Here is Myself

Eve’s DAUGHTER   By Hannah Kahn

Here is myself


with shadows cast

upon the whole,

with pivot points

and little flares

to punctuate the burning stars. 

Here is myself

take what you will

of love, of song,

and know that still

a part of what

I have to say

remains unsaid

nor question why.


Hannah Kahn was my mother’s best friend and a poet I greatly admired.  She was published in many leading magazines such as American Scholar, Harpers’, Ladies Home Journal, Saturday Review, Children Limited, and others too numerous to mention.  She says in her poem (and subsequent book of poetry), Eve’s Daughter, what I wish I could say as beautifully.

Although I have not yet come to the end of my daydreams, I think this is a good place to stop.  I want to create the posts into a book of Technicolor Daydreams for my son, my granddaughters (and hopefully theirs), the rest of my family and the special friends who have either requested a copy or who may wish to wander with me through long ago experiences we may have shared.  My Dad used to say, “Never outwear your welcome,” so I believe it is time to think about next steps or new blogs and different challenges.

Thank you to my friends in the “blogusfear”  for making it a less fearsome place.  The pleasure in meeting and getting to know you has been all mine and I hope you will tune-in when I begin again.  I’ll keep you “posted.”     ~Dor


I grew up in South Florida and would fall asleep next to an open window with the soft sounds of palm fronds rustling in the breeze.  Like the soft tap-tap of raindrops, they lulled me into my own delicious dreams of paradise.  I conjured up a sparkling pool with crystal clear waters, a pool of irregular dimensions set off by a sandy beach, caves in which to swim, island bars to lounge on, waterfalls,  and even  a cliff top for diving.  I dreamed I was like Esther Williams of movie fame and known for her synchronized moves with a team of underwater nymphs.

They say dreams are wish fulfillments.  I was no Esther Williams, but the sparkling pool was real and when I awoke and did my research, I was surprised that Venetian Pool is still there and waiting for my return.  It is over 50 years later.  Venetian Pool is a real swimming pool in Coral Gables, Florida.  My parents would drop me off with little brother, Steve, and my childhood friend, Kit, and we would spend the entire day there.  I have never been to a public pool like that again, and no record of my childhood memories would be complete without it.

Entrance to Venetian Pool


Esther Williams

Underwater somersaults with pointed toes,

Handstands with the water to hold me up,  

My exaggerated back stroke with verve and grace like Esther Williams,

Echoes in the Caves

The feelings of childhood at Venetian Pool.

Teenage laughter in the sunshine and

Lazy days for fun and celebration,

A special boyfriend to share the joy,

And the excitement of first love,

Growing up in the glamour of Venetian Pool.

And a husband swimming alongside,

On days off work for relaxation,

And luxury moments of respite,

From daily chores and obligations,

Sharing a grown up romance

 At Venetian Pool.

The Venetian Pool, located in Coral Gables, Florida,  was created in 1924 from an old coral rock quarry and is listed in the National Register of Historic Places. It is the only swimming pool to have such a designation!  It is an 820,000 gallon pool fed with spring water from an underground aquifer and got its name from a lagoon in Venice, Italy.  There are two waterfalls, loggias, porticos, palm trees, a signature bridge, and a sandy beach-like sunning area with a cafe.  A walking path surrounds the whole complex.  The pool has occasionally been drained completely to permit the Miami Symphony to perform in it, taking advantage of the quarry’s natural acoustic qualities.

Grandma’s Black Onyx Necklace


I never really knew my Grandma Bertha on my Mom’s side because she died when I was five or six years old.  She spoke only in German, but even though I had no idea what she was saying, I knew I was loved.

The memories of sitting at Grandma’s feet and those feelings of belonging were perpetuated because one day she gave me her necklace!  It was only costume jewelry with onyx stones, but I thought it was beautiful and very valuable and certainly one of her most treasured possessions.  Even when I knew it had no value at all, the necklace continued to represent her feelings for me, and I treasure it even now.


So, when my first granddaughter, Jessica, was born, I gave my daughter-in-law a beautiful pearl necklace (my husband had given it to me when our son was born).  And I told the new Mom to wear it with joy and then asked her to pass it down through the generations.

When Christmas came along, a friend of mine made another suggestion.  She said to give a place setting of sterling silver flatware to my granddaughter each Christmas.  The collection would grow and when she became an adult, it would be a lovely set to grace her table.

I loved the idea and immediately purchased a place setting in a wonderful pattern.  And each year thereafter, I built onto the set at Christmas, one place setting at a time.  I stopped at service for eight. Jess now has a full set – a gift from her Grandma and Grandpa.  I am hoping her mother has kept it somewhere safe and plans to give it to Jessica when she marries.

There were two more granddaughters, Kendall and Mackenzie, and each of them also now has a complete service for eight of sterling silver flatware, each in a different pattern.  Kim, their mother, is keeping the sets for when each of them marries.  At least I hope so.

There was a divorce you see.  My son and my daughter-in-law could not stay married. 

What has happened or will happen to the gift of pearls for our oldest granddaughter I do not know.  And what has happened or will happen to the three sets of sterling, I can only wonder.

Perhaps one of the girls will read this later and know how much we love all three and rejoiced when they were born.   They are teenagers now, but one day I hope they will retrieve their gifts when they are just a little older.


I have never worn the ornate necklace given to me by my grandmother, but each time I bring it out from its hidden place I remember her as I sat at her feet.

Grandma tried to tell me she loved me in German, but it was the necklace that has always made me understand.

And even if my own Grand-Girls never use their boxes of beautiful flatware, they will know they are loved and perhaps will pass that love down again and again, to their own grandchildren to come.

I found them– the perfect pair of linen slacks,

the perfect fit and color,

with elegance to spare,

an  extra special look for summer wear.

Even hanging in the closet,

the perfect pair of linen slacks hangs

elegantly awaiting a perfect time.

Days and weeks pass by

and even seasons, and finally,

the perfect pair of linen slacks

are extricated from the closet.

to wear  with pride!

Only the perfect pair of linen slacks

no longer fit.

But, I finally found it –

the perfect dress

for a wedding or a celebration,

a lovely sea foam color and the perfect line.

Only the closet knows it’s possibilities,

and days and weeks go by, and even seasons.

And finally, the sea foam dress is donned

for the perfect party time,

But, the sea foam dress is out of style.

Saving is a noble quest, except when

saving things “for best.”

Our friend, Viola


Way down south in the land of Dixie is the state of Virginia.  Sometimes it seems more like the North than the South, but when you get right down to it, Virginia is a southern state with all the charm and character reminiscent of plantation life and the gentile lifestyles depicted in Gone with the Wind.

When my husband and I moved to Virginia near a town that was home to Stonewall Jackson and Robert E. Lee, we found friends who shared more than just southern accents and their pride in the “homeplace.”  They shared food.

All her life, Viola was a horse person.  She rode in The Hunt, hosted Hunt “breakfasts”(really dinners), and rejoiced in good cooking.  She was truly a local character, forthright and straightforward, and with her own ideas of proper etiquette.  At many of her fabulous Hunt Breakfasts and private dinners, she offered a salad I had never tasted before.  It’s now a major hit in my family and a regular offering.  As the saying goes, “try it, you’ll like it.”

A small Styrofoam takeout cup of salad with br...


2 Bunches of Broccoli

10 Slices of crispy cooked bacon, crumbled

2/3 Cup Raisins

½  an Onion chopped

1 Cup (or less) of Mayonnaise

½ Cup (or less) of Sugar

2 TBs Vinegar

Cut broccoli into bite size pieces.  Add bacon, onion and raisins.  Mix remaining ingredients together and then add to the broccoli.  Refrigerate for 2 hours before serving.

Great for pot luck covered dish offering or side dish for a main meal.  Enjoy!

General Robert E. Lee

Confederate Lt. Gen. Thomas "Stonewall&qu...

Confederate Lt. Gen. Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson photographed at Winchester, Virginia 1862. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

This post is so beautifully written, I had to share it. Maybe I will quit writing and just keep reblogging other bloggers.

A p r o n h e a d -- Lilly

It’s a tired old mountain surrounding us, a tired old man with bristly pine whiskers, who lay down on his side in rumpled clothes—lay down to sleep soundly, sinking deeper into the rocky Canadian Shield, a Rip Van slumber.

The flat valley below is laid out like crazy quilt blocks of lavender-touched green alfalfa and glistening grains, waving in breezes, Holstein Friesians dotting the landscape like fine stitches.

The long dirt lane leads nowhere and everywhere, but always home.  Home—a century-old, red brick, tin-roofed house that shelters six girls, one slightly spoiled boy, and an inventor-farmer who cherishes his Dorothy.

The doors are left unlocked to strangers, kids, and sometimes cats, and the phone rings a long and a short on the party line.  Flapping laundry stretches pole to pole in front of the new garage, awaiting desecration by a dirty combine, followed by sincerest apologies.

There’s a garden to weed and…

View original post 120 more words

This somewhat unwelcome visitor is stalking me now too. Judith’s oh–so-clever post, The Visitor, is well worth sharing.

I choose how I will spend the rest of my life

We all grow up with the weight of history on us.
Our ancestors dwell in the attics of our brains
as they do in the spiraling chains of knowledge hidden
in every cell of our bodies.
Shirley Abbott, magazine editor and writer
1934 –

I have written before about this old lady who seems to inhabit my house alongside Lotte and me.  I haven’t invited her in, but wherever I go she is there before me.  When I go into the bathroom she is looking at me where the mirror is supposed to be.  I pass along the hall and there she is again.  She’s in the bedroom, the living room and at the front door.  I don’t know who she is or why she is living in my house.

Cross Old Woman

She doesn’t even appear to be happy that she is getting free board and lodging without having been invited.  And…

View original post 391 more words

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