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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/books/action/view/entry_id/412180
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Rated: 13+ · Book · Personal · #982524
Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation.
#412180 added March 18, 2006 at 1:37pm
Restrictions: None
Childer everywhere you look
Winter 9 'Ala (March 10)


2006-03-10
late afternoon, 58 degrees. 37 in Elma, NY.

Tried to call Jaaaaan today. Did she answer? Nope. Forgot to call back and I can't find her number. Oh well, may have to get my mom to help me find it tomorrow. Why can't friends just BE there when you need them? Y'know ... just sitting calmly by the phone knowing that it'll ring ...

Speaking of mom ... when I was a child I called her Mother. We were formal; at least her father's family was. Her mom's wasn't. Can't find my grandfather in the U.S. @#$%^ census. Somehow he doesn't exist. But I did find his mother and father and two sisters! But not him. Mom says he was at his grandfather's house for the 1900 census. Which one? Even his family is listed under the name Duel. It was Deuel by the time my mother came along.

Yep, Clarence Arthur Deuel, born March 10, 1889, would've been 117 today. Too bad he never existed. Wonder who was in the casket when I was 11? My grandmother is buried next to whoever that was ...

Yikes, did they have childer or what in the late 1800s? Francis Fink is listed as having had 16, 8 living in the 1900 census. I found 5 older childer listed in 1870 and 4 young'ns in 1900, the first when she was about 17 (1861), the youngest when she was 45 (1990). Her daughter Mary Magdalene Mentzel had 14 we figure (1889 through 1912). By 1910 she had had 13 and had buried 6 already. Mary's daughter, my grandmother Theressa Deuel was one of the fortunate ones. She had between 8 and 10 childer and had 7 live to maturity. She also was outlived by them all! And died at the ripe old age of 93. Three still live.

By-the-way, childer is the old plural of child.

Now, how did my day go? Not bad. Spent the morning wrapped around a coffee cup and read some more Cadfael this morning. Soon I will know the mystery surrounding the 'Rose Rent'. I probably saw the PBS broadcast (was there one?) but my mind's like a sieve about some things, so I'm enjoying it immensely.

The afternoon was peering at the computer and trying to navigate the U.S. Census. And calling my mom to confirm what I found. Yesterday, I found something even she didn't know *Bigsmile*, so that was way cool.

Going out to Dreamweaver:

SENSED

1.          Roof torn off, the slide of shingles, the wrench of forks, the thud to ground; wind chimes; 3 purple crocuses; wreath of red fruit; terra cotta pot; a peek of green; roses newly cut; dark brown seedheads of the Rudbeckia; a bit of plastic in the tree; a moist Spring breeze.

2.          Blue shards of glass; the uneven path; wild garlic; blue vinca; the (silent laugh) of golden daffs; a squirrel in the garbage.

3.          Red balloons, the cadence of Japanese; pictures of Tunisie; arabic music; blue, white and red pendants; art students sketching those gathered at tea; Earl Grey; a tray of cookies; basketball tournament on tv; hot nacho cheese and chips; students with open books; cups everywhere.

4.          Pale pink blossoms (cherry? apricot?); bank of forsythia; pansies gold and rust; red lanterns among the red flowers of two maple trees.


Richard Hagerman thinks I should write poems with impact! Yet, he couldn't keep a staight face by the third line of 'Jizzlewax'! And Hubb pointed it out too. And so did Allison! Not one dirty word in that poem *Smirk* but everyone goes there ...

Richard is right of course. A good poem is nice. But a great poem is memorable. Poor Hubb won't be able to get that one out of his mind! I write a lot of crap, literally. Only so many will ever rise above the rest.

GETTING TO KNOW ME

... and bored outta ya gourd ...

108. Genealogy is NOT my passion. It is a bit of a diversion at the moment. I'd rather be reading or gardening.

109. Strings, woodwinds or percussion? Flute. My parents tried to make me learn the violin. Didn't work.

110. Favorite instruments to listen to: cello, english horn. (Bring in those clowns *Smile*.)

111. Favorite movement of Holst's Suite of the Planets: Jupiter. Go cellos and bassoons!

112. My middle name? My fathers first name. I was spared 'junior'.

113. Favorite incense: sandalwood


O SON OF MAN! I loved thy creation, hence I created thee. Wherefore, do thou love Me, that I may name thy name and fill thy soul with the spirit of life.

~ Bahá'u'lláh, Arabic Hidden Words #4


Of course, God loves all his creation. Whether it is children who die or the wild animals of the savannah. I was thinking of this when I saw that Forever-in-blue-jeans has a picture of the Zambezi Valley she's purchased.

Whether I grasped the area or not, I sketched this:

Lifegiver

And the zebras run to the Zambezi's edge,
green ribbon winding through the savannah's spance.
Where elephants take their baths in pools
that hippos have dug, the herons dance.

Water cools the thirst of life that grows
between the jaws of crocs that lurk.
Here Death reigns too, gives others life
below the surface where flows the dark,

while eagles fish and egrets rise
in flight across the marshlands where
the graze of zebras march to water's edge
where rushes merge and all life grows

for as long as the wide Zambezi flows. [162.792]

I'm hoping to write a poem to the painting Forever has in her blog entry: "Invalid EntryOpen in new Window..

© Copyright 2006 Kåre เลียม Enga (UN: enga at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/books/action/view/entry_id/412180