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Showing posts from March, 2017

Flashback Friday

There are companies that fly over farms and in this case villages and take pictures.  They then send a salesman around to see if you would like to purchase a picture of your farm.  Most of the farmhouses I ever entered when I was working for Uncle Ed on his farm had aerial pictures of the respective farms.  The company Vintage Aerial took many pictures of the farms around Seaton where I grew up and Emerald City where I went to junior high and high school.   I scabbed these from their site and as you can see they have a watermark on them.  The actual cost for a frameable print (without the advertising) is kind of pricey so this will have to do. From the Northwest toward the Southeast. This is downtown Seaton.  The picture is probably late 60's or early 70's, but that is a guess.  This is main street when all of the buildings I remember growing up with are still there.  Today this is mostly gone now.  In the upper left hand side at the corner was Bill Gre

How Many Words Is A Picture Worth?

I came across this picture somewhere and I was dumbstruck by everything that is going on and how the photographer found the perfect moment to snap the shutter.  Some neighborhood kids are watching some daredevils jump out a second story window onto some old mattresses.  Another kid is hanging rather precariously onto what looks to be a area of brickwork that is gone or a porch area.  Aside from all that action going on we have an older spectator watching who happens to be carrying a dummy, which, it seems, is looking at the photographer.  And the dummy is the only one of some 2 dozen participants who is looking at the guy taking the picture.  It is an awesome snapshot of a what looks to be ghetto fun.   The next wonderful picture is what must be a bombed out library or bookstore.  I am guessing Britain in World War II?  Not deterred by the burnt rubble or what looks to be dangerous rafters these guys go about their business or pleasure of searching literature with the calm sto

Nope! Don't Wanna Think About It!

Pssst.  Can we talk?  I don't usually just scab off someone's blog and use as mine.  But in this case I thought it was interesting enough to do just that.   I know we don't like thinking about our parents having sex but I came across a fascinating article that puts us being here in perspective.  It was written by Peter Vidani who is author of the Scientific Philosophy and Philosophical Science blog.  His blog is one of my favorites.  Mike And good thing too, since it wasn’t just any sex—it was the sex that led to you. There was a moment, a fraction of a second, where one single sperm that happened to be the carrier of half your genetic code, beat out, in a photo finish, nearly 300 million competitors.  That would be like entering a foot race with the entire population of the United States—and winning.  If that tight race had played out even slightly otherwise, if a different sperm had successfully infiltrated that ovum wall, well, you could bet your bottom dollar

Tuesday Tidbits

I saw this on some site and liked it for some reason.  It tells a story in its own small way.  A shooting star, growth, and a dazzling end. Nice way to start a Tuesday morning. ++++++++++ I am just a few weeks away now from my Cabin in the Woods.  I wonder how Alfred will adjust while I am gone.  The change will be sudden for her.  My sub also has other kids - she won't be the only star of the show.   I'd like to think she will grow with the interaction and not miss me too much.  I hate the thought of sad kids.  Speaking of the Cabin in the Woods.  I think I have a tiller for my side yard project.  I'll bet I can secure the deal with a couple of Mayorga's from Nicaragua.   ++++++++++ I came across this somewhere online and marveled at its simplicity and complexity at the same time.  The simplicity is in the four pines.  Just four pines.  The complexity is in the six words that in actuality denote the problems with all mankind

Eternal Sadness

One day a couple weeks ago I was in St. Pete and went to see if the bald eagles at Palm Cemetery were still around.  When I was at Shawshank I'd hop on the bike (the one-horsepower variety) and cruise the bicycle path that runs all the way around this part of the peninsula.  I spotted some people taking pictures of a tree at the cemetery and pulled over to see that there were bald eagles nesting.   Today, I saw nothing of the eagles or the nest.  Right next to the Palm Cemetery, across a wire fence, is the Lincoln Cemetery.  The latter is smaller, not as well taken care of like Palms.  In fact, compared side-by-side the difference is astounding.     The manicured landscape of Palms gives way to the weedy scrub of Lincoln.  Broken limbs from various trees and bushes lie strewn about even making it difficult to drive the well-worn pathways.  Palms is the white and Jewish resting place; folks with money - Lincoln is the old black cemetery.  In fact, according to a sign at

Flashback Friday

First Published on 7/22/11 One of my very best buddies was Mike Johnson.  I met him through Pat Johnson, his wife, who worked as an Administrative Assistant in the Probation department when I started at the Mary Davis Home.  We golfed together along with Randy from work and had a few on Friday nights after work.   He was one of those guys who would really, really do anything for you.  He helped me move, helped work on the house now and again, and always helped to cheer me up.  He was funny.  Never met a salesman yet who wasn't. He's the one who joined us all in a smoke-cessation class where you throw your pack of cigarettes in a trash can at the 1st meeting.  At the break I go in with mike to pee and he pulls out another pack and lights one up..  Mike died of heart problems, and he'd been told by his doctor to stop smoking.  Well, he didn't and then he died.  To the credit of health awareness and education, and those of us ex-smokers who nag on smokers, most all of

Largo When Everyone Else Is Asleep - Part 2

More black-and-whites from my walk a couple of weeks ago of my area of largo in the wee hours of the morning.   This is the companion post of my camera and I walking just a few blocks away from Waterboard where I presently call half-home.   Thanks for keeping me company.  It gets kind of scary walking around all by myself in the underworld darkness of the city.  Just like heading out to the South Lagoon in Emerald City.  I keep my lights on like that will keep the ghosts and goblins away.  

What's On My Nightstand

I just finished a book that I picked up through one of those Amazon $1.99 sales.  They send me an email every morning with a selection of on-sale stuff.  More often than not I delete it but once in a while I take a couple-buck chance on something.  I always check the reader views though, and this novel had a pretty high rating.   Briefly, it is the story of a 104 year old woman in Maine who signs up for a local boy scout troop project where a kid shows up once a week to help seniors around the house.  The old woman, Ona, happens to draw a scout who, although never quite diagnosed, must be autistic.  He has the numbers fetish like Rain Man but doesn't have quite the social awkwardness.  He also has a thing about the Guinness Book of Records and soon gets old Ona revved up on the possibility of breaking a record of her own.   What follows is a week after week birth of a great friendship between a 9 year-old boy and an a 104 year-old woman.  But one Saturday, the boy doesn'

Tuesday Tidbits

The Cabin in the Woods will require a little maintenance when I get up there.  Some painting, a broken window glass in the garage - the usual stuff.  I am toying with the idea of putting in a wildflower garden.  I want to do my part in bringing back the bees and less mowing.   You can get a packet of wildflowers from Cheerios: https://www.bringbackthebees.ca  Just finished toying.  I am going to put in a wildflower bed.  I will need a tiller.   Wombie, know anyone?  Hey Wombie.  If you go to the Cabin and run into one of these guys would you please call AAA Pest Control.  A spider with hands, you gotta be kidding. ++++++++++ The level of supervision at Papa's Daycare is almost criminal.  But I swear, I was laying on the bed tinkering with my phone after changing Alfred's diaper and then it got real quiet.  Well, as anyone who sits kids can tell you, it can either signal a bit of peace and free time, or it can denote something really bad