NoBloPoMo prompt for today:
What was your biggest fear as a child? Do you still have it today? If it went away, when did your feelings change?
I honestly don’t remember having a biggest fear. When I was very small, I was afraid of three things:
- The barnacles on the trees in Everhart Park
My mother called them “Barnacles” but now I don’t think that is the correct term. They didn’t look like the barnacles I saw on Google images; they looked like this one:
Many of them grew on the tall old trees in Everhart Part, the magical park down the street from our house. I loved the park but was scared of the barnacles.
I was also afraid of the birds who made so much noise in the bushes outside of our house in the morning.
- My Aunt Babe
She was the wife of my father’s brother. She had dancing eyes, a quick wit, and a very large, loud laugh. It was the laugh that terrified me.
I grew out of all of these fears, and grew into more amorphous ones.
(“fear” from kmfineart)
NaBloPoMo prompt for today:
What is the most important lesson you learned as a child, and who taught it to you?
We were playing softball on the front lawn of the McDonough’s house one summer afternoon.
I was about nine. I was up at bat. I swung the bat hard without checking ; the younger brother of my friend Maureen was right behind me, and I hit him in the head.
Other than a bruise, he turned out to be alright. I, on the other hand, kept beating myself up over the whole episode. I was cringing with misery.
Maureen confronted me. She jabbed her finger at me and declared: “Stop feeling sorry for yourself!”
It was as though she had doused me with cold water.
I WAS feeling sorry for myself; I indulged in that quite a bit, young as I was.
I’ve never forgotten that lesson, though it took me until after high school to let go of the reflex.
After all these years, I still catch myself at it , but I remember those words.
Vincent Van Gogh Facing Eternity ( he must have had trouble with it, too)
I remember this observation by D.H.Lawrence:
One of these is not like the other two
Today’s NaBloPoMo prompt:
When you were a kid, did you want to have the same job or a different job than your parents when you grew up?
Never wanted to have the same job as either of my parents.
She was an RN
He was an auto mechanic and had his own gas station
I can’t remember ever wanting to be anything but a teacher until I was in college, when I was so bored by the education course that I decided I wanted to be a copy writer for a magazine.
So I wound up as a teacher, then a teacher and a Catholic sister, and all the time, a poet.
Goes to show you.
The Coolest Job, or, the Most Cool Job
English teacher that I am, I had to correct the prompt for today from NaBloPoMo:
What did you think was the coolest job in the world when you were younger? Do you still feel that way now?
I honestly can’t remember, other than the job of teacher, which was the job that always attracted me.
Here I am at my desk in 1972, teaching 7th grade English.
Now, after forty years of teaching, although I have loved my job, I find many other jobs more “cool.”
If I had known myself better, and known all the opportunities better, perhaps I would have chosen something else.
No point in doing the “if only” game.
However, I think one of the most cool jobs would be an ornithologist/naturalist – the kind that bands birds.
Another cool job would be a professional gardener.
I have come to love the BBC show Rosemary and Thyme, not because it’s a particularly good mystery series, but because of the gardens which are always the backdrop. I watch it for the gardens.
I would never have said this forty years ago.
Goes to show you.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Treat.”
My list of indulgences has shrunk, due to a medical condition caused by radiation damage, the result of ( successful) cancer treatment from six years ago. I live on a low residue diet. This means I have bid farewell to my much loved Mexican food, Indian food, and Chinese food, as well as nuts , fresh vegetables, and fresh fruits. The consequences of indulging in these are so dire that I don’t mind abstaining from them.
The good news is that I can still eat much of the fattening treats I’ve always relished!
Last night I made Monkey Bread, which is much appreciated by myself and my sisters.
photo from Pillsbury
Easy to make , and sinfully delicious!
The fragrance of it as it is baking is more than most people can stand.