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The Simple Often Says It Right. . . .
The Jenny Genes are rightly sometimes a curse as well as blessing. It drives this writer to despair when the right word evades and the curse begins its perseverance work on me. And search I do for the precise word. For there is of course we think a precise word for everything. We…
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Connections I know. . .
And you will know also. . . Nine years ago, when I was 80, a grandson said I should do a blog. Not knowing what a blog was, he proceeded to teach me. This perennial student did not want to disappoint the good teacher. Edited here is one of the early posts where I try…
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And This Is What He ‘Membered. . .’cause It Is True. . . .
And I heard the young one say, and I know this true, he said, that this lady likes to work with blue cloths is ‘cause he said, that she said this is what heaven is like. And I want to know he said, how does she know? And I told him that some people just…
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We Build On Words. . . .
I have not been much of a television watcher but in retrospect I realize more people than not were. Not only watchers but some inadvertently imitators. Young girls mimicked teen agers with inflections and tones and even lilting questions at the end of sentences. Not knowing nuances but inflections their phrasings created. Immature emotions in…
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A divine observation. . . .
A divine observation. . . You take love and wear as pearls. Shiny tears they once were. Shiny tears, but they fell to your breast and now they are gems. . . . …
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This I Know. . because I learned. . .
This I Know. . . because I learned. . . Only with deeper understanding is there any basis for understanding. ***** To love oneself presumes a selfishness man cannot abide in himself. ***** Yet to be selfish presents an attitude of self acceptance, of tolerance that can only begin to be outward in the…
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Love Is Reason Enough . . . . for sisters. . .
I look upon this photo and am grateful that what my life emphasized is factual for me in this moment of time. That what was crucial to our sons’ lives is what I see in their progeny and therefore, mine. When asked when mountains became impossible to climb how to go on, I…
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The Strange Bequest. . . .
Tomorrow is Father’s Day and this is a late regret to chalk up to a life in ebbtide. But with the head on my shoulders today, I wish there had been times to talk of heart concerns. Life was to be mountains for me to climb and I could have used his hand to hold.…
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a soft goodnight. . . . .
A soft goodnight . . . as night arrives and blankets all, we take rest that is ours and allow it to heal . . . for it is no small thing given but as with all, we use what is ours and gently put the day to bed . the night still arrives…
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When You Have The Obligation . . .
Living The Martha Mary Story forever it seems. . . . . . It was the Martha -Mary story which raised the hackles and had me fuming. Martha wished to sit and listen to her friend and exchange thoughts but Mary of course took the seat. Mary did not offer to pour milk nor…