tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-830894639352041376.post2608508667411651163..comments2023-03-23T09:03:34.333-05:00Comments on The World Will Know: 625 words, more on identityMr. Neuburgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12921805215484499329noreply@blogger.comBlogger7125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-830894639352041376.post-18622017883804652092008-08-20T10:34:00.000-05:002008-08-20T10:34:00.000-05:00Thomas, the time you spent with your dad seemed tr...Thomas, the time you spent with your dad seemed truly meaningful. Though the experience was special for you, I'm sure the walk down Memory Lane that your dad shared with you was just as precious for him.Valeriehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12052015016813954389noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-830894639352041376.post-69942377148574528122008-08-20T10:24:00.000-05:002008-08-20T10:24:00.000-05:00Thomas, it sounds as if the time you spent with yo...Thomas, it sounds as if the time you spent with your dad was so meaningful. Though it meant a lot to you, I'm sure the walk down Memory Lane shared with his son was just as precious to him.Valeriehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12052015016813954389noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-830894639352041376.post-58409812333994223112008-08-14T10:48:00.000-05:002008-08-14T10:48:00.000-05:001. Ilka, I count the words because I think I'm wor...1. Ilka, I count the words because I think I'm wordy. I try to go lean. There is a real prideful part of me that has these pipedreams of being a speechwriter some day, and making every word meaningful and powerful are essential. <BR/>2. Danielle, why is the place of your childhood no longer a physical place? In a personal application, following Katrina, and still now, people in New Orleans have been so adamant about not demolishing completely destroyed homes. There is no way the house can be made liveable; it is necessary for it to be razed. But still people hold on to that place in their life where there was a sense of permanance. It makes no rational sense, other than the indefinable connection between people and place. What about when places become torturous reminders of evil?<BR/>3. Larry, I'll listen to your stories all day long. Keep writing them; someday you will pass them on to a great readership.tmmaerkehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00330601876214144492noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-830894639352041376.post-83883532257154770622008-08-12T17:02:00.000-05:002008-08-12T17:02:00.000-05:00I love the ramblings. As I age, I find those metap...I love the ramblings. As I age, I find those metaphors and snapshots in time to have more significance. I believe my sense of place changes as I draw ever so slowly to the end of my mortality. My memories serve me well. I have learned to appreciate each moment as fully as possible. However, without living in the past or future, I still keep an eye on both. My memories provide me with opportunities to write about, talk about, and think about. When I think about the future, I realize those stories written and told, and those photographs taken will tell the story of my life. The accuracy of the story depends on the number of artifacts collected. The only thing I am concerned about in regards to how others remember me is whether or not I may have spread some joy their way.<BR/>Right now, I still have much life to live, but I can also see a day where I am living in a reality where living in my memories is more pleasant. I watch my parents age, and my dad more frequently tells great stories from his memory. I grab onto them because I know I won't have anything except these memories when he is gone. <BR/><BR/>How's this for rambling?Mr. Neuburgerhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12921805215484499329noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-830894639352041376.post-29511241083759180732008-08-12T08:38:00.000-05:002008-08-12T08:38:00.000-05:00To have a sense of place means not only to know wh...To have a sense of place means not only to know where you've come from and what bits of your history have made you who you are today. It also means to know this part of you and carry it with you - to find a sense of place wherever you may be. I find this difficult when a place of childhood, a sanctuary for imagination and play, is no longer a physical place. To connect to memory becomes somewhat of a melancholy way of viewing place. Everything becomes a metaphor of place, a photograph of a memory, or a passing thought of what once was. It is no longer tangible. The hardest part of that, for me, is the inability I have of sharing that place with my children. It's hard because the stories have no home to reside in - they merely float about and never seem grounded, or even real, again. <BR/><BR/>I guess, the conclusion has to be that it's okay. To bring myself and my place to my children or just me, means it's okay to tell stories, to touch artifacts, and to keep the tangible place resurrected if only in my mind and written stories.<BR/><BR/>~Danielle<BR/>(Thanks for putting up with my rambling writing as well.)Mrs. Bethunehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05414335456062991542noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-830894639352041376.post-52582670754497831542008-08-12T00:12:00.000-05:002008-08-12T00:12:00.000-05:00I'm curious. What are the thoughts behind countin...I'm curious. What are the thoughts behind counting the words in your posts?Ilkahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02725480468595705244noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-830894639352041376.post-84401389608938041532008-08-10T23:13:00.000-05:002008-08-10T23:13:00.000-05:00Thomas,There are so many stories here. It would b...Thomas,<BR/>There are so many stories here. It would be a nifty book project...someday. I am intrigued by the snippets and would be interested to know more, especially how you connect to the story told by your father. <BR/>Thanks for sharing!Ilkahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02725480468595705244noreply@blogger.com