Tuesday morning March 1st. I was up at three. The Emperor is working today and I had to get him up at four. Coffee thermos's to be made, clothes to get ready before I could wake him up. He is rather cranky when he gets up that early. But then you know how Emperor's are, right? I let "I" out and we both stood on the porch, peering out into the darkness. My Momma always said, "If March comes in like a lion, it will go out like a lamb." The chilly air, carried on a little wind nipped at us. I heard no roaring but then not a "Baa," either. Lion or Lamb, I'm just not sure. Maybe the day that lies just beyond the still dark skies will let me know just which it is.
I went with someone to get married Friday. Just the three of us, down to good old Miami. I certainly believe there has been thousands upon thousands making that trek to the little Wedding Chapel known as "Lavern's." It certainly hasn't changed much over the years. An entrance room, a smiling man keeping sentry by the door. Then the chapel itsself, decorated with an arch with plastic flowers. It brought back memeories, some good, some not so good. Many dreams has started from those few minutes spent in that little chapel. Some dreams taking a firm hold and bursting into flame that still burns after fifty years or more. Then of course is the dreams that lasted not much longer than the short, corny kind of special ceramony did.
I hope the one I attended does that very thing, bursts into a long lasting flame that will burn forever. Marriage is not an easy comitment these days. Not that it ever was. Its just it seems that years ago comitment was taken a little moire serious then than these days. Where divorce is almost as easy as buying a new car. Maybe easier if you don't have good credit. A few hundred dollars and its over, one piece of paper replaced by another. Then the two parties move on, looking for another to fill that empty spot. They fan a new flame with someone else and the process repeats itself.
Many will say and have said these last days that this marriage will not, cannot last. The problems they are facing probably much too strong to keep the flame burning long. But you know, I believe that Love can be a strong force. Stronger than any wild gale that may try so hard to extinguse the flame. Maybe all anyone needs is just someone who will say, "I will love you regrdless of your demons, regradless of your weakness's. But because after all don't we will all have demons or weakness's one way or the other. I prefer to believe God's love and one man's love can raise a wall so strong that life cannot ever put out their flame. Maybe I'm just a romantic but I believe.
My words this morning are tied with a red satin ribbon. Red stands for love you know. I think of all the dreams that every day are fighting the odds and burning brightly. I perfer to think of those and not the broken ones. I do not untie my words today. I throw them high, still tied tightly. Hoping they have more force that way and not bescattered. I think of the young couple as I head back home, "Good wishes," I shout. "May God always have your back." I'm outta here for one more day.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
THIS WON'T BE ABOUT MY CUP.
It is Sunday morning. I opened the front door and "I" marched out into the darkness. I knew it was not raining because "I" does not do rain. I stood on the porch as she made her way around the yard. I could not see her but her growls at unseen dangers kept me tracking her. She is back in, under the blankets, once again sound asleep.
I have not written again for several days. I prewrote one last night but as I reread it this morning I sadly shook me head. It was about my chipped coffee cup. Enough said on that subject, right? Days have been rolling by. I caught up in my own little world. Its funny but its what we humans do. Starving children in India and I moan over the slights I think have been lodged against me. Nothing sadder than a self pity party. I have been trying to strictly have mine alone. I hate it when people invite me to theirs. I have been trying to keep my guest list down. So if I happen to call you. Just don't answer it will probably be much better. At least for you.
Days do seem to whirl by lately. I with my list of things to do clutched in my hand, watching as the hours slide by and nothing being done. I have learned no Spanish yet. I have not started training for my "Katy Trail Walk." I scream silently to myself, "Get started on something." But I don't, instead I limp around the house sure I have wounded my knee in someway. I wonder if maybe physiologically I am trying to find an excuse that I can't male my walk. Who knows,? Not me.
My family are use to me wild dreams that never transpire. Writing a book, climbing a mountain, giving up sweets. Always something I want to do but never get to it. I am a weaver of dreams but only in my head. Never to I actually start to weave. I have come to the conclusion that it is good to have dreams but it takes gumption to actually start the work to make those dreams come to life.
Today I am concentrating on looking for my gumption. Any journey has to start with the first step. I sit and ponder. Which of the long list of things I want to accomplish over these last thirty years I hope to have should I start on first?
As I pull my crumpled words from my ever trusty pocket I wish again I just would have told you of my chipped cup. Sighing I release the words. I almost think I hear Blogland skies laugh at my feeble attempt. So many beautiful words released here everyday and I have come with this small, pitiful few. I wish I had tried for whimsical but I didn't. I turn to leave. A idea comes to my mind. Maybe I should just try for a long walk in Blogland. I shake my head no. The view would not at all be like the "Katy Trail." I jog towards home. I have to get some practice in somewhere. For now, I'm outta here.
I have not written again for several days. I prewrote one last night but as I reread it this morning I sadly shook me head. It was about my chipped coffee cup. Enough said on that subject, right? Days have been rolling by. I caught up in my own little world. Its funny but its what we humans do. Starving children in India and I moan over the slights I think have been lodged against me. Nothing sadder than a self pity party. I have been trying to strictly have mine alone. I hate it when people invite me to theirs. I have been trying to keep my guest list down. So if I happen to call you. Just don't answer it will probably be much better. At least for you.
Days do seem to whirl by lately. I with my list of things to do clutched in my hand, watching as the hours slide by and nothing being done. I have learned no Spanish yet. I have not started training for my "Katy Trail Walk." I scream silently to myself, "Get started on something." But I don't, instead I limp around the house sure I have wounded my knee in someway. I wonder if maybe physiologically I am trying to find an excuse that I can't male my walk. Who knows,? Not me.
My family are use to me wild dreams that never transpire. Writing a book, climbing a mountain, giving up sweets. Always something I want to do but never get to it. I am a weaver of dreams but only in my head. Never to I actually start to weave. I have come to the conclusion that it is good to have dreams but it takes gumption to actually start the work to make those dreams come to life.
Today I am concentrating on looking for my gumption. Any journey has to start with the first step. I sit and ponder. Which of the long list of things I want to accomplish over these last thirty years I hope to have should I start on first?
As I pull my crumpled words from my ever trusty pocket I wish again I just would have told you of my chipped cup. Sighing I release the words. I almost think I hear Blogland skies laugh at my feeble attempt. So many beautiful words released here everyday and I have come with this small, pitiful few. I wish I had tried for whimsical but I didn't. I turn to leave. A idea comes to my mind. Maybe I should just try for a long walk in Blogland. I shake my head no. The view would not at all be like the "Katy Trail." I jog towards home. I have to get some practice in somewhere. For now, I'm outta here.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
INTERACTIVE TELEVISION
February 19th. I have been up and about since four. "I" is stalking around the house but refuses to go outside. Probably the neighbors will be happy she hasn't gone. I am sipping on coffee trying to engage my brain. I speak of that as if I really have one. But I am desperately trying to kick the day off. I've thanked God I am still here. I half way did my little jig, my knees hurt, so I did not do a full jig. This I am finding out is what happens when you hit the big 70.
I realize more and more as the days go by that I have less and less contact with the outside world. Most of my conversations are on the phone. For someone who loves to talk and has very few to talk too its rough. Hence comes talking to the Television. Now for quite sometime I wasn't really aware that I was doing it. However I have began to notice what I do but continue to follow the practice.
I watch a television show called, "Cash Cab." It comes on at five on cable. I don't watch television in the daytime. But around five I lower the blinds to block out the sun and turn on the TV. I like to answer the questions. I try to answer them before the people in the cab can. Sometimes they do not know the answer but I do. I call it out to them, they still don't get it. I sometimes jump to my feet, yelling the answer louder. Its long distance you know. Still they don't get it right. I holler out loudly, "I told you the answer dummies."
Last night as I watched and The Emperor was in the other room. The driver asked what birds fluid did Geisha's in Japan put on their faces before they perform. I knew it, excitedly I called out, "Nightingale." They hemmed and hawed around. I repeated the answer more loudly this time. "Nightingale." They answered "Whippoorwill." I snorted in disgust. I told you stupid," I shouted at the Television. The Emperor looked at me very strangely. "You do know," he asked, "That they can't hear you?" I answered him huffily, "Of course I do."
But the truth I would not want him to know is sometimes I forget. I have become engaged in interactive television. I do this with "Dancing with The Stars." dance when they do. I clap when a favorite does good and holler "Good job," at the top of my lungs. I cry when a young person gets sent home from American idol. Interactive TV. I yell at the bad guys in movies and watch the "Animal Planet, getting irate when some pet has been abused. Interactive TV.
I suppose I need to try and find a way to get a little bit more life going but actually I have come to love all my friends on television. I just get mad when the dummies get into the cab. The Emperor thinks I am senile. I am not. Him and I just handle watching TV differently thats all. I think the only way I will need to worry about my actions is if I think they are talking back. I have not come to that place yet but the day could come I am afraid. Just the other day "Ben Lyons, the driver on Cash Cab looked right at me and smiled. I'm starting to think he may know I'm here.
I hope Spring comes early in Blogland as I am hoping it does at home. These early mornings can get a little chilly. Two days of Spring like weather and I am cold at fifty degrees. Its quiet here this morning. No lights shining from the one plate glass window. Nobody gets up early in Blogland. I start for home. I wonder what Bloggers look like. I catch my reflection in the lone store window. I look pretty rough this morning. Maybe I don't want to see another Blogger. I'm sure they wouldn't want to see me. For now though, I'm outta here.
I realize more and more as the days go by that I have less and less contact with the outside world. Most of my conversations are on the phone. For someone who loves to talk and has very few to talk too its rough. Hence comes talking to the Television. Now for quite sometime I wasn't really aware that I was doing it. However I have began to notice what I do but continue to follow the practice.
I watch a television show called, "Cash Cab." It comes on at five on cable. I don't watch television in the daytime. But around five I lower the blinds to block out the sun and turn on the TV. I like to answer the questions. I try to answer them before the people in the cab can. Sometimes they do not know the answer but I do. I call it out to them, they still don't get it. I sometimes jump to my feet, yelling the answer louder. Its long distance you know. Still they don't get it right. I holler out loudly, "I told you the answer dummies."
Last night as I watched and The Emperor was in the other room. The driver asked what birds fluid did Geisha's in Japan put on their faces before they perform. I knew it, excitedly I called out, "Nightingale." They hemmed and hawed around. I repeated the answer more loudly this time. "Nightingale." They answered "Whippoorwill." I snorted in disgust. I told you stupid," I shouted at the Television. The Emperor looked at me very strangely. "You do know," he asked, "That they can't hear you?" I answered him huffily, "Of course I do."
But the truth I would not want him to know is sometimes I forget. I have become engaged in interactive television. I do this with "Dancing with The Stars." dance when they do. I clap when a favorite does good and holler "Good job," at the top of my lungs. I cry when a young person gets sent home from American idol. Interactive TV. I yell at the bad guys in movies and watch the "Animal Planet, getting irate when some pet has been abused. Interactive TV.
I suppose I need to try and find a way to get a little bit more life going but actually I have come to love all my friends on television. I just get mad when the dummies get into the cab. The Emperor thinks I am senile. I am not. Him and I just handle watching TV differently thats all. I think the only way I will need to worry about my actions is if I think they are talking back. I have not come to that place yet but the day could come I am afraid. Just the other day "Ben Lyons, the driver on Cash Cab looked right at me and smiled. I'm starting to think he may know I'm here.
I hope Spring comes early in Blogland as I am hoping it does at home. These early mornings can get a little chilly. Two days of Spring like weather and I am cold at fifty degrees. Its quiet here this morning. No lights shining from the one plate glass window. Nobody gets up early in Blogland. I start for home. I wonder what Bloggers look like. I catch my reflection in the lone store window. I look pretty rough this morning. Maybe I don't want to see another Blogger. I'm sure they wouldn't want to see me. For now though, I'm outta here.
Friday, February 18, 2011
OLD RYAN WHAT'S HIS NAME.
Friday morning has came again. As i stumbled around the yard about four-thirty, hissing "I"s name. I marveled at the weather. Yesterday it made it to seventy-five. Yah, yah. Its probably fifty out there now. I would love to think Spring is already here. But Missouri being what she is may have another winter trick or two up her sleeve. She has been known for dumping snow on us is March. So I know not to get too excited.
A couple of mornings ago my daughter called me. "Ryan and I have to run an errand. "We'll come by and pick you up and go to breakfast," she said. I hurried around getting ready. I was thrilled. Her van pulled up and as I crawled inside, Ryan safely tucked in his seat in the back. Billie said he uttered the words as I came out the door, "Good grief she's messed with her hair again." Now when five year olds groan in despair you know you may over do abit. I smiled at him. "No Ryan," I said. I have had blond on my hair for awhile. He snorted, "But you didn't have the black in there too."My roots are showing.
As we rolled on our way Billie announced, "Ryan doesn't want to be called Ryan. He is tired of his name." Now she told me his new name. It was "Cool Boy" I think. Sort of catchy but truthfully I'm not sure just what she said.
Ryan is a pip. He is a cool boy. Cute, funny, those dancing Blue eyes. The orneriness shining out of them. I think I wrote before my brother calls him "Cotton Top." I will sound like a great grand Mother but he is special. All the great grands are. But that Ryan, oh excuse me, "Cool Boy." I think. Has that extra little kick in there. I pray I live to see him grown. When he starts school in the fall I am anxious to see if he wraps those girls around his finger.
So my breakfast was fun. This Birthday i moaned about got me two Breakfasts and one lunch. I've made a note to whine more often. I feel like I have slid into this stress wracked age fairly well. Though my knees may be aching a little more and hold onto your hats. I may be a tad bit more out spoken. Audible groans. A nice church lady came early yesterday morning. She brought oranges, Little Debbie cakes, canned goods, bread." So nice and sweet of her. Then I announced I didn't believe in organized religion. She hastily left. I have a feeling she won't be bringing me any more food. I wanted to rush after her yelling, "Carol I didn't mean it. I'm really Catholic." I have to quickly add I believe in God. Love Jesus with all my heart. I just think these Church's have too much law and not enough grace. I'm sorry but that's how I feel. I'll miss those big oranges though.
I have made my way into Blogland. The Valentine lights are not on anymore in the little store. Another Holiday only a memory. I head for home, limping a little. Its these dang knees I tell you. But I'm on my way. I'm outta here.
A couple of mornings ago my daughter called me. "Ryan and I have to run an errand. "We'll come by and pick you up and go to breakfast," she said. I hurried around getting ready. I was thrilled. Her van pulled up and as I crawled inside, Ryan safely tucked in his seat in the back. Billie said he uttered the words as I came out the door, "Good grief she's messed with her hair again." Now when five year olds groan in despair you know you may over do abit. I smiled at him. "No Ryan," I said. I have had blond on my hair for awhile. He snorted, "But you didn't have the black in there too."My roots are showing.
As we rolled on our way Billie announced, "Ryan doesn't want to be called Ryan. He is tired of his name." Now she told me his new name. It was "Cool Boy" I think. Sort of catchy but truthfully I'm not sure just what she said.
Ryan is a pip. He is a cool boy. Cute, funny, those dancing Blue eyes. The orneriness shining out of them. I think I wrote before my brother calls him "Cotton Top." I will sound like a great grand Mother but he is special. All the great grands are. But that Ryan, oh excuse me, "Cool Boy." I think. Has that extra little kick in there. I pray I live to see him grown. When he starts school in the fall I am anxious to see if he wraps those girls around his finger.
So my breakfast was fun. This Birthday i moaned about got me two Breakfasts and one lunch. I've made a note to whine more often. I feel like I have slid into this stress wracked age fairly well. Though my knees may be aching a little more and hold onto your hats. I may be a tad bit more out spoken. Audible groans. A nice church lady came early yesterday morning. She brought oranges, Little Debbie cakes, canned goods, bread." So nice and sweet of her. Then I announced I didn't believe in organized religion. She hastily left. I have a feeling she won't be bringing me any more food. I wanted to rush after her yelling, "Carol I didn't mean it. I'm really Catholic." I have to quickly add I believe in God. Love Jesus with all my heart. I just think these Church's have too much law and not enough grace. I'm sorry but that's how I feel. I'll miss those big oranges though.
I have made my way into Blogland. The Valentine lights are not on anymore in the little store. Another Holiday only a memory. I head for home, limping a little. Its these dang knees I tell you. But I'm on my way. I'm outta here.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
MY BLOG
It is Wednesday. As I stood on the front porch surrounded still by darkness I happily surveyed my yard. There is still dirt that covers our space. It had been covered by snow so long I wasn't sure the ground was still there. This is only February so there is still a chance for more snow. I am hoping this will not turn out to be the case. Bring on the sunshine. I am ready even for summers melting heat.
I didn't write yesterday. My sister called about six Am and asked me to read my Blog. I"I didn't write one today," I told her. "What am I going to do with you," she asked? "There are many who could come up with an answer to that," I said. I hope she doesn't ask them.
I didn't write a Blog yesterday because I was still embarrassed by the one I wrote on Valentines Day. I write these things then hours later read them again. "Good grief," I will mutter. "What a sad excuse for a Blog." Sorry but its all I've got. I'm amazed at times that I am still writing this. I will tell myself, "Give it up silly.' But I go a few days and presto I do it again. Now I want to assure you that I do not believe there are people waiting to hang on my written word. But still I take days when I feel driven to do it again.
Maybe I just don't have much of a life. But I love to write, even if its just this silly Blog.
I have always been amazed by words, the written words. Books, books, books. As I have said before I have my Mother to thank for that attribute. The love of reading is a attribute I strongly believe. Both of my children are big readers. If you read you can go anywhere and be for the duration of three or four hundred pages or more, someone else. I get my books as I have mentioned from "Wolfner Library." The greatest program the government has ever produced. I would truly be lost without them.
I keep thinking all those books I listen to should help me have better tools for writing myself, but they don't. For my Blog seems to have turned out to be just a rambling of my personal thoughts. I guess that's what they are suppose to be. I am not totally sure as I have never written one until about a year ago. Then I started as a dare to myself. And here I am months later still turning out these rambling self produced thoughts.
Will I ever quit, I don't know. I keep thinking soon I will find something really important to say. I write about The Emperor, my kids, Brother and Sister, grandkids, greatgrands, he list goes on. Wait a minute, those people are important, at least to me. Anyone reading this knows I'm addicted to "Little Debbie Cakes." I talk too much and dress to young for my age. I loved being a kid on Ninth Street and hate people who whine. Then have the nerve to get on here and whine myself. Especially on my Birthday. Anyone that knows me, knows I will always have an opinion about something. And I never good at keeping those opinions to myself. So this Blog could go on for a long time at least while I'm still breathing.
I've scattered my words. Once again unleashing them on Blogland. I smile as I watch them whirl away. Even if nobody sees them. I know they are still there. Isn't that what a Blog is all about? I head in the direction of home. I'm outta here another day.
I didn't write yesterday. My sister called about six Am and asked me to read my Blog. I"I didn't write one today," I told her. "What am I going to do with you," she asked? "There are many who could come up with an answer to that," I said. I hope she doesn't ask them.
I didn't write a Blog yesterday because I was still embarrassed by the one I wrote on Valentines Day. I write these things then hours later read them again. "Good grief," I will mutter. "What a sad excuse for a Blog." Sorry but its all I've got. I'm amazed at times that I am still writing this. I will tell myself, "Give it up silly.' But I go a few days and presto I do it again. Now I want to assure you that I do not believe there are people waiting to hang on my written word. But still I take days when I feel driven to do it again.
Maybe I just don't have much of a life. But I love to write, even if its just this silly Blog.
I have always been amazed by words, the written words. Books, books, books. As I have said before I have my Mother to thank for that attribute. The love of reading is a attribute I strongly believe. Both of my children are big readers. If you read you can go anywhere and be for the duration of three or four hundred pages or more, someone else. I get my books as I have mentioned from "Wolfner Library." The greatest program the government has ever produced. I would truly be lost without them.
I keep thinking all those books I listen to should help me have better tools for writing myself, but they don't. For my Blog seems to have turned out to be just a rambling of my personal thoughts. I guess that's what they are suppose to be. I am not totally sure as I have never written one until about a year ago. Then I started as a dare to myself. And here I am months later still turning out these rambling self produced thoughts.
Will I ever quit, I don't know. I keep thinking soon I will find something really important to say. I write about The Emperor, my kids, Brother and Sister, grandkids, greatgrands, he list goes on. Wait a minute, those people are important, at least to me. Anyone reading this knows I'm addicted to "Little Debbie Cakes." I talk too much and dress to young for my age. I loved being a kid on Ninth Street and hate people who whine. Then have the nerve to get on here and whine myself. Especially on my Birthday. Anyone that knows me, knows I will always have an opinion about something. And I never good at keeping those opinions to myself. So this Blog could go on for a long time at least while I'm still breathing.
I've scattered my words. Once again unleashing them on Blogland. I smile as I watch them whirl away. Even if nobody sees them. I know they are still there. Isn't that what a Blog is all about? I head in the direction of home. I'm outta here another day.
Monday, February 14, 2011
A VALENTINE FROM GARY
Monday morning, Valentines day 2011. My pal "I" and I were up at four-thirty. When I opened the front door to let her out I stepped out onto the porch. Just in case I might see little cupids flying around or something. After all it is Valentines day. There was none. Just patches of snow that still cling to the ground and four plastic candy canes hanging from the trees. I have forgotten to take them off and put them away until next year. Oh well it probably would have scared "I" and I to death if we would have seen any.
I learned what Valentines Day was really about at East Central School. Valentines Day was a big event from the first grade on through grade school. There was always a party. Room Mothers would come with cupcakes and punch. I don't think they have room Mothers in grade school anymore. No home room parties. About a week before Valentines Day, the teacher gave everyone colored construction paper,scissors and glue. Everyone brought a box of some sort from home Mine was usually a oatmeal box. We decorated them and wrote our names on the top. Do you remember these?
Then we sat them on a table, all lined up and waited for the big day. Everyone brought Valentines and put them in the boxes of the ones they chose too. They were little paper ones, which came with twenty-eight to a pack I would go in before class and shake my box, Checking to make sure there were some in there.
In the first grade, my first Valentine's party was when I loved Gary Churchwell. I learned to write his name and wrote it all over the pantry wall. I wanted a Valentine from Gary. My world rested on getting one from him. When we were told to get our boxes, I dumped mine all on my desk. Looking for that one that was signed Gary Churchwell. There nestles among the others was one that had a heart, it also had the words love printed on the front. I sang, my heart sang. Gary Churchwell loved me too. Now all these years later I realize that he had of course given one to everyone in the class. And that probably all were alike but I didn't know that then. Looking back I realize Gary never loved me. I think he loved Barbara Danner. But for that one fleeting Valentines day I believed, in romance, magic and Gary Churchwell.
I tied my words in a pretty pink ribbon this morning. Carefully I untie the bow and set them free. I wonder as I watch them float away, will there be Valentines in Blogland today? Oh I am sure there will be. Love lives eternal everywhere I think. I sing a little as I walk, "Stupid cupid stop picking on me." I head for home where my two Valentines wait, The Emperor and "I". For now I'm outta here.
Valentine's Day
Observed by Many countries
Significance Love and affection celebrated between lovers
Date February 14
Observances Sending greeting cards and gifts, dating
Saint Valentine's Day, commonly shortened to Valentine's Day,[1][2][3] is an annual commemoration held on February 14 celebrating love and affection between intimate companions.[1][3] The day is named after one or more early Christian martyrs, Saint Valentine, and was established by Pope Gelasius I in 496 AD. It was deleted from the Roman calendar of saints in 1969 by Pope Paul VI, but its religious observance is still permitted. It is traditionally a day on which lovers express their love for each other by presenting flowers, offering confectionery, and sending greeting cards (known as "valentines"). The day first became associated with romantic love in the circle of Geoffrey Chaucer in the High Middle Ages, when the tradition of courtly love flourished.
Modern Valentine's Day symbols include the heart-shaped outline, doves, and the figure of the winged Cupid. Since the 19th century, handwritten valentines have given way to mass-produced greeting cards.[4]
I learned what Valentines Day was really about at East Central School. Valentines Day was a big event from the first grade on through grade school. There was always a party. Room Mothers would come with cupcakes and punch. I don't think they have room Mothers in grade school anymore. No home room parties. About a week before Valentines Day, the teacher gave everyone colored construction paper,scissors and glue. Everyone brought a box of some sort from home Mine was usually a oatmeal box. We decorated them and wrote our names on the top. Do you remember these?
Then we sat them on a table, all lined up and waited for the big day. Everyone brought Valentines and put them in the boxes of the ones they chose too. They were little paper ones, which came with twenty-eight to a pack I would go in before class and shake my box, Checking to make sure there were some in there.
In the first grade, my first Valentine's party was when I loved Gary Churchwell. I learned to write his name and wrote it all over the pantry wall. I wanted a Valentine from Gary. My world rested on getting one from him. When we were told to get our boxes, I dumped mine all on my desk. Looking for that one that was signed Gary Churchwell. There nestles among the others was one that had a heart, it also had the words love printed on the front. I sang, my heart sang. Gary Churchwell loved me too. Now all these years later I realize that he had of course given one to everyone in the class. And that probably all were alike but I didn't know that then. Looking back I realize Gary never loved me. I think he loved Barbara Danner. But for that one fleeting Valentines day I believed, in romance, magic and Gary Churchwell.
I tied my words in a pretty pink ribbon this morning. Carefully I untie the bow and set them free. I wonder as I watch them float away, will there be Valentines in Blogland today? Oh I am sure there will be. Love lives eternal everywhere I think. I sing a little as I walk, "Stupid cupid stop picking on me." I head for home where my two Valentines wait, The Emperor and "I". For now I'm outta here.
Valentine's Day
Observed by Many countries
Significance Love and affection celebrated between lovers
Date February 14
Observances Sending greeting cards and gifts, dating
Saint Valentine's Day, commonly shortened to Valentine's Day,[1][2][3] is an annual commemoration held on February 14 celebrating love and affection between intimate companions.[1][3] The day is named after one or more early Christian martyrs, Saint Valentine, and was established by Pope Gelasius I in 496 AD. It was deleted from the Roman calendar of saints in 1969 by Pope Paul VI, but its religious observance is still permitted. It is traditionally a day on which lovers express their love for each other by presenting flowers, offering confectionery, and sending greeting cards (known as "valentines"). The day first became associated with romantic love in the circle of Geoffrey Chaucer in the High Middle Ages, when the tradition of courtly love flourished.
Modern Valentine's Day symbols include the heart-shaped outline, doves, and the figure of the winged Cupid. Since the 19th century, handwritten valentines have given way to mass-produced greeting cards.[4]
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)