A Kof with no Name
We are in a quandary. I’ve created several images of the Hebrew letter Kof for a SlideShare presentation on Stephen Fuchs’ website, rabbifuchs.com. All the Kofs have names but one. Number 10 is nameless.
This simply will not do.
So, we are calling upon you to…name that Kof!
Here’s how to participate:
1. Go to http://www.rabbifuchs.com/the-art-of-kof.html
- Scroll down the page until you see the SlideShare Presentation entitled “Kof Art”. As you click through the slideshow, hopefully you will become inspired and come up with a name for #10
Submit your entries to email@example.com
The winning entry will receive a free, signed copy of “Why the Kof?” Getting the Best of Rabbi Fuchs.”
But wait! There’s more:
The winning entry will also receive a free, signed, copy of “Gutter Ball: A Collection of Short Stories” by me, Susan Marie Shuman.
The contest will run for one week; ending on June 6, at 9:00pm. Enter as often as you like.
The winner will be announced on June 7th.
This is a Kof
I was always on your side,
taking-up for you—
right or wrong.
We were a team.
Then, I found out about
your secret draft choice
Out of Bounds
Now it’s all about Team Susan.
Still wanna play ball?
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The Daily Post
My homeboyz call me a fanatic
Cause when I see that girl it’s automatic
I get ecstatic; act all erratic
Like a jammed-up semiautomatic.
I ain’t nothin’ but that baby girl’s addict.
Now I’m off to swim the Adriatic
In hopes she’ll find me charismatic.
If not, it’s gonna be traumatic
Cause I’m dramatic—can’t be pragmatic
When her perfume, it smells so aromatic—
I get fanatic…
Courtesy of livingwithballs.com
My mother’s name was Vivian.
She was born at home in Bridgewater, South Dakota in 1919–two days after Christmas. The name Vivian means “lively” which is ironic since she appeared to be stillborn. The umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck. My mom was blue and lifeless. Assuming there was no hope, her oldest sister, Anne put Mom on the kitchen counter; out-of-the-way. A few moments later another of mom’s eleven siblings, my Aunt Idie, saw some movement; Vivian was alive!
And all was right with the world.
Mom led an interesting and colorful life. She was drop-dead gorgeous and lived for the moment. She had a lot of fun, as well as her share of tears. She never found her very own Mr. Right, but had a blast looking for him.
My mom was my best friend. She saw me through some of the most difficult times of my life, and never gave up. Even in the bleakest hours, she remained my personal cheerleader.
She died in her sleep, in May 28, 2004.
All will never me right with my world again.
- 1990, Boulder, CO
- 1940s Chicago
- Fox Lake, IL
Birthday candles were the inspiration; adolescent psychosis provided the motivation.
“It’s so pretty, Mister,” Freddy explained to the fire fighter after torching the neighbor’s doghouse. (He’d made sure Duke was at the groomer’s, first). “I like the fire,” he continued. “The blue is like Mommy’s [saffer] ring. And the orange is for Halloween and pumpkins.”
That was at the tender age of seven.
Fast-forward thirty-three fires:
“… wanted to feel th’ sapphire, Dude,” a whisper throbbed through a shroud of morphine, gauze and bandages.
The detective struggled to make out the gasps.
“And how did it feel, son?”
“Like…bein’ inside fireworks…watchin’ myself sizzle…,” he managed. “Like a birthday ca—”
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