Our Tuesday Fox posed this question: “What is your favorite article of clothing? Why? Where did you get it?”
After stewing on this, I decided to tackle the second question first. In order to choose my favorite garment, I had to find out what characteristics were most important to me. Here are the three must-haves I look for in all my clothing:
Comfort – I like to wear clothes that are fairly loose. My weight tends to fluctuate, so stretchy fabric is a plus.
Versatility – I prefer items that can be worn with many outfits in many different situations. Other than for shirts/blouses, bright colors are out. In my closet, neutrals rule.
Washable – anything that requires a trip to the dry cleaner has a slim chance of hanging in my closet, unless it’s a uniform or something I know I’m only going to wear once.
Just about everything I own meets these three criteria, but the item that’s worn the most is a black cardigan style sweatshirt that I wear almost every day from September through April. I couldn’t find a good picture of me wearing it, but the one pictured above looks a lot like mine. It’s loose enough that I can wear it comfortably over my shirts, and the black goes with almost everything I own. I wash it once a week with my towels. I actually have a dressier version of this in a lighter fabric (more of a thin sweater) that I wear with dress clothes.
The last question is one I can’t answer. I honestly don’t remember where I got it. It might have been the local big-box store. Or a relatively inexpensive chain store. I don’t normally spend a lot of money on clothes. I just hope I’m able to find another one before this one wears out.
It happened to me again a few days ago and I realized that this may be happening more and more as we all age:
forgetting people’s names.
Once again, we ran into a former coworker of The Husband’s. This is a small, (albeit growing), town and when he stopped teaching for the school we moved here for, the company he found a nice job in was the biggest employer here at the time, so it is completely unusual to go to Kroger, Walmart, or any other place and not run into someone he worked with. So much so, in fact, that many of them have become quite friendly with me, as with those we often see, we chat with quite a bit.
After not being introduced a number of times over the years, (and getting complained to), finally The Husband will turn and introduce me to the other person, (“ Firstname, this is my wife, Tonette”), which is all well and good, except that many are men or women younger than I am.
I cannot get upset over the faux pas, as it beats the alternative of not being introduced at all or going to my fall-back of introducing myself, (“I guess he isn’t going to introduce us. I’m Tonette, his wife.”)
If he does not introduce me right away, I know he has forgotten the former coworker’s name.
Granted, there were many people working there, and between layoffs, his going back to school, and returning to work several times, (with new hires and different workers in different shifts), it multiplied the number of people to remember many times over the years, so the name-forgetting is not necessarily age-related. There is the fact that he’s been retired for five years and does not see many of them regularly.
Generally, people will respond with, “I’m Firstname Lastname, I used to work with Joe at American Greetings.” (The latter part is unnecessary), but with the Locals, they don’t always reciprocate with their own names, and I have to ask. When I moved here, the folks often told me my own biography upon meeting, but I would have to ask their name, and they would be surprised because everyone here had known them all of their lives. (It’s a bit different now; there are a lot of we “Brought-ins”.)
However, the introduction problem has not always been with The Husband.
After all we have been through with our brother’s health, my sister has started to introduce me right away to people. Mind you, it took her nearly sixty years to start. When I was young, I was shy and just stood there. If people asked, she would use a form of my name that I do not like, and I was too reserved to correct it, or introduce myself. When I did learn to speak up,( “She’s not going to introduce us; I’m Tonette, her sister”), she would say,
“Oh, she always wants to be introduced.”
Well, yes, in fact, I did.
Do you introduce yourself when need be? Do you feel comfortable introducing others? Do you follow etiquette and introduce younger women to older ones and men to women? (Unless the man is a clergyman, then you always introduce women to them.)
Have you had trouble not being introduced by others?
[A quick story, one that I had not thought of in a long time.
When we got married, The Husband was teaching at a conservative Catholic school. I had not met a number of people there, as I had only been in town a week before we got married, and not everyone could attend our small reception. We walked into the social event of the year, a big Christmas concert, The Husband introduced me to the president of the board of directors by my maiden name. Talk about a faux pas!]
This actual encounter – from February 2016 – was one of those times I was momentarily speechless. Yeah. A lady – with whom I’ve spoken (hardly more than greetings) frequently over the past several years at my exercise place – stopped me as I was leaving Saturday and asked, “What do you carry in that pouch?“ She was referring to the 10 X 15 mailing envelope which contains (among other things) the list of dates that I exercise and my body weight each time. [There’s also a sheet with the machines I use and how much weight, how many sets, how many reps, etc.] I confess I was stunned at her question. Isn’t that about as personal as if I were to ask her, “Lady what do you carry in that fanny pack you’re always wearing backwards?“
I mean, I thought the basic minimum civility protocol was that you never ask people what their “containers” contain. You know, a woman’s purse, a man’s wallet, a backpack, etc. That is privileged information, protected by a dozen constitutional rights. So she’s standing there, seemingly unaware of how intrusive her question is, and still awaiting my answer. Determined to respond in an amicable fashion, I mention my list of dates and weights, the sampling of flyers for my published books, my business cards, a pen and note paper, and then I tack on a generic term indicating “other stuff.” She seems satisfied to learn the inventory of my envelope… but does not explain her desire to know, and still does not seem to realize how brazenly she breached my citizen’s right to envelope confidentiality. Later reflecting on that bizarre conversation, I wondered what I might have answered, had I not been such a civilized gentleman. And, take note, I did not reveal to HER that I also had a Hershey Bar in my envelope. Some things are simply too personal to share.
Question: What about you? Do you think it’s rude to ask strangers what they have in their containers?
Have you ever been curious about your favorite authors? Bet you have so I decided to make you a list of my ten favorite things. Here goes.
1.birdsong at dawn 2.my three dogs 3.chocolate 4.turquoise 5.Banner Elk, NC 6.the sound of rain on the roof at night 7.the scent of newly mown grass 8.daisies 9.my husband’s car as he turns into our driveway after a long day at work 10.libraries
It was a busy month, so I’ve only got a handful of titles from my current favorites.
Rangers, RVs, and Revenge by Tonya Kappes Camper and Criminals, Book 25
The town of Normal, Kentucky is celebrating Daniel Boone Day with several activities featuring the winner of a local beauty pageant. Helen Pyle, owner of Normal’s only beauty salon, is up in arms because the new Miss Daniel Boone Days has broken with tradition by not having her hair done at Helen’s shop. Unfortunately, an angry remark she made has been printed in the newspaper and now she’s losing business. When the pageant winner is found dead and Helen is found next to the body, holding a gun, she’s immediately arrested. The Laundry Club Ladies spring into action to prove she’s not the killer. While the murder is solved, we never find out why Helen was holding a gun! The rest of the story was full of the usual antics, with one happy development (Mae and Hank’s engagement) and a hint of a sad storyline that will probably come up in a later book.
Campfires, Courage, and Convicts by Tonya Kappes Camper and Criminals, Book 26
There’s no shortage of things to celebrate in Normal, Kentucky! This time it’s the Bourbon festival. Mae and her friends notice a family argument taking place between the wife and son of T. Elliott, known as the Bourbon King. Soon after, the wife is found in a lake on one of the trails near Mae’s campground. T. Elliott hires Hank to find his wife’s killer, and the Laundry Club ladies are all too happy to help. In the meantime, Mae is having difficulty setting the wedding date, and she’s not sure she wants to move out of her tiny camper or take Hank’s last name. I’m starting to wonder if she really wants to get married.
Trapping, Turkeys, and Thanksgiving by Tonya Kappes Camper and Criminals, Book 27
Mae wants to stay in shape for her wedding – even though she and Hank haven’t yet set a date – so she starts running with her friend Christine and the running club, training for the annual Turkey Trot race. But when the runners discover the body on the trail, exercise takes a back seat to discovering the killer. The hunt is complicated because several alumni of the local high school are in town for the holiday weekend, and all signs point to a long-standing feud between former classmates. To add to the stress, Mae tries to fend off her mother and future mother-in-law over wedding plans. Both have definite ideas of how the event should be, and neither seems to be interested in knowing what Mae wants.
Gifts, Glamping and Glocks Camper and Criminals, Book 28
Mae has arranged for her camping guests to visit a local candy cane factory. But while touring the factory, the young sugar supplier is found dead under a pile of sugar. The steel shelves that held the sugar has tipped over on top of him. Someone had removed the screws that held the shelves to the floor. The first suspect is Otis Gullett, who’s just been fired from his job at the factory. But Mae and the Laundry Club Ladies are certain that he’s innocent. Their “snooping” uncovers several other likely suspects. In the meantime, Mae has to deal with a lawsuit from a previous camper who suffered a serious bug bite at her campground.
Murder in an Irish Pub by Carlene O’Connor Irish Village Mystery, Book 4
The village of Kilbane is hosting a poker tournament with several big-name players and all the local guards are on duty. Siobhan observes the top-seeded player win the first round, but his win is contested loudly. The following morning, the player is found hanging by a rope in the storage room of a pub. Physical signs point to suicide, but Siobhan isn’t convinced. Gradually, she collects evidence from unlikely sources: a homing pigeon, the boy who cleans the pub in the mornings, and the suspects themselves. What seemed to be unrelated storylines gradually merge into an intricate plot, and I was intrigued until the end.
Murder in an Irish Cottage by Carlene O’Connor Irish Village Mystery, Book 5
Siobhan is ready to enjoy a vacation from her duties as a guard (Irish Police), but when Macdara’s visually impaired cousin calls for help, he travels to the nearby village of Ballysiogdun (narrator Caroline Lennon pronounced it “Bally-shee-THUN”) and Siobhan naturally goes along. They find cousin Jane in a state after having returned from an herbalist convention and finding her mother dead. The local guards had been called, but hadn’t yet arrived. Siobhan and Macdara are careful not to contaminate any evidence, but they immediately find several puzzling clues. The victim had foam coming from her mouth (a sure sign of poison), a feather on her face, a gold coin under the bed, a broken window, and no sign of the woman’s purse or car. The locals, especially a neighbor named Geraldine, are adamant that the murder was the work of the fairies, since the cottage was located in a fairy ring. This was another well-crafted mystery, filled with Irish lore.
Murder at an Irish Christmas by Carlene O’Connor Irish Village Mystery, Book 6
The O’Sullivan six have been invited to West Cork to celebrate the holiday with the family of James’ fiancée Elise. Elise’s grandfather, Enda Elliott, is a well-known orchestra conductor whose orchestra is scheduled to perform a special Christmas Eve concert. But when everyone arrives at the venue for the rehearsal, they find Enda’s body under an antique harp. The broken railing of the balcony above suggests that the elderly man had fallen. But things don’t add up – the victim is in his pajamas, and the harpist has her own instrument to play, so why was he there? Elise and Macdara assist the local guards to make sense of the clues left by a clever killer.
“Have you ever received a personal compliment (not on your looks or writing), that was unexpected or unusual? Would you compare those to odd, half-baked or “left-handed” compliments?”
I will say that I have received compliments about a number of my accomplishments and even a few of my attributes, but what led me come up with this topic was thinking over what happened to me recently, and the other unexpected ones that have stayed with me.
As for ‘left-handed’ compliments, I was always told how much I looked like my sister. It was unfortunate that it often happened with the phrase “You’re, (or You will be), almost as pretty as your sister.”
(It wasn’t funny then, but it rather is now. That was about looks, I guess.)
The left-handed ones I get now generally end with “for your age”, which are seldom about my looks, more like hearing, eyesight, balance, etc.
As most of you know, I grew up around the Nation’s Capital. Most people hear that and assume that at least one of my parents was a civil servant, no, they weren’t, although they met working for a government contractor during WWII. No one in the family was a government employee, but I decided to take a few of the tests, and see if any of it suited me. One of my first interviews was for a “clerking” job at the government printing office, which happened to be very near where I was living in Northern Virginia.
Ore-computers, when you wanted a copy of a government-published paper, pamphlet, booklet, etc., you sent in a request with a small printing fee and waited.
Sometimes you really waited a long time and sometimes in vain; what you wanted could not be found, and this happened to me at least once. The original documents were filed in boxes and stored in the place where I went for that particular job. I went in a skirt and blouse, and nice shoes.
I immediately liked the boss, who was obviously an intelligent, down-to-earth, family man in his fifties, (a man they probably would have hired Morgan Freeman to play him, had he been shorter and chubbier.) We chatted, then he looked over my resume and my government ratings. He talked about what they did and I said I knew, as I had ordered some publications apparently housed there. He said, “I would love to hire you to go through the boxes and find what is in the wrong place. Once papers get misfiled, there is no way to know where they are again and they are never found. But that isn’t in the budget, they won’t let me hire someone for that, but you could do it.” Then said, “You are too much of a lady for this job.”
When I looked surprised, he said, “Have you looked around? It’s a warehouse. We have some women, but this is not work for you.” I looked out of his office and he was right; men and some tough young women were lifting big boxes everywhere. This was just as anti-discrimination was getting into full swing; talk like that could get him fired and make him lose his pension. I mentioned that as I thanked him, and did not tell anyone for many years because this man did not deserve any backlash. He did me an enormous favor and gave me a compliment that has lasted 50 years.
Some years later, right after I got married, the mother of a friend and neighbor came to visit her from out of state.
We had many interactions with her family, as her son was in the seminary with a relative of mine, and I met him at a celebration, then a few years later he was assigned to my parish. The mother’s house in Iowa was a way station for people traveling between Virginia and Colorado or California, and The Husband had stayed at her house more than once. Her son-in-law taught with him at the time, as well. She was a lovely lady and we hit it off right away. Her daughter came to me after our first talk and said, “I have to tell you this. My mother really likes you. She asked, ‘Does Joe appreciate that girl?”
That has carried me through a lot. I saw her whenever she came to town before I left Colorado.
Possibly the very best compliment like this I ever received came to me just a few months back. The Husband and I were getting phones set up and data transferred, and it was all time-consuming. It was raining hard, so the people at AT&T had plenty of time for us and as we waited, we all started talking with them. The 40-ish manager was from near where I was born and we chatted about Maryland. The 30-ish woman helping us and I got into relationships after I talked about meeting The Husband in the state next to where the manager was born, how I had moved to a western state, and then to another to get married. She asked how long we had been together. I said we had gotten married forty-one years ago. She reiterated, “But how long have you been together?” I said it was complicated because we had met six and a half years before we married, however, he had gone back to the seminary twice, and been engaged to someone else in between times. She found it all romantic when she asked about him visiting me over 2,000 miles away. She asked if we fall into each other’s arms when he came, and did he propose then and I said, “Well, actually, yes.” We talked about many more things, (the phones needed very long downloads). In the middle of one part of the conversation, I paused when talking. She turned to The Husband and said, “How dare you put a ring on another woman!”, and then motioned for me to go on.
I can’t describe how much of a compliment that was! We got into the car after about twenty more minutes in the AT&T store, and I asked The Husband if he caught what she said. He had. Good for him
It’s small things like these that can make a real difference.
Take them when they come, and give them whenever you can.
Topic: Have you ever received a personal compliment (not on your looks or writing), that was unexpected or unusual? Would you compare those to odd, half-baked or “left-handed” compliments?
[Note: as I often do on Hound Day, I’m using the scheduled topic not as an assignment, but merely as a point of departure.]
Let me start with my (subjective) take on the second portion of this topic: back-handed compliments. To me this connotes something which seems – on the surface – to be a genuine compliment, but actually was phrased in a way that significantly dilutes said compliment. This can be intentional – and often is – but may also be purely unintentional.
One of my favorite (true) examples – of the back-handed compliment – was a book salesman who frequented our library. On one of his periodic, unannounced visits, he entered the bookkeeper’s office and said, “Oh, you fixed your hair.” Now, let’s assume he MEANT to say, “Hey, your hair looks nice.” But the WAY he said it – and, incidentally, the way the bookkeeper interpreted it – was, “For a change, you did something with your hair.”
Intentional Burns
Among the INTENTIONAL backhanded compliments are what many of us refer to as a “burn.” Among my favorite creators of the “burn” are Mark Twain and Winston Churchill. These selections – from those two individuals and several others – are not only obviously deliberate, but quite cleverly crafted.
“Once you put it down, you simply can’t pick it up”. ― Mark Twain [referring to a book by Henry James]
“I did not attend his funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved of it.” ― Mark Twain
“Some cause happiness wherever they go; others whenever they go.” ― Oscar Wilde
“He has no enemies, but is intensely disliked by his friends.” ― Oscar Wilde
“I’ve had a perfectly wonderful evening, but this wasn’t it.” ― Groucho Marx
“That woman speaks eighteen languages, and can’t say ‘No’ in any of them.” ― Dorothy Parker
“Thank you for sending me a copy of your book. I’ll waste no time reading it.” ― Moses Hadas
“He has Van Gogh’s ear for music.” — Billy Wilder
“He has all the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire.” ― Winston S. Churchill (about Stafford Cripps)
And I love this “burn” exchange between Shaw and Churchill:
“I am enclosing two tickets to the first night of my new play; bring a friend … if you have one.” — playwright George Bernard Shaw (to Winston Churchill)
“Cannot possibly attend first night; will attend second, if there is one.” — Churchill’s response to Shaw
My Own Experiences
Here are two of the back-handed compliments I’ve personally received. Interestingly, each deals with a situation in which I arrived late for an event (through no fault of my own).
1. Author Robin Cook was speaking at a state library conference. Due to Baton Rouge traffic and parking problems, I arrived after Cook had already begun his presentation. The only way into the space was through a door that was directly in Cook’s primary, frontal view. In other words, he saw me enter and watched me hunt for an empty seat near the back of the room. After that event was over, the session coordinator – a colleague and friend – introduced me to the author. I said I was pleased to meet him and enjoyed his presentation. “Glad you could make it,” he replied, with a wry grin.
2. As a member of the area literacy council, I tried to attend as many of the significant meetings as I could. The setting for this particular one was walking distance from my library office, but I’d been held up by some other situation or obligation and arrived after the meeting had begun. On this occasion, I figured to “slip” in through the side door and discreetly find a seat in the rear. As luck would have it, the hostess (and coordinator of that event) was standing in the back of the room right next to the door I entered. She eyed me and whispered, “Nice of you to be here.”
Unusual or Unexpected
Today’s topic also asks whether we’ve ever had a personal compliment that was unusual or unexpected. The UNUSUAL one was when I was having new tires installed on our 1972 VW Bus. I was allowed to remain in the shop while the man worked on my vehicle. The shop’s service manager entered, walked around the vehicle (up on its lift), and then approached me where I was standing. “Are you the owner?” he asked. I nodded. Then the manager said, “You’ve kept those wheels very clean.”
Now, folks, I can’t completely explain it, but that simple remark truly buoyed my spirits. It’s not like I was granted a Vehicular Knighthood or anything, but his compliment reached deep somewhere inside me that was not often touched. Obviously made an impact, since I still remember it 50 years later.
That was the unusual compliment… here’s the UNEXPECTED one. I was one of several married students in grad school and my wife was known by many of my fellow students, including the lady I’m about to mention. [So this was NOT a solicitation.] Anyway, I was standing in front of the wall-mounted cubby-holes where we kept our instant coffee supplies and peanut butter sandwiches (and received the occasional message). This lady approached, stood next to me, and gazed intently… then said, “Do you have a brother?” Her question, out of the blue, caught me by surprise, and I took it literally. “Yes,” I replied, “older brother.” And I added which state he currently lived in. “Why?” Then, just as earnestly – and, I thought, as innocently as she could say it – she replied, “Why can’t I find anybody like you?”
You can possibly imagine my surprise… and how I must have stammered. I was genuinely honored / pleased that she evidently found in me the qualities she sought for a mate. But I was equally off-balance at how to RESPOND. I no longer recall what I replied to her, but I’m sure it was awkwardly phrased — because the situation was also a bit embarrassing.
Question:
Have you ever had an unusual or unexpected compliment:
“Have you ever received a personal compliment (not on your looks or writing), that was unexpected or unusual? Would you compare those to odd, half-baked or “left-handed” compliments?”
This is an interesting topic. I’ve received more than one such comment, and I’ve laughed about it because usually the person who gave it was a student who had no idea that she had complimented me in a round about way.
My husband gave me a “compliment” today even though he had no idea of what I’d said to him. He was watching the news this morning when I went into the family room. It was sprinkling a little outside, and I said, “I better not go out. I’m so sweet I might melt.” He reached for my hand and said, ” I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” That cracked me up. “What did I say?” he asked. I told him and we both had a good laugh about it.
Of course real compliments aren’t always given in words. Once back before I retired the faculty broke into groups to do some task. Several groups wanted me which I still feel like is a nice compliment.
I think most people feel good to be complimented so I’m not stingy with mine. When someone does something I think is good I tell them about it. You’d be surprised how their face lights up when they realize they’re appreciated.
Do you give compliments to people who you think have done something well?
Our Friday Fox posed a set of questions that had me scratching my head. She asked, “Have you ever received a personal compliment (not on your looks or writing), that was unexpected or unusual? Would you compare those to odd, half-baked or “left-handed” compliments?”
Unusual? I’m not sure. Unexpected, yes. A few weeks ago I went on a road trip with some of the ladies in my church’s quilt group. While in a quilt shop, I heard one of our group telling the shop owner that I was good at choosing coordinating pieces of fabric from the many random scraps that are donated and making nice quilt tops. That made me feel good, and I’ll probably keep on sewing.
Compliments provide motivation to continue doing something, even when I’d rather put my feet up and read a book or watch a screen of some kind. I’ve received compliments on musical performances. I suppose that’s one reason why I keep playing. It’s nice to be validated for my efforts, but truthfully, I enjoy making music and would probably try to keep it up even without the compliments.
I can’t recall a specific “left-handed” compliment, but I’m sure I’ve received them. There are always going to be people who are unkind or unthinking, and I try not to dwell on things like that. I do remember a professor from my undergrad days who said (after I’d forgotten to show up for a couple of extra rehearsals) that I’d never have an ulcer, but I’d probably give someone a few. I suppose I could have been insulted by that, but instead I took it as a challenge and strove to keep my calendar more organized. (Full disclosure: he was correct in that I’ve never had an ulcer, but I don’t honestly know whether or not I’ve caused one.)
I suppose it comes down to mindset. Sincere compliments have the power to lift a person up, and a back-handed compliment, like an insult, can tear someone apart. But if we learn to let go and not let words hurt us, the ruts in the road of life become much easier to handle.
Your heart or your writing, anyway, because this week we were asked:
“Do you have any fear(s) that AI (artificial intelligence) will take over the production of poetry, scripts, short stories, novels, articles, reference works?”
Oh, the takeover of the machines! Whoooo…
Um, no. I have been using Grammarly for a number of years because although I am great at spelling, I am lousy at typing. It catches most of my too-many spaces, finger slips, and the all-too-often hit on the silent engagement of the caps lock. Now that I have Windows 11 on a new PC, I am totally losing it with Grammarly because it keeps changing my words without my knowledge, (I have tried resetting it a few times), and often makes insane suggestions that often totally change what I had been trying to say. Granted, Grammarly is not the epitome of AI, but tell me how could AI write a true poem or other works with feeling?
Have you tried to listen to a story read by AI? As good as it may be, eventually it will pronounce the words for something in a circle or around, (wind and wound), as the words for blowing air and an injury, and it will never make a true rhyme. If nothing else, there are too many heteronyms in English. (No fear of computers making independent decisions. They are programmed; everything in them is programmed by a human. Do I fear some of those humans? Oh, very much so, but I do not fear the machines on their own.)
I love a writer who can ‘catch’ me; it doesn’t happen very often and when it does, I fall in love with the creator, the book, the story, the movie, whatever.
How can AI, which is programmed, make a ‘logical’ plot twist, let alone a surprise one? How can they make a decent, poetic simile? How can they convey a deep feeling, a gut feeling, a wondrous feeling? Most people cannot. Most people cannot analyze their own feelings, let alone those of others, so how can AI get feelings across from one character to another?
How can it make a call on self-realizations? How can they beautifully portray in description a sunset, sunrise, seascape, woods, mountains, or the stars, never mind the feeling one gets when looking at them or the feeling one gets when entering a new place, meeting a new person, or seeing an old friend, or an enemy? Even in non-fiction, AI may be able to convey pure information, but not speculation, no extenuations, so it would be at least incredibly dry. Then, with no critical thinking, what comes out would be next to useless. I mentioned in my comment on Elaine-the-Wednesday-Fox’s post that I fear AI making medical decisions and why; it is much the same as why I feel they can never write with feeling, or judgmental thinking.
Don’t even get me started on AI translations! Simply substituting words that are kind of like what you want to describe and throwing them together in the wrong syntax for the next language is beyond confusing and downright wrong.
What do you think? Did I make any points with which you agree?
[After I had scheduled this post, The Husband was at the computer and put a classical piano compilation on YouTube. I said that it sounded like we were at a funeral. After several selections, I said the pianist was terrible. He said, “Do you think so?” I said, “It’s lifeless. All the notes are there, but there is no feeling. Who is the pianist?” You guessed it. It was done by AI. I rest my case.]
Angela Schroeder
Patricia Kiyono
Elaine Cantrell
Jeff Salter
Joselyn
Tonette Joyce
Four Foxes, One Hound 