This video guts me. It filets me in a way that makes me more aware of what I should be aware of and maybe what I shouldn’t be aware of as much.
QUESTIONS, CLASS?
Uhhhhh. . .if it takes a Village
. . .maybe it really takes a
BETTER ONE!
Who Cares - What Matters
This video guts me. It filets me in a way that makes me more aware of what I should be aware of and maybe what I shouldn’t be aware of as much.
It’s kind of amazing isn’t it. . .
It’s Valentine’s Day week,
Which means it’s a great day for people who really love each other
but not so great day for people that are grieving
or folks who have lost
or others who are alone. . .
Wonder if it
WASN’T
about that kind of love
Wonder if Valentine’s Day
was actually a gift that you give to somebody,
that includes Everybody
no matter
race
creed
religion
sex
no matter alone
no matter grieving
no matter sad or happy
What if it was a day that you
just loved
just to love
and maybe even better
Wonder if it was just a day to love
the way a person deserves to be loved
now that would be quite a day
we’re celebrating, right
and guess what
. . .not just on February 14
How about let’s make it that kind of a day
not only on Wednesday
but each day
how about
T O D A Y
before the 14th of February
(or the 14th of any other month)
S E E. . .
When Valentine’s Day is more than just a day
it has the greatest opportunity to become a
l i f e s t y l e
THE OXFORD ENGLISH DICTIONARY
THE O. E. D.
It’s been one of my constant companions since my college days. Way before that I had a love affair with WORDS and books filled with WORDS and poetry who plays with WORDS. . .
I N T O X I C A T I N G
Likewise
I like to know not only the root of the word and where it came from but also phrases and their origins, too. . .
L I K E:
People used to use urine to tan animal skins, so families used to all pee in a pot & then once a day it was taken & Sold to the tannery…….if you had to do this to survive you were “Piss Poor”
But worse than that were the really poor folk who couldn’t even afford to buy a pot……they “didn’t have a pot to piss in” & were the lowest of the low
The next time you are washing your hands and complain because the water temperature isn’t just how you like it, think about how things used to be.
Here are some facts about the 1500s:
Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in May, and they still smelled pretty good by June.. However, since they were starting to smell . …… . Brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odor. Hence the custom today of carrying a bouquet when getting Married.
Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot water. The man of the house had the privilege of the nice clean water, then all the other sons and men, then the women and finally the children. Last of all the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it.. Hence the saying, “Don’t throw the baby out with the Bath water!”
Houses had thatched roofs-thick straw-piled high, with no wood underneath. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so all the cats and other small animals (mice, bugs) lived in the roof. When it rained it became slippery and sometimes the animals would slip and fall off the roof… Hence the saying “It’s raining cats and dogs.”
There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and other droppings could mess up your nice clean bed. Hence, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That’s how canopy beds came into existence.
The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt. Hence the saying, “Dirt poor.” The wealthy had slate floors that would get slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread thresh (straw) on floor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on, they added more thresh until, when you opened the door, it would all start slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed in the entrance-way. Hence: a thresh hold.
In those old days, they cooked in the kitchen with a big kettle that always hung over the fire.. Every day they lit the fire and added things to the pot. They ate mostly vegetables and did not get much meat. They would eat the stew for dinner, leaving leftovers in the pot to get cold overnight and then start over the next day. Sometimes stew had food in it that had been there for quite a while. Hence the rhyme: Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old. Sometimes they could obtain pork, which made them feel quite special. When visitors came over, they would hang up their bacon to show off. It was a sign of wealth that a man could, “bring home the bacon.” They would cut off a little to share with guests and would all sit around and chew the fat.
Those with money had plates made of pewter. Food with high acid content caused some of the lead to leach onto the food, causing lead poisoning death. This happened most often with tomatoes, so for the next 400 years or so, tomatoes were considered poisonous.
Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or the upper crust.
Lead cups were used to drink ale or whisky. The combination would Sometimes knock the imbibers out for a couple of days. Someone walking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial.. They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they would wake up. Hence the custom of holding a wake.
England is old and small and the local folks started running out of places to bury people. So they would dig up coffins and would take the bones to a bone-house, and reuse the grave. When reopening these coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realized they had been burying people alive… So they would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell. Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night (the graveyard shift.) to listen for the bell; thus, someone could be, saved by the bell or was considered a dead ringer.
INTERESTING STUFF. . . ?
In my mind there’s only one thing more interesting:
P E O P L E
and the simple, powerful question of
WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT
O R
even better,
WHAT DOES THAT MEAN FOR YOU?
Yeah, I love me my words
(and people who use them)
THERE ARE NO WORDS. . .
we say
and then. . .
All we do is use
w O r D s
to say
THERE ARE NO WORDS. . .
We’re walking
talking
DICTIONARIES
not so much looking for definitions
as for real, living
M e A n I n G s
and dare we try
GIVING THEM
Wait. . What. . . ?
Did we just play
THE OPPOSITE GAME
(or have we never stopped)
Heartwarming story – especially for Simon and Garfunkel lovers like me . . . . . “Hello darkness, my old friend…” Everybody knows the iconic Simon & Garfunkel song, but do you know the amazing story behind the first line of The Sounds of Silence?
It began 62 years ago, when Arthur “Art” Garfunkel, a Jewish kid from Queens, enrolled in Columbia University. During freshman orientation, Art met a student from Buffalo named Sandy Greenberg, and they immediately bonded over their shared passion for literature and music. Art and Sandy became roommates and best friends. With the idealism of youth, they promised to be there for each other no matter what.
Soon after starting college, Sandy was struck by tragedy. His vision became blurry and although doctors diagnosed it as temporary conjunctivitis, the problem grew worse. Finally after seeing a specialist, Sandy received the devastating news that severe glaucoma was destroying his optic nerves. The young man with such a bright future would soon be completely blind.
Sandy was devastated and fell into a deep depression. He gave up his dream of becoming a lawyer and moved back to Buffalo, where he worried about being a burden to his financially-struggling family. Consumed with shame and fear, Sandy cut off contact with his old friends, refusing to answer letters or return phone calls.
Then suddenly, to Sandy’s shock, his buddy Art showed up at the front door. He was not going to allow his best friend to give up on life, so he bought a ticket and flew up to Buffalo unannounced. Art convinced Sandy to give college another go, and promised that he would be right by his side to make sure he didn’t fall – literally or figuratively.
Art kept his promise, faithfully escorting Sandy around campus and effectively serving as his eyes. It was important to Art that even though Sandy had been plunged into a world of darkness, he should never feel alone. Art actually started calling himself “Darkness” to demonstrate his empathy with his friend. He’d say things like, “Darkness is going to read to you now.” Art organized his life around helping Sandy.
One day, Art was guiding Sandy through crowded Grand Central Station when he suddenly said he had to go and left his friend alone and petrified. Sandy stumbled, bumped into people, and fell, cutting a gash in his shin. After a couple of hellish hours, Sandy finally got on the right subway train. After exiting the station at 116th street, Sandy bumped into someone who quickly apologized – and Sandy immediately recognized Art’s voice! Turned out his trusty friend had followed him the whole way home, making sure he was safe and giving him the priceless gift of independence. Sandy later said, “That moment was the spark that caused me to live a completely different life, without fear, without doubt. For that I am tremendously grateful to my friend.”
Sandy graduated from Columbia and then earned graduate degrees at Harvard and Oxford. He married his high school sweetheart and became an extremely successful entrepreneur and philanthropist.
While at Oxford, Sandy got a call from Art. This time Art was the one who needed help. He’d formed a folk rock duo with his high school pal Paul Simon, and they desperately needed $400 to record their first album. Sandy and his wife Sue had literally $404 in their bank account, but without hesitation Sandy gave his old friend what he needed.
Art and Paul’s first album was not a success, but one of the songs, The Sounds of Silence, became a #1 hit a year later. The opening line echoed the way Sandy always greeted Art. Simon & Garfunkel went on to become one of the most beloved musical acts in history.
The two Columbia graduates, each of whom has added so much to the world in his own way, are still best friends. Art Garfunkel said that when he became friends with Sandy, “my real life emerged. I became a better guy in my own eyes, and began to see who I was – somebody who gives to a friend.” Sandy describes himself as “the luckiest man in the world.”
Adapted from Sandy Greenberg’s memoir: “Hello Darkness, My Old Friend: How Daring Dreams and Unyielding Friendship Turned One Man’s Blindness into an Extraordinary Vision for Life.”
QUITE A STORY, huh. . . ?
I’m not one for COVERS
and I’m really not a big believer that
A COVER
could be better than the Original
until I did a funeral for a young man
and as people were filing past his casket
he requested that THIS COVER
by the heavy metal group DISTURBED
would be played
and well
. . .well, you tell me. . .
TELL ME WHAT
YOUR SOUND OF SILENCE
S H O U T S
THERE ARE SOME WORDS
NOT MY OWN
THAT SAY SO MUCH MORE
THAN I COULD EVER WRITE
OR SAY
B U T
need to read or hear
than any that could bounce around in my head
or spill out of my pen
L I K E:
my brain and
heart divorceda decade agoover who was
to blame about
how big of a mess
I have becomeeventually,
they couldn’t be
in the same room
with each othernow my head and heart
share custody of meI stay with my brain
during the weekand my heart
gets me on weekendsthey never speak to one another
– instead, they give me
– the same note to pass
– to each other every week
and their notes they
send to one another always
says the same thing:“This is all your fault”
on Sundays
my heart complains
about how my
head has let me down
in the pastand on Wednesday
my head lists all
of the times my
heart has screwed
things up for me
in the futurethey blame each
other for the
state of my lifethere’s been a lot
of yelling – and cryingso,
lately, I’ve been
spending a lot of
time with my gut
who serves as my
unofficial therapistmost nights, I sneak out of the
window in my ribcageand slide down my spine
and collapse on my
gut’s plush leather chair
that’s always open for me~ and I just sit sit sit sit
until the sun comes uplast evening,
my gut asked me
if I was having a hard
time being caught
between my heart
and my headI nodded
I said I didn’t know
if I could live with
either of them anymore“my heart is always sad about
something that happened yesterday
while my head is always worried
about something that may happen tomorrow,”
I lamentedmy gut squeezed my hand
“I just can’t live with
my mistakes of the past
or my anxiety about the future,”
I sighedmy gut smiled and said:
“in that case,
you should
go stay with your
lungs for a while,”I was confused
– the look on my face gave it away
“if you are exhausted about
your heart’s obsession with
the fixed past and your mind’s focus
on the uncertain futureyour lungs are the perfect place for you
there is no yesterday in your lungs
there is no tomorrow there eitherthere is only now
there is only inhale
there is only exhale
there is only this momentthere is only breath
and in that breath
you can rest while your
heart and head work
their relationship out.”this morning,
while my brain
was busy reading
tea leavesand while my
heart was staring
at old photographsI packed a little
bag and walked
to the door of
my lungsbefore I could even knock
she opened the door
with a smile and as
a gust of air embraced me
she said“what took you so long?”
~ John Roedel (johnroedel.com)
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. . .
It’s really hard to
S H U S H
especially this time of the year
and it’s almost impossible to
KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT
YOUR EYES CLOSED
YOU EARS OPEN
all at once
but
before you listen to this song again
read the lyrics:
I Have Enough By JJ Heller, David Heller, and Taylor Leonhardt
There’s a box up in the attic
Full of treasures from my past
Paper snowmen from a season
Melting into spring too fast
Clay and glitter, wood and glue
May not seem like much to you
It reminds me of
All the ones I love
When I think of them
I think I have enough
We may not live up in the mountains
Like we always wanted to
But this old house shines like a diamond
With Christmas lights hung on the roof
It might not be the life I dreamed
But it’s become my favorite scene
It reminds me of
All the ones I love
When I think of them
I think have enough
Everything I want this Christmas
Doesn’t cost a single thing
Cookies baking in the kitchen
Hearing little voices sing
Tell the story once again
Peace on earth, goodwill to men
It reminds me of
All the ones I love
When I think of them
I think I have enough
It reminds me of
All the ones I love
When I think of them
I think I have enough
. . .AND
just what does three ties have to do with
THAT SONG. . . ?
EVERYTHING!
I’ve had those ties for years
but not for as long as they’ve actually been created. . .
The two on the left
are between 65-70 years old
. . .I inherited from my grandfather
and rarely wear them
because they are fragile
and I don’t want the last time I tie them
to be the last time I tie them. . .
The tie on the far right
is my father-in-law’s
that I inherited shortly after he died
and no one in the family wanted it
. . .none of them
would make the cover of
G Q
but they continue to flutter through the pages
of my mind
in a most gentle
but powerful way
that makes me feel close
to both of these men
ESPECIALLY AT CHRISTMAS
when I realize
much like
J J Heller’s song,
I HAVE ENOUGH
. . .What takes you
T H E R E
what song
what food
what smell
what word
what texture
what piece of clothing
what scene
what feeling
takes you way past
that box in the attic
out of your head
and into your heart
of memories
that makes you feel:
I HAVE ENOUGH
. . .more importantly
what song
what food
what smell
what word
what texture
what piece of clothing,
what scene
what feeling
WILL YOU BE SHARING
that’ll keep you out of some
attic box
past someone’s memory
but burrowed deep
into their heart
and forever
in the delicate
l a c e s
of their
soul
that’ll forever make them feel:
I
H A V E
E N O U G H
Pssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssst:
GIVE THAT
(no receipts or returns necessary)
also mean time, mid-14c., mene-time, “interim, interval between one specified time and another” (now only in in the mean time), from mean (adj.2) “middle, intermediate” + time (n.). Late 14c. as an adverb, “during the interval (between one specified time and another).” As a noun, properly written as two words but commonly as one, after the adverb. In the mean space “meanwhile” was in use 16c.-18c.
Have you ever done that. . . ?
Thought
. . .Actually used a word or a phrase
thinking it to be one thing
but having it literally have a different
d e f i n i t i o n
. . .u s e
Maybe it’s just all about
P E R S P E C T I V E
of not just how we see things
but how
YOU
see them
and more,
SHARE THEM. . .
“IN THE MEANTIME,”
I’ve said that a million of times
seemingly using it in the right way
as defined from above
but these past two weeks
with the World
literally being turned on its axis
it’s taken on another
a not-so-great-new-meaning:
In the
M E A N
time
See it?
GET IT?
BELIEVE IT?
Are we living in the
MEAN
time
and by
M E A N
I mean
Nasty
Evil
Low
Vile
Stingy
Despicable
Contemptible
Cruel
Wicked
Vicious
Malicious
Immoral
Unethical
Hateful
Unkind
Wretched
Selfish
(Did I miss any?)
Over toilet paper
Hand sanitizer
Bottled water
Food
Cleaning equipment
Personal Protective Equipment
Attitudes
Beliefs
Prejudices
(Did I miss any?)
But in the
MEAN
time
I choose to be
kind
loving
forgiving
accepting
compassionate
brave
hopeful
grateful
sympathetic
empathetic
caring
inspiring
aspiring
faithful
friendly
confident
motivated
motivating
serving
giving
healing
happy
inclusive
(Did I miss any?)
Then. . .
Help me fill in the
BLANK
but in the
M E A N
time
I’ve known Stephanie Ford Jessup nearly all of her life; her parents, Tom and Diane are two of the finest people I know and her family is one of the best ever to be called friends.
I accidentally came across her video last week.
Stephanie is an American Sign Language Teacher at Medina High School.
You can easily tell that American Sign Language (ASL) is a very visual language…I’ve come to learn over the past week that with Signing, the brain processes this linguistic information through our eyes…what I love about this language is what Stephanie does so awesomely:
THE SHAPE, PLACEMENT, AND MOVEMENT OF THE HANDS, AS WELL AS THE FACIAL AND BODY MOVEMENTS, ALL PLAY IMPORTANT PARTS IN NOT ONLY CONVEYING INFORMATION, BUT ACTUALLY EXPRESSING AND MAKING IT UNDERSTOOD.
Heavy stuff, huh…but WHAT WE JUST SAW is feather light and more, inspires you to float about the what is said or heard, but begs to be experienced.
SO. . .what about the song that was being signed?
Uh-Ohhhhhhhh. . .tricky stuff no matter how we communicate or are communicated.
The Lyrics:
MY LOVER’S GOT HUMOUR
SHE’S THE GIGGLE AT A FUNERAL
KNOWS EVERYBODY’S DISAPPROVAL
I SHOULD’VE WORSHIPPED HER SOONER
IF THE HEAVENS EVER DID SPEAK
SHE’S THE LAST TRUE MOUTHPIECE
EVERY SUNDAY’S GETTING MORE BLEAK
A FRESH POISON EACH WEEK
“WE WERE BORN SICK” YOU HEARD THEM SAY IT
MY CHURCH OFFERS NO ABSOLUTES
SHE TELLS ME ‘WORSHIP IN THE BEDROOM’
THE ONLY HEAVEN I’LL BE SENT TO
IS WHEN I’M ALONE WITH YOU
I WAS BORN SICK
BUT I LOVE IT
COMMAND ME TO BE WELL
AAAY, AMEN. AMEN. AMEN.
TAKE ME TO CHURCH
I’LL WORSIP LIKE A DOG AT THE SHRINE OF YOUR LIES
I’LL TELL YOU MY SINS SO YOU CAN SHARPEN IN YOUR KNIFE
OFFER ME THAT DEATHLESS DEATH
GOOD GOD, LET ME GIVE YOU MY LIFE
IF I’M A PAGAN OF THE GOOD TIMES
MY LOVER’S THE SUNLIGHT
TO KEEP THE GODDESS ON MY SIDE
SHE DEMANDS A SACRIFICE
DRAIN THE WHOLE SEA
GET SOMETHING SHINY
SOMETHING MEATY FOR THE MAIN COURSE
THAT’S A FINE-LOOKING HIGH HORSE
WHAT YOU GOT IN THE STABLE
WE’VE A LOT OF STARVING FAITHFUL
THAT LOOKS TASTY
THAT LOOKS PLENTY
THIS IS HUNGRY WORK
TAKE ME TO CHURCH
I’LL WORSHIP LIKE A DOG AT THE SHRINE OF YOUR LIES
I’LL TELL YOU MY SINS SO YOU CAN SHARPEN YOUR KNIFE
OFFER ME MY DEATHLESS DEATH
GOOD GOD, LET ME GIVE YOU MY LIFE
NO MASTERS OR KINGS
WHEN THE RITUAL BEGINS
THERE IS NO SWEETER INNOCENCE THAN OUR GENTLE SIN
IN THE MADNESS AND SOIL OF THAT SAD EARTHLY SCENE
ONLY THEN I AM HUMAN
ONLY THEN I AM CLEAN
OOOH OH. AMEN. AMEN. AMEN.
TAKE ME TO CHURCH
I’LL WORSHIP LIKE A DOG AT THE SHRINE OF YOUR LIES
I’LL TELL YOU MY SINS SO YOU CAN SHARPEN YOUR KNIFE
OFFER ME THAT DEATHLESS DEATH
GOOD GOD, LET ME GIVE YOU MY LIFE.
Your interpretation?
When I asked Stephanie for permission to use this, she warned me that one of the interpretations of this song is related to gay people who go to church seeking to worship God but instead are told they won’t go to Heaven unless they’re Straight and about the countless frustrations of having a partner and others looking down and condemning them.
True enough, look at the original YouTube video of the song.
Some say it slams the Church for trying to be the Church.
The author, Hozier himself said that the song is not really about either:
“THE SONG IS ABOUT ASSERTING YOURSELF AND RECLAIMING YOUR HUMANITY THROUGH AN ACT OF LOVE. TURNING YOUR BACK ON THE THEORETICAL THING, SOMETHING THAT’S NOT TANGIBLE, AND CHOOSING TO WORSHIP OR LOVE SOMETHING THAT IS TANGIBLE AND REAL”
Pssssssst. . .all of that means nothing, not even what the writer of the song/lyrics, does it?
WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO YOU?
Not just this song or any other. . .but what’s
C O M M U N I C A T E D
what’s actually Said
what’s actually Heard
Really. . .
It’s one thing to hear the lyrics
It’s one thing to see the Signs
It’s one thing to watch the facial expressions
It’s one thing to observe the body movements
It’s one thing to KNOW the Person Signing
It’s one thing to interpret it through your filter and experiences. . .
Just when you think you’ve GOT IT
when it comes to Communication
Uhhhhhhhhhhh. . .
YOU DON’T
Is there such a thing as a Universal Language?
UNSPOKEN
but
HEARD,
UNDERSTOOD?
Maybe not. . .
Maybe not if it doesn’t Universally includes us ALL
Hear That
Speak That
Experience That
SHARE THAT. . .anyway it needs to be heard, spoken, experienced, Understood
Always
ALL-WAYS!
It’s so much more than just The Sign of the Times.
More than feathery pages. . .
More than words on paper. . .
We are all a Story in The Book.
Do you know this one?
A grandson of slaves, a boy was born in a poor neighborhood of New Orleans
His dad abandoned the family when he was an infant. His mother became a prostitute and the kid and his sister had to live with their grandmother. Early in life, he proved to be gifted for music and, with three other kids, he sang in the streets and became a professional of sorts by having coins thrown at him.
A Jewish family, Karnosvsky, who had immigrated from Lithuania to the USA, had pity for the 7-yr-old boy and brought him into their home. Initially given ‘work’ in the House, to feed this hungry child. Then he remained and slept in this Jewish family home where, for the first time in his life, he was treated with kindness. When he went to bed, Mrs. Karnovsky sang him a Russian lullaby that he would sing with her.
Later, he learned to sing and play several Russian and Jewish songs. Over time, this boy became the adopted son of this family. The Karnovsky’s gave him money to buy his very first trumpet; they sincerely admired his musical talent. When he became a more established professional musician, he used these Jewish melodies in compositions, such as St. James Infirmary and Go Down, Moses.
The little boy grew up and wrote a book about this Jewish family who had adopted him in 1907. In memory of this family and until the end of this life, he wore a Star of David and he said that it is in this family that he had learned “how to live real life and determination.”
The little boy?
Louis Armstrong. . .
More than feathery pages. . .
More than words on paper. . .
We are all a Story in the Book.
Hmmmmm. . .
What a Wonderful World, huh?
Pssssssst: You’re Story–it’s still be written. . . .
Make it E X T R A
Ordinary!
It’s quite the Symphony not only waiting to be fully composed, but
played. . .sung. . .heard!
You OWE it to the World. . .
and the World awaits.