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Inside Information
Inside Information
THE BLANKENSCHIPF CURSE
by
Jim Murdock
Inside Information
Copyright
2006 by Jim Murdock
All rights reserved. No part of this book shall be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, magnetic, photographic including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher. No patent liability is assumed with respect to the use of the information contained herein. Although every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher and author assume no responsibility for errors or omissions. Neither is any liability assumed for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN 0-7414-3812-7 Published by:
1094 New DeHaven Street, Suite 100 West Conshohocken, PA 19428-2713 [email protected] www.buybooksontheweb.com Toll-free (877) BUY BOOK Local Phone (610) 941-9999 Fax (610) 941-9959 Printed in the United States of America Printed on Recycled Paper Published July 2012
Inside Information
To Andrea Her love has sustained me over the years. She has given me two wonderful sons. I admire her courage under great mental and physical stress.
Inside Information
Acknowledgements
A novel is never the work of one person. There are always those who urge, encourage and make contributions along the way. My special thanks to the following people. My wife, Andrea, who continued to support me even when fighting for her life. My sons, Mike and Matt, who amaze me with their patience and inner strength. Jerry Tewmey, my friend of many years who is the best story teller I've ever heard. The members of the “White Car Gang,” my special writing group who worked very hard to make me a better writer: Harriette Austin, Genie Bernstein, Dac Crossley and Pat Bell-Scott. To my mother and father, and six brothers and sisters who love me. To Doctors W.B. Bean and M.T. Morter and the rest of my “teachers” over a lifetime. God, the source of all things, including my ideas and inspiration for writing this book.
Inside Information
Reasons not to miss this comic, tragic and revealing story “Readers of your story will be caught up in a whirlwind of health and life philosophy, which will carry them to new heights of understanding—perhaps giving them the most definitive look at personal life responsibility they have ever had.” Dr. M.T. Morter, Jr., Founder and Developer of Morter HealthSystem, author of The Soul Purpose and numerous other books. “Dr. Murdock is a born storyteller who sees the lighter side of life as well as the trials that we all go through.” Harriet Austin, the beloved writing teacher and inspiration for the Harriet Austin Writers Conference. “I look for good stories that teach me something; Dr. Murdock’s entertaining and thoughtprovoking book is found treasure.” Genie Smith Bernstein, 2006 recipient of the Carrie McCray Literary Award. “Jim Murdock’s story provides strong argument that what affects the soul also affects the body and that forgiveness of self and others holds the key to a healing that we might just call miraculous. This book might just save your life.” G. Richard Hoard, author of Alone Among the Living, University of Georgia Press, 1994 and The Race Before Us, Nancy Ann Publishing, 2006. “The author of this book introduces a bold new way of writing a novel. Hold onto your hat and rev up your funny bone as a rogue narrator takes you behind the scenes of this story.” Patricia Bell-Scott, teacher at the University of Georgia and author of Life Notes and Flat-Footed Truths.
Inside Information
CHAPTER ONE
Reuben (Rube) Winters was only five years old when the first unusual event in his life took place, at least the first one he could remember. His parents, Calvin and Betty, took their handsome son to the First United Methodist Church in Winder, Georgia on a beautiful Sunday morning in late May, 1973. The church had been built twenty years earlier to replace the original wood frame building. A concrete path sliced through the lawn in front of the tall brick, steepled building with white columns. Ornate doors opened to a marbled vestibule leading to the nave of the church. Between the vestibule and side doors, carpeted staircases led to the balcony. When the communion service began, they dragged Rube along to the altar railing, in front of the entire congregation. They bowed their heads in reverent prayer and let go of his hands. Rube grabbed the spindles which supported the railing and wondered if his head would fit between them. He pressed his head against the spindles, and found the widest space allowed by the curve in the wood. He forced his head through the opening and worked his head up and down much like a dog scratching fleas. Bored, he tried to draw his head out, but his ears caught on the spindles. He panicked a little but knew that given time he could work his head out of the opening. There was no time. Preacher Lee approached with the bread, and the associate pastor followed with the wine. Rube's father reached to take the small wafer as the pastor stared down with a puzzled look on his face. Seminary school and fifteen years of ministering in the North Georgia Conference had not prepared the preacher for such a situation. How could he handle Rube's entrapment and maintain the solemnity of an important Christian ritual? Rube's father dropped his wafer, grabbed his son by the back of his shirt and pulled. His mother, Betty, uttered a loud gasp heard over the collective sucking in of breath of those watching. Rube must have felt like his ears were being torn off. He yelled in pain, and began to cry. His mother took his legs and tugged with all her might, trying to end this debacle, knowing that her bridge club members were watching in amusement. The preacher worked Rube's head from the other side of the railing, trying to find the best spot for the retraction. He wanted to do this quickly so he could restore order to the ceremony. A few titters of laughter rose from the younger church members. His father and mother's urgency did not help young Rube. The skin behind his ears was soon rubbed raw from the pulling and he pleaded with them to stop. Rube's mother climbed over the railing to help the preacher's efforts and ripped her best Sunday dress down the back. The congregation lost interest in the sacrament. Some laughed aloud, others snickered, and one local jokester unkindly shouted, “Grease him up!” The associate pastor was standing there, wringing his hands. The members who had been at the altar railing were still there and didn't know whether to remain or go back to their seats. Some were kneeling, others stood to see what was going on. Old Lady Gilbert felt faint and sat down in the front row next to Lexsy Johnson who prayed loudly
Inside Information
for the Lord to surround the boy with his love and protection, and prevent the preacher from pulling Rube's head clean off. Ben Sumner, a carpenter, sitting five rows back on the right side of the church, knew what to do. He left his pew, walked to the altar, and yanked on the spindle until it broke. Mother, father, preachers, and congregation rejoiced. Rube had been freed from captivity! Hallelujah! The church members began applauding as his mother, closely followed by his father, picked him up and carried him quickly up the aisle and out of the church. Those closest to the aisle congratulated the carpenter as he made his way back to his seat. God had used a carpenter at least once before. The preacher brushed the hair out of his eyes, straightened his robe, and wiped the foolish grin from his face. When he regained control of himself, he said, “The Lord works in mysterious ways.” There was an “Amen!” and muffled laughter. Preacher Lee continued, “We will have our communion next Sunday. Let us pray. Dear Lord, please bless young Rube and his family. Turn this embarrassing moment into a blessing for them, and a blessing for us all. As we experience the sorrows and tribulations of each day, and as we get our heads caught in the spindles of life, remind us that you are always there, ready to break the spindles and set us free, just as you did for young Rube. Amen.” The congregation enthusiastically replied, “A--men!!” The people filed out and shook hands with the preacher. They were smiling and happy, delighted to have attended church that morning. Old Man Kharr exclaimed that he'd stayed awake the entire time. Bunny Claxton said the service was more fun than when the last preacher stumbled from the dais and fell face down in front of the congregation. Rube's blunder caused the most life and enthusiasm Preacher Lee had seen since he had taken over the church five years ago. He asked Old Lady Gilbert how she was fairing. She replied, “I'll be fine as soon as I get home and have a big glass of ice tea with half a lemon squeezed into it.” As carpenter Sumner passed by, he promised to come by next week and replace the spindle. After the incident, everyone knew Rube, and gave him a warm hello with a smile or at least a grin, and patted him on the head. In fact, the church was no longer the formal, stuffy place it had been before. Somehow, that single event had released a pent up fear among the congregation of making a mistake, doing something wrong, stepping over an imaginary line that had been established by the founders of the church some fifty three years ago. Betty Winters took her son to the family chiropractor, Bill Glasson, on Monday. He found and corrected two misalignments in Rube's neck from the twisting and pulling. Rube shuddered the next time he took communion and made certain his head remained above the railing. When he looked down at the newly replaced spindle, the bones behind his ears ached. Preacher Lee always grinned when he saw Rube at the altar. Of all the children, Rube was his favorite. That pleased Rube. Nevertheless, he dreaded Communion Sundays.
Inside Information
Shhhh. Please don't tell anyone that I've done this, especially Jim Murdock or the National Writer's Groups. None of them would understand and it might bring bodily harm to me from the author, and I could lose my job as a narrator. After all, my job is to narrate, not commentate. Being the narrator, there's certain information in the author's mind that I'm privy to. That's the only way it can work. Well, I'm supposed to keep that secret, but I just can't do it. After all, you're the reader and paid no telling how much for this book. You will notice that this excerpt has not been assigned a chapter number or even a page number. That's because it's not part of the book. So, once you read it, please tear it out and throw it away. I'll feel a lot safer if you do that. This is about a secret that Rube has. He's never told anyone about it, and probably never will. I just happened to find out about it when I took on the job of narrating this fine piece of literary work. Rube has a cousin by the name of Caresse Lafayette. Her father is Lee “Tear Drop” Lafayette, a truck driver from Louisiana, who married Rose Fontaine, Rube's mother's sister. He carried her off to his home state and they had Caresse who grew up to be quite a looker. She was three years older than Rube, and he only saw her this one time. Rube was fifteen years old when Caresse and her family came to Winder for a visit. There were only three bedrooms, and Rube's room had twin beds. That's all I'm gonna say about Rube and his cousin at this time. In fact, I've probably already said too much. I just felt like you had the right to know. Maybe it'll help you understand the main character better. If you have questions about any of this, you may contact the person whose name is on the cover of the book. He may or may not admit to knowing anything about it. But, please don't mention me, or let on that I revealed this secret to you. Narrator
Inside Information
Inside Information
THE BLANKENSCHIPF CURSE
by
Jim Murdock
Inside Information
Copyright
2006 by Jim Murdock
All rights reserved. No part of this book shall be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, magnetic, photographic including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher. No patent liability is assumed with respect to the use of the information contained herein. Although every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher and author assume no responsibility for errors or omissions. Neither is any liability assumed for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN 0-7414-3812-7 Published by:
1094 New DeHaven Street, Suite 100 West Conshohocken, PA 19428-2713 [email protected] www.buybooksontheweb.com Toll-free (877) BUY BOOK Local Phone (610) 941-9999 Fax (610) 941-9959 Printed in the United States of America Printed on Recycled Paper Published July 2012
Inside Information
To Andrea Her love has sustained me over the years. She has given me two wonderful sons. I admire her courage under great mental and physical stress.
Inside Information
Acknowledgements
A novel is never the work of one person. There are always those who urge, encourage and make contributions along the way. My special thanks to the following people. My wife, Andrea, who continued to support me even when fighting for her life. My sons, Mike and Matt, who amaze me with their patience and inner strength. Jerry Tewmey, my friend of many years who is the best story teller I've ever heard. The members of the “White Car Gang,” my special writing group who worked very hard to make me a better writer: Harriette Austin, Genie Bernstein, Dac Crossley and Pat Bell-Scott. To my mother and father, and six brothers and sisters who love me. To Doctors W.B. Bean and M.T. Morter and the rest of my “teachers” over a lifetime. God, the source of all things, including my ideas and inspiration for writing this book.
Inside Information
Reasons not to miss this comic, tragic and revealing story “Readers of your story will be caught up in a whirlwind of health and life philosophy, which will carry them to new heights of understanding—perhaps giving them the most definitive look at personal life responsibility they have ever had.” Dr. M.T. Morter, Jr., Founder and Developer of Morter HealthSystem, author of The Soul Purpose and numerous other books. “Dr. Murdock is a born storyteller who sees the lighter side of life as well as the trials that we all go through.” Harriet Austin, the beloved writing teacher and inspiration for the Harriet Austin Writers Conference. “I look for good stories that teach me something; Dr. Murdock’s entertaining and thoughtprovoking book is found treasure.” Genie Smith Bernstein, 2006 recipient of the Carrie McCray Literary Award. “Jim Murdock’s story provides strong argument that what affects the soul also affects the body and that forgiveness of self and others holds the key to a healing that we might just call miraculous. This book might just save your life.” G. Richard Hoard, author of Alone Among the Living, University of Georgia Press, 1994 and The Race Before Us, Nancy Ann Publishing, 2006. “The author of this book introduces a bold new way of writing a novel. Hold onto your hat and rev up your funny bone as a rogue narrator takes you behind the scenes of this story.” Patricia Bell-Scott, teacher at the University of Georgia and author of Life Notes and Flat-Footed Truths.
Inside Information
CHAPTER ONE
Reuben (Rube) Winters was only five years old when the first unusual event in his life took place, at least the first one he could remember. His parents, Calvin and Betty, took their handsome son to the First United Methodist Church in Winder, Georgia on a beautiful Sunday morning in late May, 1973. The church had been built twenty years earlier to replace the original wood frame building. A concrete path sliced through the lawn in front of the tall brick, steepled building with white columns. Ornate doors opened to a marbled vestibule leading to the nave of the church. Between the vestibule and side doors, carpeted staircases led to the balcony. When the communion service began, they dragged Rube along to the altar railing, in front of the entire congregation. They bowed their heads in reverent prayer and let go of his hands. Rube grabbed the spindles which supported the railing and wondered if his head would fit between them. He pressed his head against the spindles, and found the widest space allowed by the curve in the wood. He forced his head through the opening and worked his head up and down much like a dog scratching fleas. Bored, he tried to draw his head out, but his ears caught on the spindles. He panicked a little but knew that given time he could work his head out of the opening. There was no time. Preacher Lee approached with the bread, and the associate pastor followed with the wine. Rube's father reached to take the small wafer as the pastor stared down with a puzzled look on his face. Seminary school and fifteen years of ministering in the North Georgia Conference had not prepared the preacher for such a situation. How could he handle Rube's entrapment and maintain the solemnity of an important Christian ritual? Rube's father dropped his wafer, grabbed his son by the back of his shirt and pulled. His mother, Betty, uttered a loud gasp heard over the collective sucking in of breath of those watching. Rube must have felt like his ears were being torn off. He yelled in pain, and began to cry. His mother took his legs and tugged with all her might, trying to end this debacle, knowing that her bridge club members were watching in amusement. The preacher worked Rube's head from the other side of the railing, trying to find the best spot for the retraction. He wanted to do this quickly so he could restore order to the ceremony. A few titters of laughter rose from the younger church members. His father and mother's urgency did not help young Rube. The skin behind his ears was soon rubbed raw from the pulling and he pleaded with them to stop. Rube's mother climbed over the railing to help the preacher's efforts and ripped her best Sunday dress down the back. The congregation lost interest in the sacrament. Some laughed aloud, others snickered, and one local jokester unkindly shouted, “Grease him up!” The associate pastor was standing there, wringing his hands. The members who had been at the altar railing were still there and didn't know whether to remain or go back to their seats. Some were kneeling, others stood to see what was going on. Old Lady Gilbert felt faint and sat down in the front row next to Lexsy Johnson who prayed loudly
Inside Information
for the Lord to surround the boy with his love and protection, and prevent the preacher from pulling Rube's head clean off. Ben Sumner, a carpenter, sitting five rows back on the right side of the church, knew what to do. He left his pew, walked to the altar, and yanked on the spindle until it broke. Mother, father, preachers, and congregation rejoiced. Rube had been freed from captivity! Hallelujah! The church members began applauding as his mother, closely followed by his father, picked him up and carried him quickly up the aisle and out of the church. Those closest to the aisle congratulated the carpenter as he made his way back to his seat. God had used a carpenter at least once before. The preacher brushed the hair out of his eyes, straightened his robe, and wiped the foolish grin from his face. When he regained control of himself, he said, “The Lord works in mysterious ways.” There was an “Amen!” and muffled laughter. Preacher Lee continued, “We will have our communion next Sunday. Let us pray. Dear Lord, please bless young Rube and his family. Turn this embarrassing moment into a blessing for them, and a blessing for us all. As we experience the sorrows and tribulations of each day, and as we get our heads caught in the spindles of life, remind us that you are always there, ready to break the spindles and set us free, just as you did for young Rube. Amen.” The congregation enthusiastically replied, “A--men!!” The people filed out and shook hands with the preacher. They were smiling and happy, delighted to have attended church that morning. Old Man Kharr exclaimed that he'd stayed awake the entire time. Bunny Claxton said the service was more fun than when the last preacher stumbled from the dais and fell face down in front of the congregation. Rube's blunder caused the most life and enthusiasm Preacher Lee had seen since he had taken over the church five years ago. He asked Old Lady Gilbert how she was fairing. She replied, “I'll be fine as soon as I get home and have a big glass of ice tea with half a lemon squeezed into it.” As carpenter Sumner passed by, he promised to come by next week and replace the spindle. After the incident, everyone knew Rube, and gave him a warm hello with a smile or at least a grin, and patted him on the head. In fact, the church was no longer the formal, stuffy place it had been before. Somehow, that single event had released a pent up fear among the congregation of making a mistake, doing something wrong, stepping over an imaginary line that had been established by the founders of the church some fifty three years ago. Betty Winters took her son to the family chiropractor, Bill Glasson, on Monday. He found and corrected two misalignments in Rube's neck from the twisting and pulling. Rube shuddered the next time he took communion and made certain his head remained above the railing. When he looked down at the newly replaced spindle, the bones behind his ears ached. Preacher Lee always grinned when he saw Rube at the altar. Of all the children, Rube was his favorite. That pleased Rube. Nevertheless, he dreaded Communion Sundays.
Inside Information
Shhhh. Please don't tell anyone that I've done this, especially Jim Murdock or the National Writer's Groups. None of them would understand and it might bring bodily harm to me from the author, and I could lose my job as a narrator. After all, my job is to narrate, not commentate. Being the narrator, there's certain information in the author's mind that I'm privy to. That's the only way it can work. Well, I'm supposed to keep that secret, but I just can't do it. After all, you're the reader and paid no telling how much for this book. You will notice that this excerpt has not been assigned a chapter number or even a page number. That's because it's not part of the book. So, once you read it, please tear it out and throw it away. I'll feel a lot safer if you do that. This is about a secret that Rube has. He's never told anyone about it, and probably never will. I just happened to find out about it when I took on the job of narrating this fine piece of literary work. Rube has a cousin by the name of Caresse Lafayette. Her father is Lee “Tear Drop” Lafayette, a truck driver from Louisiana, who married Rose Fontaine, Rube's mother's sister. He carried her off to his home state and they had Caresse who grew up to be quite a looker. She was three years older than Rube, and he only saw her this one time. Rube was fifteen years old when Caresse and her family came to Winder for a visit. There were only three bedrooms, and Rube's room had twin beds. That's all I'm gonna say about Rube and his cousin at this time. In fact, I've probably already said too much. I just felt like you had the right to know. Maybe it'll help you understand the main character better. If you have questions about any of this, you may contact the person whose name is on the cover of the book. He may or may not admit to knowing anything about it. But, please don't mention me, or let on that I revealed this secret to you. Narrator
Inside Information
