Found Friday

Things I have read or found this week on the Internets that I want to share. The picture above was stolen from Doug Petty. I think I am really envious of the guys going to the Boundary Waters. - Link on the left.

Enjoy!

"None of us is responsible for the complexion of his skin. _ This fact of nature offers no clue to the character or quality of the person underneath." _ -- Marian Anderson, 1941 _

That, by the way was the year I was born.
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A woman and a baby were in the doctor's examining room, waiting for the doctor to come in for the baby's first exam. The doctor arrived, and examined the baby, checked his weight, and being a little concerned,asked if the baby was breast-fed or bottle-fed. "Breast-fed," she replied.

"Well, strip down to your waist," the doctor ordered. She did. He pinched her nipples, pressed, kneaded, and rubbed both breasts for a while in a very professional and detailed examination. Motioning to her to get dressed, the doctor said,

"No wonder this baby is underweight. You don't have any milk."

"I know," she said, "I'm his Grandma, but I'm glad I came."


We know that the best predictor of human happiness is human relationships and the amount of time that people spend with family and friends.

* We act as though comfort and luxury were the chief requirements of life, when all that we need to make us really happy is something to be enthusiastic about. –Charles Kingsley, quoted in Reader’s Digest

Right now I would like that. I am discouraged when I hear of York Rite closings and consolidations. It seems that no one cares.






















HOW TO STAY YOUNG

1. Try everything twice. On Madams tombstone (of Whelan's and Madam) she said she wanted this epitaph: Tried everything twice...loved it both times!

2. Keep only cheerful friends.
The grouches pull you down. (keep this in mind if you are one of those grouches;)

3. Keep learning : Learn more about the computer, crafts, gardening, whatever. Never let the brain get idle. 'An idle mind is the devil's workshop.' And the devil's name is Alzheimer's!

4. Enjoy the simple things.

5. Laugh often, long and loud. Laugh until you gasp for breath. And if you have a friend who makes you laugh, spend lots and lots of time with HIM/HER.

6. The tears happen: Endure, grieve, and move on. The only person who is with us our entire life, is ourselves. LIVE while you are alive.

7. Surround yourself with what you love: Whether it's family, pets, keepsakes, music, plants, hobbies, whatever. Your home is your refuge. Dance around the house naked.

8. Cherish your health: If it is good, preserve it. If it is unstable, improve it. If it is beyond what you can improve, get help.

9. Don't take guilt trips. Take a trip to the mall, even to the next county, to a foreign country, but NOT to where the guilt is.

10. Tell the people you love that you love them, at every opportunity. I love you, my special friend.

11. Forgive now those who made you cry. You might not get a second time.

(I tried that but it seems that it just keeps happening. Sometime you just have to quit trying.)

And if you don't send this to at least 4 people - who cares? But do share this with someone .

Lost time can never be found.

Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.
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The Law of the Garbage Truck

One day I hopped in a taxi and we took off for the airport. We were driving in the right lane when suddenly a black car jumped out of a parking space right in front of us. My taxi driver slammed on his breaks, skidded, and missed the other car by just inches! The driver of the other car whipped his head around and started yelling at us.

My taxi driver just smiled and waved at the guy. And I mean, he was really friendly. So I asked, "Why did you just do that? This guy almost ruined your car and sent us to the hospital!"

This is when my taxi driver taught me what I now call, "The Law of the Garbage Truck." He explained that many people are like garbage trucks. They run around full of garbage, full of frustration, full of anger, and full of disappointment. As their garbage piles up, they need a place to dump it and sometimes they'll dump it on you.

Don't take it personally. Just smile, wave, wish them well, and move on. Don't take their garbage and spread it to other people at work, at home, or on the streets.

The bottom line is that successful people do not let garbage trucks take over their day. Life's too short to wake up in the morning with regrets, so.....

"Love the people who treat you right..

Pray for the ones who don't."

Life is ten percent what you make it and ninety percent how you take it!

God and Lawns

GOD: Frank, you know all about gardens and nature. What in the world is going on down there on the planet? What happened to the dandelions, violets, thistle and stuff I started eons ago? I had a perfect, no-maintenance garden plan. Those plants grow in any type of soil, withstand drought and multiply with abandon. The nectar from the long lasting blossoms attracts butterflies, honey bees and flocks of songbirds. I expected to see a vast garden of colors by now. But all I see are these green rectangles.

ST. FRANCIS: It's the tribes that settled there, Lord. The Suburbanites. They started calling your flowers "weeds" and went to great lengths to kill them and replace them with grass.

GOD: Grass? But it's so boring. It's not colorful. It doesn't attract butterflies, birds and bees, only grubs and sod worms. It's sensitive to temperatures. Do these Suburbanites really want all that grass growing there?

ST. FRANCIS: Apparently so, Lord. They go to great pains to grow it and keep it green. They begin each spring by fertilizing grass and poisoning any other plant that crops up in the lawn.

GOD: The spring rains and warm weather probably make grass grow really fast. That must make the Suburbanites happy.

ST. FRANCIS: Apparently not, Lord. As soon as it grows a little, they cut it -- sometimes twice a week.

GOD: They cut it? Do they then bail it like hay?

ST. FRANCIS: Not exactly, Lord. Most of them rake it up and put it in bags.

GOD: They bag it? Why? Is it a cash crop? Do they sell it?

ST. FRANCIS: No, Sir. Just the opposite. They pay to throw it away.

GOD: Now let me get this straight. They fertilize grass so it will grow. And when it does grow, they cut it off and pay to throw it away?

ST. FRANCIS: Yes, Sir.

GOD: These Suburbanites must be relieved in the summer when we cut back on the rain and turn up the heat. That surely slows the growth and saves them a lot of work.

ST. FRANCIS: You aren't going to believe this Lord. When the grass stops growing so fast, they drag out hoses and pay more money to water it so they can continue to mow it and pay to get rid of it.

GOD: What nonsense. At least they kept some of the trees. That was a sheer stroke of genius, if I do say so myself. The trees grow leaves in the spring to provide beauty and shade in the summer. In the autumn they fall to the ground and form a natural blanket to keep moisture in the soil and protect the trees and bushes. Plus, as they rot, the leaves form compost to enhance the soil. It's a natural circle of life.

ST. FRANCIS: You better sit down, Lord. The Suburbanites have drawn a new circle. As soon as the leaves fall, they rake them into great piles and pay to have them hauled away.

GOD: No. What do they do to protect the shrub and tree roots in the winter and to keep the soil moist and loose?

ST. FRANCIS: After throwing away the leaves, they go out and buy something which they call mulch. They haul it home and spread it around in place of the leaves.

GOD: And where do they get this mulch?

ST. FRANCIS: They cut down trees and grind them up to make the mulch.

GOD: Enough. I don't want to think about this anymore. St. Catherine, you're in charge of the arts. What movie have you scheduled for us tonight?

ST. CATHERINE: Dumb and Dumber, Lord. It's a real stupid movie about ...

GOD: Never mind, I think I just heard the whole story from St. Francis.

Boston Legal is the best show on TV. This from this week's show.

ARTYAL, Great Big Hugs, j

The Lay of the Last Minstrel (excerpt)

Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832)
"Breathes there the man with soul so dead..."


Breathes there the man with soul so dead
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land!
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned,
As home his footsteps he hath turned
From wandering on a foreign strand!
If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
For him no minstrel raptures swell;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonored , and unsung.

You Suck

"

You bitch, you killed me. You suck!"

Being dead sucks. Make that being undead sucks.

Literally. Just ask Thomas C. Flood. Waking up after a fantastic night unlike anything he's ever experienced, he discovers that his girlfriend, Jody—the woman of his dreams—is a vampire. And surprise! Now he's one, too.

Someone recommended this author to me and suggested that I read his book Lamb. I found it to be very entertaining. So when I needed another book (I was in Des Moines and didn't have anything to read) I went to the East Village Bookstore and ran across this book. It is subtitled "A Love Story" and it is only about vampires. I enjoyed this book as much if not more than Lamb. Moore is witty, bright and just plain funny. I recommend it.

Since I have lost my enthusiasm for most everything these days (long story - same old same old) I have withdrawn into my usual escape mode of reading. I am now reading Ken Follett's World Without End. This is a sequel (set two centuries later) to his Pillars of the Earth. I was caught up in it right away and I am enjoying it a lot.

In other news
I had to skip breakfast this morning as I had to go have an ultra sound (both babies are doing well and the technician told me I had one of each when I asked her Boy or Girl?) - Actually it was to check on my kidneys. Dr. Crano took me off the diabetic medicine and wanted to check my kidney functions. So in addition to having the ultra sound I have to collect my urine for 24 hours. (I asked for two containers) So I really can't go far from home as I have to use the collection vessel. If I were to miss one I have to start all over again. So this is more information than you wanted to know but there you have it. Something new to worry about.

I went to a meeting tonight (for a little while) to talk about Cyclone Chapter Order of DeMolay. I used to be on the Board. The Chapter has been declining and this was to discuss ways to revitalize the chapter. I hope something can be done. DeMolay is a great organization. One of its strengths is that the boys (if they are ready) get to pretty much choose their own activities. In Boy Scouts and 4-H there is a pre-set program of activities and that is one way to go about it. DeMolay tries to teach the boys leadership and the ability to work together to plan and then participate and evaluate their activities. I think it is good but until the boys are ready to do those things they need guidance from the adult leadership.

I am just not excited about things right now. I don't really know why but that is the way it is. Perhaps it is let-down after a really super weekend last week and nothing that I am really looking forward to doing right now. Oh well, this too will pass. Bigger Hugs, j (ARTYAL)

Beowulf

From Beowulf (Translated from the Old English)

THEN from the moorland, by misty crags,
with God's wrath laden, Grendel came.
The monster was minded of mankind now
sundry to seize in the stately house.
…
He spied in hall the hero-band,
kin and clansmen clustered asleep,
hardy liegemen. Then laughed his heart;
for the monster was minded, ere morn should dawn,
savage, to sever the soul of each,
life from body, since lusty banquet
waited his will! But Wyrd forbade him
to seize any more of men on earth
after that evening. Eagerly watched
Hygelac's kinsman his cursed foe,
how he would fare in fell attack.
Not that the monster was minded to pause!
Straightway he seized a sleeping warrior
for the first, and tore him fiercely asunder,
the bone-frame bit, drank blood in streams,
swallowed him piecemeal: swiftly thus
the lifeless corse was clear devoured,
e'en feet and hands. Then farther he hied;
for the hardy hero with hand he grasped,
felt for the foe with fiendish claw,
for the hero reclining, -- who clutched it boldly,
prompt to answer, propped on his arm.
Soon then saw that shepherd-of-evils
that never he met in this middle-world,
in the ways of earth, another wight
with heavier hand-gripe; at heart he feared,
sorrowed in soul, -- none the sooner escaped!
Fain would he flee, his fastness seek,
the den of devils: no doings now
such as oft he had done in days of old!
Then bethought him the hardy Hygelac-thane
of his boast at evening: up he bounded,
grasped firm his foe, whose fingers cracked.
The fiend made off, but the earl close followed.
The monster meant -- if he might at all --
to fling himself free, and far away
fly to the fens, -- knew his fingers' power
in the gripe of the grim one. Gruesome march
to Heorot this monster of harm had made!
Din filled the room; the Danes were bereft,
castle-dwellers and clansmen all,
earls, of their ale. Angry were both
those savage hall-guards: the house resounded.
Wonder it was the wine-hall firm
in the strain of their struggle stood, to earth
the fair house fell not; too fast it was
within and without by its iron bands
craftily clamped; though there crashed from sill
many a mead-bench -- men have told me --
gay with gold, where the grim foes wrestled.
So well had weened the wisest Scyldings
that not ever at all might any man
that bone-decked, brave house break asunder,
crush by craft, -- unless clasp of fire
in smoke engulfed it. -- Again uprose
din redoubled. Danes of the North
with fear and frenzy were filled, each one,
who from the wall that wailing heard,
God's foe sounding his grisly song,
cry of the conquered, clamorous pain
from captive of hell. Too closely held him
he who of men in might was strongest
in that same day of this our life.
…
Soon he found, who in former days,
harmful in heart and hated of God,
on many a man such murder wrought,
that the frame of his body failed him now.
For him the keen-souled kinsman of Hygelac
held in hand; hateful alive
was each to other. The outlaw dire
took mortal hurt; a mighty wound
showed on his shoulder, and sinews cracked,
and the bone-frame burst. To Beowulf now
the glory was given, and Grendel thence
death-sick his den in the dark moor sought,
noisome abode: he knew too well
that here was the last of life, an end
of his days on earth.

Welcome Doug and Kurt

Two more Brothers have started blogging.

Kurt Hoffman at Kurt's Krazy Kommentaries.

Doug Petty at Heard Around the Campfire.

Welcome Brothers, I look forward to your Posts.

Where is the Promise?

The Promise of Spring

If you look very closely you can see the hint of green and buds coming out on the trees.

The world is renewing itself.









Across the street the forsythia bush has opened it's yellow leaves.










And with what has happened in Texas I feel the need to re-publish this poem. I wonder where the promise of Spring is for the FLDS children who remain in custody of parents who would treat them the way the children in Texas were treated. Thankfully some of them are now being protected.

A Prayer for Children

By MARIAN WRIGHT EDELMAN

We pray for children
Who sneak popsicles before supper,
Who erase holes in math workbooks,
Who can never find their shoes.

And we pray for those
Who stare at photographers from behind barbed wire,
Who can't bound down the street in a new pair of sneakers,
Who never "counted potatoes,"
Who are born in places we wouldn't be caught dead,
Who never go to the circus,
Who live in an X-rated world.

We pray for children
Who bring us sticky kisses and fistfuls of dandelions,
Who hug us in a hurry and forget their lunch money.
And we pray for those
Who never get dessert,
Who have no safe blanket to drag behind them,
Who watch their parents watch them die,
Who can't find any bread to steal,
Who don't have any rooms to clean up,
Whose pictures aren't on anybody's dresser,
Whose monsters are real.

We pray for children
Who spend all their allowance before Tuesday,
Who throw tantrums in the grocery store and pick at their food,
Who like ghost stories,
Who shove dirty clothes under the bed and never rinse out the tub,
Who get visits from the tooth fairy,
Who don't like to be kissed in front of the carpool,
Who squirm in church or temple and scream in the phone,
Whose tears we sometimes laugh at and whose smiles can make us cry.

And we pray for those
Whose nightmares come in the daytime,
Who will eat anything,
Who have never seen a dentist,
Who aren't spoiled by anybody,
Who go to bed hungry and cry themselves to sleep,
Who live and move, but have no being.

We pray for children who want to be carried and for those who must,
For those we never give up on and for those who don't get a second chance.
For those we smother ... and for those who will grab the hand of anybody kind enough to offer it.

And I pray for children who have parents who mistreat and abuse them and who are cast out because they are different.
And for those who grow up exploited by adults in the name of religion. Or who are exploited and abused by those they should be able to trust.
And I pray for those who are too blind to see the great evil that does this to God's precious little ones and would excuse it or justify it for any reason

Suffer the little Children - Don't make them suffer. Where is the promise for them?