dual personalities

Tag: birthdays

“O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave”

by chuckofish

Screen Shot 2018-07-03 at 8.54.10 AM.pngHowever you want to spend the 4th of July, I’ll take my cue from those three American flyers in the German prisoner of war camp (surrounded by British officers) in The Great Escape (1962)…waving the flag, playing loud music and sipping some moonshine. (“WOW!”)

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Oh, thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand
Between their loved home and the war’s desolation!
Blest with victory and peace, may the heav’n-rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation!
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto: “In God is our trust”:
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

(Francis Scott Key)

A little flag-waving once a year is a good thing! You can bet that we’ll be waving away and bar-b-que-ing and then heading over to our local high school to watch the local fireworks.

We’ll also be thinking of our handsome big brother and thinking of those 4th of July birthdays of yesteryear. We were a rather quiet and restrained family (some might say uptight) but on the 4th of July we liked to let loose and bang pots and pans. We would put the stereo speakers in the open window and blast Souza marches to unsuspecting, left-wing neighbors. We set off fire crackers and bottle rockets!

Well, here’s hoping our bro has a happy, happy birthday and that it isn’t too staid and dignified!

Screen Shot 2018-04-26 at 10.17.24 AM.pngWe hope this is a “big year” for him, at least in the birding sense. Come see a Pied-billed grebe or a Marbled godwit sometime! We have them in Missouri, you know. After all, we live on the Mississippi flyway.

Last man standing

by chuckofish

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We missed Willie Nelson’s birthday last weekend. He turned 85, so Garden & Gun made a playlist of 85 of his hits. Wow.

You may recall that Willie had a go at an acting career back in the late 1970s-early 1980s when he made a couple of pretty good movies: The Electric Horseman (1980), Honeysuckle Rose (1980), Barbarosa (1982). Things petered out though, probably because he lost interest–writing music and touring were where his real interests lay obviously. After that, he would appear with friends in movies and on television, and, no doubt, to make a quick buck, from time to time.

My favorite Willie Nelson acting effort is the “El Viejo” episode of Miami Vice (1986) where he plays an aging Texas Ranger bent on revenge. It’s a good one.

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I may watch it tonight.

Oh, and by the way…

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Way to go, Big Mike.

Where’s the action? Where’s the game?*

by chuckofish

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My birthday weekend (shared with daughter #2 who turned 28 last weekend) was so fun, starting with our traditional margaritas on the way home from the airport.

IMG_8720.JPGOver the three day weekend we managed to fit in trips to the botanical garden and Grant’s Farm, lunch out and Ted Drewe’s, a night at the Sheldon with a red hot bluegrass band, plus three visits with the wee babes. We also watched Guys and Dolls (1955)! I even managed to squeeze in church–albeit the 8:00 a.m. service where I saw people I hadn’t seen in years!

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This toy is too darn fun

Not to mention we enjoyed our first barbeque of the season, with cake and lots of presents!

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The OM joined the TCM wine club on my behalf–It’s official: I am a total nerd.

My cup runneth over.

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*It’s the oldest established, permanent floating
Crap game in New York!

Have a good week!

“All kinds of weather we stick together, the same in the rain or sun”*

by chuckofish

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Today is my dear dual personality’s birthday! I will think of her often, as I do every day, and miss her.

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I hope that all the men in her life (one husband and three sons) take care to lavish her with the love and attention she deserves.

Anyway, I am glad to hear that her grades are in and that she is officially on sabbatical! Huzzah!

Although she is nowhere near her 71st birthday, I still like this poem by Walt Whitman, My 71st Year:

After surmounting threescore and ten,
With all their chances, changes, losses, sorrows,
My parents’ deaths, the vagaries of my life, the many tearing passions of me, the war of ‘63 and ‘4,
As some old broken soldier, after a long, hot, wearying march, or as haply after battle,
At twilight, hobbling, answering yet to company roll-call, Here, with vital voice,
Reporting yet, saluting yet the Officer over all.

Happy Day! It’s a week ’til Christmas!

*Irving Berlin

 

Happy b-day to our brown-eyed handsome man*

by chuckofish

Today is the boy’s birthday–he is 31! Happy birthday to our brown-eyed handsome man!

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Here he is back in 1987 with the OM.

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Perhaps he reminds you of someone?

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Yes, it is rather amazing.

Here are a few more pictures which show the similarities…

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As you can see, the boy was on the go and getting into mischief just the way the little bud does. Two peas in a genetic pod.

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Lottie says, “What about me?” Well, we know she is the apple of her daddy’s eye, probably because she looks like her lovely mommy.

Anyway, we celebrated the boy’s birthday on Sunday night. But we will raise a toast to our wonderful son as he turns 31 tonight. I thank God every day for him and for being his lucky mother.

*”Brown-eyed Handsome Man” by Chuck Berry

My mother remembers the day as a girl

by chuckofish

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Our last connection with the mythic.
My mother remembers the day as a girl
she jumped across a little spruce
that now overtops the sandstone house
where still she lives; her face delights
at the thought of her years translated
into wood so tall, into so mighty
a peer of the birds and the wind.

Too, the old farmer still stout of step
treads through the orchard he has outlasted
but for some hollow-trunked much-lopped
apples and Bartlett pears. The dogwood
planted to mark my birth flowers each April,
a soundless explosion. We tell its story
time after time: the drizzling day,
the fragile sapling that had to be staked.

At the back of our acre here, my wife and I,
freshly moved in, freshly together,
transplanted two hemlocks that guarded our door
gloomily, green gnomes a meter high.
One died, gray as sagebrush next spring.
The other lives on and some day will dominate
this view no longer mine, its great
lazy feathery hemlock limbs down-drooping,
its tent-shaped caverns resinous and deep.
Then may I return, an old man, a trespasser,
and remember and marvel to see
our small deed, that hurried day,
so amplified, like a story through layers of air
told over and over, spreading.

–John Updike, born on this day in 1932

Waitin’ ’round the bend

by chuckofish

Today is the birthday of the lovely and talented Audrey Hepburn (1929–1993). I mean, who doesn’t love Audrey Hepburn? And if you don’t, what’s wrong with you?

audrey-hepburn-breakfast-tiffanys-sunglasses-hat.jpgOf course, she starred in one of my top-five favorite movies of all time–Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961)–but I like her in anything. Indeed, she is like John Wayne in that she makes even an average movie worth watching.

She only made 20 American movies and they weren’t all Breakfast at Tiffany’s. But some of them are pretty darn good:

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The Unforgiven (1960)

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Charade (1963)

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Paris When It Sizzles (1964)

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How to Steal a Million (1966)

I prefer her movies from the 1960s. The movies she made in the 1950s–when she was in her 20s–frequently match her with co-stars who are old enough to be her father. Think Humphrey Bogart, Gary Cooper, Fred Astaire–kind of creepy, don’t you think? What were they thinking?

Anyway, it’s a no-brainer what to watch tonight while toasting the wonderful Audrey.

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Any one of her films will do (even those ones from the 1950s!) What’s your favorite Audrey Hepburn movie?

“Tell them I came, and no one answered, That I kept my word”

by chuckofish

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The Listeners

by  Walter de la Mare

“Is there anybody there?” said the Traveller,
Knocking on the moonlit door;
And his horse in the silence champed the grass
Of the forest’s ferny floor;
And a bird flew up out of the turret,
Above the Traveller’s head:
And he smote upon the door again a second time;
“Is there anybody there?” he said.
But no one descended to the Traveller;
No head from the leaf-fringed sill
Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes,
Where he stood perplexed and still.
But only a host of phantom listeners
That dwelt in the lone house then
Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight
To that voice from the world of men:
Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair,
That goes down to the empty hall,
Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken
By the lonely Traveller’s call.
And he felt in his heart their strangeness,
Their stillness answering his cry,
While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,
‘Neath the starred and leafy sky;
For he suddenly smote on the door, even
Louder, and lifted his head:—
“Tell them I came, and no one answered,
That I kept my word,” he said.
Never the least stir made the listeners,
Though every word he spake
Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house
From the one man left awake:
Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,
And the sound of iron on stone,
And how the silence surged softly backward,
When the plunging hoofs were gone.

Remember this poem? It was written by Walter de la Mare (April 25, 1873 – June 22, 1956), English poet, short story writer and novelist, and today is his birthday.

Let’s toast him tonight, along with Sandy Gallin who died over the weekend. He was one of those wildly successful agents/managers in Hollywood, but one who never seemed to have cheated or stolen from anyone. The fact that he was a great friend and partner of Dolly Parton–who does not suffer fools gladly–says a lot.

e8f25e1226e4681ac2a528a324a456b0.jpgThey co-produced Buffy the Vampire Slayer you know. Anyway, his obit in the New York Times is pretty interesting, albeit terribly written. Into paradise may the angels lead thee, Sandy.

“With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.”*

by chuckofish

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Today is my birthday and at my age this is just not the Big Thing it used to be. But it is still a thing and should be noted.

Time passes and I have to remind myself that I am the mother of three adult, self-supporting children and a grandmother, a wife of going on 37 years, and the director of an institute…because often I still feel like an insecure 17-year old.

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I’ve come a long way, Pilgrim…but then again, not so far.

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So out with the old mantra (Hope for the best, expect the worst) and in with the new: God has blessed me and I am happy.

*Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice

“Oh quickly disappearing photograph in my more slowly disappearing hand”*

by chuckofish

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Today is the birthday of our pater, who would be 95. He died 25 years ago.

As I grow older, I realize that I take after him much more than I had previously thought. Although I was much (so much) closer to my mother, we were not as alike as my sister and she were. I was always the shy one, and my father was like that. Also, my mother was the really intelligent one of the pair. My father and I were/are just smart enough to impress some people.

My father was a historian who had his heroes, as do I.  His tended to be military heroes, like Napoleon and MacArthur and Grant. It would be interesting now to talk to him about them. What was the appeal of Bonaparte? (He was a collector, among many things, of Napoleon memorabilia.)

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I think my father would have really enjoyed the job that I have now, working at a big university in a small school where lots of interesting, intelligent people come every day to learn about interesting things without the pressure of grades or homework and the interference of parents and peers. It is the perfect place for people with minds like ours–curious about many things, but without the desire/drive to go too far. I finished my master’s thesis in great part to show him that I could (he didn’t finish his). I’m not sure if he noticed.

Well, self-knowledge is a good thing. It keeps you humble and it can keep you out of trouble.

When I toast ANCIII tonight–only once because he was, after all, a terrific alcoholic–I  will also toast the wonderful Doris Day, who turned 95 yesterday. You go, girl!

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P.S. I Watched The Outsiders (1983) and the book is better. Big Surprise.

*”Portrait of My Father as a Young Man” by Rainer Maria Rilke