The Pickwicker, Volume 18, 1950 Page: 13
42, [8] p. : ill. ; 22 x 28 cm.View a full description of this periodical.
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One day, when I had one of the old timers alone, I asked him how she
had died, and he told me about it. It had created sort of a seven day sen-
sation in the little old home town. They had found her one day, out in the
barn, hanging from 'a rafter-a strange way to die. No one knew why she
had done it. There was no clue, only a crumpled piece of paper clutched in
one hand, and on it she had written, "Your story is where you find it." No
one had any idea why she had done it or what she had meant.
I walked out to the cemetery that evening and stood by her grave. I
thought of all those things we had planned when we were kids, of the
things we were going to do when I had finally written my great story.
Well, I hadn't written it yet and likely never would, and she was where it
wouldn't matter any more.
I have heard it said that there is always at least one great story in
every man's life, but there has never been one in mine and now it is too
late. I don't say that to complain. I know how the world is; some men
are lucky and some men are not; some men are where stories happen and
some are not. We can't all be there and I shall take my medicine like a
man.
As I stood there in the deepening twilight looking down at her grave,
I wondered what she had meant by those words which she had written on
that crumpled piece of paper which she held clutched so tightly in her hand,
"Your story is where you find it." I don't want you to think that I am
selfish but I was just a little bit disappointed as I thought of it. It seemed
to me that for old times sake she might have left some last message for
me alone.
THE END
WHO IS A STRANGER?
By Bill Fling
Someone said to me that a stranger is the most interesting friend he
has had. I thought about this and a question about strangers hit me like
a bug on a windshield. "Who is a stranger?" I pondered.
God is no stranger because his smile of sunshine arises early in the
morning to greet me.
The one across the seas is not a stranger because we may walk iden-
tical "thought paths" through the forest of darkness and hence we are
brothers of the quest for knowledge.
Bypassers contain no strange people, for they are "cousins in in-
dustry" with me, and we labor together to lift the mud from our feet of
progress.
You are no stranger or I would not open this door to the secret thoughts
of mine-only a friend would I share my shyness with.
I wonder, really, who is a stranger?
I think I am the only stranger I know.-13--
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Abilene Christian College. The Pickwicker, Volume 18, 1950, periodical, 1950; Abilene, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth335175/m1/13/: accessed April 24, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Abilene Christian University Library.