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November 2020

Yeats’s “The Second Coming”

  • Poetry

“Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold…” For some unknown reason these words have been going through my head the last couple of weeks. The line is from the poem The Second Coming by William Butler Yeats. I remember some of the poem from required reading of it in English Literature during my university days. Written in 1919 in the aftermath of the First World War, the poem is also… 

Remembrance Day

Today is Remembrance Day. I’d like to pay my deep respects once more to the uncle I never knew who gave his life in WWII, along with so many others, so that we could all be free. Thank you, Uncle George. George Clifford Quartly Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry (PPCLI), R.C.I.C., Company C Killed in action near Monte Cassino, ItalyMay 23, 1944 Uncle George is buried in Cassino War CemeteryCassino,… 

First they came…

Lately I have been reviewing, captioning and posting my travel shots and journal from our 2012 trip to Berlin, Germany. Looking over the pictures we took of the Holocaust memorials and remembering their impact at the time has put me in mind of the powerful First they came… piece of prose. First they came… is the poetic form of a post-war confessional prose by the German Lutheran pastor Martin Niemöller… 

You Could Have Heard A Pin Drop

This one has made the rounds before but as Remembrance Day approaches it is a great reminder to honour November 11th. In France, at a fairly large conference, Former Canadian Prime Minister Steven Harper was asked by a French cabinet minister if Canadian involvement in Afghanistan was just an example of “empire building.” Mr. Harper answered by saying: Over the years, Canada has sent many of its fine young men… 

My Mantra

  • Musings

Just be a good humanBe humble, be kindLove who you canHelp where you canGive what you can

Fog

  • Poetry

The fog was rolling in a couple of days ago, and it put me in mind of the poem we learned in grade school – Fog. I seem to have retained this poem in my long term memory, I guess, due to its simplicity and imagery. I still love it all these years later: Fog The fog comeson little cat feet. It sits lookingover harbor and cityon silent haunchesand then… 

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