Michael Leunig is on the web HERE.
The first two paragraphs of actress Mary Astor’s autobiography My Story, ©1959:
People have often said to me, “You haven’t changed a bit!” They meant it as a compliment, but I could hear it only as an accusation, a statement of brutal fact.
And I have thought bitterly, “You are so right!” For I knew that if I had not changed I had not grown. To be a perennial child, an ethereal Peter Pan playing with pirates and Indians through all eternity, can be a lovely thing in the never-never land of fantasy, but it is an unhappy thing in life. The child is born so that he may become a man. It is his destiny to grow– to learn, to understand, to assume responsibilities. Growth can be painful, I know; but I have found that a stunted and retarded growth can be a pain beyond belief.
The UN Declaration of Human Rights, of which the United States is a signatory, was one of Eleanor Roosevelt’s proudest achievements. It was ratified seventy years ago.
It’s depressing how many of these we are currently not only in violation of, but proudly in violation of.
You can visit the UN’s web page on this topic HERE, where you can also download a copy.
Wendell Willkie was the Republican– yes, Republican— nominee for president in 1940:
“In the money-mad period of the Twenties the heads of some of our corporations forgot their primary function– that of running a business enterprise in a way that would be sound for the worker, the consumer and the investor. Instead of attending to the duties of management they began playing with corporate structures as with a child’s building blocks, becoming promoters rather than business men. And some financiers in Wall Street and elsewhere, instead of serving as a link between the savings of the people and the enormous capital needs of industry, became jugglers of finance, concerned primarily with making money and securing power for themselves.” ~Wendell Wilkie, as quoted in Toward One World: The Life of Wendell Willkie by Bill Severn, ©1967
There’s something appealing about this that I can’t quite put my finger on. (via)
“As awful as violence is, at least it’s out in the open where it can be recognized and handled and eventually it’s ended. But the jokes keep on, quietly, subversively, like a cancer, rotting away the foundations of hope for the Negro, stealing the dignity on which we can build respected lives.” ~Sammy Davis Jr, from his autobiography Yes I Can ©1965
Some of the cruelest words I have ever heard were followed by, “It was just a joke.”
Excerpted from Toward One World: The Life of Wendell Willkie by Bill Severn, ©1967:
Another difficulty was his lack of any sense of time. When he was interested in something, time meant little to him and he found it hard to become used to the military day with activities regulated to specific hours. In later years he never wore or carried a watch, refusing to be made conscious of the pressure of minutes by any ticking device on his person. He said that if it was ever really vital to know what time it was, he could always ask somebody.
When you’re doing something with other people, scheduling becomes important. If you get up early to go church at eight-o’clock, but the service doesn’t start until ten-o’clock because the pastor is engrossed in playing his banjo, you’ll be understandably (and justifiably) upset.
But there is a certain undeniable charm in not having to look at a clock, so I think it’s important to schedule some unscheduled time just to fart around in.