SOOT IN THE FLUES


| January/February 1991



Soot in the flues

Hi! to all my wonderful friends of the Iron Men Family we have known each other for quite a long time now, and I always look forward to meeting new folks in the family also. One thing I regret is that I used to get so much mail pertaining to the IMA. I implore you, especially those who have never written to me, give it a try! And to all the wonderful contributors who have taken pen in hand and written to meare you sure you don't have some other tales of long ago, or even recently? My column is NOTHING without you folks please make a special effort to send some more letters and items you feel would be appropriate for this magazine. I'll be praying about it and see if we don't get more letters.

As always with a magazine, we put it out a couple of months early and I know we probably are not as much in the 'spirit' as we should be, but I hope as you all look forward to the holidays and New Year, you are planning for homecoming, loved ones being together; I thought you might like a short story which could effect us all to boost our morale! It's called FORGOTTEN WINGS.

'One winter morning, I put out breakfast for the birds sunflower seeds, toast crumbs, suet and then stood by the window watching, sparrows, chickadees, woodpeckers, and most beautiful of all, the blue and silver jays with their crests blowing in the wind.

'A jay lighted, picked up the largest chunk of bread and started to carry it away. But the ice-coated platform was so slippery under his claws that he began sliding. He was over the edge, fluttering and falling toward a snowbank, before he remembered that he had wings. Spreading them wide, he took off in a wild flurry for a high branch.

'I couldn't help laughing at how silly he looked, skidding and yelling when he needed only to open his wings and fly-then I stopped laughing.

'Because what else had I been doing? I had been depressed. Everything seemed go wrong. Yet, I had tried to save myself by my own efforts, when all the time, folded and forgotten, I had strong wings the wings of prayer which are always ready to bear us up if we don't forget to use them.'