Chapter One: Goober's Tail

Piggy

Part 1

Goober’s Tail

A pink-nosed kitten barely two months old, reached his paws toward the stately grey-striped tabby trying to bathe him with her sandpaper tongue. He swatted at her tail, trying to catch it between two small, but very furry paws. He wriggled away from her, annoyed at this bath time ritual.

“Stop it, Mom, that tickles,” the kitten said.

The mother cat ignored her babe, continuing to lick every inch of her precious adopted son. The tongue combed through the white fur, and her paw gently held him down.

She fretted over the rescued kitten, not only in keeping him clean, but especially because he was so vulnerable, the smallest one of the litter. Her human had chosen him from the animal shelter for this very reason. He had a soft spot for the underdogs of the world.

“Why do I have to be clean before bed?” The kitten squirmed, catching his mother’s tail this time before she gently pulled it away from him.

The mother cat who’d answered this question many times before stopped for a moment.

“Peanut,” she said. “I have a different kind of “tail” for you. What if I tell you the most wonderful story tonight? It’s a bedtime tale that I think you might enjoy.”

Peanut the kitten stopped fussing; his big green eyes alight with wonder. “A story, Mama, a fun story?”

“Oh yes, but this one is true. It’s about an unlikely friendship, great bravery, heroes and villians. This is the story of the great mouse rescue.”

“A mouse?” Peanut questioned.

The grey-striped tabby cuddled her young one close. She licked his soft, tiny head and then rested her chin upon him. A sigh escaped her, and she looked up into the darkness of the room; her cat night vision excellent. Her human was asleep, snoring away in the next room. She closed her eyes and let the thoughts come to her; thoughts of her dear sister and friends. A meow that sounded oddly like a chuckle echoed in her mind, or had she heard it?

Settling in with her paw across Peanut’s back, Goober the cat began her tale.

                                                                        *****

A dilapidated, gray-shingled house sat among tidy red brick homes in a quiet neighborhood of Ambridge, Pennsylvania. It stood out for the peeling strips of paint, the sagging front porch, and the tendrils of ivy creeping up the side. A wooden fence badly in need of a paint job surrounded it with a creaking, rusty gate. Behind this gate sat the meanest, toughest, and angriest cat anyone ever laid eyes on: his name was Bolivar. He belonged to no one and nobody belonged to him. Day after day, he’d wait for unsuspecting pretty, seducing them with his snake-like voice, and then grabbing them when they least expected.

The house in which he stood sentry had been deserted for several years. He claimed this property for himself and picked fights with other cats in the neighborhood who dared step foot inside his weedy yard.

Bolivar lifted his ragged orange head and licked at a wound on one paw. The scar on the right side of his face and his partially torn ear pained him today; the results of many battles. His stomach growled; he hadn’t eaten a decent meal in at least four days.

Recently, the neighbors had begun to lock their trashcans up tightly; a few of them included heavy bricks on top to prevent him from tipping them. Not a scrawny bird to eat, not even a tasty little crawling bug; his mood went from bad to worse.

Out of the corner of his eye, through one of the slats in the fence, Bolivar spotted movement. In the next yard, a plump, furry brown mouse frolicked about. With his changing luck, Bolivar perked up. He lay low to the ground, every muscle in his body tense and alert. His tail twitched in anticipation and his hind quarters wiggled as he sprung forward to pounce upon the unsuspecting rodent. . .

                                                                        *****

Goober paused for a moment with her story. Peanut apparently had forgotten all about sleeping. He stared at his mama, wide-eyed.

“I thought you said this was a mouse rescue? It sounds like this cat was ready for dinner.”

“I did, son, be patient,” Goober said, and resumed licking her kitten. Peanut rolled onto his back, paws in the air, Mama’s tongue made the fur of his belly stick up in all directions.

“Well I don’t like Bolivar,” Peanut shivered. “He sounds mean and scary.”

“Yes, he was,” Goober said, sighing. “But let me go back a little further. I’m going to tell you how another cat, a brave, beautiful cat got the best of him and how she and a mouse became the closest of friends.

You see, we don’t always have to fight or prove ourselves to be big and strong. Sometimes it’s the smallest of creatures who can teach us life’s greatest lessons.”

Peanut began purring while mama resumed her story.

If you enjoyed this preview of the first chapter of the book "Piggy" below are the links to order a copy. Available in paperback and e-book versions.

http://www.tuxedoebooks.com/store/p9/Piggy.html

 http://www.amazon.com/Piggy-Karen-Malena-ebook/dp/B00MR92EXS/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1410223907&sr=1-3&keywords=karen+malena

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/piggy-karen-malena/1120032425?ean=9780990619116


http://www.tuxedoebooks.com/store/p9/Piggy.html

Some of the proceeds of this book will be donated to My Ferals, a Facebook cat community which helps many stray and feral cats.

Here is a link to a free giveaway of the book to one lucky person!
 http://katzenworld.co.uk/2014/09/09/book-review-piggys-story-by-karen-malena/

A fellow cat lover!

Today, I'd like to introduce an all around great guy and fellow cat lover and author of a lovely book series, Ginger Nut Series.

 Peter Brighouse, as a fellow of late 1940’s vintage, really looks and feels like Old Master. His literary heroes/heroines include Beatrix Potter, Alison Uttley, Terry Pratchett and Judith Kerr. His film/TV heroes/heroines include Tommy Cooper, Eric Morecambe, W.C. Fields, Victoria Wood and the Marx Brothers. He often wonders whether Art College would have been more useful than a degree in Zoology. Nevertheless, Peter Brighouse is hoping to be discovered.

He is helpfully aided and abetted by Mark Graham Brighouse whose design and drawing skills make him a really useful Young Master.
Colour co-ordination, excellence of English grammar and syntax is handled by sheer dint of hard-work by Roz Brighouse (Old Mistress).
We are all inspired by Louisa Elaine Brighouse (Young Mistress).
The books are from an original concept by Moppet, Tigger and Simpkin and augmented by contributions from The Bullpuss, Tabitha Twitchit and Mungojerrie who can all be found on our website at www.louisasgingernuts.co.uk

Louisa's Ginger Nuts Series are illustrated Cat Books for children and adults of all ages; colorful children’s cat stories for ages 3 to 10, with hidden facets of humor for the adult reading to the child and for adults themselves. A literary interpretation of the adventures of our family cats who interact with their people and the garden as only feline friends can do. The six main characters are all cats who have owned us and upon whose staff we have served. Humor figures highly in the stories and the author has great fun designing the illustrations. These stories have an old-fashioned appeal and are not written in a simplistic fashion - there are lots of words and younger children may need help with them. If you require quick-fire action and garish ostentation, these stories are not for you. Eight books self-published in print and eleven on kindle, with more on the way.

Several generations of cats have inspired the stories which show a zoologist's take on garden wild-life plus a modern day touch of Beatrix Potter style anthropomorphism.
Each book is far more than a main-stream publisher's aim of up to 1000 words and there are no wall-to-wall garish illustrations. The stories can be read by a bright 5 or 6 year old and easily enjoyed by a parent reading to a child, since there are hidden facets of humor that perhaps only the adult would notice.
The author finds the writing easy, the illustrations and drawings are most enjoyable to produce; the graphic design manageable, (after a career in computers), and the marketing a fascinating retirement challenge.

In our fictional feline world we now have six cats:
Mopprag (based upon Moppet) - the matriarch of the group, a proper lady, who stands no nonsense and expects to be treated in a respectable manner;
Tigtoes (based upon Tigger) - very fit, bouncy and daft, with orange stripes;
Squimps (based upon Simpkin) - a wise gentle animal, very affectionate, the non-identical twin brother of Tigtoes;
Bullpuss (based upon The Bullpuss) - a rehabilitated stray from the wilds of Fallowfield, very large, very street-wise, with a fine line in wise-cracks;
Tabitha (based upon Tabitha Twitchit) - a small dark stripy rescue cat, who likes her own way with most things and is often affronted if that doesn't happen;
Mungojerrie (based upon Mungojerrie, since we gave up bothering about copyright on famous felines' names) - the tallest ginger cat we have seen with a fluffy tail that reaches so high you can take him for walks on his built in lead.

The author started writing in the early 1990's just after his daughter Louisa was born. Having retired from mainstream employment, the production rate has stepped up considerably.
 www.peterbrighousecatbooks.co.uk

 http://www.louisasgingernuts.co.uk/

If you'd like to purchase Mr. Brighouse's books:

This link gets a neat discount: Coupon code CATBOOKSFELINES #MrSquimpsCatShop http://etsy.me/1sL4Fob

Coincidence or Destiny

There are times in life when we have to sit back, scratch our heads and wonder if a meeting was by chance or by the touch of God's hand.

A few years ago, while sitting at a table during a writing seminar, I was looking over the program of events for the day. The names of the other attendees were also included, and I noticed that a name of one of the ladies was from my quaint, old hometown. Since I'd moved away from there, I always felt a bit nostalgic about it. Here I was far from home once again, and wondering if I could somehow ask around and perhaps meet this author. I'd love a chance to chat with someone from where I'd grown up. So many faces, so many people. And the seminar was going to begin soon. Would I have a chance to find her?

We all wore name tags that day. I happened to glance across the round table where I was sitting. A very pleasant woman sat across from me. I looked at the name on her tag, then down at the program. It was her! This was the woman from my town! We got to chatting, one thing led to another and a new friendship was forged. She's helped me in my own writing career with editing and ideas. And I'm very excited to do upcoming writing seminars with her. But today is her day, and I'd like to introduce my good friend, Alicia Stankay:

 Alicia Stankay is a writer living in Ambridge, PA. Her writing journey began when she was twelve and wrote her first book, The Riddle of the Missing Rings. That story still exists in its original book form, a black-and-white composition notebook. It still preserves the black crayon mark circles and purple scribbles of her younger siblings, making it a one-of-a-kind creative effort. Many unpublished poems and short stories later, she finally published her first children’s short stories while raising her own children. As her children matured, her writing advanced to adult short stories, and her foray into contests started bearing fruit. Many of those winning stories appear in her two collections of short stories, Between Two Bears: Short Stories on the Journey of Life (co-written with Bruce Midkiff) and Tales of Twenty Women: Reflections on Love.

Combining her love of nature with her enjoyment of hiking and photography allows her to document flowers, butterflies, and mushrooms, along with other natural settings. From May to July 2014, two of her photos were showcased with other artwork in the Merrick Art Gallery’s Legacy Exhibition in New Brighton, PA. When not using her imagination writing stories, she uses it playing with her four grandchildren in the role of a princess, or acting as Robin, Batman’s sidekick, or flying on the “pretend airplane” visiting the “pretend Disney World.” Most importantly, of course, she loves reading stories to them.

A short story that appears in Tales of Twenty Women sparked an idea for her first novel. She just recently published Beyond the Bridge, titled with the same name as the story, but with a different slant. Her photos also grace the front covers of all three of her books. Besides being a member of an Ambridge writer’s group, Taproot Literary Workshop, she also belongs to the Ligonier Valley Writers, and Pennwriters. Her books are available on Amazon and Kindle. http://www.amazon.com/Alicia-Stankay/e/B00A8SAR1G

Believe

When I was about fifteen years old I had a dream. An avid reader since I was very young, I had always envisioned myself as an author. My love of books took me to far away places, kingdoms, other worlds. How I longed to create something like this myself.

I was a shy child, and a little backward. My mom had been in and out of the hospital since I was about eight years old for "nervous issues." Though I had the love of my father and grandmother surrounding me, it was an extremely frightening time; the knowledge of what could happen, or what might happen always looming ever so close. Books and reading became sustenance to me. I devoured fantasy tails, losing myself for hours in places where there were no real fears, no real worries.

By my early teenage years, Mom had become well, and we were once again a family unit, whole and healthy. It was during this time, another issue would plague me.

I began noticing that my body didn't look right as I viewed myself in the mirror. Where curves should be, twisted bones stared back. Scoliosis, curvature of the spine, had found me. A year-long ordeal, a hospital stay and full body cast became the norm for me at that time. It was once again the solace I found in books as they comforted me and took me away.

It was about this time, the dream to become a writer hit me. I'd certainly read enough books. Why couldn't I put pen to paper and come up with a tale that would transport others to far and away?

My first attempt was a miserable failure. I'd written a story which was meant to be tragic and sad. I handed it to my mother, watching her, and waiting for the tears I just knew would begin to flow. Nothing of the sort happened. Mom proceeded to burst into gales of laughter. I took the offensive story from her hands, ripping it to shreds, and slunk away with my tail between my legs.

Other stories would come and go over the years. Ones I would start, never to finish them. It wasn't until my later years when I met one encouraging man that I would finally realize my dream.

The point of all this is: Believe. Believe in yourself, believe in something bigger than you. Believe that a dream can become a reality. I've not arrived "there" yet, wherever that may be. I long for a time when my name would be a household word, a "best-loved" author. But I've taken the steps to learn the craft, I've made time for classes and critique groups and spent countless hours honing and refining new stories. Whatever your dream and goals are, take the first step and believe.

This story is the result of such a belief. My labor of love, a children's/ cat lover book which I've poured much time into and tons of heart and soul. Though I've written a few other books, this particular book has been my salvation, my shining star of hope. It is my belief that many will read and enjoy it, and come away with the feelings I once felt as I was transported into make believe places and times.

 http://www.tuxedoebooks.com/store/p9/Piggy.html

Those Strays

It feels wonderful to be chosen. When we were little, to be picked first for a pick-up sports game or in gym class to not have to feel the head hanging shame of being one of the last ones chosen.

I think this is why I'm so up in arms about a tiny stray kitten that suddenly appeared near my son's home this summer. Someone took God's tiny creature and not caring what might happen to it, they "chose" to drop this precious sweetheart off on a busy road without a second glance as they drove off to their busy lives.

Mewling, scrawny, eyes too big for its little face, I spotted the tortoise-shell kitten between my son's house and the neighbor's home. At least there was a dish on their porch, and I could see the neighbors had a soft spot for this little stray. I, of course, ran into my son's house grabbing handfuls of cat kibble and a cup of water. The grateful stray rubbed against me, purring gratitude, looking up at me with those huge, starving eyes.

My son has a heart like his mama. Recently he asked what he could do for this cat. He couldn't take it in with his own two, we were unsure if it may have caught some sort of disease or infection in all its time outdoors. But he wondered if perhaps PetSmart would take it.

I had an idea. A compassionate veterinarian works down the block from me. It was she who found me my own two fluffy, gray, long hair ragamuffin cats. I prayed, "Dear Lord, please. Please let this little cat find some love and care in this world." I phoned the vet the next day and she agreed to take her.

My son and I brought "her", as I began referring to this cat as a girl, to the vets office where she was greeted with smiles, loving, caring hands and sweet voices talking to her. She may have never heard anything but, "Shoo. Get out of here!" in her short life.

God's creatures are special. And sometimes if we are lucky enough, we are the ones "chosen" to take care of them. Other times, a little kitten or puppy are chosen by a new, family and brought into warm, loving homes.

Let's not choose to do harm though. Let's never consider an animal something we can easily get rid of by "dropping it off" in a neighborhood to fend for itself. I think God smiles when we offer a little help, a little of His goodness and heart for the unloved strays of this world.

On a truly happy note: I visited the little cat several times while she was at the vets office. They took amazing care of her, and got her ready for adoption. They had a name tag of "Jenny" on her cage out in their waiting room which warmed my heart. Weeks went by, and I prayed that the right family would find her and love her as she was truly meant to be loved.

Two weeks ago, one of the girls that work at the veterinarians called me to tell me little Jenny had been adopted by a woman. She said that the woman phoned their office once she'd gotten the cat home to tell her that Jenny was doing great, getting along with her dogs and ruling the house. She re-named her "Sheba" because she is queen of their castle.

I write this ending with tears in my eyes. You see, we have the opportunity to do such good in this world. A little animal, carelessly thrown away now has  the chance of a great, new life.

Because He Saved My Life

A young girl thinks of harming herself. Just this once, she thinks. Yeah, I did it before, but I can control it. I can stop anytime I want.

She picks up the jagged piece of glass, the one she found at the bus stop when nobody was looking. The one she slipped into her purse, tucking it deep down inside, the way she's tucked her feelings.

 It's a long road that's taken her to this point. She feels lost, unloved, afraid, alone. Children in school taunt her, call her names, push her, spit on her.

She sits alone in her room. Her computer whirs to life, and she clicks on a link. The jagged glass lays atop her desk, the overhead light reflects in it. She looks at it, then at the screen. She's typed in something silly, something that meant so much to her as a child. Two words: Claw machines. They used to make her happy when Mom and Dad brought her to the mall. The way pushing the joystick made you feel in control, if only for a short time. The way you were rewarded with a little toy prize if you did well.

The girl picks up the shard of glass. Maybe just a little cut on her leg this time. It would release so much tension. It would make her feel alive again, if only for a moment.

Something catches her eye. She sees a smiling face staring back at her from the computer screen, a YouTube video. She clicks on the link and a young man plays a claw machine, nonsense words come from his mouth, but they make her laugh. His zany antics hold her captive for the moment, and she laughs again, a welcome sound in the stillness of her room.

Over and over she watches one video after another. This boy who jumps around, making funny faces, winning prizes in that most beloved of games. She puts the glass down. It does not captivate her as it once did. For she's found another outlet now. A positive one. A role model who knows what it's like to feel alone. A role model who's been through shyness, insecurity, and pain.

She writes a fan letter to this boy. And when she hears back from him, her life has changed. She's not a nameless face in the crowd. For someone has acknowledged her. Someone who has journeyed a long way himself, and found light at the end of the tunnel.

The girl holds her head up. She vows to make a change. The broken shard of glass goes into the trashcan, falling to the bottom never to be seen again. I can do this, she thinks. I can do anything I put my mind to. I'm not the same person. . . because he saved my life.

A New Blog Hop via Grace Yee

Hello. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Karen Malena and a funny thing happened on this journey called life. Okay, I realize that's a bit cliche. But life has been a journey and yes, some funny things certainly happened! I've worked in the dental field for over thirty years, and only recently became a published author. Not bad for someone who had their mom laugh hysterically at the first story she ever wrote as a young girl; a story which was meant to be tragic and sad.

I've been invited by author Grace Yee to join in a blog hop and there are a few questions I must answer. Links to her author page and blog site follow at the end of the questions.

Here goes:

1. What are you working on?
I'm at the end of finalizing a funny fantasy cat story about Piggy, my son's cat and her make-believe adventures. Also I'm writing a poignant love story about two people who meet in the twilight years in an assisted living facility. These stories are as different as night and day, that's what makes it so fun.



2.  How does your work differ from others in the genre?
With my cat story, I've noticed that other cat authors have "true" stories which they've written about some really brave and different cats they've owned. I chose to write a make-believe story about my son's cat Piggy since a popular Facebook page of hers has really taken off. I'd like to continue to convey her very sassy side, coupled with some great adventures, heroes and villains and tell a "tail" for people of all ages.


3. Why do you write what you do?
I've loved pretending and made up stories since I was a young girl. When I'm writing a serious story such as Shadow of My Father's Secret, I dig deep within myself to how the characters feel. I find stories from my own life and intermingle them into my books.

When I'm writing fantasy like Piggy's story, my fun, inner child comes to the surface and I can be more free to express a sillier side of myself.


4. How does your writing process work?
I have a full time job, full time husband, full time elderly parents and assorted loved ones who I enjoy spending time with. It isn't easy to actually make the time to write. I grab what I call little valuable pockets of time. If I actually have a full day to myself, I write like crazy. I must have complete quiet surrounding me to "get in the zone" so to speak.

Also, I write in my head almost all the time. During a long drive, a good outdoor walk, my characters tell me what they want me to do next.

As part of this blog hop, I'd like to introduce the writer who invited me and then the two other writers who are joining in the fun:

Grace Yee who invited me:  http://graceyee.blogspot.com/
 
http://www.amazon.com/Grace-Yee/e/B009ROMSY6/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1

Joe Potts:  http://joepottszone.com/

B. Chantel:   http://www.amazon.com/B.-Chantel/e/B00BC9OZ4K

This is Piggy the cat's Facebook page as well:  https://www.facebook.com/pages/Piggy/118352481653800?ref_type=bookmark

A special thank you to Grace Yee for inviting me, and for the other bloggers who joined in!

Curiosity and cats

You've all seen them. The Elizabethan collars so famous for cat and dog operations. That hideous torture device meant to keep your pet away from surgery sites and stitches.

Never have I seen a cat actually "want" to wear one of these. That is, until my own cat Rocco tried one on for size one day.

My husband and I were fortunate to adopt brother and sister cats Rocco and Bella as little kittens. The tiny ragamuffins were found near a motel in the town I work. A kindly veterinarian's office took them in and nursed the flea bitten kitties to health.

Soon after we brought them home, we decided to have them spayed and neutered. Well, Rocco had it pretty easy, after all, he's the male. The surgery for the boy cat is a little easier. Not so for Miss Bella. Stitches ran down her shaved belly and one of the plastic torture devices, the Elizabethan collar was put around her little neck.

My husband and I felt terrible watching the poor kitten trying to eat and drink with the hated collar. One day, my husband decided to give Bella a little break and he loosened and removed the collar so she could enjoy her food. Unfortunately, we placed it back on as soon as her meal was done.

Each day when I returned home from work, I was greeted by the two gray fluffballs at the door. I swear cats come to know the sound of our vehicles even when they're about a mile away. So on this particular day when I walked in, I was a bit puzzled to see only one cat: Rocco, the male. I called for Bella and heard the sound of mewing from far away. I called again....mew. I walked further into the house calling "Bella!" More meowing, but from where?

As I walked into the living room and looked up the stairs, poor Bella cat was limping down the stairs, half in half out of the stupid collar. Since we'd loosened it, her body was wedged part way, as if she'd tried to climb out of it.

My husband heard this story when he came home from his own job that night. Feeling sorry for the poor kitty, and realizing she'd had enough of wearing the awful device, he removed it from Bella once and for all, throwing it onto the floor of our bedroom into a corner.

The next day I returned home from work and as I opened the door, the sight of two kitties again greeted me. But, what's this?? The Elizabethan collar was back! How?? Why?? Had hubby returned from work feeling a bit guilty and placed it back on little Bella?

Nope. Upon examining the cats, I saw that it was Rocco, not Bella who had the collar on. Apparently the phrase having something to do with curiosity and cats had special meaning for him. The silly boy must have gone over the collar on my bedroom floor and plopped his own head into it. Sorry, Rocco, but you were the butt of jokes for quite a while in our house.

THE REAL ROCCO AND BELLA

Meet Allen Kevorkov

With the theme of inspirational stories, once again I'd like to introduce someone who had quite the journey in life. Meet Allen Kevorkov and listen in his own words how far he's come and the fun and interesting things he's up to:

1. A little bit about myself...here goes! I'm a lucky father of two beautiful girls, Alina (3), and Natalie (10 months). They have the best Mommy in the world, my wife of 6 years, Kelly, whom I met through Match.com 11 years ago. Geez, time flies. Oh and we have two kitties, Molly (12) and Maxie (9). My first cat, Joey (12), stayed with my parents to keep them company after I moved out. I studied Business Administration and Marketing in college, and during my sophomore year, I started a business selling computers, computer hardware and accessories, as well as doing repairs and upgrades for friends. I guess they liked me because the word of mouth allowed me to build up a decent customer base, some of whom utilize my services to this day. At this time, I have one regular client and a few others, here and there. About a year after graduation, I started a full-time job as a Network Administrator at a small marketing firm. I was later promoted to Manager of Information Systems. I left the company after twelve years in 2013, when I shifted my focus toward email after joining a local eCommerce solutions provider as Deliverability Analyst.

2. It makes me feel pretty old, when I start to think how long ago I began playing claw machines. It's been a significant part of my life since I was about 5 years old. There was a little amusement park across the street from my house, and there was a small arcade, where I experienced the claw machine for the first time. It was a horizontal cabinet with a glass top, and the most common prize found in these machines were cigarettes. Clearly, these machines were intended for adults, but my Mom allowed me to play it, and I won three times in a row. That kind of success in claw machines was pretty rare, especially for a child, and it ignited a passion that has never left me. I bought my first machine 11 years ago and have since owned three others, two of which I still have in my basement.

3. Interesting facts... I suppose it depends on what is considered interesting, but let's start from the beginning. I was born in Baku, capital of the former Soviet republic of Azerbaijan. I am an only child and I suppose you could say I'm spoiled, although I've always been very close with my cousins and spent a great deal of time with them growing up. Due to civil unrest in my neck of the woods, we were forced to flee our hometown, and my family was permitted to leave the country as Armenian refugees to start life anew. We landed on the US soil in January of 1991. The first couple of years were very difficult, as we learned to adapt to the new culture and lifestyle. I experienced a fair share of prejudice and bullying in middle school, which left a good dent in my confidence and self-esteem, but by the time I started high school in the fall of 1992, I had adapted fairly well and it was a much more positive experience with new friends in another school district.

4. I started my YouTube channel in 2006. I love entertaining my friends, and I've always wanted to make a science fiction type of movie on my own, using special effects, such as time travel to meet myself in the past or future. When I took a day off work to try to accomplish this, I quickly realized that doing this on my own would take a lot more time and patience that I was willing to dedicate to it, so my first YouTube post ended up being just a collection of special effect tricks in a video titled "How to be a Superman". I later made the video private, as I didn't feel it was a good representation of my skill. I am not exactly sure what prompted me to make my first Claw Machine tutorial, but with over 300,000 views, it is by far the most successful video on my channel. Speaking of which, May 28th 2014 marks the 7-year anniversary, since that video was posted. During the first year, I made 3 tutorial videos, after which I started working on music videos. After numerous requests, I revisited the idea of making claw machine tutorials 5 years later, and once I realized just how much the interest has grown over the years, judging by Matt's incredible fan base, I decided to create Be The Claw, the idea for which was inspired by "The Claw" from Toy Story and SpongeBob's quote "be the crane" from the Skill Crane episode. 

5. Music production is another big one for me. I started writing, when I was about 10 years old. I initially played piano, and a few years later, learned to play guitar as well. Throughout teenage years, I've recorded numerous albums on tapes and gave out to friends and family and it wasn't until my most recently album, published in 2009, that I started feeling more comfortable sharing my work with the public. I created a webpage and offered both digital and CD versions of my album. Music has always been a great companion through difficult times and gave me a voice that I seemed to lack otherwise. I have made a number of music videos to my songs on my own, which I have also posted on my YouTube channel. My music styles include soft rock, pop, easy listening, comedy and parodies. I also enjoy customizing cars, although it is an expensive hobby, which has taken a back seat after I started family.

6. Anything else... To people, who haven't met me in person, it often comes as a surprise that outside of YouTube, I am generally fairly shy. I have wonderful parents, who traveled across the world in search of a brighter future for me, and they have always supported my somewhat unusual obsession with claw machines. My father used to take me to amusement parks and arcades with the sole intention of playing the claw machine and I am grateful for that. I became addicted to the Internet in high school because it opened up a whole new world of people and way of communicating. It allowed me to make many friends that I wouldn't have been able to meet otherwise. I enjoy talking to people online, and the three traits I value in people the most are kindness, generosity, and sincerity.

7. Where can I be found? I'm pretty Googlable, but my claw machine website is betheclaw.com, which I created in 2012 in hopes of uniting all the fans out there. I started using Twitter recently, in light of my invitation to join Matt in NEN / Sugarloaf's Twitter Chat. My Twitter handle is @betheclaw and all my posts automatically end up on my Facebook page at Facebook.com/betheclaw. My Youtube channel is youtube.com/allenkevorkov. For anyone interested in my music, that can be found at AllenKevorkov.com and Facebook.com/AllenKevorkovMusic.

The Light

The view from my back porch was breathtaking. A tree filled with glorious pink blossoms. They had appeared after a long winter's sleep when the sun began shining.

A tiny seedling pokes its head upon my windowsill. Italian bean seeds which I placed into a small plastic container to encourage growth. Their faces turned toward the light, soaking up the sun. Even though I turned the planter completely around last evening, when I walked through the door this evening, their cheery faces were once again pointed out the window as if basking and enjoying the bright sunny day.

We are like that too. On a warm day, don't we gather outdoors enjoying the rays of warmth as they light up our faces? Sitting on my porch swing while it's still light outside after a long day's work, only to return indoors as the darkness begins to descend.

The topic of light reminds me of something, a saying I've always loved. It is better to light a candle than curse the darkness.

On my darkest of days, when I'm lonely, when I've been hurt by a loved one, when a sharp retort at my job causes me to feel less than, I must remember the light. When arthritis with its tendrils of pain snake through my back, or when I feel I can't walk another step, I must remember the light. When sadness threatens to choke out all that is good, when past thoughts creep up, snaking their way into the recesses of my soul, I must remember the light. When I'm tempted to speak badly of another, when ill-chosen words with my spouse make me wonder if there's anything good, I must remember the light.

Light reaches into a dark room, illuminating the way. My heart and soul are like that too, as precious light flows into them, illuminating, chasing away any sadness, any gloom which lurks there.

We speak light into another's soul when we freely give words of encouragement. We become light to a darkened world when a kind deed, perhaps unnoticed, touches a person more than we'll ever know. It's a choice, however, this light. For it isn't easy at times. How I long to express in an angry moment, words which would cut to the quick, words which could destroy. I must remember the light.

As I walk through the darkened days, I pick up my candle, illuminating the path before me. Sometimes the corners are very deep with gloom, and other times, only the tiniest flicker of my candle of hope remains. But I must press on, I must not give in to darkness or despair. I choose the light. I choose the path which is set before me, for good or naught. The candle will not be extinguished, for it's flame is strong. At the center of it is the heart of God. And He is my true light.