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Category Archives: Family Stories

The Book Of Thank You ~ Post 7: The Canadian National Exhibition

01 Monday Aug 2016

Posted by duckykoren in Childhood, Education, Entertainment, Family Stories, Father, Grandmothers, Ice Cream, relationships, Rock And Roll, Thanks, Toronto, Tourism, Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

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Children, Family, ferris wheel, grandfathers, Grandmothers, grief, midway, Music, Platters, Stories, Toronto, Travel, Writing

 

The month of August always brings thoughts of a family tradition started by my Father in 1966.

That is when we would make our annual visit to the Canadian National Exhibition, or more commonly known to the people of Toronto as the C.N.E.

On the last day of school in late June, every child would be given a free children’s pass to this annual event.

Father was never one to let something free pass him by.

Set in the middle of downtown Toronto and bordering on Lake Ontario, the C.N.E. covers 192 acres of ground filled with a stadium, bandshell, coliseum, midway, fountains, picnic areas and much more.

Using Toronto’s public transportation, Father and I always went on the first Saturday after the grand opening. This usually coincided with the annual grand Scottish Tattoo parades where the sounds of bagpipes could be heard at every turn.

My Father didn’t care for bagpipes, and I remember how he would cover his ears and whisk me off to a quieter venue, a building perhaps, one of the many which would showcase countries from around the world, cars, or home shows.

The food building was a grand concourse featuring kiosks of cuisine from all over the world. I was partial to the corn dogs, while Father always contented himself with a cardboard bowl of spaghetti which cost only twenty-five cents.

Throughout the course of the day we collected free magazines, brochures, samples and souvenirs. By the time we left at the end of the day we would usually have three full bags of treasure to take home. I carried one while Father carried two.

I was allowed to purchase one souvenir of choice which was usually a punching ball, or an invisible dog leash.

The last time that I went to the C.N.E. with my Father was in the early 1990’s.

We brought my two young daughters to share the experience with us.

What I remember the most about that day was when we went to the bandshell where their was a rock and roll revival being held hosted by Bowser from the group SHA-NA-NA. We found a patch of grass to stand and watch. While the Platters were on stage singing their hit UNDER THE BOARDWALK, my daughters and I twirled and danced to the music.

Those were very happy moments.

In 1969, while my Father was away on business, my Grandparents took me for my annual pilgrimage to the C.N.E.

All these years later, it’s hard for me to decide which memories of that day are dearest to me.

Is it the memories of going on the Ferris wheel with my Grandmother?

She handled my rocking the carriage very well. I could be a handful at times.

Shortly after that, as I took another turn on the Ferris wheel alone, she won me an orange stuffed teddy bear. To this day, I think she paid off the carnie just so that she could see the joy on my face as she presented me with a new toy. I named the bear Godfrey.

We were very fortunate that day as our visit to the C.N.E. coincided with the visit of Canada’s current Prime Minister, Pierre Elliot Trudeau, who was there for a cinematic premiere at the Queen Elizabeth building.

My Grandmother and I stood less than ten feet from him as he stood for photographs and welcoming speeches.

At one point, he turned his head left, looked at me and smiled. I smiled back.

Now, my Grandmother has always been of the opinion that the Prime Minister was smiling at her and not me.

Indeed, every time that we found ourselves together in the following thirty-five years we would lovingly spar  with each other over this:

“Trudeau was laughing at me…” she’s say.

“No, he was laughing at me…” I’d respond.

Then we would end the discussion by laughing at ourselves.

One of the last times that I visited the C.N.E. Was in 2005, seven months after my Father had passed away. I brought my two daughters and a good friend.

We made new memories as we walked our way through trapeze artists, upside down rides, tall cups of lemonade, tall ships, log flumes, ice cream, all behind the beautiful backdrop of the Toronto skyline.

It was good to be reacquainted with one of my childhood joys and be able to set aside my lingering grief.

Thank you C.N.E. for those new memories.

May there be many more.

 

 

❤

My Daily Distraction ~ Post 198: Carpe Beanum: Seize The Coffee

04 Saturday Jun 2016

Posted by duckykoren in Family, Family Stories, Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Family, Grandmothers, Stories, Travel

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Carpe Beanum… Seize The Coffee!

Some memories never fade.

It was just this morning as I was making the coffee when I remembered back to the times when my husband and I brought our young children to Toronto to visit their great grandparents.

During our visits with my Grandparents, came the time when we had our inevitable “Kaffeeklatch,” which is the Gernan equivalent for British “Tea Time.”

That was when Oma and I would busy ourselves in her kitchen. She would prepare her signature dessert, fried Ochsenaugen, which are quite similar to our well known Canadian Timbits.

Then, she would always designate me to make the coffee.

Now, thirty years later I can still hear my Grandmother, or Oma as we called her, instructing me in German with a firm, yet loving tone of voice to:

“Mach es eine gute caffee!”

Which in English means:

“Make it a good coffee!”

This morning, as I dipped the measuring spoon into the awaiting ground coffee beans I could feel that memory ever so gently guiding my hand to scoop up just the right amount…

… Plus a little bit more!

After taking three sips of the resulting perfect cup of coffee, I knew I had indeed made…

“Eine gute caffee.”

I am fully confident that I will always have the ability to do so.

And for this, as I savour the morning coffee down to the final few sips…

…I find myself most grateful.

My.Daily.Distraction ~ Post Ninety-Nine: Lessons From My Father… *Respect All Books*

29 Thursday Jan 2015

Posted by duckykoren in Books, Crafts, Family, Family Stories, Reading, Stories

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

book covers, Books, comics, crafts, efucation, fathers, geography, Maps, Math, newspaper, Reading, School, shopping bag, wrapping paper

In the years that followed after losing my Father to cancer, I wanted to take stock of all the lessons that he had tried to teach me in life.

Did I say teach?

Drum into my head might be more accurate.

It took me years to remember what some of those lessons were.

Ten years later, slowly, very slowly one of the lessons has finally risen to the surface.

Today, as I took a newly purchased book out of my shopping bag, one of those lessons hit home as I remembered a similar scene with my Father.

The scene was of me coming home after my first day of school in grade two. I had just brought home several new school books which had just been assigned to me by my teacher. They included an elementary reader, math, and geography book.

My Father led me to the kitchen table where he had just placed my newly acquired text books. He had gathered a pencil, scissors, and ruler along with a large piece of heavy paper. His preferred choice of paper was usually a recycled piece of wrapping paper, a unwanted street map, or an old poster. However, I do remember times when a newspaper, or the funny papers would do in a pinch.

He would sit me down, and with pencil and ruler he began to measure and mark the big sheet of paper laid out before him.

With several long straight lines here and a couple of notches there he would then take the scissors and carefully cut along the pencil drawn edges. He finished off with two neat folds along the top and bottom. Then there would be another two more, one to the left and then the right sides.

…and VOILA!

We now had a book cover.

Father would then take the front cover of the school book and slip into into the neatly measured front flap. Then he would do the same with the back cover.

In teaching me the importance of these homemade book-covers, I learned many different things.

First, it taught me that books are to be handled with both care and respect. I still have books that Father gave me. The ones with these sorts of covers are still in their prime. The other books are not so lucky.

Secondly, it is indeed a noble thing to take care of something that does not belong to you. I was always proud to give all borrowed books back to the school at the end of the year, intact and with a minimal amount of blemishes.

Last, I learned that you can take something which is otherwise considered useless and unwanted and turn it into something with the potential to be both useful and meaningful. That accounts for the used wrapping paper, old street maps, and last weeks Saturday comic section from the newspaper.

And there you have it. It only took ten years to sort this particular lesson out, but it finally hit home.

I only hope I don’t have to wait another ten years till I figure out the next lesson.

Adventures In Italy… Post 50: In Praise Of The Piazza

28 Sunday Sep 2014

Posted by duckykoren in Family Stories, Travel

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

blogs, Cafe, Campo de' Fiori, Coffee, Epiphabets, Italy, Michael, Piazza del Popolo, Piazza Navona, Piazzas, Rome, Tiramisu, Tours, Travel

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I am convinced that the concept of a piazza is totally lost on North America.

Our society would never allow for such a large plot of land in the middle of a city to be set aside solely for the enjoyment of the people.

Rather, they would build shopping malls, fast food joints or worst of all, casinos.

There is a world of difference between a Starbucks, McDonald’s and Tim Hortons, and an old world sidewalk cafe.

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A friend at work once asked me…

“Is there really such a thing as a sidewalk cafe where you can sit all day in the sun drinking expresso complete with accordion players and all?”

I could almost see the tears welling up in his eyes that the thought of this most pleasant of visions could actually be in fact a reality.

I almost wanted to say…

“Yes Virginia, there is such a place where people gather day and night to enjoy the company of family and friends in an outdoor social setting. There, you can indulge in coffee, tiramisu, authentic pizza Margherita, among other world class delicacies.

These meeting places complete with beautiful fountains can only be reached on foot as motorized vehicles are not allowed as they detract from the simplicity of the setting.”

Dear and gentle readers:

These places are known as piazzas.

If you want to gain some sense of what a piazza is like, imagine a a rectangular square the size of four football fields. This is the gathering ground for people who seek to escape all the noise, the traffic, and the rat race of their working day.

People bring their dogs here. People play their musical instruments and even sing here. There are original fountains and statues dating back to the renaissance along with the obligatory pigeons. People can make their living here by simply selling fruits, vegetables and flowers here.

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Hanging out at the shopping malls is unheard of when there are outdoor piazzas to enjoy.

And why would we be hard pressed to find these same piazzas in North America?

They would no doubt be considered as…

“Not economically feasible.”

In closing, I think I’ll end with a silly bit of verse that stems from from a song sung by Andie MacDowell’s character the movie ‘Michael’ starring John Travolta:

“Oh me, oh my…

I love Piazza Pizza pie!”

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Adventures In Italy… Post 49: A Papal Pilgrimage

27 Saturday Sep 2014

Posted by duckykoren in Family Stories, Italy, Knitting, Travel

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Campo de' Fiori, Italy, Knitting, Papal Audience, Pilgrimage, Pope Benedict, Rain, Rome, St. Peter's Square, Travel, Vatican, Vaticano

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While touring the Vatican, our tour guide told us that the Pope has a weekly audience each Sunday morning in St. Peter’s Square at 9:30 a.m. He does this from his apartment window.

Frank and I knocked around the idea about paying him a visit, and then finally decided…

“Well, why not?”

We arrived at St. Peter’s Square by taxi at about 8:30 a.m., early enough to get a good view.

The overcast skies sporadically drizzled down on us as we watched the church going people neatly file into the St. Peter’s Basilica for Sunday morning mass.

Eventually, Jen got her knitting out and proceeded to put this waiting time to good use.

Both Frank and I contented ourselves with people watching.

9:30 a.m. came and went, and still no Pope in sight.

A group of policemen had gathered, and I mustered up the courage to approach them to ask what time the Pope will be making his weekly address.

I was told 12:30 p.m.

Bummer.

That was still two hours away.

We decided that another two hour wait in the damp cold weather would not be in our best interest, and Frank then decided that a visit to Campo de’ Fiori was in order.

And so, off we went…

Frank led the way while Jen and I fell in line behind him like obedient little ducklings.

Later on that day, I was able to FaceTime my Mother when she told me that she had watched Pope Benedict give his weekly audience on the evening news.

She told me that she was not able to spot us among the listening throngs of people.

It was then that I told her that the Pope had missed his chance to see us in St. Peter’s Square.

He totally blew it!

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Adventures In Italy… Post 14: Rainy Days and Tuesdays

15 Friday Aug 2014

Posted by duckykoren in Family Stories, Travel

≈ 2 Comments

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Some of you may be asking, (and with good reason) why anyone would ever visit Rome in late November – early December.

The answer is simple…

Because it was cheap.

There is a threshold in mid November when hotel prices plummet, and we decided to take full advantage of the lower cost.

For us, it was better to visit Italy in the really, really off season, than not being able to visit Italy at all.

We anticipated cold weather, and were well prepared for it.

In fact, in the months preceding the trip, I would often ask myself:

Just how many scarves and cowls are appropriate for a twelve day holiday visit to Italy in the late fall?

My answer: A dozen. One for each day of course.

Interestingly enough, there was emerald green grass throughout various knolls within the heart of Rome. When we visited Rome in early September 2008, there was no green grass. There wasn’t even grass. The heat had decimated it and replaced it with a crunchy brown straw-like ground cover.

What we did not anticipate was the rain.

Oh, we did come with umbrellas, cute little ones in matching colours that we found on sale before leaving on the trip. However, these umbrellas were no match for the unrelenting Italian rain storms. Two out of the three umbrellas only lasted 2 days. In fact, all totalled, we went through at least nine umbrellas.

Let’s see: there was the three umbrellas that we brought from home, the two that we bought at the Vatican, three in Naples, and one in Pompeii.

And they still weren’t enough to keep us from getting soaked on a daily basis.

But you’ll learn more about that all in due course.

Meanwhile, on our first walkabout in Rome on the morning of Tuesday, November 27th,

…there was no rain, at least for the first fifteen minutes.

We began to feel the pelt of the rain just as we were crossing a busy intersection while heading towards what looked like an average indoor mall. It was excellent timing on Franks part because he had planned to stop here at a very chic cafe centrally located inside the mall.

There we all enjoyed two expressos…. each!

Jen and I made a little side stop at a bookstore which to me looked surprisingly like any other bookstore in North America, from the aisles right down to the pen and stationary displays.

I picked out two small purse sized journals, and a fistful of green pens. Unfortunately, as I was packing them for the journey home, I packed them so well that I have yet to find them.

As for why I chose to purchase green pens, well…

That’s a story for another day.

And so, now that we were fortified against the rain, thanks to our infusion of caffeine via the six expressos we just drank, the three of us headed back out into the rain and began to make our way towards our next destination with Frank leading the charge.

By the time we stopped for lunch, all three of us were wet, cold and completely disheveled.

But who were we to care?

We were in an authentic Italian restaurant called “DAKOTAS” decorated with American car license plates and ’60’s posters while listening to ’80’s hits from Duran Duran, Howard Jones and Phil Collins.

While our favourite Italian restaurant in back in Canada, ‘Lina Linguini’s’ is decorated with Chianti bottles, jars of pasta and plays only traditional Italian Muzak.

…sigh.

It truly is a mad, mad world.

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Above: Enjoying a zen moment as we dry off from the rain while waiting for lunch.

Top Photo: The Dakota Restaurant Menu.

Zoom in on the menu to see what’s being served for lunch.

What would you order?

Let me know!

Memories Of Mother… Post 60: Closing The Book

02 Saturday Aug 2014

Posted by duckykoren in Cancer, Family Stories

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Tags

blogs, Breast Cancer, Cancer, Family, grief, love

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The photo that you see above is the journal that has not left my side for the past three months.

It accompanied me to Vermont, as a notebook for Doctor’s names, telephone numbers, things I had to do and people that needed to be remembered.

Even my coworkers are well familiar with this book. It was my companion at work each day with every break and lunch time to jot down notes and ideas as they came to mind.

Every page was assigned with a Post-it note that included a storyline.

After each and every page was full I had to start doubling and tripling the posted notes on each page. Some pages had as many as five or six Post-it notes. Multiply the Post-it notes by the number of pages in the book, (approximately 140) and you come up with a number of stories I had to choose from.

Well, today is the day that I publish my 60th post on Memories Of Mother, which will be the final one as well.

That is not to say that I will not continue to write about her from time to time.

Among the stories still not written:

Hurling day,
The best summer ever,
Love is,
Ti spacco la faccia ( I will break your face),

The list goes on.

Well, I don’t know the exact word count of the 60 posts but I figure that it should be around 35,000 words.

These posts will within the next few months be published as an e-book.

On another note, I did considered writing as the final chapter the days following Mother’s passing.

The dismantling of her apartment, the journey home, the packing and unpacking.

I’ve decided instead to save that for another time.

I feel the need to move on.

Instead, I wish to use this opportunity to express my thanks for all the telephone calls of concern, the emails, the Facebook posts, the flowers, the food, the kisses, hugs, tears and letters, the love, the sharing and the caring.

Out of respect for the privacy of all my friends and family I thought it best not to mention names in any of the posts. I hope you understand.

Each of you know who you are, what you said, what you did to encourage me, and sustain me through this life’s passage.

There is not one prayer, phone call, conversation, or ‘like’ on Facebook posts that went unnoticed.

I’m grateful for the love and friendship you have shown in the past three months.

Further, unending love, gratitude, and a thankful heart goes to my husband Frank who made my last journey to Vermont possible.

At the moment I received the phone call informing me of Mother’s critical condition he began planning and coordinating every step, every detail that helped everything fall into place.  Still… he is dealing with details and helping me to move on.

Loving thanks to my Daughters who helped keep me rooted with love and compassion by being strong when I could not be.

Finally, to my Mother’s Best Friend, and she knows who she is:

I will never forget your kindness, your help, your guidance. I simply cannot thank you enough for all you did. I think of you every day and thank God you were there for me.

Tomorrow I begin on a new writing project.

My heart is at last content and at peace.

Love to all…

Doris

 

 

Memories Of Mother… Post 59: The Last View From Mother’s Window

01 Friday Aug 2014

Posted by duckykoren in Cancer, Family Stories

≈ 1 Comment

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This is a picture taken of the window which was right next to Mother’s bed.

It had such a lovely view.

There were many varieties of birds that would gather at the feeder.

As you can see, outside there are gardens and pathways that allow the residents and their family and friends a serene setting to take in some quiet time in the fresh air and sunshine.

I spent three days looking out of this same window.

Mother spent a few days more.

I was told by her friends, that when she was admitted, she was very happy with this view.

On the morning that she died it was bright and sunny and beautiful and perfect.

But I did not have the heart for it.

The day before, Tuesday, I knew that the end was near when they were repositioning her and cleaning up the room.

I was quickly summoned and told that I must come now because her breathing had changed dramatically.

They found me in the main room. It’s a lovely sitting room with a piano and lots of comfortable couches and chairs. There are books and ample toys for children. There was even a table with a jigsaw puzzle. That’s what I was working on when they found me. I found it a nice diversion to help clear my mind.

And so, I rushed back to the room and the attending nurse said that Mother may only have a few minutes left.

She stayed with me for the next two hours while I sat next to Mother and held her hand.

The evening grew late and I began to settle in for a long night. I was asked if they could prepare the pull out couch but I declined. I wanted to be by my Mother’s side. I wanted her to know she was not alone. I wanted to hold her hand and feel her warmth.

And so I did.

Two of her closest friends stopped by to see how she was doing.

And then for one whole wonderful hour we sat and talked and reminisced about Mother.

It was truly comforting.

I will always be grateful for their company that night.

Every hour a staff member came and checked on her.

We held hands the entire time. Every 20 minutes I would get up lean over her shoulder and cover her cheek with kisses. Then I would softly sing into her ear. Sometimes I would pray.

On the pillow next to her was a picture of her Father. On the table next to her, was a picture of her husband. I promised her that she would see them both again very soon.

In the early-morning hours there was no hot coffee, however the watercooler did just fine.

At 5:00 AM I figured out how to ease back the easy chair and raise the base for my feet.

With her hand still in mine, I thought I should close my eyes for a few minutes. The only sound that filled the air was Mother’s laboured breathing. She was quite unconscious and I hoped comfortable and free of pain.

Her face showed only exhaustion.

At 5:30 AM my eyes opened.

The sky was not as dark and dawn was on it’s way. The sound of Mother’s breathing still filled the room.

At 5:45 my eyes opened again. The sky was a little brighter. Still the sound of breathing.

I closed my eyes.

My eyes popped open at 6 AM.

The room was silent.

There was no sound of breathing.

I sat up to turn towards Mother. Her hand was still in mind. Sure enough, there was no sound of heavy breathing, but I thought I saw her chest move.

Locating the buzzer on her bed, I rang for the nurse.

A minute later, the nurse walked through the door.

“Please check her,” I asked.

The nurse immediately checked her blood pressure and heart beat, twice.

“She’s gone,” she nodded.

I asked for a few minutes of privacy.

The nurse quietly left the room closing the door behind her.

In the stillness of the room I continued to hold my Mother’s hand and collected my thoughts.

My first priority was to make these last few minutes with her, were mindful ones.

There would be no funeral, no viewing, no memorial service.

This truly was our last goodbye.

And in those moments as sad as they were, I was grateful that God was making his presence felt. I knew it was his grace that gave me peace and strength. I kissed her cheek and forehead.

After a few minutes I let go of her hand then took a few moments to collect my things and prepare for my departure.

Once everything was gathered I stood by the side of her bed, gave her another kiss on the forehead and breathed her in one last time.

She was not there, only her body was.

As I left the room, I turned back once more before stepping out into the hallway. After one last look I stepped out of the room and closed the door behind me.

Memories Of Mother… Post 58: Can you Find Jesus?

31 Thursday Jul 2014

Posted by duckykoren in Family Stories

≈ 1 Comment

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Okay, this is how the story goes:

Certainly we have all had more than our fair share of…

“I saw Jesus…”

…in a Butterfly,

…on a piece of toast,

…on a pumpkin.

The stories are in all the weekly tabloids.

Well, one summer day I received a phone call from Mother.

“You’ll never believe what I found in the bathroom,” she cheerfully announced.

“What did you find in the bathroom,” I asked her.

“Jesus,” she replied.

That was not the answer I was expecting.

A lost earring, or contact lens, yes.

Jesus, no.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

It seemed like a reasonable question, and I’m not afraid to admit I was worried over how she was going to answer me.

“Well,” she began, I was sitting in the bathroom, looking down at the floor, and there he was right in front of me.

“You saw Jesus on the floor?”

“Yes, in the linoleum tile.”

All I could of think to say was;

“That’s nice Mother!” ….

Which was followed by me quickly changing the subject before it went any further….

And hope that this would all be forgotten by morning!

She never mentioned it to me on the telephone again.

Okay…  now fast-forward about two months.

It’s September 2011 and I am visiting my Mother for her birthday.

Also visiting her, is my cousin from West Virginia. It had been 10 years since my Cousin and I had last seen each other. There was fun, laughter, reminiscing, and even tears during the time we spent together.

One afternoon, as I sat knitting on Mother’s couch, I heard my Mother call my Cousin into the bathroom.  From what I could hear, she was trying to point something out to him.

“No… stand here, and look right there,” she advised.

Silence…

My curiosity was peaked.  I put down my knitting, got up off the couch and headed to the bathroom to check this out.

Sure enough, there they both standing in the bathroom and staring at the floor.

“What are you looking for?” I asked.

“Jesus,” Mother replied.

I shot her a look.

“No… Really!” she said looking me straight in the eye.

“You can see Jesus in the floor tile,” Mother insisted.

A cold shard of fear ripped through my heart.

My Mother has not only gone crazy, and in a very tacky way I might add. The last thing I wanted was to see a tabloid headline:

‘Vermont Senior finds Jesus On Bathroom Floor!’

How embarrassing that would be.

“Do you see really it?” I asked my level headed Cousin.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, “It’s right there…  you just gotta look at it like you do those optical illusion pictures.”

I squinted….
I stared…..

Yup, there he was.

Oh no, …. I was as crazy as they were.

The face that I saw was reminiscent of a “Jesus on black velvet” painting, you know, the ones that we were once so fond of.

Surely, some of you must remember black velvet paintings?

Even Elvis had “Jesus on black velvet” painting.  It’s hanging in his “Jungle Room”.

It took a few moments for me to work my way through a myriad of emotions. There was no denying it now…

Yes, my Mother has an image of Jesus on her bathroom floor.

How are we going to handle this?

Well, to make a long story short it was all forgotten within an hour…

Until about a year later, Mother again raised the subject of Jesus on the floor during our nightly chat on the phone.

She had told me that they had given her a new bathroom floor.

Further, she had expressly asked the workmen, not to damage the tile bearing the image of Jesus, but rather set it aside for her.

According to Mother, they complied without any questions.

When they were finished their work, they handed Mother the bathroom floor tile.

And now, I’m happy to report that this same tile is safe and in my keeping.

So…

Your mission, dear and gentle reader…

Should you choose to accept it…..

Is to find Jesus on the bathroom floor tile shown above.

This blog post, including the picture will not self-destruct in five seconds.

Why?

…Because Jesus Saves!

 

 

Hint: The image of Jesus is a profile view a near the centre of the picture Jesus is looking to the left. If you find him let me know 🙂

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