Odds nd Ends

 

Seventy Years . . .

When I was nine years old, I was completely consumed with the upcoming coronation of Princess Elizabeth. I filled a scrapbook with clippings and magazine stories about the event--a fairytale golden coach, a handsome prince, jewels, and robes of state--my young self swooned.

And when I wasn't swooning or adding to my scrapbook, I was relentlessly badgering my grandparents about getting a TV. No one in the family had one and they were the most susceptible to my pleas. I suspect, my grandmother was also interested in the coming spectacle. And her bridge club would probably be too.

Done. We watched and admired--not stopping to think that what we were seeing was the door of a solid gold cage of tradition closing on this solemn twenty-five-year-old who would spend the rest of her life as a symbol, a figurehead with no political power, a cutter of ribbons and shaker of hands.

I'm not a Brit so I'll not get into the pros and cons of a constitutional monarchy. But seventy years later, I'm still a fan of that seemingly indomitable woman, who, to all appearances, did her duty in the stringent and mostly boring job she inherited. I admire her grace in adversity and her devotion to her role. 

And to die in one's sleep, two days after a last formal reception of a new Prime Minister--what a final curtain!

                                                                                          

Along the Way

 

Way Back in 1982-84

I pulled out a photo album from 1982-84 to show Josie some pictures of her daddy as a little boy. This first one shows him in the 'chain mail' shirt his big brother made for him--a long underwear shirt covered in magic marker rings--a real labor of love by a 12-year-old for his six-year-old brother.

Popcorn stringing at Christmas-- before John enclosed part of the front porch to make the dining room.

Anticipatory gloating

Also, the sweetest cow I've ever known was a Brahma--and her name was Caroline.

Below--our friends the Langsners grew sorghum, and we were there for a day of the grinding and cooking. A fine experience!

 

Naming Things

Japanese anemones.

Caryopteris (aka Blue Mist)

I haven't a clue what this wild grass is named, but in our family, it is forever known as Heentreens. Because when our older son was very young (maybe 6,) he was pretty sure he knew everything. (To be fair, he did know an amazing amount of random stuff.) Anyway, one day as we were passing by a field of this stuff, he had been expounding on how he knew the names of everything and John said, Okay, what's that stuff there called? and without missing a beat, Ethan said, "Heentreens."

I'm almost afraid to look it up--what if he was right forty-some years ago?

 

Josie's Full Day

                                                                                            

Look at these bad babies. Every time I come up to Meema and Grumpy's, I ask her what the babies have been doing because they like to run around and hide in funny places. On this day Meema said she had left them in The Room having a tea party and they were wearing their good dresses. (Sometimes they like to take their clothes off.)

And that's what they had done when I went to check on them. And Margo was standing on her head.

I had a word with them and made them put their dresses back on because I had brought two dolls from my house for a playdate.                                                                                          

Once I got them in their dresses, we had a nice tea party.

We read some books and then I decided I wanted to build with my big blocks in the living room. 

I made a very good tower for my Castle People. The mermaid and the Red Dragon and the Hippogriff went on top. (The mermaid lights up, but she isn't doing it in this picture.)

Then Meema remembered that she had more of these blocks in her closet. You see, she gave them to me when I was about one year old, and she only gave me about half of them then because I was so little. But there were twenty more blocks waiting all this time and Meema got them out and folded them into more blocks

Now I can make a wall and a big courtyard to go with my tower.

Also, when we were getting out the blocks, I found Hamsie hiding in the closet, and we had fun talking.

It was getting late but there was still time to do some painting.

First I painted some rocks. Hamsie watched.

This is a desert with a pyramid and some birds in the sky

I painted on paper too. Flowers and a bluebird and a cardinal. And a tree. I am about to put apples on it.

And I painted a card for my friend Sandy to help her feel better.

                                                                                        

After I cleaned up the painting stuff, I had a great idea! The long cords on the new shades in the dining room make a perfect trapeze for the Castle People.

Look at the queen sliding down, She is saying WHEEE!

T

Cattle. And Skies

 

Butterflies

 

What If Everyone Had to Tell the Truth?

Sometimes when I see the outrageous and clearly false assertations made by politicians, (looking at you, former guy,) I fantasize about a Universal Auto-Correct (UAC). What if lying were no longer possible—ever? What if every statement one made, whether one believed it to be true or not, were subject to UAC.

“The USA was founded as a Christian nation,” says Mr.X. But before the words are out of his mouth, to his horror he finds himself retracting the statement, “Actually, the Framers never mentioned Christianity." 

Lying, hyperbole, evasive statements are common in politics. What in the world would it be like if those pursuing a political agenda were compelled--how, I can't say--maybe God would have to rare back and pass a miracle-- to speak only Truth. And not just their truth or their alternative fact but the actual verifiable Truth.

What if this miracle extended to the entire population? Can you imagine what havoc would be wreaked in any number of relationships. "Yes, those yoga pants make you ass look enormous."  "No, I've always hated your lasagna."  "Actually, I think this workplace environment is toxic to the max."

So, there are kinks to be worked out. Absent an omniscient, omnipotent deity to mandate and implement UAC, whom could we trust to oversee this? AI is too easily manipulated by programmers. It would come down to the old Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? (Who will watch the watchmen? for those of you who didn't have the dubious pleasure of four years of Latin.)

Still, it's fun to think about...

 

Rabbit, Rabbit