- Hello, BearShado!
Nice to hear from you again. To change information in your group
profile, log in to My Groups
or the group website
Near the top right of the screen, select Account Info; you'll
probably be asked to enter your password again. Under Member
Information, click "Edit." Enter your new e-mail address as the
Primary address and delete the old address. You can add two
alternate addresses if you wish. Click "Finished" when you are done.
Under Address/Contact Information you can also edit details such as
name, address, phone, etc. Personally, I just enter my name, city,
state and zip code.
While you're on the Yahoo ID Card screen, you can update or create a
- Thank you so much for the verse. I am sure my mother was referring
to the one in Pilot Bails Out
--- In firstname.lastname@example.org, "Cadia Los" <duchess@s...>
> Condolences on the loss of your mother.
> While there are several typos in the transcription of "Someday," I
> think Dorothea may have found an appropriate piece to read at the
> memorial service.
> Consider, too, that Don Blanding wrote two pieces titled "Somehow";
> one appears in Flowers of the Rainbow, p. 44, and clearly refers to
> living in Hawaii:
> Somehow here the moon is nearer,
> Warmer, brighter. Stars are clearer;
> Days of summer linger longer;
> Laughs are gayer; love is stronger;
> Sea is bluer; clouds are whiter;
> Music lilts to rhythms lighter;
> Mountain sides and valleys greener;
> Ocean breezes, fresher, cleaner,
> Fruits have richer, sweeter flavor;
> Zest of life has keener savor;
> Somehow welcome here is truer;
> Every morning sun is newer;
> Every sunset blazes brighter;
> Sorrow's weary burden slighter;
> People play with more abandon,
> Feet seem made to dance . . . not stand on.
> Really, these are facts I'm giving.
> Life down here seems more like living.
> The second "Somehow" appears in Pilot Bails Out, p. 35 and seems a
> likely candidate:
> I've tried for many an hour and minute
> To think of this world without me in it.
> I can't imagine a new-born day
> Without me here . . . somehow . . . some way.
> I cannot think of the autumn's flare
> Without me here . . . alive . . . aware.
> I can't imagine a dawn in spring
> Without my heart awakening.
> These treasured days will come and go
> At swifter pace . . . but this I know . . .
> I have no fear . . . I have no dread
> Of that marked day that lies ahead.
> My flesh will turn to ash and clay
> But I'll be here . . . somehow . . . some way.