Maxine by John Wagner
Time to reassess those resolutions!
Now that January has come to close
and we're one full month into the New Year,
let's be realistic about our "to do" lists!
I also have an additional category:
"Perhaps In My Next Lifetime"
"Children really are delighted by their gifts. Grown - ups really do enjoy watching their pleasure. The decorations really are pleasant to contemplate. The family feasts really are fun. The warmth of friends and relatives reaching out to one another really exists."
Gerry often tells a parable from his sociology days about the Citizen who complains to the Commandant that his neighbor has a pig and he does not.
Commandant: "Oh, Comrade Citizen, would you like me to get you a pig such as your neighbor has?"
Citizen: "Oh, no thank you, Sir. I ask only that you shoot my neighbor's pig, to insure that he has no more than I do."
Steve from Starbucks writes that the Siren "is a storyteller, carrying the lore of Starbucks ahead, and remembering our past. In a lot of ways, she’s a muse –always there, inspiring us and pushing us ahead.
"And she’s a promise too, inviting all of us to find what we’re looking for, even if it’s something we haven’t even imagined yet."
A Brief For The Defense
Sorrow everywhere. Slaughter everywhere. If babies
are not starving someplace, they are starving
somewhere else. With flies in their nostrils.
But we enjoy our lives because that’s what God wants.
Otherwise the mornings before summer dawn would not
be made so fine. The Bengal tiger would not
be fashioned so miraculously well. The poor women
at the fountain are laughing together between
the suffering they have known and the awfulness
in their future, smiling and laughing while somebody
in the village is very sick. There is laughter
every day in the terrible streets of Calcutta,
and the women laugh in the cages of Bombay.
If we deny our happiness, resist our satisfaction,
we lessen the importance of their deprivation.
We must risk delight. We can do without pleasure,
but not delight. Not enjoyment. We must have
the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless
furnace of this world. To make injustice the only
measure of our attention is to praise the Devil.
If the locomotive of the Lord runs us down,
we should give thanks that the end had magnitude.
We must admit there will be music despite everything.
We stand at the prow again of a small ship
anchored late at night in the tiny port
looking over to the sleeping island: the waterfront
is three shuttered cafés and one naked light burning.
To hear the faint sound of oars in the silence as a rowboat
comes slowly out and then goes back is truly worth
all the years of sorrow that are to come
by Jack Gilbert, American poet (1925 - 2012)