There's only one thing that brings to mind. I believe it to be the greatest story ever read (to me, that is). I remember that little Golden Book, cracked at the spine, pages loosening from the binding, corners tattered. It didn't matter, that just showed how loved that book was.
The memory of crawling up in my Grandmother's lap and listening to the story of tigers, tail to mouth, holding crimson umbrellas and wearing pants, filled with greed and jealousy until the run themselves int o melted butter will stay with me long after the pancakes are gone. She never tired of reading that one and I never tired of hearing it.
I think it's a shame that the story of Little Black Sambo has been banned or at least the name has been changed and the wording made more politically correct. The same with the stories of Unclie Remus. Every child should hear the story of Brer rabbit and the Tar Baby. they should have the joy of seeing Johnny smile as he laughs through the lafin' Place in Song of the South.
I don;t believe banning these things will change history or a single persons mind. These stories are not what fuel racism and predjudice. To act as if they never existed will never make it so.
Instead, share them, celebrate them and learn from them. they are stories of friendship, love, problem solving and courage. they are stories of wisdom, acceptance and childhood innocence. What's so wrong with that? And what;s so wrong with the title? At the time that story was written, people were referred to as black. To change the name, again, does not change the fact of the time. We should not forget our past, or rewrite it. We should learn from it. History forgotten is bound to be repeated.
What brings me to this soap box, you may ask? Well, memories of my grandmother are always welcomed and enjoyed. As she approaches her 92nd year in frail condition, I find myself thinking of her and our time together more and more often. I know it is borrowed time and I cherish it. I don;t see her enough and I talk to her less. It seems the phone calls make matters worse by confusing her, and so I try to be kind and not exasperate the situation. It doesn't mean I don;t think of her every day. I thank God that I am blessed with memories and lessons and the love only she can give. I am thankful that my boys know that love and joy also. How lucky they are to havve had so many years with a great grandmother to love them.
so, truth be told, there was no soap box. tangent thinking, definitely, but not really a soap box.
You see, I made these today.
They seem to have opened the flood gate of tigers and pancakes and grandmothers and censorship and life. Wow, that's some pair of earrings!
So, here I am.....
The girl that said she'd never blog. The far from computer savvy girl that is always up for a challenge despite a serious lack of time.My blog goals. Do I have blogging goals? Hmmm, I guess I should. So I pledge to be funny, lighthearted, not vent or complain to much and maybe just maybe share a crumb of wit and wisdom on occassion.I will most likely chat about etsy, my addiction and muse. the incredible artsists and friends I have found in a community that oozes with creativity, friendship, support and a home for all things handmade.You will hear me ramble about the insanity of my life including my 3 boys, ages 12, 16 and 53. Yes, that last one I am married to, but trust me, he is just as much boy as man. After 17 years of marriage I find myself raising him along with them. Then again, he would probably say the same of me at times. I will often speak of friends I would go to the ends of the earth for and a family that more often than not defines dysfunction. Then again, I strongly believe a functional family is the stuff legends are made of.I am a lover of music of all kinds and not so much the TV ( except maybe Glee). I have an addiction to handmade glass, especially venetian and lampwork beads as well as unique pottery. I have made a concerted effort to tame my jewelry fetish with my own creations which can be seen at http://www.kjbeads.etsy.com/If you haven't figured out by now, I can jabber my jaws and my fingers as if someone could care what I have to say.