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#memories — Public Fediverse posts

Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #memories, aggregated by home.social.

  1. The Story We Tell in Photographs

    “I was here. This mattered. Let me share it with you.”

    I recently read an article by Thomas Germain for the BBC that explored how modern smartphones now edit photographs automatically using artificial intelligence, adjusting light, colour, and clarity before we ever see the image. The article asks whether this changes our sense of reality.

    It is a fair question. But as I sat with it, I found myself leaning in a slightly different direction. Rather than wondering whether artificial intelligence is changing reality, I began thinking about how photography itself has changed the way we tell the story of our lives.

    Not long ago, personal stories were preserved primarily through words. We wrote letters. We kept journals and diaries. We recorded family histories and memories in notebooks, scrapbooks, and conversations around the dinner table. Stories were passed from one generation to the next through spoken recollections and written accounts.

    Today, much of that storytelling happens through images. Our photographs have become chapters. A photograph of a morning walk. A favourite book resting on a table. Grandchildren gathered around a birthday cake. A garden in bloom. A sunset that seemed to pause the world for a moment.

    Each image quietly declares: “This mattered.” Taken together, these photographs become something more than a collection of pictures. They become a visual autobiography.

    What fascinates me is that photographs do not simply record our lives; they reveal what we notice. Two people can visit the same place and return home with entirely different photographs. One captures the grand view. Another notices the people. A third is drawn to the details of a weathered doorway, a flower growing through a crack in the stone, a cat sleeping in the afternoon sun. The camera becomes an extension of attention. When we look back through our photographs, we are not only seeing where we have been. We are seeing what we cared about.

    Spiaggia il Gigante (Rebecca Budd Photo Archives May 8, 2026)Monterosso al Mare (Rebecca Budd photo archives May 8, 2026Castello Brown, Portofino (Rebecca Budd Photo Archives May 10, 2026)

    Lately, I found myself reflecting on a collection of photographs taken during my recent journey through Italy. There was the sweeping view across the Bay of Naples, where sea and sky seemed to merge into a soft blue horizon. There were narrow stairways disappearing between sunlit buildings, inviting curiosity about what might lie around the next corner. There were ancient stone lanes softened by plants and shadow, reminders that beauty often resides in places shaped slowly by time.

    And there was a sleeping cat.

    Monterosso al Mare (Rebecca Budd Photo Archives May 8, 2026

    Of all the photographs I brought home, that image may say as much about me as any landscape. The cat was not a famous landmark. It was not on any travel itinerary. Yet something about its peaceful presence caught my attention and asked me to pause.

    Cannes (Rebecca Budd Photo Archives May 11, 2026)

    Looking at those photographs now, I realize they tell two stories. One story is about the places I visited. The other is about what captured my imagination. The camera recorded the journey. The photographs reveal what I loved.

    Naples – Posillipo (Rebecca Budd Photo Archives May 6, 2026)

    Perhaps this is why photography has become such a powerful form of communication in the digital age. Increasingly, our social media posts contain more images than words. The photograph often carries the story, while the caption merely introduces it. This is not necessarily a loss.

    Human beings have always told stories through images. Long before cameras existed, people painted scenes on cave walls, carved histories into stone, illuminated manuscripts, and stitched family stories into tapestries. Images have always helped us preserve memory and communicate meaning.

    Photography simply allows us to do so more easily and more abundantly. Seen from this perspective, artificial intelligence may not represent a departure from human storytelling but another step in its evolution. Like every tool before it, it offers new ways to shape and present our experiences.

    Previous generations filled boxes with letters and journals. We fill hard drives and cloud storage with images. Neither is superior. Both are attempts to answer the same deeply human desire: “I was here. This mattered. Let me share it with you.” Yet photographs alone are only part of the story.

    A photograph may tell us where we were, but words often tell us why it mattered. Perhaps that is why I continue to write. The image invites us to pause. The reflection invites us to stay. Together they create something neither can achieve alone: a memory that is both seen and understood.

    The BBC article asks whether artificial intelligence is changing our photographs. I suspect the more interesting question is: What story are we choosing to tell? Because every photograph is a choice. Not every moment is captured. Not every image is kept. Not every photograph is shared. We choose. And in that choosing, we create a narrative.

    One day, future generations may scroll through our images much as we turn the pages of old family albums. They may learn where we travelled, what we read, whom we loved, and what we considered beautiful. They may discover, through photographs, what mattered to us.

    In the end, that may be the most enduring purpose of photography. Not merely to record reality. But to preserve the story of a life. And perhaps that is why we continue to take photographs at all. We do not photograph everything we see. We photograph what we do not want to forget.

    Rebecca

    Monterosso al Mare (Rebecca Budd Photo Archives May 8, 2026

    #ArtificialIntelligence #Memories #Memory #Photography #Storytelling
  2. The Story We Tell in Photographs

    “I was here. This mattered. Let me share it with you.”

    I recently read an article by Thomas Germain for the BBC that explored how modern smartphones now edit photographs automatically using artificial intelligence, adjusting light, colour, and clarity before we ever see the image. The article asks whether this changes our sense of reality.

    It is a fair question. But as I sat with it, I found myself leaning in a slightly different direction. Rather than wondering whether artificial intelligence is changing reality, I began thinking about how photography itself has changed the way we tell the story of our lives.

    Not long ago, personal stories were preserved primarily through words. We wrote letters. We kept journals and diaries. We recorded family histories and memories in notebooks, scrapbooks, and conversations around the dinner table. Stories were passed from one generation to the next through spoken recollections and written accounts.

    Today, much of that storytelling happens through images. Our photographs have become chapters. A photograph of a morning walk. A favourite book resting on a table. Grandchildren gathered around a birthday cake. A garden in bloom. A sunset that seemed to pause the world for a moment.

    Each image quietly declares: “This mattered.” Taken together, these photographs become something more than a collection of pictures. They become a visual autobiography.

    What fascinates me is that photographs do not simply record our lives; they reveal what we notice. Two people can visit the same place and return home with entirely different photographs. One captures the grand view. Another notices the people. A third is drawn to the details of a weathered doorway, a flower growing through a crack in the stone, a cat sleeping in the afternoon sun. The camera becomes an extension of attention. When we look back through our photographs, we are not only seeing where we have been. We are seeing what we cared about.

    Spiaggia il Gigante (Rebecca Budd Photo Archives May 8, 2026)Monterosso al Mare (Rebecca Budd photo archives May 8, 2026Castello Brown, Portofino (Rebecca Budd Photo Archives May 10, 2026)

    Lately, I found myself reflecting on a collection of photographs taken during my recent journey through Italy. There was the sweeping view across the Bay of Naples, where sea and sky seemed to merge into a soft blue horizon. There were narrow stairways disappearing between sunlit buildings, inviting curiosity about what might lie around the next corner. There were ancient stone lanes softened by plants and shadow, reminders that beauty often resides in places shaped slowly by time.

    And there was a sleeping cat.

    Monterosso al Mare (Rebecca Budd Photo Archives May 8, 2026

    Of all the photographs I brought home, that image may say as much about me as any landscape. The cat was not a famous landmark. It was not on any travel itinerary. Yet something about its peaceful presence caught my attention and asked me to pause.

    Cannes (Rebecca Budd Photo Archives May 11, 2026)

    Looking at those photographs now, I realize they tell two stories. One story is about the places I visited. The other is about what captured my imagination. The camera recorded the journey. The photographs reveal what I loved.

    Naples – Posillipo (Rebecca Budd Photo Archives May 6, 2026)

    Perhaps this is why photography has become such a powerful form of communication in the digital age. Increasingly, our social media posts contain more images than words. The photograph often carries the story, while the caption merely introduces it. This is not necessarily a loss.

    Human beings have always told stories through images. Long before cameras existed, people painted scenes on cave walls, carved histories into stone, illuminated manuscripts, and stitched family stories into tapestries. Images have always helped us preserve memory and communicate meaning.

    Photography simply allows us to do so more easily and more abundantly. Seen from this perspective, artificial intelligence may not represent a departure from human storytelling but another step in its evolution. Like every tool before it, it offers new ways to shape and present our experiences.

    Previous generations filled boxes with letters and journals. We fill hard drives and cloud storage with images. Neither is superior. Both are attempts to answer the same deeply human desire: “I was here. This mattered. Let me share it with you.” Yet photographs alone are only part of the story.

    A photograph may tell us where we were, but words often tell us why it mattered. Perhaps that is why I continue to write. The image invites us to pause. The reflection invites us to stay. Together they create something neither can achieve alone: a memory that is both seen and understood.

    The BBC article asks whether artificial intelligence is changing our photographs. I suspect the more interesting question is: What story are we choosing to tell? Because every photograph is a choice. Not every moment is captured. Not every image is kept. Not every photograph is shared. We choose. And in that choosing, we create a narrative.

    One day, future generations may scroll through our images much as we turn the pages of old family albums. They may learn where we travelled, what we read, whom we loved, and what we considered beautiful. They may discover, through photographs, what mattered to us.

    In the end, that may be the most enduring purpose of photography. Not merely to record reality. But to preserve the story of a life. And perhaps that is why we continue to take photographs at all. We do not photograph everything we see. We photograph what we do not want to forget.

    Rebecca

    Monterosso al Mare (Rebecca Budd Photo Archives May 8, 2026

    #ArtificialIntelligence #Memories #Memory #Photography #Storytelling
  3. One of the things I like about my son-in-law is he is - like me - a fan of Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers. After he and my daughter said their vows on their wedding day in 2013, the song that played as they left the alter of the church was this Tom Petty tune. I was a happy camper even if I was in a suit and tie. It kicked ass.
    #MusicOfMastodon
    #90sAlbumRock
    #Wildflowers
    #Memories

    m.youtube.com/watch?v=xTJT5rEJ

  4. One of the things I like about my son-in-law is he is - like me - a fan of Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers. After he and my daughter said their vows on their wedding day in 2013, the song that played as they left the alter of the church was this Tom Petty tune. I was a happy camper even if I was in a suit and tie. It kicked ass.
    #MusicOfMastodon
    #90sAlbumRock
    #Wildflowers
    #Memories

    m.youtube.com/watch?v=xTJT5rEJ

  5. It's 22:53

    At 22:53, I move through space and time, between my home, my memories and the people I love. Then, at 22:55, I return. Here, now.

    my-notes.dragas.net/2026/07/16

    #MyNotes #Blogging #Memories #TimeTravel

  6. It's 22:53

    At 22:53, I move through space and time, between my home, my memories and the people I love. Then, at 22:55, I return. Here, now.

    my-notes.dragas.net/2026/07/16

    #MyNotes #Blogging #Memories #TimeTravel

  7. RE: rssfeed.media/@guardianfeeds/1

    So…Blade Runner core is now a thing?

    Also see a recent video from Bangkok Pat on YouTube about Talat Noi - he visits a Blade Runner-inspired bar where you look at the menu by browsing a box of mounted slides (no, really).

    #music #memories #turtles

  8. RE: rssfeed.media/@guardianfeeds/1

    So…Blade Runner core is now a thing?

    Also see a recent video from Bangkok Pat on YouTube about Talat Noi - he visits a Blade Runner-inspired bar where you look at the menu by browsing a box of mounted slides (no, really).

    #music #memories #turtles

  9. give it a couple more months and I'll be able to give up the cane and walk on my own
    #memories #35mm #filmphotography #photography

  10. give it a couple more months and I'll be able to give up the cane and walk on my own
    #memories #35mm #filmphotography #photography

  11. 43 years ago today, July 16, 1983, Charly McClain and Mickey Gilley debuted at #73 on Billboard’s Hot Country Singles chart with “Paradise Tonight”. It went on to peak at #1 and spent a total of 22 weeks on the chart.

    It’s been a fun and exciting hobby to collect 45 RPM singles in my lifetime. I enjoyed listening to this fun and bouncy song on AM 650 KYAK 4+ decades ago.

    #vinylcommunity #music #legendary #duet #countrymusic #musicians #recording #memories #45rpm #vinylcollection #musicislife

  12. 43 years ago today, July 16, 1983, Charly McClain and Mickey Gilley debuted at #73 on Billboard’s Hot Country Singles chart with “Paradise Tonight”. It went on to peak at #1 and spent a total of 22 weeks on the chart.

    It’s been a fun and exciting hobby to collect 45 RPM singles in my lifetime. I enjoyed listening to this fun and bouncy song on AM 650 KYAK 4+ decades ago.

    #vinylcommunity #music #legendary #duet #countrymusic #musicians #recording #memories #45rpm #vinylcollection #musicislife

  13. 43 years ago today, July 16, 1983, Charly McClain and Mickey Gilley debuted at #73 on Billboard’s Hot Country Singles chart with “Paradise Tonight”. It went on to peak at #1 and spent a total of 22 weeks on the chart.

    It’s been a fun and exciting hobby to collect 45 RPM singles in my lifetime. I enjoyed listening to this fun and bouncy song on AM 650 KYAK 4+ decades ago.

    #vinylcommunity #music #legendary #duet #countrymusic #musicians #recording #memories #45rpm #vinylcollection #musicislife

  14. 43 years ago today, July 16, 1983, Charly McClain and Mickey Gilley debuted at #73 on Billboard’s Hot Country Singles chart with “Paradise Tonight”. It went on to peak at #1 and spent a total of 22 weeks on the chart.

    It’s been a fun and exciting hobby to collect 45 RPM singles in my lifetime. I enjoyed listening to this fun and bouncy song on AM 650 KYAK 4+ decades ago.

    #vinylcommunity #music #legendary #duet #countrymusic #musicians #recording #memories #45rpm #vinylcollection #musicislife

  15. 43 years ago today, July 16, 1983, Charly McClain and Mickey Gilley debuted at #73 on Billboard’s Hot Country Singles chart with “Paradise Tonight”. It went on to peak at #1 and spent a total of 22 weeks on the chart.

    It’s been a fun and exciting hobby to collect 45 RPM singles in my lifetime. I enjoyed listening to this fun and bouncy song on AM 650 KYAK 4+ decades ago.

    #vinylcommunity #music #legendary #duet #countrymusic #musicians #recording #memories #45rpm #vinylcollection #musicislife

  16. 43 years ago today, July 16, 1983, Crystal Gayle debuted at #63 on Billboard’s Hot Country Singles chart with “Baby, What About You”. It went on to peak at #1 and spent a total of 19 weeks on the chart.

    I enjoyed listening to this song on AM 650 KYAK about the time my baby brother was born, which inspired me to go and buy the 45 RPM single. It brings back nice memories.

    #vinylcommunity #music #legendary #vocalist #countrymusic #artist #recording #memories #45rpm #vinylcollection #musicislife

  17. 43 years ago today, July 16, 1983, Crystal Gayle debuted at #63 on Billboard’s Hot Country Singles chart with “Baby, What About You”. It went on to peak at #1 and spent a total of 19 weeks on the chart.

    I enjoyed listening to this song on AM 650 KYAK about the time my baby brother was born, which inspired me to go and buy the 45 RPM single. It brings back nice memories.

    #vinylcommunity #music #legendary #vocalist #countrymusic #artist #recording #memories #45rpm #vinylcollection #musicislife

  18. I am 14 years old; I am recovering from two serious surgeries and a year and a half of being bedridden, and I am relearning how to walk again...
    #memories #35mm #filmphotography #photography

  19. I am 14 years old; I am recovering from two serious surgeries and a year and a half of being bedridden, and I am relearning how to walk again...
    #memories #35mm #filmphotography #photography

  20. #memories

    Today this poster, that was in one of my classrooms, suddenly entered my memory.

  21. #memories

    Today this poster, that was in one of my classrooms, suddenly entered my memory.

  22. Serial, or: A comedy of redemption

    Cocoa Puffs, Golden Grahams
    and Lucky Charms filled my mornings;
    at six years old, I poured chocolate 
    milk, ignoring my aunt’s warning;
    cornflakes bring back memories
    chocolate milk still makes me cringe
    grown now, I add it to coffee
    some bad ideas just mature

    d’Verse Quadrille

    The above poem is my take on d’Verse’s Quadrille challenge.

    The Quadrille is simply a poem of 44 words (excluding the title), and it can take any form. This week’s challenge was to use the word “puff” in a Quadrille.

    Let’s write poetry together!

    When it comes to partnership, some humans can make their lives alone – it’s possible. But creatively, it’s more like painting: you can’t just use the same colours in every painting. It’s just not an option. You can’t take the same photograph every time and live with art forms with no differences.

    Ben Harper (b. 1969)

    Would you like to create poetry with me and have a completed poem of yours featured here at the Skeptic’s Kaddish? I am very excited to have launched the ‘Poetry Partners’ initiative and am looking forward to meeting and creating with you… Check it out!

    #Adulthood #Breakfast #Cereal #Childhood #Chocolate #Coffee #Memories #Poem #Poetry #Quadrille #Stubborn
  23. All the grief and pain 😢

    When I start writing this post, it's been almost a year since I had to say goodbye to Arwen. I still miss her every day, even with little Koa running around, being as wonderful as he is. It's true that I cry a little less over missing my gall now. But,  course, writing that about her, I immediately start tearing up again, feeling ashamed that I stopped mourning over her wihin a year of her passing away. I know there is no "set time" to grieve, and we all deal with grief and emotions in our own unique ways. But yeah, it's hard for me to admit that, even with Koa making my life better again, granted that it's more challenging as well, I still miss having her around. And I feel ashamed that there are days where I don't cry over her anymore, as it feels like I am forgetting about her. I know these emotions and feelings are "silly" in a way, but that's "just" how I deal with things like these. Many things I am sharing in this post, I have shared in several previous posts. But, I didn't want to "just" link to the old posts, and I wanted to do credit to the dogs I was/am writing about, to tell it all in one complete post. So, sorry for the bits you already know, if you've been following my blog for a while now. And, I hope it all made sense to the new folks, welcome, who found this post one way, or another. 💖 […]

    cynnisblog.wordpress.com/2026/

  24. All the grief and pain 😢

    When I start writing this post, it's been almost a year since I had to say goodbye to Arwen. I still miss her every day, even with little Koa running around, being as wonderful as he is. It's true that I cry a little less over missing my gall now. But,  course, writing that about her, I immediately start tearing up again, feeling ashamed that I stopped mourning over her wihin a year of her passing away. I know there is no "set time" to grieve, and we all deal with grief and emotions in our own unique ways. But yeah, it's hard for me to admit that, even with Koa making my life better again, granted that it's more challenging as well, I still miss having her around. And I feel ashamed that there are days where I don't cry over her anymore, as it feels like I am forgetting about her. I know these emotions and feelings are "silly" in a way, but that's "just" how I deal with things like these. Many things I am sharing in this post, I have shared in several previous posts. But, I didn't want to "just" link to the old posts, and I wanted to do credit to the dogs I was/am writing about, to tell it all in one complete post. So, sorry for the bits you already know, if you've been following my blog for a while now. And, I hope it all made sense to the new folks, welcome, who found this post one way, or another. 💖 […]

    cynnisblog.wordpress.com/2026/

  25. Remember the milk.

    I remember.

    I remember the stumpy glass bottles of milk we had for ‘play lunch’ in primary school.
    I remember hearing them being delivered in stacks of purple-brown or purple-red plastic crates.

    I remember sitting cross-legged on the cool linoleum floor of the classroom. I remember sitting on one of the multi-colored concentric circles. I remember it was the red one because that was the coolest one to sit on. I remember watching the crates being stacked under the eaves of the walkway outside. I remember the sun creeping across them, warming the bottles, which would sweat rainbow diamond drops of water. I remember it clearly. The milk would be served in glass…..wet, warm, and disgusting.

    I remember the milk was taken under close supervision. No play until you have drunk your milk. As if some sort of medication. As if some sort of deep gastric punishment.

    I remember some kids were fine with it. I remember I was not.

    I remember taking a note left for our milkman at home (I remember when milk was delivered to the house each morning). “No milk today please.” I remember folding it into an envelope and taking it to school and giving to my teacher in a vain attempt to not drink the warm, curdled brew. I remember saying the note was from my mum. I remember drinking a particularly warm and extra disgusting milk that day.

    I remember the smell of the empty bottles all stacked up again, waiting for collection. I remember the milk patina. I remember the sour milk smell.

    I remember the red and gold metal bottle tops. I remember saving them in a cardboard box that would be kept somewhere secret until Christmas when it would materialise and we would punch holes in the tops with tiny blunt scissors and string them in long glinting decorations along the ceilings.

    I remember not all the tops were decorations. I remember flicking them from between crossed index and first fingers. Tiny red and gold frisbees that could under optimal atmospheric conditions and with a keen flicking aptitude, make it clear across the classroom.

    I remember scrunching the tops into tiny projectiles that could be launched with a wooden ruler held in the fist like a trebuchet. Under the correct conditions, these tiny metallic meteorites could attain geostationary orbit.

    I remember it well. But most of mosts, I remember the milk.

    #creativity #family #fiction #life #memories #milk #school #shortStory #writing
  26. Remember the milk.

    I remember.

    I remember the stumpy glass bottles of milk we had for ‘play lunch’ in primary school.
    I remember hearing them being delivered in stacks of purple-brown or purple-red plastic crates.

    I remember sitting cross-legged on the linoleum classroom floor. I remember sitting on one of the multi-colored concentric circles. I remember it was the red one because that was the coolest one to sit on. I remember watching the crates being stacked under the eaves of the walkway outside. I remember the sun creeping across them, warming the bottles, which would sweat rainbow diamond drops of water. I remember it clearly. The milk would be served in glass…wet, warm, and disgusting.

    I remember the milk was taken under close supervision. As if some sort of medication. As if some sort of gastric punishment.

    I remember some kids were fine with it. I remember I was not.

    I remember taking a note left for our milkman at home (I remember when milk was delivered to the house each morning). “No milk today please.” I remember folding it into an envelope and taking it to school and giving to my teacher in a vain attempt to not drink the warm, curdled milk. I remember saying the note was from my mum. I remember drinking a particularly warm and extra disgusting milk that day.

    I remember the red and gold metal bottle tops. I remember saving them in a cardboard box that would be kept somewhere secret until Christmas when it would materialise and we would punch holes in the tops with tiny blunt scissors and string them in long glinting decorations along the ceilings.

    I remember not all the tops were decorations. I remember flicking them from between crossed index and first fingers. Tiny red and gold frisbees that could under optimal atmospheric conditions and with a keen flicking aptitude, make it clear across the classroom.

    I remember scrunching the tops into tiny projectiles that could be launched with a wooden ruler held in the fist like a trebuchet. Under the correct conditions, these tiny metallic meteorites could attain geostationary orbit.

    I remember it well. But most, I remember the milk.

    #creativity #family #fiction #life #memories #milk #school #shortStory #writing
  27. 🤗➰🎶🎵🎼👩🏼‍🎤👄🤗💁🏿‍♀️*MOTHER MAY I GO OUT?!?~*MOTHER!*FIVE O’CLOCK IS STRIKING!*MOTHER MAY I GO OUT!*ALL THE BOYS ARE WAITING JUST TO TAKE ME OUT!*SOME WILL GIVE ME CANDY!*& SOME WILL GIVE ME APPLES!*& SOME WILL GIVE ME PEARS!*& OTHERS WILL GIVE ME FIFTY CENTS TO KISS ME ON THE STAIRS!🤗😂👄➰🎶🎵🎼👩🏼‍🎤🤗

    #Childhood #Fond #Memories #Father #Dad #Poetry #limericks #Song #Lyrics #Jump #roping #Olden #Days #Fun #Piano #Farm #House #Haunted

  28. 🤗➰🎶🎵🎼👩🏼‍🎤👄🤗💁🏿‍♀️*MOTHER MAY I GO OUT?!?~*MOTHER!*FIVE O’CLOCK IS STRIKING!*MOTHER MAY I GO OUT!*ALL THE BOYS ARE WAITING JUST TO TAKE ME OUT!*SOME WILL GIVE ME CANDY!*& SOME WILL GIVE ME APPLES!*& SOME WILL GIVE ME PEARS!*& OTHERS WILL GIVE ME FIFTY CENTS TO KISS ME ON THE STAIRS!🤗😂👄➰🎶🎵🎼👩🏼‍🎤🤗

    #Childhood #Fond #Memories #Father #Dad #Poetry #limericks #Song #Lyrics #Jump #roping #Olden #Days #Fun #Piano #Farm #House #Haunted

  29. 🤗➰🎶🎵🎼👩🏼‍🎤👄🤗💁🏿‍♀️*MOTHER MAY I GO OUT?!?~*MOTHER!*FIVE O’CLOCK IS STRIKING!*MOTHER MAY I GO OUT!*ALL THE BOYS ARE WAITING JUST TO TAKE ME OUT!*SOME WILL GIVE ME CANDY!*& SOME WILL GIVE ME APPLES!*& SOME WILL GIVE ME PEARS!*& OTHERS WILL GIVE ME FIFTY CENTS TO KISS ME ON THE STAIRS!🤗😂👄➰🎶🎵🎼👩🏼‍🎤🤗

    #Childhood #Fond #Memories #Father #Dad #Poetry #limericks #Song #Lyrics #Jump #roping #Olden #Days #Fun #Piano #Farm #House #Haunted

  30. 🤗➰🎶🎵🎼👩🏼‍🎤👄🤗💁🏿‍♀️*MOTHER MAY I GO OUT?!?~*MOTHER!*FIVE O’CLOCK IS STRIKING!*MOTHER MAY I GO OUT!*ALL THE BOYS ARE WAITING JUST TO TAKE ME OUT!*SOME WILL GIVE ME CANDY!*& SOME WILL GIVE ME APPLES!*& SOME WILL GIVE ME PEARS!*& OTHERS WILL GIVE ME FIFTY CENTS TO KISS ME ON THE STAIRS!🤗😂👄➰🎶🎵🎼👩🏼‍🎤🤗

    #Childhood #Fond #Memories #Father #Dad #Poetry #limericks #Song #Lyrics #Jump #roping #Olden #Days #Fun #Piano #Farm #House #Haunted

  31. 🤗➰🎶🎵🎼👩🏼‍🎤👄🤗💁🏿‍♀️*MOTHER MAY I GO OUT?!?~*MOTHER!*FIVE O’CLOCK IS STRIKING!*MOTHER MAY I GO OUT!*ALL THE BOYS ARE WAITING JUST TO TAKE ME OUT!*SOME WILL GIVE ME CANDY!*& SOME WILL GIVE ME APPLES!*& SOME WILL GIVE ME PEARS!*& OTHERS WILL GIVE ME FIFTY CENTS TO KISS ME ON THE STAIRS!🤗😂👄➰🎶🎵🎼👩🏼‍🎤🤗

    #Childhood #Fond #Memories #Father #Dad #Poetry #limericks #Song #Lyrics #Jump #roping #Olden #Days #Fun #Piano #Farm #House #Haunted

  32. 🤗➰🎶🎵🎼👩🏼‍🎤👄🤗💁🏿‍♀️*MOTHER MAY I GO OUT?!?~*MOTHER!*FIVE O’CLOCK IS STRIKING!*MOTHER MAY I GO OUT!*ALL THE BOYS ARE WAITING JUST TO TAKE ME OUT!*SOME WILL GIVE ME CANDY!*& SOME WILL GIVE ME APPLES!*& SOME WILL GIVE ME PEARS!*& OTHERS WILL GIVE ME FIFTY CENTS TO KISS ME ON THE STAIRS!🤗😂👄➰🎶🎵🎼👩🏼‍🎤🤗

    #Childhood #Fond #Memories #Father #Dad #Poetry #limericks #Song #Lyrics #Jump #roping #Olden #Days #Fun #Piano #Farm #House #Haunted

  33. 🤗➰🎶🎵🎼👩🏼‍🎤👄🤗💁🏿‍♀️*MOTHER MAY I GO OUT?!?~*MOTHER!*FIVE O’CLOCK IS STRIKING!*MOTHER MAY I GO OUT!*ALL THE BOYS ARE WAITING JUST TO TAKE ME OUT!*SOME WILL GIVE ME CANDY!*& SOME WILL GIVE ME APPLES!*& SOME WILL GIVE ME PEARS!*& OTHERS WILL GIVE ME FIFTY CENTS TO KISS ME ON THE STAIRS!🤗😂👄➰🎶🎵🎼👩🏼‍🎤🤗

    #Childhood #Fond #Memories #Father #Dad #Poetry #limericks #Song #Lyrics #Jump #roping #Olden #Days #Fun #Piano #Farm #House #Haunted