Well-Swept Yard

  I sold that snapshot. I am sorry. It is a good one and a fine moral lesson. I should have kept the photograph and tacked it above my desk as a reminder and guilt-inducer to stay on track with my tasks.  And this weekend, last one in March 2024, I discovered that I had a second copy. 

June 11, 2018 San Francisco. Visit. Early morning. Thought to myself: I probably need to change money. SF is another country. And that's good. 

Overheard at Magritte exhibition at SFMOMA: "We should use that blue in our hallway"

If, however, Finland has been rated the world’s most literate country, it may also have something to do with a 19th-century decree that a couple could not marry in the Lutheran church before both passed a reading test. “Quite an incentive,” observes Halonen, “to learn to read.” Safe, happy and free: does Finland have all the answers? | World news | The Guardian

Found

The flu can kill millions. In 1918, a pandemic was fueled by World War I. - The Washington Post My mother was eight years old when the pandemic spread to rural Alabama and the farm that the family cultivated. Mama was the only person in the family who did not contract the flu. She was the only caregiver for the family. She remembered that she had to rotate and change bedpans for the patients. Her father gave her instruction on feeding the farm animals. She was a brave little girl.

Were you able to breathe through your ears, presumable you could sense the aromas of sounds. 

There's a difference between "don't remember" and "don't know"

I enjoy seeing this photograph several times a year. Walker Evans

Things we used to know changed. Inconsiderate.

Rainer Maria Rilke said of a new year, " And now we welcome the new year. Full of things that have never been." Unfortunately, I doubt this is going to be one of those years. 

I'm talking to the glassware if that's your concern.

The hurt's gone but not the memory.

You can estimate the age of a person by the number of pillows they need.

This photograph dates to 1899 and shows my Grandfather and Grandmother Allen (Julius Henry Allen, Lillian Eremine McKinley) on their wedding day. Showing front and back of the card photograph. The notes were made by Lucille Allen Back of photograph. No month/day has been determined for their 1899 marriage. This was the second marriage for Julius. His first wife, Josephine Farmer (also known as Mary Josephine and Josie) died 11 May 1897.

Repeal and Replace Nobody said it was going to easy With apologies to a couple of really rational guys. 

Congressman Rick Crawford, R-Jonesboro, owes an apology to radio station KASU and to the countless people who regularly donate to the station. Crawford’s recent monthly interview on KASU concluded with the congressman telling listeners that Congress ought to ax federal support for public broadcasting. Crawford said this on a public broadcasting station. As I thought about what I had just heard, I suddenly had a vision of Crawford as a guest, having enjoyed a nice dinner, saying to his host, “Thank you for a very fine dinner. Now, drop dead.” Shame on you, Crawford. William J. Allen Jonesboro Letter to the editor of the Jonesboro (Arkansas) Sun, February 22, 2017, page 4 (print). Crawford's interview can be heard at http://kasu.org/post/representative-crawford-takes-listener-questions-talks-travel-ban-and-funding

Written by W. T. Daffron, my grandfather, of Millport Alabama, probably in 1932. It was the height of the Great Depression.  The Hayseeder’s Lament What do you think About the gink And all this high-brow clan Who congregate And advocate Bankhead’s reduction plan We raise our cotton For markets rotten We freely will admit But it’s a fact This Bankhead Act Don’t help a doggon bit We plant the seed And tend the weed Side dress with guano We plow and hoe Keep on the go No rest so help us Hannah We work and sweat Just fume and fret And worry every day Haul it to town And with a frown Give half the stuff away We have to sign On dotted line At every turn we make Then buy permits And send remits With that we can rake We pay the ginner The real winner In this old game of chance His biz is brisk He takes no risk Your see that at a glance We count our dough And hope to go Right out and buy a shirt