Damned good point

In Leonard Pitts' column today, something caught my eye.


He wrote about how many blacks don't want to rehash the tragedies and injustices of the Jim Crow era.


He's right.


About a decade ago, my dear, now departed, coworker Carolyn Myles reacted very strongly to a Halloween decoration painted by one of our production artists.  It showed the artist hanged from a black tree against a dark sky.  It was meant to be funny, since he was constantly in trouble with the higher ups as a loose cannon.


Carolyn, an Afro-American with ties to family in Baltimore, was not the least bit amused.  She ordered him to take it down.  I can still hear her explaining that we Northerners cannot begin to understand the horror of such an image.  She was very upset, and it was the beginning of my own re-education in the extent of damage done to our black brothers and sisters.


Please, let's not pretend that slavery and brutal discrimination is over and done.  It isn't, and Black Americans will suffer the pain and injustice longer and longer, the more we try to sweep it all under the rug.


And I doubt that cleaning up the language in books like Huckleberry Finn will help matters, either.


Frankly, I thought the book overlong with a rather fairy-tale ending, but the brutality of the language and its accompanying concepts seemed instructive and necessary.


For crying out loud, when is American going to grow up?


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Little Pond

Murphy

In his Grampa's arms.

 (7 lbs, 2.6 oz and 20.5 inches long) 

(3.25 kilos and 52.07 cm)

Merry Un-Christmas

   
      

Christmas week in Little Pond.




Bring in the whirl-
wind!


Little VM begins to remove the ornaments one by one.


No big deal.  A lifetime of living in households full of kids taught us to place only unbreakable ornaments along the bottom.


In fact, if we shift our thinking, it might even look as though VM is actually placing the ornament!.


Happy Holidays from the Little Pond.

For all my internet buddies.

A Christmas Riddle:


How long did Santa spend in front of the Fireplace?


Answer:


He can't remember; he didn't keep a log!


From a Hallmark Peanuts card.  Thanks Sharon!

It's that time of year again.

And as far as Ellie is concerned, "Bah, Humbug!"  She hates the extra clothing, and isn't nuts about a run down to the Chemung.  She will go, and she will enjoy herself, but she will steer us back to the car when given half a chance.


Enjoy the season.


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Little Pond

Hope you weren't offended by my last post.

I hate flying, and will only fly in an emergency.  
The last time was to return home for my godfather's funeral.  I hated every minute of it and upset all the people around me by looking like death warmed over.  To call me white-knuckle doesn't begin to describe my fears.


But I wanted to be there for the widow, my Godmother, and my Dad, who lost his baby brother.  My eldest uncle was wandering around saying he should have died first, and really needed all of us to assure him that we were thrilled to have him still with us as long.


Nevertheless, my dearest, darling, loving, accepting, sometimes funny and always good-humored Godfather had died.  By the end of the weekend, I was depressed and self-medicating.  Needless to say the trip back to Little Pond was wrapped in an alcohol-laced melancholy.  That is to say, I remember nothing about it.


If I need to fly again, I willingly will submit to the scan.  After all the MRI's due to MS, and the many mammograms due to a family history of ovarian and mammary cysts and tumors, a few more zaps ain't gonna amount to much more than a p-sshole in a snowdrift.  And if I had to get groped, well, I guess I would request a cot so I could just lie back and enjoy it.


You see, when and if I am ever next to the religious-crazed nutbag who begins to light a match (or whatever), I will scream bloody murder.  And I want everyone else around me to do likewise.  I intend to go down kicking the $#!+ out of anyone who begins to look suspicious.


I'll deal with the legal ramifications later, if I'm wrong.
No one's likely to suffer unduly at my hands, but then again, with MS, I can take a few hits to the hands without feeling a thing until a tad later.  By then, the other passengers can take over.


Who's with me?


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Little Pond

C'mon guys, man up!

The airline security procedures are invasive?  Of course they are.  The Christmas would-be bomber was hiding explosive in his underwear, for God's sake.

Don't like it, don't fly.

OR BETTER YET...
How about a non-secure flight for those who like to gamble?

They can pay extra for insurance, and sign waivers.

Then they can all fly together, crybabies and terrorists.

Let's see who wins.

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Little Pond

Not so sure about that fellow...

My readers and friends already know my position on gay rights.  Nonetheless, I admit that I was put off by Craig Wilson's column in Sunday's paper.

Of course, I had suspected it all along.  Still, I was a tad disappointed when he openly declared it in the last four paragraphs of the piece.

Some people should learn to keep controversial personal information to themselves.

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Little Pond

If you can stomach it

...head over to the MS Companion for a short complaint about abbreviated underwear.

Sound Familiar?

I've been planning to post witty sayings that occur to me about getting old, but I keep forgetting what they are.


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Little Pond

Dragon Lady will ride again!

I only recently realized that I have begun to compose my latest Dragon Lady book in my head.  I had been too busy and unwell to follow through in the past year and a half.

Josephine is now closer to my own age, and will have to adjust her libido accordingly.

That is to say that she's feeling randier than ever, and has the means to carry her romps not only around the planet, but back into the past.

Hope our ancestors are up to it...

pb

We are back from Blogger Limbo

We had an ugly hiatus for a while, after a nasty malware was stuck to Pats Pond.

I cleaned it up and we seem to be back in business.

Rest assured, I will watch carefully for those weird comments that seem to be non-sequitors.

What the frig?  Who has nothing but time and the will to ruin other people's sites?

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Little Pond

Please, be gentle.

Just found out that Sasha Cohen will play Freddie Mercury.


On the one hand, I am thrilled that we've finally gotten to the point when someone will play Freddie.  On the other hand,  I'm scared that Sasha will blow it.


Can he play it straight, so to speak?


What I feel for Mercury is almost religious, and is certainly reverence.  I can never forgive him for being so careless.  And on  top of the infection, he didn't take care of it.  If Magic Johnson can survive, Freddie could too.


Please Sasha:  revive Freddie Mercury for those of us are still mourning.  Bring us joy, not more anguish.


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Little Pond

Hive Collapse?

Two years now, we've been hearing about hive collapse and the loss of honey bee colonies.  Yet during those two years, there have been plenty of honey bees around the Chemung River.

The two bees in these photos are typical of any visit in the summer here.  I worry because my childhood included a beehive tended by my Dad.

If you look in the top right, you will see a jealous Ellie, waiting none too patiently for me to throw her toy into the River.  She's not interested in bees, except when they sting her.

More pics from today's River Visit here.

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Little Pond

Knocked flat!

Was it right about this time last summer we began to hear about Swine Flu?

I am seated ramrod straight in front of the keyboard, trying not to turn my head.  The absolutely worst neck pain since the neuralgia of my first diagnosis.

Much better since yesterday, though.  I spent half the day with a corn kernel bag against my neck and shoulder.  And last night's sleep simply wasn't, period.

Today is another day, and the Grandchild will visit with the GrandDogs and MamaDog herself, carrying the next Grand.  She may have been the one who transmitted the nasty bug to me.

Babysitter Bubba

No matter.  Better to have bug and a visit with the grand, than no bug and and no grand.

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Little Pond