My Grandmother, the wonderful, wise woman who raised me, was a refugee. She left her home town right at the end of WWI in 1918, when she was 17 years old.
Both of her parents had been killed during the war and there was no place to call home anymore. She left town with her sister Emma, who was just 2 years older.
My blogging friend Calensariel wrote a beautiful post about why she loves and continues to write >>>I write because<<<. It’s beautiful, well worth reading and it left me wondering about my own motivation. We all have different reason why we write and I was wondering what were mine? The love to write is one thing, but why do I share it with the world – well, part of the world anyway?
I would like to eliminate the word “African American” forever. Go away word, you are not needed anymore. We are all Americans; it’s as simple as that.
If you look at the world map, you will see that Europe is rather small. I grew up 10 minutes away from the Italian border, could drive to Germany in about 2 hours and Switzerland, Lichtenstein, Czech Republic, and Hungary were just a few hundred kilometers away. Different cultures, different languages, and different looks lived just around the corner and were rather appealing to me; it never scared me.
I remember it very well. The year was 1975 and I was sitting in school and listened to our history professor. The new school year had just begun; we all had spent summer time with our families, either in Italy, Austria or Germany and now we were back to school.
There is one piece of technology that I miss and wish it would be still used the way it was used when I was younger. Telegrams, I wish this service would be still around and used, maybe not on an everyday base, but for special occasions.
Lets face it, I have been wrong numerous times in my life time. One of my worst prognosis was “there is no way the CD will ever replace the vinyl record” and my all time favorite “we will never be able to afford a computer at home” (both was said by me in the 80’s).
I got up today, let the dogs out and looked at our laundry basket on my way back. How can 2 people have so much laundry? I feel like I am in constant war with the laundry basket and I see our washer and dryer more often, then I see my friends.
I was mad and felt upset and so were my friends and my husband. We couldn’t believe they wanted to raise the price to 1 Dollar. Who did they think we were? Rockefeller? We worked hard for our money and it seemed just outrages and unfair.
Today’s daily prompt asks us -again- if we ever had a mentor and what was the greatest lesson we have learned from him or her?
The question made me wrinkle my forehead. I do that, when I find something a little bit odd. Odd is the fact, that this daily prompt is just another rerun, but although odd is the question itself. Why? Because we all had mentors throughout our lives, different people in different positions. Do I want to point one out? I really can’t, because they all have been looking out for me, in different ways and in different positions.