Je crois entendre encore

Another aria from Bizet's "The Pearl Fishers," this time sung by another great tenor, Jussi Bjorling. Compare his performance to the one by John McCormack.



I really enjoy these arias from "The Pearl Fishers." I may just have to get a recording of the entire opera.

Come Where My Love Lies Dreaming

Written by Stephen Foster, and sung by John McCormack.




John McCormack was one of the finest tenors ever. Like most of us, I have only heard his voice in recordings that were made before the advent of high fidelity sound recording. Even so, his superb technique and the remarkable beauty of his voice are totally captivating.

This is a fine performance of one of Stephen Fosters most beautiful songs. I hope you enjoy it.

a maja mantra

Om
Namah Shivāya Gurave
Saccidānanda-Mūrtaye
Nishprapañcāya Shāntāya
Nirālambāya Tejase

I bow to the goodness within myself
known as Lord Shiva, who is the true teacher.
This essence inside takes the form of truth,
consciousness, and bliss.
Always present and full of peace, this essence inside
is completely free, and sparkles with a divine luster.

NOT an Accident

A young man got drunk. He climbed into his car to drive home. On the way, he lost control of his car, ran over and killed a young woman, within sight of her young children. Afterward, he said he regretted the accident.

It was NOT an accident. The young man chose to get drunk. Knowing that he was drunk, he chose to drive his car. He knew his actions were wrong, dangerous, and illegal. He intentionally created the circumstances that led to the mother's death. The results were totally under his control. Neither he nor anyone else should refer to this event as an accident. The man committed a crime, and he should be punished.

But many more events are truly accidents as I discussed in an earlier post. To deal with accidents in the same way as the crime above should be handled is wrong.

No More Accidents

Accidents used to happen every once in a while. A person, not watching where he was going, slipped and fell, perhaps breaking an arm. A railing or a step broke because a piece of wood was weak. A tree branch fell on someone's car. A tire picked up a nail in the road, and blew. A driver's foot slipped off the brake pedal and hit the accelerator pedal. All of these things were the result of simple errors or minor neglect, but no one was considered to be at fault.

These days, such occurrences are considered accidents much less often. When something bad happens, someone must be blamed. Someone is "grossly negligent." Somebody intentionally created a dangerous situation. Someone is at fault. Whoever he is, HE MUST PAY. This has created what we call "a litigous society." When what was formally considered to be an accident occurs, we feel compelled to find a person to blame, and to make him pay for the damage or injury. We are encouraged by our insurance companies who never want to pay for anything. We are encouraged by trial lawyers who lust after a share of the payments.

Why can we not step back and accept the fact that bad things happen from time to time? Why can we not accept the fact that the broken railing or step has just become old, or had a defect that the owner was totally unaware of? Why can we not acknowledge that we ourselves may have been careless, or made a mistake that precipitated the damage? Why can we not repair the damage or injury at our own expense, and just move on? Because we are driven by our own anger and our desire for revenge. Our anger, greed, and selfishness are gradually destroying the concept of accidents.

In a gracious and civil society, people are more cautious. They also have more understanding, more forgiveness, more self awareness, and, unfortunately, a few more accidents.

Turkeys

Did you notice that all of the turkeys made their annual appearance on schedule, just a day or two before Thanksgiving?

• The turkeys I am talking about drive cars. They show up in hoards just before Thanksgiving day, to clog the roads and shopping mall parking lots. They are the ones who zip into that parking space you were about to enter. They run stop signs and red traffic lights. They make left turns from the right hand lane, and vice versa. They zoom up alongside you, cut in front of you, and then slow down.
  
• Many of them wear baseball caps, backwards of course. Others look deceptively normal. Some of them offer the one finger salute as a holiday greeting. This year most of them are using cell phones while they pull their rude and inconsiderate stunts.
  
• Then, just after New Years Day, the turkeys go back into hiding until the next Thanksgiving. During the rest of the year, only occasionally will one appear.

The Beginning

Someone told me that the pseudonym for a porn star is made by combining the name of his first pet with the name of the first street he lived on. My first pet was a dog we called Poochie. We lived on Williamson Road. Although I am not a porn star, I still like the name.

I started this second blog page in the hope of assembling an Andy Rooney-like collection of musings on various topics that catch my fancy (mostly in the nature of gripes). Maybe, if I publish them, I will be less likely to bore folks with them in daily conversation. The page will probably be found only by people who read my profile, or who stumble on it with the 'next blog' button, but I guess that's ok.