A Poem in Your Pocket...

School Days by Jesse Wilcox

My Shadow

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.


The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow—
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;
For he sometimes shoots up taller like an India-rubber ball,
And he sometimes gets so little that there’s none of him at all.


He hasn’t got a notion of how children ought to play,
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.
He stays so close beside me, he’s a coward you can see;
I’d think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!


One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.

by Robert Louis Stevens

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I was a first grader under the kind and expert tutelage of my teacher, I so loved this poem she read to our class that I had to make myself a copy and keep it on my dresser at home. I guess that was my earliest effort at having a poem of my own, or a poem in my pocket. As all of you poets and lovers of poetry know, April is national poetry month, and today is national "Poem in your Pocket Day." (For more details, click on the title of this post.)

The poem in my pocket today is by Gerard Manley Hopkins.

Pied Beauty

Glory be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;

For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;

Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;

Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;

And áll trades, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spáre, strange;

Whatever is fickle, frecklèd (who knows how?)

With swíft, slów; sweet, sóur; adázzle, dím;

He fathers-forth whose beauty is pást change:

Práise hím.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Which poem is in your pocket today?

Happy News...

Miss Bowles

by Sir Joshua Reynolds

"But if the while I think on thee dear friend,

All losses are restored and sorrows end."

Shakespeare, Sonnet 30

Earlier this week, we received the happy news that the pathology on the section of bone removed from Gracie's mandible showed very clean margins, free of cancer. While her prognosis remains guarded, this result was more than reason to celebrate! The Colonel and I opened a bottle of claret and drank several toasts: the first to Gracie who is healing well and reached her 9th birthday on the the 18th, the second to all our other pets --Lucy, Paddy, & Deusey, the third our veterinarians, and finally to the extra wing we have probably added to the AU Vet. School!

'Tis Sweet to Know...

" 'Tis sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest bark

Bay deep mouth'd welcome as we draw near home;

'Tis sweet to know an eye will mark

Our coming, and look brighter when we come! "

Lord Byron

When Cameron took this sweet portrait of Gracie, he had it printed up in a sepia tone. It isn't very old, but it had to be the image for today! I know you have seen this quote more than once on my blog -- I think it is still in the sidebar somewhere--but today I guess you might say it is more about a role reversal here at Graystone. Gracie has been a patient for several days at the AU Veterinary Hospital. She had a lesion removed from her mouth last month. It was a fibrosarcoma: Not good! The CT scan showed little evidence that the cancer had spread. So, on Wednesday the surgeon removed a section of bone from her mandible with a hope of getting a clear margin. The staff of resident doctors and student interns do a really fantastic job in the ICU and call several times a day. Yesterday, the first calls reported how that she was having a lot of pain, and that she was receiving pain meds. But the last call of the day in late evening was that she seemed to be feeling much better and should be coming home tomorrow. Well, that tomorrow is here, and I will be going to collect her at 11:00 this morning. That is Nurse Lucy on the left. Nurse Paddy (our other spaniel), Head Nurse Deusey (the cat---think Nurse Ratched) and I are all ready for her. Guess who will be boohooing, if not baying, a deep mouthed welcome once she is draws near home!!

Sepia Saturday: Nap & The Little Colonel

Nap & The Little Colonel

True, Easter is the Holiest of days in the church calendar, but what would it be without all the darling toddlers wearing their adorable little clothes, balancing baskets of Easter eggs, and hugging their new stuffed toys? For today's Sepia Saturday, I offer this cherished image of my husband and his much loved Nap. My mother-in-law gave me this photo during the year that he served in Vietnam. It was taken and processed and developed by his father who was by profession a medical photographer. My best guess is that the photo was taken on Easter of 1947. The Colonel would have been three years old. He was actually born on Easter Sunday of 1944. Imagine the combination of joy and uncertainty at the birth of a first born child just two months before D-Day! Most assuredly, it was the joy that prevailed. And yes, we still have Nap. He is safely stowed away in a cedar chest, but usually appears on Easter mornings wearing a new pale blue ribbon tied in a big bow around his neck.

May Christ's love and sacrifice and the Miracle of the Resurrection

prevail in your spirit this Easter tide.

Sepia Saturday: Aunt Mary & Uncle Bill

My earliest recollection of this darling couple was during the fifties when they would pack up their three boys and drive from Lakeland, Florida back to Birmingham during summer vacation.

Bill is my father's baby brother. He was born when my dad was nearly 12. Both of them were in the Army Air Corp during World War II. This photograph was taken in November of 1943, just six weeks before Bill was shipped off to Iceland. I have just been talking with him (another great benefit of these Sepia Saturday projects) and he told me he remembered that he was crossing the North Atlantic on Christmas Day of 1943. He served as crew chief with the rank of Tech Sargent in Iceland through all of 1944, and returned home in the spring of 1945. He reminded me that he and my dad returned at just about the same time, and that he remembered several family gatherings to celebrate their homecoming.

After the war , my father and Bill both returned to their jobs with U. S. Steel. In the early fifties, Uncle Bill decided to try something different. He became a jeweler. He and Mary moved to Lakeland, opened a business, and raised three sons. Since my mom and dad had some post war babies as well (Sue and I were the same ages as Bill's boys), Bill would always make sure that our house was one of the stops on the summer trips back home. Today, Mary and Bill are retired and living in the mountains of Western North Carolina, near all three sons and their families. However, Bill is still singing in a barber Shoppe Quartet organization while Mary is doing the same in the Sweet Adelines! Aren't they a beautiful couple? This photo looks like something out of Hollywood to me.

To visit other Sepia Saturday posts and learn about the project click HERE!

Happy 1st Anniversary to The Keeping Room

After discovering a most enchanting and inspiring community of blogs and their creators during the winter of 2009, I took the leap into this warm stream of consciousness, of the hearts and minds which had so enriched my life, and created The Keeping Room. It was nearing the 20th anniversary of my younger son's diagnosis of cancer at age seven, and I wanted to do something to celebrate his survival and triumph over the ordeal. This is Cuyler at age one. The portrait is the work of Sam Oliver, a local photographer who was and still is in great demand in our area. This is just one of a series of photos that he took in October of 1982. We were outdoors on a warm, autumn afternoon and years away from the trials and sleepless nights and months and years of coping with cancer. I know we have not been alone in this experience. Also, I know we have been extremely blessed and graced with a recovery.

One of the themes of the American Cancer Society is celebrating the birthdays of cancer survivors. My school is a leader in fundraising for the Relay for Life this year. Yesterday, during each of the four lunch waves, a cancer survivor--a student or school employee--was recognized and students could donate fifty cents and have a piece of birthday cake. So today, as I reflect on my one year anniversary of a most wonderful year of blogging, I dedicate this post to each of you who are survivors or who have loved ones who are survivors. From my grateful heart to yours, I honor your birthdays and your lives. Peace be with you.

Sepia Serendipity: Just Jiggs

One of the unexpected benefits of joining in on the Sepia Saturday project has been the photos I have found along the way. While many of these have been just plain old Kodak black and white, they are nonetheless treasures for me. This is my early childhood playmate, Jiggs. When each of my three older siblings were off to school each day, I remember long hours of quiet strolling through the pasture with Jiggs walking right behind me. Sometimes he would nudge me forward with his nose and snuffle & wuhuffle his way back to the barn in high hopes that he might convince me to put some oats in his feed box, and I would always sneak him an extra scoop. I loved using the curry comb to brush his winter coat. It was during this ritual that I could always talk to Jiggs. He was a great listener. My mother hanging out laundry nearby would ask, "Who were you talking to out there?" My reply, "Just Jiggs."

My sister Sue took these photographs with her Brownie camera.
This one certainly captures the rough and tumbly and often stubborn Welsh pony who was a family pet to my mom and dad, a noble steed to Sue, and just Jiggs to me.
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"To be loved by a horse,
or by any animal,
should fill us with awe-
for we have not deserved it."
~~~~~~~~
Marion C. Garretty

Jake...A King of Hearts

Certainly the blog world as we know it is filled with all manner of stories and glowing tributes to Golden Retrievers. Well folks, here is one more that must be told. Jake came to my dear, dear friends Cathy & Paul just over two years ago. He needed a home. He was ten years old then. They had just lost Bailey, a beautiful Irish Setter and Golden mix, whom they had loved for nearly 16 years. In this short time, Jake has given so much comfort, so much loyalty, so much love, and so much joy to so many. He is has become a certified therapy dog visiting the hospice center weekly in addition to his daily duties as the constant companion and personal snuggler to my friends. I had the pleasure of being included on Jake's two vacations to the Gulf Coast. That first summer he was an immediate hit with each person he greeted. People who had met him once, would look for him and pet and talk to him throughout the week. They knew his name. Most memorable was his interaction with a group of children suffering from cancer who were on retreat with their families. He was invited to their talent show and we all went along. He truly held court as one by one the children and parents, would come to pet him and chat with us. Though Cathy and Paul do not have children, they are both teachers. Did I say they did not have children? They have had hundreds, but most especially they have had Jake.

Yesterday morning, Valentine's Day, Jake set off for that great Frisbee game on the beaches of Heaven. I have no doubt that Saint Francis welcomed him as The King of Hearts.

Sepia Saturday #3: Part Two

Anita

Two weeks ago, I shared the story of a a fur coat that my mother made for my sister Anita. I could remember that there were other photos and had hoped to find one of her in the coat with matching bonnet and muff. What I did find was almost as good as Anita herself was such a doll!



"Peggy"

This is the Patty Play Pal which Santa brought to our house for the Christmas of 1959. She was actually for my sister Sue. This was the year of the 36" tall toddler dolls. I received a boy - Sandy McCall - dressed as a preppy school boy! Sue and I took the two them out for photos. My mom said, "Well, Peggy (Sue had re-named her) needs a coat!" So we bundled her up and took her outside for photos! These pictures really show more of the details of the coat. As the doll wears a child's 2T, this tells me that the coat must have been about a size 3 to 4. A close look reveals that the sleeves were a bit long and covered the doll's hands. It is a bit big through the shoulders, but Peggy did't seem to mind!

A few years before she died, my sister gave me her doll. There is a story behind this, but "Peggy" was really supposed to be for me. Sue was the cowgirl and not interested dolls. As I explained in a response on the previous post, the darling coat was ruined by mildew. My mother had it stored in a freezer kept in our garage. The freezer failed. When it was discovered, the damage was already done. However, finding these photos did confirm the fact that it would have been lost less than two years before Anita's daughter was born. When Nancy arrived, it was as if I had a living doll to play with. I have always been saddened that I did not get to dress her up in the coat!

For more information on Sepia Saturday click HERE!

Sepia Saturday #3: Wrapped in Love & Fur

Among the many mementos and treasures which my father brought back from Europe in the spring of 1945 was a bundle of creamy white fur hides.

My dad said they were baby goatskins. He had last seen my sister Anita when she was 7 or 8 months old. She was three and a half when he returned. Anita and I have been visiting over lunch today, and she is my primary source for these facts. She remembers being told they were actually from the isle of Capri . Her first knowledge of the hides was seeing my mother and father spreading them out on the dining room table. The fur was very soft with a delicate wavy quality.

"Anita, we're going to make you a coat."

The best part of this story for me, is having Anita recall with pride and wonder the unique talents of our mother. She was, albeit self-taught, an accomplished seamstress. She made a pattern for the coat, bonnet, and muff. Once the pattern was laid, my father and mother used a razor blade to cut out the pieces. Though Mother had a pedal powered sewing machine, we believe she hand sewed the pieces together. Our dad helped fashion the covered buttons. The buttons fastened to an elastic loop covered in creamy satin--the same fabric which lined the coat, bonnet, and muff. Pink satin ribbons adorned the bonnet with bows and the ties making another bow under the chin. There were more bows and a strap for the muff. To complete the ensemble, Mother made a pair of cream woolen flannel lined pants with a bib waistband and straps which had gathered cuffs at the ankles fastened with pearl buttons. The pants were worn over a matching satin blouse in the classic style: Peter Pan lace edged collar and puff sleeves. There are no known pictures of Anita in the "little white coat" as we have always referred to it. She wore this until she was too big for it. My sister Sue, born December 1945, was next in line to wear this coat. She had the hair to match it! Our mother carefully maintained this coat through her first two girls, and it was in perfect condition still in the early fifties when it was just right for me. Thank goodness for the familiar old dime store photo booths!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anita and I have realized today that this coat, so lovingly crafted over 65 years ago by our parents, could not have been enjoyed any better than if it had been the finest ermine. In actuality, it is really just the little white Italian goat coat.

"I Say That He's Bonnie!"

The Monarch of the Glen

and

Scottish poet, Robert Burns

"We'll tak a cup of kindness" and say Happy Birthday, Rabbie!

January 25th, 1759

" Comin' Thro' the Rye"

I just had to have a song by Bobbie Burns for today. I think you will enjoy Eddi Reader. She has performed many of the Burns songs during her career. I find this performance fresh yet still true to the spirit of the lyrics.

Since I had a portrait of Burns up for New Year's Eve, I offer something even more Scottish: Sir Edwin Landseer's famous Monarch of the Glen.

And if that isn't enough to have you craving shortbread and a tartan cloak, for all my buddies who love the film, here are the lyrics of the song...

I Know Where I'm Going

I know where I'm going

And I know who's going with me

I know who I love

And my dear knows who I'll marry.

I have stockings of silk

And shoes of bright green leather

Combs to buckle my hair

And a ring for every finger.

O' feather beds are soft

And painted rooms are bonnie

But I would give them all

For my handsome winsome Johnny.

Some say that he's poor

But I say that he's bonnie

Fairest of them all

Is my handsome winsome Johnny.

Hope this was a wee bit of cheer. Bonnie day to ya!

Sepia Saturday #2: From Pedals to Pistons

A few facts as I know them:

This photo was taken January or February of 1947

in Talladega, Alabama.

The photographer was his father.

The shiny new pedal car is a Chrysler,

indicated on the rear insignia and by the hood ornament.

At the time he was an only child,

with a younger sister in his near future.

He would grow up to become a genuine Car Guy

and be happy behind the wheel of...

a Jeep (learned to drive in this one)

Hudson, Ford, Chevrolet Corvair (family cars)

Porsche, Huey (1200 horsepower), Volvo, Citroen SM, and

BMW Mini Cooper S (his personal choices).

No, not Ricky Bobby, of Talledega Nights fame...

(Hint: He did beget another car enthusiast.)

Yes, you guessed it!

~~~~~~~~~

The Colonel, age two, as lovable as ever

...with places yet to go!

And the answer is...

What kind of car would King Arthur drive?

(see previous post)

An Excailbur, of course!

This car was one of the early retro cars!

Click here for the whole story!

Still Plays With Cars...Happy Birthday #1

Just after high school graduation, we went in search of Wart!

Ah, the life of the child of an English teacher! According to our Oxford family, this stop in Glastonbury is just one of five or six places where Arthur may be buried? Could this be a National Trust plot to keep us all guessing? The influences of literature and stories of yore were not wasted on my child. He did take a degree in history, but that doesn't mean he really grew up!

My first born son is having a really big birthday today, but don't worry,

he still plays with cars. Here he is with wife and son stuffed into the 1969 TR6

he bought just before leaving for Iraq last year! Are we cozy?

Can you say, "Details, details, and more details?"

Cameron is definitely what you would call a "car guy." There is no way I could begin

to cover his vast interests in automobiles ( a genetic marker from both grandfathers is to blame)....I may ask him to do a Guest Spot here at TKR sometime in the future.

And more details....even the smallest detail matters....

The more vintage ...the better...

This is an Auburn speedster...

(click on photo to enlarge)

A man and his "MoonLander"

(aka 1968 VW Transporter)

Outside the Auburn Cord Duesenberg Museum

Auburn, Indiana where the above photos were taken

Porsche Rennsport Reunion at Daytona Speedway

This is one of my very favorite photos of my #1. We were visiting the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey and his passion for history and the mystical feel of the place were captured in his expression ....with one brown eye, one blue eye staring into his future!


I asked him, "If King Arthur had driven a vintage automobile,
what would it have been?"
Care to guess what his answer was?

The Saddest Sunday

When I was twelve years old, four black girls close to my age died in the basement of this church. They had been attending their Sunday school classes. Four years later I would take a part time job across the street as a telephone operator where I worked with several other high school girls who attended services at the 16th Street Baptist Church. From them, I heard several first hand accounts of the horror of Sunday, September 15, 1963. For a full account of the story click on the title. Be forewarned, the vocal of this ballad will haunt you for a long time.

The Ballad of Birmingham

(On the bombing of a church in Birmingham, Alabama, 1963)

"Oh Mother dear, may I go downtown
Instead of out to play,

And march the streets of Birmingham

In a Freedom March today?"

"No, baby, no, you may not go,

For the dogs are fierce and wild,

And clubs and hoses, guns and jails

Aren't good for a little child."

"But, mother, I won't be alone.

Other children will go with me,

And march the streets of Birmingham

To make our country free."

"No, baby, no, you may not go,

For I fear those guns will fire.

But you may go to church instead

And sing in the children's choir."

She has combed and brushed her night-dark hair,

And bathed rose petal sweet,

And drawn white gloves on her small brown hands,
And white shoes on her feet.

The mother smiled to know that her child

Was in the sacred place,

But that smile was the last smile

To come upon her face.

For when she heard the explosion,

Her eyes grew wet and wild.
She raced through the streets of Birmingham

Calling for her child.

She clawed through bits of glass and brick,

Then lifted out a shoe.
"O, here's the shoe my baby wore,
But, baby, where are you?"

Written by Dudley Randall (1914-2000)

Really Good at Heart...

Miep Gies

(Click on her name to read NYT article.)

15 February 1909 - 11 January 2010

For more than 20 consecutive years, I taught English Language Arts in a junior high school. Every year, my students read the play based on Anne Frank's diary. Considering I

may have had as many as five classes during the day, I must have read the the closing lines of the play well over a hundred times along with students. Every time it became more and more real to me, and more difficult to keep my composure. The more I read the play and discussed it with classes, the more I realized how many similar stories we would never know. First I honor and thank the darling, vibrant Anne who wrote so faithfully in her diary and the family and friends who populated the pages of that diary and the famous Annex in Amsterdam. But today, especially, I honor and thank, along with people all over the world, Miep Gies. She not only helped the Frank family and friends survive their ordeal for over two years, but she gathered up the strewn pages of a young girl's dreams, hopes, and wise insights after all were arrested. Later she presented it to Otto Frank as "Anne's legacy." Indeed, it has been a priceless legacy to the free world. Surely, Miep served as an inspiration for Anne's words:

"Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart."

The King & I: In Dixieland where we were born....

image by Andy Warhol

Whenever I hear Elvis sing his An American Trilogy...and the words

"in Dixieland where I was born

early, Lord, one frosty morning"

...then I must admit, I really do miss the boy! If you have had a TV or radio on or read the paper today, you know it is his 75th birthday. The TODAY show had a feature on him, and the day is young yet. I am sure America will never get over him, but some years these features have been sparse, like one birthday when all I heard of him was on a local radio station: "This morning an Elvis impersonator was spotted at the Dunkin' Donuts Shop in Columbus, GA." I remember sharing with The Colonel ( mine not Elvis's Col. Parker) that it was an all time low for the King, and his reply was pointed: "How do they know it was an impersonator?" The King lives!

Elvis has just always been part of the rock and roll musical scene, a backdrop to my tastes as I cut my teeth on the likes of Bob Dylan and The Beatles. I do remember playing his Heartbreak Hotel on my older sister's RCA 45 rpm little record player when I was a pre-schooler, and she was a classic fifties teenie bopper! I think I was in the first grade when I used to entertain my family with my own version of You Ain't Nothing but a Hound Dog!

Indeed, it was a frosty morning today. By the time I drove out for school, the temperature was 18 with a wind chill factor of 9! And that was at 10:00 because school had been delayed two hours! As usual, all the speculation about impending snow and ice, scared it away! We were just on the line BELOW it all! As I drove toward Georgia, I thought of all the places that did have snow and even colder temperatures in the South. I thought of the tiny one room shotgun house I had seen in Tupelo, Mississippi: The Elvis Presley Birthplace. I thought of his twin brother who died. And I thought of the little hospital near Birmingham where I was born. And I thought of my mother, who very nearly died in the weeks before she delivered me. Then I remembered that it was Andy Warhol who had said that every one has his fifteen minutes of fame. But because of the sun, the moon, and stars and January 8th, I get that fifteen minutes every year!

You see, dear readers, the King and I share a birthday.

self-portrait by FireLight
in the style of Warhol

Happy Birthday, Elvis Pelvis ...

and

Thank YOU very much!

Water & Woods & Winter

On New Year's Day my younger son and I drove from Auburn to the southwest Georgia pine plantation owned and meticulously managed by a life long friend and her husband. It is a beautiful drive through miles of cotton fields, pecan orchards, and quaint Southern towns like Parrot and nearby Plains. We arrived just after two with a big pot of chili and cornbread, so my son served as the First Footer at the house! (If you go to the link, view the entire card or choose "skip to end" then click on New Year's Customs.) No, he did not carry in coals or a yule log, but plenty of food and smiles! And since he had not met the man of the house, he filled the bill of tall, dark stranger! The cold weather was beginning to set in. After enjoying the soup, we had a quick ride around the property to feed the catfish and watch for deer slipping out to feed in one of the many food plots planted in oats. The catfish weren't shy, plenty of "whiskers and lips" appeared on the water's surface. However, the deer were more elusive, and we just managed to catch a glimpse of a few white tails retreating into the trees. Had we been willing to brave the cold, there were numerous observation stands where we might have held a vigil, but the warmth of the wood panelled custom home was much too appealing after just over an hour of braving the wind and cold. Next morning, I was a up and outdoors to catch the sunrise (above) on the horizon. Click on any photo to enlarge, especially the hay rake!

Turning behind me to the west I could still see the moon in the morning sky!

Parked near the drive is this charming old hay rake complemented by a fading rose bush.
I love the glowing morning light in this image. I took several photos here which will be worthy of a single post. The hay rake is possibly from the early 1900's and would have been horse drawn.


Here is a close up of the primary tree at Newman Plantation: long leaf pine.

Across the large fish pond, a thriving stand of long leaf.


These folks really like to spoil their outdoor pets: Oats, my deers?


Deeper into the woods is Warrior Creek, overflowing its banks. Even with the barren trees of winter, it is easy to see the results of the life giving rain and its waters. This is a beautiful sight after nearly three years of drought.

My header is another image from this water, woods, and winter 2010!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

The Great Gift of Memory

Bobby Burns 1759-96

by Archibald Skirving

Scottish National Portrait Gallery

Auld Lang Syne

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And never brought to min'?

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And days o' lang syne?

We twa hae rin about the braes,

And pu'd the gowans fine;

But we've wander'd monie a weary fit

Sin' auld lang syne.

We twa hae paidl't i' the burn,

Frae mornin' sun till dine;

But seas between us braid hae roar'd

Sin' auld lang syne.

And here 's a hand, my trusty fiere,

And gie's a hand o' thine;

And we'll tak a right guid-willie waught

For auld lang syne.

And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp,

And surely I'll be mine;

And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet

For auld lang syne!

For auld lang syne, my dear,

For auld lang syne,

We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet

For auld lang syne.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This traditional song tells us, rather allows us, to take a moment and look to our past, before we step forward into a new year. The speaker asks: Should we leave it all behind us? Then he answers: Certainly not until we honor the times we have had and friends who have been separated from us. What is it about the turning of the year that insists that our past and its memories are part of the ages--like heaps of ashes? Yesterday, in a still moment, as I waited in a local deli for a take-out order, I noticed a group of young men, obviously builders and craftsmen taking their lunch. One looked very much like my nephew Matthew who also was a builder. It is very nearly impossible to describe the memory flash I experienced, but just for a fleeting instant, I could hear his voice and rich laughter as might have wafted from such a gathering in his lifetime. In my memory was buried, not just his voice, but his big and boyish grin and blue eyes and blond curls. I have to say, it was a comfort to walk out the door thinking he had just checked in on me. So dear readers, on this last day of the year, I'll take a cup of kindness for this great and mysterious gift of memory -- and its endless voices and visions from times gone by -- be they joyous or heartbreaking -- that make each of us who we are.

If on a Winter's Night: Best Gift of 2009!

In my last post, I sent you each my favorite card, and now, unwrap your gift! ( Be sure to go to Full Screen & turn up the volume!) This new offering by Sting was not only the best gift I received -- from the Colonel -- naturally, but it has been my favorite one to give others. I have been playing it since the middle of November and love it more and more.

If you you are a winter soul as I am, this one is for you.