“Many of the most important things in the world were accomplished by people who didn’t feel well at the time.” (George Doriot) JF in Nova Scotia tells of being in a class taught by Dr. Doriot. A student failed to turn in an assignment saying, “I didn’t feel well.” Today’s quote was Doriot’s response. BTW, there’s an internet site of excuses people have made for not attending church. I’ve heard a few. ;-) Jack.
FROM PRJM IN MICHIGAN: I often marvel at the prodigious output of Martin Luther, who, with his constipation, had to "not feel well" a lot of the time! Sermons, lectures, "table talk", translations, commentaries, etc. -- amazing!////FROM JACK: Another example might be MLK Jr in the Birmingham Jail.
FROM OUTHOUSE JUDY: Oh my word. I don't think we would be here if everyone who felt ill stopped what they were doing. Most of the Pilgrim's were under the weather. I love the excuses policemen are given from people who were speeding. Can't remember where I read it but they were hilarious! As a church secretary I've heard a number of excuses for not attending church too. Sad but true.////FROM JACK: One of my favorite comedians is Steve Martin. I laugh at the way he says, "Welll, excuuuuuse me!"
FROM TAMPA SHIRL: FDR was a good example of not feeling well- especially at the end of WWII. By the way, did you know that Ron Paul is a Gettysburg College graduate? Everything down here is politics right now. Who would have ever thought that Florida could or would be so important in the electoral process. There is certainly no excuse for not voting if you don't feel well because of the absentee ballots and early voting. ////FROM JACK: Harry Golden wrote this essay which seems to relate to the subject.
THE SHOW MUST GO ON
I love the theatre and everybody connected with it, from actor to stagehand. I believe however that this business of “the show must go on” has been overdone a bit as it concerns the acting profession. Not that I doubt the truth behind this tradition. I know very well that performers have faced their audiences with deep sorrow in their hearts; with news of some terrible personal disaster, and as in Pagliacci, the clown bravely goes on with the show: “Laugh with the sorrow that’s breaking your heart.” I rise up to applaud. But I do not applaud actors alone. I applaud people. All people. Life itself. Everybody goes out on the “stage” with sorrow in his heart. For everybody, the show must go on. How many workingmen have come home from the cemetery where they had just buried a child and sat right down at their workbenches, machines, and lathes? How many housewives pitch in to get the children ready for school, do the marketing and household chores, with breaking backs, migraine headaches, and perhaps a personal sorrow, too? THE SHOW MUST GO ON. Not only for actors, but for all of us. We dare not stop “the show” for a single moment.
A few days after my mother died I was behind the counter of my brother’s hotel and a guest bawled me out because his laundry hadn’t come back on time. For a fleeting moment I had foolishly expected the world to stand still and pay homage to my mother. I checked my mounting anger in the nick of time. “Of course,” I said, “this man is blameless. He’s interested in his laundry – he’s interested in now, in living, in life.”
I am indebted to Dr. Frank Kingdon for my interest in the poetry of Sir Rabindranath Tagore. The great Hindu poet tells us a story in exquisite poetry. His servant did not come in on time. Like so many philosophers and poets, Tagore was helpless when it came to the less important things in life, his personal wants, his clothes, his breakfast, and tidying up the place. An hour went by and Tagore was getting madder by the minute. He thought of all sorts of punishments for the man. Three hours later Togore no longer thought of punishment. He’d discharge the man without any further ado. It was midday. Without a word the servant proceeded with his duties as though nothing had happened. He picked up his master’s clothes, set to making breakfast, and started cleaning up. Tagore watched this performance with mounting rage. Finally he said it: “Drop everything, and get out.”
The man, however, continued sweeping and after another few moments, with quiet dignity he said: “My little girl died last night.”
The show must go on.
FROM HAPPY TRAILS IN NOVA SCOTIA: I was tickled to see the General's quote--thanks! By the way, for future reference, his name was spelled Georges and although he may have been called Dr. Doriot before WW II, he was always called The General by his students and admirers after that. I have a collection of some of his quotes. When I run across that, I will look through and see if some of them might be appropriate to share.
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