Tomas

I would have chosen the 5th movement of Beethoven's 6th in F Major "Pastoral" The Shepherds Song after the storm or the 2nd movement Largo of Dvorak's 9th in E minor "From the New World", or Perhaps the 2nd movement of Rachmaninov's Piano Concerto No. 2 in C Minor, but that's just me. The Symphony of which I spoke in my OP is indeed a part of the music of the past never to he heard again because that concert hall no longer exists, but it still abides in my memory. The new music is all around and I can sense it quite clearly, but it doesn't as of yet fill my heart. There are many doors still to be opened that were shut over the years and pains to be worked through and the concert hall to found before the music again plays in my heart. But it will in it's own time, of that I have no doubt.

Thanks, that would likely be fun. Even though there are numerous places of solitude near here, no matter how much I wish it or how hard I may try, learning how to listen again has not been easy. But, I haven't given up, I keep trying to hear the music again. It may be a new and different symphony, but I'm sure that it'll be one to touch the soul. Some of the venues are simply breathtaking. Minneapolis, huh! I lived in Minneapolis for 17 years. First in an apartment not far from Loring Park. Then had a home on South Lyndale Ave near Lake Harriet. After I sold the home, I had an apartment near Cedar Lake. Left Minneapolis for awhile and traveled. Then went back to Minnesota and rented a house in Brooklyn Park. The winters finally drove me back to New Orleans for a time. Grew to hate snow. LOL

And don't forget the "gators". Old "Allie" would be heart broken.

Familiar images all. Especially that first one, but there are many places like that on the bayous. Sometimes I wish I were back down there and other times I'm glad that I'm not. Thanks James, for those.

"Listen. Can you hear it? The music. I can hear it everywhere. In the wind... in the air... in the light. It's all around us. All you have to do is open yourself up. All you have to do... is listen." That is the opening voice over for the 2007 movie "August Rush", but this isn't about the movie. If you want to know more about "August Rush" here is a link August Rush When I was growing up my maternal grandparents owned a farm just outside of Hammond, Louisiana, about 60 miles north of New Orleans. It was about 170 acres in size. Some of it pasture, some of it farm, some of it Pine forest and a small part swamp land. The house sat way back from the gravel main road behind a Pine grove. There were two driveways. One that ran in a straight line through the Pine grove from the front of the house to the road and a second that ran from the house to the road in between the edge of the Pine grove and the swamp. A part of the land was across that gravel road. A small part of that was pasture, but the largest part was Pine forest. I vividly remember that swamp. Walking down the middle of that gravel road along side of that swamp going home from a neighbors farm on a bright moonlit night absolutely sure that those swamp shadow monsters were going to jump out and grab me. Of course, they never did, but you couldn't have convinced me that they wouldn't. Each summer after school was out, the family would cross the Mississippi River from Algiers, where I grew up, to the railroad station in New Orleans and board the "Panama Limited" or the "City Of New Orleans" train for the trip to Hammond for our annual summer on the farm. I think that I explored the entire 170 acres when I got to be old enough to go exploring on my own. While exploring the Pine forest across the road I discovered a clearing that was pretty much close to the middle of it. The clearing was large enough to let some sunlight in, and was covered in a carpet of soft green grass. But it wasn't overly large and made a perfect hideaway for a small boy. But this isn't about the farm or that scary swamp or the summer train trips and this is where that quote from "August Rush" comes in and why it had an impact on me. In the early afternoon I would make my way through the forest to my hideaway clearing and there I would lay on the grass carpet and dream the dreams of boyhood. I would watch the clouds drift across the opening in the trees that surrounded the clearing and imagine all of the fantastical shapes that they would form as they drifted by. I would be open to the sounds and I would listen. To the song of the breeze and wind as it played amongst the pine trees. To the songs of the birds. To the sounds of the insects and whatever forest creatures that were about. They were the sounds of natures symphony. At the right time of day the symphony was punctuated by the lonesome wailing of a train's whistle as it approached a far off crossing, hurling down the tracks to destinations unknown. That was only the day movement. The symphony didn't end at nightfall. The night movement for me would start when I crawled into my bed. My bedroom on the farm was in a corner room diagonally opposite a corner of the swamp. Then it was the crickets and the tree frogs. The soprano singing of the frogs in the swamp along with the basso profundo of the bullfrogs. The hoots of an owl would add occasional accents to the music. The lowing of one of the cows or the bell that hung from the neck of the bellwether, as she moved to a different part of the night pasture, would add their own notes. Every once in awhile a new performer alighting on a branch of the Oak tree that stood outside of my bed room window would add it's voice to the symphony. A blood curdling sound that would send my head under the covers to hide sure that the swamp shadow monster had found it's way to my bedroom to grab me. But it turned out to only be an old Screech Owl. At some point in time I stopped listening. I don't recall when, but I suppose it was when I had to join in the cacophony of survival that is the bane and burden of adulthood and didn't have or didn't make the time to listen. By the time that madness slowed and there was again time to listen, I had forgotten how. I am acutely aware of what I have lost. I know that I'll never again hear that symphony. It is now, as a character in one of the stories said, a part of the music of the past.

Air Conditioning, Air Conditioning, Air Conditioning. Homes, cars, buildings, offices, stores, shopping malls, movie theaters. If memory serves, Houston was and likely still is the most air conditioned city in the world.

I use font=verdana and size=3 for posting. When I DL anything I copy it into Word and convert it to Verdana 12 or if I write something I usually use Verdana 12. I find Verdana 12 easy on my eyes, but that is just me. Not everyone's eyes are the same, so I would suppose that each person would have to make that call. What is easiest on their own eyes for reading. Personal preference, maybe?

Currently 62

I've read "The Fountainhead", "Anthem", "We The Living", and Atlas Shrugged". I've watched and have in my movie collection the 1949 movie that was made of "The Fountainhead" with Gary Cooper, Patricia Neal and Raymond Massey. I enjoyed each every one of the books and the movie. Whether or not I agree with Ayn Rands philosophy is totally irrelevant to my enjoyment of the books and film.

So very sorry. Someone on another board posted the following when I mentioned that I had lost my cat.

Speaking of Twain: It could probably be shown by facts and figures that there is no distinctly native American criminal class except Congress. --Mark Twain

In no particular order: The Lost Legion Vitus August Rush Prayers For Bobby Dream Boy Latter Days Beautiful Thing The Last Mimzy Lost Boys Edges of the Lord Bridge To Terabithia Actually, there are way too many films that I have enjoyed to list them all. The ones listed above are films that I have watched more than even once. Of course, there are more in that category also.

Some Country Wisdom Don't name a pig you plan to eat. Country fences need to be horse high, pig tight, and bull strong. Life is not about how fast you run, or how high you climb, but how well you bounce. Life is simpler when you plow around the stumps. A bumble bee is faster than a John Deere tractor. Trouble with a milk cow is she won't stay milked. Don't skinny dip with snapping turtles. Words that soak into your ears are whispered, not yelled. Meanness don't happen overnight. To know how country folks are doing, look at their barns, not their houses. Never lay an angry hand on a kid or an animal, it just ain't helpful. Teachers, Moms, and hoot owls sleep with one eye open. Forgive your enemies. It messes with their heads. Don't sell your only mule to buy a plow. Two can live as cheap as one if one don't eat. Don't corner something meaner than you. You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar, assuming you want to catch flies. Man is the only critter who feels the need to label things as flowers or weeds. It don't take a very big person to carry a grudge. Don't go huntin' with a fellow named Chug-A-Lug. You can't unsay a cruel thing. Every path has some puddles. Don't wrestle with pigs: You'll get all muddy and the pigs will love it. The best sermons are lived, not preached. Most of the stuff people worry about never happens. The Ten Commandments display was removed from the Alabama Supreme Court building. There was a good reason for the move. You can't post Thou Shalt Not Steal, Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery and Thou Shall Not Lie in a building full of lawyers and Politicians without creating a hostile work environment.

Never underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups

Not really surprised. The paradigm for all sports these days, whether team or individual, has become win at all costs.

Riley, add me to the list of people who find no fault in the way you wrote that last chapter. It is your story and should proceed in the way that is determined by you. No one was forced to read it and there was a warning at the beginning of the chapter. If the warning was ignored, all anyone had to do was stop reading if it rubbed their sensibilities the wrong way. I have to wonder about people who, when reading something that they don't like or disagree with, or find offensive, continue to read to the end of whatever it is and then complain and make a big issue about how they found it offensive. IMHO, no one, and I mean NO ONE, has the right to tell an author how to write his story or try and dictate the content of those stories. If you don't like what you are reading stop reading, or If there is a warning that the content maybe disturbing to some people then don't read any of it. It seems to me that if the Admins who monitor eFiction had thought the chapter went too far it would not have been allowed to be posted. Likewise, if Riley's editor had some reservations about it, he would have brought those reservations to Riley's attention. Personally, I think that Riley should put the chapter as it was written back up and continue on with the next chapter in HIS story. But... that is just my opinion.

Two more. I have no idea if they would be considered nasty or not, but they have no appeal for me. Calamari Escargot Tried Calamari. Not my cup of tea. It was like chewing a rubber band cut from an old bike inner-tube and tasted about the same. Escargot doesn't quite make it past my ick-factor.

Elves... oh yes, Elves. And Dragons... forever Dragons.

I lived in Minnesota for 17+ years and and enjoyed feasting at many a smörgåsbord while I was there. The only item on your list that I've tried and can honestly say that I would never try again, is Lutefisk. Even though I have some Scot in my ancestry, Haggis has never been a dish that I wanted to try and I'll try most things at least once, but there are some foods that may be a delicacy in some cultures but are unable to get by my ick factor. Of course, if I were starving, I'd most likely eat anything to survive.

Add Lutefisk to the list.

Haggis

Don't know about talent, but in the waning days of my 73 year, I've purchased a Yamaha YPG635 Digital Piano and I'm having fun taking piano lessons. I was in the choir and I sang in an acapella quartet in the days of yore, when I was a nerdy high school student.

As sad as it is, Mississippi has always been Mississippi... a haven for redneck, fundamentalist bigots as have Alabama, Georgia and up state Louisiana (well anything north and west of Baton Rouge, with a few exceptions). Primarily, but not exclusively, in rural areas and small back water towns. It has been so, as far back as I can remember and that is quite a few years. Injustice is injustice no matter where it occurs or how large or small. Unfortunately, as long as the "Boss Hogs", ignorant sheriffs, similar cop types, and the Fred Phelps of the world continue to exist and have an audience for which to expound their brand of hate, it will continue to be so. Oh! Really shouldn't leave out large segments of Texas.

That would be Judy Garland

As Nephylim said: But don't you know that according to Rick Sanchez at CNN No accounting for idiots is there?