Posts Tagged ‘Musings’

Will YOU know…. Or will you NOT?

In 21st Century Culture on April 3, 2013 at 6:16 AM


I’ll post on Tumblr the little bit of brain teasing for this month. After a brief discussion, some of us are curious as to whether people will know or not know what they are reading.

It will produce an interesting response from the Internet enthusiasts. Specifically, whether folks will recognize satire or see literal, current commentary. What do you think — will people recognize satirical political-social news articles from another era?














Oh, and just to get some extra hits: BOOBIES ?


In 21st Century Culture on July 11, 2012 at 5:24 AM

J M Barrie, Playwright – Illustrated by Hugh Thomson, Printed by HRM Printers, Edinburgh from Kimberly Cox, GidgetWidget™ on Vimeo.

The Mysterious Message From 1636: Lost and Found

In Uncategorized on June 30, 2012 at 1:10 PM

Honestly, I need help from the brilliant classics scholars and antiquarian bibliophiles here on the internet. I admit I am stumped. Utterly incapable of trying to decipher the calligraphy and language on this little item….

I found it in a giant bin of other ephemera at a flea market.

Is it really from 1636?

And what was it written on? (Yikes, I hope it’s NOT human skin!)

Most of all, what does it say?

After studying it until my eyes rolled back into my head, I realized I’m out of my depth and must appeal to the great brains and learned scholars here for help.

Here is the first side:

Smaller Image of Side One

This is provided for readers perusing this post.

Both of these files are very large, and may appear strangely on the blog post. But I realized that without first scanning the item, I was at a disadvantage, hence, I’ve uploaded the full scans here.

By clicking on them individually, you’ll be able to see the full image, zoom in and out, etc… It helps tremendously to allow the perspective to focus on details you otherwise would not see clearly, especially considering the calligraphy.

Click the link below to see the full article:

For the reader for whom I have peaked interest, I advise clicking the image below, to see the full scale.

Read the rest of this entry »

M’Lady Is On Her Stone Steps, Sir

In Short Fiction on June 4, 2012 at 5:32 PM

Copyright 2012 by Kimberly Cox, All Rights Reserved

Written for the lovely Katelan Foisy, to whom the author humbly offers its dedication.

Goodbye To The House On Peachblossom Creek

In LIFE on June 2, 2012 at 2:00 AM

Take me back to the days when we would swing

from the branches of dogwood trees,

run down to the dock with our minnow nets

to check the crab pots,

or in early summer, before the jellyfish,

jump off the end of the wooden dock

into Peachblossom Creek

We’d swim across the river to the sandbar

to play in the tidal pools

until we were called in for supper.

`     `     `   No one ever tells children the truth.

That point

It comes at some point and then,

childhood dies.

“`     ““     “

it happens slowly so you don’t notice

and once it’s dead,

`     `     `     `     `     `     it’s gone forever.

Days you can never have back.


Freedom as pure as a summer’s evening

stripped away as naturally and steadily 

as winter strips the earth of its green.


There are no more summer days

for us

at the house

on Peachblossom Creek.


We all grew up, our parents grew old,

and our grandfathers passed away.

It’s been years since that land was sold

with its great magnolia trees

that bloom every spring

“`     “   `

…if they’re still there.

…. Perhaps they bloom each year     for another       happy     family?


` ` <“•ª*`¬ ))~~~~>>}

But I don’t dare

turn right off the Oxford Road,

the first right after Peachblossom Creek Bridge,

onto Old Country Club Road,

where the gates to the house are less than a mile in,

I don’t dare go back again

`     `     `     The sight of how the years have changed it

`      `      `   I probably won’t recognize it

The House, The HOME,

where we celebrated so many Christmases

and summer nights catching lightning bugs

those years when we were children

those times that can never happen again

as we scattered apart like leaves on the wind


No one


told me



growing up



©2010, KHC

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