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There is one thing I miss about the house I grew up in. The house I live in now, as an adult, does not have a screened-in porch. I can remember spending lazy summer afternoons sitting in one of the two rocking chairs, and my grandmother, who lived with us, in the other. From that vantage point, it was possible to take careful notice of the bees as they went from flower to flower, what a sudden downpour sounded like on the leaves, and the rushing of it through the gutters and eaves-troughs. You could almost hear the thirsty ground as it seemed to drink up every last drop. It was also the best way to observe the squirrels and birds without scaring them away.

I remember the sunsets and seeing the subtle change of colour and shadow as twilight descended. The porch was the gathering place for the family after dinner, where each of us would catch up on the other’s day. Some of the best talks we had were right there in that outdoor room. Problems were addressed, plans were made, stories were told about long summers, spent on a porch just like that one.

You might remember a few lines from the Victoria book called The Romantic Heart, that I featured in past programs. It was by Terry Tempest Williams, writing in Refuge: An Unnatural History of Family and Place, who said, “My grandfather and grandmother fell in love on moonlit nights at salt-air.

“‘I remember the way her chiffon dress/ Would blow in the breeze as/ We stood on the boardwalk looking/ Over the lake. And I remember a/ Kiss or two before we went back/ Inside…’He said.”

Through our grandparents’ memories, we can visit an age before we were born, and see the world the way it was during a gentler, simpler time. Some of us have patterned our lives and relationships around the old-fashioned values they tried to instill on us. Their uncomplicated stories of modest beginnings have continued to inspire us throughout our lives.

My grandmother had an ancient clock that became a fixture in the household a long time before I was born. After my mother and father were married, they moved into his mother’s home and remained there for all their married life. It was a house that was built in the 1800’s that originally served as a farmhouse, since my grandparents owned the parcels of land that surrounded it. They later sold off sections for other homesteaders. The house stood for many years, but the area around it grew over the past hundred years into a town, and finally a city. What was once a dirt track for horses and buggies in front of this ancient home, is now a busy thoroughfare for cars and trucks. The house has been razed and in its place, a large chain supermarket. I’ve been in that market and while wandering the aisles, I could swear I’ve heard echoes of another place in time, ..and the ticking of a clock.

As a child, I can remember sometimes lying awake at night and hearing the deep tones of the chime as the clock ran out the hour and the half-hour. Just as the poem, by Henry Clay Work, alluded to, it stopped working, not at the precise moment of her death, but a short time afterwords.

I have many fond memories of that house and my grandmother. My grandfather died many years before I was born. But I felt I knew him, too, from the stories of the life they shared that she recounted to me, and through brittle family photographs.

It’s these kinds of memories that keep us connected to our shared history, a past that has shaped who we are today. Is it and wonder, then, that some people choose to delve deep into researching their family tree, tracing the branches back to the roots? Trying to find something about grandparents and great grandparents, and those who came before us generations ago, that helps to define what we have become. It is that need to know that alerted me to the fact that one of my ancestors on my grandmother’s side of the family was one of the Deutsch who were involved in the purchase of Manhattan Island from the Native Americans for $24 dollars. But that’s a whole other story, and another program. But it’s that kind of discovery that gets passed from generation to generation, that keeps the connection going.

Eventually, though, the clock runs down, as it does in the second hour of my radio program tonight…

“My grandfather’s clock was too large for the shelf,/ So it stood ninety years on the floor;/ It was taller by half than the old man himself,/ Though it weighed not a pennyweight more./ It was bought on the morn of the day that he was born/ And was always his treasure and pride,/ But it stopped short–never to go again-/ When the old man died.

“Ninety years without slumbering-/ Tick, tick, tick, tick./ His life seconds numbering-/ Tick, tick, tick, tick./ It stopped short–never to go again-/ When the old man died.

“In watching its pendulum swing to and fro/ Many hours had he spent while a boy;/ And in childhood and manhood the clock seemed to know/ And to share both his grief and his joy,/ For it struck twenty-four when he entered the door/ With a blooming and beautiful bride,/ But it stopped short-never to go again-/ When the old man died.

“My grandfather said one of those he could not hire,/ Not a servant so faithful he found,/ For it wasted no time and had but one desire-/ At the close of each week to be wound./ And it kept in its place–not a frown upon its face,/ And its hands never hung by its side;/ But it stopped short-never to go again-/ When the old man died.

“It rang an alarm in the dead of night-/ An alarm that for years had been dumb./ And we knew that his spirit was pluming for flight,/ That his hour for departure had come./ Still the clock kept time with a soft and muffled chime/ As we silently stood by his side;/ But it stopped short-never to go again-/ When the old man died.”

Grandfather’s Clock by Henry Clay Work, and was published in the compilation, Best Loved Poems of The American People, by Doubleday.

***

Don Jackson

Some years back, a friend asked me if I would be interested in adding visual cues to enhance the enjoyment of movies to those who have vision problems. I thought it was a great idea, and for a time, I helped to enhance soundtrack for many movies. Maybe you have rented one and never realized that it was me who was describing what was going on during the times in the film when there was no dialogue.

It is a short blog tonight; just one item that directly relates to the second hour of the radio program, an hour that deals with saber-tooth tigers and a little boy who had impaired vision. I found this some years back in the 1989 edition of The Friendship Book of Francis Gay, published by D.C. Thomson and Company. I wanted to share it with you. It might give you something to think about while listening to the program tonight.

“Louis was a little blind boy in the French town of Coupvray at a time when there was a lot of unemployment. It is recorded that in Coupvray alone there were 72 men who were unable to find a job and had time on their hands. Some of them helped Louis by scratching a deep groove in the pathway down which he loved to wander, so that he could push his stick along it and follow the winding route safely as it twisted its way to a pond where he loved to play. Others helped him to learn where he was by listening to the chimes of the church clock. When he grew older, Louis Braille never forgot the kindness of those unemployed men. As they had helped him, so he, too, assisted others by inventing the system of reading and writing which is still a blessing to blind people the world over.”

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Don Jackson

Before we begin tonight, I’d like to thank all those who sent my wife and I best wishes for our 18th anniversary yesterday.

I ran across a very old public notice in The New York Times that I’d like to share with you. “To my lovely wife, M. Thank you for 50 wonderful years of married life together–except for the argument we had in 1935 in which you were obviously wrong. Love, husband M. B.”

I thought you might get a smile from that…

Here is a list of things I’d like you to listen for during tonight’s radio show. If you tune in, you’ll understand why. It’s just some of the things I want to stir your senses with. Some of these images you can readily imagine. The questions will need to be answered by listening closely tonight.

“..birds fall silent in the woods.” A cricket hanging upside down. A cricket heard through the din of a busy New York street. Bread that comes “…from a wheat field blown by the wind.” The first robin you ever remember seeing. A hot spring as opposed to a cold running stream. A simple maple leaf. What scared the mice in the story? ”..a forest in which there is a graceful clearing, and in that opening a house, an orchard and garden, comfortable shades and flowers-red and yellow in the sun…” Being lost in the woods. “A tangled orchard where dark damsons drop in the heavy grass…” What were the flowers dreaming? What came down to the sea late in a magical night? Whose fur reflected the morning sun, turning it “..into a ball of red-orange fire”?  Pounding waves and surf before a storm. Who was out at the end of a rock jetty being whipped by the wind and rain, and felt exhilarated by it all?

If anything, I hope the show tonight gets you to clear your mind and use all your senses while walking out beyond your front door.

***

Don Jackson

I will never forget the day. It was July 28th, 1990. It was also the hottest day of the summer. The church didn’t have air conditioning, and both my wife and I thought the minister was going to drop from heat exhaustion before he had the chance to marry us. I was a little teary-eyed, but it didn’t have anything to do with that fact…

I can still remember everything that happened that day. We were married in Montreal, even though we had already moved here seven months before in order for me to begin this radio program on CHFI. My wife had gone back to Montreal quite some time before the wedding day to finalize preparations, so I really didn’t see the bride until the night before, and then for just a quick kiss and a promise to be there the next afternoon.

The day dawned bright and beautiful, as beautiful as the bride herself. I have a framed photograph in my home office, where I write and prepare this show and my blog, of my wife in her wedding finery just before leaving to go to the church. It’s one of those photos that the photographer traditionally takes prior to the ceremony. It’s a beautiful moment in time captured for ever and reserved for a special place in my office.

The drive to the church was in the bright summer sunshine and when I arrived, I was anxious to be up at the front of the church. I had no idea the style of wedding dress my wife had picked. I was eager to see her escorted down the aisle by her father. It was a beautiful dress that she has carefully put away for safekeeping. We were back in Montreal just recently to visit my in-laws and we just happened to pass by the wedding boutique where she bought her dress. It brought back many fond memories for her.

As I said, the minister was sweating, and it had nothing to do with marrying the two of us; the church was like an oven. As I looked over the crowd of guests there to share in our special moment, I was stunned by the bride walking up the aisle with her father.

After the ceremony, we dove in a classic convertible to the riverfront and had our wedding photos snapped in a very green, picturesque location. There were a few other wedding parties there for exactly the same reason.

That night, my best friend made a spectacular speech as best man at our wedding. I’ve told you about him in a past blog. His name is ‘Don’ and that’s who I named my son after. He was funny and the wedding video shows both my wife and I responding to his witty remarks about ‘Lovers and Other Strangers’.

We had planned something very special for our reception. Not only did we have a traditional DJ who played Italian tarantellas for wife’s family, we also had one of the most popular bar bands in all of Montreal, ‘The Jimmy Dogs‘. They were our favorite group, and so we decided to really have a blow-out of a reception by engaging them for an exclusive performance at our wedding. The guests had a great time. We even had our reception crashed by a few guests in the hotel. We know this because they signed the guestbook “Batman and Robin“.

Tonight, for the very last song in the radio show, I will play the first song my wife and I danced to as husband and wife. I will always remember the very traditional Italian dance that had our guests in a circle around us as we danced. We even formed a circle around my wife and her father when they shared their special dance.

I remember almost every single moment of that day, 18 years ago today. I also remember all the planning and preparation that went into it. I also remember how it seemed to pass by at breakneck speed. We plan so far in advance to make our day just right, only for it to come and go so fast.

My wife and I want to arrange a special party for our 25th. We were thinking of trying to arrange to have The Jimmy Dogs play a reunion concert. I don’t even know if they’re still together, 18 years later.

I seem to remember an old Flintstone’s episode that had Fred and Barney conspiring to go bowling with the Loyal Order of Water Buffaloon Fred and Wilma’s wedding anniversary, or another special occasion just as important. And here I am away from my wife. We seem to miss spending Valentine’s Day together as well. But she knows that this blog and this radio show tonight are dedicated to her.

Happy anniversary, Lydia! We are so blessed with two happy, healthy children and a great life together. I could not ask for more. Here’s to 18 more….and many more beyond that…

***

Don Jacskon

“Beauty is so precious the enjoyments it gives are so refined and pure, so congenial with our tenderest and noblest feelings, and so akin to workship, that it is painful to think of the multitude of men as living in the midst of it, and living almost as blind to it as if, instead of the fair earth and glorious sky, they were living in a dungeon.”–William Ellery Channing

There was a great story about two men in a hospital room. One had the window view of the outside world while the other was so ill he couldn’t raise himself from his bed to look out. He had to rely on the man by the window to describe what was happening outside the window. Out the window is a beautiful scene of nature and people enjoying the great outdoors. When the man by the window passes on, the other man requests that he be moved by the window so he can see everything that was described to him. He finds, after he painfully raises himself up, that the window faced the blank wall of another building and the man who occupied the bed describing the trees and the grass swaying in the afternoon breeze was actually blind.

Helen Keller believed, “The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart.”

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Don Jackson

“All the world’s a stage…”

I used to play drums in a rock band years before I decided to make radio my vocation. I’ve been on many stages with the band. Those that are in the gyms of schools, to others in drop-in centres where the band played in public. I was on stage giving a Remembrance Day talk one year at my children’s elementary school. I’ve been asked by organization to be on stage to give talks about this radio show and some of the subjects I speak about. I’ve been up on stage at the Oldies Dance in years past to say hello to our wonderful listeners. I must admit I’m more comfortable in front of a microphone in a studio all by myself, but it’s been a great experience to be called up to a stage.

I’ve always been somewhat shy to be under the lights, but I wouldn’t have traded those opportunities for anything else.

In my early radio career in Montreal, I did a late-night show that featured a one-hour tribute each night to a different music act. That show afforded me the opportunity to meet some of the greatest musical acts of all time. Sometimes, a bandmember would be in the studio with me for an interview. Other times, it was recorded over the phone and then interspersed between songs in the show. A lot of listeners there still remember me doing that show long before “Lovers and Other Strangers” ever hit the airwaves.

One of the most memorable telephone interviews was with Al Stewart, who had such hits as Year of The Cat and Time Passages. He was going to be performing later that night at the Montreal Forum. I interviewed him via telephone as he relaxed in his hotel room prior to the concert. We had a fabulous conversation that lasted about 20 minutes. After we concluded the interview I was going to spend some time cutting up the interview to be used in this show that would have aired after his concert that night. You must remember that this was back in the 1980’s. There was no such thing as digital recording devices. We recorded all of our interviews on reel-to-reel tape. As I began to play back the tape to listen to the interview, I realized the tape was twisted….Nothing recorded. I was frantic! I realized I had to call him back to explain my dilemma. When he picked up the phone in his hotel room, I began to sweat. I was embarrassed having to tell him that our interview did not record. He was the consummate professional, and laughed it all off. We ended up doing another 20 minute interview that was better than the first. I can assure you this time the tape was not twisted. By the way, I was there at the forum that night for his great show.

I have even had the opportunity to go backstage before and after a concert to do interviews. One of the most memorable backstage interviews I ever recorded was with the drummer of Chicago, Danny Seraphine. Since I was a drummer from years gone by it was a a rare opportunity to meet one of the drummers I always enjoyed listening to. We hit it off and the interview went well. So well, in fact, that I made him late for his concert that night. I didn’t want to shut the tape recorder off and he was just as happy to sit there and reminisce about his years with the band and his vocation as one of the premiere rock drummers in the world. The backstage staff kept coming into the dressing room, trying to get his attention, and we just kept talking. It was the sold-out crowd that finally inspired us to wrap up the interview. They were pounding their feet on the floor of that venerable concert house and hockey rink to get the show to start. All during our conversation, we could hear the opening act. After they left the stage, the crowd was patient for a little while, but eventually became anxious to hear the group they paid to see. So, if you remember being at a Chicago concert back in the 1980s in Montreal that was really late starting, you can blame me.

The most amazing experience I’ve ever had was the time I was called onto the stage at the old Montreal Forum to introduce Julio Iglesias. The radio station I was working for at the time made arrangements for me to broadcast my entire evening show live backstage at the Forum, including Lovers and Other Strangers. Throughout the course of the show, before the concert-goers arrived, I had the chance to sneak into the seating area and watch the rehearsal for the show that night. I remember Julio sitting out in the middle of the main-floor listening to the sound and making comments to his audio people concerning what needed to be done to enhance the sound.

When the concert-goers arrived and began taking their seats, I was well into my evening radio show. Julio, Enrique’s father, would pass by my remote studio and share the microphone for awhile. In fact, he became co-host of the program for awhile, introducing his own songs and those of other artists. I really enjoyed having one of the world’s most romantic singers as co-host that night. The most incredible experience was to come. 

When it was time for his show to begin, his staff asked me if I would go onstage to introduce him. They led me with a flashlight up the stairs to the stage. For a brief moment, I knew what every rock band and musical act has experienced as they make their way to the stage to begin their performance. I think I had more butterflies than the star did that night as I walked out onto that huge stage in front of thousands of his adoring fans. The crowd hushed sensing the show was about to begin. I walked across the stage to the microphone under those harsh lights. I could sense the venue was packed, but could only see about ten to twenty rows of seats directly in front of the stage. If I’ve ever been at a loss for words I was for just a split second before introducing the show that night. I was living a dream I had in my youth to be onstage at a concert at one of the country’s venerable arenas. I may have stammered a bit wen I finally got up the courage to speak, but the memory of that night is as fresh in my memory tonight as I write this as the night I experienced it.

“All the world’s a stage…” It will be, two weeks from today, when the world arrives in Beijing for the Olympics. One can only imagine what it will be like for the athletes to be centre-stage during the opening ceremonies and when they prepare to compete. All the eyes of the world will be watching.

***

Don Jackson

What is the most common color for the $25 dollar chip in casinos the world over? If you said “green,” then you know your colors.

“A word is not a crystal, transparent and unchanged. It is the skin of a living thought, and may vary greatly in color and content according to the circumstances and the time in which it is used.”–Oliver Wendell Holmes, opinion, in Towne vs Eisner, January 7th, 1918.

“They were ravished with its loveliness, a warm, soft-voiced spring–green landscape dotted with sassafras and scarlet-colored snakewood, smelling of wild strawberries and hart’s tongue.”–Marshall Fishwick from Virginia: A New Look at The Old Dominion.

Did you know…”Pink flamingos get their coloring from their diet of shrimp and worms, denizens of salt ponds.” An excerpt from Salt: A World History by Mike Kurlansky. That was an excerpt featured in the September 2002 issue of the Quality Paperback Book Review.

I never would have known that. I see them on lawns of those celebrating birthdays and I’ve even seen them in the wild on trips to the deep south. I just assumed that was their color. I didn’t know there was a reason behind their shade of bright pink.

One of my very old editions of the Encyclopedia Britannica stated: “There are nearly 3,000 species of dragonflies. Most of them occur in Central and South America. They have a great variety of colors, ranging through blue, green, bronze, amber, steel, white and red-spotted.”

My wife has always had a deep abiding interest and affection for butterflies. Her books on the subject have always been a source of inspiration to me, especially the photographic plates of the many species that inhabit the world. The most colorful ones are those that come from teeming tropical jungles. Unless you were deep in those jungles, or seen the photographs taken by entomologists and National Geographic, you might never see these delicate, beautiful creatures. It reminds me of a quote from tonight’s radio program. It is from Livingstone’s African journal, written in the three years between 1853 and 1856. “The trees abound, and so does honey. This is evidence of a great number of flowers–though of few varieties. Some would deserve a place in our flower shows, but are born to blush unseen except by the angels.” Maybe that truly is the sole reason that they exist at all, to be cherished by the angels.

…And if you listen carefully to the program tonight, you’ll discover what my favorite color is. I’ll give you a clue.. It’s the color of the paper-clip that I use to hold the pages of my script together…

***

Don Jackson

Chief Dan George was an eloquent spokesman for Native North American rights. He was also nominated for an Academy Award in 1971 for his performance in Little Big Man. Some people may not realize that he was also a talented writer. He wrote a beautiful poem called My Heart Soars, published by Hancock House Publishers in Surrey, B. C.

“The beauty of the trees, / The softness of the air, / The fragrance of the grass, / Speaks to me.

“The summit of the mountain, / The thunder of the sky, / The rhythm of the sea, / Speaks to me.

“The faintness of the stars, / The freshness of the morning, / The dewdrop on the flower, /Speaks to me.

“The strength of fire, / The taste of salmon, / The trail of the sun, / And the life that never goes away, / They speak to me. / And my heart soars.”

A friend visiting a neighbor brought over her lap-top to ask my help in identifying a piece of instrumental music that was used as background to an absolutely stunning series of inspirational images. You’ve no doubt received some of these slide-shows in your e-mail. To be honest, I couldn’t help her with the music–it sounded like a pas de deux from a ballet. I was stunned by the clarity of the images of a dew drop up close with a hummingbird in flight just above it, sand dunes that appeared as if they were sculpted by the wind and ice fields sculpted by a giant’s hand. I was mesmerized for the few brief moments they flashed on the screen before my eyes and wondered at the artistic vision of the photographers. I was reminded of those awe-inspiring framed prints above a single word that seems to describe the visual image above. Sometimes you see these hanging on the office walls of professionals. The effect they create is inspiring and leave you with a sense of calm.

Many years ago, I flew with a friend who was trying to build up his hours so he could apply to the airlines as a pilot. We would rent a small aircraft and fly all over the countryside. I snapped many photographs out the window of the small plane, but what I tried to compose simply could not surpass the natural beauty of the rolling hills and deep-water lakes below. We would land and it would feel like my heart was still up there in the clouds, still soaring.

Helen Keller believed, “The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart.”

In the radio show tonight, I can only hope I’ve been able to get your heart to “feel,” and maybe even to soar…

***

Don Jackson

I really missed writing this blog while I was away on vacation last week. We could receive no wireless signal where we were staying so there was no way for me post any thoughts and ideas. I have to tell you that I really did miss communicating with you this way. I’ll leave the details for a future blog. What most interests me was what I returned home to find living on the property. We were aware of one of these summer residents, but the others were a complete surprise.

Recently I mentioned that we found a toad wandering back and forth from the gardens in the front to the ones that make up our backyard. Occasionally, I found the little creature on the pathway that runs alongside the house connecting the front with the back. My little schnoodle also had a close encounter with it. One day when the dog and I were going to check on the pond, the toad was right in the middle of the path. It was an easy thing for me to gently step over the little creature, but my dog was extremely curious about this summer visitor. Not knowing what to make of the creature, she gently padded up to it and gave it a sniff. The toad hunkered down. You could almost see it standing its ground, daring the dog. Its eyes even seemed to be menacing. I was expecting a standoff between the two, but the dog got the message and made her way around the creature.

For days, I would see the little creature all over the landscape. I found it perched on the stones that border the pond, occasionally on the lily pads that cover most of the surface of the pond right now and even in our flower beds. When we returned from vacation, I found the little creature floating on one of the lily pads. But something else caught my eye. I turned to see the cottontail rabbit dart across the lawn and head into the undergrowth beneath the huge branches of my daughter’s magnolia tree. It seems this little creature has found a home and a plentiful food supply on our property. My wife is not amused. She is pleasantly surprised that we have a little furry rabbit on the property but it has made a diet of her flowers and plants. We’ve been noticing foliage that has been nibbled on, and upon our return, my wife noticed that all her morning glory vines had been chewed off. Before we knew it was a bunny, we had noticed a few other fledgling plants had been nipped off. She was growing sunflowers by one fence, and all the heads had disappeared one night. Now we know who the culprit is, but we’re not ready to try to shoo him on his way. We’ve heard that there are a few coyotes in the ravine close to where we live. We’ve never had rabbits living on the property before, so we figure it has found a safe haven away from the danger of living in the wild.

Before we left, my wife noticed a nest in the branches of my daughter’s magnolia tree. The nest was made in the branches that our bedrooms look out on. We speculated for some time about what kind of bird it was. We’ve seen male and female cardinals at our feeders, some yellow finches and sparrows, so we wondered what bird might have claimed this one branch to build its nest. When we returned, we found a male and female robin and three nestlings already hatched, the down on their little heads already turning into darker feathers.

We had friends over this past weekend, and we took great delight showing off the new babies. They would turn their open beaks toward us hoping that we might be bearing gifts.

Yesterday, during that torrential rainstorm that just about drowned everything on my property, we had to go out to backwash the pool and lower the level in the pond. I haven’t seen this much rain in quite awhile. My wife went to check on the nest, and found both mother and father robin shielding the babies with their bodies. The adult birds were absolutely drenched even with the cover of leaves overhead. I thought the poor things would be flooded right out of their nest, but the adults provided as much cover as they could to keep their brood warm and dry.

This morning, as I was passing the nest to feed the fish in the pond, I noticed the nest empty and thought the worst. It was then that I found one of the little birds testing its wings and perched on one of our patio chairs. The mother and father were close by keeping a wary eye on me, but I was all smiles. I ran inside to get my camera, but upon my return the little baby was gone. I guess its wings really do work.

***

Don Jackson

“There are two freedoms, the false where one is free to do what he likes, and the true where he is free to do what he ought.” - Charles Kingsley

We’ve been given free will… it’s one of the most powerful things at our disposal.

“Freedom is a breath of air, / Pine-scented, or salty like the sea; / Freedom is a field new-plowed…/ Furrows of democracy!

“Freedom is a forest, / Trees tall and straight as men! / Freedom is a printing press… / The power of the pen!

“Freedom is a country church, / A cathedral’s stately spire; / Freedom is a spirit / That can set the soul on fire!

“Freedom is a man’s birthright, / A sacred, living, rampart; / A pulsebeat of humanity… / The throb of a nation’s heart!: - Clara Smith Reber

“God frees our souls, not from service, not from duty, but into service and into duty, and he who mistakes the purpose of his freedom mistakes the character of his freedom. He who thinks that he is being released from the work, and not set free in order that he may accomplish that work, mistakes the condition into which his soul is invited to enter.” Conditional Freedom by Phillips Brooks

Lloyd C. Douglas said, “If we are immortal, we are immortal now. If we are to survive, the future life will be a continuation of our life now. It will be different only in respect to its larger freedom, and the chief attribute of that freedom will be our escape from the dread of death and transition… - excerpt from The Treasure Chest, edited by Charles L. Wallis, and published in 1965 by Harper and Row, publishers

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Don Jackson