Fond_Memory

A Carousel Christmas Ride

Introduction

My wife really loves Christmas. The spirit of it, and everything about it. So, I wrote her this song.

   The actual song itself is available only in spoken form, as requested by Philip.


Response from John

The last GEM you just listened to was titled A Carousel Christmas Ride by Phil the Wordsmith.

I wish you were in the studio with us. He nearly broke a tear 2 or 3 times in the performance of that poem. And these are really not poems -their songs.

Memories of Living

Introduction by Philip:

We all have a box or a bag of trinkets, pictures and memories of our lives somewhere.
This song celebrates how precious these memories are.

   The actual song itself is available only in spoken form, as requested by Philip.


Inner Warmth

There is something about winter which I really love.

It feels sleepy, resting, in a sense meditating.

It seems to give an upspoken permission to just relax – to have some time for yourself.

All the colors are muted - grays and washed-out browns. And the trees are laid bare, to show a visual essence language written by their shapes, their intricate and poetic lines, all outlined with lacy fine twigs around the edges. At sunset, they glow orange.

The sun is hazy, diffuse behind a gray sky – you may even think it’s the moon.

The Turtle

When I was little, every year a turtle would slowly wander into our yard. She was a big turtle, maybe about 12 inches across her hard, patterned shell. She was various shades of green, and her legs came out to the sides, showing her little claws when she walked. You could also see her little tail poking out of the back of her shell.

It was interesting to see her long, green neck, and how she could pull her head into her shell. She was such an intriguing creature!

The Creaking Floor

I love floors that creak. There’s a power, a personality to it, as if the floor acknowledges me there, greets me, in a way. The house feels homey and lived in, in some sense imprinted.

Old houses have creaky floors and stairs, for sure. It’s not clear if it’s the personality of the people who lived there coming through or the personality of the home itself. But, to me, it always seems inviting and cozy.

It makes me mindful of the moment, more fully present with more of my senses focused here and now.

I also love doors that creak and drawers that squeak.

Farms and Pies Oh My

When Bruce and I were first married, we discovered Jones’ Family Farm, and started a tradition.

Each October we’d go to the farm and pick out a huge pumpkin. Then we’d bring it home, and work all weekend to make pies (usually 9) and loaves (usually 6).

Sometimes, we’d make pumpkin cookies or pumpkin pancakes (not a big hit). We’d cook the seeds. Then we’d distribute the pies to my parents and my brother Mike, Bruce’s parents, aunties, neighbors, etc.

I’d always bring some in for the teacher’s lounge at Second Hill Lane School.

Blueberry Day

One of our favorite summer days was blueberry day.

We’d put on old clothes, our straw hats, then gather our baskets and make our way to the Jones’ Family Farm in Shelton. We’d hitch a ride on the “berry ferry”, and be driven out to the blueberry bushes.

Blueberries are easy to pick and practically popped into our small baskets. When our small baskets were filled, we’d dump them all into the big basket and fill that up. The camera was always on hand.

After the picking, we’d drive to Huntington Center and have lunch and dessert at Sassafras Restaurant.

Grandpa

Grandpa and grandma came to the USA when they were in their very early twenties.

They came with little money, so they had to rent a place to live. Grandpa was a wise man and a great observer.

In Italy he trained as a shoemaker, but here that job would not provide adequate income. So he found a factory job for steady income, but he also found wealthy clients who could pay richly for handmade shoes.

Grandpa marveled at the public transportation system. With one coin you could ride, then “transfer to anyplace you want to go.” He never spent money on owning a car.

Jingle Bell Run

We live on a quiet street. Each house is surrounded by a wooded acre. Our only excitement is watching small wild animals frolic in our yards.

On the first Saturday in December all that changes. The Community Center holds “The Jingle Bell Run.” The first year of the run, about thirty people participated and they were probably the committee members.

This year hundreds participated.

On the morning of the event, everyone registers at the Community Center and gets a number and a necklace of bells.

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