A fan wrote to Mae Sarton: "Reading your works for the first time was like going out into the morning garden in spring after too many days indoors, exulting in the sunlit roses and fresh air. I felt resurrected!" What high praise from a devotee. "Ulysses and Joanna" is my favorite MS novel.
On his 79th birthday Stanley Kunitz wrote a celebratory poem. In it he said, "Maybe it's time for me to practice growing old." Although he believed his name to be a personal possession, of his flesh he wrote, "I only borrowed this dust." Of poetry he declared, it is "the most difficult, the most solitary, the most life-enhancing thing that one can do in the world." A true wise man! Poets, we are in grand society. Amen.
In the short story "Eric Hermannson's Soul" Willa Cather refers to Eric's violin as "his only bridge into the kingdom of the soul". Now there's a thought daughter Annie would appreciate. Music/art has been her bridge and now she is helping troubled youth build bridges into the kingdoms of their souls, too.
Norma has invited me to her apt (404) for soup, coffee and cake at 2:30. How exciting! I have a new friend in the building.
When I peeked into the Ely bear den via camera on bear.com I noticed Lily was breathing hard. While I watched, she raised her head and looked about. When she put her head down her visible eye did not close but blinked repeatedly. Perhaps she is in labor!
Yesterday I went out to the foyer for mail and found the postman was still stuffing boxes. When he got to the 3rd class stuff I decided to try a conversation. He is a man of few words but I managed to learn a thing or two. Then I told him a funny little story about my cousin Wayne. His big face lit up and his smile came unglued. He laughed out loud and bid me 'good day'. He was still smiling as he trudged back to his vehicle. I guess I got the punch line in the right place... this time.
On his 79th birthday Stanley Kunitz wrote a celebratory poem. In it he said, "Maybe it's time for me to practice growing old." Although he believed his name to be a personal possession, of his flesh he wrote, "I only borrowed this dust." Of poetry he declared, it is "the most difficult, the most solitary, the most life-enhancing thing that one can do in the world." A true wise man! Poets, we are in grand society. Amen.
In the short story "Eric Hermannson's Soul" Willa Cather refers to Eric's violin as "his only bridge into the kingdom of the soul". Now there's a thought daughter Annie would appreciate. Music/art has been her bridge and now she is helping troubled youth build bridges into the kingdoms of their souls, too.
Norma has invited me to her apt (404) for soup, coffee and cake at 2:30. How exciting! I have a new friend in the building.
When I peeked into the Ely bear den via camera on bear.com I noticed Lily was breathing hard. While I watched, she raised her head and looked about. When she put her head down her visible eye did not close but blinked repeatedly. Perhaps she is in labor!
Yesterday I went out to the foyer for mail and found the postman was still stuffing boxes. When he got to the 3rd class stuff I decided to try a conversation. He is a man of few words but I managed to learn a thing or two. Then I told him a funny little story about my cousin Wayne. His big face lit up and his smile came unglued. He laughed out loud and bid me 'good day'. He was still smiling as he trudged back to his vehicle. I guess I got the punch line in the right place... this time.
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