Photos from January

I've been really busy and have been missing blogging mojo - I'd say more about these photos that were taken late December and early January but I've got to scoot... Hope to post more soon.

A cherry tree in bloom in January - a warms spell got it royally confused!

The aftermath of Super Storm Sanday (2012) linger on...

Santa waves from the porch in a house that was recently raised.

Beautiful Dolphin sculpture.

Another house being raised. This one is actually sitting in the street while they dig the new foundation.

Winter Beach - my favorite time down the shore.

My Dad's dog Zoey makes herself at home.

The place down the shore. I need to do some exterior painting.

The Morris Arboretum was brown and dull - It has exploded with Spring flowering now. I got to get there and take some photos of the blooming trees.

My older brother and his family spent a week in Myrtle Beach.

A South Carolina snowman.

The Myrtle Beach lighthouse.

While he was on the beach in South Carolina, I was on the beach in New Jersey.

New Jersey beach.

My family memories at the beach photo collage. Over 110 individual photos are mounted in the "room divider".

Batman lives in Pottstown

My brothers and I, when growing up, would regularly watch the TV version of "Batman" (c. 1966) and when the show opened, we would pose in front of the picture tube and swing our arms to match the "pow!" "bif!" "blap!" and other "sock it to them" that sent the villains flying.

My older brother, it seems, spoke of watching the show while at school, and somehow, got the impression that Batman, lived in a town called Pottstown, PA - about 20 miles up the road from us.

One day, while we lined up in front of the TV to do our "pows!" he proudly announced to my younger brother and I, that "Batman lives in Pottstown!" I don't recall our response at the time, but today, we still greet each other with "Hey! Batman lives in Pottstown!"

Imagine our surprise, when after Thanksgiving dinner, we decided to ask Mr. Google where Batman lived.

In just milliseconds, Mr. Google replied, "380 South San Rafael Avenue, Pasadena, California." And sure enough, appraised at $11,377,778 - Stately Wayne Manor with its 10 bedrooms, 6 baths and 16,599 sq ft space (which may or may not count the Batcave) appeared.

My older brother searched the "backyard" for signs of the Batcave exit - and is not convinced that "this is the place." Nor does he believe that the Gotham City Police Headquarters is in the Warner Brother's Studio back lot.

Two Little Girls Tired of Bread...

Far Side of Fifty spotted an old newspaper article in my mother's old photo display. The story tells of one of my mother's earliest childhood memories. The article is dated March 3, 1941.

Two Little Girls Tired of Bread After Five-Hour Walk With Loaf

There was no place like home for two little girls in Roxbury [a Boston, Massachusetts suburb] last night.

Walking may be enjoyable and bread may be good to eat, but 5-year-old Evelyn Belyea of 8 Kensington st., and her little pal, Lois Bush [my mother], 3, who lives next door, have learned the sad lesson that there can be too much of two good things.

When her mother sent her for a loaf of bread at 11:30 a.m., yesterday, Evelyn took her fox terrier, "Trixie" and called for Lois. After buying the bread, the youngsters decided that a walk would be "just the thing."

Their little legs carried the kiddies more than two miles, to Forest Hills, before protesting. The the two tired girls started the dreary trek homeward. Long before patrolman Daniel J. Crowe of the Jamaica Plain station sighted them at Egleston sq., about 4:30 p.m., and recognized them as "the missing kids," they had tired of their day-long diet of bread and felt the "prodigal's" proverbial yearning for fatted calf.

I wonder what's become of my mother's friend?

The advance of technology is relentless...

Yesterday, I started testing and learning Windows 10.

I know some of you were daunted by moving away from Windows XP. Windows Vista is on Microsoft's hit list now.

Microsoft decided to skip the name "Windows 9" since there apparently is some old code written that checks the version of Windows by seeing if the number starts with "9" (i.e., Windows 95 and Windows 98) and this might cause problems here and there. So they skipped "9" and went directly to "10."

Below is a preview screen. I would characterize Windows 10 as a mash up between Windows 7 and Windows 8. Click the photo to "enbiggen."

I'm both underwhelmed (by Windows 10) and overwhelmed (by the ceaseless change).

Labor Day Weekend in Chestertown, Maryland

This past weekend was rather gloomy and sticky in Chestertown, Maryland but the town was "hopping." There were a lot of activities planned - namely the reenactment of the War of 1812: Battle of Caulk's Field! Yeah... Woo-hee! :) I was there alone this weekend - as the parents were and are on Lake Michigan.

The "Pride of Baltimore II" was in Chestertown, Maryland to be part of the "goings on."

It was a "privateer" circa the War of 1812. This ship has been a hard luck case. On May 14, 1986, returning from the Caribbean, a microburst squall, 250 miles north of Puerto Rico struck the Pride. Winds of 80 knots hit the vessel, capsizing and sinking her. Her captain and three crew were lost; the remaining eight crewmembers floated in a partially inflated life-raft for four days and seven hours with little food or water until the Norwegian tanker Toro came upon them and rescued them.

The ship in the photograph is the second "Pride." On September 5, 2005, the "Pride of Baltimore II" suffered a complete dismasting while sailing in a squall in the Bay of Biscay off the coast of France. The ship returned to port under motor power for repairs.

There were "public sailings" on the ship and it sailed past the houseboat several times but I didn't go on any of them.

A view of the mast and rigging.

The town was festooned with 15 star flags from 1812. Note the stars.

In Fountain Park, I found a crafter's display of carved wooden fishes. This is a "Dolphin" or "Mahi Mahi." I didn't bring this home. I wouldn't know where to put it.

Motoring past the wharf is the Anne D., an Echo Hill Outdoor School buy boat.

I took a boat ride in my dad's boat with a fellow "Wharf Rat" to see the Pride of Baltimore II from the water. The Schooner Sultana is in the distance on the right. It is about half the size of the Pride.

Of course, it wasn't all boat riding and sightseeing! I took a couple long walks up the hill from the wharf and visited with my friend Huckleberry. He's not been around for several weeks and I was beginning to worry about him. We enjoyed a pleasant belly and ear-rubbing (for him) reunion.

The sky that evening made me think of several friends - and since I was at the wharf alone - I kind of got lonesome.

The next day I went into town, mostly just to see some people, and caught this young woman tossing some coins into the fountain at the park. The family had a large dog that they tried to have pose in front of the fountain for photographs, but he wasn't having any of that! They finally got a "sort of good one" when someone else took a snap with the whole family at the fountain (see Flickr if you want)

My car turned 150,000 miles on the way back to the houseboat. It is getting old.

While I was at the wharf, the one-legged lady sent me a cellphone photo of Barley - and labeled it, "My Copilot." He's so cute. :)

Wordless Wednesday

This and That

I finally figured out a way to get the photo off my cellphone without emailing each and every one of them separately - I used a bluetooth connection to my Nook Color after I booted it into a hacked version of Android! and transferred the lot (I think about 160 of them from over three years). I then connected the Nook Color to a PC and copied them into Flickr.

Where there is a will (read: stubborn old cuss), there is a way.

This one made me think, "Now why did I take this photo? And then it occurred to me - it is in the "stupid signs" folder. Perhaps you see what I mean... "End No Passing Zone"... Huh? Sometimes I wonder about the intelligence of our highway engineers.

I saw this sign while in Florida a while back - and I thought, that reminds me a lot of someone that I know... that can't get out much. So I took the photo and sent it to them - to say "Hello". Now I wish I had bought the sign!

Someone was thinking about me when they saw this - it is a USB memory stick, and it had all sorts of SpongeBob computer wallpapers and backgrounds - and even some computer themes with SpongeBob mouse cursors on it! I get a Squidward instead of an hourglass!

Another Florida sight that made me stop and say, "Oh! Wouldn't someone I know like to see this!!"

Another Florida sight that made me stop and say, "Oh! Wouldn't someone I know like to see this!!"

So anyway, that is where the collection of this and that photos you see in my Flickr came from...

It's been awhile since I...

...photographed my foot. Is this a "selfie"?

I was on my way to the Hundred Acre Woods to see what spring has brought back to life. Obviously, this old car has seen better days (I took a few photos of it a few years back here and here). I wonder if it ever took someone to the local drive-in, an expectant mother to the hospital or a nervious teenager to a high school prom?

The Virginia Bluebells are just coming out now. I'll have to go back soon and take their picture... maybe the flood waters will recede and I'll even have new shoes by then.

Wordless Wednesday (A Day Late)

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod

This past weekend, I was "upstate" in the wilds of Pennsylvania.  I stayed a couple nights in the charming town of Wellsboro, Pennsylvania.  In the town square, there is a fountain and statue of some little children in a wooden shoe.

Intrigued, I read the little sign that explained it was named "Wynken, Blynken, and Nod" after a popular poem for children written by American writer and poet Eugene Field and published on March 9, 1889. The original title was Dutch Lullaby.

The poem goes:

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe —
Sailed on a river of crystal light,
Into a sea of dew.
"Where are you going, and what do you wish?"
The old moon asked the three.
"We have come to fish for the herring fish
That live in this beautiful sea;
Nets of silver and gold have we!"
Said Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.

The old moon laughed and sang a song,
As they rocked in the wooden shoe,
And the wind that sped them all night long
Ruffled the waves of dew.
The little stars were the herring fish
That lived in that beautiful sea —
"Now cast your nets wherever you wish —
Never afeard are we";
So cried the stars to the fishermen three:
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.

All night long their nets they threw
To the stars in the twinkling foam —
Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe,
Bringing the fishermen home;
'Twas all so pretty a sail it seemed
As if it could not be,
And some folks thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamed
Of sailing that beautiful sea —
But I shall name you the fishermen three:
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,
And Nod is a little head,
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies
Is a wee one's trundle-bed.
So shut your eyes while mother sings
Of wonderful sights that be,
And you shall see the beautiful things
As you rock in the misty sea,
Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three:
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.

The Honorable Fred W. Bailey of Denver, Colorado, presented the statue of the Green to the children of Wellsboro as a gesture of love for his late wife Elizabeth. Elizabeth’s love for Field’s poem and love for her hometown inspired Bailey to donate the memorial.

Elizabeth Cameron was born and raised in Wellsboro, Pennsylvania. Fred Bailey also grew up in Wellsboro, but followed his yearning for the West to Colorado in 1884.

After a few years he returned to Wellsboro, courted and married Elizabeth Cameron, and returned to Denver. Fred and Elizabeth Bailey never had children, but her love of children was obvious by the Memorial her husband chose to reflect her life.

The statue was sculpted by Mabel Landrum Torrey who was born in a sod house in Colorado. She attended the Art of Institute of Chicago and majored in sculpture. Her original Wynken, Blynken and Nod sculpture received praise from art critics when it was on exhibit in Chicago.

Mrs. Torrey presented Denver Mayor Robert Speer with her original piece of work. He was reportedly so delighted with it that he commissioned her to sculpt one in marble. In 1918, it was placed in the children’s fountain of Washington Park.  So there are two copies of this work - one in Denver, Colorado and one in Wellsboro, Pennsylvania.

Boston On My Mind

Sometimes, timing is everything.

My mother called me this morning and said, "I was standing in front of the hotel where that bomb exploded, just a couple weeks ago."

My mother was born and raised in the city of Boston. Her grandfather was a streetcar conductor from the poor neighborhood of Paisley, Scotland who came to this country seeking an opportunity.

Somehow, through a turn of fate, his daughter met a sailor boy from the wild, exotic "Indian Territory" that became Oklahoma and a few years later, my mom was born.

Yesterday I got a package in the mail from a cousin in Arizona. Inside where some photos I've never seen before.

A short while later, I heard the news of the Boston Marathon bombing.

I found myself wanting to escape all the ugliness of the world, into the soft flowers of the coming spring... like I did this past weekend...  but my mind kept dragging me back... but... I can escape backwards in time. At least briefly.

A Christmas holiday in Jamaica Plains, Boston, Massachusetts, 1949.  My mom is holding a guitar on the far left, her older sister holds an unknown little girl with a doll.  My grandmother sits behind my grandfather who is playing with one of my cousin's toy.  My boy cousin looks like he has a ray gun or something aimed at the camera.  My cousin Belle (Isabella, my grandmother's sister) sits with her father and my great-grandfather Robert McPherson on the sofa. ...Pondering who the mystery girl was... another photo fell out of the package...

A simple scene.  But so powerful to me.  My mom's mother stands in the snow, having shoveled out to the clothesline behind the farmhouse in Milton Mills, New Hampshire.  My best memories of her are from this very place.  The field behind the farmhouse, heading out to the trees (and a stone wall) were not farmed, but held wild clover and strawberries that smelled so good in the basking heat of the summer sun.

My grandmother had a twinkling eye and a low chuckle she would use to express her obvious glee and delight she took when me or my brothers did something "cute."

Her last 10 years spent with failing memories as her numerous strokes to away her personality and in fact, her very being, were very hard - especially on my mom - who visited the nursing care facility she was in, faithfully week after week.  My seeing her with such life in her eyes was a special moment and a treat indeed.  I can't thank my cousin enough for this...

What my great-grandfather would have thought of the bombing of a race on Patriot's Day, I do not know.  I scarcely know what to make of it myself.  I hear that many of the citizens of Boston have opened their homes and wallets to those that are far from home and stunned and shocked by this ugly event.  I saw in the videos shown all over, over and over again, a large number people running towards those that were hurt and maimed to offer help and aid...  Knowing Boston as a "removed Bostonian," I'm not at all surprised.  The people there are "Yankees" in the best and most admirable sense of the word.

The Thrill of Victory and the Agony of the Feet

As you know, a year and a half ago, while I was doing some photographs of gravestones requested by Find-A-Grave members, I found myself short of breath and nearly passed out amongst the mossy stones. Early the next morning, I did pass out on the way from my bed to the bathroom, a few short feet away. Alarmed, I got myself to the emergency room, and there, after much poking, prodding and testing, it was determined that I had been waylaid by a pulmonary embolism, a blood clot in my lungs.

The images showed that the probable source of the clots (there were three larger ones in my lungs) was the calf of my left leg. Forced off my feet for a bit, I was unable to walk much, and unfortunately my weight ballooned.

After several weeks of intense Physical Therapy for my shoulder, I was able to walk more normally, swinging my arms as I did so - for the first time in many months. I was able to use the treadmill at the local YMCA as well as the swimming pool, and with some effort (mostly stubborn muleheadedness) I worked myself to the point were I could walk 90 minutes at 3 1/2 miles an hour on a 8 percent incline.

The Doctor asked me if I felt "recovered," and my answer was "I don't know. I'd have to test myself."

So yesterday morning found me at the Hamburg Reservoir, (north of Reading, Pennsylvania) and looking at a sign that said "Commemorating the Appalachian Trail - 75 Years - 1937 to 2012 - Georgia to Maine. This sign is at the foot of Blue Mountain and near the location of the now long gone Winsor Furnace and the famous Hawk Mountain.

I used to walk up the mountain here when I was in Boy Scouts (many years ago) and have not attempted the rather strenuous hike in years. Could I do it? The path from the parking lot looked daunting.

About 1/2 a mile of steady walking up the path brought me to the crystal clear waters of the reservoir. The morning was cool, but I had started to sweat pretty freely from the exertion.

At the far end of the reservoir a small stream trickles down from the heights and the path wends its way through the green rhododendron bushes. I said to myself, "Okay, slow and steady. Its about a mile and half climb from here to the ridge line."

Time seemed to slow, the only sounds were the gurgling of the stream beside me, and the call of the birds lost from view high in the still bare trees.

At length, I passed a couple walking hand and hand that stopped and said, "Gorgeous morning!" And I replied, "Indeed it is!"

After stopping only once for a minute to catch my breath at a particularly steep part of the trail, I at long last reach the ridge line trail. I exulted! "I did it!" The trail from here to the overlook, while long and rocky, is basically level. One step after another, I plodded onwards. After some time, I spotted a neon yellow vest ahead, "I'm catching up to someone! Me!! Slow pokey me!" and then the vest disappeared at a bend in the trail.

"Oh well," I thought, "I guess they got their second wind." And onwards I went. The path getting more rocky and difficult. Suddenly, I was spooked by a voice behind me!

It was a lady wearing a neon yellow vest and two friends of hers, walking determinedly behind me. "Where did they come from? I thought to myself?" as they eventually overtook me and went by me. Somewhat befuddled by the exertion of the hike, and confused by the need to eat, I let the mystery of their appearance go. By that time, we were nearly at the overlook.

"Ugh! Look at the rocks underfoot, now I remember why I didn't come up here all that often!" I slowly scrambled over them and at long last, the object of my walk came into view. The Pinnacle. 1635 feet above sea-level, and 920 feet above the level of the parking lot, the overlook is spectacular. The three ladies that passed me asked me to take their photograph, which I did, asking them, "I thought I saw you ahead of me, and then you spooked me coming up behind me."

With a loud voice, overheard by the dozen or so people sitting in the rocks around us, one of the ladies says, "Jenny had to stop and pee!"

My brain flickered, and I thought, "oh...Oh... OH!!!!"

After a brief snack on a cool rock, during which I congratulated myself for having made it to the top. I started back down the hill, still working on getting arm around so I could pat myself on the back, when I saw three young guys in shorts and t-shirts RUN up the path I had so laboriously trod.

Now that burst my bubble! :)