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vid: Fraggle Rock Opening Theme for @danevo, @loveykatz and nostalgia...

Filed under 80s Fraggle Rock music nostalgia TV

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Posted 1 month ago

What is the worth of an old violin?

When I was a child, I used to listen to a song that was based on this poem. I dedicate this poem to all "old violins" out there. May it move you as it moved me so long ago.

...

'Twas battered and scared, and the auctioneer

Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
But he held it up with a smile.
"What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,
"Who'll start bidding for me?
A dollar, a dollar - now who'll make it two?
Two dollars, and who'll make it three?

"Three dollars once, three dollars twice,
Going for three". . . but no!
From the room far back a gray-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;
Then wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening up the strings,
He played a melody, pure and sweet,
As sweet as an angel sings.

The music ceased and the auctioneer
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said: "What am I bidden for the old violin?"
And he held it up with the bow;
"A thousand dollars - and who'll make it two?
Two thousand - and who'll make it three?
Three thousand once, three thousand twice
And going - and gone," said he.

The people cheered, but some of them cried,
"We do not quite understand -
What changed its worth?" The man replied:
"The touch of the masters hand."
And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and torn with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd.
Much like the old violin.

A "mess of pottage," a glass of wine,
A game and he travels on,
He's going once, and going twice -
He's going - and almost gone!
But the MASTER comes, and the foolish crowd,
Never can quite understand,
The worth of a soul, and the change that's wrought
By the touch of the MASTER'S hand.

- Myra B. Welch [http://www.ehhs.cmich.edu/~tbushey/quote.html]

...

Here is the closest rendition of the song I used to listen to as a kid. There are commercially recorded versions on YouTube, but none manage to catch the pathos of the version I knew. This one comes close.

Filed under divine love encouragement human dignity human rights Jesus nostalgia redemption salvation self-worth The Touch of the Master's Hand worship

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Posted 8 months ago

"I call you on the telephone / but you're never home." "So?"

Before the mobile phone existed we were calling a place, now we are calling a person.

via google.com

I occasionally wonder how I will explain Sheena Easton's 1983 song to Seth, someday: "I call you on the telephone / but you're never home."

Seth will probably ask, "Why does she want him to be home when she calls him?"

Already, it's hard to recall the time when phones were furniture, tethered to the wall by their cables, resting on specially reserved spots on desks and side-tables. Phones are now glued to ears.

I disagree with Martin Cooper, though. Phones do *not* need to get simpler - in general. They need to be what they're becoming: multifaceted communications devices that connect you via voice and data and video, over every network.

Filed under futurism mobile phones nostalgia phones Sheena Easton

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Posted 8 months ago

A letter to a friend from yesterday

I remember when we would sit together. We would chat about everything, we would chat about nothing. You dressed lighter, then. Maybe the burdens on your shoulders were lighter too.

We understood each other well, you and me. The future was full of promise and everything seemed so right.

And then everything changed. We hardly met, hardly saw each other. Hardly even knew each other anymore.

You're dressed differently now. Where there was liberty, now there is armour. I'm dressed differently. Holes have started to appear. I guess what I want you to know is -

It's 3 am, I'm having trouble sleeping and I don't count sheep.

Filed under friends funny insomnia nostalgia people relationships

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Posted 10 months ago

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vid: Fraggle Rock Opening Theme for @danevo, @loveykatz and nostalgia...

What is the worth of an old violin?

"I call you on the telephone / but you're never home." "So?"

A letter to a friend from yesterday