humanity
Humanity begins at home.
My Childhood Room
A Piece of Cake Our living room was the centre of all the actives we shared as a family. This room came into it's own on Sunday's. It was the only day of the week that guaranteed we would all be home together. My parents would not be up before ten am.
By dominic Joseph zenden5 years ago in Families
#BossMom Challenge
My funny, beautiful, full of life second eldest sister, Natasha has been a huge inspiration in my life from day one. She is 11 years older than I am, The Power Bossmom of my 1st born nephew Dionis and she has always been there for me, especially when I was going through a very bad divorce and I was going to school and working and I had three little children to raised and she really did help me a whole lot with them. She had taught me so much about being a mom and her how of love your children unconditionally and how to be strong and confident, even during a time when I felt like giving up. But she pushed me and made sure that everything was good with me and my children and I really do love and appreciate her and is grateful for having her as my sister and friend.
By Anjanine Thomas5 years ago in Families
Mom's Way
People lost money during the worst economic hardship in American history. The year was 1929. The Great Depression began and ended approximately four years later. It was during the Great Depression that my mother was a child growing up on her family's farm in Central Pennsylvania.
By Babs Iverson5 years ago in Families
The Dirt Tribe
This is a culture of dirt, dust, grease, sweat, complicated unforgiving machines, hangovers, and that terrifying cough through clouds of cigarette smoke that may or may not signal lung cancer. And it is tribal and militant. I am not a tribal member, just a sixteen-year-old summer temp as dumb and useless as a boutique of dead spring flowers out here in this world of trenches, pvc pipe, and hydraulic fluid. My father is a member, a sub-chief in fact. He’s one of those elites who knows how to make the backhoes, track hoes, excavators, and bulldozers plow, rip, and maim the raw earth into something organized and useful.
By Archived User5 years ago in Families
How My Mother Guided Me To Write My Life's Story
In the beginning In the beginning, I was nothing, the mere possibility of something. In the beginning, I was just a soul in the Great Before, waiting in a space with no time for the universe to find me a match - a mother to birth me into being. That time before time was the primordial soup where the most important ingredients were mixed, the traits that would form my DNA. With an all-knowing hand, everything was put in place, for me to discover when time would start its flow. At last, the connection was found, but not all conditions were met, so I waited for a little longer until finally, it was time to become.
By A.M.Radulescu5 years ago in Families
She is.
There’s different kinds of teachers in the world. The strict ones that focus on what you “can’t” or “shouldn’t” do. The “simple” ones that dumb things down so much, you feel like you’re stuck in preschool hearing them emphatically repeat phrases over and over as if the resound is understood differently. Then, you have the “taught” teachers, who try hard to explain what they’ve been taught, but can’t quite put it into words you can understand. I could go on about types of teachers I’ve experienced in my lifetime, but that’s not really the point. The point is—this one teacher—the “model” teacher; let’s focus on her for a moment. This teacher wears her content. She is a walking three dimensional figure of the subject area she intends to educate her pupils in. This teacher IS the model. She is—the thesis. She is—my mother, and it’s not so much what she teaches me, rather how she teaches it, that really illuminates the lessons I hold dear. She just lives and shapes me with the lessons she breathes. Here are the top 5 life lessons she breathes into me.
By Natalie Stover5 years ago in Families
Rhapsody and Indifference: Sexuality and Families
D.H. Lawrence is a writer who seems both known and unknown. Most of us who took literature in college or who were assigned The Rocking-Horse Winner in high school, know of Lady Chatterley’s Lover and its scandalous history. I read it at fifteen and have read at least eight years in between since then. My attitude towards the “banned” sex in the novel changes every time I read it. During my last read, it seemed less rapturous and the sex seemed odd; that is likely due to time and experience and the realization that the novel speaks more to class than sex. I remember being on a date years ago with an English man and he said the most shocking thing about the book was that the Lady of the Manor “stooped” a “yardsman”. Some people (and professors are people) abhor him and yet I am always engrossed by his books, poems, and short stories. He is profoundly good at describing the internal life of a person. My latest read is “Rainbow”. It has little dialogue, but it is sumptuous in its descriptions of the characters' inner thoughts and desires. It is about family and the steel thread of sexuality that supports each generation.
By Risa Christy Peris5 years ago in Families
