Well, here it is, Saturday once again, and me not feeling inspired to write much. There has been a lot of personal upheaval for me that I have kept to myself but that has left me feeling drained and uninspired.
Cue Dan Antion over at No Facilities . I try to never miss any of his interesting, informative and colorful posts, especially on Saturday, where you might find yours truly tending bar sometimes. He may not know it but I rely on his posts for knowing the SoCS prompt theme. Check out his post today to see who will be making a surprise visit to the bar real soon. He’s a celebrity of sorts for the bartenders there.
Back to the prompt which is more than a hundred. We are to write about something we have more than a hundred of. Okay, forget the fact that we are in a puzzle addiction right now. The last one was a real challenge, but oh so lovely.
God, I love butterflies. This one took a long time. There was no logic. It was like a paint by numbers puzzle but without the map. The pieces were oddly shaped. I’m talking umbrellas, goldfish and bunny
shapes!
But, I digress....the real issue is that we are collectors so we likely have a few qualifying stars for this prompt. But....since I have spent the last week...yes I said week...or so sifting through, discarding and organizing all my actual real paper printed photos from my life on this Earth so far, I can safely say they number well over a hundred-in one album alone.
Anyone who follows my blog(s) knows that first, and foremost I am a photographer. Family, friends, birds, bees, butterflies and trees-nothing escapes my shutter (although the hubs is an elusive subject) I have been called a photo hoarder, obsessive, too focused on pictures, etc.; but, I love life’s moments and want to save them as the memories we all too often tend to forget. Holidays, vacations, instantaneous laughable moments, beauty that is elusive, family that one day will no longer be around.
But, in the interest of saving space and scaling down, I took on the daunting task of going through my volumes of photo albums (thank God I was at least that organized) and weed them out, culling the special moments for each of my children to start or add to their own family memories and condensing my albums to a more manageable trunk full. This is what was discarded in terms of volume.
And this is about a third of what remains. ðĪŠ
How do I throw away a life-lives? Sure, I was there for everything, but we all know how the mind works. What seems so important in one moment can be replaced by something else as time goes by. I want my family to be able to wander through their past and rest for awhile in the cool shade of happy memories. They may curse me when they have to figure out what to do with it all after I’m gone. But they will know how much I have treasured them .
I mean, how could I toss out my greatest treasures?
You should visit her blog to meet other great writers and read their words.
And a huge shoutout Happy Birthday to my hubby. Now, if you excuse me, I have a birthday pie to make. You go out and make beautiful memories now, okay?
When I was in elementary-or grade-school, depending on what region of the country you grew up in, we had regular weekly visits by the music teacher. These were the golden days of my school years, those days when we got a reprieve from the brain strain of Mathematics and Science. The reading was always dandy with me. History is fun, but the memorization of dates and locales detracted from the joy of the events for me.And I don’t have enough space or time to express my joy over art sessions.
Back to music...we were taught some amazing folk ballads and they really made an impression on my young child/old soul’s heart. The song I am highlighting here is one of those special ballads, a piece of personal expression almost too melancholy for the frivolous and too prophetic for the old and weary. For me, it speaks of every person’s journey in this Illusion we call life.
For the detail oriented among you (Dan ð) I am including a bit of history from Wikipedia. Then there is the ballad, calling to my soul now more than ever. Hearing it in the movie Lost Child on Amazon Prime struck a chord inside me and I have been singing it over and over. I’m sharing its message with you here.. Open the door to your soul and have a listen.
From Wikipedia:
The Wayfaring Stranger" (also known as "Poor Wayfaring Stranger" or "I Am a Poor Wayfaring Stranger"), Roud 3339, is a well-known American folk and gospel song likely originating in the early 19th century[1] about a plaintive soul on the journey through life. As with most folk songs, many variations of the lyrics exist.
It has been speculated that "Wayfaring Stranger" may have been derived from "The Dowie Dens of Yarrow," a folk song from the Scottish Borders.[2] However, the fact that the two songs differ entirely in subject matter calls the theory into doubt.
According to the book, The Makers of the Sacred Harp, by David Warren Steel and Richard H. Hulan, the lyrics were published in 1858 in Bever's Christian Songster. This may have been the first time the song appeared in print, in English. Steel and Hulan suggest the song was derived from an 1816 German-language hymn, "Ich bin ein Gast auf Erden" by Isaac Niswander.[3]
During and for several years after the American Civil War, the lyrics were known as the Libby Prison Hymn. This was because the words had been inscribed by a dying Union soldier incarcerated in Libby Prison, a notorious Confederate prison in Richmond, Virginia. It had been believed that the dying soldier had authored the song to comfort a disabled soldier, but since it had been published several years before the Civil War had started (and before Libby Prison existed), this was not the case.[citation needed]
Remembering a music legend. We have lost some beautiful humans in the past few months, both famous and not. The world seems sadder somehow just knowing they have moved on. It was with a heavy heart that I learned about the passing of John Prine, iconic folk singer of the 60’s and 70’s, his songs remaining relevant to this day. His songs are ballads, filled with heart, soul and the bare grit that is human life. He succumbed to the Coronavirus.
As a teenager, I sat with friends belting out sing-a-long style to his voice and the voices of those who brought his words to life. Some of those, sadly, have moved on as well. John Denver took us through our angsty years and I still miss him. He wrote songs made famous by musicians like Kris Kristofferson, Bonnie Raitt, George Strait and Miranda Lambert, to name a few. Marianne Faithfull, who recorded duets with John, is also dealing with this unconscionable virus across the ocean, but is reportedly doing well.
So, let’s all raise a cup to his humor, his talent, his heart and his smile. (Maybe make it Nyquil.ð)
This one seems most poignant at this time. If you knew John, you can understand and share in our sorrow. If not, take a moment to listen to his words and explore what else you have missed.
