Wednesday, October 26, 2011

It's not how long a star shines, but the brightness of its light - A picture from the past

I was looking through some old photos today and came across this one of my Mother. 
The orb of light in the doorway is the flash of my camera today when I took the "picture of the picture".

I'm not sure how old Mom was when this was made, but from the dress style, I'm thinking it was the early 1960's and that she was in her mid 50's at the time.  Old photos are fascinating and I love the play of light and the shadow of the porch bench on the right. Do you see in the far right bottom corner - it's my cat and his shadow - probably the only photo in existence of this cat.  Tom was a fixture in our family - born when I was about two years old and died when I was twenty - a ripe old age of eighteen - not bad for a cat.  He was my heating pad in the winter as he loved sleeping at my feet.  His full name was Samuel Thomas Sylvester Ray - Tom for short.  My sister Martha and I fought over his name for years and finally decided to give him this extremely long name because we liked the sound of it.  Maybe that's why he lived so long - trying to live up to his lengthy name.

This photo of Mom brings back so many memories.   Mom was middle-aged at my earliest memories .  Since she was forty-two when I, her youngest of seven, was born, I never knew her as young.  Dad was forty-five.  The down side of being born to older parents is that I didn't have them in my life as long as my siblings did. They passed away when I was in my thirties.

Mom was a great storyteller and she loved weaving her spells on us with her tales of adventure.  She had so much to tell - growing up in the beginning of the twentieth century and seeing so many changes in her lifetime.  Each of her stories was told over and over again with great relish.  Traveling was her passion and always came back from her trips with the most incredible stories of her journeys that would keep us entertained for months afterwards. 

There are so many things in our genetics and in our home life experiences that make us who we are.  I see myself reflecting some of Mom's ways, and I find myself lacking in so many others.   I found a frame today to put this photo in - one that is very fitting for the play of light and the way she lived her life.  The message on the frame says, "It is not how long a star shines, but the brightness of its light."


  1. Oh, Dearest Glenda.
    Lovely post of your mother's memory. My late mother's youngest sister who is 66 years old has had once said the same kind of thing.
    How lovely the message frame has ""It is not how long a star shines, but the brightness of its light." Sure our mom's light are so bright forever!!!

    Much Love, my friend, Orchid*

    PS> I love the new header which is so seasonal♡♡♡

    ripe old age

  2. This reminds me of what my Mom used to call the older kids in our family...'Children of my Youth'. I was fortunate to be one of the ones of her youth. My younger siblings say they, like you, wished they had known our parents when they were young. One thing that did come their way with having them as 'seasoned' parents they weren't as quick to anger, punish or restrict. They figured out the little ones would find their way and be just fine without all the extra parenting.

    I can hear your love for your Mother throughout this posting...

  3. Thank you for commenting from Japan, my friend Orchid!

    Yes, Sush - it was an advantage having "seasoned" parents. My siblings were jealous that I was rarely punished but I like to tell them that it was because I was such a sweet child, LOL.

  4. Hi Glenda. I'm sure that you really were a very sweet child! Hee Hee! I absolutely love that quote, "It's not how long a star shines, but the brightness of its light" and how lovely to find a photo frame with that quote on it, to put that lovely photo of your dear mum in. As you say, it is just so appropriate. It really is a lovely photo, very atmospheric of the time. I was 32 when I lost my dad and 49 when I lost my mum. I still wish that I had them with me. I was an only child and they had me fairly late in life, but I was very much loved!

  5. Diane, I know how you feel - I wish I had had them around a lot longer - there's still so many things I want to ask them. I was definitely not planned, but I was always made to feel so special that I was born so late in their lives - they told me that I kept them young.

  6. A lovely post but just reading through the comments and your replies. I (the eldest) once said to my father that it was unfair how much easier going they were on my youngest sibling. He claimed that by the time they got to her teens he was just plain worn out!

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