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ARBM Episode 204
Episode 204:
In today's adventure, Peter Waitze shares some insight from his ongoing analysis of the many differences between men and women, in his story entitled My Whine Day. Then, Paul Camarata delivers his ode to elbows with a poem entitled Get Bent. And finally, Mike Archer takes us out into nature for some animal eavesdropping, in an excerpt from his book entitled Living With Humans.
Authors:
Mike Archer: Mike is a retired television news executive who spent over 40 years working in local television news in Detroit, New York, and Philadelphia. He was also part of a team of journalists that launched Court TV in 1991 that expanded the coverage of the legal system and trials in the United States. Mike writes a blog on journalism, politics, language, and life that can be found at www.thearcherjournal.com. Mike’s book, Living with Humans: Stories of Each Other is his second published collection of short stories. It’s available as an e-book or paperback on Amazon.com and can be found here: https://amzn.to/3GaNsOc
Paul Camarata: Paul’s words and pictures can be found at www.tweedtypewriter.com. And if you’d like to see some animated versions of Paul’s poems, check out his YouTube channel here.
Peter Waitze: Peter has been recounting his short, tall tales in monthly letters for over 40 years, and more recently in the form of a monthly email story. You can sign up for his monthly email letter by sending an email to [email protected]. Peter is also a founder and producer of the As Read By Me Podcast.
This Week's Sotries
My Whine Day
By Peter Waitze
I don't drink wine, except for the four glasses of Manischevitz I drink at our Seder on Passover, but every once in a while I need to whine, and today is my whine day, and it is good to whine. Yes it is. The experts have weighed in. Couples that won't argue with each other are in big trouble. They quietly hold grudges, and that is the death knell for a relationship. Couples that want their relationship to last for ever and ever have to learn how to argue properly, how to express their gripes in a productive way, hence my whine. As one young woman recently told me, this is what she mentioned to her counselor, "He won't argue with me and I wish he'd say something. Dammit, I wish he'd fight with me." If that couple comes here, to our house, YKW and I are here to help them. Because we have been doing it for so long, we have mastered arguing, and we are prepared to let them and you, if you need it, come here to watch us argue so you too learn the right method so you can have a long lasting, loud, loving, and passionate relationship.
In the 1950s Arthur Godfrey had popular morning and evening shows on both radio and television. On his programs he often used to strum his ukulele and sing insensitive songs. One was so insensitive I can't bring myself to repeating it here. The other one has a slight edge, but it isn't too bad, and here it is: "You keep me waiting till it's getting aggravating, you're a slowpoke." Over the years it would have been apropos for me to buy a ukulele to sing this song. Being tardy annoys me. For example, in our relationship, the one between YKW and me, I am the one that likes to be on time. YKW is less concerned, and her tardiness impacts how long it takes us to get ready to go out. Typically, from my perspective, and if our getting ready to go out was being broadcast on the radio live, this is how it would sound:
The announcer would begin: "It is time to start to prepare to leave the house. Both contestants have showered and are at the starting line. Ready. On your mark. Get set. Go."
First, a little background. My closet is not in our bedroom. My clothes were expelled decades ago because there is no room for her clothes and mine in what would normally be considered our shared bedroom closet. My small wardrobe was banished to hang with stuff cluttering the floor, the I-have-no-idea-what the-stuff-is, in the closet in the guest room.
Now that the background is out of the way, it is time to get back to the story. The man of the house, that's me, has two bureaus in his room. He has walked over to the bureau near the window and has opened the third drawer down and has extracted underwear and a t-shirt. He next opened the fourth drawer down and extracted a pair of socks. He then donned these three items, and so partially attired, he went to his cluttered closet and extracted a shirt and a pair of trousers, and he donned them. Then he reached for his belt and wove it through the loops, and buckled it. All of this took approximately three and one half minutes. Fully attired, he is now ready to descend to the first floor, put on his shoes, put on a jacket, and depart, but he can't depart just yet, because his other half has not descended from upstairs yet.
The woman of the house, that's YKW, began to get ready for her departure at the same time as the man of the house. But for her to get all farpitzed, all dressed up, is a time consuming endeavor. When he was already descending to downstairs, she was still standing nude in front of her closet, and she was quietly talking to herself. If we got closer to her, we would hear her musing about what she would like to wear. Her decision is difficult. Her selection is large – her closet is jammed full, and then, after picking this or that, she still has to decide which shoes or boots best compliment her selection. The footwear selection is not easy. With about 50 pairs to choose from, a lot of color match-ups are taking place. The time she stands in front of her closet, of her getting ready to get dressed, varies, but I can say with confidence that it will go on for quite some time, well past the three and one half minutes of her husband.
Eventually she does come downstairs, but our departure is still not imminent if she is carrying a necklace. As we have aged it has become more and more difficult to properly secure the tiny and very frilly clasp of the necklace. It is now my job to attach it, and even though my eye glass prescription is current, attaching the delicate clasp is becoming more and more difficult. Yes, it does get done and momentarily I then assume we are about to actually go, but my thought is premature. At this moment I am experiencing a premature evacuation. Walking toward the door she will suddenly stop and she will turn around. We need multiple tries to exit the house. The pattern is well established. She walks across the room, I open the front door, and then she turns around and walks back into the house. Why? I have no idea. It's to patshkie, to wander around.
In summation, when it is time to go, I'm fast, she's slow, and we need to compromise. We each need to give a little, and that means for me to slow down a bit and for her, to speed up a bit, for us to meet half way. We will both just have to learn how to be half fast.
Get Bent
by Paul Camarata
What a year it’s been for elbows
Such an age to be alive!
When we germ-free mid-arm hinges
Like no other time have thrived!
While our hearts go out to handshakes,
Palms and fingers – what a run!
There’s a new joy in the world:
It’s we elbows having fun.
Sure in the past we did get bent
At other extremity fuss,
While we were tucked away in sleeves
No one would humor us.
But humerus heaven it’s been of late
Leading goodbyes and greetings
Everywhere you go an elbow is
Central to people’s meetings
It’s the joint I think you would agree
Keeping the world spinning,
Like never before (or again?) no one
Can slow the elbows winning.
Nope, no Tommy, John or Macho Man
No arm-patched coat or sweater
Has ever had an elbow that
Has ever had it better.
Living With Humans
By Mike Archer
It was a high blue sky with cotton ball clouds and a gentle breeze. Regal was swooping and gliding high above the treetops. The month of May brought the glories of spring, and for Regal and Queenie, a new life getting ready to hatch in their giant nest on top of the tallest tree in Willow Lake Park. The bald eagle couple had lived together in the park for several years. It was owned by the town of Madison about 15 miles north of Philadelphia. Regal could look down on the walking trials, the lake stocked with fish that he often caught for dinner, a rolling meadow, the lush forest, wildflowers, a bird watching shelter, and a pavilion for picnics. People could lose themselves walking through the dense woods where the only sound was the music of the birds and the buzz of the bugs. Regal started his 80-mile-an hour dive over the edge of the lake. He swooped down in a J-shaped curve toward the middle of the lake. His talons broke the still water as he grabbed a small fish and rose to the sky on his way back to Queenie.
Shadow the squirrel was nervously hopping around the floor of the woods also looking for something to eat. While he preferred fruit, nuts and vegetables, he would also enjoy a bug or a juicy caterpillar. He was about five feet off the walking trail when he heard two middle-aged women approaching. He was not afraid of being seen. Humans just accept squirrels as part of the landscape and ignore them unless they get into their attic. The women were talking non-stop. Shadow just considered it white noise. Not this time.
"Well, the Board of Supervisors said the town was in such a deep financial hole, that it had no choice but to sell the park to that developer whose been building homes all around the area. They say the money from the sale and taxes from the new homeowners will solve all the financial problems for years to come."
The other woman shook her head.
"I know a lot of people are upset and want to know how we got into this mess. I walked through this park with my mother when I was a little girl. We don't need more houses and traffic and noise."
Her friend said, "Well, I hear the deal is done and there's no turning back."
Shadow jolted up on his hind legs and dropped the bug he was just about to enjoy. His world had suddenly changed. He had heard horror stories from his friends about their homes being wiped out by developers, but he thought Willow Lake had been here for generations and would never be destroyed for money. Shadow's next thought: go tell Regal.
Regal had just settled down in the nest. Queenie was sitting on the egg. One of them would always be with the egg. Regal would pull his duty of egg sitting and loved the idea of being a father. They started sharing the catch of the day. The nest was at the top of the tallest tree in the park and was six feet long and three feet wide. Regal and Queenie met in the park a couple of years earlier and had become partners for life. They were the proud symbol of America from its founding. By the mid-twentieth century, man had almost wiped the species out. Hundreds of thousands of bald eagles were killed by hunters and pesticides. Their habitat was nearly destroyed by pollution from oil, lead, mercury and power line electrocution.
Queenie was enjoying dinner.
"You were back quickly today. Any news from your flight?"
"I was just enjoying the beautiful day and thinking how lucky we are. But I am concerned about the world our new baby will be find when he or she grows up."
Queenie knew this was something constantly on their minds. They had friends who had to move miles away after developers' bulldozers ripped up their world.
Shadow was mumbling to himself as he climbed up Regal and Queenie's tree. Why do they have to live this far up? I even get dizzy up here, and the bird traffic can be crazy. As he came up to the bottom of the nest, he called out, "Regal, Queenie hello it's Shadow. I'm coming up."
Regal and Queenie knew Shadow had something important to talk about. They knew he did not like the long climb. Shadow climbed over the edge of the nest and sat on the outer edge not to disturb Queenie and the egg. Shadow was a little out of breath.
"Regal, I've some real bad news. I just heard two women talking. They were saying the Board of Supervisors was selling the park to developers because they were in financial trouble. They said it's a done deal."
Queenie looked quickly from Shadow to Regal. He was staring at Shadow. She could see the rage in his eyes. He turned his head to look out at the horizon. As the breeze ruffled his feathers he said, "This is the day we all feared."
Shadow already knew this was a life-changing development, but Regal's reaction made him shudder. Regal was the one they all recognized as their leader. He was not only the symbol of the country, but his species survived the worst instincts of man's greed and indifference. Shadow knew the news would shake the park with the force of a hurricane.
"What do you need me to do, Regal?"
Regal turned toward Shadow without hesitation and said, "Go tell Big Buck and have him set up a meeting of the council."
Shadow climbed down under the nest and started the long trip back to the forest floor.
Queenie looked at Regal.
"When will this ever end? For hundreds of years, generations of our ancestors have been slaughtered. It's a miracle we're here today. Now we need to worry whether this baby we are about to hatch will have to live in fear and find fewer and fewer places to live. Humans will never change. We can never trust them."
Regal knew the history all too well. It finally took drastic measures by humans to stop the hunters and the pesticide makers from almost wiping out the species entirely. Man's relentless push for new development was a constant threat.
Regal said, "We will do everything we can to protect our new baby and the rest of our friends in the park. They have all been through this before. We just have to make sure everyone can survive."
Shadow knew where to find Big Buck. He stayed in the thickest part of the woods during the day. He liked to roam at night when the park was quiet. Buck was grazing among the trees when he heard Shadow approaching. He raised his head crowned with six-point antlers. Shadow knew Buck was a no-nonsense guy and wasn't much for small talk. He turned from the grass he was munching and gave the nervous squirrel a look that said he really didn't want to be disturbed.
"Shadow, what's up? To what do I owe the pleasure of you interrupting my lunch?"
Shadow sat up on his hind legs and swallowed hard.
"Regal sent me down to tell you to call a council meeting because the park is being sold to developers. They're going to build houses."
Buck raised his voice, "What! How do you know this?"
Shadow was getting more nervous.
"I heard two women talking. The town has real money trouble. One woman said it's a done deal."
"Dammit, how many times do we have to go through this? They never have enough. It's always more houses, and streets, more cement, more blacktop, and more powerlines. This can't wait. We will meet tonight in the usual spot. I need you to let the council members know. You can move around more freely than I can. Can you handle that?"
Shadow felt he was being trusted with a great responsibility.
"I got it, Buck. I'll make sure everyone is there."
Buck said, "I'm counting on you."
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Writers Wanted
If you’re a writer and would like to read your work on a future episode, please send an email to [email protected].
As Read By Me Episode 204
Produced by Frank Goldstein, David Stiles and Peter Waitze.
Recorded, Edited and Mixed by David Stiles
As Read By Me and the ARBM Logo are trademarks of As Read By Me, PA.
©2022 As Read By Me, PA All Rights Reserved
View all episodes
By As Read By Me
4.5
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Episode 204:
In today's adventure, Peter Waitze shares some insight from his ongoing analysis of the many differences between men and women, in his story entitled My Whine Day. Then, Paul Camarata delivers his ode to elbows with a poem entitled Get Bent. And finally, Mike Archer takes us out into nature for some animal eavesdropping, in an excerpt from his book entitled Living With Humans.
Authors:
Mike Archer: Mike is a retired television news executive who spent over 40 years working in local television news in Detroit, New York, and Philadelphia. He was also part of a team of journalists that launched Court TV in 1991 that expanded the coverage of the legal system and trials in the United States. Mike writes a blog on journalism, politics, language, and life that can be found at www.thearcherjournal.com. Mike’s book, Living with Humans: Stories of Each Other is his second published collection of short stories. It’s available as an e-book or paperback on Amazon.com and can be found here: https://amzn.to/3GaNsOc
Paul Camarata: Paul’s words and pictures can be found at www.tweedtypewriter.com. And if you’d like to see some animated versions of Paul’s poems, check out his YouTube channel here.
Peter Waitze: Peter has been recounting his short, tall tales in monthly letters for over 40 years, and more recently in the form of a monthly email story. You can sign up for his monthly email letter by sending an email to [email protected]. Peter is also a founder and producer of the As Read By Me Podcast.
This Week's Sotries
My Whine Day
By Peter Waitze
I don't drink wine, except for the four glasses of Manischevitz I drink at our Seder on Passover, but every once in a while I need to whine, and today is my whine day, and it is good to whine. Yes it is. The experts have weighed in. Couples that won't argue with each other are in big trouble. They quietly hold grudges, and that is the death knell for a relationship. Couples that want their relationship to last for ever and ever have to learn how to argue properly, how to express their gripes in a productive way, hence my whine. As one young woman recently told me, this is what she mentioned to her counselor, "He won't argue with me and I wish he'd say something. Dammit, I wish he'd fight with me." If that couple comes here, to our house, YKW and I are here to help them. Because we have been doing it for so long, we have mastered arguing, and we are prepared to let them and you, if you need it, come here to watch us argue so you too learn the right method so you can have a long lasting, loud, loving, and passionate relationship.
In the 1950s Arthur Godfrey had popular morning and evening shows on both radio and television. On his programs he often used to strum his ukulele and sing insensitive songs. One was so insensitive I can't bring myself to repeating it here. The other one has a slight edge, but it isn't too bad, and here it is: "You keep me waiting till it's getting aggravating, you're a slowpoke." Over the years it would have been apropos for me to buy a ukulele to sing this song. Being tardy annoys me. For example, in our relationship, the one between YKW and me, I am the one that likes to be on time. YKW is less concerned, and her tardiness impacts how long it takes us to get ready to go out. Typically, from my perspective, and if our getting ready to go out was being broadcast on the radio live, this is how it would sound:
The announcer would begin: "It is time to start to prepare to leave the house. Both contestants have showered and are at the starting line. Ready. On your mark. Get set. Go."
First, a little background. My closet is not in our bedroom. My clothes were expelled decades ago because there is no room for her clothes and mine in what would normally be considered our shared bedroom closet. My small wardrobe was banished to hang with stuff cluttering the floor, the I-have-no-idea-what the-stuff-is, in the closet in the guest room.
Now that the background is out of the way, it is time to get back to the story. The man of the house, that's me, has two bureaus in his room. He has walked over to the bureau near the window and has opened the third drawer down and has extracted underwear and a t-shirt. He next opened the fourth drawer down and extracted a pair of socks. He then donned these three items, and so partially attired, he went to his cluttered closet and extracted a shirt and a pair of trousers, and he donned them. Then he reached for his belt and wove it through the loops, and buckled it. All of this took approximately three and one half minutes. Fully attired, he is now ready to descend to the first floor, put on his shoes, put on a jacket, and depart, but he can't depart just yet, because his other half has not descended from upstairs yet.
The woman of the house, that's YKW, began to get ready for her departure at the same time as the man of the house. But for her to get all farpitzed, all dressed up, is a time consuming endeavor. When he was already descending to downstairs, she was still standing nude in front of her closet, and she was quietly talking to herself. If we got closer to her, we would hear her musing about what she would like to wear. Her decision is difficult. Her selection is large – her closet is jammed full, and then, after picking this or that, she still has to decide which shoes or boots best compliment her selection. The footwear selection is not easy. With about 50 pairs to choose from, a lot of color match-ups are taking place. The time she stands in front of her closet, of her getting ready to get dressed, varies, but I can say with confidence that it will go on for quite some time, well past the three and one half minutes of her husband.
Eventually she does come downstairs, but our departure is still not imminent if she is carrying a necklace. As we have aged it has become more and more difficult to properly secure the tiny and very frilly clasp of the necklace. It is now my job to attach it, and even though my eye glass prescription is current, attaching the delicate clasp is becoming more and more difficult. Yes, it does get done and momentarily I then assume we are about to actually go, but my thought is premature. At this moment I am experiencing a premature evacuation. Walking toward the door she will suddenly stop and she will turn around. We need multiple tries to exit the house. The pattern is well established. She walks across the room, I open the front door, and then she turns around and walks back into the house. Why? I have no idea. It's to patshkie, to wander around.
In summation, when it is time to go, I'm fast, she's slow, and we need to compromise. We each need to give a little, and that means for me to slow down a bit and for her, to speed up a bit, for us to meet half way. We will both just have to learn how to be half fast.
Get Bent
by Paul Camarata
What a year it’s been for elbows
Such an age to be alive!
When we germ-free mid-arm hinges
Like no other time have thrived!
While our hearts go out to handshakes,
Palms and fingers – what a run!
There’s a new joy in the world:
It’s we elbows having fun.
Sure in the past we did get bent
At other extremity fuss,
While we were tucked away in sleeves
No one would humor us.
But humerus heaven it’s been of late
Leading goodbyes and greetings
Everywhere you go an elbow is
Central to people’s meetings
It’s the joint I think you would agree
Keeping the world spinning,
Like never before (or again?) no one
Can slow the elbows winning.
Nope, no Tommy, John or Macho Man
No arm-patched coat or sweater
Has ever had an elbow that
Has ever had it better.
Living With Humans
By Mike Archer
It was a high blue sky with cotton ball clouds and a gentle breeze. Regal was swooping and gliding high above the treetops. The month of May brought the glories of spring, and for Regal and Queenie, a new life getting ready to hatch in their giant nest on top of the tallest tree in Willow Lake Park. The bald eagle couple had lived together in the park for several years. It was owned by the town of Madison about 15 miles north of Philadelphia. Regal could look down on the walking trials, the lake stocked with fish that he often caught for dinner, a rolling meadow, the lush forest, wildflowers, a bird watching shelter, and a pavilion for picnics. People could lose themselves walking through the dense woods where the only sound was the music of the birds and the buzz of the bugs. Regal started his 80-mile-an hour dive over the edge of the lake. He swooped down in a J-shaped curve toward the middle of the lake. His talons broke the still water as he grabbed a small fish and rose to the sky on his way back to Queenie.
Shadow the squirrel was nervously hopping around the floor of the woods also looking for something to eat. While he preferred fruit, nuts and vegetables, he would also enjoy a bug or a juicy caterpillar. He was about five feet off the walking trail when he heard two middle-aged women approaching. He was not afraid of being seen. Humans just accept squirrels as part of the landscape and ignore them unless they get into their attic. The women were talking non-stop. Shadow just considered it white noise. Not this time.
"Well, the Board of Supervisors said the town was in such a deep financial hole, that it had no choice but to sell the park to that developer whose been building homes all around the area. They say the money from the sale and taxes from the new homeowners will solve all the financial problems for years to come."
The other woman shook her head.
"I know a lot of people are upset and want to know how we got into this mess. I walked through this park with my mother when I was a little girl. We don't need more houses and traffic and noise."
Her friend said, "Well, I hear the deal is done and there's no turning back."
Shadow jolted up on his hind legs and dropped the bug he was just about to enjoy. His world had suddenly changed. He had heard horror stories from his friends about their homes being wiped out by developers, but he thought Willow Lake had been here for generations and would never be destroyed for money. Shadow's next thought: go tell Regal.
Regal had just settled down in the nest. Queenie was sitting on the egg. One of them would always be with the egg. Regal would pull his duty of egg sitting and loved the idea of being a father. They started sharing the catch of the day. The nest was at the top of the tallest tree in the park and was six feet long and three feet wide. Regal and Queenie met in the park a couple of years earlier and had become partners for life. They were the proud symbol of America from its founding. By the mid-twentieth century, man had almost wiped the species out. Hundreds of thousands of bald eagles were killed by hunters and pesticides. Their habitat was nearly destroyed by pollution from oil, lead, mercury and power line electrocution.
Queenie was enjoying dinner.
"You were back quickly today. Any news from your flight?"
"I was just enjoying the beautiful day and thinking how lucky we are. But I am concerned about the world our new baby will be find when he or she grows up."
Queenie knew this was something constantly on their minds. They had friends who had to move miles away after developers' bulldozers ripped up their world.
Shadow was mumbling to himself as he climbed up Regal and Queenie's tree. Why do they have to live this far up? I even get dizzy up here, and the bird traffic can be crazy. As he came up to the bottom of the nest, he called out, "Regal, Queenie hello it's Shadow. I'm coming up."
Regal and Queenie knew Shadow had something important to talk about. They knew he did not like the long climb. Shadow climbed over the edge of the nest and sat on the outer edge not to disturb Queenie and the egg. Shadow was a little out of breath.
"Regal, I've some real bad news. I just heard two women talking. They were saying the Board of Supervisors was selling the park to developers because they were in financial trouble. They said it's a done deal."
Queenie looked quickly from Shadow to Regal. He was staring at Shadow. She could see the rage in his eyes. He turned his head to look out at the horizon. As the breeze ruffled his feathers he said, "This is the day we all feared."
Shadow already knew this was a life-changing development, but Regal's reaction made him shudder. Regal was the one they all recognized as their leader. He was not only the symbol of the country, but his species survived the worst instincts of man's greed and indifference. Shadow knew the news would shake the park with the force of a hurricane.
"What do you need me to do, Regal?"
Regal turned toward Shadow without hesitation and said, "Go tell Big Buck and have him set up a meeting of the council."
Shadow climbed down under the nest and started the long trip back to the forest floor.
Queenie looked at Regal.
"When will this ever end? For hundreds of years, generations of our ancestors have been slaughtered. It's a miracle we're here today. Now we need to worry whether this baby we are about to hatch will have to live in fear and find fewer and fewer places to live. Humans will never change. We can never trust them."
Regal knew the history all too well. It finally took drastic measures by humans to stop the hunters and the pesticide makers from almost wiping out the species entirely. Man's relentless push for new development was a constant threat.
Regal said, "We will do everything we can to protect our new baby and the rest of our friends in the park. They have all been through this before. We just have to make sure everyone can survive."
Shadow knew where to find Big Buck. He stayed in the thickest part of the woods during the day. He liked to roam at night when the park was quiet. Buck was grazing among the trees when he heard Shadow approaching. He raised his head crowned with six-point antlers. Shadow knew Buck was a no-nonsense guy and wasn't much for small talk. He turned from the grass he was munching and gave the nervous squirrel a look that said he really didn't want to be disturbed.
"Shadow, what's up? To what do I owe the pleasure of you interrupting my lunch?"
Shadow sat up on his hind legs and swallowed hard.
"Regal sent me down to tell you to call a council meeting because the park is being sold to developers. They're going to build houses."
Buck raised his voice, "What! How do you know this?"
Shadow was getting more nervous.
"I heard two women talking. The town has real money trouble. One woman said it's a done deal."
"Dammit, how many times do we have to go through this? They never have enough. It's always more houses, and streets, more cement, more blacktop, and more powerlines. This can't wait. We will meet tonight in the usual spot. I need you to let the council members know. You can move around more freely than I can. Can you handle that?"
Shadow felt he was being trusted with a great responsibility.
"I got it, Buck. I'll make sure everyone is there."
Buck said, "I'm counting on you."
Have you considered a small donation to help us remain ad-free?
If you enjoy what we’re doing and would like to help us continue doing it without having to interrupt the show to talk about MeUndies and SquareSpace, please visit our PayPal donation page or our Patreon page or you can click or scan the QR code below with your smartphone to make a one-time donation via PayPal.
Now you can support us with a purchase from our Merchandise Store!
Click Here To Visit Our Store
Writers Wanted
If you’re a writer and would like to read your work on a future episode, please send an email to [email protected].
As Read By Me Episode 204
Produced by Frank Goldstein, David Stiles and Peter Waitze.
Recorded, Edited and Mixed by David Stiles
As Read By Me and the ARBM Logo are trademarks of As Read By Me, PA.
©2022 As Read By Me, PA All Rights Reserved