Monday, January 27, 2020

Hygienic XLI

It started, as all good things do, with a world class bruncheon at a world class place . . .

. . . oh wait . . . that's our world class place.

It was a beautiful day and anther January day on the deck -- climate change, anyone? -- and our favorite Hebronians were in town and we had ourselves a *time*.

Those very selfsame Hebronites joined us at the XLI Hygienic Art Show, and you know how much I love Roman Numerals.

Wait a minute, that's not New London . . .

. . . oh, there she is . . .

. . . oh! And there he is . . .

 Dorothy's piece is called "Pageant Winner". I know right?!

Isn't she beautiful?

. . . and isn't she?

Oh, there's our beautiful Whaling City . . .

. . . and maybe she's in there somewhere too . . .

. . .  or here? . . .

But not here.

It was a gorgeous show . . .

. . . and we were thrilled to have our peeps, near and far, around and about.

Ledgie, as always, represented.

The Whaling City, my friends . . .

. . . visited by our favorite Hebronitians . . .

. . . with whom we will continue to have ourselves a Time as long as we are all standing.

Monday, January 20, 2020

I Have A Dream . . .

August 28, 1963, Washington DC

Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.

And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today!

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of "interposition" and "nullification" -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today!

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."2

This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with.

With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

And this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning:

My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. 
Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride, 
From every mountainside, let freedom ring!
And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.

And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.

Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.

Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.

Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.

But not only that:

Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi.

From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, and when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:

Free at last! Free at last!
Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!

Martin Luther King, Jr.
January 29, 1929 -- April 4, 1968

Monday, January 13, 2020


This has been one hell of a crazy January.

The Movie Fest is on, the weather is weirdly warm, "the holidays" are over but we still have presents for peoples . . .

. . . and yesterday Mistah said to me, look at that -- that is unprecedented:

. . . we still have our Christmas Tree out on the deck, but the doors are open like it's summer . . .

And in the meantime . . . 

I was going four-for-four for movies this weekend, and so was Kat. Because, people? The Garde. Kat picked me up the exact second Bruce came by for his long-overdue Christmas present . . . the exact moment Dorothy and Jim were having a drink with us on the deck. In January.

"Let's take a photo!" we said, "It'll be fun!" we said . . .

. . . and oh it was.

Man, my friends are gorgeous. Man, the movies are good.

And people, please. For the love of godssake, Throw away your Teflon.

The End.

Monday, January 6, 2020

Before 2020

It was a year of loss, and also of life.

I guess every year is a year of loss and of life when you think about it, but 2019 hit especially hard.

January was all about our James. 

I mean, the whole year was about our James, but January especially.

And January was about our Mumsie too, by way of February.

March brought us, inexplicably, the first signs that the world keeps on spinning . . .

. . . and April brought us the in-between -- not winter, not summer . . . Oh wait. Right. Spring.

May brought us children doing our Fielding . . .

. . . (and children appreciating said Fielding).

. . . and June brought us our sometimes peeps. Who we wish were moretimes peeps.

On July, after we celebrated our beloved aunties and uncles, we reveled in the summer . . .

 . . . and in August we got the laborious children back together with less rain gear on.

September is always about the Fruits of the Garden . . . and of course September is also all about Me.

October . . . Fall! Anniversary! Walden! The Walk!

November was the beginning of the dark part of the year, but also the beginning of the Hollyus Jollyus season . . .  

. . . and December, of course, was the year anniversary of the loss of our James. A year.

We love you, kid. And every day we miss you like crazy.