#life-is-short · #living · #love-story · #memory · #observation · #remember · age · beginnings · innocence · life · love · love poem · memories · memory · riff · time · time passes

The album

BB+TBWe will never be this young again


We always knew that, but didn’t

Believe it, until one day, looking

At pictures of how we were, when


We were that young, smiling photos,

The happiness blended with youth,

We had to confess that time had

Passed, happily and with the stealth


Of time slipping by, unnoticed and

Quieter than the images of those young

Happy people looking back at us


#history · #memory · #observation · #poem · #poetry · #remember · admiration · awe · beginnings · change · clear eyed in the morning. · culture · dopplegangers · ego' · empathy · expectation · heart · history · jump to conclusions · lest you forget · memories · memory · new · opinions · P.O.V. · poetry · point of view · presentation · remembering · remembrance · riff · roots · search for meaning · sharing · social media · time · time passes · treasures or junk · two sides to every story


Opaque or transparent? …Lest I Forget

Some six months ago, I shut down one of my many blogs, Observations: Lest I Forget  and transferred much of its content to this one. I fully intended to put new content here and leave the …Lest I Forget site to history.

Truth is, I have a lot about which I wish to opine, and enjoy doing so in different fora and diverse platforms. So  Observations: Lest I Forget is being revived today, with fresh content all its own.


Daily Prompt · memories · preferences

Just like Jello

via Daily Prompt: Jiggle

640px-gabelbissenMy grandfather, not generally given to antics, talked to the aspic. His words, “don’t quiver, I won’t eat you” were immortalized by my mother. They remain fondly in my memory. It is a sentiment I generally share, although I loved my mother’s pigs feet in aspic. I resent panna cotta for its shaky texture.

Jell-o, the easy-to-make (nearly instant) desset much favored by dieters and people who have difficulty chewing. epitomizes grandpa’s quip . The average cup of this popular gelatinous food is often colorful and firmer than the  aspic he dreaded. The illustrations on the box of Kraft’s product are almost enticing.

It can be made quickly and served within hours, and because it is sweet, it can provide a fulfilling end to a meal. My husband likes it well enough to have made it himself on occassion. All these seem like such good excuses for my stopping so long at the supermarket to look over all the lovely “flavors” on display. There’s lime green, and cherry red, and strawberry red, and orange orange, and yellow lemon.

If it weren’t for the jiggle, I would be convinced to take one home.

#memory · Daily Prompt · memories · memory · missing


via Daily Prompt: Gone  (Prompt idea courtesy of Let It Be Beautiful.)

What I miss most
aheartA sense of wonder
when I see something unexpected
Curious sightings should inspire interest
and Queries
Courtesies that seem small but are enormous
Shared humanity in everyday experiences

beginnings · better choices · empathy · gifts · inspirations · lest you forget · memories · memory · missed opportunity · missing · nostalgia · opinions · origins · P.O.V. · point of view · recalling · remembering · remembrance · views

Language, language!

Lingua franca

There are times I am gripped by what feels like a lingual fantasy. I can hear the words of a proverb in what was once my native, or at least first, language in my head, but I cannot form them. I am unable to repeat them even though they are on the tip of my tongue.

Instead, I stammer and realize the inadequacy of the attempt.

Afflictions of the tongue

What was my mother tongue is lost to me in almost every way. It remains a shadow, a memory that I cannot express. These afflictions of the tongue sometimes feel like afflictions of the heart, too.

It saddens me that the words I should be able to say are stuck in my throat. i feel like I am dreaming words that are familiar, and the dream becomes a waking nightmare of regret.


The words I hear in my head sound as if they were under water. There is no ease in repetition. The harder I try to express them, the stucker I feel. Stuck in an adopted language, one in which I am quite adept; speaking the words of a country of choice, not birth, more fluently than I ever remember speaking the language of the country I left behind.

Nativists would argue against bi-lingualism. I, despite my ineptitude, am all for it. I would love to be able to speak well in both the languages to which I belong.

I miss the fluidity I once had in moving between two languages, the gift of easy expression.


#loss · another love poem · dad · memories

Burt’s dad David


Dave_Burt_Frieda-longagoSo often it is the small things,

The little acts or habits a son recalls,

Fondly remembering gestures,

The tilt of the head, or the scrape

Of a spoon on a breakfast plate,

Those were endearing, dear man,

Minute but specific memories of

A father beloved and lost,

Watched over with affection,

While he cleaned his razor, and

Finished his egg


Little things recalled

Paint a fond memory,

A father, missed by a

Loving son, is remembered

For small specific gestures

The scrape of a spoon on the

Breakfast plate, an expression

Tossed out so frequently that

It marks an attitude, a

Philosophy of a life led

Plainly but with care,

Simple habits, watched tenderly

This is how he cleaned his razor,

This is how he finished his egg

#heat · life · memories · poetry · sky · sun

Hey, it’s hot

Author’s note: As a teen, I found heat intoxicating, titillating, and a fine metaphor. Today, I continue to explore its effects.


Languid in the melting heat, I sit under the sun’s intense gaze

Wondering if the tension so palpable in the air will uncoil.

As the bright sun blazing paints the sky around me with haze

My ease is complicated as the temperature threatens to roil.

My leisure is lazy, relaxed, yet uncertain, delicate, dimmed

By the  light so fiercely and passionately around me rimmed


Cool spots are hot spots

When the temperature rises

A breeze hits the spot

While the sun blazes

Winds off the river

Fan the air and take

The edge off the heat

Breezing by they deliver

Just enough to slake

The passions that fill the air



Nowhere to go, just sit, bask in the sun’s glory,

So bright, so hot, enjoy its sizzling beauty,

The temperature rises until the air swathes

Engulfing, encompassing, holding tight

Heat defines you on these days

The blue skies creased in haze

It’s tropical and we don’t live in the tropics

Humid by any definition, heat is a hot topic

Nowhere to go, just bask

No rush, just relax


Heat on your skin is languourous,

Even sexy. As the weather turns so

Hot, you don’t want to move, or if

You must, move ever so slowly

Each step an intent. Your intension

To be still and let the air soak you,

It’s tensions coiled like the sweltering

Sun, every movement defining muscles,

Each breath shallow, your body unfurling

Like the flag on the 4th of July, measures

The rising temperature, and relaxes into

The bright hot air. There is no rush, no

Hurry. Take in each breath, but do not

Gulp the air, you should not swallow the heat

Let your body enjoy the engulfing heat, your

Skin damp with effortless sweat


Made in the shade

Grilling, baking, broiling,

That’s good for meat,

You need to be chillin’