This one really made it into my heart. As a retired teacher/school librarian, I often remember with real fondness former students whose names I cannot bring back. I hope that relationships can live on without names or labels.
Thank you, Marcia. This is a beautiful thing to think about. I’m wondering about the teachers who were on our reservation only a year or two. I wonder how they remember us little Spokane Indians.
Some Indians, I have read, did not use their real names, so soldiers could not find them. Also, wearing a scar, and telling about it, are two different things. I, myself, have a snapping turtle scar. What did I do to deserve that?
I loved that poem. I lived in Zihuatanejo for years, but haven’t lived there for lots is years. My friend who still lives there is always writing me about people I have no idea who she’s talking about but do remember tidbits. I can’t remember what they look like and basically don’t care. Oh well. We’re all pretty old. I remember my old boyfriend that I lived with for ten years though.😷🌷💙🦋❤️🩹🌻🐝
It’s always so odd and painful and even slightly humorous to think about people we deeply love and who are still alive but who somehow play no part in our lives.
This one really made it into my heart. As a retired teacher/school librarian, I often remember with real fondness former students whose names I cannot bring back. I hope that relationships can live on without names or labels.
Thank you, Marcia. This is a beautiful thing to think about. I’m wondering about the teachers who were on our reservation only a year or two. I wonder how they remember us little Spokane Indians.
Some Indians, I have read, did not use their real names, so soldiers could not find them. Also, wearing a scar, and telling about it, are two different things. I, myself, have a snapping turtle scar. What did I do to deserve that?
I have scars from my years of fast food work. And I have scars from multiple brain surgeries.
I loved that poem. I lived in Zihuatanejo for years, but haven’t lived there for lots is years. My friend who still lives there is always writing me about people I have no idea who she’s talking about but do remember tidbits. I can’t remember what they look like and basically don’t care. Oh well. We’re all pretty old. I remember my old boyfriend that I lived with for ten years though.😷🌷💙🦋❤️🩹🌻🐝
It’s always so odd and painful and even slightly humorous to think about people we deeply love and who are still alive but who somehow play no part in our lives.
Some of them have died. So sorry, but they had good lives, and I still don’t care.🤷🏻♀️
There’s that cliché that some people are friends for a day or a season or a lifetime.