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.