February 2014

Posted by Ellen

"Woman on sled being pulled by biplane, with Washington Monument in the background." February 1922.

Posted by Ellen

Fruit of the mahogany tree.

Posted by Ellen

Apparently, these tourists in Queenstown, New Zealand, have no intention of sharing their Fergburgers with attentive local ducks.

Posted by Ellen

Sadly, what this train is hauling is the kind of stuff that keeps us warm. We have to do something about this.

Posted by Ellen

Conceded: the sun was already below the horizon when it did all this to the sky the other day. Say it set ten or fifteen minutes earlier, around 5:30 PM.

5:30's not bad. Really. We don't have to pay any attention to that groundhog behind the curtain: spring is coming.

Still have to wear a coat, though.. . .

Posted by Ellen

In Sochi, we're told, the Russian government spies on you while you're in the shower. Well, in Queenstown, New Zealand, corporations try to sell you stuff while you're in the shower; the walls of the shower stall at our "holiday park" were papered over with ads for, in this case, winery tours.

Posted by Ellen

My father, Bob Horowitz, died February 1 after living many years with Alzheimer's. He was 89 and married to my mother for 65 years.

The family consensus is that almost all those 89 years were very happy ones for him, with the likely exception of 1944 and 1945, when he was an infantryman fighting in France and Germany.  "I'll Be Seeing You," something of an anthem among American GIs overseas, remained one of his favorite songs, though it's gooey and sentimental and he was not in any other respect a gooey-sentimental-song type of person. 

What he was was the type of person who named the cat Rover and who put a racing stripe on his Ford Econoline van. And I'm here to tell you that that's the kind of person you want for a father.

In this picture, he and my mother are holding me on my first birthday.

Here's Jimmy Durante singing "I'll Be Seeing You." Here's Billie Holiday. And here's Frank Sinatra.

Like they say there in the ending to the song: When I'm looking at the moon, I'll be seeing you.