Monday, May 31, 2010
Today is Memorial Day in the United States. Most people think of it as a day off from work, or an excuse to grill, or maybe a chance to get discounts at their favorite stores. But there is, of course, a deeper meaning to Memorial Day.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Old T^houghts
Saturday, May 29, 2010
My Storm
Lloyd, welcomed for his first group meeting, introduced himself. He is a writer of poetry and short stories, and an artist who happens to be blind. He has an Internet blog which can be accessed via a link he will include in a reply to emails sent to: lbrad2@sbcglobal.net. Lloyd has taught electrical engineering and also served as a technical sergeant in the Army. For his key concept, Lloyd said, "Recognition. I want to recognize myself. I want to improve my body, mind and soul. And, by improving that, other people will recognize that I am an individual and a person." He is an avid reader, storyteller and listener who hopes to bring joy to others as a result of improving himself. Lloyd mentioned that one means of communicating with others is through his art and his writings. One current, practical challenge he is facing is to transfer audio cassette recordings of his short stories to audio CDs, so he can easily distribute his writings to others. The group brainstormed ideas to bring about this result. Commercial audio duplicating services are an option, depending on financial considerations. Another option is to transcribe the cassettes into text using a keyboardist/proofreader, then to have the text read onto recordable CDs.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Madness
Friday, May 21, 2010
Hush, my darling, don't fear, my darlingThe lion sleeps tonightHush, my darling, don't fear, my darlingThe lion sleeps tonight
Thursday, May 20, 2010
WALT WHITMAN QUOTES
Leaves of Grass:
I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey work of the stars.
I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.
Leaves of Grass:
I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey work of the stars.
I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.
I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own,
And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my own,
And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the women my sisters and lovers,
And that a kelson of the creation is love.
And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my own,
And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the women my sisters and lovers,
And that a kelson of the creation is love.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
I an Cheery
See ME?
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
A Flooded river
A walk
Lloyd Bradbury Page 1 5/18/2010
Rich called that the bridge over the Deplanes River was blocked too traffic. So giving me a ride to church was out. I told him to say a prayer for me.
I was quires. Why was the bridge closed?
Sincedeessed why not walk over there.
I walked down West 39 Street.
It was a wonderful bright warm and sunny day.
The birds were singing. The leaves were waving. There were some wild flowers supplying themselves.
I noticed the white meat wagon. They were loudening a dead Nan. The Hoffman had caught another one. Twice this week.
Policemen crossed me ocher the bridge, in church said some prayers and listened to a sermon about the end of the world.
Rich called that the bridge over the Deplanes River was blocked too traffic. So giving me a ride to church was out. I told him to say a prayer for me.
I was quires. Why was the bridge closed?
Sincedeessed why not walk over there.
I walked down West 39 Street.
It was a wonderful bright warm and sunny day.
The birds were singing. The leaves were waving. There were some wild flowers supplying themselves.
I noticed the white meat wagon. They were loudening a dead Nan. The Hoffman had caught another one. Twice this week.
Policemen crossed me ocher the bridge, in church said some prayers and listened to a sermon about the end of the world.
One must fight
The demons
Of fear
Purpose not clear
Why we here
Kiss me dear
The demons
Of fear
Purpose not clear
Why we here
Kiss me dear
Three years ago
We and not I
I sat on the bench waiting for the train
I rembered my appoimtmem
It was aith my mimister
I told my troubles
He sayed “ Think WE not I”
I returned to the bemch
Amtrak wizzed by at 60
I stood up and went home
Monday, May 17, 2010
The river strijes
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Created on 5/14/2010 6:00 PM
Wild Ones
We mocked from Morganville to Farmingdale New Jersey. I was Thirteen years old, a teenager.
The town was a freight stop for the Penn. Railroad. The town had one Main St. With three roads crossing it. On Main Street there were three churches, a Drug store, mad a doctor residence. Also om the stree were clothinimg store. I do not remember a dood store. The only other business was the frieght station. The hhones were scattered about nain street . The other roads lead to farms.
My Dad , sister and mozed intoved into an old house on Main Street. I trmember a drafty old house. We had no radio or tv. I do npt rember having a meal there. It seemed to eat at other people places. My dad had meny girl friends.
It was a Jersey summer,hot amd hunid. The farmers always beeded extra hands. But there were the weej encs.
[LIB1]
I descovered three were three teenagers in town. So we all hung out in frnt at connies drug store. We matched and pitched pennies for hours. We though of the drug store for not paying fot the magagazines we read. We got tired of cherry cokes.
One night we decided to go for a walk.
The fist we cane upon was a monumento Nr Luntz. He was the founder of this merserable town. We push it over. Our reigh of terror begain.
The storm is in the city
It covers what is pretty
Dust blows thru town
The horsemen around
I tremble
[LIB2] Note... After only 1600 Population
[LIB1]
[LIB2]
Wild Ones
We mocked from Morganville to Farmingdale New Jersey. I was Thirteen years old, a teenager.
The town was a freight stop for the Penn. Railroad. The town had one Main St. With three roads crossing it. On Main Street there were three churches, a Drug store, mad a doctor residence. Also om the stree were clothinimg store. I do not remember a dood store. The only other business was the frieght station. The hhones were scattered about nain street . The other roads lead to farms.
My Dad , sister and mozed intoved into an old house on Main Street. I trmember a drafty old house. We had no radio or tv. I do npt rember having a meal there. It seemed to eat at other people places. My dad had meny girl friends.
It was a Jersey summer,hot amd hunid. The farmers always beeded extra hands. But there were the weej encs.
[LIB1]
I descovered three were three teenagers in town. So we all hung out in frnt at connies drug store. We matched and pitched pennies for hours. We though of the drug store for not paying fot the magagazines we read. We got tired of cherry cokes.
One night we decided to go for a walk.
The fist we cane upon was a monumento Nr Luntz. He was the founder of this merserable town. We push it over. Our reigh of terror begain.
The storm is in the city
It covers what is pretty
Dust blows thru town
The horsemen around
I tremble
[LIB2] Note... After only 1600 Population
[LIB1]
[LIB2]
Saturday, May 15, 2010
LOVE
Friday, May 14, 2010
A visit to the city
Astory to follow.....
The storm is in the city
It covers what is pretty
Dust blows thru town
The horsemen around
I tremble\
It covers what is pretty
Dust blows thru town
The horsemen around
I tremble\
.. Sady I added this poem after reading yours,The nature of man makes me trenble......lloyd
Thanku for the painting Now about the poem
That you inspired alone.....lloyd
Monday, May 10, 2010
sandy said;
My resolves: To love what I have. To let it love me back. To dream a little. And thank the good guys for being there.So thank you.My World Tuesday
Posted by SandyCarlson at 10:00 AM 5 comments Links to this post
Labels: My World Tuesday, Topsail IslandSandyCarlson has left a new comment on your post "sandy said;": Lloyd, thanks for sharing my words on your blog. You touch my heart like I can't tell you.When I started blogging, you were one of the first to comment, and I felt like I was in the world after years of feeling like an outcast. Thank you again for that.God bless.
Posted by SandyCarlson at 10:00 AM 5 comments Links to this post
Labels: My World Tuesday, Topsail IslandSandyCarlson has left a new comment on your post "sandy said;": Lloyd, thanks for sharing my words on your blog. You touch my heart like I can't tell you.When I started blogging, you were one of the first to comment, and I felt like I was in the world after years of feeling like an outcast. Thank you again for that.God bless.
Saturday, May 08, 2010
Faithful
http://slchome.blogspot.com/search/label/Gospel%20of%20Luke
"The table is the Lord's, not the Church's; all are welcome to receive." With these words Fr. Jim would invite all present to the Communion table at St. John's in Waterbury. If you were there, you were in. We are all God's children. It was simple--as it should be.
With those words every Sunday Luke would make his way with his trusted friend Jo to the Communion rail, and he would receive the host right alongside her. Then, the two faithful friends would make their way back to their place in the front pew--and anyone and everyone who walked by them on that path to the table would greet them with warmth, affection, and the beautiful confidence of men, women, and children who knew the feelings were mutual.
Luke was Jo's service dog for many years after he had been her son Mike's service dog. Somewhere in the Service Dog Rule Book it says these companions are not pets, but Luke never read up to that page, and Jo is not one to dwell on foolish, unnecessary details. So we did the pet thing, and it was good.
Together this loving duo invited countless individuals into the church.
About five years ago, I was one of those people. At that point, I was unsure of churches, of the presumptions that package themselves as love, of the genuineness of people generally, of the exact nature of friendship. Still, at that stage, I felt an obligation to my daughter to bring her to church for her own sake, but I was going through the motions. But then there were Jo and Luke and all that warmth and fuzz and the smiles the way dogs smile and dog people who totally get what dogs can do smile. They were the heart and soul of safety, no strings attached. I was welcome to receive, and I received.
This year on Easter Sunday, I watched parishioners and visitors file past Luke. So many children pet him without asking because kids get it. One small child, already an Easter regular we never see any other time of year, gave Luke her bunny ears; he wore them and smiled. I watched one boy, a ten-year-old old soul, pet Luke and look into his eyes and see his spirit.
After the service, I watched Luke during the coffee hour celebration. People who never made eye contact and might never make contact laid hands on Luke and connected with each other as well as him in the warm, wordless way that dogs make possible. They knew the grace of God in the fur made warm by the beating heart of a beautiful being. My heart trembled as I watched God at work.
Last Saturday, Luke died in Jo's arms. He had lung cancer as well as back trouble, but he found succor in the arms of his dearest friend as he took his last breaths in this world. Our world is less without Luke. Much less.
It must be that way. We must, must, must feel this loss. Please God, let our aching hearts teach us to welcome as he welcomed, to trust as he trusted, to give as he gave, to love as he loved.
Indeed, may we love as Luke loved. Sweet Jesus, let it be. May we follow him to the table.Fr. Jim's blog post is here.
Posted by SandyCarlson at 8:57 PM 28 comments Links to this post
Labels: Gospel of Luke, St. John's
"The table is the Lord's, not the Church's; all are welcome to receive." With these words Fr. Jim would invite all present to the Communion table at St. John's in Waterbury. If you were there, you were in. We are all God's children. It was simple--as it should be.
With those words every Sunday Luke would make his way with his trusted friend Jo to the Communion rail, and he would receive the host right alongside her. Then, the two faithful friends would make their way back to their place in the front pew--and anyone and everyone who walked by them on that path to the table would greet them with warmth, affection, and the beautiful confidence of men, women, and children who knew the feelings were mutual.
Luke was Jo's service dog for many years after he had been her son Mike's service dog. Somewhere in the Service Dog Rule Book it says these companions are not pets, but Luke never read up to that page, and Jo is not one to dwell on foolish, unnecessary details. So we did the pet thing, and it was good.
Together this loving duo invited countless individuals into the church.
About five years ago, I was one of those people. At that point, I was unsure of churches, of the presumptions that package themselves as love, of the genuineness of people generally, of the exact nature of friendship. Still, at that stage, I felt an obligation to my daughter to bring her to church for her own sake, but I was going through the motions. But then there were Jo and Luke and all that warmth and fuzz and the smiles the way dogs smile and dog people who totally get what dogs can do smile. They were the heart and soul of safety, no strings attached. I was welcome to receive, and I received.
This year on Easter Sunday, I watched parishioners and visitors file past Luke. So many children pet him without asking because kids get it. One small child, already an Easter regular we never see any other time of year, gave Luke her bunny ears; he wore them and smiled. I watched one boy, a ten-year-old old soul, pet Luke and look into his eyes and see his spirit.
After the service, I watched Luke during the coffee hour celebration. People who never made eye contact and might never make contact laid hands on Luke and connected with each other as well as him in the warm, wordless way that dogs make possible. They knew the grace of God in the fur made warm by the beating heart of a beautiful being. My heart trembled as I watched God at work.
Last Saturday, Luke died in Jo's arms. He had lung cancer as well as back trouble, but he found succor in the arms of his dearest friend as he took his last breaths in this world. Our world is less without Luke. Much less.
It must be that way. We must, must, must feel this loss. Please God, let our aching hearts teach us to welcome as he welcomed, to trust as he trusted, to give as he gave, to love as he loved.
Indeed, may we love as Luke loved. Sweet Jesus, let it be. May we follow him to the table.Fr. Jim's blog post is here.
Posted by SandyCarlson at 8:57 PM 28 comments Links to this post
Labels: Gospel of Luke, St. John's
