Friday. Yay?

I was in court Thursday. (Don't ask.) We're happy that Friday is here and my little soul has been strengthened, like a muscle after a zillion work-outs at the gym, it is toned, ready for the next stretch of life. Here is a prayer, composed by Miles Lowell Yates, an American theologian, 1890-1956:

Oh God, It is good to feel the disciplines that school the spirit: I thank thee for the trials and troubles which have wrought in me some hardihood of the soul.

Check that out. Thanks for the literal hell I've been through 'cause it has wrought--love that word--some hardihood----hardihood. I could look at this prayer as some sort of masochist's mantra. Rather I synthesize it down to "no pain, no gain."

The Omaha Nations (injuns, redskins, the locals whom the pale face obliterated, see: Manifest Destiny; How!) have a similar prayer:

I thank you for the suffering and trials of my life,which are also gifts and which, together with my mistakes, are among my most important teachers.


This workout of the soul made me hungry. Paul made this:

Blueberry Thing. Yum.

Blueberries are easy to grow in The Northwest--we have huckleberries and raspberries nearly ready to harvest here at Lightmoor Manor. Blueberry pie, normal as, Nellie Forbush, Rodgers and Hammerstein, South Pacific, my Thursday morning in Court=All American. For the week-end here are reading suggestions, American writers.

America. Oy. America

Huckleberry Finn is the bomb. I've recently read it for the first time as an adult. Its themes are contemporary, it is silly and serious, kinda sexy, and brilliantly flawed. The conclusion is is disaster but hey, who am I to dis Samuel Clemons?

Ginsberg might have been border-line pedophile,obsessed with his feces, but if you can look beyond that...he can make you weep.

To Kill a Mockingbird sings and soothes with the warmth of Southern Hospitality, flies buzzing around the porch on a lazy sot and humid afternoon. Atticus kills the dog and kills the dog and protects his young ones.

So, you're not feeling like reading. Well, here, this is an alternative to reading.

Francini is a sincere, humble, and kind 23 year-old Costa Rican woman with family values.

Church. She ( see above ) attends every Sunday. While you are getting ready to do your Sunday whatever listen to this excellent reggae-Jamaican-pop sound from 1967, The Gaylettes.




Whatever you all do this week-end I'll leave you with a poem by Walt Whitman. It is titled Thought.

Of Justice---as if Justice could be any thing but the same
ample law, expounded by natural judges and saviors,
As if it might be this thing or that thing, according to deci-
sions.