I hope you can hear the laughter

 I hope death

is like being carried to your bedroom

when you were a child

and fell asleep on the couch

during a family party.

I hope you can hear the laughter

from the next room.

~~~~~

Please leave a comment if you know who wrote this. The earliest post I found was in 2022, but with no attribution.

Huckleberries and Hornets

Every child should have . . . 

 

mud pies, 

grasshoppers, 

water bugs, 

tadpoles, 

frogs, 

mud turtles, 

elderberries, 

wild strawberries, 

acorns, 

chestnuts, 

trees to climb. 

Brooks to wade, 

water lilies, 

woodchucks, 

bats, 

bees, 

butterflies, 

various animals to pet, 

hayfields, 

pine-cones, 

rocks to roll, 

sand, 

snakes, 

huckleberries and hornets; 

and any child 

who has been deprived of these 

has been deprived 

of the best part of education.

 

Luther Burbank*
07 March 1849 – 11 April 1926

*This quote is posted in memory of Luther Burbank who is a 5th cousin six times removed to the Keeper of this blog. He died 90 years ago today.

The Spirit of Christmas

   I question if Christmas can ever be “merry”
Except to the heart of an innocent child.
For when time has taught us the meaning of sorrow
And sobered the spirits that once were so wild,
When all the green graves that lie scattered behind us
Like milestones are marking the length of the way,
And echoes of voices that no more shall greet us
Have saddened the chimes of the bright Christmas Day, -—

  We may not be merry, the long years forbid it,
The years that have brought us such manifold smarts;
But we may be happy, if only we carry
The Spirit of Christmas deep down in our hearts.
Three fold is the Spirit, thus blending together
The Faith of the Shepherds who came to the King,
And, knowing naught else but the angels' glad message,
Had only their faith to His cradle to bring;

The Hope of the Wise Men that rose like the day star

To lighten the centuries' midnight of wrong,

And the Love of the Child in the manger low-lying,

So tender and patient, so sweet and so strong.

Hence I shall not wish you the old “Merry Christmas,”

Since that is of shadowless childhood a part,

But one that is holy and happy and peaceful,

The Spirit of Christmas deep down in your heart.

Written

by

Annie Johnson Flint

(24 December 1866 ~ 08 September 1932)

Published

in

The Independent, Hawarden, Iowa, December 21, 1933, Page 9

The Life of our Ancestors

Not to know what happened before we were born is to remain perpetually a child. For what is the worth of a human life unless it is woven into the life of our ancestors by the records of history. Marcus Tullius Cicero