Words cannot express

a0002
with my mother and her favorite cousin. both now gone.

When I lost my mother tongue

I gave up my otherness

It was important to me, once,

I thought, to be different, to

Avoid  the chameleon cloak of

Conformity, the pull of belonging.

When I lost my native language,

I gave up the tribe to which I

Was born, where I belong is

Here, reflected in the speech

I now speak, the other forgotten,

Left behind in dim memory and

Recollections of a foreignness I

Once valued. Now I am native here.

This is where I belong, now

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Quiet and peaceful

EastRiverWalk
Quiet waters, billowing clouds © 2014 Tamara Beck

Sitting as old men do

Holding court with

Memories, sharing both

Wisdom and nonsense

From a life fully lived

Yet far from complete

Never accepting blame or

Regrets, but sitting in

Tranquility, peaceful

Still yet like the river with

An undercurrent, there is

News mixing with opinions

All that need to be expressed

And heard. If you listen, you

Can also hear the waters

Whispering, a susurrus of current

Events, bubbling below the surfacewat

Do you remember this?

seagull59thbridge
Time and the river wait for noone. Photos © Tamara Beck.

I have expunged so much and so many from my recollection

When they come creeping in, it’s on ghost feet

Sometimes I welcome the newly remembered

Sometimes I dread the associations they bring me

Some memories amuse, others confuse, some

Simply disabuse me of my moral superiority, I

Have not served truth or justice, not always,

Just sometimes; glory is not mine to strut or savor,

Not always, just sometimes, Who were you? Who was I?

Revival

Opaque
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.

Enjoy.

Mirror image

1.Jan_Saenredam_001
By Jan Saenredam – http://www.hans-von-aachen.com : Home : Info : Pic, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=12424465

Mirrors, like memory, both reflect and distort

The image fuzzy or clear, made larger or smaller

As we do in remembering slights and complements

In complimenting our past, we look as thtough a

Glass at what was or might have been equally both

Reflected and distorted, sometimes larger, sometimes

Smaller, behind us and ahead, never forgotten or

Forgiven, just different from what was, or from what

Might have been, the image blurred or unperturbed

Smiley face!

1emoji
Emoji- Happy face!

My history with smiling is fraught. As a teen, I presented dour and had teachers telling me to smile at every turn of the corridors.

Despite the presentation, I am actually a very happy type. Imagine my delight when my husband discovered an emoji in our wash basin. His delight was even greater, but he has these highs sometimes.

At any rate, there it was: 2 eyes and a broad smile on the damper in our sink.

Have a great day! Smile.

 

Grab a pencil!

qwerty
QWERTY by Tamara Beck

via Discover Challenge: Transcript

No, wait, no one uses those anymore. People make notes in their Notepad, which is on a device in a virtual application of some sort or other for use on Android, Windows or Mac. This means that that chances that there is a transcript of proceedings or thoughts are minimal.

Of course, a transcript can be a printed version of a text so you can print out the Notepad and voilà, you have a transcript. After all, a transcript is a record of something originally presented in another medium.

I confess that, although I am a wild user of social media and a heavy duty blogger, I do use a pen or pencil as a prelim to my process. I don’t keep my handwritten transcripts– often even I have trouble figuring out what I meant to say– but I use them for guidance when I go to the laptop to type up my reflections.

Once upon a time, in the good old days, when you transcribed something, you were putting thought to paper. Or, I suppose, truly old school, you wrote it down on papyrus, and before that on the cave wall.