Tag: Memories

Post of the Week Created with Sketch. Service…As in: When I’m Dead, Use this Music at My Service

 

I’ve been to many funerals in my life. Some were a celebration held after a long life. Some were a remembrance of a loved one gone too soon, but thankfully relieved from a vicious period of suffering. Some were really painful because the loved one was taken in a sudden tragic way. But, the highlight of every one of these services was the music. Music at a funeral is critical because one’s soul is touched by music in an incomparable way.

Mr. CowGirl and I have (jokingly) (…well, maybe not “jokingly”) told our children that the only thing that matters at our funerals IS the music. We keep compiling lists of songs that our talented children will be required to perform. There won’t necessarily be time left for eulogies or sermons because, the older we get, the more music we keep finding that defines our lives.

More

Contributor Post Created with Sketch. Recommended by Ricochet Members Created with Sketch. The Face in the Mirror

 

Gently I pulled myself out of bed, preparing for my morning walk. I never look at myself in the mirror that early, since I’m only interested in putting my clothes on the appropriate parts of my body, stretching out the aches and pains of sleep, and sticking a couple of barrettes in my hair to keep it out of my eyes. I do this last task by feel, because I leave off the light so that I don’t disturb my husband.

When I returned from my walk this morning, I glanced in the mirror and was stunned at what I saw. My mother was staring back at me. It wasn’t really her, but her image was reflected: silver graying hair streaked with age-defying colors, no make-up, blue eyes, Semitic nose, and soft wrinkles. There she was.

More

Recommended by Ricochet Members Created with Sketch. Beauty Blooming All Over

 

The monthly theme of “Blooming Ideas” made me immediately think of my mother and her flowers. It is an appropriate topic for the spring season and Mother’s Day.

As if she didn’t have enough to do, what with the eight kids, cow milking, baling hay, laundry, cooking three meals a day, she maintained a very gorgeous flowery yard. She wasn’t unique in this endeavor. All of her friends and peers had carefully tended flower beds, too. She learned it from her parents. I loved visiting my grandparents in the summer for many reasons, but one, in particular, was that Grandpa had planted a section of flowers by his house that was specifically for grandchildren to enjoy. It was a big bed of pansies, and he showed us how pansies had a little face. And we could pick some of them! We totally loved that we could hold them in our hands and play with them. Also, did you know that snapdragon blossoms can be manipulated to look like they are talking to you? And they’ll sing you a little song, or just say hi? My grandpa…

More

Member Post

 

Question: When did this alleged attempted rape occur? Dr. Ford: I don’t know More

Join Ricochet!

This is a members-only post on Ricochet's Member Feed. Want to read it? Join Ricochet’s growing community of conservatives and be part of the conversation. Get your first month free.

Recommended by Ricochet Members Created with Sketch. Summer Memories

 

When I was a kid, the local pool had specific blocks of time in which it was open to the public. A single quarter would get you into one of the two-hour sessions. Despite my extremely sunburn-prone skin, my sister and I often got our mother to let us go for both sessions. There was a 20- to 30-minute break between the two sessions in which we had plenty of time to run two blocks over to the little grocery store and grab some snacks, charging them to Mom’s account. We usually got a Yoo-Hoo and a Moon Pie apiece, snarfed them down as quickly as possible, then ran back to the pool to camp out in the much cooler ladies’ locker room while waiting for the second session to start.

My sister and I lived in the pool as much as possible during the summer. We especially got excited for family reunion time every other June. We got to have three full days in the pool with our distant cousins while the adults visited. Occasionally, I’d be so sunburnt halfway through Day Two that my mother and grandmother would ban me from the pool, so I’d stay indoors with the adults and play cards.

More

Recommended by Ricochet Members Created with Sketch. “A Pearl Beyond Price” or Why I Love Gems

 

When I was a little girl, my grandpa was a fixture in my life. He lived about 15 minutes down the road, give or take, and could be with us on short notice. For that reason among others, he was there often enough. My mom’s side of the family had many gatherings bringing the children and grandchildren together. I grew up with my cousins as playmates.

Since I was at an awkward age distance to the cousins and I was less interested in rule-breaking, I often ended up seated with my grandpa listening to him talk about his most recent adventures, politics, and his varying opinions on everything (and he had an opinion on everything). I loved to hear him talk about his rock hunting. He was an amateur gemologist and had fun creating lapidary art. He made bolo ties and rings and a few different things here and there. Mostly, he enjoyed the hunt. He had a story about where he got each rock, where the gem was hidden within it, how he would cut it to get the most of the stone and the best presentation. Once he had cut and buffed each stone to a shine, he’d bring it around to show it off. Grandpa enjoyed the hunt so much that when he died, he had the only spare room in their tiny house filled with rocks; coffee canisters full of rough sapphires, opals, topaz. Some larger rocks were spread out on the table for later critical examination. We still have a number of those veined rocks in our possession and have never managed to have them cut. We keep them nearby and remember.

More

Promoted from the Ricochet Member Feed by Editors Created with Sketch. Trump and the SOBs

 

Welcome the to the HLC podcast for September 26, 2017; It’s the Trump and the SOBs edition of the podcast with your hosts, Hartford radio talk show host Todd Feinburg and Boston nanophysicist Mike Stopa. This week we will discuss the NFL protest of, um, of, oppression of African Americans in our society. Right? That’s what it is all about, right? That’s what Colin Kaepernick said at the beginning of all this…right?

So here’s the deal. Trump is at a rally. He is meandering as is his wont. He says that he doesn’t like those NFL prima donnas kneeling and disrespecting the National Anthem and he thinks the NFL owners should fire the SOBs who do. He say what tens of millions of Americans in homes and bars across America have said in exactly the language in which they have said it. And the media – per usual – goes ballistic. Because, they didn’t know that millions and millions of Americans think just that? Or they thought that here is another chance to slap down the idiots who hold the popular sentiment on this matter?

More

Recommended by Ricochet Members Created with Sketch. Member Post

 

My dad died on Memorial Day, so I always think of him at this time of year. He enlisted at age 18 to fight in WWII. He was a B-17 tail gunner in the 8th Air Force aka The Mighty 8th, 94th Bombardment Group, stationed in England (Rick Perry’s dad was also a B-17 tail […]

Join Ricochet!

This is a members-only post on Ricochet's Member Feed. Want to read it? Join Ricochet’s growing community of conservatives and be part of the conversation. Get your first month free.

Recommended by Ricochet Members Created with Sketch. Family Memories: An Introduction

 

I didn’t know my paternal grandfather. I didn’t know how he looked like. No pictures of him had survived. He was killed along with his eldest son by the Khmer Rouge shortly after Pol Pot came to power. Under a regime which anonymity was the way to survive, returning to your birthplace was a big mistake. Unfortunately, that was exactly what my paternal family and many other Cambodians did when the Khmer Rouge evacuated residences out of the capital and other urban cities.

As an educated man, my grandfather was a prime candidate for eradication and having an older brother who was on the Khmer Rouge’s traitor hit-list guaranteed his execution. Miraculously, my father along with his mother and all three sisters were left alive. I didn’t really know my paternal grandmother either. She passed away when I was very young. Of my paternal family, I know just bits and pieces. My father won’t revisit old memories. In a way, he’s more like my maternal grandfather than he thought. Until the day he passed away three years ago, my maternal grandfather hardly ever talked about the past, especially what happened to my family under the Khmer Rouge’s hellish regime.

More

Promoted from the Ricochet Member Feed by Editors Created with Sketch. Of Memes, False Memories, and False Attribution

 

lincolnAround my door at the middle school I teach at, I have posted pictures of various historical figures along with inspirational quotations. Included among these is the one you see to the left. I included it both as a humorous touch, and as genuinely good advice.

I was reminded of this image today when I narrowly avoided falling for another false quote. I have seen the Trump meme below the fold pop up multiple times on the internet:

More

Member Post

 

This Saturday, April 9, my eldest daughter Aelish, is getting married. Of course an event like this makes one think of the future, but tonight we are reliving some memories. More

Join Ricochet!

This is a members-only post on Ricochet's Member Feed. Want to read it? Join Ricochet’s growing community of conservatives and be part of the conversation. Get your first month free.

Member Post

 

My arrival in early 1974 was inauspicious . I have photographic evidence of this humble beginning. I see a pink-faced sleeping newborn swaddled in a hospital blanket, assigned with a small placard designating me as “13.” The Thai nurses attached no significance to that number. They were focused on some lack of reflex in the five pound, four ounce infant, and were trying to bottle feed […]

Join Ricochet!

This is a members-only post on Ricochet's Member Feed. Want to read it? Join Ricochet’s growing community of conservatives and be part of the conversation. Get your first month free.

Promoted from the Ricochet Member Feed by Editors Created with Sketch. Grandparents and Immortality

 

My friend’s grandmother just died. She was well into her nineties. My friend is in her fifties. I admit to a tinge of jealousy. I never really had grandparents. To me, it seems a great luxury to have a grandparent well into one’s middle age.

By the time I was born, only two of my grandparents were still alive. My mother’s parents were in their forties when she was born. Her father died when she was fourteen, ten years before I was born. I suspect I would have liked him very much.

More

Member Post

 

After reading Ryan’s post this morning, my mind went off on a tangent (no, not about sandwiches) to the memories of what to this day I still consider the best job I ever had: working at a rundown movie theater in Prattville, Alabama. From 1987 to 1989, I worked for Carmike Theaters. With my driver’s […]

Join Ricochet!

This is a members-only post on Ricochet's Member Feed. Want to read it? Join Ricochet’s growing community of conservatives and be part of the conversation. Get your first month free.

Promoted from the Ricochet Member Feed by Editors Created with Sketch. Technophobia

 

shutterstock_83454223Do you dream in monochrome? Does the term “manual labor” recall painful memories of assembly or installation? Does the Geek Squad avoid your phone calls? Then this post is for you.

What current inventions do you loathe? What innovations do you fear are inevitable? What old products do you miss and are certain you could enjoy again?

More

Member Post

 

All the rain we have been getting here lately reminds me of the frequent thunderstorms southeast Texas got when I was a kid. Back then, it “rained buckets” and you couldn’t run fifteen feet (say, from your car to the door) without being completely drenched. Sometimes you couldn’t even see that distance because of the rain. […]

Join Ricochet!

This is a members-only post on Ricochet's Member Feed. Want to read it? Join Ricochet’s growing community of conservatives and be part of the conversation. Get your first month free.