For my mother born in Martindale, Texas, 1917 In all her seventy-five years, she never grew old. * The courage that my mother had Went with her, and is with her still: Rock from New England quarried; Now granite in a granite hill. The golden brooch my mother wore She left behind for me to wear; I have no thing … Continue reading »
My father would have been ninety-eight years old today. In September, he’ll have been gone for thirty years. It’s easier to imagine him as the child in this picture than to imagine him at ninety-eight. Of two things, however, I’m certain: If here were here today, his blue eyes would still be twinkling, and he … Continue reading »
What happens when the music stops? ~The song lives on in our hearts. To the memory of Tom Brown Webb III Tom Brown Webb IV Suzanne Rader Marlene Waller Linaweaver Nell Hubbard Waller Robert Vance Waller
Yesterday evening we had the pleasure of attending a celebration of our friend Judith Rosenberg’s seventieth birthday. We first met Judith several years ago when she joined the 15 Minutes of Fame writing practice group. Through both her writing and our conversations over lunch, we’ve learned that she hails from New York, that she earned … Continue reading »
I dragged through yesterday because I’d stayed up late the night before, finishing Susan Hill’s novel The Woman in Black. I’d planned to get to bed at a decent hour but made the mistake of turning one page too many and, as so often happens in cases such as this, all was lost. I couldn’t stop reading … Continue reading »
Today there were no clouds at all, but I could well imagine how magnificently the huge, brooding area of sky would look with gray, scudding rain and storm clouds lowering over the estuary, how it would be here in the floods of February time when the marshes turned to iron-gray and the sky seeped down … Continue reading »
Yesterday Dominica felt faint, and Molly, my main character, steered her to a bench on the courthouse lawn and then dithered over what to do. She couldn’t leave Dominica, but she thought asking a passerby (of which there were none at the time) for help sounded lame. Today, talking about treatments for migraines, one of my … Continue reading »
This afternoon, I shall present myself at the ophthalmologist’s office, where I will be measured, Valiumed up, awakened from a peaceful sleep on the waiting room sofa, cattle-prodded down the hall to the operating room, punctured, divested of a cataract, invested with a shiny new lens, wobbled back to the waiting room, and driven home, … Continue reading »
“. . . after sacred Mayan ballgames, the losing team was sometimes sacrificed.” *** Image by Chasqui (Luis Tamayo) via Flickr, CC By-SA 2.0
The Melody Maids of Prairie Lea High School Rotary International Christmas Luncheon San Marcos, Texas, December 1967 Names have been deleted to protect the innocent. The ballerina celebrates a birthday this week. Happy Birthday, KJP
