Here's Tuesday's Truths WK 66: Facts re Benjamin Franklin and Turkeys

Hello and welcome to the sixth-fourth week of my Tuesday's Truths series, which is being posted on the Tuesday of  the week before Thanksgiving, a day when many Americans, unlike yours truly, who is a vegetarian (ninety-five percent of the time), will eat turkey. I happen to find it foul to eat fowl, and cannot eat turkey, but I can talk turkey about the myth that Benjamin Franklin wanted the turkey to be the national bird of The United States instead of the bald eagle being our avian rep.

My Acquaintance Eileen

My acquaintance, Eileen, can be seen in the photograph atop this entry. Eileen Bransten Simpson is someone I've known since the early 1990's (through my then fairly active membership at The Church of the Blessed Sacrament in NYC).

I have seen Eileen a number of times at mass, including one for the Easter Vigil, when she converted from her religion to Catholicism. She went through RCIA to this, and sponsored by her husband, John Simpson, who died this past Sunday, August the 20th. Simpson's funeral mass was this past Wednesday, which I attended, and, of course, I saw Eileen.

The following day, someone helped me recall a story about Eileen, that our mutual friend, the late Donna De Solis had told us: Eileen is the daughter of Ruth McKenney, the deceased author of My Sister Eileen.

And Eileen Bransten Simpson is named for McKenny's sister. According to Wiki, "the stories were originally published in The New Yorker, which eventually inspired many other works: My Sister Eileen (a 1938 book), a play, a musical, a radio play (and an un-produced radio series), two motion pictures, and a CBS television series in the 1960–1961 season.

Thursday's Thoughts: Trust Mary Oliver's "Rx"

Once upon a time, on the date of April the twenty-fourth, in the year of 1969, United Artists released  the movie,  If It's Tuesday, It Must Be Belgium. The story-line chronicled the humorous adventures of a group of American tourists taking an eighteen-day guided bus tour of nine European countries.

According to Wiki, the film's title was "also used by a 1965 documentary on CBS television that filmed one such tour, was taken from a New Yorker cartoon by Leonard Dove. Published in the June 22, 1957, issue of the magazine, the cartoon depicts a young woman near a tour bus and a campanile, frustratedly exclaiming 'But if it's Tuesday, it has to be Siena,' thereby humorously illustrating the whirlwind nature of European tour schedules."

The movie's title, If It's Tuesday, It Must Be Belgium, over the years, has subsequently been used to describe a number of situations. In fact, for a number of weeks, here on Blogger, yours truly ran a series of blog posts called If It's Tuesday, It Must Be tumblr, and, readers were invited to read what I had posted on tumblr.

However, I no longer post on tumblr regularly, my last entry there was in April of 2017. Moreover, on Tuesday, July 19th of 2016, here on Blogger, I announced a new Tuesday series, which is known as Tuesdays Truths. This past Tuesday, September 5th 2017, Tuesday, I posted my fifty-eighth entry for this series. 

Be that as it may, the If It's Tuesday, It Must Be Belgium reference is on my mind once again today, because as I was doing some research on molting, which is what a blue jay visiting my rooftop garden (seen in the image atop this entry) is experiencing, I came across an article titled, If the Blue Jays are Bald, It Must Be August.

Cards that are about more than communication.

Although we are in the throes of winter, I am working on my collection of invitations that preserve a moment in time, event program covers that enhance an occasion, and creating note–cards that are about more than communication. My desire to bring back the practice of sending a paper card is even stronger than it was a short time ago when my friends and I were discussing the pitfalls of sending “E–cards” about which I blogged in a previous post, and I am thinking ahead to the forthcoming seasons and images that might celebrate them.

European starlings contine to enjoy my garden. (Saturday's Sentiment)

European starlings the bird type featured in the image atop this entry (visiting my roof extension garden) were brought to NYC from England 131 years and one month ago yesterday (3-16-1890).

Snow Leopard Sparks a Steve Jobs Memory

This past November when I had out of town guests, I was treated to a trip to the Central Park Zoo.

Up until that time I had been enthused about going to zoos as I always feel badly when I see caged animals but after watching an interview (which I've referenced in prior entries including one posted on 12-14-2019) with Jane Goodall where she discussed how zoos can raise awareness re a number of creatures, my attitudes have change.

I have confessed my change of heart within prior entries here on Blogger where I've discussed a number (more than ten) of wild birds (including Black Swans, Parrots, Pied Avocets, a Red-crested cardinal, a pair of Scarlet Ibises, a Superb Starling, a Taveta Golden Weaver, a Victoria Crowned Pigeon, and a couple of White-naped Cranes) whom I encountered during the aforementioned trip to the zoo.

During that visit to Central Park's zoo, I also came upon a Snow Leopard who can be seen in the images atop this entry.

Day of Christmas Eve with a special posting: SOME WRITER!

It is the morning of Christmas Eve 2010, and in the spirit of giving and sharing, I am providing this 'extra' December post that contains one of my favorite Christmas essays by E.B. White, who gave me such joy as a child by bringing the fictional characters of Wilbur, Fern, Avery, Templeton and Charlotte into my life through his beautiful book, Charlotte's Web, which Santa left under the tree for me one dark Christmas morning. Today in honor of E. B. White, Charlotte and her web, I've posted an image of a spider's web at the top of this post — because the days when I first met Charlotte, I  suppose I was looking for someone like her as I needed encouragement during those dark days, and, E.B. White provided it for me through her.

Facts About Sparrows (Wednesday's Wisdom)

The other day when I was on Broadway I noticed some tulips swaying in the wind, but it was not until I put my camera’s memory card in the computer that I noticed a young female House sparrow had been catching some rays alongside those flowers.

Tuesday's Truths WK 53: Mathilde is 101!

Hello, and welcome to the fifty-second week of my Tuesday's Truths series, which is being dedicated to Mathilde Freund who turns one hundred and one years old today. Mathilde can be seen in the image atop this entry and it is one you may recognize, dear reader, as I featured it in a prior entry here on Blogger.

I took the picture in July of 2016, when I saw her sitting on a bench in front of a store on NYC's UWS, near to the area where she lives.

In the aforementioned entry, I stated that Mathilde and I spoke about Elie Wiesel, the holocaust survivor who had died in his NYC home that past Saturday, July 2nd, 2016. I also mentioned that "Mathilde knew Mr. Wiesel because he was in the same camp (Buchenwald) that her husband had been in. She told me that she was in hiding at the time, but her husband was killed at Buchenwald two months before it was closed. She recalled that her husband was twenty-five years old at the time and that Elie Wiesel was much younger." 

In any event, this past Saturday, August twelfth, I saw Mathilde again. She was sitting on the same bench as the one in the image atop this entry. I sat and talked with her for quite some time. I had a camera around my neck, and could have easily taken a new photo of her, but the thought of doing so did not occur to me, as my attention was on listening to her as she told about spending the summer with her son who lives in a rural area of North Carolina.

A Reason For My UNWRITTEN Musings? (Including The Third Sunday of Advent)

The image above this blog entry is a copy of an essay by E.B. White. According to Rebecca Hall, who produced a collection of White's essays, this piece was published in The New Yorker in 1930. It is an essay that I've read and re-read a number of times as it truly speaks to my heart when I'm experiencing moments of frustration as a writer.

Often when folks hear of one's inability to move forward with his/her writing, they attribute the "plight" to the author having writer's block. While this may be true, I think, in my case, the inability to move forward on composing a certain piece, might be due to the reason White offers re an inability to write about a given topic: "writing about them might prove embarrassing."

Happy February! Tomorrow is Imbolc Day....What will the groundhog have to say?

Tomorrow, February 2nd, is Imbolc Day, the day that marks the point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox in the Northern Hemisphere (this day is celebrated on August 1st for those living south of the equator), and a day also known as Groundhog Day, when in New York, a rodent known as Staten Island Chuck annually makes a prediction on whether the coming days will be an early spring or prolonged winter. He does this by coming out of hibernation to see if he sees his shadow.

The deal is this: If the groundhog sees his shadow, mend your mittens, as winter will remain fast and furious; but, if he does not see his shadow, an early spring is in the wings. As an urban gardener, I am certainly eager to undo my urban garden winterizing although I hardly rely on a groundhog's predictions — even though in New York the groundhog has been right 85% of the time. A true New Yorker, this little rodent even stood up to Mayor Bloomberg (in 2010) by biting Bloomberg's finger in response for allegedly being coaxed out of his warm home and deep sleep to perform his see-or-not-see-his-shadow task.

I say allegedly because there is speculation that Staten Island Chuck was miffed at Bloomberg (for cutting the Staten Island Zoo's budget from 1.6 million dollars to 1.3 million dollars), and grabbed his chance to retaliate by biting the mayor's finger.

Now, with the mayor's recent arrogance over the response to the mishandling of the December 27, 2010 snowstorm, and his lofty manner regarding third term limits, New Yorkers are waiting in anticipation for tomorrow's event — not only to see if Staten Island Chuck sees his shadow, but to see if this little rodent will reprise his role of standing up to "his honor"— as only he seems to be capable of doing, as evidenced in the video posted below:

The Second Day Of Christmas + More (Tuesday's Truths WK 68)

Today marks my sixty-eighth post for my Tuesday's Truths series which is coinciding with the second day of Christmas when someone's true love gave to them "two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree." 

Today is also the eighty-first year anniversary of  E.B. White's essay, WOOLWORTH MADONNA, being published in The New Yorker. I've posted a copy of it atop this entry.

Additionally, it is a day when many folks will celebrate Boxing Day.  A number of web-pages that discuss this holiday can be found on the Internet. However, one of my favorites can be found on thespruce.com by clicking here.

It's also the day after 2017's Christmas, which was a very windy and cold one in NYC.

Sunday's Sentiment: National Black Cat Day (An Excuse to Celebrate Black Squirrels Too?)

Today is National Black Cat Day. According to many sources, including holidayscalendar.com, this occasion is "celebrated on October 27th, just four days before Halloween... National Black Cat Day is a holiday which celebrates an animal (who) has an image problem. Black cats are not only considered bad luck in the United States but they are also one of the cats that is the least likely to be adopted...

While no one is exactly sure when National Black Cat Day was founded, what is known is that the attitudes about these particular felines are different during different parts of history and in different parts of the world. For example, in Great Britain and Japan, a black cat is considered good luck. However, in the United States, it has come to symbolize bad luck or evil forces. In some parts of the world, if a black cat crosses your path, then it’s considered to be a bad omen. In folklore, black cats are often depicted as agents of evil or even evil itself. In some parts of Europe, they were considered so evil that they were burned alive by superstitious villagers in giant midsummer bonfires..."

I don't have a black cat (or any cat for that matter), but I do have a figurine of someone dressed as a black cat for Halloween.

He/she can be modeling his/her costume in the pictures atop this entry.

Tuesday's Truths WK 26: Time to MOVE ON! (But Proceed With Caution)

Welcome to Week 25 of my Tuesday's Truths series here on Blogger! I wasn't able to publish an entry for this series last week (1-17-17) because of a malfunction in equipment that impacted my ability to work on-line. GRRR. And if another Tuesday truth be told, I got caught up in the frenzy of the then upcoming USA presidential inauguration (which took place on 1-20-2017). But time marches on!

Today, January 24th, 2017, marks the forty- first anniversary of my grandfather's death. He can be seen in the image atop this blog entry. I've been told that this was his confirmation picture, although I have no idea of when or where he was confirmed. Religion and/or going to church was not a topic of conversation I had with him.

Identifying With E.B. White (Again)

Anyone who follows my musings here on Blogger must know how much I appreciate the works written by E.B. White, who wrote numerous essays for The New Yorker.

I've included copies, and/or excerpts from many of them in my cyber venues. White's also known for the many books he's written, including Charlotte's Web, which is one of my favorites. I have referred to this book a number of times within my blog entries. In fact, the picture atop this posting was included within one of my 2010 Blogger posts where I referenced an excerpt from a collection of White's essays, as well as an excerpt from Charlotte's Web.

If you know Charlotte's Web, you may recall that when one of the characters, John Arable (who is a farmer), discovers a new piglet is a runt, he decides to kill it. His eight year old daughter, Fern, persuades her father to let her keep the piglet as a pet and she names him Wilbur. Fern takes care of Wilbur for a while until he needs to be moved to a farm where he becomes very lonely. He soon is befriended by a spider named Charlotte, who not only keeps him company but also provides him with encouragement weaving the words "SOME PIG," "TERRIFIC," and "RADIANT" into her web.

Words are missing from the spider's web seen in the image atop this entry, and even though there is a bee within this spider's web in this picture, Cam and I could use some words of encouragement.

Wednesday's Wisdom: Writer's Block Insights

Today, is the eighty-seventh anniversary for The New Yorker publishing UNWRITTEN, a mini essay by E.B. White. I've posted a copy of it atop this blog entry, and it is a piece of writing that you may recognize from prior entries here on Blogger, as I have referred to this in a few posts; but never on the anniversary of the publication.

If you follow any of my cyber-venues, then you probably have realized that E.B. White's writings are something I truly appreciate. This essay speaks to me in terms of my unwillingness to write about things "that stand out clear as pictures in (my) head." 

For me, some of those pictures in my head are the actions of an American robin visiting my rooftop garden who looked as if he was doing the hokey-pokey (as evidenced in the photos below).

And I even researched the hokey-pokey where I discovered the following image (on Mental Floss);

But even though I saw another American robin in Central Park, who looked to be doing the hokey- pokey (as evidenced in the next picture),

I kept my robin-doing-the-hokey-pokey observation in my head and did not share it via writing. I'm not sure if this was because I thought doing so would "prove to be embarrassing," as White suggests (in the essay atop this entry) to be a reason for an idea to remain in one's head and go unwritten, or if it's because I felt who cares about my equating a bird's movements with the hokey-pokey.

It's Groundhog Day! It's Groundhog Day! (And my Salad Greens want to know what he has to say!)

The things which I grow in my urban (NYC) terrace garden, and I, would like to wish you a Happy Groundhog Day. Today marks the point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox in the Northern Hemisphere (this day is celebrated on August 1st for those living south of the equator).

Saturday's Sequel (WINTER BACK YARD)

The mini essay, WINTER BACK YARD, which is posted atop this entry was evidently published in The New Yorker sixty-seven years ago today.

It's by E.B. White and, as you may recall, I've already featured this particular essay in bygone years here on Blogger. Because today marks the anniversary of its publication, and because I admire the written works of E.B. White; and because I adore the bird type known as dark-eyed juncoes, I'm posting the essay again.

I so agree with White that these birds "are beautifully turned-out little character(s) who look as though (they) are on (their) way to an afternoon wedding" — or any occasion where one usually dresses up.

A few pictures of a lone junco spending time in my rooftop garden can be seen directly below:

DARK-EYED JUNCOES ARE FEATURED IN "WIOB"

DARK-EYED JUNCOES ARE FEATURED IN "WIOB"

DARK-EYED JUNCOES ARE FEATURED IN "WIOB"

I'm not the only one who is impressed when dark-eyed juncoes visit my place.

Dark-eyed Juncoes: A reason to not rush in springtime in a northeast garden.

Seventy years ago on this day March 24th, 1951, The New Yorker published, “WINTER BACKYARD,” an essay about one of my favorite bird types (the dark-eyed junco) by one of my favorite writers, E.B. White.

Tar Beach Officially Opened Yesterday

The sighting of a Mourning dove using my rooof extension garden as his "tar beach" took place in my garden yesterday on the first day of spring. He can be seen in the two images atop this entry.

It felt a little cold to me but then I don't have feathers to keep me warm. However for this avian variety, the moment temperatures start to warm up a bit they lie with their tummy down upon the soil of a garden bed or in this case, being a New Yorker, they are familiar with tar beaches so they improvise. 

They fluff out their feathers, relax their wings, draping them outward to expose fully their "back and rump to the morning sun. A great many birds sun themselves, often in postures that give maximum sun exposure to the head, neck, and upper surfaces of the body and wings. Sunning may drive out parasites from hard-to-reach places or release vitamin D and boost energy reserves with solar radiation. And it may just feel good, too." (To read more re this quoted text, please click here).

This place is the setting for my three volume hardcover book series, Words In Our Beak.

MY BOOK SERIES

The books make a perfect gift for someone who may be in quarantine or lockdown due to consequences of the coronavirus because the stories in them can bring the outdoors into the homes of those who cannot go out and about.