tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78911799499970035432024-02-21T02:46:54.286-06:00Smiling HeartOffering a little food for thought and food for the soul each day.Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14937847762010497687noreply@blogger.comBlogger199125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7891179949997003543.post-83724907790960541682011-06-24T09:09:00.000-05:002011-06-24T09:09:38.336-05:00Time to Play!<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><em>"Put all your soul into it, play the way you feel!"</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">- Frédéric Chopin</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwGWX8JIB_gCNgl96l9LE-z4H7gMZ_F6zlo2IzYjRGM1TWeZqvG5pAliFDYpo7bZdR3FCVH3XCH_k4Iii_bNg5KZ1bu9LDaz596JgEcwbvvEb4R13QGKHlJoPVoBaTXPvbAtkxRUuzN_Y/s1600/chopin.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="311" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwGWX8JIB_gCNgl96l9LE-z4H7gMZ_F6zlo2IzYjRGM1TWeZqvG5pAliFDYpo7bZdR3FCVH3XCH_k4Iii_bNg5KZ1bu9LDaz596JgEcwbvvEb4R13QGKHlJoPVoBaTXPvbAtkxRUuzN_Y/s320/chopin.bmp" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">At this point, I'm uncertain who is able to read Smiling Heart, who is unable to comment, who is having trouble loading it, or who simply doesn't care anymore.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">It's nearly time for my vacation, and so all these blog bugaboos actually come at the perfect time. Finding the silver lining again? Playing the glad game again? Oh, yeah.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">I am Pollyanna, hear me roar.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Blogger and the universe have conspired to give to me the gift of a little time off, and I plan on using it to play around. This will be the last post from me for three weeks or so, or until I get the blog problems solved. I'll play around with things while I'm on vacation, and maybe revamp the whole blog (I'm kind of fond of the way it looks, now, though, so maybe not...what do you think?) </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Who knows what the future holds? I'm ready to play, and I'm planning on pouring my soul into it!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-large;"><em>Of course, I leave you with my very favorite piece of music by my very favorite composer played by my very favorite pianist. </em></span><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-large;">I recommend that you take ten minutes out of your day, sit with your eyes closed, turn the volume up so far that your bones vibrate along with the piano chords, breathe deeply, and absorb this melody into your soul. Once each day while I'm away, please. </span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-large;">I guarantee you will feel the passion.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-large;">Here is Vladimir Ashkenazy playing Chopin's Scherzo No. 2 in B flat Minor, Op. 31. It's long, it's passionate, and it's just perfect for the rest and relaxation that will soon come my way. </span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-large;">I hope you have some of that coming your way this summer, too. We all need a break now and then to just play. Pour your smiling heart and soul into it and enjoy!</span></em><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/VDCUlPHQDdE" width="425"></iframe></span>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14937847762010497687noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7891179949997003543.post-60461637619717590732011-06-20T06:33:00.005-05:002011-06-20T18:54:08.801-05:00A Season of Contrasts<em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">"</span></em><em><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-large;">The beauty of the world has two edges, one of laughter, one of anguish, cutting the heart asunder." </span></em><br />
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: large;">- Virginia Woolf</span><em><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;"><strong><em>Bracelets for Josh - </em></strong>Each person received one</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: small;">Green in support of organ donation, Purple in support of a cure for CF</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Can my life get any more manic? I almost hate to suggest that to the Universe, for fear of getting a good laugh along with another illustration of just how moody it can be.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">The last six months or so have been full of ups and downs, radical changes in the very atmosphere surrounding me, and mood swings of epic proportion. I've experienced tremendous personal losses, which have been juxtaposed with days of incredibly joyous occasions.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Even the weather patterns have reflected the manic nature of the season. Incredibly beautiful days and gossamer nights have given way to nasty storms, damaging hail, and the worst tornado season in history. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">For me, this has been a season of debilitating lows and exhilarating highs. Has it been this way for everyone?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Another example of this zenith/nadir/zenith/nadir season is occuring this week. After a beautiful and bittersweet day in celebration of my great-nephew's life on Saturday, I rose early to accompany The Graceful One on an overnight excursion to Georgia to do a little apartment shopping in advance of her arrival in August. After our day of tears and grief and pain mixed with joy, we had a peaceful Father's Day spent in the car with The Graceful One's dad, enjoying the increasingly idyllic landscape as we drove south. We'll look at some good housing possibilities this morning, and make the nine-hour trek back to Weldon Spring later today, arriving back home (hopefully) before midnight.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">I wonder what the next day will hold?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"><em>This song will now forever stay with me as "Josh's Song." The memorial for him was filled with beautiful music, sung by his brother, his step-sister, and his step-mother. All were amazing and loving tributes, but this song was the last one sung, and it was sung by the entire gathering, accompanied by Josh's friends on guitars and drums.</em></span><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">The final verse was sung a cappella in a poignant but joyous farewell. We love you, Joshua.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">This is "I'll Fly Away" sung by Alison Kraus.</span></em><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"></span>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14937847762010497687noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7891179949997003543.post-15291088313683751712011-06-17T21:56:00.004-05:002011-06-17T22:14:25.278-05:00Sihining Selene<u><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><em>Silver</em></span></u><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><em></em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><em>Slowly, silently, now the moon </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><em>Walks the night in her silver shoon; </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><em>This way, and that, she peers, and sees </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><em>Silver fruit upon silver trees; </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><em>One by one the casements catch </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><em>Her beams beneath the silvery thatch; <br />
Couched in his kennel, like a log, </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><em>With paws of silver sleeps the dog; </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><em>From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><em>Of doves in a silver-feathered sleep; </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><em>A harvest mouse goes scampering by, </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><em>With silver claws, and silver eye; </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><em>And moveless fish in the water gleam, </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><em>By silver reeds in a silver stream. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: large;">- Walter de la Mare</span> </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl8h18BQ27YQUt1oBA6RSJXCvrBmkYLxcUpFZpujffZbsY01JAneNNvG3eWMpX0ggG7jwLjn1iGkft_BXsf5i5dvF7yd9_2s_VKUW0AdaOXwrno7nyUjnZfaTTobaJCo0Vif5ZowGVht8/s1600/selene.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl8h18BQ27YQUt1oBA6RSJXCvrBmkYLxcUpFZpujffZbsY01JAneNNvG3eWMpX0ggG7jwLjn1iGkft_BXsf5i5dvF7yd9_2s_VKUW0AdaOXwrno7nyUjnZfaTTobaJCo0Vif5ZowGVht8/s400/selene.jpg" width="297" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;"><em><strong>Selene and Endymion</strong></em>, Moritz von Schwind </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">Oil on canvas, 1831</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">The moon was extraordinary last night, voluptuous and round, beaming so brightly it was as if Selene would climb right out of it and step down onto Earth.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: large;">According to Greek mythology, Selene is the personification of the moon, a pale beauty shimmering with light. There are several versions of her story, but the basic story is this; one night, she happened upon a very handsome shepherd asleep in a field. The man, Endymion, was the mortal son of Zeus, and Selene fell in love with him instantly. They became lovers. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: large;">Being immortal herself, Selene did not want Endymion to die and leave her alone, so she went to Zeus to ask him to make her love immortal. Zeus agreed, but on one condition...Endymion would have to sleep through eternity. Both Endymion and Selene agreed, and the handsome love of Selene lived with her through eternity, smiling in his sleep as he dreamed he held the moon in his arms each night as she visited him.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Such is the power of love, that we want it to be eternal, and we'd be willing to spend it in a dream world to have it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">~~~~~~~~~~~</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">It stormed here quite terribly today, but this evening is clear and bright again. I sat for a long time watching Selene rise in the sky. In all her silvery essence, she is once again casting shadows into the deep woods off the deck here in Weldon Spring, and I am mesmerized by her.</span><br />
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<strong><em><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-large;">I wish you eternal love today.</span></em></strong><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-large;">The music choice today is Claude Debussy's "Claire de Lune" or (loosely translated) The Shining Moon.</span></em><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-large;"><em>I love that this video is so fittingly performed by women. I think Selene would be proud. Chien-wen Liang plays the violin, and the pianist is Mei-Ling Chieh from a recital performed in 2007 in Taiwan...enjoy! </em></span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/r5y_UD0xjaE" width="425"></iframe>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14937847762010497687noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7891179949997003543.post-20628780153910806612011-06-15T10:17:00.001-05:002011-06-17T22:05:51.529-05:00Flying Without Wings<span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"></span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"><em><span style="font-size: x-large;">"The dance is a spirit. It turns the body to liquid steel. It makes it vibrate like a guitar. The body can fly without wings. It can sing without voice. The dance is strong magic. The dance is life." </span></em><br />
- Pearl Primus</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em><strong>Gypsy Dancer,</strong> </em>Stanly Meltzof<strong>,</strong> oil on gesso panel, </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Cover of The Atlantic Monthly, September 1954</span></span></span></div></td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Have you ever experienced that foggy, vaguely dreamy state of mind between sleep and wakefulness? You know what I mean, the time where you know you're not really awake yet, but can't figure out just where you are? Yeah, that's where I've been. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Re-entry into the real world can be difficult after a much needed break from it. Such is the case in my return from Kansas City and the reunion marking the 40th anniversary of our high school graduation.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">I've had a very hard time readjusting since arriving home on Sunday evening, in part because of the excitement surrounding the Graceful One's arrival later that night (home for a few weeks before departing for her new job in Georgia), but it can't be blamed soley on that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">I worried about this malaise for a day or so (malaise is SO unlike me), until I ran across the most recent post from my friend, Delana, in France, who writes about this same feeling in her beautiful blog, <a href="http://delana-dujour.blogspot.com/2011/06/cest-lheure.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+blogspot%2FolYU+%28du+Jour%29"><span style="color: #e06666;">du Jour</span></a>. Evidently, I'm not the only one who feels slightly displaced after a short trip to another place, and I'm grateful to Delana for expressing it so beautifully.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">I found myself whiling away the days searching through pictures of the past weekend, reliving each and every moment with old friends I had long anticipated seeing, and new friends who had instantly endeared themselves to me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Many things about this extraordinary weekend will linger in my mind for years. I'm sure I will revist them many times here at Smiling Heart, and I'm filled with gratitude at the enormous gift of time and talent that was shared.</span><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">[One entire evening of live entertainment was organized by two dear alums who gathered together some of the many grads who are musicians. This jam session was the best live music I've heard in years, and showed how one particular year in the life of a school can produce a proliferation of one 'type' of students who excel at something. For some years, it may be scientists or engineers or athletes. For our Ruskin High School Class of 1971, an extraordinary crop of artists and musicians emerged. I am in awe of them all.]</span></em><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">What will stay with me forever is the dancing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Everyone who knows me knows how much I love to dance. When did that happen? Certainly not when I was in high school. In high school, I was so afraid of how I would look on the dance floor that I was more than happy to sit out most of the dances and watch the 'good' dancers do their thing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Somewhere between the decades of parenting and grandparenting, I cast aside the silly notion of caring what I looked like and began to just enjoy the dance. Today, while I'm no expert at dancing, I'm an ace at enjoying the dance!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">I was so pleased to find that many of my classmates felt the same way. We danced like gypsies, a group of nomads moving from place to place each evening, bringing our music and drink with us wherever we went (served from the trunk of a car when necessary), and experienced the strong magic of dancing together. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">The music may have been R&B, Rock, Country or Pop, but the feeling was all gypsy. We enjoyed ourselves without reservation, flying without wings and vibrating like the strings of the guitars we listened to. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Oh, my, it was fun. It's no wonder I'm having trouble with the re-entry.</span><br />
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<strong><em><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-large;">Today, I hope you enjoy the dance!</span></em></strong><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-large;">The music selection today had to be from a gypsy, for whether we were dancing to Al Green or Madonna, I heard the fire of gypsy violins as I danced.</span></em><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-large;"><em>This is the Hungarian violinist</em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>, </em><span dir="ltr" id="eow-title" title="József Lendvay - Monti: Csárdás"><em>József Lendvay, playing the "</em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Csárdás" (a traditional Hungarian dance) by</em> <em>Vittorio Monti. I've heard this piece played many times by many groups, but this one has the fire of the gyspy in it. Enjoy! (Oh, and feel free to get up and dance!)</em></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/L3fYZDqb7qw" width="425"></iframe>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14937847762010497687noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7891179949997003543.post-35289707929261709072011-06-09T08:04:00.000-05:002011-06-09T08:04:07.525-05:00The Blessing of Old Friends<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">"It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them." </span></em><em><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"></span></em><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">- Ralph Waldo Emerson</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;"><strong><em>Graduation (Boy with Teacher), </em></strong>Norman Rockwell</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: small;">Oil on canvas, The Saturday Evening Post, June 26, 1926</span></td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Tomorrow I embark upon a great adventure--the reunion with the Class of 1971 of my high school alma mater, Ruskin High.It's not just any reunion. This year marks the 40th anniversary of our trip across the dais of the cavernous R.L.D.S Auditorium to accept our diplomas. All seven hundred (and then some) of us!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>Ruskin High School Class of 1971</strong></em><br />
<strong><em>R.L.D.S Auditorium, Independence, Missouri</em></strong></td></tr>
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">I remember the day as being <strike>hot as hell</strike> very warm and the ceremony itself as <strike>interminably long</strike> very inspiring. After the ceremony, my extended family gathered at the local ice cream shop for the traditional graduation party, where we were all treated to the decadent dessert of our choice. I remember very clearly ordering a <br />
"Brown Cow," a huge concoction of far too much chocolate ice cream, carmel and hot fudge sauce, and whipped cream in an enormous glass goblet. It was a thing of beauty. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"><em>[Unlike today--with graduates treated to all-nighters at amusement parks or recreation centers, fancy swag bags from vendors around the area, raffle prizes that make Lotto look wimpy, and huge gift checks from friends and family--graduation was taken more in stride in my day. We were <span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">appropriately fêted with cards and gifts and cash, to be sure, and there was a modest graduation party at King Louie Bowling Lanes (if I recall correctly), but there were many grads who left the ceremony to return to jobs, and many others who simply looked upon this day more appropriately as the first step into a new phase of life, no <strike>Rave</strike> <strike>orgy</strike> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; cursor: default;"><strike>bacchanalia</strike> <strike>spectacle</strike> </span>big bash required.]</span></em></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">I've never been to a high school reunion before. I've been assured that there will be visual aids with the nametags (class photos attached), and even <strike>reference books</strike> yearbooks for those of us who have lost ours somewhere along the way. Thank goodness for small favors. My current visage is almost nonexistant in my photo as a senior in high school...</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">...and I think we all were really only embryos of our true selves back then, even though we thought we were so very grown up.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">I suspect that even though I won't have instant recognition in many cases, it won't take long for the recollections to start bubbling up. Recollections of adventures in and out of the classroom, friendships forged from years together, and the delightful blessing of sometimes...every once in a while, doing fairly stupid things with those friends. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">In a few minutes, I will get in my car and drive to Kansas City for four days of music, feasting, dancing, sightseeing, and picnicking with my fellow Ruskin Eagles. The days and nights will undoubtedy include more adventures, newly forged friendships, the making of memories to be recollected in the future, and almost certainly (if we are very, very lucky) a few stupid things. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">I can't wait to get started.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><strong><em><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Today, I hope you'll call an old friend and share a memory.</span></em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-large;"><em>You probably guessed what the music today would be, didn't you? It's the iconic music heard at virtually every graduation in America, Eward Elgar's "Pomp and Circumstance Military March, March No. 1 in D" </em></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><em><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-large;">Elgar wrote 39 marches for this opus, with "pomp" referring to the military pageantry of war, and "circumstance" as the condition of the actual horror of war. </span></em></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><em><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-large;">None is more recognizable than the very first, but in fact, what most of us have heard is only one section of the entire march called "the trio" which is usually repeated again and again during the graduation processional. </span></em></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><em><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-large;">The entire work is much more satisfying, and I hope you'll take a listen. I chose this performance by the German Military Music Service conducted by Colonel Dr. Michael Schramm. This version is played the way it was meant to be played...as a military march. It has all the precision, power, and strength that accompanies the military, and even though you may have heard it a hundred times, the ending of this one is enough to make you want to listen again. Enjoy!</span></em><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"></span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/zLuVv3sH-9o" width="425"></iframe></span></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14937847762010497687noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7891179949997003543.post-3132301589679753372011-06-06T10:26:00.001-05:002011-06-06T10:26:06.969-05:00Young Poet Listening<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><em>"The poet doesn't invent. He listens." </em></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">-Jean Cocteau</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Today I'm handing my blog over to my grandson, the Little Scholar. Eight years old, he finished second grade last Friday and brought home a stellar report card to show for it. His backpack was filled with papers, Pokeman cards, pencils, crayons, and old treasures rediscovered in the deep recesses of his desk. Oh, I had forgotten the unbridled joy of a child's last day of school!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Among his papers was this writer's journal (photo above), mandated, no doubt, by his teacher, but embraced by the Little Scholar. In it, he describes himself as a "poet and author." Wow. I wonder how I might have described myself at his age. What would you have written about yourself?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Here is one of the poems from his journal, which the Little Scholar has offered to share with you:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><u>The Sounds in a Rainstorm</u></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">A storm is full</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">of the nicest sounds,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">It BOOMS! and BANGS! </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">and rumbles,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">With kids JuMpInG in puddles,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">The wind and flags </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">are flapping fast,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Suddenly it is quiet,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"> and peaceful again.</span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">- Tony Lucas</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I'm very happy that young students are being exposed to poetry and prose. It bodes well for our community. When children are taught to listen to the world around them and interpret what they hear, beauty is bound to happen. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Thanks for reading, and if you are so inclined to leave a comment today, you can be sure that the reply will come from the Little Scholar himself. Have fun with kids this summer!</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">The music selection today was very easy..."Storm" or the 3rd Movement of Antonio Vivaldi's "Summer" of "Four Seasons". I think the Little Scholar got a kick out of hearing that his name, Anthony, tranlates to 'Antonio' in Italian.</span></em></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-large;"><em>I presented him with three versions of this selection; one filled with special effects from techno-pop diva Vanessa Mae, one with a fabulous young electric guitarist from Kazakhstan, and one straightforward chamber orchestra version. To my utter surprise and delight, he selected the latter version. When asked why he chose that one, he answered, "It sounds like it's supposed to sound"...another purist in the family!</em></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><em><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-large;">This is the Israel Chamber Orchestra with Paul Levin on the violin and David Zebba in the conductor's chair. Enjoy!</span></em> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/jkftsc8c70o" width="425"></iframe></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14937847762010497687noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7891179949997003543.post-51810511395099359082011-06-05T10:08:00.001-05:002011-06-05T11:54:50.867-05:00Sacred Sentiments<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">"What we have once enjoyed we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us." </span></em><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">- Helen Keller</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><strong><em>Maori Chief - </em></strong><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">sketched in 1769 by Sidney Parkinson,</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">artist on Captain Cook's 1st voyage to New Zealand</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;"><em>Image from Wikipedia </em></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Tattoos have been used since the beginning of human time for the purpose of marking a significant event. The word itself comes from the Samoan word‘tatau’ which means ‘to mark something’.</span> <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Ötzi the Ice-Man" (the Neolithic corpse discovered in 1991) bore several tattoos, including ones behind his right knee, his lower back, and both ankles. While we can only speculate as to the meaning of his tattoos, it goes without saying that it must have been to mark a significant event or time in his life.</span></span> <br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I've never been a big fan of tattoos. You only need to ask two of my sons, who will tell you their stories of my reaction to theirs. I mean, you have to be absolutely certain you're going to want to spend eternity with that marking, right? If a mummified Neolithic man still displays his tattoos to the world, that's one <em>enduring</em> art form.</span> <br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Still, there is something to it, this practice of making a mark on our skin to mark a significant event in our lives. In some cases, it may be about using physical pain to express internal pain, but not always. They can also express great joy, marking the occasions of love in our lives. I must admit, I see the sacred sentiments in such tattoos. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">My great-nephew's father, brother, and wife decided to express their love and their pain at his passing with tattoos. I found their choices to be poignant and dear. I'm certain it was a wonderful bonding experience, and I look forward to hearing all about it, and seeing the tattoos for myself, very soon.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Here are the photos from their experience:</span><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">T</span></em><em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">his one is from Josh's father, and includes favorite pet name from Josh's childhood.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">This one is from Josh's brother, who commemorates their love for Maurice Sendak's "Where the Wild Things Are"</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">...and this one is from Josh's wife:</span></em> <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjikEZ1KvRe8RGSPfljxF2bjP-w2DwSbaizklm3n7dZAfxQG_i4KHpmoh4KE3ZPQad6jLgf32j8qc_NmvwBhwb5VY692qMGZVQ5x4UOG0p0MEc0XChDgGZigNxiMkHsgfIgLwF24LeLNsk/s1600/Purple+Rose%252C+Green+Ribbon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjikEZ1KvRe8RGSPfljxF2bjP-w2DwSbaizklm3n7dZAfxQG_i4KHpmoh4KE3ZPQad6jLgf32j8qc_NmvwBhwb5VY692qMGZVQ5x4UOG0p0MEc0XChDgGZigNxiMkHsgfIgLwF24LeLNsk/s400/Purple+Rose%252C+Green+Ribbon.jpg" t8="true" width="238" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">The purple rose signifies Cystic Fibrosis awareness, and the green ribbon is the symbol of organ donors.</span></em></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">I can feel Josh's smile at these sacred sentiments.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">Today, may you find a way to remember a loved one.</span></em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-large;"><em>The music for today is called "Divine Remembrance". Rupert Guenther (on electric violin) & Paul Armitage (on keyboard) performance from the "Gratitude" CD. Recorded live in concert Perth Australia 2004. Enjoy...</em></span></div><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/bijZxzBQQnA" width="425"></iframe></span></span>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14937847762010497687noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7891179949997003543.post-83774439310745782112011-06-03T08:42:00.001-05:002011-06-05T12:07:37.214-05:00Shine On, Joshua<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><em>"With all your science - can you tell how it is, and whence it is, that light comes into the soul?"</em> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: large;">-Henry David Thoreau</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsSqdX2vqTUZbOotJNdS7rAw0CV23Zv3El4wX454bfKldkv-xYt8hWGExm3Bsyt9ykBxF9QmkAzDDOeVE5kjipDRSXgXth9ECmfh88F9WgrqYzcQA-zoRtxz9LfxgPUCrOL2Pi16x6Krc/s1600/n1151782525_184430_4635%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsSqdX2vqTUZbOotJNdS7rAw0CV23Zv3El4wX454bfKldkv-xYt8hWGExm3Bsyt9ykBxF9QmkAzDDOeVE5kjipDRSXgXth9ECmfh88F9WgrqYzcQA-zoRtxz9LfxgPUCrOL2Pi16x6Krc/s400/n1151782525_184430_4635%255B1%255D.jpg" t8="true" width="296" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">Joshua James Schoenhoff</span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: small;">1986 - 2011</span></em></strong></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">The Cystic Fibrosis has died at last. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">The light from Josh will shine on forever.</span></div><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">...And when the night is cloudy, there is still a light, </span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">that shines on me,</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"></span></em><br />
<em><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">shine until tomorrow, let it be.</span></em><br />
<em><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">I wake up to the sound of music, </span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">mother Mary comes to me,</span></em><br />
<em><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">there will be no sorrow let it be.</span></em><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Let it be, let it be, ..... </span></em></span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/GcZ8Gz0rDtw" width="425"></iframe>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14937847762010497687noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7891179949997003543.post-21618733392508000452011-05-31T08:50:00.002-05:002011-06-02T13:59:15.793-05:00Delicious Ambiguity<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><em>"I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next.</em> <span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Delicious Ambiguity."</em></span></span></span><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"></span></em><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: large;">- Gilda Radner</span><em> </em></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIuOId9KIBLKZq-hEP3qVMWxQuq0dgfUpzHSjuaqctQEXai7UBQYvr4MyoP-xGNw6HqocxTrOxrEj6SwP7JmJEn_ZPRjqlPrBOca-YcKQxTuKL8xJ7Tt9JZ6g6HHbR4VVs1ba8TZIH-Mg/s1600/Circle+Limit.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIuOId9KIBLKZq-hEP3qVMWxQuq0dgfUpzHSjuaqctQEXai7UBQYvr4MyoP-xGNw6HqocxTrOxrEj6SwP7JmJEn_ZPRjqlPrBOca-YcKQxTuKL8xJ7Tt9JZ6g6HHbR4VVs1ba8TZIH-Mg/s400/Circle+Limit.gif" t8="true" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;"><strong><em>Circle Limit - </em></strong>M.C. Escher</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">What an amazing way to look at the changes presented to us in our lives. To think that Gilda was able to articulate this idea so beautifully as she was immersed so suddenly and deeply into the treacherous waters of cancer is a testament to her shining soul.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Sometimes welcome, sometimes despised, Change comes. It can stalk us for days or weeks, or it can assault us suddenly. It may be heralded by great joy, or preceded by angry tears. Still, it comes, uncaring and even completely unaware of our personal needs or desires.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Change comes. We cannot control it, we cannot avoid it. We can only hope to experience each moment as a sort of delicious ambiguity.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Our beautiful Young Man will soon be released from his tethers to this world. This is the most unwelcome of changes to all of us who love him so dearly. The only ambiguity is in knowing how truly delicious it will be for him to breathe free for eternity. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/M4uBjbF4kuM" width="425"></iframe></span>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14937847762010497687noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7891179949997003543.post-67167325090251038092011-05-29T11:58:00.000-05:002011-05-29T11:58:04.780-05:00Memorial Day 2011<em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">"What a cruel thing is war: to separate and destroy families and friends, and mar the purest joys and happiness God has granted us in this world; to fill our hearts with hatred instead of love for our neighbors, and to devastate the fair face of this beautiful world."</span></em><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> - Robert E. Lee, letter to his wife, 1864</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzH7iu79ExQv2qJJBZDCe4ZbYL46NWryJXN_Dc4oNFv8NsYkx4uO0-S0ZePQIScGZV46At6-Yb090iyCaAaX9zMuxEYjlewP-L1TLrJx4Tw73HG4qYEVgofTy0iyaExjpak7YfYiHVUm8/s1600/Red_Poppy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzH7iu79ExQv2qJJBZDCe4ZbYL46NWryJXN_Dc4oNFv8NsYkx4uO0-S0ZePQIScGZV46At6-Yb090iyCaAaX9zMuxEYjlewP-L1TLrJx4Tw73HG4qYEVgofTy0iyaExjpak7YfYiHVUm8/s400/Red_Poppy.jpg" t8="true" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;"><strong><em>Red Poppy - </em></strong>Georgia O'Keeffe, 1927</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: small;">Oil on canvas, private collection</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">In Flanders Fields </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">In Flanders Fields the poppies blow </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Between the crosses row on row,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">That mark our place; and in the sky </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">The larks, still bravely singing, fly</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Scarce heard amid the guns below. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">We are the Dead. Short days ago </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Loved and were loved, and now we lie </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">In Flanders fields. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Take up our quarrel with the foe: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">To you from failing hands we throw</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">The torch; be yours to hold it high. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">If ye break faith with us who die</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">We shall not sleep, though poppies grow </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">In Flanders fields. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918) </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Canadian Army</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUx_GdcAfnvuegIqBBRjCZbJ4_p71yPtzsSXT94i2eM0TgMEBZtzowOUhhzuIV1gVCK0rojyl5DI8yTDOI3bJ5C3eShdLP4mXwrFD9eRQJL7EMlc5OxSpN0Cx_tafEx-_5FdpV4jLlVxU/s1600/boston+cemetary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUx_GdcAfnvuegIqBBRjCZbJ4_p71yPtzsSXT94i2eM0TgMEBZtzowOUhhzuIV1gVCK0rojyl5DI8yTDOI3bJ5C3eShdLP4mXwrFD9eRQJL7EMlc5OxSpN0Cx_tafEx-_5FdpV4jLlVxU/s400/boston+cemetary.jpg" t8="true" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em><strong><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">Granary Burial Ground, Boston, Massachusetts</span></strong></em></td></tr>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/jBcwAJZGXsk" width="425"></iframe>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14937847762010497687noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7891179949997003543.post-44047385876143102972011-05-27T07:46:00.001-05:002011-05-27T07:49:12.693-05:00The B-List<em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">"The year's at the Spring </span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">And day's at the morn; </span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">Morning's at seven; </span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">The hillside's dew-pearled; </span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">The lark's on the wing; </span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">The snail's on the thorn: </span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">God's in his Heaven - </span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">All's right with the world!"</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"></span></em><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">- Elizabeth Barrett Browning</span> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwlygaqnQLlGM4WDKqSKiipABz9S2-6cmOzTgMOhPnpKg2tOGsPZyEvgFneu7Q9Ri5TOMV-E2lnvQEA77MLqHX09bBluQhqsbq-7j3QB6RvJZiVWbPx2QmvuabmjZDkWGR-7ziqrJEhrY/s1600/William_Bouguereau_-_Portrait_Study__1898.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwlygaqnQLlGM4WDKqSKiipABz9S2-6cmOzTgMOhPnpKg2tOGsPZyEvgFneu7Q9Ri5TOMV-E2lnvQEA77MLqHX09bBluQhqsbq-7j3QB6RvJZiVWbPx2QmvuabmjZDkWGR-7ziqrJEhrY/s400/William_Bouguereau_-_Portrait_Study__1898.jpg" t8="true" width="330" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;"><strong><em>Portrait Study - </em></strong>William Adolphe Bouguereau, 1898</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Some days, serendipity takes over and I don't try to fight it. I woke this morning and took a look at the "to do" list I jotted down last night before I went to bed, giggled, and thought, "why not?"</span><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Are you a list-maker? I sometimes wonder what my brain would do if left to its own devices. I suppose it's more of a security blanket to me these days, but it's a habit I began in the stressful days of early motherhood, and it has served me well. Why mess with success, right?</span></em><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Here's the list, as it lay on the antique washstand by my bed:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><em>-- Blog (Birds' Battle of the Bands?)</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"><em>-- Barnes ICU (Barrett-Browning for Josh)</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"><em>-- Beauty Brands (brow gel)</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"><em>-- Barbeque for Mon. (Brisket, beans, and potato salad. Need buns)</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Well, I supoose I'll save the bird post for another day (though they have been deliriously happy lately), but the rest of the activities are still on.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">My husband took me out to our favorite Mexican restaurant last night, and I enjoyed a fabulous margarita with my meal. I wonder if that had anything to do with my B-List?</span><br />
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<strong><em><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-large;">I hope you enjoy a bit of serendipity in your day today!</span></em></strong><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"><em>Of course, I had to choose one of the "Three Great B's" for today's music (Bach, Brahms, & Beethoven), and I went directly to Brahms' "Violin Concerto in D Major, Op. 77," 1st Movement. This beautiful rendition is from violinist Henryk Szeryng and</em> <em>was filmed at the ORTF, Paris, December 1962 with conductor Paul Paray and the Orchestre de la Société des Concerts du Conservatorie.</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"><em>Short blog post = long music post, I guess. At around twenty-two minutes, you may want to allow it to play in the background as you work, but if you have the time, you will certainly enjoy observing Szeryng inhabit his instrument and his music. His posture, confidence, and assurance are equaled only by his stamina in this demanding movement.</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"><em>Oh, one last thing...I'm sorry for the video quality. It's a <strong>BIT BLURRY. </strong>Enjoy!</em><em><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/OlIEbBcXT_U" width="425"></iframe></span>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14937847762010497687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7891179949997003543.post-47326242040069533992011-05-26T09:15:00.001-05:002011-05-26T09:19:59.526-05:00The Tango of Spring<em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">"Life is like Tango...sad, sensual, sexy, violent, and quiet." </span></em><br />
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">- Unknown</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEN668RhYj4husPc8BHbxG40SlsmgeqdUcdJEoJB6agqf5c9SCGQsVxxRnsgvl3RFwAGSy6utFrMM61F0dmp_hA4HpTa1mg3Q9-6muwFqi9SFqXomMty_8dVPrdQvqSs60kgstXesRQIc/s1600/okeefe-canna-728056.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEN668RhYj4husPc8BHbxG40SlsmgeqdUcdJEoJB6agqf5c9SCGQsVxxRnsgvl3RFwAGSy6utFrMM61F0dmp_hA4HpTa1mg3Q9-6muwFqi9SFqXomMty_8dVPrdQvqSs60kgstXesRQIc/s400/okeefe-canna-728056.jpg" t8="true" width="322" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><em>Red Canna</em></strong> - Georgia O'Keeffe, 1923</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: small;">Oil on canvas, University of Arizona Art Museum</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Spring is such an interesting season. We like to think of spring as a romantic time repleat with blossoming flowers and burgeoning with new life. In my mind's eye I can see the nymphs with flower garlands dancing in the newly verdant meadows and the faerie folk blissfully taking a dip in the pond deep in the woods. Idyllic Spring, right? I suppose the transition from winter to summer takes place peacefully some years, but not this one.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">This year, Spring has come upon us with all the fire and passion of a tango. Like the dance, the last few weeks have been a push-me, pull-you season of moments of great beauty interspersed with moments of anguish. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">I feel the struggle of the season, and I know others have felt it, too. One dear friend has been posing the question,"What's happening this spring?" in many different ways, deeply feeling the tango of this spring in her soul. Another friend, an artist, has found himself nearly obsessed with a painting he's working on of....what else? The Tango. Talk about feeling the dance. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">I love passion. I'm in awe of Mother Nature. I adore watching good dancers, and Mother Nature is one of the best. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">But really, can we have a nice waltz now?</span><br />
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<strong><em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">I wish you a beautiful spring day today.</span></em></strong><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-large;">The four seasons have been the topic of many composers through the ages. How does one attempt to musically describe spring? Well, Vivaldi held the same romantic notions I hold, and his great work, "The Four Seasons" is timeless. </span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-large;">Unfortunately, his music in no way describes our spring this year. For this fiesty spring, I'm selecting the Argentinian composer, Astor Piazzolla's "Four Seasons of Buenos Aires" - Primavera Portena (Spring). This is performed with all the fiery passion of the season by Peter Wienhardt on Piano, Johannes Brandl on Violin, and Nicolas Altstaedt on Cello. Enjoy!</span></em><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/HJzogioRx6A" width="425"></iframe>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14937847762010497687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7891179949997003543.post-23903702014915761122011-05-25T00:11:00.002-05:002011-05-25T00:16:10.058-05:00The Glad Game<em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">"Thousands of candles can be lighted from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared." </span></em><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">- Buddha</span><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"></span></em><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLQhEB0fG-573mM5RyEK1pOhkLpO4IV33yE6U__TBwRSavKeMrv_R1FH2ijr40qKEXZGRrgiEoAc9Bo2GF24G1u3e2fjrifEgo-0fpRb5kpcomMD7BmqZ_D18n5OZKE17btMqylPXKskI/s1600/Pollyanna_book_cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLQhEB0fG-573mM5RyEK1pOhkLpO4IV33yE6U__TBwRSavKeMrv_R1FH2ijr40qKEXZGRrgiEoAc9Bo2GF24G1u3e2fjrifEgo-0fpRb5kpcomMD7BmqZ_D18n5OZKE17btMqylPXKskI/s400/Pollyanna_book_cover.jpg" t8="true" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;"><strong><em>"Pollyanna"</em> </strong>by Eleanor Porter</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Things are tough right now. Tough for most of us, terribly tough for some of us, and downright tragic for more than a few.It's easy to get stuck in the quagmire of the sturm and drang of recent events. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Okay, let's face it. It's time to pull out the big guns today. </span><em><strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">This is a job for Pollyanna</span>.</strong></em> </span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">I always loved Pollyanna. Did you know that the character in the book (I'm not sure it was mentioned in the films) was from the Ozarks? Well, the Ozark Mountains are located well south of my hometown of Kansas City, but I always found it inspiring that a girl from the rural hills of my state could end up on a plantation in New England. So intriguing!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">According to the story, Pollyanna's late father was a minister, but he shows signs of being a Buddhist to me. He taught his daughter The Glad Game, how to find something to be glad about in each moment, and how to share that perspective with others.</span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">It's not a big lesson, and doesn't usually involve great mental gymnastics. It's just a little thing, one little thing that might just affect the way we experience our day.</span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">With that little lesson in mind, allow me to share just a few things with you that make me glad right now;</span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">- </span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">First of all, I'm planning to meet up soon with a friend I've not seen since <em>sixth grade</em></span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">! We've had a bit of trouble sorting out our crazy schedules, but we will soon spend the day together, and just the thought of that fills me with gladness.</span> <br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">- Secondly, a wonderful blog friend, Cheryl, (or 'Jojo' to her two lovely granddaughters), from <a href="http://jojos-joys.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: #ea9999;">JOJO's JOYS</span></a> has most generously offered to help The Graceful One as she makes her transition to the Atlanta area to begin her new job with The Georgia Ballet. How gracious is that?</span> <br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">We have some arrangements yet to make over the next few weeks, but I certainly hope to see Cheryl, introduce her to my daughter, and share a glass of sweet tea or lemonade. I also look forward to telling her how glad she's made me feel with her warm, southern hospitality.</span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">- The Graceful One began her career with two wonderful years in the beautiful city of Portland, Maine, and I'll be sad not to visit that charming city, which quickly became my favorite vacation spot...</span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">but wait...this is the Glad Game. <em>Nevermind</em>. The silver lining to the imminent move</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"> means that we will be able to spend a few precious weeks with The Graceful One this summer, a treat we rarely get, so I'm very glad for that.</span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">- Something else that makes very excited is coming up in just two weeks. I'm set to reunite with fellow graduates of Ruskin High School for our <em>fortieth...</em>yes, 40th! class reunion! Thanks to the magic of Facebook, I've become reaquainted (and in many cases, finally aquainted) with many friends, and have so much to look forward to that weekend, I can't help but feel glad. </span> <br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">- Lastly, The Coach and The Fashionista in Las Vegas have gotten an adorable new puppy. I'm receiving regular updates, lots of photos, and I'm sort of hoping they'll love the experience enough to start a real family! <em>(No pressure, Kids.)</em> Here is a photo of my new 'granddogger' Lily...</span> <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-size: large;">Lily</span></em></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> Awww. What's not to feel glad about?</span> <br />
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<strong><em><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-large;">Today, I hope you share some happiness.</span></em></strong> <br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><em></em></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><em>The music choice today makes me feel happy all over. It's Chopin's</em> <em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">"</span><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Étude Op. 10, No. 5 (Chopin)" or the "Black Key Étude." The entire right hand (and most of the left)is played only on the black keys of the piano. Who would think to compose a piece like that? Well, Chopin, of course! </span></em></span><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"></span></em> <br />
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"><em>This is performed by the outstanding <span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Valentina Lisitsa. Watching her happy expression as her fingers fly across the black keys is delightful, and it does, indeed, make me feel glad. Enjoy.</span></em></span> <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/4pyqLbi2wLU" width="425"></iframe></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14937847762010497687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7891179949997003543.post-36999509605361769632011-05-23T08:28:00.003-05:002011-05-23T13:06:16.113-05:00For Joplin<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">"Faith is the bird that feels the light and sings when the dawn is still dark."</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">- Tagore.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Cambria, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX-5VhDL00pz7Ro3ExQJdjvdDj61x_Aw8HRjEVxu6_YxF85xkEUhyphenhyphenHi6fpWWHYLg-Hjd6q1AQ783Fidage0GHn093yauIgN-LWqS00SJyEXNMATgzBoTCCs4AsSrr-VI5-REu2J9XlI-Q/s1600/Jean-Francois+Millet%252C+Spring%252C+ca+1870%252C+Musee+dOrsay%252C+Paris.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX-5VhDL00pz7Ro3ExQJdjvdDj61x_Aw8HRjEVxu6_YxF85xkEUhyphenhyphenHi6fpWWHYLg-Hjd6q1AQ783Fidage0GHn093yauIgN-LWqS00SJyEXNMATgzBoTCCs4AsSrr-VI5-REu2J9XlI-Q/s400/Jean-Francois+Millet%252C+Spring%252C+ca+1870%252C+Musee+dOrsay%252C+Paris.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><b style="font-style: italic;">Spring - </b>John-Francois Millet, 1870<br />
Oil on Canvas, Musee D'Orsay, Paris</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">My message today is for the people of Joplin, Missouri, to be sure, but it's also for anyone at the edge of life-altering experiences. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">It seems so trite to tell those who face profound tragedy to have faith. How can we have faith in anything when we experience such overwhelming loss? Well, because faith is what will get you through this trauma. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Have faith. Have faith in your spirit and your will to go on. It is stronger than you know. Have faith in your family, your friends, and your community. You will be amazed at how the people around you will lift you up when you need it most. Most importantly, have faith in the power of love, for God is Love. No one can undo what has been done, but the power of Love will wrap you in a warm embrace, lift you up, and carry you through all that you need to endure. Have faith, friends. Have faith.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><i>This amazing picture was shot by a photographer friend of mine in Springfield, Missouri, just east of Joplin, as the tornado roared through. Thank you, Brannon Estis, for allowing me to share this here at Smiling Heart. <b>This photo may not be reproduced without permission. </b></i></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqSM61uGzF68RSJ0ZnFrpAOYKImyHTqtHPK05MrBla_T-HEFxRX2Oz9uqom7uxKAwFmlHMPb0Nu8hD17ms2zLdEjp4gFMUvg0lKao1gh-8FwfqU3Gk_grYb9DMWJcZT670Pt24TiHIdRM/s1600/243073_10150199860188419_790033418_6828700_7231730_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqSM61uGzF68RSJ0ZnFrpAOYKImyHTqtHPK05MrBla_T-HEFxRX2Oz9uqom7uxKAwFmlHMPb0Nu8hD17ms2zLdEjp4gFMUvg0lKao1gh-8FwfqU3Gk_grYb9DMWJcZT670Pt24TiHIdRM/s400/243073_10150199860188419_790033418_6828700_7231730_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><i style="font-weight: bold;"> Edge of Disaster - </i>Digital photo by Brannon Estis<br />
Brannon Estis Photography, copyrighted image</span></td></tr>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 12px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>...Nurture strength of spirit </i></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 12px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>to shield you in sudden misfortune. </i></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 12px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>But do not distress yourself with imaginings. </i></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 12px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.</i></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 12px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>Beyond a wholesome discipline, </i></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 12px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>be gentle with yourself. </i></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 12px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>You are a child of the universe, </i></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 12px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>no less than the trees and the stars; </i></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 12px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>you have a right to be here. </i></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 12px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>And whether or not it is clear to you, </i></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 12px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.</i></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 12px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>Therefore be at peace with God, </i></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 12px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>whatever you conceive Him to be, </i></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 12px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>and whatever your labors and aspirations, </i></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 12px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>in the noisy confusion of life, </i></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 12px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>keep peace in your soul.</i></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 12px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, </i></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 12px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>it is still a beautiful world.</i></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 12px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>Be cheerful. </i></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 12px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>Strive to be happy.</i></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 12px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Excerpt, <b><i>"Desiderata"</i></b> Max Ehrmann c.1920</span></div><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>I wish you peace.</i></b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>May this music bring some measure of comfort to you. It is from Dmitri Shostakovitch's "Five Pieces for Two Violins and Piano." </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Nikolaj Znaider, Julian Rachlin, Sopie Rachlin perform in 1997 at </span></i></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">the Tchaikovsky Conservatory of Music in Moscow, Russia.</span></i></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Many thanks to my friend, Ace, for this beautiful gift of music.</span></i></span></span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/caYv_Mtp9Gs" width="425"></iframe>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14937847762010497687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7891179949997003543.post-43690307642288931722011-05-22T05:06:00.003-05:002011-05-22T05:20:29.329-05:00This Sacred Morning<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>"I'll tell you how the sun rose a ribbon at a time."</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">- Emily Dickinson</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><i style="font-weight: bold;">Sunrise Over the Fields, Ergany - </i>Camille Pissarro, 1891<br />
Drawing-Pastel, Private Collection</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Well, as far as I can tell, no one was "raptured" yesterday evening. The seismographs were silent, and the 'end of days' was a bust for a few members of "Family Radio." </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I feel a little sorry for Harold Camping today. It's a glorious morning here in Weldon Spring, but I don't think that Mr. Camping, wherever he is (decidedly on Earth, though), is enjoying the glory of it. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 24px;">Predictions regarding the End of Days/End Times/Judgement Day/Rapture have been bandied about since the dawn of time. Mr. Camping was certainly not the first to elevate himself to the position of God's Messenger only to be embarrassed and demoted to Discredited Kook, and he certainly won't be the last. Tsk.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 24px;">When will people learn? </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 24px;">As for myself, I'm very glad to be here today. The morning is breaking as I write this, and the lavender ribbons in the sky predict a beautiful day. Be happy, Mr. Camping. We all make mistakes. This is a new day for you, too. The sun is up, it's a sacred day, and you are loved. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b><i>Let us rejoice and be glad in it!</i></b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 24px;"> </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><i>Sir Edward Elgar must have been a very earnest man. His music is some of the most somber and heavy music ever written. Interestingly, he was capable of great lyricism, too.</i></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><i>I think one of the finest pieces ever written in tribute to morning is his work, "Chanson de Matin" or Opus 15, No. 2,written in 1899.</i></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 24px;"><i>This is performed by the Orchestra Da Camera, U.K., and is set to photos and paintings from the Victorian Era. Hmmm...that was right around the time that a certain William Miller was predicting the 'End Times"... enjoy! </i></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><i> </i></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/9s50XAbh7ro" width="425"></iframe></span>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14937847762010497687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7891179949997003543.post-69172752211766637422011-05-20T08:10:00.004-05:002011-05-20T11:31:05.398-05:00The Twilight Twister, 1957<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>"Living things have been doing just that for a long, long time. Through every kind of disaster, and setback, and catastrophe. We are survivors."</i></span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">- Robert Fulghum</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Ruskin Heights, Missouri Tornado, May 20, 1957</span></b></i></td></tr>
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</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Today is the 54th Anniversary of the "Twilight Twister" of 1957, an F-5 Tornado that tore a seventy-one mile long swath of death and destruction through several communities in Kansas and Missouri on the evening of May 20, 1957, killing scores and injuring over <span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">five hundred. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Hardest hit of all the communities was Ruskin Heights, my childhood home.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Last year at this time, the ten founders of this Smiling Heart blog made the decision to recount our memories, and in doing so, honor the friends and neighbors who became the storm's victims that awful night. Today, I offer these posts again in the hope that our friends in the southern United States, whose lives have been inundated by floods or uprooted by tornadoes, will receive some measure of comfort from them.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">The series of posts began with Reya, my brilliant friend from <a href="http://thegoldpuppy.blogspot.com/">The Gold Puppy blog</a>. Though her family hadn't yet moved to Ruskin Heights at the time of the tornado, she was deeply affected by the vivid images recalled by others as a young child and newcomer to the neighborhood. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><a href="http://fiveplaces.blogspot.com/2010/05/prequel.html">HERE</a> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">is her post, titled "Prequel"</span>.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">The next post was submitted by Rick, who described the fear and bewilderment as a child, huddling with his family in the bathtub of the home to escape the tornado. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><a href="http://fiveplaces.blogspot.com/2010/05/prequel.html">HERE</a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"> is his post, titled "My Recollection of May 20, 1957</span>.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">The third post was written by Dubby, author of <a href="http://www.oatsofzol.blogspot.com/">Oats, a novel in blog form</a>. His post contains technical information from the archives of the National Weather Service, and his own gripping personal story of his experience, not only on the night in question, but many years after. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">His post, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">titled "A View from the Pants Leg" can be read <a href="http://fiveplaces.blogspot.com/2010/05/view-from-pants-leg.html">HERE</a></span>.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">As I read Dubby's account of the tornado and a conversation that took place years after, I received a revelation. His story dovetailed perfectly with mine, and provided a small but significant fact that provided an answer to a question I'd long held inside.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">My post, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">titled "My First Memory...For Denise" can be found <a href="http://fiveplaces.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-first-memoryfor-denise.html">HERE</a>.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">On May 20, 2010, we simply posted <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"><a href="http://fiveplaces.blogspot.com/2010/05/in-memoriam-victims-of-ruskin-heights.html">THIS</a> titled "In Memoriam"</span> a poignant list of the 30+ victims from the Ruskin Heights neighborhood alone, accompanied by the music of Samuel Barber's "Adagio for Strings".</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Possibly the most moving post was submitted by Rick the next day. Rick's father had gone out on the morning of May 21st with his 8mm camera to document the aftermath. Rick took the film, converted it and uploaded it to create this powerful post, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">titled <a href="http://fiveplaces.blogspot.com/2010/05/when-we-emerged.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">When We Emerged</span></a>.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">I hope you take the time to read at least a few of these accounts of this fateful day. For many of us, it was our first memory. For all of us, it was a life-changing day.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">We emerged from the rubble of the Twilight Twister to rebuild our homes and our businesses. We mourned together and rejoiced together. We were in shock, but we worked together to regain our community, brick by brick and nail by nail .</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 16px;">The children of that night who were as yet too young to attend school will gather together next month to celebrate our fortieth reunion. The memories of the Twilight Twister reside within many of us...it is an undeniable common bond.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 16px;">But it is not our only common bond. We went on to create other bonds, as well. The bonds of friendship, camaraderie, trust, and affection have proven to be much stronger and more enduring.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><i>Our message today is to those who have suffered from the tornadoes and flooding in the south this spring. Your lives have been changed forever, as many before yours have been, and many yet to come will be. We have been in your shoes and the shoes of your precious children. We know the hard work and sacrifice you face. We are with you in spirit.</i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><i><br />
</i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><i><br />
</i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><i><b>Keep Living. You are survivors. Your yesterday may have been filled with darkness, but your tomorrow will be filled with light again. You'll see.</b></i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><i><br />
</i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><i><br />
</i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><i><b></b>This is a recording of the song "Brick by Brick" by Train. Lyrics are by Amund Bjorklund, Espen Lind, and Pat Monahan. Enjoy.</i></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><i><br />
</i></span></span></span></div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/mJYW5xTWGFE" width="560"></iframe></span> </span></span></div><div></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14937847762010497687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7891179949997003543.post-9837245943220549842011-05-19T08:29:00.004-05:002011-05-19T14:23:58.829-05:00The Heroic<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">" A hero is an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles." </span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">- Christopher Reeve</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhriJtEPWyuF8widc_IZFwPa6jS892R2kJUCU5MsaCAxJvopk44zC_E0bdxPbbqOnS5M40JIzb4OlAHsh63HLHvHzXW6a21dJG-gvz4ZIQa45dfyhtctAzbgtJZ-HiDvo6VOxfLzaWp0JU/s1600/Jacques-Louis+David+-+The+Intervention+of+the+Sabine+Women.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhriJtEPWyuF8widc_IZFwPa6jS892R2kJUCU5MsaCAxJvopk44zC_E0bdxPbbqOnS5M40JIzb4OlAHsh63HLHvHzXW6a21dJG-gvz4ZIQa45dfyhtctAzbgtJZ-HiDvo6VOxfLzaWp0JU/s400/Jacques-Louis+David+-+The+Intervention+of+the+Sabine+Women.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b style="font-style: italic;">Intervention of the Sabine Women, </b>Jacques-Louis David<br />
Oil on canvas, 1799, The Louvre, Paris, France</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Not much time to write this morning, as I'm heading over to the ICU for a visit with Our Young Man.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">It occurs to me this morning how heroic the families of those waiting for transplants must be. Today alone, 110,586 people are waiting for an organ transplant. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">They, the hundreds of thousands around the world, are ordinary people, after all. Yet they find the strength to endure and persevere in spite of overwhelming odds. That's heroic in my book.</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">If you're interested in finding out more about Cystic Fibrosis, please click </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.cff.org/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">HERE</span></a>. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">If you're interested in finding out more about organ donation, please click <a href="http://www.organdonor.gov/Default.asp">HERE</a>.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>To these ordinary people displaying extraordinary courage, I salute you today. </i></b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>This is the master himself, Vladimir Horowitz, playing Chopin's "Polonaise in A-flat Major, Op. 53". </i></span><br />
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</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>It's more often called by it's popular name, "L'H</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">éroïque" or "The Heroic". </span></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Listen and enjoy. ♥</span></i></span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/KZGi49Bnghs" width="425"></iframe>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14937847762010497687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7891179949997003543.post-35363738752164380472011-05-18T00:02:00.004-05:002011-05-18T15:52:13.137-05:00The Limbo of Things<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>"Dreams are excursions into the limbo of things, a semi-deliverance from the human prison."</i></span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">- Henri Amiel</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWFXpZXftkp0NxuHFd797-GRzILddWg7ekMNXxt5o8m3BSk4n5e1itUv4D_aixXFudHMKEGkF8M5lxZmIbI_Eu1sG3b2uq-qBsUBEmXpxTDSgnjwsl_cVP_0CD78To0p2gsLSexY-b4tg/s1600/Giordano_Luca-Dream_of_Solomon.normal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWFXpZXftkp0NxuHFd797-GRzILddWg7ekMNXxt5o8m3BSk4n5e1itUv4D_aixXFudHMKEGkF8M5lxZmIbI_Eu1sG3b2uq-qBsUBEmXpxTDSgnjwsl_cVP_0CD78To0p2gsLSexY-b4tg/s400/Giordano_Luca-Dream_of_Solomon.normal.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><i style="font-weight: bold;">The Dream of Solomon, </i>Luca Giordano, Oil on canvas, 1693<br />
Museo del Prado, Madrid, Spain</span></td></tr>
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<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>Limbo: [14th century. < Latin, "on the border (of hell)," form of limbus "border, edge:] </i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i><b>in limbo - </b>in a state of uncertainty or of being kept waiting.</i></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">That pretty much defines the situation today. Everyone is on 'the border of hell' and in a state of uncertainty. None of us, though, can know what is going on in the heart, mind, and soul of our young patient.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">What is happening during this medicated coma? Is he feeling his mother stroke his foot? Does he hear his wife tell him he's loved? Does he know how many people are praying for his recovery?</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">A very dear friend told me she thinks some heavy negotiations are going on right now between him and the Divine. I'm inclined to agree. </span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">To my mind, it might be something like the painting above by Giardano. He depicts Solomon, surrounded by spirits and angels, the seraphim and the cherubim, God speaking to him without words, saying to him, "Ask me for whatever you want me to give you." </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">(I KINGS 3:5-15)</span></i></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">And now, anyone who knows the young man lying in a coma right now also knows how funny that image would be to him. He may look as if he's slumbering peacefully, but if our young man is in any sort of discussion with the Divine, I'm guessing he's more than a little testy right now. In fact, it's probably more like an angry debate between two adversaries.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I can hear him now.</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">"Are you crazy? I just got married a few days ago. I have a beautiful wife and great parents and stepmother and brother and a nephew I've never even held yet, not to mention a hundred other loving friends and relatives who want me here...I demand to know the meaning of this!"</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">The truth is, our young man is a little irreverent. That image is fine with me, too. I do hope he and the Divine can come to some sort of agreement soon. And if there is some meaning to this experience, may it reveal itself soon, too. Please. </span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Because for his family, this l</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">imbo is...well, like waiting at the edge of hell. </span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i><b>Amen.</b></i></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>As I thought about the music selection for today, it came to me that the 'negotiations' going on day and night might be something like the legend of Scheherezade, the Arabian bride who kept her king distracted by telling a story each night for 1,001 nights, thereby saving her life.</i></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>This is Rimsky-Korsakov's 5th movement of "Scheherezade" with Sergey Levitin conducting the Kirov Orchestra. </i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i><br />
</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>I should make it clear that I imagine the cymbal clashing and thunderous roars coming, not from The Divine, but from our young man.</i></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>The lyrical strains of the violin and strings seem to be The Divine offering comfort and peace to him...come what may.</i></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>Let the debate begin... </i></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/8c5BFcw5onI" width="425"></iframe></span></div></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14937847762010497687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7891179949997003543.post-20973641899110998552011-05-17T11:07:00.002-05:002011-05-17T11:17:20.546-05:00The Exquisite Hour<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">When we have done our best, we should wait the result in peace."</span></span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 16px;">- Sir John Lubbock</span></span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 16px;"><i><b><br />
</b></i></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWbYKuYFKlvn79pJDTPI6cMb0kO3v79Mywew5Nju-LGNTOaaUt3EcSI8wTqkehYWc-FWIdX9bubCYVs9vOzD5uUkoejPwkinFjHErb7bnrLoquTD_Q5XXt9obfZyuoqxtmqYRmfvUh9q8/s1600/WomaninWhite.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWbYKuYFKlvn79pJDTPI6cMb0kO3v79Mywew5Nju-LGNTOaaUt3EcSI8wTqkehYWc-FWIdX9bubCYVs9vOzD5uUkoejPwkinFjHErb7bnrLoquTD_Q5XXt9obfZyuoqxtmqYRmfvUh9q8/s400/WomaninWhite.jpg" width="321" /></b></span></i></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Woman in White, Pablo Picasso, 1923<br />
Oil, water-based paint, and crayon on canvas<br />
Estate of Pablo Picasso</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 16px;"> </span></span></b></i></td></tr>
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</b></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">My family is in a waiting period right now. At this moment, we do not even know the path that we must travel, but either path will be difficult. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">A precious young life hangs in the balance, awaiting the miracle of a double lung transplant. Time is of the essence, and yet we know we cannot pray for tragedy to befall another family.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">My heart aches for this young man, his wife, his mother and father, and his brother. No one should have to endure this pain. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">We can only pray for strength to endure either path. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">A gift arrived today from a dear friend, Tess, the brilliant poet from</span><br />
<i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://willowmanor.blogspot.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">Life at Willow Manor</span></a></span></b></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">and with her permission, I share it with you. Thank you, Tess. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">It's not the magic of a simple answer to the unbearable question, "What will happen?" but serves as a peace-giving interlude while we wait for the path to unfold before us...as we await the exquisite hour.</span><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This is soprano Susan Graham performing</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Cambria, serif;">" </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Reynaldo Hahn's "L'Heure exquise". This composition is set to the poetry of Paul Verlaine, who reportedly wept when he heard it first. Pianist Roger Vignoles provides the accompaniment.</span></span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">This composition is lambent with peace and hope...something precious and rare in hospital waiting rooms around the world.</span><b style="font-size: x-large;"> </b></span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><b><br />
</b></span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>I dedicate this to all those who wait today. </b></span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><u><br />
</u></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><u>Translation of text:</u></span><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">The</span> <span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">white moon</span><br />
<span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">Shines</span> <span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">in</span> <span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">the</span> <span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">woods</span><span class="" title="Click for alternate translations">;</span><br />
<span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">Each</span> <span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">branch</span><br />
<span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">Share</span> <span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">one vote</span><br />
<span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">Under</span> <span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">the</span> <span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">arbor</span> <span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">...</span><br />
<span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">O</span> <span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">beloved</span><span class="" title="Click for alternate translations">.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">The</span> <span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">pond</span> <span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">reflects</span><span class="" title="Click for alternate translations">,</span><br />
<span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">Deep</span> <span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">mirror</span><br />
<span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">Silhouette</span><br />
<span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">Black</span> <span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">Willow</span><br />
<span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">Where</span> <span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">the</span> <span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">wind</span> <span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">cries</span> <span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">...</span><br />
<span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">Dream</span><span class="" title="Click for alternate translations">,</span> <span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">it</span><span class="" title="Click for alternate translations">'s</span> <span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">time.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">A</span> <span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">vast</span> <span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">and</span> <span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">tender</span><br />
<span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">Appeasement</span><br />
<span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">Seems to</span> <span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">descend</span><br />
<span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">The</span> <span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">firmament</span><br />
<span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">Iridescent</span> <span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">as</span> <span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">the moon</span> <span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">...</span><br />
<span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">It is</span> <span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">the</span> <span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">exquisite hour</span><span class="" title="Click for alternate translations">.</span></span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="" title="Click for alternate translations"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="" title="Click for alternate translations"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/vJIz86Mtyek" width="425"></iframe></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="" title="Click for alternate translations"><br />
</span></span>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14937847762010497687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7891179949997003543.post-44828773415642947172011-05-15T23:07:00.000-05:002011-05-15T23:07:42.369-05:00Seeking Acceptance<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">"Earth teach me to forget myself as melted snow forgets its life. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Earth teach me resignation as the leaves which die in the fall. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Earth teach me courage as the tree which stands all alone. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Earth teach me regeneration as the seed which rises in the spring. "</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">- William Alexander</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"><br />
</span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMa3D0zzjS6LxKABXq_Sgn5CqCAzSHuND9UddP4HiK1ewAzR_lzc5j8RPzLnPKHctw4kjYYtaIr6ZxpfxG3kaMG6dGfJ5KyWlrzPfvbxhJ-mhG4dau0aPjnlQfaSv8SmKyCfjIB_OI-rM/s1600/Surreypinetreees_Leader.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMa3D0zzjS6LxKABXq_Sgn5CqCAzSHuND9UddP4HiK1ewAzR_lzc5j8RPzLnPKHctw4kjYYtaIr6ZxpfxG3kaMG6dGfJ5KyWlrzPfvbxhJ-mhG4dau0aPjnlQfaSv8SmKyCfjIB_OI-rM/s400/Surreypinetreees_Leader.jpg" width="285" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><i style="font-weight: bold;">Surrey Pines, </i> Benjamin William Leader<br />
Oil on canvas, 1905, private collection</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Listening to friends and family recently has added an interesting and beautiful new thread running through my tapestry of life lately. Sometimes the shining color of hope for a new beginning, and sometimes the more softly burnished glow of remembering better times, the thread, nevertheless, glows with significance.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">It seems to be all about acceptance lately.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">How do we learn acceptance? Maybe I should back up and ask it this way...<i>do</i> we learn acceptance? Is it a skill that we can develop, or is it a gift from Heaven bestowed upon us?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I'm not being rhetorical here. What do you think? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I think I was born with the ability to accept my circumstances. From my earliest memories, I could accept almost everything that came my way; gifts, rules, boundaries, limitations, or consequences, without question, and was certainly one of the most compliant children ever born (except for that infamous little "orange peel incident" which we'll just leave alone for now). I'd say my parents had to have felt mighty lucky parenting me, except that My Twin had to have been one of the most rebellious children ever born, so I guess we sort of cancelled each other out in the Lucky Parents category.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I've experienced many things in my life that I have dearly wished could be different, but I've spent precious little energy railing against them or the world or the heavens or the people around me. I just never saw the point to that. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">So...how did it happen? Was I the recipient of this gift via DNA, or God's hand, or mere luck, or did I , through witnessing My Twin's frustration upon lashing out at every injustice, learn the attitude of acceptance?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><i>[Is there an inherent value in possessing an attitude of acceptance? My Twin became a physician, fighting illness, injury, and disease with every fiber of her being. She is respected and loved by her patients and colleagues alike, and I can see that her resistance to accepting the status quo may have had a good deal to do with that.]</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">The truth of it is that we all <i>must </i>at times accept things we don't like. The question becomes, then, can we accept them with grace, if not appreciation? What is to be gained by our circumstance? Wisdom? Strength? Character? Maybe a deeper appreciation of those around us? Could it simply be an exercise in self discipline?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">If we can see ahead to what we might gain from any given situation, I'm convinced we can accept it with grace. Everything, from profound issues like the serious illness or death of a loved one, to the the more mundane, like issues relating to our careers, to the more philosophical questions of why people come into and out of our lives, why we love whom we love, and what we do with that love, all contain the gift of a lesson. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">If we can see the gift of the lesson, we may be able to accept our circumstance with grace. It can be a comforting consolation to accept it in peace. We may, someday, even be able to say, "Thank you" for it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>Today I wish you the blessing of seeing the gift in your circumstance.</i></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Who doesn't appreciate being consoled during tough times? Franz Liszt understood. During the latter part of his life, he turned his thoughts to more devout pursuits, and his compositions reflected that. In 1850, his sixteen works of "Consolations" was published, and it's a body of work of great lyricism and peace. Each one is a special devotion to consolation, but my favorite is "Consolation No. 3 in D flat Major." </span></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">This performance was a revelation to me. In terms of sound quality, performance, and even down to the respectfully quiet audience (which can sometimes ruin a recording with coughing and the like), this one by Sunghee Lee Hinners in 2009 beats them all.</span></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">I hope you hear in this piece what I hear, the wonderful consolation found in acceptance. Enjoy.</span></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/qaLlNBDNW8I" width="425"></iframe></span></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14937847762010497687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7891179949997003543.post-74587367394872228182011-05-15T14:23:00.000-05:002011-05-15T14:23:00.691-05:00A Very Small Stack<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">"If you ever wonder why there's a shadow on your stack of problems, it's coming from the towering skyscraper of blessings and good fortune next to it."</span></i></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">- Unknown</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghAcylTcoqXLf9jQ2axzYeONsUBYa1TdsOeQ1AWoTJhb8QKwQLCkJTKIQSOv2XrKWxgNo2eKFgPJGujBl5epc-5qO07HJa7xjsxGAJBQLFgf8gAvA_bYZW9HA1OpjAz0dEdNwcP523tHE/s1600/Scheveningen-Women-and-Other-People-Under-Umbrellas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghAcylTcoqXLf9jQ2axzYeONsUBYa1TdsOeQ1AWoTJhb8QKwQLCkJTKIQSOv2XrKWxgNo2eKFgPJGujBl5epc-5qO07HJa7xjsxGAJBQLFgf8gAvA_bYZW9HA1OpjAz0dEdNwcP523tHE/s400/Scheveningen-Women-and-Other-People-Under-Umbrellas.jpg" width="296" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;"><b><i>Scheveningen Women and Other People Under Umbrellas</i></b><br />
Vincent Van Gogh, Watercolor, 1882, The Hague, Netherlands<br />
</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I'm feeling pretty sheepish today. I have a towering skyscraper of blessings and good fortune casting a shadow so long and wide across my little stack of problems it's embarrassing. Yet, sometimes, I just can't resist feeling sorry for myself for some minor issue. Really. How shallow.</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I'm not <i>grievously </i>shallow. At least, I don't think I am. I mean, just last night, I watched ABC's Nightline (purportedly a news show) and sat for a full twenty minutes to watch an entire segment on shoes. High heeled shoes, to be exact, and the shoe-a-holic to end all shoe-a-holics, Kelly Ripa. Seriously. The gist of this in-depth news </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><em style="font-style: normal;">exposé</em></span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">is that high heels are dangerous, and we needed a shoe-addicted woman to tell us this. </span><br />
<span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></span><br />
<span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">There is now, apparently, a new fitness class at Crunch Gym in NYC called "Stiletto Strength" to help women build up the so-called strength required to walk in eight inch heels without toppling over. Heavens to betsy, I'm not kidding. That's <i>grievously </i>shallow.</span></span></span><br />
<span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHarB6QykRSfooWOdnrxse4I_QN4tpMryEJ-t9M6JB4_tHxZH8jGEaj8HUqViywWbPVQDygqzm0xNZzqDkQkCT44LLw9edLVTwO2P78rSIpuz3461TzycD5sNCq-Ygmk_WtWCUqPAtbnE/s1600/20091007_mcqueenshoes_560x375.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHarB6QykRSfooWOdnrxse4I_QN4tpMryEJ-t9M6JB4_tHxZH8jGEaj8HUqViywWbPVQDygqzm0xNZzqDkQkCT44LLw9edLVTwO2P78rSIpuz3461TzycD5sNCq-Ygmk_WtWCUqPAtbnE/s400/20091007_mcqueenshoes_560x375.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Ten-inch high heeled shoes by British designer Alexander McQueen</span></b></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><div style="line-height: normal;"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Um, pardon me, but does anyone out there find these shoes attractive? </span> </span></span></span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Yes, yes, I digress. I'm shallow <i>and </i>easily distracted.</span></span></span></span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I wasted a good bit of time in self-pity yesterday for no very good reason at all. I also somehow managed to garner the well-intentioned sympathy of my all-too-wonderful friends, none of whom were able to reach through the computer screen to smack me virtually and yell, "Snap out of it!" </span></span></span></span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I apologize to all, here and now. I broke a tooth. I cracked two others. On a slice of pizza, of all things. Good grief. </span></span></span></span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Weird? Yes.</span></span></span></span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Inconvenient? Sure.</span></span></span></span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Tragic? Hardly.</span></span></span></span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Don't cry for me, Argentina. Get over yourself, Jo. </span></span></span></span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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</i></b></span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>Today I hope you can see the skyscraper of blessings.</i></b></span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>I suppose today is the day to share with you my "Don't I feel sorry for myself ?" music. Whenever I feel the need to immerse myself in the woes of the day, this is what I listen to. It's Chopin, of course (could anyone do pathos better than Chopin? I say no). This is his "Nocturne #20 in C sharp Minor" played by violinist Joshua Bell.</i></span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>You may want to bookmark this piece of music for future reference. If the situation warrants, there's nothing better than sitting down for a listen and allowing yourself a good sob session. </i></span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>Just don't do it over a broken tooth...enjoy.</i></span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
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</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Q8s5aV60yFA" width="425"></iframe>ble</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></span></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14937847762010497687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7891179949997003543.post-1981449040096055702011-05-11T09:43:00.001-05:002011-05-15T14:21:28.178-05:00Peony Love<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><i style="background-color: #444444;">"Flowers seem intended for the solace of ordinary humanity." </i></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; color: white; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">- John Ruskin</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGmOyXlPkfrBVk5ZRbAGJopBBg7pfyV2_lkQGu07D6KEXwPqObj-TLup2i8uHrMJfh7PnLstBmL_tI9amZRFq9O-EUe9hsSQ5p1WupTR0Dua6DuF2mLQZKfOqUvejxxIy5q7gBxgfQbis/s1600/18826936_90WNSYKj_c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; color: white;"><img border="0" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGmOyXlPkfrBVk5ZRbAGJopBBg7pfyV2_lkQGu07D6KEXwPqObj-TLup2i8uHrMJfh7PnLstBmL_tI9amZRFq9O-EUe9hsSQ5p1WupTR0Dua6DuF2mLQZKfOqUvejxxIy5q7gBxgfQbis/s400/18826936_90WNSYKj_c.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; color: white; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><b style="font-style: italic;">Head of a Woman with Peonies - </b>Franz Dvorak, Oil on canvas, 1903</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; color: white; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; color: white; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Peony season has arrived! The lacy, luscious, lovely flower is showing up all over, and I couldn't be happier. The peony is my very favorite flower, both for aesthetic and sentimental reasons. When I start to see the peonies bloom, I know that we have most decidedly started the transition from spring into summer.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">The peony holds an honored place in the plant world, having a recorded history that goes back thousands of years. The fragrant flower is said to have medicinal properties, and was named for Paeon, the physician to the Greek gods. According to legend, he was given the flower on Mount Olympus by the mother of Apollo.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; color: white;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; color: white;">It is equally revered in China, where it is the national flower, and is considered a symbol of prosperity and honor. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; color: white;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; color: white;">In Japan, it is a sign of masculinity and bravery.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; color: white;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; color: white;">In the world of astrology, peonies are the flowers assigned to Scorpios, as they are flowers that reflect the sensitivity and power of those born under that sign.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; color: white;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; color: white;">These are all reasons enough to love the peony, right? But as I said, I also have a sentimental reason to love this flower. I own a peony bush (well, really, it's <i>several</i> bushes now) that has been in my yard for over ten years now. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; color: white;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; color: white;">That fact alone in not very impressive, but my lovely, strong, white peony bush which blooms with such profusion each spring, bloomed once in my grandmother's garden in Kansas City over one hundred years ago. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; color: white;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; color: white;">My grandmother shared her flowers with my mother and father, who had moved their growing family from her house to a new little chateau in the burgeoning suburbs of Kansas City in 1954. When my parents left that house seventeed years later, some of the treasured peonies went with them.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; color: white;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; color: white;">Through two more moves, the peonies were dug up and divided, some left at the previous houses, but some going to the new ones. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; color: white;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; color: white;">My mother shared her peonies with me over thirty years ago when she and I dug up one of the prolific bushes in her back yard and lovingly wrapped the root ball in damp newspapers and plastic for the drive to St. Louis, where it was planted into a beautiful perennial garden in my own backyard.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; color: white;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; color: white;">Nearly twenty years later, when we moved to the house we currently own, the plant was divided again, and now resides in Weldon Spring.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; color: white;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; color: white;">Each year when the enormous bright white flowers bloom, I see my grandmother, my mother, and myself, tending the lovely blossoms, cutting a few for a fragrant arrangement, and marveling at the miracle of their beauty.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; color: white;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; color: white;">I often wonder just how far back that peony bush goes. Did my grandmother receive it from her mother? I like to think so. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; color: white;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; color: white;">I look forward, someday, to digging up the lush and luxurious peony bush that now graces my back yard, and dividing it to share with The Graceful One.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; color: white;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; color: white;">As a dear friend said to me recently, "<i>This </i>is what gardening is all about." </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; color: white;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse;">Here is my first bouquet of peonies this year. Oh, and the vase they're in? It was the first object my grandmother bought with her first paycheck she ever earned. How cool is that?</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsvRF9_1R3-0JjqpwZ4N9X50ipIrgd6xeWw7i2lKaRIMLyBY3dSgvWPOBUf-aqdi8p6d8IRO9DD5Vx-fFXPV5EyRaFJalhMbcYwi4c7fJUEpq1B3LNdtpHFdYyjz1kEuAWmZJOeA9fNGk/s1600/DSC01498.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; color: white;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsvRF9_1R3-0JjqpwZ4N9X50ipIrgd6xeWw7i2lKaRIMLyBY3dSgvWPOBUf-aqdi8p6d8IRO9DD5Vx-fFXPV5EyRaFJalhMbcYwi4c7fJUEpq1B3LNdtpHFdYyjz1kEuAWmZJOeA9fNGk/s400/DSC01498.JPG" width="265" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; color: white;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: white;"><b><i style="background-color: #444444;">May the beauty of flowers bring a message to you today.</i></b></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; background-color: #444444; border-collapse: collapse; color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; background-color: #444444; border-collapse: separate; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: white;"><i style="background-color: #444444;">You've heard this music from me before, and chances are, you'll hear it again. I will look for any excuse to play my favorite pieces for you. This is the "Flower Duet" from the beautiful French opera, </i></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Lakmé, by L</span></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">éo Delibes. </span></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><i>In Act I of the opera, </i></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">Lakmé (a Brahmin priestess) and her servant, Malilika, sing about going to the river to gather the flowers. Anna Netrebko and Elina Garanca join the Baden-Baden Opera for this lovely Gala performance. Enjoy!</span></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"> </span></i></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"> Baden-Baden Opera Gala 2007.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Vf42IP__ipw" width="425"></iframe></span></span>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14937847762010497687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7891179949997003543.post-10670596803457899202011-05-10T08:51:00.002-05:002011-05-10T14:23:25.492-05:00On Looking Up <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqr-v1soA1ZPTXQlx04BkeJVJ2HYfzzUuouk1aF1UbJ43-NUFNiIdqY1Ynl5yB7SjNK3gzjze_4afjI3S82InA52B96C_lgjnbPA5my7mFI2TtzdH5HiK7x8WgYnwLUCJ-jjLntWr2EGk/s1600/DSC01461.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="250" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqr-v1soA1ZPTXQlx04BkeJVJ2HYfzzUuouk1aF1UbJ43-NUFNiIdqY1Ynl5yB7SjNK3gzjze_4afjI3S82InA52B96C_lgjnbPA5my7mFI2TtzdH5HiK7x8WgYnwLUCJ-jjLntWr2EGk/s400/DSC01461.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><strong><em>The Visitors - </em></strong>Weldon Spring, 2011</span></td></tr>
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><u>BirdWings</u></span></div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>Your <span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">grief for what you’ve lost lifts a mirror</span></em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em></em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>up to where you’re bravely working. </em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em></em></span></div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em></em></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>Expecting the worst, you look, and instead,</em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>here’s the joyful face you’ve been wanting to see.</em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
<em><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>Your hand opens and closes and opens and closes.</em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>if it were always a fist or always stretched open,</em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>you would be paralyzed. </em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
<em><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span></em></div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em></em></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>Your deepest presence is in every small contracting</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em></em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>and expanding,</em></span></div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em></em></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>The two as beautifully balanced and coordinated</em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>as birdwings.</em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mawlana Jalaluddin Rumi</span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><u>Selene</u></span><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">we don't see the jagged edges of the moon.</span></em></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">her luscious soft light bouncing in the night</span></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em></em></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">she rules with a light touch unlike her lover</span></em></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">hot sun</span></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em></em></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">night and day melt into each other </span></em></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">until we dream that they are one divine undivided whole</span></em><em><br />
</em><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">W.Bryce Riley</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><u>The Weavers</u></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Through the warp </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">and the weft </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">they are there.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Through the inhale </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">and the exhale</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">they are there.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Through the zenith </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">and nadir</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">they are there.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">As the birds that soar </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">and tilt and float</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">they are there.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">The tapestry </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">is large,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: large;">The work unceasing,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yet, you do not work alone.</span><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Look up!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">They are there.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Joellen Floyd Lucas</span><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;"><em><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-large;">"Lark Ascending" by Ralph Vaughn Williams, played by Michael Bochmann and the English Symphony Orchestra. Please enjoy.</span></em><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/RT-nEEuKjMk?rel=0" width="425"></iframe></span></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14937847762010497687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7891179949997003543.post-74426521781529097512011-05-09T10:05:00.001-05:002011-05-10T15:00:49.311-05:00'Coming Home' People<em><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">"We need to have people who mean something to us; people to whom we can turn, knowing that being with them is coming home."</span></em><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">- Fr. Bernard Cooke</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><strong><em>Sharing Secrets - </em></strong>Tamara de Lampicka, Oil on Canvas, 1928</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">My friend Debra posted this quote on facebook last night<em>.(Please see her blog about being an artist at </em><a href="http://fromskilledhands.com/2011/05/07/color-and-texture/#comments"><span style="color: #ea9999;"><em>From Skilled Hands</em></span></a>.<em>)</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Maybe because it was Mother's Day, maybe because I had had a rare and luxuriously long phone conversation with My Twin that afternoon, or maybe because I welcomed a friend back to town on Saturday night whom I had not seen in months (and who was very<em>, </em>very happy to be back), but reading these words resonated so deeply inside me that I was brought to tears.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">When we say something 'resonates' in us, what do we mean? Well, for me, it means that I feel an honest-to-goodness vibration in the pit of my stomach. I've come to learn that it's how to recognize the essence of truth in a message to us. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">The message may be expressed via the spoken word, the written word, or even a facial expression. It may be delivered in the strains of a melody, the lyrics of a song, or the stanza of a poem. It may simply be expressed in a casual comment by a stranger sitting next to us on the bus. Whatever the means of delivery, that vibration inside you is a sure sign that the message is meant <em>for you</em>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">I am so grateful to the many people in my life for whom being with them is like coming home. Many of these people are in my very own family...how nice is that? I know some people who go to great lengths to avoid their families. I'm thankful that's not me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">I have dear friends close by with whom I've raised my children, celebrated good times, and mourned the bad. Each time I'm with them it's like coming home.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">I've reconnected with people from my youth and childhood, thanks to the wonders of facebook and the Internet. It was almost instantaneous with many of them, the feeling of coming home again. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"><em>I'm really looking forward to seeing one of these friends in just days now. She and I attended Johnson Elementary School together...elementary school! I'm so excited to see her again, break bread with her, walk with her, and show her around my little part of the world. Just thinking about it makes me feel like I'm coming home!</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Sometimes, new friends are 'coming home people' too. Debra falls into that category. When I told her that the quote brought me to tears, do you know what she replied? "And I will hand you a tissue and give you a hug." Oh, yeah...that's a coming home person. I won't list your names (you know who you are), but there are many others, too who make me feel the same way...so very lucky to know them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">In June, I'll have the chance to <em>really </em>go home to Kansas City for my high school reunion. It will be the first reunion I've ever attended. It's taken me <em>forty years, </em>but I plan on making up for lost time with these dear friends. I'm already feeling that warm and comfortable feeling of coming home to them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><strong><em>Whoever they are, wherever they are, I wish for you the special comfort of Coming Home People.</em></strong></span><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">"Lead us to a place, guide us with your grace, give us faith so we'll be safe..." The lyrical poetry of this song feel like coming home to me. </span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Celine Dion and Andrea Bocelli sing the duet from the original soundtrack for "Quest for Camelot" by David Foster..."The Prayer." Enjoy.</span></em><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/5b6XuIqielQ?rel=0" width="560"></iframe></span>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14937847762010497687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7891179949997003543.post-69819281617605570052011-05-08T11:19:00.003-05:002011-05-10T15:07:33.664-05:00Motherhood--A Sacred Honor<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><em>"The real religion of the world comes from women much more than from men - from mothers most of all, who carry the key of our souls in their bosoms."</em> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: large;">- Oliver Wendell Holmes</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><strong><em>Detail from The Three Ages of Woman -- </em></strong>Gustav Klimt</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: small;">Oil on Canvas, c.1905</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I jump happily onto the bandwagon today to express my heartfelt gratitude to my mother, whose job is done now, and to all the mothers and mother substitutes and mothers pro tem and mother hopefuls who have known or desire to know motherhood.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">This year, I feel more keenly than ever what a sacred honor it is to <em>be</em> a mother. Rather than hearing from my three sons and one daughter about how much I've sacrificed, how hard I've worked, and how much I've given them...blah,blah,blah, I'd like for them to hear how very much I've gained by being their mother:</span></span><br />
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</span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">From my firstborn, I earned the sacred name of Mother. Since then, he's taught me perseverence, patience, and how to rise above difficult circumstances. He never ceases to inspire and amaze me.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">From my second son, I earned insight. No two children are alike, and sometimes, still waters run very, very deep. I witnessed in him a soul-felt search for justice in the world that never ends.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">From my third son, I received sheer joy. And though the light that he brought into our family is a bright light filled with charm and happiness, he also taught me that strong, determined men can have gentle and sensitive souls.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">From my only daughter, I earned a new perspective. She pulled me, a scientist, into a world of beauty and grace and soul that I had only the barest hint had existed. She lives a life of passion, discipline, and sacrifice, but lives it with joy and great purpose. From her I have learned that determined people need not be loud or agressive, but can be quiet, respectful, and pleasant to be around.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I feel deep gratitude today for the sacred honor of motherhood. The gifts they have bestowed upon me are not those of the material world (though they are greatly appreciated) that are given once each year. They are the priceless daily gifts of enlightenment, insight, joy, and perspective. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">How lucky am I? Thank you, Anthony, Courtland, Spencer, and Andrea, for the great gift of being your mother. I love you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-large;"><em>The music selection today falls under the category of Because It's My Day and I Like It. This is undoubtedly one of the loveliest pieces of music every written. It is Tchaikovsky's "Serenade for Strings in C major, Op. 48", the fourth movement, the finale. </em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-large;"><em>This wonderful version is Maxim Vengerov conducting the UBS Verbier Festival Chamber Orchestra. The other three movements are different but equally beautiful...please find them on YouTube for the complete experience. </em></span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-large;"><em>I feel love, passion, pathos, hope, and joy when I hear this music. </em></span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-large;"><em>That's pretty much how I feel about being a mother...enjoy. </em></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><em><span style="font-size: small;"></span></em></span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/-z8i8zixPU0" width="560"></iframe>.Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14937847762010497687noreply@blogger.com0