WA2K Radio is now on the air

Well, dj, however he made you, you be good.

Time for me to say goodnight, listeners. Since no one answered the poppy question, I'll simply leave it unanswered.

The sprinklers on the golf course,
Make a hissing sound.
They lull me into quiet sleep
And simply say, Get down!

sooooooo. Letty be getting down, now.

From me with love

Wake up, wake up Darlin' Cora
Wanna see you one more time
The sheriff and his hound dogs a coming
I gotta move on down the line

I don't know why darlin' Cora
Don't know what the reason can be
But I never had found a single town
Where me and my boss-man agree

I ain't a man to be played with
I ain't nobody's toy
Been working for my pay for a long, long time
How come he still calls me boy

Well I'd rather drink muddy water
And sleep in a hollowed out log
Than to hang around in this old town
And be treated like a dirty dog

Well I whopped that man darlin' Cora
And he fell down where he stood
Don't know if I was wrong darlin' Cora
But Lord it sure felt good

If it wasn't so dark darlin' Cora
You'd see tears trickling down my face
It breaks my heart darlin' Cora
But I got to leave this place
Wake up, wake up darlin' Cora

Interesting. In the Burl Ives version I know the implication was that the singer had beaten Darlin' Cory and she would never wake again.

Belafonte's version.

Edgar--

I formed my loyalities while pregnant in complicated marriage and am glad to have my horizons enlarged. Thank you.

Belafonte the folklorist has adapted many songs to his own style. The influences are enormous.

E. B. White
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.

Elwyn Brooks White (July 11, 1899-October 1, 1985) was an American essayist, author, and noted prose stylist. He is most famous today for a writers' style guide, The Elements of Style, and for three children's books generally considered to be classics of the field.


Biography

White was born in Mount Vernon, New York and graduated from Cornell University with a Bachelor of Arts degree in 1921. His nickname "Andy" derives from Cornell co-founder Andrew Dickson White--any student thereafter named White was called Andy. He spent several years working as a writer for the Seattle Times and Seattle Post-Intelligencer and as an ad man before returning to New York City in 1924.

He published his first article in the newly founded The New Yorker magazine in 1925, then joined the staff in 1927. This made him moderately famous for the next six decades as he produced a long series of essays and unsigned "Notes and Comments" that were widely read as the magazine grew in influence. He gradually became the most important contributor to The New Yorker at a time when it was arguably the most important American literary magazine. He also served as a columnist for Harper's Magazine from 1938 to 1943.

In the late 1930s he turned his hand to children's fiction on behalf of a niece. His first children's book, Stuart Little, was published in 1945, and Charlotte's Web appeared in 1952. Both were highly acclaimed, and in 1970 jointly won the Laura Ingalls Wilder Medal, a major prize in the field of children's literature. In the same year, he published his third children's novel, The Trumpet of the Swan. In 1973, it received the Seqouyah Award from Oklahoma and the William Allen White Award from Kansas. The school children in these states voted and decided this was their "favorite book" of the year.

In 1959 he edited and updated the classic The Elements of Style. Originally written and published in 1918 by William Strunk Jr., the book is a handbook of grammatical and stylistic dos and don'ts for written American English. White had studied under Strunk while at Cornell in the years following World War I. Further editions of the work followed in 1972, 1979, and 1999. It is a standard tool for students and writers.

In 1978 he was awarded a special Pulitzer Prize for his work as a whole. Other awards he received included a Presidential Medal of Freedom in 1963, and memberships in a variety of literary societies throughout the United States. White was also a world federalist, and once said[1]:

Government is the thing. Law is the thing. Not brotherhood, not international cooperation, not security councils that can stop war only by waging it...Where does security lie, anyway - security against the thief, the murderer? In brotherly love? Not at all. It lies in government.

He died on October 1, 1985 at his farm home in North Brooklin, Maine and was interred at the Brooklin Cemetery.

White married Katharine Sergeant Angell in 1929, also an editor at the magazine and author (as Katharine White) of Onward and Upward in the Garden. They had a son, Joel, a boatbuilder. Katharine's son from her first marriage, Roger Angell, was a fiction editor for the New Yorker, but is perhaps better known as a baseball writer.

White's style was stereotypically "Yankee": wry, understated, thoughtful, and informed. He was widely regarded as a master of the English language, noted for clear, well-constructed, and charming prose.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/E._B._White

What poppy question? I didn't see it. Poppy questions, we can answer.

For instance, we had papaver orientalis in the garden, but it died.

Is that the answer?

Why Wear A Poppy??


"Please wear a poppy," the lady said,

And held one forth, but I shook my head,

Then I stopped and watched as she offered them there,

And her face was old and lined with care;


But beneath the scars the years had made

There remained a smile that refused to fade.

A boy came whistling down the street,

Bouncing along on care-free feet.


His smile was full of joy and fun,

"Lady," said he, "may I have one?"

When she'd pinned it on, he turned to say;

"Why do we wear a poppy today?"


The lady smiled in her wistful way

And answered; "This is Remembrance Day.

And the poppy there is a symbol for

The gallant men who died in war.


And because they did, you and I are free -

That's why we wear a poppy, you see.

I had a boy about your size,

With golden hair and big blue eyes.


He loved to play and jump and shout,

Free as a bird, he would race about.

As the years went by, he learned and grew,

And became a man - as you will, too.


He was fine and strong, with a boyish smile,

But he'd seemed with us such a little while

When war broke out and he went away.

I still remember his face that day.


When he smiled at me and said, 'Goodbye,

I'll be back soon, Mum, so please don't cry.'

But the war went on and he had to stay,

And all I could do was wait and pray.


His letters told of the awful fight

(I can see it still in my dreams at night),

With the tanks and guns and cruel barbed wire,

And the mines and bullets, the bombs and fire.


Till at last, at last, the war was won -

And that's why we wear a poppy, son."

The small boy turned as if to go,

Then said: "Thanks, lady, I'm glad to know.


That sure did sound like an awful fight,

But your son - did he come back all right?"

A tear rolled down each faded cheek;

She shook her head, but didn't speak.


I slunk away in a sort of shame,

And if you were me, you'd have done the same:

For our thanks, in giving, is oft delayed,

Though our freedom was bought - and thousands paid!


And so, when we see a poppy worn,

Let us reflect on the burden borne

By those who gave their very all

When asked to answer their country's call

That we at home in peace might live.

Then wear a poppy! Remember - and Give!

<click on the pics to enlarge>

... and more prosaically, still poignantly,

The seed of the poppy plant is a very long-lasting seed, and is quick to germinate. Poppies are seen growing among corn (wheat-US) and at the edge of cornfields, for example.

In the battlefields of WW1, after the bombardments, there was only a sea of mud, and a few shattered trunks of trees left...no other vegetation.
The poppies were the first flowers to grow over the battlefields.
That is why it became a symbol for the fallen soldiers, and a longed-for return to normality..

Good morning WA2K radio.

Thanks all, for your contributions.

edgar, the old ones say quite a bit, do they not?

Angel, as usual, we appreciate your delight poetry illustrated by lovely pictures. Thank you, dear.

McTag, the poppies to which I referred were the ones that fell from the skies over the solemn processional in London. They are symbolic because of Britains resistance during WWII. The buddy poppy is a remembrance of Britains undying will and ability to recover.

The soldiers in the fox holes during WWII had a buddy system, and the following song reflects that strategy:

Life is a book that we study.
Some of it's leaves bring a sigh.
There it was written, my Buddy,
That we must part, you and I.

Nights are long since you went away.
I think about you all through the day,
My buddy, my buddy,
Nobody quite so true.

Miss your voice, the touch of your hand
Just long to know that you understand,
My buddy, my buddy,
Your buddy misses you.

Miss your voice, the touch of your hand
Just long to know that you understand,
My buddy, my buddy,
Your buddy misses you.

Your buddy misses you...

A soldier fought for the buddy beside him, not necessarily for the ones back home, and I can understand that.

Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae

IN FLANDERS FIELDS



In Flanders fields, the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.



We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow.

Loved, and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.



Take up our quarrel with the foe;

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch, be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields

Are those poppies in the Star newspaper Walter?

I would also like to say to our Boston Bob that we continue to enjoy his background on people who are worthy of note. E.B. White's delightful story about Charlotte's Web is indeed an example of sacrifice.

Walter, thank you for the visualization of the news report. Poppies have been symbolic of rest and peace for sometime, have they not? and I particulary appreciate the poem by McCrae.

Well, McTag, the question about why poppies were dropped from the sky over the solemn occasion in London has been answered, right, Brit?

Both are the title pages, of the 'Express' and the 'Star' as of today.

McTag said WWI, and Letty said WWII, which is it please?