Loving our Memories


 You can see them alongside the shuffleboard courts in Florida or on the porches of the old folks’ homes up north: an old man with snow-white hair, a little hard of hearing, reading the newspaper through a magnifying glass; an old woman in a shapeless dress, her knuckles gnarled by arthritis, wearing sandals to ease her aching arches.

They are holding hands, and in a little while they will totter off to take a nap, and then she will cook supper, not a very good supper and they will watch television, each knowing exactly what the other is thinking, until it is time for bed. They may even have a good, soul-stirring argument, just to prove that they still really care. And through the night they will snore unabashedly, each resting content because the other is there.

They are in love, they have always been in love, although sometimes they would have denied it. And because they have been in love they have survived everything that life could throw at them, even their own failures.  Ernest Havemann, Bits & Pieces, June 24, 1993, pp. 7-9.


If we discovered that we had five minutes left to say all we wanted to say, every telephone booth would be occupied by people calling other people to stammer that they love them. Why wait until the last five minutes?   C. Morley


Reflections From Karan: 

As I watched my husband hang up each of our daughters’ wedding pictures in our new home, I remembered all the laughter, joy, and craziness of their childhood. In the quietness of our dream home, I am left with quiet memories of endless dishes, piles of dirty clothes, backpacks filled to overflowing, and always racing to get somewhere quick. It was a time we thought would never end. Continuous games, parties, and worry. Wishing for five minutes of peace and quiet, and telling myself someday I would have time to do all the things I dreamed of.