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Thursday, June 30, 2011


(Botanical print of the fragrant herb rosemary:
“There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance.”
~ Ophelia in Hamlet, IV, v)

We’ve spent the month of June with storge, the first of the four loves that C. S. Lewis examines. Storge means family affection, so we have featured poems about mothers and fathers and children.

We end June with a look at what memories are made of. Or, as Dean Martin sang in his hit song, “Sweet, sweet memories you gave me.”


My mother’s old handbag,
crowded with letters she carried
all through the war. The smell
of my mother’s handbag: mints
and lipstick and Coty powder.
The look of those letters, softened
and worn at the edges, opened,
read, and refolded so often.
Letters from my father. Odor
of leather and powder, which
ever since then has meant womanliness,
and love, and anguish, and war.

~ Ruth Fainlight, born 1931, American poet

1 comment:

Margaret said...

I love the Dean Martin song you referred to:

Memories Are Made of This

Sweet, sweet memories you gave me
You can't beat the memories you gave me

Take one fresh and tender kiss
Add one stolen night of bliss
One girl, one boy
Some grief, some joy
Memories are made of this

Don't forget a small moonbeam
Fold in lightly with a dream
Your lips and mine
Two sips of wine
Memories are made of this

Then add the wedding bells
One house where lovers dwell
Three little kids for flavor
Stir carefully through the days
See how the flavor stays
These are the dreams you will savor

With His blessings from above
Serve it generously with love
One man, one wife
One love through life
Memories are made of this
Memories are made of this