Look no further.
This one has stood the test of time–over 100 years. From Georgia, U.S.!
The box actually contains 3 reasonable-sized cakes which we shared with our 2 kids.
Look no further.
This one has stood the test of time–over 100 years. From Georgia, U.S.!
The box actually contains 3 reasonable-sized cakes which we shared with our 2 kids.
Meyonohk School, the local neighborhood school, had students (with teachers) delivering Christmas cards they had made in school to local residents one school afternoon. Each of the kids apparently gets a chance to go to a house door, supervised by a teacher, to deliver the card and say ‘Merry Christmas’ to whoever comes to the door.
Very meaningful, thoughtful, and well-done! A super community project for schools to bring the Christmas message to the folks in the neighborhood.
We are all held together
by wires or Wi-Fi.
The props that hold us up
can only be glimpsed
in a certain slant of light.
We are really coming apart
all the time, even as we laugh
and profess a strength.
Lame the underpinnings
of our all-so gossamer texts.
We droop our fatigues
against a greater mystery,
our pains and plans mere habits
of exclusiveness.
We turn ourselves inside-out
for others to see how
we might glow in the dark:
blue shadows on evening snow.
When winter came that year,
we could almost imagine
another breathing,
some vague restoration.
There were, though, those among us
who reported seeing streaks of light
or perhaps a radiance
behind all these fronts.
(Castile, Spain)
In the musty cloister corridors
of Santo Domingo
are the voices of the ages.
Men without women.
Men without guns.
Men assured of purpose sublime.
Heedless of time,
untouched by war and
the mad pursuit of money.
Here there is the grace
of melody sans harmony
and rhythm.
Here there is holy society
of the single melody
in language and tones
beyond your limitations.
Listen. It sounds like peace.
It sounds like soul
conversing with self.
It sounds like sanctuary, blessing and forgiveness for all and everything.
Leave all cares outside
the stones, this monastery.
Pettiness, ego,
control and strife.
Here there is but eternity
and a balm that none
of us likely deserve.
Listen to the chants
changing keys magically.
and time signatures
slowly, magically. This is a transcendent life
beyond your haste, your real
and imagined conflicts.
No one here lives beyond
the simple voices
that forever start each
passing day or century.
Within these patient walls,
the monks have found It
and a timeless truth and beauty we all need,
having lost our ways
so many times in life’s
ever-changing journey.
(The above poem was inspired by the famous, spiritual Chant CD by The Benedictine Monks of Santo Domingo de Silos)
All you can do at this point is to put a mirror in front of every elector, asking them Is this who you are? In favor of a corrupt Hitler/Putin dictator, naked racism; against the law; in favor of one man locking up his enemies willy-nilly on his whims.
This election is about and up to the electors and what they value and really want.
There is absolutely no question that Trump has done his best to destroy and wreak havoc in America. If he is re-elected, he will gut America and make what’s left his personal, corrupt toy and plaything.
I instantly think “I wonder if there will be a hospital bed for that person.”
Forever an individual, I am self-taught for the most part. I never learned to read notes on a song sheets. Likewise, I never learned to play notes on guitar from musical notation.
However, I did learn to sing by singing along and singing by ear, often copying singer melodies from the hits of the day. I sang in choirs in high school and sang lead in an operetta once. I formed different folk groups, leading them, and singing lead vocals.
Likewise, I learned to play the basic major, minor and 7th chords on guitar from diagrams and some songbooks with chords visually shown. From that, I learned how to play the songs on the radio I grew up with through practice. In the groups I played in in high school and university, I gave the chords to the rest of the groups for them to accompany me.
Eventually I could stand up in front of audiences and sing and play by myself or with others. By the time I had stopped regular performances in 2002, I had played for thousands of people: adults and teens.
Later on, I learned how capos change keys and how to enunciate vocals better. I also learned how to play and use 6 and 12 string electric instruments and equipment. I also learned to play chords on 12 string and how to change keys to get the optimal singing keys rather than just singing in the keys of recorded singers on songs. I also learned fancier, jazz chords to play on guitar to get more accurate songs.
I wanted to play from a young age, and after a false start with a banjo during the ’60s Hootenany era in my teens, I settled in on guitar by 16. Later, in the 1970s, I started writing my own songs and have written about 25 in total which have been recorded for posterity. Some have been praised by the likes of Guess Who producer Jack Richardson, Glen Campbell’s manager, and Rita McNeil.
(far right between two spruce trees; the last gig I played in fall 2017 was of oldies for my daughter’s staff noon-hour picnic in a park.)
Buildings, houses, roads, cars, computers, machines of all kinds, and human beings/bodies.
The same principle applied to all. Temporary, ephemeral structures and beings.
To me, this fact of fundamental change makes each Christmas more important, precious, and awesomely necessary. We should not take today and others around us for granted ever.