celebration. St. Holiday was the closing speaker for the evening, and many were moved by the crackling precision of his participles. The next general meeting of the White Mountain Sacred Cow Society was scheduled for 7 PM, November 18th in the City Council Room of the Show Low Library. Another large crowd is expected to attend, so we would urge the public to come early for the best seating.

In a completely unrelated development, closely connected to the afore-mentioned proceedings, we have learned that attorneys for St. Holiday and his wife are finalizing an agreement of reconciliation. This week, the holy man's embarrassed wife fled to Albuquerque to avoid her commitment at the White Mountain Institute for the Clinically Addicted. The discovery of her chocolate addiction was widely reported last week through the organs of our national media. Informed sources are saying that agents for the two are applying last touches to an accord, which will permit each of them to consume liberal amounts of chocolate without criticism from the other. It is now expected that the Lovely One will join her husband tomorrow at the International Lego League Championship.