👴⏳Throwback Thursday's Time Machine(Grandparents Day Week)⏳👵: His Grandfather's Watch by NR Walker

Summary:

It was just an ordinary day for Alex Harper at Harper's Antiquities, until Callum Winters walked in with a watch.

"It was my Grandfather's. I was hoping you could tell me something about it."

A love story of two couples, generations apart.

***Second Edition. Earlier edition released in 2012. No additional content has been added.***

Original Review July 2015:
This novella may be a short quick read but it is more powerful than many full length novels I have read.  I was sitting in my front yard under the shade of my maple tree and was so glad I had sunglasses on because otherwise I probably would have scared the children playing across the street when the tears started running.    The blend of contemporary and historical is perfect for the emotional buildup for the story the watch represents.

The historical part of the watch's tale touched my heart a bit more but I am a bit of a history buff so stories of the past usually do.  As my mother's 24/7 caregiver for the past 20 years, when Callum said "My life hasn't been about me in a long time" really struck a chord because in those 10 words she summed up what every caregiver lives not to mention the kind of man Callum is and the fact that Alex understands it also goes a long way in describing his character as well.

I rarely give novellas a full 5 bookmark rating just because my heart prefers full length stories but this is such a powerful emotional ride that nothing short of the full 5 is fitting.

Re-Read Review September 2018:
I really can't think of a single thing to add to my original review that would express how wonderful this novella is other than, it's shortness may be in the number of pages but not in the quality of the story.  His Grandfather's Watch had me even more teary-eyed now than it did when I first read it three years ago.  It is rare that you get two heart felt love stories in a novella but that is exactly what this little gem brings to the table.

I chose to re-read this now in honor of Grandparents Day but whenever you decide to pick it up you won't regret it and I highly recommend reading this one because not only will you be entertained but you might also learn a thing or two about understanding your family's past.  I know I can honestly say that had I not already been deeply invested in my family genealogy this story would have had me itching to discover my family's past.

RATING:

Chapter One
Sitting in the back room at my desk, with a dismantled 1901 Newman's clock, I heard the bell that chimed every time a customer walked through the door. My dad was behind the counter, and I heard him greet the customer, making small talk, discussing whatever antique it was they'd brought with them.

It's what we did.

My father's love of all things antique grew into this business, Harper's Antiquities. Dad was the expert and Mom did the research, but they both traveled, scouring the globe for their life's passion. My brother Scott did antique furniture restoration, but it wasn't something I ever saw myself doing. Then I started helping out when I was a kid at school, and I found a love of clocks.

It’s my specialty.

I could hear Dad talking to the customer, but didn't pay them any mind until I heard my name.

"Alex?"

Putting down the part in my hand, I walked through to the showroom where I found my father and the customer he was talking to. Very different from my pale skin, black hair and grayish eyes, he was a good looking guy, similar age to me, but with sandy brown, kinda longish hair, tanned skin and blue eyes. He was holding a pocket watch in his hand.

"This is my son, Alex," Dad explained. "He's the expert on watches like yours."

I extended my hand in professional courtesy. "Hello."

"Callum Winters," he said by way of greeting, putting the watch on the counter before shaking my hand. There was an accent, Southern I thought, but I wasn't sure.

Dad waited for us to let go of each other's hands, then he looked at me and smiled. "Callum was just telling me he'd like to know more about this watch."

I looked at the silver watch casing and fob chain, then at its owner. I reached my hand toward the watch, but before I touched it, I asked, "May I?"

"Sure," he nodded.

Picking it up, I could tell a few things from a visual inspection. "This casing was a popular design in the 1940's," I told him. Gently, I opened the casing to reveal the quartz face. "The dial is Hamilton, but I won't know dates or maker for certain, unless I take the back off and look at the movement."

"Could you do that?" he asked. His accent was definitely southern. "I was hoping to know as much about it as I could."

I smiled. "Sure. I'll need to grab some details, and I should be able to look at it in about two days. Then I can tell you everything I know."

Callum nodded. "That'd be great." We looked at each other for a little too long, and I couldn't help but wonder if this cute, Southern man was gay.

Dad seemed to think so, because with a cheeky smirk, he handed me the register log, looked between us and not-so subtly said, "Callum, I'll leave you in Alex's very capable hands." He pointed behind us, "I have... stuff... I need to do out the back."

Callum politely thanked him, and I considered kicking my father in the shins. We were behind the counter, so it's not like Callum would have seen me do it. But Dad must have picked up on the look I gave him, because he smiled, turned quickly and disappeared through the door.

I grabbed a pen, handed Callum the register and asked him to fill in his details. I picked up the watch, turning it over in my hands. It was a nice piece, and I couldn't help but ask, "What do you know about the watch?"

He looked up from the paperwork. "Um, it was my grandfather's. That's about all I know."

He handed me the completed form, and I told him as procedure, I required some ID. Taking out his wallet, he handed me his driver's licence. His Texas driver's licence.

"I just moved here," he said. "I've got my change of address receipt here somewhere."

He started looking through his wallet, and I stopped him. "No, its fine. I just need to sight photo ID, that's all."

He smiled kindly and nodded. "So, two days?"

"Yeah. I'm half way through another job. Then I can look at this, and I'll give you a call when I'm done," I told him. "Is there anything in particular you're looking for?"

He shrugged one shoulder and shook his head. "No, not really. Just dates, make, model... to be honest, I'm not really sure."

As I was putting the watch and paperwork in a paper envelope, I asked him, "Would you like a valuation?"

"No," he said simply. "Monetary value isn't important."

He thanked me, I told him I'd be in touch and he left. When I walked back into the workshop, Dad grinned at me. "He was a nice young man," he said.

"Mom!" I yelled to the upstairs office, where my mother would have undoubtedly had her head in a catalogue. "Dad's trying to set me up again."

She yelled back, "Was he cute?"

Oh for crying out loud.

He was actually, but that's not the point. Dad chuckled at me.
Ignoring him, I sat the pocket watch on my desk and turned my attention back to the clock I was working on.

I managed to ignore both my parents and their comments about cute, brown-haired watch owners until they got bored and left me alone. And I managed to push the thoughts of the pocket watch and its handsome Texan owner out of my mind until it was time to go home.

*****

I arrived back at work a little before nine in the morning and headed straight for my desk, which was more like a workstation, when the paper sleeve holding the pocket watch caught my eye.
I picked it up and took the watch out, feeling the cool, heavy weight of it in my hand. I didn't hear my dad come up behind me, and his voice startled me. "How's Mr. Yeo's clock coming along?"

"Oh, shit! You scared me," I said with a laugh, clutching my heart. Then looking back to the clock I had half done, I told him, "Um, it should be ready by lunchtime tomorrow."

He nodded thoughtfully. "I think you should do the watch instead."
I looked at the pocket watch I was still holding. "Why?"

"Because Mr. Yeo is a collector," he replied with a shrug. "To him that clock is just something else he acquired. Even old Mr. Yeo will tell you that. But this," he pointed to the watch in my hand, "this means something."

Dad smiled at me. "Mr. Yeo can wait a day or two. He won't mind. I'll even phone him myself."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

He nodded. "He wants me to go with him to look at an 18th Century hand-carved Italian rococo centre table he'd seen at an auction house anyway, so I need to speak to him."

"Okay," I agreed. Within twenty minutes, I had Mr. Yeo's clock itemized and put away and the silver pocket watch in front of me.

I made my usual notes as I proceeded detailing. There was nothing remarkable about it, until I removed the back casing.

Because what I found hidden in the back of the pocket watch was unlike anything I'd encountered before.

I took out the client form with Callum Winters' details on it and picked up the phone. "Callum Winters? It's Alex, from Harper Antiquities. I'm calling about your watch."

"Yes?" he answered, unsure.

"Can you come into the store?" I asked. "There's something you need to see."

NR Walker
N.R. Walker is an Australian author, who loves her genre of gay romance. She loves writing and spends far too much time doing it, but wouldn't have it any other way.

She is many things; a mother, a wife, a sister, a writer. She has pretty, pretty boys who she gives them life with words.

She likes it when they do dirty, dirty things...but likes it even more when they fall in love. She used to think having people in her head talking to her was weird, until one day she happened across other writers who told her it was normal.

She’s been writing ever since...

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📚📘🎥Friday's Film Adaptation🎥📘📚: The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck

Summary:

"Grapes of Wrath" stands as a powerful and enduring testament to the resilience of the human spirit in the face of hardship and injustice. Nobel Prize-winning author John Steinbeck takes readers on a poignant journey through the heartland of America during the Great Depression, revealing the struggles, hopes, and indomitable strength of a family determined to persevere.

The Joad family, dispossessed of their Oklahoma farm by the Dust Bowl and economic hardship, embark on a treacherous journey to California in search of a promised land. Along the way, they confront systemic inequality, exploitation, and the harsh realities of life for migrant workers. Steinbeck's prose paints a vivid picture of the social and economic upheavals of the 1930s, capturing the essence of a nation grappling with economic injustice.

At the heart of the novel is Tom Joad, a character who transforms from a man seeking personal redemption to a symbol of collective resistance. As the Joads face adversity with unyielding courage, "Grapes of Wrath" becomes a powerful exploration of the human condition and a scathing critique of societal inequities.

Steinbeck's masterful storytelling, coupled with his empathetic portrayal of characters, creates an emotionally charged narrative that resonates across generations. "Grapes of Wrath" is not merely a historical document; it is a timeless exploration of human dignity, community, and the enduring quest for a better life.

As relevant today as when it was first published in 1939, "Grapes of Wrath" is a literary classic that invites readers to reflect on the enduring struggle for justice and the unbreakable bonds that connect us all. This poignant and evocative novel continues to be a cornerstone of American literature, inspiring readers to confront the complexities of society with empathy and compassion.

CHAPTER 1

TO THE RED COUNTRY and part of the gray country of Oklahoma, the last rains came gently, and they did not cut the scarred earth. The plows crossed and recrossed the rivulet marks. The last rains lifted the corn quickly and scattered weed colonies and grass along the sides of the roads so that the gray country and the dark red country began to disappear under a green cover. In the last part of May the sky grew pale and the clouds that had hung in high puffs for so long in the spring were dissipated. The sun flared down on the growing corn day after day until a line of brown spread along the edge of each green bayonet. The clouds appeared, and went away, and in a while they did not try any more. The weeds grew darker green to protect themselves, and they did not spread any more. The surface of the earth crusted, a thin hard crust, and as the sky became pale, so the earth became pale, pink in the red country and white in the gray country.

In the water-cut gullies the earth dusted down in dry little streams. Gophers and ant lions started small avalanches. And as the sharp sun struck day after day, the leaves of the young corn became less stiff and erect; they bent in a curve at first, and then, as the central ribs of strength grew weak, each leaf tilted downward. Then it was June, and the sun shone more fiercely. The brown lines on the corn leaves widened and moved in on the central ribs. The weeds frayed and edged back toward their roots. The air was thin and the sky more pale; and every day the earth paled.

In the roads where the teams moved, where the wheels milled the ground and the hooves of the horses beat the ground, the dirt crust broke and the dust formed. Every moving thing lifted the dust into the air: a walking man lifted a thin layer as high as his waist, and a wagon lifted the dust as high as the fence tops, and an automobile boiled a cloud behind it. The dust was long in settling back again.

When June was half gone, the big clouds moved up out of Texas and the Gulf, high heavy clouds, rainheads. The men in the fields looked up at the clouds and sniffed at them and held wet fingers up to sense the wind. And the horses were nervous while the clouds were up. The rainheads dropped a little spattering and hurried on to some other country. Behind them the sky was pale again and the sun flared. In the dust there were drop craters where the rain had fallen, and there were clean splashes on the corn, and that was all.

A gentle wind followed the rain clouds, driving them on northward, a wind that softly clashed the drying corn. A day went by and the wind increased, steady, unbroken by gusts. The dust from the roads fluffed up and spread out and fell on the weeds beside the fields, and fell into the fields a little way. Now the wind grew strong and hard and it worked at the rain crust in the corn fields. Little by little the sky was darkened by the mixing dust, and the wind felt over the earth, loosened the dust, and carried it away. The wind grew stronger. The rain crust broke and the dust lifted up out of the fields and drove gray plumes into the air like sluggish smoke. The corn threshed the wind and made a dry, rushing sound. The finest dust did not settle back to earth now, but disappeared into the darkening sky.

The wind grew stronger, whisked under stones, carried up straws and old leaves, and even little clods, marking its course as it sailed across the fields. The air and the sky darkened and through them the sun shone redly, and there was a raw sting in the air. During a night the wind raced faster over the land, dug cunningly among the rootlets of the corn, and the corn fought the wind with its weakened leaves until the roots were freed by the prying wind and then each stalk settled wearily sideways toward the earth and pointed the direction of the wind.

The dawn came, but no day. In the gray sky a red sun appeared, a dim red circle that gave a little light, like dusk; and as that day advanced, the dusk slipped back toward darkness, and the wind cried and whimpered over the fallen corn.

Men and women huddled in their houses, and they tied handkerchiefs over their noses when they went out, and wore goggles to protect their eyes.

When the night came again it was black night, for the stars could not pierce the dust to get down, and the window lights could not even spread beyond their own yards. Now the dust was evenly mixed with the air, an emulsion of dust and air. Houses were shut tight, and cloth wedged around doors and windows, but the dust came in so thinly that it could not be seen in the air, and it settled like pollen on the chairs and tables, on the dishes. The people brushed it from their shoulders. Little lines of dust lay at the door sills.

In the middle of that night the wind passed on and left the land quiet. The dust-filled air muffled sound more completely than fog does. The people, lying in their beds, heard the wind stop. They awakened when the rushing wind was gone. They lay quietly and listened deep into the stillness. Then the roosters crowed, and their voices were muffled, and the people stirred restlessly in their beds and wanted the morning. They knew it would take a long time for the dust to settle out of the air. In the morning the dust hung like fog, and the sun was as red as ripe new blood. All day the dust sifted down from the sky, and the next day it sifted down. An even blanket covered the earth. It settled on the corn, piled up on the tops of the fence posts, piled up on the wires; it settled on roofs, blanketed the weeds and trees.

The people came out of their houses and smelled the hot stinging air and covered their noses from it. And the children came out of the houses, but they did not run or shout as they would have done after a rain. Men stood by their fences and looked at the ruined corn, drying fast now, only a little green showing through the film of dust. The men were silent and they did not move often. And the women came out of the houses to stand beside their men- to feel whether this time the men would break. The women studied the men's faces secretly, for the corn could go, as long as something else remained. The children stood near by, drawing figures in the dust with bare toes, and the children sent exploring senses out to see whether men and women would break. The children peeked at the faces of the men and women, and then drew careful lines in the dust with their toes. Horses came to the watering troughs and nuzzled the water to clear the surface dust. After a while the faces of the watching men lost their bemused perplexity and became hard and angry and resistant. Then the women knew that they were safe and that there was no break. Then they asked, What'll we do? And the men replied, I don't know. But it was all right. The women knew it was all right, and the watching children knew it was all right. Women and children knew deep in themselves that no misfortune was too great to bear if their men were whole. The women went into the houses to their work, and the children began to play, but cautiously at first. As the day went forward the sun became less red. It flared down on the dust-blanketed land. The men sat in the doorways of their houses; their hands were busy with sticks and little rocks. The men sat still- thinking- figuring.

An Oklahoma family, driven off their farm by the poverty and hopelessness of the Dust Bowl, joins the westward migration to California, suffering the misfortunes of the homeless in the Great Depression.

Release Date: January 24, 1940

Release Time: 129 minutes

Director: John Ford

Cast:  

Henry Fonda as Tom Joad

Jane Darwell as Ma Joad

John Carradine as Jim Casy

Charley Grapewin as Grandpa

Dorris Bowdon as Rosasharn

Russell Simpson as Pa Joad

O.Z. Whitehead as Al Joad

John Qualen as Muley Graves

Eddie Quillan as Connie

Zeffie Tilbury as Grandma

Frank Sully as Noah

Frank Darien as Uncle John

Darryl Hickman as Winfield

Shirley Mills as Ruthie

Roger Imhof as Thomas

Grant Mitchell as Caretaker

Charles D. Brown as Wilkie

John Arledge as Davis

Ward Bond as Policeman

Harry Tyler as Bert

William Pawley as Bill

Charles Tannen as Joe

Selmer Jackson as Inspection Officer

Charles Middleton as Leader

Eddy Waller as Proprietor

Paul Guilfoyle as Floyd

David Hughes as Frank

Cliff Clark as City Man

Joe Sawyer as Bookkeeper

Frank Faylen as Tim

Adrian Morris as Agent

Hollis Jewell as Muley's Son

Robert Homans as Spencer

Irving Bacon as Driver

Kitty McHugh as Mae

Uncredited:

Tom Tyler as Deputy 

Joe Bordeaux as Migrant

Jack Perrin as Migrant

Frank O'Connor as Deputy #1

George O'Hara as Clerk 

Francis Ford as Migran

Awards:

13th Academy Awards - February 27, 1941

Best Supporting Actress - Jane Darwell - Won

Best Director - John Ford - Won

Best Actor - Henry Fonda - Nominated

Best Film Editing - Robert L. Simpson - Nominated

Best Picture - Darryl F. Zanuck and Nunnally Johnson - Nominated

Best Sound Recording - Edmund H. Hansen - Nominated

Best Writing Adapted Screenplay - Nunnally Johnson - Nominated

AFI 100 Years . . . 

100 Movies – #21

100 Heroes and Villains: Tom Joad – #12 Hero

100 Cheers – #7

100 Movies (10th Anniversary) – #23

John Steinbeck 
John Steinbeck III was an American writer. He wrote the Pulitzer Prize-winning novel The Grapes of Wrath, published in 1939 and the novella Of Mice and Men, published in 1937. In all, he wrote twenty-five books, including sixteen novels, six non-fiction books and several collections of short stories.

In 1962 Steinbeck received the Nobel Prize for Literature.

Steinbeck grew up in the Salinas Valley region of California, a culturally diverse place of rich migratory and immigrant history. This upbringing imparted a regionalistic flavor to his writing, giving many of his works a distinct sense of place.

Steinbeck moved briefly to New York City, but soon returned home to California to begin his career as a writer. Most of his earlier work dealt with subjects familiar to him from his formative years. An exception was his first novel Cup of Gold which concerns the pirate Henry Morgan, whose adventures had captured Steinbeck's imagination as a child.

In his subsequent novels, Steinbeck found a more authentic voice by drawing upon direct memories of his life in California. Later he used real historical conditions and events in the first half of 20th century America, which he had experienced first-hand as a reporter.

Steinbeck often populated his stories with struggling characters; his works examined the lives of the working class and migrant workers during the Dust Bowl and the Great Depression. His later body of work reflected his wide range of interests, including marine biology, politics, religion, history, and mythology.

One of his last published works was Travels with Charley, a travelogue of a road trip he took in 1960 to rediscover America. He died in 1968 in New York of a heart attack and his ashes are interred in Salinas.

Seventeen of his works, including The Grapes of Wrath (1940), Cannery Row (1945), The Pearl (1947), and East of Eden (1952), went on to become Hollywood films, and Steinbeck also achieved success as a Hollywood writer, receiving an Academy Award nomination for Best Story in 1944 for Alfred Hitchcock's Lifeboat.

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📚Sunday's Sport Stats(Back to School Edition)📚: Push & Pull by Brigham Vaughn

Summary:

Midwest #2

A former hockey player and a bossy twink … a match made in heaven or in hell?

Brent Cameron’s done with college hockey and ready to celebrate leaving the closet with a summer road trip around Lake Michigan. But when his best friend bails, there’s only one solution … agree to let a guy he barely knows tag along.

Lowell Prescott’s been called everything under the sun—jersey chaser, slutty twink … but he’s always let the chase jocks chase him. Until now.

He can’t resist the chance to spend a summer “helping out” the left defenseman he has a teensy little crush on. Too bad Brent can’t see it that way.

When they hit the road, animosity melts in the summer sun, replaced by a new simmering tension. As friendship and attraction bloom, they slowly realize they’re on their way to a destination neither of them expected.

But before they reach their happy ending, they’ll be tested by Brent’s past and Lowell’s damaged heart.

The stakes are high when you play for keeps.

Push & Pull contains well-intentioned scheming, meddling friends, a snarky fashionista, and a “dumb jock” who is anything but.

Original Review October 2018:
Brent and Nathan have been long planning on a final summer vacation after graduation but at the last minute Nathan decides he needs to spend the summer with his boyfriend, Caleb.  Furious, Brent sees his summer plans and money slipping away but Nathan and Caleb have a backup plan: Lowell Prescott.  Angry but unwilling to lose everything he already stuck into the trip, Brent agrees and off the two virtual strangers go.  Will a road trip around Lake Michigan be what Brent was hoping or will it be a disaster?  And will these two go from strangers to more or will they go their seperate ways once the summer is over?

I absolutely fell in love with Lowell(and Brent but not as deeply) in Bully & Exit and was hoping he'd get his own story.  Now as much as I would have loved to read their journey sooner than 3+ years, I would never expect an author to bring a story to print before they are ready.  Lets face it, to us readers characters are just that, characters, but to authors they are real voices and if they aren't ready to tell the writer their story than the author has to respect that.  So three days or three years matters not to me, Lowell and Brent were finally ready to tell Brigham Vaughn their story and now we get to enjoy it too😉😉.  So onto Push & Pull.

These days I have only one daily guilty pleasure and that is to watch one soap opera, the British made Emmerdale and on there is a character who has spent years looking for someone who can make her rich quick but this past year she finally found someone who showed her more than "rich quick".  I mention this because of the way I am always describing the partner: "Vanessa is the perfect blend of snark and cuddle to keep Charity on her toes".  Well, that is the best way I can describe Lowell and Brent too: snark and cuddle.  Neither men are looking for that something or someone special but in each other they find that blend of snark and cuddle that helps put all the pieces in place.

I won't say any more because the truth is, you really do need to experience their journey to fully appreciate the characters and the story as a whole.  I will say that I found Push & Pull to be less angsty than Bully & Exit but no less entertaining.  Watching both Lowell and Brent learn to give and take, was frankly just pure fun, that's not to say there is no drama because there is its just not only drama.  Some might have seen Lowell as the "comic relief" in Bully and he definitely brings humor to their summer road trip but we get to learn there is more to him than he lets people see which is why I think the blend of drama, humor, friendship, and love is pretty darn near perfect.

Do you need to read Bully & Exit first?  Probably not.  Will you be lost if you start with Push & Pull?  No.  Do I personally recommend reading book one first? Yes.  There are some points that are mentioned or referred to from Bully that I just felt the whole story flowed together better having known Nathan and Caleb's journey first.  But as Push is Lowell and Brent's journey than no you won't be missing huge chunks that don't make sense if you start here.

I will finish by saying I am missing these intriguing fellows already.  Brigham Vaughn's Midwest series may not make my annual re-read list but they won't get too dusty waiting to be revisited.  I may live on the opposite side of Wisconsin but having a book with some "local flair" is always a huge treat for me and just added a little something more to connect with.

RATING:

“Do you really mean to tell me you don't want to get to know me in all sorts of ways? I don't believe that. I’ve seen the way you look at me." Lowell reached out and dragged a finger across the black fabric of Brent’s T-shirt before circling his nipple. Brent flinched again, backing away, even as the skin tightened and his nipple hardened to a pointy little nub.

Flustered and irritated by the reaction, Brent pushed Lowell’s hand away and crossed his arms. "You're nuts if you think I'm taking you with me on this road trip."

Lowell's lips curved upward in a playful smile. "Oh, sweetheart, that's what you think."

The smile and words only served to make Brent angrier. He looked back at Nathan, feeling used. “Have you all just been cooking up this plan while I’ve been gone?”

“We’ve been talking about it for a couple of weeks, yeah,” Nathan said softly. “Trying to figure out the best solution.”

“What the FUCK? You couldn’t be bothered to mention this when we talked?”

Nathan’s uneasy look deepened. “I thought it might be better if we could discuss it in person.”

“You could have fucking called me and said, ‘Hey, can we meet in person? I need to talk about the trip with you.’ Don’t I at least get a say in what happens with the next two months of my life? Jesus, you guys are unbelievable.”

Nathan opened his mouth but Lowell spoke first. “Look, Brent, I get that you’re pissed, but you don’t have a lot of options at the moment. Frankly, you’re between a rock and a hard place right now, and I’m your only solution. Either you cancel your trip and lose money, which sucks. Or you change your plans and go by yourself, which also sucks. Or you take me. I also suck, but in much more enjoyable ways.” Lowell winked.

Brent gaped at him for a moment. Lowell stepped forward and put his finger under Brent's chin. "Unless you’re offering to do something useful with that gorgeous mouth, I suggest you close it."

Brent snapped his mouth shut fast enough to rattle his teeth. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Lowell's eyes twinkled. "Well, there's this thing gay boys do, it's called—"

"I know what sucking cock is," Brent yelled, confused and annoyed by the pretty twink with the big eyes who always made him feel off-kilter and out of control.

"Good to know, sweets, good to know."

“And make all the jokes you want, but this isn’t fucking funny. My whole summer is ruined.” Brent turned to Nathan. “And you. You’re a complete traitor. You’re right though, I have no choice but to put up with him.” He jerked a thumb to indicate Lowell. “So fuck you, Nathan. If you think I am going to forgive you for saddling me with that cock-hungry twink for two months you have another thing coming!”

Nathan made a sound of protest. Brent scowled and held out his hand to Lowell, ignoring Nathan completely. “If I’m stuck with you, then we’re taking your car. And hand over the damn keys. I’m driving.”

Saturday Series Spotlight

Part 1

Throwback Thursday Time Machine

Touch & Go

Brigham Vaughn

Brigham Vaughn is on the adventure of a lifetime as a full-time writer. She devours books at an alarming rate and hasn’t let her short arms and long torso stop her from doing yoga.  She makes a killer key lime pie, hates green peppers, and loves wine tasting tours. A collector of vintage Nancy Drew books and green glassware, she enjoys poking around in antique shops and refinishing thrift store furniture. An avid photographer, she dreams of traveling the world and she can’t wait to discover everything else life has to offer her.

Her books range from short stories to novellas. They explore gay, lesbian, and polyamorous romance in contemporary settings.

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📚📘🎥Friday's Film Adaptation🎥📘📚: Charlotte's Web by EB White

Summary:

Don’t miss one of America’s top 100 most-loved novels, selected by PBS’s The Great American Read.

This beloved book by E. B. White, author of Stuart Little and The Trumpet of the Swan, is a classic of children's literature that is "just about perfect." Illustrations in this ebook appear in vibrant full color on a full-color device and in rich black-and-white on all other devices.

Some Pig. Humble. Radiant. These are the words in Charlotte's Web, high up in Zuckerman's barn. Charlotte's spiderweb tells of her feelings for a little pig named Wilbur, who simply wants a friend. They also express the love of a girl named Fern, who saved Wilbur's life when he was born the runt of his litter.

E. B. White's Newbery Honor Book is a tender novel of friendship, love, life, and death that will continue to be enjoyed by generations to come. It contains illustrations by Garth Williams, the acclaimed illustrator of E. B. White's Stuart Little and Laura Ingalls Wilder's Little House series, among many other books.

Whether enjoyed in the classroom or for homeschooling or independent reading, Charlotte's Web is a proven favorite.

In the cozy world of Zuckerman’s barn, a small pig discovers the true meaning of friendship when he hears a voice from above.

Loyalty and Friendship: Follow the heartwarming bond between Wilbur, a humble pig, and Charlotte, the clever spider who hatches a plan to save his life.

A World of Talking Animals: Step into a charming farmyard where a young girl named Fern can understand the conversations of geese, sheep, and one very special pig.

Gentle Lessons on Life and Death: A tender story that explores big themes of love, loss, and sacrifice in a way that is moving and accessible for young readers.

A Timeless Read-Aloud Classic: Discover the Newbery Honor winner that has remained a favorite for classroom, homeschool, and bedtime reading for generations.

I. Before Breakfast

WHERE’S Papa going with that ax?” said Fern to her mother as they were setting the table for breakfast.

“Out to the hoghouse,” replied Mrs. Arable. “Some pigs were born last night.”

“I don’t see why he needs an ax,” continued Fern, who was only eight.

“Well,” said her mother, “one of the pigs is a runt. It’s very small and weak, and it will never amount to anything. So your father has decided to do away with it.”

“Do away with it?” shrieked Fern. “You mean kill it? Just because it’s smaller than the others?”

Mrs. Arable put a pitcher of cream on the table. “Don’t yell, Fern!” she said. “Your father is right. The pig would probably die anyway.”

Fern pushed a chair out of the way and ran outdoors. The grass was wet and the earth smelled of springtime. Fern’s sneakers were sopping by the time she caught up with her father. “Please don’t kill it!” she sobbed. “It’s unfair.”

Mr. Arable stopped walking.

“Fern,” he said gently, “you will have to learn to control yourself.”

“Control myself?” yelled Fern. “This is a matter of life and death, and you talk about controlling myself.” Tears ran down her cheeks and she took hold of the ax and tried to pull it out of her father’s hand.

“Fern,” said Mr. Arable, “I know more about raising a litter of pigs than you do. A weakling makes trouble. Now run along!”

“But it’s unfair,” cried Fern. “The pig couldn’t help being born small, could it? If I had been very small at birth, would you have killed me?”

Mr. Arable smiled. “Certainly not,” he said, looking down at his daughter with love. “But this is different. A little girl is one thing, a little runty pig is another.”

“I see no difference,” replied Fern, still hanging on to the ax. “This is the most terrible case of injustice I ever heard of.”

A queer look came over John Arable’s face. He seemed almost ready to cry himself.

“All right,” he said. “You go back to the house and I will bring the runt when I come in. I’ll let you start it on a bottle, like a baby. Then you’ll see what trouble a pig can be.”

When Mr. Arable returned to the house half an hour later, he carried a carton under his arm. Fern was upstairs changing her sneakers. The kitchen table was set for breakfast, and the room smelled of coffee, bacon, damp plaster, and wood smoke from the stove.

“Put it on her chair!” said Mrs. Arable. Mr. Arable set the carton down at Fern’s place. Then he walked to the sink and washed his hands and dried them on the roller towel.

Fern came slowly down the stairs. Her eyes were red from crying. As she approached her chair, the carton wobbled, and there was a scratching noise. Fern looked at her father. Then she lifted the lid of the carton. There, inside, looking up at her, was the newborn pig. It was a white one. The morning light shone through its ears, turning them pink.

“He’s yours,” said Mr. Arable. “Saved from an untimely death. And may the good Lord forgive me for this foolishness.”

Fern couldn’t take her eyes off the tiny pig. “Oh,” she whispered. “Oh, look at him! He’s absolutely perfect.”

She closed the carton carefully. First she kissed her father, then she kissed her mother. Then she opened the lid again, lifted the pig out, and held it against her cheek. At this moment her brother Avery came into the room. Avery was ten. He was heavily armed—an air rifle in one hand, a wooden dagger in the other.

“What’s that?” he demanded. “What’s Fern got?”

“She’s got a guest for breakfast,” said Mrs. Arable. “Wash your hands and face, Avery!”

“Let’s see it!” said Avery, setting his gun down. “You call that miserable thing a pig? That’s a fine specimen of a pig—it’s no bigger than a white rat.”

“Wash up and eat your breakfast, Avery!” said his mother. “The school bus will be along in half an hour.”

“Can I have a pig, too, Pop?” asked Avery.

“No, I only distribute pigs to early risers,” said Mr. Arable. “Fern was up at daylight, trying to rid the world of injustice. As a result, she now has a pig. A small one, to be sure, but nevertheless a pig. It just shows what can happen if a person gets out of bed promptly. Let’s eat!”

But Fern couldn’t eat until her pig had had a drink of milk. Mrs. Arable found a baby’s nursing bottle and a rubber nipple. She poured warm milk into the bottle, fitted the nipple over the top, and handed it to Fern. “Give him his breakfast!” she said.

A minute later, Fern was seated on the floor in the corner of the kitchen with her infant between her knees, teaching it to suck from the bottle. The pig, although tiny, had a good appetite and caught on quickly.

The school bus honked from the road.

“Run!” commanded Mrs. Arable, taking the pig from Fern and slipping a doughnut into her hand. Avery grabbed his gun and another doughnut.

The children ran out to the road and climbed into the bus. Fern took no notice of the others in the bus. She just sat and stared out of the window, thinking what a blissful world it was and how lucky she was to have entire charge of a pig. By the time the bus reached school, Fern had named her pet, selecting the most beautiful name she could think of.

“Its name is Wilbur,” she whispered to herself.

She was still thinking about the pig when the teacher said: “Fern, what is the capital of Pennsylvania?”

“Wilbur,” replied Fern, dreamily. The pupils giggled. Fern blushed.

Wilbur is a farm pig who's terrified that he'll end up on the dinner table. His friend Charlotte, a charming spider, comes to his rescue. She weaves words into her web, convincing the farmer that Wilbur is too special a pig to kill.

Release Date: March 1, 1973

Release Time: 94 minutes

Directors: Charles A. Nichols & Iwao Takamoto

Cast:

Henry Gibson as Wilbur

Debbie Reynolds as Charlotte A. Cavatica

Paul Lynde as Templeton

Agnes Moorehead as the Goose

Don Messick as

     Jeffrey

     Uncle

     Lamb

Herb Vigran as Lurvy

Pamelyn Ferdin as Fern Arable

Martha Scott as Mrs. Arable

Bob Holt as Homer Zuckerman

John Stephenson as 

     John Arable

     Parking Officer

     Mayor

     Bandleader

Danny Bonaduce as Avery Arable

William B. White as Henry Fussy

Dave Madden as The Ram

Joan Gerber as 

     Edith Zuckerman

     Mrs. Fussy

Rex Allen is narrator

EB White

E. B. White, the author of such beloved classics as Charlotte's Web, Stuart Little, and The Trumpet of the Swan, was born in Mount Vernon, New York. He graduated from Cornell University in 1921 and, five or six years later, joined the staff of the New Yorker magazine, then in its infancy. He died on October 1, 1985, and was survived by his son and three grandchildren.

Mr. White's essays have appeared in Harper's magazine, and some of his other books are: One Man's Meat, The Second Tree from the Corner, Letters of E. B. White, Essays of E. B. White, and Poems and Sketches of E. B. White. He won countless awards, including the 1971 National Medal for Literature and the Laura Ingalls Wilder Award, which commended him for making a ""substantial and lasting contribution to literature for children.""

During his lifetime, many young readers asked Mr. White if his stories were true. In a letter written to be sent to his fans, he answered, ""No, they are imaginary tales . . . But real life is only one kind of life—there is also the life of the imagination.""

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