I can never remember the year she was born. Perhaps my Beloved Brother will leave me a comment telling me what year it was.
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I am not even sure how old she was when this photo was taken. She was born in Yorkshire in England, & when she was 18 years old, her whole family emigrated to New Zealand.
Her mother had very bad arthritis, & the family Doctor advised them that New Zealand would be kinder for her condition. Obviously, he had never been to New Zealand, which, while being very beautiful, is not kind to arthritis at all.
Christiana married an Australian born man, who had gone to New Zealand seeking work. They had 4 children, 3 boys, & my mother.
For much of Christiana & George's marriage, they lived in a very remote cottage in a wild Gorge beside a river in the North Island of New Zealand.
Christiana was the Post Mistress for the district, which business was just run from the cottage. And George was the Road Maintenance man, who kept the roads open for traffic- the 'Service Car' which was the bus service in those days, and the cars, but much of the traffic was horse & buggy!
My Grandmother loved driving the horse & gig, & in her young days, had loved to ride her horse alongside the train in Yorkshire. Until her father caught her, & forbade her to do it again. Plus she preferred to ride astride the horse, & not sidesaddle, which was considered disgraceful.
Christiana loved her family dearly, & was never happier than when they were all gathered together. She used to usually catch a cold on or near her birthday. Fickle Spring seemed to catch her every year, and she would spend about 2 weeks of misery, with running nose, & a general feeling of unwellness.
When she was about 50, she had a fall, which resulted in a badly broken leg, just above her knee. Her family found her lying beside the steps, unable to remember how she had fallen. She spent considerable time in the Waikato hospital, and the knee was left permanently stiff, & she walked with a stick for the rest of her life.
I can still see her, sitting on her stool, at the side of the bench, with her leg propped out in front of her, peeling the vegetables for our tea. She would go out to her beloved garden, & bend over from the waist, laying her stick on the ground, & she would weed, or collect the vegetables for tea.
She had a friend, Mrs W, who was Welsh, who used to come to visit, by bus once a week.
Often when I came home from school, Mrs W would be sitting in the dining room, chatting away with her lovely lilting accent. My Grandmother would have just slipped out the back door to the garden, to collect some parsely or lettuce, & quietly slip back in & murmur something, & her friend seemed utterly unaware of her having been gone!
We used to snigger about it, & wonder how it could happen. The rules of their friendship seemed rather odd to us. They never called each other by their first names, & it was always Mrs W & Mrs D. I have no idea how they ever met each other, as our Grandmother didn't go out really, & was more of a homebody, happy with her little domain.
She had a very forgiving heart, & when I was young, I used to be furious with how she could always make excuses for people who did seemingly rotten things. Our mother used to get impatient too, but as she aged she became so much like her mother in her thinking. And guess what. I have come to think like that also! Christiana used to study her bible almost nightly, & though she never rammed it down our throats she would say, "Judge not, lest ye be judged" and I see the wisdom of those words, though not in any religious sense.
Of course we remember our Grandmother every August 31st.
And then, there is the Diana factor about the day.
The August 31st she died on, was a surreal kind of day, & will always remain that way in my memory.
Our mother had died on the 17th of August. Her funeral had been held on 22nd August. We were trying to pack up her flat, & decide what to do with her small shoes, her neat clothes, in such cared for condition. And we had been going over photos, always guaranteed to bring tears, as well as laughs.
We had the radio on in the back ground. My brother & I were alone. He in one room, & I in another. Then I heard the news that Diana had died in a bizarre accident.
My first reaction was to laugh hysterically. Odd I know, but it is the truth. I was not laughing about it, really, it was just a reaction of .....hysteria, pent up emotions.... who knows.
The media had saturated us with Diana 'news' prior to her death, & we had discussed it, my mother & I, in a vague way, as one does when one is confronted continually with some 'gossip' on the media. I think we both felt she was a little foolish, but also agreed she could have no peace from the media hounds.
So, her death always springs to mind for me at this time. I am sure I would have no specific memory if not for the timing of her death. I am not one of those people who can remember exactly where they were when they learnt of any celebrity's death. I have no idea where I was when JFK got shot. Only remember about Elvis because he died on GOM's birthday, & we happened to be in Sydney on holiday.
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And now, I would like opinions, help, any thoughts..
If it is true, that Energy Follows Thought, does Energy differentiate between positive & negative??
Or to put it another way. Does Energy recognize 'Good & Evil'?
If I keep hurling 'bad. thoughts at Bush, for his evil or deranged mind, are those thoughts going to manifest as more power to Bush, or as a lessening effect? So to say, a weakening power?
I ask, because I am not religious in any sense of the word. But I do believe that positive thoughts can help people, if they are directed with sincerity.
And I see the wickedness in the world, that I associate with the Bush Administration, and I cant help but send some very black thoughts in their direction. But is that 'energy' working against them----or me?
And I can't apply my Grandmother's philosophy of 'Judge not' for those evil men.
I suppose I can see why people pray. I can't, but I see why others might.
Seals & Crofts, Ruby Jean & Billie Lee