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4 April 2005

13 March 2005

WHEN OUR WOMEN GO CRAZY

By: Julia Kasdorf in "Field" - Spring 1993

When our women go crazy, they're scared
there won't be enough meat in the house.
They keep asking, but how will we eat?
Who will cook? Will there be enough?
Mother to daughter, it's always the same questions.
The sisters and aunts recognize symptoms:

she thinks there's no food, same as Mommy
before they sent her away to that place,
and she thinks if she goes, the men will eat
whatever they find right out of the saucepans.

When our women are sane, they can tomatoes
and simmer big pots of soup for the freezer.
They are satisfied arranging spice tins
on cupboard shelves lined with clean paper.
They save all the leftovers under tight lids
and only throw them away when they're rotten.
Their refrigerators are always immaculate and full,
which is also the cause that our women are crazy.

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10 March 2005

EIGHT REASONS TO
MARRY AN OLDER WOMAN
By: Benjamin Franklin

1. Because they have more knowledge of the world, and their minds are better stored with observations, their conversation is more improving, and more lastingly agreeable.
2. Because when women cease to be handsome, they study to be good. To maintain their influence over men, they supply the diminution of beauty by an augmentation of utility. They learn to do a thousand services, small and great, and are the most tender and useful of all friends when you are sick. Thus they continue amiable. And hence there is hardly such a thing to be found as an old woman who is not a good woman.
3. Because there is no hazard of children, which irregularly produced may be attended with much inconvenience.
4. Because through more experience they are more prudent and discreet in conducting an intrigue to prevent suspicion. The commerce with them is therefore safer with regard to your reputation; and with regard to theirs, if the affair should happen to be known, considerate people might be rather inclined to excuse an old woman, who would kindly take care of a young man, form his manners by her good councils, and prevent his ruining his health and fortune among mercenary prostitutes.
5. Because in every animal that walks upright, the deficiency of the fluids that fill the muscles appears first in the highest part. The face first grows lank and wrinkled; then the neck; then the breast and arms; the lower parts continuing to the last as plump as ever; so that covering all above with a basket, and regarding only what is below the girdle, it is impossible of two women to know an old one from a young one. And as in the dark all cats are grey, the pleasure of corporal enjoyment with an old woman is at least equal and frequently superior; every Knack being by Practice capable of improvement.
6. Because the sin is less. The debauching of a virgin may be her ruin, and make her life unhappy.
7. Because teh compunction is less. The having made a young girl miserable may give you frequent bitter reflections; none of which can attend making an old woman happy.
8. & lastly. They are so grateful!!

Source: Advice to a Young Man (Philadelphia, June 25, 1745).

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4 March 2005 - Today's E-Mail

WHEN YOU THOUGHT I WASN'T LOOKING
(Written by a former child)

A message every adult should read . . .
because children are watching you and doing as you do, not as you say.

When you thought I wasn't looking . . .
I saw you hang my first painting on the refrigerator,
and I immediately wanted to paint another one.

When you thought I wasn't looking . . .
I saw you feed a stray cat, and I learned that it was good to be kind to animals.

When you thought I wasn't looking . . .
I saw you make my favorite cake for me and I learned that the little things
can be the special things in life.

When you thought I wasn't looking . . .
I heard you say a prayer, and I knew there is a God I could always talk to
and I learned to trust in God.

When you thought I wasn't looking . . .
I saw you make a meal and take it to a friend who was sick,
and I learned that we all have to help take care of each other.

When you thought I wasn't looking . . .
I saw you give of your time and money to help people who had nothing
and I learned that those who have something should give to those who don't.

When you thought I wasn't looking . . .
I saw you take care of our house and everyone in it
and I learned we have to take care of what we are given.

When you thought I wasn't looking . . .
I saw how you handled your responsibilities, even when you didn't feel good
and I learned that I would have to be responsible! when I grow up.

When you thought I wasn't looking . . .
I saw tears come from your eyes and I learned that sometimes things hurt,
but it's all right to cry.

When you thought I wasn't looking . . .
I saw that you cared and I wanted to be everything that I could be.

When you thought I wasn't looking . . .
I learned most of life's lessons that I need to know
to be a good and productive person when I growup.

When you thought I wasn't looking . . .
I looked at you and wanted to say,
"Thanks for all the things I saw when you thought I wasn't looking."

LITTLE EYES SEE A LOT.

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27 February 2005

For now until I become more organizied.

A GERM DESTROYER
- - - Rudyard Kipling, British writer (1865-1936) Born in Bombay and spent his youth in the India. After receiving his schooling in England, he returned to India and wrote verses, tales, and articles for Indian journals. He learned the point of view of the British soldier, of the government official, and of many kinds of natives. And yet he never lost the sense of mystery and adventure that visitors are more likely to feel in strange countries than are its inhabitants.

There was a time not long ago when England tried to rule India through a viceroy, a sort of minor king sent out to the city of Simla. With him went a secretary, who sometimes did more of the actual ruling than did the viceroy.

One of these secretaries was named John Fennil Wonder. He really was a wonder, too. He took just about everything off the shoulders of the viceroy. He made appointments, and interviewed people, and settled disputes. He could get all sorts of facts and figures together. He could do almost anything. And the viceroy, who was a very polite man, tried not to show his annoyance.

Wonder loved hard work, of course. But he tried to attend to things that were none of his business, and he went around making enemies. And the polite viceroy would watch him in a dreamy sort of way, and say, "My dear, good friend Wonder! When we all go to Heaven, I am sure he will try to steal Saint Peter's keys; or he'll get into a mess by pulling a feather out of Gabriel's wing. And then I shall simply have to report him!"

One season it happened that a visitor came to Simla, just to see the viceroy. He was a man with a single idea, an idea he could never forget, an idea that would improve the whole world, he was sure--and of course, an idea that made him a terrible nuisance. His name was Mellish. For 15 years he had studied the dreadful disease, cholera, in lower Bengal. He said that the germs flew through the damp air, and then stuck in the trees. But he had invented a heavy black-violet powder, "Mellish's Own Invincible Fumigatory*." This powder, he insisted, would destroy all the germs of cholera.

He would talk loudly and beat the table with his fists. He would hide powders in his pockets and whip them out suddenly to wave under the noses of surprised people. He said that the surgeon general of India and all the hospital heads in the country were banded together into a medical ring, which was trying to hold back his invention. He wanted to get to the viceroy, to help him break this ring, and get the viceroy to understand his marvelous invention. And so Mellish came to Simla, and in his trunk were 84 pounds of "Mellish's Own Invincible Fumigatory."

Nobody, of course, would have given a cent for Mellish's chance to speak to the viceroy. It is simply impossible.

But there weren't so many hotels at Simla, and it so-happened that there was another visitor in Simla--and his name was Mellishe--with an extra e. He was Mellishe of Madras, a very important government official who went around the country inspecting everything, and writing reports, and drawing a high salary. Everyone felt uncomfortable when he came around, and the highest government officials would always see him at once, so he would go on somewhere else and not bother them any longer. And the hotel where Mellishe of Madras stopped was the hotel of Mellish of Bengal.

The viceroy had to see Mellishe, as quickly as possible. So Wonder had to send out a quick note:

Dear Mr. Melish,
Can you set aside your other engagements and lunch with us at two tomorrow? His Excellency has an hour free at that time.
- - - John Fennil Wonder

It was a very polite note; but you will notice that there was a blunder by Wonder. He had left off the e in Mellishe. The note, of course, was delivered to Mellish of the Fumigatory. Thus it was that before two the next day, Mellish, weeping with pride and delight, rode through the streets of Simla, with his pockets bulging with paper bags. What a wonderful chance! Just the viceroy and he at lunch--and all that marvelous black powder!

All though the lunch the inventory was restless. The viceroy was pleased with him because he did not talk about government business. He even offered his visitor a smoke. Smoke? At the word. Mellish spoke up like a man. He explained about cholera and his 15 years of labor. He told the viceroy all about the Simla ring, and how they opposed him and the Fumigatory. Soon Mellish's hair stood on end. Sweat broke out on his forehead. He stammered with excitement. He began poking at the pockets of his coat, bringing out the queerest paper bags.

The viceroy leaned back and watched the man through half-shut eyes. "I've caught the wrong kind of tiger, somehow," the viceroy told himself. "But this is a very interesting animal." And he awaited developments.

"J-j-judge for y-yourself, sir!" cried Mellish. "Y'Excellency shall judge for yourself!" And before anyone could stop him, he'd tipped a bagful of his powder into the silver ashtray, and plunged into it the lighted end of his cigar. The mess began to smoke like a volcano. Fat, greasy wreaths of copper-colored fumes went up. The room was filled with a sickening reek. Smoke took fierce hold on the windpipe and clamped down on it, and cut off all chance of breathing. The powder hissed and fizzed and set out blue and green sparks into the murk, with the smoke billowing around them so it was impossible to see or breathe or gasp. Mellish was used to it. He enjoyed it, he seemed to thrive on it.

"Nitrate of strontia," he shouted, "Baryta! Bone meal! A cubic inch of the powder gives off a thousand cubic feet of smoke! Absolutely infallible! Not a germ could live in it for a minute--not a germ. Y'Excellency!"

By this time His Excellency had fled to the foot of the staris, where he stood coughing. The place was humming with excitement, people running around trying to save the viceroy from native attack, or an explosion of natural gases, or a general catastrophe. Red Lancer's and mace bearers rushed in, and ladies ran downstairs shrieking. "Fire!" All this did not improve the situation. Smoke began oozing out of the windows, and rolling across the halls in great storm clouds, and over-hanging the gardens.

Nobody could get to the center of the room where Mellish stood serene, still giving his lecture. The viceroy at the stairway said some wonderful things, but no one could hear him. And at last the horrible powder burnt itself out; and a courageous aide-de-camp rushed in and dragged out the lecturer. Mellish passed the viceroy in the hall, and began shaking a fresh bag of powder at him and telling of his virtues as he was dragged past. The viceroy could only stand there bent over with laughter. He waggled a feeble hand at the poor inventor and gasped.

"Glorious! Glorious! You are perfectly right! Not a germ--not a solitary germ could exist--I can swear it! A magnificent success!"

Throuigh tears of laughter streaming from his eyes, His Excellency saw John Fennil Wonder come toward him. The secretary had seen the real Mellishe, it seemed, and--the viceroy waved away his Wonder, to finish his laugh in peace.

The story of all this made a number of people quite happy. There was first of all Mellish of the Fumigatory. He was perfectly sure he had at least broken the Simla medical ring, and that his life work had been recognized.

Next there was the viceroy. He could tell a story, when he wanted to. And he kept telling about "My dear good Wonder's friend with the powder." He told the story all over Simla. Wherever Wonder went he ran into people who knew this story, and they kept making little sly remarks to show that they knew it. It made Wonder feel quite uncomfortable, especially since the viceroy himself was always so greatly amused by it.

There was one afternoon, at a picnic, when the secretary sat just behind His Excellency, and simply had to hear every word that was said. It was that cursed story of Mellish again. But this time the viceroy added an ending that was new, he said it in such a harmless way that everyone in the group laughed heartily.

< . . . and there was all this smoke whirling around us." said the viceroy, "and my dear, good Wonder was making his way through it. Why, I really thought for a moment that he had hired Mellish as a murderer, so that I would be put out of the way, and Wonder might become the next viceroy . . ."

The laughter showed it was all in good fun, of course. But Wonder knew that the viceroy waned him to hear it. And he thought it over carefully, and wrote a letter saying that his health was not as good as it used to be, and perhaps he had better resign.

The viceroy thought that was a good idea too. He gave John Fennil Wonder a letter of the highest praise for his fine work as secretary.

*(disinfectant or pesticide)

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21 February 2005 - Two Life Lessons - From the Past

Night Watch

A "short" from Reader's Digest - February 1967

A 15-year-old boy stood with his downcast father before a municipal judge of Cheyenne, Wyoming. The boy had been charged with breaking and entering a local school at 2 o'clock one morning. After advising the boy that he would be required by law to make full restitution for the damage, the judge said, "Because I want this to be a lesson you'll never forget, in addition I sentence you to walk around that school at 2 a.m. every morning for the next 30 days."

Turning to the boy's father, he continued, "And because you didn't know where you son was at that hour of the morning, I sentence you to accompany him to that school and walk around it with him every morning for the next 30 days. When parents are aware of the whereabouts of their children at all times, half the battle is won."

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The Story of the Whistle

By Benjamin Franklin

I received my dear friend's two letters, one for Wednesday and one for Saturday. This is again Wednesday. I do not deserve one for today, because I have not answered the former. But indolent as I am, and averse to writing, the fear of having no more of your pleasing epistles, if I do not contribute to the correspondence, obliges me to take up my pen: and as M.B. has kindly sent me word, that he sets out tomorrow to see you; instead of spending this Wednesday evening as I have long done its Name-sakes, in your delightful company, I sit down to spend it in thinking of you, in writing to you, & in reading over and over again your letters.

I am charm'd with your description of Paradise, and with your plan of living there. And I approve much of your conclusion, that in the mean time we should draw all the good we can from this world. In my opinion we might all draw more good from it then we do, and suffer less evil, if we would but take care not to give too much for our Whistles. For to me it seems that most of the unhappy people we meet with, are become so by neglect of that caution.

You ask what I mean? - You love stories, and will excuse my telling you one of my self. When I was a child of seven years old, my friends on a holiday fill'd my little pocket with halfpence. I went directly to a shop where they sold toys for children; and being charm'd with the sound of a whistle that I met by the way, in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offer'd and gave all my money for it. When I came home, whistling all over the house, much pleas'd with my whistle, but disturbing all the family, my brothers, sisters & cousins, understanding the bargain I had made, told me I had given four times as much for it as it was worth, put me in mind that good things I might have bought with the rest of the money, & laught at me so much for my folly that I cry'd with vexation; and the reflection gave me more chagrin than the whistle gave me pleasure.

This however was afterwards of use to me, the impression continuing on my mind; so that often when I was tempted to buy some unnecessary thing, I said to my self, Do not give too much for the Whistle; and I sav'd my money.

As I grew up, came into the world, and observed the actions of men, I thought I met many who gave too much for the Whistle. - When I saw one ambitious of court favour, sacrificing his time in attendance at levees, his repose, his liberty, his virtue and perhaps his friend, to obtain it; I have said to myself, This man gives too much for his Whistle.--If I knew a miser, who gave up every kind of comfortable living, all the pleasure of doing good to others, all the esteem of his fellow citizens, & the joys of benevolent friendship, for the sake of accumulating wealth, Poor Man, says I, you pay too much for your Whistle. -- When I met with a man of pleasure, sacrificing every laudable improvement of his mind or of his fortune, to mere corporeal satisfactions, & ruining his health in their pursuit, Mistaken Man, says I, you are providing pain for yourself instead of pleasure, you pay too much for your Whistle.-- If I see one fond of appearance, of fine cloths, fine houses, fine furniture, fine equipages, all above his fortune, for which he contracts debts, and ends his career in a prison; Alas, says I, he has paid too much for his Whistle.--When I saw a beautiful sweet-temper'd girl, marry'd to an ill-natured brute of a husband; What a pity, says I, that she should pay so much for a Whistle! --In short, I conceiv'd that great part of the miseries of mankind, where brought upon them by the false estimates they had made of the value of things, and by their giving too much for the Whistle.

Yet I ought to have charity for these unhappy people, when I consider that with all this wisdom of which I am boasting, there are certain things in the world so tempting; for example the apples of King John, which happily are not to be bought, for if they were put to sale by auction, I might very easily be led to ruin my self in the purchase, and find that I had once more given too much for the Whistle.

Adieu, my dearest friend, and believe me ever your very sincerely and with unalterable affection.

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OLD STUFF

WEEKEND TREASURE

Found this small story last night while reading one of the 25 cent wonders from this weekend's thrift store "treasure hunt." This was a very old newspaper clipping, carefully stuck in the front of "To See a World in a Grain of Sand" - - - Caesar Johnson

HOW TO GROW OLD
by Adela Rogers St. Johns



Nothing is sadder than not to know the truth of Browning's words, nothing more rewarding than to live by them. There is as much of the "last of life" to enjoy as the first, maybe more. Accept and live by the blessed idea that he best is yet to be, and you'll have a rich, full span on this earth, wasting none of it in future fears or vain regrets.

Many strong, fine, exciting things belong to youth. I'm glad I missed none of them. But they pass out of our experience in due time and we must let them go and be ready to take others just as good, or better. There are those who store nothing in those splendid, reckless young years to fill the later ones. They think of happiness in terms of what youth alone can be, and know, and do. For them, the last of life can be barren, cold, sometimes ugly in its attempts to prolong that youth.

But those who plant seeds of love, service, friendship know that last of life as a privilege, and a continuing adventure. The fevers of the blood die down, the spirit grows serene. Friendships grow holier with shared years, memories become hallowed, beauty can be enjoyed without the torturing need for possession, humor becomes part of wisdom, and service is a gift worth offering to those still on the battlefield of youth. The harvest of work well done, of love freely given, is ripe for reaping.

The books we never had time to read, the people we never had time to talk to, the games we never watched because we were so busy playing them, the prayers we never had time to say, the God we never had time to know -- all these can be ours at last. And, when than chapter ends, surely the Best of All is -- yet to be.

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