May your family and friends gather round with good cheer.
Happy Christmas to you and a Happy New Year!
by Lois Duncan
I saw the Ghost-of-Christmas Past
Glide by our lighted tree.
Her arms were filled with dolls and toys,
And all were meant for me.
I sensed the rustle of her skirts.
Her blouse was trimmed with lace,
And when she turned to smile at me
She wore my mother's face.
Just as this vision slipped from sight
I heard my daughter call.
Wild footsteps clattered on the stair;
Shrill giggles filled the hall.
She burst into the gift-filled room
And squealed in glad surprise,
And all the Christmases-to-come
Were mirrored in her eyes.
How swiftly fly the rainbow years,
Like splintered shafts of light,
As fragile as the gentle ghosts
Who whisper in the night.
I draw my child into my arms
And hold this moment fast
Against the time my face will be
Her Ghost-of-Christmas Past.
We showed the shell artwork Granty creates to Emma. She looked at it, very interestedly. Granty told her a little bit about how she made them. Emma, big blue eyes wide, took it all in. Finally I asked her what she thought about all this art.
I pushed a little. Emma announced it was pretty and she liked all the shells and the way the colors looked. And that the shells were shiny. And the sand Granty uses as background in may of her works.....but, they were not art. Now, Dear Reader, this was said in a firm and exceedingly confident voice. Emma knew what was art and THAT WAS NOT IT. I am the first person to defend any one's take on what constitutes art to that individual person. Art is, we all know, very subjective. If Granty's work was not art to Emma, so be it. Four-year-olds aren't usually that, er, what's the word I want here.....critical? Secure in their own taste? Emma, however, is. Very sure. Very, very sure.
Granty's canvases were pretty and she truly liked them, but THEY WERE NOT ART. Nope. Not art. Not at all.
We had to know what was Emma's definition of art and why didn't Granty's things live up to that (apparently) very high, Emma set, bar!
After a lot of questioning and conversation it came out that art is sparkly. Art is glittery. Art fairly glows. Disneyland is art. The opening credits of any Disney movie, with the castle and the fireworks and the fairy dust and the glitz is art, to Emma. Granty's work was, alas, pretty but not glittery or sparkly. It did not shriek of fireworks and Tinkerbell's fairy dust or anything. It was just shells.
So, the photo below is art. To Emma.
(It's a lovely photograph of Disneyland taken by someone with the Flickr name of 'Mastery of Maps'. Please give the photographer due credit for a lovely photo.)
And how did I come to feel the need to share this with you, you ask, Dear Reader? Well, every time I look at my Christmas tree and my eye falls upon a glittery ornament, or I look at the beautiful silver glass glitter stars I both saw and bought when I was at Wendy Addison's Theatre of Dreams last August, or a bit of glitter falls from a Christmas card I received in the morning mail, I think back to Emma and her very sure definition of art.
Christmas is an arty time, isn't it? I hope your Holidays are twinkling and sparkling and joyful. And full of art.
"A Day of Sharing Song
"The idea: Songs can move us to places we haven't
been in a long time, places we long for every day, or places we someday hope to
be. The combination of music and poetry can transport us across distances, and
through the years. While we listen, perhaps we grin wildly, or are moved to
tears. We all have songs that are "ours" in our very hearts. We have songs that
touch us, move into our hearts and resonate, creating a feeling, taking us some
place- past, present, future- perhaps some place we have never been and may
never go, but for whatever reasons, the song sings for us.
music, musicians, composers, poets, new ways for my soul to sing, is an
intriguing concept. Want to go on this adventure with me? It will be easy to
Many of us already do this sharing; this idea is just to
help us find each other and hear the words we have to share.
Wednesday, December 3.
The Plan: on your blog, post a song that moves
inside you, touches you, reaches you. You can do any or all of the following:
link to a youtube video (done as you would normally post a link)
link to itunes or amazon for a sample of the song
embed the youtube clip
post just song lyrics
post multiple songs, if you
can't choose just one.
Include the composer and/or musician and
source (book, album). Perhaps also include the amazon or itunes link if there is
one. no explanation required, no other revelation necessary.
One last thing-
Perhaps add an image. a photo. a video. a painting. a collage., if you would."
My pick is The Littlest Birds by The Be Good Tanyas.
I can now check Christmas cards off my To Do List.
I will miss her very much.
maggie and milly and molly and may
maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach (to play one day)
and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles, and
milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;
and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles; and
may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.
for whatever we lose (like a you or a me)
it's always ourselves we find in the sea.
He is very fond of his jackalope. DH is smitten with his jackalope, almost smug to actually own one. DH is taking it to his cabin. Tomorrow. He likes it.
DH is taking it to live in his cabin, the huntin'-fishin'-shootin'-manly activities cabin that fairly reeks of testosterone. He's taking it tomorrow.
Happy birthday, DH.
In loving memory to two gentlemen who fought for their country in World War II. My Daddy, Joseph Bell Rawlingsand my father-in-law, Donald Paul Unger. You are missed.
It was a cold, wet and windy Veterans' Day, but the wind made the flags snap crisply and the cold rain couldn't dull the bright colors of the flags.
I honor the all men and women who have made the sacrifice to fight for their country.