Posted in Friendship

What’s in a Name?

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Some people just ooze sweetness.  When they talk to you their sentences always begin with “honey”, might end with “sweetie”, and usually have a nickname for everyone else.  I wouldn’t say I fall into that category, but I’m somewhere between semi-sweet and a might sugary.

For instance, my husband and I call each other “Boo”.  He’s my “Boo” and I am his!  With Grandchildren it started out with “Love Bug” and sometimes “Honey Bun”, “Butter Cup”, and anything else that pops into my mind.  I fondly remember my Grandma calling me “Darling”.  When I consulted Webster, I found that darling means: dear, dearest, love, sweetheart and beloved.  Darling is pretty all encompassing.  It’s sort of an old-fashioned term of endearment, one which still makes me feel warm and special.

Truthfully, it probably doesn’t matter which affectionate name you use.  All that really counts is the way you say it; your tone and inflection, and most importantly, the crinkle in your eyes as your heart smiles at the object of your love.

Take note of your name for the one you love; whether it’s “honey”, “lovey”, or “baby cakes”.    What’s in a name?

“That which we call a rose, by any other name, would smell as sweet.”

Shakespeare

Posted in Flower meanings, Flowers, Friendship

La Langue des Fleurs

La Langue des Fleurs (1)

There is a delightful, yet, thought provoking book called, “The Language of Flowers”, by Vanessa Diffenbaugh.  It is beautifully written and paints a vivid description of a memorable woman who uses her gift for flowers to help change the lives of the people she meets.  While doing so, she must learn to heal from her past and lean into her future.

Have you ever thought about the types of flowers you are drawn to and what they say about your character or personality?  I think we all tend to choose our favorite flowers.  Does your spouse always bring you yellow roses?  Are geraniums your go-to garden plant?  For me and my garden, it is azalea’s, hot pink geraniums, Calla lilies, marigolds, zinnias, and mums.  

Just as there are birth month gems, there are birth month flowers.  My birthday is in May, so of course, I have the emerald; but also the Lily of the Valley.  Lily of the Valley means humility, chastity, and sweetness.  My, what a lot to live up to.

Think of all the ways flowers touch our lives.  The bouquet brought to you in the hospital; the unexpected single rose from the one you love; the spray laid upon a casket as a sign of respect and honor.  The type of flowers we choose for each person or occasion speaks volumes about the type of person who chose them.  Dainty and pale, bold and large, even all one color says to the world, “ I am here.  These flowers are part of me and me of them.  Drink in the fragrance and feel my thoughts of you.”

My little granddaughter delights in walking the neighborhood, admiring the flowers and doodle bugs.  She loves anything pink or purple and flowers are no exception.  She will sometimes pluck a flower from its stem and smile as she hands it to me, “Here, Nannie… I got you a flower!”  Time stands still and beauty knows no age limit, as we drink in the flower’s fragrance, gaze at its magnificence and feel the draw toward its delicate attraction.

If I could send you a little bouquet today, it would include pink carnations (I’ll never forget you), gardenias (You’re lovely), irises (Your friendship means so much to me), blue violets (faithfulness) and maybe an orchid (love, beauty, refinement).  Flowers may not be a replacement for telling someone how you really feel about them. Giving a bouquet of flowers is no excuse to not say “I love you.”  But, with the language of flowers you can say less and mean more, and as Lydia M. Child once said,  

“Flowers have spoken to me more than I can tell in written words. They are the hieroglyphics of angels, loved by all men for the beauty of their character.”     

 

Posted in Aging process, Cajuns, Caring for others, Changes, Children, Friendship, Grandchildren, Grandmother, I love you, Mothers, Outdoors, Parents

Mama Joe’s Mimosa Tree by Ginger Keller Gannaway

Mama Joe’s Mimosa Treemimosa tree

A momma’s love shines through her children, and Mama Joe’s eleven children wonderfully displayed their love for her.  Lizo Vidrine married when she was 15 and she and Joe Latour raised their 11 kids in Ville Platte, Louisiana.  As a kid, I remember going to Mama and PapaJoe’s every week, mostly on Sunday afternoons.  When Dad drove the family from Eunice to Ville Platte my siblings and I played a very lame car game called “Counting Horses” ( that’s a “whole ‘nother Oprah” as one of my good friends would say). We traveled a distance of 17 miles, but to 4 restless kids, it seemed like 77 at least! 

Back then we mostly kissed Mama & Papa hello and then headed to the backyard to mama's familychase Papa’s chickens and eat his scuppernong grapes until he came out yelling at us to leave his chickens alone.  Then we fidgeted inside for 8 or so minutes until Dad gave us each a dime to walk to Mr. Theophile’s tiny store on the corner where we each bought 10 penny candies that were placed in small paper bags.  To get to the store we had to pass Mama’s next door neighbor’s house that would later remind me of Boo Radley’s place.  My sisters and I usually ran when we passed neighbor Gazelle’s because she and her “not-quite-right” daughters lived there with at least 100 cats, and Gazelle yelled at us if she was sitting on the front porch with a gun beneath her chair.  (another Oprah-type tale).

However, many years later, Papa Joe has died and Mama Joe is bedridden and somewhat senile.  Now her seven children who live closest to her have each claimed a day of the week to come take care of her (or pay for a sitter if they cannot come that week).   Usually my momma drives my two sisters and me to visit Mama Joe.  Now the house is quiet and after Gayle, Kelly and I kiss Mama Joe hello in her bed full of pillows, we move to the small living room to read or watch a little t.v.  Momma stays in Mama’s bedroom and time ticks slowly be with the soft sounds of Momma talking to Mama. Later, the sitter arrives and talks with Momma in Cajun French.  Sometimes my sisters and I go outside and pick these hard pears or sour plums from Mama’s trees. Papa Joe had been a gifted gardener, and years earlier he had grown vegetables and fruits galore in his extensive garden.  Gayle remembers when he pulled a carrot from the ground once and handed her the best carrot she has ever tasted!

Mama Joe’s yard also had this mimosa tree I really loved.  Its beautiful softness, the feathery green leaves, with the flowers that looked like pink dandelions remind me now of my grandmother’s soft, strong beauty. Mimosa trees produce fragile, sweet blossoms in the late spring that attract butterflies and birds and that also contrast with the tree’s tough nature.   According to some gardening websites, mimosas do well in droughts and heat, which explains their abundance along southern highways.  Also, they produce these elongated seedpods that drop and spread their “offspring” far and wide.  The Japanese call mimosas the “sleeping tree” because their leaves gently fold for the night.  Like the mimosa tree, Mama Joe had a strong, calm beauty that mixed the Cajun Vidrine in her with the Native American blood my momma always claimed she had. (“Your mama’s great-great grandmother was an Indian princess, for real!”)  Also, her eleven seedpods heeded the Catholic directive  to “go forth and multiply” well. Mama and Papa Joe had 48 grandchildren and over 60 great-grandchildren and I don’t know how many great-grandchildren since the Latours are still healthily multiplying. 

Overall, Mama Joe was a sweet, smiling & laughing Cajun who married at age 15 and raised a family of 11, who only spoke Cajun French until her son P.J. married Polly (an amazing woman from California),  and so she learned to speak English to welcome a new member of her family, who cooked rice and gravy like a top chef, who loved life and good times almost as much as she loved all of her many children and their children, and their children’s children, and so on.  All Mama Joe gave forth was love and joy which she taught my own mother, Geraldine, to do for her 4 children, who then did her best to teach me to do for my 3 boys.  Like the mimosa tree, may all mothers continue to spread strong, soft feathery blossoms of love for their own seedpods.

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PaPa and Mama Joe

Thank you to Uncle Jack (Mama’s baby) and Aunt Faye for helping me with some Mama Joe details!

Posted in Cajuns, Friendship, Grandchildren, Grandmother, jobs, movie theater, movies, picture show

Working at the Picture Show by Ginger Keller Gannaway

liberty center

At age 13, I began my job in the family’s movie business at the Liberty Theater in Eunice, Louisiana.  I worked the concession stand at my grandma’s picture show.  Grandpa Keller had opened it in 1924 and had in later years owned 5 movie theaters in a town of about 10,000.

In 1969 when I started my picture show career, my grandpa had died and my Uncle Jake and Aunt Rose managed both the Liberty and the Queen Cinema. Even though I was his niece (and a star concession worker), Uncle Jake terrified me. Frowning and growling were his favored forms of communication with his employees.  One Sunday afternoon my dad picked me up from an afternoon swim at the local city pool “to go work at the show” because the matinee that day had drawn a bigger crowd than expected.  Dad rushed me to the Liberty to help out.   I  jumped from the pool, quickly dressed and showed up with a still-dripping ponytail to start boxing popcorn and waiting on the long line of costumers.  When Uncle Jake showed up to check on his employees, I felt pride inside for being such a loyal worker. He emitted a soft snarl to get my attention and grumbled, “Ya look like a drowned rat.”

Luckily for me (and my fellow workers), Uncle Jake did not routinely check up on us at the show. So most of the time, concession stand work was a groovy gig.  Opening up routines included wheeling the wooden carols that held the candy bars out of a storage closet and checking the Baby Ruths and Butterfingers for random rat bites.  Then we pulled out large plastic bags filled with the previous night’s leftover popcorn. This stale stuff would then be mixed in with the day’s fresh popcorn. (Is this a normal practice in movie theaters, or was my uncle cheap as well as grouchy?) Next, we’d get money from the box office lady to start our shift with. Later we’d go back to Mrs. Pearl (our favorite) or Mrs. Fontenot (a bit fussy) for extra nickels, quarters, or dollar bills as the need arose.

We’d time popcorn popping with the film’s starting times since the smell lured in popcorn-1433326_960_720more customers.  Most days the work came in spurts – the 15 minutes before the movie began. And since the Liberty had only one screen, that meant only two busy times a night (week-end had more because of the double feature specials). Once a movie began, only the random harried mom with a squirrelly lil one or a bored teenager with a sweet tooth bothered us concession workers.  On slow week nights I always had a book to read, and I’d sometimes kill time with the teenaged  ticket-taker/ usher boy .

The job paid a slim $1.25 an hour, but it did include the perk of getting in free to movies.  However, as a Keller I already saw all movies for free, so I added a perk of my own.  I’d sometimes take candy bars to share with friends at school the day after one of my shifts.  I’d even “take orders” from some of my closest friends or a cute guy I was crushin’ on.   (“Hey, get me a couple of Milky Ways, will ya?”)

One of my favorite things about working at the show was that super-fine ice we used for the soft drinks.  Since workers unofficially got free drinks during our shifts, I’d pack my 8 oz. paper cup to the rim with that heavenly ice and then fill it with the best Dr. Pepper on the planet.  I think the syrup content on our soda machine was set too high, so our drinks were sweet, sweet.  And when a blockbuster like MASH or Patton was showing and we sweated to keep the popcorn popping and the masses served before the opening credits, a super-icy, super-sweet beverage never tasted better!

The jobs only 3 hazards were: 1.  Getting burned while making popcorn or cleaning the antique machine   2. Getting the stink eye or criticism from my uncle (“Quit over-filling the popcorn boxes; don’t make the sides pooch-out.” or “Put more ice in those drink cups!”)   3. Running out of popcorn during a rush.

For the four and a half years I worked at the “Liberty Thayter” (as Mrs. Fontenot would say), my good times far outweighed my bad times.  I was surrounded by folks who liked watching movies, talking about movies, and sharing movies. Often the usher, my fellow concession gal, and even the ticket-taker lady (especially sweet and witty Mrs. Pearl) discussed a movie’s good points, bad points,  or its message. Like the circus worker who shoveled elephant poop responded when asked why he didn’t leave such a shitty job. “What?? And give up show business?!”liberty at night

 

Posted in Friendship

Snapshots of my Life by Ginger Keller Gannaway

I have loved taking pictures all my life; however, I’m a crappy photographer.  A “good” friend once declared that most of my pictures are blurry or off-center.  Ok…ok, I own my limited skills with my camera phone, yet I still treasure snapshots of family vacations, huge holidays, and everyday moments.  Remember the “wabi sabi” philosophy  (embrace life’s imperfections) as you view these Snapshots of my Life.

Gerry & RA relaxing in Gubbio, Italy:pic2

 

My Boys (Evanator, Caseman, Shaner) on a Pensacola beachmy boys pic

 

Best I’ve ever looked in a bathing suit!

vintage beach

 

Alhambra Palace in Granada, Spain with Gayle, Kelly, and MommaSpain pic

 

Yosemite good times for my 3 boys and their cousins (John, Matt, and Dan Gilmer)

yosemite pic

 

Watermelon Times with me, Mama, and a mischievous Ryan Kellerwatermelon.jpg

 

School Days at St. Edmunds (Emile, Ginger, Gayle, Kelly)school pic

 

The Weight of a Dad!funny family

 

Christmas with Big Santa Clause in Eunice!santa

Kelly Ann under a moss-covered Louisiana tree:

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 Kelly Ann under a moss-covered Louisiana tree
Posted in Friendship

Walk Talk

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For years now, I have gone for a walk almost every day.   I tie my tennis shoes, grab my sunglasses and head out the door.  It’s therapeutic and even spiritual in nature.  I need it and evidently so do others.  Through the years I have encountered different types of walkers and have developed certain categories, if you will.  Below are just a few of these walkers…see if you recognize anyone you know.

 

The Serious Walker:  Eyes straight ahead, purposeful arm swing, long stride…..no nonsense…’get er’ done’.   This walker may not speak even if you say good morning or hello..they are on a mission! These walkers generally have good tennis shoes and suitable attire.

 

The Dog Walker:  This type varies from the laid back walker who lets their pooch sniff and tinkle at will, to the run/walker whose dog is one with the owner!  The run/walker/and dog seem to enjoy the discipline…eyes forward..steady movement, and sporty outfits, whereas the laid back walker is sometimes on his phone, multitasking a chat and potty patrol, while frequently donning their work clothes and shoes, or worse….pajamas.  (a dead give away)  

 

The Walker Talker: These walkers don’t want to be alone!  They usually are seen in two’s and occasionally a ‘pack’ or even a ‘gaggle’.  To these social beings, the heart-to-heart chat is almost more important than the walk.  The walker talkers show commitment, enthusiasm, and encouragement.  Through the years, I have had only a few dear friends like this.  Walker talkers are a special breed indeed.  *cute outfits optional, but certainly appreciated!

 

The “I Hate to Walk But I Have To” Walker:  These poor walkers look bored, tired and MAD!  They look down or straight ahead and never acknowledge anyone else.  They avoid walker talkers at all costs and generally do not wear workout clothes.  The “I Hate to Walk” walkers most likely have a spouse or doctor who is encouraging their exercise!  They may be walking, but they certainly don’t have to like it!

 

The Stalker Talker Walker:  I have personally encountered this walker many times in my neighborhood.   This walker is (a.)  A talker and  (b.)  Wants to talk whether you do or not.  For example:  I had happened upon this walker several times and did engage in polite conversation; however, I kept moving.  Then, I noticed that he just happened to be walking at the same time I was and would even cross two streets to come over to speak.  I had to up-my-game by keeping a vigilant eye out, so that I could change directions if need be, to avoid “the chat”.  Sometimes he would be talking as he walked toward me and then say, “I’ll walk with you”.  Oh, my!  This person is a sweet, older gentleman who is uber friendly and means no harm, however, he IS a Stalker Talker Walker!  Beware!

 

The Barbie or Ken Walker (aka Sporty Spice):  These walkers have a certain MO:  great looking outfits; expensive tennies; matching visor or hat; earphones and always a Fitbit or Apple watch to check their progress and status. They usually keep a fast pace and rarely speak…they only nod.

 

The ‘Baby on Board’ Walker:  These walkers could go a number of ways:  a mom trying to do it all by pushing a stroller or double stroller and having a dog on a leash, while trying to walk or jog;  Sometimes you will see a super tired parent out early in the morning trying to take baby for a stroll just to stop the crying or get a break! They may be drinking coffee and/or checking their phones;   And of course, there are the super parents who are going for their run/walk no matter what!   These parents are usually pushing a double stroller and the kids are eating snacks or watching a movie.  The stroller I used in 1978 would never have made it!!

 

Did any of these descriptions remind you of someone or even yourself?

No matter what type walker you are or type walker you observe, we’re all just trying our best to get out there and bust a move! Don’t be intimidated, mad or too serious to stop and smell the roses….just keep walking the talk or talking the walk, whichever one you choose!

Keep movin and groovin!

 

Posted in Exercise, Friendship, Outdoors, People

Walk Talk

DSC_0001

For years now, I have gone for a walk almost every day.   I tie my tennis shoes, grab my sunglasses and head out the door.  It’s therapeutic and even spiritual in nature.  I need it and evidently so do others.  Through the years I have encountered different types of walkers and have developed certain categories if you will.  Below are just a few of these walkers…see if you recognize anyone you know.

The Serious Walker:  Eyes straight ahead, purposeful arm swing, long stride…..no nonsense…’get er’ done’.   This walker may not speak even if you say good morning or hello..they are on a mission! These walkers generally have good tennis shoes and suitable attire.

The Dog Walker:  This type varies from the laid back walker who lets their pooch sniff and tinkle at will, to the run/walker whose dog is one with the owner!  The run/walker/and dog seem to enjoy the discipline…eyes forward..steady movement, and sporty outfits, whereas the laid back walker is sometimes on his phone, multitasking a chat and potty patrol, while frequently donning their work clothes and shoes, or worse….pajamas.  (a dead give away)  

The Walker Talker: These walkers don’t want to be alone!  They usually are seen in two’s and occasionally a ‘pack’ or even a ‘gaggle’.  To these social beings, the heart-to-heart chat is almost more important than the walk.  The walker talkers show commitment, enthusiasm, and encouragement.  Through the years, I have had only a few dear friends like this.  Walker talkers are a special breed indeed.  *cute outfits optional, but certainly appreciated!

The “I Hate to Walk But I Have To” Walker:  These poor walkers look bored, tired and MAD!  They look down or straight ahead and never acknowledge anyone else.  They avoid walker talkers at all costs and generally do not wear workout clothes.  The “I Hate to Walk” walkers most likely have a spouse or doctor who is encouraging their exercise!  They may be walking, but they certainly don’t have to like it!

The Stalker Talker Walker:  I have personally encountered this walker many times in my neighborhood.   This walker is (a.)  A talker and  (b.)  Wants to talk whether you do or not.  For example:  I had happened upon this walker several times and did engage in polite conversation; however, I kept moving.  Then, I noticed that he just happened to be walking at the same time I was and would even cross two streets to come over to speak.  I had to up-my-game by keeping a vigilant eye out, so that I could change directions if need be, to avoid “the chat”.  Sometimes he would be talking as he walked toward me and then say, “I’ll walk with you”.  Oh, my!  This person is a sweet, older gentleman who is uber friendly and means no harm, however, he IS a Stalker Talker Walker!  Beware!

The Barbie or Ken Walker (aka Sporty Spice):  These walkers have a certain MO:  great looking outfits; expensive tennies; matching visor or hat; earphones and always a Fitbit or Apple watch to check their progress and status. They usually keep a fast pace and rarely speak…they only nod.

The ‘Baby on Board’ Walker:  These walkers could go a number of ways:  a mom trying to do it all by pushing a stroller or double stroller and having a dog on a leash, while trying to walk or jog;  Sometimes you will see a super tired parent out early in the morning trying to take baby for a stroll just to stop the crying or get a break! They may be drinking coffee and/or checking their phones;   And of course, there are the super parents who are going for their run/walk no matter what!   These parents are usually pushing a double stroller and the kids are eating snacks or watching a movie.  The stroller I used in 1978 would never have made it!!

Did any of these descriptions remind you of someone or even yourself?No matter what type walker you are or type walker you observe, we’re all just trying our best to get out there and bust a move! Don’t be intimidated, mad or too serious to stop and smell the roses….just keep walking the talk or talking the walk, whichever one you choose!

Keep movin and groovin!

Posted in Cajuns, Children, Easter tradition, Food, Friendship, Grandchildren, Grandmother

Pock-Pock (a Cajun Easter tradition) by Ginger Keller Gannaway

Cajun Pock-Pock Easter Tradition by Ginger Keller Gannaway

easter1
Evan & Mama Gerry

     Chubby fingers clutch a pale pink and green boiled egg.  Concerned eyes flick back and forth from the egg to the bowed head of the chubby-fingered 4-year-old girl’s 8-year-old brother, a boy with destruction in his eyes.  The boy firmly holds a bright blue egg, and as he quickly raises his egg a few inches above his sister’s egg, the girl muffles a scared squeak as the brother aims and delivers a decisive blow to his target. POCK! “Ah-ha!” the destructor declares as he witnesses the broken crown of his sister’s special Easter egg (the one that took her a full 6 minutes to dye because she patiently dyed the pink half before carefully turning her egg over and holding it in the green dye for several long minutes).  The girl juts out a “boudin lip,” yet she dutifully hands her victor brother the cracked egg.  “My egg’s the champion!” brags the boy as he tosses the pink and green egg into an overflowing basket of slightly cracked Easter eggs. He struts around the grassy backyard holding the blue egg over his head.  Other kids in church clothes throw sideways glances his way, but his sister simply reaches for a Goldbrick egg in her Easter basket to ease the loss of her two-toned egg.  MaMa Joe tells her cocky grandson, “Way to go, cha! You beat your cousins!” but PaPa Joe sulks in the kitchen with a cup of coffee and the purple guinea egg which he refused to give up to his grandson a few minutes earlier.

easter5
Momma Gerry & Emile

For now 8-year-old Claude Emile revels in his Pock-Pock Championship for an Easter in Ville Platte, Louisiana.

Such is the way in Cajun land on Easter morning.  Friends, cousins, aunts, uncles, moms, dads, grandmas and competitive grandpas compete with their multi-colored boiled eggs to win the title of Pock-Pock Champion on a bright spring day.

            Here are our family’s Pock-Pock Rules:

easter7
Ryan & Andrew in Eunice
  1. Two folks each choose an unbroken Easter egg.
  2. One person holds his/her egg with the fat side up and faces the opponent.
  3. The opponent holds his/her egg with the small end towards the other egg.
  4. The egg-holder on top taps the other’s egg until one of the eggs cracks.  (Most folks prefer a soft, slow tapping motion that makes a “pock-pock” sound and that keeps the game going longer. * Emile’s quick, hard hammer-like hit irks me).
  5. After a few pocks, both folks will hear a deeper sort of cracking sound that signals the breaking of one egg. They pause at this point and examine their eggs’ ends; however, sometimes the crack is not visible and a few more pocks are needed to reveal the definitive cracks that label one of the egg-holders a loser.
  6. The holder of the uncracked egg is that round’s winner and he/she gets to keep the broken egg. (Unless you’ve pocked-pocked with Papa Joe and his favorite egg)

     

easter4
Caseman &Big Papa

My momma learned from her dad (Papa Joe) that guinea  and duck eggs were harder than regular chicken eggs, but this was not always the case.  Cajuns can be very competitive (even when the prize is a grubby boiled egg), and some have resorted to cheating.  One Easter Emile made a plaster of Paris egg and painted it yellow.  He managed to trick the younger cousins and the older relatives with poor eyesight, but when cousin Kenneth discovered the trick, the final pock-pock sounds came from Kenneth whacking Emile’s “tete dure.”

easter8
Shane& his Easter eggs
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Kelly Ann & Ginger

 

easter6
Casey & Jana

I have always enjoyed this Cajun tradition, and even though Emile’s grandkids don’t particularly like or even want to keep boiled Easter eggs (They prefer the plastic eggs filled with jellybeans or chocolates), the kids still enjoy the pock-pock competition.  This Easter I look forward to  spitfire Amos (age 5) going up against his calm cousin Evan (age 24) and may the best egg win!

easter2
Easter in Eunice, 1985
Posted in Caring for others, Children, Friendship, I love you, Parents, Poems Matter

Poems to Ponder by Ginger Keller Gannaway

For April, National Poetry Month, I offer you a few Poems to Ponder:lake house

  1. “I Spy Babies” by Shane Gannaway (my son)

    shaner
    Shane Gannaway
  2. “Spring and Fall”  by Gerard Manly Hopkins (probably my favorite poem)
  3. “Mother to Son” by Langston Hughes (strong advice read by Viola Davis & the poet!)
  4. “Nothing Gold Can Stay” by Robert Frost (in memory of poet philosopher Ric Fox)nothing Gold can stay
  5. Hearts Under a Microscope by Gary Gannaway“Tis true. Science says it’s so.
    Each heart muscle cell
    Beats to its own rhythm.
    Under a microscope
    It looks like a tiny heart,
    And it sounds likeYour heart Your heartpoem love
    Your heart Your heart.Put another heart muscle cell
    Onto the same slide.
    And it will beat to its own
    Independent rhythm,
    And it sounds like

    Heart my Heart my
    Heart my Heart my.

    Once the cells touch,
    A miracle occurs.
    The two cells begin to beat as one,
    And they sound like

    Your heart My heart
    Your heart My heart
    Our heart Our heart
    Our heart Our heart.

    ‘Tis true. Science says it’s so.(Valentine’s Day, 2010)

    “Shoulders”  (cool class video)by Naomi Shihab Nye ( what the world needs now)

  6. Shoulders
    A man crosses the street in rain,
    stepping gently, looking two times north and south,
    because his son is asleep on his shoulder.

    No car must splash him.
    No car drive too near to his shadow.

    This man carries the world’s most sensitive cargo
    but he’s not marked.
    Nowhere does his jacket say FRAGILE,
    HANDLE WITH CARE.

    His ear fills up with breathing.
    He hears the hum of a boy’s dream
    deep inside him.

    We’re not going to be able
    to live in this world
    if we’re not willing to do what he’s doing
    with one another.

    The road will only be wide.
    The rain will never stop falling.

    poem1

Posted in Children, Friendship, Travel

Top 10 Vacations by Ginger Keller Gannaway

Top 10 Favorite Vacations

I love, love,love to travel with family and friends.   Here go my favorites using the “Six Word Memoir” approach.

  1. Pensacola Beach:  Waves of sun and seafood smilesBEACH2

2. Big Bend: Desolate hikes intrigue 4 adventurous boys.

3.Yosemite: Heavenly balance connects green with gray.yosemite1

4. Gubbio, Italy: Pasta, gelato, wine paint our walks.GUBBIO

5.New York City: Stage lights amid millions of stories.nyc

6. Granada, Spain: Palace of mystery joins summer souls.SPAIN

7. New Orleans: Jazzy bursts of decadently spicy timesnola

8. Hawaii: Sun-shaded eyes sip umbrella-clad cocktails.

9.Haciendas Las Trancas, Mexico: Free-time, fiesta, food fireworks for friends!mexico.jpg

10. Neal’s Cabins on Frio River: Kids share frigid splashes of drama!neals

Laignappe:  Keller Camp at Indian Village: Diggin’ sand bar Good Times, Cha!

THE CAMP

What are your favorite vacation spots??