Day 3195: ... didn't know a soul.

 

 

"Emmy": ink brush drawing, junk mail collage, digital.

 

Want music?

Click here, Gladys Knight, Midnight Train to Georgia.

then click back on this blog tab or here to listen as you browse, or not?

 

 

 

 

A quick Dad story.

 

I lived with my Dad when I returned to the US in 1956. I had always been in a Catholic girls schools and was shy. Enrolled in John Marshall High School and didn't know a soul. I had a thick Australian accent, when I spoke people looked. 

Mrs. Hovey, my algebra teacher, called on me in class. I stood because we stood when called on in Australia. When I spoke, every head turned and I was beet red. As I remember, all traces of the accent were gone in a week.

Amazing what you can do when motivated.

A year later I had been given a assignment to speak at an assembly, in front of the whole school. My Dad saw that I was worried and asked why. When I explained, he said I was already suffering and the time wasn't here yet. He said, a take off on Shakespeare's quote, "A coward dies a thousand times ...", and his version, a brave man dies just once.  

Somehow that made sense? And, I survived. 
Now, looking at it from this end, I think so often what we dread the most never happens, or is mild in comparison to the reality?

 

 

 

 

•  A lovely 3-minute video, Shamisan, here.

 

 

Just because ...

 

  

Pekin Robin

  

                    

Smiles for Friday ...

 

 

 

 

                                                               Thanks for coming by today.