|
My mother
was a fantastic lady. She passed in 2018 at 104 years "young" and loved
every minute of life. Until a few years ago, she
contributed many wonderful homemade items that I sold in
my salon. She made dishcloths, dishtowels, slippers,
doilies - you name it. My clients always looked forward
to purchasing these items for gifts or for themselves so
I dedicated a page on my web site to her. She loved
"to putter around" as she put it, but has slowed down.
Circumstances have led to her now living in a more skilled
care facility in Grand Rapids, MN - Sugar Brook Villa.
She suffered a mild heart attack a few years ago but
came out of it just fine. She recently had cataract
surgery in both eyes, and marvels at what she can see now
at age "104" which she just turned January 24, 2018.
Amazing lady for sure.
It
wouldn’t seem right not to continue to include her on my
web page as she has been a very influential person in my
life. She has a plethora of poetry in her head and it
spewed out often. She used to always make up poems, so
they were included in “Meditations while Embroidering”,
but she has slowed down a little in that area as well. So
I thought I would quote her favorite poem from Alice in
Wonderland, “Twas Brillig” by Lewis Carroll…..Love and
miss being around you mom! You were my person!
Jabberwocky
Lewis Carroll,
1832 -
1898
‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
“Beware the Jabberwock, my son
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”
He took his vorpal sword in hand;
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
He chortled in his joy.
‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
|
|
