Sep 20, Joselito Honestly and Brilliantly rated it it was amazing The sad thing here is I had the inspiration for this story, a first-hand interaction with its characters, still vivid in my memory, and I could have made myself a masterpiece out of it which may have won a trophy at the local Palanca awards for literature. But before the idea of writing about it came to my mind, I discovered here that Theodore Dreiser had already written my story long before I was even born. My story is about our farm hands, in a coconut plantation in an island, who had lived ther The sad thing here is I had the inspiration for this story, a first-hand interaction with its characters, still vivid in my memory, and I could have made myself a masterpiece out of it which may have won a trophy at the local Palanca awards for literature. My story is about our farm hands, in a coconut plantation in an island, who had lived there, perhaps all the times of their adult lives, had raised children who had all grown up and had left them at least one had died ahead of themthen they both grew old, very old.
The territory was not very thickly settled; perhaps a house every other mile or so, with large acres of corn- and wheat-land and fallow fields that at odd seasons had been sown to timothy and clover. Their particular house was part log and part frame, the log portion being the old original home of Henry's grandfather.
The new portion, of now rain-beaten, time-worn slabs, through which the wind squeaked in the chinks at times, and which several The lost phoebe elms and a butternut-tree made picturesque and reminiscently pathetic, but a little damp, was erected by Henry when he was twenty-one and just married.
That was forty-eight years before. The furniture inside, like the house outside, was old and mildewy and reminiscent of an earlier day. You have seen the what-not of cherry wood, perhaps, with spiral legs and fluted top.
The old-fashioned four-poster bed, with its ball-like protuberances and deep curving incisions, was there also, a sadly alienated descendant of an early Jacobean ancestor. The bureau of cherry was also high and wide and solidly built, but faded-looking, and with a musty odor.
The lost phoebe rag carpet that underlay all these sturdy examples of enduring furniture was a weak, faded, lead-and-pink-colored affair woven by Phoebe Ann's own hands, when she was fifteen years younger than she was when she died.
All sorts of other broken-down furniture were about this place; an antiquated clothes-horse, cracked in two of its ribs; a broken mirror in an old cherry frame, which had fallen from a nail and cracked itself three days before their youngest son, Jerry, died; an extension hat-rack, which once had had porcelain knobs on the ends of its pegs; and a sewing machine, long since outdone in its clumsy mechanism by rivals of a newer generation.
The orchard to the east of the house was full of gnarled old apple trees, worm-eaten as to trunks and branches, and fully ornamented with green and white lichens, so that it had a sad, greenish-white, silvery effect in moonlight. The low outhouses, which had once housed chickens, a horse or two, a cow, and several pigs, were covered with patches of moss as to their roof, and the sides had been free of paint for so long that they were blackish gray as to color, and a little spongy.
The picket-fence in front, with its gate squeaky and askew, and the side fences of the stake-and-rider type were in an equally run-down condition.
As a matter of fact, they had aged synchronously with the persons who lived here, old Henry Reifsneider and his wife Phoebe Ann. They had lived here, these two, ever since their marriage, forty-eight years before, and Henry had lived here before that from his childhood up.
His father and mother, well along in years when he was a boy, had invited him to bring his wife here when he had first fallen in love and decided to marry; and he had done so. His father and mother were the companions of himself and his wife for ten years after they were married, when both died; and then Henry and Phoebe were left with their five children growing lustily apace.
But all sorts of things had happened since then.
The story of The Lost Phoebe is a perfect example of the new ideas in psychology that influenced the Modernist movement. Theodore Dreiser was interested in . Phoebe Halliwell is the middle sister of the Charmed Ones following the death of her oldest sister, Prue and the discovery of her younger half-sister, barnweddingvt.com is the wife of a Cupid named Coop and the mother of their children, P.J., Parker, and Peyton Halliwell. She was once pregnant with and lost a son while she was married to her ex-husband . The Lost Phoebe by Theodore Dreiser 1 THEY LIVED together in a part of the country which was not so prosperous as it had once been, about three miles from one of those towns that, instead of increasing in population, is steadily decreasing.
Of the seven children, all told, that had been born to them, three had died; one girl had gone to Kansas; one boy had gone to Sioux Falls, never even to be heard of after; another boy had gone to Washington; and the last girl lived five counties away in the same State, but was so burdened with cares of her own that she rarely gave them a thought.
Time and a commonplace home life that had never been attractive had weaned them thoroughly, so that, wherever they were, they gave little thought as to how it might be with their father and mother.
You perhaps know how it is with simple natures that fasten themselves like lichens on the stones of circumstance and weather their days to a crumbling conclusion.
The great world sounds widely, but it has no call for them. They have no soaring intellect.
The orchard, the meadow, the corn-field, the pig-pen, and the chicken-lot measure the range of their human activities. When the wheat is headed it is reaped and threshed; when the corn is browned and frosted it is cut and shocked; when the timothy is in full head it is cut, and the hay-cock erected.
After that comes winter, with the hauling of grain to market, the sawing and splitting of wood, the simple chores of fire-building, meal-getting, occasional repairing, and visiting. All the rest of life is a far-off, clamorous phantasmagoria, flickering like Northern lights in the night, and sounding as faintly as cow-bells tinkling in the distance.On a parchment-lined baking sheet, toss the cauliflower with 1 tablespoon of olive oil, 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin and 1/2 teaspoon salt.
On a second parchment-lines sheet pan, toss the sweet potatoes with 1 tablespoon olive . Kings Canyon Unified School District is located at 10th Street, Reedley, CA and is comprised of 22 school sites. The joint North and South Korean women's ice hockey team created history as they competed on the first day of action at the Winter Olympics in Pyeongchang.
But the team suffered an defeat by. Old Henry Reifsneider and his wife Phoebe loved one another the way people do who have lived together a long long time. They were simple farm people.
‘The Lost Phoebe’ is a short story that was written by Theodore Dreiser. The story is set in a small, increasingly run-down, Midwestern farm, where an old, married . The Lost Phoebe by Theodore Dreiser 1 THEY LIVED together in a part of the country which was not so prosperous as it had once been, about three miles from one of those towns that, instead of increasing in population, is steadily decreasing.