"If it's Tuesday, it must be . . ." tumblr. Week Nine

Today is Tuesday, and yes, I have said, if it's Tuesday it must be tumblr (and it still is a tumblr day), but before I send you there, please let me digress a bit, as it is also the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, a time when many children are making line drawings in school — using their hand as a pattern — such as the one by yours truly posted above today's blog entry. Additionally, it is also November the 22nd, a day which changed the lives of many — in 1963 — when President John F. Kennedy (JFK) was assassinated. I wrote about what I was doing on that fateful day in a blog entry this past November (2010), and if you would like to refer to it, you may do so by clicking here.

However, as I stated yesterday, TLLG is not a political or social justice blog (there are plenty of good ones about those topics out in cyberspace), but, be that as it may, I do want to acknowledge Caroline Kennedy today. Forty-eight years ago on this day, November the 22nd 1963, when Caroline Kennedy was five days shy of turning six years old, there is a possibility, that she, too, was creating line drawings like the one I have just described, whimsical and carefree in structure and fun to create for Thanksgiving.

Unfortunately, by the afternoon any whimsicalness she might have felt was obviously shattered. For by that hour, she had not only suffered the death of her newly born sibling, Patrick , who had died that past August, but her father, President John F. Kennedy, had been assassinated; and surely she must replay these events in her mind on this day, especially when the media will replay and replay the event that occurred in Dallas.

I do not keep tabs on what Caroline Kennedy does or does not do; as I am one of those — to quote Herb Gardner – who has "given up on the (21st) century in favor of making it through the week."*

Rather, Ms. Kennedy is on my mind today because, like her, I was a child when J.F.K. was assassinated (Caroline is my sister's age), and the impact of the tragedy, and of any tragedy or trauma on a child, forever shapes their view of the world. From what I observe, Ms. Kennedy does not seem to be burdened with her past scars as others (including yours truly) tend to be. But, before I get too philosophical or begin to sound presumptuous (after all I have nothing in common with Caroline Kennedy except that we both live in New York City, work as writers, and were children when her father was assassinated), I'll leave my thoughts on Caroline Kennedy for you to mull over, as I am certain you have your own ideas and perceptions, which you are always welcome to share with me within the comments field at the end of this blog.

P.S. *The quote is from Herb Gardener's play, I'm Not Rappaport, and I referred to Mr. Gardener at the onset of this blog in a post you may access via this link.

AND WITHOUT, FURTHER ADO, SINCE IT IS TUESDAY AND IT MUST BE TUMBLR, PLEASE CLICK HERETO GO THERE!

NOW Fifty (50) Years Later: November 23, 2013

Because, yesterday, November 22nd 2013, was the fiftieth anniversary of the assassination of the USA 35th president John F. Kennedy, I am pausing from my "regular" topics as it feels somewhat disrespectful to veer from that subject.

John F. Kennedy 5/29/1917-11/22/1963

John F. Kennedy was assassinated fifty-four years ago on this day of November 22nd 1963. I have written about President Kennedy in prior posts here on Blogger, dear reader, and you may reference them by clicking here.

The essay atop this post was published eight days after Kennedy's death in The New York Times. It was written by E.B. White and I've included it in a few entries here on Blogger. I've also written a number of blog posts which reference E.B. White, please click here if you'd like to read them.

"When I find myself in times of trouble . . . Mother Mary comes to meet me . . ." Consolation of Strawberry Fields

Yesterday, December the 8th, was the  Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary. It was also the 30th anniversary of John Lennon's murder, and just as it is said that people of a certain age remember what they were doing when they received the news that John F. Kennedy was assassinated (as I blogged about in a previous post), it is said that most people of a certain age will remember what they were doing when they received word that Lennon was shot and killed in New York City, just outside his home, a half a block away from where I now reside.

Throwback Thursday: John Lennon's Murder: 12-8-1980

Today is the  feast of the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary as indicated in the photo atop this entry in an image from Prints of Grace.

It is also the thirty-sixth anniversary of John Lennon's murder. And just as it is said that people of a certain age remember what they were doing when they received the news that John F. Kennedy was assassinated (as I blogged about in a post here on Blogger), it is said that most people of a certain age will remember what they were doing when they received word that Lennon was shot and killed in New York City, just outside his home, a half a block away from where I now reside.

John F. Kennedy was born on this day in 1917.

My posting this copy (directly above) of a November 1963 E.B. White essay (published in The New Yorker) is a small way of paying homage to the assassinated John F. Kennedy's day of birth.

He was born on the day of May 29th in 1917.

Stop and Smell the Cranberries (AT LEAST EAT 'EM)

Yesterday, November the 23rd, was Eat a Cranberry Day. This is not a major holiday in the scheme of things, but as an urban gardener, I had every inclination to write about it here on Blogger, and to illustrate my post with photo-ops of a cranberry vine which grows in my urban (NYC) garden.  

However, I became distracted, and did not utter one word about this unusual holiday, and, so without further ado, dear reader, with the photo-ops posted above this entry (taken in my garden), I wish you a happy belated Eat a Cranberry Day.

Chekov's Olga Seregeyevna Prozoro and me. Remembering my father's last days.

Following up to yesterday's post, I will tell you that my father did not leave the hospital on the "Monday after Thanksgiving," as he had hoped to do, which is indicated in the audio playing during the video clip in that post. Instead he was still in the hospital on the "Monday after Thanksgiving" and declining quickly. He died a week after that Thanksgiving — November the 30th, fifteen years ago today at 7:35 AM, due to complications with septic shock.


The year he died, Thanksgiving Day was November 23rd. He had evidently recorded a tape (that is being played in the movie-clip in yesterday's post) on the eve of that Thanksgiving, November 22nd — the day Kennedy was assassinated thirty-two years prior — as I recalled in an earlier entry.

My father had been in the hospital due to consequences brought on by severe emphysema, which was caused by his intense Pall Mall cigarette smoking. Although he had quit smoking a few years prior to his death, his wife continued to smoke. He insisted her second hand-smoke did not bother him, and even through his wheezing, as he was declining severely in health, he joked that when he died, the tobacco industry would raise the price of cigarettes in a phenomenal way, saying they would begin to miss his revenue.

"The Monday after Thanksgiving."

As I mentioned this past Wednesday here on Blogger, John F. Kennedy was assassinated fifty-four years ago on the day of November 22nd 1963. I have written about President Kennedy in a number of posts here Blogger, dear reader, and you may reference them by clicking here.

But on that day, another event that occurred on November 22 (in 1995), which happened to be a Wednesday, just as it was this year, has been my mind. And that is the date that my father spoke his last words, into a tape-recorder from his hospital bed, saying, "the doctor hoped to have him out of the hospital the Monday after Thanksgiving," which fell on November the twenty-seventh, just as it does this year.

However, the doctor did not have my father out of the hospital on "the Monday after Thanksgiving," as he had hoped. Instead, he took a turn for the worse, before succumbing to death by septic shock eight days later, on November 30, 1995.

My father must have sensed death was near, and he took the opportunity to say a few things. His very short tape is included in this posting, and if you decide to listen to it, dear reader, you can click on "play bar " below the image of the cassette pictured here. FYI, it may take a few seconds before you hear any sound.

How was your Thanksgiving? — Blue Friday. "We all have our private hell . . ."

It is Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving when many people do their holiday shopping. As I ask various people, "How was your Thanksgiving?," some of the answers make me think it is really Blue Friday — as in feeling blue. An owner of a wine shop told me "at least mine wasn't with any family . . ."  These words prompted me to recall a Johnny Carson quote: "Thanksgiving is a time when you get together with family or friends that you usually see once a year and discover why you only see each other once a year."

November Twenty Second is a Solemn Day

November Twenty Second is a solemn day. Fifty six years ago today, on November 22, 1963 (which was also a Friday) President John F Kennedy was assassinated.

Thanksgiving Day 2018 + November 22nd: JFK's Assassination + My Father's Last Words (PLUS AN UPDATE FROM FAA!)

On this Thanksgiving Day of 2018, I can hear the bands from Macy's Parade through my window, but have not gone outside to see it. The temperatures are some of the lowest on record for this day, and the wind gusts are abnormally high, which means the Macy's Balloons will be flying low to the ground, and not as easy to see, since people stand on ladders and put toddlers on their shoulders.

I'm not concerned re not seeing the balloons today, for I've seen them over the course of many years as they made their way down Central Park West ...

The 5th of July: Morning After Thoughts

The images above were taken less than ten minutes apart by yours truly as I stood by the Hudson River , last evening, awaiting the fireworks. You may notice, dear reader, the pinkish-red colored line (where the  black arrow is pointing towards) in the top photograph, but you may not recognize it to be a fishing line, which indeed it is. It belongs to a fishing pole that was leaning against a railing that separates the Hudson River (on the west side of New York City), and what has become to be known as "the westside greenway" (as it is a well worn path for joggers, cyclists and plain ol' walkers along the river).

Tuesday's Truth WK 18: JFK's Obituary

In memory of the fifty-third anniversary of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, which took place on 11-22-1963, I am posting an obituary written by E.B. White  (for The New Yorker magazine) atop this entry.

Honoring Major Ernest Olds with Reflections on Mustard Seeds and P.O.W. Bracelets

I am not a collector of material things per se; that is, I do not hold on to many things that I don't need, other than emotional scars, which I confess I mull over far too much before I let them go. However, as far as letting go of material things, I am glad that I've kept this amber candy dish (pictured in the photograph posted above this blog entry), which belonged to my maternal grandmother, Clara May Fitchie Melahn, who died in 1987, shortly before what would have been her 87th birthday.