tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11110416916331438752011-12-31T16:45:42.621-05:00Memories, Music & MiscellanyKathy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16276462938113788129noreply@blogger.comBlogger81100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1111041691633143875.post-30997239690296524052011-05-03T00:39:00.000-04:002011-05-03T00:39:49.427-04:00

Friends So Much has been penned about friends To the point where we don’t even hear All those cliche words that fly at a closed ear… Until the day we think our world will end And we’re saved in the nick of time by a friend! Today, I am thankful for my real, honest-to-goodness true friends — no long post — no gushing – no cliches – no long dissertation.  Just simply, “thank you.”  May you be

Kathy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16276462938113788129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1111041691633143875.post-73024655140006761542011-05-03T00:30:00.000-04:002011-05-03T00:30:50.175-04:00

Hollywood glitz … at first overshadowed by taller people, more mature acts and elaborate stage settings … lost in the overpowering bright lights … a tiny, ten year old emerges from the shadows into the bright lights.  Adorable, with dancing eyes and a naturally engaging warm little girl smile, she opened her mouth and began to sing.  Suddenly, this tiny figure’s voice overshadowed and

Kathy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16276462938113788129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1111041691633143875.post-70635408335176565972011-05-03T00:09:00.000-04:002011-05-03T00:09:38.474-04:00

They’re great neighbors whom everyone loves.  Their two delightful primary and elementary age daughters are textbook examples of courtesy and a conversation with them reveals intelligent minds filled with knowledge and curiosity beyond their years, while still retaining the innocence of childhood.  They’ve graced the neighborhood with their presence since before the youngest was born so

Kathy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16276462938113788129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1111041691633143875.post-10955957014303838372011-05-03T00:03:00.000-04:002011-05-03T00:03:49.612-04:00

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”  From as early as I can remember and without hesitation, I always answered, “I want to be a teacher.”  I suspect that unequivocal decision resulted from a combination of factors.  I loved books, learning and school.  A few family friends whom I looked up to were teachers.  I loved children and planned on getting married and having kids, so a

Kathy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16276462938113788129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1111041691633143875.post-66309387603201315542011-05-02T19:56:00.000-04:002011-05-02T19:56:36.676-04:00

Childhood birthday parties were a lot of fun shared with family and school friends while playing games, singing, dancing, eating and opening presents.  The end of the party might have been the end of the celebration but for one important task that had to be done as soon as possible, preferably within a few days — writing thank you notes to all who came.  You thanked them as you opened their

Kathy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16276462938113788129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1111041691633143875.post-91995194785653237392011-05-02T19:38:00.001-04:002011-05-02T19:43:37.661-04:00

My Roman Catholic early childhood, deep in the days of Vatican I, positioned me in the center of a vast, almost-cathedral like church where the priest turned his back on the people or towered over them from his preaching perch known as the pulpit.  Mass was said in a language called Latin that most of us did not understand, but the beautiful echoing sounds of the Gregorian masses we both

Kathy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16276462938113788129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1111041691633143875.post-51441291320469981192011-05-02T19:32:00.000-04:002011-05-02T19:32:00.044-04:00

Song is not necessarily music produced by instruments or words sung by human voices.  This Saturday, I was awakened to a semi-chaotic melody produced by nature — otherwise known as a thunderstorm.  As a very young child, I used to sit on the porch during a storm, watching the wind blow sheets of rain in many directions while thunder echoed in both my ears and my heart, much like the boom

Kathy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16276462938113788129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1111041691633143875.post-29879675801818631272011-05-02T15:37:00.001-04:002011-05-02T15:38:36.587-04:00

There are no empty spaces on my bookshelves. My bookcases are not the neat ones you see in furniture showrooms – a perfectly coordinated blend of designer sculpture pieces, flowers in vases, photo frames and just a few books precisely placed and coordinated with empty space to show off each individual component of the picture. Piled, stacked, bunched, overloaded and topsy-turvy would more

Kathy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16276462938113788129noreply@blogger.com0