tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7948766.post112258252892871396..comments2023-10-28T09:39:49.316-05:00Comments on Skewed View: Paying Homagespookyrachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11652180845736295060noreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7948766.post-1122953417596468212005-08-01T22:30:00.000-05:002005-08-01T22:30:00.000-05:00Too much and too many to recall here -- I just don...Too much and too many to recall here -- I just don't want the stories to be lost. An item is just that -- a thing without the story. I try to write them down, but I can't do it fast enough....Theresa Colemanhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12134175277230355640noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7948766.post-1122951484853673332005-08-01T21:58:00.000-05:002005-08-01T21:58:00.000-05:00I think I recall that MYSTERY. The man traveled ar...I think I recall that MYSTERY. The man traveled around with a young woman visiting places and went to see an old man who carved marble or granite. Is that the one?<BR/><BR/>I pay homage by wearing a piece of the loved one's jewelry or drinking tomato juice (long sweet story) or recalling the person when I see or hear something I think they'd enjoy.St. Casserolehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14046979001194772038noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7948766.post-1122848338744675462005-07-31T17:18:00.000-05:002005-07-31T17:18:00.000-05:00I see there are a lot of champion homagists (?) am...I see there are a lot of champion homagists (?) among us!<BR/><BR/>C. - tomato/tomahto, potato/potahto. And occasionally potatoe. Ha!spookyrachhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11652180845736295060noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7948766.post-1122845204543733202005-07-31T16:26:00.000-05:002005-07-31T16:26:00.000-05:00Homage, is that like garbage or garage? Whatever,I...Homage, is that like garbage or garage? Whatever,I seem to have plenty of ways I live with stories of the past. Collections start with a story or a warm feeling for that thing from the past. Buttons, I remember my grandmother's button box. Cookie cutters, grandma made sugar cookies when I became a grandma I started the sugar cookie tradition with first grandchild. Then there is the apple box full of old letters and memorabilia gleaned from the attic floor of a rented house that was for years inhabited by a spinster lady. Probably the heirs dumped trunks and left the trash. The owner not only gave his permission but also his blessing on its removal. I read the letters and cards, looked over her keepsakes and knew the lady by name. After several moves the box, labeled "Here Lies Norma O." goes with me, I can't bring myself to dump her life out again. Now that's just a few of the homages I still find room for even after down sizing.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7948766.post-1122688471339441792005-07-29T20:54:00.000-05:002005-07-29T20:54:00.000-05:00I have an homage to my dad. It's an event rather t...I have an homage to my dad. It's an event rather than an object. At one point in my life I was a handyman. One day I was called out to install a ceiling fan at Henry's house. While I stood on the ladder working, he told me about building his house. Seems he and his wife had done all the work themselves. "Almost didn't happen, though," hesaid. When I told the mortgage loan officer that we were planning to do all the work ourselves--concrete, electrical, plumbing--he said the bank couldn't finanace the house. All the capital would be in one place. Well, that made me so mad, I marched upstairs to tell my regular banker to close all my accounts. He told me to calm down and tell him what was wrong. When I told him, he had a proposal:'You tell me how much you need to get started anad I will arrange a loan for that amount. You start paying it off and when you need more, come back and we'll do another loan.'" Henry looked around his house and said,"Yessir, if it hadn't been for Harry Howle, we might never have had this house." I stopped and looked down at Henry. "Harry Howle is my father," I said. I had never been prouder of my dad.little davidhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07216663347416536106noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7948766.post-1122686520230064352005-07-29T20:22:00.000-05:002005-07-29T20:22:00.000-05:00I have a treasure box. I hope someone realizes th...I have a treasure box. I hope someone realizes that it is a treasure box if I just up and die. In it, is a recipe for red velvet cake written by my grandmother. My favorite cake in the world and no one made it like her. And she would use toothpicks to hold the layers together. ~laffin~ It is a wonder that we did not get killed. Also, there is a letter that she saved for me and gave me a few years ago. My Daddy wrote it and sent to his aunt about 1 week after I was born. He tells her all about me. She saved that letter for 35 years just to give to me. I got to be there when she died. She was surrounded by the women of her family and passed away as we sang Amazing Grace.Princess of Everything (and then some)https://www.blogger.com/profile/15389182962616830610noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7948766.post-1122666861555936252005-07-29T14:54:00.000-05:002005-07-29T14:54:00.000-05:00Those are all wonderful bits of tribute. I can't ...Those are all wonderful bits of tribute. I can't think of a better homage than to be thankful for life, Halloweenlover.spookyrachhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11652180845736295060noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7948766.post-1122662960980578122005-07-29T13:49:00.000-05:002005-07-29T13:49:00.000-05:00I've never seen a headstone like that. I like it. ...I've never seen a headstone like that. I like it. <BR/><BR/>I haven't done much in the way of homage, except for keeping a journal of things I am grateful for. Some of those things are totally random memories that I jot down. Then when I leaf through it, I can remember the whole scene and the way it happened. Never fails to make me smile. I need to think more about how to pass on memories, though.halloweenloverhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05226515861332754382noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7948766.post-1122637227001827052005-07-29T06:40:00.000-05:002005-07-29T06:40:00.000-05:00One thing that immediately comes to my mind is a s...One thing that immediately comes to my mind is a small branch from a dogwood tree. I've had it for over twenty years. My grandfather cut it off from the tree and told me if I'd take it and peel the bark away, the wood underneath would be a pure white and it would dry and stay that way.anniehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14900362807680333144noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7948766.post-1122604215984034142005-07-28T21:30:00.000-05:002005-07-28T21:30:00.000-05:00I was standing at my dad's headstone one day (he d...I was standing at my dad's headstone one day (he died in 1999), sort of picking at a piece of it and :snap: it came off. So I kept it. I felt a little silly. But I couldn't throw it on the ground and leave it there. Now I'm glad I did that. I'm not much of a grave visitor to begin with, and now I live far enough away that it's more of a drive to get there. The little piece of granite stays in my little cedar box of memories and other little homages.Captainwowhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07293907026712866689noreply@blogger.com