Create dangerously, for people who read dangerously. This is what I’ve always thought it meant to be a writer. Writing, knowing in part that no matter how trivial your words may seem, someday, somewhere, someone may risk his or her life to read them.
My neighbor Nancy is afraid her dog will outlive her. "You think I'm healthy but I have a pacemaker and all sorts of things going on, and my daughter wants to travel and not have dogs anymore."
"I am glad to adopt him if necessary, meanwhile I'll be his Godmother." I said.
I swam 80* laps again today. I think I'm freaked out about turning 60. I remember when I didn't think I'd live to be 16. My mother had told me all sorts of lies about my health. Now she is gone and I am an athlete.
*33 is a metric swimmers mile, 36 is an actual mile, and 72 is 2 miles and 80 is a nice number.
A powerful personal journey to find meaning and life lessons in the words of a wildly popular 13th century poet.
Rumi’s
inspiring and deceptively simple poems have been called ecstatic,
mystical, and devotional. To writer and activist Melody Moezzi, they
became a lifeline. In The Rumi Prescription, we follow her path
of discovery as she translates Rumi’s works for herself – to gain
wisdom and insight in the face of a creative and spiritual roadblock.
With the help of her father, who is a lifelong fan of Rumi’s poetry, she
immerses herself in this rich body of work, and discovers a
13th-century prescription for modern life.
Addressing isolation,
distraction, depression, fear, and other everyday challenges we face,
the book offers a roadmap for living with intention and ease, and
embracing love at every turn–despite our deeply divided and chaotic
times. Most of all, it presents a vivid reminder that we already have
the answers we seek, if we can just slow down to honor them.
•You went out in search of gold far and wide, but all along you were gold on the inside.
•Become the sky and the clouds that create the rain, not the gutter that carries it to the drain.
•You already own all the sustenance you seek. If only you’d wake up and take a peek.
One of the vital things for a writer who’s writing a book, which is a lengthy project and is going to take about a year, is how to keep the momentum going. It is the same with a young person writing an essay. They have got to write four or five or six pages. But when you are writing it for a year, you go away and you have to come back. I never come back to a blank page; I always finish about halfway through. To be confronted with a blank page is not very nice. But Hemingway, a great American writer, taught me the finest trick when you are doing a long book, which is, he simply said in his own words, “When you are going good, stop writing.” And that means that if everything’s going well and you know exactly where the end of the chapter’s going to go and you know just what the people are going to do, you don’t go on writing and writing until you come to the end of it, because when you do, then you say, well, where am I going to go next? And you get up and you walk away and you don’t want to come back because you don’t know where you want to go. But if you stop when you are going good, as Hemingway said…then you know what you are going to say next. You make yourself stop, put your pencil down and everything, and you walk away. And you can’t wait to get back because you know what you want to say next and that’s lovely and you have to try and do that. Every time, every day all the way through the year. If you stop when you are stuck, then you are in trouble!
After 4 years of Trump, arguing with liberal allies about the election endgame is like trying to land a burning B-24 in England after surviving all the flak over Germany while the crew is in the back of the plane having a grenade fight.
Runway in sight: hold it together, people.
I hear all of the kids and parents and folks chatting with their windows open. Today is a beautiful gray warm and foggy day. No sun for the first time in months. AMEN.
I'm ready to swim with Romeo-pup in the MILL RIVER.
You have to write when you’re not inspired. And you have to write the scenes that don’t inspire you. And the weird thing is that six months later, a year later, you’ll look back at them and you can’t remember which scenes you wrote when you were inspired and which scenes you just wrote because they had to be written next.
In
this instance, the bubble refers to those found in a liquid level (and
actually, there is only one bubble). It's an example of small-town
humor.
Therefore
“half a bubble off plumb” would be ‘somewhat off level.’ It's a
colorful expression for a folksy implication that they’re calling
someone crazy or crooked, but only euphemistically, indirectly.
Small-town
humor demands that one shouldn’t be too harsh or blunt because one
can’t remain isolated from others in close proximity. So one must choose
one's enemies very carefully, and being blunt about others is not being
careful.
It's the birthday of Francine du Plessix-Gray (books by this author),
born in Warsaw, Poland (1930). She got a late start writing fiction.
She was married with two children, she kept a journal, and it kept
getting bigger. She said that one day when she was 33, after she cooked
and entertained a group of weekend guests, she "felt an immense void ...
the deepest loneliness I'd ever known." She wept for hours, took out a
notebook, and started rewriting one of the three stories that had won
her a prize when she was in college. Twelve years later, it had become
the first chapter of Lovers and Tyrants (1976), her first novel.
You do not learn how to write novels in a writing program. You learn how by leading an interesting life. Open yourself up to all experience. Let life pour through you the way light pours through leaves.
Writing is like playing the guitar. There’s no substitute for practice. Guidance and models and goals are good, and you have to listen to really good guitarists/read really good writers and pay attention to how they do it (listening to your exact peers fumble isn’t as helpful), but mainly you have to do it. With passion, for which there’s also no substitute.
I woke at midnight when Bill came to bed, he had taken an exam online
for grad school. I was suddenly in AGONY and could hardly even walk to
the toilet. I and plugged in the moist heating pad. Not much help. Then I
realized it was histamine allergy GUNK shredding my tummy and so I took
a generic Benadryl antihistamine. And the pain vanished and I slept well. I used to get this all
the time. It's been decades. Fall and Spring histamine allergies. My
immune system has been HYPER-sensitive since the CA fires smoke traveled to New England triggering my asthma. I've needed my EMERGENCY inhaler albuterol to breathe before and after my swim. Time to call my doctor.
This is my new way to make breakfast and lunch for my husband's school day.
READY IN: 20 mins
SERVES: 3-4
1⁄2 cup sourdough starter, unfed
1⁄2 cup whole wheat flour
1 cup old-fashioned oatmeal (or 1⁄2 c buckwheat flour, or 1⁄2 c rye flour, or 1⁄2 cornmeal or 1⁄2 c more whole wheat flour or 1⁄2 Bob's Red Mill multigrain hot cereal blend)
(Let sit for a day or overnight to bubble up and ferment, it makes the waffles LIGHT as a FEATHER and preserves them although you will probably eat them up!!)
I saw the Cream Puff Crown Vic again this morning as my husband dropped me off at the Y. These undercover cats start work at 6:30 AM. Even when they have been up all night.
This morning Mar+Lin were discussing childhood injury and emotional pain and the benefits of psychotherapy. Once you find the right therapist it's like magic, Lin said.
Then Mar told about injuring herself on an exercise machine and she couldn't move her arms. She went to Barbara a practitioner in Blackstone and she was healed in 2 months.
How does a bright red bed sheet go missing from a week ago? A missing sock I can understand...
I rage-oveflowed all my clothes and found it clean and neatly folded in the chaotic pile.
this morning I washed the white sheets from our bed but when I went to hang them up in the boiler room I found one of the two pillowcases was gone.
I searched everywhere.
What the hell is going on? I shouted, calling myself the C word.
After supper I asked my husband to accompany me down the cellar stairs.
Like a good detective I went over my steps.
I stripped the bed and walked right over and dropped them into the washing machine like this, I said to my husband as I tilted my head into the empty washer.
And there it was, a white pillowcase stuck to the white-enamel tub.
I needed a witness! I said, laughing, because I do this for him all the time.
I write, preferably, staring at a blank wall. That’s not the best scenery for a writer—better for an artist, but not for a writer. I have a lovely study, but once you’re into it, it doesn’t make any difference. But the difficulty is cranking up the machine, getting it started. You can sit there for hours, actually. When you’re at an impasse, you have to go back to it. Every morning or afternoon, whenever you write, you have to go up and shoot that old bear under your desk between the eyes. That’s right. You have to have enormous discipline, especially if you like your drink. I know so many writers who went down the drain. If you like to drink, you can’t do it. It’s a reward. It should never be a crutch.
One of the older ladies I swim with gave me a full length fur coat
with her name embroidered inside. It fits like a glove. With my
black hat on to match, I feel like a Russian Countess or Edward Gorey.
I was walking by and saw TV station cameras. It was minutes after the news conference had ended. TV station lady was spraying her hair looking into the SUV rear window reflection, telling me what was happening before she did an on air follow up.
Travis Cravey is an editor at Malarkey Books (@malarkeybooks) and Editor at Large at Versification (@versezine), but mostly he”s a maintenance worker. Find him on twitter @traviscravey and ask him anything.
Okay so the Captain said he would look up to see if the guy who was threatening her had prior convictions.
She was out hanging laundry and the guy left, switching cars today but she got his new plate.
She said it aloud to herself three times and thought, "just stop and go inside the house and write it down," but she kept on hanging her laundry.
She kept on saying aloud, "YD-858".
Then the clothesline snapped and everything fell down onto the pavement.
As she picked up the whole mess of clothes, clothespins, the pulley hardware and the big basket of now dirty clothes, which she shook out, she forgot the plate. Damn!
So she walked downtown with her dog who needed a walk and she knew where the guy works. At Quick Lube.
She walked behind Family Pizza to have a view of Quick Lube's parking lot.
She also had a legitimate mission, to throw away Badger's poop bag and YES, she got the license plate on the green Toyota Camry "YD -858".
And YES as it turns out, the guy has had priors. She knew it.
She really wished she was a detective.
She saw the Cream Puff yesterday. The Black Crown Vic was back here. She only saw the back tail-light but knew, it MUST BE the Cream Puff.
Her former Police Chief used to drive it and he named it.
She kept watching and saw an undercover get into the passenger side and put on his seat-belt. He was wearing a dark blue mask. The ones the police dept use.
Coincidentally she saw the detective this morning getting into it when she passed the police parking lot. She told him that she saw him in her parking lot at 5PM last night. There were marked police everywhere out front so she knew it was something big. She thanked him for his work.
This year around
my birthday, I am feeling a lot of anxiety about the potent mix of
rising fascism, climate fueled fires, and a global pandemic. I had to
cancel a planned trip to the woods which has only given me more time to
reflect on what I really want for my birthday -- the end of the Trump
presidency. I have been inspired by participating in Seed the Vote and
getting to build local grassroots progressive power while working to get
Trump out. If we can trounce him at the polls, it will be much harder
for him to hold on to power.
I invite you to
join me in contributing whatever a meaningful amount is to you. I have
been donating $100 every month in order to help Seed the Vote scale up
for this final push.
Sign up to make calls or
find other ways to contribute to the fight against rising
authoritarianism - and bring your friends and family with you.
Keep this basic rule in mind while reading in bed; keep your neck in a
neutral position whenever possible, do not bend or lean your neck
forward for long periods. Reading in bed, with several pillows propped
behind you can cause neck strain, with your neck pushing forward and
holding your arms out to support your book or tablet. To ease strain on
your neck while reading in bed, consider purchasing a wedge shaped
pillow to prop up your book and support your arms, helping to keep your
spine in a neutral position. Finally, try not to stay in one position
for too long!
The pool was 72 degrees but I swam 50 laps and took a very hot shower. Now I discover my JUNO email account is on the fritz. On my way home I saw the repairman at WPD fixing their electronic fence. When the seasons change everything breaks.
Chrissy told People Now,
"The way I stand up to bullies is with kindness and love because I
think that's what they really need. They're misunderstood and probably
really upset themselves."
It is true that caffeinated drinks can contribute to your daily fluid requirement.
Drinking caffeine-containing beverages as part of a normal lifestyle
doesn't cause fluid loss in excess of the volume ingested. While
caffeinated drinks may have a mild diuretic effect — meaning that they
may cause the need to urinate — they don't appear to increase the risk
of dehydration.
Still, caffeinated drinks can cause headaches and insomnia in some
people. Also, some studies suggest that if you're pregnant, high levels
of caffeine consumption could increase your chance of preterm birth or
miscarriage.
Water is probably your best bet to stay hydrated. It's calorie-free, caffeine-free, inexpensive and readily available.
Earth, Wind &Fire
September
Why was September 21 singled out as the date for the song? "Because it sounded the best - there's no deeper significance", lyricist Allee Willis explains.
"I learned my greatest lesson in songwriting: Never let the lyric get in the way of the groove."
September 21 is the 264th day of the year (265th in leap years) in the Gregorian calendar. 101 days remain until the end of the year.
Anyone who’s looked at a calendar today has definitely thought these two things: (1) Ah, it’s almost the autumnal equinox, when summer fades to fall, and (2) It’s the date from the song! The song is, obviously, Earth, Wind & Fire’s classic banger, “September,” which is named after the overall month, but specifically references the 21st day.
Other tips they listed I would have never considered: carry bear spray, a
satellite phone, a heat blanket, a GPS and hard map; pack enough food
and water for at least three days past your anticipated stay; pack a
flare and a whistle; make a paper copy of your passport
and ID; ensure you have a spare tire, jack and socket wrench if your
vehicle breaks down; and have your money stored in multiple locations.
Madame 'More Cheese' is running for political office. She's a power-playing bully! She got her nickname from when we worked together once on her commanding me to 'volunteer'. Then she decided I knew nothing and she knew everything. It was a disaster and I walked away for good. If she gets in it won't be the first time the wrong person gets elected. Let's just hope for the best.
Sometimes you have to speak out in the most direct and polite way possible to make an effective change.
Hi -------------,
I my name is ------------- and I live at ---------------.
Hope all is well and you're safe and healthy. I've been meaning to get in touch with you. I hope when you have a chance you could drive by your property. There are tenants on the first floor porch left side when facing the building who are very inconsiderate with loud music and shouting at all hours of the day and night. Rather than call the police I thought first I'd let you know. I thought you should know because I suspect that it makes it unpleasant for your other well-behaved tenants. Enjoy the day Best, ---------------
1 teaspoon kosher salt (1/2 teaspoon if using white flour)
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon real vanilla
2 beaten eggs
1 1/4 c buttermilk or diluted plain yogurt
1/2 c puree pumpkin (can use banana, or applesauce too)
1/4 c corn oil
1/8 cup brown sugar or molasses
Buttermilk is acidic and very good for you--filled with probiotics and delicious tang. Buttermilk reacts with the baking soda just like those volcano experiments in junior high using vinegar and baking soda. This is why baking powder is not needed.
Preheat waffle iron and bake as directed. About 4-5 minutes. Enjoy. Freeze leftovers and reheat in toaster or microwave or oven.
Recipe doubles well and can be made into pancakes.
“I don’t believe one reads to escape reality. A person reads to
confirm a reality he knows is there, but which he has not experienced.”
―
Lawrence Durrell
Craic (/kræk/KRAK) or crack is a term for news, gossip, fun, entertainment, and enjoyable conversation, particularly prominent in Ireland.[1][2][3] It is often used with the definite article – the craic[1]
– as in the expression "What's the craic?" (meaning "How are you?" or
"What's happening?"). The word has an unusual history; the Scots and Englishcrack was borrowed into Irish as craic in the mid-20th century and the Irish spelling was then reborrowed into English.[1] Under either spelling, the term has great cultural currency and significance in Ireland.
They show up at dawn and never notice anyone else. That would take energy away from their mission. They swim like fiends. When they are finished they stand on deck and slowly towel off, deliberately displaying their emaciated bodies. Some of us glance and gasp at their hollow thighs, broomstick arms, caved in cheeks and knobby elbows. These two women share a lane and share their militant approach to compulsive exercise and calorie restriction. The water skeletons. The sisters of Auschwitz. They both drive huge expensive cars, tanks to protect their stick-figure-bodies. They're fighting a war distorted in mirrors, in affluent suburbia, that is ultimately between their ears.
Like countless writers, I try to get to bed early, because there’s a
special magic that awaits us at dawn — if we’re awake to meet it. I
rarely achieve this early rising, but Sunday morning was different. I
woke up naturally, effortlessly at 4:30 a.m. Some people call this
“inspiration”; I call it a miracle. Afraid and overwhelmed, I knew to
reach for my craft, but mercifully, it found me first — as this is
exactly what art specializes in treating. It shines a light and wakes us
up. It brings everything into perspective. It reminds us what it means
to be human, defining cultures and civilizations, sparking revolutions
within our hearts that can’t help but spill out into the world around
us.
Ray shacked up with Sabina last January. This was about the time Sabina's roommate Adrian and her high-school-aged son moved away after death threats from a major shooting incident. Adrian's niece had been murdered. The tragedy was confounded by the fact that it was a case of mistaken identity. I found Adrian drunk on my steps Christmas morning and we had a long chat. I don't blame her for moving. I hope she's okay.
In February Sabina was moving boxes into garage #4. "We rented it for storage," she said, smiling. Many of the tenant apartments are so small they rent a garage for storing their off season clothes and their kids toys and bicycles.
The next month Ray and Sabina threw a big party in the parking lot, in front of their garage. "It's my kid's birthday and my birthday," she said. There were suddenly lots of people and chairs and tables and a big BBQ and loads of cars.
Aram, another garage renter, showed up and yelled, "We've got coronavirus, and there are no masks back here." He was angry that the partiers had blocked access to his garages. "I'm calling the landlord right now," he shouted, holding his phone to his ear, and then photographing the offending vehicles.
This past August Aram's two garages were robbed. "I think I know who did it," he said, "but the police told me that fingerprints would cost me 200 dollars. The tenants on the top floor have a camera facing this way but they said it wasn't working the night I was robbed. I think it was them."
Ray has three unregistered cars back here in addition to the two he drives. He slaps on fake license plates and takes them on the road. One big black Chevy Suburban with tinted windows never moves and is being used as a closet and spare fridge in winter.
Sometimes at night two other guys with huge cars show up and tinker in Ray's garage. They run an extension cord out of the 4th floor apartment window across the parking lot for electricity. Sometimes they run a loud generator. They jack up the cars, hoods get opened, and they start doing stuff. It's a lot like the old days when Isaiah from garages 6 and 7 would be back here hiding drugs in the underside of car hoods and inside wheel wells.
Here we go again.
Ray has been told by the landlord that he cannot work on cars back here nor can he store unregistered cars. He denies that he is doing this. The landlord lives an hour away and owns hundreds of properties. He never sets foot on the premises. Ray knows this.
When a tenant told the landlord what he saw back here Ray confronted him and chewed him out.
Now Ray has everybody where he wants them, silenced. Meanwhile the cars are piling up.
Every tenant sees dollar signs when they spot this parking lot. It's right off the major crossroads and yet it's out of view from the street. This is one of the most famous parking lots in our city for drugs and cars.
If you have a sourdough starter, you will need to
feed it to keep it alive. Many recipes call for doing so after
discarding a cup or so of the starter you have, so as to maintain its
equilibrium and prevent it from growing too large. This recipe takes
advantage of that excess starter, using it as the base of a pancake or
waffle batter that ferments overnight and yields a remarkably flavorful
breakfast the next day, with minimal effort.
Put the sourdough starter in a large bowl and add
the buttermilk, flour and sugar, then stir to combine. Cover the bowl
and allow it to rest overnight at room temperature.
When you are ready to cook, whisk the egg, melted
butter or oil and the vanilla extract together in a small bowl, then add
the rested sponge. Add the salt and the baking soda to the batter and
mix to combine.
Pour some of the batter onto a preheated greased
waffle iron and cook until the waffle is brown and crisp, then repeat.
Or use a small ladle to create pancakes on a preheated oiled pan or
griddle, flipping them when they are well browned on the bottom. Serve
immediately.
Last night we stopped at the fish market. I ran in and picked up a gorgeous piece of Atlantic Cod. The car window was open 3 inches so I was able to reach back inside to get Romeo while Bill was inside the store paying. The car alarm sounded. I was so embarrassed. I didn't have the keys so I just tried to ignore it. Two young men came out of the market. I apologized to them for the noise. One of them said, "Do you remember me?"
"Michael, Yes I do, I said, smiling. You were the star of my bread baking class."
"I work here now."
"I love Wilfred's. You must know a lot about fish, even more than the fishermen."
"Yeah."
"Great to see you."
"Are you still my neighbor?"
"No, we moved. I live up on Carrington Ave," he said.
The ways in which we change the world, and what we leave behind for other generations, is how we, individually or as a society, will be remembered by the future people. For example, the impact we make on people, including discoveries, inspiring others, art, writing, etc.
Today was our first visit during the pandemic to the vet. We were there for Romeo's checkup and Lyme shot and Heartworm/Lyme test.
It was strange to sit in the parking lot next to the building and call the office. The vet tech said she would be out in a few minutes to get Romeo.
We noticed a big purple Wrangler Jeep parked next to us with three people inside. The masked male vet tech wearing maroon scrubs and a bun approached their car. A woman in the back seat got out and handed over their elderly black and white Chihuahua with a gray snout. The dog was on a pillow wrapped in a magenta blanket. The purple Jeep woman pet and kissed the dog on top of his head. I had a feeling this was a final goodbye.
Twenty minutes later the vet tech came out to get the family, and they filed into the vet hospital wearing masks. Then 20 minutes later they returned. The woman was weeping. I wanted to run up to her and tell her, "I've been there, you will heal and I hope you adopt another dog." But I didn't, I just wished her well in my thoughts.
Then a different vet tech came to get Romeo. I was afraid Romeo would think we were giving him away.
Twenty minutes later the vet spoke to us over the phone, Romeo had
passed with flying colors. I went out to greet him. When he got back in the car we decided to drive down the road to the Tiverton town beach where he had his first sniff of salt water. He slept the whole way home. When we arrived at the house it was my turn to sleep.
"My Aunt has two police dogs, they're German Shepherds and they're trained as police dogs," he said. "My dog attacks my dad when he beats me," he continued. "Does your dog protect you?"
A Jewish teaching says those who die just before the Jewish new year are the ones God has held back until the last moment bc they were needed most & were the most righteous. And so it was that #RBG died as the sun was setting last night marking the beginning of RoshHashanah.
Rosh Hashanah (Hebrew: רֹאשׁ הַשָּׁנָה), literally meaning "head [of] the year", is the JewishNew Year. The biblical name for this holiday is Yom Teruah (יוֹם תְּרוּעָה), literally "day of shouting or blasting". It is the first of the Jewish High Holy Days (יָמִים נוֹרָאִים Yamim Nora'im. "Days of Awe") specified by Leviticus 23:23–32 that occur in the early autumn of the Northern Hemisphere.
Rosh Hashanah is a two-day celebration that begins on the first day of Tishrei, which is the seventh month of the ecclesiastical year. In contrast to the ecclesiastical year, where the first month Nisan,
the Passover month, marks Israel's exodus from Egypt, Rosh Hashanah
marks the beginning of the civil year, according to the teachings of
Judaism, and is the traditional anniversary of the creation of Adam and Eve, the first man and woman according to the Hebrew Bible, and the inauguration of humanity's role in God's world.
Rosh Hashanah customs include sounding the shofar (a cleaned-out ram's horn), as prescribed in the Torah, following the prescription of the Hebrew Bible to "raise a noise" on Yom Teruah. Its rabbinical customs include attending synagogue services and reciting special liturgy about teshuva,
as well as enjoying festive meals. Eating symbolic foods is now a
tradition, such as apples dipped in honey, hoping to evoke a sweet new
year.
Etymology
"Rosh" is the Hebrew word for "head", "ha" is the definite article
("the"), and "shanah" means year. Thus "Rosh HaShanah" means 'head [of]
the year', referring to the Jewish day of new year.[2][3]
What does L Shana Tova mean?
Those observing Rosh Hashanah often greet one another with the Hebrew phrase, “shana tova” or “l'shana tova,” meaning “good year” or “for a good year.” According to History.com, this is a “shortened version of the Rosh Hashanah salutation 'L'shanah tovah tikatev v'taihatem' ('May you be inscribed and sealed for a good (sweet) new year
When Neill said children should be free, he did not mean complete
freedom, but freedom without license—that everyone can do as they like
unless such action encroaches upon another's freedom.
Alexander Sutherland Neill (17 October1883 – 23 September1973), known as A. S. Neill, was a Scottish educator and author known for his school, Summerhill School,
and its philosophies of community self-governance as well as freedom
from adult coercion. He wrote 20 books in his lifetime, and his best
seller was the 1960 Summerhill, a compilation of four previous books about his school. The book was a common ancestor to activists in the 60s free school movement.
Quotes
A goodteacher does not draw out; he gives out, and what he gives out is love. And by love I mean approval, or if you like, friendliness, good nature. The good teacher not only understands the child: he approves of the child.
A child is innately wise and realistic. If left to himself without adult suggestion of any kind, he will develop as far as he is capable of developing.
A child is innately wise and realistic. If left to himself without adult suggestion of any kind, he will develop as far as he is capable of developing.
You cannot makechildrenlearnmusic or anything else without to some degree converting them into will-less adults. You fashion them into accepters of the status quo – a good thing for a society that needsobedient sitters at dreary desks, standers in shops, mechanical catchers of the 8:30 suburban train – a society, in short, that is carried on the shabby shoulders of the scared little man – the scared-to-deathconformist.
p. 12
No one has the right to make a boy learn Latin, because learning
is a matter for individual choice; but if in a Latin class, a boy fools
all the time, the class should throw him out, because he interferes
with the freedom of others.
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