| | A Very Special Day! | |
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+5Al Stevens Shelagh dkchristi joefrank alice 9 posters | Author | Message |
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alice Five Star Member
Number of posts : 15672 Registration date : 2008-10-22 Age : 76 Location : Redmond, WA
| Subject: A Very Special Day! Fri Aug 05, 2011 11:00 am | |
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| | | joefrank Five Star Member
Number of posts : 8210 Registration date : 2008-11-04 Age : 75 Location : Santa Fe, New Mexico, USA
| Subject: Re: A Very Special Day! Fri Aug 05, 2011 12:18 pm | |
| 8/5/2011 Ann.. " HAPPY BIRTHDAY "From everyone here, Alice, Abe, DK, Shelagh and the whole gang. Cheers..Joe
Last edited by joefrank on Fri Aug 05, 2011 1:37 pm; edited 1 time in total |
| | | joefrank Five Star Member
Number of posts : 8210 Registration date : 2008-11-04 Age : 75 Location : Santa Fe, New Mexico, USA
| Subject: Re: A Very Special Day! Fri Aug 05, 2011 12:19 pm | |
| 8/4/2011 Ann.. Oooops, We forgot the flowers ! From the gang.. Cheers..Joe
Last edited by joefrank on Fri Aug 05, 2011 1:38 pm; edited 1 time in total |
| | | dkchristi Five Star Member
Number of posts : 8594 Registration date : 2008-12-29 Location : Florida
| Subject: Re: A Very Special Day! Fri Aug 05, 2011 1:26 pm | |
| Joe, can you include us in those gifts? I can't post pictures; not technical enough :-(
Anyway - Ann - hope you are celebrating major - remember Iguana Mia if you have one. |
| | | Shelagh Admin
Number of posts : 12662 Registration date : 2008-01-11 Location : UK
| Subject: Re: A Very Special Day! Fri Aug 05, 2011 2:27 pm | |
| Happy birthday, Ann! "The privilege of a lifetime is being who you are." Joseph Campbell |
| | | Al Stevens Five Star Member
Number of posts : 1727 Registration date : 2010-05-11 Location : Florida
| Subject: Re: A Very Special Day! Fri Aug 05, 2011 4:14 pm | |
| The very best, Ann. Keep having them. If you're like me, you keep having the same one. 39 and stopped counting. |
| | | Betty Fasig Five Star Member
Number of posts : 4334 Registration date : 2008-06-12 Age : 81 Location : Duette, Florida
| Subject: Re: A Very Special Day! Fri Aug 05, 2011 5:24 pm | |
| Dear Ann,
For all the times that I took words out of the context of Prufrock and wove them into my understanding, and for all the times I pasted little bits on the walls in my office cubicle to keep me sane, and for all the kindness you have in your heart and the understanding of waifling peoples, I post this poem here for you. You are one in a million. Happy birthday!
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock (1919)
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse A persona che mai tornasse al mondo, Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse. Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo Non torno vivo alcun, s'i'odo il vero, Senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.
Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherized upon a table; Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets, The muttering retreats Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells: Streets that follow like a tedious argument Of insidious intent To lead you to an overwhelming question . . . Oh, do not ask, "What is it?" Let us go and make our visit.
In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo.
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening, Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains, Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys, Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, And seeing that it was a soft October night, Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.
And indeed there will be time For the yellow smoke that slides along the street, Rubbing its back upon the window-panes; There will be time, there will be time To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; There will be time to murder and create, And time for all the works and days of hands That lift and drop a question on your plate; Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions, Before the taking of a toast and tea.
In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo.
And indeed there will be time To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?" Time to turn back and descend the stair, With a bald spot in the middle of my hair-- [They will say: "How his hair is growing thin!"] My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin, My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin-- [They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!"] Do I dare Disturb the universe? In a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
For I have known them all already, known them all:-- Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons; I know the voices dying with a dying fall Beneath the music from a farther room. So how should I presume?
And I have known the eyes already, known them all-- The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase, And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin, When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall, Then how should I begin To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways? And how should I presume?
And I have known the arms already, known them all-- Arms that are braceleted and white and bare [But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!] Is it perfume from a dress That makes me so digress? Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl. And should I then presume? And how should I begin? . . . . .
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? . . .
I should have been a pair of ragged claws Scuttling across the floors of silent seas. . . . . .
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully! Smoothed by long fingers, Asleep . . . tired . . . or it malingers, Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me. Should I, after tea and cakes and ices, Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis? But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed, Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter, I am no prophet--and here's no great matter; I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker, And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, And in short, I was afraid.
And would it have been worth it, after all, After the cups, the marmalade, the tea, Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me, Would it have been worth while, To have bitten off the matter with a smile, To have squeezed the universe into a ball To roll it toward some overwhelming question, To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all"-- If one, settling a pillow by her head, Should say: "That is not what I meant at all. That is not it, at all."
And would it have been worth it, after all, Would it have been worth while, After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets, After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor-- And this, and so much more?-- It is impossible to say just what I mean! But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen: Would it have been worth while If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl, And turning toward the window, should say: "That is not it at all, That is not what I meant, at all." . . . . .
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be; Am an attendant lord, one that will do To swell a progress, start a scene or two, Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool, Deferential, glad to be of use, Politic, cautious, and meticulous; Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse At times, indeed, almost ridiculous-- Almost, at times, the Fool.
I grow old . . .I grow old . . . I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves Combing the white hair of the waves blown back When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
- T. S. Eliot (1919)
Love
Betty |
| | | Abe F. March Five Star Member
Number of posts : 10768 Registration date : 2008-01-26 Age : 85 Location : Germany
| Subject: Re: A Very Special Day! Fri Aug 05, 2011 10:01 pm | |
| Ann, I trust you had a happy birthday with cherised memories of days gone by. Your future memories are being created now. I wish you many more birthdays that reflect happiness. |
| | | dmondeo Five Star Member
Number of posts : 1485 Registration date : 2009-02-15 Age : 69 Location : UK
| Subject: Re: A Very Special Day! Sat Aug 06, 2011 3:41 am | |
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| | | alj Five Star Member
Number of posts : 9633 Registration date : 2008-12-05 Age : 80 Location : San Antonio
| Subject: Re: A Very Special Day! Sat Aug 06, 2011 7:36 am | |
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