tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50156315457603386862024-03-05T21:30:13.834-08:00WidowSphere: A Circle of HopeIn the midst of winter, I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer. Albert Camusthelmazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09819557846762852247noreply@blogger.comBlogger1115125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5015631545760338686.post-24492856830324241802023-07-09T18:57:00.000-07:002023-07-09T18:57:05.561-07:00Book of June<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEn6armzpi2UQhDJzcKkOq5pQm9jooLYRN9lzZEKJsjc_40TmUCjbN08MwgUm_4AEstr2JBFQwbfCfMb0EG0GFaiONHJgUYGwK85faLtVp30p2UXDz52_IgoQcnebffNIT55-cWq04nv6YAOrH90Iw8ea166Q-Sb-1QxePc1Y9BgQ7TgtHbkNL7FEuFmRN/s2471/Measure.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2471" data-original-width="1628" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEn6armzpi2UQhDJzcKkOq5pQm9jooLYRN9lzZEKJsjc_40TmUCjbN08MwgUm_4AEstr2JBFQwbfCfMb0EG0GFaiONHJgUYGwK85faLtVp30p2UXDz52_IgoQcnebffNIT55-cWq04nv6YAOrH90Iw8ea166Q-Sb-1QxePc1Y9BgQ7TgtHbkNL7FEuFmRN/s320/Measure.jpg" width="211" /></a></div><br /> I only read one book in June because I started a 700 page novel and I'm not finished yet. But I did read The Measure. Imagine this: On your doorstep one March morning you find a small wooden box with your name on it and the words "The measure of your life lies within." You soon learn that every adult in the world has found a similar box. What's inside? A string. The strings are varied only in length. The length of your string tells how long you will live The novel follows eight characters and how they react to their strings. I enjoyed this, not necessarily for the writing, but for the premise. What would you do if you received such a box? Open it or not? How would you lead the rest of your life? And what will happen to society when people divide themselves into long stringers and short stringers? Interesting book. <p></p>thelmazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09819557846762852247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5015631545760338686.post-43857411061907548462023-06-18T18:04:00.001-07:002023-06-18T18:04:29.769-07:00My New Favorite Book<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPaRwL-mwXuh6B_t0fGbp7ENoFX6ezHEwwkLszpUa00XDFSX8lyf5aIyyX2hFUq5n9F16JULWzx8LmYCG7T4mTrOo9KMM4jn-eg-COOL0Q9tcSVKggmFmP0z_f22ATVPv6i_e46opHtNpU16o3QYCdklrb_XMSYEbh1UqOK7CM_WTQ3IMhorfftaBkuw/s800/Thelma%20the%20Unicorn.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPaRwL-mwXuh6B_t0fGbp7ENoFX6ezHEwwkLszpUa00XDFSX8lyf5aIyyX2hFUq5n9F16JULWzx8LmYCG7T4mTrOo9KMM4jn-eg-COOL0Q9tcSVKggmFmP0z_f22ATVPv6i_e46opHtNpU16o3QYCdklrb_XMSYEbh1UqOK7CM_WTQ3IMhorfftaBkuw/s320/Thelma%20the%20Unicorn.webp" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Yes, it's a picture book, but the main character's name is Thelma, so why not. It's a story in rhyme, perfect to read with pre-k. kids to second graders. And it's great because it has a lesson and it should lead to discussion afterward. Enjoy (even if your name isn't Thelma).</b></span><p></p><p><br /></p>thelmazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09819557846762852247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5015631545760338686.post-18036283995672615342023-06-11T14:57:00.000-07:002023-06-11T14:57:24.284-07:00Recommendations for Summer Reads<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">S<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjumkfSvxXADkUBb5g0pfmGaPyYmSj9VtWKyxrPee1led0gpN4Lv-x6ADFvE6IWrvtY6IbaLIef62lRKY3QkKQcPmWjNVvSBHydI9CfI-dCVG_JZRdQ-kTfQv_xA4FRpmsW6nFSnPU8-dcXQa-cuUae6nOxyGmlf6yWpzKp-GnALKcDOurh1-_aQ2l1Sw/s300/books1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjumkfSvxXADkUBb5g0pfmGaPyYmSj9VtWKyxrPee1led0gpN4Lv-x6ADFvE6IWrvtY6IbaLIef62lRKY3QkKQcPmWjNVvSBHydI9CfI-dCVG_JZRdQ-kTfQv_xA4FRpmsW6nFSnPU8-dcXQa-cuUae6nOxyGmlf6yWpzKp-GnALKcDOurh1-_aQ2l1Sw/s1600/books1.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /> <span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Some of these are recent reads; some I've enjoyed in the past.</b></span><b style="font-size: large;"> ]</b><p></p><p><b style="font-size: large;">A Marriage Portrait by Maggie O' Farrell, inspired by the poem "My Last Duchess" by Robert Browning.</b></p><p><b style="font-size: large;">Signal Fires by Dani Shapiro Two families; one night. A constellation of lives changed forever.</b></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>i'm Thinking of Ending Things by Iain Reid A weird story that begins with a strange phone call.</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>The Thursday Murder Club by Richard Osman A group of senior citizens solves murders</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Our Souls at Night by Kent Haruf A widow knocks on a widowed neighbor's door with an unusual request. Or you can watch the movie with Jane Fonda and Robert Redford</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>The Choice by Edith Eger An inspiring memoir by an Auschwitz survivor</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Bad Blood by John Carreyrou The story of Elizabeth Holmes and her infamous company, Theranos</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Empire of Pain by Patrick Radden Keefe The story of the Sackler family's pharmaceutical company and how their greed started the opioid epidemic</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>To read to little ones:</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Big Dog Little Dog by P.D. Eastman</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>For elementary schoolers</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Freckle Juice by Judy Blume A second grader wants freckles. Will this recipe work?</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>CDB by William Steig Can your kids translate these letters into real words? This one becomes See the Bee</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>For older elementary schoolers</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Bridge to Terabithia by Kathleen Paterson An award winning story of a friendship between young neighbors</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Are You There, God? It's Me Margaret by Judy Blume The Iconic Story of a Girl on the Cusp of Adolesc</b></span><b style="font-size: large;">ence</b></p><p><b style="font-size: large;"> Happy Reading!</b></p><p><b style="font-size: large;">We'll Always Have </b></p><p><b style="font-size: large;"> </b></p>thelmazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09819557846762852247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5015631545760338686.post-14931130271603432482023-05-28T15:11:00.001-07:002023-05-28T15:11:56.288-07:00Memorial Day Quotes<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0PYkyts4vbYHh_cLf6ZTdTduJvHG9dNYIZPRGY7_LWW1dbuLzI2qJezF988obyserbgg9KTI6nF7bXpKCpvhMmYi8qpfE1fL7zGYtAw2k3njhoI6cznj0gnzUTSnetAxyPJa5pW1OCNXQlxw8bdXfh1okAfF6GUoUpQH15RRu_a5AGrK8ETgNb_H6Zw/s340/287409-340x227-honoring-fallen-soldiers-quotes.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="227" data-original-width="340" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0PYkyts4vbYHh_cLf6ZTdTduJvHG9dNYIZPRGY7_LWW1dbuLzI2qJezF988obyserbgg9KTI6nF7bXpKCpvhMmYi8qpfE1fL7zGYtAw2k3njhoI6cznj0gnzUTSnetAxyPJa5pW1OCNXQlxw8bdXfh1okAfF6GUoUpQH15RRu_a5AGrK8ETgNb_H6Zw/s320/287409-340x227-honoring-fallen-soldiers-quotes.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIWMqTxDfmmunZR0JeLAfkbnJhpyUZm0HwBwPvN1AMCyCafAAdccbhJNIwvZCOuijY3JUCnfRxpmiFDxDwGjKTXz4D7T_aNjpCw0KDX4rLHDYj9LA1-7xJ5ERZSR7jiNoDbnX5-Xg3EhxiNfKvbYTKlo5SBQ9kimpO3dX_3Dif0Jy4HdA-GAjXghpUTw/s720/memorial-day-quotes-37-1619811254.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIWMqTxDfmmunZR0JeLAfkbnJhpyUZm0HwBwPvN1AMCyCafAAdccbhJNIwvZCOuijY3JUCnfRxpmiFDxDwGjKTXz4D7T_aNjpCw0KDX4rLHDYj9LA1-7xJ5ERZSR7jiNoDbnX5-Xg3EhxiNfKvbYTKlo5SBQ9kimpO3dX_3Dif0Jy4HdA-GAjXghpUTw/s320/memorial-day-quotes-37-1619811254.jpg" width="213" /></a></div> <p></p><p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ey_S_Qzy3zuGTwvUI8Hu0lRc1tZggEjDNWCdyNZIBXjIlZ9dKLcuo28S0Iu8diIT-q0byWK__XaI5v0BQQ5j4oCuWrcwWLmOmetXWkdwHhtDfROEcAzVRGu6TZIjpNC4P8SVjOEE8BNL2VEt_B_XzrZS-lEabgtyDiSEZq0FuT6T8v4yAJ8TnDn5_g/s720/memorial3final-1619632622.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ey_S_Qzy3zuGTwvUI8Hu0lRc1tZggEjDNWCdyNZIBXjIlZ9dKLcuo28S0Iu8diIT-q0byWK__XaI5v0BQQ5j4oCuWrcwWLmOmetXWkdwHhtDfROEcAzVRGu6TZIjpNC4P8SVjOEE8BNL2VEt_B_XzrZS-lEabgtyDiSEZq0FuT6T8v4yAJ8TnDn5_g/s320/memorial3final-1619632622.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtrRUN1iZxOnZWaKLxzHltYzcJ4sOHlT5bNEkgYjHRePcXE4Y1Y6PYxX3LvZpaC8DJVOEhpco9ceT_VMjTfnJR_jFbCvtvnT0jyjj-n4u1fTIfR8bs5Px4Oh9EhY4xJJpzlNqHzjkE1PDE9RskCQqUPJ2TWHGZVFRzzxzDGKgiIVsbERS9pMorhnQCFg/s1470/memorial5final-1619632724.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1470" data-original-width="980" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtrRUN1iZxOnZWaKLxzHltYzcJ4sOHlT5bNEkgYjHRePcXE4Y1Y6PYxX3LvZpaC8DJVOEhpco9ceT_VMjTfnJR_jFbCvtvnT0jyjj-n4u1fTIfR8bs5Px4Oh9EhY4xJJpzlNqHzjkE1PDE9RskCQqUPJ2TWHGZVFRzzxzDGKgiIVsbERS9pMorhnQCFg/s320/memorial5final-1619632724.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>thelmazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09819557846762852247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5015631545760338686.post-4931351623034071442023-05-24T13:29:00.002-07:002023-05-24T13:29:43.170-07:00Birthday May 23, 2023 and Others I Remember<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK5Hv7Dme5eZEM8H4F4KMVBpT58vDxxsEAb3-08hit3ZcqTNOaehYZ90kGskg1dbeLfwG8dLj6QUlcNGYACpgYlcpHfx-VdBtOFg1TSKrQqLdzkX2ZbNCKx_uJMZY-Psd2V5GMpTMvbk-zvj8qUMV2TYrlrka4gcU48QNdx0EEM889yqLq1_o-j5_oaA/s1131/716UBYGPt2L._AC_UY1000_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1131" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK5Hv7Dme5eZEM8H4F4KMVBpT58vDxxsEAb3-08hit3ZcqTNOaehYZ90kGskg1dbeLfwG8dLj6QUlcNGYACpgYlcpHfx-VdBtOFg1TSKrQqLdzkX2ZbNCKx_uJMZY-Psd2V5GMpTMvbk-zvj8qUMV2TYrlrka4gcU48QNdx0EEM889yqLq1_o-j5_oaA/w326-h283/716UBYGPt2L._AC_UY1000_.jpg" width="326" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A Birthday Present from My Daughter</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWTy4fkUXIkR5iqZ3neM707Nb4FCMVwDPDPosVvVd2B0rjFQ1vE69JHs1b2FUfmv_CtPwQ9D-KZBwNTk_EDVGIW-LD4xsvyrVD_vMIX8YLknep2C0GI7soIj9jRBibw7MQZoe6ou40ntKCvZdh5D7Bk8T32dlEp9dJzmGIboMDl_LY1KVr50CAEWRLeA/s1300/birthday%20cake%20slice.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1300" data-original-width="866" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWTy4fkUXIkR5iqZ3neM707Nb4FCMVwDPDPosVvVd2B0rjFQ1vE69JHs1b2FUfmv_CtPwQ9D-KZBwNTk_EDVGIW-LD4xsvyrVD_vMIX8YLknep2C0GI7soIj9jRBibw7MQZoe6ou40ntKCvZdh5D7Bk8T32dlEp9dJzmGIboMDl_LY1KVr50CAEWRLeA/s320/birthday%20cake%20slice.jpg" width="213" /></a>\\</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Birthday. May 23, the day I of my birth. I imagine Mother's relief as I slip from her womb and she hears my first cry. Her first pregnancy ended in a stillbirth.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Birthday party. Pinatas and presents and ice cream and cake. The year I am four, a friend gets sick and has to cancel her birthday party. Oh no, I think. Without a party, she won't get any older.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Birthday. The warmth of spring. May 23 is the first day each year that I'm allowed to go barefoot outside, feel the prickly grass on my feet and smell the magnolias blooming in our yard.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Birthday. May 22, the day my baby sister is born, ripped from Mother's belly by Caesarian section. While Mother is in the hospital, a bird flies down our chimney and swoops around our living room, resulting in my lifelong fear of birds.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Birthday. The year I am 20, when I should be celebrating the transition from teenager to adult, but I am lying flat on my stomach in the women's burn ward at John Sealy Hospital in Galveston, awaiting the next skin graft.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Birthday. August 28, the day ny daughter is born, an exhilarating and day when I become responsible for another human being, who would teach me how to be a mother.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Birthday, April 9, the day my son is born, all 9 lb. 13 1/2 oz. of him. Hard to believe he just turned 60.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Birthday. November 26, Thanksgiving, the day my granddaughter is born and I watch her dash into the world.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Birthday. My 70th, spent alone while my husband is in the hospital, slowly dying from leukemia. This is my worst birthday.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Birthday 2023. I hope to enjoy all the birthdays I have left.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div></div><p></p>thelmazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09819557846762852247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5015631545760338686.post-43282273081015887342023-05-14T18:06:00.002-07:002023-05-14T18:06:15.401-07:00Are You There, God? It's Me Margaret<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqet45PjDPbAtR3KRrAMHPgHxELzlTYmwWZ-gY4ELzQcikQo-hNEzzNrXLyI20HBsGVl7ZgBQ8kbYtkAxeAG4SD5uHu_o3FOP9_VEfR1gN3qm2yBm4yYl_V_TOtzcRJgOa4ttA8UiNobid3ZyyHCMKoRTmaFlHq8u9yFSIOFGDnjWROp8FWZ_hTceSIg/s1551/Margaret.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1551" data-original-width="1050" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqet45PjDPbAtR3KRrAMHPgHxELzlTYmwWZ-gY4ELzQcikQo-hNEzzNrXLyI20HBsGVl7ZgBQ8kbYtkAxeAG4SD5uHu_o3FOP9_VEfR1gN3qm2yBm4yYl_V_TOtzcRJgOa4ttA8UiNobid3ZyyHCMKoRTmaFlHq8u9yFSIOFGDnjWROp8FWZ_hTceSIg/s320/Margaret.jpg" width="217" /></a></div><br /> This is the perfect mother/daughter movie. Perfect for a middle schooler, older teen or even a daughter of a "certain age." Long ago, we both read Judy Blume's classic novel about a seventh grade girl whose family moves to New Jersey. There she is immediately befriended by a neighbor girl and invited to join a secret club. At their weekly meetings the four girls discuss...what else? Boys, bras, and their periods. Who will get hers first? Who will be first to "become a woman?" On her own, Margaret pours our her concerns about religion to God. Her parents have an interfaith marriage, Margaret doesn't know which religion to choose. Her search for religion and her preteen/early teen angst make a delightful movie. My daughter and I chuckled throughout and remembered our own thoughts and concerns at Margaret's age. <p></p><p>Will this book be allowed in schools today, given its themes on development and on religion? What do you think?</p>thelmazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09819557846762852247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5015631545760338686.post-48151118610528754182023-05-10T19:53:00.000-07:002023-05-10T19:53:10.252-07:00Leaving Your Legacy<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnuml7Y-kDMVyLDcMlJsWG_Zyt1MVVtZTmhuumjKdWskp-8dnxIzfRT7psETMQ8ZoUvKeRZE6uw9i_RMbKXah5glWIyq673zP6V5-RUWaPGlA75yJzvaX01Gxr06UDF6wh2-RgNfCyECxPD5R1RSUz9iL_I98hTP3F9cKJKPTMLYNuFGlH2CoDGXVUZw/s301/write%20from%20the%20heart.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="167" data-original-width="301" height="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnuml7Y-kDMVyLDcMlJsWG_Zyt1MVVtZTmhuumjKdWskp-8dnxIzfRT7psETMQ8ZoUvKeRZE6uw9i_RMbKXah5glWIyq673zP6V5-RUWaPGlA75yJzvaX01Gxr06UDF6wh2-RgNfCyECxPD5R1RSUz9iL_I98hTP3F9cKJKPTMLYNuFGlH2CoDGXVUZw/s1600/write%20from%20the%20heart.png" width="301" /></a></div><br />I discovered the importance of legacy letters, once called ethical wills, from a sidebar in the AARP magazine. These are documents you write in your own words, often to leave to your family to be read after you're gone. Or they can be letters to someone on a special occasion--to a newborn, to a new graduate, to a couple on their wedding. Maybe you've always thought that someday you are going to do this, but somehow you've never gotten around to it. Don't wait! <p></p><p>I have been giving Legacy Letter workshops for the past several years, and they never fail to inspire. In June, I'll be doing one for the West University Senior Center. If you're around, I hope you'll come.</p><p>Here is an example of my favorite legacy letter of all the many I've read. It was written by Sam Levinson, a former high school math teacher who became a beloved stand-up comic:</p><p> To my children and children everywhere:</p><p>I leave you my unpaid debts. Everything I own, I owe:</p><p>To America I owe the opportunity to be free and to be me.</p><p>To my parents I owe America. They gave it to me and I leave it to you. Take good care of it.</p><p>To the biblical tradition I owe the belief that man does not live by bread alone, nor does he live alone at all. This is also the democratic tradition. Preserve it.</p><p>To the six million of my people and the thirty million other humans who died because of man's inhumanity to man, I owe a vow that it must never happen again.</p><p>I leave you not everything I never had but everything I had in my lifetime: a good family, respect for learning, compassion for my fellow man and some four letter words for all occasions: words like help, give, care, feel and love.</p>thelmazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09819557846762852247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5015631545760338686.post-44262781551863972552023-04-23T17:57:00.000-07:002023-04-23T17:57:20.630-07:00The Best Author Talk Ever!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeZKk6W_s8c86AE7JXNmZoWzw4ZTruv6t0Sfd194W8-nh6x1cJdKSVDOHX-MGjnOZa9nKq6WQY6eUH3RmZTdrdDyUTh1zTg4hGPNS7gylQegX9p3_S0O6v0PT6zyCNIh_DiIfrLhPT08KiRLl1VLj5jb6qVOI4SvpqgVSk3_MGI9U8i-1DBOtXeznTZA/s2000/dc5be1-20220707-nightcrawling-2000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1504" data-original-width="2000" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeZKk6W_s8c86AE7JXNmZoWzw4ZTruv6t0Sfd194W8-nh6x1cJdKSVDOHX-MGjnOZa9nKq6WQY6eUH3RmZTdrdDyUTh1zTg4hGPNS7gylQegX9p3_S0O6v0PT6zyCNIh_DiIfrLhPT08KiRLl1VLj5jb6qVOI4SvpqgVSk3_MGI9U8i-1DBOtXeznTZA/s320/dc5be1-20220707-nightcrawling-2000.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <b>Monday, Leila Motley, author of Nightcrawling, the youngest Booker Prize finalist<u> ever, </u>captivated the sold-out Alley theater audience with a reading from Nightcrawling, her debut novel about a young, impoverished woman caught up in a sexual abuse scandal involving officers from the Oakland police department. She gave a short reading but what was really impressive was her own background story. She has lived every writer's dream. Writing from "as soon as I learned to write," probably around seven years old, she sold Nightcrawling when she was 18. When she was enrolled in a literature class at Smith College, she mentioned to her professor, acclaimed author Ruth Ozeki, that she'd written a novel. Ozeki asked to see it and when she read the manuscipt, referred Motley to her own agent. 13 editors clamored to buy it and at the book auction, Oprah appeared. She'd read the manuscript and wanted to feature this teenager's book on her show. Can you believe this is real? The book came out last year, became an instant best seller and was nominated for the prestigious Booker Prize. What was equally amazing was this young woman's poise during the interview after her reading. She pointed out that at many events, she's too young to join the other presenters at a bar. She says she's not too worried about the proverbial "sophomore slump" that many authors experience when their second books don't live up to the promise of the first. Nightcrawling is raw and gritty and at times almost painful to read, but who cares? It's one in a million. What will Leila Motley accomplish in the next five or ten years, I'm expecting great things. </b><p></p>thelmazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09819557846762852247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5015631545760338686.post-482977666127187662023-04-16T15:21:00.005-07:002023-04-16T15:21:56.438-07:00INPRINT SENIOR MEMBER WORKSHOP CELEBRATION: A READING<p> You're invited to a reading at the Evelyn Rubenstein Jewish Community Center </p><p> 5601 S. Braeswood, Board Room, 1st Floor</p><p> Sunday, April 23 at 3:00 pm</p><p> Tickets are free but reservations required</p><p>Join us to celebrate the stories of the senior memoir class as we give readings of our work, sharing pieces about our lives, families, communities and neighborhoods.</p>thelmazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09819557846762852247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5015631545760338686.post-75657783395553976652023-04-09T20:38:00.000-07:002023-04-09T20:38:04.082-07:00Cathing Up<p> Where have I been these last few months? Sick most of January (not COVID, an infection), working on a writing project in February and on taxes in March, But now it's April and I am ready to catch up.</p><p>First, Happy 60th birthday to my son Michael. He checked and it's the only time in his whole life that his birthday has been on Easter. But it's always on Passover. We're having a family luncheon to celebrate next Saturday.</p><p>Between bouts of illness and writing and taxes, I watched the Oscars--disappointing. Everything, or Anywhere or Whatever made no sense to me. I watched March Madness--disappointing. The Houston Cougars bombed out and so did the Texas Longhorns.</p><p>I have been streaming Yellowjackets (spoiler alert--they feasted on their friend) and Succession (another spoiler alert--Logan Roy is dead) I've read a great non-fiction book, Underlands. It's beautifully written but you have to be interested in what lies under the earth and the oceans and cities and bridges. I loved it! I read just one novel--Kane and Abel, about two men whose paths cross throughout their lifetimes. </p><p>My memoir class is doing a reading at the JCC on April 23 at 3:00. My essay is House of Memories.</p><p><br /></p>thelmazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09819557846762852247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5015631545760338686.post-63816387321660622602022-12-25T18:47:00.002-08:002022-12-25T18:47:41.338-08:00Holiday Wishes<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-0gEKH93h1JtkdX9cYQY7go9z2JB_9kdP0AEGBzA18PekEwIbFB6inPfJhlJCrME-jCGiF6Zsoxp6a3VJFgYgTMOm6p-OXbZC1XZz9hTDkNzydhIZaGNpiqkRI3bLhoHQUsMW__RdJybY9XxNlJ9DmNQTI0OEvwFJ9txlbwcFymVaEcWRoWu0ypkesg/s220/kwanza.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="173" data-original-width="220" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-0gEKH93h1JtkdX9cYQY7go9z2JB_9kdP0AEGBzA18PekEwIbFB6inPfJhlJCrME-jCGiF6Zsoxp6a3VJFgYgTMOm6p-OXbZC1XZz9hTDkNzydhIZaGNpiqkRI3bLhoHQUsMW__RdJybY9XxNlJ9DmNQTI0OEvwFJ9txlbwcFymVaEcWRoWu0ypkesg/s1600/kwanza.jpg" width="220" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Kwanza</b></span></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJJhuw0XZuboedLAvDwOMAgYwrK2aASD96kCjglEEnqbngskmM0MuE2HiShMx_tcsrUCMexSOWfGXDTy4xxObkXientLEhlFs6EOFSCYzLknqulGW73klI7O15W5B9kzKmpKbUjRJj0vHmdQ_uTD3_tf4y74t5ONSDizJH_bQjuxVvC3uyvOlx7AGcJg/s1024/Christmas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJJhuw0XZuboedLAvDwOMAgYwrK2aASD96kCjglEEnqbngskmM0MuE2HiShMx_tcsrUCMexSOWfGXDTy4xxObkXientLEhlFs6EOFSCYzLknqulGW73klI7O15W5B9kzKmpKbUjRJj0vHmdQ_uTD3_tf4y74t5ONSDizJH_bQjuxVvC3uyvOlx7AGcJg/s320/Christmas.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Christmas</b></span></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizVsCyQbsW0ASvIBnzcaMTm69Vys52yH_0cfxC4c5d8k7lJ8fqJtnFqb2J_dwkke1MPkHpNaU2v8YVnMkdAKcEOlodp6RYCY04T6F44rJCjEPoCSHu4muQUpDdnitbKJhGQfBN6b13xTt4o_tdFTKItqgVrexxrl1GGHl5uYNrZ9E3cxp231ZBF76P0g/s400/Chanukah20candles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="314" data-original-width="400" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizVsCyQbsW0ASvIBnzcaMTm69Vys52yH_0cfxC4c5d8k7lJ8fqJtnFqb2J_dwkke1MPkHpNaU2v8YVnMkdAKcEOlodp6RYCY04T6F44rJCjEPoCSHu4muQUpDdnitbKJhGQfBN6b13xTt4o_tdFTKItqgVrexxrl1GGHl5uYNrZ9E3cxp231ZBF76P0g/s320/Chanukah20candles.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b> Chanukah</b><br /> <span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Whichever holiday you celebrate, may you find peace and joy on these sacred days and may you enjoy a happy, healthy stress-free 2023.</b></span><p></p>thelmazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09819557846762852247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5015631545760338686.post-7172590634738117242022-12-04T13:49:00.001-08:002022-12-04T13:49:17.141-08:00Books of November<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBfdj5nb8o7SNRcLHc90RzKZ6bLoMkT4cdgL8oJtL0-YKJ54E0GWHCERhBsR7QbYIW2PNyMfKJISo9gW6I6Agv6AQ68j0jLgS0S3mGag_tAnLk5HRQcpC4I9MEz3Bdht-T86HCqVkb3_0-6vM83jnMrKrS3MPxUzygJHlXNjdq3j-ndIjLlfWNTzhfPQ/s360/book-gift-wrap1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="348" data-original-width="360" height="309" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBfdj5nb8o7SNRcLHc90RzKZ6bLoMkT4cdgL8oJtL0-YKJ54E0GWHCERhBsR7QbYIW2PNyMfKJISo9gW6I6Agv6AQ68j0jLgS0S3mGag_tAnLk5HRQcpC4I9MEz3Bdht-T86HCqVkb3_0-6vM83jnMrKrS3MPxUzygJHlXNjdq3j-ndIjLlfWNTzhfPQ/s320/book-gift-wrap1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Signal Fires. An emotional family story about an unspoken secret that affects the lives of each famly member. Highly recommended.</b></span><p></p>thelmazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09819557846762852247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5015631545760338686.post-61834217516496610122022-11-27T13:54:00.001-08:002022-11-27T13:54:46.854-08:00Spelling Bee for Grown-ups<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIfiPw8DMlS1TJXv2LRakkrlBuqTkA8DgAA1lIdfHZRRMmFMmzHhzbo1yxTbq5XnftGjK_0siVryMicsedMq-R1zgVEebvHUqqojVTfuB_e-6NSmN1iMgT9EpQnNBpLFW7hu-_JA8DAhHoY36RINVe9qGUaKo5EFKukyC3IsMFbBrlbHv4LvzXxh8wHg/s300/Adult-spelling-bee-300x166.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="166" data-original-width="300" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIfiPw8DMlS1TJXv2LRakkrlBuqTkA8DgAA1lIdfHZRRMmFMmzHhzbo1yxTbq5XnftGjK_0siVryMicsedMq-R1zgVEebvHUqqojVTfuB_e-6NSmN1iMgT9EpQnNBpLFW7hu-_JA8DAhHoY36RINVe9qGUaKo5EFKukyC3IsMFbBrlbHv4LvzXxh8wHg/s1600/Adult-spelling-bee-300x166.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>West University Senior Spelling Bee, November 23, 2022</b></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>As soon as my daughter saw this event on the West U schedule, she called and offered to sign me up. I said okay. I figured I was a shoo-in. After all, I've been writing for years and I can spell any word included in Harlequin romance novels.<br /></b></span><br /> <span style="font-size: medium;"><b>The contest was scheduled at 12:30 on the day before Thanksgiving. I imagine this was because seniors leave the cooking to their children, so they aren't very busy and this gives us something to do while everyone else is preparing the next day's meal.</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Alas, I bombed out on my first word: "bouillon." Who knows how to spell that?</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Luckily, there were two more rounds and I won the second with such words as <br />?hiatus," "pneumonia," "cliche" (Any romance writer would know that one.) and "municipality." Not to brag, but I could spell everyone else's words, too.\</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>If I knew how to transfer a picture from my phone to my computer, I would include the one of the sash and crown I received as well as a prize--a book of stamps. </b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>The bee was great fun and after it was over, I took my daughter to lunch. I plan to compete again next year.</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>I think a spelling bee at Brazos Towers would be a good idea for 2023.</b></span></p>thelmazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09819557846762852247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5015631545760338686.post-40102033575490162812022-11-13T13:18:00.001-08:002022-11-13T13:18:25.806-08:00Kindness (Coninued)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieIwClYmL8XKp8FSCVt3AZ6OFQW3QdznBXp3Pys3rbTxU5Frw0R7nDGiKXI-XRQXcKHUWSs4o8XI4kS84Rske25R_jBE_Qac-h-CyYP5XhtF7Os_eBX5Dji_NmTkPbzVt-_3fRGL4kQOZcvuGNz_eMGY_KRlb1KJAT--elnkXtRWvfnMbGfxGU_7qR5Q/s450/kindness5.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="450" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieIwClYmL8XKp8FSCVt3AZ6OFQW3QdznBXp3Pys3rbTxU5Frw0R7nDGiKXI-XRQXcKHUWSs4o8XI4kS84Rske25R_jBE_Qac-h-CyYP5XhtF7Os_eBX5Dji_NmTkPbzVt-_3fRGL4kQOZcvuGNz_eMGY_KRlb1KJAT--elnkXtRWvfnMbGfxGU_7qR5Q/s320/kindness5.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Two more examples of kindness:<p></p><p>I recently received a message from a parent whose son I worked with some years ago, letting me know how well he was doing in school. She said she wasn't sure I'd remember him, but I did. (I remember almost all of the children I saw for speech therapy...and that's a lot of kids.)O<br /> </p><p>I am often asked to visit with speech pathology majors or recent graduates. I'm always happy to meet with them. Occasionally I'm also asked to talk to aspiring writers, and I enjoy doing that as well.</p>thelmazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09819557846762852247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5015631545760338686.post-59529639482750866312022-11-06T14:04:00.000-08:002022-11-06T14:04:58.488-08:00Books of October<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikW3cK7514Cf38og5TNXB5rn8qQIPNk_QJ3Fip8qeve-7yjVxrjSUxhAOBHjGY5ey-k8yzhSvf0G2PVQmGU0Irjq6RFScTj20G3mo9dYFD5Ew-SbfQdaIBnYiJAJj7U64zG3QZpysMx3UJXh-xCIe39qx9GC0ewMO3wm46U5rWGxjyJEGtN3dzL5uEjA/s2448/bookshelf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="2414" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikW3cK7514Cf38og5TNXB5rn8qQIPNk_QJ3Fip8qeve-7yjVxrjSUxhAOBHjGY5ey-k8yzhSvf0G2PVQmGU0Irjq6RFScTj20G3mo9dYFD5Ew-SbfQdaIBnYiJAJj7U64zG3QZpysMx3UJXh-xCIe39qx9GC0ewMO3wm46U5rWGxjyJEGtN3dzL5uEjA/s320/bookshelf.jpg" width="316" /></a></div><br /> <span style="font-size: medium;"><b>The Marriage Portrait. My favorite book so far this year. Inspired by Robert Browning's poem "My Last Duchess" and bolstered by extensive research, Maggie O'Farrell, author of Hamnet, has created a story about the young duchess married to a ruthless duke, who only wants a wife to give birth to an heir.</b></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Hidden Pictures. A recovering addict is given a chance a redemption when she gets a job a nanny to five-year-old Teddy who loves to draw. When his pictures become frightening, she wonders if his drawings are inspired by the ghost of a woman who died in the guest house where the nanny is living. You would really have to suspend your disbelief to "get" this story. C+</b></span></p>thelmazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09819557846762852247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5015631545760338686.post-63465231362654250382022-10-30T14:12:00.000-07:002022-10-30T14:12:08.763-07:00Kindness Project (continued)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBDpqhxW6IsYALyeTh6ZgYfbYO9arUoRYrJ12TTI9hjFJJvz-lUltRLAg-oV5BkW9-i4xJOX5dazhQUxldH1L47cimnQug96J1IJ-alzMhYbuYRAt77W4l7eIrEaB6wO8yE62GbCmsSJvI3z4LyZp2c6OaRjrxl8cV7tX3g2JSfKi5u1FDLZqwD9QRtg/s570/kindness%204.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="462" data-original-width="570" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBDpqhxW6IsYALyeTh6ZgYfbYO9arUoRYrJ12TTI9hjFJJvz-lUltRLAg-oV5BkW9-i4xJOX5dazhQUxldH1L47cimnQug96J1IJ-alzMhYbuYRAt77W4l7eIrEaB6wO8yE62GbCmsSJvI3z4LyZp2c6OaRjrxl8cV7tX3g2JSfKi5u1FDLZqwD9QRtg/s320/kindness%204.webp" width="320" /></a></div><b>Two more examples of kindness I have experienced:</b><p></p><p><b>Gayle, who managed our office at Associated Speech and Language Services was one of the kindest people I've known.. She always made clients and their kids feel welcome and became friends with many of the parents. She was willing to listen, both to clients and to me. Whenever a deadline of some sort came up, she'd always say gently, "I'm reminding you that..." She drove me home once when I had an attack of diverticulitis and even made a trip back to the office late one evening from her home near Galveston to return my car keys she'd accidentally picked up. I always enjoyed our birthday dinners at the Saltgrass Steakhouse and miss her now that she's moved back home to Seattle.</b></p><p><b>A few weeks ago I was at the checkout counter at Kroger's paying for a 14 pound box of cat litter when the woman behind me said that she and her daughters would be happy to help me load my groceries into my car. Not only that, but they offered to follow me home and carry the groceries inside. What a good deed!<br /></b> </p>thelmazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09819557846762852247noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5015631545760338686.post-35974999319304084732022-10-24T11:59:00.003-07:002022-10-24T11:59:43.460-07:00Kindness Project (continued)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3IWXk3HO8b3YigyEsvwi3sUatXR7Zvruj9fft62eRnET0H4SpQypDm7D8nj_Z-URsdV0_hqHq5RSPJCxTn77n6htBI3Y0c7l09BwhlbguREdzeTA88corhkOh6L0FYXvdC-fg0gKZ4YAN11zbZCN8yoUMGSU_PLmejZS6MfBb51loHgIyqb2gxT8_zg/s976/kindness%203.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="549" data-original-width="976" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3IWXk3HO8b3YigyEsvwi3sUatXR7Zvruj9fft62eRnET0H4SpQypDm7D8nj_Z-URsdV0_hqHq5RSPJCxTn77n6htBI3Y0c7l09BwhlbguREdzeTA88corhkOh6L0FYXvdC-fg0gKZ4YAN11zbZCN8yoUMGSU_PLmejZS6MfBb51loHgIyqb2gxT8_zg/s320/kindness%203.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <b>Continuation of acts of kindness I have received, given or observed:</b><p></p><p><b>After my husband died, Michelle Lynn, a speech pathologist colleague, sent me a book titled <i>"Healing After Loss" </i> that contained daily readings to comfort someone grieving a loss. I read each day's entry and found it so comforting that I've sent copies of the book to family or friends who have suffered a loss of someone dear. I will never forget Michelle's act of kindness.</b></p><p><b>Coffee ice cream is my comfort food. When I mentioned to my doctor during the pandemic that HEB was out of it and of course, I couldn't go out to other stores to look for any, she stopped by on her way to run errands with two pints of Hagen Daz coffee. That made my day!</b></p>thelmazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09819557846762852247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5015631545760338686.post-87057028743615918522022-10-16T14:16:00.002-07:002022-10-16T14:16:20.372-07:00The Kindness Project continued<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr73-rsX2cP3kMvnBYGxh6MvHC8D_NCHe7K62thqaReYjj5mPQYAvQhJV77n83rQ9siMvkSOM0GbfMcSCNUNVYENO2bQ1yeN1vSyZ1gfCegDw-wpr3sO2_LmBWYLMZM0dR7d3hq9qrhXFaP7WVo8GoIcDbI5KHWdoComm9mxQiC4qKRGR4l7BDHHl7Zw/s1350/kindness%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1350" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr73-rsX2cP3kMvnBYGxh6MvHC8D_NCHe7K62thqaReYjj5mPQYAvQhJV77n83rQ9siMvkSOM0GbfMcSCNUNVYENO2bQ1yeN1vSyZ1gfCegDw-wpr3sO2_LmBWYLMZM0dR7d3hq9qrhXFaP7WVo8GoIcDbI5KHWdoComm9mxQiC4qKRGR4l7BDHHl7Zw/s320/kindness%202.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><br /> <b>As I wrote several weeks ago, the Kindness Project pairs seniors with college freshman. We are asked to think of ten examples of kindness we have received, given or observed--one each week of the project. </b><p></p><p><b> I met Marilyn at a romance writers' meeting. We both became part of a critique group composed of six aspiring romance writers. Soon Marilyn and I became close friends. Here are two of her many acts of kindness toward met:</b></p><p><b>Several days before my husband died, he had to have his will notarized--I can't recall why he hadn't done so before. The notary from my attorney's office came to the hospital and explained to Ralph what was needed. Marilyn had just stepped into the room for a brief visit before she and I were to go to dinner. Ralph was woozy and weak when the notary handed him the document. Marilyn, an occupational therapist, noticed his difficulty with the pen and said, "Here, Ralph, let me position your hand." She essentially guided him through his signature. I have never forgotten this act of kindness.</b></p><p><b>Two years ago, I had major surgery. Marilyn heard about my operation through a mutual friend. By then she had moved to Portland, Oregon, but she called and offered to come to Houston to take care of me. Although I was getting along well, I am forever grateful for her offer.</b></p>thelmazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09819557846762852247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5015631545760338686.post-80894831134917540472022-10-09T14:53:00.000-07:002022-10-09T14:53:53.344-07:00Books of September<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDzNL0K5OyC4szfx50_4YE4VsNTJUHxGzGQqgNOwAHZ5-8Q9dGM2JSh-5pHB60leT9-fUAR4DmfSzntPl3a4gBJaRzfv2DVI5ZOkUkiW3ka9A9NRe9XwOsmiymkRkgEejIqOxesN3-fljMIHV8j9O_VIlk9zwuUnkJpahOBzc4_ad43c0lhoXhkRkMyQ/s300/books1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDzNL0K5OyC4szfx50_4YE4VsNTJUHxGzGQqgNOwAHZ5-8Q9dGM2JSh-5pHB60leT9-fUAR4DmfSzntPl3a4gBJaRzfv2DVI5ZOkUkiW3ka9A9NRe9XwOsmiymkRkgEejIqOxesN3-fljMIHV8j9O_VIlk9zwuUnkJpahOBzc4_ad43c0lhoXhkRkMyQ/s1600/books1.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><b> The Things We Cannot Say: This story alternates between the past and the present. Alina, a young girl in war-torn Poland, and her fiance Thomaz, yearn to escape their country but circumstances intefere. Eventually, Alina is able to make her way across the Russian border, but she must leave her lover behind. In present day America, Alina, now known as Hannah, is dying but she begs her granddaughter Alice to go to Poland and find Thomaz. Alice has her own problems, a shaky marriage, a non-verbal autistic son and an academically advanced daughter, but she makes it her mission to travel to Poland, and there she uncovers the story of her grandmother's early life. In turns heartwarming and heartbreaking, this is a memorable story.</b><p></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><b>Carrie Soto is Back: I am a tennis fan, so when I saw a book about a former tennis star making a comeback, trying to break her own winning Grand Slam record, I thought, "This is a book for me." Alas, no. The main character is unlikeable, and we are treated to every move, every thought in every tennis match in the story. If you lke to read the details of every ball toss, every serve, lob, volley, down-the-line or cross court return, you might like this book. I love watching tennis, but reading about every point bored me out of my mind. Does Carrie win another Grand Slam? Who cares?</b></p><p><br /></p>thelmazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09819557846762852247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5015631545760338686.post-74559513997507406972022-10-02T14:07:00.001-07:002022-10-02T14:07:20.264-07:00We Remember Them<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVJT9sfmbKXMK3hgQO0psooaYbd5mswL_CPLxgPgXFu379ToqBYbyE82vyO8C3FLM2TzyJ0jq695Ue0clMFgFM1cnN6rpSPTXJRrlNahF7qAcikJ4v7FQ_m8hY3jcyWcttiPXdQHrrVy4bLC51NFOVq_ji-uTnHEfsBf2zCkVEEo5A1Gee0kOF4UttQg/s1600/Yixkor.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="774" data-original-width="1600" height="155" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVJT9sfmbKXMK3hgQO0psooaYbd5mswL_CPLxgPgXFu379ToqBYbyE82vyO8C3FLM2TzyJ0jq695Ue0clMFgFM1cnN6rpSPTXJRrlNahF7qAcikJ4v7FQ_m8hY3jcyWcttiPXdQHrrVy4bLC51NFOVq_ji-uTnHEfsBf2zCkVEEo5A1Gee0kOF4UttQg/s320/Yixkor.webp" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Monday evening is the beginning of Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, the holiest day in the Jewish calendar. It is a time to ask forgiveness for our sins and also a time to remember those loved ones who are no longer with us. This poem encapsulates our feelings for those who were with us in life and whom we remember in death.</b></span><p></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>In the rising of the sun and in its going down, we remember them.</b></span></p></blockquote><p> <b>In the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter, we remember them.</b></p><p> <b>In the opening of buds and in the rebirth of spring, we remember them.</b></p><p><b> In the blueness of the sky and in the warmth of summer, we remember them.</b></p><p><b> In the rustling of leaves and in the beauty of autumn, we remember them.</b></p><p><b> In the beginning of the year and when it ends, we remember them.</b></p><p><b> When we are weary and in need of strength, we remember them.</b></p><p><b> When we are lost and sick at heart, we remember them.</b></p><p><b> When we have joys we yearn to share, we remember them.</b></p><p><b> So long as we live, they too shall live for they are now a part of us, as we </b></p><p><b> remember them.</b></p><p><b> </b></p><p><b> </b></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>thelmazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09819557846762852247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5015631545760338686.post-37548180713959191552022-09-26T18:39:00.001-07:002022-09-26T18:39:20.542-07:00The Kindness Project<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjy0PU94ZP0WePN31bKkxcIoToVXBwK-NKga4bTHrDSAUOC6So35WcBaziUWd89N-MrkKoTgufYOMRa8-wFmSGS_4XFvQU5ggtz1QDqTmajebnUkuaf_59tP0GS_jH6wRaPcVygST7aqHxvdxOV0PPHdQWXuJQ4NucyIizlxoabWc1gpfAqYj2tKJY9w/s2500/kindness%20is%20magic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2500" data-original-width="2500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjy0PU94ZP0WePN31bKkxcIoToVXBwK-NKga4bTHrDSAUOC6So35WcBaziUWd89N-MrkKoTgufYOMRa8-wFmSGS_4XFvQU5ggtz1QDqTmajebnUkuaf_59tP0GS_jH6wRaPcVygST7aqHxvdxOV0PPHdQWXuJQ4NucyIizlxoabWc1gpfAqYj2tKJY9w/s320/kindness%20is%20magic.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> I have volunteered to be part of the Kindness Project, sponsored by the southeast Houston Community College, which pairs freshman students in their Honors College with senior citizens to spend one hour a week for ten weeks in conversation. One of the responsibilities of the seniors is each session to relate an example of kindness they have given, received or observed. Here are my first two examples:<p></p><p>When I was working full time and taking night classes at UH, I experienced an act of kindness I've never forgotten. One evening after class my car died at the corner of Scott and McGregor, the worst place I could think of to be stranded alone at night. I managed to maneuver the car into a service station, which was closed for the night. Here I was in those pre-cell phone days in a dark parking lot. I had no choice but to scurry over to the pay phone near the station's door and call my husband to come and get me. As I turned back to my car, a young boy of around twelve or thirteen appeared beside me. "Are you okay, lady?" he asked. I told him what had happened, and he said, "I'll stay with you till your husband gets here", and he did. He stood by the car window and we talked; I can't remember what we chatted about, but his company made me feel safe. I offered him some money, but he refused. He said he was just being nice. When I thought of acts of kindness, his was the first that came to mind.</p><p>When I was a junior in college, my dress caught fire from a gas heater and I spent three months in John Sealy Hospital in Galveston being treated for third degree burns. When I was finally discharged after being confined to bed for all those weeks, my hair had grown long, thick and tangled. My best friend Sonia's mother came over one afternoon and cut my hair. I remember sitting in front of the mirror in my blue and white checked nightgown and watching clumps of hair fall to the floor. That act of kindness made me feel almost well gain. That's another experience of kindness I've never forgotten.</p><p>To be continued...</p>thelmazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09819557846762852247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5015631545760338686.post-47742069065313573192022-09-11T12:24:00.001-07:002022-09-11T12:24:22.672-07:00Books of August<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUhorFziLLZbVAfkO61chi_tNRGSylKo_DMN4WzgWT8LERHeKRtTtSo_uKpaT-QaP-J86AFt6ux3FPVuHRIzFFC58ket8SYvFbg1ziQLEISBOVGTbffPcLs9_7tbUV9mUgeKMflfRjgXg5EBeeP91qT7jAt6-Go13wFvicEzzwnjuSVqIdlwXdzRoC3g/s1300/girl-and-a-cat-reading-an-open-book-in-the-bed-2BA79PN.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="956" data-original-width="1300" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUhorFziLLZbVAfkO61chi_tNRGSylKo_DMN4WzgWT8LERHeKRtTtSo_uKpaT-QaP-J86AFt6ux3FPVuHRIzFFC58ket8SYvFbg1ziQLEISBOVGTbffPcLs9_7tbUV9mUgeKMflfRjgXg5EBeeP91qT7jAt6-Go13wFvicEzzwnjuSVqIdlwXdzRoC3g/s320/girl-and-a-cat-reading-an-open-book-in-the-bed-2BA79PN.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>River of Power. The search for the source of the White Nile and the men involved. Interesting!<p></p><p>The Last White Man. I heard the author speak at InPrint and immediately bought the book. What happens across a city when people begin turning "dark"? Interesting concept but I have never ever read a book in which every sentence is at least one page long. I got so stuck on the author's style that I couldn't concentrate on the story, which was okay because it was boring. Not recommended, unless you enjoy counting words in each sentence.</p>thelmazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09819557846762852247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5015631545760338686.post-88633055678286412522022-09-04T18:17:00.006-07:002022-09-04T18:17:42.909-07:00Prayer for Friendship by John O'Donahue<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_oD5toFilRfYVI58nRjromNNrqow0cZb4sF2R5I49ME6R-gucEPd_eysnhQ0s1sTzN5WxZsobU9o33b8BwpokO7S__xNezZFWJgobOqjoVKOdVFqOgCkn8ZE5UMj-Ovdo3Jwb5xd2WYnh5QzfwldHOsny1vJeE8RK8IqQJn54rW5PSen9HTlP_om2Xg/s290/hands%20clasping.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="290" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_oD5toFilRfYVI58nRjromNNrqow0cZb4sF2R5I49ME6R-gucEPd_eysnhQ0s1sTzN5WxZsobU9o33b8BwpokO7S__xNezZFWJgobOqjoVKOdVFqOgCkn8ZE5UMj-Ovdo3Jwb5xd2WYnh5QzfwldHOsny1vJeE8RK8IqQJn54rW5PSen9HTlP_om2Xg/s1600/hands%20clasping.jpg" width="290" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"> May you be blessed with good friends,</b></div><p></p><p> <span style="font-size: medium;"><b>And learn to be a good friend to yourself</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b> Journeying to that place in your soul where</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b> There is love, warmth and feeling.</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b> May this change you.</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b> May it transfigure what is negative, distant.</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b> Or cold within your heart.</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b> May you be brought into real passion, kindness</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b> And belonging.</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b> May you treasure your friends,</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b> May you be good to them, be there for them</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b> And receive all the challenges, truth and light you need.</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b> May you never be isolated, but know the embrace</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b> Of your <i>anam cara. (soul friend)</i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b> </b></span></p><p> </p><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;"> </p></blockquote>thelmazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09819557846762852247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5015631545760338686.post-6551378200749605522022-08-28T14:40:00.002-07:002022-08-28T14:40:19.248-07:00Groups: <p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhZf3h8G3pXmFnfWpVTudOJ0Hs7NBT5g7XA5PVcLlI2WDrRALSqQYBSuFBiXUDTwp1XY6VSxTsd4beNxMDvN0Di17pwk4fmk_ncDLa2jHPV8hI1SAozp4wXWU4Mes63brL7Ts3WtvVfqyULr9eiGBbNwN5Yen8r29TD_wMeodeTjPWql83ZWg1vxDgOkA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="625" data-original-width="625" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhZf3h8G3pXmFnfWpVTudOJ0Hs7NBT5g7XA5PVcLlI2WDrRALSqQYBSuFBiXUDTwp1XY6VSxTsd4beNxMDvN0Di17pwk4fmk_ncDLa2jHPV8hI1SAozp4wXWU4Mes63brL7Ts3WtvVfqyULr9eiGBbNwN5Yen8r29TD_wMeodeTjPWql83ZWg1vxDgOkA" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">All my life I have found groups to belong to, from Brownies
to Bingo.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I became a Brownie in second grade, wearing my brown,
starched uniform and my cute brown beanie and learning to recite the Brownie
promise and to make the Brownie sign. I don’t remember what we did during our
weekly meetings but we always ended by standing in a circle and singing Taps. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Later my friend’s mother organized a Girl Scout troop that
met weekly at thier house. Now we had green uniforms and hats and needed three
fingers for the Girl Scout sign. I was secretary of the troop and called
everyone on Monday evenings to remind them of our Tuesday meetings. By junior
high some girls had lost interest in scouts but a core group of about ten of us
remained. We had a wonderful Scout
leader named Anne, who invited all of us to her wedding. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Also In junior high, a group of seven girls met every
Saturday afternoon. We called ourselves
Tri-S for Seven Saturday Sisters. We played board games, played outside, went
to movies. We had fun.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">In high school I belonged to a group called the Confederate
Club It was the brainchild of Don H. who loved the Old South. Can you imagine a
public school today allowing a group that paid homage to the Old South? A close-knit bunch, we had our own special
horn honk when we drove up to one another’s houses. On Friday nights we went to football games
together and afterwards rode around in Don’s station wagon. If you were the first ones to get in, you
could sit at the back with the rear door open and dangle your feet outside. That, of course, was long before seat
belts. For the spring parade we built a
float that displayed a huge mint julep.
I wore a red bathing suit and sat on the top. I needed a ladder to get up there. A Confederate flag flew from the station
wagon antenna. My sister likes to
remind me of my membership in the Confederate Club. She knows it makes me cringe, but it was
great at the time. We didn’t know any
better.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing">In college I pledged Sigma Delta Tau sorority, founded by
seven Cornell University students whose names we had to learn, but were easy to
remember in order because their first initials spelled out DAMGIRLs. I was the
chapter secretary my junior year. I loved my SDT friends. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">After I graduated and got married, I joined the Emma Lazarus
chapter of Houston Hadassah. It was for
young women and at age 35, you had to join another chapter. (By the time I
reached that old age, I had left Hadassah behind and was pursuing my Master’s
in speech pathology). But in the early days of marriage, my life had revolved
around Emma Lazarus meetings and fund raisers.
One of my jobs was to be in charge of sales of Barton’s candy for
Chanukah and the candy became so popular that the manager of the apartment
complex we lived in would give me an empty apartment to store the candy shipments. Lori, by then around 3 years old, liked to
get out her toy telephone and say, “Hello, can you come to the ‘Dassah
meeting?” And yes, I served a stint as
secretary to the chapter.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">During my ‘Dassah days my husband and I lived at Braesfield
apartments, 3822 North Braeswood. That
complex was demolished but in those days it was a chic place for young married
couples with children, and there were lots of us. The girls played bridge, went downtown for
lunch at Foley’s or Sakowitz on Fridays when our maids came, took our children
to the pool or for special dinners at a hamburger place in Westbury
Square. In the evenings when our
husbands were home, we’d all gather in the courtyard, talk and laugh. Eventually we bought our first homes and
moved on.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">When I gave up Hadassah for speech therapy, I hung out with
other grad students and later when I worked at the Speech and Hearing
Institute, with colleagues there. At lunch we watched Jeaopardy, we went to
Texas Speech and Hearing conferences together and lobbyed the Texas legislature for licensure for
speech pathologists. After I started a
private practice, I became active in the Houston Association for Communication
Disorders and the Texas Speech and Hearing Association. One year
I was co-chair for TSHA’s Parents’ Night at the annual convention. Our job was to schedule a speaker for the
event. We tried in vain to get Anne
Glenn, wife of John Glenn. Anne was a
stutterer and we thought she’d be a big draw.
Unfortunately, she turned us down.
Later I was, of course, secretary of the Texas Speech and Hearing
Foundation and those of us on the board became close friends. We sponsored an awards dinner at the yearly
TSHA convention and the year I was in charge, I also won the door prize. I promise, the drawing was not a set-up. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Even though my life revolved around my family—husband and
three teenage children—I found time for a new interest and a new group. After
reading a book called <i>Wishcraft: How to Get What You Really Want</i>, I
decided I really wanted to write a romance novel. My first step was to join Romance Writers of
America. I wondered somewhat nervously about the people I would meet. . Would the members be silver-haired ladies
nostalgic about their long ago love affairs, or perhaps glamorous middle aged
women who wore silky negligees as they reclined on lounge chairs and dictated
sexy stories to their secretaries? Maybe
they would be poverty-stricken young women who sat at their kitchen tables
typing at old-fashioned typewriters in hopes of making the best seller
list. Since I fit none of those
categories, I wondered if I could possibly fit in. I found a group of average women, all of them
unpublished but hoping for sales. In
time, I joined a critique group with five other aspiring romance writers. We met every Friday night. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">After I became a member of a group I never wanted to join,
The Society of the Recently Widowed, a chance purchase of a book about women
transitioning to a new stage of life, brought me to TTN, The Transition
Network. What luck! These were interesting women moving to new
stages of life. We met monthly, formed a
discussion group called Death, Dying and Dessert to discuss end of life issues,
and published an anthology titled <i>Coping
with Transition: Men, Money, Motherhood
and Magic.<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"> Another
speical group is the Friends of Marilyn.
When our dear friend Marilyn moved to Portland, Oregon, four of us drove her to the airport to say goodbye. Now we meet each year on July 5, Marilyn’s
birthday,, for a phone call or a Zoom meeting to catch up. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I belong to other groups as
well: a monthly group of speech
pathologists (Speech Ladies’ Lunch) a group that goes to dinner and InPrint
readins together, a group of retired speech pathologists that celebrates one
another’s birthdays, a canasta group, a bereavement group that became a lunch
group that turned into a Mah Jongg group that formed a daily Zoom group that
got us through the dark days of the pandemic.
And there’s the Bingo Bunch, about 20 Brazos Towers Residents that play
high stakes Bingo ($1.25 a card) on Saturdays nights. And, oh yes, a group of reisdents, one of
whom is a film critic, is organizing a movie group, The Brazos Towers Movie
Mob. That should be fun.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">And of course, there is our
memoir group, who encourage one another to write about past experiences, hopes
and dreams, tragedies and triumphs. I
look forward to our Tuesday meeetings.
We never know what gems will emerge.<o:p></o:p></p><p>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-no-proof: yes;">Groups
have inspired me, supported me, opened me to new ideas and experiences and
enriched my life. I’m </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 11pt;"> forever grateful that I found
these friends.</span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p>thelmazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09819557846762852247noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5015631545760338686.post-62169234074387555092022-08-21T12:18:00.002-07:002022-08-21T12:18:33.076-07:00Insults<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtHr-r8ay3Ar4HFmkc62-Q4e5_RoSV1vcsK98PuhvmRoY6zWbh7UN5Q_0Jrx1TTQs9oP5oOmKL2ZzFx5bKz80UroUS7byQNBsZOiVehzBsjJ7tqwX_mY6D5-cz5t0pgRS3WG3V8vobhPjplzs9zIcDUX0fz7HEqV9_XruHvh2Yf07WUphtToXoaH98Nw/s356/quotation-marks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="266" data-original-width="356" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtHr-r8ay3Ar4HFmkc62-Q4e5_RoSV1vcsK98PuhvmRoY6zWbh7UN5Q_0Jrx1TTQs9oP5oOmKL2ZzFx5bKz80UroUS7byQNBsZOiVehzBsjJ7tqwX_mY6D5-cz5t0pgRS3WG3V8vobhPjplzs9zIcDUX0fz7HEqV9_XruHvh2Yf07WUphtToXoaH98Nw/s320/quotation-marks.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <b>Note: These are from the era before the English language got boiled down to four-letter words:</b><p></p><p><b>He has delusions of adequacy. by Walter Kerr</b></p><p><b>He has all the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire. by Winston Churchill</b></p><p><b>I have never killed a man, but I have read many obituaries with great pleasure. Clarence Darrow.</b></p><p><b>He has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the dictionary. William Faulkner about Ernest Hemingway.</b></p><p><b>Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words? Ernest Hemingway about William Faulkner</b></p><p><b>Thank you for sending me a copy of your book. I'll waste no time reading it. Moses Hadas</b></p><p><b>I didn't attend the funeral but I sent a nice letter saying I approved of it. Mark Twain</b></p><p><b>He has no enemies but is intensely disliked by his friends. Oscar Wilde</b></p><p><b>I am enclosing two tickets to my new play; bring a friend if you have one. George Bernard Shaw to Winston Churchill</b></p><p><b>Couldn't possibly attend first night, will attend second...if there is one. Chaurchill's response to Shaw.</b></p><p><b>I feel so miserable without you; it's almost like having you here. Stephen Bishop</b></p><p><b>He is a self-made man and worships his creator. John Bright</b></p><p><b>I've just learned about his illness. Let's hope it's nothing trivial. Irvin Cobb</b></p><p><b>He is not only dull himself; he is the cause of dullness in others. Samuel Johnson</b></p><p><b><br /></b></p>thelmazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09819557846762852247noreply@blogger.com0