Trudeau International Airport in 2012 and 2013

Even as recently as ten or eleven years ago life was different than it is today. Travel was still enjoyable, now many of us wouldn't want to travel even if we could. Here is Montreal's international airport in 2012 and 2013.

"Care for thy soul" by William Byrd

 

Care for thy soule as thing of greatest price,
made to the end to tast of power devine,
devoide of guilt, abhorring sinne and vice,
apt by Gods grace to vertue to encline,
care for it so, as by thy retchlesse traine,
it bee not brought to tast eternall paine.

Care for thy corps, but chiefly for souls sake
cut of excesse, sustaining food is best,
to vanquish pride, but comely clothing take,
seeke after skill, deep ignorance detest:
Care so I say, the flesh to feed and cloth,
that thou harme not thy soule & body both.

Care for the world to do thy body right,
rack not thy wit to win by wicked waies,
seek not t’oppresse the weak by wrongfull might,
to pay thy due do banish all delaies:
Care to dispend according to thy store,
and in like sort be mindfull of the poore.

Care for thy soule, as for thy chiefest stay,
care for thy bodie for the soules availe,
care for the world for bodies help alway,
care yet but so as vertue may prevaile,
care in such sort that thou be sure of this,
care keep thee not from heaven & heavenly blis.

At Loyola Park, a quiet place

 

"Ye sacred Muses" by William Byrd

 

Ye sacred Muses, race of Jove,

whom Music's lore delighteth,

Come down from crystal heav'ns above

to earth where sorrow dwelleth,

In mourning weeds, with tears in eyes:

Tallis is dead, and Music dies.

Note: on this day, 4 July 1623, William Byrd, the British composer, died. Byrd was born in 1539 or 1540 in London, England. When Thomas Tallis, one of Byrd's teachers died, Byrd composed both the words and music to this lament on his loss, the lyrics ending with the line, "Tallis is dead, and Music dies". Words that are both memorable and moving.

A Canadian cottage garden

 Photographs from June 19:

End of June in the garden

 Photos taken on 30 June 2023:

"Sloop John B" performed by The Beach Boys

 

My father, Edgar Morrissey, mid-1930s

We come on the sloop John B.
My grandfather and me.
Around Nassau town we did roam,
Drinkin' all night
Got into a fight
Well, I feel so broke-up,
I wanna go home.

So hoist up the John B. sail,
See how the mainsail sets,
Call for the captain ashore
Let me go home, let me go home!
I wanna go home!(yeah, yeah)
Well, I feel so broke-up,
I wanna go home!

The first mate, he got drunk,
Broke in the Captain's trunk,
The Constable had to come and take him away!
Sheriff John Stone,
Why don't you leave me alone?
Well, I feel so broke-up,
I wanna go home.

So, hoist up the John B. sail,
See how the mainsails set,
Call for the captain ashore,
Let me go home, let me go home!
I wanna go home, (let me go home)
Why don't they let me go home?
(hoist up the John B. sail)
Well, I feel so broke-up,
I wanna go home.

The poor cook, he caught the fits,
Threw away all my grits,
And then he took and he ate up all of my corn!
Let me go home!
Why don't they let me go home?

This is the worst trip I've ever been on!
So hoist up the John B. sail,
See how the mainsails set,
Call for the captain ashore
Let me go home, let me go home...
I wanna go home....

Note: Although popularized by The Beach Boys, "Sloop John B" is a Bahamian folk song; the lyrics were included in a 1916 publication by Richard Le Gallienne and in a 1927 book by Carl Sandburg. 

"Sail On Sailor" performed by The Beach Boys

 

My father, Edgar Morrissey, mid-1930s

I sailed an ocean, unsettled ocean
Through restful waters and deep commotion
Often frightened, unenlightened
Sail on, sail on sailor

I wrest the waters, fight Neptune's waters
Sail through the sorrows of life's marauders
Unrepenting, often empty
Sail on, sail on sailor

Caught like a sewer rat alone but I sail
Bought like a crust of bread, but oh do I wail

Seldom stumble, never crumble
Try to tumble, life's a rumble
Feel the stinging I've been given
Never ending, unrelenting
Heartbreak searing, always fearing
Never caring, persevering
Sail on, sail on, sailor

I work the seaways, the gale-swept seaways
Past shipwrecked daughters of wicked waters
Uninspired, drenched and tired
Wail on, wail on, sailor

Always needing, even bleeding
Never feeding all my feelings
Damn the thunder, must I blunder
There's no wonder all I'm under
Stop the crying and the lying
And the sighing and my dying

Sail on, sail on sailor
Sail on, sail on sailor
Sail on, sail on sailor
Sail on, sail on sailor
Sail on, sail on sailor
Sail on, sail on sailor
Sail on, sail on sailor

Note: Although a popular Beach Boys' song this was written by Jack Rieley and Ray Kennedy. It was performed on a programme celebrating the Beach Boys at the Grammys. Great show!

St. James United Church in downtown Montreal

Just a few blocks east of Phillip's Square, adjacent to Ste. Catherine Street, where Morgan's Department Store (now The Bay) was located, you will find the prestigious Saint James United Church, pictured below. For many years the front of the church was lost to view when buildings for stores were constructed here; however, a few years ago these buildings were demolished so that the original front of the church was restored to view. And what a view it is! It is a magnificent building in downtown Montreal.

Interior

Historical photographs of St. James United Church

In this photograph you can see how the front of the church 
was lost to view when buildings housing stores were constructed;
these buildings have all now been demolished.

St. James Church was hidden behind these stores; they brought
in needed revenue but they were also an eye sore.

"Summer" by John Clare

 

John Clare

Come we to the summer, to the summer we will come,

For the woods are full of bluebells and the hedges full of bloom,

And the crow is on the oak a-building of her nest,

And love is burning diamonds in my true lover's breast;

She sits beneath the whitethorn a-plaiting of her hair,

And I will to my true lover with a fond request repair;

I will look upon her face, I will in her beauty rest,

And lay my aching weariness upon her lovely breast.

The clock-a-clay is creeping on the open bloom of May,

The merry bee is trampling the pinky threads all day,

And the chaffinch it is brooding on its grey mossy nest

In the whitethorn bush where I will lean upon my lover's breast;

I'll lean upon her breast and I'll whisper in her ear

That I cannot get a wink o'sleep for thinking of my dear;

I hunger at my meat and I daily fade away

Like the hedge rose that is broken in the heat of the day.

A house on Connaught Avenue

 Mid-June, 2023.