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Stories from my Grandmother

“It is hard to qualify the influence that this amazing woman had on me, and really on everyone around her.”

This grandchild describes the influence Grandmother had during the growing up years. The author also explores several stories related by her. This challenges me to write down the stories of my own grandparents … because they are important to understand them. How about you? Do you have a favorite story?

Bloodlust: Domains of the Chosen

Florence May Harris Florence May Harris

My Grandmother’s funeral was yesterday.   She lived from February 26, 1924 to May 21, 2014. Her name was Florence May Harris (maiden name Kettle).

It was a beautiful ceremony, attended by friends and family from all over the country. I had to park down the street from the Church, in fact.

It is hard to qualify the influence that this amazing woman had on me, and really on everyone around her. Like so many of the generation that grew up during the depression and World War II, she had an influence that seemed far out of proportion to that of a single being. My grandmother was the type of person that built communities, and that was evident at her funeral.

Perhaps the beast measure of a person, in my view, is in the stories they tell. Hateful people tend to tell tales that justify their lists of…

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Posted by on 9 June 2014 in Uncategorized

 

Memories of a Visit to My Grandmother’s House

” The life of the house left when my grandmother went home”
manicdiva73 describes her visits to her southern grandmother, and the loss she now feels.

Manicdiva73's Poetry Blog

dirt road

I remember the smell of the country air as we went down south to visit my grandmother.

I liked to wiggle my feet in the red dirt. My mother would always tell me not to get dirty because the red dirt was hard to get out of my clothes. Being a child, I didn’t care. I still ran and played with my cousins. I remember running up and down the dirt roads. I felt free. That was a happy time in my life.

How could I forget the chickens that roamed free? Yes, we threw rocks at them because we didn’t know any better. My parents would run out of the house just to make us stop.

In the backyard of my grandmother’s house, there were a lot of flowers and trees. I was told not to go back there because of the snakes. It was so beautiful that I…

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Posted by on 7 June 2014 in Uncategorized

 

Poor Nanna.

I just had to read this author’s take on the grandmother name. I had never heard of the Dutch grand-naming convention. I think it is interesting. I had the kids call my parents by the first name the oldest “seemed” to say — Domma — which my mother attributes to Lithuanian.

 
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Posted by on 3 June 2014 in Uncategorized

 

My Grandmother, My Idol

This author describes in perfect detail what it is to be a grand-mother.

Nicole Feledy's Blog

AnyuGrandmother, think for a moment, what does the the word mean to you?

What is your first thought, your first emotion? What do you think when you hear someone say… grandmother? To me, grandmother is more than a word, more than a title, more than a label that defines a familial relationship. Rather,  it is an aspiration.

Please, let me explain.

To be a grand is to strive to be the best. To be a mother is to be nurturing, protective, supportive and to love unconditionally. That is what my Grandmother is to me.  An inspirational nurturer who guided her family to freedom – physically, mentally and emotionally.

My Grandmother always understood, it seemed she knew me better than I knew myself. She saw, even when I didn’t. My Grandmother introduced me to a world of grace and innate nobility. She was a lady, not the pampered, vacuous kind, but a real…

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Posted by on 1 June 2014 in Uncategorized

 

If You Ever….

Zoompa and I were just talking about this very topic today. We raised our children to be independent. That’s all I can say right now. The years are blinding me.

The Chatter Blog

If you ever birthed, adopted or fostered a child.

If you ever held a baby for endless hours because you wanted the child to sleep, whether you did nor not.

If you ever held a vomiting child.   Or had a child projectile vomit in your face.   Or held a baby high, laughing at their beauty, and they spit up in your laughing face-and you kept laughing while gagging.

If you ever read story after story after story after story after story after story after story.  Then read another one.

If you ever laughed at 1,279 ‘knock knock’ jokes that ended with “it’s me mom!”

If you ever went out scouting the neighborhood, or the school, or the football game to get a glimpse of the boy/girl that broke your child’s heart.  Or called them a name.  Or pulled their hair.  Or gave them a dirty look.  Or did…

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Posted by on 20 May 2014 in Uncategorized

 

The “Me Time” Myth

This writer talks about how a good thing used to excess can become a bad thing. I thought it was worth re-posting

Your Mom Has A Blog

We moms are always talking about “Me Time.”  We seem to spend a lot of brain power thinking about it and how to get it.  I even recently saw a red carpet reporter whose sole assignment was to ask celebrity moms how they get the all-important Me Time.  And, each celebrity had different answers.  Pedicures and coffee were favorites.  Lunches and going to the gym were mentioned.  Basically any activity that doesn’t involve the children can qualify, although if doesn’t involve the children OR the husband, then it is really considered a treat.

me4

And I know why we say this.  It’s because being a mom is tiring.  And draining.  And some days it’s not all that fun or even interesting.  Being a mom requires lots of hard work, lots of putting others first, and lots of doing things that you don’t necessarily feel like doing.  So, when we have been…

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Posted by on 13 May 2014 in Uncategorized

 

Eldercare: The Forgotten Feminist Issue.

Nobody likes to think about having to care for aging parents, but it happens. Here is one woman’s thoughts and feelings about this issue, while caring for her mother.

hoodfeminism

(This was written late last year; I pitched it a few places but received little interest. I’m posting it here because, well, it’s an important conversation.)

One of my favorite pictures of my mom. Mom, back in the day.

As I write this my mother is fast asleep in a nursing home, her third stint in 15 months. It is a heartbreaking thing, watching your parent slowly succumb to her mortality. You try to prepare yourself for the call you’ll get in the middle of the night from a nurse reluctant to give you the news you’ve been dreading for years. But no amount of preparation will ready you for that call. No amount of alcohol will lessen the pain. Even writing about it is hard because it forces you to deal with an absolute, inescapable truth. She is dying, and you are powerless to stop it.

The woman I now visit several times a week is not…

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Posted by on 7 May 2014 in Uncategorized