These are the jottings of a Taurean optimist. I’ve enjoyed my life so far, and since I was born in 1936, I’ve been around for quite a while. I’ve learned plenty, but remain on a steep learning curve. Well, if I don’t stay on it, I might fall off, and who knows where that might lead?
Deciding to get started on this website has been more like vertical take-off, but not of the astronaut variety. I’ve always loved reading and writing. Writing has been my passion since penning my first letter to my father sometime during World War II. My father was so proud he carried the letter in his wallet for the rest of his life; I found it there after his death. He was eighty-five, and the paper was fragile, but it remains a precious memento of a special parent.
Every evening before bed-time, my father read to me. The readings are inexorably tied in with the smell of his waistcoat. From my mother I learned to love poetry. She used to make me learn yards of it by heart, and then stand and recite it in front of her. Perhaps that’s where I learned to love talking to audiences.
So lovely … in every way.
So are your comments which are always encouraging.
I loved when letters came through post! there was something special about them.
Like your comments which are as delightful as your poetry.
thanks Maureen!
That was so endearing Maureen. I’m a mother and sometimes it’s the little things that children remember, and usually something that, as a parent, had no idea the impression we make. Sounds like your father made that kind of impression on you. That is amazing. My children (29 and 31 now) always remember our dance contests we held in our kitchen, I hope that doesn’t mean my daughter doesn’t want to be a dancer.
j/k She is a pharmacutical rep. Where is spell check when you need it 
Funny what tricks memory can play.
I always remember my daughter aged three, she has since added almost another fifty since, peeking out through the flap of her tent on one of our camping trips. The endearing picture persists in my memory – even to the clothes she was wearing.
A minute doll-like creature of quicksilver who matured into a feisty strong-minded young woman, utterly fearless in defending anything or anyone – especially the underdog – human or canine.
That rang so many bells for me! I recently found a little box marked ‘Precious things’ that was my Mum’s. One of the things in it was a letter I had written to my Daddy when I was about 6 and he was living away. Isn’t it lovely to think that our daddies loved us so much they kept these precious little letters. My dad told or read us stories each night too. Loved this post!
It’s those special ‘little things’ that arouse the greatest emotions, and the longest memories. They’re the golden threads that hold the fabric of our lives together.
Yes! I can’t understand those who have no wish to keep the special treasures…
I framed the pictures my children and later, those my grandchildren drew and painted so they still hang on my walls. In terms of money, the frames might win, but in my treasury the pictures are priceless.