Who Are The Colesmiths?: Product of Culture Book I

By James Lynch, Jr

Peer into the lives of Mark and Markus. These two members, and more, are of the Colesmith family heritage. How do they respond to the stimuli of the world around them? Why do they respond in such ways? What seeds have been planted and cultivated in them, along with their associates? Some will find the book, "Who are the Colesmiths?" and the book series as a whole to be a puzzle of sorts; anticipating what fits where and why? While others will sit back and reflect on the meaning of the glances, expressions, and the times of the day. Then some will just go along for the ride. Do you desire to make the connectives in this series? Do you enjoy taking intellectual journeys? Do you enjoy challenges? You are invited to turn the pages of this book and enter the world of the Colesmiths.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Lynch, Jr
• Release date: Feb 15, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458091031

James Lynch, Jr

Author (Kindle & Audiobooks)The Perceptive Reader’s PodcastFeatured Talented People through interviews, music, and commentary

Book preview

Prologue

The time is two a.m. Markus sat laid back in his chair with eyes staring forward into the darkness with a drink stronger than lemonade in his hand. That is the way old timers would have expressed it, he quips to himself. In the background, he listens to the tune of a song he once heard.

♫ Dreaming for the peace of the land. Why am I holding this weapon in my hand…♫

Markus starts to reflect on gone by decades. Then, as he listens further, the tune sets off trigger points of thoughts, reflections, and emotions. What would someone he has great respect for expound now to his present dilemma?

♫ When will the sky be clear…Who will hear? ♫

Markus reflects further on the words of the song as he sees himself shrinking into insignificance. Back to age thirty, age twenty, age ten, before conception. Mark Titus Colesmith, of adolescence age, dropped his bag of potatoes as his sister Sophia approached running home crying. He did not have to ask who, or what caused her to cry, so he immediately asked, Where are they?

There. Little Sophia pointed down the street.

As Mark walked in a controlled manner down the dirt road, he started whispering to himself. Why are those boys picking on my sister? I know Grandpa would be mad to see her crying. I have to stop them from picking on her. Mark approached the three teenage boys that were older than him by a year at least. He stated in a slow and low tone, Stop picking on my sister.

The so-called ten cent city slicker as Grandpa referenced him, who was the Alpha bully stated, You make me!

After hearing the ten cent city slicker’s words, Mark, who may have been slow in tongue, was quick in actions. He threw the first punch to an unsuspecting stomach of his now enemy. The self-promoted bully hit the ground, and there was no getting up from the pain. The other two five cent city slickers, as Mark thought of them attempted to jump him, but Mark was too strong for them. Besides, they had peaked his temper. Mark proceeded to kick, head butt and punch with such force that the other two boys started pushing him away.

When he realized the fight had gone out of them, he said, Leave my sister alone.

Though the boys said nothing, the silence was their answer of acquiescing to Mark’s command. The boys never bothered Sophia again. In fact, they were downright nice at times.

Chapter 1

Mark was seven years old when his mother left him and his sister on the farm with their Grandpa. He never called his grandfather by his real name. Hence, Grandpa was spoken of formally as a real name with the utmost respect and affection. Town’s people, advanced in years, often used nicknames to address him; from Old Timer to Big Papa.

Grandpa was a man wise in years. He was a straight shooter. He acquired over the years in his brain’s reservoir many wise sayings and stories to share with Mark. Though Mark’s father was murdered when he was at a young age, Grandpa would instruct him in ways to not let what happened to his father cripple him in dealing with life.

They worked on the farm starting from early morning until it was time for Mark and his sister to head off to school. Once out of school, Mark would quickly travel home to work another hour on the small farm. Afterward, the family would eat dinner together and following dinner, Mark would complete his studies from school. Often, after the homework was done, Grandpa would tell them a story. Many times they were moral stories. Good and bad, ugly and beautiful, light and dark stories. Mark would sometimes ask, Grandpa, why are you telling us about these things?

Grandpa would reply, Boy, you may not appreciate everything I am telling you now, but you will as you get older. My Grandpa told me these things I am now telling you. When you get older and have children of your own, you will share these same stories with them.

But Grandpa, Mark in his younger days would exclaim, why do I have to fight? Why does Momma have to leave us for so long? Who was my daddy?

Grandpa would often reply, It is the way of the world, and you have to be tough, or it will crack you up. Now go to bed.

But Grandpa…

As soon as the words would come out of Mark’s mouth again, his Grandpa would grab a skinny tree limb from under the table. He knew not to question him again and went to bed.

On Saturdays, at irregular intervals, Mark and Sophia would awaken to pancakes, eggs, and biscuit smells. What did this mean? It meant Momma was home! Momma worked in the city and was gone for weeks at a time. When she came home, she brought gifts along with plenty of hugs and kisses. Sophia often cried on Sunday nights when mother had to leave.

Mommy, don’t go, don’t go, Sophia cried.

Momma tried comforting her to no avail. Mark remembers one time when the emotions ran so high with the departing of his mother, Momma started to feel she could actually take the children back with her to the city. Grandpa, though he was old, told her, You will do no such thing. He grabbed Mark, who was also crying, on the shoulder and told him to be strong. He went and grabbed his daughter’s hand taking her to the side. All Mark and Sophia could see was her long black hair. But they knew she was crying. No one knows what Grandpa said exactly to mother. However, when she turned around and approached Mark and Sophia, she hugged them; said she was sorry, and would see them soon. As the months and years went by, Mark could not help but notice that soon amounted to several weeks of time in between visits. Yet, his Grandpa became the father