Friday, February 05, 2010
Jim Knowles does it again! Inkwell Competition
You must read his blog to see the details of the exciting news!
Phoebe Kate Foster's blog
If you're up for some really wry observations on the world, filled with wit and humor, plus darn good writing, visit the blog/website of Phoebe Kate Foster. Read one entry. It's like eating one bite of chocolate. Dare you to stop!
Thursday, February 04, 2010
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
Monday, February 01, 2010
Days of Protest Bringing another post from 2005 forward)
THE FIRST 11 COMMENTS WERE MADE IN 2005
(click on images to make them larger)
This post is by no means an attempt to 'recap' the Civil Rights Movement or the Vietnam war and its aftermath. Rather, it's a brief slice of my experience of both times in photo and text. This was prompted by requests by some readers to share more of my protest days after I posted a photo from the People's Revolutionary March in my commune blog post, further down. While I protested injustice and I protested the war, I don't see myself as a hard core protester. Had I been, I would've been down in Selma. I would've done more in general. With regards to the Vietnam part of the post, enough debates have raged about whether that war was 'right' or 'wrong'. This post isn't about that debate.
*******
I still have a copy of this flyer. I was living with an interacial group, working and studying in Manhattan the summer before I attended graduate school when this march was planned. Little did I know when I read this flyer and decided to attend that it would attract such massive numbers of people, estimated as high as 300,000 or more to Washington that day, or that it would become such a historical event. I rode down on a chartered bus from Manhattan. What struck me with most impact was the joy I saw in the faces in the crowds extending from the Monument to the Lincoln Memorial. People were laughing, crying, hugging...That day, we believed anything was possible.
Our group living tied into the whole experience. We didn't form friendships based on race, as might have been expected, but on compatablity. For me, that made the summer program a success.
*********
Joan Baez, Bob Dylan, Peter Paul and Mary were among the singers who preceded Martin Luther King's speech.
*********
Martin Luther King was the last speaker of the day, his I Have A Dream speech becoming a hallmark in freedom speeches over the years. I still remember how he mesmerized the crowds that day. A marvelous orator. A man who believed his dream would come true in his lifetime. He amazed me.
My father was school superintendent in the South and in charge of carrying out integration in his schools when I attended the March. Already, he and my mother were receiving death threats and I remember him asking me that, if I went, to avoid any TV cameras, as it could make his situation even more dangerous. The irony of his situation is that both were long-time church members and my mother had to stop singing in the church choir, she received so much ostracism whenever she entered the choir loft. My opinion? The churches should have been the first to integrate and support the movement. Not!
*******
I met Claude Brown at a Menningers Party at APA in Washington in the early seventies. By then, his Manchild in the Promised Land had been a smashing hit. I loved that book. He and I began talking and couldn't stop, so he invited me to spend the next day with him, driving around Washington as he visited his old radical buddies from his Howard University days. It was a shock to read that he died a few years ago in his early sixties. He was a charismatic man, a brilliant man who survived a hellish beginning and lived to tell about it. We shared the day, had a wonderful time, said our goodbyes and I never saw him again.
*******
Vietnam Days!!
Photo courtesy of Gary Jacobson from his Vietnam pages. Both my husband and his brother were in Vietnam, but I have no photos from Vietnam from either of them_only shots from refueling trips to the Philippines and R&R in Hong Kong.
My husband was a junior officer on a supply ship, the USS Genesee, this side of the DMZ. The one time they had to go up into the river, they were shelled. I remember his letter...'they were trying to kill me...they were trying to kill me'. Two men were killed and a shell destroyed the officer's mess room. They were fortunate that they didn't lose more. This shot is taken from a naval archive website of the ship in port in 1969 upon its return from Vietnam right after we left Hawaii.An account of the shelling is found HERE.
His brother was in the jungles but had no night patrol since he was made company clerk, being the only man who could type. It was from him that I heard the worst stories...kids and women lobbing grenades, his buddies going out and not coming back or coming back with ears strung on their belt; the heads on poles, the fragging of unpopular officers. Stories so painful I could hardly bear to hear them. I couldn't imagine living them. That was really when I knew I had to do whatever small things I could do to stop the war and bring these men home. As Jon Voight said in Coming Home (rephrased), 'we not only had to live with what was done to us, but what we did over there'. Killing leaves a mark that's hard to leave behind.
*******
My part in the protests came by writing endless letters and, finally, attending the People's Revolutionary March in Concord, which is pictured in my commune blog below and again here. I didn't take any photos of the march, itself. I don't know that any of our individual acts made any difference, but, overall, the mood of the country was not one to support war and so it eventually ended. The suicide rate of Vietnam vets has already outnumbered those killed in the war.
At the time, most protesters blamed the Vets. Now we know this was inexcusable. I knew it then, having loved men in that war, but sometimes insight comes late. In general, it was a time of protesting everything. Bonfires were held for draft card burning. Bras were burned or not worn. Women refused to shave their legs or under their arms. Men refused to cut their hair.
Hair burst on the scene as a musical in San Francisco, which I saw in 1969 enroute from Honolulu to Newport, while the Beatles sang about Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds. Timothy Leary and Richard Alpert were transforming themselves via LSD into Gurus at Harvard (and were eventually fired). Living in Boston, I had one foot in that world and the other foot in the world of my work and men with shorter hair and women who wore bras and shaved their legs. It was a crazy, confusing, unsettling time, but I wouldn't trade being a part of it for anything.
(click on images to make them larger)
This post is by no means an attempt to 'recap' the Civil Rights Movement or the Vietnam war and its aftermath. Rather, it's a brief slice of my experience of both times in photo and text. This was prompted by requests by some readers to share more of my protest days after I posted a photo from the People's Revolutionary March in my commune blog post, further down. While I protested injustice and I protested the war, I don't see myself as a hard core protester. Had I been, I would've been down in Selma. I would've done more in general. With regards to the Vietnam part of the post, enough debates have raged about whether that war was 'right' or 'wrong'. This post isn't about that debate.
*******
I still have a copy of this flyer. I was living with an interacial group, working and studying in Manhattan the summer before I attended graduate school when this march was planned. Little did I know when I read this flyer and decided to attend that it would attract such massive numbers of people, estimated as high as 300,000 or more to Washington that day, or that it would become such a historical event. I rode down on a chartered bus from Manhattan. What struck me with most impact was the joy I saw in the faces in the crowds extending from the Monument to the Lincoln Memorial. People were laughing, crying, hugging...That day, we believed anything was possible. Our group living tied into the whole experience. We didn't form friendships based on race, as might have been expected, but on compatablity. For me, that made the summer program a success.
*********
Joan Baez, Bob Dylan, Peter Paul and Mary were among the singers who preceded Martin Luther King's speech.*********
Martin Luther King was the last speaker of the day, his I Have A Dream speech becoming a hallmark in freedom speeches over the years. I still remember how he mesmerized the crowds that day. A marvelous orator. A man who believed his dream would come true in his lifetime. He amazed me.My father was school superintendent in the South and in charge of carrying out integration in his schools when I attended the March. Already, he and my mother were receiving death threats and I remember him asking me that, if I went, to avoid any TV cameras, as it could make his situation even more dangerous. The irony of his situation is that both were long-time church members and my mother had to stop singing in the church choir, she received so much ostracism whenever she entered the choir loft. My opinion? The churches should have been the first to integrate and support the movement. Not!
*******
I met Claude Brown at a Menningers Party at APA in Washington in the early seventies. By then, his Manchild in the Promised Land had been a smashing hit. I loved that book. He and I began talking and couldn't stop, so he invited me to spend the next day with him, driving around Washington as he visited his old radical buddies from his Howard University days. It was a shock to read that he died a few years ago in his early sixties. He was a charismatic man, a brilliant man who survived a hellish beginning and lived to tell about it. We shared the day, had a wonderful time, said our goodbyes and I never saw him again.*******
Vietnam Days!!
Photo courtesy of Gary Jacobson from his Vietnam pages. Both my husband and his brother were in Vietnam, but I have no photos from Vietnam from either of them_only shots from refueling trips to the Philippines and R&R in Hong Kong.
My husband was a junior officer on a supply ship, the USS Genesee, this side of the DMZ. The one time they had to go up into the river, they were shelled. I remember his letter...'they were trying to kill me...they were trying to kill me'. Two men were killed and a shell destroyed the officer's mess room. They were fortunate that they didn't lose more. This shot is taken from a naval archive website of the ship in port in 1969 upon its return from Vietnam right after we left Hawaii.An account of the shelling is found HERE.
His brother was in the jungles but had no night patrol since he was made company clerk, being the only man who could type. It was from him that I heard the worst stories...kids and women lobbing grenades, his buddies going out and not coming back or coming back with ears strung on their belt; the heads on poles, the fragging of unpopular officers. Stories so painful I could hardly bear to hear them. I couldn't imagine living them. That was really when I knew I had to do whatever small things I could do to stop the war and bring these men home. As Jon Voight said in Coming Home (rephrased), 'we not only had to live with what was done to us, but what we did over there'. Killing leaves a mark that's hard to leave behind.
*******
My part in the protests came by writing endless letters and, finally, attending the People's Revolutionary March in Concord, which is pictured in my commune blog below and again here. I didn't take any photos of the march, itself. I don't know that any of our individual acts made any difference, but, overall, the mood of the country was not one to support war and so it eventually ended. The suicide rate of Vietnam vets has already outnumbered those killed in the war.
At the time, most protesters blamed the Vets. Now we know this was inexcusable. I knew it then, having loved men in that war, but sometimes insight comes late. In general, it was a time of protesting everything. Bonfires were held for draft card burning. Bras were burned or not worn. Women refused to shave their legs or under their arms. Men refused to cut their hair.
Hair burst on the scene as a musical in San Francisco, which I saw in 1969 enroute from Honolulu to Newport, while the Beatles sang about Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds. Timothy Leary and Richard Alpert were transforming themselves via LSD into Gurus at Harvard (and were eventually fired). Living in Boston, I had one foot in that world and the other foot in the world of my work and men with shorter hair and women who wore bras and shaved their legs. It was a crazy, confusing, unsettling time, but I wouldn't trade being a part of it for anything.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
The Darrell Project by Jim Knowles
It's folded like an accordion, with an intriguing piece of art on the first fold. This little gem fans out to a front and back page of rich, well written poetry. Jim is offering a free copy to the first people to comment. Go for it. I love mine! Jim is the master of saying the most in the least amount of words in his own special 'Jim' style, and does it so well. Your fans want more, Jim.
Go to his page for a jpeg of the project, including some sample poems. His blog is at JimK-eclectics.blogspot.com. This hot link opens directly to the page, in a separate window.
Thanks, Jim, for creating yet another way to share good poetry.
Go to his page for a jpeg of the project, including some sample poems. His blog is at JimK-eclectics.blogspot.com. This hot link opens directly to the page, in a separate window.
Thanks, Jim, for creating yet another way to share good poetry.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Back to Boston 1989 (repost of a 2005 note)
****(A visitor's search showing on my visitor's log led me back to this old post. When I wrote this, both cousins were alive. Becky died a few years after, at age 49 , of esophageal cancer, and Dee, this past spring of 2009 of a massive heart attack. I miss them both deeply)
Of all the places I've lived, Boston and Honolulu rank highest in my estimation. Boston was a city of high energy and multiple universities, a city of the old and the new, a city of The Boston Pops and The Boston Symphony. The Charles River meandered along city's edge and, in summer, was filled with small sailboats, weaving the waters between Boston proper and Cambridge. If it hadn't been for the endless snow, the commutes of over an hour, sometimes in blizzard conditions, I don't think I would have ever left. The above photo is of sidewalk art, close to the Trolly kiosk at the Boston Commons, a popular gathering place for folk to sprawl on blankets in warm weather or wander down into Boston Gardens, where masses of flowers were planted each Spring. The Hari Krishnas usually danced near this spot, with a container out for money, hoping to recruit a new member.
Newberry Street reached up from the Commons, in the opposite direction of downtown proper. It was the home of ritzy shops and buildings edged in ivy, such as the one where my cousin Becky stands in this photo. She and I had traveled to Boston to help settle some financial matters for her older sister, the cousin closest to my age in the family. Ironically, my first husband's law firm was handling the matter and so I saw him for the fourth time after moving from Boston, not knowing that would also likely be our last visit together. I put him through law school during our marriage in the seventies and was by then a quite successful lawyer in Providence.
This is one of the many fabulous beaches north of Boston...Revere Beach. Becky and Dee are in this photo. Even in the warmest weather, however, the water remains icy cold. I swam off of our sailboat once when I lived there, but on most sailing days, we needed a jacket and jeans by afternoon's end.
Copley Plaza! You can see old buildings and new very well in this photo. That's me with Dee in this photo. Behind us is the infamous John Hancock tower, the object of much debate when it was built. An uproar was raised because of its very modern design, but the reasoning of the architects was that, with its reflective surface, it would mirror the old in the city and blend. The reason I'm sure they DIDN'T mention was that higher was better in terms of rental revenue. Midway after construction was underway, windows started flying from the building as it swayed with the wind. This sway was supposedly accounted for in the plans, but it didn't work. While new architects worked frantically for a solution, boards were placed over walkways anywhere near the building and the circumference around the landing area of these glass missiles was off limits entirely. The population was not happy.
Boston, a place of many mixed memories for me. When the trip was over, I didn't know that CFIDS was already a time bomb in my body and this would be the last trip I made over the next, as yet, indeterminate number of years
Of all the places I've lived, Boston and Honolulu rank highest in my estimation. Boston was a city of high energy and multiple universities, a city of the old and the new, a city of The Boston Pops and The Boston Symphony. The Charles River meandered along city's edge and, in summer, was filled with small sailboats, weaving the waters between Boston proper and Cambridge. If it hadn't been for the endless snow, the commutes of over an hour, sometimes in blizzard conditions, I don't think I would have ever left. The above photo is of sidewalk art, close to the Trolly kiosk at the Boston Commons, a popular gathering place for folk to sprawl on blankets in warm weather or wander down into Boston Gardens, where masses of flowers were planted each Spring. The Hari Krishnas usually danced near this spot, with a container out for money, hoping to recruit a new member.
Newberry Street reached up from the Commons, in the opposite direction of downtown proper. It was the home of ritzy shops and buildings edged in ivy, such as the one where my cousin Becky stands in this photo. She and I had traveled to Boston to help settle some financial matters for her older sister, the cousin closest to my age in the family. Ironically, my first husband's law firm was handling the matter and so I saw him for the fourth time after moving from Boston, not knowing that would also likely be our last visit together. I put him through law school during our marriage in the seventies and was by then a quite successful lawyer in Providence.
This is one of the many fabulous beaches north of Boston...Revere Beach. Becky and Dee are in this photo. Even in the warmest weather, however, the water remains icy cold. I swam off of our sailboat once when I lived there, but on most sailing days, we needed a jacket and jeans by afternoon's end.
Copley Plaza! You can see old buildings and new very well in this photo. That's me with Dee in this photo. Behind us is the infamous John Hancock tower, the object of much debate when it was built. An uproar was raised because of its very modern design, but the reasoning of the architects was that, with its reflective surface, it would mirror the old in the city and blend. The reason I'm sure they DIDN'T mention was that higher was better in terms of rental revenue. Midway after construction was underway, windows started flying from the building as it swayed with the wind. This sway was supposedly accounted for in the plans, but it didn't work. While new architects worked frantically for a solution, boards were placed over walkways anywhere near the building and the circumference around the landing area of these glass missiles was off limits entirely. The population was not happy.
Boston, a place of many mixed memories for me. When the trip was over, I didn't know that CFIDS was already a time bomb in my body and this would be the last trip I made over the next, as yet, indeterminate number of years
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Trying to lose weight
It's hard when you can't exercise like before ME/CFS, but I've whittled off 10 pounds and want to get around 15 more off. Cross your fingers for me. I couldn't get far enough back from the cam to hit the mouse for the photo, but that chub belly is what I need to lose. And to think, I used to try to gain weight because I was too skinny for most of my early years. Sigh....
a robin
nibbles at the plump worm
between-meals snack
a robin
nibbles at the plump worm
between-meals snack
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Crying Roy Orbison and k.d. lang
Thought I would post a youtube video I've watched many times since I found it. I love this old song and the way they did the video dazzles.
and...if you like this one, go to the youtube link directly for this Black and White Nights special with a slew of great singers with him....The 'Boss', Tom Waits, Elvis Costello, Jackson Browne, Bonnie Raitt, k.d. lang again....more.
Sweet Dreams Baby (Black and White Night
and...if you like this one, go to the youtube link directly for this Black and White Nights special with a slew of great singers with him....The 'Boss', Tom Waits, Elvis Costello, Jackson Browne, Bonnie Raitt, k.d. lang again....more.
Sweet Dreams Baby (Black and White Night
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Yikes!
I clicked follow to follow a blog that opened as a window on my page and now find I'm following MYSELF. Oh dear. Does anyone know how to 'unfollow'???
Never mind. I clicked on my picture, chose options, got my profile and stopped following myself. Whew. For a minute there I felt like my own shadow.
Night folks. The brain is gone when I do things like this.
Never mind. I clicked on my picture, chose options, got my profile and stopped following myself. Whew. For a minute there I felt like my own shadow.
Night folks. The brain is gone when I do things like this.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Powerful blog on living with ME/CFS and Multiple Chemical Sensitivities
The following blog was featured on Cort Johnson's Phoenix Rising newsletter. This couple was originally exposed to something toxic in the apartment, developed MCS along with CFS. They finally moved into a tent to escape their increased sensitivities to chemicals around them. I have moderate chemical sensitivites but know that people who never have had this problem tend to scoff. Believe me, it's real. Their story is one of courage, determination and also one of love. Read it at Sundog Tales
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Continuing to try to see!
I'm still typing with my eyes closed and using my eyes and light both hurt. I can't read yet, watch a movie on tv, work on the computer. I'm putting this up to let everyone know I've not disappeared.
My new Canon 12MP 20X zoom digital camera has arrived and I'm beginning to learn the controls, which are in different places than my Fuji. I love the camera, though, and am eager to get out there and start shooting photos.
I'm uploading one that was taken before I found where shutter priority was located, but this was long zoom, hand-held with the flower bobbing back and forth in the wind. It has a slight blur. Had I been able to set a fast shutter speed, I think I would've avoided the blur. As you can see, though, given that movement, the shutter lag is minimal and the image stabilization helps tremendously.
I'm also adding , for laughs, how I was dressed yesterday and today. Shot from my webcam. Different socks but dressed that way today. 29 this a.m. in sunny South Florida!
If I don't reply to comments in a timely fashion , I have to ration out how often I can use my eyes. They're better than at the beginning, but still a work in progress.
My new Canon 12MP 20X zoom digital camera has arrived and I'm beginning to learn the controls, which are in different places than my Fuji. I love the camera, though, and am eager to get out there and start shooting photos.
I'm uploading one that was taken before I found where shutter priority was located, but this was long zoom, hand-held with the flower bobbing back and forth in the wind. It has a slight blur. Had I been able to set a fast shutter speed, I think I would've avoided the blur. As you can see, though, given that movement, the shutter lag is minimal and the image stabilization helps tremendously.
I'm also adding , for laughs, how I was dressed yesterday and today. Shot from my webcam. Different socks but dressed that way today. 29 this a.m. in sunny South Florida!
If I don't reply to comments in a timely fashion , I have to ration out how often I can use my eyes. They're better than at the beginning, but still a work in progress.
Friday, January 01, 2010
A New Years Eve memory....
My eyes continue to keep me mostly off the computer, but I'm hoping this year will be a stronger one.
Anyway, this is one of my favorite New Years Eve memories because it was so different.
Back when I was living in a Boston commune with the nameless R who traveled down the east coast with me in my book, Sea Trails, I'd flown to Pageland, S.C., my hometown, for Christmas. My plane was due in mid-evening New Year's Eve. There were delays. I picked up a bottle of cold champagne at Logan and caught a taxi with another gal headed up Commonwealth. It was creeping towards midnight and I'd told R I would try my best to get there in time to be there with him. Traffic became a parking lot at the Commons and the clock was ticking down ten minutes to midnight. I told the cabbie to open the trunk. I quickly got out the champagne, popped the cork and all three of us took a swig from the bottle as the people in the cars all around us started screaming Happy New Year. It was exhilarating. R was up and waiting when I got there. Those were in the times when we were still giddy with each other and I was glad to rush into his arms.
a blue moon drifts
over roaring crowds
the Tiger arrives
Anyway, this is one of my favorite New Years Eve memories because it was so different.
Back when I was living in a Boston commune with the nameless R who traveled down the east coast with me in my book, Sea Trails, I'd flown to Pageland, S.C., my hometown, for Christmas. My plane was due in mid-evening New Year's Eve. There were delays. I picked up a bottle of cold champagne at Logan and caught a taxi with another gal headed up Commonwealth. It was creeping towards midnight and I'd told R I would try my best to get there in time to be there with him. Traffic became a parking lot at the Commons and the clock was ticking down ten minutes to midnight. I told the cabbie to open the trunk. I quickly got out the champagne, popped the cork and all three of us took a swig from the bottle as the people in the cars all around us started screaming Happy New Year. It was exhilarating. R was up and waiting when I got there. Those were in the times when we were still giddy with each other and I was glad to rush into his arms.
a blue moon drifts
over roaring crowds
the Tiger arrives
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