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  • Control Your Selfies
    "I guess your boyfriend is going to have to catch the next train."
    “I guess your boyfriend is going to have to catch the next train.”

    Al Roker, no one loves you more than us Seinfield fans. Oh yeah, you are in the news too. Maybe it’s the technology gap. Maybe you’re trying to be “hip.” Maybe you’re trying to figure out how to use that snazzy new phone. Whatever it is – a word to the wise journalists of the future. You take too many selfies as it is. Next time you are on assignment where there is damage and despair, leave the selfie stick at home.

    Roker at the South Carolina Flood.

  • The Dreamers Of Dreams

    Poetry has never been my strong suit, nor am I a regular reader of it. Consider me feeble minded. Yet here is my favorite poem, one that enlightens and inspires yet concurs. Probably the only poem i read regularly for inspiration when i’m stuck at a speed bump in my writing.

    And is there anything better than ol’ Wonka teaching Veruca the difference between the entitled and the enlightened?


    Arthur O’Shaughnessy’s Ode

    We are the music makers,
    And we are the dreamers of dreams,
    Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
    And sitting by desolate streams;—
    World-losers and world-forsakers,     5
    On whom the pale moon gleams:
    Yet we are the movers and shakers
    Of the world for ever, it seems.

    With wonderful deathless ditties
    We build up the world’s great cities,     10
    And out of a fabulous story
    We fashion an empire’s glory:
    One man with a dream, at pleasure,
    Shall go forth and conquer a crown;
    And three with a new song’s measure     15
    Can trample a kingdom down.

    We, in the ages lying
    In the buried past of the earth,
    Built Nineveh with our sighing,
    And Babel itself in our mirth;     20
    And o’erthrew them with prophesying
    To the old of the new world’s worth;
    For each age is a dream that is dying,
    Or one that is coming to birth.

    A breath of our inspiration     25
    Is the life of each generation;
    A wondrous thing of our dreaming
    Unearthly, impossible seeming—
    The soldier, the king, and the peasant
    Are working together in one,     30
    Till our dream shall become their present,
    And their work in the world be done.

    They had no vision amazing
    Of the goodly house they are raising;
    They had no divine foreshowing     35
    Of the land to which they are going:
    But on one man’s soul it hath broken,
    A light that doth not depart;
    And his look, or a word he hath spoken,
    Wrought flame in another man’s heart.     40

    And therefore to-day is thrilling
    With a past day’s late fulfilling;
    And the multitudes are enlisted
    In the faith that their fathers resisted,
    And, scorning the dream of to-morrow,     45
    Are bringing to pass, as they may,
    In the world, for its joy or its sorrow,
    The dream that was scorned yesterday.

    But we, with our dreaming and singing,
    Ceaseless and sorrowless we!     50
    The glory about us clinging
    Of the glorious futures we see,
    Our souls with high music ringing:
    O men! it must ever be
    That we dwell, in our dreaming and singing,     55
    A little apart from ye.

    For we are afar with the dawning
    And the suns that are not yet high,
    And out of the infinite morning
    Intrepid you hear us cry—     60
    How, spite of your human scorning,
    Once more God’s future draws nigh,
    And already goes forth the warning
    That ye of the past must die.

    Great hail! we cry to the comers     65
    From the dazzling unknown shore;
    Bring us hither your sun and your summers;
    And renew our world as of yore;
    You shall teach us your song’s new numbers,
    And things that we dreamed not before:     70
    Yea, in spite of a dreamer who slumbers,
    And a singer who sings no more.