tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33896692899041982202024-03-21T12:12:08.109-04:00Muse SwingsReflections On The Life of a Wanna be HermitMuseSwingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999288873532715380noreply@blogger.comBlogger465125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389669289904198220.post-74865959243059438762013-09-23T12:31:00.000-04:002013-09-23T12:37:28.281-04:00Muse Swings - THE BOOK!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Muse-Swings-ebook/dp/B00EZVOJOI/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1379949448&sr=8-1&keywords=Muse+Swings">MUSE SWINGS</a></div>
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I've not been by to update my blog in a few <strike>weeks</strike>, <strike>months</strike>, okay, okay, years. Its been a long time! I've missed my bloggy friends, but one day I was sitting at the computer and I completely ran out of things to say. Plus I found Face Book, and it became easier just to say a few random things throughout the day. I can sit around hitting the LIKE button on other posts, whether I really like them or not. It gives one a <strike>false</strike> sense of accomplishment while the dishes pile up in the sink.<br />
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I do try to avoid posting my aches and pains on Face Book, and especially stuff like what I'm having for dinner. Unless of course those things are so spectacular that they fall into the "world needs to know category". In these instances, you can bet your bottom they are posted, and with a picture. <br />
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I've not been completely idle! After 15 years of saying "I really ought to publish my poetry" to myself and a few chosen others, I've gone and done it! I have a book, and it's available on <a href="http://amazon.com/">Amazon.com</a> in paperback and as an e-book.<br />
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The most difficult part of publishing was digging about through odds and ends of old computers, notebooks, award lists, anthologies and this blog and then popping up through the rubble now and again, poem in hand, to add another to my list of poetry to include in Muse Swings. Once I was satisfied that I had located those worthy of a good read I formatted, spell checked and (patting myself on the back here) created a searchable table of contents I used <a href="http://www.kdp.kindle.com/">www.kdp.kindle.com</a> and <a href="http://www.createspace.com/">www.createspace.com</a> to publish the poems. These are self publishing sites, and they are free! If you have been threatening to publish your short stories, poems or novel and just have not gotten around to it, check these sites out. They sell your books on Amazon.com in the US, Europe, Japan, Canada and Mexico, and you earn royalties on your sales. <br />
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My main purpose for publishing is to create a legacy. I want my poetry to outlast me. I don't want it to disappear into the atmosphere. As long as its out there somewhere on a dusty bookshelf or a discarded Kindle, it will still exist. I also get a bit of a tingle when I pop over to Amazon.com 15 or 20 times a day, type in my name, and do an Author search. <br />
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Check it out! These thin little tomes make great hostess gifts, coasters for your coffee cups and additions to your library. <br />
<br />MuseSwingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999288873532715380noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389669289904198220.post-91050002352336981082011-12-30T00:01:00.003-05:002011-12-30T11:09:48.412-05:00Happy New Year - 2012<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aGYGxFI2OXg/Tv0BnKLMCuI/AAAAAAAAEx0/xsvFZu-7dWw/s1600/2012a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aGYGxFI2OXg/Tv0BnKLMCuI/AAAAAAAAEx0/xsvFZu-7dWw/s320/2012a.jpg" width="201" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>1912</b></div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Happy New Year Dear Bloggyfriends! </span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;"> </span> </span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;">I've chosen this century old card to ring in 2012 AD at 12:00 AM</div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">Irene posted this card January 1, 1912 to Mrs. Lena Martin in East Providence RI. A satellite view of the address shows a large piece of property with a rambling house on Watchmoket Cove, an inlet on the Providence River.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The message reads:</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Wish you a Happy New Year. Be sure to come to the initiation Wednesday night won't you. We have ten young men coming in and not enough girls to march with them. I want you to be one of the escorts and I'll be sure to pick out a nice looking young fellow for you. Wear white if convenient. It looks so pretty in line."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">This message has put Lena into a fine state. She had planned to have "one of her headaches" Wednesday. Always an excellent excuse for not attending Irene's stuffy gatherings. And now, not only must she go, but she will be required to wear the lovely white gown she was saving for Myrna Pindley's Annual Post-New Years Eve Cotillion. If any of the same people are at both events Lena shall be just mortified to be caught wearing the same frock twice. Lena feels the beginning of one of her headaches - a real one this time. But then, while searching for her medicinal powders she considers that a slight change to the gown may allow for two wearings without the gossip. Lena makes a note to call Lucile, her personal designer, first thing in the morning.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R2Hts9862Eg/Tv0LsA_1IcI/AAAAAAAAEyM/DcQgwX0gRW0/s1600/2012+gown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R2Hts9862Eg/Tv0LsA_1IcI/AAAAAAAAEyM/DcQgwX0gRW0/s1600/2012+gown.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <b> Design by Lucile c.1912</b><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">All is well in the morning! <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lucy,_Lady_Duff-Gordon">Lucile</a> is so cunning! She suggests a striking black bodice and train be added for the Cotillion. Who will ever guess it is a twice worn dress, excepting perhaps Lady Gertrude Winterberry and her spinster daughter. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> But that was then...</b></div><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>And this is now</b></div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><b>Raise your glass high and</b></div><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: x-large;">Have a spectacular New Year!</span></div>MuseSwingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999288873532715380noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389669289904198220.post-89190904280342463012011-07-22T12:07:00.001-04:002011-07-22T12:17:18.212-04:00PFF and Sepia Saturday - BIG Step For Mankind<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWh30h9xvZeMtvx3QWCzJ83lpjS8YalzbH2zZ542i0fN4IhOjWOi8iWX46EcrH1Rg6hxhAp-CymzeIPXVRvY8tgqqgP6mMtQpgZnMJcuN4VLv9Xgys0rwoBAi5qtTmmGQxZdsKYVstOYs0/s1600/001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWh30h9xvZeMtvx3QWCzJ83lpjS8YalzbH2zZ542i0fN4IhOjWOi8iWX46EcrH1Rg6hxhAp-CymzeIPXVRvY8tgqqgP6mMtQpgZnMJcuN4VLv9Xgys0rwoBAi5qtTmmGQxZdsKYVstOYs0/s320/001.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Postmarked on the Recovery Ship Hornet CV12 on July 24, 1969 </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> Our theme for Sepia Saturday is recognition of the amazing work of NASA's Space Program. The first manned Lunar Landing in 1969 is something I will always remember. Where I was and what I was doing: My dad had the old black and white TV on a 40 foot extension cord in the driveway. He was doing an oil change on the giant blue Mercury station wagon and didn't want to miss a minute of Apollo 11and the first moon landing. I was on my way to the mall for some serious shopping - mini skirts and such - but I stopped to see what he was doing. Together we watched the grainy sights and crackling sounds of the landing. A few days later I received the above envelope - Dad had thoughtfully sent one for each of his 7 children to be postmarked on the U.S. Navy Recovery ship Hornet!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMqZPny327qc5yfzePCK6YnCdD0gWXA8tq4dOY4j_S0w4kkY3E_ub40hj0ULm3AiHDqaBZj8ZZTDpE_nta6nxPRhekGyklMBVXm8kSgbWlZzDP7pFkpLKI5wVY4UmMgAwmzGG7Zo-ovBir/s1600/PFF+Apollo+Hornet+12.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMqZPny327qc5yfzePCK6YnCdD0gWXA8tq4dOY4j_S0w4kkY3E_ub40hj0ULm3AiHDqaBZj8ZZTDpE_nta6nxPRhekGyklMBVXm8kSgbWlZzDP7pFkpLKI5wVY4UmMgAwmzGG7Zo-ovBir/s320/PFF+Apollo+Hornet+12.jpg" width="258" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <b>The Hornet CV-12</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USS_Hornet_%28CV-12%29">Hornet</a> is a recommissioned and renamed WWII Essex class aircraft carrier, and the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USS_Hornet">eighth Navy ship to be given the distinctive name, Hornet</a>. She was originally named Kearsarge, but was renamed Hornet in honor of Hornet C8 which was sunk in 1942. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Hornet CV-12 played a major roll in the Pacific during WWII, earning 9 battle stars. She also served during during peacetime, the Cold War and Vietnam The Hornet then became the recovery ship for both manned and unmanned Apollo space flights. This was not her first recovery assignment. Hornet was part of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Operation_Magic_Carpet">Operation Magic Carpet</a> operation which brought hundreds of thousands of soldiers home after WWII ended.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><b>Recovered Apollo Space Capsule</b><br />
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</div>The Hornet is now stationed in Alameda California as the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USS_Hornet_Museum">USS Hornet Museum</a>. The exhibit includes the Apollo 11 Space Capsule<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>First Day of Issue - Man on the Moon</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"> My father had this First Day of Issue stamp, and postmarks and envelope sent to me in 1969 as well.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Footsteps and our Flag on the Moon </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>President Nixon greets our Brave Astronauts </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Armstrong, Collins and Aldrin were put in quarantine aboard the Hornet. NASA wanted to be sure they only came back with Moon rocks.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"> <b>Where the Apollo Missions Left Footprints</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>A Pre-Apollo Space Shot for Postcard Friendship Friday</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">We've just this week come to the end of a great and exciting era. We'll always remember those brave men and women who traveled into the true unknown to explore and to advance our knowledge of the universe. Some came back, others did not. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuuVWZMrEw-wDwpLCLdIcmuaaCoGCmroLh5XgrMDvGOcijzS6f2QOCXB6DV5rf2m8KFOmxYWs3zfa29osmni8cqW3WCii3lWS5lvQ7Nh0iTwUip_4D_WorZp4BAir-A9J7l7b_RXFUC8Yd/s1600/PFF+Apollo+Capsule.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> For more Postcard Friendship Friday travel HERE</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Sepia Saturday is a space shot away <a href="http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/">HERE</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>MuseSwingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999288873532715380noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389669289904198220.post-62492485961010861372011-07-15T15:01:00.001-04:002011-07-15T15:09:47.760-04:00PFF And Sepia Saturday: It's in the Cards<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIbQl45NX_avJj1qL9dm2VEDxMpySylB0xQwP52nOmAga8_0mSaDiqNiJxgFtEsObsi6B_tEQ3uP9EPP9rQqWmwC08e2DT7dXwI9Q4Hgnpb1CAchshrnhzePEZDYA7i8VpP7K12nJGMizD/s1600/Sepia+Cards+A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIbQl45NX_avJj1qL9dm2VEDxMpySylB0xQwP52nOmAga8_0mSaDiqNiJxgFtEsObsi6B_tEQ3uP9EPP9rQqWmwC08e2DT7dXwI9Q4Hgnpb1CAchshrnhzePEZDYA7i8VpP7K12nJGMizD/s320/Sepia+Cards+A.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> The Sepia Saturday Theme has to do with card games in vintage photos. So, for Postcard Friendship Friday, I chose this old and somewhat flirty postcard.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLxPadsbI8TJuHSqARgusmQMNkMal-uuZOVVfmfT3T1LYCpwgnRzBngtMQwXgK2cs8RPhhD1hdXc6bXCEP9m1h6NnLZ_jGAM8f33I3yW3zJCimOHyG1PZQQGR3ROHGuHRz-iP2z7e1NhxF/s1600/Sepia+Cards+B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLxPadsbI8TJuHSqARgusmQMNkMal-uuZOVVfmfT3T1LYCpwgnRzBngtMQwXgK2cs8RPhhD1hdXc6bXCEP9m1h6NnLZ_jGAM8f33I3yW3zJCimOHyG1PZQQGR3ROHGuHRz-iP2z7e1NhxF/s320/Sepia+Cards+B.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"> It was postmarked June 5, 1911 in Arthur Ontario. The message to Miss Florence reads: Received your card some time ago. Have not had a chance to answer before. Have no views of G.M. (Grand Manan) at present. Will send one next time. Come again,<br />
Yours truly.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Turner Ingalls, Jr. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Captain, Little Wood Island Life Saving Station, Grand Manan, New Brunswick. (That's in Canada)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1wh2D9XUEuF-DSsEKkZsamSkQ4S_l20v-8lLukCUxccch8526bMMGIi35v4UJL8s8U1nIphTU-6CM36UpkcyhR9yWXPr7tywHVRlHC9eQ6aI3A_rW-EkYZOeKjXGTSmIhDuacAb9Tiv7-/s1600/Sepia+Cards+Island.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1wh2D9XUEuF-DSsEKkZsamSkQ4S_l20v-8lLukCUxccch8526bMMGIi35v4UJL8s8U1nIphTU-6CM36UpkcyhR9yWXPr7tywHVRlHC9eQ6aI3A_rW-EkYZOeKjXGTSmIhDuacAb9Tiv7-/s320/Sepia+Cards+Island.jpg" width="272" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Grand Manan Island</b></div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"> Grand Manan and all of the surrounding islands are set in treacherous waters filled with rocks and currents. Storms and fog make travel quite dicey. Many light houses, fog horns, and life saving stations were - and still are -constructed on these islands to assist sailing ships, fishermen and ferry boats.<br />
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Web searches turned up quite a bit of information about Turner Ingalls! </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Ruthven Deane was taking a count of Snowy Owls in 1906 and included this information in his report:</div><div></div><div style="text-align: center;">"Mr. Turner Ingalls, Jr, keeper of Southwest Arbor Light Station, Grand Manan informs me under date of Jan. 20, 1906 that 26 snowy Owls had been seen on the island, and many of these had been seen shot during December 1, 1905. During the flight of 1901-2 Mr. Turner observed only about half this number."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> T</span><span style="font-size: x-small;">URNER</span><span style="font-size: small;"> I</span><span style="font-size: x-small;">NGALLS</span><span style="font-size: small;"> was born February 18, 1843 in Grand Manan, N. B. He married Antoinette Foster Parker and they had one son, Page Ingalls who died at age 4. At the time this postcard was written, Ingalls was 68 years old, had lost his wife, Antoinette and remarried. </span></div><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">He became overseer of this lighthouse in 1901 when his father in law retired after 47 years service. By then, the Marconi telegraph wire was replaced with a telephone.</div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilgQIs0ivQhqy_t4Hrm-WHeN6_YDVQ2b4XecU9zcUFgZxMznN82FH9Yc4eoAyVul7di6RvaSfcuQRdE1Oo1sk9MDfj6p564tS2IOzjD-o7yUjUDdugApDQPTbQhfCKldb98OQPPjpzztNS/s1600/southwesthead_lna.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilgQIs0ivQhqy_t4Hrm-WHeN6_YDVQ2b4XecU9zcUFgZxMznN82FH9Yc4eoAyVul7di6RvaSfcuQRdE1Oo1sk9MDfj6p564tS2IOzjD-o7yUjUDdugApDQPTbQhfCKldb98OQPPjpzztNS/s320/southwesthead_lna.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Southwest Light House as it appeared in about 1899.</b> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The Ingalls/Mclaughlin family is pictured here. The family added all of the buildings to the original lighthouse tower at their own expense. Upon his retirement, Turner's Father-in-law asked for reimbursement for all of the buildings - to which the Department of Marine replied "No." </div><div style="text-align: center;">The location of this lighthouse can be seen on the map posted above. It is off the most Southwest point of the Grand Manan Island.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">After Turner Ingalls retired a succession of family members continued to live and work here until it closed in 1987. Turner Ingalls died in 1914. </div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">For more Friendship Friday Fun go HERE</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">For Sepia Saturday stop by <a href="http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/">HERE </a></div>MuseSwingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999288873532715380noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389669289904198220.post-38930871718906633422011-06-18T19:26:00.000-04:002011-06-18T19:26:47.167-04:00Sepia Saturday: Happy Father's Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqPru4udTHOs0VlUNT5L98r5VkKRZzhXhZioG6RIcrdplRcEMBhOSLIipqe3oQeVfrIKbOOPNIK9TgyZwavCHYVKgBM4kn44W3fx8psFdnHJMdbdDb8Pr5EyAHG8tjokUxTPzbqbJV5xs/s1600/pfffather.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqPru4udTHOs0VlUNT5L98r5VkKRZzhXhZioG6RIcrdplRcEMBhOSLIipqe3oQeVfrIKbOOPNIK9TgyZwavCHYVKgBM4kn44W3fx8psFdnHJMdbdDb8Pr5EyAHG8tjokUxTPzbqbJV5xs/s320/pfffather.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"> <b>Remembering our Fathers on Father's Day</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxauAdsyi5rbC7o1eAAJCWZcc7_OPD3s_1pSB6QIifI3GS-2GL8bytPgM7GeR1zU1VZs_iyiZPisp9im1f1JUoExf-OKOSb6GtIv8Q946fFhpXU6FTknXLkgY74Ea3Bm9IWnoDjkFz-Pw/s1600/Stanislaw+Grocholski+1858++1933.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxauAdsyi5rbC7o1eAAJCWZcc7_OPD3s_1pSB6QIifI3GS-2GL8bytPgM7GeR1zU1VZs_iyiZPisp9im1f1JUoExf-OKOSb6GtIv8Q946fFhpXU6FTknXLkgY74Ea3Bm9IWnoDjkFz-Pw/s1600/Stanislaw+Grocholski+1858++1933.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Stanislaus Grocholski</div><div style="text-align: center;">1858-1933<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> Great Grandfather<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ID2bPQ88n_xD68E4p2gfNIRCH1O2BV2Ur2M_uHO8S7nHStPFEYzgLR3QQnhEndXuKAKI_A8MU_6jPWVKHfyEORrHy8ZzJbtSx82zHQaFZaXeIz7oSkPECJaFBHQtjd4GcmqVDAZgAEc/s1600/John.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ID2bPQ88n_xD68E4p2gfNIRCH1O2BV2Ur2M_uHO8S7nHStPFEYzgLR3QQnhEndXuKAKI_A8MU_6jPWVKHfyEORrHy8ZzJbtSx82zHQaFZaXeIz7oSkPECJaFBHQtjd4GcmqVDAZgAEc/s320/John.jpg" width="271" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> John Ignatius Grocholski</div><div style="text-align: center;">1887 -1978</div><div style="text-align: center;">Grandfather</div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLBWfKVGzlV6SVPRSFm2b0YXe0xxvk1mxLRdtdNSYPUa4Qb61a0OKalvHI9QsmJQm79KHcTkF1kuAJDjEo0BFjJJU3AP-poDkUuK7gXoU-bpseC7flOEvyRPnct3SPCPlrG9ExlJqYXFQ/s1600/005.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLBWfKVGzlV6SVPRSFm2b0YXe0xxvk1mxLRdtdNSYPUa4Qb61a0OKalvHI9QsmJQm79KHcTkF1kuAJDjEo0BFjJJU3AP-poDkUuK7gXoU-bpseC7flOEvyRPnct3SPCPlrG9ExlJqYXFQ/s320/005.jpg" width="297" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Joseph Leo Grocholski</div><div style="text-align: center;">1922-1975</div><div style="text-align: center;">Father</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I remember past Fathers Days and am thankful for the memories.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>MuseSwingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999288873532715380noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389669289904198220.post-34314258658514882442011-06-03T00:17:00.003-04:002011-06-04T11:02:40.915-04:00PFF and Sepia Saturday: Neither Rain, Nor Sleet, Nor, uhm, Cannon Fire...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2FvNIMA6cH_Lg4VLwnkWPtL4Vudk9Dl4PTfIQZ-4sIJD_nN_taX2d07YzPhqYM2CcPOih_BcUPi_WOdJEttWSHamrlWQ03PwKoBTftdHkTWAChKkLcQj1piC8sHnwKHjvH8_FeEZcEJ3e/s1600/pff+WWII+Mail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2FvNIMA6cH_Lg4VLwnkWPtL4Vudk9Dl4PTfIQZ-4sIJD_nN_taX2d07YzPhqYM2CcPOih_BcUPi_WOdJEttWSHamrlWQ03PwKoBTftdHkTWAChKkLcQj1piC8sHnwKHjvH8_FeEZcEJ3e/s320/pff+WWII+Mail.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>WWII Mail From Mom</b></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b>To <i>which</i> of the 7,500 Pfc. Robert Smith's does this belong????</b></div><br />
Soldiers love to get mail. That's probably what the M in morale stands for - and the Army is always on the move. Things can get dicey - especially when thousands of soldiers are out in the middle of the forest at Ardennes or some arid atoll in the South Pacific or any of hundreds of places they "visited" during wartime.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivySUWD1cA5mbAaelOTH6zy5veLNgGG6JNbiEynVfo5WqbGrb8Pd6dm4GS7nNcyPyRbpstH1-IcDFpCe1iAUxtQhvcH7Acv0IVhA1iQH3OTIQv9d3b_Y-fcSqRLaZ8md_CPYcaINYWDgxx/s1600/pff+charity.jpg" /></div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><b>That's where the "Six-Triple Eight" comes in!</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>LTC. Charity Adams, Women's Army Corps led the 6888th Central Postal Directory Battalion </b> </div>.<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">"Not only was she the first black woman commissioned as an officer in the Women's Army Corps, Charity Adams also attained the highest rank possible in the Corps below the directorship -- Only one full colonel was permitted in the WAC, and that rank was held only by the Director. She was also the commanding officer of the first battalion of black service women to serve overseas during WWII.</span></span><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">This unit, the 6888th Central Postal Directory Battalion (or "Six Triple Eight"), did an extraordinary job of redirecting mail in the European Theater of Operations. Troops were reassigned quickly, battle casualties were relocated often, and the sheer number of U.S. personnel in the ETO was staggering -- a total of about seven million, with more than 7,500 of them, for instance, having the name of Robert Smith. But the Six Triple Eight broke all records for redirecting mail. They knew the importance of their job, in maintaining morale." (Museum of Black WWII History)</div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKtcDdFpoFC1MsbMnzUISjE6j6pfkzkXbsBDStQWJyDHbrJSrHBKIMZa9K4BQ53kEsqCP8ZDtlxB8NVXwn2lzhvH5eBZ4sBe0f-f9mheQIu4n9eTxPGh32_9pUfdiwQu7vdJXk2HiK0TkD/s1600/6888+Postal+Directory+Battalion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKtcDdFpoFC1MsbMnzUISjE6j6pfkzkXbsBDStQWJyDHbrJSrHBKIMZa9K4BQ53kEsqCP8ZDtlxB8NVXwn2lzhvH5eBZ4sBe0f-f9mheQIu4n9eTxPGh32_9pUfdiwQu7vdJXk2HiK0TkD/s320/6888+Postal+Directory+Battalion.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>The 6888th marches in the town square at Rouen, France on the feast day of Joan D'Arc. This is the spot where Joan D'Arc was burned at the stake on May 30, 1431 </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">These exceptional women were here to do battle of their own - move the mail.<b><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS8XynAg8Z_0Zmv6ALFv6MPyLqupN_jj3Qw1dpJALQIk3RQWQvUZ-yhbQG9ure4SUSvnPkvujS3hM5U-tb6Zreq2C4uQXx3IhUEcS26OFf8XxHRAHG2dxUbeT8K3HJ-uGjt0PCfLui-MwH/s320/pff+Maj+Charity.jpg" width="243" /></div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><b>LTC. Charity Adams reviews her unit.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="text-align: center;">Despite having the same patriotic reasons for serving our Country, African Americans were segregated, given menial jobs, discriminated against and suffered the same inequities as they did at home. <b>Y</b>ou would think America would be too busy for racial bias in the thick of battle but, of course, ignorance often takes the lead. Go here<a href="http://www.blackww2museum.org/Charity%20Adams.htm"> HERE</a> for more information about this fine officer.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G2_0HZMv2dA">Click HERE for a short WWII film of the 6888th</a></div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7hn7Ukvgfnn372S9XUL92FViUQxhsbGNTN_mIgDyuX4sO6Kxyv0WxWWjU8c0RQR7CU_P-Bj5meoE4SMkZ_TVdlBeJOg1pCb-h-fkx1ih2sjxTfiyLhg2Elf0j-mXuXN3y4jjuO1MMlMwR/s1600/pff+france+C.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7hn7Ukvgfnn372S9XUL92FViUQxhsbGNTN_mIgDyuX4sO6Kxyv0WxWWjU8c0RQR7CU_P-Bj5meoE4SMkZ_TVdlBeJOg1pCb-h-fkx1ih2sjxTfiyLhg2Elf0j-mXuXN3y4jjuO1MMlMwR/s320/pff+france+C.jpg" width="202" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">A Pretty French Postcard</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMSulM2f5OQcz_NvJt8EGZ96y9H0wwk25uye_sJ8E4Xy1JPOV5Gzmviji61ntt1yh8RQJnZLTpi8Gu1Pw8vnxnwZGQkWPdl5v0hIYGJYJJjg4m8MjarPigpsFbjyzcNCeWWC5WAVHb_tuO/s1600/pff+france+D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMSulM2f5OQcz_NvJt8EGZ96y9H0wwk25uye_sJ8E4Xy1JPOV5Gzmviji61ntt1yh8RQJnZLTpi8Gu1Pw8vnxnwZGQkWPdl5v0hIYGJYJJjg4m8MjarPigpsFbjyzcNCeWWC5WAVHb_tuO/s320/pff+france+D.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Note the "free" postage for servicemen and the Army Examiner stamp in the lower left hand corner. Sgt. Henry Rabinowicz posted this card on December 21, 1944 from somewhere in France. He said:<br />
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Dear Lillian, I picked this greeting card especially for you to make double sure, my sentiments are expressed both in English and French. Goodbye for now. Affectionately. Henry. It appears from his return address, that Henry was part of the huge Replacement Pool of soldiers that were brought in late 1944 as replacements for infantry casualties. Replacement troops did not necessarily receive the same battle training of the infantry they were replacing. They lacked the cohesion that troops who trained together and fought together had. The seasoned soldiers would pretty much ignore them - their infantry may have suffered 50 to 70% casualties and here comes new guy with creases in his pants. "I don't know him, I'm not talking to him, he's just gonna die anyway." was the psychological attitude.<br />
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I found Henry's service card at ancestry.com, stamped with the word WOUNDED. I've not found anything further yet - but will add whatever additional information I can find. <br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyseQjhYouKF5wu5UHpeVAUkxMyBsA2TcNwKiGVy_zcOkOL-YG8DCAcJashowQ4SKf1KyE0EHZU2Oa_DLObRcAT_9ukWNq5-APD9JQJO9ZbJSDTKNhyqK8w6QUMtVatgCs1t5qwQFs6fyr/s1600/pff+France+A.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="207" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyseQjhYouKF5wu5UHpeVAUkxMyBsA2TcNwKiGVy_zcOkOL-YG8DCAcJashowQ4SKf1KyE0EHZU2Oa_DLObRcAT_9ukWNq5-APD9JQJO9ZbJSDTKNhyqK8w6QUMtVatgCs1t5qwQFs6fyr/s320/pff+France+A.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><b>Laiterie Cooperative</b><br />
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</div>Sgt. Charles Shenloogian of Company C, 11th Cavalry, who's WWII experiences are chronicled in his oral history interview 2002 <a href="http://www.state.nj.us/military/museum/Shenloogian.html">HERE</a>, posted this card November 9, 1944. He said: Dear Jewel, Just a few words to let you know that I am well. I picked this card up in my travels (<i>This is the understatement of the century! His unit was fighting in France in the thick of battle and participated in the Battle of the Bulge in November, 1944 - the unit was out of gas, ammunition and supplies yet ordered by Patton to advance.</i>) Hope everything is O.K. Don't work too hard. Seen many good shows? Would like to have been with you. Love, Charlie. His homogenized message was reviewed and passed by the Army Examiner.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">More links to Postcard Friendship Friday are <a href="http://thebestheartsarecrunchy.blogspot.com/">HERE</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Links to Sepia Saturday posts are <a href="http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/">HERE</a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>MuseSwingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999288873532715380noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389669289904198220.post-34927899638205150082011-05-27T21:23:00.003-04:002011-05-30T11:23:20.648-04:00Postcard Friendship Friday and Sepia Saturday: Lest We Forget<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLr4VAUebmscpu7XzJWly8nsOyTeF7Ux9bLuzTxmwui0gTbE5LSolf0zBG9oqO4pIcWZN4NSKIyH2SHnAAqRIEiyFuqk7DaU6rU36mi5Yh9Ryq0525iZ75azgDz-DMOpXanS2mnIh0OoU9/s1600/pff+memorial.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLr4VAUebmscpu7XzJWly8nsOyTeF7Ux9bLuzTxmwui0gTbE5LSolf0zBG9oqO4pIcWZN4NSKIyH2SHnAAqRIEiyFuqk7DaU6rU36mi5Yh9Ryq0525iZ75azgDz-DMOpXanS2mnIh0OoU9/s320/pff+memorial.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">When this beautiful postcard was mailed, 100 years ago, Memorial Day was called Decoration Day, a day to pause and remember both the Union and Confederate soldiers who died in the Civil war. Today, after many other wars, we remember all of the soldiers who gave their lives for our Country. "Lest We Forget", May 30th (now the last Monday in May" was designated as the day of remembrance.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>The card was mailed 8/2/1911 and is postmarked Rome, New York which is in the north central part of the state. E.W. says "I cannot do as I promised because I have got to go to my cousin's. He is very ill." The writing appears to be that of a child. What do you suppose she promised her friend Henrietta? Another of life's mysteries.<br />
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</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTeSIce8j0yroAzwIqrDuFxxqbKeu07OG2a4OTLgIAUF8XZXls9qtwlgvCTgjnB4UK1flu3Yuf6Orsf8q5WOxRDx7d1yF2ldfZxDxy8k_aanBPlZaLeNu28s2g0LOMZJpmlz6a7m44x3Up/s1600/pff+UB.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTeSIce8j0yroAzwIqrDuFxxqbKeu07OG2a4OTLgIAUF8XZXls9qtwlgvCTgjnB4UK1flu3Yuf6Orsf8q5WOxRDx7d1yF2ldfZxDxy8k_aanBPlZaLeNu28s2g0LOMZJpmlz6a7m44x3Up/s1600/pff+UB.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> William LaKoske 1925 -1994</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">This is my Uncle, Bill La Koske. The picture was taken around 1943 while he was in boot camp in Ft. Hood Texas. He is 17 years old. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I know little about Uncle Bill's time in the service. We were instructed to never ask him any questions about his experiences during WWII. I've managed to put a few bits and pieces together though. </div><div style="text-align: center;">He took his basic training at Ft Hood, Texas, and was still there in October of 1943 when my parents took a train to visit him while on their honeymoon.</div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKrsHnqtUdhQA9HBx5mZjaivnHwTwV0zTbJOKafwgY3goFaXY2ImYcYrN8KMgG6gENKYLf1e_-kdhdP_7mcrTJV9ZjV6ubZnKR2duvmpgLmTrOYiSZMQGEtALhd7i5SRaDsJ_q3MI8zZnk/s1600/Bill+LaKoske.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKrsHnqtUdhQA9HBx5mZjaivnHwTwV0zTbJOKafwgY3goFaXY2ImYcYrN8KMgG6gENKYLf1e_-kdhdP_7mcrTJV9ZjV6ubZnKR2duvmpgLmTrOYiSZMQGEtALhd7i5SRaDsJ_q3MI8zZnk/s1600/Bill+LaKoske.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">I enlarged the patch on his left arm, and I also remembered an ashtray he had with the same insignia.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioVXg5BwzvxhtVl2Qk-99YJuyi33hck9c1Dc84-GqMdmUEF4ve5MtpNkpuTAHFxbFNODXKc7fWcx-8CLjor5XyF3pMivP4QKndZI-Jt93uGoqkmfqtd6ICTmhPsBC76HdXUx7W8Jj7ChNQ/s1600/pff+UB+patch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioVXg5BwzvxhtVl2Qk-99YJuyi33hck9c1Dc84-GqMdmUEF4ve5MtpNkpuTAHFxbFNODXKc7fWcx-8CLjor5XyF3pMivP4QKndZI-Jt93uGoqkmfqtd6ICTmhPsBC76HdXUx7W8Jj7ChNQ/s1600/pff+UB+patch.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> It is the insignia of the US Army Tank Destroyer Unit.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">At the time, Fort Hood was a training center for the TDU, and I found this on line: </div><div style="text-align: center;">"The mission of the Tank Destroyer Unit Training Center became that of training tank destroyer units to the point of <b>blotting out and erasing any fear of armored forces</b>; establishing superiority in maneuvering and gunfire.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">The specialized training program for TDs provided for 19 weeks of training. 6 weeks of basic and 13 weeks technical and tactical training. The basic training was comparable to that of a replacement training center." </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">At some point, after the D-Day invasion, and on the heels of the Battle of the Bulge Uncle Bill and his battalion were in France and possibly fought their way as far as Belgium. His job was manning a machine gun attached to the back of a Jeep. During heavy fighting against the Germans, Uncle Bill and several other men were forced to take cover inside a barn. The Germans destroyed the barn with canon fire and a beam fell, pinning Uncle Bill at mid-section to the ground. The other men were killed. He remained there for 2 days and was near death by the time he was rescued. He recuperated in Colorado for about 18 months, was awarded the Purple Heart, and then returned home.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Mom spoke once of the day the telegram came informing his mother, Julia that Uncle Bill was injured. Other than a short telegram, families had no way of knowing anything further about the fate of their husband, brother or son. </div><br />
Today, wars are fought right on television. Soldiers keep in touch on cellphones and computers. At that time, communication except by the soldier himself, was non existent. Since Uncle Bill was badly injured, it may have been weeks before they received further word about his condition. They could only wait for a letter or for another telegram informing them of his death. Luckily that 2nd telegram never came.<br />
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(A very special force of WACS went to France in the heat of battle to make sure mail moved to and from the US. The Army knew how important communication was for morale here and abroad. I'll tell you all about them next week.)<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio9w7cpFUgWelZIa-WwYTEqZacbgtEyHaXrCbB6qdAp4zyFfH3xbH1ag3KD_25Hgk7pBHPBcazj0-32G-vzD9x704ai6J7LXJfxyTpOhvGhYDYvWBPT_CiKu0pvZMz5e-eO-dUJo6Txhob/s1600/Fitzsimons_Army_Medical_Center_in_1989.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio9w7cpFUgWelZIa-WwYTEqZacbgtEyHaXrCbB6qdAp4zyFfH3xbH1ag3KD_25Hgk7pBHPBcazj0-32G-vzD9x704ai6J7LXJfxyTpOhvGhYDYvWBPT_CiKu0pvZMz5e-eO-dUJo6Txhob/s320/Fitzsimons_Army_Medical_Center_in_1989.JPEG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Fizsimmons Army Medical Center, Aroura, Colorado</span></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;">A little more detective work: The Fitzsimmons Army Medical Center is most likely the hospital where Uncle Bill was treated and rehabilitated. It was built during WWI primarily for soldiers with TB and malaria and has always been considered an excellent hospital. It closed just within the past few years, is being updated and will reopen as a private hospital. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>The only thing Uncle Bill ever mentioned was that he had to eat pureed "baby" food for months and -he never explained this one- he came to despise raisins to the point that he would shiver if he even had to look at one.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU3mNjeRmOx-XoAiJDiDJElhb4yBPtGdaXGZz15pd2E2v_jCitr46zk7Okaq9rV5nnMbuJs1sjXNq6mKo3LM1AOL2-NfVpHhC7moabxGBa6rASdX4XP_toZJF6SW1CTozw-yugLRmqbUVF/s1600/Mom++Dad+And+Uncle+Bill+1942.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU3mNjeRmOx-XoAiJDiDJElhb4yBPtGdaXGZz15pd2E2v_jCitr46zk7Okaq9rV5nnMbuJs1sjXNq6mKo3LM1AOL2-NfVpHhC7moabxGBa6rASdX4XP_toZJF6SW1CTozw-yugLRmqbUVF/s320/Mom++Dad+And+Uncle+Bill+1942.jpg" width="189" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Joe and Del and Del's baby brother Bill</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Uncle Bill is standing on the steps of my Grandparent's house on Holcomb St. in Detroit in this photo. He is with my parents, Joe and Del. The photo is undated, so I don't know whether he was on leave before going overseas or had just returned from Colorado. My best guess is that he was given leave after he completed his training. February/March 1944 would make sense - based on the winter coats, and the fact that Mom's coat is unbuttoned as opposed to everyone else's. Which means she's probably a few months preggers with my brother Joe. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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Uncle Bill was my Godfather and a really wonderful Uncle. He had a great sense of humor and was the main instigator of fun and frolic among the children at the dinner table.<br />
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Although he was fortunate to survive the war he, like most soldiers, suffered memories of the horror of it for the rest of his life. Along with a strange fear of raisins.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">While we enjoy this long Memorial Day weekend, let's take time to remember those who died in and of War.<br />
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<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody">Those incredibly brave men ... men ... they were, many of them just 17 seeing and doing things that we can only imagine. Tossed off of ships by bombs, thrown out of foreign skies, marched in weather we won't think of going out in. Giving their all for freedom for all. The brave soldiers from WWII in my family are gone now - but they came home, every one of them. They kept their promise to my Grandmother. Many never spoke of it. None could forget it. We'll never forget these brave men.</span></span></h6></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">For more Postcard Friendship Friday go <a href="http://thebestheartsarecrunchy.blogspot.com/">HERE</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">For more Sepia Saturday stories go <a href="http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/">HERE</a></div>MuseSwingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999288873532715380noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389669289904198220.post-69492628332732072382011-05-20T17:32:00.005-04:002011-05-20T19:39:44.446-04:00Postcard Frienship Friday and Sepia Saturday: See you later, Alligator<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJJwm9QdxBDJkTO3ek7g5KuPps6WHjQqjw9xsyX-kK0IAX_2n0YMQqeGb9jv4bM1FpneFRMGqt9LSG6asdjwSTVaTZ5mLTW-3NIrEO1vMGG2-JB1-WF4u6FiYNZTGJFPS4efJhhu0JFDHj/s1600/sepia+gator+A.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJJwm9QdxBDJkTO3ek7g5KuPps6WHjQqjw9xsyX-kK0IAX_2n0YMQqeGb9jv4bM1FpneFRMGqt9LSG6asdjwSTVaTZ5mLTW-3NIrEO1vMGG2-JB1-WF4u6FiYNZTGJFPS4efJhhu0JFDHj/s320/sepia+gator+A.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"> <b>American Alligator</b></div><div style="text-align: center;">"Beautiful Florida Alligator in Native Wilds"</div><br />
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These guys have been around since the Cretaceous Period which is between 145.5 and 65.5 million years ago. Cretaceous is derived the Latin work for "chalk". There was a lot of chalk around at the time.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUXCDgvs44d4q_uHIqluKynhUz8rRppbC4SINl36f256QqoHrI239-BoHmXlKFCf5eTYb55ksbATz3o6CtntLdM__zhV3vVPMAL9M0-oMt6QqYNJoUcZZZzV4G2yso2wsKSg15Hd3A1gfI/s1600/pffallig.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUXCDgvs44d4q_uHIqluKynhUz8rRppbC4SINl36f256QqoHrI239-BoHmXlKFCf5eTYb55ksbATz3o6CtntLdM__zhV3vVPMAL9M0-oMt6QqYNJoUcZZZzV4G2yso2wsKSg15Hd3A1gfI/s1600/pffallig.JPG" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <b>Alligator Fossil</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">This alligator did not make it much beyond the chalk age. Neither did the European varieties. Today you will find Alligators only in China and in the South Eastern United States, which includes the pond in my back yard. The word "alligator comes from the Spanish word for lizard. Quite an understatement, but that's what we call them.</div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPV4nB8gDEpLxC6vhRKC9D3b4TCoWRxRVHbh5FFJp7s0VfAHLOHKAcorsnoFYsyrdgXuAKc8XjYeQolub58iOOyzAc3T1aM9Cs31OxO7HqfKBUp0sZs6G3tTWAznJ4ZWXY6YM2QnPk1k9A/s1600/Sepia+Gator.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPV4nB8gDEpLxC6vhRKC9D3b4TCoWRxRVHbh5FFJp7s0VfAHLOHKAcorsnoFYsyrdgXuAKc8XjYeQolub58iOOyzAc3T1aM9Cs31OxO7HqfKBUp0sZs6G3tTWAznJ4ZWXY6YM2QnPk1k9A/s320/Sepia+Gator.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Alligator planking "just for the halibut" c. 1925 </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">This alligator is one of the first ever to be caught on film "planking" which is one of the latest stupid stunts to appear on Facebook and Youtube.</div><br />
Mating, which can be rather raucous, takes place in the spring. The mom builds a nest and lays 20 to 50 goose egg sized eggs that take a little over two months to hatch. . The temperature at which alligator eggs develop determines their sex. Does too! Those eggs which are hatched in temperatures ranging from 90 to 93 degrees Fahrenheit (32 to 34 °C) become males, while those in temperatures from 82 to 86 °F (23 to 30 °C) become female. Intermediate temperature ranges have proven to yield a mix of both male and females. The hatchlings look like little replicas of mom, and stay with her for about 5 months. This a period of time you really want to leave mom and the kids alone. Mom is very protective. Kind of like an alligator with lipstick.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Zt8yr8z8Ze06IhkhkOl2s6OFCZjTG7xH0GyXM2iBeashGI0RQrgXAHl9EfGMSJ3YPE7TNa7tVlgUoaMtwz0x3oUXYRhpRzmL4h0Jd8Yup7Uyo6Tzcg9kt6dDDE23XKk1wn_2HrAhaoyx/s1600/sepia+alligator.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Zt8yr8z8Ze06IhkhkOl2s6OFCZjTG7xH0GyXM2iBeashGI0RQrgXAHl9EfGMSJ3YPE7TNa7tVlgUoaMtwz0x3oUXYRhpRzmL4h0Jd8Yup7Uyo6Tzcg9kt6dDDE23XKk1wn_2HrAhaoyx/s320/sepia+alligator.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Alligator hunting c. 1925 </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">For years, alligators were hunted for their hides and tail meat, and just because they were there. Although you wouldn't know it today, they eventually made it on the endangered species list. It was thought, in the late '60's that the population would never recover and that they would soon become extinct. But, recover they did, and they are no longer endangered. Florida state law "prohibits killing, harassing, or possessing alligators. Unless they become a nuisance, and then all bets are off.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN3eWEXMHkW09gC2n_IJFxtrpxoSHOe-RvXjHAzB0kj6xn8GKpErt1DloCrsgpMiHwHmOiY2Lub_XD8Xj7B01PrdpyqjmNtBRI876ohMzJzxeNWO_Ia4SMWkZecCyVFrA7cum9bih1he2a/s1600/004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN3eWEXMHkW09gC2n_IJFxtrpxoSHOe-RvXjHAzB0kj6xn8GKpErt1DloCrsgpMiHwHmOiY2Lub_XD8Xj7B01PrdpyqjmNtBRI876ohMzJzxeNWO_Ia4SMWkZecCyVFrA7cum9bih1he2a/s320/004.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>These are professional trappers. Do not try this at home.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> This was the case for Elvis the Alligator who made his home in our pond for several years. He apparently was menacing a neighbor and her dog, and she called the Nuisance Alligator Hotline. Yes it is true. Yes we do have a hotline for gator's in Florida. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">When you call and the Fish and Wildlife Commission determines there is a problem they call one of several licensed trappers to come and lure the alligator out of the driveway, backyard pool, kitchen, doghouse, highway, or school parking lot that he has decided to inhabit. </div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigE6HJzTheFxCF2fz1F4nPxaMFcpaJbErRRJ6rCF7fF5FeBzKttFRTsIA1gzuBdo1CNdxjA_0weuZyi5j0lefz-e5964gcEdn5tfz9MtjUq9xpnbl-gzp0uolRlRJHQ5IueV90M43VeBgQ/s1600/Garor2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigE6HJzTheFxCF2fz1F4nPxaMFcpaJbErRRJ6rCF7fF5FeBzKttFRTsIA1gzuBdo1CNdxjA_0weuZyi5j0lefz-e5964gcEdn5tfz9MtjUq9xpnbl-gzp0uolRlRJHQ5IueV90M43VeBgQ/s320/Garor2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>He hissed a lot. </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> In this case, and we were sad to see him go, Elvis was lured from the pond and got to take a ride in a Ram truck. With a Hemi engine. But not before I touched him. He felt like a really expensive handbag. He had reached 6' and was about 8 years old. His unwanted exuberance was probably due to the fact that he had become sexually mature, and it is spring, after all. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">Generally, if you leave roaming alligators alone, they will go back where they belong. They usually keep to themselves and are not a threat just because you can see it in your pond. However, when they show signs of aggressiveness it often results from folks being transplanted from pigeon feeding states who decide feeding the cute alligators is even more fun. Problem is, alligators have a brain the size of a walnut. About the same size as a person who feeds an alligator. They don't have the capacity to know where the food ends and the body begins and will start lunging at anyone who appears at the edge of their habitat. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Many folks unintentionally feed alligators by letting their dogs and cats run loose. Alligators are all about eating. They don't care if it's your prized poodle - it looks like food. Recently an alligator attacked a police car.<br />
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This has nothing to do with this week's Sepia Saturday theme, unless you take note that alligators will inhabit any "<i>pool</i>" of fresh water and you had better go to the <i>"hospital</i>" if you are bitten by one. They carry bacteria that will cause a dangerous infection if left untreated. Things might start to fall off, so go see your Dr.<br />
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For more Postcard Friendship Friday go <a href="http://thebestheartsarecrunchy.blogspot.com/">HERE</a> and Sepia Saturday can be found <a href="http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/">HERE</a>!</div>MuseSwingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999288873532715380noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389669289904198220.post-31607816968222696232011-05-08T18:03:00.005-04:002011-05-09T13:12:14.210-04:00Poetry Bus Takes the Cake!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1kLXLGxdpxDtVnCpe5GiTzky4wURxuLCTOiBXSvwX9W1G0W1qKkNG3Yi7CmYFLNUvgDIIUaWZN6vhw5XmI3FSDgGOHwVD1LFwcxi0_Wrf8rDRfZjZmaR99ejv3a9rmNdG-DyvwW7iVo1m/s1600/Bus+Cake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1kLXLGxdpxDtVnCpe5GiTzky4wURxuLCTOiBXSvwX9W1G0W1qKkNG3Yi7CmYFLNUvgDIIUaWZN6vhw5XmI3FSDgGOHwVD1LFwcxi0_Wrf8rDRfZjZmaR99ejv3a9rmNdG-DyvwW7iVo1m/s320/Bus+Cake.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>We're waiting For TFE. We're not gettin' on the bus without him. Except....we've been promised a birthday celebration. Does that mean cake? If there's cake we may board. We WILL board, in fact, if there is cake. Mildred is hoping for gluten free, and Albertus has issues with eggs. Bertrand is on a lactose free diet, and Portia is hoping for chocolate. Lemon gives Martressa the vapours. But I like cake - any kind. Mmmm cake. </i></div><br />
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Vick at <a href="http://poetryjaam.blogspot.com/">Poetry Jam</a> has graciously offered to manage the Poetry Bus Station. His is the last office on the left. Next to the water cooler. The sign on the door says POETRY JAM. Hmmm reminds me of jam cake and jelly rolls....where's that bus!<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">This poem may be just the ticket for this week's birthday themed poetry bus ride:</div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><b>On Aging</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I once thought that my mom was old</div><div style="text-align: center;">Oh yes, my father too</div><div style="text-align: center;">In retrospect I made that claim </div><div style="text-align: center;">When they were 32</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">I've long surpassed that golden year</div><div style="text-align: center;">I just turned 59</div><div style="text-align: center;">And look with reconditioned eyes </div><div style="text-align: center;">Upon these peers of mine</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">With each decade old gets older</div><div style="text-align: center;">I re-negotiate my gauge</div><div style="text-align: center;">And live well by the rule of thumb:</div><div style="text-align: center;">Age is relative to age</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Cynthia A Conciatu</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">I've missed the last two or three bus rides! I thought by riding each week I might write many new poems. As always though, my poems come when they are good and ready. They are inspired by a few words, a scene, an event, an emotion and when that happens, the poem practically writes itself, beginning to end with few revisions. Strange but true. It's very rare that I can just sit down and write on command, or write because I want to. I've tried it and I usually end up with something I'm not the least bit happy with. It sounds forced, lacks the stuff of poetry, and I end up submitting (like today) something that I've already written - an inspiration that I managed to get on paper when it arrived. But I'll keep on trying and writing and Poetry riding. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Some exciting news: I submitted several of my poems for publication in the annual Eckerd Review. The poems were submitted anonymously and were among several hundred poems, short stories, writings and art work submitted by students, alumni, staff, and several organizations from my Alma Mater, Eckerd College, St. Petersburg Florida. Two of my poems were chosen for publication and I've been invited, along with the others to read at a reception on Wednesday, May 11! The poems are <a href="http://muse-swings.blogspot.com/2008/10/chapters-i-searched-her-room-in.html">Chapters</a> and <a href="http://muse-swings.blogspot.com/2011/02/poetry-bus-did-i-forget-something.html">Forget-Me-Nots</a>.</div>MuseSwingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999288873532715380noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389669289904198220.post-45519001338295847022011-05-07T15:08:00.002-04:002011-05-07T23:20:13.297-04:00Sepia Saturday - A Bridge of Mothers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjueMl1eQLMajE5LJKK1qGLVHwBdqigxProwON6Y1ltrg7DbvE88KPDTE5qrmkqMPy4eIyXntqVPMI1cF_l6McHEKmsogjKTQnp7yr8iaUs8tSWp8-o8-9vCUuzYYUJSrD78Scr5zxh6et4/s1600/GG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjueMl1eQLMajE5LJKK1qGLVHwBdqigxProwON6Y1ltrg7DbvE88KPDTE5qrmkqMPy4eIyXntqVPMI1cF_l6McHEKmsogjKTQnp7yr8iaUs8tSWp8-o8-9vCUuzYYUJSrD78Scr5zxh6et4/s320/GG.jpg" width="234" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Frank and Julia Kujat c. 1927</div><br />
Our <a href="http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/">Sepia Saturday Host, Alan Burnett</a>, suggested a theme of something old - people, marriages etc. The picture I have chosen is of my maternal Great Grandparents, Julia Percha Kujat and Francis Kujat. They were probably in their late 50's or early 60's here. That was once considered old.<br />
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I know very little about them, but I knew their daughter, my grandmother, also named Julia. I knew she loved to grow flowers, sewed and crocheted beautifully, and cooked delicious meals. She raised her children with love, instilled the love of God in them, and was delighted with all of her 27 grandchildren. So, I knew my great grandparents through the traits and gifts passed down to Julia.<br />
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Julia Percha was the youngest of 6 children born to Michael and Magdalena (Hintze) Percha in German Poland in 1864. Julia came to America when she was 15. Her family settled in the Polish neighborhoods of Detroit, Michigan. She was 20 when she married Frank. They had 13 children, 3 of which died in infancy.<br />
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By the 1930 census, Julia was a widow living in a home she owned with several of her children. I've not located a record of her death. Julia always wore the Mother Hubbard style dress shown in the photo. Good for her - it looks comfortable and far less constricting and restricting than the styles of the day. She changed the color to black after Frank died.<br />
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In the picture, Julia and Frank are smiling and walking close to each other - though not touching. They both look content and both appear to smile easily.<br />
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Julia had a daughter, who had a daughter who had a daughter (me) who has a daughter. Think about this: In order for you or I to exist today we came from an unbroken line of mother's stretching back to the first human mother that existed on the face of the Earth. You are part of a bridge of mothers who survived plague, epidemics, famine, childhood illness, medical practices that were dangerous, poverty, war, storms, travel, hardship and incredibly difficult circumstances of life long enough to birth the next generation and the next and so on. You life depended on hundreds of mothers. Perhaps thousands. The time and place of the first mother, our mother Eve, is still being sought by science. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">This poem, written by Dorothy Hallard is a reminder of the bridge of mothers:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">The Bridge</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The way I walk</div><div style="text-align: center;">I see my mother walking</div><div style="text-align: center;">My feet secure</div><div style="text-align: center;">And firm upon the ground</div><div style="text-align: center;">The way I talk</div><div style="text-align: center;">I hear my daughter talking</div><div style="text-align: center;">And hear my mother's echo </div><div style="text-align: center;">In the sound</div><div style="text-align: center;">The way she thought</div><div style="text-align: center;">I find myself now thinking</div><div style="text-align: center;">The generations linking</div><div style="text-align: center;">In a firm continuum of mind</div><div style="text-align: center;">The bridge of immortality</div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm walking</div><div style="text-align: center;">The voice before me echoing behind</div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Happy Mother's Day to all of the mothers echoing behind us!</span></div>MuseSwingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999288873532715380noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389669289904198220.post-68140836312881351252011-04-29T08:53:00.009-04:002011-04-29T12:05:16.196-04:00Postcard Friendship Friday and Sepia Saturday - Time for Tiaras<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3bFGRZP5AtDqlJ9hvW2TiR0oDoQy6zqtYq2WyIxB1GWbg3Rp_D7gMsoaeOb7PLGqWbONdR71gEt-cgtPV8TLXegybkPydA3E65UPaeE_kRLwy9DS8Ys2OEor-HomfuDds3eAQDbVt-OHE/s1600/pffpennyblack.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3bFGRZP5AtDqlJ9hvW2TiR0oDoQy6zqtYq2WyIxB1GWbg3Rp_D7gMsoaeOb7PLGqWbONdR71gEt-cgtPV8TLXegybkPydA3E65UPaeE_kRLwy9DS8Ys2OEor-HomfuDds3eAQDbVt-OHE/s320/pffpennyblack.jpg" width="275" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <b>The Penny Black</b></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"> The suggested theme for this Postcard Friendship Friday is "time". Time for Tiara's, I thought, might be appropriate for this day of celebrating the wedding of Prince William and his bride, Kate Middleton. We'll go from something old to something new beginning with the Penny Black stamp.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> The Penny Black was the first adhesive backed postage stamp issued in the United Kingdom in 1840. A young Queen Victoria is featured on this penny postage stamp. She is wearing the King George IV Diadem. This diamond crown was made for the coronation of George IV and has been handed down in time though a succession of Kings and Queens to Elizabeth II. The diadem is among the personal jewels of the Queen as opposed the The Crown Jewels which belong to the United Kingdom. The Queen has to resort to her personal collection when she travels, as the Crown Jewels cannot leave the country.</div><br />
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</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibzluIFB54GexaRsCkj4XPv4qmrmn2sjfUgOBwUmJDtz6q_NRoBiYHkOY5OWFVZCHVvizpaMVhVMo_PsC09cmUdy9oV72PNw_7CHTb6cuZjkDfG9EV-ZIsuxzMW-g9kvkemzFysNu6EXnP/s1600/pffpennyvitiara.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibzluIFB54GexaRsCkj4XPv4qmrmn2sjfUgOBwUmJDtz6q_NRoBiYHkOY5OWFVZCHVvizpaMVhVMo_PsC09cmUdy9oV72PNw_7CHTb6cuZjkDfG9EV-ZIsuxzMW-g9kvkemzFysNu6EXnP/s320/pffpennyvitiara.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibzluIFB54GexaRsCkj4XPv4qmrmn2sjfUgOBwUmJDtz6q_NRoBiYHkOY5OWFVZCHVvizpaMVhVMo_PsC09cmUdy9oV72PNw_7CHTb6cuZjkDfG9EV-ZIsuxzMW-g9kvkemzFysNu6EXnP/s1600/pffpennyvitiara.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">Queen Victoria is wearing another of her diamond tiaras. the George III Tiara, in this "Gifts of the Magi" styled painting. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIvngYIGiUyZzH-L5SPMZxvpAgkuxMDQKtDtmj20LHhHGJhIkdbPHJqdzc9t1kBo27cE6s4j6lMOxtKrsdjrKF0Y2u2YgEV7ySacO4pSeGQOI0kaE-baw0f2XrDERkqKo9k7AXen8jSOoG/s1600/QueenVictoriaWedding_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIvngYIGiUyZzH-L5SPMZxvpAgkuxMDQKtDtmj20LHhHGJhIkdbPHJqdzc9t1kBo27cE6s4j6lMOxtKrsdjrKF0Y2u2YgEV7ySacO4pSeGQOI0kaE-baw0f2XrDERkqKo9k7AXen8jSOoG/s320/QueenVictoriaWedding_2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">It was Queen Victoria who initiated the bridal tradition of wearing white with her white satin and lace gown. In lieu of a tiara she wore orange blossoms in her hair. Prior to 1840, and certainly for many years after, women wore a dress in colors and materials that they could wear for other occasions. Wearing a white dress became - not a sign of purity as we were led to believe - but as a sign of wealth! It was the wealthy who followed Victoria's lead at first. Orange blossoms, according to my 1830 etiquette book was reserved for the bride. Bridesmaids and ladies in waiting must not wear them. The custom of orange blossoms began in ancient China. They are a sign of purity and fruitfulness. The custom spread through Europe during the crusades and became popular in England during the early 1800's. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> Queen Elizabeth II wore the George III Tiara - also called the Diamond Fringe -on her wedding day as "something borrowed" from her mother. It was incorrectly speculated that this tiara would be the "something borrowed" for today's bride. Instead, Kate Middleton is wearing the "halo" tiara which was made by Cartier and given to Queen Elizabeth on her 18th birthday.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Princess Diana's "something borrowed" were the diamond and pearl earrings lent by her mother. Her beautiful tiara -which she said gave her a cracking headache - is from the Spencer family jewels.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibzluIFB54GexaRsCkj4XPv4qmrmn2sjfUgOBwUmJDtz6q_NRoBiYHkOY5OWFVZCHVvizpaMVhVMo_PsC09cmUdy9oV72PNw_7CHTb6cuZjkDfG9EV-ZIsuxzMW-g9kvkemzFysNu6EXnP/s1600/pffpennyvitiara.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidYqaalTdZzaeLP_1CwUP08VUNrk4IeNicrlAtX3A7krKzlSMG3XthD1P-HcVS5QxsydQxZbN9UBy_Xy5bR9IjD76IuaJwBNZP5e-z-ivi9NP9B7fsr7kENkrQq2Dc-spA-fAk3OnVaDIs/s1600/PFFBlackQE2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidYqaalTdZzaeLP_1CwUP08VUNrk4IeNicrlAtX3A7krKzlSMG3XthD1P-HcVS5QxsydQxZbN9UBy_Xy5bR9IjD76IuaJwBNZP5e-z-ivi9NP9B7fsr7kENkrQq2Dc-spA-fAk3OnVaDIs/s1600/PFFBlackQE2.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Queen Elizabeth II is featured on this 1960 postage stamp. She is wearing, 120 years later, the same tiara worn by Queen Victory on the Penny Black.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibzluIFB54GexaRsCkj4XPv4qmrmn2sjfUgOBwUmJDtz6q_NRoBiYHkOY5OWFVZCHVvizpaMVhVMo_PsC09cmUdy9oV72PNw_7CHTb6cuZjkDfG9EV-ZIsuxzMW-g9kvkemzFysNu6EXnP/s1600/pffpennyvitiara.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
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</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQsDgXzqAqb9HsIrtZsl_y2wACV11GJm69gY689KxDFAiDqIrE6ExfecIpLvAbtrgqjgzl5JWSZR8-aakSEV80-J5B8aTiiXfwPHMkBNw5E3W8pB9UxhJCG6LyBKVsY30YnfMllTeIpUer/s1600/pffblackhalo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQsDgXzqAqb9HsIrtZsl_y2wACV11GJm69gY689KxDFAiDqIrE6ExfecIpLvAbtrgqjgzl5JWSZR8-aakSEV80-J5B8aTiiXfwPHMkBNw5E3W8pB9UxhJCG6LyBKVsY30YnfMllTeIpUer/s1600/pffblackhalo.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibzluIFB54GexaRsCkj4XPv4qmrmn2sjfUgOBwUmJDtz6q_NRoBiYHkOY5OWFVZCHVvizpaMVhVMo_PsC09cmUdy9oV72PNw_7CHTb6cuZjkDfG9EV-ZIsuxzMW-g9kvkemzFysNu6EXnP/s1600/pffpennyvitiara.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The new bride, the Duchess of Cambridge is shown wearing "something borrowed" halo tiara. Her lace and satin gown is very reminiscent of Grace Kelly's wedding gown.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC4wpTwX2VbUfszPoaLWvT8WP5sqB5nFrRLQ0eA2V-c6ir09enubgaz1CbDG9XzKAAX57ypvwc7ANHG6pHFvT6cIbF759aHL9_nhYzKJ1CoCwlV-MGyKlAX3Tobme4bb-x_gnZqtdq199U/s1600/pffblackqueen-Victorias-shoes1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC4wpTwX2VbUfszPoaLWvT8WP5sqB5nFrRLQ0eA2V-c6ir09enubgaz1CbDG9XzKAAX57ypvwc7ANHG6pHFvT6cIbF759aHL9_nhYzKJ1CoCwlV-MGyKlAX3Tobme4bb-x_gnZqtdq199U/s320/pffblackqueen-Victorias-shoes1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Queen Victoria's Handmade Wedding Shoes</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Kate's wedding shoes have been hand-made by the team at Alexander McQueen and are made of ivory duchesse satin with lace hand-embroidered by the Royal School of Needlework. Do you suppose a sixpence has been sewn into the lining for good luck?<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">Now that you have your shoes on, dance over <a href="http://thebestheartsarecrunchy.blogspot.com/">HERE</a> for more Postcard Friendship Friday, and <a href="http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/">HERE</a> for Sepia Saturday</div>MuseSwingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999288873532715380noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389669289904198220.post-9604555020724270712011-04-23T11:48:00.002-04:002011-04-23T22:19:01.466-04:00Sepia Saturday - A Bite of Altruism for Easter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAYQeEMtAbI2h8p_xgq4WvamfhxG4muCxnElECG39wYLx1WzDef6FA0T18UhG6zcZoBmsO3P1XbAK-XPUvjOboc8fWeaRnLRuKf4ZFWRuU4_GuHiU5knk6nnZST7F94mEBo7tPeYY-0w-w/s1600/Easter+1914.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCTIFW03dyQOGFZWrLA4ePMH_CsiG3QG8vAH4ueJVAvLHNgZaDJK0hvyuAF8pNNnHdPSez92rZXS3KLVGWCS03DWUFAcSmBl-CIhPueqLMU2ohcdhkXdjhP1ozSxeNtU_fnr4oBQX5e-Df/s1600/Easter+Altruism+1908.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCTIFW03dyQOGFZWrLA4ePMH_CsiG3QG8vAH4ueJVAvLHNgZaDJK0hvyuAF8pNNnHdPSez92rZXS3KLVGWCS03DWUFAcSmBl-CIhPueqLMU2ohcdhkXdjhP1ozSxeNtU_fnr4oBQX5e-Df/s320/Easter+Altruism+1908.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Headlines on April 19, 1908</div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: large;">Women's Altruism Shown By The Growing Custom Of Dining In Public On Easter Sunday</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">I spent quite a bit of time trying to understand what "altruism" had to do with dining out on Easter. I finally enlarged the picture so I could read the subtitle:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> <b>In Church or On The Avenue She Could Not Give So Much Delight To Others Who Might Wish To Examine Her New Spring Finery At Close Range And In Exhaustive Detail</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Well, that sure explains it</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"> The custom of Easter finery began in early Europe when ones finest clothing and special clothing for special occasions was considered a sign of respect.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxDuoAqCehkJnbdlQLdmFIACWEl-gToY7hQeaKShnrcectAE914KRgfb5UqEVEWdzbNgqh3knWzvnLO0lsDARvncLm6PQ1OYt7ydKPLXbfb3nXbLR0Sf_pIjMO30wz_Mzr2k4czJMkvJTr/s1600/Easter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxDuoAqCehkJnbdlQLdmFIACWEl-gToY7hQeaKShnrcectAE914KRgfb5UqEVEWdzbNgqh3knWzvnLO0lsDARvncLm6PQ1OYt7ydKPLXbfb3nXbLR0Sf_pIjMO30wz_Mzr2k4czJMkvJTr/s320/Easter.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
<b>Easter Parade, 5th Ave. New York, 1912</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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The New York Easter Parade began in the late 1800's as a spontaneous event that continues today.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAYQeEMtAbI2h8p_xgq4WvamfhxG4muCxnElECG39wYLx1WzDef6FA0T18UhG6zcZoBmsO3P1XbAK-XPUvjOboc8fWeaRnLRuKf4ZFWRuU4_GuHiU5knk6nnZST7F94mEBo7tPeYY-0w-w/s1600/Easter+1914.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihjvZ2SNEaeTxrYZynhbf-p_0OVguDVOu2thlgfS4ogLg_sYFb6RoQMdX7G5O8kzcme6y2NY_VfJouTp0StXiHwt3e3e-K3x_pLKdox47HK6gz-F_w97K3dSzmgmOkVT2jyJ02K5FVh5gQ/s1600/Easter+1952.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div style="text-align: center;">My guess is the cars - with attached chauffeurs - are riding, as instructed, next to their owners. Should Mr. or Mrs. Weatherscoop, III tire, turn an ankle, or suffer from the vapours, they might repair to the automobile for a respite from the exhausting crowds.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihjvZ2SNEaeTxrYZynhbf-p_0OVguDVOu2thlgfS4ogLg_sYFb6RoQMdX7G5O8kzcme6y2NY_VfJouTp0StXiHwt3e3e-K3x_pLKdox47HK6gz-F_w97K3dSzmgmOkVT2jyJ02K5FVh5gQ/s1600/Easter+1952.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihjvZ2SNEaeTxrYZynhbf-p_0OVguDVOu2thlgfS4ogLg_sYFb6RoQMdX7G5O8kzcme6y2NY_VfJouTp0StXiHwt3e3e-K3x_pLKdox47HK6gz-F_w97K3dSzmgmOkVT2jyJ02K5FVh5gQ/s1600/Easter+1952.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAYQeEMtAbI2h8p_xgq4WvamfhxG4muCxnElECG39wYLx1WzDef6FA0T18UhG6zcZoBmsO3P1XbAK-XPUvjOboc8fWeaRnLRuKf4ZFWRuU4_GuHiU5knk6nnZST7F94mEBo7tPeYY-0w-w/s1600/Easter+1914.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAYQeEMtAbI2h8p_xgq4WvamfhxG4muCxnElECG39wYLx1WzDef6FA0T18UhG6zcZoBmsO3P1XbAK-XPUvjOboc8fWeaRnLRuKf4ZFWRuU4_GuHiU5knk6nnZST7F94mEBo7tPeYY-0w-w/s320/Easter+1914.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihjvZ2SNEaeTxrYZynhbf-p_0OVguDVOu2thlgfS4ogLg_sYFb6RoQMdX7G5O8kzcme6y2NY_VfJouTp0StXiHwt3e3e-K3x_pLKdox47HK6gz-F_w97K3dSzmgmOkVT2jyJ02K5FVh5gQ/s1600/Easter+1952.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Couple in their Easter Finery, 1914</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihjvZ2SNEaeTxrYZynhbf-p_0OVguDVOu2thlgfS4ogLg_sYFb6RoQMdX7G5O8kzcme6y2NY_VfJouTp0StXiHwt3e3e-K3x_pLKdox47HK6gz-F_w97K3dSzmgmOkVT2jyJ02K5FVh5gQ/s1600/Easter+1952.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Henry, this hobnail skirt is going to be the death of me yet! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Eloise, the sound of that velvet swishing with each and every one of your mincing little steps is setting my teeth on edge.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Mince, Henry? You've made me feel a bit peckish. I think I shall be altruistic and dine out with you this afternoon.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihjvZ2SNEaeTxrYZynhbf-p_0OVguDVOu2thlgfS4ogLg_sYFb6RoQMdX7G5O8kzcme6y2NY_VfJouTp0StXiHwt3e3e-K3x_pLKdox47HK6gz-F_w97K3dSzmgmOkVT2jyJ02K5FVh5gQ/s1600/Easter+1952.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
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</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihjvZ2SNEaeTxrYZynhbf-p_0OVguDVOu2thlgfS4ogLg_sYFb6RoQMdX7G5O8kzcme6y2NY_VfJouTp0StXiHwt3e3e-K3x_pLKdox47HK6gz-F_w97K3dSzmgmOkVT2jyJ02K5FVh5gQ/s1600/Easter+1952.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihjvZ2SNEaeTxrYZynhbf-p_0OVguDVOu2thlgfS4ogLg_sYFb6RoQMdX7G5O8kzcme6y2NY_VfJouTp0StXiHwt3e3e-K3x_pLKdox47HK6gz-F_w97K3dSzmgmOkVT2jyJ02K5FVh5gQ/s320/Easter+1952.jpg" width="316" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Easter 1952, Royal Oak Michigan</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">l-r Back, Janet, Mom (Delphine), Cynthia age 6</div><div style="text-align: center;">Front: Jim, Joe</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">See the white sugar egg with a little Easter scene inside in my Easter basket (second from the left)? I asked for that specifically and was delighted to find it on Easter morning. Along with the usual jelly beans you'll see a delicious nest with jelly bean "eggs" from Saunder's (yum!) and a card with jacks to play with. I don't see the ball though. It's probably already under the couch. </div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">By the time this picture was taken we had already attended 8:00 Mass at St. Mary's and had waffles for breakfast.. I remember the basket and the dress (white with purple and aqua wheels on it) but I don't recall what we did for the rest of the day. Probably the sugar high has blurred the remainder of that Easter memory.</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">For more Sepia Saturday go HERE!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #a64d79; font-size: x-large;">Have a Blessed Easter!</span></div>MuseSwingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999288873532715380noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389669289904198220.post-79829049354360586822011-04-16T15:51:00.001-04:002011-04-16T15:54:57.915-04:00Sepia Saturday - Demimondes and Loose Women<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnLwu7LB_xVDDRZ9ci3GUAguOdB2zt8lDOqkiSS7jH9M8sXH9bOAdHROPSiL2SnvSP_y8YjOCpu83DDk0zfUhaKsQoQqqnC75NW03ZRNdJ1A6gX2io9T8bOsnJmIOAePAS48mwwFCwtvgK/s1600/actress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnLwu7LB_xVDDRZ9ci3GUAguOdB2zt8lDOqkiSS7jH9M8sXH9bOAdHROPSiL2SnvSP_y8YjOCpu83DDk0zfUhaKsQoQqqnC75NW03ZRNdJ1A6gX2io9T8bOsnJmIOAePAS48mwwFCwtvgK/s320/actress.jpg" width="232" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Irene Bordoni - French Singer, Broadway and Film Actress - 1885-1953</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">I recently acquired "The Ladies Book of Useful Information" compiled from "many sources" and published in 1896 in London Ontario. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">If one wishes to enhance one's charms and maintain a rosy complexion this is THE book to have. Every possible subject is covered - everything! Hair and complexion care, how one can make a medicine to cure dyspeptic water brash, rid one's mattress of bedbugs, make a fine coffee starch for dark shirt bosoms and the art of Decalomania. Oh, and sex. It's all there.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Chapter I jumped right in on the subject most important to women who wish to find themselves a man and also maintain their youthful looks when they surpass the age when beauty often begins to fade - twenty - one. Included are helpful hints and recipes for a graceful figure, melting eyes, brilliancy of the complexion, and luxuriance of the hair.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Make-up, or rather, <i>paints</i> is the first item of discussion. The authors may mince meat, but they don't mince words: These paints are "characterized as a species of corporeal hypocrisy as subversive of delicacy of mind as it is of the natural complexion...a destruction of beauty..." Women of all times and nations have fallen into this deceitful habit worldwide, including "the denziens of London and Paris...and certain ladies of the demimonde...The ladies of Eastern nations commonly heighten the hue and freshness of their lips by means of cosmetics, a practice which in Western Europe is only adopted on stage, and occasionally by courtesans and (it's them again) the ladies of the demimonde." </div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">Lucky for us, I have an old unabridged dictionary which explains that a demimonde (demi-half and monde - world) is of class of women who indiscriminately conduct themselves in such a way that their character is suspect. This might be, perhaps, a neighbor lady who is seen stepping aboard a streetcar without an escort. It could be a maiden of age who entertains a male who is unrelated, or related beyond first cousin, in her apartments. Perhaps you see your cousin Elvira dining with several other ladies in a place where there is dancing and boisterous music. Demimondes all!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">But I digress.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Hair, the luxuriant crowning jewel of the lady, is discussed in great detail. It is recommended that one should wash one's hair no more than once every two or three weeks. If some lady out there in bloggy-land would be kind enough to follow this instruction, along with before and after pictures we would all appreciate your doing so. Be sure and dress your hair daily using pomatum to which a few grains of carbonate of lead have been added.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The authors have apparently accepted the idea of hair colouring and have taken pains to suggest ingredients (do not try these at home) for safe and satisfactory hair colours of various shades:</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>shade: ingredient </b></div><div style="text-align: center;">auburn to black: iron and bismuth</div><div style="text-align: center;">fine natural chestnut to auburn to black: salts of silver</div><div style="text-align: center;">reddish brown to auburn and black: lead</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">lead dyes are suggested for both ladies and children to impart a light reddish brown tint to hair. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Mrs. George Beltrious Megaboof died this morning at age 32. The cause of death is unknown, but suspected to be an ailment of the nerves, weak blood flow to the limbs and dyspepsia. She will be remembered for her luxurious auburn hair.</i></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">A recipe for lovely golden hued hair:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">1. procure a packet of gold powder from your hairdresser</div><div style="text-align: center;">2. Have a perfume atomizer filled with a weak solution of gum of Arabic and water at the ready.</div><div style="text-align: center;">3. After hair is dressed, spritz all over with the gum and water solution.</div><div style="text-align: center;">4. sprinkle liberally with gold powder.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">This may be put on thick enough to hide the color of the hair and owing to the gum, will stay on while the lady is dancing. The effect by artificial light is beautiful.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Despite their earlier thoughts about face paints, the authors were kind enough to include a recipe for liquid rouge - a harmless natural looking bloom and perfect imitation of nature:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Add to a pint of French brandy, 1/2 oz benzoin, 1 oz. red sandalwood, half an oz. Brazil wood, and the same quantity of rock alum. Cork the bottle, shake it well once a day and at the end of twelve days it should be fit for use. The cheeks are to be lightly touched with it. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Mrs. Aloyisous Billentort was last seen boarding a streetcar without an escort. She appeared to be carrying a pint of French brandy, a little bundle of sticks and a druggist's brown paper packages tied up with string. </i></b></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Stay tuned - this sepia text is filled with information to share. Perhaps we will discuss the lady's lips and complexion care in our next installment. Or a delicious restorant made with mercury. Or sex. One or the other.<br />
<br />
In the meantime, check out our Sepia Saturday posts <a href="http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/">HERE</a>! </div>MuseSwingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999288873532715380noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389669289904198220.post-22961314349912182172011-04-05T22:49:00.001-04:002011-04-05T23:12:21.082-04:00Poetry Bus - Has an Egret Perched on the Seat<div><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">Titus is driving the Poetry Bus this week - well, more of an ark, really which is appropriate based on all of the rain that has visited Florida during the last 4 days. Probably about 12 inches total. I'm not complaining! I love a good thunderstorm. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;"> Titus' prompt is an inventive list of feathered and furry beasts that deserve nothing less than a poem about themselves. I chose a feathered friend that isn't even on the list - but Titus allows for those of us who feel the need to change seat assignments.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIaf6tvJtc1A-cXZbPf4T8VGYaYOFARsu-Nvz-ZCzQyKD-3UlvHagNWltfB2msNJLRirgccsWHT4m-A_Vy7jqJEVwhyvqUGRqHHwMLklU2aqDOEHK1Q3nt4pWuZ-94ZJ9N-y30-WIthzY4/s1600/egret.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIaf6tvJtc1A-cXZbPf4T8VGYaYOFARsu-Nvz-ZCzQyKD-3UlvHagNWltfB2msNJLRirgccsWHT4m-A_Vy7jqJEVwhyvqUGRqHHwMLklU2aqDOEHK1Q3nt4pWuZ-94ZJ9N-y30-WIthzY4/s1600/egret.jpg" /></a><br />
<div></div><div></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">The Egret<br />
<br />
Stands<br />
Poised at water’s edge<br />
Watching<br />
With steady gaze<br />
For silver glint of fish to blaze<br />
And briefly cut the surface<br />
Of the pond<br />
<br />
Unblinking<br />
Barely breathing<br />
He waits<br />
With instinctive stillness<br />
<br />
Time passes around him<br />
But not for him<br />
<br />
As he observes<br />
The mirrored surface<br />
And sees beyond his beauty<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Cynthia Ann Conciatu, 1994</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIaf6tvJtc1A-cXZbPf4T8VGYaYOFARsu-Nvz-ZCzQyKD-3UlvHagNWltfB2msNJLRirgccsWHT4m-A_Vy7jqJEVwhyvqUGRqHHwMLklU2aqDOEHK1Q3nt4pWuZ-94ZJ9N-y30-WIthzY4/s1600/egret.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div><br />
<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 85%;">Marjorie Shuck Award, 1996<br />
Florida State Poets Association</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 85%;">Hop on the Bus<a href="http://titusthedog.blogspot.com/2011/03/tfes-poetry-bus-its-ark-this-week.html?showComment=1302058436844#c4132354332249873763"> HERE!</a> </span></div>MuseSwingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999288873532715380noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389669289904198220.post-5189556261544027092011-03-27T00:01:00.011-04:002011-03-28T10:57:11.738-04:00Monday Poetry Bus Ride is on Muse Swings<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkmN2mbn_UthFhJGG-dRdTDFHbe6v301HGygElXFNyVJX6BE4B-hH3QyNwD40OXJcg-PD4d0ZDWHp2zxbUwljgAIP7lZr0wFFBaa5o0fnm77ri9pjM5Hx0uwGSOCZRpnuYR4-sa3F80aSA/s1600/oDE+bUS.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 295px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkmN2mbn_UthFhJGG-dRdTDFHbe6v301HGygElXFNyVJX6BE4B-hH3QyNwD40OXJcg-PD4d0ZDWHp2zxbUwljgAIP7lZr0wFFBaa5o0fnm77ri9pjM5Hx0uwGSOCZRpnuYR4-sa3F80aSA/s400/oDE+bUS.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587119274295598306" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Our Poetry Bus Captain of the Fleet, TFE, has given ole Muse Swings the reins...er I mean wheel... for Monday March 28th. He just doesn't learn, does he.<br /><br />I've thought of three - yes THREE (!) ways you may secure your bus ticket this week. Are you ready? Choose one for the road.<br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKNtQ-mOHurL96NzeHw4Vks-_CtXfCDlms8igQrZW_wJxJ6gOvvuHJAKrQ3XTchbPrh70icQoEJQBjGMR7IV1Yy1PFYI-TcU-71sHqjFs8voi98PZofViQnO-AYdn1Nj6_6JSORCY2a-mz/s1600/Bus+Driver.jpg"><br /></a>1) Write a poem with illustration. Write and draw to your heart's content, and bring it along. Here's what I have in mind:<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6I_3E_jWJ8Y88UPbb8vWATeS-HIyW_KSC9My-OrlCUMGbtbRARW5Yp3zZZwr-r2ubu7ALa_b6lkFTN_l9rn91J5MoWlws7umTXDstqOgJki7Ulj9s5XyE-6hfXh9Agxr9KYh7nrMHaPty/s1600/Brand+New+Clothes+Poem.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 328px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6I_3E_jWJ8Y88UPbb8vWATeS-HIyW_KSC9My-OrlCUMGbtbRARW5Yp3zZZwr-r2ubu7ALa_b6lkFTN_l9rn91J5MoWlws7umTXDstqOgJki7Ulj9s5XyE-6hfXh9Agxr9KYh7nrMHaPty/s400/Brand+New+Clothes+Poem.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587118836194394450" border="0" /></a><br />(click to enlarge..or not)<br /><br /></div><br />2) Write a descriptive poem about an object/person/animal. Do not use the name of the object/person/animal in the title of the poem or in the poem. Let us guess based on your masterful visual description.<br /><br /><br /><br />3) Write a poem about this picture. I think there may be lots of potential here.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLp3tGSo9A9ptjzDNwL8bSYD5JORne2nrTVQt7jZQjBd2i__0u_rD8OsqMEv6o7vPjj5EPnlhGNrrX00EDC4eZeOQKur0W7yieZw2KSZ0A25GrE_YDtA7n7n4ZDlF1nZAJLXIfXWnBOZfH/s1600/ariesdancer.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 187px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLp3tGSo9A9ptjzDNwL8bSYD5JORne2nrTVQt7jZQjBd2i__0u_rD8OsqMEv6o7vPjj5EPnlhGNrrX00EDC4eZeOQKur0W7yieZw2KSZ0A25GrE_YDtA7n7n4ZDlF1nZAJLXIfXWnBOZfH/s400/ariesdancer.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587118831714020386" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">So there you have it.<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKNtQ-mOHurL96NzeHw4Vks-_CtXfCDlms8igQrZW_wJxJ6gOvvuHJAKrQ3XTchbPrh70icQoEJQBjGMR7IV1Yy1PFYI-TcU-71sHqjFs8voi98PZofViQnO-AYdn1Nj6_6JSORCY2a-mz/s1600/Bus+Driver.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 315px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKNtQ-mOHurL96NzeHw4Vks-_CtXfCDlms8igQrZW_wJxJ6gOvvuHJAKrQ3XTchbPrh70icQoEJQBjGMR7IV1Yy1PFYI-TcU-71sHqjFs8voi98PZofViQnO-AYdn1Nj6_6JSORCY2a-mz/s400/Bus+Driver.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587118837020473986" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Straighten up that line, and let's all get on board with this! </span><br /><br />All you have to do is come up with a poem, then leave a comment with your link information.<br /><br /><br />Our Riders of the Day:<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://lolamousedroppings.blogspot.com/2011/03/folly-of-love.html">Lola Mouse</a><br /><br /><a href="http://revolutionaryrevelry.blogspot.com/2011/03/poetry-bus-ode-to.html">Jeanne</a><br /><br /><a href="http://danabugseyeview.blogspot.com/2011/03/poetry-bus-hanging-by-vowel">The Bug</a><br /><br /><a href="http://woonietest.blogspot.com/2011/03/poetry-bus-combo.html">Helen</a><br /><br /><a href="http://120socks.blogspot.com/2011/03/poetry-bus-poem-elsa.html">120 Socks</a><br /><br /><a href="http://izzy-conversing.blogspot.com/2011/03/poetry-bus32611-what-it-is-not.html">Izzy</a><br /><br /><a href="http://pens-poems.blogspot.com/2011/03/blowing-bubbles.html">Jinksy</a><br /><br /><a href="http://stammeringpoet.blogspot.com/2011/03/stepping-aboard-muse-swings-poetry-bus.html">Peter Goulding</a><a href="http://stammeringpoet.blogspot.com/2011/03/stepping-aboard-muse-swings-poetry-bus.html"><br /></a><br /><a href="http://chrisalba-enchantedoak.blogspot.com/2011/03/fantasy_27.html">Enchanted Oak</a><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">I've added a linky for you - pre-linky links are listed above. Enjoy your ride!<br /></div><br /><script type="text/javascript" src="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/autolink.php?owner=cconciatu&postid=28Mar2011"></script>MuseSwingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999288873532715380noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389669289904198220.post-64267797574231490392011-03-25T15:02:00.009-04:002011-03-26T00:24:36.522-04:00Postcard Friendship Friday and Sepia Saturday 48th Reunion<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnw0gqt6BPN7LfnD6y1NyAEktkycK7VzqC_EYQW7PWDqk2PtVCq3gTGQDUAy0UxqoIpB5zHfrs9WAxMg6VrnHahU3hZcgMV__VMj_Pxf2mIuaRMAjCkBbYqD3LaQ1GIs6u_7Kh0KSZrVq2/s1600/004.JPG"><br /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj_IFiWn93TJlPQJYfYvnqXPJTkaToC5wEzV_3cEOXyNzfH2yv_Hks0ogsrh06_2M3coQfUAkswGPvWrCa7OV-2TSkbe6DtXDKaSmC3KFB8DsTP8CkNqw2mqkaUgrs4RXTobAF8Dx2Fm0p/s1600/pff+st+james+comos.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 276px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj_IFiWn93TJlPQJYfYvnqXPJTkaToC5wEzV_3cEOXyNzfH2yv_Hks0ogsrh06_2M3coQfUAkswGPvWrCa7OV-2TSkbe6DtXDKaSmC3KFB8DsTP8CkNqw2mqkaUgrs4RXTobAF8Dx2Fm0p/s400/pff+st+james+comos.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588095925192282482" border="0" /></a><br />9 Mile and Woodward, Ferndale Michigan 1960's<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">This is where it all started. Ferndale. Land of the "cruisin' Woodward" class of 1963<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_cJ6XtQuFUul3n0V8Dz0fXpVhs6SeMjZKWNIWh0NDxaNrw8dK_Zrz3gJ9_43rL2StUO7DIjKzNyrYKa_hb8A6ll-V5wWmNnvO3lv2BDk57h-QXzxjcq0UEaERZSXuTh5iXQI-27_brtPx/s1600/pff+St+James2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_cJ6XtQuFUul3n0V8Dz0fXpVhs6SeMjZKWNIWh0NDxaNrw8dK_Zrz3gJ9_43rL2StUO7DIjKzNyrYKa_hb8A6ll-V5wWmNnvO3lv2BDk57h-QXzxjcq0UEaERZSXuTh5iXQI-27_brtPx/s400/pff+St+James2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588095932955856546" border="0" /></a><br />This is where our high school years ended. St. James High School. Okay, this is the church. Can't see the high school from here. It's off camera. To the left.<br /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ftDOgPAp1G8zMDr412upE0og_viCOPPWCutaULEDgkW9DvbLPz3mbUqntTEK1uuIQLP0g3ieusWc65U_i1sJevs6sf3v34ya9sF57ujp1SaJ42q33xt-1ymaFH30Au8r030OEclb77Xq/s1600/Cindi_1962+grad.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 228px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ftDOgPAp1G8zMDr412upE0og_viCOPPWCutaULEDgkW9DvbLPz3mbUqntTEK1uuIQLP0g3ieusWc65U_i1sJevs6sf3v34ya9sF57ujp1SaJ42q33xt-1ymaFH30Au8r030OEclb77Xq/s400/Cindi_1962+grad.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588096235313208898" border="0" /></a><br />The Muse, Class of '63<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZotccLFJXK9NUdoLOTMAq0dxnpKNc8Ibplxk68grPyICAOpgvR7hYMByt12ZxTQZy-7MuiEztPVkZgE0qTRf-LS29MFBYeI7zDfkvCMMRFlVn5A2sqD0RzhfIcyZ9AMvNO0S899UW77Ps/s1600/005.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZotccLFJXK9NUdoLOTMAq0dxnpKNc8Ibplxk68grPyICAOpgvR7hYMByt12ZxTQZy-7MuiEztPVkZgE0qTRf-LS29MFBYeI7zDfkvCMMRFlVn5A2sqD0RzhfIcyZ9AMvNO0S899UW77Ps/s400/005.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588096239853536978" border="0" /></a><br />Forty-eight years later the Florida contingent of displaced grads plus one Alabama grad ended up here at the Dakotah Winery in Chiefland, Florida to share fond, fonder and fondest memories over a glass of sherry, port, burgundy, ...etc. This, after a delicious lunch at the festive Fanning Springs Lighthouse Restaurant<br />l-r: Rita (Bennett), John (McManamon, Carol (Hinman), Dave (Carol's spouse/designated driver),Cynthia (Grocholski), Pat (Yavello), Kathy (Cherwinski)<br /><br />Sound of Music Sing along: " we are 60's going on 70's..."<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnw0gqt6BPN7LfnD6y1NyAEktkycK7VzqC_EYQW7PWDqk2PtVCq3gTGQDUAy0UxqoIpB5zHfrs9WAxMg6VrnHahU3hZcgMV__VMj_Pxf2mIuaRMAjCkBbYqD3LaQ1GIs6u_7Kh0KSZrVq2/s1600/004.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnw0gqt6BPN7LfnD6y1NyAEktkycK7VzqC_EYQW7PWDqk2PtVCq3gTGQDUAy0UxqoIpB5zHfrs9WAxMg6VrnHahU3hZcgMV__VMj_Pxf2mIuaRMAjCkBbYqD3LaQ1GIs6u_7Kh0KSZrVq2/s400/004.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588097147289883250" border="0" /></a><br />Look, ya'll got here by driving north, right? - you'll only get back home if you drive south. That's it. Logic at it's best. End of story.<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgflgxnUuo1wLMx-M14A5rdLoUfADilzPJpIL_iZUKDpEA0qMdxA07juXT7uPsASvDe0E5MGwpNMnUkn7nzv-ilAfcOufb43b4Zs4V2weHZeXo9l_uE6GJ1ifpCk4eGvdqMGZ2gPvCjnIWa/s1600/003.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgflgxnUuo1wLMx-M14A5rdLoUfADilzPJpIL_iZUKDpEA0qMdxA07juXT7uPsASvDe0E5MGwpNMnUkn7nzv-ilAfcOufb43b4Zs4V2weHZeXo9l_uE6GJ1ifpCk4eGvdqMGZ2gPvCjnIWa/s400/003.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588097139964487666" border="0" /></a><br />What? Me? Oh! I'm just tryin' to stay out of this "lovebird" picture. Get a room, you two.<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdnSFwKINr9nmsqMhSD3oesabohcu4mXuUC4ZNIUp8LyGWiAVNp28zVgukDqOPklBiQ1I5210qC4ZHHNfy3PIB0U0aJUR2uMHqlmpSwAYyd_ZTveIpBudTZ04aOYSbOiIe_PITDTcxvv_B/s1600/009.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdnSFwKINr9nmsqMhSD3oesabohcu4mXuUC4ZNIUp8LyGWiAVNp28zVgukDqOPklBiQ1I5210qC4ZHHNfy3PIB0U0aJUR2uMHqlmpSwAYyd_ZTveIpBudTZ04aOYSbOiIe_PITDTcxvv_B/s400/009.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588097137939315826" border="0" /></a> I'll try the last 7 again please. And gimme some more of those little crackers.<br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEEtSzBMxFqOQgKHw2jScbcM2cRH6U3eJwDfktP9sgWVn4sHqUD3dMTB7QhgaTnJ52IDR2mBihDkqfMUZQexSuyjUjhEaRDyGfR-lMSt2Ex71uPzo_xqQachsOcZ4I_bKfLA7ycxnoqzWS/s1600/002.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEEtSzBMxFqOQgKHw2jScbcM2cRH6U3eJwDfktP9sgWVn4sHqUD3dMTB7QhgaTnJ52IDR2mBihDkqfMUZQexSuyjUjhEaRDyGfR-lMSt2Ex71uPzo_xqQachsOcZ4I_bKfLA7ycxnoqzWS/s400/002.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588096744067603010" border="0" /></a>John, if you order the Osso Bucco you will get nothing on your plate. Zero. Nada. It ain't happening. This is NOT an Italian restaurant. Get the all-you-can-eat mullet, swamp cabbage, grits and hushpuppy special like everyone else. Where's your redneck? And quit asking for "pop"<br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCSDpJSCka6-7V5yiAXe-w9iGquOMAtn8EE1yVKnUClCrQcmyzKwZRWV93J8apZKpVayqf8XLfI4lXuLViXnZhJjHn2OI94dAMHdNXkSvCRMBdMVStrEpXvMcMJcnFhk16cuxaV98loPIY/s1600/010.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCSDpJSCka6-7V5yiAXe-w9iGquOMAtn8EE1yVKnUClCrQcmyzKwZRWV93J8apZKpVayqf8XLfI4lXuLViXnZhJjHn2OI94dAMHdNXkSvCRMBdMVStrEpXvMcMJcnFhk16cuxaV98loPIY/s400/010.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588096739836540738" border="0" /></a><br />The more wine we taste the better we look and the younger we feel!<br /><br /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNe5zKj0YhlK-zbjoNQT7cTS7DVFSbLr2peuJkqtrXReJpQmkvCyDKvM5BScKQxjaFv66IwRjbnGCjD4LuBJFUKsK4bujrO-Gh2bcoOMJOW1bwub1x-Ck6JFKU1KPAoGmAWL1CDaerGRxE/s1600/011.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNe5zKj0YhlK-zbjoNQT7cTS7DVFSbLr2peuJkqtrXReJpQmkvCyDKvM5BScKQxjaFv66IwRjbnGCjD4LuBJFUKsK4bujrO-Gh2bcoOMJOW1bwub1x-Ck6JFKU1KPAoGmAWL1CDaerGRxE/s400/011.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588096733122849506" border="0" /></a>48 years later we are all standing Even if we do have to hang on to the bar<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN1vqfHWMcaZ2YOoT6Qhhb2hyCqW_fDr6uqzfY8MzrHC0qCuGPtLd4O-6cBxlUWkvuoLBHo4Tk5R4aFj93TTY8C1KOMirF-gd410NHxb8euMYWzu67lrEeXsOnp-RNXNX7hMpmF48HMq1D/s1600/011.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN1vqfHWMcaZ2YOoT6Qhhb2hyCqW_fDr6uqzfY8MzrHC0qCuGPtLd4O-6cBxlUWkvuoLBHo4Tk5R4aFj93TTY8C1KOMirF-gd410NHxb8euMYWzu67lrEeXsOnp-RNXNX7hMpmF48HMq1D/s400/011.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588096729135498962" border="0" /></a><br />Seeing double<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKZFfHdC_Hu-CBe2D-xDCFwLo0Fc5H6wKKoqLfg3vU4P-49KWRvsZcLlsVNqtsJlNJKBM_xQKUeBH7iQjvr_2-eEIFZi2aDLm82anF7zHu5piNmBrKx_8mwdkeurH-Rz8Heh3yUzT-H_JS/s1600/013.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKZFfHdC_Hu-CBe2D-xDCFwLo0Fc5H6wKKoqLfg3vU4P-49KWRvsZcLlsVNqtsJlNJKBM_xQKUeBH7iQjvr_2-eEIFZi2aDLm82anF7zHu5piNmBrKx_8mwdkeurH-Rz8Heh3yUzT-H_JS/s400/013.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588096727368663618" border="0" /></a>Chardonnay - check! Port - check! Noble Red - check! Cream sherry - check! Oh heck. just box up the lot of them and don't forget my senior discount.<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj_IFiWn93TJlPQJYfYvnqXPJTkaToC5wEzV_3cEOXyNzfH2yv_Hks0ogsrh06_2M3coQfUAkswGPvWrCa7OV-2TSkbe6DtXDKaSmC3KFB8DsTP8CkNqw2mqkaUgrs4RXTobAF8Dx2Fm0p/s1600/pff+st+james+comos.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 276px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj_IFiWn93TJlPQJYfYvnqXPJTkaToC5wEzV_3cEOXyNzfH2yv_Hks0ogsrh06_2M3coQfUAkswGPvWrCa7OV-2TSkbe6DtXDKaSmC3KFB8DsTP8CkNqw2mqkaUgrs4RXTobAF8Dx2Fm0p/s400/pff+st+james+comos.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588095925192282482" border="0" /></a><br />By 3:30 we were getting dangerously close to missing the early-bird dinner at our respective local Denny's, so off we went. (SOUTH!) into the sunset. We promise to meet up again soon. We're just not sure if we'll meet at Lee-Roy's Bull Ridin' Lessons or Slim Spatchula's Sky Diving for Seniors. It's going to be one or the other.<br /><br />Stop by Beth's <a href="http://thebestheartsarecrunchy.blogspot.com/">The Best Hearts are Crunchy</a> for more Postcard Friendship Friday fun!<br /><br />And you will find more Sepia Saturday <a href="http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/">HERE</a>. Hosted by Alan and Kat.<br /></div>MuseSwingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999288873532715380noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389669289904198220.post-33053510353610046562011-03-22T12:13:00.005-04:002011-03-22T12:45:29.583-04:00Poetry Bus Seeks New Experience From Old Riders<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj492QxZ_ozPPXYYFuTvOSM23WYjCX3jPmjU3se6pcGpy2F_S3b6hE_PgIIFiSfgm0S0TnrY29gCS3zPWeueLnROOaF_A9lqxU5-9vN3QAfn1VtHAJq-FFUHK2pBdKJesl2LqLf3i6caghf/s1600/bayside+bridge.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj492QxZ_ozPPXYYFuTvOSM23WYjCX3jPmjU3se6pcGpy2F_S3b6hE_PgIIFiSfgm0S0TnrY29gCS3zPWeueLnROOaF_A9lqxU5-9vN3QAfn1VtHAJq-FFUHK2pBdKJesl2LqLf3i6caghf/s400/bayside+bridge.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586940520205415378" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIFk9nc8oqD8lOUpDqLKfLPlZcobnBOokfPz0lZV-JIIuoD_LJ0mndz_g9SMMlt3jHbBInaXLBsrJsbrZ3WHDV3FYAgP4lM2N2FAEpuEACifK2AB9hXABmpcSC9R-xbEDGLHYjydtFwX0u/s1600/bayside+fog.jpg"><br /></a><br />Uiscebots is driving the bus - I've brought my own seat belt and some lunch because he has asked of us the following:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Last Friday, as part of my remit as Poetry Bus Driver in residence, I suggested visiting somewhere new and writing about it.<br /><br />It's all <a href="http://theblogsthejob.blogspot.com/2011/03/we-went-everywhere-together.html">HERE</a><br /><br /></span><span>Problem is, I've been </span><span>having great success in practicing my favorite pastime: being a hermit. So, I haven't been out, seen anything new, done anything outdoors beyond bagging leaves and tree leavings. During a past ride on the poetry bus I saw something old with </span><span>with new eyes, however, and being an hermetocric upstart who can't (or won't) follow the simplest directions, I</span><span> submit this:</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /><br /></span> </div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIFk9nc8oqD8lOUpDqLKfLPlZcobnBOokfPz0lZV-JIIuoD_LJ0mndz_g9SMMlt3jHbBInaXLBsrJsbrZ3WHDV3FYAgP4lM2N2FAEpuEACifK2AB9hXABmpcSC9R-xbEDGLHYjydtFwX0u/s1600/bayside+fog.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 100px; height: 67px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIFk9nc8oqD8lOUpDqLKfLPlZcobnBOokfPz0lZV-JIIuoD_LJ0mndz_g9SMMlt3jHbBInaXLBsrJsbrZ3WHDV3FYAgP4lM2N2FAEpuEACifK2AB9hXABmpcSC9R-xbEDGLHYjydtFwX0u/s400/bayside+fog.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586940515201960546" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span 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font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9pt;" > <span style="font-size:100%;">Today I crossed the bridge at dawn</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 1.5in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Amidst a daydream fog that stratified the horizon</span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 1.5in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Into a declined adjective</span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 1.5in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Grey </span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 1.5in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Greyer</span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 1.5in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Greyest</span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 1.5in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >And pressed flat a flock of gulls</span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 1.5in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Who, I think, would rather fly than decorate the bay</span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 1.5in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Like French knots on a silver satin sheet</span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 1.5in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 1.5in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >The morning mist smeared the sun</span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 1.5in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Into a shimmery mass</span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 1.5in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Painting out the trappings of civilization</span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 1.5in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Just for a while</span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 1.5in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Softening the periphery</span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 1.5in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Until the sun gathered in its edges</span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 1.5in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Burned the haze away</span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 1.5in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >And laid out a day blue sky </span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 1.5in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >And reality</span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 1.5in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Yellow lines</span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 1.5in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Do not pass</span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 1.5in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Exit right</span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 1.5in;"><br /><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9pt;" ></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 1.5in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9pt;" ><span style="font-size:85%;">Cynthia Ann Conciatu</span><br /></span></p>MuseSwingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999288873532715380noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389669289904198220.post-40935846997451461232011-03-19T14:32:00.005-04:002011-03-19T15:30:27.771-04:00Sepia Saturday - Ezra - We Hardly Know Ye!<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHRfpdnXZkyFHJwJ4M90hKK2S_tHhxIQYOKE-_IG_7ldqmEUkUmnFTw67O8fkFCnJi94PEeTfxZEOMQ1xw-qmiRKByGY3XcqOVWV_vUoXng09q6pnc2TQ_q-G9vmeaGqxzxSp0QUnnGGOh/s1600/pffopengunA.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 241px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHRfpdnXZkyFHJwJ4M90hKK2S_tHhxIQYOKE-_IG_7ldqmEUkUmnFTw67O8fkFCnJi94PEeTfxZEOMQ1xw-qmiRKByGY3XcqOVWV_vUoXng09q6pnc2TQ_q-G9vmeaGqxzxSp0QUnnGGOh/s400/pffopengunA.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585861172679251298" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;">Ezra Meeker 1830-1928<br /></div></div><br />I used this photo postcard for yesterday's Postcard Friendship Friday. The subject of my post had nothing to do with the picture, but curiosity about this colorful portrait sitter got the best of me. Luckily his name, Ezra Meeker, appears on the postcard and it also turned up immediately on my search for information. Turns out Ezra was a modern day Johnnie Appleseed! In his later years he traveled along the already well established Oregon Trail sowing patriotism, remembrances of the early days on the trail and he also sought to memorialize the Oregon Trail - one of our great highways to the west.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGqdv4yKR4VhQ-3GlDTfLW1P48S3unon9Lue-2GXeA8mm-vnHDWR7F1Rn1PzoiGDEqmRX5dTIBuWDG9qSzkXs1s6qrAIPr_UPyUVkufyQW4xJ_NIblNf9SwGjJPqwyms_-7PaDoCGWJGrf/s1600/pffezra.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 220px; height: 275px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGqdv4yKR4VhQ-3GlDTfLW1P48S3unon9Lue-2GXeA8mm-vnHDWR7F1Rn1PzoiGDEqmRX5dTIBuWDG9qSzkXs1s6qrAIPr_UPyUVkufyQW4xJ_NIblNf9SwGjJPqwyms_-7PaDoCGWJGrf/s400/pffezra.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585861172304586866" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ezra Meeker 1921</span><br /><br /><br />Ezra was born in Huntsville Ohio in 1830. At age 22 he married Eliza Jane Sumner, had a son, Marian, and took off on the Oregon Trail to take advantage of land offerings in Washington. The family settled near Puget Sound and then moved inland to land where he made a good living growing hops. He platted out a townsite and named it Puyallup after the local Puyallup Indian tribes. Eventually the town grew and became incorporated,. Ezra was elected the first mayor of Puyallup.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghD50TCVQjQ6BBrm6Dn5rk1j256Kmh1UC_d2Y1aDuqhiQyH1sd-V71XtyyFmo5YzAwqVUaZp0IBZtYT2yKiXuKVa_Tb-lJd17VX3IPUi0qp6Yz_vSmbr2V1975avySbPW2TS45QDRev_PO/s1600/pffezraM.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 220px; height: 175px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghD50TCVQjQ6BBrm6Dn5rk1j256Kmh1UC_d2Y1aDuqhiQyH1sd-V71XtyyFmo5YzAwqVUaZp0IBZtYT2yKiXuKVa_Tb-lJd17VX3IPUi0qp6Yz_vSmbr2V1975avySbPW2TS45QDRev_PO/s400/pffezraM.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585861170392801362" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ezra and his ox cart on the Oregon Trail</span><br /></div><br />He enjoyed a successful life and built a mansion for Eliza Jane (isn't that a lovely name!) which they enjoyed until hops aphids destroyed his crops.<br /><br />"He subsequently tried a number of ventures, including dehydrating fruits and vegetables, working on packaging milk in paper containers, and four largely unsuccessful trips to the Klondike looking for gold. He also wrote a novel about his experiences on the trip west."<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgLW5ROoq3r1vsQOPKTUHo1zzSL1v7EdHRnTo_yBoYrwmt7xLuFlJV-jxTBWQ45RBSwEMDqgt51isAJwfcHVJKUwtGV8WYNseFrw14iDFLjTKtvlKKJ5UAyRhY1i85JvsVgdQHhrGVHCWd/s1600/pffezraMO.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 220px; height: 319px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgLW5ROoq3r1vsQOPKTUHo1zzSL1v7EdHRnTo_yBoYrwmt7xLuFlJV-jxTBWQ45RBSwEMDqgt51isAJwfcHVJKUwtGV8WYNseFrw14iDFLjTKtvlKKJ5UAyRhY1i85JvsVgdQHhrGVHCWd/s400/pffezraMO.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585861165007391202" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">One of Ezra Meeker's hand made Trail markers</span><br /></div><br /><br /><br />During Ezra's traveling years, which he began at age 76, he traveled the Oregon Trail, and made his way by oxcart all the way to Washington DC. In 1916 he drove the Trail in his 80 horsepower (60 kW) automobile with a prairie-schooner top. In 1924, at the age of 94, Meeker flew from Vancouver Washington to Dayton Ohio in an open cockpit Army plane. He met with Presidents, Coolidge and Theodore Roosevelt and eventually received the funds needed to memorialize the Oregon Trail when in 1926 the U.S. Mint issued 50 cent pieces memorializing the Trail and depicting Ezra's oz drawn wagon. The coins were issued to the Oregon Trail Memorial Association, which sold the coins to raise funds for trail markers.<br /><br />The city of Puyallup still thrives with about 37,000 residents. It lies in a fertile valley in the shadow of Mt. Rainier. The town is known for their daffodils which they grow and sell worldwide!<br />A statue of Meeker was built in Puyallup 1926. His ox cart is housed in the Washington State History Museum in Tacoma Washington. His oxen are there too, stuffed and mounted! Ezra felt - and rightly so - that they should be properly memorialized.<br /><br />More information is available at Wikipedia which is the source I used for this post and pictures.<br /><br />More Sepia Saturday is available <a href="http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/">HERE!</a>MuseSwingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999288873532715380noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389669289904198220.post-15270302328989780012011-03-18T10:24:00.003-04:002011-03-18T12:36:17.999-04:00Postcard Friendship Friday - Come to Florida - The Shoot 'em up State<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtqvshsEN7obd1MMl8EkZVhLnCy-QlXuFXXgZiEJwXQiOLBlyyZ2nqYrZDtfGS4ARoPMcFMiIECtWRK7P9-UGiVR-MqollVTG-qYbo1aw7XmsLz3qEdDSUfhMesO8-aC_k3p-EKkCcJoO7/s1600/pffopengunA.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 241px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtqvshsEN7obd1MMl8EkZVhLnCy-QlXuFXXgZiEJwXQiOLBlyyZ2nqYrZDtfGS4ARoPMcFMiIECtWRK7P9-UGiVR-MqollVTG-qYbo1aw7XmsLz3qEdDSUfhMesO8-aC_k3p-EKkCcJoO7/s400/pffopengunA.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585426950492810626" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Forget the garden hose. If one of those little varmints rides their bike on MY sidewalk I'm ready.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">March 17, Tampa Bay Times:</span> Open Carry Bills passed in respective criminal justice committees this week. SB 234 and HB 517 <span style="font-style: italic;">would let people with concealed weapons permits openly carry holstered firearms in most locations.</span><br /><br /><br />The Senate bill is sponsored by Greg Evers, R-Baker. The House's version is sponsored by eight Republicans including House Speaker-in-waiting, Chris Dorworth. Dorworth is nudging it along through the House despite the fact that every Sheriff in Florida is against these bills. After all, we should have the right to bear bare arms.<br /><br />The bill sponsors agreed, after lengthy arguments, to remove the part of the bill that would allow open carry on college campus'. But Church is ok. And McDonald's. And Chucky Cheese. And Disney World. And the Gasparilla Parade - imagine if you will. Picture an imbibing party guest standing next to you. You notice he's packing just as you grab the beads he was reaching for. Oops.<br /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYk1CYyysqShQiNmADokcmzIX_xcZbyNkqyFYPobH6w5LwJjUtrkOLT3MyfihTRjWQA6ZZizu8oZRh9z1NZAdfHJCKV7_jLBZgihHFwbboy6i0gcc6EbM4QbZDb3dou4alpfrB0wwimptV/s1600/pffopengungreetings.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 243px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYk1CYyysqShQiNmADokcmzIX_xcZbyNkqyFYPobH6w5LwJjUtrkOLT3MyfihTRjWQA6ZZizu8oZRh9z1NZAdfHJCKV7_jLBZgihHFwbboy6i0gcc6EbM4QbZDb3dou4alpfrB0wwimptV/s400/pffopengungreetings.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585426400578429570" border="0" /></a><br />Greetings from the Gun Totin' State<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYk1CYyysqShQiNmADokcmzIX_xcZbyNkqyFYPobH6w5LwJjUtrkOLT3MyfihTRjWQA6ZZizu8oZRh9z1NZAdfHJCKV7_jLBZgihHFwbboy6i0gcc6EbM4QbZDb3dou4alpfrB0wwimptV/s1600/pffopengungreetings.jpg"><br /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUIv4aqxR8ldzq6aqJ_okBLxeV3T5KYlDwrOBzFol4UYXNVpyXje8K8GbYKXaLY-FIHPJTOI1ZBum1iWydEOsmpU-RAINokBJ3JXHauoCn3nGFxSmpIwzhN5gke3Q3Dj4oYnyjMyTKytRt/s1600/pffmarilyn2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 262px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUIv4aqxR8ldzq6aqJ_okBLxeV3T5KYlDwrOBzFol4UYXNVpyXje8K8GbYKXaLY-FIHPJTOI1ZBum1iWydEOsmpU-RAINokBJ3JXHauoCn3nGFxSmpIwzhN5gke3Q3Dj4oYnyjMyTKytRt/s400/pffmarilyn2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585426405811026546" border="0" /></a>Is my gun showing?<br /><br /><br />Supporters (which, of course, includes the NRA) say the bill is meant to protect permit holders whose guns are accidentally made visible - for example, a strong wind blows a shirt up and exposes a gun. Really? Comments on blogs include whining gun toter's who complain about the Florida heat. How can they be expected to remember their "cover sweater" when its 98 degrees out. Meanwhile, Florida Sheriffs, and I, say the "accidental exposure" argument is ludicrous.<br /><br /></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUR5b89gDZdyC2VgayxnLmE_0ynM0QmAhok0DBYHo1A0UahbF6zQULS7qRKv53ZjoXxjSJCPWYjHma1HayhHIZY9jy98hj_715clGxwmS6Jw_khTnt8ViIckY8JUnWIeOoox02DqHP9rwF/s1600/pffopenguninterview.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUR5b89gDZdyC2VgayxnLmE_0ynM0QmAhok0DBYHo1A0UahbF6zQULS7qRKv53ZjoXxjSJCPWYjHma1HayhHIZY9jy98hj_715clGxwmS6Jw_khTnt8ViIckY8JUnWIeOoox02DqHP9rwF/s400/pffopenguninterview.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585426949821485234" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Alright, class, one more time: 9 X 8 = what?<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Coming up on a crime scene how will the police be able to sort out between friend and foe. How can they concentrate on the bad guy. And do it quickly enough to avoid becoming another officer killed in the line of duty. <br /><br />Look around on Youtube. You'll find a clip of a distracted packing party guest. A young boy reaches into party guest's holster - or perhaps pocket, pulls out the guy's gun and shoots him. Takes only a second. <br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Picture this: you are in a 7/11 looking for Cheese Doodles. Guy walks in with gun. <br /><br />Picture this: you are in that same 7/11 buying Gummy Worms. Guy walks in with gun. Another guy walks in. He was just going to pay for gas for his stolen car but sees a better opportunity. Disarms guy with gun. Gun guy never took classes on how to protect himself from being disarmed. It's not required. And there you are, kissing your Gummy Worms goodbye.<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9UIRy61H6WAxpv0nhqa3HWDe4Bq-PupQG8EBkclvAJxtejXaLc7GDdQpMTpIB08DDyuyNvqWfRZ7KZNfXj4hzPYOliFbOyh_0xTrZNn9KDvCFiBrk2MPi0iaU6sV7-2Iu82rhba83eKel/s1600/pffopengunshootout.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 247px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9UIRy61H6WAxpv0nhqa3HWDe4Bq-PupQG8EBkclvAJxtejXaLc7GDdQpMTpIB08DDyuyNvqWfRZ7KZNfXj4hzPYOliFbOyh_0xTrZNn9KDvCFiBrk2MPi0iaU6sV7-2Iu82rhba83eKel/s400/pffopengunshootout.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585426942489745538" border="0" /></a><br />I think he took someones parking space.<br /><br /><br />The whole idea of "open carry" is just asking for trouble. It is ludicrous and unnecessary. We'll look like the wild west in the deep south. Think Bubba Redneck and his single-wide neighbors at Disney for the day. Packin'.<br /><br />So you wanna pack a weapon. Fine. Apparently it's your Constitutional right. At least that's how the Second Amendment is interpreted. And you think you have to keep it on you for 24/7 protection. Fine. But keep it where I don't have to see it. I don't know anything about you, so my instinct will be to scream GUN!, dive under the nearest table and dial 911. So keep your permit handy.<br /><br />Number of times in my 66 years that I've said "Golly, I sure could use a gun right about now" = zero <br />If I had a gun, chances of it even being in the same room with me if I needed it = zero (It would be in some other room next to my cell phone.)<br /><br />Chances of my avoiding places where I might be subjected to folks packing visible weapons = 100%<br /><br />Chance of a pistol packer <span style="font-style: italic;">finding</span> a reason to use his/her weapon: high. You read about it every day in the news.<br /><br />Chance of any scenario requiring the use of a weapon for protection being in favor of the "good" guy: 2%<br /><br /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizacv5WlfY5jEduHmfGBJakD2G1VHiUYSS5iPUSMfT0tkBUG1-WyusPBQkfXpzIj3olh5u-Dbkl5gRf2EQr79YcW7uHj-RVdyWYtL8VKsj6zI8B87eHSFcbD2AbQ0DOXkk2PLc6uZJVu2g/s1600/pffopengungun.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 258px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizacv5WlfY5jEduHmfGBJakD2G1VHiUYSS5iPUSMfT0tkBUG1-WyusPBQkfXpzIj3olh5u-Dbkl5gRf2EQr79YcW7uHj-RVdyWYtL8VKsj6zI8B87eHSFcbD2AbQ0DOXkk2PLc6uZJVu2g/s400/pffopengungun.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585426408916520322" border="0" /></a><br />Don't leave home without it<br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUIv4aqxR8ldzq6aqJ_okBLxeV3T5KYlDwrOBzFol4UYXNVpyXje8K8GbYKXaLY-FIHPJTOI1ZBum1iWydEOsmpU-RAINokBJ3JXHauoCn3nGFxSmpIwzhN5gke3Q3Dj4oYnyjMyTKytRt/s1600/pffmarilyn2.jpg"><br /></a>Today's PFF post is more of a rant - sorry- but Open Carry is just another eye-roller of an idea that someone and their best buds are trying to turn into legislation for some self serving purpose that will be unveiled only after the bill passes. <br /><br />Visit Beth at The Best Hearts Are Crunchy for some unarmed Postcard Friendship Friday.MuseSwingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999288873532715380noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389669289904198220.post-18469664561890072332011-03-11T17:15:00.013-05:002011-03-11T23:45:12.989-05:00Postcard Friendship Friday - Goth History<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2WpCOqPv1jxlAb95abBKpUpzKHlIdv6ih0UrkhU0LlltKT_J1BFK5q7Vuvbenlc1ncIw1x3iHhyQPWWkBbi9j79lkU5DjFAbuEuKpdxYQfpAQSztGcg-YA9Dm8FJJKL9CfJP-UL1KokPL/s1600/pffgothicchurch.jpg"><br /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF4msg8o9Lg9Nmph9lZtpBQPbhe_9aTCdH7rAh7YModAzHu0jfHzYu3KmWck3lxJIM4v0XsEQyGETEAe3ws_zUWW35lQzRfUL1GuOcDaD_6mldqY4VbSJP0EzO0bQaMYbLoIPHqGeIO6gh/s1600/pffgothicamerican1930.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 304px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF4msg8o9Lg9Nmph9lZtpBQPbhe_9aTCdH7rAh7YModAzHu0jfHzYu3KmWck3lxJIM4v0XsEQyGETEAe3ws_zUWW35lQzRfUL1GuOcDaD_6mldqY4VbSJP0EzO0bQaMYbLoIPHqGeIO6gh/s400/pffgothicamerican1930.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582950341112539138" border="0" /></a>American Gothic by Grant Wood, 1930<br /><br />Grant Wood painted this American icon using a home described as "carpenter Gothic" and the people he fancied would live in this house. His models are his daughter, and his dentist. The couple in the picture are meant to be a farmer and - not his wife - but his spinster daughter. The term, spinster was originally used to describe a woman who spins to make her own living and therefore does not require a man to provide for her.<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzccWF-ohNE6e5dNqgtxLKMSqFNmK-ydYhTyue_lqt8rJHaH8YFVD0YSGvB8UJ4rA3CIdKZpbxKxY4clZXLHgl71iYRBJnLgFfkrjaF0cHwL_zwzuKz_KI_cv05TuDZuxgFgmaSjvfUrhZ/s1600/pffgothb.jpg"><br /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2WpCOqPv1jxlAb95abBKpUpzKHlIdv6ih0UrkhU0LlltKT_J1BFK5q7Vuvbenlc1ncIw1x3iHhyQPWWkBbi9j79lkU5DjFAbuEuKpdxYQfpAQSztGcg-YA9Dm8FJJKL9CfJP-UL1KokPL/s1600/pffgothicchurch.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 169px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2WpCOqPv1jxlAb95abBKpUpzKHlIdv6ih0UrkhU0LlltKT_J1BFK5q7Vuvbenlc1ncIw1x3iHhyQPWWkBbi9j79lkU5DjFAbuEuKpdxYQfpAQSztGcg-YA9Dm8FJJKL9CfJP-UL1KokPL/s400/pffgothicchurch.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582950530915749810" border="0" /></a>This is the house shown in Wood's picture. He painted each character and the house separately. They never stood together, and neither stood in front of the house as he painted.<br /><br /></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzccWF-ohNE6e5dNqgtxLKMSqFNmK-ydYhTyue_lqt8rJHaH8YFVD0YSGvB8UJ4rA3CIdKZpbxKxY4clZXLHgl71iYRBJnLgFfkrjaF0cHwL_zwzuKz_KI_cv05TuDZuxgFgmaSjvfUrhZ/s1600/pffgothb.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 202px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzccWF-ohNE6e5dNqgtxLKMSqFNmK-ydYhTyue_lqt8rJHaH8YFVD0YSGvB8UJ4rA3CIdKZpbxKxY4clZXLHgl71iYRBJnLgFfkrjaF0cHwL_zwzuKz_KI_cv05TuDZuxgFgmaSjvfUrhZ/s320/pffgothb.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582949850420388258" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">The person who wrote on the postcard has unintelligible handwriting and other than a reference to Christmas, something wonderful and a church, I have no idea what he/she is saying. He must be a product of a public school Education . Or - okay - perhaps he was a Catholic school student who got smacked with a ruler so many times he lost the use of his fingers and therefore was never able to achieve the lovely script of a parochial educated person<br /><br /></div><br />What I really intended to do here is write about This Day In History. That would be the siege of Rome that began on March 11, 357 by the Ostrogoths. ( Ostro: think Austria) A Germanic people, who like the Visigoths (Latin for visi =Teutonic and Goth = west), were a subgroup of the Goths. What happened, was the Goths took over Rome in the 5th century and had their own little country right in the middle of Italy. When their leader died the Romans told them to take a hike. So, on the way out of the city the Goths tweeted their posse and lay siege to Rome. A little over a year later, they gave up and left. No known postcards survived the siege, so I used the American Gothic picture instead. It's my blog. That's why.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4nRQCgtn3ni4QMXrj-pk8t6umfD4ETh6cKsv0ThLuFwYiYvZG4xbCdHUgOOkv5iWn8V-zQYLe6rWhdK-TiioDFv88ACJOsDzrh-qdvkh0g_-193KOzi85XpMJN0It8wXd0qsjTi8UFJIR/s1600/pffgoths.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 100px; height: 100px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4nRQCgtn3ni4QMXrj-pk8t6umfD4ETh6cKsv0ThLuFwYiYvZG4xbCdHUgOOkv5iWn8V-zQYLe6rWhdK-TiioDFv88ACJOsDzrh-qdvkh0g_-193KOzi85XpMJN0It8wXd0qsjTi8UFJIR/s400/pffgoths.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582950175146897026" border="0" /></a>Goths<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">These are some of the Goths who lay siege. Four of them appear to be standing, and the other two aren't laying at all, they are sitting. Sitting is more accurate , however, because the word siege comes from the Latin word sedere, which means sit as in sedentary, my favorite exercise. Which is what the Goths did. They sat around outside of Rome, disconnected the water supply, kept the Romans inside the city walls and away from food sources and waited for the Romans to die from thirst, starvation, disease, and attacks by the Goths.<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcZGvJmJCvOrXDNs2l3HB8YhK4sI1U9p-F96eFJxzqSL6M5fiFf92TW41_3OSto1J1mTw0zy33I9RJ3cn4dcNOkCmMtsQVld151sH7U05AKH8gSAiBQjJQAVy16A2JGo2X8KV8KANYXgCr/s1600/pffgothic.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 333px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcZGvJmJCvOrXDNs2l3HB8YhK4sI1U9p-F96eFJxzqSL6M5fiFf92TW41_3OSto1J1mTw0zy33I9RJ3cn4dcNOkCmMtsQVld151sH7U05AKH8gSAiBQjJQAVy16A2JGo2X8KV8KANYXgCr/s400/pffgothic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582950700310969922" border="0" /></a>This lovely Goth appears to be writing a postcard, but it was probably destroyed during the siege.<br /><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4suhSE4v-sCnt13pJrGLU7CMrXtzbHk6iHiezVK5q1JeKIUnoEdtFyCCJFYH_TWMK67M74GE26wxRrRSL8BaRGd71zn2rXEC0zLFBZEzmerMOjs3vM7hLEHBXc3ZAuRij4ZIYwSnVJan5/s1600/pffgoth.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 94px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4suhSE4v-sCnt13pJrGLU7CMrXtzbHk6iHiezVK5q1JeKIUnoEdtFyCCJFYH_TWMK67M74GE26wxRrRSL8BaRGd71zn2rXEC0zLFBZEzmerMOjs3vM7hLEHBXc3ZAuRij4ZIYwSnVJan5/s320/pffgoth.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582949848938616962" border="0" /></a>Happy Postcard Friendship Friday!<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Stop by Beth's <a href="http://thebestheartsarecrunchy.blogspot.com/">The Best Hearts Are Crunchy</a> for more Postcard Friendship Friday!<br /></div>MuseSwingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999288873532715380noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389669289904198220.post-7703647282541510962011-03-08T15:54:00.002-05:002011-03-08T16:10:18.400-05:00Poetry Bus - Bender Defender<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:donotpromoteqf/> <w:lidthemeother>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:lidthemeasian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:lidthemecomplexscript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> <w:splitpgbreakandparamark/> <w:dontvertaligncellwithsp/> 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mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNoSpacing">I'm hopping on board - late - even later than usual. Our host is The Stammering Poet, Peter Goulding, and he has given us these prompts:</p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><em>In a nutshell, I am looking for </em></span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><em>1) An ode to pancakes in the persona of a poet of your choice</em></span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><em>2) Something (or things) I did while drunk, or</em></span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><em>3) A rondeau.</em></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><br /></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />Prompts one and three would have caused brain stem damage or worse, so I dove for number 2 - even though I've laid off the drink of my youth. Which wasn't much to begin with. So I had to use my poetic license - the one that isn't suspended. Bottoms up:<br /></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><br /></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Bender Defender</span></span><br /></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing">I Thought that I would be just fine<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing">If I drove right on the middle line<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing">Down the empty two-way country road<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing">I was toolin’ right along at 50<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing">And thought I was being nifty<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing">Feeling very happy and quite bold </p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing">Then I saw the flashing blue light bar</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing">Catching up to my ole car</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing">Bidding me to pull aside</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing">So I parked right at the gutter</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing">While thinking what lie I could utter</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing">To gain an un-ticketed ride</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"> </p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing">I saw his name tag, Pat O’Brien</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing">He asked - little lady where you flyin?</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing">And what’s causing you to drive so badly?</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing">I said, to church, uhm, that’s the thing</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing">So I can pray and I can sing</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing">But I’ll be late now I sighed, sadly</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"> </p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing">Ah, Me dear mother Brigitte</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing">Would think of me an eedjit</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing">If I made you miss your Sunday Mass</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing">Go! Take the bread, but NO more wine</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing">And thank the Lord that you are fine</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing">Cuz it’s Friday but I’ll let you take a pass</p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><br /></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:85%;">Cynthia Ann Conciatu</span><br /></p>MuseSwingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999288873532715380noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389669289904198220.post-55893042509480198832011-03-08T10:33:00.002-05:002011-03-08T11:05:05.712-05:00Happy Paczki Day!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdXdt_Mz8Zgt0d9a1BkkdInC5UoWPn22lQbPvL5bf6lW6nKEVXmtstinKshAO8LGDP6QVArac1GBbPkFsb1LRJDMc-ZKUKID2otq1somRXLDcLF8iKCYCKIrdAqc1hkCFn75_Llf32pVZ7/s1600/paczki+day+2.jpg"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfkFXwgc50owvCikDs2IzQ8ByiYaHBJ4RyqXR5Nf1Q8QElXVL3ENZLSJF-3c7FPG4oTcZPvdjb977eLO-FgFDLjVS6NKQz_57o6f5PLng2YQdrh8DJubTJPS60KECHpRQPnFCWGkqn1-9B/s1600/paczki+day+4.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 100px; height: 67px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfkFXwgc50owvCikDs2IzQ8ByiYaHBJ4RyqXR5Nf1Q8QElXVL3ENZLSJF-3c7FPG4oTcZPvdjb977eLO-FgFDLjVS6NKQz_57o6f5PLng2YQdrh8DJubTJPS60KECHpRQPnFCWGkqn1-9B/s320/paczki+day+4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581732902869298626" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Today, the Tuesday before Lent, is celebrated by those of Polish heritage as Paczki day. These are wonderful dense doughnuts filled with good thick homemade preserves. The word translates to "packet" and is pronounced "punch-key". You'll find faxcimiles at your local grocery store, but they pale in comparison.<br /><br />If you want the authentic taste you will have to make them yourself, adopt a Polish grandmother, or search out a Polish bakery, arrive early and stand in a long line with the Babusha's to wait your turn at the counter.<br /><br /> The preserves are centered in the middle of the doughnut halves <span style="font-style: italic;">before</span> frying. The authentic Warsaw variety of these delicious treats are made with egg yolks, butter, whipping cream and a little brandy along with the usual salt, sugar, yeast, flour and water. They are hefty and about half as sweet as store-bought.<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdXdt_Mz8Zgt0d9a1BkkdInC5UoWPn22lQbPvL5bf6lW6nKEVXmtstinKshAO8LGDP6QVArac1GBbPkFsb1LRJDMc-ZKUKID2otq1somRXLDcLF8iKCYCKIrdAqc1hkCFn75_Llf32pVZ7/s1600/paczki+day+2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 100px; height: 75px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdXdt_Mz8Zgt0d9a1BkkdInC5UoWPn22lQbPvL5bf6lW6nKEVXmtstinKshAO8LGDP6QVArac1GBbPkFsb1LRJDMc-ZKUKID2otq1somRXLDcLF8iKCYCKIrdAqc1hkCFn75_Llf32pVZ7/s320/paczki+day+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581732907717054114" border="0" /></a>Covered with a sweet glaze<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGa-ACS8vhOQj5ixkHAaw-Bde-DbBN-yvdeqfci4WX0o90S26yNhvFlUkAluug-VIo6Sy4aYVE6p9-UoF213oCvIC-kLm4kFE__2HlDjC2EuPFj_0Hpb6nKjI-lUqdtD_q3lcE-bQhfVOz/s1600/paczki+day+3.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 100px; height: 75px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGa-ACS8vhOQj5ixkHAaw-Bde-DbBN-yvdeqfci4WX0o90S26yNhvFlUkAluug-VIo6Sy4aYVE6p9-UoF213oCvIC-kLm4kFE__2HlDjC2EuPFj_0Hpb6nKjI-lUqdtD_q3lcE-bQhfVOz/s320/paczki+day+3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581732904496488194" border="0" /></a><br />And properly served on a pretty polish pottery plate.<br /><br />M-m-m-m-m-m Find some!<br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfkFXwgc50owvCikDs2IzQ8ByiYaHBJ4RyqXR5Nf1Q8QElXVL3ENZLSJF-3c7FPG4oTcZPvdjb977eLO-FgFDLjVS6NKQz_57o6f5PLng2YQdrh8DJubTJPS60KECHpRQPnFCWGkqn1-9B/s1600/paczki+day+4.jpg"><br /></a>MuseSwingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999288873532715380noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389669289904198220.post-86969839846777541362011-02-25T13:00:00.001-05:002011-02-26T08:50:58.242-05:00Postcard Friendship Friday - Forever Green<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzoG_zufdX72lETLJ8ajxzGTkiOHlwxfNthD-7fC7Mwgjv_K1Cb4BmKUNa6KdXoOb2_qnnAYxbETjCi9jFJIa4YLeuK01blEA28G_prGqeiTtcbarO2WhPP6vLwFLLU_4vCumNd_9__V5e/s1600/pffredwoodroxy.jpg"><br /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ujkG16_o0qHa5J1ALVRgABTL7npaNF28amlNyG-RL7g6mzcdTQsp4QjjU-BXHD6NG3mrH0wlsw0-wSKpXR-4Zi8mc-pTlkCUjbNHMBaXdLwuseoPUtPas3sOvPd8QNg-5DsiwBzLSHxi/s1600/pffredwoodA.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 202px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ujkG16_o0qHa5J1ALVRgABTL7npaNF28amlNyG-RL7g6mzcdTQsp4QjjU-BXHD6NG3mrH0wlsw0-wSKpXR-4Zi8mc-pTlkCUjbNHMBaXdLwuseoPUtPas3sOvPd8QNg-5DsiwBzLSHxi/s320/pffredwoodA.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574455465043714818" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Little cabins nestled among the redwoods at Siskiyou Camp in California.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlvhF2xhOVUi4HGMYKb6RTTlBdV7RqNuY9jUpD0-eXdwIpngYF73RNBx3VbFVHQoz1qoLmQV-kwHO8PNKVGQtcU4Tn0Js668V7LDn2WED_tqLIUfEKRYPM8pLNxlK8hLrdwCoydd0nhB29/s1600/pffredwoodB.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 202px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlvhF2xhOVUi4HGMYKb6RTTlBdV7RqNuY9jUpD0-eXdwIpngYF73RNBx3VbFVHQoz1qoLmQV-kwHO8PNKVGQtcU4Tn0Js668V7LDn2WED_tqLIUfEKRYPM8pLNxlK8hLrdwCoydd0nhB29/s320/pffredwoodB.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574455460728143874" border="0" /></a><br />The card is postmarked 1933, O'Brien Oregon, and reads:<br /><br />Dear Nettie (Monday)<br /><br />I am going on this A.M. All fixed up fine. Am feeling only fair. Rather high here for me. Will write when I get to the coast. Love, A. C.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzoG_zufdX72lETLJ8ajxzGTkiOHlwxfNthD-7fC7Mwgjv_K1Cb4BmKUNa6KdXoOb2_qnnAYxbETjCi9jFJIa4YLeuK01blEA28G_prGqeiTtcbarO2WhPP6vLwFLLU_4vCumNd_9__V5e/s1600/pffredwoodroxy.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 220px; height: 149px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzoG_zufdX72lETLJ8ajxzGTkiOHlwxfNthD-7fC7Mwgjv_K1Cb4BmKUNa6KdXoOb2_qnnAYxbETjCi9jFJIa4YLeuK01blEA28G_prGqeiTtcbarO2WhPP6vLwFLLU_4vCumNd_9__V5e/s320/pffredwoodroxy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577681149947272914" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;">Nettie lives in Medford Oregon. I'm pretty sure A.C. does as well since the card is addressed to Mrs. A.C. Walker. A prominent feature of Medford is Roxy Peak, a 30 million year old dormant volcano.<br /></div>It sounds as though AC is having health issues. I was afraid he was on his way to Olalla Washington. It's not too far north of O'Brian. A retreat that claimed to cure by starvation was in Olalla during the early 1900's. Linda Burfield Hazzard cured several people to death there.<br /><br />They all signed their estates and personal items over to her. Well, someone signed the documents. Also their gold teeth and anything else of value. Linda was arrested and convicted of manslaughter in 1912. She served just 2 years and then packed up and moved to New Zealand for a while. In 1920 she came back to Olalla and practiced the starvation cure for another 16 years. Greg Olsen's excellent book, <span style="font-style: italic;">Starvation Heights</span>, tells the history of the "sanitarium" and the plight of the people who came in search of a cure.<br /><br />Anyway, since AC was headed north and doesn't appear to be going directly home, I was afraid he might have thought a cure was in order for his unspecified ailments.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNnWW8issMfecdbi7OCiE8VR7hSHye6tYPvXK6wW-hW7xgGCHiocRfU1bc4tjeLidoFTczXD77IiCfLSLNlDdAYsQyUnZqHPKbaw-hw_ikwbRV4TZ2tW0NiQwzpNqP6kw61-aTPUIhemAf/s1600/pffredwoodThe_Muir_Snag.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 220px; height: 293px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNnWW8issMfecdbi7OCiE8VR7hSHye6tYPvXK6wW-hW7xgGCHiocRfU1bc4tjeLidoFTczXD77IiCfLSLNlDdAYsQyUnZqHPKbaw-hw_ikwbRV4TZ2tW0NiQwzpNqP6kw61-aTPUIhemAf/s320/pffredwoodThe_Muir_Snag.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574455453892540674" border="0" /></a>I chose today's postcard with a photo of coast redwoods (Sequoia Sempervirens) because I saw some in person recently. Sempervirens is latin for ever green, but the word "ever" applies to their longevity as well as their "always green" leaves.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCwBamZz5eo2DRpfFfVneERJzxZys75oc_f8hOWzpHxEvtSFc88KrfSsWDci2C6QIZAvPVpHCmitpjmFoxVBWvfcBCN5s5IP203DwTKQqg4yfWfFBdk2wa0isWl4FCJgXVltyc5Vu4Ch6h/s1600/005.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCwBamZz5eo2DRpfFfVneERJzxZys75oc_f8hOWzpHxEvtSFc88KrfSsWDci2C6QIZAvPVpHCmitpjmFoxVBWvfcBCN5s5IP203DwTKQqg4yfWfFBdk2wa0isWl4FCJgXVltyc5Vu4Ch6h/s320/005.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574454784488193810" border="0" /></a>I took this picture at Muir Woods! A magnificent, quiet, beautiful park. This is land that Teddy Roosevelt set aside for all of us to share and enjoy for as long as there are people to come and enjoy it.<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeq7dl1nk2tM1hUNtijv9yXQ5AdJz9A7G5kv0YYhuwMo1Ioxv2F2ElkGuGk6tKouzGDRQAjEWwl76XVtxHdcCg_7PyEThVxs_DNv0ANYbXCUKpHy9XnaMTRb-hCAxuHU37VgZQQE_5mGoP/s1600/008.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeq7dl1nk2tM1hUNtijv9yXQ5AdJz9A7G5kv0YYhuwMo1Ioxv2F2ElkGuGk6tKouzGDRQAjEWwl76XVtxHdcCg_7PyEThVxs_DNv0ANYbXCUKpHy9XnaMTRb-hCAxuHU37VgZQQE_5mGoP/s320/008.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574454777750035154" border="0" /></a>I got up close and personal with this beauty. It felt like the tree was hugging me. I hugged a few myself.<br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeq7dl1nk2tM1hUNtijv9yXQ5AdJz9A7G5kv0YYhuwMo1Ioxv2F2ElkGuGk6tKouzGDRQAjEWwl76XVtxHdcCg_7PyEThVxs_DNv0ANYbXCUKpHy9XnaMTRb-hCAxuHU37VgZQQE_5mGoP/s1600/008.JPG"><br /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYxtdn4TN9LtZU1kA10Y5kjBA9KHMdYVzyiVC558IryuISJDc04o4ofe7BXyMat8XBZqfrZMNk3tVSgzd-tW7QF4A-pHVX73mitbS2d8Hw5XI4N0yJDCFektPabUa3OMe3wFT3iziZ7eS1/s1600/006.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYxtdn4TN9LtZU1kA10Y5kjBA9KHMdYVzyiVC558IryuISJDc04o4ofe7BXyMat8XBZqfrZMNk3tVSgzd-tW7QF4A-pHVX73mitbS2d8Hw5XI4N0yJDCFektPabUa3OMe3wFT3iziZ7eS1/s320/006.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574454219441114242" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">It is a dark woods with patches of sunlight that manage to make their way down between the 300 to 375 foot redwoods. There are several varieties of the sequoia genus in the U.S. This variety is the one commonly called "redwood". The other varieties are called sequoia. Redwood is part of the cypress tree family. They do not have resinous sap and do not have a piny scent - or any scent at all.<br /><br /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-vus848ngFS88P9JkGrNmbPTc6VPuhGc-dP7qgiWf02kZPYAgqrMbfv4sfTmJFCm_RTkp5U8zndJFdBpybtprucBJmKdKwTgTmg1af4uMsi4pybuBRkecz7_ynZfoujfgwREWl7tjXAWy/s1600/pffredwoodcones.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 220px; height: 191px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-vus848ngFS88P9JkGrNmbPTc6VPuhGc-dP7qgiWf02kZPYAgqrMbfv4sfTmJFCm_RTkp5U8zndJFdBpybtprucBJmKdKwTgTmg1af4uMsi4pybuBRkecz7_ynZfoujfgwREWl7tjXAWy/s320/pffredwoodcones.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574455453601911538" border="0" /></a>The cone of the massive coast redwood is about two thirds the size of those shown above. Big trees from little seed cones grow.<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBpulokWLkGCxXbai_xGswmxVpmzKmNj6yQXSRsjhHpuPLrWTgOzT7Vb5lutB9PT8d4NKxoYtvfq5AdGJwJ99dd5tO2l2PYrAqz-hNk4ubd7mm35gIyeqCi7TZccGCi5TT-wAPr26yNbjT/s1600/003.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBpulokWLkGCxXbai_xGswmxVpmzKmNj6yQXSRsjhHpuPLrWTgOzT7Vb5lutB9PT8d4NKxoYtvfq5AdGJwJ99dd5tO2l2PYrAqz-hNk4ubd7mm35gIyeqCi7TZccGCi5TT-wAPr26yNbjT/s320/003.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574454213760601842" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Redwood Creek provides background music in the silent forest. Silence persists because there are not enough food sources to attract birds. The tannin in the trees actually repels insects. Only about 50 varieties make their home here including pileated woodpeckers, Steller's jays and northern spotted owls. I only saw one bird, a winter wren, while I was there.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivSXljxyZsrWsbnhYH5TFtbxwQGgK09H9hAfeekRtw606s2pQQKD-zqa-UWqSvwfO2W6zuF_isDyp5oQe7vsTVVg3rCueahBAzeKnF9X9J7aYO2u6vmBepRLerDnjBqRYU-TTWkz6zbJg6/s1600/014.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivSXljxyZsrWsbnhYH5TFtbxwQGgK09H9hAfeekRtw606s2pQQKD-zqa-UWqSvwfO2W6zuF_isDyp5oQe7vsTVVg3rCueahBAzeKnF9X9J7aYO2u6vmBepRLerDnjBqRYU-TTWkz6zbJg6/s320/014.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574454211708876754" border="0" /></a>The ground is damp from frequent fogs that roll through. Oyster mushrooms are happy and abundant here on fallen logs.<br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg72m0rpfdEfPslWMRNyEtvGdQWoL8Ps0TRqXghHZzgH9draCpP49FCSF9Tm_LAzMC3mhrvdhwsRpoRAwzLDEMTS_XTtQLQ2Js_Q5SFIjtYVj24RW58HKCVt4L71jYZY-b1bLc-7Fshpwrh/s1600/013.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg72m0rpfdEfPslWMRNyEtvGdQWoL8Ps0TRqXghHZzgH9draCpP49FCSF9Tm_LAzMC3mhrvdhwsRpoRAwzLDEMTS_XTtQLQ2Js_Q5SFIjtYVj24RW58HKCVt4L71jYZY-b1bLc-7Fshpwrh/s320/013.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574454210079325442" border="0" /></a>Jennifer brought me to Muir Woods for the day. It was a contemplative trip. Visitors seem to talk in whispers, but it's because their voices are caught up in the quiet air.<br /><br />For more postcard voices, stop by and see Beth at The Best Hearts Are Crunchy!<br /></div>MuseSwingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999288873532715380noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389669289904198220.post-87226541835218576772011-02-22T07:48:00.004-05:002011-02-22T08:21:14.653-05:00Poetry Bus - Did I Forget Something?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv2Iqcu701KoCGQovov-li_p4lwcLo1kCuUyhREA6Tpa95WHIDFMFF6CXG6G3x71jy1pYlHpQokqvsLxln4jILHY6tHdXTV3kz0OdpiEHgJ238xc3WlRxb1x6Keze_fUQtibuVm7xEdGE1/s1600/oilcloth.gif"><br /></a><br />Our bus driver for this tour is <a href="http://120socks.blogspot.com/2011/02/poetry-bus-calling-all-bus-riders.html?showComment=1297815068534#c4248686704358263432">120 Socks</a>. How she ends up with an even number of socks is a mystery to me. I always have orphan socks that sit alone in the drawer waiting in vain for the mate that disappeared forever, somewhere between my foot and the clothes dryer. The single sock gets to stay on only because I believe in miracles.<br /><br />The prompts that 120 socks have given us are intriguing -<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,sans-serif;">1. This was one of the first creative prompts I ever received and it proved to be a good one - </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,sans-serif;"><em> <strong>I knew a woman who........</strong> or indeed <strong>I knew a man who........ </strong></em></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,sans-serif;">(real/fictitious or somewhere in between) </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,sans-serif;">OR</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,sans-serif;">2. <strong>The last time I was there...........</strong></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,sans-serif;">(again real,imagined, emotionally felt or pretty well any way you'd like to go with it)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,sans-serif;">OR</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,sans-serif;">3. The <strong>photograph</strong> below or the colour <strong>Amber</strong>.</span></div><br /><br />I've chosen number two - the last time I was there...<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv2Iqcu701KoCGQovov-li_p4lwcLo1kCuUyhREA6Tpa95WHIDFMFF6CXG6G3x71jy1pYlHpQokqvsLxln4jILHY6tHdXTV3kz0OdpiEHgJ238xc3WlRxb1x6Keze_fUQtibuVm7xEdGE1/s1600/oilcloth.gif"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 126px; height: 126px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv2Iqcu701KoCGQovov-li_p4lwcLo1kCuUyhREA6Tpa95WHIDFMFF6CXG6G3x71jy1pYlHpQokqvsLxln4jILHY6tHdXTV3kz0OdpiEHgJ238xc3WlRxb1x6Keze_fUQtibuVm7xEdGE1/s320/oilcloth.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576501970463758770" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Forget-me-nots</span></span><br /><br /><br />I was sitting in a Waffle House<br />Just outside Peoria<br />Trying to get some syrup off my elbow<br />With one of those inadequate tissue napkins that pop out<br />None at a time<br />From a black and silver dispenser<br />Invariably jammed<br />Between sticky salt and pepper shakers<br />And a crusty catsup bottle<br /><br />I wish to God that Estelle<br />(Her name tag reads)<br />Would spend more time<br />Cleaning syrup off chipped Formica table tops<br />And less time washing leatherette seats<br />With that sour dishrag<br />That appears to be universally owned<br />By every Waffle House in the region<br /><br />Probably has “Waffle House Midwest”<br />Stamped on one smelly corner<br />And makes the rounds by express truck<br />Arriving three minutes before I do<br />At any given location<br /><br />At least I can depend on a good cup of coffee<br />And a runny egg<br />If I want one<br /><br />Reminds me of my mother’s kitchenette table<br />With that yellow oilcloth cover<br />Always slightly damp from a sour dishrag<br />Frayed some around the pinking-sheared edges<br />Dotted with small blue flowers<br /><br />Probably forget-me-nots<br />Must be<br />Because I haven’t<br /><br />And those cigarette burns on the corner<br />Where my father used to sit<br />And peruse the morning paper<br />Over his runny eggs<br /><br />Might as well call the cigarette burns<br />Forget-me-nots too<br />Because I haven’t<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Cynthia Ann Conciatu<br /><br /><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Stop by 120 Socks for more bus riding poetry <a href="http://120socks.blogspot.com/2011/02/poetry-bus-calling-all-bus-riders.html?showComment=1297815068534#c4248686704358263432">HERE!</a></span><br /></div></div>MuseSwingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999288873532715380noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389669289904198220.post-37237820756327710882011-02-13T13:52:00.011-05:002011-02-13T16:47:27.932-05:00Poetry Bus - Reserved Seating<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-6_C8vKDVNyZfRG5hyVYss55NOJwB3QsEfh9PkUGdtRveIlvNUAvlk_K84LtBuwWFvWrNRHjTOC_364enkP__jvy8Do4lt-tQq2gTNHLrXRreZfTNpd8hyphenhyphenTkSUkN7hXzTudB1INUiOcAL/s1600/Poetry+Bus.JPG"><br /></a>Our very own TOTALFECKINEEJIT (Or TFE as we call him or Thomas Francis Edward as the nuns call him "because TOTALFECKINEEJIT isn't even a saint's name, now is it, Mister!") is driving us on Valentine's Day. It's Himself, the very one our mothers warned us about in hushed tones and a wild look of fear in her eyes. Our father's shake aside the evening paper to peer at headlights entering the drive: "Should I offer a drink or just set my '45 on the coffee table." And grandmother, always warning of mashers and libertine's, nervously fingers her cameo brooch while peering over her reading glasses: "Why, he's not even wearing a tie." And yet, we climb aboard because he promises a safe trip. And we'll believe him before we will believe our own mother.<br /><br /><br />And how do we pay for our ticket? Here's what TFE has to say about that:<br /><br /><div face="inherit"> " It's Valentine's Day (or it will be on Monday - stop being so technical!), but you don't have to write any love sonnets or Conversation Heart verses. Unless you want to - go for it if that's what's on your mind. I'm listing three different picture prompts below which should hopefully stir some creative juices. 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mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--><s>of the sorry lot</s> and written the first and only thing that came to mind.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-6_C8vKDVNyZfRG5hyVYss55NOJwB3QsEfh9PkUGdtRveIlvNUAvlk_K84LtBuwWFvWrNRHjTOC_364enkP__jvy8Do4lt-tQq2gTNHLrXRreZfTNpd8hyphenhyphenTkSUkN7hXzTudB1INUiOcAL/s1600/Poetry+Bus.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 219px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-6_C8vKDVNyZfRG5hyVYss55NOJwB3QsEfh9PkUGdtRveIlvNUAvlk_K84LtBuwWFvWrNRHjTOC_364enkP__jvy8Do4lt-tQq2gTNHLrXRreZfTNpd8hyphenhyphenTkSUkN7hXzTudB1INUiOcAL/s320/Poetry+Bus.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573249361760044306" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">(This picture is the property of TFE and/or his neighbor - Dr. M . I'm not sure which. Considering that one or the other may be litigious by nature, I have taken complete leave of my senses and copied, without permission, the picture here.</span></span>)<br /></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-6_C8vKDVNyZfRG5hyVYss55NOJwB3QsEfh9PkUGdtRveIlvNUAvlk_K84LtBuwWFvWrNRHjTOC_364enkP__jvy8Do4lt-tQq2gTNHLrXRreZfTNpd8hyphenhyphenTkSUkN7hXzTudB1INUiOcAL/s1600/Poetry+Bus.JPG"><br /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;">Reserved Seating for Valentine's Day<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"><br /></div><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> 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color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"> </div><p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNoSpacing">It’s all been said<br /></p><p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNoSpacing">It’s all been done</p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"> </div><p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNoSpacing">Forty-two years of chocolates <span style=""> </span>or<br /></p><p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNoSpacing">Flowers or</p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"> </div><p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNoSpacing">Heart shaped meatloaves<br /></p><p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNoSpacing">Or "I forgot's"</p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"> </div><p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNoSpacing">Find us seated on comfy sofa and</p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"> </div><p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNoSpacing">Overstuffed chair rolling </p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"> </div><p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNoSpacing">Our eyes at commercials that portend </p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"> </div><p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNoSpacing">Chocolate diamonds and open heart pendants</p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"> </div><p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNoSpacing">Are the only perfect gifts to portray unending love</p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"> </div><p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNoSpacing">When really it comes down to the </p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"> </div><p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNoSpacing">Comfy sofa<br /></p><p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNoSpacing">The overstuffed chair</p><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"> </div><p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNoSpacing">And those who remain happy seated there</p><p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNoSpacing"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:85%;">Cynthia Ann Conciatu 2/13/11</span></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNoSpacing"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNoSpacing">That brave few - that band of brothers who have stepped aboard the Poetry Bus may be found seated at <a href="http://totalfeckineejit.blogspot.com/">TOTALFECKINEEJIT'S</a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNoSpacing"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNoSpacing">As often happens, I read too fast and missed the part where Dana <a href="http://danabugseyeview.blogspot.com/">The Bug</a> is our host today. I'll not change anything I've written - I'll just add Dana's link <a href="http://danabugseyeview.blogspot.com/">HERE </a>so you can find the other poem posting passengers without too much mus, fuss or bother!<br /></p>MuseSwingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11999288873532715380noreply@blogger.com8