by MarianBeaman | Sep 20, 2014 | Family / Nostalgia, Literature, meditation, Purple Passage, Quotations, Reflection
The earth laughs in flowers.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson MIRRORS Life is a mirror and will reflect back to the thinker what he thinks into it. – Ernest Holmes Mirrors can both reflect and distort as Tennyson suggests: And moving through a...
by MarianBeaman | Sep 17, 2014 | Family / Nostalgia, Literature, meditation, Mennonite Lore, Nostalgia, Quotations, Reflection
Sunsets, especially sunsets on the beach are # 1 on the list of clichés to avoid in photography. Yet beach sunsets persist on Instagram and Facebook because they are breath-taking, evocative. . . . the gauzy hinge between sea and sky, the limitless horizon...
by MarianBeaman | Sep 13, 2014 | Family / Nostalgia, Memory, Mennonite History, Mennonite Lore, Nostalgia, Reflection, Uncategorized
Did you as a baby sit in one of these? Did you buy one for your child? Produced by Babyhood Industries of Shrewsbury, MA, the Wonda Chair was “a do-it-all, all-in-one, convertible wonder. As the seller mentions, the multi-piece furniture/stroller kit mixes and...
by MarianBeaman | Sep 6, 2014 | book review, Coming of Age, Literature, Quotations, Reflection, Uncategorized
Kathy and I are not old friends. In fact, our friendship is rather recent as we have explored each other’s blog posts early this year, discovering that we both were developing our writing skills after long, satisfying careers, hers in medicine and mine in education....
by MarianBeaman | Jul 16, 2014 | Literature, Memory, Purple Passage, Quotations, Reflection, Uncategorized
Birthdays The great thing about getting older is that you don’t lose all the other ages you’ve been. – Madeleine l’Engle The secret of genius is to carry the spirit of the child into old age, which means never losing your enthusiasm. – Aldous Huxley...
by MarianBeaman | Jul 12, 2014 | Coming of Age, Family / Nostalgia, Memory, Mennonite Lore, Reflection, Uncategorized
We have to try it again. Here’s another shirt,” Jane said as she plucked one of Dad’s blue work shirts out of a plastic bag full of shirts—clean, sprinkled and rolled—all ready to iron. “Start with the yoke,” she directed. I grabbed the damp shirt out of her hand...
