fabiochiu/medium-articles huggingface dataset:
3 Lessons About Love and Feminism From a Book About the World War
By: Jyoti Meena
Tags: Books, World War II, Book Review, Feminism, Lessons

3 Lessons About Love and Feminism From a Book About the World War

Photo by Roberto Nickson on Pexels

In love, we find out who we want to be.

In war, we find out who we are.

I had ‘The Nightingale’ lying on my bookshelf for 5 years before the boredom of the pandemic made me pick it up one afternoon. Once I started, I read like a possessed woman. When I finished the book, it was midnight and my face was covered in tears.

It was that good.

The book narrates a story about two sisters, Vianne and Isabelle as they struggle against the atrocities and restrictions imposed on them in Nazi-occupied France.

Vianne, the eldest sister has to bid goodbye to her husband as he is called to fight in the world war. Even though she has always been dependent on her husband to take care of her, as time passes and the war reaches its conclusion, she comes out as an extremely strong woman. She rebels in her own way by risking her life and safety to protect young Jew children from being taken away to concentration camps.

The younger sister, Vianne is a fiery teenager. Even though she is not taken seriously by people around her because she is a woman, she proves everyone wrong and plays a significant role in saving the lives of soldiers. Towards the end, she is outed and taken to a concentration camp.

She lives through that long enough to say the last goodbye to her lover and sister.
Lest…We’ve Forgotten Coventry…Again
By: I Am Words
Tags: Remembrance, World War II, Poetry, Coventry, Blitz

Lest…We’ve Forgotten Coventry…Again

It annoys me every year how fickle the British public is when it comes to remembrance. Of course the major focus is on Remembrance day itself. But what is the point in saying “lest we forget” if just three days later the dreadful bombing of Coventry doesn’t even get a mention.

World War 1 was the first time a war ever had such an incredible impact on such a wide amount of the world. That was why they called it the War to End all Wars…which then didn’t work out so well…

World War 2 was the first time a war had such an impact on innocent civilians for no reason other than the two sides trying to hammer morale out of each other. Brutally murdering innocent people was horrific, and the UK and Allies were as guilty of it as the Nazis.

It is exactly this kind of hypocrisy that inspires my pacifism so much. There are never any “winners” of wars — only one side loses less than the other. The USA didn’t engage fully in WW2 until they were attacked. And they didn’t end their war with Japan…until they destroyed parts of the country for decades with what remains to still be the only use of nuclear bombs on civilian populations.

The wars were dreadful because all notion of “collateral damage” seemed to be used as a trade of as just part of war.

And there is simply no evidence that we have learnt anything. The UK continues to sell arms into the middle east, resulting in the perpetuation of wars that drives innocent civilians out as refugees. And now we are turning our noses up at them and saying they are someone else’s problem.

We have international agreements more committed to trying to get countries to accept their “share” of collateral damage than they do in preventing the onset of war.

Why don’t we just find an island continent, call it “War Land” and let anyone who wants to fight wars go and live there? Let’s get rid of “War Crimes” and make any and all wars illegal. Any attempt to start a war should be illegal.

Obviously, War is an emotionally charged topic, and that is what went into writing my collection of poetry, “Silhouette in the Sunset.”
Digital Storytelling: World War II and the life of a U.S Soldier
By: Stephanie Sanchez
Tags: Veterans, Pearl Harbor, Fourth Grade, World War II, Holocaust

Digital Storytelling: World War II and the life of a U.S Soldier Stephanie Sanchez ·Nov 14, 2020

Description: This video is more aimed towards 4th grade students that their objective is that 4.5 “The student understand important issues, events and individuals of the 20th century in Texas. “4.5.A: Identify the impact of various issues and events on Life such the Great Depression, The dust bowl and World War II”. This Objective is connected to this video because of the events that took place in world war II and how it effected not only Germany but the United States as well and I wanted to look more into that and dig deeper in order to really understand that World War II changed the world and how we see things from a different perspective. How I would use this digital story telling video into an activity would be creating a timeline that they would have to fill out the events that took place on those certain dates. This activity will help them with memorization and keeps them engaged and overall it is a simple activity.
Acciones Osadas que Condujeron al Refugio en América Latina
By: United States Holocaust Memorial Museum
Tags: Refugees, Latin America, Conversations, Holocaust, World War II

Acciones Osadas que Condujeron al Refugio en América Latina

Betty and Marcel Frydman were rescued in the early 1940s by Chilean social worker Maria Errazuriz (formerly Maria Edwards). —Courtesy of Yad Vashem

Chilean immigrant Dr. Natalio Berman, who was a Parliament member, helped 68 Jews escape Nazi Europe and find safe haven in his adopted country despite tight immigration restrictions. Repeated torture by the Gestapo didn’t stop Chilean native and French resistance member Maria Edwards from risking her life to rescue Jewish children bound for concentration camps. Latin America also became a refuge for some of the most despicable Holocaust perpetrators.

In recognition of Hispanic Heritage Month, the Museum explored stories of individuals who sought or provided refuge in Latin America during and after the Holocaust. Watch this digital discussion between Alejandra Morales Stekel, Holocaust researcher and educator, former director of the Interactive Jewish Museum of Chile, and Jaime Monllor, International Outreach Officer at the Museum. The program took place in Spanish; English subtitles can be turned on in the settings.
HK COVID-19 Daily Report: Day 240 — November 11, 2020
By: Horatio Kemeny
Tags: Pandemic, World War II, Remembrance Day, Lest We Forget, Covid 19

On the 11th day… of my chronicling this pandemic… March 27th, 2020, I wrote this:

“…The thing to do is what you’re doing. Stay home. What else are you going to do, anyway… it’s rain for the next several days. Yay Vancouver weather!! That’s it. It’s not too much to ask. You’re not being called to charge Vimy Ridge. You’re not being called to storm the beach at Normandy. You’re being called to sit on the couch and watch Netflix. I have all the faith in the world you’re up to the task.”

The 11th day thing is a nice coincidence, today being the 11th day of the 11th month… and several hours ago, it was the 11th hour that marked the end of The Great War, in 1918. The War To End All Wars.

World War I didn’t end anything, for too long… because, at every level, history has a way of repeating itself. World War I ended exactly 102 years ago. March 27th was only 229 days ago. Wars keep going on; there are more than 40 active conflicts in the world today. And the advice/strong suggestion/orders from late March; we’re back to that as well. Things may have changed in the meantime, but we’re right back to it. Whether it’s 102 years or just several months; round and round we go.

Those 40 conflicts will all eventually end, or morph into something else. The same can be said for this pandemic. And, interestingly, it was that great pandemic of 1918 that helped end WWI.

Those heroes — the ones who actually did charge Vimy Ridge and storm the beaches at Normandy — they did it so that we, today, could enjoy the sort of freedom… that ironically allows us to be idiots who don’t wear masks and social distance. As we well-know, there are places around the world that aren’t so free, where the rules aren’t just suggestions; they are the law, and not following the law has serious repercussions. Dr. Henry has gone on the record saying there’s not much point mandating certain things, because people who are inclined to break the rules will do so anyway. This isn’t North Korea or China. You and your family will not be arrested, exiled or executed for walking into Costco without a mask.

But I don’t want to give too much attention to today’s Covidiots.

Today, let’s focus on remembering the real heroes of the past. Your Facebook feed is probably as full as mine of posts from friends whose fathers, grandfathers, great-grandfathers, uncles, etc… gave their lives for what we, today, pretty-much take for granted. Look at their pictures. Read their stories. They are the ones upon whose shoulders we enjoy our freedom.

It’s important to remember that, often… not just once a year. Lest we forget.
Remembering Hiroshima
By: Charles Mccullagh
Tags: Parkinson Disease, Veterans Day, World War II, Hiroshima, Family

For my brother John (1925–2010)

Over beers in Tucson my brother

Hands shaking from Parkinson’s

Spoke of sailing for weeks off Japan

In a British war ship waiting

For monitors in Hiroshima

To declare radiation levels low

Enough so his Army unit could enter

The city to help with reconstruction.

He had not heard the blast but

Felt the sea batter his ship

Up to the navigation bridge for days

And in ever bone in his body.

He had read the oleander was the first

Flower to bloom in a Japanese spring

And hoped for signs of life

But on arrival he saw only funeral

Pyres, dazed and burnt people

Looking for water. Everything

Was bent, charred, smoked

Or melted down. The only building

Standing was the Dome, a giant steel

Structure twisted into violent art

And perhaps a reminder from some

Indestructible god that Mars was alive and well.

My brother had left the orphanage

After fifteen years, walked through

War-torn London on his journey to Japan.

In Okinawa his ship caught in the rigging

Pieces of a Japanese plane downed by a frigate.

The crew could long smell burning flesh.

This was another christening for him

Like the death of his father from wounds

Suffered in the Battle of the Somme

And in a German POW camp

All showing my brother the way to Hiroshima

Where his boots melted

His heart broke

And his soul was forever scarred.
Thank you, grand uncle for my today
By: Jm Arrow
Tags: World War II, Remembrance Day, Second World War

Thank you, grand uncle for my today

Photo credit: Wikipedia

My grand uncle died in the second world war. We don’t know how and prefer not to. His remains are in one of the Japanese war camps in South East Asia, unnamed and buried amongst other bodies of his fellow comrades. I don’t want to imagine the pain of a mother, as she hears of her son’s death in a war where he is considered ‘collateral damage’, and the most she could pray is that the fate of her baby boy was quick.

Did he have a choice as an ally of Britain to enlist himself? Most probably not. I’m trying to picture what he may have looked like. Photos weren’t commonplace back in the day, especially for rural families. His features of Baba Nyonya (Chinese and Malay) and Indian conjure up an image of my great grandmother’s stern expression and my great grandfather’s eyes always full of humour. His younger adopted Chinese sister, my grandmother would live under Japanese rule for a time, learning the language she still remembers eighty years on, alongside the linguistics of her English colonisers. This would be etched in her memory instead of an older brother she didn’t have a chance to share memories with.

As I join in the silent two minutes to remember those who have died, I think of a relative I have never met and most likely wouldn’t, even if he did survive. His death would mean nothing to people of nations who led the war, wearing paper poppies and selectively remembering a few countries while ignoring others. This was a war that had nothing to do with his country but a fight between nations thousands of miles away from his home. On stone plaques across Europe are the names that are visited by descendants of those who gave their tomorrows for us today. My grand uncle, amongst millions of others is not on any of those lists carved in stone. Because people of his skin tone, his eyes, his race were in a land too far away to give a damn about. Too foreign to count. Too dispensable to be seen as human.

He was only nineteen.
Des bagages radioactifs #1
Tags: History Of Science, Nuclear, History, World War II, Nuclear Energy

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War Brings Ethical Dilemmas into Sharp Relief.
By: Patrick O Hearn
Tags: Ethics, Finland, Displacement, World War II, Trauma

It is a little more easy to consider ethical dilemmas concerning children, if one always takes the position that the best interests and health of the child is primary. One will then be well served in whatever decision one makes. We could go down the list of participants in this sad story, and ask ourselves, “did this individual/system/administration have the best interests of these children at heart when they made their decisions?” If The Finnish parents and government had not sent the children to Sweden (and other places), what’s the likelihood that many of them wouldn’t have survived the war, or lost their parents, or faced grave hardships? Would any of them have reached the age where they might have been pressed into military service, and would have possibly killed or have been killed?

Yes, these children were sadly separated from their families and their country, but they were moved to a safer environment that avoided war due to neutrality, and were placed with families that had resources to take care of them, and wanted to take care of them. Having lived there for years, perhaps barely remembering their original language, or even their original families, is it ethical to force them to return to their birth country? What if the child is 12 years of age, and states clearly that they consider the Swedish adults their parents, and that they want to stay and not return to Finland? If the child has reached “the age of reason,” what rights does s/he have to make those decisions for themselves? Shouldn’t their birthparents have understood that there would be a risk that they would never see their children again if they sent them away? Were they forced to send their children away, like the native people of Canada had to do, because of a racist government policy of forced child separation and encampment of Indian children in residential schools, or did the Finns choose to send them, even if for only caring motivations? Is it ethical to demand that children return, often to a much less healthy and nurturing environment, when a child clearly states that they do not want to return, and would be retraumatized should they have to return?
Memories of War
By: Patrick O
Tags: Poetry On Medium, War, World War II, Poetry, Poem

By Patrick Olajide

Photo by Museums Victoria on Unsplash

The day the bomb fell…

The day screams and ashes choked the air,

and violence was the food of man,

nought but blood to wash it down.

And down it went,

in flames.

A city washed clean by a “holy light”

yet it was the devil’s flames which stroked their skin

when hellfire caressed their writhing flesh

a mess,

of blood,

and gore,

and sadness.

The living half-dead, the dead nought but ashes

and numbers,

numbers to satiate the burning revenge

violence was the food of man,

nought but blood to wash it down,

and down it went

in flames.



The day the bomb fell…

and the red foe was defeated

the day screams and cries pierced the air

a symphony was born where many had died,

but silence took its place.

As blood and flesh mingled,

with ashes and dust,

silence took its place.

As the dead lay as dust and the living half-dying

silence took its place.

The day the bomb fell…

and the red foe was defeated

the day hell and earth merged as one

the victors' mere demons

the victims' mere numbers

silence took its place.
Tags: Dreams, Nostalgia

Hi people, I’m coco. I am a roamer, a full-time grad student, part-time (immature) writer. Hope u guys like my post.
Top 5 games on Nintendo DS. Ninny DS seems to be an ancient console…
By: Bill Costa
Tags: Handhelds, Nintendo Ds, Nintendo, Nostalgia

Ninny DS seems to be an ancient console right now. Yet this handheld was an all-time best seller and delivered many of us some of the best memories. Let me share my opinion on the best games that came to this wonderful console!

5. Kirby Super Star Ultra. This game is really a thing. Although not very complicated one this Kirby adventure can deliver some unforgiven experiences. Kirby can change his incarnations to a much larger extent than before and the boss battles are really top notch.

4. New Super Mario Bros. Very good platformer. Although I preferred the Wii version it is a wonderful game.

3. Legend of Zelda: Spirit Tracks. Magnificent game. My favorite out of two. Speechless

2. Mario Kart DS. It is the best racing game on NDS. It’s much better than Mario Kart Wii and it seems to be even after all these years the best game in the series.

1. Super Mario 64 DS. Marvelous, just marvelous. The best gameplay and graphics on NDS. Amazing game. Everyone should play it. It’s cute, it’s beautiful, it’s the best.
Dear Mom,
By: Gregory Russell Benedikt
Tags: Humor, Nostalgia, Halo, Life Lessons, Coming Of Age

Dear Mom,

Photo by Erik Mclean on Unsplash

Love at First Sight

The first time I witnessed the epic Xbox game known as Halo 2, I was awestruck. It was being played by the son of one of my mom’s best friends and he was about 10 years older than me.

For those of you who haven’t had the experience of being a 10-year old boy, let me explain what it’s like when you meet a 20-year old man.

It’s basically the best day of your life. Comparable to meeting a movie star or famous athlete, 20-year-olds are about as cool as they come. They can drive, they usually have beautiful girlfriends, and they can play violent video games. What more can you ask for!?

The moment I saw Halo in all of its glory, I knew I had to find a way to play it. But there were some serious obstacles. First, I did not have an Xbox. Second, I was only 10-years and my parents did not allow me to play video games that were rated M for mature audiences.

Thus started my multi-year campaign to convince my parents that I should be allowed to play Halo because it was an exception to other violent video games. I would be killing aliens mom, not other humans! And plus, when you killed the aliens all you saw is some purple goo-stuff come out of them, not blood!
Ancient Aisles
Tags: Missing, Memories, Reminiscence, Nostalgia, Remembering

I think sometimes you did

He wouldn’t say it

Other things mattered

More

But every once in awhile

There was an aisle

With your name on it

In his mind

Store

And I think sometimes

He walked through

Your name on everything

Your face a little blurred

He walked fast

He didn’t stare

But he saw you there, for a

Moment

Stirred
Christmas Morning
By: Roy Reichle
Tags: Living In The Moment, Christmas, Children, Nostalgia, Presence

Dad puts on his cold pants and shirt

one leg and arm at a time,

listening to his son’s frantic rustlings

and the thump, thump, thump

of his race downstairs.

“Merry Christmas!” he brightly shouts.

The words are still new to him,

and their taste is still sweet.
DOCE CAMPANADAS PARA MORIR: SEPTEM
By: Brian J.
Tags: Nostalgia

in In Bitcoin We Trust
The Joy of Record Stores
By: Christine Schoenwald
Tags: Change, Culture, Mental Health, Relationships, Nostalgia

The Joy of Record Stores

Photo by Jamakassi on Unsplash

I’m not someone who thinks that everything was better in the past or who lives more in their memories than in their present. I depend on things such as computers, the internet, and streaming television that I wouldn’t want to live without them.

As far as music storage and stores go, nothing beats the records and the music-stores of my youth.

MP3s and music apps aren’t better than LPs, CDs, and record stores.

Tower Records is back. Well, it’s back online, but knowing Tower Records exists at all is thrilling for some of us. They weren’t the only record store when I was growing up, but they had the reputation of being the biggest and the best.

I loved Tower Records and spent many happy hours perusing their stock, carefully choosing which artists’ albums I desperately needed and which option I’d buy the chosen recording in — an LP, cassette tape, and later, CD.

I’ve seen in movies there were once record stores where you could listen to albums in private booths, which I’d have enjoyed. Though decades later, they had CD listening stations with headphones. There you could listen to a featured CD and know if the whole CD was worth buying or if it only had one good song.
’Twas the night before Christmas…
By: B. Morey Stockwell
Tags: Kick Start Thursdays, Christmas, Nostalgia, Writing, Christmas Eve

Kick Start Thursdays

It’s Christmas Eve. December 24, 2020.

The pandemic continues.

Yet, we endure.

My kids are grown. One returned home in March. One earned a new position in March.

We march ahead.

It’s Christmas Eve day and I’m reminded of so many Christmas Eves before.

My father wheezing while reading ’Twas the Night Before Christmas. My sister and I sitting on his lap. His labored breath. His kind words. His careful attention to saying the words out loud.

Could I read then?

Years later, my husband and I continue the same tradition for our infant son.

Two years later, we added a daughter.

We read the story out loud.

And every year after that.

Different settings. Different clothing. Different background.

The background of our lives constantly shifting, changing, morphing.

But the tradition continues.

We record every session. First on VHS tape. Then on digital. Now…

…to the cloud?!

The kids grew. They introduced themselves. Say their ages. Tell where they are in school, then where they are out…in the wide world.

Some years, we delay the reading. Not together on December 24th.

We’ll do it tomorrow. Or the day after.

“One year, we’ll put this all together,” someone says.

But we never do. Haven’t yet.

That feels like a thing you do when you’re done. But this tradition…

…and perhaps ALL…traditions are never done.

Are they?

Christmas Eve. I feel nostalgic for the big family gatherings of my youth.

Looking forward to getting together at relatives' homes in Arlington, Newton, Acton, Littleton, and our house, too.

Seeing my uncles and aunts, cousins, grandparents, hugging and kissing. As the day progressed, the volume of talk and laughter increased. Now I know it was probably alcohol that prompted the crescendo. But also, just being together.

Thinking, remembering, musing. Just like today.

I am thankful for what we have. Thankful for memories of what we had. Hopeful for future memories yet to be had.

But, it’s not about me, about us. It’s about you. Take care of yourself. We need each other.

’Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

What is your tradition? Cherish it. Hold it. Let it go. Make it new.

It’s all good. Are you good? Good. Me, too.
Lo-Fi Hip Hop contra confinamiento
By: Oscar Lafuente Aceituno
Tags: Música, Relajación, Lo Fi, Nostalgia, Confinamiento

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Great Big Story
By: The Stammering Dunce
Tags: Curiosity, Nostalgia

Also published on Wordpress.

To summarise the content: it is a set of mini documentaries showcasing “trivial” facts about human lives from all over the world.

In theory, I should hate the videos, being a cynical adult that I am. In actuality, it has the complete opposite effect on me.

I don’t know how they did it. But, every video successfully reminds me how the world we live in is inherently worth exploring. Every video successfully convinces me how even the most “useless” facts can enrich our lives.

No, it has nothing to do with the visual artistry. If anything, I find “shallow” videos with beautiful packaging infuriating; it is a pathetic attempt of overcompensating which only flimsy minds fall for.

So, why do I love GBS videos when they are beautifully-packaged and “shallow”?

If I want to apply Occam’s Razor to this, maybe deep down I don’t see those “useless” facts as useless. Maybe I am one of those nerds who believe everything is worth learning about.

But, that does not make any sense. Similar content is abundant online and most fail to inspire me. With that in mind, it is hard to believe I am one of those people.

I have a more abstract hypothesis: maybe it has something to do with the personalities behind the scenes.

When other media outlets make similar videos, the results feel less like mini documentaries and more like miscellaneous news reports. It seems they treat trivia as mere “fun facts” instead of things that can potentially broaden our horizons.

It is either the people behind the scenes perceive their audiences as shallow OR they themselves are shallow. It is the complete opposite with GBS, who assumed their audience are as inquisitive as they were.

Their inquisitiveness also makes me feel nostalgic. At one point as a young boy, I was genuinely curious about literally everything! I mean, my idea of fun involved reading encyclopaedia sets, watching science shows on TV and fantasising myself as a genius scientist/explorer who master every discipline imaginable!

In a way, I am being reminded that I should relive my childhood sense of curiosity and quit being picky about what I should and shouldn’t learn.

It is a shame GBS shuts down for good. Frankly, I wish it happens to CNN instead; I am sure the world would be just fine without CNN, if not better.

Oh, and one more rambling: the fact that GBS focuses on human stories also reminds me how exploration is an inherently human endeavour. Not only it is normal to be curious, it is also abnormal to not be curious.

I know that is a big stretch. But, that’s how my dumb mind works.

.

.

.

.

.

Donate to this deadbeat, preachy blogger on Patreon.
A Reflection of Time
Tags: Ageing, Poetry, Nostalgia, Creativity, Writing

The heavy feeling of longing, for the days of yesterday to reverse, a hard feeling to unload but the ease of carrying is slowly drowning me.

Gone from my grasp are those days that flew with the breeze,

as I ran along the winds trying to embrace it all

and keep them beautiful waves in my arms.

To cherish forever.
PB & J
By: Rita Duponty
Tags: Poems, Poetry, Blue Insights, Nostalgia

The good stuff.

Photo by Jonathan Pielmayer on Unsplash

Keep it simple my friend.

Gourmet and fine wine

are not the answer all

the time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Remember your

yesteryears when

peanut butter and jelly

smothered on homemade

bread with a cold glass

of white milk did the trick?

Remember when candy

resembled pink lipstick?

When one penny would

buy three licorices?

Remember the gooey

Mary Janes that you

sat chewing on your

porch in the summer

rain?

Remember the mini

watermelon candy

with a rainbow flavor?

Such simple times.

Nothing complicated.

Then something happened…

WE GREW UP!

© Rita Duponty, 2020
Did you know the Silk Route lane still exists? Because I didn’t
Tags: Self Discovery, Starseed, Separation, Hiraeth, Nostalgia

Trains in Moscow bound for Bishkek

Once upon a merry time, we were all connected in Pangaea like a reluctant, intercontinental (and way more diverse) Brady Bunch. But alas, being the chanceless disciples we are of the ever-expanding Universe, our home fell apart, and the foundation that we thought was solid ground, proved to be, in fact, brittle. Just as orphaned kids are powerless to their guardians’ choices, we simply conformed in one fell swoop, along with the forgotten cities that sank deep within our famished oceans.

From an already limited number of universal experiences, I think “separation” is on everyone’s list—but to be bluntly specific, couldn’t it simply be separation anxiety?

What if that monumental break-up of our supercontinent was dutifully ingrained in our brains even before our existence? After all, didn’t we somewhat witness this “prehumously” as stardust? This could be the reason why we can identify loss even if it’s the first time we experience it. So achingly familiar in our bones, the result of multiple supernovae embedded this fragment of history in our DNA.

Could this also be the cause of feeling hiraeth?

hiraeth: (Welsh) a homesickness for a home you can’t return to

Attempting to recall words to a certain mother tongue of the soul, maybe an unexplainable longing for a home that perhaps never was, or could it also be the search for this missing entity?

Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961) Dir. Blake Edwards

I have this gnawing lust for breaking free and being somewhere other than wherever I am. There’s always a bitter taste of discontentment in the back of my mouth which I’ve tried to neutralize with traveling or even moving houses. This craving to go to “a place” feels so concrete I can almost grind it with my teeth.

I just wish to be elsewhere… all the time, everywhere.

But then I’m often halted by the questions: where am I escaping to? and what am I breaking free from?

If you’ve ever watched Breakfast at Tiffany’s, then that question might sound familiar. Towards the end of the film, we see Paul Varjak fed up with Holly Golightly’s waxing poetic for her belonging to nowhere or nobody. Stepping out of the cab, he says,
Occasions (Improved)
By: Dec Ocane
Tags: Redraft, Memories, Nostalgia

When I was a child I enjoyed nothing more than getting out to birthday parties, Halloween and Christmas celebrations. I just always loved the feeling I got, not just when I was there, but (and maybe even the feelings I liked the most) much more, the anticipation and excitement, whether I was at school, at my Dad’s working, or just killing time, or when on the car journey (sometimes we walked) there, full of thoughts of the joy at meeting friends new and old, getting to indulge guilt-free in treats and playing games as furiously as we cared.

Then, after all that was finished and a new day begun, the memories — not just so I could reminisce at some point far on in life, but to actively think on as I went to bed or on an otherwise dull walk to school, and then to share with classmates (and normal mates) all the stories, those tales I would relate with perhaps a little more liveliness than was really warranted (I was never as adventurous in real life as I told). I spined stories of the rule-less football matches or the mad sprints over gardens and fields, and all the silly jokes we’d tell each other, or the hours spent inside on the X Box or PlayStation.

On thinking back, now in my twenties, it just seems so idyllic, that I have begun to wonder; did my own penchant for exaggeration effect my own recollections?

I never have went out as much after I turned eighteen, when I left home. My parents were the sociable ones, and once gone I was gone there was not much push. Even as I got slightly more mature, when my friends went out to house parties or for a night out I had no inclination to join in, and after a few bad experiences left a sore taste for alcohol fueled or spontaneous events I mostly stopped trying.

It’s not to say I don’t have fun, or put myself in some room I never leave, I simply don’t ‘go out’ or ‘party’ much any longer. I just don’t enjoy it, which makes me question if I ever could, and yet I look back on those thought from my youth and think of them as my most cherished memories.

(I originally wrote this piece in Medium on the spur of the moment. Above is the version I published on Wattpad.)
Nostalgic Energy. Or can you channel that rotten syrup of…
By: Murat Knecht
Tags: So The Other Day, Talking To Strangers, Thoughts And Feelings, Nostalgia, Stories

So, the other day I met this guy, and he was talking about the past, living a bit on memories, and he was mid-30s. And I wondered: really? Because I’m mid-30, and I’ll keep pretending to stay mid-30 for a while thankyouverymuch, and I am always suspicious of the nostalgia trap. Isn’t that something for an old mind? Or maybe not.

Who was this guy?

He’s a very kind soul living in a beautiful corner of the US, which isn’t a bad place to live in if you’ve got the money. Turns out he has got that money because he’s working in some hot shot tech company and had a job title I immediately forgot. He loves his job, his job loves him, and he gets pushed up the career ladder faster than one can read the list of possible side effects of a covid vaccine. Good for him.

He also loves to watch the sea, the waves, the surf, enjoying nature. Enter covid (that nasty word again, should have planned this better) onto the stage that is 2020, puking all over the place. Suddenly like everyone else except the Swedish he’s stuck at home.

Alone.

A whole lot of singles got stuck home alone in 2020. Not a revelation, but still sucks for those folks. So that makes you think. Made him think. And not happy thoughts either.

So far so normal so everybody.

But then he told me what helps him, before and after covid, is looking at pictures of the sea. The walls in his house are full of them. They’re like an ocean but dry. And those happy memories pull him out of the swamp of miserable mind drowning. Memories help him survive.

So why have I been talking of a nostalgia trap?

Nostalgia is looking back fondly. Not just that: It’s missing the past. I’ve always been wary of it because I do have a nostalgic streak, starting by missing the womb even before someone slapped me welcome, and then ever since.

But we don’t want to spend our lives looking back, right? Makes for dangerous driving, too.

So then him and I, we pondered if nostalgia can be useful and this question formed in my mind and I’m now asking it to you, yes you:

Can you turn that fuzzy warm feeling in your chest, that smile on your lips, that positive surge that is nostalgia into energy for the now, for the future, for the remaining part of your life?

Can you use nostalgic energy not just to survive, but to move on?

Or is it just a swamp with a sweet stench, to be drained and have a condo built on top of?
Nostalgia
By: Patience Marshall
Tags: Memories, Tanka, Poetry, Nostalgia, Music

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Impossible Feat
By: Dr. Fatima Imam
Tags: Poetry On Medium, Movies To Watch, Self Improvement, Nostalgia, Life Lessons

A drama about the dichotomy of the human mind.

A genius mathematician’s journey from the depth of depravity to a miraculous redemption.

A character so well-played by a superbly talented Aussie supported by a great cast.

A thought-provoking story because of the diligent direction of one of Hollywood’s most popular directors who got his first Oscar for this movie.

Watching it will require rapt attention leading to questioning the peculiarities of a sane mind.

Memorable dialogues will reignite belief in love, humility, and self-preservation.

Many of us relate to the main character’s point, “They are my past. Everyone is haunted by their past.”

The movie might not have received rapturous reviews, faced tough competition with the Lord of the Rings, but valiantly triumphed by collecting prestigious awards.

© Fatima Imam
sometimes it’s not about my future or where i’ll be in 10 years, sometimes it’s about my past and…
Tags: Family, Melancholy, Mental Health, Poetry, Nostalgia

sometimes it’s not about my future or where i’ll be in 10 years, sometimes it’s about my past and what i did to get here

i look back, head heavy, mind tired, analysing every vantage point since the day of my existence, wondering what i did wrong

i sit sometimes, and hold my head and my eyes cloud over, i look past school bells and cartwheels in playgrounds, i look past butterflies in gardens, a lawn mower revving in the back yard, to see smiling, carefree faces

we weren’t rich as kids, didn’t have electronics besides the decade old tv in our living room, sometimes we didn’t have food but we were happy

when my parents would fight, when my siblings would scream careless taunts, wishing they could leave, when my mother would be taken from us every other mother in an ambulance, cursing and wishing she didn’t give birth to us, i would think “it can’t get worse than this”

but i assume that naivety is what lead me here, old enough to understand the world but not old enough to understand myself, reckless in the way i present my mind, spewing too much and hiding too little

the life back then was a hells-cape in of itself, a place dark enough that i couldn’t sleep for most nights, but at-least then i could blame my issues on the tangible forces of nature that corroded my 10 year old self

at least then i wasn’t faced with the possibility that all my issues were in my head
What’s my deal, anyway?
Tags: Dreamers, Tired, Bhargavi, Nostalgia

Alright. Here we are, my very own blog and readers too. Fancy.

(graphic design is my passion hehe)

8-year-old Bhargavi thought she could be a writer. In fact, she thought she could get published. At that age, people don’t tell you you can’t do things. Might be why most 8-year-olds are obnoxious. I thought I could be the youngest published writer. People would buy my books because I was so young. How darling. As I grew up, chances of that slowly diminished. I still did write of course. I have half a book here somewhere. Maybe I’ll post it for y’all to read someday.

I’m 19 now (as of one minute ago). And this is the third blog I’ve started. b Here’s hoping I don’t let this one die.
I Blink
By: Farah Egby
Tags: New Year, Time, Timelapse, Poetry, Nostalgia

Learn more. Medium is an open platform where 170 million readers come to find insightful and dynamic thinking. Here, expert and undiscovered voices alike dive into the heart of any topic and bring new ideas to the surface. Learn more

Make Medium yours. Follow the writers, publications, and topics that matter to you, and you’ll see them on your homepage and in your inbox. Explore
On the meaning of the missing
Tags: Missing Persons, Memories, Nostalgia

On the meaning of the missing

He is the absent who does not attend, and I am the longing who does not forget …

To miss something means that your soul is taken from you every time you feel this feeling, and the loss may be a person, a memory, or a homeland.

There is always nostalgia for something, an idea that dominates the mind, makes the soul attached to it, makes the soul satisfied and happy, without a reason, although summoning that loss makes sadness a world in which we live, and we tell those around us that it is not a desire for a distance, but it is the need for sorrows to be nurtured when it reproduces. “

Longing, it may be a blessing or a curse depending on the thing that we long for, if it is a person who is difficult to reach, because of his forgetfulness of us, we continue to blame ourselves for just remembering it, and if it is longing for a reality we want to live and coexist with, that makes us enter into the corridors of our dreams; So that fate leads us to a reality similar to that which we wish.

Struggling to overcome its longing, makes things more and more difficult, and may make it worse by making us impossible to forget. They say forgetting is a blessing from the Almighty, and it is a fact that we praise Him Almighty for it often, but sometimes you sit with yourself and keep praying That there never comes a day when you forget those who miss, those who yearn, those you yearn for and your body cannot reach, and you have no hope of communicating with them except remembering them, even though that may bring you much trouble.

For everything there is wisdom, and the wisdom of lack, in my opinion, increases the connection between you and those who miss, and makes you only able to remember every wonderful moment that you passed by with him, or through him, it is God’s wisdom that we live on beautiful memories that accompany us in the journey of our life.

miss as you wish, for today you miss and tomorrow it will come to you to miss others, and at that time you will wish that someone who misses you did not feel as much as you did when you missed, but life makes us miss and misses, nostalgia is a disease and medicine, and inevitably you will get sick At the time, you will say, "Treat me with what was the disease."
I feel very lucky to have experienced both worlds.
By: Hudson Rennie
Tags: Movies, Millenials, Life, Nostalgia, Growth

Those of us who spent our elementary and middle school years in the early 2000’s were the last group of people to grow up with analog technology. We lived out our childhoods in a very transitional period. I remember when New York City had paypho…
I Heart Mork, From Ork (AKA Robin Williams)
Tags: Memories, Life, Television, Robin Williams, Nostalgia

He was everything

Source: screenshot from YouTube

You’re only given a little spark of madness. You mustn’t lose it. -Robin Williams

Growing up in L.A. it wasn’t that unusual to go to a taping of a TV show for fun and when I was a little girl, my mom and I shared a major love for TV sitcoms. Happy Days was one we never missed. So one day, we went to a live taping.

In this particular episode, a new character was introduced. An alien by the name of Mork, played by Robin Williams, from the planet Ork. And immediately, for my tiny kid self, this alien in his red and silver onesy, was everything.

I’m not sure what it was that made me fall so hard, so fast for this nutty guy but maybe it was just that. He was nuts in all the right ways and I could relate. I too had tons of energy and was prone to goofiness. Mork was my people.

After the taping of a show, it was customary for fans to line up to get an autograph from their favorite actor. The Fonz (Henry Winkler) was a favorite. He had a line of people waiting for his autograph. But when my mom asked me if I wanted an autograph from the Fonz, I said, “No. I have to meet the alien.”

I was never much for autographs, even as a kid. And even though I was already in acting classes and headed for a life in show biz, I was still shy when I was little. So going up to a stranger was not something I jumped at doing. Still, I just felt strongly that I needed to meet Robin Williams.

We walked straight up to him and I can’t for the life of me remember what I said if anything, but I do remember his sweet eyes and how he bent down to greet me. He shook my hand and he smiled. Thus began my lifelong love of Robin Williams.

As an adult, I learned about his drug and alcohol addiction and depression. It broke my heart that someone with such a loving nature, who spent his entire life uplifting others through his humor and talent, lived with so much pain.

All it takes is a beautiful fake smile to hide an injured soul. — Robin Williams

I know I’m not alone in my belief that Robin’s humor, talent, and heart have made a lasting impact on us.

And I like to believe that he knew that as well.

Make your life spectacular. I know I did. -Robin Williams

Robin Williams as Mork, from Ork on Happy Days (1970s)

If you or someone you know is suffering with addiction please call the National Helpline. It’s a free, confidential, 24/7, 365-day-a-year treatment referral and information service. 1-800–662-HELP (4357)

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TAKE ME BACK
By: Poonam Chawla
Tags: Reflections, Dreams, Time, Nostalgia, Writing

TAKE ME BACK

Time covers the distance

as the crow flies.

Memories take

a more circuitous route.

And

Dreams?

They do but

glimmer and fade like fireflies.

Take me back

to that moment –

the one right before

my expectations

were about to be met.

Take me back to that dream –

the one right before I knew

all dreams are pebbles

pinging in the well.

Alas!

I miss

the longing

the ache

the loneliness

of creation.

“We are all just stories written in the minds of others”

P.A. Chawla
DO YOU REMEMBER DEAR?
By: Poonam Chawla
Tags: Lovestory, Aging, Married Life, Nostalgia, Longing

DO YOU REMEMBER DEAR?

Now here we are

in the autumn of our lives

two old coots

you in your sweater two sizes too small

with a taste for bran muffins, crumb cake et al

and I with my grey hair, skin tags, wrinkles and all

not covering my mouth when I yawn …

Ah! There was a time

do you remember dear?

when the wind in my hair made you catch your breath

and the look in your eyes was reason enough

to live out the rest

of my days smiling.

Is it all gone

or are we buried so deep in dailyness –

the salmagundi of fevers, taxes, commuting

and corn on the cob

that you no longer see the color of my eyes

and I no longer see your pain

Let us go then

Oh! let us go

now that we have time

to that first moment

when first you smiled

and I looked up

at you —

radiant.

P.A. Chawla: I am just a story written in your mind.
Km 40
By: Ana Malfair
Tags: Nostalgia

in In Bitcoin We Trust
പപ്പടം. “ഒരു കെട്ട് പപ്പടം, അവിടേക്കു…
By: Anupama Okky
Tags: Memories, Malayalam, Nostalgia, Family, Childhood

Student. Love to travel. Love to know different people and their lives. Scribble down a lot.
What was it like?
By: Syd S Journal
Tags: Pandemic, Covid, Memory, Poetry, Nostalgia

It’s been so long,

since I’ve touched someone,

since I’ve held a hand for comfort or fear.

It’s been so long,

since I’ve held someone in my arms,

since I’ve hugged someone,

without the fear of the world ending.

I’ve forgotten what it was like,

to be embraced in the loving arms of someone,

I’ve forgotten what it was like,

To breathe outside without my mask on,

I’ve forgotten how the sun felt on my face,

My entire face.

I wonder what it was like.
Often comes your memories
By: Hardik Patel
Tags: Memories, Nostalgia, Mother And Child, Love, Mothers

Photo by Rohan Rangaswami on Unsplash

Early in the morning, the warm touch of the sun reminds me of your gentle hands

But when I open my eyes, I find you nowhere around

Though farther than the sun, still close to my heart…

Often comes your memories, but you never come

When I close my eyes to pray, the aroma of flowers reminds me of your mesmerizing smell

But when I open my eyes, I find you nowhere around

Always lingering in the air around…

Often comes your memories, but you never come

When I hear a bird sing, it faintly reminds me of the song you hummed while rocking my cradle

But when the singing stops, I find you nowhere around

Beautiful as the song…

Often comes your memories, but you never come

When sitting on a park bench, I see children play with their mothers

It reminds me of the joy I felt sitting on your shoulders

Fresh like the wind on my face…

Ofter comes your memories, but you never come

When I sit to eat, it reminds me of the days when you fed me with your hands

But when I take a bite, it tastes nowhere as sweet

Sweeter than the honey…

Often comes your memories, but you never come

Laying awake at night, the hum of insects remind me of your bedtime tales

As magical as the tales…

Often comes your memories, but you never come

Your image slowly fades as I sleep away, only to meet you the next morning

I know you will never come, but the memories are enough for this lifetime