Four sisters had their portrait taken every year since 1975.
When I watched this, I saw the grace of life, and the brutality of life, as it swept over them, and over me.
I was reminded that this single life, this one shot, is all I really ever have, and how precious it all is.
Chills, goosebumps and tears.
In 1842, J.W.C. van Gorkum, a twenty-two year old Catholic woman of nobility married a colonel in the Dutch Cavalry. He was not of nobility and also happened to be a Protestant.
Imagine the scandal!
The marriage lasted almost forty years, until the colonel died. Eight years later the woman also passed away. She had refused to be laid to rest in the family’s large tomb.
Here they are: She on one side of the wall, he on the other, still holding hands.
I found this picture on a blog by Karen Alma. There was also a plaque about Microsoft in front of that building, shown in Karen’s pictures, but I found out that as of now, that plaque has been ripped off.
Vandalism – in that neighborhood?
Here is a picture of the Microsoft staff in 1978:
And here is the crew in 2008:
Here is a great link to an article that describes what they all did and where they are now.
I have enjoyed reading the blog To Dad With Love by Vera Poh, a young woman in Melbourne, Australia. Her life apparently took a dramatic turn when her father suddenly died. The blog is a tribute to him, apparently her closest friend, with whom she used to share her experiences. Now, through it, she continues to do so. This should ring deep for any woman that has or had a close relationship with her dad.
Rachel Maddow is 40 years old today.
She is a Rhodes Scholar, has a Doctor of Philosophy (DPhil) in political science from Oxford, is a writer, and is the undisputed queen of the liberal talk shows every evening on prime time television on MSNBC. Rachel is also the first openly gay Rhodes Scholar from the United States and the first openly gay anchor of a prime-time news program in the United States.
I like her intelligent commentary, her quick wit, and her unique and poignant outlook on current events. Her program is always witty and insightful and she has an endearing, non-threatening and humble manner of expressing her views – in stark contrast to some of the arrogant buffoons we often see on television.
Below you can see the Facebook post about Rachel’s book by a United States military general, Martin Dempsey.
If you write a book about the U.S. military, and the top brass is challenged by the book and posts praises about it on Facebook, you have arrived. Congratulations, Rachel Maddow, and Happy Birthday.
Picking this off the top of Reddit, I can’t help but say that Ali must be the toy boy doll of some little girl who dresses him up every day before he goes out.
Enjoy, and make sure you scroll all the way down and be amazed.
.
Comfort rules!
Anyone can be successful in America.
I know a bit about movie hopping. And I know a bit about Weird Al Yankovic. So this post touched a chord in me and warrants publishing here:
“You’ll never believe who’s here, Dave!” said my friend Andy from work. “Weird Al Yankovic!”
Click here for the full article you have to read.
I have a few — shall we say — very good friends who are into their fifties and sixties who have perfected movie hopping. I myself have never done it, not because I am holier than thou, or I morally object, but because I can’t handle more than one movie at a time. A movie takes too much out of me. But I do have an in with the movie hopping crowd, let’s just leave it there.
I have never personally met Weird Al Yankovic, but I have a connection. Between 1988 and 1994 I lived in a log house in the rurual town of Fallbrook, California. Our neighbors across a field and a dirt road were the Yankovics, Al’s parents. He grew up in that house, went to the local high school, all long before we lived there. Occasionally, he’d come home to spend holidays with his parents, and I remember looking over into the driveway or the backyards and seeing Weird Al from a distance. How’s that for a valid connection?
Obama tweeted this picture on Valentine’s Day.
Who would have thought, when this picture was taken probably somewhere in Africa, perhaps twenty years ago, that we’re looking at the future president of the United States.
The story of Nicholas James Vujicic, a young Australian man, is unbelievably inspiring. The next time I feel sorry for myself, I just have to come here and watch a few minutes of this video.
On April 11, 1961, Bob Dylan opened for bluesman John Lee Hooker at Gerde’s Folk City. Dylan was 19, too young to get the union card he needed to play. But a friend got him in. It was his first ever concert in front of a large audience.
Bob Dylan, now 71, is on a North American Tour. For my birthday present in August Trisha bought us tickets for the concert on October 24 in San Diego.
Dylan’s opening act was Mark Knopfler and his band of 8 great musicians. I am embarrassed to say that I didn’t catch the name when he was introduced and then kept guessing through the various songs who he was, recognizing Dire Straights songs and style. Of course, googling him later I realized that Mark was the founder and key member of Dire Straights. He left the band in 1988 to go solo, and Dire Straights … died.
Dylan, like in the last concert I saw him in some years ago, didn’t pick up a guitar once. Nobody knows for sure why – try to google that. I found rumors of arthritis, rumors of an accident that had his left arm in a cast 10 years ago, but nothing substantive. Dylan played the keyboard and the harmonica, and he sang, if you can call it that.
Bob Dylan must be the worst singer ever to tour and sing live. His voice is totally shot. Most of his words come out as raspy barks and are very difficult to understand. Due to the strong keyboarding and his gravelly voice the trusty old songs are sometimes unrecognizable. It took several minutes before I realized I was listening to It Ain’t Me Babe. Visions of Joanna was barely recognizable. His band of five members played loud and rhythmical, no matter what the song. The result was that every song sounded like the one before it. They were too loud, there was too much bass, and Dylan barked over the music totally off-key with the keyboard distorting the songs even more. Every now and then the Dylan howl came through when he was yelling out some high notes and there was a semblance of a melody – and I had flashbacks to the concerts of the legend I grew up listening to.
Here is a you YouTube from 2011. Knopfler did not sing with Dylan during our concert, but he played one song with him. It gives a feeling of the concert, though.
I don’t know how many songs there were, but the concert was too long. The average age of the crowd around us must have been 62 or so. They were yelling and cheering Mark Knopfler like he was a superstar, but Dylan only got polite applause. Dylan does not play for the audience. He plays for himself. He does not interact with the audience. He never did in all the concerts I have seen him in. It’s worse now. He messes with the music and the songs to please himself, and somehow his band keeps up with him. The seats around us started thinning out about half-way through, and people continued to leave before the concert was over.
I have never been to a Bob Dylan concert where he didn’t play Like a Rolling Stone, mostly held up as one of the greatest rock ‘n roll songs of all time, if not the greatest. Dylan always, ALWAYS rocks the venue with Rolling Stone, driving the audience to its feet, making them dance, shout, sing and thunder.
This time, even Rolling Stone didn’t break through. Dylan didn’t reach his fans. Rolling Stone flopped, and Dylan walked off after only one song of encore, which I can’t remember now, and the audience stumbled out quiet and subdued, the fire burned out.
Dylan gets away with this. He has inspired people for over 50 years with his music. He has shaped generations of musicians. He has made millions of people for decades fiery eyed with his lyrics. His music takes me back to my youth.
If you are not a Bob Dylan fan, this concert must be torture. I didn’t listen to good music, except for Knopfler’s opening hour. But I was surrounded by kindred spirits who all came searching for vignettes of memories of their coming of age and melodies that tied together their lives. I was one of them and I let the legend on stage do his magic and enjoy himself. I let the chords wash through me. For a couple of hours I got to be part of that legend.
Will I get tickets next time?
You bet.
Here is a really, really crazy guy. He died in 1998, at age 35. After you watch this, you won’t wonder why.