New technologies have made it possible for Angela Gheorghiu to record a duet with Maria Callas, which is a first in the history of opera.
The audio duet, Habanera from Bizet’s “Carmen,” was recorded as a special bonus for Angela Gheorghiu’s new studio album “Homage to Maria Callas” and can be accessed by buying the deluxe edition or by iTunes download edition
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A bunch of skeletons kiss, hug, and dance in front of a crowd ... to make an excellent point about love. Also, it's not scary, we promise.
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Love the way the morning light casts shadows in this photograph.
The Reculver towers in Kent are silhouetted against the morning sky.
IT'S WHAT YOU
SCATTER
I was at
the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes .. . I noticed a small
boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily apprising a
basket of freshly picked green peas.
I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I
am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes.
Pondering
the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the
store owner) and the ragged boy next to me.
'Hello
Barry, how are you today?'
'H'lo, Mr.
Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas. They sure look good'
'They are
good, Barry. How's your Ma?'
'Fine.
Gittin' stronger alla' time.'
'Good.
Anything I can help you with?'
'No, Sir.
Jus' admirin' them peas.'
'Would you
like to take some home?' asked Mr. Miller.
'No, Sir.
Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with.'
'Well, what have you to trade me for some of those
peas?'
'All I got's my prize marble
here.'
'Is that
right? Let me see it', said Miller.
'Here
'tis. She's a dandy.'
'I can see
that. Hmm mmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you
have a red one like this at home?' the store owner
asked.
'Not
zackley but almost.'
'Tell you what.
Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at
that red marble'. Mr. Miller told the boy.
'Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller.'
Mrs.
Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me.
With a smile she said, 'There are two
other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor
circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes,
or whatever.
When they
come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't
like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green
marble or an orange one, when they come on their next trip to the store.'
I left the
store smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I moved
to Colorado , but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their
bartering for marbles.
Several
years went by, each more rapid than the previous one. Just recently I
had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was
there learned that Mr. Miller had died. They were having his visitation that
evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon
arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the
deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we
could.
Ahead of
us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two
wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts .. .all very professional
looking. They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by her
husband's casket.
Each of
the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and
moved on to the casket. Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by
one; each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold
pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes.
Our turn
came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and reminded her of the story
from those many years ago and what she had told me about her husband's
bartering for marbles. With her eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me
to the casket.
'Those three young men
who just left were the boys I told you about.
They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim
'traded' them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or
size .. .. they came to pay their debt.'
'We've
never had a great deal of the wealth of this world,' she confided, 'but right
now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho .. .'
With
loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband.
Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles.
The Moral:
We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind
deeds. Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that
take our breath.
