March Starter Sentence

Courtesy of Pat Clark

The crowd applauded politely when the ball landed six feet past the pin, skipped forward then spun back and stopped eight inches from the hole.  I was on the tenth hole at Augusta, four shots back of leader, Jason Day.

               If I make this birdie, I’ll jump back on the leaderboard.

               “Great shot,” said Jason, although I knew he would have liked it better if I had hit into one of the deep greenside bunkers.

               We walked to the green together as Jason made idle conversation about the colors of the azaleas and the great April weather.  On the green however, Jason’s chatter stopped and he was focused like a laser on his putt, which was a good twelve feet.  Jason’s putt stopped less than an inch from dropping in the cup.  He then calmly walked up and tapped it in for par, which opened the door for me to move up if I could make my short put for birdie.

               I looked at the shot from every possible angle and discerned that in only eight inches, the ball would break right, toward the pond, by at least two inches.  As I walked up to the ball I cleared every thought from my head except, Make This Putt.

               Muscle memory licked in and I kept my head still as I slowly tapped the ball then listened for the clapunk as the ball fell in the hole.

               The crowd applauded a little more enthusiastically.

               The next seven holes were give and take between Jason and me. I won a few more than him and we approached the eighteenth green in a tie.  Jason was much less talkative at this point.  The crowd was now very large and supportive of me as the underdog.

               My approach shot to the green landed about eight feet from the hole.  Jason was about ten feet out.  He putted first.  Once again, his putt was almost perfect but stopped just inches from the hole.  He tapped it in and smiled at me. 

I could read his mind; the pressure is on you now.

I looked at the putt from behind the hole, from behind the ball and, from behind the hole again.  Three inch break to the right. 

I stepped up to the ball and stood over it.  Make this putt and you’re the Masters Champion!  I looked back at my caddie, who happened to be my son.  This may be a moment we’ll remember forever, I thought.  He smiled and winked, “You can make this dad.”

I took two deep breaths and closed my eyes to visualize the shot.

“Sir, excuse me sir.”

“Huh?”  I opened my eyes.

“Sir, would you prefer chicken or pasta for your in-flight meal?”

January Starter Sentence

This month's starter sentence was provided by Sally Parrott writing as Jayne Ormerod.

At our annual post-holiday white elephant swap I selected the largest box and just about jumped out of my skin when I opened it and saw lying there.amidst a puddle of red tissue paper a little bitty book.  But not just any little-bitty book, but a fresh-off-the-Barnes-and-Noble bookshelf copy of the latest Mommy Porn book. It was the most popular book, sales wise, ever. I could feel heat flood my face as I stared down at the very, very, very, suggestive cover. Me, retired kindergarten teacher, president of the Ladies Aide society and a Girl Scout Troup Leader of the Year for the past quarter century, was expected to lift the book out of the box and pass it around for all to see. This was not the kind of thing one shared with this audience. "Show us" came a chorus of church ladies, the youngest of whom was seventy-two. I feared old Mrs. Monroe would have a heart attack if she saw what was in the box.  But the chants got louder and I couldn't very well NOT show it.  So I reached in, and between pinched fingers, extracted the glossy-covered book and held it high for all to see.  The crowd reaction was shocked silence, stone-faced disapprovers all. Not a gasp or a titter or snort to be heard.  What would those women think if they knew my dirty little secret, that I was the author of this naughty little book?  But an author who was smiling all the way to the bank.

Our Favorite Passages of 2015

Each year in December our members share their most memorable or favorite passage they have read in the past year. Below is a list of books where we found our 2015 favorites. Maybe you will find a new read for yourself.

Michelle Davenport     The Night Before Christmas

Michelle Davenport and Mike Owens     The Velveteen Rabbit

Mike Owen     "Kindness" (poem)

Jenny Sparks     Go Set A Watchman

Pat Clark     Dead Wake: The Last Crossing of the Lusitania

Skip McLamb     A Brief History of Time

Karen Harris     Blood Bones and Butter

Sally Parrott     a Christmas card from a friend

Gina Buzby     The Girl On The Train

December Starter Sentence

Contributed by Skip McLamb

Today, we discovered the secrete, of that old, black, hooded, rain slicker hanging on Granny’s back door for the last ten years.  My grandparents, Walt and Naomi, were married in Sampson County, North Carolina in 1914.  They raised a large family.  Anytime Grand Dad Walt, we called him Pap, was asked about his offspring he would proudly answer, “Naomi and I have eleven children, thirty grand children, twenty eight great grand children, and two little bastards.”  Granny would fuss at him every time he said that. 

Pap would always calmly tell her, “Naomi, I am just telling the truth.  You know I love those little bastards just as much as the other children.” 

               After their annual physical in 1973, four of the older children met with Granny and Pap to explain that the doctors wanted them to stop using tobacco.  Granny enjoyed a pinch or two of Sweet Peach Snuff every day.  Pap was seldom seen without his Red Man chewing tobacco and his spit can.  After much discussion, some of it heated, they agreed to the tobacco ban.  The children, grandchildren and bastards immediately started making bets on who would cave in first.  Almost ten years later both were still tobacco free.

               Then, Aunt Margaret saw it all.  Aunt Margaret moved in with my grandparents after her husband passed away in 1980.  Her aim was to be their caretaker but, in reality, Granny and Pap took care of her.  One day she spied Granny heading toward the coat on the back door.  She saw Granny reach in the left hand pocket, pull out a tin of snuff, and take a pinch.  Margaret did not say a word, because she had bet on Grand Dad caving first and did not want to lose her bet.   Just a few days later she saw Pap doing his shuffle walk toward the backdoor.  As he passed through the door Pap deftly lifted a pouch of Redman from the right hand pocket of the black slicker.  Then he shuffled on to his workshop.

As word of the misdeeds spread, the majority opinion was that the two were unaware they were using the same hiding place.  What soon followed was the most interesting and revealing McLamb family meeting ever held.  A meeting so epic, it was mentioned on the Paul Harvey radio show.