Filomena and Peter Cardone. She wasn’t my Grandmother. They had a bunch of kids and had an affair with my Grandmother, who immigrated from Poland. She had white blonde hair and steel blue eyes. My Father, the bastard son, Robert Peter Cardone. He owned a factory in NYC.
Any relatives out there? We grew up with none.
Shindler’s List is a movie to have on DVD. It teaches so much. Redemption is so evident. How we can all change any time to be more tolerant, more grateful, more GREAT. All of us, EVERYWHERE.
Every time I look in the mirror or find myself complaining, I think of two things.
I pinch my cheeks and and say, “Look alive, Rebecca.” remembering things ain’t bad at all. Then I laugh and think of Stephen Hawking, who used to run over student’s toes when they were droning on about homework or whatever. I say, “And Stephen just ran over your toe with his wheelchair.”
@HistorylandHQ https://t.co/5WWuscssAt
In the book, “Memoir’s Of a Geisha,” a poignant line was about a poem about loss. It was scratched out. Because sometimes words are inadequate. Hit it, IP…
https://t.co/5WWuscssAt
As someone who has done hundreds of papers…essays, law Briefs, poems, songs, peer reviewed articles, scribbles, I suggest the following for writing a post…
When talking about ANY group of things, like tomatoes, grammar requires to QUALIFY the statement.
SOME
MANY
MOST
A FEW
A COUPLE
TOMATOES ARE ROTTEN! SQUASH THEM ALL!!!” 🤬
(bad form.)
A few tomatoes are ready for the garbage disposal.
(Better, no?)
@elonmusk
Check out this video, "tears for fears shout" https://t.co/mDqmAVc61J
@GustavoAdolf_ As complex as the Portuguese word,
Saudade
One of my favorite words.
There are many in Korean that I love with no translation.
Note to self: no one cares. 🤷♀️
We are not separate from the Earth.
We ARE the Earth.
The rivers flow through us.
The trees breathe with us.
The wind carries our breath.
The fire reminds us of our spirit.
When we hurt the Earth, we hurt ourselves.
When we heal her, we heal ourselves.
It is time to listen again to the wisdom of the elders, to the forest, to the rivers, and to our hearts.
Not as a teacher, but as a bridge.
So that we may remember where we truly belong.