Dowry Details And Dirty Deeds

“My dear Beatrice …” Mum read aloud from the letter in her hand.

Postman has just delivered the mail …

Sister and I dared not meet each other’s eye. Bit our lips to keep from giggling.

“I don’t think you will recall me.  I was a friend of your cousins, Daisy and Rosie, and have met you in their company on a few occasions in our young days.”

Mum’s voice rose to a squeak.  “I write to you now regarding my son …”

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Some mother’s boy …

Sister and I held our breath.  Our lips trembled with mirth.

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Hmm …

“He is a good boy.  Very sober and steady (no vices whatsoever).  He graduated as a doctor …..”

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Mum’s eye popping out of her head …
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So his mother says …

Sister swallowed hard.  Her shoulders shook.  I covered my mouth with my hand.

“We have heard about the goodness of your daughters.  People all say they are good and smart, clever girls …”

No vices whatsoever/ the goodness of your daughters … good grief … who even writes like that?

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And so the letter went …
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From one mother to another …

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Sis and I barely contain ourselves …

 

 

Mum eyes continued to scan the handwritten lines. “I would be so happy to hear from you regarding this matter if your elder girl is still unattached.  My friend, Mrs. Mills, tells me she is 22 years of age.  In fact, your sister, Ruby …”                    

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Aunty Ruby, Mum’s older sister

 

I’m the ‘elder girl’, Mrs. Mills is Aunty Ruby’s sister-in-law …

“You may remember the times we shared as children.”  Mum began to look puzzled.

Her jaw finally dropped when she came to the end of the letter.  “PS:  We prefer a spacious house in Colombo with garden and attached baths.”

Dowry details!  Eek …

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Who better than a boy’s fond mama to take the bull by the horns …

We could almost read Mum’s thoughts –

What cheek!

 “I don’t remember this lady,” Mum mumbled almost to herself, and ran to the phone to dial Aunty Ruby’s number.

Hello, how are you dear? I just received a strange letter … sounds a little eccentric … who are these people?”

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Definitely not!

Sister and I held our sides and roared.  We laughed ourselves into stitches.

It all began some months before, when a close school friend of Mum’s asked if she would contact the family of Aunty Pearl’s neighbour (who had an eligible son) regarding a formal proposal of marriage for their youngest daughter.

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Aunty Pearl (Mum’s oldest sibling) with Sister and Mum (right) when sis and I were little

Girl in question was pretty, a recent university graduate, now on the Marriage Market. Parents were anxious to have her fixed up and settled.

True story, honest (down to the phraseology)! Absolutely no embellishment …  

Older sister of said Young Lady got entangled with Completely Unacceptable Young Man and eloped when well-to-do Daddy refused to give his consent.  Daddy disowned her.  A year later, when First Grandchild was born, Starving Couple were ushered back into the family fold.

Get the picture? God forbid that history should repeat itself, right? Okay, so stage is set …

Mum obliged and our home served as venue for introduction between Sweet Young Thing and Very Acceptable Beau.

Cousin Ranji was staying over that weekend.  She, Sister and I eavesdropped from behind the drawing room drapes.      

No TV in Sri Lanka then.  This was far better, delicious entertainment, served up on a platter …                         

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Me (left) and Sister (centre) with Cousin Ranji, possibly that same weekend. 
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We had too much fun to miss TV when we were kids.  (Pic. of Daughters celebrating 12th birthday at Disney World)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Young Pair sat at one end of the room to get acquainted.  Mothers made small talk close by.

Recipes and stuff …

Two dads at farthest corner.

Mum and Dad sat in on the powwow – being it was their home and all.  Awkward …

Things suddenly grew ugly.  Raised daddy-voices.

Dirty dowry matters …

Young Man’s father haggled for more. 

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What Girl’s Dad said …
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What Boy’s Father hoped to hear …

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sweet Young Thing’s father finally agreed to throw in a lorry along with the house and land.  

Or something like that  …

Cousin Ranji, Sis and I are horrified. 

 We’ve travelled back into antiquity …

 Deadlock.  Evening concludes in chilly huff.

But no one counted on Young Pair falling madly in love.    

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Definitely! Head over heels for each other …

Completely unexpected turn of events …

Now unacceptable, Young Man contacted and romanced Sweet Young Thing on the sly.

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Was it ever! Boy, oh boy …

 

 

 

 

 

Mum politely declined when asked to intervene.

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He won’t!

Sweet Young Thing phones to weep on Mum’s shoulder …

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Persistent suitor 

 

 

 

 

Romeo and Juliet elope to overseas destination.  Daddy disowns Little Girl, then throws arms wide open when she returns from honeymoon with baby on the way.

 Yay!  Forgive and forget …                                                                         

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They defiantly tied the knot

Found out later that Rejected Romeo and one of the cousins were co-workers at the time of Nebulous Nuptial Goings On.  They were  quite good friends and  I’d met him at one of her birthday parties.

Only in Sri Lanka …

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Found an old scrapbook of letters and cards written by Sister, cousins and me when we were children.  Carefully dated and captioned by Mum.     

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Mum was sentimental about everything.  She would have kept every birthday and Christmas card she ever received if Dad hadn’t protested.

Sis and I wrote little notes and longer letters all the time.

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Me (left) with Sister.  Probably born with a pen in my hand!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 About everything.

Hilarious notes from Sister …

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Thank you for being so kind.  Please buy peppermints! (No idea why she asked for prayer …)
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Forgive me for being so rude.  I am very hungry … (Looks like she went  to bed without dinner.  Don’t recall the incident.)
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I fell ill today.  Feel very much down in the dumps.  (Sis was a precocious little thing)

 

 

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From me. My dearest Mummy … Written while spending some days with Cousin Dili at Aunty Ruby’s home.  The younger cousins all went to Sunday School together

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mostly to Mum.

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Sister’s handwriting

 So when it came time to play a prank on a long-suffering mother, inspired by              recent events, one would automatically resort  to letter-writing.

“My dear Beatrice …”

Poor Mum.  We teased her unmercifully and she was always such a good sport about it.  Don’t think Sister or I ever ‘fessed up or divulged the source of the written proposal of marriage that once came my way.        

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We kept out lips sealed!

Dirty deeds!

And now I’ve two daughters of my own.

Full circle.  What goes around surely comes around!

The memories flooded in when eyes wandered over the yellowed sheet of notepaper taped to the fraying page of Mum’s scrapbook.

With sister’s heavily disguised handwriting on it.  She must have figured it out …

Thankful for Mum’s sentimentality that induced her save all this stuff.

Pure gold …

Like these home-made cards from her nieces –

A definite artistic bent in the family …

 — and the self portrait I drew.

A fairly good likeness of my gawky pre-teen self …

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The unflattering self portrait!
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The real bespectacled me with Sis (and Dad inside car)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sister needs to work on her spelling in this one –

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S ..EPRISE!!!

Golden memories.  A sweet, mellow time.              

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Strolling down the quiet corridors of memory lane ..

When we were very young …

 

 

Until next time,

sincerely

 

 

 

 

 

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Garlands for the bride and groom.  Aunty Ruby and Uncle Prince at Mum and Dad’s wedding.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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I found a really great one, thanks!
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Reprise.  Aunty Ruby and Uncle Prince with garlands at my wedding.

 

                                                                   

                                                                  

 

       

That Corner Chair

Ever paused to check out what folks are doing at bus stops, or observed  parents with kids in restaurants, in the park?

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Eyes on phone.  Caregiver of disabled children. In local mall.
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In the mall at Christmastime.  Not interested in atmosphere, decorations,  festive music.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The forty-something-and-under phenomenon.  Hunched over phones …

Shook my head head in disbelief as I took this one –

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Youngster manning Salvation Army Christmas Kettle – crouched over phone and halfheartedly ringing bell with free hand.  Guess why kettle’s almost empty.
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As it should be.  Smiling Kettle Person happy to pose at WalMart.  Couldn’t help emptying  my purse of all its spare change.

Times have changed. Sad.

Life’s blazing flicker moments come and go.  In plain sight.

So easy to miss …

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Happened to look out of window as sun rose last week.    Picked up phone and clicked.   

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Sunrise over neighbour’s home

Minutes later –                                                     

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Brighter, more gold

Stark contrast in brightness of light and sharpness of shadow.  Parable for the day –

Only a matter of time before things get brighter …      

Might have missed the golden moments in morning haste, if I hadn’t happened to look.  ……………………………………………………………………………………………………….     Objects have such power to transport me back to associated moments.

 When I look at these – 

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The moment I stand at this bay window, I’m back in assorted paradise climes where I found the shells and starfish
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Enormous bathroom collage of shells from  shores around the world.  Daily I re-live the joy of beach-combing.  The sense of remembered joy never fades.

                                                                                                        

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Ah, to be a dewdrop in lush, humid rain forest.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And then there’s Chair-In-The-Corner .

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Husband’s maternal grandpa’s chair.  Over a century old, from Kopay, Jaffna.  

Hansi putuwa in the vernacular.  Translated: resting chair

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Infant Husband with grandfather on said Corner Chair .

Miracle child, my husband.  Survived despite all odds.

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Cutie Pie- now mine!

Parents who dared to believe.  Mother with dogged faith –

He’s going to be okay …

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Husband with parents after christening at St. Luke’s Anglican Church, Borella.  (Left) Maternal grandparents, (right) Paternal grandparents
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“Hi there!”.  Dad, Mom and precious first born (two brothers to follow)

– and Maternal Granny who pretty much slept with head in his crib at night that first year.

Just in case …            

Grew to be strong as an ox, that babe, healthy as a horse.                     

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A deep, strong bond to the very end of her life. Husband and Ammamma (His mom’s mom). 

And married me …  

Testimony to power of prayer, faith,  love, positive thinking.

 

 

 

 

………………………………………………………………………………….

Visually struck by the obvious.  See how reflection in mirror changes.

Depending on where I stand,  angle I look from …

Another parable?  Sort of.

How do I perceive situations that arise?

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It will, but can it hold you?
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Need more

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Consider, ponder on definition of joy.  An inner grace, un-dependent on circumstances.  Ability to be thankful.  To see the glass  half full, not half empty.  To look back with gratitude.    

And embrace even the unbearable uglies …

To be able to evoke music from within –     

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Music from within??

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Determined to believe the best is yet to come.      

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“The best is yet to come”.  Caption on van zipping past on Saturday morning.

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Thankful husband’s life was spared to marry me.  Thankful for our daughters.

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He and Me.  Post-cancer treatment cruise.  Sketched Antigua, West Indies. (Bears passing resemblance to Husband, None at all to me.)
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New York City artist.  Striking reproduction of the twins’ ‘inner essence’ 

    

 

 

 

Thankful for nine cancer-free years.       

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Pink ribbons for breast cancer.  Holy Spirit Dove.  Mother-in-law’s handiwork.  A gift to celebrate the end of chemo.  Always grateful for in-laws’ loving care and support.

 

 

 

 

Wordless gratitude …  

Wishing you thankful joy today.   May it sidle sweetly in and entice you to come out and play –

In spite of yourself …

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Until next time,   

sincerely

Faith We Follow

“There was a crash.  The knife came down, barely missed my eye. Blood everywhere…”

I can almost hear Mum’s voice.  Wish I’d paid more attention to details.

Her tales often commenced with all six of us.  img_8482

Pearl, Ruby, Peter, Dan, Beatrice, Elizabeth …  

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“All six of us” (1976).  Seated (left to right): Beatrice, Pearl, Ruby, Elizabeth.  Standing (extreme left): Peter, (extreme right): Dan, the brothers-in-law behind their wives -(Left to right: Prins, Sub, Prince, Selva)

Mum:  So all six of us climbed into Babby’s cot with the cake Alice baked.  We found it on the kitchen table.  Just as Petes lifted the bread knife and said, ‘Let’s have a piece’, the cot collapsed.  The knife came down on my forehead.  It narrowly missed my eye.”

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Alice, the family retainer who helped cook and keep house, the hapless victim of boyish pranks.

Peter and Dan – Petes and Danma to us nieces and nephews – youthful villains.

Baby Elizabeth was Baba.  Babby to the next generation.

Me: (doing mental calculation) But Mum, if Babby was say … five, and you … eight, the others would have ranged in age from eighteen and under.  How could all six of you have squeezed into a baby’s bed – with a cake and knife?

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Gifted teller of jokes and stories,  writer, mimic par excellence.  Mum loved to laugh.    

 Mum’s a storyteller, not a mathematician.  It’s how she remembers …

Mum:  On Sunday evenings we had family prayers.  On our knees.  They went on forever.

Her eyes are brimming with memories …

Mum:  We quietly slipped away into the kitchen to have a feast.

Me:  All six of you …

Mum: Poor Alice.  No one listened to her protests.  The patties were for the visitors.  She made lovely patties.  We ate everything we could find and crept back to the living room, knelt down and folded our hands.

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They did!

Me: And No one noticed?

Mum:  No.  And E.T.S Aunty was so impressed by our piety,   we all got  toffees.  She said we were good children!

E.T.S Granny (always known by her initials), Grandpa’s widowed sister, frequent visitor, devout, determined lady, given to eloquent, lengthy prayers.     

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Lo-o-ong prayers

Mum:  One Sunday evening, Geo Uncle came to visit.

Me: At prayer time?

She’s chuckling …

Mum:  Petes used a coat hanger to start Uncle’s car.  We all climbed in.

Me:  All six of you …

Mum:  He drove to Geo Uncle and Malar Aunty’s house.  We ate all the goodies Malar Aunty fed us and drove back home again.

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George  (Geo Uncle, poet, man of letters) and Malar Perinpanayagam on holiday in hill country with Beatrice (Mum)  She spent a lot of time with them in their early married life.

Me:  And their eyes were closed, they were still praying?

I’m laughing with her …

 Mum:  He never knew!

Me:  And Malar Aunty?

Mum:  I don’t think she ever told him.

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Lest we forget!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Shadrach Samuel Esquire, aspiring businessman aged 32, won the hand of Miss. Mercy Newton of Chundikuli, Jaffna.  As legend has it, the friends of the sixteen-year-old bride called out over the fence as she walked past the schoolyard of the local girls’ school, on her way to church to be married.         

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Miss Mercy Newton, second daughter of Charles and Rose Newton of Chundikuli, Jaffna

Shadrach and Mercy set up home in Colombo, sleepy metropolis of colonial Ceylon.  

He founded the iconic engineering firm, Samuel Sons.  

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Samuel Sons, founded 1922.  70th anniversary commemorative mug.  Uncle Peter, an artist, designed the logo.

                                 

 

 

 

The union produced six children.

  A seventh, Mum remembers as Bertie, succumbs to an untimely demise as an infant …                                                       

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Shadrach & Mercy Samuel and offspring.  Left to right:  Ruby, Pearl (seated), Dan (seated) and Peter.  Baby Beatrice held by Dad.  (Elizabeth was born a year or two later)

Grandma Mercy died in her sleep at age 33.  Cause of death unknown.

Mum recalls asthma and a family history of heart disease  …

Rajes Aunty, seventeen-year-old bride, moved in with new husband, Thurai Perinpanayagam (Grandma Mercy’s cousin) to help take care of a brood of children, some of them almost her age. 

To this day, Rajes Aunty occupies a special place in all our hearts.

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Looking good!  Aunty Rajes Perinpanayagam celebrates 90 years (2015)  Husband and I made a detour on a summer road trip, to attend the surprise party at her son’s home in Connecticut

The siblings grew closer to one another.                         img_20150805_222918

All six of us …  

Grandpa Shadrack never recovered from his loss.  Well meaning aunties and clucking grannies suggested umpteen prospective brides to grace his hearth and mother the children.

Mum:  He always said, “There was only one woman for me.  God who took her away from me will take care of my children.”

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Grandpa’s was. (Photo of picture hanging in friend Evelyn’s home.  Painted by her niece.)

Me:  Do you remember her, Mum?

Mum:  Of course!  She was slim and pretty, darling, gentle, soft-spoken, a lady through and though. Always simply and tastefully attired. She was an artist, she painted beautifully.  I remember whenever she baked a cake, she let me stir the batter and lick the spoon.  I got a new dress every year, for my birthday.  She cut it out herself and made me turn the wheel of the sewing machine for her.  She used to call me Pambaram.

Me:  Pambaram?

Mum:  Because I was a tomboy.  I could never sit still.  It means spinning top in Tamil.  She played the piano.  On Sundays, all six of us would stand ‘round and sing hymns.

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Tomboy Beatrice.  How she was allowed to pose for a formal picture dressed like this is a mystery.

Me:  It must have been awful after she died.

Mum:   We had Daddy.  We loved him. He was strict, of course, but such a kind, generous man. He helped everyone.  Babby and I secretly called him Dixie Daddy from a song on the radio hit parade.  We giggled every time we said it.

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Dixie Daddy!
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Super Daddy Samuel …

 

 

 

Me:  Did you miss having a mother, Mum?

Mum:  Of course, darling.  On the day she died, I  asked God why he took my mummy away.  I was six.  Babby was only three.  I made up my mind to eat all my vegetables and grow strong, so I would be fit and well and never die and leave my children all alone.  But we had each other, it was a happy home.

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All six of us …

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Picture of Dixie Daddy on Mum’s autograph album
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1954.  Grandpa’s signature in Mum’s album:  S.C. Samuel.  He wrote:  “Let kind thoughts, words, wishes and deeds and the spirits thereof be ours and of those around us.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Church was an important part of family life.

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St. Paul’s Milagiriya, Colombo, where the Samuel family worshiped and most of the children and grandchildren (myself included) were married.  (Mum and Dad in bridal car, Beatrice’s wedding, 1961)
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Dad at St. Paul’s after morning service on his 80th birthday (2016)

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And faith.

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Malar Aunty wrote in Mum’s album in 1955: “Behind life’s darkest clouds, God’s love is always shining …”

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As cousins, we have childhood memories of our mothers and aunts talking for ages on the phone.  Cousin Dileeni and I often recreated these conversations – to loud applause and gales of laughter – at family-gathering kid-concerts, 

“How are you, dear?” ” Did Alice come today?”  “Can you believe the price of sugar these days?”

They couldn’t do without each other.            

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Sisters:  (Standing left to right) Pearl, Ruby, Elizabeth.  (Seated)  Beatrice

Time marched on. 

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Pearl and Sub (Dr & Mrs J.T. Subramaniam)
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Ruby and Prince (Dr & Mrs R.P. Rajakone)

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pearl and Ruby married their doctors.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Peter and Dan sailed off to the United Kingdom to pursue engineering degrees.

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Dashing sportsman, artist, dreamer.  Uncle Peter (left) engineering student in  England. (1950s)
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A brilliant mind.  Uncle Dan (front left),  also engineering student, England (1950s)

   

             

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Uncle Dan never married.  There were whispers of a mysterious Swedish lady who  broke his heart.

         

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mum kept house for Grandpa and played doting aunty to a growing circle of adoring nieces and  nephews.

They called her Bety …

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The tribe of Samuel grandchildren at Mum and Dad’s engagement party.  Waiting to be born: Sister and Me, and Shiro (Babby’s daughter)

Tragedy struck again.  Grandpa Shadrach died unexpectedly, after routine surgery.  He was only 63.  Mum was 19 years old, Babby just 16.        

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Newspaper clipping.  Obituary notice.

Shadrach and Mercy united in death, buried side by side ….

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Together forever, Shadrach and Mercy (Anglican Section, Kanatte Cemetry, Colombo)

Mum and Babby clung to each other –

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Beatrice and Elizabeth outside Westholme, Kinross Avenue, the sprawling family home by the sea
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Babby wrote in Mum’s autograph album:  “There’s no friend like a sister, in calm or stormy weather …” (Signed: Beth)
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Babby, an artist like her mother, probably painted this page for Mum
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Mum’s signature on her autograph album.  Her maiden name.
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Dr Elizabeth Samuel.  Congratulations!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Peter took over the headship of the firm.

Elizabeth attended medical school. 

Mum ran the family home for Uncle Peter, wrote wonderfully imaginative short stories that were published in the newspapers, taught Sunday School and created exquisite cakes for nieces and nephews, an abundance of relatives and friends. 

The artistic, thespian, writing/storytelling genes run strong in this family line …

 

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Grandpa was a man of faith, a praying man.

His example rubbed off.  Mum was a staunch believer in the power of prayer. 

I remember Sunday evenings with Mum at the old piano of her girlhood (now situated in her own home), singing the same beloved hymns she sang as a child.

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Mum taught Sister and Me this hymn

I remember us as little girls – Sister and I – kneeling by our beds as Mum taught us to pray.  I remember Mum reading from a book of devotionals, holding hands with Dad, Sister and Me (in our tiny school uniforms) and sending us off for the day with a prayer.

Sister and I often made fun, called her Saint Beatrice.

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Mum learned from Grandpa Shadrach. 

They prayed, things happened …

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Hanging in our home

               

   

   I learned from Mum.  

   Much older now, I’m an ardent              believer in  the mountain-moving        power of prayer.

     Faith we follow …

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Worked for Grandpa.  Worked for Mum.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Just dialed long distance to talk to Babby – godmother, second mum — in Bethesda, Maryland. 

The pain of missing Mum is less when she and I talk …

Babby is the only one left.  She feels it badly.

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Elizabeth (left) and Beatrice (Babby and Bety).  Mum adored her baby sister.  Babby and Mum were close, right to the end of Mum’s life.

 

Asked about the size of the cot.  Says she slept in it till she was around eight years old. 

All six of us?  

It must have been a humongous piece of baby furniture!

 

 

Called Rajes Aunty some months back, posed questions about the family tree.  She snail-mailed  handwritten details from New York – 

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Appetizer.  Found the Newton/Perinpanayagam connection.  Thank you, Rajes Aunty!

Excited, more curious than ever!

Saw a picture of an ancestor on Facebook recently.

The Perinpanayagam connection, circa 1834  …

 Fascinated.  Impelled to dig deeper into the family tree. 

Mum’s second cousin, Thavo (Geo Uncle’s nephew), e-mailed more puzzle pieces from New Zealand –

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A snippet from a fairly lengthy document put together by Uncle Geo’s brother, Stephen Edgar R. Perinpanayagam.  

Cousin Thavo remembers the Noddy cake Mum made:  ” For my sixth birthday in 1959.  It had Noddy’s car and house and even had 2 milk bottles outside the house” …

Discovered that Grandpa Shadrach and Grandma Mercy were distant relatives.

An exhilarating peep into the past.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

It was misty this morning in Toronto. 

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View from front door

Much brighter/warmer in the land of our birth.

Alas for ugly politics, economics:  the clans are scattered worldwide.

Appetite whetted.  Must know more.

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So which came first, the chicken or the egg?
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The pictures fascinate me

 

 

 

 

 

 

These roots go deep.

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Stay  tuned.  More stories to come as more dots are joined.

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Until then,

sincerely

PS:  If you happen to be a branch/ twig/clipping of the Samuel/ Newton/ Perinpanayagam family trees and have old pictures/information, I’d love to hear from you. 

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… grandchildren AND great grand children!

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And I’d be delighted to share what I’ve gathered, with you.  

Thank you!

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All pictures in this post are clicks on Ipad and phone.

If You Could Read My Mind, Love …

Such fond memories of Asterix  comic books.  

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Frolicsome adventures in Roman times.  Fun, puns and ancient history.   Brilliant.  (First publication 1959)

Action-packed illustrations on each page. (Much) Younger Me spends ages poring over each micro-interaction in every frame.

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Have a look at this one below –

Take time, observe … 

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img_7716                             Asterix, the Gaul.   Assorted mirco-moments playing out at  banquet table 

This picture –

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Family-and-friends choir sings at Aunty Joyce-and-Uncle Rajan’s Golden Wedding anniversary party (Summer 2016)

– has that effect.  Urges me back.  Over and over again.  Examine every face, every expression.  Gordon Lightfoot echoes in  head (background music and all!) –

If you could read my mind love, what a tale my thoughts would tell …  

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Gordon Lightfoot (78) , Canadian musician, singer-songwriter

Looking again.  Intently.  Face by face.  Expression by expression.

So what’s going on in the singing heads ?

Ever wondered what it would be like to pitch a tent and spend a day in someone’s mind? 

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Some things are better left unexplored!

 

 

 

 

 

 

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

What I see when eyes open each morning –

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Faintest crack of light slipping through door

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Light.

Husband’s up.  Light brightens, knifes through shadowed gloom.

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Bathroom light goes on
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Light will find a way

       

                       

 

 

Lurking dark recedes.

Heard someone say this recently:  “When night grows darker, light gets brighter.  It has to .”

Sets me thinking.

Light needs darkness to shine.

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Supermoon night.  Blood moon behind clouds
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Neighbour’s window
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Dawn thro’ bathroom blind 

                       

 

 

 

 

 

 

                     Darkness overthrown, must flee.

                      Power and effect of light … 

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Notice how light plays with cloud, makes gloom slide away?

Spectacular …

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                       Dazzling puddles of sunshine all over house –  

Delighted  by indoor rainbows. Heart-stopping joy-moments  in millisecond doses.

Grab I pad.  Tap, click  …   

    

                

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Through crystal candlesticks.  Marianne smiles.
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Bernadette’s tea towel
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… at the end of the rainbow

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

White light passes through clear glass prism, separates into colours.                                       

Grade 10 physics …

There’s a process to create  glorious dispersion of white light into rainbow colours  –

Parable?  Sort of …    

Realize something  –

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LIGHT is only a prayer away.    

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And then …
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… comes light! (Aunty Bongo’s birthday cake)
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Puppy and Tree Angel

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………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

If you could read my mind, if I could read yours ….

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If you could read my mind, love.  What a tale ….
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Husband browsing in junk store.
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Yikes!

Better left untouched?

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Who knows?
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Perhaps …
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Big time!
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Only a prayer away …
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Excuses?

         

      

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Whenever you’re ready …

 

 

 

Let light shine. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

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 Celebrating joy this Christmas season –

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Inside view of backyard
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Outside view from kitchen

May JOY be your gift.

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                                                                                        Puppy believes.  “Hey, Santa?”
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Never in our house!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thankful for daily joy.  Priceless.

Until next time,               img_20161117_190138

sincerely

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Puppy with Mall Santa

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The pictures in this post are moments captured on Ipad and phone.

Support a local author. Like this page on Facebook, share and follow.  Thank you for dropping in.

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They Called Her Mrs B

So Mrs Clinton doesn’t make it.

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All trumped up.  (A photo-shopped Donald?)
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          Hilary Clinton (Pants Suit Lady)                    
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A woman in the White House – ah when, oh, when?

American dreams of woman shattering glass ceiling are … shattered.  

 

 

 

 

 

Glass ceiling on international stage is shattered in 1960 when simple housewife steps into defunct husband’s shoes, becomes world’s first woman premier –

Old enough to remember?

Sirimavo Bandaranaike,  Madam Prime Minister of Ceylon (now Sri Lanka), island home of world’s best tea  …

They called her Mrs B.

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                         Sirimavo Bandaranaike with Soviet Union Prime Minister Alexei Kosygin

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Way to go,  little Boy Scout! (Husband receives award from Mrs B at school prize giving)

Perplexing time in history of the  US of A. 

Glad to be Canadian  

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Begins with you and me … little drops of water, little grains of sand.
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The new reality.  Must it be this way?

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

House renovations are finally done.  Just in time for house guests –

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My snoozing spots are gone, Mama! 
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   Relieved Puppy.  Hip hip hurrah!

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“If you love me, let me be … ” (Puppy and weekend Guest-let)
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Three hearty cheers. No place like home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Arduous weeks prior –

Never again …

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Scrubber, that’s me!  Couldn’t wait to get mop and pail out … 
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Scary without railings, Mama!
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Much better, but slippery now. Carry me up, please …

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Next job: Duct cleaning –

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Quick phone call 
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 Connected up

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stuff comes rumbling through vents into humongous tube.

Me to Duct Guy:  “Unearthed anything interesting over the years?”

Duct Guy:  “A Penthouse magazine once, dead ferret,  mouldy submarine sandwich.” 

Macabre Me: “Never any human body parts?”

Duct Guy (chuckling): “No!”

Boring …

Unseen toxic stuff all gone.   Household breathes so much easier.  

Literally …

Almost as wide as me. Gigantic tubing.

Feels like a parable –

Just because I can’t see what’s inside, doesn’t mean it’s not there and affecting who I am, how I function … 

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Sobering food for thought

 Do I need emotional housecleaning? Any residual gunk and uglies clogging me up?

Hmm …  

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Supermoon last week.  Crazy camera lady checks out rise/set times,  goes moon chasing.  Runs, walks.  Chilly, hungry, determined. 

Won’t to go home without pictures.  Thankful for unseasonably mild weather …

 Sun sets.  Ginormous blood-red orange slips into view above trees.  Bright as sun. 

Gasp!

Ipad and phone won’t do justice to immensity, colour and breathtaking grandeur. 

Pictures don’t record as eye sees. So disappointed.

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Reddish setting moon.  (In the park just before dawn)

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 Summer-like weather most of last week.   Snap pictures of burning, brilliant gardens.

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Ankle-deep 

Neighbours’ leaves all raked, ready for pick up –

Mostly naked trees –

Some still stubbornly clothed –

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Squirrel-y busy-ness –

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In Wai Ling’s front yard

Half chewed apples all over Garden, stalwart summer blooms clinging on for dear life –

Delighted to find last, late (scrawny) strawberry –

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                                                    “Goodbye, my darling.  See you next spring!”

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Seen him a couple of times –

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View from rear.  Glazed eyes.  Unshaven, unwashed.

Looks scruffy and lost. 

Homeless man?                   img_20161121_141352

Wish I could pluck up courage to say hello. 

Fear of rejection …

On my to do list: Talk to him.

 ………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Found this on fly leaf of an old book of Mum’s  –

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Mum’s handwriting.  Miss her gentle wisdom.

Material things were never a big deal with her –

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She said this a lot

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This week’s assignment –

Deal with useless emotional junk.

May take some work …

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Open the doors.  Let it go.
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Mum once told me, “To have hurt feelings is pride.”

 

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… just a willing heart

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………………………………………………………………………………………………

Weather’s changed dramatically.

Trying ignore perpetually chilly toes.

At least I have toes  …

Thankful for toes!

Until next time,

sincerely

PS:  The photos in this post are moments captured on my Ipad and phone.  

Please support a local author – like this page on Facebook and follow.  Thanks for dropping in.

Matchmaker, Matchmaker

“So Grampi, was it love at first sight when you saw her?”

Daughter’s eyes widen, jaw drops when Maternal Grandpa lets out belly laugh.

Hahahahaha …..

 Her romantic notions of darling-sweep-me-off-my-feet-I’m-yours-forever are shattered.

Sister and I glean bits and pieces over the years.

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Sister and me

Dad’s story –

“I came home from work one evening, and Mother told me I was fixed up.

No further discussion …

(Rumour has it that Paternal Grandma in her heyday was a tough bird.)

Fixed up is a direct translation from the vernacular.  There’s a sense of no-way-out about it. 

Matchmakers are Aunty Ruby’s in-laws.

Dad, up-and-coming young banker, is desperate to see what the girl looks like before formal introduction when he and parents visit her home.   Enlists help of Friend Gunam. Friend and he ride Dad’s scooter up and down Mum’s lane.  Young Lady finally makes an appearance on front porch.

Dad and Friend ride away.  Dad is glum.

Friend Gunam’s version:  “He was speechless.  He fell instantly in love.”

Dad’s version:  “I didn’t know what to say.  She looked like nothing on earth!”

Ouch …

Enormous relief to meet the girl a few days later.  Accomplished.  Demure.  Long dark hair.  Pleasant to behold.

Phew …

Turns out young lady on front porch was Neighbour’s Daughter!

Wrong address!

True story – honest – straight from the horse’s mouth.

Mum’s Story –

Me:  “Mum, so what did you think when you saw him?”

Mum:  “He was so handsome, darling.  My heart skipped a beat!”

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Stars in Mum’s eyes!
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Only after  formal engagement and a ring on her finger
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He’s the man!

                         

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The date is fixed.  Here comes the bride …

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All the world and his wife were invited
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Beatrice.  Blushing bride

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Till death do us part

   

 

 

 

 

Uncle Gunam – comrade, confidante, fellow sleuth – is   Bestman.

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Man and wife.  Confetti, flower garlands and smiles.  Dad and Mum on church steps

Fast forward fifty years.   Golden Wedding Anniversary  celebrations.  

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Diamond ring.  Dad and Mum renewing marriage vows at  altar.  
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Order of Service.  Reception dinner and dancing after.

 

 

They  all said it – grannies and great aunts, aunties and elderly widows:

“Love comes after marriage, that’s how it happens.”

Stable, enduring.

Me to Daughters:  “Safer, more trustworthy than E-Harmony dot com, right?”

Daughters shrug and roll their eyes. 

Whatever …

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Love comes after marriage …

So that’s why Grampi laughed out loud.

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Youthful genes and blue jeans.  Grampi with Granddaughters (too long ago)
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Aging nicely.  Grampi and Peter (Sister’s son)

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Little voice from past echoes in my ear.  “Fall is an untidy season, Mommy …”

Second small voice chimes out in agreement.

Aptly put.

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Amazing how Memory Bank unlocks to release unexpected cameo moments. 

Daughters are all grown up now. 

I remember all over again what a pretty season this is.  

Neighbourhood trees are on fire –

Backyard fence is burning up –

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View from upstairs window
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View from kitchen 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Summer’s done.  Falling  in love with fall – all over again.

 

Blazing autumn promenades –  

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Husband and Puppy
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Puppy sniffs neighbour’s pumpkins on garbage day.  (No Hallowe’en celebrations at our house.)
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Eek!

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Tiny joy-moments to take one’s breath away …

(1) Pause to observe a single coloured leaf –

(2) Apple-strewn sidewalk –

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  • (3) Smudge of rainbow in grey sky –                         

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    Gasp of delight, unexpected sight
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    Hello brave rose!

     

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(4) Last lonely rose clinging to neighbour’s fence.

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Thought of Mum when I took these pictures –

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Landscape-in-a-window
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Living room reflected in old mirror

She used to say, “Eyes are the mirror of the soul.” 

Mum’s heart was reflected in her eyes.  Childlike, guile-less.  She drew people to her like a magnet.

Me: “Mum, has it ever bothered you that Dad is so … er  … striking?  Have you ever wished you were … maybe … prettier?”

Mum (puzzled):  “No. Why? Never!”

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Debonair Dad.  Twenty-something bachelor.
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Play on words.  Dad’s name is  Prins.

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They called him Omar Sharif in his day.    

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People leave footprints on our lives.  Mum left indelible prints on mine.

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That’s Mum
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By the lake last summer

Thankful for those who’ve touched my life, influenced my thinking. Thankful for Mum. 

Miss you, Mum.  Miss your loving letters …

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Saved every letter Mum ever wrote to me (until she discovered email)

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Chilly morning today.  Found bird’s nest under tree –

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Straw and clay – avian masterpiece

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In church last Sunday

 

 

 

 

I’ll continue to  cling to thankful.  If it’s all that remains, it’s enough.  

Until next time,

sincerely

PS: All the pictures in this post are moments captured on my IPad and phone. 

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If you enjoyed the post, please like this page, follow and share. Thank you.  xxx

Real Life Sucks

The shadows catch my eye.  Long stooped frame with  cane, smaller figure keeping step.

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Walk with me

His steps falter, hers are spry.  She must have been a pretty woman in her youth.

Pause at traffic lights.  His shadow falls over hers, covers it.  Now they are one.

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Rosalyne and me standing behind them

Symbolic.  

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Young love –  Viking lass and her beau! 
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Can it last?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In my perfect world –

Daughters: “What planet are you living on, Mom?” (Eye roll!)

Planet Naive?  

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He and me 

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Still grappling with a sense of let-down over the Brangelina breakup.  Can’t think why.

Real life sucks. (Borrowing Daughters’ phraseology.) 

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What happened to  till death do us part ?

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All by myself

Aunty Joyce and Uncle Rajan celebrated fifty years this past summer, Husband’s parents mark sixty next year.   

There has to be hope.

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The royal wave. (Rajan and Joyce, 50 years)  
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The In-Laws: Merlin the Magician and Vampire Girl ( Wimsy and Devi, coming on 60 years)
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Always hopeful Puppy.  The crumb will fall. .

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Change of subject.  A well placed seat on a porch/ in a garden corner, is a beckoning invitation.

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Gunther-and-Mary’s backyard
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Patriotic front porch

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Slideshow – more leafy corners and slivers of heaven –

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An old chair in a green nook makes a marvelous stage for a potted plant. These dilapidated abandoned treasures found a home in my Eden –

Love how chairs add charm and character to a space (indoors or out).  Couldn’t love this one, though –

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See through pink plastic – yikes!

When I can’t sleep  I re-live  lovely moments.

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Like these –

  • Time spent with kindred spirits –                                                     
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Rosalyne and me at Word On The Street, downtown Toronto

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  • Rainbows in hosepipe mist and around the house –
  •  Puppy discovers playground –
  • Swathes of morning sunlight –
  •  Dreamin’ ‘n’ dancin’ to the crooning of Six Feet Up

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    Six Feet Up at Fairmount MacDonald.  Music from five decades ago for Golden Wedding Anniversary
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Six Feet Up.  Baby Boomers  – Kevin, Gail and Bruce.  Vocals and wind instruments.  Irresistible toe-tapping nostalgia
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Fifty years.  Rajan and Joyce.  “May I have this dance for the rest of my life?”
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That’s Husband and me!
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Just you and me
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Mine!

 

 

 

 

 

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

Saw this van parked on Next Door’s driveway. 

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Bringing dreams home.  A sign for things to come?

Yes, please!  

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Thankful for –

(1) Dental care and the fresh feel of just-cleaned teeth –

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Thank you, Susanne Klimitz, dental hygienist since Daughters were tots

(2) Good neighbours

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Glen and Dianne – court garage sale organizers
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Court BFFs. Sepideh (left), with Jinoos and young Sahand setting up shop in Jinoos’ driveway

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Ever wondered about the faces behind the names defacing public property?

Romance, art or vandalism ?

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So who is Leyla?
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Who?

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Bottoms up! (Thank goodness those weeding days are done)

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 Memo to self for this week-

 Hold that tongue, watch what you say. 

    Easier said than done.

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Wise monkeys.  Tisha (left) and daughters

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Shh! In a neighbour’s garden
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I am?

Until next time,

sincerely

PS: Dad and Mum made it to fifty years too.

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Prins and Beatrice – RIP Mum.  Miss you still.

Sharing is great, please do.  Like this page and follow to receive future posts.

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The pictures are all moments captured on my phone and Ipad.

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Shopping with Mom
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Husband and Puppy.  A quiet ramble.

So Long Brangelina

Brangelina’s done.  Announcement sets social media ablaze.

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How did the bubble burst?

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Why?

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No one knows
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All by myself

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shocked fans.   Shattered illusions. 

Brad-Pitt-‘N’-Angelina-Jolie …  poster kids  for You-Can-Have-It-All.

# Déjà vu   #What’s new?

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Did they?
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Hollywood’s Golden Couple

Six youngsters now face a new reality.  Sad.

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Pitt-Jolie brood – poor mites

As Mum often said , and The Beatles sang …  money can’t buy you love.

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The Fab Four (Beatles tribute band) Money can’t buy me love …
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Concert In The Park 2016

 

The point is …

You never know what goes on behind closed doors.  (Yep, Mum said that too!)………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Garden gates are intriguing.  They seem to beckon and invite into a world beyond. 

You might, however, lift the latch and walk through to find a disappointing Other Side.

Food for thought…

R