Raige Creations

A wonderful memory that came back to me, thanks to my sister. Our Dad playing this song throughout our childhood, a memory of his from his teenage and young man years. Our dad was a musician, among other things . His mother a piano and organ teacher, back when jobs for the wives and mothers were unusual unless in times of economic need. Which was the case back during the Great Depression, when my father was a teenager. She taught him the skills, and he was a very decent pianist and organist. She taught us too, when we were little. Though I never practiced like I should have, and it was evident during my lessons. I think I was 5 years old or so. No surprise there that practicing was never long enough or serious enough. There were too many other things to keep me occupied when I was that age, like the fish tank that was right near the piano. Hard to stay focused on boring scales when little fish-ies were so much more interesting. But this song was a favorite of our dad. He pl...

Thanks to M.L. Gardner , my chocolates source: Raige Creations Yes, I will be talking about chocolate, again. I so enjoyed the Godiva chocolates I won , not just because they were SO delish, but because it made me stop, relax, and enjoy the company I was with. It also brought back memories of when I was young. My father used to buy Whitman's Samplers every holiday, no doubt bought from the pharmacy on the corner.  It was his special treat for the family, probably one he continued from his childhood. His young years were during the Great Depression (the era of Author M.L. Gardner's 1929 series which are my latest favorite books), and I am sure chocolates were a fine treat indeed. His family was from Philadelphia, where the chocolates originated so no doubt this tradition came from his father, my grandfather. A true family tradition. source: Whitmans.com Not the fanciest, and certainly not expensive, the Whitman Sampler chocolates were all his family could ...

via weheartit.com This phrase was muttered to me last Friday by my Dear Hubby:  'Where is the Love?' Of course, this beautiful song by the Black Eyed Peas   (this was  their first hit ) popped into my head. I had missed a call from hubby because I was on the phone with my oldest son. He had called me from college to let me know he had received the package I had sent him.  Hubby said "Why'd he call you? What about me?" Poor hubby felt what I am sure every father feels at one time or another. Mom gets all the love. We were just discussing this fact while watching football the night before. It is most evident with sport stars, who always buy their mothers houses, cars, and say 'HI' to Mom at the camera.  Apparently Dad's start to feel unloved! Where IS the love for the Dads? (And yes, I picked hubby's least favorite QB for this fine example. Sorry hun.) What hubby forgets is that he and my ...

Today is a day of remembering. A day of appreciation. A day we think of those we have lost who have given us a gift so precious. My father, before he left for the war. Today, I have been thinking about my father, who gave us this gift. He served in WWII in the Armored Division. He entered the war on the beaches of France, and traveled across Europe until they reached Germany. He never spoke about the war to us kids. He always became quiet and pensive when the topic came up.  My father, on some R&R  in France during the war. After he passed away, we found these pictures and learned little bits about his time serving his country. We finally understood ~ he was protecting us from the horrors of war.  He served his time so his world, and his future children could be safe. It was as simple as that and there was no need to discuss. It got me to thinking how ' small and unimportant all my troubles seems to be, and how lucky another day belongs to me...

Post Father's Day. I hope everyone had a wonderful day yesterday and got to celebrate it with wonderful Dad's. To honor Father's Day, I bring you Everclear . A troubled lead singer creates touching, meaningful, great songs. Thanks, in a very round about way, to Dad. Ironic, isn't it?