written and posted by members of Lancashire Dead Good Poets' Society

Showing posts with label desiderata. Show all posts
Showing posts with label desiderata. Show all posts

Tuesday, 14 April 2020

Silence - The Snort


I’m responsible for one of those family stories that might get passed down in history, creating mirth amongst future generations. Or, the whole thing might just disappear into oblivion and never be mentioned again, no chance. Whatever the future holds, I will tell the truthful story now and I will call it The Time I Broke the Silence, or The Snort, for short. It happened about ten years ago.

We travelled to London for a family wedding. Money was a bit tight at the time, but this was my eldest nephew getting married, the first born of the next generation and I would have moved heaven and earth to be there. I found ‘budget’ bed and breakfast accommodation at Tufnell Park which was close enough to Islington Town Hall where the ceremony was taking place. We only needed somewhere to sleep for a couple of nights. I had to keep reminding myself of that every time something was wrong. It was the worst place I’ve ever stayed. The fact that builders were on site, working inside with power drills and goodness knows what at all times of day was bad enough. No chance for some quiet time.  Light bulbs missing, wash-basin plug missing, electric sockets not working, leaky shower and mouldy toast at breakfast and no one wanted to listen to our complaints.  Dressed in our wedding finery, we had to pick our way across a semi-dark landing and reception area strewn with power cables and joinery tools. The only saving grace, there was just one, our car was safely parked in their enclosed yard.  I won’t name and shame, it was a long time ago and it might be different now.

     Islington Town Hall was bathed in warm sunshine. We mingled with everyone else gathered outside, embracing family and friends and happy to be part of this special occasion.  When summoned, we filed into the Council Chamber, silently taking our seats in the horseshoe shape that surrounded two ornate chairs for the bride and groom and a table full of flowers. Quite out of the blue, I started to feel emotional. The Council Chamber looked and felt like a cathedral. I looked up at the domed ceiling, blinking away tears. My head was full of memories, the baby boy who brought such joy into our bereaved family had grown into this handsome young man and was now about to be married.  I was not going to burst into tears, I really wasn’t. There was quiet music as the bride and groom took their places, then silence. I was overwhelmed and held my breath for fear of sobbing. I think I held it too long. I tried to calm down and breathe gently, but instead I let out a loud, massive snort.

     The noise seemed to echo round the circular building. I heard mutterings from the opposite side of the chamber. The lady next to me, who was the mother of the best man, turned herself right round to stare at me, nose nearly touching mine. I think she whispered her concern.  My husband was on my other side, but I don’t remember him speaking. My horrified daughter, a few seats along, was mouthing ‘God, Mum, was that you?’

     There was far too much laughter about it, later on. Bursting into tears might have been less embarrassing.

     Anyway, there it is, from the source, before anyone says ‘You’ll never guess what Nanna did…’

 
   Here is Desiderata, as true for today as ever,
 
 
Desiderata
 Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.
By Max Ehrmann © 1927
 
Thanks for reading, take care and stay safe, Pam x

    

 

Saturday, 25 August 2012

Advice to the Millennium Generation


 by Ashley Lister 

 In 1927 the American writer Max Ehrmann wrote Desiderata – a tone poem that offered words of wisdom intended to lead to happiness. A similar piece, written as a column for the Chicago Tribune, was produced in 1998 by a journalist called Mary Schmich. A version of Schmich’s column, which was originally entitled, Advice, like youth, probably just wasted on the young, was recorded by Baz Lurmann under the title Feel Free to Wear Sun Screen.

And, whilst those works have influenced the style of this piece, I should also add that it’s been more heavily influenced by advice from teaching colleagues.

Advice to the Millennium Generation

1 – Boys. Pull your trousers up. I don’t want to look at your underpants. Or your backsides. It’s a symptom of a sad society when young men have forgotten how to properly operate a pair of trousers.

2 – Girls. Stop being orange. Only oompah loompas, the tango man and David Dickinson are supposed to be orange. If God had wanted you to be that colour you would have been born in Chernobyl.

3 – All students. Bring a pen to the classroom. This is not rocket surgery. You’re in a classroom. There is paper and there might be learning. There’s a strong chance you might need to write something down and – unlike you – a pen might prove useful.

4 – Boys. Don’t mumble. If you’re asking a question I need to hear it before I can answer. That’s the way these vocal exchanges work away from the role playing games on your XBox.

5 – Girls. Don’t mumble. If you’re answering a question the chances are you’re wrong. But at least let me hear what you’re saying so I can laugh about it later and share your inanities with colleagues in the staffroom.

6 – All students. Bathe. Wash. Shower. And don’t just do this once a term. Do it regularly. And do something more than spraying two cans of Lynx Africa at the most pungent parts of your anatomy.

7 – All Students. For the love of God: please don’t breed. Ever since the Baby Boomers, each subsequent generation has been part of humanity’s downward spiral. If the urge to breed does come upon you, either sniff your partner, look at its orange colour, listen to it mumbling, or notice that it’s walking with its pants round its ankles. Surely these observations will be enough to deter you all from breeding.

8 – All Students. Follow the example of your elders and always show respect and tolerance.