Some Very, Very Short Stories

“Simplify, simplify,” advised Henry David Thoreau, to which Ralph Waldo Emerson wryly, and wisely, replied: “One ‘simplify’ would have sufficed.”

On a similar theme, Ernest Hemingway is said to have once accepted a bet that he couldn’t write a complete story in a mere six words. Papa triumphed with this mini-masterpiece: “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”

For fun, I challenged some friends to write their own six-word stories of fiction or memoir. Here are some of their tiny tales…

“She had me with her smile.” By Mitch Gold.

By Steve Grimm: “I asked her, she said yes!”

Conversely, and darkly, by Debby Holt Larkin, author of “A Lovely Girl” and the daughter of the late, great Bob Holt who chronicled this column space long ago: “Wife ran off … need your shovel.”

Even more darkly, a six-word historical novel by Chris Barney: “Rats had fleas. Millions died painfully.”

More happily, by Ethan Lubin: “Former students visited. Made my day.”

“Ignored warning signs, at great peril.” By Joe Garces.

“Caesar had the best,” noted John Yewell: “ ‘I came, I saw, I conquered.’ Of course in Latin it’s only three words.”

“The light is darkness. Oh, Oppenheimer.” By Karen Lindell.

 “Today, tomorrow and whatever comes next,” wrote John Collet and Susie Merry offered: “Small things can bring big happiness.”

Less happily, by Patrick Burke: “Last man down the trail, alive.”

“ ‘You run everyday?’ They are confused.” A mini-memoir by Lauren Siegel, a “streaker” who has run 8,737 consecutive days.

 “I patted her pillow. It’s empty,” wrote James Barney, while Mary Eilleen Distin offered: “He left, and now I’m happy.”

“I moved to NYC at 71.” By Kris Young.

Jeff McElroy flipped the script on Hemingway’s heartbreaking micro-novella, turning it into a much happier one – and in only five words: “Free: Baby shoes, well-worn.”

Seeking even further simplicity, I posed a second challenge of brevity: Write a happy story in only four words…

“I love you, too,” wrote Chulwon Karma Park.

Kathy McAlpine and Betsy Chess both identically authored a classical super small storybook: “Lived happily ever after!” while Allyson McAuley added a slight twist: “They lived, happily, peacefully.”

“Peace love rock roll,” wrote Dick Birney while Carrie Wolfe offered: “Life is unexpected love.”

“The grandkids came over!” wrote Toni Tuttle-Santana and E.Wayne Kempton echoed: “Good to be Grampy!”

By Alison Smith Carlson: “Julie’s cancer was cured.”

In a sequel to his earlier six-word story, or perhaps a prequel, James Barney wrote: “She woke beside me.”

“The cruise is booked!” wrote Karen Biedebach-Berry and Julie Chrisman offered another tale of the sea: “Today I went Paddleboarding!”

Susie Merry wrote a sweet story, “I ate some chocolate,” and John Brooks served up a similar theme for readers’ consumption: “I ate some cannoli!”

“I got over it,” wrote Shaka Senghor and I, for one, want 1,000 more words.

Cindy Hansen wrote, “Hike trees bees breathe,” while Tom Koenig similarly offered: “Warm water beach sand.”

In an inspiring mini-memoir, Todd Kane wrote: “Been sober since 1976.”

“Because she was brave.” By Hannah McFadden.

“We are all together,” wrote Mike Weinberg-Lynn while Robin Harwin Satnick offered: “We happily adventured together.”

“9 o’clock starting time,” wrote Rodney Johnsen, Sr. in a story that may turn less happy by the third tee.

“Fireplace book cooking wine,” wrote Kathleen Koenig while Vicki Means offered: “Feeling safe and sound.”

“Autumn air smells earthy!” By Lisa Barreto.

Julie Hein wrote, “Gave birth; heart grew,” while Edie Marshall also offered a love story: “Found Chuck. Got married.”

Lastly, by yours truly: “Column written for me.”

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

Woody writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn. His SIGNED books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Doubleheader of Baseball Tales

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Doubleheader of

Baseball Tales

Major League Baseball’s 2020 All-Star Game was to have been held at Dodger Stadium this past Tuesday, but coronavirus called it out on strikes. As consolation, here is a doubleheader of baseball stories.

The first is told by the great Vin Scully in the Introduction pages of “The Jim Murray Collection”:

“The Brooklyn Dodgers had lost a bitter one-run game to the New York Giants at Ebbets Field. As fate would have it, Jackie Robinson was involved in a very close play at second base for the final out, and he was steaming.

“Even though most, if not all, of his teammates felt he had been rightfully called out, Jackie was hollering at the top of his lungs about the unfair call, punctuating every steamy sentence by hurling furniture, equipment, and anything else he found handy into his locker.

“Now to really get the picture you have to understand the home-team clubhouse in Brooklyn. The pecking order and star status on the team placed big-name players’ lockers near the front door. Gil Hodges, Peewee Reese, Roy Campanella, Preacher Roe, Duke Snider, and Jackie were prominently displayed.

“After that, according to rank, a player was assigned a locker that befit his status on the team. In the farthest corner of the room, near the showers and the icebox that held the beer and soft drinks, was the locker of a somewhat obscure pitcher named Dan Bankhead. The fans didn’t know much about ’ol Dan, but his teammates did. Bankhead was not one to waste words and when he did have something to say, he had the immediate attention of all concerned.

“On this day as Robinson ranted and raved and hurled his bootless cries to the heavens, his was the only sound heard in the room. In the far corner Bankhead sprawled off the stool in front of his cubicle, naked but for a towel across his loins, hands folded at his stomach and reading glasses perched precariously at the end of his nose. Right in the middle of Robinson’s harangue Bankhead said softly, “Robinson…”

Jackie stopped in mid-sentence, adverbs and adjectives hanging in the air like wisps of smoke.

“Robinson,” said Bankhead, now that he had complete silence in the room. “Robinson … you are not only wrong … you is loud wrong.”

“Jackie stood and stared at ol’ Dan for a moment, and then his handsome features broke into a wide grin. The storm had passed, the point taken, and the wisdom received.”

I bring this tale up on account of different harangue going on these days that merits a Bankhead-like response: “Hey, you all who refuse to wear face masks during this coronavirus pandemic, you are not only wrong, you is loud wrong. Let’s all wear masks for each other and get through this storm.”

The second story comes from a friend who works a side job as a baseball umpire:

“I was driving too fast in the snow in Boulder, Colorado,” Dave related, “and a policeman pulled me over and gave me a speeding ticket. I tried to talk him out of it, telling him how worried I was about my insurance and that I was normally a very careful driver.

“He said I should go to court and try to get it reduced or thrown out.

“The first day of the next baseball season, I’m umpiring behind home plate and the first batter up is the same policeman. I recognize him, he recognizes me. He asks me how the thing went with the ticket?

“I tell him, ‘Swing at everything.’ ”

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn. His books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Check out my memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and my essay collection “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” …