<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<rss version="2.0">
	<channel>
		<title>CROWNED WITH LAURELS | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/LAWRENCE</link>
		<description>The original writings of author CROWNED WITH LAURELS</description>
		<language>en-us</language>
		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
		<lastBuildDate>1776113168</lastBuildDate>
		<generator>WritersCafe.org RSS Generator</generator>
		<ttl>15</ttl>
		<item>
			<title>I STOOD WATCHING THE BIG BOYS</title>
			<description>from the Bulldogs&amp;rsquo; basketball team,bouncing, passing, a shot fellthrough the hoop and then itrattled off the rim, as they rebounded,I began to watch a classic matchupbetween the Sixers and the Lakers,Kareem versus Dr. J, and I had no sense of time or a watch to tell it.I had no..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LAWRENCE/273632/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>BORN IN THE BOWL</title>
			<description>Just two days from my sixteenth birthdayI didn&amp;rsquo;t know what to expect when thepains started coming, it had been nine months.&amp;nbsp;I had to go to the toilet andyou started to drop out of me and almost fellin the toilet bowl right at that momentand I had to hold you back, get down to ..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LAWRENCE/273630/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>FADED RED or The Story of a Man and His Truck</title>
			<description>Needed wax.Needed a paint job.A square key for the ignition.A round key for the door.Needed to pump the gas pedal and step on the clutch before it started.The original clutch, never replaced.Chrome cursive writing model insignia on both sides between the door and wheel well.No air cond..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LAWRENCE/273628/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>A FUTURE LIFE</title>
			<description>This remote location calls my attention.It could be a place to live, work, and enjoyeveryday more than ever.Getting up early to hear the soundsof gulls hawks, and loons.Sipping and tasting the best cup of coffee, ever.Strolling through narrow village streetsAmongst the reeds, ponds..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LAWRENCE/273626/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>THE HISTORY OF MY GRANDMOTHER'S COOKING</title>
			<description>Grilled cheese with tomato soup,Fritos on the side.Ham Salad from the meat grinder,passed down from generations.Meatloaf with stewed tomatoes,brown on the ends.Fried flounder with potatoes au gratin,crispy layer on top.Baked Virginia ham with green beans,snapped earlier out..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LAWRENCE/273621/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>THE VET STILL STANDS</title>
			<description>700-Level, yellow seatsBetween the Marlboro and Sunoco signs.Fifty cent &amp;ldquo;Knothole&amp;rdquo; group rate tickets,school trip organized by our sixth grade principal.We were there to see what we watchedon Channel 17 or had heard on AM radio.A twi-night doubleheader for one price,with ..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LAWRENCE/273618/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>DEATH ON FRIDAY</title>
			<description>I don&amp;rsquo;t want to write this today,but I saw death on Friday.He was sitting up in bed in intensive care.He had long strands of white, wispyhair strewn across his chiseled head.Wild eyed stare of desperation,a man trapped inside his own body,locked away tight with years of pain...</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LAWRENCE/273609/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>GROWN</title>
			<description>My boy has grown.he swims alone in the poolgrinning from ear to ear,no matter how hot or cold.My boy has grown.We walk together nowdown the streets of the city.He still takes my hand,but often strays.My boy has grown.Looking forward tothe game, we&amp;rsquo;ll cheer andshout...</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LAWRENCE/273604/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>THE CUT</title>
			<description>&amp;nbsp;Visiting them one weekend, working together,laughing, joking all the while, unique accentsfrom their home in the mountains and thena cut happened when I was just three or four.On my index finger, from a sharp cord, a baling wire.In the soil outback, digging dirt, wrapping burlap..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LAWRENCE/273601/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>CONFESSIONS OF A COMIC BOOK THIEF</title>
			<description>Did you eversteal something?Marvel comic books,35 cents cover price.Creaky metal rackspinning before myTwelve year old eyes.Fantastic Four -gave you more!Four superheroesinstead of just one.Invincible Ironman,Hulk, Conan andThe Mighty Thor.Each one battlingagainst evil ..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LAWRENCE/273600/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>THE GOOD CITIZEN</title>
			<description>Maroon and white cap on your head to avoid the ticksas you step high over itchy weeds at the mouth of the path,hitchhikers and burs grab onto your knee high tube socksand mud sticks to the soles of your low top Pro Keds.Finally you reach the hardened path that windsthrough brush, thicket..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LAWRENCE/273598/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>THE FOUNDATION</title>
			<description>At one day old, the grandfather saidthe one thing that can neverbe taken from you,no matter what happens,is your education, and thisis how it all began;the stones for his foundation.At two, the father left,taking the door, ripping it from its hinges,but the child stayed.At si..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LAWRENCE/273597/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>THE VICTORY BRIDGE</title>
			<description>Today I tear up,rolling down 35 South,remembering that morning,rumbling over the bridge.We&amp;rsquo;re riding along,hurrying, have to get to work,we can&amp;rsquo;t be late.Sun glare on the windshield,my beat up, Ford truck.The boy strapped in his car seat,shares his newfound faith with..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LAWRENCE/273427/</link>
		</item>
	</channel>
</rss>