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About memories and strawberries
I’ve just read my friend blogger Flighty’s last entries. He told us about the strawberries he has been cultivating in his plot. Flighty even took photos of his delicious fruits.
 from eye.taragana.net/.../
Morango is the Portuguese word for strawberry. By the way, do you have any idea what moranga is? As you have noticed the word moranga is almost the same as morango ( strawberry), excepting the final letter, a in the first word and o in the last one. I think they are confusing words for non-native Portuguese speakers, aren’t them?. Their meanings are very different: Morango means strawberry and
Moranga means pumpkin.
 Fromwww.horty.com.br/loja/produtos_descricao.asp?...
Strawberries aren’t tropical fruits, they are cultivated in colder regions of Brazil and we can buy them at every supermarket in our town. Of course there is the strawberry season.
Strawberry was my deceased eldest son’s favourite fruit. And Flighty’s entries about them reminded me of one of the funny things that happened in my son’s childhood, when he mistook pumpkin for strawberry:
Once my mother was in the kitchen, serving lunch to my kids and asked my son, then a five year old boy: “Glauco, would you like having some pumpkin( moranga)?”
Misunderstanding what she had asked, he promptly said:
“Yeah! Bring the box, granny”
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My journalist niece and the Mother Jones Magazine
I’ve received an email from my niece Gabriela, who I even regard as being my first granddaughter( She called me her doting aunt). In Portuguese language there is an expression “Mãe Coruja” (Owl Mother) that means doting mother. My niece Gabriela calls me tia Coruja (doting aunt).
Gabi emailed me to send The Mother Jones magazine’s website address, where we can read one of her articles on line:
http://www.motherjones.com/blue-marble/2009/05/could-deforestation-brazil-wreak-havoc-us
“Mother Jones is a nonprofit news organization that specializes in investigative, political, and social justice reporting. We currently have two main "channels": an award-winning bimonthly national magazine (circulation 240,000), and a website featuring new, original reporting 24-7. (In the past we've had a radio show and TV specials; theme parks are in the conceptual stage.) Why should you read or support us? Because "smart, fearless journalism" keeps people informed–"informed" being pretty much indispensable to a democracy that actually works. “
Gabriela is my pride and joy, I’ve always repeated it. She is doing her post-graduate studies in Investigative Journalism in the USA.
I’ve been thinking if my father, Gabi’s maternal grandfather, were alive, he’d be very proud of her too. My father would be very enthusiastic about having a journalist granddaughter. I’m sure he’d say Gabriela inherited her talent for writing from him. She is really a Freitas, he would boast. ( Freitas is the family of his dead mother)
Well, we have only to thank God for all His blessings, and Gabriela is an example of how our family is blessed.
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Christmas Season 
We can’t deny it, Christmas is always an exciting time, even nowadays when it’s very stressful to make arrangements to suit everybody in family. Meetings pop up throughout December and we have to reconcile all of them.
My husband’s family got together early in December in his sister Bete’s. My sister-in-law and her family made us feel at home and l’m thankful that the whole family warmly welcomed my new son-in-law Maurício. There, on her little farm, we had a great time; we laughed a lot, we ate delicious dishes and exchanged gifts. The endless chatters among the women bothered the men so many times that Bete’s husband asked her to lower her voice. It was very funny! Of course the “chatty girl”, the noisy one was I, but he just complained to Bete, his discreet and silent wife, about the mess. It was a reason for more laughters.
My husband has three brothers and five sisters and there are lots of kids in the family. Unhappily we couldn’t meet all of them there. What a pity! Even so we enjoyed very much the family gathering.
A week later it was the time to attend my family meeting in my sister Silvana’s, in Belo Horizonte city. We, three sisters and two brothers and our families were there. The noise was terrible…Well, it was the chatty girl’s family’s gathering! Lol We are all very talkative.
I was surprised by my niece Gabi and my nephew Túlio. Although their mother Silvana had already done it, both of them gifted me. Gabi, my journalist niece, gave me two magazines from Missouri, USA. Really wonderful! Knowing my great enthusiasm for her life and her career in Journalism, she brought me American magazines that contained one of her articles. And my nephew Túlio gave me a CD with English songs which he selected and recorded. How cute they are! I love them so much that I highly regard them as if they were my first grandchildren. 
My hubby, my daughter Raquel and I spent Christmas’ Eve with my sister Myrian and her family. There were only adult people, no mess…no children running… no teens giggling….My daughter Adriana and her family travelled to her husband’s family town in the north of Minas Gerais State and despite it we enjoyed Christmas’ Eve very much. One more time I was surprised by a nephew, who gifted me. It was Gustavo, my beloved Godson who I have a strong connection with.
My husband and I have to thank God for the wonderful relatives we have.
My New Year 2009 Celebration 
Even those who were tired of parties – Christmas season had just finished – would enjoy my New Year celebration. I neither stayed in to watch the fireworks at Copacabana Beach on TV like a couch potato nor spent the night dancing frenziedly in a club, mingled with unknown people. However, dance lovers would appreciate my reveillon. My hubby and I spent New Year’s Eve among joyful and young people. It was just what we needed, a fresh breeze of youth. Everything started when Adriana invited us to spend the Reveillon with her family, in Belo Horizonte city. It would be an intimate celebration, she, her husband, Isabela, Arthur and us. Later she told us carefully about her neighbour friends’ party. She was afraid we wouldn’t go along with her on that. But my hubby and I promptly agreed to her plans and so we had one of the most pleasant New Year celebration we have ever had.
We walked up few flights of stairs and the party’s place was reached. Michelle, our hostess, and her husband introduced us to her family and quickly we mingled with them. There was a friendly atmosphere there! There were fancy accessories to hand, so we wore funny glasses, colourful feather boas, head boppers and bracelets. Soon we were caught up in their enthusiasm. Our high-spirited hostess, her two handsome brothers and their beautiful girlfriends were natural dancers and I couldn’t help staring
at them when they were dancing. How lively they were! More and more we became involved in their rhythm. I tried to dance too, but my back ached, my knees ached. What a painful old lady! I made up for my unfitness to dance taking photos, lots of them.
Michelle’s mother, a skilful cook, prepared a delicious cod salad and I just think about it as “Heaven Made”.
At midnight the fireworks exploded over the Pampulha lake, giving off a colourful display of lights. It was amazing!
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To Flighty White flowers from Brazil with lady-drid's best regards
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Family Elstner and Family Schreiber _ Immigration
Fascination is the right word to name my feeling about my country’s history of immigration. Fascination and also sorrow for the poor immigrants. What deprivation they had to face! What helpless they were!
My brother-in-law Alberto descends from Austrian immigrants. He is very interested in researching his forefathers’ history. Being one of the eldest grandchildren of an immigrant, he grew up listening about a distant country and its beauties. In his youth Alberto stared at his grandpa in amazement, while he tried to remember the little Franz’s rough crossing. By the way Alberto’s grandfather’s name was Franz Schreiber. Actually, the grandpa was such a little boy, when he moved to Brazil, that there were only scattering scraps of memory tangled in his head. He remembered that little Franz (he) suddenly became very sick in the ship; the doctor couldn’t save him, and he was at risk of death. The thought of losing her son and having his little corpse thrown into the sea terrified his mom. She was so bent on to save her little Franz that she was able to lower his fever. After saving her son, the dedicated mother was asked to teach other women how to take care of their ill kids.
The little Franz and her little sister Margarida boarded a ship with their parents, Anton Schreiber and Emilie Elstner, who were going to get a new life in America. Yeah, America!!! They were told that Brazil was quite near the USA, so they came to South America, intending to go to North America as soon as it was possible. It never happened!
Emilie’s brother Rudolf and his bride-to-be Maria also immigrated to Brazil. I wonder how their close relatives must have suffered for missing their kids that they couldn’t meet any more. Anna and Joseph Elstner must have missed a lot their son Rudolf, their daughter Emilie and her kids. What a pity! It happened one hundred years ago but, even so, the events make me feel sympathy for this family aparted by distance. Some days ago I saw a copy of a letter from Joseph to his daughter but I couldn’t understand what he wrote, neither none of his Brazilian descendants could. It might have been written in German; the date on the letter is 28-08-1923.
According to Alberto’s little knowledge, his great grandmother Emilie complained a lot about her new life here. She missed her family and also her social life in Vienna, Austria, where she used to go to operas, concerts etc. And I wonder again: Why such a refined European woman ended up in Brazil countryside at that time? I can’t take the answer I had for granted: Her husband Anton Schreiber might have been an anarchist in Vienna at the beginning of the twentieth century, and he might have decided to move from there so that their lives would take a different tack.
Emilie Elstner's parents: 
The little immigrants Margarida and Franz Schreiber 
Rudolf Elstner, who immigrated to Brazil with his bride-to-be in 1908. 
In Brazil : Anton Schreiber, Emilie Elstner and their family. * I've just made a mistake: Alfredo e Emília, e (Portuguese) means and.
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Teacher's Day
On 15th October, we celebrated the “Teacher’s Day” in Brazil. Since some time ago I’ve been studying English again. Although I’m a granny in my sixties, I’m also a student, so I have a teacher.
Telling about my English teacher is to tell about admiration, pride, delight and blessing.
I feel a blessed person for having as my present English teacher the one who made me love English. All in all she showed me how beautiful this language was in our youth. Can you imagine how wonderful it was for a girl who exchanged a grim teacher (nicknamed goat) for a sweet nanny goat? I mean a sweet girl who was already a talented English teacher. It’s paradise! At that time I improved my English a lot, and to be taught by her was a great delight. I admired her English skills and also her good manners, her way of being. Great times! The good teachers were a kind of idols and my young teacher was loved. and admired, and respected by everybody. I thought that she looked like Audrey Hepburn. She had the same good looks, the same natural style, and the same serenity as the famous Belgian actress.
The times went by. Nowadays we are both in our sixties and I’m very proud of having her as my teacher again.
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About pets, about Love...
 Once I heard a talk among my kids, they were talking about their will of having a dog. My girl Adriana spoke her mind and said they could have one when they were married. But a crazy woman like me was very scared of any kind of pets which, probably, would bring all types of bugs, diseases and dirtiness for her lovely and healthy kids. When “my babies” grew a little, I finally gave in to their so strong desire and we got a dog, a female. Luana was their first and only dog. However children always have a lot of things to do and the poor animal was left in my care. Please, don’t worry, I learnt to love it. Well, it was about twenty-four years ago.
Nowadays my husband and I are at home by ourselves and we have a little creature which is our adorable companion. We have our daily routine and Pequetita, our pet, plays an important role in our lives. Every morning, the moment I get up, I start my day feeding my pet firstly. It’s a pleasure watching Pequetita yawn and stretch after leaving her doghouse. Immediately it starts to frisk and we go to the kitchen where its food bowl is.
Pequetita is a small dog and I usually say it is a Pincher, but it really isn’t. Although Pequetita is the most beautiful and sweetest pet I have ever seen, it is a mongrel( mutt?), a mixed breed dog. But… let’s follow “our” routine, after feeding it , I make my usual question “Where is “dear”? And as if it understands what I say, my pet runs towards my bedroom to find my hubbie sleeping. Its paws make a distinctive noise on the wood floor and a drowsy daddy says “We have to take you to the manicurist, don’t we?” hahaha My hubbie gets up and Pequetita frisks around him happily.
Later I go to my computer room. A flight of steps leads up to the top floor and my bouncy dog is the first one to get there. Like all dogs it hears very well and it notices everytime I go to the top floor and its favourite place, below the computer is there waiting for it. When I turn off the PC, it knows it’s time to leave its cozy spot. What a smart doggie!
I’m very very talkative and Pequetita is my most patient listener, it notices I’m just talking to it, because I change my voice and treat my pet like a baby. I call it “Quelida”, I mean querida, a Portuguese word for darling and my hubbie is “Quelido” = querido that means dear. I’m Pequetita’s mamãe, its mom.
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