On my birthday, dad showed me an old notebook.
"Pick one."
I opened it. Page after page filled with book titles, some crossed out, interspersed with names. Our family name.
"What is this?"
"The family to-read list, from 1643 on. Read one, then pray to that ancestor, tell them."
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My mother learned darning socks and mending clothes because they were eight children, and they were poor. They called it Putz- und Flickstunde (cleaning and mending hour), and they all hated it.
I learn darning socks because my mother knitted them for me, and I do not want her love to be thrown away. I feel very connected to my mum and my family right now.
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The Night before the night before Christmas by Rose Mary Barlow in December 1966
‘Twas the night before etcetera…and all through the house
One creature was stirring, and that was NO mouse.
‘Twas Mama, with no kerchief, but an eye full of gloom
While the turkey was thawing all over the room.
Papa was asleep, and the children were dreaming
Of tomorrow night’s joys from the sky to come streaming.
Even Santa, away at the top of the earth,
Was pounding HIS ear in his own downy berth.
Meanwhile Mama slaved away 'til the morn
On last minute wrapping ere the great Day was born.
Now where did she hide those darn gifts for the kids
Bought way last October and put under lids?
From the top of the house to the bottom again
Mama raced to and fro and then into the den.
“Now Dasher, now Prancer, now Donder and Blitzen”,
She mutters and fumes as she marks 'Hers’ or 'His'n’.
The scotch tape breaks off and the bows fall apart,
While the paper won’t stretch…a new roll she must start!
The tree lights won’t work and blow all the fuses.
Pine needles clog the sweeper, which also confuses.
The coffee pot perks for at least one more cup
While Mama eases her back by just standing straight up.
A couple of aspirin soon remedy this
And she hangs up the mistletoe with a sibilant hiss.
The camera now…Are there flash bulbs? How many?
Does it have any film? But, of course, there’s not any.
No matter how long she works through the night
There’ll be plenty to do when tomorrow turns bright.
The moon does NOT shine on the new fallen snow.
The darn stuff won’t fall this year, Christmas or no!
Sleds and ice skates will be poorly received
And the children by sleigh bells will NOT be deceived.
“Alas! Is THIS Christmas?”, she cries out in despair.
'Tis enough to turn white poor Mother’s dark hair!
But at last she gives up with a shake of her head
And, still in her clothes, she falls into bed.
Tomorrow will be Christmas Eve, and she’ll say
“Merry Christmas to all”, for there’s always SOME way!
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A new photograph is released today of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth’s fell pony, Emma.
Emma paid tribute to Her Majesty during the Ceremonial Procession in Windsor on Monday 19th September, ahead of the Committal Service at St George’s Chapel.
For the past fifteen years, Queen Elizabeth regularly rode Emma for light exercise in the grounds around Windsor Castle, during Her Majesty’s private time.
Emma will continue to be much-loved and cared for at the Royal Mews, Windsor, and regularly exercised by its small, dedicated team.
Fonte: Facebook (The royal family page’s)
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