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Ah, hawkman, Thanks once again for the great bio's and the memory reminder. That lady had problems rather like a person with a lost cell phone. One must wait for it to ring so that it can be located.

I will wager, listeners, that there is not one person here that doesn't know Louis Armstrong. I admire him for keeping a low profile and not involving himself in the politics of the day. I am sure he had very strong feelings about Dr. King and his mission, but did not want to be exploited.

This is one of my favorite poems by Shelley:

Ozymandias

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert ... Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works ye mighty and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

-- Percy Bysshe Shelley

Good morning all.


So, I turned to her and said, I can't possibly do that! I am just…

GETTING TO KNOW YOU
(Oscar Hammerstein)

Anna:
It's a very ancient saying,
But a true and honest thought,
That if you become a teacher,
By your pupils you'll be taught.
As a teacher I've been learning
(You'll forgive me if I boast)
And I've now become an expert,
On the subject I like most.
[Spoken]
Getting to know you.
[Children Giggle]
Getting to know you, getting to know all about you.
Getting to like you, getting to hope you like me.
Getting to know you, putting it my way,
But nicely,
You are precisely,
My cup of tea.
[Children Giggle]

All [Except children]:
Getting to know you,
Getting to know all about you.
Getting to like you,
Getting to hope you like me.
Getting to know you, putting it my way,
But nicely,
You are precisely,

Anna:
My cup of tea.

All (including children):
Getting to know you,
Getting to feel free and easy.
When I am with you,
Getting to know what to say
Haven't you noticed
Suddenly I'm bright and breezy
Because of all the beautiful and new
Things I'm learning about you
Day by day.
Getting to know you,
Getting to feel free and easy.
When I am with you,
Getting to know what to say
Haven't you noticed
Suddenly I'm bright and breezy
Because of all the beautiful and new
Things I'm learning about you
Day by day.

Ah, there's our Try. Yes, dear, we love getting to know everyone, no?

Wonderful reply to that lady out there somewhere:

And from that lady to our Try:

Day by day,
I'm falling more in love with you,
And day by day, I want you to know.

There isn't any end to my devotion,
It's deeper dear by far than any ocean.

I know that day by day,
You're making all my dream come true,
So come what may, I want you to know,
I'm yours alone and I'm in love to stay,
As we go through the years, day by day.

I was wandering thru my bits of writing today & came across this. Four seasons in 1 day.


WITHER THE WEATHER

It's doin' that big wet splashy stuff
That soaks your coat
& makes you cold
It emanates from big dark clouds
& culminates in deep dark sewers

It's doin' that big white fluffy stuff
That fills the streets
Then stalls the traffic
& turns the lake to a skating rink
Then freezes your nose, fingers & toes

It's doin' that damp grey misty stuff
That swirls about
Then gets you lost
Signs of London & Sherlock Holmes
Dark Gothic Follies & Dracula

Now it's doin' that scorching' sun
That burns your skin
& makes you sweat
The air con in the car is broke
The humid air makes you choke

There's sweat on your brow
It's filling your eyes
You've lost your shades
You can't see a thing
Then side swiped a truck & bounced in a ditch

Now you're doin' that E & R thing
Plaster casts & long neat stitches
Holds your body tightly together
Cursing your luck & insurance plan
All you can do is blame the weather

At the end of the bed
Shrouded in black
Holding his schythe
And wearing a smile
Watching & waiting it's The Grim Reaper

letty wrote :
"Simply have a couple of Heinegen beers and there will never be a problem. <smile> "

we took the dogs down to lake ontario for a couple of hours , came home , the 'seniors' ( ) had a B&B , and the whole crew of six slept until 6:45 am - our regular time to get up !
dogs didn't ask to be taken outside for bathroom break during night , 'seniors' did't need one either !
here's to B&B !
hbg

John, I had forgotten how vivid your writing is. I think we all have gotten a visual from your weather poem, but the ending is quite macabre, London. That, however, is what makes it come to life. Thank you for a wonderful and original piece, Brit.

From the pen of W.B. Yeats:

Many times man lives and dies
Between his two eternities,
That of race and that of soul,
And ancient Ireland knew it all.
Whether man die in his bed
Or the rifle knocks him dead,
A brief parting from those dear
Is the worst man has to fear.
Though grave-diggers' toil is long,
Sharp their spades, their muscles strong,
They but thrust their buried men
Back in the human mind again.

Hey, hamburger. The wonderful part of it all is that it's not habit forming.

We all enjoyed ehBeth's graduation show, incidentally. What a great display of talent and good looks.

I got a letter this morning. I wonder if ashes can rekindle.



Gimme a ticket for an aeroplane
Ain't got time to take a fast train
Lonely days are gone, I'm a-goin' home
My baby, just-a wrote me a letter

I don't care how much money I gotta spend
Got to get back to baby again
Lonely days are gone, I'm a-goin' home
My baby, just-a wrote me a letter

Well, she wrote me a letter
Said she couldn't live without me no more
Listen mister, can't you see I got to get back
To my baby once-a more
Anyway, yeah!

Gimme a ticket for an aeroplane
Ain't got time to take a fast train
Lonely days are gone, I'm a-goin' home
My baby, just-a wrote me a letter

Well, she wrote me a letter
Said she couldn't live without me no more
Listen mister, can't you see I got to get back
To my baby once-a more
Anyway, yeah!

Gimme a ticket for an aeroplane
Ain't got time to take a fast train
Lonely days are gone, I'm a-goin' home
My baby, just-a wrote me a letter
My baby, just-a wrote me a letter

letty wrote :
"The wonderful part of it all is that it's not habit forming. "

and if it is habit forming , it's a habit i can enjoy in moderation
hbg

Love that song, John. Reminds me of Booman. Hope he is all right.

Well, listeners, hamburger and I have decided that some habits we do not want to break. <smile>

DIANA KRALL Song Lyrics

You're Getting to be a Habit with Me
(From the album "LOVE SCENES")

Every kiss, every hug seems to
Act just like a drug
You're getting to be a habit with me

Let me stay in your arms,
I'm addicted to your charms
You're getting to be a habit with me

I used to think your love
Was something
That I could take or leave alone
But now I just can't do without
My supply, I need you for my own

No I can't break away
I must have you every day
As regularly as coffee or tea
You've got me in your clutches
And I can't break free
You're getting to be a habit
With me-can't break it
You're getting to be a habit with me

Speaking of habits, listeners, we're missing our Raggedy today.

Here's Percy:



And Louis:

Thank you Letty. I had an appointment and didn't get my pictures developed in time. Yours are much better than the ones I took.

Raggedy, dear, dear Raggedy. No one does photos as you do, PA. I am a poor photographer. <smile>

I was just telling someone this evening what a marvelous job our PA lady did, and how much that I have learned from you, honey.

Back later with a song.

For 80 year old Tony.

Because Of You
Tony Bennett

[Words and Music by Arthut Hammerstein and Dudley Wilkinson]

Because of you there's a song in my heart
Because of you my romance had its start
Because of you the sun will shine
The moon and stars will say you're mine
Forever and never to part

I only live for your love and your kiss
It's paradise to be near you like this
Because of you my life is now worth while
And I can smile
Because of you

I only live for your love and your kiss
It's paradise to be near you like this
Because of you my life is now worth while
And I can smile
Because of you

ah, edgar, what a wonderful moment of Tony. This one is a memory as well:

David Hasselhoff - Jean Lyrics

Jean, Jean, roses are red
All the leaves have gone green
And the clouds are so low
You can touch them, and so
Come out to the meadow, Jean

Jean, Jean, you`re young and alive
Come out of your half-dreamed dream
And run, if you will, to the top of the hill
Open your arms, bonnie Jean

Till the sheep in the valley come home I don`t wait
Till the stars fall around me and find me alone
When the sun comes a-singin`
I`ll still be waiting

Jean, Jean, roses are red
And all of the leaves have gone green
And the clouds are so low
You can touch them, and so
Come into my arms, bonnie Jean

All the hills are ablaze with the moon`s yellow haze
Come into my arms, bonnie Jean
Jean, you`re young and alive!!

Marvelous, Gus, and Jean was originally done by Rod McKuen:



WOW! I love the looks of that man.

So I said:

Let's Try It Again
New Kids On The Block

I've heard of true loves that lasted forever, I guess there is a way,
and I've heard of true loves that needed each other more and more each day.
What is love when there's no one that cares?
Next time you need my love I'll be there, be right by your side.
Let's try it again, try it again, let's try it again,
my love for you, it has no end.
Let's try it again, 'till the end, all because I love you.

I've heard of two loves that stayed with each other,
didn't wander through the night,
and I've heard of two loves that prayed for each other,
didn't argue, fuss or fight.
Now I know just what love's all about.
Next time you need my love I won't doubt, doubt your love again.
Let's try....

[repeat]

Good morning, WA2K listeners and contributors. I do hope everyone is well out there in radio land. It's quiet and deliciously dark here in my little studio.

Try, that song by the "new kids" struck one chord for us here, I think, particularly this line:

"What is love when there's no one that cares?" Rather powerful, methinks.

For everyone who is listening:

Good Morning World
(From the album "PRODIGAL SISTA")

Written By Knight/Sharbek

Starting at the beginning in a history of pain
It's hard to realise, a dream I've fantasised for so long
Suddenly my position turns around within one day
A transformation came born with freedom's name

This brave new world I live in seems a little easier to face
This deep blue sea I swim in, bears me up enough so I can float away

Hey hello good morning world
Yesterday's another girl
Lovin' every minute of my life, my life
Morning came to right the wrong
Yesterday's another song
Lovin' every minute of my life, my life

Got a whole new religion, I got a change of scenery
And yet in different ways, nothing ceases to amaze me
I'm a whole new woman, In a different kind a'way
Yet I remain unfazed my mind and body still un-swayed

This brave new world I live in never seems to hurt me anymore
This deep blue sea I swim in always seems to bring me to a safer shore

Chorus

Hello, good morning, how are you? Fine so fine
Hello good morning, how are ya doin? Fine so fine
Hello good morning, how are you? Fine so fine
Hello good morning, how are ya doin? Fine so fine

This deep blue sea I swim in always seems to bring me to a safer shore

Chorus (x3)

Guy de Maupassant
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Henri René Albert Guy de Maupassant (IPA: ɡidəmopas̃ɑ) (5 August 1850 - 6 July 1893) was a popular 19th-century French writer. He is one of the fathers of the modern short story. His short stories are characterized by their economy of style and the efficient way in which the various threads within them are neatly resolved. Some of his stories would now be considered to be horror fiction. He also wrote six novels.

Biography

Maupassant was born at the Château de Miromesnil, near Dieppe in the Seine-Maritime department.

The Maupassants were an old Lorraine family who had settled in Normandy in the middle of the 18th century. In 1846 his father had married a young lady of the well-to-do bourgeoisie, Laure Le Poittevin. With her brother Alfred, she had been the playmate of Gustave Flaubert, the son of a Rouen surgeon, who was destined to have a guiding influence on her son's life. She was a woman of no common literary accomplishments, very fond of the classics, especially Shakespeare. After separating from her husband, Le Poittevin kept her two sons, the elder Guy and younger Hervé.

Until he was thirteen years old Guy lived with his mother at Étretat, in the Villa des Verguies, where between the sea and the luxuriant countryside, he grew very fond of nature and outdoor sports; he went fishing with the fishermen off the coast and spoke patois with the peasants. He was deeply devoted to his mother. As he entered junior high school, he met the great author- Gustave Flaubert.
He first entered a seminary at Yvetot, but deliberately managed to have himself expelled. From his early education he retained a marked hostility to religion. Then he was sent to the Rouen Lycée, where he proved a good scholar indulging in poetry and taking a prominent part in theatricals.

The Franco-Prussian War broke out soon after his graduation from college in 1870; he enlisted as a volunteer and fought bravely. After the war, in 1871, he left Normandy and came to Paris where he spent ten years as a clerk in the Navy Department. During these ten tedious years his only recreation was canoeing on the Seine on Sundays and holidays.

Gustave Flaubert took him under his protection and acted as a kind of literary guardian to him, guiding his debut in journalism and literature. At Flaubert's home he met Émile Zola and the Russian novelist Ivan Turgenev, as well as many of the protagonists of the realist and naturalist schools. He wrote a considerable amount of verse and short plays.

In 1878 he was transferred to the Ministry of Public Instruction and became a contributing editor tp several leading newspapers such as Le Figaro, Gil Blas, Le Gaulois and l'Echo de Paris. He devoted his spare time to writing novels and short stories.

In 1880 he published his first masterpiece, "Boule de Suif", which met with an instant and tremendous success. Flaubert characterized it as "a masterpiece that will endure". This was Maupassant's first piece of short fiction set during the Franco-Prussian War, and was followed by short stories such as "Deux Amies", "Mother Savage", and "Mademoiselle Fifi".

The decade from 1880 to 1891 was the most fertile period of Maupassant's life. Made famous by his first short story, he worked methodically and produced two or sometimes four volumes annually. He combined talent and practical business sense, which made him wealthy.

In 1881 he published his first volume of short stories under the title of La Maison Tellier; it reached its twelfth edition within two years; in 1883 he finished his first novel, Une Vie (translated into English as A Woman's Life), twenty-five thousand copies of which were sold in less than a year. In his novels, he concentrated all his observations scattered in his short stories. His second novel Bel-Ami, which came out in 1885, had thirty-seven printings in four months.

His editor, Havard, commissioned him to write new masterpieces and Maupassant continued to produce them without the slightest apparent effort. At this time he wrote what many consider to be his greatest novel, Pierre et Jean.

With a natural aversion to society, he loved retirement, solitude, and meditation. He traveled extensively in Algeria, Italy, England, Brittany, Sicily, Auvergne, and from each voyage he brought back a new volume. He cruised on his private yacht "Bel-Ami", named after his earlier novel. This feverish life did not prevent him from making friends among the literary celebrities of his day: Alexandre Dumas, fils had a paternal affection for him; at Aix-les-Bains he met Taine and fell under the spell of the philosopher-historian.

Flaubert continued to act as his literary godfather. His friendship with the Goncourts was of short duration; his frank and practical nature reacted against the ambience of gossip, scandal, duplicity, and invidious criticism that the two brothers had created around them in the guise of an 18th-century style salon.

In his latter years he developed an exaggerated love for solitude, a predilection for self-preservation, and a constant fear of death and mania of persecution, compounded by the syphilis he had contracted in his early days. He was considered insane in 1891 and died two years later, a month short of his 43rd birthday, on July 6, 1893.

Guy de Maupassant is buried in the Cimetière du Montparnasse, Paris.

Miscellaneous

Swedish psychiatrist Axel Munthe describes in his famous memoirs The Story of San Michele his encounter with Maupassant who invited Munthe on his private yacht. Munthe writes that he met Mademoiselle Ivonne there, one of Maupassant's many lovers and an ether addicted ballett dancer. According to his account, Munthe medicated her later when she fell ill, a result of her addiction. He writes that she waited in vain for Maupassant to comfort her in the final hours of her life though he is not sure whether Maupassant was informed about her condition.

Significance

Maupassant is one of the fathers of the modern short story. Maupassant delights in clever plotting, and served as a model for Somerset Maugham and O. Henry in this respect. His stories about real or fake jewels ("La parure", "Les bijoux") are imitated with a twist by Maugham ("Mr Know-All", "A String of Beads") and Henry James ("Paste"). As a stylish writer with a huge popular appeal he may be compared to Georges Simenon.