tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4970554022397463322.post7385528693484242473..comments2024-03-26T03:11:42.678-04:00Comments on Behind Their Lines: Home FiresConnie R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00887098543181126157noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4970554022397463322.post-36252985022685995462019-07-14T09:34:35.333-04:002019-07-14T09:34:35.333-04:00Such a tragic story, Chris. And the silence must h...Such a tragic story, Chris. And the silence must have echoed down the years....Connie R.https://www.blogger.com/profile/00887098543181126157noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4970554022397463322.post-12401539006891530962019-07-14T03:41:35.552-04:002019-07-14T03:41:35.552-04:00In a strange kind of way her poem conjures up memo...In a strange kind of way her poem conjures up memories of my paternal grandfather, a 41-year-old civilian who was at home in May 1918, when he succumbed to a shot by 'the occupant'. My widowed grandmother was left with 5 children and no income, my dad being 3 months when it happened. She lived to be 95 and never - to my knowledge - spoke a single word about the tragedy which had befallen her. 'Know why? Well, you know, it's no use crying over spilt milk, is it?' an auntie used to sigh to me. <br />Things that determined my childhood years. <br />It all happened in the immediate vicinity of the Yser sector in Dixmude, where the German sculptress Käthe Kollwitz's young son Peter (18) lies buried in the German military cemetery of Koekelare-Vladslo. c.spriethttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03362112445796023444noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4970554022397463322.post-43972638055131350482016-04-13T21:54:01.019-04:002016-04-13T21:54:01.019-04:00It's an unusual poem, but the more I spend tim...It's an unusual poem, but the more I spend time with it, the more I love it. The woman in the poem is safe with her husband and family, and yet she does something very difficult, very unusual: she imaginatively puts herself in the place of other women whose houses are burning (ashes on the snow, red from the reflected fires). She imagines the pain of other women whose husbands are at war. I've thought many times this week how easy it is to say, "not my problem -- not my war." Connie R.https://www.blogger.com/profile/00887098543181126157noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4970554022397463322.post-56848348513738307592016-04-13T21:48:29.569-04:002016-04-13T21:48:29.569-04:00Sorry, not one I enjoyed. I missed the fact that ...Sorry, not one I enjoyed. I missed the fact that her husband was at home. Really don't like the idea of "ashes on red snow". Pattyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12440716335714642084noreply@blogger.com