For some people looking through old photograph albums transports them back into times long past: childhood days, school days, teen years, or even last year's family gathering. Pictures do it for me, too, but not as much as food!!
Tastes, flavors..............ah, there's the magic carpet that whisks me way, back to my first little house where my children were babies; back to northwest Washington, D.C. where my mothere reigned supreme in the little kitchen of the big corner house on New Hampshire Avenue where I spent many youthful years.
These days it takes very little to make me nostalgic. Everyone knows his or her exact location when certain historical events occurred - -when President Kennedy was assassinated, Neil Armstrong's first steps on the moon, etc. For me, a variety of flavors recall what my children call the "olden days". One may remember where they were. I remember what I ate!!!
As the Jewish holidays approach, it is nice to look at the picturs of happy faces from the past. The video which exists in my head, however, never fades and can never be overplayed.............the kitchen table where twice yearly a hand-driven grinder was attached so that very soosn large pots of golden liquid were simmering on the stove, producing some of the best gefilte fish inthe world! The large wooden bowl (do they sell them anymore?) where the chicken livers were magically chopped into a delight that even made matzo taste good! Mom's matzo balls, which for many years justifiably got the name of "cannonballs", but were later replaced by light-as-air, fluffy confections (if you followed the box instructions carefully; and, of course, those sweet and succulent lukshen kugels, which yearly were provided by at least six cooks whose recipes were "the best".
In today's turbulent environment, it is good to look back to simpler times, where faith and family were paramount in our lives. May G-d bless our country and Israel, our spiritual homeland, with prosperity and peace in the coming New Year. L'shanah tovah tikvoteyvu.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
True Confessions of a Grandmother
The day after my granddaughter Samantha's 21st birthday I found myself "keeping her company" on the phone while she drove from her friend's house in Bloomington back to South Bend, her home for the summer, before returning to college.
Asking her what exciting thing she did to celebrate her birthday, I was glad to hear that it was a pleasant transition to adulthood.....dinners, parties with friends, etc. I confided to her that my own 20th year had been a really confusing one. I even recited the little verse that I had written when I became "official".
"You see", I explained to her, "when I was 20, that was the year that I got dumped. (Long pause) "Yes, dumped", I told her, "and by your Pop-Pop!) It went like this:
I was going out with Pop=Pop all summer. We hit it off. We had fun. His friends became my friends and vice versa. We were going "steadily" as it was called then, and as I detected a soft giggle in the background, I kept the story going, knowing how much of a kick Sam gets when hearing stories about my youthful flings.
"One night he said he had to talk to me about something serious, and as my heart pounded in anticipation of something more solid (he really was quite charming) he told me he didn't think we should continue seeing each other so frequently. . He was not ready for a commitment, etc., etc.,etc. Of course, I told him I felt the same, and that we would always remain friends.
Three long and agonizing weeks ensued, as I imagined him out dancing with some gorgeous babe and having a gay old time (in those days, that WAS an acceptably descriptive word). One Sunday morning the phone rang. My mother answered the phone. She said, "You = know -who is on the line". It was Paul. I said, audibly, "Oh, it's Stanley!!!" and picked up the phone with an enthusiastic, "Hi, Stan!". He said, "Hi, it's me". His voice was not easily disguised. "Did you miss me?" he asked. "Were you away?" I answered.
He asked if I wanted to go to a movie. I said no. He mentioned a few other options. I said no. Then he said, "Well, can I come over?" I said, "If you don't think that would look like a commitment or something". As my mother, the eavesdropper, stood by I felt kind of guilty, but, what the heck, I was 20 and single and I didn't need anyone in my life who was so willing to make me a "dumpee". "Such a nice young man", Mom said, "why are you so mean to him?". What do mothers know about male/female relationships?
So over he came. The conversation was forced. I, filing my nails nonchalantly, and Paul talking mostly to my mother. We were preparing to move to a new house in Riggs Park, and Paul managed to perform the act of endearment that remained with my mother for the rest of her days. "Mrs. Steinberg", he said, "may I help you pack?"
The next few hours were spent taking paintings down from the walls and wrapping them in newspaper and filling boxes with lampshades and books and what-have-you. His reward was Mom's invitation to him to stay for dinner. Still playing it cool, I was about to turn 21 on a joyful note.
"And so", dear Samantha, that was the re-beginning of your Mimi and Poppop's relationship. Eventually, we both made the commitment which lasted 45 and a half years.........one of the best commitments of our lives.
By the way, the little verse I had recited to Sam went like this:
Oh, wonderful twenty
Oh, joy mixed with strife
The greatest. most miserable
Year of my life!
Cried barrels of tears
For each moment of fun,
But that has all changed
NOW THAT I'M TWENTY-ONE
Asking her what exciting thing she did to celebrate her birthday, I was glad to hear that it was a pleasant transition to adulthood.....dinners, parties with friends, etc. I confided to her that my own 20th year had been a really confusing one. I even recited the little verse that I had written when I became "official".
"You see", I explained to her, "when I was 20, that was the year that I got dumped. (Long pause) "Yes, dumped", I told her, "and by your Pop-Pop!) It went like this:
I was going out with Pop=Pop all summer. We hit it off. We had fun. His friends became my friends and vice versa. We were going "steadily" as it was called then, and as I detected a soft giggle in the background, I kept the story going, knowing how much of a kick Sam gets when hearing stories about my youthful flings.
"One night he said he had to talk to me about something serious, and as my heart pounded in anticipation of something more solid (he really was quite charming) he told me he didn't think we should continue seeing each other so frequently. . He was not ready for a commitment, etc., etc.,etc. Of course, I told him I felt the same, and that we would always remain friends.
Three long and agonizing weeks ensued, as I imagined him out dancing with some gorgeous babe and having a gay old time (in those days, that WAS an acceptably descriptive word). One Sunday morning the phone rang. My mother answered the phone. She said, "You = know -who is on the line". It was Paul. I said, audibly, "Oh, it's Stanley!!!" and picked up the phone with an enthusiastic, "Hi, Stan!". He said, "Hi, it's me". His voice was not easily disguised. "Did you miss me?" he asked. "Were you away?" I answered.
He asked if I wanted to go to a movie. I said no. He mentioned a few other options. I said no. Then he said, "Well, can I come over?" I said, "If you don't think that would look like a commitment or something". As my mother, the eavesdropper, stood by I felt kind of guilty, but, what the heck, I was 20 and single and I didn't need anyone in my life who was so willing to make me a "dumpee". "Such a nice young man", Mom said, "why are you so mean to him?". What do mothers know about male/female relationships?
So over he came. The conversation was forced. I, filing my nails nonchalantly, and Paul talking mostly to my mother. We were preparing to move to a new house in Riggs Park, and Paul managed to perform the act of endearment that remained with my mother for the rest of her days. "Mrs. Steinberg", he said, "may I help you pack?"
The next few hours were spent taking paintings down from the walls and wrapping them in newspaper and filling boxes with lampshades and books and what-have-you. His reward was Mom's invitation to him to stay for dinner. Still playing it cool, I was about to turn 21 on a joyful note.
"And so", dear Samantha, that was the re-beginning of your Mimi and Poppop's relationship. Eventually, we both made the commitment which lasted 45 and a half years.........one of the best commitments of our lives.
By the way, the little verse I had recited to Sam went like this:
Oh, wonderful twenty
Oh, joy mixed with strife
The greatest. most miserable
Year of my life!
Cried barrels of tears
For each moment of fun,
But that has all changed
NOW THAT I'M TWENTY-ONE
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Ever heard of "self plagiarism"?
This morning, as I do every morning, I was lying in my bed and singing. I like to see how many songs that I know the complete lyrics to, and, frankly, I astound myself at the thousands of them that have clogged my brain lo these many years for no substantial reason but to be able to say I know them!
It occurred to me on this particular morning that both Irving Berlin and George M. Cohan have something in common. They stole tunes from themselves!
For example, "I"m just a fella, a fella with an umbrella". Peter Lawford sings it in "Easter Parade". In talking about a break in the weather, it goes, ".....maybe the break in the weather will prove to be a break for me." In Berlin's song, "Isn't it a Lovely Day to be CAught in the Rain", Fred Astaire tells Ginger Rogers, "...the clouds broke, they broke and, oh, what a break for me!" Same composer, different songs. Gene Kelly, in "The Pirate" sings, "Be a Clown". Gene Kelly and Donald O'Connor in "Singin' in the Rain" sings, "Make 'em Laugh". Same tune. Different words. "I love a piano" echoes the song about being down on the farm in MIchigan, and "I wanna go there, I wanna go there" is where "I love a piano" came from, or versa visa!
Cohan didn't have nearly as many soundalikes as Berlin, but I must say that "For it was Mary, Mary" is the same tune as "H=A-double R-I G A N spells Harrigan".
And while we are on the subject of music, I must spout off about one of my pet peeves. WHY IS IT THAT NOBODY WHO IS ASKED TO SING OUR NATIONAL ANTHEM AT VARIOUS EVENTS WILL SING THE TUNEz?????? They improvise. Aretha sings it like a gospel song. LeeAnn Rimes like a love ballad and they and everyone else add at least 1,000 new notss to the original tune. There are only so many notes on the scale, but many new ones have been discovered lately. My message to all of these people who insist on fixing what wasn't broken is: "O, say, can you sing it properly?"
In an earlier blog I mentioned Rogers and Hammerstein's preoccupation with larks. They show up regularly in many of their songs. For the fun of it, without referring to my earlier tome, see how many lines with the word "lark" you can find.
Years ago there was a vaudevillian who claimed that many songs are simply compilations of others. He took the song, "Yes, we Have No Bananas" and really dissected it. He said the only original tune was in the word "bananas". When broken down, it went something like this: (Sing the tune that matches the words from the other songs)
Allelujah! bananas
O bring back my bonnie to me
I dreamed I dwelt in Tara's Halls
Out on the blue, blue sea
It was an old fashioned garden
In Mrs. Murphy's chowder
Allelujah !bananas
O bring back my bonnie to me.
Ultimately, I guess, it isn't illegal to borrow words and music from onesself. There aren't many other nitpickers like me out there and I am ptobably the only one to notice!
It occurred to me on this particular morning that both Irving Berlin and George M. Cohan have something in common. They stole tunes from themselves!
For example, "I"m just a fella, a fella with an umbrella". Peter Lawford sings it in "Easter Parade". In talking about a break in the weather, it goes, ".....maybe the break in the weather will prove to be a break for me." In Berlin's song, "Isn't it a Lovely Day to be CAught in the Rain", Fred Astaire tells Ginger Rogers, "...the clouds broke, they broke and, oh, what a break for me!" Same composer, different songs. Gene Kelly, in "The Pirate" sings, "Be a Clown". Gene Kelly and Donald O'Connor in "Singin' in the Rain" sings, "Make 'em Laugh". Same tune. Different words. "I love a piano" echoes the song about being down on the farm in MIchigan, and "I wanna go there, I wanna go there" is where "I love a piano" came from, or versa visa!
Cohan didn't have nearly as many soundalikes as Berlin, but I must say that "For it was Mary, Mary" is the same tune as "H=A-double R-I G A N spells Harrigan".
And while we are on the subject of music, I must spout off about one of my pet peeves. WHY IS IT THAT NOBODY WHO IS ASKED TO SING OUR NATIONAL ANTHEM AT VARIOUS EVENTS WILL SING THE TUNEz?????? They improvise. Aretha sings it like a gospel song. LeeAnn Rimes like a love ballad and they and everyone else add at least 1,000 new notss to the original tune. There are only so many notes on the scale, but many new ones have been discovered lately. My message to all of these people who insist on fixing what wasn't broken is: "O, say, can you sing it properly?"
In an earlier blog I mentioned Rogers and Hammerstein's preoccupation with larks. They show up regularly in many of their songs. For the fun of it, without referring to my earlier tome, see how many lines with the word "lark" you can find.
Years ago there was a vaudevillian who claimed that many songs are simply compilations of others. He took the song, "Yes, we Have No Bananas" and really dissected it. He said the only original tune was in the word "bananas". When broken down, it went something like this: (Sing the tune that matches the words from the other songs)
Allelujah! bananas
O bring back my bonnie to me
I dreamed I dwelt in Tara's Halls
Out on the blue, blue sea
It was an old fashioned garden
In Mrs. Murphy's chowder
Allelujah !bananas
O bring back my bonnie to me.
Ultimately, I guess, it isn't illegal to borrow words and music from onesself. There aren't many other nitpickers like me out there and I am ptobably the only one to notice!
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Climbing
The life that I lead (let me tell you in verse)
Is hard to endure, though it could be much worse!
It takes all my energy, gives me the blues
Just struggling to put on my slacks and my shoes.
Each step that I take often causes me pain
And I fall three steps backward for one step of gain.
The everyday problems that I must surmount
Sometimes seem like hurdles -- too many to count.
I'm slow as molasses, can't walk very far
When it rains there's no "making a dash for the car"
I guess that some people think it is pathetic
But to tell you the truth, I am very athletic.............
In every manner, in every way
I climb up Mt. Everest every day!
Is hard to endure, though it could be much worse!
It takes all my energy, gives me the blues
Just struggling to put on my slacks and my shoes.
Each step that I take often causes me pain
And I fall three steps backward for one step of gain.
The everyday problems that I must surmount
Sometimes seem like hurdles -- too many to count.
I'm slow as molasses, can't walk very far
When it rains there's no "making a dash for the car"
I guess that some people think it is pathetic
But to tell you the truth, I am very athletic.............
In every manner, in every way
I climb up Mt. Everest every day!
Sunday, January 18, 2009
So far snow is a no-show
For weeks now the weather man has been predicting snow for our area. I don't really happily anticipate harsh weather, but one must be prepared. With each report, I make sure that I stock up on lots of supplies for my kitchen, so that, God forbid, I don't starve to death if I can't get to the grocery store for a few days.
I buy all the usual things that people need to sustain themselves through a long, winter's hibernation: canned tuna, salmon, powdered milk, bagels (they freeze better than loaves) items to make soup, and.........................hot chocolate mix, cookies, frozen fudge bars, jelly beans (to avert a diabetic coma)and, of course, chips and dips. So the snow is imminent, and it is making me fatter by the day! It is a sin to allow food to go to waste, so, ultimately, it goes to WAIST!!
Why don't they stop trying to tell us days in advance that we are going to be stuck in our homes, and let the chips (multi-grain, of course) fall where they may? It wouldn't hurt any of us if we had to spend some time rationing what we have on hand, and, maybe, dropping a few pounds in the meantime! It seems the only way I will ever slim down is by enforced dieting......pretending I live in some third-world country where food is not so readily available as it is here at home. When I think of what others in this world have had to suffer through, it makes me very ashamed.
However, I have become accustomed to my snacks. Pretzels with Nancy Grace. Veggie dip and crackers with Dateline. And don['t forget good ole diet Jello (with sour cream).
Let one snowflake fall on our heads and everyone panics. There is no hope for me. I can panic along with the best of 'em. The time I go into my genuine panic mode is when I have a doctor's appointment looming on the far horizon, and I try to lose 20 pounds in a week. Never gonna happen. I fail to convince myself that there is no harm in snacking, in moderation, but my idea of moderation and the cardiologist's are two different things.
And so the vicious cycle keeps repeating and the weather man keeps predicting. Am I secretly hoping for a snowstorm to justify cake-baking, not only to "keep the house warm", but to use up that chocolate icing with the outdated "Sell by" stamp on the bottom of the can?
Look outside!! There are buds on the tree beneath my window!
DAMN!
I buy all the usual things that people need to sustain themselves through a long, winter's hibernation: canned tuna, salmon, powdered milk, bagels (they freeze better than loaves) items to make soup, and.........................hot chocolate mix, cookies, frozen fudge bars, jelly beans (to avert a diabetic coma)and, of course, chips and dips. So the snow is imminent, and it is making me fatter by the day! It is a sin to allow food to go to waste, so, ultimately, it goes to WAIST!!
Why don't they stop trying to tell us days in advance that we are going to be stuck in our homes, and let the chips (multi-grain, of course) fall where they may? It wouldn't hurt any of us if we had to spend some time rationing what we have on hand, and, maybe, dropping a few pounds in the meantime! It seems the only way I will ever slim down is by enforced dieting......pretending I live in some third-world country where food is not so readily available as it is here at home. When I think of what others in this world have had to suffer through, it makes me very ashamed.
However, I have become accustomed to my snacks. Pretzels with Nancy Grace. Veggie dip and crackers with Dateline. And don['t forget good ole diet Jello (with sour cream).
Let one snowflake fall on our heads and everyone panics. There is no hope for me. I can panic along with the best of 'em. The time I go into my genuine panic mode is when I have a doctor's appointment looming on the far horizon, and I try to lose 20 pounds in a week. Never gonna happen. I fail to convince myself that there is no harm in snacking, in moderation, but my idea of moderation and the cardiologist's are two different things.
And so the vicious cycle keeps repeating and the weather man keeps predicting. Am I secretly hoping for a snowstorm to justify cake-baking, not only to "keep the house warm", but to use up that chocolate icing with the outdated "Sell by" stamp on the bottom of the can?
Look outside!! There are buds on the tree beneath my window!
DAMN!
Friday, January 16, 2009
Looking for tiles has me FLOORED!!
Today I am venturing forth once more, trying to find a tile that I like for my kitchen floor. I am really stymied. Everyone ssys the same thing. "With a zillion samples in a million stores, you can't find something you like?" (A slight exaggeration).
Everything I look at is drab. Black with grey, Grey with black streaks, Brown and black with beige streaks, grey, brown and black.............DULL, DULL, DULL. I asked a salesman if he had something in mauve or aqua in a no-wax floor. He gave me a look that said, "Ma'am, the dinosaurs are extinct".
So off I go again, with hope in my heart. Wish me luck. Will report back when I have something positive to say.
Everything I look at is drab. Black with grey, Grey with black streaks, Brown and black with beige streaks, grey, brown and black.............DULL, DULL, DULL. I asked a salesman if he had something in mauve or aqua in a no-wax floor. He gave me a look that said, "Ma'am, the dinosaurs are extinct".
So off I go again, with hope in my heart. Wish me luck. Will report back when I have something positive to say.
Monday, January 12, 2009
january 12, 2009
Hi, Cookie!
I wrote a long tome just now and can't find it!
In case it shows up, I just wanted tosay I enjoyed our chat today, you look beautiful and sound wonderful, and MUST YOU GO SNORKELING???????
I read every word on your blog and you do have enough for two books!
Anyway, take care. Love you and kiss you.
I wrote a long tome just now and can't find it!
In case it shows up, I just wanted tosay I enjoyed our chat today, you look beautiful and sound wonderful, and MUST YOU GO SNORKELING???????
I read every word on your blog and you do have enough for two books!
Anyway, take care. Love you and kiss you.
JANUARY 12, 2009
Hi, Cookie!
I read every single word on your blog, but the snorkeling part made me uneasy. PLEASE BE CAREFUL and learn how to say, "There is an undertow here" in Arabic!! Just in case the water is rough.
All of your observations could, indeed, provide enough material for a couple of books.
You look wonderful and beautiful and very happy, "happy" being the most important.
Hope you get to read this. I don't have much of a readership yet so this is solely for YOU!!!I am going to a JRLW meeting tonight and will show the pics, etc.from Dubai to anyone caring to look and listen.............and maybe even to the others, too!
Take care. I love you.
I read every single word on your blog, but the snorkeling part made me uneasy. PLEASE BE CAREFUL and learn how to say, "There is an undertow here" in Arabic!! Just in case the water is rough.
All of your observations could, indeed, provide enough material for a couple of books.
You look wonderful and beautiful and very happy, "happy" being the most important.
Hope you get to read this. I don't have much of a readership yet so this is solely for YOU!!!I am going to a JRLW meeting tonight and will show the pics, etc.from Dubai to anyone caring to look and listen.............and maybe even to the others, too!
Take care. I love you.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Give Us This Day our Daily Blog.......The Ballad of Casey Anthony
The news is bad.......oh, my..........oh, mee-o
And worthy of the Kingston Trio
Who can Lizzie Borden's rival be?
Why, it's surely Casey Anthony!
A liar supreme, and so sweetly vicious
She invented a nanny............quite ficticious
And gave a real person her few moments of fame
Simply because she had the same name!
Casey keeps lying on every issue
She wipes at her eyes......can someone hand her a tissue?
If this nanny stole Caylee, and took her quite far....
How'd Caylee's body end up in Casey's car?
Now she sits in her jail cell, snacking and sleeping
And never once thinks about crying and weeping
How'd she pay for a nanny? With no job, it's not funny
Was the fictitious nanny paid with fictitious money?
One day the light will shine on her blunder
She murdered her child because she "stole her thunder"
But how could one help but being enchanted
With that sweet little angel, which to her God had granted?
So sneaky ole Casey keeps lying away
Does she think that the public was born yesterday?
When the court finds her guilty, then that will be that
And what fate for Casey when she gets up to bat???
Just say your prayers, Casey, it's time that you utter
A word of contrition out loud.....do not mutter.
We'll get out the duct tape and chloroform, too
And see how you like it, if it happens to you!
And worthy of the Kingston Trio
Who can Lizzie Borden's rival be?
Why, it's surely Casey Anthony!
A liar supreme, and so sweetly vicious
She invented a nanny............quite ficticious
And gave a real person her few moments of fame
Simply because she had the same name!
Casey keeps lying on every issue
She wipes at her eyes......can someone hand her a tissue?
If this nanny stole Caylee, and took her quite far....
How'd Caylee's body end up in Casey's car?
Now she sits in her jail cell, snacking and sleeping
And never once thinks about crying and weeping
How'd she pay for a nanny? With no job, it's not funny
Was the fictitious nanny paid with fictitious money?
One day the light will shine on her blunder
She murdered her child because she "stole her thunder"
But how could one help but being enchanted
With that sweet little angel, which to her God had granted?
So sneaky ole Casey keeps lying away
Does she think that the public was born yesterday?
When the court finds her guilty, then that will be that
And what fate for Casey when she gets up to bat???
Just say your prayers, Casey, it's time that you utter
A word of contrition out loud.....do not mutter.
We'll get out the duct tape and chloroform, too
And see how you like it, if it happens to you!
Friday, January 9, 2009
If I Could Only Understand English!
There are many words in our English language that are never used. I am assuming that they really ARE words, but one seldom hears them.
Having been involved in the reporting field, the written word is a fascinating thing to ponder, but for me leaves many questions unanswered.
Take, for instance, the word "overwhelmed". Have you ever heard of anyone simplsy being "whelmed"? Really? That whelms me.
And then there is "uncouth". Don't call me that name. I am as "couth" as you are. It seems that certain words have evolved to take the place of the old ones. Whatever happened to "resound"? It is now "resonate". And remember trying to "orient" yourself to a situation? Now try "orientating".
So many interpretations can be derived from certain words, posing quite a challenge for those just learning the language. For instance, when Beethoven was not writing music, would you say he was "DEcomposing"? If you are not really happy with something, can you merely be "joyed", rather than "OVERjoyed"?
I think I spend too much time alone with my thoughts. But, after all, as the title of this blog indicates, I always have "THOUGHTS FOR EVERY MOOD".
Anyway, that is a whole "nother" subject.
Having been involved in the reporting field, the written word is a fascinating thing to ponder, but for me leaves many questions unanswered.
Take, for instance, the word "overwhelmed". Have you ever heard of anyone simplsy being "whelmed"? Really? That whelms me.
And then there is "uncouth". Don't call me that name. I am as "couth" as you are. It seems that certain words have evolved to take the place of the old ones. Whatever happened to "resound"? It is now "resonate". And remember trying to "orient" yourself to a situation? Now try "orientating".
So many interpretations can be derived from certain words, posing quite a challenge for those just learning the language. For instance, when Beethoven was not writing music, would you say he was "DEcomposing"? If you are not really happy with something, can you merely be "joyed", rather than "OVERjoyed"?
I think I spend too much time alone with my thoughts. But, after all, as the title of this blog indicates, I always have "THOUGHTS FOR EVERY MOOD".
Anyway, that is a whole "nother" subject.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Memorizing lyrics.........what a lark!!
Being a self-made aficionado of knowing lyrics from musicals and popular songs of the forties all the way up to the seventies, I wonder why I have so many complete songs, words and music, running around in my head without having made a concerted effort to commit them to memory. This does not include obscure songs, such as "Will the Dentyne Lose its Flavor on the Bedpost Overnight?" or "I've Got Tears in My Ears", etc.
In my musical history, I have noticed that Oscar Hammerstein had a distinct preoccupation with birds, and, more specifically, larks. There is a great abundance of them in his lyrics, and also those of other lyricists.
From Oklahoma, "Surry With the Fringe on Top",,,,,,,,,,,, "and just as I'm thinkin' all the earth is still, a LARK will wake up in the medder". " Oklahoma, where at night my honey lamb and I set alone and spark, and watch a LARK makin' lazy circles in the sky."
From Sound of Music, "Climb Every Mountain"...... "like a LARK who is learning to fly"and the sweet, silver sound of the LARK", from "You'll Never Walk Alone".
From South Pacific, 'talk about a bird learnin' how to fly, makin' all the music he can make"
State Fair, "like a nightingale without a song to sing". It's a Grand Night for Singing", ".......the moon is flying high, and somewhere a bird who is bound to be heard is throwing his heart to the sky...."
As soon as I end these comments I will probably think of a few more mentions of larks and birds in general, but for now I've got to go.
See 'ya soon!
In my musical history, I have noticed that Oscar Hammerstein had a distinct preoccupation with birds, and, more specifically, larks. There is a great abundance of them in his lyrics, and also those of other lyricists.
From Oklahoma, "Surry With the Fringe on Top",,,,,,,,,,,, "and just as I'm thinkin' all the earth is still, a LARK will wake up in the medder". " Oklahoma, where at night my honey lamb and I set alone and spark, and watch a LARK makin' lazy circles in the sky."
From Sound of Music, "Climb Every Mountain"...... "like a LARK who is learning to fly"and the sweet, silver sound of the LARK", from "You'll Never Walk Alone".
From South Pacific, 'talk about a bird learnin' how to fly, makin' all the music he can make"
State Fair, "like a nightingale without a song to sing". It's a Grand Night for Singing", ".......the moon is flying high, and somewhere a bird who is bound to be heard is throwing his heart to the sky...."
As soon as I end these comments I will probably think of a few more mentions of larks and birds in general, but for now I've got to go.
See 'ya soon!
Waging war with myself is a losing battle
In my time I have done battle with many worthy adversaries..................the worst of which has been ME!
For the past several weeks I have been waging an ongoing battle with myself over the benefits and advantages regarding my granddaughter, a college junior, going to Dubai for an entire semester in a study abroad program, as opposed to what she would consider the down side of not going at all.
She is leaving tonight. She won the seige, but not without being informed in as non-scary a way as I could muster, of the possible pitfalls of a trip across the globe. My self-battle goes something like this:
It will look good on her resume.
She could get homesick.
A very smart girl, she can advance her international law career because of this once-in-a-lifetime experience.
She might hate her roommate, and then she would be stuck.
Modern technology is marvelous.
She might hate the food.
They have counselors and staff on site.
What if an axe-murderer gets loose from the local jail?
And so it goes. My final losing parry ends up being, "But I don't want her to go!" like anyone cares what I want, and like I can hear my mother whispering in my ear from wherever she is in the great beyond, "You raised your children. Let them raise theirs!!"
All right, I admit defeat. No more,"But can't you learn something in this country?" and no more, "But didn't you just recently learn to cross the street by yourself?"
I am outnumbered. The whole world has gone travel mad. So her parents approved (what do they know?) and her teachers approved (them, too) and, first and foremost, she approved. which makes her a far braver, more daring and certainly more secure and grown-up a person than her weary old Mimi.
Go forth, then, child of my child, with my blessing, however reluctant it may have been initially.....................and certainly with my love and admiration. Be safe. Come home safe and wiser than before. Remember that my heart goes with you.
For the past several weeks I have been waging an ongoing battle with myself over the benefits and advantages regarding my granddaughter, a college junior, going to Dubai for an entire semester in a study abroad program, as opposed to what she would consider the down side of not going at all.
She is leaving tonight. She won the seige, but not without being informed in as non-scary a way as I could muster, of the possible pitfalls of a trip across the globe. My self-battle goes something like this:
It will look good on her resume.
She could get homesick.
A very smart girl, she can advance her international law career because of this once-in-a-lifetime experience.
She might hate her roommate, and then she would be stuck.
Modern technology is marvelous.
She might hate the food.
They have counselors and staff on site.
What if an axe-murderer gets loose from the local jail?
And so it goes. My final losing parry ends up being, "But I don't want her to go!" like anyone cares what I want, and like I can hear my mother whispering in my ear from wherever she is in the great beyond, "You raised your children. Let them raise theirs!!"
All right, I admit defeat. No more,"But can't you learn something in this country?" and no more, "But didn't you just recently learn to cross the street by yourself?"
I am outnumbered. The whole world has gone travel mad. So her parents approved (what do they know?) and her teachers approved (them, too) and, first and foremost, she approved. which makes her a far braver, more daring and certainly more secure and grown-up a person than her weary old Mimi.
Go forth, then, child of my child, with my blessing, however reluctant it may have been initially.....................and certainly with my love and admiration. Be safe. Come home safe and wiser than before. Remember that my heart goes with you.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Things I did in kindergarten
I always thought that by the time one gets to be an "old granny" like me (or, actually, "Mi-Mi") that childish things like cutting and pasting would be reserved for merely that............for CHILDHOOD.
Now I find that it is frequently necessary, having my own grown-up educational toy, my computer, that I am reduced to doing these childhood things once again. Of course, it is more fun these days, when Crayola and scissors have been replaced by keyboards and control keys.
We learn every day, even us old ---- er, I should say ---- "mature" people. How will I ever be able to write my great American novel, and edit, paste, revise, subtract, insert, etc. without the full command of cutting and pasting????????????
I don't really need the spell checking aspect of this Bill Gates plaything. because since the beginning of time there are few words that I cannot spell...............unless it is in Swahili or some such remote form of communication.
It seems that ever since my three children were tots there has been nothing on this earth with the power to intimidate, aggravate and, yet, entertain like my friendly little Compaq. So now that my brilliant granddaughter is taking off for Dubai for a "study abroad" program, the need for having my own blog has become an important way to keep in touch. A friend of mine tells me, "Good, Samantha will come back speaking fluent Italian".
So we're not all geniuses at geography.
That's all for now. I just came across my bottle of Elmer's Glue, which I shall promptly toss out as I see no need for antiquated items cluttering up my office.
Now I find that it is frequently necessary, having my own grown-up educational toy, my computer, that I am reduced to doing these childhood things once again. Of course, it is more fun these days, when Crayola and scissors have been replaced by keyboards and control keys.
We learn every day, even us old ---- er, I should say ---- "mature" people. How will I ever be able to write my great American novel, and edit, paste, revise, subtract, insert, etc. without the full command of cutting and pasting????????????
I don't really need the spell checking aspect of this Bill Gates plaything. because since the beginning of time there are few words that I cannot spell...............unless it is in Swahili or some such remote form of communication.
It seems that ever since my three children were tots there has been nothing on this earth with the power to intimidate, aggravate and, yet, entertain like my friendly little Compaq. So now that my brilliant granddaughter is taking off for Dubai for a "study abroad" program, the need for having my own blog has become an important way to keep in touch. A friend of mine tells me, "Good, Samantha will come back speaking fluent Italian".
So we're not all geniuses at geography.
That's all for now. I just came across my bottle of Elmer's Glue, which I shall promptly toss out as I see no need for antiquated items cluttering up my office.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)