When Michael McNally arrived yesterday with soup and salami he also presented me with an Elvis magnet. On the first really cold day of the season Elvis was looking very warm in his red Hawaiian shirt and white orchids.
Last night Roberto, Ann and I watched a movie-concert-memoir of Edith Piaf with Raquel Bitton performing Piaf's songs. It was beautiful. They say she was the voice of the French people. She touched the common wo/man. I think Elvis was like that, too. He reached us in some deep previously untouched place. He found me when I was 15 so I was quite unable to escape. He was mesmerizing millions just like me and I had no place to hide.
At this time I remain loyal to that grand man of song. I live with a small collection of Presley memorabilia which includes an Elvis clock. When Cedar wants to know the hour of the day she will say, "Grandma, ask Elvis what time it is." Do you know she even wants to visit Graceland? Brandon was an Elvis fan, too. So EP reached well beyond his own generation. His music still affects me in a hopelessly romantic kind of way. I am unwilling to dismiss it as ridiculous. So I embrace it and hold it tight against my poor old heart.
Paul Taylor left a copy of "The Mystic Lake Declaration from the Native Peoples Native Homelands Climate Change Workshop II". Roberto loaned me a magnifying glass so I could read: We feel we must "demand climate justice now... to ensure our collective existence." Tamra Brennan has written, "Our sacred lands are all that remain keeping us connected to our place on Mother Earth, to our spirituality, our heritage, our lands, what is left of them. If they take it all away, what will remain except a vague memory of a past so forgotten." Oren Lyons said, "Someone must speak for them. I do not see a delegation for the four-footed. I see no seat for the eagles. We forget and consider ourselves superior, but we are after all a mere part of the Creation." There are many who have raised their voices on behalf of our Mother and all our relations perhaps they will be heard in Copenhagen where the great ones gather to discuss our degraded future. MaryO wrote of water, "Oh, gleaming generosity, how can they write you out?"
Today is very cold so I did not walk outside. I am a hopeless old romantic... not a reckless old fool. Instead I climbed to the fifth floor where a small room has been equipped for exercise. Before mounting the walking machine I examined the heavily frosted windows. I discovered a grassy hill covered with huge flowers. Many of the flowers had pulled themselves free and mounted to the sky. As they ascended they turned into birds then into butterflies and at last into stars.
Annie called last night and wants me to arrange a meeting with the family at Forest Lake on Sunday. Cedar wants to see me... and I want to see her, too.
Bruce Engebretsen and his friend Kathy stopped in for cake and tea. We had lot of good good conversation. They left some high bush cranberry jelly, chokecherry syrup and canned deer meat. I sent on a bag of things that Myrna can put on the free table at Biimaadiiziiwiin.
Last night Roberto, Ann and I watched a movie-concert-memoir of Edith Piaf with Raquel Bitton performing Piaf's songs. It was beautiful. They say she was the voice of the French people. She touched the common wo/man. I think Elvis was like that, too. He reached us in some deep previously untouched place. He found me when I was 15 so I was quite unable to escape. He was mesmerizing millions just like me and I had no place to hide.
At this time I remain loyal to that grand man of song. I live with a small collection of Presley memorabilia which includes an Elvis clock. When Cedar wants to know the hour of the day she will say, "Grandma, ask Elvis what time it is." Do you know she even wants to visit Graceland? Brandon was an Elvis fan, too. So EP reached well beyond his own generation. His music still affects me in a hopelessly romantic kind of way. I am unwilling to dismiss it as ridiculous. So I embrace it and hold it tight against my poor old heart.
Paul Taylor left a copy of "The Mystic Lake Declaration from the Native Peoples Native Homelands Climate Change Workshop II". Roberto loaned me a magnifying glass so I could read: We feel we must "demand climate justice now... to ensure our collective existence." Tamra Brennan has written, "Our sacred lands are all that remain keeping us connected to our place on Mother Earth, to our spirituality, our heritage, our lands, what is left of them. If they take it all away, what will remain except a vague memory of a past so forgotten." Oren Lyons said, "Someone must speak for them. I do not see a delegation for the four-footed. I see no seat for the eagles. We forget and consider ourselves superior, but we are after all a mere part of the Creation." There are many who have raised their voices on behalf of our Mother and all our relations perhaps they will be heard in Copenhagen where the great ones gather to discuss our degraded future. MaryO wrote of water, "Oh, gleaming generosity, how can they write you out?"
Today is very cold so I did not walk outside. I am a hopeless old romantic... not a reckless old fool. Instead I climbed to the fifth floor where a small room has been equipped for exercise. Before mounting the walking machine I examined the heavily frosted windows. I discovered a grassy hill covered with huge flowers. Many of the flowers had pulled themselves free and mounted to the sky. As they ascended they turned into birds then into butterflies and at last into stars.
Annie called last night and wants me to arrange a meeting with the family at Forest Lake on Sunday. Cedar wants to see me... and I want to see her, too.
Bruce Engebretsen and his friend Kathy stopped in for cake and tea. We had lot of good good conversation. They left some high bush cranberry jelly, chokecherry syrup and canned deer meat. I sent on a bag of things that Myrna can put on the free table at Biimaadiiziiwiin.
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