I just had an email from my son. I have been very, very, VERY lonely of late, kinda particularly during about the last couple of months and since I rarely hear anything from any of my family anymore, I wrote him a sad little letter about my feelings. Mistake. He simply said I had lots of friends... and even a blog, so I must have lotsa friends because of that. What a laugh... this is my little letter to myself... no one else ever sees it or reads it. I have like two or three comments... all from my oldest nephew, who apparently does read it once in awhile. He's the ONLY one. I guess I only write it because I don't have any Kirkie to write to anymore... he won't answer, so why write. So I write to myself about little things like the fact that my kids are strangers now... my own fault, as they both remind me interminably... you wanted to go to CA, where we will never go, as we hate it and it is a long way away. So, just sit back, Peggy and enjoy the nice cool weather, with a couple of warm days every now and then... in a beautiful, breezy place where you can breathe without an inhaler, never have another attack of asthma... wear the same kind of clothes all year long... never have a coat, unless maybe a rain coat if it ever starts raining again... and go out and sit and have lunch in the garden with Gloria once in awhile. I miss Bud and Al... and Al Bear and Jane and all the other Fromm people... and reading to each other... and the poets and all the people who have disappeared to die on me. Even the dear little girl who handled all the business at the 3-Day Novel writing contest has moved on to another job.... Melissa. Amazing, I can still remember some names... although that was always my worst problem... I wonder if it was because my mother could remember everyone's name... was I just reacting against that? Some names are engraved on my brain... I will never forget Leo Burnett, as I loved him so much... or Ned Travis, the same... but about half the people I worked with/for have disappeared from my memory... except in little snatches when something reminds me of them. A bell ring, a taste of pizza, a whiff of perfume... and back they all come... good lord, I have known so many people... and until the last couple of years, I could remember about half of them... but they are all fading out without the reminders. What was the name of that secretary who worked for that dreadful man who thought up 'great books' who used to douse herself in perfume before she went home? Marshall hated that as much as I did and wanted me to tell her... I told him to do it himself and he was furious about that. I do wish I could remember all of them... but what does it matter now, except that if I get back to my writing about them, it would help if I could remember their names.
Enough, enough, Peg... you have nattered along enough for tonight... take your damned pills, go to the john and go to bed. I do hope I have enough kitty food for Sunday... Ana can run over on Monday and get more... she felt she should get some... she knows better how much Sylvia can eat... and Sylvia has been eating like a horse again... both kinds of food. Wow... I have a weird cramping of my left hand... it pulls my fingers apart into a Vulcan salute... so strange, as it is now hard to do that with my right hand. God, why must I get old.... why can't I just die like everyone else?
Sunday, July 5, 2015
Sunday, June 14, 2015
Goodbye Again.... John Hartford
I just spent almost the entire day saying goodbye again to a dear friend I lost exactly 14 years ago, John Hartford. Started yesterday morning when I was packing up the last of some old posters and I found John's picture... complete with his careful signature in the elegant writing style he so loved doing. Looked very like the John Hancock signature. John didn't write his poetry on a computer or a typewriter, but on those cards he carried around in his pocket. The house in Tennessee his children have kept up in his honor is full of John's lovely poetry, not as elegantly written as that signature, but in his very readable handwriting. I have managed to rid myself of some of my beloved books, but I shall die owning the little volume of John's poetry... and hope that someone else loves it enough to read it and keep it forever.
His wonderful song "Gentle On My Mind" is his poem only John Hartford could have set to music and sung so beautifully that many others, even Sinatra, tried to sing it. No one sang it like John... I weep through it every time I hear him do it... it has an added meaning to me, for those feelings I gave to K, though I doubt that he understands that. I am so glad of one thing... someone, I suppose his children, got John to record himself playing and singing a great many of his songs, so that he will be well remembered by those of us who loved him... and the next generation and more will be able to see and hear one of the most versatile writers and musicians of my generation... a man who could not only write great 'folk songs' for us all, but could also sing them with gusto. Who could clog dance while doing so and playing them on any stringed instrument made. Who could play the fiddle with such ability to make you weep, then turn it down to strum it like his guitar, bow still in his hand. What a joy you were, John Hartford. I loved you and I miss you, a real 'only in America' gentleman, who loved his land. One of the greatest real folk singer/songwriters of our time, a true friend, an artist of so many talents and an under-appreciated musical genius.
His wonderful song "Gentle On My Mind" is his poem only John Hartford could have set to music and sung so beautifully that many others, even Sinatra, tried to sing it. No one sang it like John... I weep through it every time I hear him do it... it has an added meaning to me, for those feelings I gave to K, though I doubt that he understands that. I am so glad of one thing... someone, I suppose his children, got John to record himself playing and singing a great many of his songs, so that he will be well remembered by those of us who loved him... and the next generation and more will be able to see and hear one of the most versatile writers and musicians of my generation... a man who could not only write great 'folk songs' for us all, but could also sing them with gusto. Who could clog dance while doing so and playing them on any stringed instrument made. Who could play the fiddle with such ability to make you weep, then turn it down to strum it like his guitar, bow still in his hand. What a joy you were, John Hartford. I loved you and I miss you, a real 'only in America' gentleman, who loved his land. One of the greatest real folk singer/songwriters of our time, a true friend, an artist of so many talents and an under-appreciated musical genius.
Monday, May 18, 2015
New 'Grandchild'... and New Computer
Oh, god, I am SO glad I live in California, earthquakes and everything... but NO tornadoes or snow or floods, etc., etc. Well, we are now praying for rain, less wind and a little warm up from our 'cool' weather, which would probably be considered warm back East. Constant 'low 60s' is cool here with the big wind, and a lot cooler after the sun goes down.
Anyway... that is not what I am writing about. I now belong to a podcast group and at the last meeting I said jokingly, "Boy, I wish I had a grandchild here in town to help me figure out how to put my podcasting equipment together and get rid of some stuff on my computer that is bothering me." But I was in luck... a dear young Irish kid offered to play grandchild and come to my apartment and help with everything. Yep, he showed up the next day, complete with all his luggage, as he was leaving for Ireland after working on my computer. And work he did -- helped me a LOT... and is a really fun kid. I am lucky in my friends... and I am sure Mark Moriarty will be a good friend for a long time when he gets back in town... I hope soon.
Then, on Saturday, I went down to the Apple Store and bought a new MacBook Pro laptop computer, which I will need for my podcast, as I will have to take it out of here for the readings, as Larry is allergic to cats. Poor Sylvia was crushed when he rejected her, but she was very pleased with Mark coming to visit. She does love young men... thank goodness he is used to cats and was lovely to her. With the computer I bought a year of weekly one-on-one meetings to help me with the computer and any app on the computer. So I signed up for "Garage Band" half-hour meeting on the 19th at 10":30am... I do HOPE I can figure it out... and will have as many lessons as it takes. I am determined to get on air.
Anyway... that is not what I am writing about. I now belong to a podcast group and at the last meeting I said jokingly, "Boy, I wish I had a grandchild here in town to help me figure out how to put my podcasting equipment together and get rid of some stuff on my computer that is bothering me." But I was in luck... a dear young Irish kid offered to play grandchild and come to my apartment and help with everything. Yep, he showed up the next day, complete with all his luggage, as he was leaving for Ireland after working on my computer. And work he did -- helped me a LOT... and is a really fun kid. I am lucky in my friends... and I am sure Mark Moriarty will be a good friend for a long time when he gets back in town... I hope soon.
Then, on Saturday, I went down to the Apple Store and bought a new MacBook Pro laptop computer, which I will need for my podcast, as I will have to take it out of here for the readings, as Larry is allergic to cats. Poor Sylvia was crushed when he rejected her, but she was very pleased with Mark coming to visit. She does love young men... thank goodness he is used to cats and was lovely to her. With the computer I bought a year of weekly one-on-one meetings to help me with the computer and any app on the computer. So I signed up for "Garage Band" half-hour meeting on the 19th at 10":30am... I do HOPE I can figure it out... and will have as many lessons as it takes. I am determined to get on air.
Sunday, May 17, 2015
Love Affair, the film..... or was it 'Our Love Affair?"
Saturday night I watched this film on our PBS station (we have 'movie night' on Saturday), mainly because it was on. Why they did the remake, I do not know... I think I remember the first. This remake with Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr was hysterically 'old fashioned' and rather silly. The main reason was because dear old 'upper-class' Deborah seemed to obviously feel that she should not be working with Archie Leach, a lower class type. Such amusing 'love' scenes, where as he seemed to be coming in for a kiss, she pulled her head to the side and he got a quick hug, with the look of disdain. Through the whole thing good old Deborah played like the posh upper-class English LADY, putting up with having to work with this dreadful 'Archie Leach' character. And oh, the scenes where she is 'directing' the children singing... waving her hands up and down... silly!
I LOVED Cary Grant. He was the George Clooney of his day... a gorgeous man who looked quite posh to me, and I suppose to most of the American public. He had lost all his low-class tumbler talk and attitude. He wore clothes well and acted like he was born to be aristocracy. But during this film, Deborah seemed to feel she was the elegant, intellectual, charming lady... so why on earth did they force her to put up with this rather minor peasant. There wasn't even a kiss at the end... just good old Debbie letting that man put his cheek next to her lovely, luscious cheek while she intoned the final lines of something like, "Well, if you can sing, I can walk, my darling" all eyes shiny with Hollywood tears.
How dare she... Cary Grant might have come to this country as part of a tumbling act, or something like it, but he turned into the most gorgeous, suave leading man in Hollywood... like a man born to be not only Hollywood aristocracy, but genuine aristocracy. When given the right leading lady (like Kate Hepburn) he was great and stayed that way until he tired of acting and went to work for a cosmetics company. I saw him years ago... an old man with white hair and he was still the most beautiful man I have ever seen. He saw me gasping and pointing and laughed and waved. Kind, too.
I LOVED Cary Grant. He was the George Clooney of his day... a gorgeous man who looked quite posh to me, and I suppose to most of the American public. He had lost all his low-class tumbler talk and attitude. He wore clothes well and acted like he was born to be aristocracy. But during this film, Deborah seemed to feel she was the elegant, intellectual, charming lady... so why on earth did they force her to put up with this rather minor peasant. There wasn't even a kiss at the end... just good old Debbie letting that man put his cheek next to her lovely, luscious cheek while she intoned the final lines of something like, "Well, if you can sing, I can walk, my darling" all eyes shiny with Hollywood tears.
How dare she... Cary Grant might have come to this country as part of a tumbling act, or something like it, but he turned into the most gorgeous, suave leading man in Hollywood... like a man born to be not only Hollywood aristocracy, but genuine aristocracy. When given the right leading lady (like Kate Hepburn) he was great and stayed that way until he tired of acting and went to work for a cosmetics company. I saw him years ago... an old man with white hair and he was still the most beautiful man I have ever seen. He saw me gasping and pointing and laughed and waved. Kind, too.
Sunday, April 12, 2015
Goodness, tough to get into my own blog, complete with a long list of same name with other suffix... and very cheap price, I must say. I am not very clever at naming it seems. Not very at writing also, but I was listening to the PBS show "The Italians" and heard about this wonderful man who spoke at a strike in a spinning mill -- always makes me think of Grandma C. This was one finally led by a fascinating Italian. Here is his speech... he was a very clever writer and speaker... and adapter. I have yet to find out how much of this is simply a sort of description of Giovanniutti and how much his actual words. I do know that the 'Blessed are..." lines are all his adaption for the strikers. I rather wish someone could write something like this, break into Congress... that poor old empty room -- and deliver it......or perhaps even if someone would go to Congress and actually SING John Lennon's 'Imagine" so that Cruz and all the other might really see what it means. No, they are too ignorant to understand it... and too wrapped up in theirselves...
As everyone knows, I do NOT believe in ANY GOD, but this is beautiful:
The Sermon on the Common
By Arturo Giovannitti
THEN it came to pass that the people, having heard that he had come, assembled on the Common to listen unto his words.
And they came from all the parts of the earth, the Syrians and the Armenians, the Thracians and the Tartars, the Jews, the Greeks and the Romans, the Iberians and the Gauls and the Angles and Huns and the Hibernians and Scythians, even from the deserts of sands to the deserts of ice, they came to listen unto his words.
And he, seeing the multitudes, opened his mouth, and taught them, saying,
Blessed are the strong in freedom’s spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of the earth.
Blessed are they that mourn their martyred dead: for they shall avenge them upon their murderers and be comforted.
Blessed are the rebels: for they shall reconquer the earth.
Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after equality: for they shall eat the fruit of their labor.
Blessed are the strong: for they shall not taste the bitterness of pity.
Blessed are the sincere in heart: for they shall see truth.
Blessed are they that do battle against wrong: for they shall be called the children of Liberty.
Blessed are they which are persecuted for equality’s sake: for theirs is the glory of the brotherhood of man.
Blessed are ye when the scribes of the press shall revile you, and the doctors of the law, politicians, policemen, judges and priests shall call you criminals, thieves and murderers and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for the sake of Justice.
Rejoice, then, and be exceedingly glad; for so they persecuted, reviled, cursed, chained, jailed, poisoned, hanged, crucified, burned, beheaded and shot all the seers, the apostles and the warriors of humanity that were before you, for the sake of freedom.
Ye are the power of the earth, the foundations of society, the thinkers and the doers of all things good and all things fair and useful, the makers and dispensers of all the bounties and the joys and the happiness of the world, and if ye fold your mighty arms, all the life of the world stands still and death hovers on the darkened abodes of man.
Ye are the light of the world. There was darkness in all the ages when the torch of your will did not blaze forth, and the past and the future are full of the radiance that cometh from your eyes.
Ye are eternal, even as your father, labor, is eternal, and no power of time and dissolution can prevail against you.
Ages have come and gone, kingdoms and powers and dynasties have risen and fallen, old glories and ancient wisdoms have been turned into dust, heroes and sages have been forgotten and many a mighty and fearsome god has been hurled into the lightless chasms of oblivion.
But ye, Plebs, Populace, People, Rabble, Mob, Proletariat, live and abide forever.
# # *
Think not that I am come to destroy the law: I am not come to destroy, but to fulfil through you what the prophets of mankind have presaged from the beginning.
For verily I say unto you, While man lives and labors, nothing can destroy the eternal law of progress which after each advancing step bids him further.
Therefore, say not unto yourselves, even as the priests and scribes and doctors of the law and fools and hypocrites say, This is the goal which was destined unto us and no further shall we go.
For even if there be before you the uplifted arms of terror and the smoking altars of murder enshrined in a gaunt temple of gibbets and fierce with shrieks of curses, ye must pass beyond.
For your feet are like the unrolling of the endless scrolls of time, not even night and silence and death can stop their march forward and upward, ever to a farther and loftier goal.
And, lo, ye shall never arrive because never shall ye cease going.
Whosoever, therefore, shall break one jot or one tittle of this law shall be called the least in the kingdom of man, but whosoever shall do and teach it, the same shall be called great in the kingdom of man.
Ye have heard that it was said by them of all times who toil not but do live of your toil, Thou shalt not rebel against thy master.
But I say unto you that whosoever soweth the seeds of patience the same shall reap the harvest of shame.
They said unto you, Question not the right of your masters to reign over you and command you. They shall have your sweat and your tears, aye, and even your blood and your life, and ye shall serve them in reverence and awe, for their power upon you is of God.
And again they said unto you, Give your masters the labor of your hands and the worship of your hearts, give them the fruits of your orchards, the grains of your fields, the flowers of your gardens and all things made by the labor of your hands and by the thought of your brain, and withhold not aught from your masters, lest your masters law and the curse of your masters God be upon you.
And again they said unto you, Bend your knees and worship your chains, kiss the whip that lashes you, bless the heel that crushes you, revere the yoke that weighs upon your neck, bury your forehead in the dirt whence ye came and whither ye shall return.
Do not cry, do not complain do not grumble, do not think, do not hope, Be humble, resigned, patient, submissive, lowly and prone even as a beast of burden, lest ye have the gaol in this life and gehenna in the life to come.
And again they said unto you, Resist not evil, for all spirit of disobedience and unsubmission issueth from the enemy of peace. Therefore if your masters, or your masters servants smite you on the right cheek, turn unto them the other also, and if they take away from you the heritage of your fathers, give unto them also the birthright of your children.
All this and more than this they said unto you before I came, but now that I am come, a new evangel shall be proclaimed unto you, that your souls may be renovated and purified in the fire of the new salvation which is not peace but war.
Therefore I say unto you, Banish fear from your hearts, dispel the mists of ignorance from your minds, arm your yearning with your strength, your vision with your will, and open your eyes and behold.
Do not moan, do not submit, do not kneel, do not pray, do not wait.
Think, dare, do, rebel, fight ARISE!
It is not true that ye are condemned to serve and suffer in shame forever;
It is not true that injustice, iniquity, hunger, misery, abjection, depravity, hatred, theft, murder and fratricide are eternal;
There is no destiny that the will of man cannot break;
There are no chains of iron that other iron cannot destroy;
There is nothing that the power of your arms, lighted by the power of your mind, cannot transform and reconstruct and remake.
Arise, then, ye men of the plough and the hammer, the helm and the lever, and send forth to the four winds of the earth your new proclamation of freedom which shall be the last and shall abide forevermore.
Through you, through your united, almighty strength, order shall become equity, law shall become liberty, duty shall become love and religion shall become truth.
Through you the man-beast shall die and the man be born;
Through you the dark, bloody chronicles of the brute shall cease and the story of man shall begin.
Through you, by the power of your brain and hand,
All the predictions of the prophets,
All the wisdom of the sages,
All the dreams of the poets,
All the hopes of the heroes,
All the visions of the martyrs,
All the prayers of the saints,
All the crushed, tortured, strangled, maimed and murdered ideals of the ages, and all the glorious destinies of mankind shall become a triumphant and everlasting reality in the name of labor and bread and love, the great threefold truth forever.
And lo and behold, my brothers, this shall be called the revolution.
* * *
Thus spake the man to the assembled multitude that had come from all the lands, over all the waters of the earth, and they listened unto him and received his words, and the dawn began to rise in their hearts, and they praised the announcer with the cheers of their mouths and they blessed him with the tears of their eyes.
But when the multitude dispersed to return to their labors and to their strifes, the dark figures that make darker the shadows of the night held council against the truth-bearer for the words that he had spoken.
And the scribe said, Verily, he is a law-breaker.
And the money changer said, Aye, and he is a fool.
And the judge said, He is a wrongdoer.
And the sage said, He is possessed of a devil.
And the chronicler said, He is a primitive sinner.
And the wise man said, He is a profligate.
And the priest said, He is a blasphemer.
And they all croaked in chorus, He is an enemy of society, of civilization, of religion and mankind. Law and order must be upheld and our sacred institutions must be preserved. We must do away with him.
And they did away with him. But nobody knows to this day whether they sent him to prison or to Parliament.
As everyone knows, I do NOT believe in ANY GOD, but this is beautiful:
The Sermon on the Common
By Arturo Giovannitti
THEN it came to pass that the people, having heard that he had come, assembled on the Common to listen unto his words.
And they came from all the parts of the earth, the Syrians and the Armenians, the Thracians and the Tartars, the Jews, the Greeks and the Romans, the Iberians and the Gauls and the Angles and Huns and the Hibernians and Scythians, even from the deserts of sands to the deserts of ice, they came to listen unto his words.
And he, seeing the multitudes, opened his mouth, and taught them, saying,
Blessed are the strong in freedom’s spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of the earth.
Blessed are they that mourn their martyred dead: for they shall avenge them upon their murderers and be comforted.
Blessed are the rebels: for they shall reconquer the earth.
Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after equality: for they shall eat the fruit of their labor.
Blessed are the strong: for they shall not taste the bitterness of pity.
Blessed are the sincere in heart: for they shall see truth.
Blessed are they that do battle against wrong: for they shall be called the children of Liberty.
Blessed are they which are persecuted for equality’s sake: for theirs is the glory of the brotherhood of man.
Blessed are ye when the scribes of the press shall revile you, and the doctors of the law, politicians, policemen, judges and priests shall call you criminals, thieves and murderers and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for the sake of Justice.
Rejoice, then, and be exceedingly glad; for so they persecuted, reviled, cursed, chained, jailed, poisoned, hanged, crucified, burned, beheaded and shot all the seers, the apostles and the warriors of humanity that were before you, for the sake of freedom.
Ye are the power of the earth, the foundations of society, the thinkers and the doers of all things good and all things fair and useful, the makers and dispensers of all the bounties and the joys and the happiness of the world, and if ye fold your mighty arms, all the life of the world stands still and death hovers on the darkened abodes of man.
Ye are the light of the world. There was darkness in all the ages when the torch of your will did not blaze forth, and the past and the future are full of the radiance that cometh from your eyes.
Ye are eternal, even as your father, labor, is eternal, and no power of time and dissolution can prevail against you.
Ages have come and gone, kingdoms and powers and dynasties have risen and fallen, old glories and ancient wisdoms have been turned into dust, heroes and sages have been forgotten and many a mighty and fearsome god has been hurled into the lightless chasms of oblivion.
But ye, Plebs, Populace, People, Rabble, Mob, Proletariat, live and abide forever.
# # *
Think not that I am come to destroy the law: I am not come to destroy, but to fulfil through you what the prophets of mankind have presaged from the beginning.
For verily I say unto you, While man lives and labors, nothing can destroy the eternal law of progress which after each advancing step bids him further.
Therefore, say not unto yourselves, even as the priests and scribes and doctors of the law and fools and hypocrites say, This is the goal which was destined unto us and no further shall we go.
For even if there be before you the uplifted arms of terror and the smoking altars of murder enshrined in a gaunt temple of gibbets and fierce with shrieks of curses, ye must pass beyond.
For your feet are like the unrolling of the endless scrolls of time, not even night and silence and death can stop their march forward and upward, ever to a farther and loftier goal.
And, lo, ye shall never arrive because never shall ye cease going.
Whosoever, therefore, shall break one jot or one tittle of this law shall be called the least in the kingdom of man, but whosoever shall do and teach it, the same shall be called great in the kingdom of man.
Ye have heard that it was said by them of all times who toil not but do live of your toil, Thou shalt not rebel against thy master.
But I say unto you that whosoever soweth the seeds of patience the same shall reap the harvest of shame.
They said unto you, Question not the right of your masters to reign over you and command you. They shall have your sweat and your tears, aye, and even your blood and your life, and ye shall serve them in reverence and awe, for their power upon you is of God.
And again they said unto you, Give your masters the labor of your hands and the worship of your hearts, give them the fruits of your orchards, the grains of your fields, the flowers of your gardens and all things made by the labor of your hands and by the thought of your brain, and withhold not aught from your masters, lest your masters law and the curse of your masters God be upon you.
And again they said unto you, Bend your knees and worship your chains, kiss the whip that lashes you, bless the heel that crushes you, revere the yoke that weighs upon your neck, bury your forehead in the dirt whence ye came and whither ye shall return.
Do not cry, do not complain do not grumble, do not think, do not hope, Be humble, resigned, patient, submissive, lowly and prone even as a beast of burden, lest ye have the gaol in this life and gehenna in the life to come.
And again they said unto you, Resist not evil, for all spirit of disobedience and unsubmission issueth from the enemy of peace. Therefore if your masters, or your masters servants smite you on the right cheek, turn unto them the other also, and if they take away from you the heritage of your fathers, give unto them also the birthright of your children.
All this and more than this they said unto you before I came, but now that I am come, a new evangel shall be proclaimed unto you, that your souls may be renovated and purified in the fire of the new salvation which is not peace but war.
Therefore I say unto you, Banish fear from your hearts, dispel the mists of ignorance from your minds, arm your yearning with your strength, your vision with your will, and open your eyes and behold.
Do not moan, do not submit, do not kneel, do not pray, do not wait.
Think, dare, do, rebel, fight ARISE!
It is not true that ye are condemned to serve and suffer in shame forever;
It is not true that injustice, iniquity, hunger, misery, abjection, depravity, hatred, theft, murder and fratricide are eternal;
There is no destiny that the will of man cannot break;
There are no chains of iron that other iron cannot destroy;
There is nothing that the power of your arms, lighted by the power of your mind, cannot transform and reconstruct and remake.
Arise, then, ye men of the plough and the hammer, the helm and the lever, and send forth to the four winds of the earth your new proclamation of freedom which shall be the last and shall abide forevermore.
Through you, through your united, almighty strength, order shall become equity, law shall become liberty, duty shall become love and religion shall become truth.
Through you the man-beast shall die and the man be born;
Through you the dark, bloody chronicles of the brute shall cease and the story of man shall begin.
Through you, by the power of your brain and hand,
All the predictions of the prophets,
All the wisdom of the sages,
All the dreams of the poets,
All the hopes of the heroes,
All the visions of the martyrs,
All the prayers of the saints,
All the crushed, tortured, strangled, maimed and murdered ideals of the ages, and all the glorious destinies of mankind shall become a triumphant and everlasting reality in the name of labor and bread and love, the great threefold truth forever.
And lo and behold, my brothers, this shall be called the revolution.
* * *
Thus spake the man to the assembled multitude that had come from all the lands, over all the waters of the earth, and they listened unto him and received his words, and the dawn began to rise in their hearts, and they praised the announcer with the cheers of their mouths and they blessed him with the tears of their eyes.
But when the multitude dispersed to return to their labors and to their strifes, the dark figures that make darker the shadows of the night held council against the truth-bearer for the words that he had spoken.
And the scribe said, Verily, he is a law-breaker.
And the money changer said, Aye, and he is a fool.
And the judge said, He is a wrongdoer.
And the sage said, He is possessed of a devil.
And the chronicler said, He is a primitive sinner.
And the wise man said, He is a profligate.
And the priest said, He is a blasphemer.
And they all croaked in chorus, He is an enemy of society, of civilization, of religion and mankind. Law and order must be upheld and our sacred institutions must be preserved. We must do away with him.
And they did away with him. But nobody knows to this day whether they sent him to prison or to Parliament.
Monday, March 9, 2015
Just What I Might Have Written to K.
Funny, I felt like 'Monday' today. One of those I-don't-want-to-get-up-and-go-to-work type days, and I don't have to get up and go to work... but Ana came and I had to go and find one of the microwave with covers dishes and explain to her that you have to wash the OUTSIDE of the dish before you put it away. Mindfulness is not her thing. She belongs to the 'hurry-up-and-get-the-work-done' and sit down and look at a magazine school of workers, or 'slap-dash-types' as Jessie would have said. I'm working on her, though... and she MAY learn... or may not. I still feel like Monday and I'm not getting anything done. Gee, I used to love Mondays, as I got a letter every Monday at noon. Old loves are all gone now though.
Ms. Katt gave me an amusing early afternoon. As I sat having my coffee and brunch, she sat in the right corner of the window, on top of the telephone books and enjoyed the green view outside. There is always something going on for her to see. She sits like a statue of an Egyptian cat with only the head snapping from one scene to another. We had a tiny hummingbird tap on the window yesterday... he's a constant visitor to the flowering bush next to the window. Then she can gaze at the butterflies that love the calla lillies and Aaron's roses, and since the Princess bush has pretty much died she can see all of the people and cars going by. That cute little head just turned constantly as birds flew in and out and butterflies fluttered back and forth... until she had a bit too much sun. Sylvia is just like her mother, cannot stand too much sun, so she jumped down and curled up in the shade for a nap. Now she came to sit next to me to say that she is unhappy with the new old lady food we are trying out (failure) and CLEAN the litter box!!
She can wait for Jovita tomorrow! I have to send my darling granddaughter a small check to spend when she is in NYC. My sweet little Bella, all of 11 years old, has won a dance competition for jazz and lyrical with her dance group and will be going to New York. She gets to see two Broadway shows and have a dance lesson with the Rockettes after touring Radio City. She is so good and works so hard at her dancing... always has. I can remember Bella watching her sister and doing all the steps better than the 'big girls' when she was only three years old and not 'old enough' to take the class. They finally let her come and dance with them the next year, in spite of the fact that they didn't take children until they were five. Her sister turned to more interesting things for her, but Bella stayed, she has always been a dancer, so it is only natural that she has won the trip to NYC. I hope that someday she goes to Julliard. So I congratulate Isabella Victoria Saperston -- never stop dancing my beautiful little star.
I wonder how long I am going to have to NOT SEE my favorite programs on PBS... they were doing the money bit all last week... and they are still doing the damned musicals stuff on 9-2, so it looks like I shut off my TV as soon as the News Hour is over. I am not happy with the news... it shows the present younger generation acting like their grand or great-grandparents in their terrible bigotry. I'm sick of john boner and his idiocy... I'm sick of Netanyahu and his disrespect of Obama... I am horrified at the stupid Sigma Alpha Epsilon boys (also younger gen) acting like they did back in the 1950s. I'm tired of fighting, I just want to see people being peaceful -- where is the new John Lennon to write another "Imagine" or why aren't the kids picking up on it and acting as he said. We need desperately to get rid of the old white republicans in Congress and get some real thinking, bright, understanding younger people in their seats. Not more like them... no Ryans, who never had a real job, or boner, who should be back sweeping old his father's saloon, or McCain, who has passed himself off as a hero all these years, when he was nothing but a guy who wrecked a lot of planes and wound up in a prison camp... that doesn't make you a hero. Weed them OUT. Yesterday was two anniversaries... that of the march in Selma, Alabama, a town that is broken and crushed now... a sad thing, and showing again the stupidity and lack of education in this country. But it was also that for Women's Day... again the need for world-wide education for women as well as men. For the equality issue, the equal pay issues still not fair... and the world-wide need for even fair treatment of women.. ye gods... there are still stupid little boys saying terrible things about women. The Google page was full of the most childish and silly comments by males... unbelievable.
I still say we need to go to the POD system of education, where children learn with their peers in each class. Readers go to class with other children who read at their rate, not because they are the same age; math class must be for children who are at the same place in their learning... every class must be with children of any AGE, but at the same rate of learning for that particular subject. I don't care if a kid is any age from 4 to 10, if s/he is reading at 3rd grade level, s/he belongs in the 3rd grade level class... and no child should be told what level their class is... they are just with peers, that is it! Until the schools are run like this, we will always have bullies and kids being pushed back or ahead because of a failure to understand where they really belong. Mark was at his best when all he knew was that he was, "In Mrs. Wedeman's Family Group" if anyone asked what grade he was in. He was in three or four different 'grades,' depending on the class.
Another wasted day... but, as I watch how other states stretch and often fail to take care of older people, I am so happy that I moved to California when I did and worked constantly after retiring as a volunteer at several senior centers... so that I am in a comfortable place and well taken care of by Ana, Jovita and Altesha, which reminds me... have to go and look up some of my recipies for the big cook-out on Friday when Altesha comes... she's the great cook and we plan my meals for the next week so she can help me by taking over and cooking them for me.
Ms. Katt gave me an amusing early afternoon. As I sat having my coffee and brunch, she sat in the right corner of the window, on top of the telephone books and enjoyed the green view outside. There is always something going on for her to see. She sits like a statue of an Egyptian cat with only the head snapping from one scene to another. We had a tiny hummingbird tap on the window yesterday... he's a constant visitor to the flowering bush next to the window. Then she can gaze at the butterflies that love the calla lillies and Aaron's roses, and since the Princess bush has pretty much died she can see all of the people and cars going by. That cute little head just turned constantly as birds flew in and out and butterflies fluttered back and forth... until she had a bit too much sun. Sylvia is just like her mother, cannot stand too much sun, so she jumped down and curled up in the shade for a nap. Now she came to sit next to me to say that she is unhappy with the new old lady food we are trying out (failure) and CLEAN the litter box!!
She can wait for Jovita tomorrow! I have to send my darling granddaughter a small check to spend when she is in NYC. My sweet little Bella, all of 11 years old, has won a dance competition for jazz and lyrical with her dance group and will be going to New York. She gets to see two Broadway shows and have a dance lesson with the Rockettes after touring Radio City. She is so good and works so hard at her dancing... always has. I can remember Bella watching her sister and doing all the steps better than the 'big girls' when she was only three years old and not 'old enough' to take the class. They finally let her come and dance with them the next year, in spite of the fact that they didn't take children until they were five. Her sister turned to more interesting things for her, but Bella stayed, she has always been a dancer, so it is only natural that she has won the trip to NYC. I hope that someday she goes to Julliard. So I congratulate Isabella Victoria Saperston -- never stop dancing my beautiful little star.
I wonder how long I am going to have to NOT SEE my favorite programs on PBS... they were doing the money bit all last week... and they are still doing the damned musicals stuff on 9-2, so it looks like I shut off my TV as soon as the News Hour is over. I am not happy with the news... it shows the present younger generation acting like their grand or great-grandparents in their terrible bigotry. I'm sick of john boner and his idiocy... I'm sick of Netanyahu and his disrespect of Obama... I am horrified at the stupid Sigma Alpha Epsilon boys (also younger gen) acting like they did back in the 1950s. I'm tired of fighting, I just want to see people being peaceful -- where is the new John Lennon to write another "Imagine" or why aren't the kids picking up on it and acting as he said. We need desperately to get rid of the old white republicans in Congress and get some real thinking, bright, understanding younger people in their seats. Not more like them... no Ryans, who never had a real job, or boner, who should be back sweeping old his father's saloon, or McCain, who has passed himself off as a hero all these years, when he was nothing but a guy who wrecked a lot of planes and wound up in a prison camp... that doesn't make you a hero. Weed them OUT. Yesterday was two anniversaries... that of the march in Selma, Alabama, a town that is broken and crushed now... a sad thing, and showing again the stupidity and lack of education in this country. But it was also that for Women's Day... again the need for world-wide education for women as well as men. For the equality issue, the equal pay issues still not fair... and the world-wide need for even fair treatment of women.. ye gods... there are still stupid little boys saying terrible things about women. The Google page was full of the most childish and silly comments by males... unbelievable.
I still say we need to go to the POD system of education, where children learn with their peers in each class. Readers go to class with other children who read at their rate, not because they are the same age; math class must be for children who are at the same place in their learning... every class must be with children of any AGE, but at the same rate of learning for that particular subject. I don't care if a kid is any age from 4 to 10, if s/he is reading at 3rd grade level, s/he belongs in the 3rd grade level class... and no child should be told what level their class is... they are just with peers, that is it! Until the schools are run like this, we will always have bullies and kids being pushed back or ahead because of a failure to understand where they really belong. Mark was at his best when all he knew was that he was, "In Mrs. Wedeman's Family Group" if anyone asked what grade he was in. He was in three or four different 'grades,' depending on the class.
Another wasted day... but, as I watch how other states stretch and often fail to take care of older people, I am so happy that I moved to California when I did and worked constantly after retiring as a volunteer at several senior centers... so that I am in a comfortable place and well taken care of by Ana, Jovita and Altesha, which reminds me... have to go and look up some of my recipies for the big cook-out on Friday when Altesha comes... she's the great cook and we plan my meals for the next week so she can help me by taking over and cooking them for me.
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
No One Is Listening (Reading?)
I just noticed that I have 3 followers. I wonder who they are. No one ever writes a comment after any of my writings... I don't think my children or grandchildren have ever taken a minute to look at my blog... and I doubt that any of my friends have, as most of them are dead. Which is, apparently, what I should be by now. I obviously should be, everyone who ever knew me is either gone (dead usually) or completely uninterested in anything I have to say. I cannot get old Kirkie to even read my emails, let alone answer them. I MUST get my podcast going, but now I haven't heard from Larry for several days, so I wonder if he is going to read with me. I have been careful as hell about spending any money at all and I think I have enough to buy mikes and earphones, a new computer, plus whatever else we need. Most of the podcast people say you can start for almost nothing, but I might just as well buy good mikes to start with. Also, I have decided to go to a podcast MeetUp group on March 23... long wait, but hope I get some good info. I am bound and determined to put this podcast on the internet... the letters are good and it should be done... and should be fun... wow, I'm a poet! Well, I may be depressed and I may be through with life... but I don't think I have lost my sense of humour... or my penchant for writing English English.
I am tired... I am tired of just getting up... I am tired of watching my beautiful country go down the tubes... I am tired of stupid people... I am tired of hurting all the time... I am tired of new allergies all the time... I am tired of my nose running because of the allergies... I am tired of just staying up... I'm going to bed. (And I can't even put my writing in Comic Sans anymore, as they won't LET ME!!!) Forgot... I'm tired of having to learn a whole bunch of new Mac stuff... and I'm tired of having no one to teach me... after all the hundreds of people I taught how to use computers... even on the rotten old PCs I had to teach on.
Do these silly notes have dates on them....... I am also tired of things I seem to be forgetting... many.....
3/3/15
I am tired... I am tired of just getting up... I am tired of watching my beautiful country go down the tubes... I am tired of stupid people... I am tired of hurting all the time... I am tired of new allergies all the time... I am tired of my nose running because of the allergies... I am tired of just staying up... I'm going to bed. (And I can't even put my writing in Comic Sans anymore, as they won't LET ME!!!) Forgot... I'm tired of having to learn a whole bunch of new Mac stuff... and I'm tired of having no one to teach me... after all the hundreds of people I taught how to use computers... even on the rotten old PCs I had to teach on.
Do these silly notes have dates on them....... I am also tired of things I seem to be forgetting... many.....
3/3/15
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