Author: oneletterup

Tuesday Photo Challenge – Round

~ oneletterup ~ 9 Comments

This post inspired by Frank at Dutch goes the Photo

The prompt: Round

 

round crop

 

Have you ever heard of 3D Tic Tac Toe?

I never did until we took a family weekend trip to Boston in 1995. One of the highlights was a visit to the Boston Children’s Museum. The “Brain Games” section on the third floor included life-size chess and checkers…and 3D Tic Tac Toe. My 13 year old daughter “especially liked” that section (as noted in our travel scrapbook).

We all enjoyed it so much that my husband made a family home version…using a piece of pine board, dowels and 64 wooden beads (he painted half of them red).

Our homemade game survived downsizing.
Perhaps to entertain us in our old age.

Who says it’s just for children?

tictactoe
3D Tic Tac Toe

 

 

 

What’s in a Name

~ oneletterup ~ 16 Comments

This post inspired by V.J.’s Weekly Challenge #38: What’s In a Name?
…what’s in a name? Specifically, your blog name.

 

img_8130.jpg
So how did I come up with…oneletterup?

It was a process…a metamorphosis from one idea to another.
Quickly realizing there were many like-minded WordPress writers who had already scooped up my blog name ideas. Containing the words diaries or letters or journals…

I took that as a sign. To dig deeper. As this blog-to-be was just taking shape in my mind…and I surveyed the saved boxes of diaries, journals, stories – and old letters.

Especially the letters…hundreds of handwritten letters from as far back as when I was 7 years old. Precious pieces of everybody-has-a-story history. Letters from girlfriends, camp friends, grandparents, mother, father, sisters, brothers.
Also, just as interesting, were the letters I had written to my parents…from camp, summer jobs, college or from the privacy of my childhood bedroom.

Something…intuition I couldn’t ignore…kept me from throwing them all away.

Despite advice from well meaning loved ones…
What do you need all those letters for?
Burn them. They’re awful.
Or
Nobody cares.
It’s all in the past anyway!

However…the past – and its people – and their stories – are important.

I needed to write…and use the letters…and the diaries…
and (as I was to discover) the photographs that had piled up high.
Source material? Inspiration? Family history? Because it was fun? And perhaps cathartic at the same time?
All of the above.

I had already begun writing about my family and friends over the years. Sharing at various writing classes and groups. One short essay published online.

For the most part, though, my life had been full of responsibilities pushing the writing down low, if not completely off, the list. Until a year ago. When I was ready. And strong enough to ignore all the discouraging voices…inside and out.

Stories were swimming
Beneath the surface.

I needed to dive in
Put words on the page…
…one letter up….at a time.

 

Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge – Tender Moments

~ oneletterup ~ 16 Comments

This post inspired by Cee’s B&W Photo Challenge. The topic this week: Tender Moments

Being a big sister is not always easy.

I know that from experience, as I was a big sister 4 times. By the time my youngest sibling was born, I was in high school and became more of a surrogate parent than a sister. 

My daughter was almost 6 when her brother was born.
Five and three quarters! she would be quick to remind us.

The transition to sharing parental attention was a challenge I understood and tried to make as smooth as possible for her.
Without shortchanging her little brother.

Well, my husband and I got lucky. And with some guidance on our part…their relationship blossomed from the start. Her love for her brother was palpable. As was his for her. Not without some healthy competition of course. And normal periodic friction. Racing to the front door to be first. To the car for the front seat (Shotgun!). And down the stairs to see what Santa brought.

But there were also the quieter moments. Looking at picture books.
Playing games. Giggling at secret jokes.

And sitting under the backyard trees exploring what was hidden in the grass.

tender moment 9-3-88
Big sister age 6½…exploring nature with little brother…age 1¾

Their childhood together lasted until he was 12 and she was 18 and left home for college. Nineteen years ago.

But their connection remains solid to this very day.

And for that, I am eternally grateful.

 

 

Photo a Week – Meme-worthy photos

~ oneletterup ~ 13 Comments

Nancy Merrill is hosting a photo challenge. The theme this week – Meme-worthy photos

IN A NEW POST CREATED FOR THIS CHALLENGE, SHARE A PHOTO OR TWO (OR MORE) THAT WOULD MAKE A GREAT MEME BACKGROUND.

 

I caught this late afternoon peaceful scene one cold day in December.
Even the seagulls seemed to stand still.

I used the image to highlight one of my favorite quotes…

meme pink beach with text

~~~

Another day – at the same beach, looking behind me…
This time sunny and windy.
The blue sky a potential background for a word or two or three…
Any suggestions?

I welcome your ideas for text for this possible meme-worthy photo…

meme kites

 

 

Song Lyric Sunday – Occupation

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My contribution to this weeks’s Song Lyric Sunday (prompt: Occupation):

I recently discovered Woman’s Work, a song written and performed by Tracy Chapman…from her third album “Matters of the Heart” released in 1992.

She sang this song at the Farm Aid concert in Texas that same year; the only woman and the only black musician to perform.

Below is a video which serves as a backdrop illustration of this powerful song.
As relevant today – over 20 years later – as it was then.

 

Woman’s Work

by Tracy Chapman

Early in the morning she rises
The woman’s work is never done
And it’s not because she doesn’t try
She’s fighting a battle with no one on her side

She rises up in the morning
And she works ’til way past dusk
The woman better slow down
Or she’s gonna come down hard

Early in the morning she rises
The woman’s work is never done

Tuesday Photo Challenge – Layer

~ oneletterup ~ 14 Comments

This post inspired by Frank at Dutch goes the Photo

The prompt: Layer

One very windy November afternoon in 2016…

Layer upon layer of loud angry waves crashed toward shore
Lining up one right after the other…
Relentless.

Matching rhythm with my steps
As I paced up and down the beach
That day.

Head down bracing for the gusts
As I pounded through the sand
Relentless.

Trying to make sense
Of the path ahead.

 

wave layers
November 8, 2016
Hampton Beach, NH

 

Stories to be told

~ oneletterup ~ 16 Comments

The universe is made of stories, not of atoms.

Muriel Rukeyser

 

 

reading on porch
Reading on the porch
age ~ 10

 

 

Stories.

Beginning with…
Mother Goose Rhymes, Grandma Moses’ poems, Little Golden Books, Nancy Drew’s many adventures, the Bobbsey Twins, Trixie Belden, Pippi Longstocking….

All stories I craved as a child. Gobbling them up one after the other.
Why?
Curiosity. Escape. Imagination.
Or maybe because I loved to read.
Storybooks drew me in as nothing else could.

old books

My public elementary school was part of the Scholastic Books program. Students could order paperback books for 25¢ or 35¢ each. Sized just right for a 10 year old with titles such as Encyclopedia Brown…Danny Dunn and the Homework Machine…Just Plain Maggie. To name just a few. Piled high on tables in the gym on delivery day.  I couldn’t wait.

The school library drew me to its stories as well. Shelves of biographies…”Childhoods of Famous Americans”…were a magnet. Hardcover books mostly about boys (Nathan Hale & Abe Lincoln come to mind), but I did find some about girls. Clara Barton. Helen Keller. Dolly Madison. I didn’t discriminate at the age of 10 or 11 or 12. I read them all. Fascinated by their life stories.

Only famous people had their stories told…at least that’s what I may have assumed. But perhaps it sparked my own urge for story telling. At least in the privacy of my diaries. And letters. Later, the journals kept in college and beyond. Recording my story such as it was. Often painful. And hard to believe. Even upon reading years later.  The telling…written for my eyes only…crucial. Therapeutic. I see that now. Important…even though I certainly wasn’t famous.

Years later I filled notebooks with anecdotes, observations…and stories yet again. But this time about my own children. And our family, as it grew and changed…and then grew and changed some more. A natural continuation of my childhood storytelling. About what happened.

This time, though, joyful. Still striving to capture the essence in a quick pair of sentences…or a paragraph. One page. Maybe two. The setting. The conversation. The humor. The love. The challenges. The delight.

Catching the stories on the page before one day wove into the next. Leaving me breathless to get it on paper. Their imaginations. Their curiosity. And uniqueness.  From foot stomping “do by self” episodes to impromptu conversations about “where do babies come from?” To shopping for clothes. Playing with imaginary basketball teams in the driveway. Getting ready for school. Accidentally shaving off half an eyebrow. Navigating the minefield that is adolescence. How a seven year old plans the future. In her own imaginative way.

Endless stories every day. I wrote when I could. So glad I did.

We are, after all, our stories.

 

This post inspired by V.J.’s Weekly Challenge #37: Story