Blogs have no such controls. If you post it, it's posted. "Privacy Settings" are exercised by not posting. . . .
All this is by way of explaining why I haven't been posting lately. I imagine that words and pictures that include other people inevitably give rise to differing privacy expectations. As soon as I sort out the different expectations, I'll be back.
Meanwhile, there's a Christmas tree at the Greenwood.
It's the first Christmas tree I've put up since Nana died - and that's been a long time ago now. She died on Thanksgiving Day, 1992 I think it was. I'll have to check with my brother, our family's 'historian'. He remembers things like that. I remember sitting in the library of the I house I lived in then, playing Moonlight Sonata on the white piano stenciled with what turned out to be poison ivy vines. I was crying. I remember peeling potatoes into a paper sack in the living room, overcome then with feeling and the words: "It's all right. Everything is all right." And crying again. But a good crying that time. Smiling and tears. . . . and then the phone call that she was gone.
On the tree are little knitted mice - like she might have made, except I did.
2 comments:
What a lovely tree and story!
And I do think that the Facebook setting provides an interesting moment to ponder our ever-changing relationship with/definition of privacy.
Have a very happy holiday!
I'm in love with the mice! Yes...Nana might have made them, but then again she taught you to do it, and they're adorable. Remind me to give you one of her bears to hang on the tree for next year. xoxoxo Mama
Post a Comment