As we sort through Marion Holland's papers, we're posting some highlights here. Please enjoy....
A Christmas card from 1944, courtesy Nicholas Holland:
In the 1970s, Marion visited her son Andrew and other friends in England. She wrote home to her husband, Tom, that Andrew took her to see "another friend, near Windsor, who is sort of factotum at John Lennon's place (one of the Beatles) and had a guided tour of the place. There is a high wall all around to keep the screeching Beatles fans out. Played some unreleased new records. But when they['d] started talking about going over to Lennon's place, I thought they meant Lenin - and it was sort of wasted on me."
A cry for help from Emily:
Poetry is not my thing. Sorting through a folder of Marion's poetry--some handwritten, edited or illustrated--has been a bit difficult. Marion (or Barbara) has carefully typed out and included poetry one or both of them admired. I've managed to detect and weed out the more famous ones ("The Cure" by Robert Graves, for instance, and "Question" by May Swenson). But what about this one, below? It seems famous, but Google doesn't turn anything up. If anyone can shed some light, please contact me.
We have here,
Not the things we wanted, but the things we have.
An old cat,
Not the one we loved, but the one we have.
Outside, a garden,
Not the one we planted, but a garden nevertheless.
If we hold them
Close in the hand like pebbles, close enough,
They will begin to warm.