Photography Thinks
The more severe the hit, the longer it takes. Photog, modeling or shooting doesn’t matter. I refocused. But I still cannot avoid the pain, especially when DRUMp goes after a judge, a USDC one for that matter.
Remind me what I did, exactly – Justice and a showing that judges aren’t flower pots or sub human.
Jules Feiffer died after living for 95 years. He wrote books and screenplays and drew cartoons. His wisdom extended from sex to politics and his reach from a weekly progressive newspaper to the Hollywood screen. https://www.nytimes.com/2025/01/21/arts/jules-feiffer-dead.html
Who knew he wrote a children’s book? I read it. Made no sense and flew in the face of reality for bear lovers. A kid with many friends, one of which is a bear, loses her bear. Her father wants to teach her a lesson, so he won’t help her. Mother offers some not so helpful suggestions. And her sister, who is more mature criticizes her for using nail polish and cajoles her into sacrificing one of her family of friends.
How does it end. Happily. She jumps into bed and voila, “Bearsly” lies under the covers, right where she left him/her.
Now, I am a bear person. Couldn’t live without their love and affection. I always know where they are. Sharon said that during my 17 weeks in the hospital, the hardly slept and crawled around the house looking for me.
Once, a long time ago, when I was someone worth talking to, Jimmy and I had a conversation. He was no longer the President and was making the rounds, here New York Law School, to talk about human rights.
On 14 January 1980, the Administration of President Jimmy Carter joined Andrei Sakharov’s appeal to boycott the Olympics and set a deadline by which the Soviet Union had to pull out of Afghanistan or “face the consequences”, including an international boycott of the games. Carter convinced several countries to not compete when Russia didn’t leave. 9 years later, the Russians left, their attempts to support a pro-communist government faileding disastrously.
After the lecture, I told President Carter that his actions made me happy. He misunderstood me, as many have over the years, and said that he didn’t want me to be happy that he made the decision. Humbly, I replied, that his principled decision is what made me happy and that I felt for all the athletes denied the opportunity to compete.
He smiled, shook my hand.
Years later, I mailed him the picture. He signed it.
Well, I am putting on some weight and building muscle. Not much cooperation from my body which has sprung a hernia (operation scheduled for January 13, 2025). Lots of doctors still on the list and not a lot of options. Have adjusted to the new cancer meds and my blood has been storing oxygen. Go Hemo, Go!
So, I keep walking and talking. Put here to live and then die. Walk and talk. No need to worry about what the future holds. The sands on the hour glass trickle at an excruciating rate, which, for me, is just fine. More time to do what I do and more time to play with Sharon.
So, I started out at a 10:00 movie which turned out to be Blah movie. Couldn’t hear most of the dialogue. Story did not live up to the reviews. Small Things…. Oh, look what I brought you for Christmas, a new family member. I wondered more about the town’s reaction to the last scene more than the movie itself, which was blah. So, the church takes in girls and works them in a laundry. A girl has become pregnant and is forced to sleep in the coal shed that the main character delivers coal to. He gets bribed to keep the story silent with a cash payment and semi promise that his daughters will be admitted to the Catholic school. In the meantime, he finds out he was raised by a protestant after his mother died unexpectedly. Blah. Blah. And he washed his hands a lot.
Movie give something to think about, but since I couldn’t hear all the dialogue, accents and bad sound, I had to fill in the blanks. Movie has great acting and good cinematography, but was not as suspenseful or exciting as I had hoped.
Then when I could not figure out what I wanted for lunch. Settled for Blah pizza.
Then I went to Doris. Got into a stupid argument with the owner over a $6.95 return of green olives. Picked up a lobster, drank complimentary sparkling and came home to get over the blahs.
So, it’s Sunday and time for a stroll in our swamp at Arthur Marshall – Loxahatchee. Vegetation closing for the winter, slowly.
Hard to slip around unnoticed. Spies hide out in the trees.
Leaf droop, unfit for a king, but good enough for us.
Sharon. Never be afraid of your lines or sagging. Don’t fear wrinkles or varicose veins. Don’t lose that spirit to live that looms so large that there is enough for you and still a little left over for me. Without you, life would be so empty and not worth living. You make me want to get up in the morning.
Our dear friend Howard Kane sent this orchid arrangement to Sharon. Lovely. Just lovely.
So, I am back on the street. Walked, with Sharon chaperoning, up the block near the trees. Lichens beckoned.
WE always light candles on Yizkor. Depends on how many people we want to remember and how much light we can handle. It’s a Jewish custom to remember the dead. A cemetery visit would not hurt, but its geographical range is limited.
We also make a donation. By being better people, we elevate the memories of the dead, most of whom should not have died in vain.
Here, we honor and remember Sharon’s mother and father and mine. The middle candle is for all the people whom no one remembers, including all the people killed in Israel this year, all the people of Palestine killed this year and all the people killed in the Ukraine.
May there be peace.
