What do you enjoy doing most in your leisure time?
- Spending time with family
- Creative Writing
- Audio Books
- Water Aerobics
- Road Trips
- Glamping
- Genealogy
- Hiking
- Wine Tasting
- Art Museums
Author: Ann Marie Bryant
As of late, I am a sixty-something grandmother who loves to write. Since I come from a long line of storytellers, I believe it's time to share those stories and preserve our family history. My hope is that my family will treasure these memories as much as I do!
Furbabies
If you could make your pet understand one thing, what would it be?
If I could make my pets, my Max and Mitzi, understand one thing it would be for them to know how much I love them. This furry pair has brought so much joy to my life. Dogs should really live long lives….
Ann Marie
Write about your first name: its meaning, significance, etymology, etc.
“There’s such a lot of different Annes in me. I sometimes think that is why I’m such a troublesome person. If I was just the one Anne it would be ever so much more comfortable, but then it wouldn’t be half so interesting.”
Anne Shirley
My parents named me after two great-grandmothers, Anna Strassberg (Annie) and Tamer Anna Payton (Ann). My name is a shortened version of Hannah, meaning “grace” or “God’s grace.” The Latin variation means “year,” and the Celtic version means “priceless.” In Turkish, Ann means “mother.” And if my family followed our German roots, I would be called Anja, meaning “eagle.”
Ann found popularity in 1934 and again around 1987. My nickname, Annie, remained center stage during the years 1896 and 2019.
And finally, while people spell Ann/Anne differently, this old-fashioned or should I state, this timeless name dropped in popularity over the years. According to the Babycenter, in 1961, the year I was born, my name ranked in 54th place out of 100 girl names.
Yet, this proud Grammie must admit, I have found pride in the fact that “Ann” has wiggled its way into the names of two sweet granddaughters: Jessica Ann and Kylie Ann. And Marie has found its way through several generations: Elva Marie, Dotty Marie, Ann Marie, Leslie Marie, and Sierra Marie.
So as far as names go, my parents didn’t do such a lousy job, and after all these years, well, it’s kinda grown on me.
Dream Jobs
What’s your dream job?
During my senior year of high school, I had to take a career aptitude test. It offered a series of questions to help me discover careers that meshed with my personality, strengths, and personal interests. Usually, most students had two or three top career choices, but not me. I had five. My friends laughed at my varying suggestions for my future career, and even my school counselor chuckled at my results, for they were all over the place.
My top five career suggestions included:
- Teaching
- Forestry
- Administration Assistant (back then, it was called secretarial)
- Photography
- Writing
And the funny thing is that I have worked/dabbled at all five recommendations. At thirty-three, I decided to go to school to get my teaching degree. Over thirty years later, I have my BA in English and my masters in cultural and linguistic diversity. And I have been teaching for over twenty-five years.
When I first moved to Colorado, I worked a temporary job in a hardware store and later found another temporary job as a switchboard operator for private companies. Still, my first real job in Colorado was when I began working for the Bureau of Land Management (BLM). I loved working outdoors. My crew cut trees, built fences and rafting sites, and planted trees. We looked for wildlife and cleaned recreational areas. And when the administration got behind on their work, they pulled me in to work as a secretary.
For a time, I dabbled in photography. I took black-and-white photography classes and learned how to develop my own work. I took photos for friends, senior pictures, and nature shots when I had the chance. One year, a photo took first place for a nature shot for BLM. But I drew the line at wedding pics. After four weddings, I discovered that the sweetest women become scary mothers of the bride, and the blushing bride often turns into a bridezilla. Nowadays, my old Canon Rebel and my Sony Digital collect dust. I really need to pull out the Sony and start shooting again. I have only taken pictures on my iPhone in the year and a half since I finally started using my this device. Hmm, I see new adventures on the horizon.
In college, I started writing for the school magazine and paper. I won writing contests, published poetry, and received a writing scholarship. In my senior year of college, I was asked to attend a poetry seminar to share my work. I was one of seven invited, and I was the only one in the room who did not have a master’s degree or was not currently working towards their master’s. During that time, a professor asked me to participate in a symposium because of an essay I had written about women and children after divorce. It was published, and I am proud to admit that I was included with Ivy League professors, not too shabby for a late bloomer who always worried if her writing would ever be “good enough.”
Now, I have a blog that all began with family stories and genealogy. Over the years, my blog has grown as I have included short stories, poetry, flash fiction, and even writing challenges. And just today, I was shocked to discover that my subscribers have grown. I now have over 1,000 subscribers. Never in my wildest dreams would I have believed that my family blog would grow like this. Funny how life has twists and turns and offers blessings and joy at every stage of our lives. And I must admit that I am forever amazed at the promise, “Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart. (Psalm 37:4).”
So I wonder; what is in store for my future adventures? For this Grammie, it’s incredible to realize that new journeys await just around the bend.
Follow the Leader
What makes a good leader?
Someone ~
- who has a servant’s heart
- who leads by example
- who allows for mistakes
- who shows respect
- who maintains integrity
Homelessness
If you could un-invent something, what would it be?
In a perfect world, children would have a warm bed, a hot meal, and clean clothes. They wouldn’t sleep in the cramped quarters of the family car….huddling together to chase away the bitter chill….a cold so deep it clings to your skin and your very spirit. In a perfect world, a child would not live in a parked car in front of their middle school building…
Sweet Memories of my Special Guy
Clutter
Where can you reduce clutter in your life?
Sigh. Where do I start?
But let me start from the beginning. I came from a long line of pack rats that kept things, ya know, for just “in case.” When I moved to my little house over 20 years ago, I downsized a lot. I had a garage sale and gave things away. But I still had boxes tucked away after my move. In over twenty years, I am ashamed to say I have never opened those boxes. I meant to, but my busy life kept me from the dark corners of my little basement.
Some of the items were from my daughter’s childhood, things she adamantly stated that “she did not want.” All these years later, she and her daughters are glad that I kept her childhood mementos. So the rest of her things will finally be cleared from my basement storage.
But I also have boxes full of memories that I could not squeeze into my smaller home. Long ago gifts from my childhood; favored toys, cherished items passed down from one mother to the next. Those are the items that tug at my heartstrings. I had planned to divide the items among my granddaughters and my niece, and one day I will.
But did I mention my garage? Oy! Old teaching materials, patio furniture that needs refinishing, an iron bedstand that needs painting, an old lawn mower that needs to be repaired, “new” tiles for my kitchen and bathroom floors, and the list goes on.
Did I mention my summertime plans? I believe it’s time to have another garage sale!
Photo by Şahin Sezer Dinçer on Unsplash
Beau
What is your favorite animal?
For one to fly, one needs only to take the reins.
Melissa James
From an early age, this former city girl has always loved horses. I grew up listening to the stories of my mother and grandparents, especially the Western tales of ranch life filled with wide-open spaces, hard work, and loyal horses. Generations of my mother’s family owned and raised these wondrous creatures; a love for horses ran through our family like a shared inheritance. In many ways, it felt woven into our DNA. My grandfather was not only a rancher but also a skilled horse trader. During World War I, he served his country by breaking horses for the Army, relying on his saddle and steady hands to prepare them for service. His father and grandfather before him also raised horses, proudly earning ribbons at county and state fairs throughout Ohio.
Growing up in California, I had only a handful of chances to ride, but I cherished every one. One of my favorite places was the stables at Half Moon Bay, where I rode a spirited horse named Rowdy. True to his name, he was full of energy, and I loved racing him along the sandy shoreline with the ocean breeze in my face. Those moments felt like freedom itself. I eagerly anticipated each visit, even as I quietly dreamed of owning a horse of my own someday.
In time, that dream became a reality when I received Beau as a birthday gift from Leslie’s dad, David. Beau was the perfect horse for this former city girl, gentle yet strong, patient and loyal. I loved my “baby” from the moment I met him. We bonded quickly, and he became a constant presence in my life. Even while I worked in the yard, I often let him out of his pen, trusting him completely. True to his nature, Beau stayed close by, content simply to be near me.
Over the years, he became far more than a horse. He was my best friend and my confidant. He knew secrets I never shared with anyone else and seemed to understand when words failed me. Beau had a quiet way of listening, of offering comfort and reassurance when my world felt uncertain or turned upside down. Even now, after all these years, I still miss my faithful friend.
Today, I am no longer able to ride due to a back injury and balance issues, but my love for horses has never faded. I visit them whenever I can, drawn to their gentle strength and familiar presence. And sometimes, in my dreams, I ride again, astride a black beauty with a white-blazed face and four white socks. We move in companionable silence until we reach the open lands near Brush Hollow. Then, once more, we soar along prairie trails, flying as one, our manes flowing freely in the wind.
Beau and Leslie , 1988
Brush Hollow Reservoir – Penrose, Colorado
Photo by Lindsey Bidwell on Unsplash
Tales of a Family 