grandparents
Becoming a grandparent makes getting older something to look forward to - all the fun of parenting, without the hassle.
I just called to say I love you
I grew up in the 1980s in a small town with a population of around 200 people, mostly farming communities. The Mallee landscape was harsh but beautiful. Springtime would line the scrub with wildflowers of all colours, the trees would flower vibrant colours and it was beautiful. I would spend my days out there with my brother, who was also my best friend. We didn't like being at home as my dad was a violent alcoholic who hurt us and our Mum. As soon as he would knock off work at the railways, he would head to the pub, using most of our families income on booze and then come home later in the night ready to fight. My brother and I witnessed things we shouldn't have and experienced things that shouldn't happen to little kids.
By sheree impossible6 years ago in Families
A Tattoo For My Grandmother
When I was 8 years old, I painted a set of Matryoshka Dolls for my grandmother. I don't know how or why I ended up with them in the first place, but I decided I wanted to paint them for my grandmother. As you can see from the picture, they were painted as well as you would expect for an 8-year-old with no artistic inclination. But she loved them. They were so special to her, and they always took pride of place on her mantelpiece in her living room.
By Jemma O'Donovan6 years ago in Families
My Grandfather Kept us all Laughing
When I went to college in 1982, I was 6 feet tall, and light enough at 135 pounds, that my huge ears could have taken me airborne with a strong wind. My long, hooked nose was also hard to miss and looking more like an eleven year old didn't do me any favors either. I was an easy target for the guys on my floor, and the barbs came nonstop. But they had no idea, and ultimately cementing my place, I had the fifth floor exactly where I wanted them. You see, I learned from the best. In my family, survival means knowing how to roll with a slight and then apply just enough sarcasm to gain the upper hand. The source of these skills are easy to pinpoint - my grandfather, Charlie Monetti. He set the table for two centuries of Monetti laughter, and an account from my grandmother perfectly describes how all the back and forth emanated from his presence.
By Rich Monetti6 years ago in Families
Finding Home
It was a steamy mid-summer day in July. The kind of day that made the highway ahead of your dance in the waves of heat passing through the atmosphere. Charli was stuck in traffic just across the state line just like every other weekday morning for as long as she could remember, and she was already running behind. She cursed under her breath as she noticed a large truck in the left lane ahead, trying to pass a smaller truck.
By Mary Johnson6 years ago in Families
Memories
My Grand Father was born in 1899 and my Grand Mother was born in 1911. I do have a lot of memories of my Grand Parents over the past years. When I was brought home from the adoption agency, in August of 1968, both of my Grand Parents raced across our street to get a glimpse of their new Grandson. Now, these memories were told to me by my parents over the years. As an infant, for some reason, I do not have any memories stored in my brain, of any event which happened while I was a baby. In a way, I do wish that I had these memories to draw from especially when I am writing all about my memories of my Grand Parents.
By Lorne Vanderwoude6 years ago in Families
Post War Life for the Monetti's
The Second World War over and no doubt left as to where Charlie wanted to be, routine played a big part in everything the Monetti patriarch did. Like many New Yorkers, Charlie and Lizzie spent their honeymoon in the Catskills, and for good measure, befriended the resort owners. So going forward, the family stayed in the owner’s home, and every October, a smaller turnout appealed to Charlie. Thus, Gramps never relented, and his annual engagement always followed suit. “He would chop wood for the fireplace and play cards all week,” said Bill.
By Rich Monetti6 years ago in Families
"Kennst due das land"
Artists often record pieces without appraising listeners of what a song may mean to them. This oversight usually occurs because of production demands that preclude verbal descriptions of what a given song may mean to an artist. Producing a polished CD or video is considerable, and producers are reluctant to spend their precious dollars on verbal tributes that can be made by recording artists during a concert. Once in the studio, artists are expected to record their music as quickly and efficiently. Reminiscing about the composition of a particular song is discouraged. Fortunately, the recording of this specific song did require the use of an expensive recording studio. When I recorded the piece, I had no neurotic producer hanging over my shoulder. I am therefore free to reflect on what the relatively unknown aria "kennst du das land." Those unfamiliar with opera are unlikely to recognize the piece. I first became familiar with the Aria after attending a performance of "Little Woman." An original operatic work, the production allowed me to hear a breath-taking musical score and the Aria Kennst du das Land. I became determined to master the Aria in question. My years of training had provided me with the technical tools needed to sing a variety of styles, but I had always reframed from singing pieces written in German. The sheer beauty of the piece overwhelmed my reservation and set to work on it with passion and zeal. The experience has been transformative, allowing me to connect with a part of my German heritage that had always felt peripheral. Having to master German required that I steep myself in a language that members of the Hurst family line had practiced for generations. Learning "Kennst du das land" became a transformative experience, allowing me to reintegrate a disowned aspect of my family heritage. I am not the first, or only, singer to have had such an experience. Singing is an inherently personal process. Few performers become successful by relying solely upon their technical prowess. Acclaim rarely occurs unless a performer has found a way to merge technique and emotional resonance. For this singer at least, mastering the complexities of the Aria Kennst du das land became an example of such a process. It is why this previously unfamiliar piece now feels profoundly connected to my body and soul.
By frederick Hurst6 years ago in Families
