extended family
All about how to stay connected, strengthen ties and talk politics with your big, happy extended family.
Hey
Hey there! Your friend Gin is back! I look at things in life as half full - yes I am an optimist. I tend to be a happy soul most of the time. I enjoy entertaining people and making them laugh. I love all animals, horses are my favorite. I have two favorite colors, purple and aqua/teal; they look really good together; I like to add some pinks in it too. I like to be colorful. I like to make people happy. I tend to "mother" people; see a tag out so I put it back in; there is some lint on a piece of clothing - I will pick it off. I have learned in life it REALLY IS BEST to be truthful; yes it may be very unpleasant at the time but it is better than lying because you will not have to remember what you said to someone.
By Virginia Green6 years ago in Families
Family IS FOREVER
Family is everything. Family is more than friendship. Family is the only group of people who you have in your life since the day you were born. “They” say don’t ever take your family for granted. I wholeheartedly believe in that. No matter how far away you might live from your family members - whether it’s 15 minutes, or 15 hours - never lose contact with your family members. Having friends is great; but friendships can end at any time. Although family members may fight at times, they’re still your family. Cherish them all the time. Keep in touch with them.
By Pamela Dirr6 years ago in Families
The Christmas Miracle
From the time my mother was a little girl, she always knew she was adopted. She always wanted to know where she came from and who her biological family is. She was born in 1956 and was adopted at eight months old from St. Vincent's in New Orleans, Louisiana. My mother was born there because this was a home for unwed mothers.
By Niki Hebert6 years ago in Families
My Granny Packed A Pistol
My true name is...well, we don't know each other well enough for that. Do we? So, in the interest of "getting to know one another," let's grab the rudder of the SS Friendship and take a different tack. My given name is DeRicki Johnson. I know it is an unusual name...strange...because, whenever I sign up for things like email accounts at Yahoo, MSN, or Google, I can always use my name without having to accept some dumb automatically generated alias like "DeRicki4889". The first time I ever tried it, Yahoo was claiming 25 million subscribers, and yet it took my first name for an email address just as cool as if I was present for the birth of the Internet, or something. Don't bother trying to email me at that address, though, I dumped it years ago. As far as I know, "DeRicki" is not a family name. I think my given name was just a whim of the person who named me. Maybe that would be a good way to tell you about myself. I will tell you a story about my grandmother and me. My late grandmother is the one who named me. My mom had me when she was still in high school. She joined the army just after I was born. Back in those days it was quite scandalous to have a child out of wedlock, so my grandmother, Maudie, and her current husband, Albert Johnson, adopted me...rescuing me from the shame and stigma of being raised a "bastid chile." I have never met my natural father. He is supposed to have been some itinerant civil rights worker who passed through Fort Worth with a group on a quest to win for blacks the same rights as white Americans. I have been told his last name was Christmas. I don't think I have ever been told the whole truth about my birth father…so, I am not really sure about this. Don't get me wrong. I don't hate mom or phantom dad...if it were not for their bit of unsanctioned connubial felicity, well, I wouldn't be here. Only God can judge her, him, or me. And that's all I'm going to say about that... As a young woman, my grandma moved to the big city of Fort Worth, TX from the small country town of Tyler back in the 1930s, and immediately began working to earn money to bring her family to the big city, one person at a time. I loved and feared my granny. She was a larger-than-life person. I recalled her as an independent woman, tough but fair, who carried a .38 caliber pistol in her purse until the day she died. Some time I might tell you about my adventure getting caught going through the metal detector at DFW airport with granny and her "loaded" purse. But, as they say, "that's a story for another day." Apparently, she wasn't afraid to use her pistol, either. Family legend has it that she shot one of her philandering husbands in the ass, while he attempted to flee through downtown Fort Worth after being caught in a somewhat compromising, not to mention, perverted, position. I never met that husband, but I have always admired his quick thinking...after all; getting shot in the butt at least meant he had the clarity of mind to RUN! Grandma Maudie married four times. Her fourth husband, Albert Johnson, is the one who gave me his name. Albert was younger than my granny, and I remember him as being very, very cool. He always had the dopest rides, with the thumping-est stereos. As a young boy growinng toward puberty, the high point of any visit back to Fort Worth was cruising the hoods as grandpa Albert holler'd at various neighborhood notables from behind the wheel of his latest chariot sublime. Beep-beep. My grandmother raised me until I was 5, and my mom, who was married with two children by then, came back for me. During those 5 years my grandmother taught me many things, one of her most clearly remembered lessons was the importance of being independent. The clearest memory I have of one of her lessons on "independence" is one that occurred on a partcularly warm and sunny North Texas summer afternoon. The lesson came after one my frequent rides to the grocery store with granny. I was perhaps four years old at the time - yet too young to realize what a rare accomplishment it was for an African American to own a car. Come to think of it - yet too young to realize I was African-American, for that matter. We - my granny and I - had a well established tradition, a ritual, that at the end of such excursions Granny would come around to my door and open it. Then I would follow her into the house. But, this particular day was different. This fateful day, she turned to me, her arms full of groceries, and said, "You're old enough to open your own door. Open it and come inside." Wha-what...WHAT? Open my own door? Was this woman flirting with insanity? I was outraged at this seemingly cruel and unfair breach of established protocol, and let her know it by promptly throwing a temper tantrum. From her retreating back came her reply, "Crying won't help. Come inside when you figure it out." The audacity of this woman, I thought. Well, maybe not in those exact words…after all, I was only four. But, I was plenty shocked and angry. So, I stubbornly jumped up and down in my seat and turned up the tears; managing, after some time, to cry myself asleep. When I awoke, the sun had set. A gentle evening breeze rustled the leaves in the yard's great old trees. The back door's screen glowed with a warm yellow light, and soft adult voices murmured through the open kitchen door. When I awoke, I was different. I had cried myself to sleep, a baby. But, I awoke a self-reliant human being. When I awoke, I opened the car door and I walked to the house. I was hungry. -dj
By DeRicki Johnson6 years ago in Families
Nonni Exuded Peace and Contentment while having Plenty of Smarts
“Two years ago, this shy little miss came to us directly from Italy. She seemed to fit right in, and has distinguished her stay in Classical High School by her good scholarship. We who are acquainted with know her as an excellent little friend, always ready to give any help she can when it is asked for, yet too shy to intrude. Anna says she likes America, and our school very much but some day hopes to return to her beloved native Italy.” So says Nonni’s high school yearbook, and it sounds about right. I said as much at her wake in 2007
By Rich Monetti6 years ago in Families
A Little Map of Hope
Picture this: You’ve just turned eighteen. You’re wearing a long red shirt with a new pair of tight jeans that you very consciously entrusted with boosting your confidence for the day. After years of dreaming about it, you worked your way to reaching a destination that is presently 1,697.41 miles away from home, and you think you’re ready. You think you’re ready in that petulant way teenagers always swear they are… but when your mami implies that she’s finally leaving the room, the fact that you’re not suddenly sneaks up on you.
By Alejandra Rivera Flaviá6 years ago in Families
The Virtuous - The Standard of A Good Pupil
The Virtuous is inspired by my mum and other inspiring women also play their part in the film’s development. At different moments in life certain people impact on one’s life and become important, and equally one is never fully aware how important others are until much later, including perhaps members of one’s own family. To some people promises are made, confidences and dreams are shared and both good and bad times had. With others’ perhaps battles have been fought. There are a few relationships in which something unique has transpired and a bond has been cemented, where two become one. We all experience many encounters and the world continues on its course, but the one thing that for me that has remained constant, though I didn’t always know or appreciate it, is the unconditional love I have from my mother.
By Ice cheung 6 years ago in Families
What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger
I was an accident but not a mistake. As a young a teenager, my mother fooled around with a neighborhood boy and their dalliance produced a child. As I typed that word “dalliance,” I thought about the vocabulary, language proficiency and communication skills that propelled me from poverty to prosperity. Reflecting on my early beginnings gives me a reason to thank my mother for her strength and sacrifices.
By Karin Hopkins6 years ago in Families
Never let the society tell your worth!
This story of an inspirational woman in my life is extremely close to my heart since it belongs to my aunt. We belong to a very humble background, where woman are only encouraged to settle down as early as possible and men are the sole bread-winners of the family. Its just how the culture has embedded this trend within our society, since the beginning. But throughout my story, you'll realize why shattering the norms is important in today's society and why ones inability to achieve their dreams shouldn't be --- " don't do it since it goes against the cultural norms and since you'll be a shame to the family's honour"
By kulsoom khalid6 years ago in Families
