Archive for the ‘Memories’ Category

In memory of my father-in-law, Wayne Webb, who landed at Omaha Beach and also in the Pacific,
and
with thanks to my father
and all men and women in all branches of the service: those who served, those who died,
those who still serve, and to all of their families.

Thank you.  We remember. (more…)

A scimitar moon hangs in the blue-black sky as I drive home. A train passes silently along the tracks, silently because I’m cocooned in the van. Lights shine from inside the cars, warming the night, and although it’s merely a commuter train, it plucks memories from my heart, memories of trips to visit my grandparents in California.

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The WordPress prompt of the day is….

Imperfections — in things, in people, in places — add character to life. Tell us about an imperfection that you cherish.

I have plenty imperfections of my own, but this post is about the imperfection of my horse, Sunday.  You see her every time you see my gravatar.  She’s a Missouri Foxtrotter, which means she has a gait that, instead of the usual bumpy trot, is so smooth that you could ride forever.  It’s the epitome of that rocking chair feeling. (more…)

I may have inherited my love of horses from my dad because I don’t remember a time when I haven’t loved horses. I knew where all the horse books in our library were and I read them all. I think I learned to ride through reading those books, because I didn’t take any lessons, but I seemed to know how to ride instinctively.

I wanted nothing more than a horse. I wanted one enough to put up with, and enjoy, the occasional rides to no- much-of -on bored horses at a nearby stable, rides where the horse couldn’t be forced into a trot without massive amounts of kicking. I didn’t get a horse until much later but one day someone came by our house with a pony and my parents paid for my brother and me to have our pictures taken on it.  That is definitely a look of pure happiness!

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My chair, my woman cave, is surrounded by books, my full teacup, iPad, Kindle and other necessities such as my cell phone, in case someone actually calls.  I’m re-reading “Bella Tuscany” by Francis Mayes for the umpteenth time.  Yes, I’m one of those people who re-read books.  Most of the books I buy are books I’ve already read, books that I plan to keep, cherish and re-read many more times, whether in real book form (my favorite), Kindle (especially lovely for travel) or both.

This is the story of two books: one, part of a small series that I love; the other, part of a series I loved, then left. (more…)

A little humor to end your week and start the weekend. This is a postcard of my favorite tombstone in Boot Hill, the cemetery in Tombstone, Arizona, the town where Wyatt Earp, Doc Holliday, Virgil and Morgan Earp faced the Clantons and the McLaurys in the gunfight at the OK Corral. (more…)

Today’s (Tuesday as I write this) is my one year blogging anniversary, so I want to take the first part of this post to say thanks to all of you who read, “like”, and comment regularly, irregularly, or even just once.  I remember wondering whether anyone other than my family would ever read one of my posts and how excited I was when I got my first non-family “like” and then my first non- family follower.  Now I enjoy hearing from many of you almost every day and I love that! (more…)

We drive into Gary, Indiana at dusk on a cold, grey winter day, the lack of color a perfect fit for the post-apocalyptic desolation that surrounds us.  Empty buildings with broken windows or yawning holes in the walls.  Gaping, empty lots filled with trash and the winter carcasses of plants.  No pristine snow to lend an ephemeral impression of beauty.  The few stores crouching behind their metal barricade of gates.  I expect Mad Max at any moment, searching for gas or revenge. (more…)

I know some of you (Randy, Rich, probably Ted) have tuned in thinking, “Wow, a story about getting plastered at Christmas!”   Much as I hate to disappoint you, it isn’t that sort of story.  And no one even got pounded (fortunately.) (more…)

This true story is for my best (female) friend.  You know who you are.  Merry Christmas!

Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent.
Victor Hugo

They were introduced after church…our new music directors, a young couple with impressive credentials: one with an excellent voice, one with impeccable piano/organ skills, both with different but complimentary people skills and a desire to build a wonderful music program.  They announced, as is always announced, that anyone who liked to sing or ring bells was welcomed to come to practice for choir, bell choir or praise team.  I thought I might try praise team. (more…)