I’m sorry about the (lack of) quality of this picture. I took it with my cell phone under less than optimum conditions, and then tried to auto-enhance the original because it was so dark. At any rate, this is a photo of Cindy speaking after being presented with her award for 2013 Woman of Distinction from the YWCA. She will tell you that she did a poor job speaking, but she is wrong. She was nervous, she was very emotional, and she didn’t have prepared remarks, but she did a fine job. Sometimes she is too hard on herself.
This morning I was thinking about all of the people who were recognized at the banquet last night. If I could choose one song that described the attitude of all of those people, it would be He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother. Here is a link to The Hollies version of the song http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C1KtScrqtbc. I also like the Neil Diamond version on his Tap Root Manuscript album http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TBGTqo6_lLE.
When I listened to the song again this morning I thought, “Let’s all send a link to the song to our congressional Representatives and Senators, and maybe they will rethink the way they approach the budget.” But that was a silly thought. They are politicians. Politicians have egos so large they can seldom believe they were ever wrong about anything. At least that has been my experience over the years, having to deal with them at the local, county and state level.
Jumping back to The Hollies, I have always thought that they recorded some of their best music after Graham Nash left the group to join David Crosby and Stephen Stills. At least, most of my favorite Hollies’ songs came from that period.
Trying to make a full circle, I’ll link The Air That I Breathe, to Cindy. It seems appropriate.
I took this photo of an ice-covered tree in front of the money pit we used to live in on Eastland Drive, back in March of 1991. We had an ice storm that knocked out the power to our house for about three days, closed the office I worked in for a couple of days, and also snapped off a major limb from this tree. I remember the storm’s aftermath pretty well. Cindy and I sent the kids to stay with a relative while we roughed it in the house. We hung blankets in the open doorways and heated part of the house with the gas range. We bought gallons of water so we could, sparingly, flush the toilets. And we slept on the floor in the family room where we could have a fire in the fireplace. It was the middle of the night when the power came back on. Their were lights on in almost every room; the television was on; the cd player started playing a Kingston Trio cd, and I’m sure there were other things that came on that I don’t remember. By the time we got most of it turned off, the power went out again. But it came back on again sometime before morning.
I drove our granddaughter Maely and her friend Shelby back to Linden late this morning. JR wanted Maely to be home by 11:30 to get a dose of medicine that they had forgotten to bring when they dropped her off. Listening to the girls as they talked in the backseat was enlightening.
Maely and Shelby stated that they were best friends forever. Maely wanted to expand that group to include more girls, but Shelby was hesitant…I think Shelby might have been jealous.
They agreed that two boys that they knew (who shall remain nameless) were losers, cheaters, and hot. I guess seven-year old girls aren’t too young to go for the bad boys.
Maely spent some time telling Shelby what she can expect when she gets pregnant. I guess you’re never too young to know that information.
Finally, Maely asked me if Grandma Cindy and I were married. The question surprised me, but I simply told her that we have been married for 23 years. Maely said, “Oh. I thought you were just dating.”
Well, I got the girls home at the proper time, but I don’t know if Maely got her medicine on time because everyone in the house was asleep. I left it to her to wake up her parents.
This is one of my favorite pictures. It shows the happiness of both Maely and Cindy. Maely is seven now, and will be spending the night here. She isn’t as easily entertained these days, but she can still be fun to be around. It just takes more effort.
I started going through one of my old footlockers yesterday. I keep a lot of old posters and prints that I’ve bought over the years, starting when I was in college. As I was looking at them I decided that I was willing to give most of them away if anyone wanted them. As I looked at one of Adrienne Barbeau dressed in a violet…uhhh…something or other that looks like lingerie, I thought that my grandson, Mason, who is a young teenager might like it. Then I thought that he would not know who Adrienne Barbeau was, and that he would think she was too old. Still, I should let him look through the posters.
I came across another poster that I forgot that I had. It is a blacklight poster from the late sixties. I probably bought it while I was in the army in Germany. The illustration is of an unclad woman in a field of flowers along with a prominent peace symbol. There is a quote that reads, “The burden of life is love.” I’m pretty sure Mason would like this poster a lot. Like most of my posters, I had thumbtacked it to a wall, so it has puncture marks in the four corners. That’s a pity, because when I looked the poster up on the Internet, it was selling for more than $200. If only I had known.
The current discussion about violence in movies and on television reminds me that my parents did not want me to watch The Untouchables with Robert Stack when I was growing up. They thought that violence was a bad influence. They may have been right, because it may have made me more tolerant of violence in the media. I’m not tolerant when it comes to violence in real life, but in the media I can usually accept it. It’s true, however, that there is more violence in the media now, and it is more graphic. I have stopped watching TV shows like Criminal Minds because I don’t want to watch serial killers every work. It’s just too much for me. On the other hand, I love the Midsomer Murders where there are usually multiple homicides in each episode. I guess the British do it better.