meschenck.bsky.social
Mom, aspiring author, determined, and trying to be confident
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1,182 followers
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Getting Started
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Thank you. It is inspiring to read someone offering to review books that interest them.
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We have a "coin operated president."
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Commercial ominous, wow, great line!
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Pro-disease...pass it on.
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“Uncle, Uncle, our ball is right here!” I tried to yell.
But there was a pop, then a drop, and on the green grass is where I fell.
I felt pain, and then warmth spread all over the side of my head.
And that’s where my weekend with Uncle Maga ended because now I’m...
By ME Schenck 2.23.2025
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I ran out to our football so I could prove that he was confused.
I knew as soon as he saw the ball, his anger would be diffused.
The laces gripped beneath my fingers, the ball felt like a reward,
I jumped and shouted with the ball above my head as if I just scored.
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And as his screaming was quickly joined by his waving gun,
I saw our football lying where he left it, between the green grass and the sun.
I yelled at Uncle that we’d been wrong and begged him to stop,
But he was so big and strong, I couldn’t get his gun to drop.
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Then, Uncle Maga starts explaining why we need to build wall after wall,
But he’s interrupted when a group of saggy-pants teens started playing with our football.
Uncle Maga didn’t take a beat to think,
He was up and headed towards them before I had a chance to blink.
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He explains to me that our country is being invaded by foreign vermin,
And the only way to protect ourselves is to heed the 3rd Reich’s righteous sermon.
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He points out parkgoers to identify why our country needs defending.
Head scarves, hoodies, rainbows, and books are all red flags of the offending.
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Where Uncle was standing, the football drops,
We then go get some patriotic Bomb Pops.
Sitting, enjoying our popicles and the beautiful day.
Uncle Maga watches out for people not acting the right way.
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I was so happy and never wanted the afternoon to end,
I felt great to have an awesome, strong, grown-up friend.
We heard the tinkling of the Ice Cream truck beats,
And agreed it was time to get some cold treats.
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Uncle Maga spent an hour with me, just showing me how to throw,
Back and forth, back and forth, the gap between us started to grow.
My neck and arm started to hurt,
But fewer and fewer catches landed in the dirt.
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At the park, Uncle Maga placed his strong hands around mine,
Guiding my fingers along the stitched line.
I’d never known that a thrown football had to twirl,
And if the ball didn’t go far I was throwing like a girl.
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I was so excited,
I ran to the Triangle Truck before a chance of being uninvited.
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Let’s get to that park we passed yesterday
We can toss around the ol pig skin and enjoy our day.”
When it comes to tossing a ball, I’m admittedly unskilled,
But to be asked, I was beyond thrilled!
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Sunday morning video games are what I had planned,
Until Uncle Maga showed up with a twirling football in hand,
With a gruff, firm voice, Uncle Maga started saying,
“Sunday’s meant for praying and playing.
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I asked, “So why would God make everyone else wrong only only a few right?”
To which Uncle Maga replied, “Because I’m in Jesus’ image, a straight man and white.”
What Uncle said made sense to me,
And it was at that moment I began to rethink my mother’s quality.
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I stuffed my face with pancakes and bacon until my pants were bursting.
While Uncle sipped at his coffee saying our Unitarian Church was the worst thing.
Uncle didn’t believe that God accepted all people for who they are,
But rather, it was biblical exclusions that should set the bar.
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I awoke the Sunday morning with my tummy a-rumbling,
Mom was cooking, and Uncle was a-grumbling.
Uncle Maga was complaining that we’d no real church to go pray,
Meanwhile, Mom put bacon, eggs, and pancakes out on the display.
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After a while, he took the gun and then just started shooting,
Beer cans at first, then my Mom’s Gnomes and flower pots were part of his recruiting.
At dinner, Uncle Maga insisted that next visit, we’ll go hunting for deer,
Because there was no way he’d let fairy books turn me queer.
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From the bed of his triangle truck, he plucked a riffle from his stockpile,
And then forced my fingers around the trigger, cussing all the while.
The gun was too heavy, and my fingers didn’t fit,
But he wouldn’t let me go until I learned something called “grit.”
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Mom protested and said that the book taught about inclusion.
To which Uncle Maga tore the book in half and said it teaches only delusion.
Uncle Maga slammed the book’s halves on the table, and they smacked,
He then pulled me outside to teach me how a real man should act.
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I called Uncle Maga over to sit with us and enjoy,
But he profanely expressed that he didn’t like a boy with a boy.
Uncle Maga snatched the book away because he was concerned,
And then screamed at Mom that the book should be burned.
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Today, I picked a story about Lionel, Lucious and Lin,
A family new to a neighborhood and trying to fit in.
Each page had silly scenarios and vibrant colors, making me want to join their fun,
Not to mention that the thought of two dads sounded more loving than none.
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In the late afternoon every Saturday,
Before any screentime or play,
Mom and I crawl into a cozy nook,
And together we escape into a book.
I choose from my recent library picks,
Silly, scrappy, sappy, and scary, I like ‘em all in my mix.
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Uncle’s self-esteem exalted to a higher self,
Retelling his story and placing it on a shelf.
He compared this victory to a biblical parable,
As for the shake, it tasted terrible.
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The manager came, a tall man in a clean suit,
He sympathized with Uncle Maga and gave my server the boot.
The manager comped our meal and apologized.
Bringing us all a round of shakes, supersized.
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Uncle shouted at my favorite server and told her to go to hell.
But calling her a heathen and a witch weren’t the worst things he would yell.
He called her trash, vermin, and then something that set off a trigger,
Mom covered my ears, and all I saw was her eyes swell as her tears grew bigger.
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And just as we were finishing thanking our Lord, The King,
My favorite server winked at me and asked if there was anything else she could bring.
Uncle’s eyes then snapped from holy to hard,
He slammed his fists down and knocked her off her guard.
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And before we would chow down,
On the best burgers in town,
Uncle Maga reached for our hands to pray,
So we could thank the Lord and ask him to bless our day.
Uncle’s righteous words filled me with longing, love, and light,
And that’s when I knew that everything he said was right.
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Listening to Uncle Maga was like learning from the smartest sleuth,
Apparently, everyone was out to get me, and only he could drop me the Truth.
We all got our own hamburgers, and no one had to share fries.
Uncle Maga even ordered me a shake, his super sweet surprise.
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We drove to my favorite restaurant, and I sat in my favorite seat.
And I’ll tell ya, having Uncle Maga there made it super sweet.
Usually, it’s just Mom and me splitting a burger and fries.
But this time, we had a strong man with us who could point out everyone’s lies.
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Mom screamed at him to put down the gun,
But Uncle Maga said he was just protecting her son.
“Quit your liberal woakness, I ain’t going to shoot.
That is, unless, I see some cross-dressin’ fruit.”
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of families at play.
It was uplifting to see everyone enjoying their day.
Uncle Maga wanted to get a closer look at storytime,
And he held his gun steady as he spied for any indoctrinating crime.
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A center console touchscreen made it like driving a video game.
We set off, and like Uncle Maga, I was so proud,
To be sitting above the town, looking down on the crowd.
We passed a park where there was storytime, picnics, and lots -->
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I ran to the triangle truck, awestruck and excited!
And when Uncle lit it up, I was beyond delighted!
I marveled as the outside flickered like a spaceship.
While Uncle boasted that the lights could cause an epileptic fit.
But the insides, oh, the insides of the truck were insane!
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He refused to ride in a non-American car,
Stating that foreign influence has gone too far.
Uncle Maga insisted we take his triangle truck,
To which I was super excited and couldn’t believe my good luck!
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“That’s right, this is ‘Merica! Go back where you belong!”
I was scared because I didn’t understand what was wrong.
After much loud conversation, we three decided to eat out,
But when it was time to get going, Uncle again started to shout.
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Adon’s Mom rushed out and threatened to call the police,
But that’s when Uncle pulled out his piece.
My classmate’s family ran away full steam,
And from behind them, my Uncle Maga would scream,
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Adon and his sister started bawling.
My Mom tried to stop him from doing something more appalling.
But the 6’6” man continued to throw a fit,
Kicking at their stand and finding new places where he could spit.
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Uncle Maga disapproved of our neighbor’s lemonade stand,
I guess where he’s from, neighborhood businesses are banned.
He was hooting and hollering at my classmate Adon and his little sis,
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You see, Uncle Maga had landed on the no-fly list,
Because of a confrontation between a TSA agent and his fist.
This weekend, Uncle Maga decided to pay us a surprise,
But before he could knock, the neighbors caught his angry cries.
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Hello, no, I do not.
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What sweet way to frame the outside world.