By George

In perusing my Bartlett?s, Book of Familiar Quotations, I came on an old friend of mine, and yours too I imagine, the Bard of Avon, William Shakespeare. One of the huge number of his quotations goes thus:

There is so much good in the worst of us

And so much bad in the best of us

That it hardly behoves any of us

To talk about the rest of us

I was given this little expression by an elementary teacher about seventy years ago and it has stuck with me for all those years. Not that I took the advice then, and since then, while I have tried to follow this good advice once in a while, you will note that I have not been faithful to the bard at all!

On this note then, the President of the USA, will no longer feel the pin pricks I keep in my drawer to stick in his little doll. Sorry to all you fans who keep waiting to hear the latest and greatest of his antics, like all little men who aspire to greatness and stumble as they fall, he will no longer be in my books.

On to greater and more wonderful things. Are you plagued by the Postal Service? Since they are dehumanized, I feel free to rant and rave with impunity and still honour the bard. Who in the world gave these large charitable organizations the right to buy, steal, or otherwise obtain any, and all of my attempts to assist people in need by making small donations to them? I give ten dollars to one of them and in a few days, there is a steady stream of wonderful causes, wanting their share. Even to the ones that say thanks, and in one sweeping next moment wonder if I would like to put a bit more in by giving my VISA number so they can deduct monthly, or just nudge up the amount a teeny bit more on a regular basis. I do believe that Stephen Lewis is trying his best to help the folk in Africa with their pandemic struggle with AIDS and do not mind my feeble efforts to help but how many are there in all places in Canada and elsewhere that have excellent jobs created to make them sound wonderful? It is almost a pandemic here too! Just wondering?

Took a little trip to Dawson Creek the other day and decided to return early. It was just a little after one pm and the sun was just disappearing for the twentieth time that day. In a few minutes it started to rain—-then the road almost flooded—-then the fog came in so seeing was severely restricted—-then lightning flashed—-a car coming toward me was frantically flashing his lights—-then the snow appeared on the road—-my outdoor thermometer read four above (Celsius)—-then back to a London Pea Soup fog—-but by then it was so surreal that we just kept coming anyway. Ended up here and met a friend who was at the post office who wondered if we had encountered any hail. Think I may just hunker down in good old TR for the rest of the summer.

Enjoy Shangri la!