There’s a lot to be said for having a focus. I have wanted to know what my grandparents were like before I knew them as older people. Because of that desire I decided to write and record my poetry and essays. Now my grandchildren can read what I think and make up their own minds instead of creating some fictional story about who I was and what I thought.
I need to think about it-I never thought about it, for sure not like you said, it's a new lense completely and I suppose will take me time to see through it
Interesting thought, Wes. What were our parents or grandparents like as teenagers or young adults. I found my mother’s diary from when she was 17 and much of it described a life I never knew anything about.
the thing is-there are many things I truly don't want them to ever know.
but yes, some things I know about my grandparents -the ones I grew up with , from them or from other people, but other parts are constructed by me
With parents, it's more reliable, yet still, of course, some parts are constructed by me. Maybe for the better because some things I was told are too painful, and I'd prefer to never know this, not when I was a little girl when I heard about it first, and not even now, because there is a kid living in you always, in relation to your parent, and when the roles are inversed it's hard as is, but the stories, they ...I can handle it better I suppose being a grown-up, and I guess I am that somebody who listens, it needs to go somewhere-yet it's very painful nevertheless.
I know more about my paternal grandfather than I know about my father, simply because he wrote a manuscript autobiography and left it to his children. Yet, even that document provided little information about my father’s life.
My Mom wrote a memoir-it's unfinished...she's brutally honest there and YET there are so so many things she told me, very important things, for her, for me, you name it, that never made it there.
Which leads me to think...how much stays unsaid, it can be for pure "logistical"reasons , or literary reasons, or..some things, you just don't say, I guess.
Some events are based in fact but time passes and the skeletons rattle in closets. The myth of mystery begins with opening the door. The story begins to be told.
Migrations unfold. What country can be expected to embrace another? The world people are close friends yet we continue to bomb blast with the same intensity as neighbors across fences like dueling sabers rattling. Words will over come with sharp blades. Words like yours that plow grain fields and reap the gold wheat to feed the world with richness.
I personally hate rabbits. Was that summer between first and second grades, and there were those furry f@ckers, and I was feeding them cabbage leaves and carrots, and holding them by ears and all that. So. One day apparently I did not have any food eh well I do not remember details but I’ve decided to stick my finger between the bars of their cage and see what happens. Godspeed. Inshallah. Bismillah. Whatever. Jeez, it happened to be a finger. One of the beasts began chewing on my tender flesh, motherf@cker did not even change his/her facial expression. Hate those monsters
This zings forward and back the way it should, you’re 3-dimensional, painfully and somehow startling wonderful.
I don't know what to say except ❤️❤️❤️
Thank you, dear Patris-your words mean worlds to me
There’s a lot to be said for having a focus. I have wanted to know what my grandparents were like before I knew them as older people. Because of that desire I decided to write and record my poetry and essays. Now my grandchildren can read what I think and make up their own minds instead of creating some fictional story about who I was and what I thought.
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I need to think about it-I never thought about it, for sure not like you said, it's a new lense completely and I suppose will take me time to see through it
Interesting thought, Wes. What were our parents or grandparents like as teenagers or young adults. I found my mother’s diary from when she was 17 and much of it described a life I never knew anything about.
the thing is-there are many things I truly don't want them to ever know.
but yes, some things I know about my grandparents -the ones I grew up with , from them or from other people, but other parts are constructed by me
With parents, it's more reliable, yet still, of course, some parts are constructed by me. Maybe for the better because some things I was told are too painful, and I'd prefer to never know this, not when I was a little girl when I heard about it first, and not even now, because there is a kid living in you always, in relation to your parent, and when the roles are inversed it's hard as is, but the stories, they ...I can handle it better I suppose being a grown-up, and I guess I am that somebody who listens, it needs to go somewhere-yet it's very painful nevertheless.
I know more about my paternal grandfather than I know about my father, simply because he wrote a manuscript autobiography and left it to his children. Yet, even that document provided little information about my father’s life.
My Mom wrote a memoir-it's unfinished...she's brutally honest there and YET there are so so many things she told me, very important things, for her, for me, you name it, that never made it there.
Which leads me to think...how much stays unsaid, it can be for pure "logistical"reasons , or literary reasons, or..some things, you just don't say, I guess.
Some events are based in fact but time passes and the skeletons rattle in closets. The myth of mystery begins with opening the door. The story begins to be told.
Migrations unfold. What country can be expected to embrace another? The world people are close friends yet we continue to bomb blast with the same intensity as neighbors across fences like dueling sabers rattling. Words will over come with sharp blades. Words like yours that plow grain fields and reap the gold wheat to feed the world with richness.
Thank you, dear Richard-thank you🪄🩵
The current world situation in which all of your countries are involved must require a lot of mental juggling, Chen.
That, it does-and I hope it shows(or I do not, but it still shows)
oh. thank you so very much for the restack it's....I never know. I just know it means a lot
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I never owned a pet rabbit, either, but I have fallen into a few rabbit holes in my time.
Big thank you for sharing this, @Sandra Dingler 🌹
«Я верил в вас, как в Бога, а вы лгали мне всю жизнь!»
ahaaahaa
I personally hate rabbits. Was that summer between first and second grades, and there were those furry f@ckers, and I was feeding them cabbage leaves and carrots, and holding them by ears and all that. So. One day apparently I did not have any food eh well I do not remember details but I’ve decided to stick my finger between the bars of their cage and see what happens. Godspeed. Inshallah. Bismillah. Whatever. Jeez, it happened to be a finger. One of the beasts began chewing on my tender flesh, motherf@cker did not even change his/her facial expression. Hate those monsters
))
I loved all animals when I was little, well almost, was scared of some, but less then I should have been-and now, "what have become of Nana?"
Not Jane Goodall
Poked... 💛
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thank you so much for sharing it, dear Fotini 🪄
thank you so much for the restack, Vanya
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thank you so much for the restack, @Epic Gonzo 💫