20 Lines A Day

A Community of Writers and Photographers


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20 Lines a Day..Thanksgiving Photo Challenge

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I am thankful for the new day…timzauto

Happy Thanksgiving to all…

Thanksgiving day is filled with family and friends , I know we are also busy with events , football, eating ..lol and socializing …I would like to challenge you all to just one picture that describes what you are thankful for….so thruout today just snap one picture and post , maybe we all can see the different ways everyone is thankful for….tag your posts with TGphotochallenge so we can check your pics and enjoy your way of being thankful…Thanks for posting and lets get snapping those photos


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HAPPY THANKSGIVING

Happy Thanks giving to all..


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Certain Things

A shell, a piece of bone, a tumbleweed,
some driftwood, Indian beads, a little stone…
these things hold memories, and how I need

them. Grandchildren learned names of shells with speed
from my collection. Don’t forget pinecone
to add to shell and bone and tumbleweed.

My mother cooked Thanksgiving once to feed
us in the pinewoods. Warm that year, sun shone.
These things hold memories. O, how I need

remembrance of the driftwood she would plead
with us to bring up from the beach. Windblown,
a shell, a piece of bone, a tumbleweed

arrived onshore. And then we would impede
their further travels, as our mom was prone
to loving things of nature. They, her need,

defined her as might the Apostles’ Creed.
Each lovely signature stood all alone
in her home, shell and bone and tumbleweed.
I understand the memories I need.

(a villanelle)


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Remembering

My mother used to tell my brother and me that she’d played shortstop for the Brooklyn Dodgers. I never questioned that. You would have to have known her. She was so convincing. This became family lore, and eventually she told the story that she named me Maggie because “it has two Gs in it and they stand for gullible, gullible.

We had many a laugh over this throughout the years. When she was 64 and first became ill, she kept her sense of humor through the six years of her illness and dying. Her mind remained sharp.

She died at the too-young age of 70, and we carried out her wishes, to scatter her ashes at the beach. We did this on her November birthday which, that year, was Thanksgiving. I know I was putting it off. Finally our son-in-law said, “If you want to do this today we should get going because soon it will be dark.” So after our daughter, her new husband, our son and his girlfriend, my in-laws, and my husband and I had had our dinner, we headed out to the beach. I carried that black box in my mittened hands.

My stomach churned. I didn’t know what her remains would look like. Yes, I had that fear of the unknown. But when I opened it, it was all grey ash. That’s it. I was wearing a purple down jacket. I whooshed those ashes to the wind, and some of them got on my jacket. I loved that. And I felt good that we were doing as she desired.

Five months earlier, after the visitation at the funeral home, my brother, his wife, our children, and my husband and I stood in the parking lot with blue and green balloons. Blue and green were her favorite colors so there was no question as to what colors to get. Each balloon was on a long ribbon, and attached was a little white card. We decided we were going to write messages on those cards before releasing them heavenward.

Well, if you’ve read my writings you know that I often tend to be wordy, and I was trying mightily to write every possible significant thing I could think of on that little card. I was writing so small, and up the sides of the card. It was as if I couldn’t get it all said. Fortunately, my mom and I had said everything to each other while she was still alive.

Finally everyone was done. At the last minute I said, “Would anyone mind if we read what we wrote?”

And my brother said, “No. You go first.” He must have known that it would have been the longest. Of course he was right. Then the others read theirs. My brother read last. Its simplicity and poignancy touches me still:

Shortstop for the Brooklyn Dodgers.


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December?

A Silly December Poem

It’s 60 today and the sun’s shining bright.
I guess that the seasons just can’t get it right.
A couple of flakes fell on Thanksgiving Day,
but autumn is lingering. Skies are not gray.

I wonder why Earth has its story mixed up.
The weather’s been weird, like cake in a cup.
So what of December? Where’s snow and the cold?
It might come like a lamb, not blatant or bold.


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Weekly Photo Challenge: Thankful

Originally posted on Grandmother Musings:

Even though Thanksgiving is now a memory, I am still thankful for the turkeys that gave of themselves so that my family and I could have a superb meal.  It wouldn’t be a holiday without them!  

©Grandmother Musings 2012-2013.

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Jamie Nowinski – Grandmother Wisdom/Grandmother Musings with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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Thanksgiving 2012

I learned that I’m a worrier. Everything that gave me angst before Thanksgiving turned out to be nothing.

“But she’ll ask about the ___,” I worried.

She didn’t ask.

“He’ll wonder where the check is,” I worried.

Nothing was said.

“S. will back off,” I worried.

She didn’t.

“The food won’t be just right,” I worried.

The food was delicious.

“We won’t have enough room,” I worried.

We had plenty of room, and more.

Lesson? Don’t worry. It adds stress. It’s unnecessary.

Thanksgiving couldn’t have been more wonderful. My sister-in-law and her husband arrived on the train Wed. night and stayed until yesterday. What a great time we had with them. I finally located an old carousel slide projector so we could look at slides of my husband, his five siblings, and their parents, from when the kids were small. J. was a tremendous help in the kitchen. J. and C. were comfortable in the bedroom we gave them, easy guests, fun. The right teams won football games, for the most part. The grandchildren were sweet. Our older granddaughter played the piano for everyone and was duly rewarded with applause and compliments. Our younger granddaughter zoomed little cars around, hugged teddy bears, and happily went from lap to lap. Our grandson, a teenager, hung with the men watching football, spending time on Facebook with his friends, said the grace before our meal.

How much I have to be grateful for.

And I am.


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In the Days of Long Ago

One day, we gather around the fire,
Eat and sip warm drinks
in thanks for all we have.

The next day, as if to purge ourselves
of any of  the warmth of hearth and home.
We awake before dawn.

We rush into the lines of traffic,
the masses of souls pushing  each other.
Complain and wait to stroke our credit cards.

Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah!
The bells and the red kettles beside
smiling, shivering volunteers.

I miss the days my grandma remembered.
Hunting a tree in the pasture,
A stocking with fruit and candy,

Eight candles in the night.
Thinking of why we have so much.
Hoping our children remember that one day.


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The Phone Call

The phone would have rung about 11:00 this morning.

“Happy Thanksgiving, honey.”

My mom. And she did it on Christmas, and Easter, and our birthdays, and our anniversary, always that call to begin the day.

It’s been 17 years since I’ve heard that phone call. It was her habit. Call the kids and wish them a happy ____________(whatever). Her voice, tuned to the emotional strings of the day, rang into the depths of me. I could depend on it. Like clockwork, as they say. No call this morning, no voice…

…except in my heart, where I will always hear it.


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Thanksgiving/Second Version

The girls resolved their differences
and let me know that all was well.
At first I heard a clanging bell,
agreement then. I’m glad, I guess.

Wish none of it had taken place,
no wishing this or wishing that.
Now stepping on the Welcome mat
means smiles are drawn upon each face


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Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving

Turkey, trimmings, family, fun
Anticipation, cooking, finally, “Come.”
A glass of wine, an appetizer plate,
No more hours we need to wait.

The planning of this grand event
is fraught with feelings.
“Four’s too late,” says one, the other, “I wish three
is when we’d eat.”

The girls now disagree and I am caught
between my daughter, daughter-in-law.
Daughter’s going shopping, 4 AM,
and DIL says evening plans

have shown their face.
I want to placate everyone and keep the peace,
make all as happy as can be.
This seems beyond my boundary.

A sis-in-law and hubby come
tomorrow night to stay four days.
Their visit gives me joy,
and keeps the petty arguments at bay.

I hope and pray that peace will reign
around our table with no pain
or misinterpretation.
Holidays can be so tough.

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