BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR......................QUE FRIO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Monday, January 29, 2007
Snow Day
Hoje amanheci "toda de branco"...........
BALADA DA NEVE
Batem leve, levemente,
como quem chama por mim.
Será chuva? Será gente?
Gente não é, certamentee
a chuva não bate assim.
É talvez a ventania:
mas há pouco, há poucochinho,
nem uma agulha bulia
na quieta melancolia
dos pinheiros do caminho...
Quem bate, assim, levemente,
com tão estranha leveza,
que mal se ouve, mal se sente?
Não é chuva, nem é gente,
nem é vento com certeza.
Fui ver. A neve caía
do azul cinzento do céu,
branca e leve, branca e fria...
Há quanto tempo a não via!
E que saudades, Deus meu!
Olho-a através da vidraça.
Pôs tudo da cor do linho.
Passa gente e, quando passa,
os passos imprime e traça
na brancura do caminho...
Fico olhando esses sinais
da pobre gente que avança
,e noto, por entre os mais,
os traços miniaturais
duns pezitos de criança...
E descalcinhos, doridos...
a neve deixa inda vê-los,
primeiro, bem definidos,
depois, em sulcos compridos,
porque não podia erguê-los!...
Que quem já é pecador
sofra tormentos, enfim!
Mas as crianças, Senhor,
porque lhes dais tanta dor?!...
Porque padecem assim?!...
E uma infinita tristeza,
uma funda turbação
entra em mim, fica em mim presa.
Cai neve na Naturezae cai no meu coração.
--Augusto Gil--
Batem leve, levemente,
como quem chama por mim.
Será chuva? Será gente?
Gente não é, certamentee
a chuva não bate assim.
É talvez a ventania:
mas há pouco, há poucochinho,
nem uma agulha bulia
na quieta melancolia
dos pinheiros do caminho...
Quem bate, assim, levemente,
com tão estranha leveza,
que mal se ouve, mal se sente?
Não é chuva, nem é gente,
nem é vento com certeza.
Fui ver. A neve caía
do azul cinzento do céu,
branca e leve, branca e fria...
Há quanto tempo a não via!
E que saudades, Deus meu!
Olho-a através da vidraça.
Pôs tudo da cor do linho.
Passa gente e, quando passa,
os passos imprime e traça
na brancura do caminho...
Fico olhando esses sinais
da pobre gente que avança
,e noto, por entre os mais,
os traços miniaturais
duns pezitos de criança...
E descalcinhos, doridos...
a neve deixa inda vê-los,
primeiro, bem definidos,
depois, em sulcos compridos,
porque não podia erguê-los!...
Que quem já é pecador
sofra tormentos, enfim!
Mas as crianças, Senhor,
porque lhes dais tanta dor?!...
Porque padecem assim?!...
E uma infinita tristeza,
uma funda turbação
entra em mim, fica em mim presa.
Cai neve na Naturezae cai no meu coração.
--Augusto Gil--
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Hoje celebra-se o dia do Aposentado,e por coincidencia alguem me mandou este artigo atraves de email,o qual decidi partilhar convosco,pois acho-o pertinente.
Em nosso País, aposentado, no pensamento popular, rima com coitado, desocupado, adoentado, desvalorizado, desconsiderado, mal remunerado, cansado... O pensamento popular é um pouco cruel, mas expressa como as instituições governamentais parecem considerar o aposentado e como o próprio aposentado parece considerar-se, visto que não está mais ativo no mercado de trabalho, que pensa ter chegado “ao fim da linha”...
Todavia, consideremos alguns aspectos. O primeiro é que a sociedade civil deve pensar, como um todo, que chegará para todos o dia da aposentadoria e que esse momento deve ser digno, que o aposentado merece, sim, algumas regalias, e muitos amparos. Que a saúde seja um desses items de maior importância. Que se exerça a cidadania, pensando na aposentadoria de todos, não de alguns privilegiados...
Há de se considerar, também, que muitos aposentados e aposentadas continuam sustentando suas famílias, não só com o minguado dinheiro que recebem, mas com seu trabalho, com os “bicos”, com a mesma coragem de sempre.
E isso nos leva a pensar em outra coisa, que é o facto de que aposentado não significa, em hipótese alguma, ser inútil. Uma mentalidade hipercapitalista, pragmática e estúpida, pode dizer isso, mas é mentira. Porque sabedoria e experiência não se compram com diploma, nem com carteira assinada, mas se adquire arduamente com o lavrar dos dias, dos longos anos.
Antigamente, quando havia as batalhas, quem ia na primeira fileira eram os mais jovens, mais fortes. Mas quem estava no meio, planeando, organizando, comandando, eram os mais velhos, porque sabiam mais, porque já haviam vivido aquelas situações.
Também antigamente, os senadores (senex = idoso), aqueles que tinham os cargos mais importantes nas decisões, eram os mais velhos, porque tinham mais sabedoria, porque poderiam julgar melhor, com mais ponderação e conselho.
Hoje, usamos a palavra “senil” e seu sentido não é dos melhores. Falta-nos sabedoria...
Hoje, aumenta a esperança de vida e os aposentados devem e merecem aproveitá-la mais. Que isso aconteça com alegria, com saúde, com dignidade. Não podemos nos dar ao luxo de dispensarmos a preciosa sabedoria deles...
Em nosso País, aposentado, no pensamento popular, rima com coitado, desocupado, adoentado, desvalorizado, desconsiderado, mal remunerado, cansado... O pensamento popular é um pouco cruel, mas expressa como as instituições governamentais parecem considerar o aposentado e como o próprio aposentado parece considerar-se, visto que não está mais ativo no mercado de trabalho, que pensa ter chegado “ao fim da linha”...
Todavia, consideremos alguns aspectos. O primeiro é que a sociedade civil deve pensar, como um todo, que chegará para todos o dia da aposentadoria e que esse momento deve ser digno, que o aposentado merece, sim, algumas regalias, e muitos amparos. Que a saúde seja um desses items de maior importância. Que se exerça a cidadania, pensando na aposentadoria de todos, não de alguns privilegiados...
Há de se considerar, também, que muitos aposentados e aposentadas continuam sustentando suas famílias, não só com o minguado dinheiro que recebem, mas com seu trabalho, com os “bicos”, com a mesma coragem de sempre.
E isso nos leva a pensar em outra coisa, que é o facto de que aposentado não significa, em hipótese alguma, ser inútil. Uma mentalidade hipercapitalista, pragmática e estúpida, pode dizer isso, mas é mentira. Porque sabedoria e experiência não se compram com diploma, nem com carteira assinada, mas se adquire arduamente com o lavrar dos dias, dos longos anos.
Antigamente, quando havia as batalhas, quem ia na primeira fileira eram os mais jovens, mais fortes. Mas quem estava no meio, planeando, organizando, comandando, eram os mais velhos, porque sabiam mais, porque já haviam vivido aquelas situações.
Também antigamente, os senadores (senex = idoso), aqueles que tinham os cargos mais importantes nas decisões, eram os mais velhos, porque tinham mais sabedoria, porque poderiam julgar melhor, com mais ponderação e conselho.
Hoje, usamos a palavra “senil” e seu sentido não é dos melhores. Falta-nos sabedoria...
Hoje, aumenta a esperança de vida e os aposentados devem e merecem aproveitá-la mais. Que isso aconteça com alegria, com saúde, com dignidade. Não podemos nos dar ao luxo de dispensarmos a preciosa sabedoria deles...
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
EU VIVO LA LONGE,LONGE....
Hoje apeteceu-me fazer o post da letra deste fado de Coimbra,que tanto gosto de ouvir cantar.......
Eu vivo la longe,longe
Onde passam os navios
Mas um dia hei-de voltar
As aguas dos nossos rios
Eu vivo la longe,longe...
Hei-de passar na cidade
Como o vento nas areias
E abrir todas as janelas
E abrir todas as cadeias
Eu vivo la longe,longe...
Hei-de passar a cantar
Pelas ruas da cidade
Erguendo na mao direita
A espada da liberdade
eu vivo la longe,longe...
--Manuel Alegre--
Thursday, January 18, 2007
EI-LOS QUE PARTEM
Ei-los que partem
novos e velhos
buscando a sorte
noutras paragens
noutras aragens
entre outros povos
ei-los que partem
velhos e novos
Ei-los que partem
de olhos molhados
coração triste
e a saca às costas
esperança em riste
sonhos dourados
ei-los que partem
de olhos molhados
Virão um dia
ricos ou não
contando histórias
de lá de longe
onde o suor
se fez em pão
virão um dia
ou não
--Manuel Freire--
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
TROVA DO VENTO QUE PASSA
Pergunto ao vento que passa
notícias do meu país
e o vento cala a desgraça
o vento nada me diz.
Pergunto aos rios que levam
tanto sonho à flor das águas
e os rios não me sossegam
levam sonhos deixam mágoas.
Levam sonhos deixam mágoas
ai rios do meu país
minha pátria à flor das águas
para onde vais? Ninguém diz.
Se o verde trevo desfolhas
pede notícias e diz
ao trevo de quatro folhas
que morro por meu país.
Pergunto à gente que passa
por que vai de olhos no chão.
Silêncio -- é tudo o que tem
quem vive na servidão.
Vi florir os verdes ramos
direitos e ao céu voltados.
E a quem gosta de ter amos
vi sempre os ombros curvados.
E o vento não me diz nada
ninguém diz nada de novo.
Vi minha pátria pregada
nos braços em cruz do povo.
Vi minha pátria na margem
dos rios que vão pró mar
como quem ama a viagem
mas tem sempre de ficar.
Vi navios a partir
(minha pátria à flor das águas)
vi minha pátria florir
(verdes folhas verdes mágoas).
Há quem te queira ignorada
e fale pátria em teu nome.
Eu vi-te crucificada
nos braços negros da fome.
E o vento não me diz nada
só o silêncio persiste.
Vi minha pátria parada
à beira de um rio triste.
Ninguém diz nada de novo
se notícias vou pedindo
nas mãos vazias do povo
vi minha pátria florindo.
E a noite cresce por dentro
dos homens do meu país.
Peço notícias ao vento
e o vento nada me diz.
Quatro folhas tem o trevo
liberdade quatro sílabas.
Não sabem ler é verdade
aqueles pra quem eu escrevo.
Mas há sempre uma candeia
dentro da própria desgraça
há sempre alguém que semeia
canções no vento que passa.
Mesmo na noite mais triste
em tempo de sevidão
há sempre alguém que resiste
há sempre alguém que diz não.
Manuel Alegre
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Cada bloguista participante tem de enunciar cinco manias suas, hábitos muito pessoais que os diferenciem do comum dos mortais. E além de dar ao público conhecimento dessas particularidades, tem de escolher cinco outros bloguistas para entrarem, igualmente, no jogo, não se esquecendo de deixar nos respectivos blogues aviso do “recrutamento”. Ademais, cada participante deve reproduzir este “regulamento” no seu blogue.”A ideia é identificar 5 (cinco) manias, ao jeito de uma auto-análise bem disposta. E quem me deu esta difícil tarefa foi "Eu estou aki... (http://eu-estou-aki.blogspot.com/)"
Eu vou convidar:
1 - Jessica Calcao (http://bagsnthecity.blogspot.com)
2 - Jonice (http://english-is-cool.blogspot.com/)
3 - Cristina (http://aztheworldturns.blogspot.com/)
4 - Alexandra (http://violada_mas_nao_vencida.blogs.sapo.pt/)
5 - Kalinka (http://kaliynka.blogspot.com/)
**
As Minhas Manias:
1 -Mae Coruja - Penso que os meus filhos sao os melhores do Mundo.
*
2 -Nao suporto acucar no meu cha.
*
3 -Gosto de cantar,apesar de nao ter voz.......e so perguntarem ca em casa.
*
4 -Sempre que possivel despeco-me do por do sol,suplicando-lhe que volte no dia
seguinte.
*
5 -A noite antes de me deitar,vou dar uma olhadela ao Ceu,e dou por mim a contar estrelas( estranho ver tao poucas estrelas aqui neste hemisferio).
Eu vou convidar:
1 - Jessica Calcao (http://bagsnthecity.blogspot.com)
2 - Jonice (http://english-is-cool.blogspot.com/)
3 - Cristina (http://aztheworldturns.blogspot.com/)
4 - Alexandra (http://violada_mas_nao_vencida.blogs.sapo.pt/)
5 - Kalinka (http://kaliynka.blogspot.com/)
**
As Minhas Manias:
1 -Mae Coruja - Penso que os meus filhos sao os melhores do Mundo.
*
2 -Nao suporto acucar no meu cha.
*
3 -Gosto de cantar,apesar de nao ter voz.......e so perguntarem ca em casa.
*
4 -Sempre que possivel despeco-me do por do sol,suplicando-lhe que volte no dia
seguinte.
*
5 -A noite antes de me deitar,vou dar uma olhadela ao Ceu,e dou por mim a contar estrelas( estranho ver tao poucas estrelas aqui neste hemisferio).
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Amor é fogo que arde sem se ver
Amor é fogo que arde sem se ver;
É ferida que dói e não se sente;
É um contentamento descontente;
É dor que desatina sem doer;
É um não querer mais que bem querer;
É solitário andar por entre a gente;
É nunca contentar-se de contente;
É cuidar que se ganha em se perder;
É querer estar preso por vontade;
É servir a quem vence, o vencedor;
É ter com quem nos mata lealdade.
Mas como causar pode seu favor
Nos corações humanos amizade,
Se tão contrário a si é o mesmo Amor?
Luís de Camões
Saturday, January 06, 2007
Amar!
Eu quero amar, amar perdidamente!
Amar só por amar: Aqui... além...
Mais Este e Aquele, o Outro e toda a gente…
Amar! Amar! E não amar ninguém!
Recordar? Esquecer? Indiferente!...
Prender ou desprender? É mal? É bem?
Quem disser que se pode amar alguém
Durante a vida inteira é porque mente!
Há uma Primavera em cada vida:
É preciso cantá-la assim florida,
Pois se Deus nos deu voz, foi pra cantar!
E se um dia hei-de ser pó, cinza e nada
Que seja a minha noite uma alvorada,
Que me saiba perder... pra me encontrar...
(Florbela Espanca, «Charneca em Flor», in «Poesia Completa»)
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Monday, January 01, 2007
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Gafanha da Nazare - Aveiro
A vida e bela e feita de recordacoes...........Obrigado Rogerio por estas fotografias maravilhosas da nossa terra !
Friday, December 22, 2006
Monday, December 18, 2006
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Monday, December 11, 2006
Friday, December 08, 2006
8 de Dezembro Dia da Familia
Ainda que os pais falassem a língua dos anjos, se não tiverem coragem, firmeza e amor, nada ensinariam a seus filhos.
Ainda que os pais trabalhassem noite e dia, ensinassem todos os saberes e virtudes, mostrassem todos os caminhos, partilhassem toda sua história de vida e toda sua fé, se não tiverem a paciência, a sabedoria e o amor, nada deixariam a seus filhos.
Porque só o amor ensina, convence, amadurece, une, perdoa, cura, respeita, cria uma família.
Ainda que os pais trabalhassem noite e dia, ensinassem todos os saberes e virtudes, mostrassem todos os caminhos, partilhassem toda sua história de vida e toda sua fé, se não tiverem a paciência, a sabedoria e o amor, nada deixariam a seus filhos.
Porque só o amor ensina, convence, amadurece, une, perdoa, cura, respeita, cria uma família.
An Old Christmas Story
PS ... This fun story was just FWD to me from a dear friend, and I just have to share with you!
I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even dummies know that!"
My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her "World-Famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they were World-Famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.
Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything.
She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" She snorted... "Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let's go."
"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second World-Famous cinnamon bun. "Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days.
"Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.
I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, and the people who went to my church. I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's second grade class. Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough; what he didn't have was a good coat.
I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat! I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that. "Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down.
"Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby." The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.
That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible.) Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy.
Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa's helpers. Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk.
Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going." I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma.
Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby. Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes.
That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were: ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team. I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95.
May you always have LOVE to share. And may you always believe in the magic of Santa Claus.
so...
Expect a Miracle!
I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even dummies know that!"
My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her "World-Famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they were World-Famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.
Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything.
She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" She snorted... "Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let's go."
"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second World-Famous cinnamon bun. "Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days.
"Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.
I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, and the people who went to my church. I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's second grade class. Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough; what he didn't have was a good coat.
I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat! I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that. "Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down.
"Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby." The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.
That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible.) Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy.
Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa's helpers. Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk.
Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going." I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma.
Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby. Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes.
That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were: ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team. I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95.
May you always have LOVE to share. And may you always believe in the magic of Santa Claus.
so...
Expect a Miracle!
Thursday, December 07, 2006
The Gift of Giving
By Hope Saxton
Gram and Gramps lived on the other side of the country, and although we called and wrote often, it had been twenty years since I'd seen them in person. Their health was failing, and age kept them close to home. My responsibilities at home with a husband, two young children and a part-time job, kept me from visiting. I did make a point of going in March one year. I'd spoken to Gram and realized that, in their eighties now, they weren't going to be around forever - as much as I would like them to be. I made the arrangements and flew there for a week. The moment I walked in the door, I was home again. The memories from a childhood long past, immediately returned. The cookies baking in the warm oven, watching Gram ice the fairy-tale cake and letting me dig in the bowl of icing when she was done. The beautiful clothes she'd sewed, smocked dresses and shorts with pop-tops to match. As she often did in her letters, she told stories of what I was like as a little girl and how she'd given me Muriel as my middle name. I never told her how much I was teased as a child because of that name - suddenly, it was prettier somehow and its very uniqueness was so like Gram. Gramps talked of the two wars he lived through, and I told him how proud I was to know he'd served his country so well. He made me laugh, and I believe I made him feel young again, if only for awhile. In turn, he made me cry. He told me that he and Gram had given up on celebrating Christmas about ten years back. They were just too old. How can one let Christmas pass by unnoticed? I remembered best the Christmas as a child, when they lived with us. They loved the season and always went to midnight Mass. Gramps took my brothers, sisters and me to cut down the tree, while Gram baked every Christmas cookie imaginable, then decorated the tree just so. Our house had been filled with the love and togetherness I had always associated with Christmas. I couldn't believe they had stopped celebrating it. Gramps explained that they were too old to bother with a tree and their friends too old to travel to see it. Even shopping, now, was too difficult, and they had all of the necessities delivered. I wanted to cry for the joy they'd once had - and lost. That week remains one of the most joyous of my life. Knowing that it might be the last time I saw either of them saddened me, but I was determined to make it a happy visit. I took the two of them out to dinner - something they hadn't done in well over two years, since Gram had her hip surgery. I know they had a good time. Saying good-bye was difficult. Gramps, the brave, strong hero of mine, cried and Gram did her best not to. She never succeeded. I cried on the plane all the way home. As Christmas approached, I thought of them more than ever. I wanted to do something so they would know I was thinking of them. The idea came to give them back Christmas, and I set about to do just that. First, I found a small artificial tree and decorated it with miniature bulbs and fine gold ribbon. With this, I added colorfully wrapped presents for each of them; slippers, chocolates, a hand-knit scarf for Gramps and a pretty bed jacket for Gram. I made up a box of cookies and bars; many of the recipes were from Gram's cookbooks. Then I filled stockings for each of them with toiletries wrapped and tied with ribbons. In the card, I wrote that they had given me so many wonderful memories throughout the years that I wanted to give them some new ones. I asked both of them to promise to set the tree up in the living room and stack the gifts around it. My last instruction was, "Do not open 'til Christmas!" I mailed the parcel, barely able to contain my excitement. Gram called as soon as it arrived. She was crying and, this time, not even attempting to hide it. We spoke for a long time, reminiscing about Christmas past, and when I knew for certain they had the tree up, I promised to call Christmas morning. When my boys had opened every gift and were digging through their stockings, I made the long-awaited call. Gramps answered on the first ring. I thought he sounded strange, and we only spoke briefly, then Gram took the phone. "We were like two kids," she told me. "Neither of us got any sleep last night. I even caught Harry in the living room, shaking one of the packages and had to make him go back to bed. Honey, this is the first time in years we've been so excited. Don't tell your grandfather, but after he went to bed, I just had to rattle a few of the gifts myself." I laughed, imagining the two of them sneaking out to guess at the presents I'd sent. I wished there was more money to send more expensive gifts, and told Gram that maybe next year they would be better. "Your grandfather can't talk right now because he's too busy crying. He keeps saying, 'That's one heck of a granddaughter we have there, Muriel.'"
By Hope Saxton
Gram and Gramps lived on the other side of the country, and although we called and wrote often, it had been twenty years since I'd seen them in person. Their health was failing, and age kept them close to home. My responsibilities at home with a husband, two young children and a part-time job, kept me from visiting. I did make a point of going in March one year. I'd spoken to Gram and realized that, in their eighties now, they weren't going to be around forever - as much as I would like them to be. I made the arrangements and flew there for a week. The moment I walked in the door, I was home again. The memories from a childhood long past, immediately returned. The cookies baking in the warm oven, watching Gram ice the fairy-tale cake and letting me dig in the bowl of icing when she was done. The beautiful clothes she'd sewed, smocked dresses and shorts with pop-tops to match. As she often did in her letters, she told stories of what I was like as a little girl and how she'd given me Muriel as my middle name. I never told her how much I was teased as a child because of that name - suddenly, it was prettier somehow and its very uniqueness was so like Gram. Gramps talked of the two wars he lived through, and I told him how proud I was to know he'd served his country so well. He made me laugh, and I believe I made him feel young again, if only for awhile. In turn, he made me cry. He told me that he and Gram had given up on celebrating Christmas about ten years back. They were just too old. How can one let Christmas pass by unnoticed? I remembered best the Christmas as a child, when they lived with us. They loved the season and always went to midnight Mass. Gramps took my brothers, sisters and me to cut down the tree, while Gram baked every Christmas cookie imaginable, then decorated the tree just so. Our house had been filled with the love and togetherness I had always associated with Christmas. I couldn't believe they had stopped celebrating it. Gramps explained that they were too old to bother with a tree and their friends too old to travel to see it. Even shopping, now, was too difficult, and they had all of the necessities delivered. I wanted to cry for the joy they'd once had - and lost. That week remains one of the most joyous of my life. Knowing that it might be the last time I saw either of them saddened me, but I was determined to make it a happy visit. I took the two of them out to dinner - something they hadn't done in well over two years, since Gram had her hip surgery. I know they had a good time. Saying good-bye was difficult. Gramps, the brave, strong hero of mine, cried and Gram did her best not to. She never succeeded. I cried on the plane all the way home. As Christmas approached, I thought of them more than ever. I wanted to do something so they would know I was thinking of them. The idea came to give them back Christmas, and I set about to do just that. First, I found a small artificial tree and decorated it with miniature bulbs and fine gold ribbon. With this, I added colorfully wrapped presents for each of them; slippers, chocolates, a hand-knit scarf for Gramps and a pretty bed jacket for Gram. I made up a box of cookies and bars; many of the recipes were from Gram's cookbooks. Then I filled stockings for each of them with toiletries wrapped and tied with ribbons. In the card, I wrote that they had given me so many wonderful memories throughout the years that I wanted to give them some new ones. I asked both of them to promise to set the tree up in the living room and stack the gifts around it. My last instruction was, "Do not open 'til Christmas!" I mailed the parcel, barely able to contain my excitement. Gram called as soon as it arrived. She was crying and, this time, not even attempting to hide it. We spoke for a long time, reminiscing about Christmas past, and when I knew for certain they had the tree up, I promised to call Christmas morning. When my boys had opened every gift and were digging through their stockings, I made the long-awaited call. Gramps answered on the first ring. I thought he sounded strange, and we only spoke briefly, then Gram took the phone. "We were like two kids," she told me. "Neither of us got any sleep last night. I even caught Harry in the living room, shaking one of the packages and had to make him go back to bed. Honey, this is the first time in years we've been so excited. Don't tell your grandfather, but after he went to bed, I just had to rattle a few of the gifts myself." I laughed, imagining the two of them sneaking out to guess at the presents I'd sent. I wished there was more money to send more expensive gifts, and told Gram that maybe next year they would be better. "Your grandfather can't talk right now because he's too busy crying. He keeps saying, 'That's one heck of a granddaughter we have there, Muriel.'"
Monday, December 04, 2006
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Monday, November 27, 2006
PEACE
If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.
----- Mother Teresa------
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
HAPPY THANKSGIVING
Thanksgiving is....
Thanksgiving is a
time of gratitude to God,
our Creator and Provider,
whose guidance and care go before us...
and whose love
is with us forever.
Thanksgiving is a time
to reflect on the changes,
to remember that we, too,
grow and change
from one season of life to another.
Thanksgiving is a time
of changing seasons,
when leaves turn golden
in Autumn's wake
and apples are crispin
the first chill breezes of fall.
Let us remember the true meaning
of Thanksgiving.
As we see the beauty
of Autumn,
let us acknowledge
the many blessings
which are ours...
let us think of our families
and friends..
and let us give thanks in our hearts.
~~Author Unknown.~~
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
"Love and kindness are the very basis of society. If we lose these feelings,society will face tremendous difficulties; the survival of humanity will be endangered."
"Whether one believes in a religion or not, and whether one believes in rebirth or not, there isn't anyone who doesn't appreciate kindness and compassion." -- His Holiness the Dalai Lama,
Friday, November 10, 2006
Are Your Friends Here for a Reason, a Season, or a Lifetime?
Many of us are fortunate enough to have friends who are a consistent part of our lives throughout all our ups and downs. However, sometimes others we consider friends appear to enter, then depart from our lives for reasons we try to, but don't always, understand. This piece nicely explains the flow of people in and out of our lives.
It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant.
People come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime. When you figure out which one it is, you will know what to do for each person.
When someone is in your life for a REASON, it is usually to meet a need you have expressed. They have come to assist you through a difficulty, to provide you with guidance and support, to aid you physically, emotionally, or spiritually. They may seem like a godsend, and they are! They are there for the reason you need them to be. Then, without any wrongdoing on your part, or at an inconvenient time, this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end. Sometimes they die. Sometimes they walk away. Sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand. What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled, their work is done. The prayer you sent up has been answered. And now it is time to move on.
Then people come into your life for a SEASON, b ecause your turn has come to share, grow, or learn. They bring you an experience of peace, or make you laugh. They may teach you something you have never done. They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy. Believe it! It is real! But, only for a season.
LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons: things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation. Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person, and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas of your life.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
You Know You're Portuguese When...
You Know You're Portuguese When...
Your mother or grandmother has Maria in her name.
You have a rooster napkin holder.
Your father or grandfather is called Manuel, Jose, Antonio, or Joao.
You have crocheted doilies on your kitchen counters, dining room, living room, bedroom--on all your tables.You decorate your walls with plates.Your house is a mini church with just as may statues of saints and Jesus as your church itself.
You're 25 and still living with your parents. (Extra points if you're married and living with your spouse in your parent's house).
You warn other drivers of police on the highway by flashing your lights, even though one of the drivers might have just robbed a bank.
You baptize your child and send him to catechism even though you might never go to church except for weddings and funerals.
You think all university graduates should be called "Doutor" and like to be called so if you are one of the chosen few who have managed to finish college.
You park on the sidewalk when necessary, even asking the person standing there to please move away.
You have a mobile phone and spend a small fortune on it, but think twice about going to the dentist.
You have a mother or grandmother who wears black.
You spend your holidays in Spain instead of in Portugal because it is cheaper.
If you are a woman, you have been to see a "curandeiro" (healer) or have had your fortune told.
You insist you wouldn't be caught dead buying Spanish olive oil even though most of the olive oil consumed in Portugal comes from Spain.
You laugh at jokes about the Alentejanos but get angry to know that the same jokes are told in Brazil about the Portuguese.
You think that you can catch a cold with a draft or by sitting in the spring sun.
Cold drinks are also thought to bring on the dreadful "gripe".
And don't let anyone have a shower after eating as something terrible could happen to them.
You get a letter from your doctor saying you can't work because of an "unspecified, ongoing medical condition" and then go on a two-week holiday.
Your child's teacher misses two weeks (because of a letter from his or her doctor) and you don't complain because you also will use the same doctor when you have to miss two weeks from your work.
If you are from Porto you don't like people from Lisbon and call them Moors.
The reverse is also true but they don't call you a nice word like "Moor".
You think Brazilians speak incorrect Portuguese and will not read a book written in Brazilian Portuguese.
The last major military victory you can remember your country having was the Battle of Aljubarrota in 1385.
You say that the Portuguese, unlike the Spanish, are good at learning foreign languages.
Your parents own like 9 houses in Portugal but complain about the lack of money in the States.
Going to Portugal involves buying gifts for all 500 members of your family
You go crazy for the World Cup
You refer to Portugal as "O Continent"
You've walked in "as paradas" longer than you can remember
You have grape vines in your backyard
You earned over $10,000 for your first communion.
To hell with the Turkey and Roast Beef! X-mas dinner was bacalhau au braz, baby!
A barbeque does not consist of burgers on the grill... Hello! Can you say sardinhas?
You've had your license for a month, but your $20,000 car has been "hooked up" for a year. I'm talking rims, tints, a system...
A wooden spoon equals discipline, or if you ever had to duck so you wouldn't get hit with flying shoes.
Your parents anticipate that you'll marry your first long-term boyfriend/girlfriend.
When you hear the word "Sagres" you think Beer, not historical marine school.
Nothing beats a buttered papo-seco.
Your 15 year old brother is allowed to have two girls sleep over, but your 19 year old sister can't go out past 7pm.
You think that 2am is too early to go to bed and that 11am is to early to get out of bed.
Your grandmother tells you look sick because you are too thin.
Your parents make you eat 3 servings of dinner at each sitting otherwise they think you don't like the cooking.
You're proud to be Portuguese - and you pass these jokes on to all your Portuguese friends!
Your mother or grandmother has Maria in her name.
You have a rooster napkin holder.
Your father or grandfather is called Manuel, Jose, Antonio, or Joao.
You have crocheted doilies on your kitchen counters, dining room, living room, bedroom--on all your tables.You decorate your walls with plates.Your house is a mini church with just as may statues of saints and Jesus as your church itself.
You're 25 and still living with your parents. (Extra points if you're married and living with your spouse in your parent's house).
You warn other drivers of police on the highway by flashing your lights, even though one of the drivers might have just robbed a bank.
You baptize your child and send him to catechism even though you might never go to church except for weddings and funerals.
You think all university graduates should be called "Doutor" and like to be called so if you are one of the chosen few who have managed to finish college.
You park on the sidewalk when necessary, even asking the person standing there to please move away.
You have a mobile phone and spend a small fortune on it, but think twice about going to the dentist.
You have a mother or grandmother who wears black.
You spend your holidays in Spain instead of in Portugal because it is cheaper.
If you are a woman, you have been to see a "curandeiro" (healer) or have had your fortune told.
You insist you wouldn't be caught dead buying Spanish olive oil even though most of the olive oil consumed in Portugal comes from Spain.
You laugh at jokes about the Alentejanos but get angry to know that the same jokes are told in Brazil about the Portuguese.
You think that you can catch a cold with a draft or by sitting in the spring sun.
Cold drinks are also thought to bring on the dreadful "gripe".
And don't let anyone have a shower after eating as something terrible could happen to them.
You get a letter from your doctor saying you can't work because of an "unspecified, ongoing medical condition" and then go on a two-week holiday.
Your child's teacher misses two weeks (because of a letter from his or her doctor) and you don't complain because you also will use the same doctor when you have to miss two weeks from your work.
If you are from Porto you don't like people from Lisbon and call them Moors.
The reverse is also true but they don't call you a nice word like "Moor".
You think Brazilians speak incorrect Portuguese and will not read a book written in Brazilian Portuguese.
The last major military victory you can remember your country having was the Battle of Aljubarrota in 1385.
You say that the Portuguese, unlike the Spanish, are good at learning foreign languages.
Your parents own like 9 houses in Portugal but complain about the lack of money in the States.
Going to Portugal involves buying gifts for all 500 members of your family
You go crazy for the World Cup
You refer to Portugal as "O Continent"
You've walked in "as paradas" longer than you can remember
You have grape vines in your backyard
You earned over $10,000 for your first communion.
To hell with the Turkey and Roast Beef! X-mas dinner was bacalhau au braz, baby!
A barbeque does not consist of burgers on the grill... Hello! Can you say sardinhas?
You've had your license for a month, but your $20,000 car has been "hooked up" for a year. I'm talking rims, tints, a system...
A wooden spoon equals discipline, or if you ever had to duck so you wouldn't get hit with flying shoes.
Your parents anticipate that you'll marry your first long-term boyfriend/girlfriend.
When you hear the word "Sagres" you think Beer, not historical marine school.
Nothing beats a buttered papo-seco.
Your 15 year old brother is allowed to have two girls sleep over, but your 19 year old sister can't go out past 7pm.
You think that 2am is too early to go to bed and that 11am is to early to get out of bed.
Your grandmother tells you look sick because you are too thin.
Your parents make you eat 3 servings of dinner at each sitting otherwise they think you don't like the cooking.
You're proud to be Portuguese - and you pass these jokes on to all your Portuguese friends!
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Nostalgia
Nesse País de lenda, que me encanta,
Ficaram meus brocados, que despi,
E as jóias que plas aias reparti
Como outras rosas de Rainha Santa!
Tanta opala que eu tinha! Tanta, tanta!
Foi por lá que as semeei e que as perdi...
Mostrem-se esse País onde eu nasci!
Mostrem-me o Reino de que eu sou Infanta!
Ó meu País de sonho e de ansiedade,
Não sei se esta quimera que me assombra,
É feita de mentira ou de verdade!
Quero voltar! Não sei por onde vim...
Ah! Não ser mais que a sombra duma sombra
Por entre tanta sombra igual a mim!
Florbela Espanca
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
>YOU KNOW YOU ARE LIVING IN 2006 when...>>
1. You accidentally enter your password on the microwave.
2. You haven't played solitaire with real cards in years.
3. You have a list of 15 phone numbers to reach your family of 3
4. You e-mail the person who works at the desk next to you.
5. Your reason for not staying in touch with friends and family is that they don't have e-mail addresses.
6. You pull up in your own driveway and use your cell phone to see if anyone is home to help you carry in the groceries.
7. Every commercial on television has a web site at the bottom of the screen.
8. Leaving the house without your cell phone, which you didn't have the first 20 or 30 (or 60) years of your life, is now a cause for panic and you turn around to go and get it.
10. You get up in the morning and go on line before getting your coffee.
11. You start tilting your head sideways to smile. : )
12. You're reading this and nodding and laughing. You are too busy to notice there was no #9 on this list.
1. You accidentally enter your password on the microwave.
2. You haven't played solitaire with real cards in years.
3. You have a list of 15 phone numbers to reach your family of 3
4. You e-mail the person who works at the desk next to you.
5. Your reason for not staying in touch with friends and family is that they don't have e-mail addresses.
6. You pull up in your own driveway and use your cell phone to see if anyone is home to help you carry in the groceries.
7. Every commercial on television has a web site at the bottom of the screen.
8. Leaving the house without your cell phone, which you didn't have the first 20 or 30 (or 60) years of your life, is now a cause for panic and you turn around to go and get it.
10. You get up in the morning and go on line before getting your coffee.
11. You start tilting your head sideways to smile. : )
12. You're reading this and nodding and laughing. You are too busy to notice there was no #9 on this list.
Sunday, October 01, 2006
A VIDA
A VIDA
A vida e uma ocasiao, aproveita-a.
A vida e beleza, admira-a.
A vida e beatitude, saboreia-a.
A vida e um sonho, realiza-o.
A vida e um desafio, enfrenta-o.
A vida e um dever, cumpre-o.
A vida e um jogo, joga-o.
A vida e preciosa, cuida dela.
A vida e um tesouro, conserva-o.
A vida e amor, goza-o.
A vida e um misterio, descobre-o.
A vida e uma promessa, cumpre-a.
A vida e um hino, canta-o.
A vida e um combate, aceita-o.
A vida e uma tragedia, enfrenta-a.
A vida e uma aventura, ousa-a.
A vida e uma felicidade, merece-a.
A vida e a VIDA, defende-a!
-- Madre Teresa
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