Tuesday 1/18

From infancy to  adulthood to old age and death.

With many friends in their 80s and beyond, I am surrounded by sickness and death. I see this theme in the photos I take of plants and flowers.

Again, childhood, adulthood, elderhood.

…and my mother’s sad story

6 thoughts on “Tuesday 1/18

  1. Mary Warren says:

    The poem by your mother is poignant as is her dying with her song still within her. My mother was similarly not served by the restrictions on wives. It’s remarkable that the government flipped all expectations of women during WW II begging them to get into the workforce to replace men gone off to war. They set up 24 hour childcare centers so women could work only to abruptly flip the demands again regardless of what women wanted when men came home.

  2. Mark Shaw says:

    Very touching Rick. The pictures were sweet. I see you in those pictures you’ve included. Or should I say, I see your mother in your smile; I hear your mother’s song in your words; and I feel your mother’s soul in your story telling.

  3. Susan Page says:

    Oh my, what a sweet poem! It’s touching and beautiful, rich with imagery. I’m there in that empty house with her. The tribute is to you, who overcame this misguided, unhappy, cruel dad. He succeeded in taking the light out of your poor mother, but you sailed out far beyond him. You did not buy his sorry approach to life. Thank heavens for that, for all of us who get to experience your inimitable light, your abundant spirit and creativity!!!

  4. Hal says:

    Thanks Rick, Great photos and a moving commentary. I was especially touched by your mother’s poem. It also takes me back to a neighborhood in San Jose where I discovered in my late teens that two of our “housewife” neighbors were alcoholics. They were stay-at-home moms. Makes me wonder how many stay at home wives took to drinking. Hmm!

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