Dum Spiro Spero

…and who died in 1865 and is buried in Argentina… The photo was taken by Flynn Wynn.  The Irish composer Turl0ugh O’ Carolan composed another melody for an ancestor of Gerald Dillon.

Turlough O’Carolan… So, who would have thought there was a famous Irish composer who wrote some music for the lady who stayed with the soon-to-be-emasculated Napoleon?

…where you can come across intriguing morsels such as “The Twisted Journey Of ‘Napoleon’s Privates’“. And to think that a Dillon ended up with the-soon-to-be-emasculated man at Elba…

The resilience of the Poles:  here is another reason why I admire the Poles so much.

I despise dealing with people who use others to perpetrate lies. I am in good company:

Every libel, which is called famosus libellus, is made either against a private man, or against a public person. If it be against a private man, it deserves a severe punishment.  Edward Coke

Truth is generally the best vindication against slander. Abraham Lincoln

I am deriving some satisfaction in knowing that none else than the Pope had this to say:

Pope Francis spoke today about how gossip by Christians is a “slap” to Jesus “in the person of his children.”

“All three – disinformation, defamation and slander – are sins! This is sin! It is to slap Jesus in the person of his children, his brothers,” the Pope said May 18 in the chapel of St. Martha’s House.

Sometimes, moral support comes from unexpected places. In my experience dealing with chantapufis, they, the chantapufis, resort to desperate measures to intimidate, subjugate, bend. The moral of the story:  Empty words cannot become facts.

So, because I would rather play the guitar than read through requests for proposals, I am going back to my youth, and finding incredible gems of truly gifted musicians…  To wit, the Argentine Eduardo Falu (whose family hailed from Fallujah, of Iraq fame):

Here is a beautiful and sentimental song “How do you say goodbye”, that has meant so much to me because my whole life has been a big “hello and goodbye”…  If you know Spanish, the lyrics are especially poignant…

This song was popular when I moved to Tokyo, and my whole family would listen to it and cry.. In those days (not THAT long ago), phone calls were prohibitively expensive, and one communicated via letters (yes!!! We had to use pen and paper!).

This one takes me back to the beauty of Croatia, and the painful pangs I felt when we drove through that incredibly beautiful country, knowing that, while I was enjoying my stay in Rome, so many Croatians had endured so much grief.

And this one transports me to the exciting time of post-apartheid South Africa, where all seemed possible. What a vibrant country it was then, blessed with the rainbow beauty of an exhhuberance of birds, wild beasts, amazing flora, and unique people.

as a guitar gently weeps (continued)…  The song of the piano is a discourse… the song of a guitar is a song…  it produces poetic, melancholic sounds…  There is an Italian song that talks about a man playing the woman like a pianist striking the piano keys.  I am sure, whoever wrote the song, did not watch Segovia seduce his instrument.

I also was privileged to see this man perform…  My Father once believed I could become a concert guitarist and got me a one-of-a-kind guitar -made in Argentina- that produces heavenly sounds.  (Sadly… I loved the instrument, loved the music, but lacked the discipline.  I can play most of the pieces Segovia plays in the video, but I sound mechanical and pathetic)….  If  you care for music, do watch this show… You will enjoy it.

A long time ago, in Tokyo, I had a chance to meet this incredibly gifted man… Alas, it did not work out…  But, I did go to his concert, I watched him indulge in magic… and I pretended to imitate him.  I still do, though the fingers are a bit stiff… The melody always made me cry… I still do. I cried as a a young girl…and I cry as a mature woman… Why? What is it about music that truly stirs the strings of a heart?

I begin to understand people with phobias like Howard Hughes and Diane Keaton…  Via Althouse.

“Oh my goodness, we won,” cried Marcy Skowronski, the always colorful 87-year-old owner of the south side bar. “We’re going to have a party to throw the bras back up.”

“We’ve had bras hanging here for 45 years…”

The story, from the Smithsonian blog:

During the 150 missions they performed together, Gundlach said Casey never missed an explosive — she caught three before they could be detonated. He credits her for his making it back home safely.

“I wouldn’t be here … any kids I ever had wouldn’t exist if Casey hadn’t been here,” he said.