by MarianBeaman | Mar 4, 2014 | Education, Family / Nostalgia, Literature, Uncategorized
There are several childhood books in my library that are in the I’ll-never-part-with category, except maybe to pass on to grand-children. One of them is Come to Storyland with pages missing and others as brittle as autumn leaves. Here is blogger friend and...
by MarianBeaman | Feb 26, 2014 | Coming of Age, Conflict, Education, Literature, meditation, Quotations, Reflection, Uncategorized
Tucked under the signature of my Florida driver’s license are two words in blood-red that indicate that I am an organ donor. This means that if I were in a fatal crash, my kidneys, liver, lungs, corneas—even my heart could be harvested for transplantation. Harvested...
by MarianBeaman | Feb 14, 2014 | Education, Family / Nostalgia, Literature, meditation, Memory, Nostalgia, Romance, Uncategorized
“All you need is love. But a little chocolate now and then doesn’t hurt.” So says Charles M. Schulz. Valentine’s Day is interpreted by many to include cards, chocolates, candlelight and roses. Some even break the bank buying expensive jewelry....
by MarianBeaman | Jan 29, 2014 | Coming of Age, Conflict, Education, Family / Nostalgia, Uncategorized
Last Sunday afternoon, we took our red-haired grand-kids, the Daltons, to the Jacksonville Symphony Family Series, featuring The Sneetches. There was a pre-concert Orchestra Zoo with dozens of kids standing in lines to bang on, blow into, or saw the strings of...
by MarianBeaman | Jan 18, 2014 | Coming of Age, Conflict, Education, Family / Nostalgia, Mennonite Lore, Reflection, Uncategorized
This week we celebrate Martin Luther King Day, a tribute to the man with a vision for racial equality in the twentieth century and beyond. Just so, this post pays tribute to his dream and his legacy through a Mennonite lens. “Jesus Loves the Little Children, All...
by MarianBeaman | Jan 8, 2014 | Coming of Age, Education, Family / Nostalgia, Literature, Mennonite Lore, Uncategorized
Books, books, books! I had found the secret of a garret-room Piled high with cases in my father’s name, Piled high, packed large,—where, creeping in and out Among the giant fossils of my past, Like some small nimble mouse between the ribs Of a mastodon, I...
