To thine own self be true

There’s a good article on CNN’s website, July 11, 2023 about this with examples and explanations.

Maybe that has something to do with the recent sharp spikes in Norovirus.
Basically, these cruise ships are ‘floating toilets’. (My daughter’s term.)
Ironically, these cruises have long been on people’s bucket lists. Do people understand the physical reality behind them?
Messing yourself, running to toilets and being sick most of the time has never been my idea of fun.

are bankrupting ordinary Canadians. A new poll shows 71% of respondents saying they can’t keep up with the hikes at this rate. The central bank is hurting and killing citizens. Time to stop the destructive hikes.

Once multiply convicted, Trump can be given his very won own private cell with his gold-plated toilet installed and boxes of documents to while away his remaining days.

Drove around there this morning. Limited mobility; confusing road signs. No parking to speak of.
A bleak, empty, colourless dump populated by street people waiting for decent folk to come around so they can harass or assault them as the decent types dodge the spit, urine, and excrement.
A library that looks like a huge Russian tank. Empty concert hall and Citadel, the latter’s waterfall long shut off. An art gallery which has only ever had a few world-class exhibitions; its snobby cafe that refused to wait on me and my wife for over 30 minutes a decade ago.
And an inaccessible museum with no public parking, accessible only from paid parking and a long precarious underground tunnel walk from said-tank-library.
And only 2 weeks ago a couple and their kid were assaulted there, the man ending up in hospital.
Sohi’s absurd, desperate campaign to bring people back downtown is a dangerous invitation to one and all, particularly to tourists, families, women and children.
Yup, E-Town is officially deceased. Abandon all hope ye who enter.

Why is reading losing popularity?
Books are losing popularity in the age of smartphones, tablets, and electronic devices. The decline in book reading can be attributed to several factors. The main reason is the rise in the popularity of digital content. Many people would instead read articles on their phones or tablets than spend time reading a book. (Oct 12, 2022)
–from SartorialGeek.com

about truth as opposed to lies and propaganda is on online news websites such as CNN with the mix of ads and news to the extent that unsuspecting or uneducated readers can’t distinguish between the two.

One September weekend (grade 5, 1960), after I got my 3-speed bike, my mother (on her old clunky single speed) and I travelled from St. James to East Selkirk (where my cousins lived) about 60 kms. away. About 20 of that distance was through the back streets of Winnipeg via the North End, then another 30 on the gravel shoulder of the highway between Winnipeg and (West) Selkirk, followed by a bridge crossing, and the rest of the way up a dusty gravel road to my cousins’ place.

We left after school, after 4 pm, and travelled in the dark from Selkirk on, arriving about 11 pm. My Dad was shocked when we phoned him; he didn’t think we’d make it or could do it. He thought we were still in Winnipeg! Later, we left for home starting out Sunday morning, arriving home in time for supper. 120 kms. in all on hardly the best road conditions except for the city streets.

After my father died in 1998, my mother, in her early 70s (early 2000s), took it into her head to do another long bike journey, this time alone, and headed out for Portage la Prairie one morning from her Portage Ave. walkup in St. James, some 85 kms. away. She arrived back very late in the evening, having travelled some 170 kms. on the shoulders of a divided highway.

My mother had great energy when the spirit moved her or once she got a wild notion in her head. No doubt she was reliving our 1960 trip. Never alerted me that she was going to do it, and only notified me afterward. Some kind of proof that she could still ‘cut the mustard’, even without me or my Dad around to look after her. Stubborn, focused, and quite independent. Yet another special Moment of Being 40 years later–one of her very own, all by herself in typical Rose fashion.

When I think about individuals and their uniqueness, I tend to think beyond their physical appearances and the way they dress. I find their voices to be more revealing of who and what they are. This is especially true in the case of authors or readers who do audiobooks.

True, there is the way words appear on pages and how we read, interpret, and process them silently which is usually the first way we encounter literary works. But nothing brings the author or work closer to the reader than the voice of the author or a skilled reader with a suitable voice to bring alive a work. The auditory process becomes more intimate and nuanced with the listener often discovering new or other details, meanings, and interpretations.

The following examples of readings from my own audiobook collection are excellent examples of entertaining, thoughtful, and stimulating auditory experiences.

The De Profundis voice of Dylan Thomas.

The Irish lilt of Cyril Cusack adding a playfulness to Greene’s priest protagonist.

The ironic tones of Jeremy Irons doing justice to Eliot’s work.

The ebullience of Michael York rendering Huxley’s satire.

Huxley, himself, a dry old stick, musing candidly and reflectively.

The dignified Sir Ralph bringing “The Eve of St. Agnes” to life bigtime.

The charmingly smooth tones of James Mason narrating Browning’s dramatic monologues.

The half-argumentative tobacco-voiced Auden sharing his relationship and nature poems.

The emotionally-open voice of Julie Harris; she who also brought Dickinson’s work to life.

The firm passionate Welsh tones of one of the greatest voices ever.

The civilized voice of Claire Bloom as Virginia Woolf.

The delicate voice of Juliet Stevenson bringing Woolf’s great novel alive.

Canada has had its share of great voices; here, W.O. Mitchell: a craggy-voiced storyteller and the melodramatic recitations of Robert Service.

Bradbury’s totally confident, matter-of-fact narration of his classic.

The spooky voices of Price and Rathbone; the former also reading Shelley, the latter reading Sherlock Holmes.

The sadder, but always wiser and thoughtful Arthur Miller.

The quiet, half-amused Southern drawl of Tennessee.

The harsh tell-it-like-it-is voice of Hemingway.

The classic ‘old man poet’.

The wild and crazy exclamatory Beat poet who gave us “Howl” and “Kaddish”.