by MarianBeaman | May 20, 2015 | blog, Coming of Age, Family / Nostalgia, Memory, Mennonite Lore, Uncategorized
Nose-to-the-Grindstone, that’s my dad. But I have proof in pictures that he once took a fling to Florida with his Lancaster County Mennonite buddies. Judging from the photos that remain and Mother’s comments, I can pretty much guarantee that there were no...
by MarianBeaman | May 2, 2015 | blog, Memory, Mennonite History, Mennonite Lore, Nostalgia, Recipes, Uncategorized
Grandma and I in the Rhubarb Patch It’s me, pigtails flapping in the May breezes, skipping beside Grandma toward the rhubarb patch. Behind Grandma’s house toward the woods a thick nest of rhubarb stalks stands sentinel over a ridge facing the twelve sweet...
by MarianBeaman | Apr 29, 2015 | blog, Coming of Age, Family / Nostalgia, meditation, Memory, Mennonite Lore, Nostalgia, Uncategorized
Lilacs in Washington State Earlier this month, my husband Cliff and family laid to rest his father Lee Beaman in a tiny urn above the coffin of his wife in the cemetery adjoining the church. Across the street from the simple, white-plank Methodist Church near...
by MarianBeaman | Apr 24, 2015 | Coming of Age, Conflict, Family / Nostalgia, Folk Songs of the South, Memory, Mennonite Lore, Nostalgia, Recipes, Uncategorized
Growing up in rural Lancaster County in the 1950s, I had very little opportunity to meet people of other ethnic groups, but I did have a Little Black Sambo book that introduced me to a culture different from mine. So, I have not always been embarrassed by this book....
by MarianBeaman | Apr 8, 2015 | Coming of Age, Conflict, Family / Nostalgia, Memory, Nostalgia, Quotations, Uncategorized
Are you wishing for different weather just now? Maybe a change in scenery is all you need to perk up. After a rough winter, the drowsy dreaminess of a warm, languid clime may sound very appealing. If so, you have something in common with the middle-aged Lottie Wilkins...
by MarianBeaman | Mar 31, 2015 | Conflict, Family / Nostalgia, Gratitude, meditation, Memory, Travel, Uncategorized
“I’ve been robbed!’ These are the only words artist/performer Cliff can utter as he walks toward his Dodge van, noticing that the air-vent window on the driver’s side has been pushed in at an odd angle. It’s about 4:30 a.m. Good Friday, April 1, 1994. Rushing around...
