C is for Carole Anne Carr.

My introduction to Carole came in the Blogger.com world in 2010.  Blogging was new to me and Carole Anne Carr’s excellent writing showed me what blogging could open up.

Carole has so many credentials:

I have worked in a bank in Central Africa, have been a teacher, 

held the Office of Reader in the Church of England,

been a professional actress and sold my papier-mâché sculptures in Europe. 

I now work as a poet and writer of children’s adventure stories that are historically accurate and are used by teachers in schools and universities, in many parts of the world….

Carole Anne Carr has published (so far) eight books:

 First Wolf, 

Candle Dark, 

First Work,

Little-Boy-Good-For-Nothing,

Thin Time, 

River Dark, 

Kaleidoscope

, and The Angry Giant.  All excellent books, I can say from my reading.

Carole Anne Carr shares her love for books by donating her time frequently to reading aloud to school children.  This may be her greatest love of all.

C is for Carole Anne Carr.

God bless her and keep her!
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B is for Before....by Yehuda Amichai

Before the gate has been closed,

        Before the last question is posed,

Before I am transposed.

        Before the weeds fill the gardens,

Before there are no pardons,

        Before the concrete is hardened,

Before all the flute-holes are covered,

        Before all things are locked in cupboards,

Before the rules are discovered.

        Before the conclusion is planned,

Before God closes His Hand,

        Before we have nowhere to stand.

Written by Yehuda Amichai

Translated by Chana Bloch and Stephen Mitchell

 Source

1924-2000

A is for Ancestor

An old woman staring sternly from within a black frame, holding tightly to black and white.  Oh, she is your great-great grandmother.  My grandmother told me about her, how she had long black thick hair, hanging straight down her back.  She was from the Seneca or Oneida tribe, you know...eleven children born in a log cabin in an Indian Reservation....

I did not know that.  Grandma, with her abundance of hair, told me of this ancestor, bits and pieces.

Grandma died at an old age and it was if I were the keeper of the knowledge. 

The photo on the wall, now sepia, was put away, lost in the dark, until boxes and trunks were opened.  My mother stared at the stern ancestor, told me a little more.

When Mom died, there was not any family member who knew the other bits and pieces of this ancestor.

I was the Keeper.

When I am gone, so shall she.

Where my great grandfather (one of eleven) was born, left side, "Mrs. Nichols"