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Ladies and Gentlemen… Mr. Leonard Cohen

This informal black-and-white portrait of Leonard Cohen shows him at age 30 on a visit to his hometown of Montreal, where the poet, novelist and songwriter comes “to renew his neurotic affiliations.” He reads his poetry to an enthusiastic crowd, strolls the streets of the city, relaxes in this three-dollar-a-night hotel room and even takes a bath.

Directed by Donald Brittain & Don Owen – 1965



When I was a little girl our family lived in a very small house that was built on my grandfather’s farm in Ohio. My father, who was also a musician, tinkered with things electronic and it was his great pride when he purchased our first tv set. It was a tiny thing, about eight inches from corner to corner. Its color had a kind of bluish or grey tone.

One of my first memories was sitting with my parents and brother and fixidly watching the coronation of Elizabeth II in 1953. I was nine. Now, many years later, I have been pleased to sing several of the musical settings from Coronation with the Maryland Choral Society on the occasion of its 50th anniversary which was performed in our local Episcopal Church on a Sunday afternoon. My dear late husband was also singing with us and so it also ranks especially high in my memory bank.

A televised moment of that 1953 recording is found among the many inspirational vignettes captured about this marvelous man and the choristers and musicians who so revered him and his talent. TBTG PS: How many of you were one of the twenty million viewers that day?

In my adult years I joined the Episcopal Church and I am sure that my love of the fine music featured in this story is one of the reasons I was drawn there.

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Joan of Arc

I know this now. Every man gives his life for what he believes. Every woman gives her life for what she believes. Sometimes people believe in little or nothing yet they give their lives to that little or nothing. One life is all we have and we live it as we believe in living it. And then it is gone. But to sacrifice what you are and live without belief, that's more terrible than dying.--

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February 2017



On the day when
the weight deadens
on your shoulders
and you stumble,
may the clay dance
to balance you.

And when your eyes
freeze behind
the grey window
and the ghost of loss
gets in to you,
may a flock of colours,
indigo, red, green,
and azure blue
come to awaken in you
a meadow of delight.

When the canvas frays
in the currach of thought
and a stain of ocean
blackens beneath you,
may there come across the waters
a path of yellow moonlight
to bring you safely home.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
may the clarity of light be yours,
may the fluency of the ocean be yours,
may the protection of the ancestors be yours.
And so may a slow
wind work these words
of love around you,
an invisible cloak
to mind your life.

John O'Donohue, Echoes of Memory