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Grandparents. . . the best magic. . . .
If I could wave my magic wand and grant a loving wish to all children born into whatever worlds are chosen, I would choose to garnish all wishes with the best wish of all. . . to grant a curious mind. And the curious mind announces its arrival by the first simple ‘why?’ To accompany…
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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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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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Love = Value Added. . . .
Attitudes of Gratitude . . . . . I had been asked to make potato salad for guests because they think it special and I was delighted to do so. When I finished I thought I should have kept the times to show long it took when I was at home and said I was…
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Education wears many booties. . . .
Knowing the comics section as I do, it appears that she’s studying Doonesbury, which thrills my heart! Of course she’s already read Dilbert (on the front page)… Love, Emma E’s grandfather I never knew the supreme abilities of the comics to educate. I remember when our two eldest, Tresy and David first…
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When Each Day Is A Victory . . . and our hands touch. . . .
Oftentimes we wish for words to say the wonderful phrase, that gives motive or impetus to a frame of mind that catapults our committed to things of highest value. Yet there may be no words to say what needs be said. What is upfront is already between the eyes. I remember looking in the mirror…
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Pieces Of My Heart. . . .for Emma E. . . .
I have not posted this past week because of some impediment in my desk computer, but thanks to my grandson who found the wrong and corrected it. I am grateful. I felt I had lost my voice. But what I did was work to get some knitting done and the articles will be on…
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It Is A Gift. . . .
‘Each lifetime lived adds to the cumulative sense of loss.’ the teacher All Who I Am. . . I feel the pull of the Polish one bent over her bread board, pounding, kneading, smoothing the egg dough into a satiny mound. Raisins, like eyes, half buried in the fleshy loaf, stare at me, daring…
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Godfriends of Caliber. . . gifts of heart. . .
This bouquet is for you. . . Tish, Marylouise, and Dorothy, Jan, and Joy, heart friends gone but always upfront; now some cyber friends distanced including (few) males attesting publicly to science, but attending silently to problems not to be tested by science gods in their pristine laboratories. All friends of caliber, all honorable characters…