Not much to say today. It’s my parents’ 57th wedding anniversary today. 57 years? I haven’t even made it much past a year in any romantic relationship.
Thinking a bit about speech versus silent, attentive listening. I seem to swing wildly between having nothing to say in an almost anti-social manner and rambling, free-associating, and sometimes peevish speech. A poem:
A word is dead
When it is said,
Some say.
When it is said,
Some say.
I say it just
Begins to live
That day.
Begins to live
That day.
–Emily Dickinson
When I used this poem as a teacher a few years back, I added my old joke: “My favorite female author is Polly Syllabic. ” One student laughed.