The Tale of Two Certificates, Part The First

And now I will tell you the Tale, Best Beloved, of the Two Certificates. It is a wondrous story, and I do believe you'll like it most greatly.

A lovely girl, not much older nor much younger than yourself, Best Beloved, stumbled upon the month of November and the busyness contained therein. She found that such a month ushers in so many opportunities and activities that she could scarcely choose just one, and so, as many do when faced with several delightful choices, she chose many.

What activities did she choose, you're wondering? Well, indeed, that's a very fine thing to wonder! Before I tell you, however, I hasten to say that not all of the activities did she choose. Some of them very simply, dare I say, chose her.

For instance, that of Thanksgiving. Best Beloved, you know what an enigma food can be; well, in the days of this young girl, whom we shall henceforth call Bard, there was a Special Day set aside to feast and give thanks, and then to feast some more with a little less thanks, and then the feasting continued and the thanks diminished until there was no more food nor thanks left, and only the very bones of the turkey remained, out of which Bard's mother would craft a most delicious Turkey Carcass Soup. You really must try it, Best Beloved, should you ever happen upon it. It has a simplicity that somehow carries with it all of the Thanks that had been lost in those final days of Feasting.

The days leading up to Thanksgiving were filled with their own busyness which included Bard's preparations of delicious foods with names like Cheesecake and Pickle Wraps and Cranberry Sauce. And there, of course, was cleaning, Best Beloved, which you know full well about, being the fine helper that you are.

Yet more activities, aside from the cleaning of the dwelling and the preparation of foods for the day of feasting and the visiting of relatives, surrounded Bard's busy month; but, alas, these were things which occupied Bard of her own choosing and those things were numbered many. Have you ever, Best Beloved, found yourself presented with so very many good choices that you simply couldn't force yourself to choose just one or two or maybe even three? Well, this is where our dear girl, Bard, who was not much younger nor much older than you, found herself.

For the month of November carried with it leftovers of quite a different sort, which were continuations of Very Important Classes, such as Algebra and Philosophy and Biology and Speech Club and Drama of two different flavors and a beautiful Choral Ensemble, to which Bard's voice was added to bring forth the sweetness of many other voices.

Now, Best Beloved, I know that you have your own learning to do, and you must know that these November Leftovers were in addition to Bard's regular lessons, which included piano pieces and guitar strumming and delightful readings of the works of Sir Winston Churchill and C.S. Lewis and Mortimer J. Adler and Richard Halliburton, and it is this last, my Dear One, that inspired a November choice for Bard which was most difficult for her to resist.

A funny challenge existed among writers in those times, and surely you will find it queer, as many did even during The Day of it, but still it existed, and for the fact that it is most essential to this tale, I will explain it to you.

But not, Best Beloved, at this time, for I'm sure that you have busyness of your own to which you must attend, as do I, and while I would like nothing more than to sit here for all of the days telling tales to you, I cannot. So, scurry on, and return back later, and we will continue our tale.