Memory in music.
Memory in music.
Dear Little Daughter:
I have waited for you to get well settled before writing. By this time I hope some of the strangeness has worn off and that my little girl is working hard and regularly.
Of course, everything is new and unusual. You miss the newness and smartness of America. Gradually, however, you are going to sense the beauty of the old world: its calm and eternity and you will grow to love it.
Above all remember, dear, that you have a great opportunity. You are in one of the world’s best schools, in one of the world’s greatest modern empires. Millions of boys and girls all over this world would give almost anything they possess to be where you are. You are there by no desert or merit of yours, but only by lucky chance.
Deserve it, then. Study, do your work. Be honest, frank and fearless and get some grasp of the real values of life. You will meet, of course, curious little annoyances. People will wonder at your dear brown and the sweet crinkley hair. But that simply is of no importance and will soon be forgotten. Remember that most folk laugh at anything unusual, whether it is beautiful, fine or not. You, however, must not laugh at yourself. You must know that brown is as pretty as white or prettier and crinkley hair as straight even though it is harder to comb. The main thing is the YOU beneath the clothes and skin — the ability to do, the will to conquer, the determination to understand and know this great, wonderful, curious world. Don’t shrink from new experiences and custom. Take the cold bath bravely. Enter into the spirit of your big bed-room. Enjoy what is and not pine for what is not. Read some good, heavy, serious books just for discipline: Take yourself in hand and master yourself. Make yourself do unpleasant things, so as to gain the upper hand of your soul.
Above all remember: your father loves you and believes in you and expects you to be a wonderful woman.
I shall write each week and expect a weekly letter from you.
From Sociologist and civil rights pioneer W.E.B. Du Bois to his daughter Yolande.
Every year this time, I would be wondering where you are as I write to you this Happy Birthday note.
I know you will hear this, irregardless where you are.
Because you gave birth to me.
I have so much to say to you, there was so much learning in the year that has passed. It was steep the learning curve and i m glad i persevered .
I met important people who would guide me and point things out to me, thru them, i identified myself, and how much i wanted to be like them.
I also met important people who taught me about life the other way round. Thru them, i recognised i didn’t want to be like them.
Either way, there was a lot to be learnt.
Your 2 grandchildren are lovely, sometimes i wonder how nice if you would be able to meet them.
May you be well and happy, Mummy. And continue to guide me, protect me and bless me from above.
Slow down mummy, there is no need to rush,
slow down mummy, what is all the fuss?
Slow down mummy, make yourself a cup tea.
Slow down mummy, come and spend some time with me.
Slow down mummy, let’s put our boots on and go out for a walk,
let’s kick at piles of leaves, and smile and laugh and talk.
Slow down mummy, you look ever so tired,
come sit and snuggle under the duvet and rest with me a while.
Slow down mummy, those dirty dishes can wait,
slow down mummy, let’s have some fun, let’s bake a cake!
Slow down mummy I know you work a lot,
but sometimes mummy, its nice when you just stop.
Sit with us a minute,
& listen to our day,
spend a cherished moment,
because our childhood is not here to stay! x
Poem by Rebekah Knight at https://www.facebook.com/slowdownmummy1 — with @Rebekah Knight.1 and @slowdownmummy1.