Archive for the ‘What Pegman Saw’ Category

The Thief

Posted: September 16, 2017 in What Pegman Saw
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Today What Pegman Saw took us to St. Petersburg, Russia. After strolling the streets I found the church of Our Savior on Spilled Blood – per our fearless leader’s suggestion. The exterior reminded me of a woman dressed in her finest clothes. Here is her story in 150-words.

The mirror reflects:
1) dress made of midnight blue silk
2) six gold chains; three turquoise rings
3) shoes made of the softest leather
4) elaborate curls the color of an autumn sunset
5) peach-pink cheeks; garnet-colored eyes
Oksana is ready

Oksana sees:
1) a liar – not her
2) a cheat – not her either
3) a thief – this almost applies

What Evgeny reads in the Sovetsky Sakhalin newspaper dated October 23rd, 1925:
Oksana Petrov found floating in Grboyedov Canal at 3:00 am this morning, had this note along with five heavy stones in the pocket of her ermine cape.

None can live inside the shadow of a man who serves words meant to cover the truth. Neither can they live wondering who has been cheated so that same man may be surrounded by wealth beyond all imagining. To this man, I say, “I am taking my life back.” You will consider it stealing. On the contrary – you never owned me.

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Sad History

Posted: September 1, 2017 in What Pegman Saw
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Today Pegman took us to Poisson-Blanc, Quebec. I scrolled around and found a man holding a half-fish! This is what happened next.

Long ago our sons,
tangles of muscle, brain
laughter and kindness
used two-foot long arrows
to fell stags with antlers
large enough to support
every wall of our homes

Our daughters
slim, strong
and
more beautiful than a
single
crimson
rose
hooked fish as long as their arms

Then you came
with armies and inventions
and words that meant
everything
everything
everything
before they simply meant nothing at all

You gave us
automobiles, planes
and power plants powered by poison
while we shared our bounty
and welcomed you into our homes

Look what happened
Look!
Now!
and, finally, look again

With every landslide
earthquake and change of tide
we
the original people
pay the consequences while
you
the intruder
move on
with a bag full of a thousand empty promises

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Today Pegman took us to Wroclaw, Poland. I found this jolly Christmas village in the Magnolia Park Mall. In my mind, this tale started fairly fun before taking a dark turn. Sign of the times? Perhaps.

Let’s say that just this once Mikolaj loves Christmas. We’ll pretend Cecylia hasn’t left him and he has one last chance to buy gifts for their children. One boy. One girl.
Maybe not. Maybe Cecylia never had children and she spends all her time in the bedroom wondering why and her tears cause Mikolaj to run to Magnolia Park, the horrible mall at the center of Wroclaw, and he fights the crowds to buy his wife teddy bears, slippers, and her favorite perfume. Anything to slide under the tree to stop the crying.
Or perhaps our Mikolaj isn’t married. Maybe his parents fought all the time and he never wanted a life like that. Or they loved so deeply he knew, absolutely, he couldn’t have a life like theirs so didn’t even try.
In the end, let’s say his parents died in Auschwitz on Christmas day and Mikolaj was never born.

(150-words)

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Today Pegman took us to Cape Town, South Africa. While scrolling through the sites I found this lovely sculpture on the lawn – somewhere.

“Damn it, June! You’ve hidden my eyeglasses again.”
You can’t keep track of your own nose, old man. “I think you left them on the lawn, next to the lounge chair, Samuel.” June tosses a sweater in the laundry bag.
“Why on God’s green earth would I do that?”
Why indeed. “You read out there last evening.” Five pairs of underpants and a bra go on top.
“That has nothin’ to do with nothin’. Where’d you put ’em?”
If I had a penny for every time you asked that I’d be rich. Two shirts and three pairs of slacks fill the bag. June tugs it closed before lacing up her favorite tennies and slinging the bag across her shoulders. “I’ll go check.”
” ‘Bout time you did something worth doin’.”
Junes steps on Samuel’s glasses on her way to the car, ticket to France bunched in her fist. It sure is.

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The Diary

Posted: July 22, 2017 in What Pegman Saw
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Today Pegman took us to the Great Barrier Reef to swim with turtles! How fun is that? What a wonderful place for the imagination to spin out of control.

Clutching her tattered diary, the old woman speaks.
“I’ve flown with pelicans. Sung with whales and danced with fairies in the dark. Once I rode a turtle’s back. I’ve lived inside a volcano. Built a house from coral and carried it to the top of a mountain in the palm of my hand.”
The children giggle.
“I’ve lain in fields of golden glass poppies and slept in ice caves so blue and warm I needed to wear my swimsuit.” Wink. “Or nothing at all.”
The children go silent.
“I’ve loved and been loved by dragons and kings, princesses and Gollums. I’ve been to war, caused a war and ended a war. Fire is my friend. Weakness my enemy.”
The children grow bored. The woman falls asleep.
Carefully the eldest child steals the diary, opens it. Feathers and fairy wings, fire, coral, ice, and shards of golden glass drift upon the floor.


Today Pegman took us to Cape Crozier for a wee camping trip. This is my 150-word story about this rocky place.

My Dearest Angela,
The wind blew brusquely last night. Twice I found myself braving the cold to place rocks around the tent base while Charles slept soundly. Although his face is blackened by frostbite and most of his fingers are gone, he remains a pleasant companion.
I’m afraid we shall be trapped on this outcrop until spring. Snow has fallen for ten full days and buried our supplies. How I wish I had planned better. We were forced to abandon our scientific equipment two months ago for it became too heavy for the ponies to pull. Our clothes soak up moisture and do not dry out. We have eaten our leather boots. Ice crystals tear at the wool of ours socks. They are shredded.
The ponies ran away four days ago.
We have eaten all the dogs.
My one wish is to see you. Faithfully yours, Frances

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We strolled through Berlin with Pegman today. Oh, the sites he showed us. I liked this view of the Berlin wall, so stopped to enjoy a pint and listen to what Schwartzie had to say. I found out he’s not a pleasant man. On the other hand, Mordechai is very patient.

“Is this why we built the wall? Is this what we asked for? This crazy art?”
Schwartzie, shut up! One night of peace! Please! That’s all I ask!
“Finally got the Jews on their side. Us on ours.”
No, we didn’t. Chava Kline tutors my kids.Couldn’t find a better teacher.
“And those homos! Poof! Gone!”
One of those homos cleans our house ten times better than my wife.
“We built that wall to keep niggers on their own side!!! Now we’re defacing it.”
Schwartzie! Drink your beer and go. Please. People who come to my bar don’t want to listen to your interpretation of history.
As if conjured, Jamelle Horowitz, the blackest gay Jew the bartender ever met, strolled into the bar, spray paint can in hand.
“Hey, Mordechai, my sister can’t teach your kids tomorrow, got a cold. And I can’t clean your house, got a wall to paint.”

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