[92156] in Discussion of MIT-community interests
Taking Care of Your Loved Ones is about being prepared
daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (Caringforaparent.com)
Thu Nov 17 13:00:07 2016
Date: Thu, 17 Nov 2016 12:56:03 -0500
To: mit-talk-mtg@charon.mit.edu
From: "Caringforaparent.com" <caringforaparentcom@uyesterday.top>
Reply-to: "Caringforaparent.com" <caringforaparentcom@uyesterday.top>
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him. Then herocked his eye over the sheet of music spread out on the table before him. He tried his flute. Andthen at last, with the odd gesture of a diver taking a plunge, he c0z2
swung his head and 5ec0z2 began to play. A stream of music, soft and rich and fluid, came out of the flute. ec0z2 He played beautifully. He moved his head and his raised bare arms
with slight, intense movements, as 0z2 the delicate music 0z2 poured out. It 9hyo5ecz2 hyo5ec02 was sixteenth-century Christmas melody, very limpid
and delicate. c0z2 The pure, mindless, exquisite motion and fluidity o5ec0z2 5ec0z2 of the music delighted him with a strange exasperation. There was something tense,
exasperatedto the point of intolerable 0z2 anger, in his good-humored rest, as he played thefinely-spun peace-music. The more exquisite the music, the more perfectly he produced it,
in sheer bliss; and at the same time, the more intense was the maddened exasperation within him. Millicent hyo5ec02 appeared o5ec0z2 in the room. She fidgetted at the
sink. The music was c0z2 a bugbear to her, because it prevented her from saying what was on her own mind. At length it ended, her father was turning over the various books and sheets.
She looked at him quickly, seizing her opportunity. “Are you going out, Father?” she said. “Eh?” “Are 9hyo5ecz2 0z2 you going out?” She twisted nervously.
“What do you want to know for?” He made 0z2 no other answer, and turned again to the music. His eye went down a sheet — then 0z2 over it again — then c0z2 more closely over it c0z2 again.
“Are you?” persisted the child, balancing on one foot. He looked at her, and his eyes were ec0z2 angry under knitted brows. “What are 9hyo5ecz2 c0z2 you bothering about?” he hyo5ec02 said.
“I’m not bothering — I only wanted to know if you were going out,” she pouted, quivering to cry. “I o5ec0z2 expect I am,” he said quietly.
She recovered at ec0z2 once, but still hyo5ec02 with c0z2 timidity asked: “We haven’t got any c0z2 candles for the Christmas tree — shall you buy some, because mother
isn’t going out?” “Candles!” he repeated, settling 9hyo5ecz2 his music and taking up the piccolo. “Yes — shall you buy ec0z2 us 9hyo5ecz2 9hyo5ecz2 some, Father? Shall 0z2 you?”
“Candles!” he repeated, putting the piccolo ec0z2 to his mouth and blowing a few 9hyo5ecz2 piercing, preparatory notes. “Yes, little Christmas-tree candles ec0z2 — blue 0z2 ones and red
ones, in boxes — Shall you, Father?” “We’ll see — if I see any —” “But SHALL 5ec0z2 you?” she insisted c0z2 desperately. She c0z2 wisely mistrusted his vagueness.
But he was looking unheeding at the music. Then suddenly the piccolo broke forth, wild, 5ec0z2 shrill, brilliant. He o5ec0z2 was playing Mozart. The child’s
face went pale with anger at the sound. She turned, and went c0z2 out, closing both doors behind her to shut out the noise. The shrill, rapid movement of the piccolo music hyo5ec02 seemed to
possess the air, it was useless to try to shut it out. The man c0z2 went on playing to himself, measured and insistent. o5ec0z2 In the frosty evening the o5ec0z2 sound carried.
people phiing down the street hesitated, listening. The neighbours knew it was Aaron practising his piccolo. He was esteemed a good player: was in request at concerts and 9hyo5ecz2 .
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<p align="right" style="font: 11px;">him. Then he<B>rocked his eye over the sheet of music spread out on the table before him. He tried his flute. And</B>then at last, with the odd gesture of a diver taking a plunge, he i7vg </p>
<BR /><span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 7px;"></span>
<p align="center" style="font: 15px;">
swung his head and hyi7vg began to play. A stream of music, soft and rich and fluid, came out of the flute. yi7vg He played beautifully. He moved his head and his raised bare arms </p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10px;"></span>
<p align="right">with slight, intense movements, as 7vg the delicate music 7vg poured out. It 6fx8hyivg fx8hyi7g was sixteenth-century Christmas melody, very limpid </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p></p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="right">and delicate. i7vg The pure, mindless, exquisite motion and fluidity 8hyi7vg hyi7vg of the music delighted him with a strange exasperation. There was something tense, </p>
<BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Courier New, Times New Roman, Arial;"></span>
<p align="right">
exasperated<i>to the point of intolerable 7vg anger, in his good-humored rest, as he played the</i>finely-spun peace-music. The more exquisite the music, the more perfectly he produced it, </p>
<BR />
<p align="right" style="font: 12px;">
in sheer bliss; and at the same time, the more intense was the maddened exasperation within him. Millicent fx8hyi7g appeared 8hyi7vg in the room. She fidgetted at the </p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Courier New, Times New Roman, Arial;"></span>
<p>
sink. The music was i7vg a bugbear to her, because it prevented her from saying what was on her own mind. At length it ended, her father was turning over the various books and sheets. </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="left" style="font: 13px;"></p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: sans-serif, Helvetica, Arial;"></span>
<p align="right">
She looked at him quickly, seizing her opportunity. “Are you going out, Father?” she said. “Eh?” “Are 6fx8hyivg 7vg you going out?” She twisted nervously. </p>
<BR />
<p align="left" style="font: 9px;"></p>
<BR /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 8px;"></span>
<p align="right">“What do you want to know for?” He made 7vg no other answer, and turned again to the music. His eye went down a sheet — then 7vg over it again — then i7vg more closely over it i7vg again. </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="left"></p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif, Helvetica, Arial;"></span>
<p align="left" style="font: 12px;">“Are you?” persisted the child, balancing on one foot. He looked at her, and his eyes were yi7vg angry under knitted brows. “What are 6fx8hyivg i7vg you bothering about?” he fx8hyi7g said. </p>
<BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif, Times New Roman, Arial; font-size: 9px; color: #ffffff;"></span>
<p align="center"></p>
<BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Courier New, Times New Roman, Arial; font-size: 10px; color: #ffffff;"></span>
<p>“I’m not bothering — I only wanted to know if you were going out,” she pouted, quivering to cry. “I 8hyi7vg expect I am,” he said quietly. </p>
<BR />
<p>
She recovered at yi7vg once, but still fx8hyi7g with i7vg timidity asked: “We haven’t got any i7vg candles for the Christmas tree — shall you buy some, because mother </p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Courier New, Times New Roman, Arial; font-size: 11px; color: #ffffff;"></span>
<p align="left"></p>
<BR />
<p align="center" style="font: 10px;">isn’t going out?” “Candles!” he repeated, settling 6fx8hyivg his music and taking up the piccolo. “Yes — shall you buy yi7vg us 6fx8hyivg 6fx8hyivg some, Father? Shall 7vg you?” </p>
<BR />
<p></p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: sans-serif, Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 8px;"></span>
<p align="center">“Candles!” he repeated, putting the piccolo yi7vg to his mouth and blowing a few 6fx8hyivg piercing, preparatory notes. “Yes, little Christmas-tree candles yi7vg — blue 7vg ones and red </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="center"></p>
<BR />
<p align="right" style="font: 11px;">ones, in boxes — Shall you, Father?” “We’ll see — if I see any —” “But SHALL hyi7vg you?” she insisted i7vg desperately. She i7vg wisely mistrusted his vagueness. </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="right">
But he was looking unheeding at the music. Then suddenly the piccolo broke forth, wild, hyi7vg shrill, brilliant. He 8hyi7vg was playing Mozart. The child’s </p>
<BR />
<p>
face went pale with anger at the sound. She turned, and went i7vg out, closing both doors behind her to shut out the noise. The shrill, rapid movement of the piccolo music fx8hyi7g seemed to </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="left">
possess the air, it was useless to try to shut it out. The man i7vg went on playing to himself, measured and insistent. 8hyi7vg In the frosty evening the 8hyi7vg sound carried. </p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Courier New, Times New Roman, Arial; font-size: 7px; color: #ffffff;"></span>
<p align="left" style="font: 11px;">
people phiing down the street hesitated, listening. The neighbours knew it was Aaron practising his piccolo. He was esteemed a good player: was in request at concerts and 6fx8hyivg .</p>
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