[Peace-discuss] Jan. 8 demo

[Stuart Levy]

On Thu, Jan 06, 2011 at 06:14:02PM -0600, C. G. Estabrook wrote:
> OK - I'll bring flyers - and then offer encouragement from where I can see 
> the whole intersection (= inside the bar on the corner).

Carl, that'd be great.  But you may wish to be at the New Art instead,
seeing Love's Labors Lost, filmed at the Globe in London.
It's on this Sat and Sun, at noon each time.  And almost as toasty as the bar.
(Seriously, if you'd like to do that on Sat, let me know...)

> "A cold coming we had of it,
> Just the worst time of the year
> For a demo, and such a long demo:
> The ways deep and the weather sharp,
> The very dead of winter."
>
> Eliot borrowed those lines from a 17th century divine, so I'll re-gift them 
> to you all.
>
> They're based on Lancelot Andrewes's "Nativity Sermon" (1622) and represent 
> a recollection by the magus that sets off the reflections that follow.
>
> --CGE
>
>
> On 1/6/11 5:08 PM, Karen Medina wrote:
>> I cannot attend a demo on the 15th.
>> -karen medina
>>
>> On Thu, Jan 6, 2011 at 2:52 PM, C. G. Estabrook<galliher at illinois.edu>  
>> wrote:
>>> The temperature is supposed to be in the teens Saturday afternoon.
>>>
>>> Let's postpone our demonstration for a week. --CGE
>>>
>>> ===============
>>> The Journey of the Magi
>>> ===============
>>>
>>> "A cold coming we had of it,
>>> Just the worst time of the year
>>> For a journey, and such a long journey:
>>> The ways deep and the weather sharp,
>>> The very dead of winter."
>>> And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
>>> Lying down in the melting snow.
>>> There were times we regretted
>>> The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
>>> And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
>>> Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
>>> And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
>>> And the night-fires gong out, and the lack of shelters,
>>> And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
>>> And the villages dirty, and charging high prices.:
>>> A hard time we had of it.
>>> At the end we preferred to travel all night,
>>> Sleeping in snatches,
>>> With the voices singing in our ears, saying
>>> That this was all folly.
>>>
>>> Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
>>> Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
>>> With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
>>> And three trees on the low sky,
>>> And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
>>> Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
>>> Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
>>> And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
>>> But there was no information, and so we continued
>>> And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
>>> Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.
>>>
>>> All this was a long time ago, I remember,
>>> And I would do it again, but set down
>>> This set down
>>> This: were we lead all that way for
>>> Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
>>> We had evidence and no doubt. I have seen birth and death,
>>> But had thought they were different; this Birth was
>>> Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
>>> We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
>>> But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
>>> With an alien people clutching their gods.
>>> I should be glad of another death.
>>>
>>> --T. S. Eliot
>>>
>>> _______________________________________________
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>>>
>>
>>
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