I inhabit my stories with them, however, and that is my small tribute to them.
What an inspiring tribute that is, CoCo.
Perhaps some day I shall perform a similar undertaking.
Sylvia
Through a Darkened Pane
by compound complex 730 Replies latest social entertainment
-
snowbird
-
ziddina
CoCo, your family - immediate and extended - must have been a very interesting group of people, to perceive them by what you've written so far... Very genteel and cultured, from what I can tell... So different from my unruly buncha Westerners; sheepherders and cowboys...
Zid
-
compound complex
It is summer, in my mind.
In order to maintain some small degree of sanity, I retreat into my childhood. Worries existed then, but they were those of my parents and other grownups. In that era of make-believe and pure childhood innocence, nothing of sadness, anxiety or anger was permitted to insinuate itself into our little world. The world of us carefree kids of the late 40s and early 50s. Of course, we were not totally oblivious to the sound and fury of our parents' fights, or the sinking of spirits when any of us got wind that Santa might miss Hernandez Terrace this Christmas. No, we simply couldn't allow reality to sully our daily forays into adventure, whether that which we sought out in trees, hills and streams, or I, in particular, imbibed upon in my treasury of books.
I stroll down a country lane, once again noting the pattern of dappled sunlight upon the roadway. The play of light filtering through gently swaying poplars, standing tall and elegant, cheers me without speaking a word. It's early morning; the angled stream of gradually brightening light breaks in and around massive, gnarled trunks and shimmering coin-like leaves. At noon, of course, this commonplace though delightful phenomenon disappears. At that time there is no offering of shade amidst the poplars.
Simple pleasures and daily routine set my life in order, giving me some small and inviolable purpose to my existence. I must hold onto this thought when it returns ...
-
musky
Hello CoCo,
"Simple pleasures and daily routine set my life in order"
I find that so many times in my daily walk through life,that I don't take the time to "smell the roses".I seem to go through life with the "blinders" on and a one track mind,that I miss so many things that could make my day more fulfilling.Reading your thoughts reminds me to slow down just a bit, and try to take notice of so much that I miss.
Thank you CoCo and have a good evening.
-
compound complex
So nice to close this day's chapter of TADP with greetings to my friends Ziddina and Musky!
Well, Zid, re: my friends and family, there is an element of literary license here, wherein I take as little as one characteristic of an associate past and embroider that trait into a persona modified and/or expanded beyond the reality of childhood and young adulthood. I could explain to you the significance of street and town names, who Maggie Reese really was, and so on. But therein lies the magic (or the literary lead balloon!). Of course, I needn't explain such to you ... maybe to the cowpokes in your family, however! You will learn who the crying couple were, though.
Many thanks! Turning off the pc and going to watch The Haunting!
After the JW experience, Musky, I believe we've all relaxed a bit and taken time to smell the flowers. At least you've recognized the need. If my words have helped toward that end, I am pleased. My travels have taught me that life is not just content, as in quantity, but essence and being (I'm still trying to fathom new ideas, ones so beyond rudimentary fundamentalist thought).
You, too, have a good evening, my friend!
Notice the scenery in earlier posts?!?!?
Love,
CoCo
-
compound complex
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raggedy_Ann
Raggedy Ann is a fictional character created by American writer Johnny Gruelle (1880–1938) in a series of books he wrote and illustrated for young children. Raggedy Ann is a rag doll with red yarn for hair and has a triangle nose. The character was created in 1915 as a doll, and was introduced to the public in the 1918 book Raggedy Ann Stories. A doll was also marketed along with the book to great success. A sequel, Raggedy Andy Stories (1920) introduced the character of her brother, Raggedy Andy, dressed in sailor suit and hat.
Gruelle created Raggedy Ann for his daughter, Marcella, when she brought him an old hand-made rag doll and he drew a face on it. From his bookshelf, he pulled a book of poems by James Whitcomb Riley, and combined the names of two poems, "The Raggedy Man" and "Little Orphant Annie." He said, "Why don’t we call her Raggedy Ann?"
Marcella died at age 13 after being vaccinated at school for smallpox without her parents' consent. Authorities blamed a heart defect, but her parents blamed the vaccination. Gruelle became an opponent of vaccination, and the Raggedy Ann doll was used as a symbol by the anti-vaccination movement.
-
musky
Hello CoCo,
"Notice the scenery in earlier posts?!?!?"
Yes,I enjoyed the scenery.They give a good visual to the story.I tried to find the house hidden by fog.I thought I would maybe see a sliver of something.Perhaps I still have my blinders on?
-
compound complex
Thanks for noticing, Musky. I hope that you've had a good day.
I plan on creating more art that is relevant to the story and scanning it to my posts. It's not your blinders. The "house" really is hidden!
Hope to chat again soon. Been caught up in a few other pc-related issues and hope to get back to this pane of a topic soon!
Gratefully,
CoCo
-
compound complex
Recent happenings close to home have bewildered me by day, terrified me by night. Yet, the shroud of fog begins to clear. I see outward, through the windows to my soul. A sense of tranquility replaces anxiety and confusion. A calmer state of mind allows me to sort through the simpler things. Scattered pieces of life's puzzle come together of their own accord; my intervention is neither required nor sought.
What I have commonly referred to as the past, I now realize, is not a block of time and events disconnected from today, but life and living's continuance through to this present moment. A flowing stream, irresistible, from that so-called past of no discernible nor recorded beginning.
In that timeless flow from then to now, I see myself not as participant but on-shore observer. Rushing past me are images of people and buildings and books. And so much more, the more of my former childhood surroundings that have edged their way into my today's reality. It is a continuation of what I started out as and what I continue to be ...
Through nature, through nurture.
None of this is so unusual ...
-
