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|  | | A Head Full of Hair
A Head Full of Hair is a collection of four stories. They are unrelated to each other except for the fact that they are all stories about normal enough people that have something that is either dark or odd or wild or adventurous about them that you just might never get to know and would be surprised to learn. Don’t you often wonder how people got to be who they are?
The book title is not about the stories; it suggests that what the author wants, he will never have again. Don’t we all have such regrets?
BR>STRONG>FONT face=Verdana color=#800000>A Head Full of HairBR>/FONT>/STRONG>FONT size=2>FONT face=Verdana>by . d.ennis /FONT>BR>BR>FONT face=Verdana>From It All Just Kept Getting Worse and Worse:BR>BR>Henry was born in Philadelphia. This he knew and this was a fact. He knew his name to be Henry Marcincavage. This, he learned later, was not true. Even up to the time of this discovery, things were never easy for Henry. Some people said that he was no good. Some thought he had the worst possible luck imaginable. It is my own belief that bad luck, if you get enough of it can m | |  | | Salmagundi- A Medley of Legends, Memoirs, and Myths
A Medley of Legends,Memoirs, and Myths.
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P style="TEXT-ALIGN: center" align=center>SPAN style="FONT-SIZE: 22pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma">FONT face=Garamond>Here are a few excerpts, from this collection of Short Stories/FONT>/SPAN>BR>SPAN style="FONT-SIZE: 22pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma">FONT face=Garamond>
P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in auto">SPAN style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma">FONT size=3>FromSTRONG> Me and Thom, how I helped Mr. Jefferson to Write the Declaration of Independence./STRONG>/FONT>/SPAN>BR>
P clas | |  | | Short Stuff...and other names they called me.
250 pages of ranting,opinions,inspiration,short stories, and complaining. This is the long awaited collection of "All of my short stuff." that you have asked for.
DIV class=fwBlogEntryTitle>SPAN onmouseover="this.style.cursor='pointer'" style="CURSOR: default" onclick="document.location='http://www.denniscoleman.net/isitjustmemyrants.htm?blogentryid=993524'" onmouseout="this.style.cursor='default'">FONT size=5>Top Ten Things That I am Thankful for This Year/FONT>/SPAN>/DIV>
DIV class=fwBlogEntryDate> /DIV>BR>FONT face=Perpetua size=5>10. I am thankful that people are finally getting the hang of the “self-check out” lines. Soon they will be nearly as fast as the regular lines.BR>
DIV class=fwBlogEntryBody>BR>9. I am thankful tha | |  | | The Bells
Douai, France, is known for the bells of the carillon that reside in the tower that overlooks the town. To the people of Douai, it is as if the bells are fellow citizens that guide them with their spirit. When young Jacqueline and Henri fell in love, it was the bells that brought them together, and it was the bells that formed their lives. Foreign soldiers, seeking to rule Douai, took down the bells and recast them with a plan of evil intent. The spirit of the bells thwarted their efforts. Still, the beloved bells had been removed from the tower and Jacqueline is compelled to do her best to restore them. As Jacqueline grows from girl to woman, she cannot know that forces and events far beyond her knowledge and imagination are joining her efforts. Stubbornly refusing to give into the helplessness, and the occasional ridicule of her fellow townspeople, she spends decades believing that the bells would one day be lifted up again.The passion, and the will of a solitary woman, along with the spirit of the bells, brings surprise to an entire town. It might just be more than they can endure.
BR>STRONG>EM>An Excerpt from The Bells/EM>/STRONG>BR>BR>BR>My name is Jacqueline. My home is in France, in the village of Douai. In Douai we are known for the bells that have come and gone, and come again to our town hall. I have seen the joy that they have caused, the despair that we have felt from the loss of them, and the magic that they have created. BR>BR>The bells came here centuries ago, some say that it was the year 1100 but who can know? They are as much a part of our village as the sea is to a seaport. In my lifetime I have seen the bells taken down cruelly and I have seen | |  | | The Letters of Danny Coyle
Danny Coyle finds himself, in his late 30’s, to be friendless and imprisoned. His loneliness drives him to search out and write to his boyhood friend. Danny’s’ letters become like a companion to him as they connect him to a life that was younger, sweeter and hopeful. His optimism makes Danny one of the few people who find that time in prison can be a chance for a fresh start. Through the kindness of others, he finds that he, even he, has potential and worth.
BR>Since I have been here Tim I have not written to a single person who was my "friend" in my former life style on the outside.BR>BR>I have only written to you. You represent the very best days of my life. Days of youth, freedom and adventure. BR>BR>We were the brothers that each of us never had. Could it have been possible for us to be any closer?BR>BR>I know that when I left the farm, and you were off to college, that I should have tried harder to keep in contact. I knew that you would be out at the big house for every holiday. I know that I could have found you there, but I suppose t |
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