I cannot use the Block editor. I’m old and have health issues. There is nothing I can do. However, I need my posts back, because many have content I require. Not all are in Word and I have changed computers twice.
No, I will not post again. It is driving me to tears. At 76, one can be a little fragile. My posts were my main activity. I need them to finish a book on Animals in Literature. It’s a short textbook I wrote for my students. There was no textbook. I also wish to keep a record of all I have written. These posts remain my intellectual property and have provided information to the internet.
Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (I caught the H1N1 virus in early 1976) has damaged my brain (short-term memory, concentration, fatigue and minor strokes [paralysis, vertigo, double-vision, headaches]). I may forget or repeat words.
My best advice to WordPress is to give people a choice of editor and never kidnap posts. Please return all of my material to me. They are my intellectual property. Content and form are inextricably linked. I will get a new printer and print all relevant posts (the voyageurs, fables, Canadiana, etc).
I was fooled into relinquishing my tenure at StFX University, so my pension does not allow unessential purchases. I am experiencing difficulty settling into this apartment. It requires repairs and books must be removed. It has one bedroom only. Given the above, encephalomyelitis and advanced emphysema, I have genuine limitations.
Please return my posts. They would cost a lot of money to purchase, but I can’t continue. I can’t operate my Smartphone. It seems I need a man.
We are all the same, but we differ in little yet important ways.
I thank you for the good years. I live alone, away from my community. So, my blog was important. It was my job. My computer is failing me. A technician came over who said it was fine. I cannot use my mouse.
Respectfully,
Micheline Walker
P.S. If writing an article drives me to tears, it’s over.
Publishing “The Negro-Spiritual” was difficult. First, my computer is on the blink. A technician came and told me that all was right. But it isn’t. At any rate, yesterday’s post was sent to trash twice and I had to rebuild it. I had a copy of the text and my images, but finding images is now more difficult. No human being would do this to me. The Classic editor was more useful to me. I felt I was being punished and after a day’s labour, I was crying like a child. At that cost, my career is definitely over. My brain was damaged because I caught the H1N1 virus, in February 1976. I developed Myalgic Encephalomyelitis. In 1991, it was found that the rate of perfusion of blood to my brain was too slow and that the damage was significant. It has affected my memory, but not my intelligence. I am lucid.
As you know, I made a mistake. I left Antigonish, Nova Scotia, where I owned a lovely blue house across the street from the Campus. I was overworked and fell ill. I had no strength left. The insurance company agent was asked by her doctor, the one she hired, to please tell me not to sell my house or make important decisions until I had recovered. I would recover. She didn’t say a word.
I had presented a doctor’s note, but it was not taken seriously. No one replaced me. After a short rest, I returned to work. In the eyes of the Insurance Company’s employee, by returning to finish the year’s assignment, I proved that I was an imaginary invalid. The Company stopped paying benefits. I therefore decided to return to work asking for a normal load. I was fooled into relinquishing my tenure.
I never recovered from losing my career and access to a research library. No one would buy my apartment because the purchaser could not take a mortgage. Life is very humble.
In the meantime, I write posts and try to make my apartment beautiful. It’s a bit expensive and help is difficult to find during a pandemic. Workers do not all wear their mask. It cannot be seen, but the virus kills.
But let us return to Blacks. If the Blacks, who were often captured by Blacks and ended up in the bottom of a slave ship to be sold to plantation owners who could be very cruel, they needed a promised land. Death becomes a promise. One enters eternal life. This is something I can understand as I have often wished to commit suicide to end the pain.
As for the Blacks being black, it tells nothing about their personality and their qualities. In fact, I am reminded of a legend in Quebec, and perhaps elsewhere, about the beggar at your door. According to the legend, he may be Jesus in disguise. So, one must feed him and give him a bed. The legend is Notre Seigneur en pauvre (Our Lord as a poor man). I discussed it elsewhere. Sir Ernest MacMillan set it to music. For my part, I wrote a song. The music resembles the negro–spiritual, but the words are about the beggar, or Our Lord as a poor man. And it is a love song.
The song has three parts. The first and the third are sung, but the middle is for wind instruments preferably. It is entitled “The Beggar.” The melody is intricate and it is for an excellent singer.
Part One
There came a beggar to my door. A man I’d never seen before. I let him in, He’s been here since. The Beggar is King. No…I’ll never let him go, I’ll never let him go.
Part Two
(INSTRUMENTAL) mostly improvised
Part Three
I told my mother my father ’bout the beggar; I told my brother, my sisters ’bout the beggar. They said: The’re law…yers, The’re doc…tors, Drop…the beggar. (Drop is a very long and high note) But, I will never let him go… But, I will ne…ver let him go… But, I will…ne…ver…let…et him go (syncopated)
(INSTRUMENTAL I – IV – I)
In short, yesterday, I wanted to change the video I had chosen. I preferred the video I had discover.
The singer is Maescha Brueggergoshan, and the pictures turn the post into something more coherent and almost poetical.
I wish Maescha would learn my Beggar. I had a lung illness just before Covid-19. I could not speak for three months and lost two thirds of my lungs. My voice has returned, but I can’t sing.
Please don’t laugh. I have been asked to customize my page, which I cannot do. Nor can I customize my social media icons. For that matter, I cannot use a Smartphone.
For those of you who feel helpless, here are ways of protecting yourself:
washing your hands
self-isolating
self-distancing (two meters: six to seven feet)
keeping the kitchen counters disinfected
keeping the toilet lid down
no travelling
I hope the military, or related force, will be deployed to keep people at a distance when they shop for the necessities. They must wear protective gear. There have been nasty incidents that have led to stiff fines and may lead to imprisonment. If you do not have money, you should not be expected to pay, but be honest. Governments can deal with this problem. You will probably get money soon. It starts today in Canada.
The military or related force could make sure these measures are enforced immediately. The nice thing about the military or related force is that they can also be your go-to persons.
Last night, I read that there were 3,977 confirmed and presumptive cases of coronavirus in Canada. Quebec leads Canada at 1,629 cases (MSN).
In the meantime, I am having difficulty renewing my PC fees of approximately $50. My credit card (Mastercard) will not pay. Yet, there is money to pay.
Allow me to say that, unfortunately, Quebec is not the best of environments. I have noted considerable defiance. Leaders should seek stability and security. For instance, in 1982, the Premier of Quebec, René Lévesque, refused to sign the Constitution. Yet, no referendum had given the Quebec government a mandate to secede. We must act in an orderly fashion.
I don’t know what is going on, but I live carefully, I have good neighbours, my nephew, François, and my dear friend Paulina. We phone and send emails. I also have my fine colleagues at WordPress.
The Declaration of Love by François de Troy (The Metropolitan Museum of Art)
I have not posted for several days and must apologize.
Let me explain my silence. I am in the process of requesting from my University a salary for unremunareted assignments. This process is very stressful, but I had to take a mortgage to purchase my current apartment, which should not have happened. I am 75. Moreover, I cannot clear away from my mind the unfortunate events of 2002 and 2004.
Contrary to my request, the person purchasing my last apartement did not have an inspector visit the apartment. Nor was I told, despite hiring a notary, that a person joining the society owning the building could not sell his or her share, if the prospective buyer had to take a mortgage. I doubt that my notary had access to any information. The person acting on my behalf would not step down as proxy. Do not ask anyone to purchase an apartment or a house on your behalf and, if you are sick, do not make serious decisions.
My request for a salary may be granted, but it may not. I have heard from the Faculty Association. It’s rather late, but it was a terrible shock. The consequences of a refusal would be deleterious. Being remunerated will not return my career to me. I will never live in my blue house, and there will not be sabbatical during which I would write my book on Molière. But, if the mortgage disappeared, it would be a relief.
I don’t need a great deal of money, but paying the mortgage would allow me to make my last apartment a pleasant environment. It is smaller and therefore somewhat cluttered. I gave my collection of Canadiana (furniture), but I still have too many books. If I needed a little chest of drawers back, once books were removed, I doubt that it would be returned to me. Ageing can be very difficult.
I do not understand why I was eliminated from the faculty of my university, nor do I understand why I first contacted the administration for a remedy. I think it was shock.
L’Étourdi is the last play we are reading.
Love to everyone 💕
Philippe Jaroussky. “Ombra mai fu” ( Serse ) by G.- F. Händel.
I received a note from a reader who asked whether he could use my posts in his research. The answer was the usual answer. No one can copy or quote posts without acknowledging their source. It is the author’s intellectual property.
However, I remain a specialist of Molière, by virtue of a PhD thesis on his theatre, peer-reviewed articles on his plays, and editing articles on Molière.
Please note that my posts are informed readings of Molière rather than scholarly articles. Scholarly articles are written in the context of previous books and articles. I no longer have access to the services of a research library and can only use materials I keep at home or material sent to me by fellow scholars. At a Toronto meeting of scholars on the Age of Theatre in France, Anne Ubersfeld said that she was “admirative de votre travail.” She admired my short contribution. Would that I could have continued, but I faced obstructionism, extremely demanding workloads and, basically, and I was fooled into accepting a retirement arrangement.
Let us say, that although I do not ask anyone to pay a fee for reading my posts, they remain my intellectual property which means that copying them without proper acknowledgement is plagiarism, which is fraud and punishable. My post are my intellectual property. One simply names one’s source.
I have not finished my analysis of L’Étourdi. It is a very rich play. In a footnote to his translation of l’Étourdi, Henri van Laun wrote that Victor Hugo considered L’Étourdi a masterpiece. I felt too timid to express the same opinion. Once again, Henri van Laun came to my rescue: a footnote.
We will continue reading L’Étourdi. I’m simply breathing a little and taking care of personal issues.
Best regards to all of view. 💕
You may notice little errors: repetitions, spelling, etc. It is illness.
Harry and Meghan are in Canada and no one was disturbing them, which is no longer the case. The paparazzi have crossed the pond. This is an update.
They are considering purchasing a house located on Vancouver’s Point Grey Road. Point Grey Road is the street where my husband and I lived when we returned from Wickaninnish Inn, the secluded inn where we spent our honeymoon.
On our return to Vancouver, we settled in a delightful attic apartment located in a waterfront house. It was a lovely apartment and we had a deck. We enjoyed the location. We were about halfway between the University and downtown, but the finer houses were located closer to the University. There were lovely little houses where we lived, but I don’t remember mansions. We enjoyed watching the little sail boats on English Bay. We could also see snow-capped mountains. Raccoons were forever trying to get into the apartment, which scared Chamiche, our cat, but we protected him. These are very happy memories.
Prince Harry and Meghan’s house, if they purchase it, is very expensive, but in the early 1970’s, our rent was very low. If my memory serves me well, renting the apartment cost approximately $300.00 per month, furnished.
We were students and it was an era when ordinary people could live in a waterfront house. Vancouver is now too expensive a location.
So, although I feel that Harry and Meghan are following us, they’re not. The location is the same, but Vancouver has changed. The waterfront apartment was our first home.
As a Royal, Prince Harry didn’t have to attend a university. However, he could overcome this shortcoming by taking courses at the University of British Columbia (UBC). I doubt that he is employable. UBC is a short drive from the mansion Meghan spotted and wishes to purchase, if the couple can afford it.
Just a word to wish you a Merry Christmas and other festivities. May the New Year bless all of you.
I thank you for the warmth you have brought me for some nine years. We create bonds with are colleagues, which I never expected.
We had a Christmas celebration last night, at one of my nephew’s home. So I may now write a post on La Comtesse d’Escarbagnas, Molière’s shortest play.
A very long time ago, my sister and I produced it. I can’t remember which role I played. Students enjoy producing plays. My sister is an award-winning actress.
