Oh! Joy...

My grands are so joyful. It is the unbridled joy of childhood. I sometimes, because of them, get to glimpse that uninhibited happiness. Hmmm...joy in a canning jar on my shelf of memories. One of those jars with a scrap of calico and ribbon and maybe a hand scrawled note that says For you, Gran.

A very special grand on the porch...

My soon to be nine year old granddaughter visited me today. She sported long braids and such a smile. She asked so many questions about the burial we attended for an uncle and friend she knew well. What is a funeral? I answered, A celebration of Uncle Mike's life. How did he fit in that box? Where did he go? Will he come back? Why is Aunt J crying? Another little grand said sadly, He took the music with him, (he was the family guitar man). It is hard even for us as adults to digest the facts. Days ago he sat on the porch with us all and today he has returned to dust...

Behind the Beautiful Forevers...

I read Behind the Beautiful Forever in one day. I could not put it down. I really could have used a good nights sleep but no... I read way too late. It is rare that a book takes ahold of me like this one did. It was mesmerizing. I only wish it had been fiction. The lives of the people in this true account of life in the slums of Mumbai hurt my heart. Boo's writing was beautiful.

It has been an awful week here on my porch. A good friend of the family, my husband's childhood friend, died of heart failure at only 62. He was the music man at all our family gatherings. Guitar, keyboard and the voice of the sixties. Silenced by death...
He did not say goodbye. Made no preparation for his leaving. I am determined to be prepared for a funeral and to somehow make it easy for my girls if by chance I someday die. Even though I would really like to live forever.
RIP old friend...

It was a dark and stormy night...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I've always wanted to write that sentence. I just found out that it is the first sentence of a real book. Paul Clifford, written in 1830.

Last night a storm threatened but nothing happened except this colored, lighted sky.

First Paragraph...

First Chapter  First Paragraph

The Last Supper Catering Company by Michaelene Mc Elroy

                                                                    One

My Momma died on a hot August afternoon in 1950, right before I was born. My Grandma, Little G, was out picking blackberries for pie making and my momma-to-be was out hanging sheets on the line, when Little G heard a scream from across the yard. She looked up from her bucket of berries just in time to watch Momma begin a lazy fall, as if overcome by some long held tiredness. The wooden clothespins flew from Momma's hands, snapping at the air on the way down, looking for something to hold onto. Momma was dead by the time she hit the ground, her head resting on the damp pillowcase in her hand, her why questioning eyes looking up to God.


I picked this book because I loved the cover pictures but the first paragraph hooked me. I almost could not stop reading long enough to finish this post!

Dog days of summer on the porch...

It is August on my porch but it is not hot or sunny.
I have been reading a lot. I just finished Inferno by Dan Brown. I really love his attention to detail. His descriptions of the art and architecture and Florence and Venice make me want to take a guided tour of Europe! I'm working on Henry Fry. Yes, this is a book that is hard to read but I think I need to finish it. Also Shiver. Just for fluff. I will not read the rest of the trilogy, though.
I love walking by a house down the street just to see the progress a 70 year old woman is making stripping the paint off her very old porch. I always say hi and compliment her hard work. I left her a book by an English author. I hope she likes it.
Izzy, the dog, goes to the beach every day with my 74 year old neighbor and her dog. Lucky dog...