Saturday, May 8, 2010

Entertaining the Seniors in Lowell, NC

My perception of the poem by Sam Walter Foss called, "The House By The Side Of The Road"

Tonight was a success. I liked the medium. Once finished and I am wrapping up, Sherry told me she did not get any pictures. But promised to, next time. This time I operated the lights also and left her to enjoy the program. She said she was so engrossed in the story she forgot to take pictures. (Her story and she is sticking to it).

Part of the Story:
Foss was walking on his journey across country when he spied a sign printed on an old plank that read, 'to the spring'. He was hot and thirsty and followed the path down to the spring where he found a clean gourd, and a basket of shiney red apples. Another note saying rest stranger, drink this refreshing water and have an apple.

After being rested he knew there was a story behind the spring so he found the house using another path at the spring. The house was actually on the same road he had been walking. His enquiry at the house got him the story of a couple old folk who just wanted to be friends to tired travelers.


“He was a friend to man, and lived In a house by the side of the road.”- Homer

Part of The poem:
There are hermit souls that live withdrawn In the place of their self-content;
There are souls like stars, that dwell apart, In a fellowless firmament;
There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths Where highways never ran
But let me live by the side of the road And be a friend to man.
........ ........

I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead
And mountains of wearisome height;
That the road passes on through the long afternoon
And stretches way to the night.
But still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice.
And weep with the strangers that moan,

Nor live in my house by the side of the road
Like a man who dwells alone.


Let me live in my house by the side of the road
It’s here the race of men go by.
They are good, they are bad,

they are weak, they are strong, Wise, foolish- so am I;
Then why should I sit in the scorner’s seat,

Or hurl the cynic’s ban? Let me live in my
house by the side of the road And be a friend to man.


The program went well especially with the addition of the poem by Edgar Guest, It takes a heap of living in a house to make a home. Us old folk like to think of our house being a home.

Below is my palet. I was offered a dollar for it once by a young man, thinking it was modern art.


Thanks for coming by the log.

Night Shipslog

PS:
Something you may not know...

Canada has more lakes than the rest of the world combined. Canada is an Indian word meaning ' Big Village ...'

8 comments:

Shirl 72 said...

Enjoyed the program. The velvet worked out good
it made the picture come to life. You can be
proud you did a very good job. I know everybody
enjoyed your talk and the drawing. You still
got it Brother.

Shirl

Paula said...

Your painting is sooo pretty and the modern art isn't bad either.

Ora said...

Oh wow Jack...if hubby was still in the Army he would surely have you visit the post and put on your show for the troops...awesome buddy..just awesome...and the pics are beautiful...kinda sorta like you!!!! hugs to ya...Ora PS..love and hugs and a very happy Mother's day Sherry

I'm mostly known as 'MA' said...

I love the poems of Edgar Guest. How funny about your pallet...well it is colorful for sure!

Lucy said...

I like this one better than any other, I have seen. Makes me feel good, just to look at it.

Sayit-baldys said...

I LIKE THAT 'SPRING BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD'.
IN PREVIOUS ENTRIES HAVE MENTIONED THE SPRING WHICH WAS NEAR THE TRAIL AND ACROSS FROM THE ONE ROOM SCHOOL NEAR OUR HOMESTEAD IN WESTERN COLORADO.
I VISITED SCHOOL WITH AN OLDER SISTER AFTER MY BEING THREE IN APRIL.
STUDENTS TOOK TURNS GOING TO THE SPRING FOR DRINKING WATER, CARRYING IT IN A METAL BUCKET, LONG HANDLED DIPPER FLOATING ON THE WATER.
AT THE SPRING WAS A 'TIN CAN' WHICH I PREFERRED TO DRINK FROM WHILE AT THE SPRING.
AT SCHOOL WE ALL DRANK FROM THE DIPPER EXCEPT FOR ONE GIRL THAT HAD HER OWN CUP WHICH WAS COLLAPSIBLE, LITTLE METAL RINGS THAT SETTLED TOGETHER WHEN NOT BEING USED.
THAT AREA IS NOW 'SHEEP COUNTRY' AND VERY LITTLE THERE TO SHOW THERE WERE A DOZEN HOMESTEAD FAMILIES.
IF INTERESTED IN KNOWING MORE YOU COULD PRINT IN THE KEYWORD,
HAYDEN COLORADO HISTORICAL SOCIETY.

WONDERFUL AFTER ALL THESE YEARS TO HAVE THE MEMORY OF THE STUDENTS, THE MAN TEACHER, HIS HORSE AND THE SPRING THAT FURNISHED THE WATER AS NEEDED.
I WAS NINETY YEARS OLD THIS APRIL. sam

ρομπερτ said...

What a joy to read in the middle of the night, turning body, mind and soul bright, promising that tomorrow can only be right.
Nearly a decade and a half ago since last I saw sheep and drank their milk, after getting lost in a forest, North of Spain - thank you for the memories.
Please have a wonderful start into the new week.

Fred Alton said...

I would have loved being there to hear your story and watch the painting develop. Then the message is encouraging too. It expresses my feelings - I want to be able to help some weary traveler as he passes by my "cabin by the side of the road".