It's been a long time, but right now I have been affected by the two titles.
"Into Thin Air" is a biographical account of Jon Krakauer's expedition to climb Mt. Everest for "Inside" magazine. The story is riveting. The expedition is a disaster with nineteen people dead at the end. It is such a comment on Man's hubris. (the money involved, the flirting with death, the extreme test of human endurance.)
But it gives an insight into human progress. Football, as played in the USA, is
another symbol of testing and pushing the limits. (To me, a most violent sport, but it is a team effort, and so is mountain climbing, especially to the top of Everest.)I can see why my nephews want their sons to get involved in the sport, something I could never understand when I was younger. It has always been painful for me to watch a football game, even though I have had only daughters and no direct encounter with the game. But I must admit I always enjoyed the excitement and the victories.
Now, "Butterflies Are Free" is another wholly different aspect of courage and daring to live. A young man who has been blind from birth is trying to live independently. His mother has been running guard for him all his life. It's his struggle to be his own man and to be free. Goldie Hawn is in the movie, the girl next door, who helps him live and discovers herself at the same time. His mother's struggle to let him go that is most touching. You know, there is still much to learn at age 88.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Town Hall Meetings
Is President Obama naive? Is this part of his plan? The media detectives are scraping up all his past promises and some of his reassuring(?) boasts...like saying the AARP endorsed his health plan, and then to have it denied in print by a CEO in the AARP. I voted for him, I am one of his loyal constituents and backers, but he is really playing with the big boys, and they play hard ball. It's apparent throwing this new and radical idea out to the general public is bringing out the fears, the anxieties, and showing the ignorance of many. Doctors are shoring up for the storm. Some doctors are asking for yearly retainers..right now, before any health bill gets written, no less passed. Others are retiring as soon as possible, because they fear their practices will be monitored. The one good point the president made when asked about the Federal Health plan that people who work for the Federal Government are entitiled to, is due to the large pool of participants. He has not subscribed to a single pay plan like that in Canada. The question remains how to PAY for universal health care,or how can the PRESENT system be sustained.
The people who have no insurance and have an accident or life threatening illness go to the Emergency Room. This cost is filtered down to the patients who have insurance and do pay for their care. It is such a complex problem and not possible to explain away at a Town Hall Meeting. As a poor lay person who only has a surface knowledge of the complexity of Health Care and its ramifications to the economy in general,
I sense that it is imperative that every opportunity to learn exactly what is in the proposed law, and to carefully scrutinize all possibilites are the duties of every citizen. Although these Town Hall meetings get all the fears out, will they help us to understand and be aware of all possibilities? We need some trustworthy teachers and information before any changes can be made. To whittle down and reduce waste and duplication is a simple method for improving the present system. There is much to be learned.
I must say President Obama is letting it all hang out. He is a risk taker. Now we must be sure we can trust his judgment. But we will learn this soon enough. The president is really in the hot seat. It's a true test of his mettle.
The people who have no insurance and have an accident or life threatening illness go to the Emergency Room. This cost is filtered down to the patients who have insurance and do pay for their care. It is such a complex problem and not possible to explain away at a Town Hall Meeting. As a poor lay person who only has a surface knowledge of the complexity of Health Care and its ramifications to the economy in general,
I sense that it is imperative that every opportunity to learn exactly what is in the proposed law, and to carefully scrutinize all possibilites are the duties of every citizen. Although these Town Hall meetings get all the fears out, will they help us to understand and be aware of all possibilities? We need some trustworthy teachers and information before any changes can be made. To whittle down and reduce waste and duplication is a simple method for improving the present system. There is much to be learned.
I must say President Obama is letting it all hang out. He is a risk taker. Now we must be sure we can trust his judgment. But we will learn this soon enough. The president is really in the hot seat. It's a true test of his mettle.
Monday, August 3, 2009
The Wedding Week
Angela's and Michael's wedding was really an event. There was partying from Monday to Saturday...the day of the wedding. Guests came from Hong Kong, Colombia, London, and all over th USA. The church is right on the water, tiny, rustic, with a window behind the altar facing the bay.
The wedding rehearsal was frantic.. with six bridesmaids and six groomsmen. I could see the priest was thoroughly discombobulated. The ceremony was quiet, but the picture taking was like papparazzi after rock stars.
Frankly, meeting all the people whom I hadn't seen in about 30 years, sitting next to Doug and Nubia, made me withdraw as though I were in a dream world. It's as though I were watching the entire scene, but not part of it. I can't explain my feelings. Did I finally have to admit that Nancy was gone? Why wasn't she here at her daughter's wedding?
The whole picture opened old wounds that had never really healed. I know Tony felt the same way. We were so happy that our beautiful granddaughter, Angela, whose mother died when she was just 9 months old, was getting married to live happily ever after. But the sadness of our loss welled up only to make us realize that the lives of her friends and her husband had gone on. We've always felt that Angela was Nancy's gift to us, and Angela has been the most loving, thoughtful granddaughter
any grandparent could hope for. But I will have to work through these feelings at another time. Enough for now.
The wedding rehearsal was frantic.. with six bridesmaids and six groomsmen. I could see the priest was thoroughly discombobulated. The ceremony was quiet, but the picture taking was like papparazzi after rock stars.
Frankly, meeting all the people whom I hadn't seen in about 30 years, sitting next to Doug and Nubia, made me withdraw as though I were in a dream world. It's as though I were watching the entire scene, but not part of it. I can't explain my feelings. Did I finally have to admit that Nancy was gone? Why wasn't she here at her daughter's wedding?
The whole picture opened old wounds that had never really healed. I know Tony felt the same way. We were so happy that our beautiful granddaughter, Angela, whose mother died when she was just 9 months old, was getting married to live happily ever after. But the sadness of our loss welled up only to make us realize that the lives of her friends and her husband had gone on. We've always felt that Angela was Nancy's gift to us, and Angela has been the most loving, thoughtful granddaughter
any grandparent could hope for. But I will have to work through these feelings at another time. Enough for now.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
The Wedding Week
Tony and I got back on Tuesday, June 16, 2009. It was just 6 days, but enough happened to last a whole lifetime. I had many misgivings as we left for MacArthur airport, and they were well grounded. When we finally got there after taking the wrong turn and getting stuck in traffic, I dashed out of the car grabbed two bags, and some papers, because I didn't have a boarding pass. The pass was issued promptly with no questions asked. We both needed wheelchairs and went inside the terminal to wait for them. As I looked around, Joe, our driver, and the car were gone and SO WAS MY PURSE IN THE BACKSEAT OF HIS CAR. I had no ID. Joe had no cell phone, and I didn't even have his home phone number. (It was in my little red book in my purse in the car). I hobbled up to the nearest boarding station, and was told to go to the police. My main concern was to contact Joe and get his telephone number. The police did not have the telephone book with the white pages. I used a pay phone for information, only to learn that his number is unlisted. i was devastated, completely unhinged. BUT,there are angels even in airports, and they come in many unusual forms. Gladys, my wheelchair escort, prompted me to go straight to security since I did have a boarding pass. Tony was all set, but would not leave without me.
Boarding time was swiftly approaching. Gladys, my angel, pushed me as fast as she could to the security policeman, another angel called Glenn. He proceeded to look through my carry-on bag which contained all my medications. There was no ID on anything. Finally, he opened the insulated case with my insulin. For some reason, I
always put my insulin in old pill holders, and he finally found one with my name on it. We just made the plane with Gladys' help. But how was to get my purse? I had no address for the house in Cape Hattaras where we were staying with Christine and Dave. So our trip for this wonderful occasion, the wedding of our "number one" grand daughter, began.
As Paul Harvey would say,"Now for the rest of the story."
Boarding time was swiftly approaching. Gladys, my angel, pushed me as fast as she could to the security policeman, another angel called Glenn. He proceeded to look through my carry-on bag which contained all my medications. There was no ID on anything. Finally, he opened the insulated case with my insulin. For some reason, I
always put my insulin in old pill holders, and he finally found one with my name on it. We just made the plane with Gladys' help. But how was to get my purse? I had no address for the house in Cape Hattaras where we were staying with Christine and Dave. So our trip for this wonderful occasion, the wedding of our "number one" grand daughter, began.
As Paul Harvey would say,"Now for the rest of the story."
Friday, May 29, 2009
Politics on Sharon St. and Graham Ave. 1934-42
Sal and Christina were regular members of the Democratic Party and spent much of their time and efforts to raise funds for the party, help Italian immigrants become citizens, and help aspiring politicos get nominated and elected to local, city and state positions. Sal was a struggling lawyer and needed the contacts. Christine
was the practical organizer with a special talent for getting people to work together and help her with the fund raising projects...card parties, honorary dinners, and every kind of fund raiser imaginable. When there was an election coming up, Sal traveled from section to section and spoke from the back of a truck.
When on Moore St.(known as Jewtown), he spoke Yiddish. When in German neighborhood, he spoke German. When on Montrose Ave., he spoke Sicilian. (Montrose Ave was the mecca for Sicilian immigrants who were very ambitious, and whose mother's hand sewed linings at home to make enough money to educated their sons. To become a doctor was the ultimate goal for many of these young Sicilian men.) Sal
was a gifted speaker, with a natural presence and gift for grabbing an audience.
Languages came very easily to him. His first job was in a South American import business, where he learned Spanish. He lived in Sciacca for two years from about 10 to 12, learned literate Italian in school there, and of course his family spoke Sicilian. The trip to Sicily by boat was a aboard a German ship. It took about
three weeks to a month to make the journey. He became his parents' spokesperson and learned enough German to take care of their needs. When he got back to the U.S.A., his favorite place was the public library. He read and acted in plays by Shakespeare, graduated from Boys'H.S. in Brooklyn which only the top students could attend.He volunteered in the US Navy WWI, but was to young to go overseas. He became a Chief Petty Officer. Then he got his first job in the import business. He studied Law after her married Christina.
Christina worked in factory to help pay for his law education, and even though they had their first child within the first year of their marriage(me),theycontiued their plans for the future. That's how come Aunt Mary and Uncle Louis come into the story. They were my caretakers while my mother worked. My Dad worked in a bank during the day and went to Brooklyn Law School at night. I remember the big party Christina, my mother, arranged when he graduated.
No, I didn't go. Children were definitely not part of the social scene. That must have been around 1927, and that was the year my sister was born.
The story of his first law practice is in the Midnight Caller Blog.
To go back to the fund raising for the Dem's. Willy Meagher, an active member of the organization, which must have been Tammany Hall, noticed Sal and Christina and decided to sponsor them. Willy was a big hulk of a man who was a reputed millionaire with a mysterious, shadowy background, and who had friends in important places in the Party, like the Postmaster General of New York State. Willy and his pal Mr. Bassett were frequent visitors at 6 Sharon Street. They and Christina were
constantly thinking of ways to get out the votes for William O'Dwyer against the pip-squeak, upstart shrimp, Fiorello La Guardia. Well you know who became mayor of New York on a Fusion Party ticket...The Little Flower. Fiorello quashed the Tammany Hall
Bunch, locked up Lucky Luciano, and read the funnies over the radio during a newspaper strike. He was mayor from 1934-1945. LaGuardia did great things for NYC, and he helped FDR in many important ways.
However, Willy did not give up on Sal and Christina. He helped Sal get appointed as a representative to revise the State Constitution of New York. Later Willy helped him get the position as legal consultant in the Court of Appeals. Sal became chief legal consultant of the group who researched and advised the judges when deciding cases and writing opinions. Sal retired from this position. But there were many other ways that Sal helped his piasanos. He gathered the successful Sicilians together, and they formed a Federal Credit Union with their own money, The Fior Di Marsala, that gave immigrants loans to start businesses, buy houses, cars, etc. Theses immigrant who became citizens had no collateral to get loans from regular banks. So the Fior Di Marsala came to their rescue. He was like the proverbial "country doctor", but he was the "avvocato" who helped his compatriots.
Willy Meaghers helped our good friends, the Caruso's. He sponsored their son Frank.
Willy paid for Frank's tutor, so he could pass the test and got the local assemblyman to recommend Francis Caruso to West Point. Frank graduated from West Point, served in the army and is a retired Major at this time. We have lost touch with him, but I'lll bet he remembers Willy Meaghers. There's much more to the story, but it's enough for this blog.
was the practical organizer with a special talent for getting people to work together and help her with the fund raising projects...card parties, honorary dinners, and every kind of fund raiser imaginable. When there was an election coming up, Sal traveled from section to section and spoke from the back of a truck.
When on Moore St.(known as Jewtown), he spoke Yiddish. When in German neighborhood, he spoke German. When on Montrose Ave., he spoke Sicilian. (Montrose Ave was the mecca for Sicilian immigrants who were very ambitious, and whose mother's hand sewed linings at home to make enough money to educated their sons. To become a doctor was the ultimate goal for many of these young Sicilian men.) Sal
was a gifted speaker, with a natural presence and gift for grabbing an audience.
Languages came very easily to him. His first job was in a South American import business, where he learned Spanish. He lived in Sciacca for two years from about 10 to 12, learned literate Italian in school there, and of course his family spoke Sicilian. The trip to Sicily by boat was a aboard a German ship. It took about
three weeks to a month to make the journey. He became his parents' spokesperson and learned enough German to take care of their needs. When he got back to the U.S.A., his favorite place was the public library. He read and acted in plays by Shakespeare, graduated from Boys'H.S. in Brooklyn which only the top students could attend.He volunteered in the US Navy WWI, but was to young to go overseas. He became a Chief Petty Officer. Then he got his first job in the import business. He studied Law after her married Christina.
Christina worked in factory to help pay for his law education, and even though they had their first child within the first year of their marriage(me),theycontiued their plans for the future. That's how come Aunt Mary and Uncle Louis come into the story. They were my caretakers while my mother worked. My Dad worked in a bank during the day and went to Brooklyn Law School at night. I remember the big party Christina, my mother, arranged when he graduated.
No, I didn't go. Children were definitely not part of the social scene. That must have been around 1927, and that was the year my sister was born.
The story of his first law practice is in the Midnight Caller Blog.
To go back to the fund raising for the Dem's. Willy Meagher, an active member of the organization, which must have been Tammany Hall, noticed Sal and Christina and decided to sponsor them. Willy was a big hulk of a man who was a reputed millionaire with a mysterious, shadowy background, and who had friends in important places in the Party, like the Postmaster General of New York State. Willy and his pal Mr. Bassett were frequent visitors at 6 Sharon Street. They and Christina were
constantly thinking of ways to get out the votes for William O'Dwyer against the pip-squeak, upstart shrimp, Fiorello La Guardia. Well you know who became mayor of New York on a Fusion Party ticket...The Little Flower. Fiorello quashed the Tammany Hall
Bunch, locked up Lucky Luciano, and read the funnies over the radio during a newspaper strike. He was mayor from 1934-1945. LaGuardia did great things for NYC, and he helped FDR in many important ways.
However, Willy did not give up on Sal and Christina. He helped Sal get appointed as a representative to revise the State Constitution of New York. Later Willy helped him get the position as legal consultant in the Court of Appeals. Sal became chief legal consultant of the group who researched and advised the judges when deciding cases and writing opinions. Sal retired from this position. But there were many other ways that Sal helped his piasanos. He gathered the successful Sicilians together, and they formed a Federal Credit Union with their own money, The Fior Di Marsala, that gave immigrants loans to start businesses, buy houses, cars, etc. Theses immigrant who became citizens had no collateral to get loans from regular banks. So the Fior Di Marsala came to their rescue. He was like the proverbial "country doctor", but he was the "avvocato" who helped his compatriots.
Willy Meaghers helped our good friends, the Caruso's. He sponsored their son Frank.
Willy paid for Frank's tutor, so he could pass the test and got the local assemblyman to recommend Francis Caruso to West Point. Frank graduated from West Point, served in the army and is a retired Major at this time. We have lost touch with him, but I'lll bet he remembers Willy Meaghers. There's much more to the story, but it's enough for this blog.
Monday, May 4, 2009
The Soloist
Rose and I had our usual lunch meeting and just had time to go to the movies.
The Hampton Bays Cinema is old fashioned, but clean. We just made it. Niether of us had been to the movies in ages. The pitch black makes the viewing very personal and intimate.
But the movie was enough to blow your mind. It moves very fast. The reporter/writer is looking for an unusual story and finds this homeless man living under the statue of Beethoven, playing a decrepid three-stringed violin.
The story continues with the intense efforts of the reporter to help this man.
He investigates his past. The movie swings back to the past and this man, Nathaniel Ayers, was a student at Juliart HS and played the cello.Because of the sensitive article written by the reporter, someone donates a beautiful cello, and the reporter has great difficulty finding Nathaniel to give him the gift. At this juncture, the reporter is bent upon getting Nathaniel back into the real world.
Go to the movie. The ending is unexpected, and the story is true. I can't call this an entertaining movie, although the music in it was thrilling. But it is true
and it touches a nerve.
The acting, the cinematography is excellent. You get great aerial shots of Los Angeles' snake like highways, the traffic, the density, the speed, and the forgotten
homeless. It is a work of art. See it!
The cinematography
covers the snake like highways that encompass Los Angeles and the Homeless Shelter.
You become part of the homeless living outside the shelter and those inside the shelter. You see music transform and these lost souls. The music is mesmerizing, and our protaganist, this Nathanial Ayers, is a truly gifted musician. I rarely get tearful when experiencing a movie, but the tears and the tug at my heart happened in these scenes.
The Hampton Bays Cinema is old fashioned, but clean. We just made it. Niether of us had been to the movies in ages. The pitch black makes the viewing very personal and intimate.
But the movie was enough to blow your mind. It moves very fast. The reporter/writer is looking for an unusual story and finds this homeless man living under the statue of Beethoven, playing a decrepid three-stringed violin.
The story continues with the intense efforts of the reporter to help this man.
He investigates his past. The movie swings back to the past and this man, Nathaniel Ayers, was a student at Juliart HS and played the cello.Because of the sensitive article written by the reporter, someone donates a beautiful cello, and the reporter has great difficulty finding Nathaniel to give him the gift. At this juncture, the reporter is bent upon getting Nathaniel back into the real world.
Go to the movie. The ending is unexpected, and the story is true. I can't call this an entertaining movie, although the music in it was thrilling. But it is true
and it touches a nerve.
The acting, the cinematography is excellent. You get great aerial shots of Los Angeles' snake like highways, the traffic, the density, the speed, and the forgotten
homeless. It is a work of art. See it!
The cinematography
covers the snake like highways that encompass Los Angeles and the Homeless Shelter.
You become part of the homeless living outside the shelter and those inside the shelter. You see music transform and these lost souls. The music is mesmerizing, and our protaganist, this Nathanial Ayers, is a truly gifted musician. I rarely get tearful when experiencing a movie, but the tears and the tug at my heart happened in these scenes.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Tony's Party
On March 21, my daughters and granddaughter had a surprise 90th birthday party for my husband, their father and grandfather. Tony is still on cloud 9. First of all he was completely surprised. Every day since the party he is marvelling at the number of people who came, the gifts and cards he received and the joy it gave him.
He had been feeling pretty down. (He does suffer with painful arthritis and all its limitations.) He has been spending every day writing thank-you notes. It has given him a new lease on everyday life.
The party went without a hitch. To see his sister, her grown sons, our daughter Margot and granddaughter Andrea, besides the rest of the family was a thrill, not to mention cousins from everywhere. His colleagues from all parts of the USA who couldn't make the party, sent greetings and long letters expressing their appreciation for Tony's influence in their careers and lives, and the importance of the work he did while he was at Varian.
For some reason that I could not at first analyze, I had very mixed emotions before and since the party. I enjoyed myself immensely at the party and the day after
it when most of the out-of-state family came to our house for Sunday brunch.
I kept thinking how great that we celebrated his birthday, but the next time they all get together may be when he is no longer with us, or perhaps when I will no longer be here. It reminded me of our mortality, and who knows what may happen between now and them.
I've been reading a book "A WOMEN OF INDENDENT MEANS". It's the story of Bess Alcott's life. It's not a particularly well-written, or even extremely interesting
story, but it forces the reader to take stock of life, and makes one aware of the importance of accepting oneself and planning for the future. She even wrote her own obituary. I don't think I have the "balls" to do that.
So Tony's party was another signpost in life's journey for him and for me.
It was one of the happiest occasions we will experience.
He had been feeling pretty down. (He does suffer with painful arthritis and all its limitations.) He has been spending every day writing thank-you notes. It has given him a new lease on everyday life.
The party went without a hitch. To see his sister, her grown sons, our daughter Margot and granddaughter Andrea, besides the rest of the family was a thrill, not to mention cousins from everywhere. His colleagues from all parts of the USA who couldn't make the party, sent greetings and long letters expressing their appreciation for Tony's influence in their careers and lives, and the importance of the work he did while he was at Varian.
For some reason that I could not at first analyze, I had very mixed emotions before and since the party. I enjoyed myself immensely at the party and the day after
it when most of the out-of-state family came to our house for Sunday brunch.
I kept thinking how great that we celebrated his birthday, but the next time they all get together may be when he is no longer with us, or perhaps when I will no longer be here. It reminded me of our mortality, and who knows what may happen between now and them.
I've been reading a book "A WOMEN OF INDENDENT MEANS". It's the story of Bess Alcott's life. It's not a particularly well-written, or even extremely interesting
story, but it forces the reader to take stock of life, and makes one aware of the importance of accepting oneself and planning for the future. She even wrote her own obituary. I don't think I have the "balls" to do that.
So Tony's party was another signpost in life's journey for him and for me.
It was one of the happiest occasions we will experience.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Tracey Kidder's " Mountains Beyond Mountains"
This book is all about the exploits, adventures, and progress of Paul Edward Farmer,MD,Phd, and fund raiser, all around the world for his organizaton "Partners In Health." Haiti is his starting place, and the description of poverty, HIV,Aids, and TB in this most exploited country. The author accompanies Dr. Po and gives a blow by blow description of all their experiences together. It is a picture of TB now, Aids now, and it is both inspiring and discouraging. But it is certainly the story of a hero-doctor who cherishes and nourishes life in the poorest and most
disdained by society.
His early life and upbringing make him especially talented to understand all tiers of the human condition. The brilliance of his intellect and his dogged determination give him the tools to tackle the most difficult problems.
The book isn't easy to read, but it is about the present. It portrays the pitfalls of organizations, even those most respected and esteemed. But it also portrays the selflessness of so many individuals and their persistence in seemingly hopeless situations. It is a book about hope. Read it.
disdained by society.
His early life and upbringing make him especially talented to understand all tiers of the human condition. The brilliance of his intellect and his dogged determination give him the tools to tackle the most difficult problems.
The book isn't easy to read, but it is about the present. It portrays the pitfalls of organizations, even those most respected and esteemed. But it also portrays the selflessness of so many individuals and their persistence in seemingly hopeless situations. It is a book about hope. Read it.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Bali Hai...Again
I'm following all the rules for keeping the brain awake, but it takes such effort.
I've been trying to memorize the tune Bali Hai and all the great chords in it, but unless I have the music in front of me, even if I don't look at it, I can't play it. Music is such great medicine for me. My piano playing leaves much to be desired, but it relaxes me and gives me great pleasure. Listening to music is the only way I can get through my daily housecleaning chores cheerfully. Life would be so routine at this time of my life if it weren't for music, reading and old movies on TV. Politics are exciting. Crossword puzzles and a handy dictionary are good brain exercises, too, so is inventive cooking.
There are so many things I would like to do, but crocheting is really my waterloo.
My second crocheted blanket for Monika and Joe's baby is getting out of shape again, but I will finish it and maybe give it to Big Brother. Shoknows I may be able to salvage it.
I need more inspiration. I'll write again, later.
I've been trying to memorize the tune Bali Hai and all the great chords in it, but unless I have the music in front of me, even if I don't look at it, I can't play it. Music is such great medicine for me. My piano playing leaves much to be desired, but it relaxes me and gives me great pleasure. Listening to music is the only way I can get through my daily housecleaning chores cheerfully. Life would be so routine at this time of my life if it weren't for music, reading and old movies on TV. Politics are exciting. Crossword puzzles and a handy dictionary are good brain exercises, too, so is inventive cooking.
There are so many things I would like to do, but crocheting is really my waterloo.
My second crocheted blanket for Monika and Joe's baby is getting out of shape again, but I will finish it and maybe give it to Big Brother. Shoknows I may be able to salvage it.
I need more inspiration. I'll write again, later.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Snowbound
Snowbound by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
This is a poem I read in the 8th grade in St. Nick's Parochial School. I felt the quiet, calm,
and isolation it described. That was probably the spring of 1936. Today, March 2, 2009, I am experiencing the reality. There are huge snow drifts on the deck of our house, the wind is howling, the air is white , and Tony and I are truly on our island by ourselves. Yet it reminds me of that special island, Bali Hai, in the South Pacific. I have been practicing the tune from the musical "South Pacific" for days, and it truly casts a magic spell. I guess we all need a magic place. A place that helps us to see where we are in the scheme of our lives and how to accept and confront the next scene.
Getting hearing aids, definitely, gave me the sense of "being old". They exaggerate all sounds. But if you want to be aware of everything around you, you must learn to filter the sounds and listen to what you think is worthwhile.
Ye Gods! That sounds ponderous and boring. Whoa! I meant for this to be a history of the past not a dissertation. The grandkids will stop reading immediately.
This is a poem I read in the 8th grade in St. Nick's Parochial School. I felt the quiet, calm,
and isolation it described. That was probably the spring of 1936. Today, March 2, 2009, I am experiencing the reality. There are huge snow drifts on the deck of our house, the wind is howling, the air is white , and Tony and I are truly on our island by ourselves. Yet it reminds me of that special island, Bali Hai, in the South Pacific. I have been practicing the tune from the musical "South Pacific" for days, and it truly casts a magic spell. I guess we all need a magic place. A place that helps us to see where we are in the scheme of our lives and how to accept and confront the next scene.
Getting hearing aids, definitely, gave me the sense of "being old". They exaggerate all sounds. But if you want to be aware of everything around you, you must learn to filter the sounds and listen to what you think is worthwhile.
Ye Gods! That sounds ponderous and boring. Whoa! I meant for this to be a history of the past not a dissertation. The grandkids will stop reading immediately.
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