.......
A woman and a half
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=10151590243564696&set=vb.58710980530&type=2&theater
.......
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=10151590243564696&set=vb.58710980530&type=2&theater
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Political Corner:
^.^
Robin Williams
http://biggeekdad.com/2012/03/robin-williams-american-flag/#.U-n9PYlMz1k.aolmail
.......
The Cabbages of Chekhov
Some gamblers abandon carefully built houses
In order to live near water. It's all right. One day
On the river is worth a thousand nights on land.
It is our attraction to ruin that saves us;
And disaster, friends, brings us health. Chekhov
Shocks the heavens with his dark cabbages.
William Blake knew that fierce old man,
Irritable, chained and majestic, who bends over
To measure with his calipers the ruin of the world.
It takes so little to make me happy tonight!
Four hours of singing will do it, if we remember
How much of our life is a ruin, and agree to that.
Butterflies spend all afternoon concentrating
On the buddleia bush; human beings take in
The fragrance of a thousand nights of ruin.
We planted fields of sorrow near the Tigris.
The Harvesters will come in at the end of time
And tell us that the crop of ruin has been great.
In order to live near water. It's all right. One day
On the river is worth a thousand nights on land.
It is our attraction to ruin that saves us;
And disaster, friends, brings us health. Chekhov
Shocks the heavens with his dark cabbages.
William Blake knew that fierce old man,
Irritable, chained and majestic, who bends over
To measure with his calipers the ruin of the world.
It takes so little to make me happy tonight!
Four hours of singing will do it, if we remember
How much of our life is a ruin, and agree to that.
Butterflies spend all afternoon concentrating
On the buddleia bush; human beings take in
The fragrance of a thousand nights of ruin.
We planted fields of sorrow near the Tigris.
The Harvesters will come in at the end of time
And tell us that the crop of ruin has been great.
.......
never say
https://docs.google.com/file/d/0ByFUzo9KwryWWkRwUEw4bmZNaVk/view?sle=true
.......
https://docs.google.com/file/d/0ByFUzo9KwryWWkRwUEw4bmZNaVk/view?sle=true
.......
You're the Top
Of all the people that I've ever known
I think my grandmother Bernice
would be best qualified to be beside me now
driving north of Boston in a rented car
while Cole Porter warbles on the radio;
Only she would be trivial and un-
politically correct enough to totally enjoy
the rhyming of Mahatma Ghandi
with Napoleon brandy;
and she would understand, from 1948,
the miracle that once was cellophane,
which Porter rhymes with night in Spain.
She loved that image of the high gay life
where people dressed by servants
turned every night into the Ritz:
dancing through a shower of just
uncorked champagne
into the shelter of a dry martini.
When she was 70 and I was young
I hated how a life of privilege
had kept her ignorance intact
about the world beneath her pretty feet,
how she believed that people with good manners
naturally had yachts, knew how to waltz
and dribbled French into their sentences
like salad dressing. My liberal adolescent rage
was like a righteous fist back then
that wouldn't let me rest,
but I've come far enough from who I was
to see her as she saw herself:
a tipsy debutante in 1938,
kicking off a party with her shoes;
launching the lipstick-red high heel
from her elegant big toe
into the orbit of a chandelier
suspended in a lyric by Cole Porter,
bright and beautiful and useless.
I think my grandmother Bernice
would be best qualified to be beside me now
driving north of Boston in a rented car
while Cole Porter warbles on the radio;
Only she would be trivial and un-
politically correct enough to totally enjoy
the rhyming of Mahatma Ghandi
with Napoleon brandy;
and she would understand, from 1948,
the miracle that once was cellophane,
which Porter rhymes with night in Spain.
She loved that image of the high gay life
where people dressed by servants
turned every night into the Ritz:
dancing through a shower of just
uncorked champagne
into the shelter of a dry martini.
When she was 70 and I was young
I hated how a life of privilege
had kept her ignorance intact
about the world beneath her pretty feet,
how she believed that people with good manners
naturally had yachts, knew how to waltz
and dribbled French into their sentences
like salad dressing. My liberal adolescent rage
was like a righteous fist back then
that wouldn't let me rest,
but I've come far enough from who I was
to see her as she saw herself:
a tipsy debutante in 1938,
kicking off a party with her shoes;
launching the lipstick-red high heel
from her elegant big toe
into the orbit of a chandelier
suspended in a lyric by Cole Porter,
bright and beautiful and useless.
.......
Quin Brien
On Thursday
I went out to the Dr's clinic to have my rat poison level
checked via coumadin finger prick
and as I was going to be near The Machine Shed
- home of the great potato soup -
I stopped in honor of the recenty-departed
Quin Brien (above).
This time I was alone.
Though it was a little early at 9:50 AM
in fact the soup wasn't quite on yet
the waitress said
I ordered a bowl of it
waited till it was servable
and consumed it
for Quin and me.
Quin Brien
On Thursday
I went out to the Dr's clinic to have my rat poison level
checked via coumadin finger prick
and as I was going to be near The Machine Shed
- home of the great potato soup -
I stopped in honor of the recenty-departed
Quin Brien (above).
This time I was alone.
Though it was a little early at 9:50 AM
in fact the soup wasn't quite on yet
the waitress said
I ordered a bowl of it
waited till it was servable
and consumed it
for Quin and me.
^.^
COMING NEXT WEEK
SRN COVERAGE OF THE 60TH REUNION
WAUKESHA HIGH SCHOOL 1954
