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Time will not stand still

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Photo provided by J Hardy Carroll

Early memories helped me to understand what I might become. All around me hung the trappings of war. Don’t get me wrong, I was loved. Yet from a early age I knew that in some way war might define me. A battlefield was my playground, it inspired dreams; but never could I have predicated what was to come. For there is another side to me, an equally determined side, but so different. Nurtured by those around me, in time I will learn to balance the two halves that inspire me.

Footnote: Genre Biography… I was attempting to write a brief biography of Winston Churchill’s early life. As a child he explored the same stately park as I did.

A fine day at Mevagissey
A fine day at Mevagissey
This Post Has 53 Comments
  1. Reputations seem rise and fall with the passage of time and not all settle in one area of opinion – as far as Churchill and everyone is concerned, except a very notable psychopaths, I always echo Joe E Brown at the close of “Some Like It Hot” – nobody’s perfect.

  2. My previous comment should read: reputations seem to rise and fall with the passage of time and not all settle in one area of opinion – as far as Churchill and everyone else is concerned, except a very notable few psychopaths, I always echo Joe E Brown at the close of “Some Like It Hot” – nobody’s perfect.

    1. Just a note: the plural of half is halves, and plurals never have an apostrophe. Apostrophes are exclusively used for possession. Go ahead and delete this. I usually don’t point out typos, but there are a lot of writers on this page and this is a pet peeve of most of them. cheers 😉

  3. MIchael, thank you for drawing my attention to Winston Churchill’s artistic side. Did a Google search and went on a delightful adventure. Thought you and others might appreciate this link: https://www.artsy.net/article/artsy-editorial-making-history-winston-churchill-made-paintings
    This article asked whether his capacity as a painter gave him insights into the battlefield. I don’t paint very often but do a lot of photography and have noticed how much better I see things through the lens than the raw eye. Since taking up the violin, I’ve noticed more about the patterns in things, especially in music.
    Apparently, the brightness of his palette was inversely proportioned to his mental state and that he used the brightest colours during his darkest moods.
    There is so much to explore in Winston Churchill and no doubt there’s much available too.
    Good luck with it.
    Best wishes,
    Rowena

    1. Rowena If I have aroused interest in Winston Churchill, then I did my task with my tentative attempt at being a biographer. I watched as Winston Churchill was taken to be buried. I was sitting on a wall near the village of Bladon. As a child I also spent a considerable time playing and exploring within the grounds of Blenheim Palace. Your thoughts on the colour palette Churchill used interested me. Vincent Van Gogh also turned to vivid colours as his depression worsened, it could be an area to study.

      1. When I’ve painted, it’s tended to be verty expressive with bright colours and thick paint…the thicker the better, although it really stressed me out when it came to how the thing was going to dry with the kids and dogs running around and balls flying through the air. I thought I’d done a post on it but didn’t find anything but there was this one where my son painted himself and the colours are pretty similar. You can see that the seed didn’t fall far from the tree.
        https://beyondtheflow.wordpress.com/2015/06/14/self-portraint-in-rainbow-paint-day-5-five-photos-five-stories/
        Best wishes,
        Rowena

  4. Interesting take on the prompt. Churchill’s daughter Mary Soames has said that even by the standards of their generation, Lord and Lady Randolph Churchill were ‘pretty awful parents’ to their eldest son when he was a boy.

  5. I think only those people who accept all facets of themselves can grow. A fascinating story about a great man. With growing power the impact of one’s mistakes grows, that’s the true tragedy of not being perfect.

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