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Dane Allred examines the "Abundance" of the universe in his list of "1001 Thanks"
Episodes
Tuesday Feb 23, 2010
Tuesday Feb 23, 2010
This is the complete episode from January 24th.
LITERATURE OUT LOUD
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LITERATURE OUT LOUD -- see and hear great literature Audio narrations with synchronized visual text
The Complete Collection of
SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS
all 154 poems $3.99 DVD with FREE shipping
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Tuesday Feb 23, 2010
Tuesday Feb 23, 2010
Relaxing
Patience is different than relaxing. We vacation so we can do nothing and call it relaxing. When we are on a vacation, we can develop lots of patience. Sitting on a beach for hours on end is helping us unwind, when usually we can’t stand waiting in a doctor’s office for more than 10 minutes. An interesting way to develop more patience is to compare waiting to relaxing.
Mostly, when we are impatient, it’s because something we can’t control seems to be wasting our time. One of my proudest moments was when I broke my leg and had to wait in the emergency room for about six hours. It was an opportunity to practice patience, and there really wasn’t anything I could do about it but take a deep breath and relax. There had been a terrible accident on the freeway, and the emergency personnel had to take care of those people first. I just had a broken leg, and while it hurt, I was in much better shape than anyone else who showed up that day.
So I had a choice. I got out some old crossword puzzles and worked on them. I read the newspapers, and I read some magazines. I probably could have slept, but I have never been able to sleep in the hospital, much less the emergency room. There’s just too much going on in there to rest. So as I passed the time, I knew those who needed the help were getting it, and eventually I would be seen. It was an interesting chance to try and relax while I had to wait.
Even when I’m stuck in a long line at a store, I try to change my perspective and use the opportunity to really notice the abundance around me. There are thousands of products in most retail places, and I rarely take the time to examine the price, the purpose and other details of products. There are some really interesting magazines at the check-out stand which I would never buy, but it’s fun to flip a few pages in and read the latest gossip.
As an actor, I get the chance to play all kinds of characters. In the past year alone, I’ve played an abusive alcoholic father, a church official, a cop, a ventriloquist, and a dead baker. So I like to look around and study the people I see. This is a technique used by the famous Russian acting teacher Stanislavski. Looking around and observing people gives me the chance to integrate some of the behaviors, speech patterns and body postures I see all around me. It can give us a chance to see the variety of life which is lived by others. We tend to think our lifestyle is how everyone else lives, and if we step outside ourselves for a moment, we will truly understand how our lives might not be so miserable as we think. We may find out we have a pretty good life after all. Or as Jimmy Stewart is told by Clarence the Angel, “You know, you really had a wonderful life.”
I’ll be the first to admit I’m not the most patient person in the world, and as a teacher, I am the worst student in the world. I’ll get a chance to behave tomorrow as I attend a workshop, but I’ll probably get up and wander just because I know there are so many interesting things to see in the classroom besides the front of the room and the instructor.
When are we most patient? If you are getting a massage, it’s easy to be patient and want to spend more time getting relaxed as our muscles are manipulated. When some people play video games, they aren’t relaxed, but are very patient while they try to get a new high score. They can pass hours patiently trying to beat the machine, and most of us are guilty of the same thing in front of the television. We can sit patiently for hours while our favorite programs play in between the hundreds of commercials.
If we are engaged in a hobby, time passes so swiftly we wonder where it went. If you are reading a good book, you can emerge from the pages hours later wondering how time can fly so fast. If you are doing something creative, or spending time in recreational activities, you’ll notice time flying, and not like the alarm clock you fling across the room when you want to sleep in. For me, when I am skiing, windsurfing, gardening, or building something from wood scraps, the time speeds up and vanishes.
We know the time is passing at exactly the same rate. How we enjoy these seconds, minutes and hours may only depend on our practice of patience.
LITERATURE OUT LOUD
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LITERATURE OUT LOUD -- see and hear great literature Audio narrations with synchronized visual text
The Complete Collection of
SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS
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Tuesday Feb 23, 2010
Tuesday Feb 23, 2010
Unharmonious Match
In the play “Our Town”, the narrator says most people go to their graves “two by two”, but there are some who are not meant to stay together. The bliss of early love wears off, and to prevent a murder, the couple separates. My mother doesn’t like me to tell this story, but it will serve as an illustration that some people are better off apart. My mother divorced my father when I was ten. She has been married twice more, and I need to say she is very happy at this point in her life and I am happy to have an excellent step-father. I have had a couple. But Dad has pursued the legal route to polygamy by marrying and divorcing several times. My sister and I think the count is up to 15 marriages and 14 divorces, but some of these are to the same person. When I harassed my mom about this she was not very happy.
I told her between my two parents, there were almost 20 marriages. “With the divorce rate at 50 percent”, I continued, “that means 40 couples have had to stay married so you guys could get divorced.” Like I said, she was not very happy with me. I hope she doesn’t hear this on the air.
There are many people who agree an amicable parting is probably best. Here are some of our most famous writers with their mostly negative views on marriage
Anton Chekhov: If you are afraid of loneliness, do not marry.
Benjamin Disraeli: Every woman should marry -- and no man.
Sydney Smith said: Marriage resembles a pair of shears; so joined that they cannot be separated, often moving in opposite directions, yet always punishing everyone who comes between them.
This quote by Socrates may surprise you: By all means marry; if you get a good wife, you'll become happy; if you get a bad one, you'll become a philosopher.
Socrates also said this about marriage: Call no man unhappy until he is married.
Herbert Spencer said: Marriage: a ceremony in which rings are put on the finger of the lady and through the nose of the gentleman.
Stephen Butler Leacock said this of marriage: Many a man in love with a dimple makes the mistake of marrying the whole girl.
Edward Verrall Lucas said: The trouble with marriage is that, while every woman is at heart a mother, every man is at heart a bachelor.
Helen Rowland said this of marriage: In olden times sacrifices were made at the altar -- a custom which is still continued.
and she also said: When you see a married couple walking down the street, the one who is two or three steps ahead is the one who's mad.
George Bernard Shaw tells us: It is a woman's business to get married as soon as possible, and a man's to keep unmarried as long as he can.
William Makepeace Thackeray’s view: Remember, it is as easy to marry a rich woman as a poor one.
Artemus Ward said: He is dreadfully married. He's the most married man I ever saw in my life.
Zsa Zsa Gabor is an expert on marriage. She’s been married nine times. She said: A man in love is incomplete until he has married; then he's finished.
Speaking of divorce, some of our more expert celebrities have weighed in, including Zsa Zsa.
She said: He taught me housekeeping, when I divorce I keep the house.
Sancha Guitry said: When a man steals your wife, there is no better revenge than to let him keep her.
Kin Hubbard said: Nobody works as hard for money as the man who marries it.
Carolyn Wells understands divorce. She said: The wages of sin is alimony.
Oscar Wilde: Divorces are made in heaven.
Arthur Baer: Alimony is like buying oats for a dead horse.
John Barrymore: You never realize how short a month is until you pay alimony.
It really does seem some people can’t stay married, and psychologists tell us many people continue to marry the same kind of person they just divorced. With a divorce rate of 50 percent, maybe we should just shuffle the deck and move down the road. You move next door, and the guy there moves down to the next house. It makes me think arranged marriages might not be so bad. If you didn’t like who was chosen, you could divorce, and the rate might still be fifty percent. Maybe you’d do better choosing on your own later if someone chose for you first. It couldn’t turn out much worse.
If you are married, I hope you are as happily married. Samuel Taylor Coleridge thought this: The happiest marriage I can picture would be the union of a deaf man to a blind woman.
LITERATURE OUT LOUD
Click here for a complete INDEX
LITERATURE OUT LOUD -- see and hear great literature Audio narrations with synchronized visual text
The Complete Collection of
SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS
all 154 poems $3.99 DVD with FREE shipping
Click on the Amazon button to order
Essential Oils -- create your own business -- click on the logo to begin
Saturday Feb 20, 2010
Saturday Feb 20, 2010
THREE LETTERS FROM TEDDY
by Elizabeth Silance Baynard
Teddy's letter came today, and now that I've read it, I will place it in my cedar chest with the other things that are important to my life.
"I wanted you to be the first to know." I smiled as I read the words he had written and my heart swelled with a pride that I had no right to feel.
I have not seen Teddy Stallard since he was a student in my fifth grade class, 15 years ago. It was early in my career, and I had only been teaching for two years.
From the first day he stepped into my classroom, I disliked Teddy. Teachers (although everyone knows differently) are not supposed to have favorites in a class, but most especially are they not to show dislike for a child, any child.
Nevertheless, every year there are one or two children that one cannot help but become attached to, for teachers are human, and it is human nature to like bright, pretty, intelligent people, whether they are 10 years old or 25. And sometimes, not too often fortunately, there will be one or two students to whom the teacher just can't seem to relate.
I had thought myself quite capable of handling my personal feelings along that line until Teddy walked into my life. There wasn't a child I particularly liked that year, but Teddy was most assuredly one I disliked.
He was dirty. Not just occasionally, but all the time. His hair hung over his ears, and he actually had to hold it out of his eyes as he wrote his papers in class. (And this was before it was fashionable to do so!). Too, he had a peculiar odor about him which I could never identify. His physical faults were many, and his intellect left a lot to be desired, also. By the end of the first week, I knew he was hopelessly behind the others. Not only was he behind; he was just plain slow! I began to withdraw from him immediately.
Any teacher will tell you that it's more of a pleasure to teach a bright child. It is definitely more rewarding for one's ego. But any teacher worth her credentials can channel work to the bright child, keeping him challenged and learning, while she puts her major effort on the slower ones. Any teacher can do this. Most teachers do it, but I didn't, not that year. In fact, I concentrated on my best students and let the others follow along as best they could. Ashamed as I am to admit it, I took perverse pleasure in using my red pen, and each time I came to Teddy's papers, the cross marks (and there were many) were always a little redder than necessary.
"Poor work!" I would write with a flourish. While I did not actually ridicule the boy, my attitude was obviously quite apparent to the class; for he quickly became the class "goat," the outcast - the unlovable and the unloved. He knew I didn't like him, but he didn't know why. Nor did I know - then or now - why I felt such an intense dislike for him. All I know is that he was a little boy no one cared about, and I made no effort on his behalf.
The days rolled by. We made it through the Fall Festival and the Thanksgiving holidays, and I continued marking happily with my red pen.
As Christmas holidays approached, I knew that Teddy would never catch up in time to be promoted to the sixth grade level. He would be a repeater. To justify myself, I went to his cumulative folder and from time to time looked it over. He had very low grades for the first four years, but not grade failure. How he had made it, I did not know. I closed my mind to the personal remarks.
First Grade: Teddy shows promise by work and attitude, but has a poor home situation.
Second Grade: Teddy could do better. Mother terminally ill. He receives little help at home.
Third Grade: Teddy is a pleasant boy. Helpful, but too serious. Slow learner. Mother passed away end of the year.
Fourth Grade: Very slow, but well behaved. Father shows little or no interest.
Well, they passed him four times. But he will certainly repeat fifth grade! Do him good! I said to myself.
And then the last day before the Christmas holidays arrived. Our little tree on the reading table sported paper and popcorn chains. Many gifts were heaped underneath waiting for the big moment. Teachers always get several gifts at Christmas, but mine that year seemed bigger and more elaborate than ever. There was not a student who had not brought me one. Each unwrapping brought squeals of delight, and the proud giver would receive effusive thank-yous.
Teddy's gift wasn't the last one I picked up, in fact it was the middle of the pile. Its wrapping was a brown paper bag, and he had colored Christmas trees and red bells all over it. It was stuck together with masking tape. "For Miss Thompson - From Teddy" it read. The group was completely silent and for the first time I felt conspicuous, embarrassed because they all stood watching me unwrap that gift.
As I removed the last bit of masking tape, two items fell to my desk: a gaudy rhinestone bracelet with several stones missing and a small bottle of dime store cologne - half empty. I could hear the snickers and whispers, and I wasn't sure I could look at Teddy. "Isn't it lovely?" I said, placing the bracelet on my wrist. "Teddy, would you help me fasten it?"
He smiled shyly as he fixed the clasp, and I held my wrist for all of them to admire. There were a few hesitant oohs and ahhs, but as I dabbed the cologne behind my ears, all the little girls lined up for a dab behind their ears. I continued to open the gifts until I reached the bottom of the pile. We ate our refreshments and then the bell rang. The children filed out with shouts of "See you next year," and "Merry Christmas!" but Teddy waited at his desk.
When they had all left, he walked toward me, clutching his gift and books to his chest. "You smell just like Mom," he said softly. "Her bracelet looks real pretty on you too. I'm glad you liked it."
He left quickly. I locked the door, sat down at my desk and wept, resolving to make up to Teddy what I had deliberately deprived him of - a teacher who cared. I stayed every afternoon with Teddy from the end of the Christmas holiday until the last day of school. Sometimes we worked together. Sometimes he worked alone while I drew up lesson plans or graded papers.
Slowly but surely he caught up with the rest of the class. Gradually there was a definite upward curve in his grades. He did not have to repeat the fifth grade. In fact, his final averages were among the highest in the class, and although I knew he would be moving out of state when school was out, I was not worried for him. Teddy had reached a level that would stand him in good stead the following year no matter where he went. He had enjoyed a good measure of success and as we were taught in our teacher training course, SUCCESS BUILDS SUCCESS.
I did not hear from Teddy until seven years later when his first letter appeared in my mailbox:
Dear Miss Thompson,
I just wanted you to be the first to know. I will be graduating second in my class next month.
Very truly yours,
Teddy Stallard
I sent him a card of congratulations and a small package, a pen and pencil gift set. I wondered what he would do after graduation.
Four years later, Teddy's second letter came.
Dear Miss Thompson,
I wanted you to be the first to know. I was just informed I'll be graduating first in my class. The University has not been easy, but I liked it.
Very truly yours
Teddy Stallard
I sent him a good pair of sterling silver monogrammed cuff links and a card - so proud of you, I could burst.
And now, today - Teddy's last letter.
Dear Miss Thompson,
I wanted you to be the first to know. As of today, I am Theodore J. Stallard, M.D. How about that!!!??? I'm going to be married in July, the 22nd to be exact. I wanted to ask you if you would come and sit where Mom would sit if she were here. I will have no family there as Dad died last year.
Very Truly yours,
Teddy Stallard
I am not sure what kind of card one sends to a doctor on completion of medical school and professional boards. Maybe I'll just wait and take a wedding gift, but my congratulations can't wait.
Dear Ted,
Congratulations! You made it and you did it yourself! In spite of those like me and because of us, the day has finally come for you.
God bless you. I'll be at that wedding with bells on!
Miss Thompson
LITERATURE OUT LOUD
Click here for a complete INDEX
LITERATURE OUT LOUD -- see and hear great literature Audio narrations with synchronized visual text
The Complete Collection of
SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS
all 154 poems $3.99 DVD with FREE shipping
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Essential Oils -- create your own business -- click on the logo to begin
Saturday Feb 20, 2010
Saturday Feb 20, 2010
Harmonious Match
It’s sad to watch the dating commercials on television. Everyone has a perfect match or they are looking for that one person who they can find harmony with, and live happily ever after. It seems to me that much of the romance in the world happens by accident, and you just have to be in the right place at the right time. Helen Reddy said it this way, “There is no magic person out there, no perfect human being out there waiting for you.” Sometimes it happens, and sometimes it doesn’t. Can computer dating find the perfect person for you?
A sad statistic was revealed recently which show from 20 to 40 percent of those registered for online dating services were already married. The other sad statistic is that 70 percent of those who use computers have tried the online dating sites. Maybe they work for some people, but I’m too old to know anything about computer dating.
I’m from the old school where chance encounters and random events seemed to draw two people together. I could have attended three different colleges, but I could only meet my wife at one of them. She had to stay in school a little longer than usual so I could show up. We happened to be in a live stage musical together and became friends. We were in another show later during the year. We started dating the next summer when we had a class together. There are so many random events, I don’t know I can say it was fate for us to be together. It just happened to work out.
If you are a female and looking to attract that special guy, I have only one piece of serious advice. Don’t play coy; let the guy know you are interested. Pay attention to him; touch his elbow, his arm, his back. Speaking as a man, we are pretty dense, and unless we are practically hit over the head, we really don’t think anyone is interested in us.
If you don’t believe this little admonition, look around at all those guys you think are great looking arm in arm with a female you think is ugly. It’s the only way to explain it. I taught a guy who sat by the same two girls every class. I wondered if there was something serious going on, but the girl I thought would be his first choice lost out to the girl I thought was less attractive. How? She let him know she was interested, and once a man knows there is a possibility of a relationship, we are pretty much sunk.
Ogden Nash has a nice saying about marriage and incompatibility. He said, “A little incompatibility is the spice of life, particularly if he has income and she is pattable.” That quote does give us a nice mental picture, and who is to say the rich man and the pattable woman can’t find perfect happiness together. Samuel Rogers has a warning for those who decide to marry. He said, “It doesn't much signify whom one marries, for one is sure to find the next morning that it is someone
else.” If you don’t believe this saying, just talk to anyone who has been together longer than 10 years. We can all change enough in 10 years to become a completely, totally unrecognizable person. My wife put our wedding picture up on the mantle recently, and I asked her to introduce me to the blond skinny guy she is next to in the picture. I told her that wasn’t me anymore. Luckily, she has adapted to the changes. Or as Nancy Astor said of marriage, “I married beneath me -- all women do.”
Honore de Balzac said it this way: “Marriage is the end of man.” It sure was the end of that man I was, and I have to tell you, I am a lot happier after 30 years of marriage than I was after being single for the first 20 years. It’s like Benjamin Franklin was talking to my wife when he said, “Keep your eyes wide open before marriage, and half-shut afterwards.” Speaking as a man with imperfections, I want to tell my wife how glad I am she keeps her eyes half-shut. I also like what Benjamin Franklin said about husbands, “One good husband is worth two good wives; for the scarcer things are, the more they’re valued.” I just hope I fit into the “good husband” category.
As Helen Rowland put it, “When a girl marries, she exchanges the attentions of many men for the inattention of one.” I wish I was more attentive. But you may be more like Mae West. She said, “Marriage is a great institution, but I'm not ready for an institution yet.” Maybe you aren’t either.
LITERATURE OUT LOUD
Click here for a complete INDEX
LITERATURE OUT LOUD -- see and hear great literature Audio narrations with synchronized visual text
The Complete Collection of
SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS
all 154 poems $3.99 DVD with FREE shipping
Click on the Amazon button to order
Essential Oils -- create your own business -- click on the logo to begin
Saturday Feb 20, 2010
Saturday Feb 20, 2010
Practicing Patience
This last week I had to be patient, and I’m not really the most patient person in the world. I like to be doing things, and it’s hard for me to just sit and wait. I spent about 36 hours over 3 days just sitting and waiting. I used the time to write some of these episodes, and edit some past programs, but mostly it was just sitting around. That’s one of the great things about teaching. If I’m not talking to the class, I could be walking around the class checking on how the students are doing. There are always papers to score and record, and getting ready for my next class is always lots of work. I need to admit I am a very bad student. I can’t really sit for extended periods of time, especially if I’m supposed to be listening to someone else. I can usually keep myself busy if I need to, but sitting around isn’t my favorite. I do quite a bit of acting in movies and commercials, and those two activities take lots of patience. The shooting day is 12 hours long, and you are required to stay in the immediate area. For some commercials I’ve done, I’ve waiting 10 hours to do a 30 second piece, and then had to wait around for a couple more hours. The longest television shoot I’ve been to lasted 18 hours. I didn’t really do anything that day for the first 12 hours. Camera work of any kind seems to take forever. The camera is set up, and the set is dressed. The lights are focused and adjusted, then adjusted some more. Stand-ins get to have the cameras focused on them so the real actors can keep studying their lines, and then the lights are adjusted some more. This is all for one shot, or one particular view of the scene, and for reverse shots, reaction shots and establishing shots, just repeat all of this over and over all day long. One of my favorite phrases to hear after working on a scene for what seems forever is “moving on”. That means the next scene is about to be set up. For actors that means go sit somewhere for an hour and we’ll call you when we’re ready. I’ve been in about 20 movies and probably 30 commercials. The good news about shooting with video or film is the day usually ends, and you don’t have to keep doing the same thing day after day. I’ve also been in about 60 stage productions, which means as an actor you get to go to rehearsal day after day and do the same thing over and over again. Since I’m not a full-time professional stage actor, most of my rehearsals take place at night after a long day at work. My least favorite patience inducing necessity in stage productions is blocking, which means, “You stand here and move here.” Then after everyone knows where they are going to stand and where they are going to move, you get to rehearse it a few times. Rehearsals then continue two, three or four times a week for a month, or two, or three. If it’s a musical, I get to torture the music director as they try to figure out how to get me to sing the right notes. Then you rehearse the songs a bunch, too. We won’t talk about how frustrating I am to choreographers. At the end the process is to make a bunch of people dancing and singing on the stage look like everything is happening quite spontaneously. In the end, it is a rewarding process since when the show starts it’s fun to perform. Of course in most shows you can’t always be on stage, so there are times when you have to be patient and wait for the next part. I’ve tried to think of a show where I have had to be the most patient. It was probably when I was playing a corpse in “The Devil and Daniel Webster”. We were the dead jury who had to listen to a trial about Jabez Stone. Daniel Webster was defending him against the devil, and we had to stand and listen to the trial for 30 minutes. I was standing on a ladder the whole time and my insteps really hurt by the end of the trial. I patiently waited for 30 minutes to say “guilty” and then exit the stage and pull the rubber pieces off my face. I was glad we only had to perform three or four times. All of this practicing patience has made me more patient. But I still have a ways to go. But as Benjamin Franklin said, “He that can have patience can have what he will.” Got patience?
LITERATURE OUT LOUD
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LITERATURE OUT LOUD -- see and hear great literature Audio narrations with synchronized visual text
The Complete Collection of
SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS
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Tuesday Feb 16, 2010
Tuesday Feb 16, 2010
Junk Food Junkie
I love food. My wife doesn’t really get how much I like being able to buy any kind of food I want and eat it anytime I want. She always tells me I should spend the money on clothes or knick-knacks. But that is where she gets her satisfaction, from being able to afford nice clothes and other things she wants. I just like to eat.I’m not sure why I like buying food so much. It must be the consumer in me. I really don’t like to fix my own food and eat it. It would make a lot more sense to make my own food because then I could eat even more food.
But there is only so much food one person can eat, and I’m not sure why I like prepared food better. I think it must just be junk food that I like the best. When I was small, I loved to go to the convenience store and buy candy and pop. I finagled for every penny I could get; cashing pop bottles, selling off stuff I didn’t want any more to neighborhood kids, and even charging them to look through my telescope. My favorite part of the week was when I had enough to go buy something and eat it.
I could have saved up money and bought something to keep, but I just love to buy something and eat it. I think it makes me feel rich. If I can spend money on something like junk food, I must be rich.
There really are only three or four categories of junk food I really crave. I think I could eat potato chips every meal if my health would allow it. A real treat for me is a bag of Lay’s Potato Chips – the real ones, not the baked ones. The greasier my fingers get the better I feel. The saltier my mouth gets the more I like it. Once my face is puckered up from the salty greasiness, I really like to chase those lovely chips down with some kind of carbonated drink, especially Pepsi, or ideally Wild Cherry Pepsi. I used to drink the diet stuff, but now I’m back on full sugar dosage at every drink. It really doesn’t seem to make a difference in my weight, and the great satisfaction that sugar rush gives me is really worth more than I pay. But don’t tell the companies.
I think there really is a plan behind the management of my junk food eating habits. I even read a book decades ago which predicted just this kind of corporate manipulation of my tastes. The title of the book I can’t even remember, but I do remember the pattern the book talked about. Get the customer to eat something salty, then something sugary, and then something salty again. Sounds like my daily routine, doesn’t it.
I really don’t believe there is a conspiracy out there to get me to each chips and drink pop, but I there is, it is certainly working. I don’t mind admitting I’m a willing participant, and I really don’t think I’ll be changing my snacking habits any time soon. But I have cut back and I think the real reason I like fast food and junk food is not just that it easy and available, but I think I use these tasty treats as a reward for myself.
These little rewards are a strange thing. They really don’t amount to much, but I have found if I do those things I know I need to do each day, and then reward myself with a little treat, I feel better. Then I want to do more of those things I know I need to do, and another little reward greases the wheel again. It’s an automatic feedback loop which has worked very well for me, and I don’t plan to change the way I get things done anytime soon.
The simple things in life seem to me to be some of the most satisfying. Seeing a sunrise or a sunset, accomplishing the little things that need to get done so the big things also get done, and rewarding that good behavior with a bag of chips might seem like a simplistic approach to life. But I like it and encourage you to do the same. Looking to the future, I can see a happy group of over-achievers eagerly munching junk food as the progress of the world is measured in chips and pop. It seems like a simple solution to encourage all of us to do that little bit more which makes all the difference in the world. We may be a bag of potato chips and a soft drink away from solving your most important problem. Long live junk food!!
LITERATURE OUT LOUD
Click here for a complete INDEX
LITERATURE OUT LOUD -- see and hear great literature Audio narrations with synchronized visual text
The Complete Collection of
SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS
all 154 poems $3.99 DVD with FREE shipping
Click on the Amazon button to order
Essential Oils -- create your own business -- click on the logo to begin
Monday Feb 15, 2010
Monday Feb 15, 2010
THE LADY, OR THE TIGER?
by Frank R. Stockton
In the very olden time there lived a semi-barbaric king, whose ideas, though somewhat polished and sharpened by the progressiveness of distant Latin neighbors, were still large, florid, and untrammeled, as became the half of him which was barbaric. He was a man of exuberant fancy, and, withal, of an authority so irresistible that, at his will, he turned his varied fancies into facts. He was greatly given to self-communing, and, when he and himself agreed upon anything, the thing was done. When every member of his domestic and political systems moved smoothly in its appointed course, his nature was bland and genial; but, whenever there was a little hitch, and some of his orbs got out of their orbits, he was blander and more genial still, for nothing pleased him so much as to make the crooked straight and crush down uneven places. Among the borrowed notions by which his barbarism had become semified was that of the public arena, in which, by exhibitions of manly and beastly valor, the minds of his subjects were refined and cultured. But even here the exuberant and barbaric fancy asserted itself The arena of the king was built, not to give the people an opportunity of hearing the rhapsodies of dying gladiators, nor to enable them to view the inevitable conclusion of a conflict between religious opinions and hungry jaws, but for purposes far better adapted to widen and develop the mental energies of the people. This vast amphitheater, with its encircling galleries, its mysterious vaults, and its unseen passages, was an agent of poetic justice, in which crime was punished, or virtue rewarded, by the decrees of an impartial and incorruptible chance. When a subject was accused of a crime of sufficient importance to interest the king, public notice was given that on an appointed day the fate of the accused person would be decided in the king's arena, a structure which well deserved its name, for, although its form and plan were borrowed from afar, its purpose emanated solely from the brain of this man, who, every barleycorn a king, knew no tradition to which he owed more allegiance than pleased his fancy, and who ingrafted on every adopted form of human thought and action the rich growth of his barbaric idealism. When all the people had assembled in the galleries, and the king, surrounded by his court, sat high up on his throne of royal state on one side of the arena, he gave a signal, a door beneath him opened, and the accused subject stepped out into the amphitheater. Directly opposite him, on the other side of the inclosed space, were two doors, exactly alike and side by side. It was the duty and the privilege of the person on trial to walk directly to these doors and open one of them. He could open either door he pleased; he was subject to no guidance or influence but that of the aforementioned impartial and incorruptible chance. If he opened the one, there came out of it a hungry tiger, the fiercest and most cruel that could be procured, which immediately sprang upon him and tore him to pieces as a punishment for his guilt. The moment that the case of the criminal was thus decided, doleful iron bells were clanged, great wails went up from the hired mourners posted on the outer rim of *the arena, and the vast audience, with bowed heads and downcast hearts, wended slowly their homeward way, mourning greatly that one so young and fair, or so old and respected, should have merited so dire a fate. But, if the accused person opened the other door, there came forth from it a lady, the most suitable to his years and station that his majesty could select among his fair subjects, and to this lady he was immediately married, as a reward of his innocence. It mattered not that he might already possess a wife and family, or that his affections might be engaged upon an object of his own selection; the king allowed no such subordinate arrangements to interfere with his great scheme of retribution and reward. The exercises, as in the other instance, took place immediately, and in the arena. Another door opened beneath the king, and a priest, followed by a band of choristers, and dancing maidens blowing joyous airs on golden horns and treading an epithalamic measure, advanced to where the pair stood, side by side, and the wedding was promptly and cheerily solemnized. Then the gay brass bells rang forth their merry peals, the people shouted glad hurrahs, and the innocent man, preceded by children strewing flowers on his path, led his bride to his home. This was the king's semi-barbaric method of administering justice. Its perfect fairness is obvious. The criminal could not know out of which door would come the lady; he opened either he pleased, without having the slightest idea whether, in the next instant, he was to be devoured or married. On some occasions the tiger came out of one door, and on some out of the other. The decisions of this tribunal were not only fair, they were positively determinate: the accused person was instantly punished if he found himself guilty, and, if innocent, he was rewarded on the spot, whether he liked it or not. There was no escape from the judgments of the king's arena. The institution was a very popular one. When the people gathered together on one of the great trial days, they never knew whether they were to witness a bloody slaughter or a hilarious wedding. This element of uncertainty lent an interest to the occasion which it could not otherwise have attained. Thus, the masses were entertained and pleased, and the thinking part of the community could bring no charge of unfairness against this plan, for did not the accused person have the whole matter in his own hands? This semi-barbaric king had a daughter as blooming as his most florid fancies, and with a soul as fervent and imperious as his own. As is usual in such cases, she was the apple of his eye, and was loved by him above all humanity. Among his courtiers was a young man of that fineness of blood and lowness of station common to the conventional heroes of romance who love royal maidens. This royal maiden was well satisfied with her lover, for he was handsome and brave to a degree unsurpassed in all this kingdom, and she loved him with an ardor that had enough of barbarism in it to make it exceedingly warm and strong. This love affair moved on happily for many months, until one day the king happened to discover its existence. He did not hesitate nor waver in regard to his duty in the premises. The youth was immediately cast into prison, and a day was appointed for his trial in the king's arena. This, of course, was an especially important occasion, and his majesty, as well as all the people, was greatly interested in the workings and development of this trial. Never before had such a case occurred; never before had a subject dared to love the daughter of the king. In after years such things became commonplace enough, but then they were in no slight degree novel and startling. The tiger-cages of the kingdom were searched for the most savage and relentless beasts, from which the fiercest monster might be selected for the arena; and the ranks of maiden youth and beauty throughout the land were carefully surveyed by competent judges in order that the young man might have a fitting bride in case fate did not determine for him a different destiny. Of course, everybody knew that the deed with which the accused was charged had been done. He had loved the princess, and neither he, she, nor any one else, thought of denying the fact; but the king would not think of allowing any fact of this kind to interfere with the workings of the tribunal, in which he took such great delight and satisfaction. No matter how the affair turned out, the youth would be disposed of, and the king would take an aesthetic pleasure in watching the course of events, which would determine whether or not the young man had done wrong in allowing himself to love the princess. The appointed day arrived. From far and near the people gathered, and thronged the great galleries of the arena, and crowds, unable to gain admittance, massed themselves against its outside walls. The king and his court were in their places, opposite the twin doors, those fateful portals, so terrible in their similarity. All was ready. The signal was given. A door beneath the royal party opened, and the lover of the princess walked into the arena. Tall, beautiful, fair, his appearance was greeted with a low hum of admiration and anxiety. Half the audience had not known so grand a youth had lived among them. No wonder the princess loved him! What a terrible thing for him to be there! As the youth advanced into the arena he turned, as the custom was, to bow to the king, but he did not think at all of that royal personage. His eyes were fixed upon the princess, who sat to the right of her father. Had it not been for the moiety of barbarism in her nature it is probable that lady would not have been there, but her intense and fervid soul would not allow her to be absent on an occasion in which she was so terribly interested. From the moment that the decree had gone forth that her lover should decide his fate in the king's arena, she had thought of nothing, night or day, but this great event and the various subjects connected with it. Possessed of more power, influence, and force of character than any one who had ever before been interested in such a case, she had done what no other person had done,--she had possessed herself of the secret of the doors. She knew in which of the two rooms, that lay behind those doors, stood the cage of the tiger, with its open front, and in which waited the lady. Through these thick doors, heavily curtained with skins on the inside, it was impossible that any noise or suggestion should come from within to the person who should approach to raise the latch of one of them. But gold, and the power of a woman's will, had brought the secret to the princess. And not only did she know in which room stood the lady ready to emerge, all blushing and radiant, should her door be opened, but she knew who the lady was. It was one of the fairest and loveliest of the damsels of the court who had been selected as the reward of the accused youth, should he be proved innocent of the crime of aspiring to one so far above him; and the princess hated her. Often had she seen, or imagined that she had seen, this fair creature throwing glances of admiration upon the person of her lover, and sometimes she thought these glances were perceived, and even returned. Now and then she had seen them talking together; it was but for a moment or two, but much can be said in a brief space; it may have been on most unimportant topics, but how could she know that? The girl was lovely, but she had dared to raise her eyes to the loved one of the princess; and, with all the intensity of the savage blood transmitted to her through long lines of wholly barbaric ancestors, she hated the woman who blushed and trembled behind that silent door. When her lover turned and looked at her, and his eye met hers as she sat there, paler and whiter than any one in the vast ocean of anxious faces about her, he saw, by that power of quick perception which is given to those whose souls are one, that she knew behind which door crouched the tiger, and behind which stood the lady. He had expected her to know it. He understood her nature, and his soul was assured that she would never rest until she had made plain to herself this thing, hidden to all other lookers-on, even to the king. The only hope for the youth in which there was any element of certainty was based upon the success of the princess in discovering this mystery; and the moment he looked upon her, he saw she had succeeded, as in his soul he knew she would succeed. Then it was that his quick and anxious glance asked the question: "Which?" It was as plain to her as if he shouted it from where he stood. There was not an instant to be lost. The question was asked in a flash; it must be answered in another. Her right arm lay on the cushioned parapet before her. She raised her hand, and made a slight, quick movement toward the right. No one but her lover saw her. Every eye but his was fixed on the man in the arena. He turned, and with a firm and rapid step he walked across the empty space. Every heart stopped beating, every breath was held, every eye was fixed immovably upon that man. Without the slightest hesitation, he went to the door on the right, and opened it. Now, the point of the story is this: Did the tiger come out of that door, or did the lady ? The more we reflect upon this question, the harder it is to answer. It involves a study of the human heart which leads us through devious mazes of passion, out of which it is difficult to find our way. Think of it, fair reader, not as if the decision of the question depended upon yourself, but upon that hot-blooded, semi-barbaric princess, her soul at a white heat beneath the combined fires of despair and jealousy. She had lost him, but who should have him? How often, in her waking hours and in her dreams, had she started in wild horror, and covered her face with her hands as she thought of her lover opening the door on the other side of which waited the cruel fangs of the tiger! But how much oftener had she seen him at the other door! How in her grievous reveries had she gnashed her teeth, and torn her hair, when she saw his start of rapturous delight as he opened the door of the lady! How her soul had burned in agony when she had seen him rush to meet that woman, with her flushing cheek and sparkling eye of triumph; when she had seen him lead her forth, his whole frame kindled with the joy of recovered life; when she had heard the glad shouts from the multitude, and the wild ringing of the happy bells; when she had seen the priest, with his joyous followers, advance to the couple, and make them man and wife before her very eyes; and when she had seen them walk away together upon their path of flowers, followed by the tremendous shouts of the hilarious multitude, in which her one despairing shriek was lost and drowned! Would it not be better for him to die at once, and go to wait for her in the blessed regions of semi-barbaric futurity? And yet, that awful tiger, those shrieks, that blood! Her decision had been indicated in an instant, but it had been made after days and nights of anguished deliberation. She had known she would be asked, she had decided what she would answer, and, without the slightest hesitation, she had moved her hand to the right. The question of her decision is one not to be lightly considered, and it is not for me to presume to set myself up as the one person able to answer it. And so I leave it with all of you: Which came out of the opened door,--the lady, or the tiger?LITERATURE OUT LOUD
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Monday Feb 15, 2010
Monday Feb 15, 2010
In Love With Being Alive
I love life. There really is nothing like experiencing a perfect day, hour or minute. I know life can’t be bliss every moment, but it really is worth those times we get to feel that all is right with ourselves, the world, and the universe.
There are some that stand out in my mind as I contemplate the times I really felt at one with the universe. The birth of my daughters are moments I will never forget, and welcoming them into this world was extraordinary. Running a marathon may seem like a strange way to experience the bliss of the universe, but it really is an amazing experience. Walking up a mountain and admiring the beauty of nature is another way. When the day is not going so well, it may be time to reflect back on the best of times.
Having daughters may be much easier than having sons, but there’s a tremendous amount of worry that comes with female offspring. Maybe because fathers were once young men, and they are familiar with the thought patterns and habits of the boys in the world. Let’s just say it’s not all purity and light. Now that my daughters are in their twenties, I feel much more comfortable with their ability to deal with the world. Sadly, they seem to grow up way too fast, and while we try to enjoy them while they are growing up, it all happens much too fast. We don’t really seem to understand they won’t stay young forever. But that doesn’t stop us from reflecting back and remembering how sweet it is to see your children mature into adulthood.
Running three marathons may seem a strange way to celebrate the bounty of the universe, but after 26.2 grueling miles, your mind has overcome the complaints of your body and you are sure you can do anything you try to do. It is a life affirming action, and the number of people who are participating in marathons grew 11 percent last year. The finishing time for runners is slower, which show an expansion in the sport for those running for the experience, and not necessarily to win the race. They want to see what they are made of, if they can accomplish something most other people consider crazy. Over a million people finished marathons last year, and the other road races showed growth as well. The average number of people finishing each race was over 4000 people.
Think about that number. Here are 4000 people all trying to do the same thing. They encourage each other as they run along, and the support staff all along the way cheer them on, too. It really is like a giant party celebrating just what the human body can accomplish. When it’s your body which has run 26.2 miles, it can be quite a celebration indeed.
But I really love what I experience when I am in nature. It could be just digging in the dirt in my yard and planting another seedling, hoping it will grow and flourish. I was even insane enough one summer to actually climb the mountain behind my house instead of just looking at it and wondering what it was really like up there. I didn’t use the right shoes; I didn’t train correctly for it; it didn’t take enough water with me; so it’s amazing I survived to tell the story. But on the way up the mountain I found a penny left by someone else two-thirds of the way to the top. I walked by a swarm of bumblebees, who weren’t afraid of me, so I wasn’t afraid of them, and they walked on my hands and arm, then flew away. I saw a field full of wild flowers and was probably the only person that summer to walk through them. At the top of the mountain, six thousand feet from where I started; I saw the massive trees which looked like twigs from the valley floor. They had been burned, or had become diseased, and had died.
But here they were at the top of the mountain, defying gravity and age to pull them down. When I look at them from the valley now, I know I’m not looking at small sticks on a peak. I’ve stood next to them and wondered just what they had seen happening down in the valley floor as we inhabited and once barren desert valley and made it bloom.
Perhaps lightning had struck these mighty giants. But they still stand today as a witness of the incredible grandeur of what this world really is. If we can only look up from our daily trudge, we might be able to see the splendor of the universe, and our place in it.
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Monday Feb 15, 2010
Monday Feb 15, 2010
Love is Green
Love is a strange word. When we think of the things we love, usually family is first on our list. Some people are easy to love, while some others make it difficult for anyone to love them. But when I started thinking about things I love, after my family, I think I would have to say I love tinkering.I would have to say I get my love of tinkering from my father. I didn’t think we had much in common until someone reminded me I didn’t fall far from the tinkering tree. It’s true we both have cut trees in the forest, and I do like gardening while he prefers ranching, but when it comes to tinkering, I admit I may have the same bug. We are both bargain hunters, too.
Two stories will illustrate what I mean. First, and I love to tell this story, my father once found a great deal on a couple of pontoons. For the uninitiated, pontoon boats have these floating devices that hold the boat up. Dad got pretty excited since he is handy and creative, so he decided to build a house boat. When he was finished, it was very nice, with a bathroom, kitchen, and places to fish both fore and aft. The great part about his ambition with this boat happens when it finally meets water.
Dad had over-estimated the weight the pontoons could float, and the boat didn’t even make it out of the trailer. He could see there was a problem, and the way to fix it was to get bigger pontoons. Now, remember, the reason for the boat was the good deal on the pontoons. So he had to buy bigger ones and the boat turned out fine.
What to do with the smaller pontoons? Only one thing, of course. Build another, smaller pontoon boat, which also worked fine.
So I made the connection when one of my friends pointed out my proclivity for tinkering. One of my favorite projects involved the windows we had replaced for our house. One of the employees of the window company asked me if I wanted the old windows hauled away. If you listen closely to questions like these, the natural reaction is to say “sure”. But you should always try to find out the real answer to the question. I asked the guy, “How much to haul them away?” He said, “A hundred bucks.” I said, “Leave them.” I knew I could find something to use them for, and I had a vague idea floating around in the back of my brain.
I have always wanted a greenhouse. If you’ve ever priced them, you would know they tend to be very expensive. Now I had windows, and they were nice double pane windows which were still in good shape. So my tinkering mind began to plan, and after looking at some designs on the internet, I decided to design a greenhouse around the windows. That meant measuring, calculating, and trying to decide just how big a greenhouse I could build. I had to decide if I wanted it tall enough to stand inside, and if I had enough glass to make it work.
Designing around existing pieces of glass isn’t much different than building a boat from the pontoons up. I decided on the shape I wanted it to be, and after making some pretty detailed plans, I began to build. I have never built a greenhouse before, and as the sides began to rise, I wondered how to make it all stand up so I could screw it together.
There probably are easier ways to build a greenhouse, and anyone watching must have wondered what I thought I was doing. There was one point I didn’t know if it would work, but with about a hundred dollars worth of lumber, mostly two by fours, I had a perfectly serviceable greenhouse.
It’s not the most appealing looking thing in the world, but it works. It does need a little bit of heat assistance in the winter, but it stays 51 degrees even in the coldest winter day. I installed a little adjustable wooden window which opens and closes if it gets too hot. It’s controlled by a little metal lever which is heat activated.
I’ve grown flowers for the spring, banana plants, tangerine and lemon trees in the greenhouse. I usually start some of the plants for the garden in the cold of winter, and I’ve even sold some of them on EBay.
Love is a strange thing. I love to stand surrounded by flowers and green plants in the middle of January with snow and ice all around the greenhouse I tinkered with until it was done.
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