Haiku for a black and white bird

Little chickadee joy

a stunning jewel

framed by my window.

A Genealogist’s Garden


A northern gardener surely cannot be surprised
By the rapid passing of the seasons
The urgent, boyant seedlings
seeking the spotlight
The unselfconscious bloom of summer
The sudden peak of beauty at harvest,
Which can only be discerned in looking back
And the long colorless decay
Buried under the cold
Of winter.

As I remove the detritus of death
From the sprouts of spring
I wonder.
How generations of my seedlings
Will continue their blooming
Long after the debris of my being
is swept away.

-Marsyl Dickinson Warren-

Not this tide...

When Rudyard Kipling lost his son John, who died and disappeared in Loos in 1915, he wrote this poem:

"Have you news of my boy Jack?"
Not this tide.
"When d'you think that he'll come back?"
Not with this wind blowing,
and this tide.
"Has any one else had word of him?"
Not this tide.
For what is sunk will hardly swim,
Not with this wind blowing,
and this tide.
"Oh, dear, what comfort can I find?"
None this tide,
Nor any tide,
Except he did not shame his kind -
Not even with that wind blowing,
and that tide.
Then hold your head up all the more,
This tide,
And every tide;
Because he was the son you bore,
And gave to that wind blowing
and that tide.

Charles M. Dickinson was related by marriage to the Kipling family. He assisted in looking for John over those long years while he was missing. In 1911, it was concluded that John Kipling had died in the war. The following article was printed in the Trenton Evening Times on November 29, 1911. (Charles and my third great grandfather, Theodore Dickinson, were first cousins.)

"KIPLING’S SON LISTED AMONG WAR MISSING Binghamton, N.Y., Nov. 29 – John Kipling, son of Rudyard Kipling, who has immortalized the British Tommy in verse and story, has finally been listed among those thousands of soldiers who vanished in the war without leaving a clue as to their fate. This was announced here by Charles M. Dickinson, former Consul General at Constantinople, who for several years has been searching the Near East for trace of the young British soldier. Until shortly before Mr. Dickinson began his search the last word of the author’s son had been in October, 1915, when he was reported wounded and missing in northern France. He was only eighteen when he entered the army. It was learned, however, that young Kipling was on a British vessel bound for the Dardanelles, and he was thought to have reached the Gallipoli Peninsula, where some of the fiercest fighting of the war took place. Here, however, all trace of him was lost. Mr. Dickinson took up the search on the theory that Kipling might have been captured by the Turks. He is acquainted with the Turkish leaders through his successful efforts twenty years ago to obtain the release of Miss Stone, who had been captured by bandits. Mr. Dickinson has become convinced Kipling is no longer alive, after a thorough investigation by mail and special messengers. John Kipling’s name does not appear anywhere in the lists of the English dead, and he will now be officially recorded as among those unaccounted for." Trenton Evening Times, November 29, 1911

History will break your heart.

I've committed to getting at least some semblance of a family history ready to be put in book form for one of my family names this year. It is a little overwhelming.

I'm reading and transcribing stories told long ago and becomming connected and acquainted with those long gone. Soon the realization dawns that I actually miss them, long to know them, hear their voices, see their smiles. Their stories will break my heart and make me laugh.

Human history just seems to be the same in all places and all times. Stories of love, loss, triumph, sorrow, struggle. The stories of us. It's comforting, in a way. No matter what I'm going through, I'm certain I'm not the first and won't be the last. Others have survived it before me and will survive it long after I've gone home.

Please.

I hope you will take about 25 minutes to watch this video.

Einstein said,
"It is my view that the vegetarian manner of living by its purely physical effect on the human temperament would most beneficially influence the lot of mankind. "

God loves us. God loves the animals. Please, let's think.

A couple of weeks ago, my dear uncle went home to be with Jesus. I miss him. The day of his funeral, my husband called home to tell me that his mother had passed away that morning. It was, to say the least, an interesting and challenging couple of weeks.

Strangely, I have felt at peace and have had a lot of joy. The day before my uncle Paul passed away, I was driving home from work and had a lot of those nagging sorts of worries. I was thinking about finances, about what I needed to get done, about how hard my husband and I were working. Then something caught my eye. It was a big pale moon, just peeking out of the still blue sky. Beethoven was playing on the radio. Suddenly I thought, "I own the moon!! I own Beethoven!! I am rich beyond belief!!" I spoke to my aunt and cousin that evening, none of us knowing what the night would bring, and we talked about that very quality of life. How in the midst of our busyness, our struggles, there is amazing, huge beauty all around us, just asking to be noticed. My aunt has told me many times to just "enjoy life."

I think she is very wise.

YOUNG ARTIST TAKES ON THE WEB!!

The artist is April Rose, she is 10 years old. She started drawing when she was 2. She likes to draw people and when she is older, she hopes to be a famous fashion designer and live in Paris, the fashion capital. She likes to design "street style" clothes and "cocktail dresses". She has drawn fashions for many people, and this is her first "premier" on the web! She is very excited.
Enjoy.