Reflections of Life and Love as Experienced

By June Bedford

This is a fun story about two brothers who take a summer trip to Washington, D.C. They want Grandpa to answer a burning question about lasers. Grandpa engages Maxwell and Taylor into learning about an important event in his life as well as learning about ??lasers? that proves to be exciting to the grandsons. Grandpa and Nana plan a fun and educational time for Maxwell and Taylor as they learn how lasers have made a tremendous impact on their lives as well as on the lives of everyone else.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 8, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477236192

June Bedford

June (Doll) (Crider) Bedford June began writing poetic tributes to her family members and friends in the late seventies . Over the years she began including poems and short stories about significant events and experiences in her life. These are the renderings of her and her Muse (who wasn’t always around). June was born and raised in Bakersfield, California – the fifth of six children. She relocated to the San Francisco Bay Area in 1985. June is now retired from her position as an on-site apartment manager after 27 years. June and her husband, Paul, have resided in Fresno, CA since 1995. She has four wonderful sons and a host of others who refer to her as “Mom”. She has seven grandchildren and several step and extended grandchildren (they total 14), as well as four great grandchildren and another on the way. If they don’t call her “Mom” they call her “Grandma June” and she answers to all of them. These poems and stories are true and the names have NOT been changed to protect the innocent. It is what it is, so enjoy.

Book preview

REFLECTIONS

OF LIFE AND LOVE

AS EXPERIENCED

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BY

JUNE BEDFORD

AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2012 JUNE BEDFORD. All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system,

or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 04/14/2012

ISBN:   978-1-4685-7692-4 (sc)

ISBN:   978-1-4772-3619-2 (ebook)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012906421

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

I. REFLECTIONS OF LIFE

II. A SAD LOVE STORY GONE GLAD

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

June (Doll) (Crider) Bedford

June began writing poetic tributes to her family members and friends in the late seventies . Over the years she began including poems and short stories about significant events and experiences in her life. These are the renderings of her and her Muse (who wasn’t always around).

June was born and raised in Bakersfield, California – the fifth of six children. She relocated to the San Francisco Bay Area in 1985.

June is now retired from her position as an on-site apartment manager after 27 years. June and her husband, Paul, have resided in Fresno, CA since 1995.

She has four wonderful sons and a host of others who refer to her as Mom. She has seven grandchildren and several step and extended grandchildren (they total 14), as well as four great grandchildren and another on the way. If they don’t call her Mom they call her Grandma June and she answers to all of them.

These poems and stories are true and the names have NOT been changed to protect the innocent. It is what it is, so enjoy.

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DEDICATION

She has dedicated this book to three men in her life, though worlds apart, who had faith in her talent and confidence in her ability and who encouraged her to use them by compiling this collection of true and heartfelt stories and making them available for the enjoyment of others;

Paul Bedford, Damien Silveira and Nestor de la Cruz

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PROLOGUE

This collection of poems and stories was compiled with the unknowing help and the knowing love of my many dear friends and family members, to whom I am eternally grateful.

It’s a collection of some of the events and experiences that have made my life interesting and enjoyable. Thank you to all of you for being a part of my life.

Special thanks to my brother, David Doll and my granddaughter, Sunnee Crider for their contributions to this, my second book of poetry and short stories.

I hope everyone enjoys reading about the events, experiences and people who have made incredible impressions on my life and given me the inspiration to write about them.

I pray that my children and grandchildren might have a better understanding of their mother and grandmother after reading this book.

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I. REFLECTIONS

OF LIFE

STUFF

Why do we hang onto STUFF?

STUFF, like four sizes of clothes and dozens of pairs of out-of-date shoes taking up room in our closets.

SOMEDAY!!! We’ll diet and proudly wear those clothes again and we’re sure that those shoes are going to come back in style.

YEAH, RIGHT!!!

STUFF, like knick-knacks and various, useless bric-a-brac won at those afternoon card parties and club meeting raffles.

SOMEDAY!!! If we take care of them, they may become family heirlooms.

YEAH, RIGHT!!!

STUFF, like shoe boxes of clipped obits, newspaper articles, and photos of places and faces long forgotten.

SOMEDAY!!! We’ll put them into albums and scrapbooks, a history of family and friends. And we’ll label all of them as to who, what, where and when.

YEAH, RIGHT!!!

STUFF, like the three remaining sets of that wedding gift china or the crystal wine glasses with chips in the rims – they still sing when caressed with a moist fingertip, don’t they?

SOMEDAY!!! Our grandchildren may want them as remembrances of us.

YEAH, RIGHT!!!

STUFF, like that weather-worn telephone table handed down to you by your mother because YOU carved YOUR initials in it as a child. After all, Prince Charles carved his initials in the Throne of Scones at Westminster Abbey and they have not thrown it away.

SOMEDAY!!! When we become famous, it may become a valuable, historical relic.

YEAH, RIGHT!!!

STUFF, like the grocery coupons, diligently clipped from every Sunday newspaper and magazine we’ve ever received.

SOMEDAY!!! We’ll get one of those cute little coupon organizers, arrange them in alphabetical order and carry them on every trip to the market, to save lots of money.

YEAH, RIGHT!!!

STUFF, like that old telephone with the cord chewed in two by that cantankerous cat or the vacuum cleaner attachments (just like new) for the vacuum that passed on years ago. How about the birdcage home of Petey, the parakeet, who was laid to rest in the backyard by your young son or the blender that mixed its last margarita many parties ago.

I know, SOMEDAY!!! We’ll have a gigantic yard sale, sell all of our STUFF and earn enough extra money to take a fabulous, Caribbean cruise…

YEAH, RIGHT!!!

JURY DUTY FIASCO

(So Glad You Could Join Us)

My first experience at doing my civic duty by serving as a juror in our court system was indeed a comedy of errors and something to be shared.

It was Monday, after a long weekend at Pismo Beach with our boys, friends and our dune buggies. But, exhausted and sunburned, I appeared as summoned. All of the prospective jurors were assembled in Courtroom B. After calling roll, the clerk announced that half the group should report to Courtroom A as their names were called. After half the group filed out, the business of selecting jurors began. As anyone who has eve r served on jury duty is aware, this is a long and boring procedure. Midway through the interviews, a bailiff entered the room and announced my name. Surprised, I raised my hand and like a kid in school answered, Here. Seems my name had been called to report to Courtroom A. At that time, my hearing left a little to be desired and I hadn’t heard my name being called. I have since had surgery to correct the problem.

Very embarrassed, I went directly to Courtroom A where I noticed and empty juror’s chair… guess what… it was mine. The judge made a slightly humorous comment about contempt of court, blah, blah, laugh, laugh and said, So glad you could join us. With my head hung low to hide my red face, I proceeded to the jury box and slunk into my chair where interrogation into my character began by the two attorneys. They liked me. They kept me. Darn it!

After the jury selection was completed, we were allowed to take a break, which I thoroughly needed. I went to the restroom. When I returned, the jury room was empty. I met the bailiff at the door. He was looking for me. The trial was ready to commence. Again, I slunk into my empty juror’s chair and took my admonishment from the judge, who fortunately, was still in a good mood during his reprimand. Opening arguments were heard and then it was time for lunch break.

Determined not to be late again, I wolfed down my sparse, cardboard flavored lunch in the courthouse cafeteria and was the first one back to the courtroom where I had to wait for everyone else.

After lunch, the trial began in earnest. The testimony was ever so boring and it didn’t help that our weekend trip had left me somewhat hung over, sleepy and sunburned. Even the judge nodded off a time or two as his glasses slipped down his nose; so I didn’t feel too badly about dozing off momentarily during the questioning and technicalities being explained. Noting was said and we were excused for the day and instructed to report at 9 A.M. the next morning at the annex courtroom, adjacent to the courthouse.

I managed to get a good night’s sleep, knowing that I had to be up early in order to get my boys off to school and make it to court on time. I left home with time to spare. But Lo and behold! A block from the courthouse I met up with a train that was in no hurry to be anywhere. I had to drive four or five blocks out of the way to get to the parking lot, where of course, parking spaces were as scarce as hen’s teeth. After parking the car, I realized I had under two minutes to get to the courtroom. So I took off running.

As I rounded the corner of the courthouse, on my approach to the annex building, the bailiff met me with, We’ve been waiting for you. At precisely that moment, a four inch curb lunged out at me and caught my foot and I went sprawling face first on the cobbled walkway. My sunglasses shattered, my purse contents scattered and my knee was splattering blood through a gaping hole in my stockings. At that moment I wished I was dead. The bailiff assisted me to my feet and asked if I needed help to walk. I refused and headed for the juror’s entrance at the rear of the annex building. He entered through the front door, near the judge’s bench.

Again, I slunk into my waiting chair and was greeted by the judge with a sarcastic, So glad you could join us, Mrs. Crider. He then addressed the lady sitting next to me. Mrs. Carter, I have a job for you today. I’d like you to keep Mrs. Crider awake. (laugh-laugh) I responded, Who’s going to keep you awake, your Honor? At that point the bailiff informed the judge of my fall. The judge, suddenly very concerned for my welfare, asked if I was O.K., did I need a nurse, would I like to lie down, etc. I anxiously replied, No, I’m fine, thank you, let’s just get on with it. Mrs. Carter shared a Kleenex and a band-aid and helped me perform a quickie first aid job on my knee. The trial then resumed.

All I can tell you about the trial is that one young man was accused of assault and battery on another young man and they were both idiots, as well as all of the witnesses, friends and family members who snickered during the entire proceedings. All of them should have been on trial!

After the noon break, we all convened back into Courtroom A, where the trial resumed.

During the final arguments, my neighbor Mrs. Carter noticed a large two inch cockroach crawling up the carpeted wall separating the jury from the rest of the court officials. She inhaled sharply, gasped loudly and threw her hand over her mouth. All conversation halted and the judge glared at me impatiently and asked, Mrs. Crider, do you have a problem? NOPE, NOT ME, I replied as I shook my head and pointed to Mrs. Carter. She informed the judge of the bug and he instructed the bailiff to take care of it. We then proceeded.

Finally we began our deliberation and tried to make some sense of the testimony given and facts foreclosed. We had to have an interpretation of the law given by the judge part way through our deliberation. We couldn’t agree on a decision. One lady was holding out. She wanted a conviction while the rest of us wanted an acquittal. At 4:55 P.M. the bailiff called us back into the courtroom. The judge did not want to