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Mum and Growing Days

Le 20 décembre 2016, 03:59 dans Humeurs 0

  When you were 11 years old, she took you and your friends to the different movies. You thanked her by asking to sit in a row.

  When you were 12 years old, she warned you not to watch certain TV shows. You thanked her by waiting until she left the house.

  When you were 13, she suggested a haircut that was becoming. You thanked her by telling her she had no taste.

  When you were 14, she paid for a month away at summer camp. You thanked her by forgetting to write a single letter.

  When you were 15, she came home from work, looking for a hug. You thanked her by having your bedroom door locked.

  When you were 16, she taught you how to drive her car. You thanked her by taking it every chance you could.

  When you were 17, she was expecting an important call. You thanked her by being on the phone all night.

  When you were 18, she cried at your high school graduation. You thanked her by staying out partying until dawn.

  When you were 19, she paid for your college tuition, drove you to campus, carried your bags. You thanked her by saying good-bye outside the dorm so you wouldn’t be embarrassed in front of your friends.

  When you were 20, she asked whether you were seeing anyone. You thanked her by saying, “It’s none of your business.”

Coping with Death

Le 14 décembre 2016, 04:49 dans Humeurs 0

Vertamae Grosvenor searched for answers to her young grandson‘s questions of "why?" when his father died. Grosvenor took her grandson, Oscar, to Oaxaca, Mexico, where death, in its celebratory symbols and rituals, is 1)inescapable. He found 2)solace in performing caretaking rituals in a cemetery and building an altar to his father, and in seeing others grieving for their ancestors alongside him. Oscar found comfort in everyone being "even."   You can read the transcript:   ALEX CHADWICK, HOST: In the summer of last year, the son-in-law of NPR‘s Vertamae Grosvenor was killed in a 3)head-on car crash with a drunken driver. It happened before dawn on the day that Vertamae was to have put her then-8-year-old grandson on a flight to Chicago where his father would have been waiting nuskin.   She struggled with how to help the child bear the loss of his father. And she decided to turn to a culture different from her own.   VERTAMAE GROSVENOR, NPR REPORTER: My son-in-law Beau, as he was called, was a musician, a bass player. When his son and namesake Oscar asked why, why did this happen to my dad, I choked, remembering as a child how my elders were able to utter words of solace with ease and certainly, but I couldn‘t. I felt that meaningful answers to Oscar‘s "why?" required a faith deeper than I had at the time.   One night, weeks after Beau‘s memorial service, I woke from the deepest part of sleep with Oaxaca on my mind. Shortly after my mother passed in 1993, I went to Oaxaca, Mexico on assignment during the Days of the Dead celebration. Death was everywhere in Oaxaca. It was impossible to avoid a direct confrontation. And yet, I came away comforted.   So, hoping to make it better, I decided to take my grandson Oscar to Oaxaca.   Death was everywhere in Oaxaca. In the markets, vendors sell 4)crystallized sugar skulls with 5)sequined eyes, chocolate coffins, 6)clay 7)skeletons. Death designs cut out of flowing colored tissue paper dance around the city. 8)Murals and paintings display death with a thousand different faces. There are altars and offerings for the dead in restaurants, churches, homes and hotels nuskin hk.   In our hotel room, we built an alter for Beau, made of bought things from the market in Oaxaca and treasured things that we‘d carried with us from home. It was Oscar‘s first altar.   OSCAR, GRANDSON OF VERTAMAE GROSVENOR: I kind of like it that—about the altar, because I, I put a lot of nice things, like my necklace that has Jesus being born, on it. And I was gonna put my watch, but since I put my necklace there it won‘t fit. I hope that my dad will come to eat some candy or stuff, and he could probably smell all these flowers from up where he is. So, I hope my dad could find the altar, wherever he is.   GROSVENOR: The ancients believed life is the dream from which death awakens us. When I read they buried food, drink, and personal belongings with their dead, I recalled a similar custom among my people, the Gullahs, who call a funeral service a "home going."   PABLO, CEMETERY VIGIL GUIDE: We‘re in hoho. Hoho in Oaxaca. These mystical people who come to welcome the souls of the relatives. And then to—so, when they arrive, they, they, they have to feel the grace beautifully decorated, and of course candles, flowers. And the whole family is waiting for them.   GROSVENOR: Pablo is our guide at the cemetery 9)vigil for the dead.   PABLO: To get to the cemetery, we must go this route nu skin.   GROSVENOR: This way, OK.   The sweet scent of the flowers and the sharp smell of the 10)incense and wood smoke fill the air. Lamp and candle flames turn the dark night orange red. The graves are 11)adorned with the favorite things of the departed. And flowers, flowers, and flowers. Oscar discovers some placed too close to the candles.   OSCAR: Yeah, this one‘s burning those top leaves down. See, this one‘s burning them. This one‘s burning those.   PABLO: OK, so I‘ll fix this one and you go around and fix the other one.   GROSVENOR: No one seems to mind Oscar and Pablo moving among the graves, putting out flower fires.   PABLO: OK, yes. That‘s better now. Can you move the—can you move the candle a little bit toward me?   OSCAR: No.   PABLO: No. It‘s…   GROSVENOR: Move the candle a little bit, Oscar.   OSCAR: Perfect. I saved it.   PABLO: OK.   GROSVENOR: You saved it.   PABLO: Yes. Great.   OSCAR: But now…   GROSVENOR: Family reunions are going on all over the cemetery. People are talking, eating, and communing with their relatives, living and dead.   OSCAR: They‘re feeling what I‘m feeling, but in a different way, because somebody else died in their family. And I think they‘re under a lot of stress, too. So, everybody here is even.   GROSVENOR: Back at the hotel, I ask Oscar what he meant by being "even."   OSCAR: Everybody lost a mother or father or aunt when they get real, real old. Or they could die in a car accident like my dad, or they could die from breast cancer like my auntie, or they could just die normally like my great,great grandmother. It‘s kind of hard to go through with whoever died and can do it, you gotta—you just gotta go on and go on and go on. You can never give up on your ancestors.   GROSVENOR: I came to Oaxaca hoping to make it better, hoping to help Oscar find an answer to why death came for his dad. We left Oaxaca without answers, but we came away comforted.   Did you feel his presence any time you were here?   OSCAR: Yeah.   GROSVENOR: When?   OSCAR: When I was sleeping, I felt something scratching me, and I wasn‘t.   GROSVENOR: What do you mean?   OSCAR: When I was asleep, I, like, felt some—a wet, some wet things, like on my cheek right here and—and I felt something wrap around me like this. And that‘s, I think it was my dad giving me a hug and a kiss good night.

Hunger

Le 18 novembre 2016, 06:11 dans Humeurs 0

  [1]Believe it or not, I've been starving for four days on end weight lifting equipment.   [2] At first, I ate nothing but four baked cakes or two small buns per day, then I cut them down by half and then by another half, until I didn't even own a copper for buying boiled water. When I was thirsty, I would stand under a tap and let its running water pour down my throat through my wide-open mouth. I felt bloated. There was a pain and chill in my stomach. I cannot tell you enough how miserable I was.   [3] How did it come that I had been reduced to such poverty? It was because the school where I studied had got into trouble. Many students had been arrested and taken to the police station. Some students had moved house and some had gone home. The school canteen was closed because it refused to serve meals on credit. While trying to rescue the arrested fellow students, I meanwhile had to find enough money to pay my living expenses. So I was terribly busy 4g sim card.   [4] Pressed by hunger, I would visit Chunchao Bookstore every day to seek a loan of money. When Kang Nong or Fu Hua was there, I would have no problem in borrowing a couple of silver dollars through them. But I seldom found them in the store and the clerks of course had no say in this matter. Therefore, in nine times out of ten nothing would come of my visit there.   [5] 1 was beside myself with joy the day when I found my book The Diary of a Woman Soldier published at long last. Pasted up at the door of the bookstore was an eye-catching colourful poster advertising the book. I went into the store full of curiosity, and, as an ordinary customer would do, took from the shelf a copy of the book, which had on its bright-red front cover a cartoon by Feng Zikai's daughter portraying a little woman soldier riding on a cow. I didn't buy it for I knew I was entitled as its author to at least ten complimentary copies cuboid mini kit.

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