Linda Ivy Cooper is standing before the house of her childhood when she begins to reveal the horrific deeds that took place within the walls. “On one hand (She Ain’t My Sister) is a frightening book and on the other, a hopeful one. It is very, very powerful.” Laurie Rosin, Book Editor
Saturday, June 27, 2015
To be chosen or NOT
"We have chosen someone else. Someone who more closely aligns with our needs." We all deal with rejection, don't we? I have told my children time and time again, "if you choose to share your personal life with others you must be prepared to listen to their opinion/advise/judgement because you have choose to shine the light within." The big Ha! - the process of an employment search is very similar in so many ways. The person in need must be an open book / they must share their accomplishments and failures with hopes that their sincerity with gain them trust. When the rejection comes..... Oh if we could just take it all back!!!
Friday, April 17, 2015
Documenting our past through photography.
Do you ever wonder how children with no documented past (like found through photography,) ever reach that place of personal identity? I was 30years old when I first saw a picture of my brother. My stomach did a flip and tears stung my eyes. I gasped and cried out, "I know that little boy!" Suddenly standing there holding the picture gave me proof of a life I had only shared verbally. I was so excited to share that little picture with my own children and with my husband. Suddenly I had a starting point of such!
She Ain't My Sister, page 17: "Old photographs were tucked inside dusty books. A shelf held bottles of paint and brushes stiff with leftover paint. Mommy would call us into the sunlight to show us pictures of strange people with unsmiling pasty faces. .........She would read out loud the names and dates scribbled on the back. ............She would gasp when she read the dates and then sigh before dropping them into the garbage can ............................................."
She Ain't My Sister, page 17: "Old photographs were tucked inside dusty books. A shelf held bottles of paint and brushes stiff with leftover paint. Mommy would call us into the sunlight to show us pictures of strange people with unsmiling pasty faces. .........She would read out loud the names and dates scribbled on the back. ............She would gasp when she read the dates and then sigh before dropping them into the garbage can ............................................."
Labels:
ancestry,
CHILDREN,
familytree,
identy,
memories,
memory,
photo,
photography,
pictures
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