am 10.01.2002 22:46 Uhr schrieb Rickard A Parker unter
[log in to unmask]:
> I'm glad I didn't see MY name there.
Lucky bugger you are, Rick!
What a relief to learn that I'm not the only one to post crap every once in
a while ;-)...!
Bin gaaaar kein Russe (THAT's the way it's pronounced, list!).
Neither am I, except for my grandma, born it Petrograd.
No Kraut either.
It's been a truly lovely day, sunny and freezing cold.
Tomorrow, I'll have to attend the funeral of my dear aunt Herta, born in
Russia as well. We celebrarted her 90th birthday some months ago.
The old lady was always in good mood, laughed a lot, and used to enjoy her
cup of tea with a cigarette.
Those memories --and Ricks mentioning of "my NAME"-- has made me think of a
poem by J.B. Tabb I'd like to share with you all:
AT LANIER'S GRAVE
I stand beneath a comrade tree
That guards the place where thou art laid,
For since thy light is lost to me
I loiter in the shade.
I lean upon the rugged stone
Like on the breast from whence I came
To learn: 't is not my heart alone
That bears thy sacred name.