tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63868822024-03-03T12:09:50.740-05:00 The Philadelphia Junto.Celebrating The PJ's 48th Year as a Charivari of the Lit'ry Life | PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com | Richard Carreño, Editor | No. 244 March 2024 | Meeting @ Philadelphia © MMXXIV. WritersClearinghouse. | See us @ "PJ" via Facebook. Donations via Venmo. Dedicated to the memory of Ralph J. Carreño. Nothing herein may be published in any other media without the permission of the Editor. Est. 1976 in Fabyan, ConnecticutUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger1431125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6386882.post-88442053850709687942024-03-03T12:07:00.000-05:002024-03-03T12:07:36.467-05:00DISCUSS<div><span style="font-family: Bodoni; font-size: x-large;"><b>TOP FIVE 'UNIVERSIAL' MUSEUMS</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Bodoni; font-size: x-large;"><b>IN THE UNITED STATES</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Bodoni;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Bodoni; font-size: medium;"><b>1. Metropolitan Museum, New York</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Bodoni; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Bodoni; font-size: medium;"><b>2. National Gallery, Washington</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Bodoni; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Bodoni; font-size: medium;"><b>3. Art Institute, Chicago</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Bodoni; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Bodoni; font-size: medium;"><b>4. Museum of Fine Arts, Boston</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Bodoni; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Bodoni; font-size: medium;"><b>4. Philadelphia Museum of Art</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Bodoni; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Bodoni; font-size: medium;"><b>5. Cleveland Museum of Art</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Bodoni;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Bodoni;"><i>The PJ depends on reader support. Please help us by contributing financially to Philabooks@yahoo.com via Venmo, or by contributing editorial content via PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com.| Established 1976 Richard Carreño, Editor © MMXXIV WritersClearinghouse All Rights Reserved.</i></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">© MMXXIV WritersClearinghouse. All rights reserved WritersClearinghouse. Publication queries to PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6386882.post-21601398050095307722023-12-11T12:36:00.001-05:002023-12-13T12:22:56.945-05:00PARIS: 1967<div><b><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: x-large;">JE ME SOUVIENS</span></b></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: x-large;"><b>*********************************************</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: x-large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmmDYhPKCfLAfxCBppDHg_JB_RDGZaFz7rlGqTgVHHJcNvCcpWCP9fkDmFY9I-IkFVMt2MfFh5vu5r5-tvNvVwf8gk5dIjj4Bgc1VNX6i-VS6S5pZiwNWAADPVeoNmU0utGZwvEktIQEp6K3wWR4wxeuwgqsCxvhlF5ugs2BOtHdRtjSPE0DJ0/s640/IMG_4021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="465" data-original-width="640" height="466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmmDYhPKCfLAfxCBppDHg_JB_RDGZaFz7rlGqTgVHHJcNvCcpWCP9fkDmFY9I-IkFVMt2MfFh5vu5r5-tvNvVwf8gk5dIjj4Bgc1VNX6i-VS6S5pZiwNWAADPVeoNmU0utGZwvEktIQEp6K3wWR4wxeuwgqsCxvhlF5ugs2BOtHdRtjSPE0DJ0/w640-h466/IMG_4021.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><b>*********************************************</b>*</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgddvIZV3kn0-pPo2JVEEnSZiu1ujRcrixgsmYfU9t6ehJk7oEHx_JaZdi5yenOdh3qLS6e0gYwy2kdSY8zYj4BtlnlcWdSY2hdTlIc5ufqp2N-PbE6m0v0nozLpuHLkGZdaRoV9ASIciMwbyk5zxGN17QCjnD4nbD7nJw5b_G4-jLgy7ksSnvo/s640/IMG_4020.jpg" style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: xx-large; font-weight: bold; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="463" data-original-width="640" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgddvIZV3kn0-pPo2JVEEnSZiu1ujRcrixgsmYfU9t6ehJk7oEHx_JaZdi5yenOdh3qLS6e0gYwy2kdSY8zYj4BtlnlcWdSY2hdTlIc5ufqp2N-PbE6m0v0nozLpuHLkGZdaRoV9ASIciMwbyk5zxGN17QCjnD4nbD7nJw5b_G4-jLgy7ksSnvo/w400-h290/IMG_4020.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><b><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: x-large;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbHsBjrJ7vQXWKpP2cU-uydtb6gaSd2fr1JF9WVPkIsRL1Ygts9xGnV-dVX-VkEOFYYGqfscjpT3bKob2dghkPSQILvVexCUW4jIiU9ZxbmunjHdYuB1rhrwA3JLxnuCHvx4BpnsLGmNyamslXeDqrdATYfECnQ9QZE5VMT2pOJUDAs1yw2UeS/s640/IMG_4015.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="292" data-original-width="640" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbHsBjrJ7vQXWKpP2cU-uydtb6gaSd2fr1JF9WVPkIsRL1Ygts9xGnV-dVX-VkEOFYYGqfscjpT3bKob2dghkPSQILvVexCUW4jIiU9ZxbmunjHdYuB1rhrwA3JLxnuCHvx4BpnsLGmNyamslXeDqrdATYfECnQ9QZE5VMT2pOJUDAs1yw2UeS/w400-h183/IMG_4015.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghQCuSoo2nueLO_WSd9CWfuhz4T5vkk7S8ETMwxBam9K65NLy9savLTW0ZgQfOObx6UfoQRXBO78XPEOpIZUpyq-I9lVlZyuiRu5bxVSoyBvYUTRzlpyRCjBWcJc6Lq2OnS4O6gYGteSMK45ClxLWzQ4mUeVmvHU9uQ1RcJygNigQ2bkHQcHVD/s640/IMG_4001.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="496" data-original-width="640" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghQCuSoo2nueLO_WSd9CWfuhz4T5vkk7S8ETMwxBam9K65NLy9savLTW0ZgQfOObx6UfoQRXBO78XPEOpIZUpyq-I9lVlZyuiRu5bxVSoyBvYUTRzlpyRCjBWcJc6Lq2OnS4O6gYGteSMK45ClxLWzQ4mUeVmvHU9uQ1RcJygNigQ2bkHQcHVD/w400-h310/IMG_4001.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdUnw44rmq5x6bjv7TEpFHimXTtEIMmOT05uuEl29_0Rl3dcYnQ4kckPL2pQa15U3zD5Ar9KZJpU_C4kbdHQLW5c-RlCVmBxDs2v5cIRiyeaKTwmVqGbwzbw2Wlrx5WEetUZiTAUVAslQCpn3-nYEAgQzgQP5ipLCRuLyrVa7QPkU_vIYGlj8a/s640/IMG_3999.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="445" data-original-width="640" height="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdUnw44rmq5x6bjv7TEpFHimXTtEIMmOT05uuEl29_0Rl3dcYnQ4kckPL2pQa15U3zD5Ar9KZJpU_C4kbdHQLW5c-RlCVmBxDs2v5cIRiyeaKTwmVqGbwzbw2Wlrx5WEetUZiTAUVAslQCpn3-nYEAgQzgQP5ipLCRuLyrVa7QPkU_vIYGlj8a/w400-h279/IMG_3999.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></span></b></div><span style="font-family: Germania One;"><b><div><span style="font-family: Germania One;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><br /></div>The PJ depends on reader support. Please help us by contributing financially to Philabooks@yahoo.com via Venmo, or by contributing editorial content via PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com.| Established 1976 Richard Carreño, Editor © MMXXIII WritersClearinghouse All Rights Reserved.</b></span><div class="blogger-post-footer">© MMXXIV WritersClearinghouse. All rights reserved WritersClearinghouse. Publication queries to PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6386882.post-37498991469264788352023-12-01T13:17:00.005-05:002023-12-02T13:27:43.525-05:00Season's Greetings<div><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-RphCgGjw1RLR8u8SoPyGkqRGE6CoumUpm9E2W2D4UBoWzdz87EgpvADpA-lhzxk6pS-QXJloqraJ9kqOMBTaVDLGdz7ElGlYgNMIRCMHLnifESho0u7dPhcK8NTjfOY7P834IWRIG7rKyRVICF3cYKD0zdGseBYbUVTfwfVwKqKKNZVDaO24/s358/15380674_10209807198569477_2054698903314339240_n.jpg" style="background-color: #2b00fe; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="289" data-original-width="358" height="516" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-RphCgGjw1RLR8u8SoPyGkqRGE6CoumUpm9E2W2D4UBoWzdz87EgpvADpA-lhzxk6pS-QXJloqraJ9kqOMBTaVDLGdz7ElGlYgNMIRCMHLnifESho0u7dPhcK8NTjfOY7P834IWRIG7rKyRVICF3cYKD0zdGseBYbUVTfwfVwKqKKNZVDaO24/w640-h516/15380674_10209807198569477_2054698903314339240_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></b></div><b><span style="font-family: Germania One; font-size: xx-small;">The PJ depends on reader support. Please help us by contributing financially to Philabooks@yahoo.com via Venmo, or by contributing editorial content via PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com.| Established 1976 Richard Carreño, Editor © MMXXIII WritersClearinghouse All Rights Reserved.</span></b><div class="blogger-post-footer">© MMXXIV WritersClearinghouse. All rights reserved WritersClearinghouse. Publication queries to PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6386882.post-27622674578459804142023-11-30T12:41:00.063-05:002023-12-11T13:28:03.176-05:00BAHAMIAN GALLERY: A SONG OF NASSAU 1.<h1 style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Dedicated to </span><span style="font-family: Allerta; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Marion B. Carreño, Ralph J. Carreño, Roberta E. Carreño Bernard, and Stafford Morrison </span><span style="font-size: xx-small;">2</span></span></span></div></span></div><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: xx-small;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuCWjfzaAdbCIHmScDTjP7RpaaMWnjJWQyNF_vhJW6bqzBX8QCdM9u5pZdA6LIfFsuhas_Yrfj4NPXE2NJE-72WfEMaBVe5spJZQzYQLpaCe4Uxmr7Izz-9YHD33gSJDUqLClx7ZfhO1M3FO3YQ6xOIxiCrwfoS2UsmrBZEtXlqA68JB_IY_xs/s731/117344996_10220610622328319_5203549391544236002_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="731" height="164" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuCWjfzaAdbCIHmScDTjP7RpaaMWnjJWQyNF_vhJW6bqzBX8QCdM9u5pZdA6LIfFsuhas_Yrfj4NPXE2NJE-72WfEMaBVe5spJZQzYQLpaCe4Uxmr7Izz-9YHD33gSJDUqLClx7ZfhO1M3FO3YQ6xOIxiCrwfoS2UsmrBZEtXlqA68JB_IY_xs/w200-h164/117344996_10220610622328319_5203549391544236002_n.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTa2Ie6qOsQwI8oaLk6u-egOnnUVndZLpw_-he44SjGFwH_wB0Ac2Wq7RQqQfu-ywZcXD97HI_1irepjb72ReJn4euViCfpqz4nHs5rhmR3oXmxUMk6k6afeQKERojdON42ltENqTmndqcQLwHCusPgIYe5D6BDbW5Z639ucudHgr-aHQHr6ZW/s1080/thumbnail%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTa2Ie6qOsQwI8oaLk6u-egOnnUVndZLpw_-he44SjGFwH_wB0Ac2Wq7RQqQfu-ywZcXD97HI_1irepjb72ReJn4euViCfpqz4nHs5rhmR3oXmxUMk6k6afeQKERojdON42ltENqTmndqcQLwHCusPgIYe5D6BDbW5Z639ucudHgr-aHQHr6ZW/w200-h200/thumbnail%20(1).jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /></div></span></h1><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><u><i>Limbo, Limbo Like Me</i></u></span></span></h1><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">You Can't Go Home Again </span></span></h1><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJziiHmUJ76mcRaeWeJl40kLgovS4M6L9VpNsPe3dlagn1XDSt8gTbHOMCniKjfAS_yfUxK2IsHEloIY3j-ApE7Sqd81KGnOK-qhxpmNEoyqHye0x7ZSF7YpLbJCfA1eOsoyL4QkNWXa-37NDD_CTfGlyhH8TQwDImiobY_lUMAAzt7BGnAnNV/s640/IMG_3852.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="460" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJziiHmUJ76mcRaeWeJl40kLgovS4M6L9VpNsPe3dlagn1XDSt8gTbHOMCniKjfAS_yfUxK2IsHEloIY3j-ApE7Sqd81KGnOK-qhxpmNEoyqHye0x7ZSF7YpLbJCfA1eOsoyL4QkNWXa-37NDD_CTfGlyhH8TQwDImiobY_lUMAAzt7BGnAnNV/w461-h640/IMG_3852.jpg" width="461" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><b>The way they were. (Top and below</b></span>)</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5kVV-5yrNW8bTdnbLqqoWricbee063YzAnsKCmMTzpx18EK_l1FwSEPgkUUWsROHOzv_G2Q9xd90jKNd80PXhMauzz5tHAJs5ndNW_QCsRinJM4cskPxL1EIcINIJ4DFA51HVpZA910QvL3R1EKu5hHODNScFo8-yDO_e3ddlzRnxeNjez2NW/s428/IMG_3877.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="285" data-original-width="428" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5kVV-5yrNW8bTdnbLqqoWricbee063YzAnsKCmMTzpx18EK_l1FwSEPgkUUWsROHOzv_G2Q9xd90jKNd80PXhMauzz5tHAJs5ndNW_QCsRinJM4cskPxL1EIcINIJ4DFA51HVpZA910QvL3R1EKu5hHODNScFo8-yDO_e3ddlzRnxeNjez2NW/w640-h426/IMG_3877.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGE_cWnXwVzT2NzriPGTRpbAFGxdAEvlctIDQGlIf6n0oODy4uXlwKaXCwVuYegyHEuJHu7fnCDjI_cxPzef0ENzmcRCFEFYkPohqHLGCV7GUfnmPVO5JzESeLxz-rjli-M8eUSLEQjXpvomtpAVxdyOaBucXYn-sC-oKvCT8AIaDovmf5Y2nl/s640/IMG_3755.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="276" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGE_cWnXwVzT2NzriPGTRpbAFGxdAEvlctIDQGlIf6n0oODy4uXlwKaXCwVuYegyHEuJHu7fnCDjI_cxPzef0ENzmcRCFEFYkPohqHLGCV7GUfnmPVO5JzESeLxz-rjli-M8eUSLEQjXpvomtpAVxdyOaBucXYn-sC-oKvCT8AIaDovmf5Y2nl/w173-h400/IMG_3755.jpg" width="173" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><b>Functioning?</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeYKnUALyGfqaYgj6EG1_iU6povOW1ZVoa-JtwPeQZlQwjxmboHPSGEK_d8oaUyteFMTgRtO52_2be13gjZarrTR4jLyebI4jv4YCE1JD6UC-ql1det2B4rVhylYdMmrfqFTFXwKN5kknhKne4Tm_jX85Y5_kQH-QdGWzF7hENUHymNDr_nKOV/s640/IMG_3763.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="231" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeYKnUALyGfqaYgj6EG1_iU6povOW1ZVoa-JtwPeQZlQwjxmboHPSGEK_d8oaUyteFMTgRtO52_2be13gjZarrTR4jLyebI4jv4YCE1JD6UC-ql1det2B4rVhylYdMmrfqFTFXwKN5kknhKne4Tm_jX85Y5_kQH-QdGWzF7hENUHymNDr_nKOV/w232-h640/IMG_3763.jpg" width="232" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><b>The way they are.</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyNQkxsCVZfhIfYKSk0kurMIUasYR7uOyvPnStxLPywaOaSmr7AFT2i5nnZrUM7Li8LAVrfw_ISduHXFLSlx-KZnb1NDajhJGs1AdiSHmf6wtcBTXb6Q6Su1FaIoAYDdicbdvyMO_OrvDBAztbLgUMj_sJLR-ScQwf5vuwDgNyjeB4fBK41qaD/s640/IMG_3801.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyNQkxsCVZfhIfYKSk0kurMIUasYR7uOyvPnStxLPywaOaSmr7AFT2i5nnZrUM7Li8LAVrfw_ISduHXFLSlx-KZnb1NDajhJGs1AdiSHmf6wtcBTXb6Q6Su1FaIoAYDdicbdvyMO_OrvDBAztbLgUMj_sJLR-ScQwf5vuwDgNyjeB4fBK41qaD/w240-h320/IMG_3801.jpg" width="240" /></a></div></div></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-gyYYFn3qF6SYlnG7I6QsIFf8ynPlOwlZN7LjP1fwlsH1hRBariM4adFiuPVZOmhAWHj2Ck8pMEySzo5Bp1ZhVZVW08Dr4d_yRFFBFgPlg1I1M86erikpmYzJ2YLhm1HDkzDm-UBYdNEJVPn2GLJm8GBeRYDJyrX5VILl0Uc2ffC_iAI2vsX_/s640/IMG_3788.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="445" data-original-width="640" height="446" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-gyYYFn3qF6SYlnG7I6QsIFf8ynPlOwlZN7LjP1fwlsH1hRBariM4adFiuPVZOmhAWHj2Ck8pMEySzo5Bp1ZhVZVW08Dr4d_yRFFBFgPlg1I1M86erikpmYzJ2YLhm1HDkzDm-UBYdNEJVPn2GLJm8GBeRYDJyrX5VILl0Uc2ffC_iAI2vsX_/w640-h446/IMG_3788.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><b>The "old" John Bull, Ltd., then across from Rawson Square.</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="255" data-original-width="625" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYbymqVUxAUKvDtdsw4fd-cY-huhC6DQkxrOogQlM9nzZhu6tGoO-oGrkUBsl6hPMo8iApgI8NBL2xSaXm0anqgxt8PI1LiN89VkarsKBVfSWu4h29I9Q6Oc9vpIDtrqdC-dJ6tGl_RjU1q-_BtubMv1hdRJ0IfyNuTsJ8AxHxNw-3ohchOrdm/w640-h262/IMG_8587.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUdhSOgV51MB8on6bs8g7_bT3kOIDdmTSpSeNEyCLlW1MNClbthrPTKZwYKPQqgYDsvruCmaH2zK3AwH5HRXA78zzyA46Xa4MJ2or73zNS-stsAo6FMSCjQYZvsFOuOj1FxiKjF2RV-729970Y-fhXWXyIJ6plVWDB0k4Oer41yyBchabOEF0H/s640/IMG_8597.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUdhSOgV51MB8on6bs8g7_bT3kOIDdmTSpSeNEyCLlW1MNClbthrPTKZwYKPQqgYDsvruCmaH2zK3AwH5HRXA78zzyA46Xa4MJ2or73zNS-stsAo6FMSCjQYZvsFOuOj1FxiKjF2RV-729970Y-fhXWXyIJ6plVWDB0k4Oer41yyBchabOEF0H/w480-h640/IMG_8597.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVeaaqXW6N8wueOiLYAzYO2v2b9Fk_D-u9xe5lBDIoLVV8mn-1M32g1F8DKfLlOE-XizdIg6JWScPEwtGR7x9tPvLv-DgFaDk2LCl7NJVepmXi3mfgAAPk4GB6UwWIxGYAhAzlg8_elN0MXI4qjNfWfbDY3PpWPmyJTf8cw2MMf6pvtRoTPxtO/s564/nassau%20cop.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="564" data-original-width="261" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVeaaqXW6N8wueOiLYAzYO2v2b9Fk_D-u9xe5lBDIoLVV8mn-1M32g1F8DKfLlOE-XizdIg6JWScPEwtGR7x9tPvLv-DgFaDk2LCl7NJVepmXi3mfgAAPk4GB6UwWIxGYAhAzlg8_elN0MXI4qjNfWfbDY3PpWPmyJTf8cw2MMf6pvtRoTPxtO/w296-h640/nassau%20cop.jpg" width="296" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: x-large;">Pied à Terre</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTd3OJvLO99R5Pd1jfJB6OS7O-oI2IuRGOxp95sorryztthWENZ8HBqjENqHUimgdsQeZHoROmyWvfEC1_UeX3ucRMTdmC64K9dgwG7u7aGtcR81i6gT-h_BwRVEkmp0yZ-CUfXe2369RgViIL8bUHKP7eYM3n3CwC0NKbZdQ7uTo77ZC4PvrT/s640/IMG_3737.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="On arrival" border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTd3OJvLO99R5Pd1jfJB6OS7O-oI2IuRGOxp95sorryztthWENZ8HBqjENqHUimgdsQeZHoROmyWvfEC1_UeX3ucRMTdmC64K9dgwG7u7aGtcR81i6gT-h_BwRVEkmp0yZ-CUfXe2369RgViIL8bUHKP7eYM3n3CwC0NKbZdQ7uTo77ZC4PvrT/w640-h480/IMG_3737.jpg" title="AT ARRIVAL: 1957" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><b>On Arrival 1957: Rawson Square, off Bay Street. We stayed in rooms on second or third floor for several weeks before moving to Winton Highway. Lower right was the Elbow Room restaurant. Today still a resto. Different name. Left of arcade is retail space where I had my first summer job. Photo: WritersClearinghouse</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div></div><span><!--more--></span></div><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: large;"><b>House One: Winton Highway (Off Eastern Road)</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdZiDrQVuSjIE94Sx4hwjhrI4k7BbAS1kWy9v7LdPy82e-p9Rw2mazyYk3_aPJ1oAVy-WEMwNPXNnj8w3guWgtwGa7mOwsy2vWyQ3LZyDQGt_mP10rHZhPYNXrNscpbAhC_n644dYmmnlN_Pn2d164uLH7J-Ld4q3tbtW2h5fyXMY8l51WYxWe/s640/IMG_3776.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdZiDrQVuSjIE94Sx4hwjhrI4k7BbAS1kWy9v7LdPy82e-p9Rw2mazyYk3_aPJ1oAVy-WEMwNPXNnj8w3guWgtwGa7mOwsy2vWyQ3LZyDQGt_mP10rHZhPYNXrNscpbAhC_n644dYmmnlN_Pn2d164uLH7J-Ld4q3tbtW2h5fyXMY8l51WYxWe/w480-h640/IMG_3776.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><b>House Two: Sans Souci (Off Eastern Road)</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5nTIloTg-TiEasEoEb07Aay8mgrXCel5_2OVM8SY3etI8MH0FRcLIgAAKSAlWDS7L0WrTpwd1s2xXC4r_kOONPm1Mv1FB_iIPpHweZ-OALNmVG8vKUNRiCwS0KH1-iPie955ebzJPPPlUZ3B_Jkk_OIbasaWSng_TtSS4N5s32_8XnV3YWzGo/s640/IMG_3816.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="330" data-original-width="640" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5nTIloTg-TiEasEoEb07Aay8mgrXCel5_2OVM8SY3etI8MH0FRcLIgAAKSAlWDS7L0WrTpwd1s2xXC4r_kOONPm1Mv1FB_iIPpHweZ-OALNmVG8vKUNRiCwS0KH1-iPie955ebzJPPPlUZ3B_Jkk_OIbasaWSng_TtSS4N5s32_8XnV3YWzGo/w640-h330/IMG_3816.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0tBqgKxgRQcdOQxDtqKyinsTW56qlp9Y2BjuNxDYhb-RaKuBLAartZNECgo27bOAKKPZcy0aIMTZr1i62wNNCBSLfo5SbwvJpRc4FQ13WJDPSnS35xecjgNSlVSy0EM65xTitAtm3peMjOIhbMwRdQhW4ct4ICovN9s0AZIKElpLQ9wE3L2U_/s473/IMG_3786.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="473" data-original-width="378" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0tBqgKxgRQcdOQxDtqKyinsTW56qlp9Y2BjuNxDYhb-RaKuBLAartZNECgo27bOAKKPZcy0aIMTZr1i62wNNCBSLfo5SbwvJpRc4FQ13WJDPSnS35xecjgNSlVSy0EM65xTitAtm3peMjOIhbMwRdQhW4ct4ICovN9s0AZIKElpLQ9wE3L2U_/w320-h400/IMG_3786.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Mom, Roberta, and Viola Rolle</b></td></tr></tbody></table><b><br /></b></div><div><b>House Three: East Lynn (Off Village Road)</b></div></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmc4LRXFszyH8Oiz_HjYIoBTdG9RcfptW8AIzkqzGUy_obgaBPQeNI5MZVLXzpt-z6dDJa4yxUfGXmooHG13XO5bFWhYpGbG-1aOVTBjMQ9k0b1wQpQCiuqrScCUqztoIlIfA4LBV1YUOD428wPLP12bo4X0wD6NSNXxTqbBNN5Dat028sVTD5/s640/IMG_3767.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="527" data-original-width="640" height="528" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmc4LRXFszyH8Oiz_HjYIoBTdG9RcfptW8AIzkqzGUy_obgaBPQeNI5MZVLXzpt-z6dDJa4yxUfGXmooHG13XO5bFWhYpGbG-1aOVTBjMQ9k0b1wQpQCiuqrScCUqztoIlIfA4LBV1YUOD428wPLP12bo4X0wD6NSNXxTqbBNN5Dat028sVTD5/w640-h528/IMG_3767.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><b><div><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>Bay Street: 2024 versus 1960</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe1R9EqBN2xxUbLx2dMqkNeb-w5QPipxM5jyNm0XOx2ACF5yk4ZxnLsyYP7fP0v6_AKqpoEarF0Ni2lq7KvyV9w9xZcnQ-LdVce1k4_nS6OCU8TyN_RAAbuQpDpYr-GtHOv9rv0Wsb4ppPiYXkQGJjQxdP82YqTPHPhRyBjFTYOkrzrX9i6Qp3/s603/IMG_3696.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="538" data-original-width="603" height="572" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe1R9EqBN2xxUbLx2dMqkNeb-w5QPipxM5jyNm0XOx2ACF5yk4ZxnLsyYP7fP0v6_AKqpoEarF0Ni2lq7KvyV9w9xZcnQ-LdVce1k4_nS6OCU8TyN_RAAbuQpDpYr-GtHOv9rv0Wsb4ppPiYXkQGJjQxdP82YqTPHPhRyBjFTYOkrzrX9i6Qp3/w640-h572/IMG_3696.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Y4GYoRObnMMjlIatxN6ZSv85YQxsKwajDk5rAQYinVFSwjfYwcCcgbHdoWEv_FZwSOB4BbJfy3mDbmx1eVfy-L_jPbMHGZ3oic9oTas7AAV3aga03isMZArqxNIxmIfGDruNJM5CwlzV2IuEMBur6ipxqg1AZiy0tMLNeL6PhAS0Y6yXKQYR/s1219/IMG_3590.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1219" data-original-width="1125" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Y4GYoRObnMMjlIatxN6ZSv85YQxsKwajDk5rAQYinVFSwjfYwcCcgbHdoWEv_FZwSOB4BbJfy3mDbmx1eVfy-L_jPbMHGZ3oic9oTas7AAV3aga03isMZArqxNIxmIfGDruNJM5CwlzV2IuEMBur6ipxqg1AZiy0tMLNeL6PhAS0Y6yXKQYR/w590-h640/IMG_3590.jpg" width="590" /></a></div></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ4QBEDqU9OWGn3-uz6RYnRStlb7NWOlmBi7Wxy3SENCdpSon02ADt6FILUWcvC39mQ79B1QIpz9jRbATzEWDHcBJNkRxyeuNqsqXu-jE6S7h8_-5OTGzOAx1KysZZB6ka3SFGCWc_WQiZ-RJyCzB0sLMJizg39n_QFagI3di7D2Nc7mbtS7Z-/s640/IMG_3697.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="583" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ4QBEDqU9OWGn3-uz6RYnRStlb7NWOlmBi7Wxy3SENCdpSon02ADt6FILUWcvC39mQ79B1QIpz9jRbATzEWDHcBJNkRxyeuNqsqXu-jE6S7h8_-5OTGzOAx1KysZZB6ka3SFGCWc_WQiZ-RJyCzB0sLMJizg39n_QFagI3di7D2Nc7mbtS7Z-/w584-h640/IMG_3697.jpg" width="584" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: left;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZJZcq_eS6rdkbGg2tnW1cZL_4L5Y-aMqkgVM-ss1oeL1DaJPJbs7U4-SSUZDHMMZGAmf3VCo9QMYDg5Ks3sA2KF12a5UHQEj3xzcIxDx2LkcGS2lKLsxsBSNFINiIVxLHh5uXE3TiKkJRDh7AkxLfZEPtX_CdUKi6vlg4VYxttKvgypn_rXrU/s640/IMG_3734.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="438" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZJZcq_eS6rdkbGg2tnW1cZL_4L5Y-aMqkgVM-ss1oeL1DaJPJbs7U4-SSUZDHMMZGAmf3VCo9QMYDg5Ks3sA2KF12a5UHQEj3xzcIxDx2LkcGS2lKLsxsBSNFINiIVxLHh5uXE3TiKkJRDh7AkxLfZEPtX_CdUKi6vlg4VYxttKvgypn_rXrU/w137-h200/IMG_3734.jpg" width="137" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM_Hst9LuOSYfQ-vca59nFXrWiApSwnnbKfrjPP9SWnByIRz44DHCZQAQPrYBfSff6C-T5PHDUvjIP1sHpG1hBJ7tVglqq3fC6_AMWJzz-Jczi_dcoP3rDWurv2Pk_JjL4zmjd2GdwXnwjApC7WeSbgxnwuxduASgvh92mdTESB4_KGZKTr_2t/s640/IMG_3733.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="403" data-original-width="640" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM_Hst9LuOSYfQ-vca59nFXrWiApSwnnbKfrjPP9SWnByIRz44DHCZQAQPrYBfSff6C-T5PHDUvjIP1sHpG1hBJ7tVglqq3fC6_AMWJzz-Jczi_dcoP3rDWurv2Pk_JjL4zmjd2GdwXnwjApC7WeSbgxnwuxduASgvh92mdTESB4_KGZKTr_2t/w320-h202/IMG_3733.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">New incarnation of "old" British Colonial Hotel. It was built by Sir Harold Oakes to expand tourism. It worked. Later, razed.</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCWeuJFVYlWbSbjeflXtaFpGfr234uzxL1rtH8aFMGVFKH4Iaudm_OIeDq6f2apt1cXqf0mOtVWKE1viBYj_PHWr-KhaG4AS2KPYpQEJptOolW3dQmAWrI8Hpg0A519vhK1vMwhGk0fcR90aFoiObITSMSafNh8vOWAcDx0AKlnCdOF1AQVzqW/s640/IMG_3735.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="518" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCWeuJFVYlWbSbjeflXtaFpGfr234uzxL1rtH8aFMGVFKH4Iaudm_OIeDq6f2apt1cXqf0mOtVWKE1viBYj_PHWr-KhaG4AS2KPYpQEJptOolW3dQmAWrI8Hpg0A519vhK1vMwhGk0fcR90aFoiObITSMSafNh8vOWAcDx0AKlnCdOF1AQVzqW/w518-h640/IMG_3735.jpg" width="518" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-size: x-large; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeieCIBOKxHgn9KC5NM95BFIDFmqfHMNlHLjhJvI3J0PzktmKPjoJMs2_HXwsAuhALqW5vSmkIcGUvN1JNtkcADQATp9CIXgI2IH2uyACF6cF97fkrQdwZ0Oji36oB2x3nXlp4jqvDJZgNFpRZlSReu5JiUTbj2D_LnFwiNt5LgTZdz50kyjxf/s640/Bank.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeieCIBOKxHgn9KC5NM95BFIDFmqfHMNlHLjhJvI3J0PzktmKPjoJMs2_HXwsAuhALqW5vSmkIcGUvN1JNtkcADQATp9CIXgI2IH2uyACF6cF97fkrQdwZ0Oji36oB2x3nXlp4jqvDJZgNFpRZlSReu5JiUTbj2D_LnFwiNt5LgTZdz50kyjxf/s320/Bank.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Still there! Royal Bank of Canada on Bay Street. Had a passbook savings account at this branch.</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-o23jKAd2q4M5T0_9HNyKc1E2zXvbKHYM28CMDNdlP2qWSJ4o6-DTvK4Il5WNHkq6SHM5km1QP4Dgof8vcNnpuiP_017bgRjtHcy1tQVn4-_mMI_TSkFI2Sh6awH4aGCltFgXO5iaimd4N0JPKs-HzcO70xYbpW1o6CQFEeArhM0jK0wJ0uDN/s640/IMG_3736.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="365" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-o23jKAd2q4M5T0_9HNyKc1E2zXvbKHYM28CMDNdlP2qWSJ4o6-DTvK4Il5WNHkq6SHM5km1QP4Dgof8vcNnpuiP_017bgRjtHcy1tQVn4-_mMI_TSkFI2Sh6awH4aGCltFgXO5iaimd4N0JPKs-HzcO70xYbpW1o6CQFEeArhM0jK0wJ0uDN/w366-h640/IMG_3736.jpg" width="366" /></b></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Me and Friend.</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqswIojXKQiYjSzVPHJze26lK8Uj2ubbUrXjg6C7x-T8E-0gogumclvWTAEURTRB-HUXMRov-TcwHIfqAENZlMr0bsGhj27tA6GJ9sTiuX4ILdtUrFIT1pT2vGN2pQiI-t53QCb4gom1obMs-bnJ4oB_dtQ9ZzmucPrHw0CLfO3K-kiM7JmLbG/s640/IMG_3861.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="296" data-original-width="640" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqswIojXKQiYjSzVPHJze26lK8Uj2ubbUrXjg6C7x-T8E-0gogumclvWTAEURTRB-HUXMRov-TcwHIfqAENZlMr0bsGhj27tA6GJ9sTiuX4ILdtUrFIT1pT2vGN2pQiI-t53QCb4gom1obMs-bnJ4oB_dtQ9ZzmucPrHw0CLfO3K-kiM7JmLbG/w640-h296/IMG_3861.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJNyfaCJgIyWzWz6Ee3GKWdCMCtVngcNDJxuDBKSQyy4JUmbd2oHdiyIhyphenhyphenJUmi1v01RxGbDrjB-D9lcN-yzwozZhUDnhIGiJ-RVsFAgjSRt4dcY-rndiXqYVjSwpTOkNOsBSyXCFcW22im5gyg0-RMf9SDrGs4oxNILRAJ7Vs2xfq_xxpFURCU/s640/IMG_3874.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJNyfaCJgIyWzWz6Ee3GKWdCMCtVngcNDJxuDBKSQyy4JUmbd2oHdiyIhyphenhyphenJUmi1v01RxGbDrjB-D9lcN-yzwozZhUDnhIGiJ-RVsFAgjSRt4dcY-rndiXqYVjSwpTOkNOsBSyXCFcW22im5gyg0-RMf9SDrGs4oxNILRAJ7Vs2xfq_xxpFURCU/w512-h640/IMG_3874.jpg" width="512" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzpdPIc6V-35bpGOXPKPnBiOBdlpCZclQpoPmZkuqJnJg_7ZwNkqIrp3mbmxtp5HSRJ5OXMCRatuEPIrHbV5VKaQ5n4uS2GBVH2YzZhGmc8TVgo3KhnNrmpA0yZNmGGObjAe-l3hONGpPolHUCPCFiKosxgGfzjFlPVqPOwIzi2dpQYzg9vq51/s640/IMG_3876.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzpdPIc6V-35bpGOXPKPnBiOBdlpCZclQpoPmZkuqJnJg_7ZwNkqIrp3mbmxtp5HSRJ5OXMCRatuEPIrHbV5VKaQ5n4uS2GBVH2YzZhGmc8TVgo3KhnNrmpA0yZNmGGObjAe-l3hONGpPolHUCPCFiKosxgGfzjFlPVqPOwIzi2dpQYzg9vq51/s640/IMG_3876.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="601" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzpdPIc6V-35bpGOXPKPnBiOBdlpCZclQpoPmZkuqJnJg_7ZwNkqIrp3mbmxtp5HSRJ5OXMCRatuEPIrHbV5VKaQ5n4uS2GBVH2YzZhGmc8TVgo3KhnNrmpA0yZNmGGObjAe-l3hONGpPolHUCPCFiKosxgGfzjFlPVqPOwIzi2dpQYzg9vq51/w301-h320/IMG_3876.jpg" width="301" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiil9M26eM4I_I3gBdR8adN3RzVpwakXZOmLzvJjw17ISs-g2CsupbZ3JpYLkKxkU5i8dIotoHlR_6ZC9r_pK9T265RSHi7BclvZSNpyGu8hWeJHhB4wkgM1Gtp4c_K07eRGb2WrAhlVTa_ifgnnhxUXSCDlg4xufX-lRst8Lx9K7G963oygxqV/s350/IMG_3876x.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="158" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiil9M26eM4I_I3gBdR8adN3RzVpwakXZOmLzvJjw17ISs-g2CsupbZ3JpYLkKxkU5i8dIotoHlR_6ZC9r_pK9T265RSHi7BclvZSNpyGu8hWeJHhB4wkgM1Gtp4c_K07eRGb2WrAhlVTa_ifgnnhxUXSCDlg4xufX-lRst8Lx9K7G963oygxqV/w180-h400/IMG_3876x.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><br /></div></div><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-size: x-large; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCrZZk-rncuqNbRwBQ1f1LEabJgKFGm4Gg41xhUYdLaSDWiGbUeHQFJgk_hGyLC62f531tmKcz7xedXsIpKQhjrKpxmYzv1xyKBAD2aHawbPhctiGHKE1WBCNKOzIDg645xpeQ31bQeAGzMzfY8NLmEQb4kR8V0NZ5mJj5fOfaU-sH-fQD6DJZ/s640/IMG_3754.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCrZZk-rncuqNbRwBQ1f1LEabJgKFGm4Gg41xhUYdLaSDWiGbUeHQFJgk_hGyLC62f531tmKcz7xedXsIpKQhjrKpxmYzv1xyKBAD2aHawbPhctiGHKE1WBCNKOzIDg645xpeQ31bQeAGzMzfY8NLmEQb4kR8V0NZ5mJj5fOfaU-sH-fQD6DJZ/w640-h480/IMG_3754.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Vernacular Colonial dwelling.</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><b style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></b></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMH17ccsb7Ba_zqavVNuZ3WT9yyeWovKDoI2UmL7i6iL5tOgjLrnhnyIR1qroncpBa9jCcpNP8_K7x2f-jX9A97wJx6IeNd2IYZ2ERITVIq6CZO_rTsU4hbROgf8IjBdgJcwPKFGvpU4SPqjdGZX8gxI95ARb-YKXFeGFsTHbsDvsNQRtG8YxV/s640/IMG_8540.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="572" data-original-width="640" height="572" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMH17ccsb7Ba_zqavVNuZ3WT9yyeWovKDoI2UmL7i6iL5tOgjLrnhnyIR1qroncpBa9jCcpNP8_K7x2f-jX9A97wJx6IeNd2IYZ2ERITVIq6CZO_rTsU4hbROgf8IjBdgJcwPKFGvpU4SPqjdGZX8gxI95ARb-YKXFeGFsTHbsDvsNQRtG8YxV/w640-h572/IMG_8540.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQYPlMpXghErO6zfZ7lmvozFxbqj7PHgBlRFiEqQ7_pXGwlqmg1ilctar-9vOU9cwU6Ww9D8woEKyFbIBgf9bUcMZ-DN6L9eNfR2KrxnOofjoogg0InDav6WvW9iwUXqO-FOdpqP9urf07K4sq8aSBVINvLlvGfFbMws7DclLKrwX1Gg54StSZ/s640/IMG_3875.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="494" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQYPlMpXghErO6zfZ7lmvozFxbqj7PHgBlRFiEqQ7_pXGwlqmg1ilctar-9vOU9cwU6Ww9D8woEKyFbIBgf9bUcMZ-DN6L9eNfR2KrxnOofjoogg0InDav6WvW9iwUXqO-FOdpqP9urf07K4sq8aSBVINvLlvGfFbMws7DclLKrwX1Gg54StSZ/w309-h400/IMG_3875.jpg" width="309" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW2cJN_gBeHZP0gcZeOmKILXwgS-roGYJOPBN5XotAifPMqRsuIJdHSAFSX7Wyw7geF4pe4-_9ZWJGrJLEi6CK-YX_TfFfPU0e85QeNbFAc_KMxpgxNPmAkEg_K25KPHFWDuQqYBPTjJvBe37V35bieaV3SZReHnHnlWpkY4ghcm8puDYYzMN0/s215/IMG_3805.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="215" data-original-width="103" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW2cJN_gBeHZP0gcZeOmKILXwgS-roGYJOPBN5XotAifPMqRsuIJdHSAFSX7Wyw7geF4pe4-_9ZWJGrJLEi6CK-YX_TfFfPU0e85QeNbFAc_KMxpgxNPmAkEg_K25KPHFWDuQqYBPTjJvBe37V35bieaV3SZReHnHnlWpkY4ghcm8puDYYzMN0/w192-h400/IMG_3805.jpg" width="192" /></a></div></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvyoLDs61InUVZ6i19fFXnhKS7udqjBJNOxSwhyphenhyphenuSztXryyeWBCvMRS-NeAuRi6o-tVf773Uu8h_xwr4dbD7dJBEj6_Wl072eg0tHC2QqDp62XBul91djj_pRto_PeXJXNFMeffcPvOPO9k8WVgSQ2i1yt2Fg2oqftZti4rhOR6skcDuHQmOvS/s640/IMG_3862.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="219" data-original-width="640" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvyoLDs61InUVZ6i19fFXnhKS7udqjBJNOxSwhyphenhyphenuSztXryyeWBCvMRS-NeAuRi6o-tVf773Uu8h_xwr4dbD7dJBEj6_Wl072eg0tHC2QqDp62XBul91djj_pRto_PeXJXNFMeffcPvOPO9k8WVgSQ2i1yt2Fg2oqftZti4rhOR6skcDuHQmOvS/w640-h220/IMG_3862.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><b><i>The </i>dress shop.</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheZec3jXZp5yhCzlgDGUgxfdKFplbj35Tyz-28ht-tdWCHqE5HS_fDw0Zlz5xGJwusTMlxKddBbc7l7Ii1-R93lRINoB3aDsrHtUvxEJAUMv6jDf9t-Kfk5tDBINvrk1LENbSBcMpLQDyZ6rM2hyphenhyphenwLkoYf_zgMg6TBSzUxBedhAVfzIwV21d1c/s640/IMG_3797.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="503" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheZec3jXZp5yhCzlgDGUgxfdKFplbj35Tyz-28ht-tdWCHqE5HS_fDw0Zlz5xGJwusTMlxKddBbc7l7Ii1-R93lRINoB3aDsrHtUvxEJAUMv6jDf9t-Kfk5tDBINvrk1LENbSBcMpLQDyZ6rM2hyphenhyphenwLkoYf_zgMg6TBSzUxBedhAVfzIwV21d1c/w315-h400/IMG_3797.jpg" width="315" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtaHJE-3LzJnVnWSw5DBlQX9J81Ne62u85S54GSr019i7PEcRdzFwtuDa9FqSEb7qP5KC7A7Krqrbihh1l0-Ap7HerMVH3N7XBvVEY8waTJAagA9Ds75vzyptq_3GHbDicX0d2cereZ-QS7rkf-l0zyiqGJ0f7Xj96LHNZcMEvr3AkoaPV6mUQ/s640/IMG_3798.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="177" data-original-width="640" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtaHJE-3LzJnVnWSw5DBlQX9J81Ne62u85S54GSr019i7PEcRdzFwtuDa9FqSEb7qP5KC7A7Krqrbihh1l0-Ap7HerMVH3N7XBvVEY8waTJAagA9Ds75vzyptq_3GHbDicX0d2cereZ-QS7rkf-l0zyiqGJ0f7Xj96LHNZcMEvr3AkoaPV6mUQ/w640-h178/IMG_3798.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Green Shutters Restaurant: Popular English pub-like watering hole on Pariliament Street, across from the Royal Victoria Hotel (see above), razed after fire.</b></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b><br />St. Andrew's School, Shirley Street</b></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXrDyTzEngSYL5anR3Gu_eDvMZYV-ms1W9Ss0TrsaBl9YCrPcadru7tGpA3vVoBuN6jPTsffuT1h-B9v5ElB0KU0w7oUuFlND8Qa7TONamW4HUdk7XrfVR7H4MlZu-v-OPxfQ7X9-TTsxSDLf3WFfflahd7E6bSUlgiNhk81RSllvSq7JvMrzK/s317/22281741_10212407730061139_3969458893854772931_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="190" data-original-width="317" height="120" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXrDyTzEngSYL5anR3Gu_eDvMZYV-ms1W9Ss0TrsaBl9YCrPcadru7tGpA3vVoBuN6jPTsffuT1h-B9v5ElB0KU0w7oUuFlND8Qa7TONamW4HUdk7XrfVR7H4MlZu-v-OPxfQ7X9-TTsxSDLf3WFfflahd7E6bSUlgiNhk81RSllvSq7JvMrzK/w200-h120/22281741_10212407730061139_3969458893854772931_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></div></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /><b style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6rvMRn-1nTaW5zjFCae3EwlWy7EherAEigKIAUhYpXTwbUlDNCo_XRcT7S_vbvcXL-42-1jgfohMEGoRPm6pdLiYCOcthjXHSRNyXQYeCHLshnxgUhjgrKbB1bi6meQJDmfMNs5KSmMuiZfKvnhr38IR9_h7QU_WWswPRjv-dj4hXdIVBV4cu/s1526/11071464_1056046251079206_2690596237711523970_o.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1129" data-original-width="1526" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6rvMRn-1nTaW5zjFCae3EwlWy7EherAEigKIAUhYpXTwbUlDNCo_XRcT7S_vbvcXL-42-1jgfohMEGoRPm6pdLiYCOcthjXHSRNyXQYeCHLshnxgUhjgrKbB1bi6meQJDmfMNs5KSmMuiZfKvnhr38IR9_h7QU_WWswPRjv-dj4hXdIVBV4cu/w640-h474/11071464_1056046251079206_2690596237711523970_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6nghQgyjNquQmMC71-Ir0EkDzgg_b3dVAD4pMYaIu3uwzrNwIb5tS4NfTDDkMb4koZ_-JIeTFWphdeMgc2v-cS8wvJBEu4rIeJgb6W1SawAI27rEbJ_eElSpOmZ1k2-h9pSmUEQ8_3WQ-zLCDuyjtUZFSebFWciM2B2CBjTFtle4dR40Xo7-2/s640/IMG_3766.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="640" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6nghQgyjNquQmMC71-Ir0EkDzgg_b3dVAD4pMYaIu3uwzrNwIb5tS4NfTDDkMb4koZ_-JIeTFWphdeMgc2v-cS8wvJBEu4rIeJgb6W1SawAI27rEbJ_eElSpOmZ1k2-h9pSmUEQ8_3WQ-zLCDuyjtUZFSebFWciM2B2CBjTFtle4dR40Xo7-2/w640-h432/IMG_3766.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhhtQ3z8M8o9miBxvHP0PNDTc07Ecm7vRzDRy4CuBbe1aLTgU3auE9d0_xi8ozeaXmXy_p-aTlb1_Q9hqlQBku9NdYIq0PXDDbsdrqYNuR2zlT_uO1PQgs8Nf1PSWbuAqQB_AUtsV-jdGqsSHRn_9AA9I17fARhxt5pmTmqGQgXqxegJSB3C8f/s640/IMG_3814.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="481" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhhtQ3z8M8o9miBxvHP0PNDTc07Ecm7vRzDRy4CuBbe1aLTgU3auE9d0_xi8ozeaXmXy_p-aTlb1_Q9hqlQBku9NdYIq0PXDDbsdrqYNuR2zlT_uO1PQgs8Nf1PSWbuAqQB_AUtsV-jdGqsSHRn_9AA9I17fARhxt5pmTmqGQgXqxegJSB3C8f/w482-h640/IMG_3814.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivuWtBHiNHM5LjhObOkoI3QJqCESXNQIyABz1UULUp2wA5uLoLPwcR_f5h0qTRfNivbI-fgnpRcdybOkxN5RvybrgUvBZSvf5FKLTuUcbO_SwCG1L01mayYEgb6XezbbnKW10C-YlK4iPulU4zUnMMc1wYeJxwmV0qNfXhYrY9_APGGntBgFNM/s640/IMG_3822.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivuWtBHiNHM5LjhObOkoI3QJqCESXNQIyABz1UULUp2wA5uLoLPwcR_f5h0qTRfNivbI-fgnpRcdybOkxN5RvybrgUvBZSvf5FKLTuUcbO_SwCG1L01mayYEgb6XezbbnKW10C-YlK4iPulU4zUnMMc1wYeJxwmV0qNfXhYrY9_APGGntBgFNM/w480-h640/IMG_3822.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXi4pI-MMm5xo_NIWBpymkppQ0u2Y6LuWcqgGpqRzpLuX1J-S293oEm1FjT5jusgTpDcUu9k7J8RiXm2ck709x7i7DJQ17mIhj_X81Fj-fwpCC6_WEj9WUedvgU8mDBKGDiQjgFqcbrM8jK5Pqd4jiC2JFIcrzuag6K6sbZCY7ce3I1X2jUDPs/s640/IMG_3825.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXi4pI-MMm5xo_NIWBpymkppQ0u2Y6LuWcqgGpqRzpLuX1J-S293oEm1FjT5jusgTpDcUu9k7J8RiXm2ck709x7i7DJQ17mIhj_X81Fj-fwpCC6_WEj9WUedvgU8mDBKGDiQjgFqcbrM8jK5Pqd4jiC2JFIcrzuag6K6sbZCY7ce3I1X2jUDPs/w640-h480/IMG_3825.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXKhsggzBbR6sK90z-SE4erTeZ4AwjAJzQ-AJvrpgIAdEUqTyHV0cBI_-VWebUohzL1xdOkgL_GpzPQybouRNMKC2UnD39qRNQTr4RAk8DWVQpIQgGs-ASzY87FxNDLebGDbSJp0Z-Gplu-yZrnQLUvfalxXgloeNMQkkEMM2H9VKYPYTCRqaA/s644/IMG_3134.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><i><b><img border="0" data-original-height="472" data-original-width="644" height="470" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXKhsggzBbR6sK90z-SE4erTeZ4AwjAJzQ-AJvrpgIAdEUqTyHV0cBI_-VWebUohzL1xdOkgL_GpzPQybouRNMKC2UnD39qRNQTr4RAk8DWVQpIQgGs-ASzY87FxNDLebGDbSJp0Z-Gplu-yZrnQLUvfalxXgloeNMQkkEMM2H9VKYPYTCRqaA/w640-h470/IMG_3134.jpg" width="640" /></b></i></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Class 1962</i><span> Hugh Pritchard Top Row: second from left); Middle Row: Sharon Roberts, second from left, Sally Humphreys, third from left. I'm missing, as I was already at Wilbraham Academy. </span><span>2</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><b style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr00iZ3Kyjore2pjYou_L64iZTnpuNp6MAe1_T4OgANZ1FGtYD8057zkCMnG_asXzEFIPqYi4AcyLyX16N4wGXwcFN8Fr3FrlIF4NsURElnT7ThoNkGyfnuxbvqwSjbR2dn3dCyRisaBPzJIaBU6DB52yRqafec3xNGd9xkcBLBeECZw8VsmI0/s640/IMG_3970.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="640" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr00iZ3Kyjore2pjYou_L64iZTnpuNp6MAe1_T4OgANZ1FGtYD8057zkCMnG_asXzEFIPqYi4AcyLyX16N4wGXwcFN8Fr3FrlIF4NsURElnT7ThoNkGyfnuxbvqwSjbR2dn3dCyRisaBPzJIaBU6DB52yRqafec3xNGd9xkcBLBeECZw8VsmI0/w640-h450/IMG_3970.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Second row from top. That's me in the circle. Roberta too young for this House (Carib) picture.</b></td></tr></tbody></table><b style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><b style="font-size: x-large;">Nassau Yacht Club, East Bay Street</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZh7wrJLeQC_FD8Pmg-nxn1pT2Ipy1E02iqxTyZDX2eeFoQ9DQthicW1tGgo_EAMZ-5zmVCdiA9HFVFtc5S-h22ZwJZp7Bj5xWoudPoSrT-r8_Ch3R9ly5h_Ccv42p6EQRylBaAEbZfyqI-SWVnk6kD-LIK57RdBHcQBw_gVVWrmi3sNHd60al/s640/IMG_8548.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZh7wrJLeQC_FD8Pmg-nxn1pT2Ipy1E02iqxTyZDX2eeFoQ9DQthicW1tGgo_EAMZ-5zmVCdiA9HFVFtc5S-h22ZwJZp7Bj5xWoudPoSrT-r8_Ch3R9ly5h_Ccv42p6EQRylBaAEbZfyqI-SWVnk6kD-LIK57RdBHcQBw_gVVWrmi3sNHd60al/w480-h640/IMG_8548.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: large;"><b>Arts, Culture & History</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: xx-large; text-align: right;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: xx-large; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQuHhEr-4SG_L8AlI0dqx8LSG1sfdsUPGkchuBfA109YlWbJ13N52TdodEzaYXK7NzVbHR4HxoqPnz-4t6JbpjVADEkeMopC7YIGBY7CEgLLx6ZvPiGbX2KrQqy7iqqPGr-j2IWI4e9DrZb7pOS5AkkCtCNi5r1mgIZPUTMSWrOCjszPSdy2lK/s640/IMG_3885.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="514" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQuHhEr-4SG_L8AlI0dqx8LSG1sfdsUPGkchuBfA109YlWbJ13N52TdodEzaYXK7NzVbHR4HxoqPnz-4t6JbpjVADEkeMopC7YIGBY7CEgLLx6ZvPiGbX2KrQqy7iqqPGr-j2IWI4e9DrZb7pOS5AkkCtCNi5r1mgIZPUTMSWrOCjszPSdy2lK/w514-h640/IMG_3885.jpg" width="514" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDTi_OjwNjic2np4cPGv_ZGTb8Ck5XYOEsLbSGMNECCaj4-zvhRh3rbheA28DGx8Ker-gSBVxvJHzr8bK4kbpR4gh9St_JBuLu3ap4HyoIBnSK_92HNFMcqc0eEIxlHDvMD-xpCyB_CXbaGwv4JxQ3bB9l0qeL9bgBHXOOT0GfiSj3cSimYfUU/w150-h200/IMG_8591.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><u><b><i>Fort Charlotte</i></b></u></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuse7sHl9M09KH3QlSaS8aX6jD3bKQ77vjYvZGcQr0XepMXdR-EUfINj3cnOLwGOQQ2EknySxP6EFfKI445BcdM7FHEvim6G2JGgX1q-QzMHsUd8Ua0_icn25jrY-2pj9ZVIYlfqw6D6wp9Zgso78l792SBIHogY6hr8IkFxpyGM7wgnGoDIh3/s640/IMG_8589.jpg" style="font-size: xx-large; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuse7sHl9M09KH3QlSaS8aX6jD3bKQ77vjYvZGcQr0XepMXdR-EUfINj3cnOLwGOQQ2EknySxP6EFfKI445BcdM7FHEvim6G2JGgX1q-QzMHsUd8Ua0_icn25jrY-2pj9ZVIYlfqw6D6wp9Zgso78l792SBIHogY6hr8IkFxpyGM7wgnGoDIh3/s320/IMG_8589.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" data-original-height="439" data-original-width="640" height="138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFmB1ZqFTYQXrF1Iigu0aJUsdam85PjsUqC9_LkKLBXakRQsf3UZlh0CxYBuk8PnX75tvE2po00htgazInv2_dXZw0xsZqOra-4G32WtP4Xfiohdwav8iYEZVgafPxFH1l02jik7YglyuYL8SAtm9rsQFY6-I6KXFOLCu6RQ2rsxqlo6eQc2cJ/w200-h138/IMG_3897.jpg" width="200" /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS8dAVZOwkKYf44ZPhm0HxWhDQd9Ft7-AqKkRKX9vMIKA1yZFiMeN4S1zqVsHvz2GEEEw6bb0PgHKtbnBiPnDjjQDjY9uv4zAzmFl5NUHjKj3vmwuMFBSNgOT8poR44nxj7pss1aeYaLnwsG3pRvQEZe9lCMAKTF_udDPEOBmZVBBFTH8Gz_Ub/s640/IMG_3896.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS8dAVZOwkKYf44ZPhm0HxWhDQd9Ft7-AqKkRKX9vMIKA1yZFiMeN4S1zqVsHvz2GEEEw6bb0PgHKtbnBiPnDjjQDjY9uv4zAzmFl5NUHjKj3vmwuMFBSNgOT8poR44nxj7pss1aeYaLnwsG3pRvQEZe9lCMAKTF_udDPEOBmZVBBFTH8Gz_Ub/s320/IMG_3896.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>\</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHoG5-Dq876nhL8GxlwlkE8DgktwjUle2-zI7NBD_VwyYjlPMA6AJMEh6PpIKEdLy2uIzZzjJ-JnUP0tXF_L2wMXGktIJ1nzo_fY_hZ99Kg6_Gric3-QWh9u7jIYrtU4Voml2yVuFG4LC50kNnTlDi9fXRbgCNMyH3qL9P7AGRV0pwrtiW9frt/s640/IMG_4005.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="489" data-original-width="640" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHoG5-Dq876nhL8GxlwlkE8DgktwjUle2-zI7NBD_VwyYjlPMA6AJMEh6PpIKEdLy2uIzZzjJ-JnUP0tXF_L2wMXGktIJ1nzo_fY_hZ99Kg6_Gric3-QWh9u7jIYrtU4Voml2yVuFG4LC50kNnTlDi9fXRbgCNMyH3qL9P7AGRV0pwrtiW9frt/s320/IMG_4005.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFmB1ZqFTYQXrF1Iigu0aJUsdam85PjsUqC9_LkKLBXakRQsf3UZlh0CxYBuk8PnX75tvE2po00htgazInv2_dXZw0xsZqOra-4G32WtP4Xfiohdwav8iYEZVgafPxFH1l02jik7YglyuYL8SAtm9rsQFY6-I6KXFOLCu6RQ2rsxqlo6eQc2cJ/s640/IMG_3897.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; 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text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaouihQPz1aHp3k1_HvYxa3oiXZ9zCc6LSxsunYCzx9hOV8XAj08tdnP-wZfZyjmxbMY53McvF30tnuI-9itXXK6xr5htG2tfgblbTTWoV99pPruPIYBRChkUmq4tT1Hb4Zq8o4_LggHHpz50AIG-5Qg6821-GVnhj-7jHYchpsuoagQKdwxiw/s640/thumbnail%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="523" data-original-width="640" height="524" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaouihQPz1aHp3k1_HvYxa3oiXZ9zCc6LSxsunYCzx9hOV8XAj08tdnP-wZfZyjmxbMY53McvF30tnuI-9itXXK6xr5htG2tfgblbTTWoV99pPruPIYBRChkUmq4tT1Hb4Zq8o4_LggHHpz50AIG-5Qg6821-GVnhj-7jHYchpsuoagQKdwxiw/w640-h524/thumbnail%20(1).jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Lloyd brand. German? My mother had one. She totaled it on Eastern Road near Sans Souci. Amazing! See was OK.</b></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: xx-large; text-align: center;"><b style="font-size: x-large; text-align: left;">Nassau Public Library: Then (3/-), Now (Closed)</b></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><br /></div></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh3-tIYE-IAdE0P0s6JtYeUQmeS3zYt32dO_GKlbuzOwgeEaWqtdeA_PLhlExi2y6AVCHmg28hh0eCtRIhkuykvEEtanoT5oekjQvsp6UbZ7YLfx66z-ThxZ4Zrzk3S2FPrPu5lqXY4diib_wKzc3i1hnbeMAqyh1Sw6CCGyqKR9pNoUi_RBN_/s640/IMG_3761.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh3-tIYE-IAdE0P0s6JtYeUQmeS3zYt32dO_GKlbuzOwgeEaWqtdeA_PLhlExi2y6AVCHmg28hh0eCtRIhkuykvEEtanoT5oekjQvsp6UbZ7YLfx66z-ThxZ4Zrzk3S2FPrPu5lqXY4diib_wKzc3i1hnbeMAqyh1Sw6CCGyqKR9pNoUi_RBN_/w480-h640/IMG_3761.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrTUiysOi2kQi-vlrT8sL9iyG794lvtJys2pCKrdV2mgGiu5f07KR-RO1aciTdmbCLUc5j6o0OKII4vkq52BcwQPoSlsY2nmJ3ZygImmUib3EVed_6EH2xf_B6hn1pmjZ9kyWoaRUSpE8ahh_c9n5ZfbeC3bD6fAcwft6mxPA84B96rqSJQDPX/s640/IMG_3569.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrTUiysOi2kQi-vlrT8sL9iyG794lvtJys2pCKrdV2mgGiu5f07KR-RO1aciTdmbCLUc5j6o0OKII4vkq52BcwQPoSlsY2nmJ3ZygImmUib3EVed_6EH2xf_B6hn1pmjZ9kyWoaRUSpE8ahh_c9n5ZfbeC3bD6fAcwft6mxPA84B96rqSJQDPX/w480-h640/IMG_3569.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-owH-8czkKpNkfRxCckHrUtWlkxeS-q0MTyblaFiV4g2-1otblOWsSCk0pHzWnSNTHF1a0VBrDK3J8AvUe7p-hIBMuFpNzXnilp9WfTJtkMOPF412l7-x7CCQWyoNYKieRSS8TWmAOKK_X5CZ3SyzA8ZOMaiQUNz5KPCpdsU1MxSx0RkypYXn/s640/IMG_3570.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-owH-8czkKpNkfRxCckHrUtWlkxeS-q0MTyblaFiV4g2-1otblOWsSCk0pHzWnSNTHF1a0VBrDK3J8AvUe7p-hIBMuFpNzXnilp9WfTJtkMOPF412l7-x7CCQWyoNYKieRSS8TWmAOKK_X5CZ3SyzA8ZOMaiQUNz5KPCpdsU1MxSx0RkypYXn/w480-h640/IMG_3570.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><b><br /></b></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtgsGFg4NlO_fR4l1jZUonlKnIG7hsIsrKZQBu-9OXSdH4Y8LndEH7aphz_jkJYIorews8jU9oleuodd5tVvCzlRCE5WJwrcsDMEO9B0L1JaDHkpczyiyn8OyHXUkCRiyQOXaWtcfVlJrBpS8FUwOWr1J5NY0nC4StnuEPquJ_AGFqdOagvSwk/s640/IMG_3762.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtgsGFg4NlO_fR4l1jZUonlKnIG7hsIsrKZQBu-9OXSdH4Y8LndEH7aphz_jkJYIorews8jU9oleuodd5tVvCzlRCE5WJwrcsDMEO9B0L1JaDHkpczyiyn8OyHXUkCRiyQOXaWtcfVlJrBpS8FUwOWr1J5NY0nC4StnuEPquJ_AGFqdOagvSwk/w480-h640/IMG_3762.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"><b>Gregory's Arch: Now (Photo); Painting (1960)</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMacgoW6hMqka-ZsPCn0Oj9E4FimU1ixCVQBrcJhY9MceNqdLScycfJFZ7udyplZW5osSXIGEfQ76I8bfjKPSo-TC3m51L9GVDTRAoxMISzRkXmACZamV8EUIsgi-F42ePxEE4-gU6in4EhuwdUSPJV7L6zK9xseh_umLcicda8GO2rd2_LCVU/s640/IMG_3561.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMacgoW6hMqka-ZsPCn0Oj9E4FimU1ixCVQBrcJhY9MceNqdLScycfJFZ7udyplZW5osSXIGEfQ76I8bfjKPSo-TC3m51L9GVDTRAoxMISzRkXmACZamV8EUIsgi-F42ePxEE4-gU6in4EhuwdUSPJV7L6zK9xseh_umLcicda8GO2rd2_LCVU/w640-h480/IMG_3561.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">\</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxAoix9ATfKPXjsvTB8gxBbk3P2q7pQbs2Ys-CP2qDkTzAE2luurY78pjK_jXF8G1DV4qqgqlxEgQKm27HoVJGfAn3E2SshxNo7_EjCb8XGrF6pqymzbwXqjH2LkPI6iByWrCQgGuMXtnnh3KegqVrseArBDE0KO-bFRgM7LdOf46Tq8Nvdaag/s640/IMG_3562.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxAoix9ATfKPXjsvTB8gxBbk3P2q7pQbs2Ys-CP2qDkTzAE2luurY78pjK_jXF8G1DV4qqgqlxEgQKm27HoVJGfAn3E2SshxNo7_EjCb8XGrF6pqymzbwXqjH2LkPI6iByWrCQgGuMXtnnh3KegqVrseArBDE0KO-bFRgM7LdOf46Tq8Nvdaag/w640-h480/IMG_3562.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFZoh2e0JuWYMM11LiT84hE4cQBP7R_nh9v3ELOC1_iKmeFvgzh0gCPeR-uxfV-C7kjhjy2A1YD4NXcXWLuUQugs1ufvkjou6iCrOu1HlwGSCOri4j_llJX5-LPfFGy8S6ABKpwY5lBuY4iWywri8WOci9sY7xMniZQwRXBsskB43eAJMxCYgu/s480/IMG_3749.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="449" data-original-width="480" height="598" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFZoh2e0JuWYMM11LiT84hE4cQBP7R_nh9v3ELOC1_iKmeFvgzh0gCPeR-uxfV-C7kjhjy2A1YD4NXcXWLuUQugs1ufvkjou6iCrOu1HlwGSCOri4j_llJX5-LPfFGy8S6ABKpwY5lBuY4iWywri8WOci9sY7xMniZQwRXBsskB43eAJMxCYgu/w640-h598/IMG_3749.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span>Sir Harry Oakes</span></b><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPMUd-ornFQW7IPoJAyIaY_kVYewGPJOQV98mIW8zuSOUR34G5_Kom9i04vjhW-eVkkriyiFkUWif26ZWO-Sbb__BrrIpDuGXHb4v9npBHgu0O8Epm5x1egqeHrjwvQicX9aYac1Nrb2xK32RkMF3ez_FXdxdHw_NRha1BWy-T5n6yjK58Yxig/s640/IMG_3592.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="408" data-original-width="640" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPMUd-ornFQW7IPoJAyIaY_kVYewGPJOQV98mIW8zuSOUR34G5_Kom9i04vjhW-eVkkriyiFkUWif26ZWO-Sbb__BrrIpDuGXHb4v9npBHgu0O8Epm5x1egqeHrjwvQicX9aYac1Nrb2xK32RkMF3ez_FXdxdHw_NRha1BWy-T5n6yjK58Yxig/w640-h408/IMG_3592.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Where he was murdered. House razed.</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYjULJt1Rv13qmPjErFjy6QONgey0RXksQ8jYfO-dYKH9O4Ll13lP3aqJpBVltH_WcXYqMuAi2I2TxVbWHmKD2wzrMxoKpMVCvZC6RE7mC9QjlPeT9ALJojPQkSMSbOx7dA_-qa4Wk0FAAW5Z5P8N2J5pHS8lTOdU_umZXp5ORM3Qtmtdt_T7t/s559/IMG_3743%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="160" data-original-width="559" height="92" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYjULJt1Rv13qmPjErFjy6QONgey0RXksQ8jYfO-dYKH9O4Ll13lP3aqJpBVltH_WcXYqMuAi2I2TxVbWHmKD2wzrMxoKpMVCvZC6RE7mC9QjlPeT9ALJojPQkSMSbOx7dA_-qa4Wk0FAAW5Z5P8N2J5pHS8lTOdU_umZXp5ORM3Qtmtdt_T7t/s320/IMG_3743%20(1).jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5im5SEst8IlTaLvihV_8FvdKbUF9HlWCWqVPhlkNpzzRKElcsdpbVi21F2R1tAxLvB4bVwYgsq-X09v6SSr6dARhm1xXBnGZu30SSo_E71NJbxDro2GIh9HiUW8C2k41Caz6jEfZEszmkwI-VS6ANnUE8XDP2v4EmWvrheA8TSosovN6U5JO1/s640/Nancy%201.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="418" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5im5SEst8IlTaLvihV_8FvdKbUF9HlWCWqVPhlkNpzzRKElcsdpbVi21F2R1tAxLvB4bVwYgsq-X09v6SSr6dARhm1xXBnGZu30SSo_E71NJbxDro2GIh9HiUW8C2k41Caz6jEfZEszmkwI-VS6ANnUE8XDP2v4EmWvrheA8TSosovN6U5JO1/w261-h400/Nancy%201.jpg" width="261" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUaeEp3Dqb3TjZbFMkVln4qL4K8vFKxSMwAHp_Gvfju5lCuzLYh4fSdyBkfLivP069H_Y4mjnTQihI_rS_U2e47m5PDNe6zQhyphenhyphennzx_ApIuVCOv0QM7ImS6nE9yXvqtUY8BbTLO8YoCV6ntuOR3Fpr6pQijkezF7ibuf2sChmyuI2MwZdOOabW7/s640/Nancy%20ii.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUaeEp3Dqb3TjZbFMkVln4qL4K8vFKxSMwAHp_Gvfju5lCuzLYh4fSdyBkfLivP069H_Y4mjnTQihI_rS_U2e47m5PDNe6zQhyphenhyphennzx_ApIuVCOv0QM7ImS6nE9yXvqtUY8BbTLO8YoCV6ntuOR3Fpr6pQijkezF7ibuf2sChmyuI2MwZdOOabW7/w480-h640/Nancy%20ii.jpg" width="480" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><b>Oakes' daughter's grave site in Western Cemetery, off Nassau Street</b></span>,</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoxSF3hyre3vqJjhfChlPFjfdDmv6y8wZRfn1oGXB7pq4hsjlt6xTL3rYBreh50lqRqRVOgtBQDlAg2O0ZeCuTOncEe7GmmXLB6klu8l2ndaPVYLkn8s_c_jLdz4vYrzFhgZERpwPfSn7XzjziwGI6D6YPmDXrx-Jr2ls21Yfe7bTgwbKs-WDA/s640/Nancy%20iii.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoxSF3hyre3vqJjhfChlPFjfdDmv6y8wZRfn1oGXB7pq4hsjlt6xTL3rYBreh50lqRqRVOgtBQDlAg2O0ZeCuTOncEe7GmmXLB6klu8l2ndaPVYLkn8s_c_jLdz4vYrzFhgZERpwPfSn7XzjziwGI6D6YPmDXrx-Jr2ls21Yfe7bTgwbKs-WDA/s320/Nancy%20iii.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b style="font-size: x-large; text-align: left;"><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b style="font-size: x-large; text-align: left;">Gallery</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjwWauRMfRHuWxE1hav6iJ5lhyphenhyphenPFKEcf9OwJ6-yzABYD6n6kHRb_v1jFrR9BlwSVPAyGCpTuLfsLZHmDQpKYFt1bFFIfgM6A9-DHGyQO_PT9Pc0-6kJPJcBf-vFPrxs8RKzBRjUZpSwB2XsmfXmKBT2drDmUco6-KJGyLo9Ui8EHISYjuU8hf8/s472/IMG_3739.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="141" data-original-width="472" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjwWauRMfRHuWxE1hav6iJ5lhyphenhyphenPFKEcf9OwJ6-yzABYD6n6kHRb_v1jFrR9BlwSVPAyGCpTuLfsLZHmDQpKYFt1bFFIfgM6A9-DHGyQO_PT9Pc0-6kJPJcBf-vFPrxs8RKzBRjUZpSwB2XsmfXmKBT2drDmUco6-KJGyLo9Ui8EHISYjuU8hf8/w640-h192/IMG_3739.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7pLTl8oOtGrWcliU7bJjC7pv2dVHqXUHVcd6hviuZEFnS6uxOTmVRurIJ64xZMeEysUmcZ4twKmmtNvzybmEeyGp8K404fP3Pvawuz4vH53kDhLvcH1aS5LtcXrhIyqpgObPTqIL72PTGLXrJGVW0do6hwnq4GaX1zX8Hbe8LtT949BD9_Cco/s640/IMG_3765.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7pLTl8oOtGrWcliU7bJjC7pv2dVHqXUHVcd6hviuZEFnS6uxOTmVRurIJ64xZMeEysUmcZ4twKmmtNvzybmEeyGp8K404fP3Pvawuz4vH53kDhLvcH1aS5LtcXrhIyqpgObPTqIL72PTGLXrJGVW0do6hwnq4GaX1zX8Hbe8LtT949BD9_Cco/w480-h640/IMG_3765.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ1FbBBroVIDTQRyw4AikKecXcrt-gMDQH2KBicYvxtzUkJtMsxzldYWvwbciKJI6aQ3EwSwBXv3olxB9lQ6ly5rmiidNXayaWjsNsnMDY82b6xnQ8ORQ9LUQOpkq-8rv2GKK-EZ-zzb90_HmLOPmMgE0w527feimZroWuOqrltQb6j785ptOx/s511/IMG_3796.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="511" data-original-width="430" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ1FbBBroVIDTQRyw4AikKecXcrt-gMDQH2KBicYvxtzUkJtMsxzldYWvwbciKJI6aQ3EwSwBXv3olxB9lQ6ly5rmiidNXayaWjsNsnMDY82b6xnQ8ORQ9LUQOpkq-8rv2GKK-EZ-zzb90_HmLOPmMgE0w527feimZroWuOqrltQb6j785ptOx/w168-h200/IMG_3796.jpg" width="168" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr41-Xez4W9EZ43ptocgfzdKY59Br6fCHRfSudjK62Wh6po6hVJ8E3lkHZw3nvxUYzKsBEbVMsqTZ72Z3XPqlNgnKfhqbZCSyh9zt4iaAk5CId5rc0yTArxAhiB4JGB9QUGnAkEdx6RS7LCvW8q5iw-bbTdYnExKMRw5k1OPcDf6aPXpRnZpnf/s640/IMG_3795.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="634" data-original-width="640" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr41-Xez4W9EZ43ptocgfzdKY59Br6fCHRfSudjK62Wh6po6hVJ8E3lkHZw3nvxUYzKsBEbVMsqTZ72Z3XPqlNgnKfhqbZCSyh9zt4iaAk5CId5rc0yTArxAhiB4JGB9QUGnAkEdx6RS7LCvW8q5iw-bbTdYnExKMRw5k1OPcDf6aPXpRnZpnf/s320/IMG_3795.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXwOefZ9ldCm6puljmUMHsuUwgW7ihEd93Vl6aghZrkdRbEdp5Xa22z7ljp0Vg8BgSyXeT8NvoBrWQndizfA5dVnZQs0caVs6il1izhMHWPViqbtbslSFfkO54ASXA52SSUa5P3IlpRn5f6lwLlF2pPLDdAsaJqHpJp9Wh0eQWkFc3xT-gswS7/s465/IMG_8544%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="323" data-original-width="465" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXwOefZ9ldCm6puljmUMHsuUwgW7ihEd93Vl6aghZrkdRbEdp5Xa22z7ljp0Vg8BgSyXeT8NvoBrWQndizfA5dVnZQs0caVs6il1izhMHWPViqbtbslSFfkO54ASXA52SSUa5P3IlpRn5f6lwLlF2pPLDdAsaJqHpJp9Wh0eQWkFc3xT-gswS7/w640-h444/IMG_8544%20(1).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-large; text-align: left;">___________________________</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b style="font-size: small; text-align: left;">Photos: © WritersClearinghouse 2023</b></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small; text-align: left;"><b>Text: © WritersClearinghouse 2023</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small; text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>1. Rust, Fred Winslow, A Song of Nassau and Other Verses, Boston, Rust Craft Publishers, 1935.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>2. </b></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>David Stafford Morrison, 60, chef-gourmet, bon-vivant, raconteur extraordinaire, and dear friend of the family, died 7 April, 2005, at his house and harbourside compound at Coral Harbour, New Providence, The Bahamas. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_0G0drnalzKid8r0WqsjREi8Jg8fAezUf3MR12skFdHtrZsljWFGPOIQ9dygJhjQ59s-lA18N9L2aKxHq7hAvADa9egRH_530M7IPANkC3HjZreK9s23M3N5pVTemhQFpts8FvYRn-F4o87kmQwBX8SwAZoCwkiO0N4niSnKsgfZUXR0u2eX9/s640/IMG_3898.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="367" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_0G0drnalzKid8r0WqsjREi8Jg8fAezUf3MR12skFdHtrZsljWFGPOIQ9dygJhjQ59s-lA18N9L2aKxHq7hAvADa9egRH_530M7IPANkC3HjZreK9s23M3N5pVTemhQFpts8FvYRn-F4o87kmQwBX8SwAZoCwkiO0N4niSnKsgfZUXR0u2eX9/w115-h200/IMG_3898.jpg" width="115" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>He leaves two daughters, Celeste Elizabeth Morrison and Susan Elizabeth Morrison-Yentis, both of Nassau; and a sister, Dawn Elizabeth Goodwin-Davies of Nassau. </b><b>A memorial service was held 11 April at New Providence Community Church, Blake Road and JFK Drive, New Providence. </b><b>Donations in Mr. Morrison's memory may be made to The Abaco Wild Horse Fund, P.O. Box CB-13290, Nassau, The Bahamas.</b></div></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b style="font-size: small;"><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>3. Others</b></span><b style="font-size: small;"> remembered: Glennda McConnell, Laughlin Knowles, Greg Bethel, Virginia Damanios, Cheryl Nottage, Freddy Hazelwood, Dick Morris, John, Edith and Harriet Eser, Gerry Southland, Jimmy Hauck, Maureen Pyfrom, Betty Sheddan, Cindy Gates, Jill Moore, Kurt and Brenda Klus.</b></div></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></div><span style="font-family: Caesar Dressing; font-size: xx-small;"><b>The PJ depends on reader support. Please help us by contributing financially to Philabooks@yahoo.com via Venmo, or by contributing editorial content via PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com.| Established 1976 Richard Carreño, Editor © MMXXIII WritersClearinghouse All Rights Reserved.</b></span><div class="blogger-post-footer">© MMXXIV WritersClearinghouse. All rights reserved WritersClearinghouse. Publication queries to PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6386882.post-21843268858180819312023-11-16T15:04:00.001-05:002023-11-16T15:10:28.585-05:00On the Road with Justin: SAN MARINO<div><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: x-large;"><b>DRIVE-BY COUNTRY</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: large;"><b><i>Europe's Gun Capital?</i></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><b>By Justin T. Carreño</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_XozROiS_2fucMZwTFGoug3d26uUnBCVCPMr-5a_Tf2n8qVJMNY9jTKDmf_sDPgG4on3dhCYuyh0hQJ09-xKrSCgNGm1o1JwZKh-2RmYuPauxoPiL03cmpkU4-yzAsvFL7Ww5fGvrIITZtv0VG3GM3XvOGS7swUINFk4f1QGsNv_xesgb5hLH/s1080/thumbnail%20(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_XozROiS_2fucMZwTFGoug3d26uUnBCVCPMr-5a_Tf2n8qVJMNY9jTKDmf_sDPgG4on3dhCYuyh0hQJ09-xKrSCgNGm1o1JwZKh-2RmYuPauxoPiL03cmpkU4-yzAsvFL7Ww5fGvrIITZtv0VG3GM3XvOGS7swUINFk4f1QGsNv_xesgb5hLH/w200-h150/thumbnail%20(2).jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /></span></div><div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;">It's not often you can view an entire country from a car window. Before heading to Rome and Vatican City, I made a point of visiting the 5th smallest country in the world, San Marino, as part of my quest to visit the six European microstates. And, yes, you can see it (mostly) through a car window. The country is a landlocked Republic, situated in northern Italy, about 10 miles from the nearest significant population center, Rimini, on the Adriatic coast. It's less than half the size of Washington, DC, 24 square miles, with a population of about 33,000 people. </span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br clear="none" style="outline: none !important;" /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;">Although there's a small commercial airport in Rimini, the best airport connected to the real world to get to San Marino is Bologna, where I originated from -- an hour's train ride north from Rimini. </span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br clear="none" style="outline: none !important;" /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;">San Marino is a vestige city-state, which became a political refuge for supporters of the Italian unification in the late 19th century, including the leader of Italian independence, Giuseppe Garibaldi. The country survived the onslaught of occupiers, including Napoleon, throughout the ages, largely through diplomatic engagements, and the fact it wasn't desirable land. The leaders, in keeping with the country's diplomatic prowess, extended solidarity during the American Civil War, by reaching out to President Abraham Lincoln, where they wrote a letter saying from one Republic to another, to stay strong, and granted Lincoln honorary citizenship. Lincoln replied, "It has by its [San Marino] experience demonstrated the truth, so full of encouragement to the friends of Humanity, that government founded on Republican principles is capable of being so administered as to be secure and enduring." </span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; outline: none !important;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br clear="none" style="color: #1d2228; outline: none !important; text-align: left;" /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXCW3cZ_2Z0qPftZ9CkRFwqvbGuZBAh4YJLjo9rZsEtoMl118sSUy-bo3A0utBGCAiP1BqMJVuBpjcKBT68bYr9J7kw1oX_vrPFVR8cqyc9ZHogYaRBy8IZaAnoqthpPH9DEgQswL1K7X4U5W8T8Z9Y_mVI7LLWyKAeTChxNXdmjWNybtZitcA/s1080/thumbnail%20(3).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Guns, guns. guns" border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXCW3cZ_2Z0qPftZ9CkRFwqvbGuZBAh4YJLjo9rZsEtoMl118sSUy-bo3A0utBGCAiP1BqMJVuBpjcKBT68bYr9J7kw1oX_vrPFVR8cqyc9ZHogYaRBy8IZaAnoqthpPH9DEgQswL1K7X4U5W8T8Z9Y_mVI7LLWyKAeTChxNXdmjWNybtZitcA/w640-h480/thumbnail%20(3).jpg" title="Back in the USA?" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><b>Back in the USA? Guns, guns, guns</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;">My impression during my day trip there was that it is an enigma and even maybe an anomaly. The main historic "old city" is perched on Monte Titano, with three ancient watchtowers that define the San Marino skyline, rising above the republic’s central Apennine peak. From the towers, you can view several of the villages situated in the nine municipalities along the nation's hilly flanks, known as "castelli" or castles. </span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; outline: none !important;"><span><a name='more'></a></span><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br clear="none" style="outline: none !important;" /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;">Although nowhere near as isolated as 100 years ago, it certainly isn't a place you just stumble upon. You need to deliberately take the only realistic modes of transportation to get there -- public bus, taxi, or private vehicle. Whatever mode you choose, you’ll wind your way up the mountain until you get to the city entrance, where you’ll be greeted by a huge San Marino flag flying, a modest guard house, and someone who I suppose was a guard, but who seemed to take it upon himself to direct traffic — maybe a crossing guard.</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br clear="none" style="outline: none !important;" /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;">Much of the food is – unsurprisingly – Italian, although there are some more local Sammarinese (San Marino demonym) dishes, that may as well be, dare I say, Italian. After walking around the city...or country, I stopped at a small pizzeria for a slice of pie. I was sitting a communal table and talked to a local while waiting for my lunch. He was a Millenial guy actually born and raised in San Marino. He didn't speak much English, but he was friendly I was able to glean some insight. He said he currently lived in Rimini, but was back to see his family for a few days. He said many Summarinese leave to seek more opportunities in surrounding Italy. I took my pizza slice and made one of the ancient walls my table, while gazing at the stunning view all around -- mountains to the north and west and the sea to the east.</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; outline: none !important;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgnChTxQBBryKWMtUWSnfTIy_z95p3osze7abxP1C5e2s4oGvgjzqk06A2cW_8Jv3V8GUgc4CJ4QsXiv6wftWDDJ2dmOKkB7uBKDNz4OSi_F6G29pU1IXS_2vlilNutiv_f9WeX2rSdJQzFJZLZKPGNBhuD-3VUfVicfms-Avy9_ATcmDxWZeh/s1080/thumbnail%20(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="810" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgnChTxQBBryKWMtUWSnfTIy_z95p3osze7abxP1C5e2s4oGvgjzqk06A2cW_8Jv3V8GUgc4CJ4QsXiv6wftWDDJ2dmOKkB7uBKDNz4OSi_F6G29pU1IXS_2vlilNutiv_f9WeX2rSdJQzFJZLZKPGNBhuD-3VUfVicfms-Avy9_ATcmDxWZeh/w480-h640/thumbnail%20(1).jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX_Wli5OV_hMojv1sWQ3_4FVPqeUHmw1moFiZZMvu941I4Yadj1qdGxiz4IqLpfTbta1jTsebmmaT4_vi_NesMv2lfVLJi3LOkP4YkK6zPRULGEemLke1fE9Xdnoa2v5LDXuhooIhFP2SxfyNiddTtM1Ax_ilBydD6Le131tJb-Uctyei9dAQ3/s1080/thumbnail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX_Wli5OV_hMojv1sWQ3_4FVPqeUHmw1moFiZZMvu941I4Yadj1qdGxiz4IqLpfTbta1jTsebmmaT4_vi_NesMv2lfVLJi3LOkP4YkK6zPRULGEemLke1fE9Xdnoa2v5LDXuhooIhFP2SxfyNiddTtM1Ax_ilBydD6Le131tJb-Uctyei9dAQ3/w640-h480/thumbnail.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br clear="none" style="outline: none !important;" /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;">The old city is touristic, and suffers from a glut of souvenir shops, but (during the low season, anyway) you can easily walk/hike a bit, and escape into the more secluded areas away from tourons (tourists + morons), and be transported to a medieval time. Back in the tourist zone, I realized that many of the streets in the historical center included either a gun or sword shop. Not one gun shop or one sword shop, but several. I have to say it was a bit strange to see an array of Samurai swords and pistols -- was I back in the States? Initially, I naively thought that these were shops selling replicas, but that wasn’t the case. Apparently, San Marino has the most liberal gun laws in western Europe and so buying your weapon of choice here is not at all that difficult. I thought only the U.S. so freely made guns available and seemingly as easy to purchase as the local Italian gelato. </span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br clear="none" style="outline: none !important;" /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;">It's a beautiful destination, and I'd say check it out if you’re nearby in northern Italy. It’s definitely somewhere that I’d recommend visiting for a short while – maybe for the day or just one night. Whether or not you need to stay any longer is debatable.</span></div></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: Allerta;">The PJ depends on reader support. Please help us by contributing financially to Philabooks@yahoo.com via Venmo, or by contributing editorial content via PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com.| Established 1976 Richard Carreño, Editor © MMXXII WritersClearinghouse All Rights Reserved.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">© MMXXIV WritersClearinghouse. All rights reserved WritersClearinghouse. Publication queries to PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6386882.post-3553970195658814422022-12-21T10:51:00.002-05:002022-12-21T10:55:31.139-05:00PHILADELPHIA TRIVIA<div><br /></div><div><table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="yiv7192636569main" style="background-color: white; border-collapse: collapse; border-spacing: 0px; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: inherit; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; max-width: 660px; vertical-align: top; width: 660px;"><tbody><tr><td class="yiv7192636569block-text" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: inherit; line-height: inherit; padding: 5px; text-align: inherit; vertical-align: top; word-break: normal;"><p><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: small;"><span color="inherit" style="background-color: transparent; text-align: inherit;">The question: </span><span style="color: #1d1c1d; text-align: inherit;">In his classic </span><span style="color: #1d1c1d; font-style: italic; text-align: inherit;">Puritan Boston and Quaker Philadelphia, </span><span style="color: #1d1c1d; text-align: inherit;">Penn sociologist E. Digby Baltzell — the chronicler of the ways of the elite who introduced the acronym "WASP" (White Anglo-Saxon Protestant) into the language — noted with some lament that Philadelphia's old-money families didn't support its local universities, most notably Penn, of course.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: small;"><span style="color: #1d1c1d;">However, some of Philadelphia's new money did go all-out for a school in another city: Harvard, whose main library is named for the would-have-been scion of one new-money family. </span><span style="color: #1d1c1d; font-style: italic;">Who was this person, and why was the library named for him?</span></span></p><p dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: small;"><span style="color: #1d1c1d; font-style: italic;">Bonus question: </span><span style="color: #1d1c1d;">Another member of this same family did devote his life to supporting local higher education. One of the schools on whose boards of trustees he served renamed itself in 1972 in honor of his family. </span><span style="color: #1d1c1d; font-style: italic;">Name that descendant.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit;"><span style="border: none; color: #1d1c1d; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; font-style: italic; min-height: 647px; width: 478px;"><img height="647" src="https://ecp.yusercontent.com/mail?url=https%3A%2F%2Flh4.googleusercontent.com%2FDwddUZPBVBG1EKSyx0YbASlhwvc5Jh-w8BAm1DcGa8bAatptgPYB6Ga10ysYSNGdhhaH27mi6rTvqfyD0Y6N3J6bfxLoTqs_Fh2b_nEqVJt476FSA8rWK6631a5AAEXci_IOmaMYbmHga1BjCxkpZNCoKqNz3gE1IhXA8uzUrLNfi442lPU9r-A0RCEwsQ&t=1671637559&ymreqid=1ddf095a-f3a7-e6c1-1c5b-860001014800&sig=NlVIMmiKGl2fUP0pX_ZuAw--~D" style="max-width: 100%; text-indent: -9999px;" width="478" /></span></p><p dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent;">The answer(s): </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-weight: 700;">Harry Elkins Widener.</span><span style="background-color: transparent;"> The bibliophile grandson of streetcar magnate Peter A.B. Widener, the 1907 Harvard grad perished along with his father, businessman George D. Widener, when the Titanic sank on its maiden voyage in 1912. His mother, Eleanor Elkins Widener, donated Harry's large library to Harvard, which named its main library for him in return.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent;">Bonus question: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-weight: 700;">Fitz Eugene Dixon.</span><span style="background-color: transparent;"> Better known as the man who brought "Dr. J" to town when he owned the Philadelphia 76ers, he also served on the board of the Pennsylvania Military College and its civilian sibling, Penn Morton College, in Chester for four decades, including serving as its chair. An unverified local legend has it that his contributions to the school saved it from closing in the 1970s, leading the board to rename it in honor of his mother's mother, Eleanor Elkins Widener — Harry's mom. Another fun fact: were it not for him, LOVE Park wouldn't be LOVE Park: When the city couldn't come up with the purchase price sculptor Robert Indiana wanted for his iconic work, Dixon bought it from Indiana and donated it to the city. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; border: none; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; min-height: 637px; width: 464px;"><img height="637" src="https://ecp.yusercontent.com/mail?url=https%3A%2F%2Flh6.googleusercontent.com%2FukXAC4aTiWuDyh6gzzkr1kqzg1QVYJIxOc10FOrQ5wG1_rJRG1oX6UoCX4Cm4OF5gpWd1BlvkRWmP5v4Nx8a9WLIdND3BGjZ2-22sTrEACmVt6ooSA7ZnwbX0uChcMh1u6MLDpcgXl4NVBBUSZWGvxLAfBEa5BF2dnM8SSegev_UKG9jfdJX5a-oijvtTA&t=1671637559&ymreqid=1ddf095a-f3a7-e6c1-1c5b-860001014800&sig=Z.Kn7OOtdYTfjdm2WICCyA--~D" style="max-width: 100%; text-indent: -9999px;" width="464" /></span></p></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="yiv7192636569main" style="background-color: white; border-collapse: collapse; border-spacing: 0px; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: inherit; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; max-width: 660px; vertical-align: top; width: 660px;"><tbody><tr></tr></tbody></table></div><div><br /></div><span style="font-family: Caesar Dressing; font-size: xx-small;"><b>The PJ depends on reader support. Please help us by contributing financially to Philabooks@yahoo.com via Venmo, or by contributing editorial content via PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com.| Established 1976 Richard Carreño, Editor © MMXXII WritersClearinghouse All Rights Reserved.</b></span><div class="blogger-post-footer">© MMXXIV WritersClearinghouse. All rights reserved WritersClearinghouse. Publication queries to PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6386882.post-86916619122685024512022-12-14T16:55:00.000-05:002022-12-14T16:55:06.419-05:00W R I T E R S C L E A R I N G H O U S E * PhiladelphiaThe PJ depends on reader support. Please help us by contributing financially to Philabooks@yahoo.com via Venmo, or by contributing editorial content via PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com.| Established 1976 Richard Carreño, Editor © MMXXII WritersClearinghouse All Rights Reserved.<div class="blogger-post-footer">© MMXXIV WritersClearinghouse. All rights reserved WritersClearinghouse. Publication queries to PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6386882.post-74970274078414515172022-12-14T16:46:00.000-05:002022-12-14T16:46:00.245-05:00<h2 style="height: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Germania One; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;">HAPPY HOLIDAYS</span></h2><div><span style="font-family: Germania One; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1PjFW2M991reX5dBvQNUDknmr29CvZXZW7EsdGIamArNJni3NHhM6G68Lcq5nxLzMgMFzf_AHNCl6TK8QFH4fegF4hv3esFczACR5tE0TpINALlR5-PGNYi8RW87qFRfblKHN7mR6XOOSkHpubEQLnCH0szVeGZ2ijQJzio9U7YTrMRNjQg/s640/IMG_2088.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="425" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1PjFW2M991reX5dBvQNUDknmr29CvZXZW7EsdGIamArNJni3NHhM6G68Lcq5nxLzMgMFzf_AHNCl6TK8QFH4fegF4hv3esFczACR5tE0TpINALlR5-PGNYi8RW87qFRfblKHN7mR6XOOSkHpubEQLnCH0szVeGZ2ijQJzio9U7YTrMRNjQg/s320/IMG_2088.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: Germania One; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">© MMXXIV WritersClearinghouse. All rights reserved WritersClearinghouse. Publication queries to PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6386882.post-66073312159896758552022-08-07T19:50:00.008-04:002022-08-07T19:50:37.007-04:00John O'Hara Weighs in<div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>ARSE-inine?</b></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #338fe9; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-decoration-line: underline;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #338fe9; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-decoration-line: underline;">https://www.thesteepletimes.com/movers-shakers/arse-ass-difference/</span></div><div><br /></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>The PJ depends on reader support. Please help us by contributing financially to Philabooks@yahoo.com via Venmo, or by contributing editorial content via PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com.| Established 1976 Richard Carreño, Editor © MMXXII WritersClearinghouse All Rights Reserved.</b></span><div class="blogger-post-footer">© MMXXIV WritersClearinghouse. All rights reserved WritersClearinghouse. Publication queries to PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6386882.post-87447425023486773592022-06-18T10:32:00.002-04:002022-06-18T10:53:44.862-04:00McFADDEN GOES TO CAMBRIDGE<div><u><b><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: medium;">Clare College @ Cambridge University</span></b></u></div><div><b><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: x-large;">Book Notes from All Over</span></b></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTNBHcXONyyg2sJNFVfffwcMwQ8CG0pmy-IeyHKEQOEy6zCNxihR4ua-8lFsDkXwuvtXxt0BpSaHFDhvhPtzNnV2PphUWaKnsNHCib1XA4A6U5q54qZ6dWidAXwwAyqILPYfsZ4PBAitw5NHSsnv9OFPuBREn8QTesMWZOg68cIiB2ufPHRw/s3941/IMG_1505.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2602" data-original-width="3941" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTNBHcXONyyg2sJNFVfffwcMwQ8CG0pmy-IeyHKEQOEy6zCNxihR4ua-8lFsDkXwuvtXxt0BpSaHFDhvhPtzNnV2PphUWaKnsNHCib1XA4A6U5q54qZ6dWidAXwwAyqILPYfsZ4PBAitw5NHSsnv9OFPuBREn8QTesMWZOg68cIiB2ufPHRw/w400-h264/IMG_1505.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitD8ubaa5uHTOLAN8bKH5O8Mu4WySimZXkde1ZGpBkfGpqDdSiwE4Zh2xiPhDidcawqSPRm5YbTDInusw_G-0bJw3_yphsV0nuIoh_mxByy2nECygnEh3Yr-VqxuO0ezhOTxPKRvR0IKE7fBOHD0zk-FUQgyg5BGF_PFhGAdiXpqxyOiHoig/s4032/IMG_1504.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitD8ubaa5uHTOLAN8bKH5O8Mu4WySimZXkde1ZGpBkfGpqDdSiwE4Zh2xiPhDidcawqSPRm5YbTDInusw_G-0bJw3_yphsV0nuIoh_mxByy2nECygnEh3Yr-VqxuO0ezhOTxPKRvR0IKE7fBOHD0zk-FUQgyg5BGF_PFhGAdiXpqxyOiHoig/w480-h640/IMG_1504.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAjDL9N7yPl6UGT_nv-16nj7kqngLT0xM0Q6qFrUfi9etZHsES1pvesXuT9FDph4QiHT1fyn8w8tqxDik7ihW61hJ7K6rPcMSvn2IvYSJaVNcJa3BIgnhsaBnpsDRDGgqXginQuKkwrO4MZ42KQD4rOJD9iEB9h2nxF70RZ_isvYrcmuI-9g/s3532/IMG_1506.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3532" data-original-width="2601" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAjDL9N7yPl6UGT_nv-16nj7kqngLT0xM0Q6qFrUfi9etZHsES1pvesXuT9FDph4QiHT1fyn8w8tqxDik7ihW61hJ7K6rPcMSvn2IvYSJaVNcJa3BIgnhsaBnpsDRDGgqXginQuKkwrO4MZ42KQD4rOJD9iEB9h2nxF70RZ_isvYrcmuI-9g/w474-h640/IMG_1506.HEIC" width="474" /></a></div><br /><br /></b></div>The PJ depends on reader support. Please help us by contributing financially to Philabooks@yahoo.com via Venmo, or by contributing editorial content via PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com.| Established 1976 Richard Carreño, Editor © MMXXII WritersClearinghouse All Rights Reserved.<div class="blogger-post-footer">© MMXXIV WritersClearinghouse. All rights reserved WritersClearinghouse. Publication queries to PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6386882.post-73196148589472794652022-03-04T10:36:00.001-05:002022-03-04T12:22:32.958-05:00ƒ ON UKRAINIAN REFUGEES ƒ<div><h1 style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Allerta; font-size: large;"><b><u>Whether Black, White, or Brown,</u></b></span></span></h1><h1 style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: x-large;"><b>THEY LOOK LIKE US</b></span></span></h1><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgZ-lk30iWCBMl9ytY8t3pMifFXh_ne1VmEqyPs0j9pvTowKQzwwgh4ljJNH-SLSJOj5t0Hhf2XPdg31ZCi9cFPYkaFiwdjdbApSxILGO5EtwWPwOHwlh3rIMZJuGSGz_hNtRtas2SwUis58AVA_-5zzGrdhLBXKBLZW49K22vFb7-iWEixUA=s1024" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="812" data-original-width="1024" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgZ-lk30iWCBMl9ytY8t3pMifFXh_ne1VmEqyPs0j9pvTowKQzwwgh4ljJNH-SLSJOj5t0Hhf2XPdg31ZCi9cFPYkaFiwdjdbApSxILGO5EtwWPwOHwlh3rIMZJuGSGz_hNtRtas2SwUis58AVA_-5zzGrdhLBXKBLZW49K22vFb7-iWEixUA=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><b>By Justin T. Carreño</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><i>Anyone complaining that</i> we don't give the same outreach and attention</span></span></div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;">to the oppressed peoples of Palestine, Vietnam, Libya, Iraq, Yemen,</div></span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Afghanistan, Kashmir, Rohingya, North Korea, etc., is not considering</div></span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;">culture, genetics, and politics. The issues with these peoples is</div></span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;">perennial oppression embedded in their non-Western cultures that can't</div></span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;">be mitigated by standard government levers. It has nothing to do with</div></span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;">racism nor xenophobia.</div></span></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;">It's not that we don't care, it's just that they are way too far gone</div></span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;">to do anything about on a systemic, national level using conventional</div></span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;">means. Ukraine, on the other hand, is an acute attack, and is not only</div></span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;">a Western country, which makes it closer to other Western cultures,</div></span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;">including the US, it is also very close to being saved. As an EMT (which I am), you</div></span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;">have to triage during a mass casualty incident. Save the ones you can!</div></span></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Other oppressed nations are culturally distant from the Western world,</div></span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;">which makes it more difficult to relate, not to mention oppression and</div></span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;">devastation are part of what makes them the countries they are.</div></span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Ukraine is us and we are Ukraine -- they look like Americans, they act</div></span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;">like Americans, they dress like Americans, and they embody the same</div></span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Western ideals.</div></span></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;">These other people are in a totally different situation. It doesn’t</div></span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;">mean we don’t care. It just means it's not relatable.</div></span></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><a name='more'></a></span><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Consider this: if someone hits your mother, you’re going to take it</div></span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;">personally and fight back. That’s Ukraine. If someone hits a</div></span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;">random person at the same time on the other side of the world, it’s</div></span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;">not right, and you might be upset about it, but you’re far removed.</div></span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Your mother, as family, is priority. Ukraine is part of our family.</div></span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;">The random person on the other side of the world is one of the other peoples</div></span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;">who we have sympathy. But they are not part of our family.</div></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><span style="font-family: Allerta;">The PJ depends on reader support. Please help us by contributing financially to Philabooks@yahoo.com via Venmo, or by contributing editorial content via PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com.| Established 1976 Richard Carreño, Editor © MMXXII WritersClearinghouse All Rights Res</span>erved.</b></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">© MMXXIV WritersClearinghouse. All rights reserved WritersClearinghouse. Publication queries to PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6386882.post-88755600196061179092022-02-27T13:53:00.006-05:002022-02-27T14:00:58.936-05:00LONG LIVE A FREE UKRAINE!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhvabucX-mn8VDptdGYHR1typ5YGmFfKx5WgHJ5QC2dck1DJhzzIlf09eYu2r-d_TW_hjlcUz6kS0VeghlVR7yXKPcT2UWoBDxCnKWJvmMuPzVWAie07mx1HQP6zbiGi81_pgPr9UmftOvvcbHMNHLwcciVIweihA0tjKcgyRsCcb8bw66zCw=s958" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="912" data-original-width="958" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhvabucX-mn8VDptdGYHR1typ5YGmFfKx5WgHJ5QC2dck1DJhzzIlf09eYu2r-d_TW_hjlcUz6kS0VeghlVR7yXKPcT2UWoBDxCnKWJvmMuPzVWAie07mx1HQP6zbiGi81_pgPr9UmftOvvcbHMNHLwcciVIweihA0tjKcgyRsCcb8bw66zCw=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: x-small;">The PJ depends on reader support. Please help us by contributing financially to Philabooks@yahoo.com via Venmo, or by contributing editorial content via PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com.| Established 1976 Richard Carreño, Editor © MMXXI WritersClearinghouse All Rights Reserved.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">© MMXXIV WritersClearinghouse. All rights reserved WritersClearinghouse. Publication queries to PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6386882.post-20799055652434310072022-02-06T14:45:00.001-05:002022-02-06T14:45:12.161-05:00Whose Worse?<h1 style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: x-large;">JOHNSON OR TRUMP?</span></b></h1><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;">It's all here! Click below</span>:</div><div><br /></div><div><a class="yiv2803181699ydp15abd82byiv6799374093" href="https://www.nytimes.com/2022/02/04/opinion/boris-johnson-party-scandal.html?smid=em-share" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" shape="rect" style="background-color: white; color: #338fe9; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline-color: var(--thin-outline-color); outline-style: dotted; outline-width: 0px !important;" target="_blank">https://www.nytimes.com/2022/02/04/opinion/boris-johnson-party-scandal.html?smid=em-share</a></div><div><br /></div><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: x-small;">The PJ depends on reader support. Please help us by contributing financially to Philabooks@yahoo.com via Venmo, or by contributing editorial content via PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com.| Established 1976 Richard Carreño, Editor © MMXXII WritersClearinghouse All Rights Reserved.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">© MMXXIV WritersClearinghouse. All rights reserved WritersClearinghouse. Publication queries to PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6386882.post-73274389204448595512022-01-25T15:02:00.004-05:002022-01-25T15:06:51.448-05:00DO YOU?<div><h1 style="background-color: white; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: x-large;"><b>I LIKE IT</b></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgCF-EQ-H4XRlRTWRZKSVIO1sq_YH6UtR1XLCxipnzd0lrVZdwD-XdgHzOY4HkWl-AQsaNtZZIq7Je--klfqPAfoMdrLemrRtoIH5LLo_wIRQXWjbMkznFHkydY3kOt3gxCOdFkZCUcT_YkRI593GBK264q9v6AAVFqsJTGUdyRx8QGIjfRsQ=s238" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="212" data-original-width="238" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgCF-EQ-H4XRlRTWRZKSVIO1sq_YH6UtR1XLCxipnzd0lrVZdwD-XdgHzOY4HkWl-AQsaNtZZIq7Je--klfqPAfoMdrLemrRtoIH5LLo_wIRQXWjbMkznFHkydY3kOt3gxCOdFkZCUcT_YkRI593GBK264q9v6AAVFqsJTGUdyRx8QGIjfRsQ" width="238" /></a></div></h1><div class="yiv4852088139MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>January 20, 2022</i></span></span></div><div class="yiv4852088139MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></div><div class="yiv4852088139MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><b>By Don Merlot/Ron Alonzo</b></span></div><div class="yiv4852088139MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"> </span></div><div class="yiv4852088139MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;">Well, I know what they say about good intentions, and since last summer I have been trying to get myself up to date on wines since COVID invaded my world as it has changed my modus operani and I do not recognize myself anymore. Wait a minute, I realize that I will be 80 years old this next June and not only has time and COVID changed me, but I too am also changing, transitioning, and have changed in many ways too. I love the old Spanish expression— <i>Todo Cambia, Nada</i> <i>Cambia;</i> so here I am following an old paradigm. It seems as if my prime objective is to survive and keep dreaming in silk and then I ask the question, survive what? Staying healthy means several things to me: eat correctly, drink wines I like in moderation and correctly, exercise correctly; socialize correctly, seeing the Drs that are monitoring my health; track my Apnea and Parkinson’s and walk with a cane to keep my balance with my replaced hip and avoid situations that will alter my little safe world, not much to ask for a bionic man.</span></div><div class="yiv4852088139MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"> </span></div><div class="yiv4852088139MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;">My intention today is to dive into the contemporary wine world of Don Merlot as I have been tasting new, contemporary wines and saving comments on index cards with tasting notes to see what my palate tells me and review my life journey in what I call my Marco Polo jaunt since leaving my birthplace of Mexico City in 1958. I am focusing on what I like and what pleases my palate and not trying to sell anybody anything. It is the old story of seeing the similarities but also appreciating the differences.</span></div><div class="yiv4852088139MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></div><div class="yiv4852088139MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;">Acknowledging my perspectives and respecting the perspectives of others because mine are different than others – mine are mine and not absolutely correct just my perspective.</span></div><div class="yiv4852088139MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"> </span></div><div class="yiv4852088139MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;">In visiting several local wine shops and or ordering wine at local restaurant for my study of contemporary wines, I notice several changes to cost controls. There is less selection choices: Customer have to know something about what their wine preferences are or there may be disappointment and expectations will not be met.</span></div><div class="yiv4852088139MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"> <span><a name='more'></a></span></span></div><pre style="background: rgb(248, 249, 250); line-height: 27pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;">Since it was Summer, I focused on summer wines and menus and because of COVID I did not have a lot opportunity to be with many friends, but I did take a couple of trips out to break away from COVID and we had IDA the hurricane. I had certain wine venues and I had a list of what I wanted, and I was not looking for suggestions as every place I went there was plenty of stock; there was not a lot exchange of information between me and the seller. It is hard to explain, but I felt I had been to the Holy Grail and wanted some specific things and there was no two-way knowledge – here is what you want. Example was when I was looking for Rosé’s from France for summer drinking, the shelves seem stocked and not as orderly as they had been . I looked at the top “100” list that included Rosé’s. I found my wine books and looked for the French vineyards that specialized Rosé’s – that took me back to my wine library and updates of <i>Hugh Johnson’s Pocket Wine Book and wine folly – the essential guide to wine (Puckette & Hammack). </i>I know in my travels I had luscious Rosés in Southern France, but I did not document this lesson –<span class="yiv4852088139y2iqfc"><span style="color: #202124;"> Malheureusement.</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Allerta;"> </span><i style="font-family: Allerta;"> </i></pre><div class="yiv4852088139MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"> I looked for Rosé, White, and light red wines Made the appropriate menus . Top of the list of Viognier an aromatic, White Rhone grape, - Not found on many restaurants wine lists and in wine stores it has an interesting application as I found it as a dessert wine in some stores, or a specialty wine. I saw that one Chinese restaurant offered it with Peking dishes. It is a wine that is trying to find its place very good. It is originally a Rhone wine and in Rhone Viognier has made it mark on Condrieu – Viognier is grown in Europe, Australia, and the USA. When looking for an alternative to a Chardonnay (Fr or CA) I look now for Viognier (Fr, Aus,). Asian and Indian and BBQ chicken and pork. Suit me fine. I mentioned that is liked a dry white like Sauvignon Blanc but Loire – French are tres Cher – so I found that Argentina has TORRENTES which is perfect for grilled Shrimp. I still like Chilean Sauvignon Blanc for Ceviches – Peruvian, Central & South American and Caribbean. (Leche de Tigre - the mix to make ceviche stands out best handling the lime/citrus and chili or rocoto (aji) best.</span></div><div class="yiv4852088139MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"> </span></div><div class="yiv4852088139MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"> </span><span style="font-family: Allerta;">I went to Florida and visited various reputable wine shops. On one occasion in one wine shop there was inventory check going on but there was a need to take care of me - an unknown customer. I was trying to find a Viognier wine (French) and in my search I sensed that I was wasting the time of the store supervisor who sent me with a bright but learning trainee. I must be honest I do not know much about Viognier but know that in the last 24 months I was trying to learn about what wines are selling now. there has been an effort to open sales white wines of this wine. I sensed all the wine understanding paradigms – wines with difficult names do not sell -- , It was suggested that better value viogniers are made in Italy, the wines of the Viognier from Rhone are scarce and much more expensive. My intention while in Florida was introducing some friends to White and Red wines I liked, and I know they had access in trying these new wines. I ran into a similar experience looking for an Austrian wine – Gr</span><span style="font-family: Allerta;">üner Veltliner from the point of view offerings. In my view these two wines in a restaurant setting could easily replace the traditional Sauvignon Blanc and Chardonnay but one would have to fight off the California (CA) hold of win on the shelves. I introduced these wines to my Florida friends is they did not know them yet. As I said I am not selling – nor am I buying – just learning. I also have learned in the COVID Era that I can move over to Grüner Veltliner -my palate is shifting. This is and Austrian wine and price is good.</span></div><div class="yiv4852088139MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"> </span></div><div class="yiv4852088139MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;">My New Orleans palate still yearns for a Shrimp remoulade, and occasionally we will go down to the bayou and get pound of medium shrimp and I will get Denise’s Grandmother’s remoulade sauce make it and we will have an elegant sufficiency of this treat. I like to get crab meat, shrimp, hard boiled eggs, and lettuce and make a Crab Louis sauce; with a Spanish Albariño this really is a summer treat. I first ran across this wine in Spain, and it was popular in the Atlantic side of Spain. Originally The Sauvignon Blanc of the Loire – Sancerre – My favorite became popular and then overpriced and New Zealand supply stepped in with its Sauvignon Blanc’s to nudge Sancerre away and Albariño in Galicia became overpriced with the demand and Chile Sauvignon Blanc picked up the slack and had excellent quality and could met the demand. Shellfish in Europe, South America, New Zealand compete with the Sauvignon Blanc. However, Peruvian style Ceviche I still like the Chilean Sauvignon Blanc – It has that <i>Je n’ai se qua</i> That I do not find in NZ or CA for Ceviche.</span></div><div class="yiv4852088139MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"> </span></div><div class="yiv4852088139MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"> </span><span style="font-family: Allerta;">Chinese food and or the Raj – Curry – food has always been a Conundrum for the British world or at least what I have experienced, and I reached the point when traveling with the French, Swiss or knowledgeable Europeans is stick by them and have VINO! Brits always want to chase it down with a lager. The European educated Chinese or Indian educated yield to the French and I just learned what I like in wine and Eastern food I order. “Do not confuse me with the facts I have made up my mind.”</span></div><div class="yiv4852088139MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"> </span><span style="font-family: Allerta;"> </span></div></div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><b>The PJ depends on reader support. Please help us by contributing financially to Philabooks@yahoo.com via Venmo, or by contributing editorial content via PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com.| Established 1976 Richard Carreño, Editor © MMXXI WritersClearinghouse All Rights Reserved.</b></span><div class="blogger-post-footer">© MMXXIV WritersClearinghouse. All rights reserved WritersClearinghouse. Publication queries to PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6386882.post-13094997459711576602021-12-01T17:26:00.008-05:002021-12-01T17:53:24.338-05:00The Corner House...<div><div class="I_52qC D_FY W_6D6F" data-test-id="message-view-body" style="background-color: white; display: table; width: 984.828px;"><div class="msg-body P_wpofO mq_AS" data-test-id="message-view-body-content" style="line-height: normal; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 2px 0px 0px; position: relative; word-break: break-word;"><div class="jb_0 X_6MGW N_6Fd5" style="padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 24px; padding-right: 16px;"><h1 style="color: #1d2228; text-align: left;"><u><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IP4aW0J6SL0/Yaf1k3IqmnI/AAAAAAAAU-Y/kbSMxJ40gE4kTiDzdDKXcok33dN4nSLpQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1000/image_6483441.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="750" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IP4aW0J6SL0/Yaf1k3IqmnI/AAAAAAAAU-Y/kbSMxJ40gE4kTiDzdDKXcok33dN4nSLpQCLcBGAsYHQ/w480-h640/image_6483441.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><i><br /></i></span></u></h1><h1 style="color: #1d2228; text-align: left;"><u><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></u></h1><h1 style="color: #1d2228; text-align: left;"><u><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></u></h1><h1 style="color: #1d2228; text-align: left;"><u><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></u></h1><h1 style="color: #1d2228; text-align: left;"><u><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></u></h1><h1 style="color: #1d2228; text-align: left;"><u><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></u></h1><h1 style="color: #1d2228; text-align: left;"><u><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></u></h1><h1 style="color: #1d2228; text-align: left;"><u><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></u></h1><h1 style="color: #1d2228; text-align: left;"><u><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></u></h1><h1 style="color: #1d2228; text-align: left;"><u><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></u></h1><h1 style="color: #1d2228; text-align: left;"><u><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></u></h1><h1 style="color: #1d2228; text-align: left;"><u><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></u></h1><h1 style="color: #1d2228; text-align: left;"><u><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></u></h1><h1 style="color: #1d2228; text-align: left;"><u><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></u></h1><h1 style="color: #1d2228; text-align: left;"><u><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></u></h1><h1 style="color: #1d2228; text-align: left;"><u><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></u></h1><h1 style="color: #1d2228; text-align: left;"><u><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: medium;"><i>Letter from Latvia</i></span></u></h1><h1 style="color: #1d2228; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: x-large;">A HOUSE OF HORRORS</span></h1><div dir="ltr" style="color: #1d2228;"><b><span style="font-family: Allerta;">By Justin T. Carreño</span></b></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><span>On a recent foray to Riga, I visited what is referred to as “the<br /></span><span>Corner House” – the former headquarters of the Soviet KGB secret<br /></span><span>police in Latvia, also known as Cheka. I thought this was going to be<br /></span><span>another exhibit and tour of spy gadgetry and historical operations<br /></span><span>much like the Spy Museum in Washington, DC, but this was nothing of<br /></span><span>the sort. Rather it was a poignant and emotional look into the horror<br /></span><span>of totalitarianism and repression.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><span><br /></span><span>We entered the imposing structure that blended in just like any other<br /></span><span>art nouveau building in Riga. It could be an apartment house, or an<br /></span><span>office building, or anything else. Built in 1912, it, in fact, was<br /></span><span>originally an apartment building, but the interior was modified into a<br /></span><span>veritable dungeon.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><span><br /></span><span>As I entered it appeared to be an abandoned building inside. There was<br /></span><span>no heat, and so cold I, along with my friend, and the others on the<br /></span><span>tour, continued to wear our jackets, scarves, and gloves through the<br /></span><span>visit. We bought our tickets for 10,00€ each from a young woman behind<br /></span><span>a window. She said the (English-language) guided tour started at 11am,<br /></span><span>and we had about 30 minutes, so she suggested we look at the exhibits<br /></span><span>in the main hall during our wait.</span><span><span style="color: #1d2228;"></span></span></span></p><a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /><span>These exhibits gave vivid context to make sense of what we were about<br /></span><span>to see in this house of horrors. There are several panels with stories<br /></span><span>and photographs about the two Soviet occupations in Latvia and about<br /></span><span>what happened in this building during those years: 1940-1941 and<br /></span><span>1944-1991. Latvians were arrested for anything considered or even<br /></span><span>suspected as opposition or dissent towards the Soviets, even just<br /></span><span>making a joke about the government or regime leadership would get you<br /></span><span>locked up.</span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><span><br /></span><span>Reading the stories of the individuals on the panels makes this stark<br /></span><span>and dismal place so much more real. I looked at the faces of those who<br /></span><span>found their demise within the walls of the Corner House. They seemed<br /></span><span>just like ordinary people, like any of us. I imagine them doing their<br /></span><span>daily chores, going to work, minding their own business, suddenly<br /></span><span>finding themselves arrested and brought to this secret prison.</span><span><br /></span><span>Our tour guide appeared, another young woman who was clearly<br /></span><span>passionate about the history of what happened in the building. She<br /></span><span>explained she had two sources for the information she was going to<br /></span><span>give us: abandoned and discovered documents from the KGB and<br /></span><span>first-hand accounts from detainee survivors. She said gaps in<br /></span><span>information can be found with the Russian government, but they can<br /></span><span>only hope they release it one day.</span><span><br /></span></span><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bBgUseJCVjw/Yaf2IyewGoI/AAAAAAAAU-g/m-NmU0bPfesEKf751FcA18E4g2M3oSTwgCLcBGAsYHQ/s900/thumbnail%2B%25286%2529.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><img border="0" data-original-height="643" data-original-width="900" height="229" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bBgUseJCVjw/Yaf2IyewGoI/AAAAAAAAU-g/m-NmU0bPfesEKf751FcA18E4g2M3oSTwgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/thumbnail%2B%25286%2529.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><span style="color: #1d2228;"><br /></span><br /><span><br /></span><span><br /></span><span><br /></span><span><br /></span><span><br /></span><span><br /></span><span><br /></span><span><br /></span><span><br /></span><span><br /><br /></span><span>We started by seeing the administrative office where the prisoners<br /></span><span>were photographed and fingerprinted, the room for the duty officer who<br /></span><span>registered the detainees, and the interrogation rooms. Then we moved<br /></span><span>into the upper part of the building. A couple of floors above, the<br /></span><span>atmosphere became worse, in fact, squalid – narrow, dark corridors<br /></span><span>with peeling paint, and musty smelling rooms with stains on the walls,<br /></span><span>entered through heavy metal doors. Some detainee cells measured no<br /></span><span>more than 1.6 square meters (about 17 square feet).</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><span><br /></span><span>Hard wooden boards for beds and a filthy bucket in the corner for<br /></span><span>urinating and defecating are the only furnishings in the cells. Our<br /></span><span>guide said, “the temperature was always at 87ºF (30ºC), no matter the<br /></span><span>season,” which was in contrast to how frigid it was the November day<br /></span><span>we went. It was kept hot as a method of torture to dehydrate the<br /></span><span>inmates. As they craved water, they would be deprived of it. The guide<br /></span><span>told us it was common practice to have a glass of water sitting on the<br /></span><span>table during interrogations. Desperately thirsty detainees knew if<br /></span><span>they reached for it, they’d be beaten.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><span><br /></span><span>“There were multiple types of torture,” the guide explained. From<br /></span><span>beating of the whole body, beating of particularly sensitive areas of<br /></span><span>the body, burning, hair pulling, and continuous interrogation for 8-9<br /></span><span>days in a row. Sleep deprivation was standard where lights were never<br /></span><span>turned off, and covering your eyes would get you beaten. “The<br /></span><span>effectiveness of terror lies not in the terror itself, but in its<br /></span><span>mix,” she said. “It creates fear.” Detainees were told if they admit<br /></span><span>guilt, it would lessen their sentence, but in actuality it likely<br /></span><span>meant they would either be executed or sent to a gulag labor camp in<br /></span><span>Siberia. If they didn’t admit guilt then detainees would typically be<br /></span><span>tortured until they admitted guilt or until they died.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><span><br /></span><span>Detainees were allowed outside of their cells on random occasions into<br /></span><span>a small interior courtyard where they were asked to walk in a circle<br /></span><span>with their heads down. They were devoid of all contact with the<br /></span><span>outside world (family letters, books and newspapers), forbidden to<br /></span><span>have showers. Often, they would write their surnames on the wall in<br /></span><span>the hopes, if ever discovered, family would know they were held there.<br /></span><span>This reprieve to go into the courtyard and smell fresh air and see sky<br /></span><span>was not for any humane reason. The purpose of letting them see a<br /></span><span>glimpse of the outside was to give them a glimmer of hope, and make<br /></span><span>them break, and admit to their guilt in hopes they could get out.</span><span><br /></span></span><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-k6M6WjXaFJo/Yaf2YVuxlFI/AAAAAAAAU-k/NydKZkjcbREVWFLsFi0Frsq42bo3yRWrwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1000/thumbnail%2B%25287%2529.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><img border="0" data-original-height="689" data-original-width="1000" height="220" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-k6M6WjXaFJo/Yaf2YVuxlFI/AAAAAAAAU-k/NydKZkjcbREVWFLsFi0Frsq42bo3yRWrwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/thumbnail%2B%25287%2529.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><span style="color: #1d2228;"><br /></span><br /><span><br /></span><span><br /></span><span><br /></span><span><br /></span><span><br /></span><span><br /></span><span><br /></span><span><br /></span><span><br /></span><span><br /><br /></span><span>Everyone on the tour was visibly moved as she opened to door to the<br /></span><span>former execution chamber. It was hidden behind a false wall that the<br /></span><span>KGB built before abandoning the building. When it was taken over in<br /></span><span>2014 by the museum, the building was searched and investigated by<br /></span><span>forensic teams funded by the Government of Latvia. Our guide said she<br /></span><span>was there when forensic teams found bullets, bullet holes, and human<br /></span><span>blood, including hand prints of those who didn't die immediately,<br /></span><span>desperately trying to crawl away.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><span><br /></span><span>Within the depths of this building right in the middle of Riga,<br /></span><span>thousands of Latvians were imprisoned, interrogated, tortured, and<br /></span><span>executed until 1991. What makes this more astonishing is to realize<br /></span><span>that many of us, when all these things were happening, were leading<br /></span><span>safe lives in the U.S. and other free countries of the world. In fact,<br /></span><span>I remember in 1990 I was a 7th grade, middle schooler, and my Social<br /></span><span>Studies teacher asked the class if we knew what the USSR stood for. I<br /></span><span>was the only one who raised my hand. Although I knew what the letters<br /></span><span>stood for, I didn’t know the extent of what the Soviet state stood for<br /></span><span>– oppression, repression, abuse…totalitarianism. The Corner House has<br /></span><span>now become a vivid symbol of the totalitarian regime during the five<br /></span><span>decades of Soviet occupation.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><span><br /></span><span>The museum documents in great detail the atrocities of the Cheka in<br /></span><span>Latvia and it’s at the same time a powerful reminder of the mass<br /></span><span>repression and genocide occurred under some Communist regimes during<br /></span><span>the twentieth century.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><span><br /></span><span>Our tour guide – a sweet, pretty, innocent-looking woman – deviated<br /></span><span>from her sweetness, and a subtle agitation in her countenance and<br /></span><span>voice was detected, as if she was holding back, "today Latvia is a<br /></span><span>totally free country where we can voice and express our opinions about<br /></span><span>our government, but a version of this is still occurring with our<br /></span><span>neighbor to the east, less than 2,000km from our border." It’s<br /></span><span>understandable that Latvians have hostility and contempt for Russia<br /></span><span>even today.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><span><br /></span><span>This was a sobering experience. Leaving the building, I had a familiar<br /></span><span>thought – the same thought, maybe a cliché, I had when hearing stories<br /></span><span>of the Holocaust – these scars need to remain visible so people can<br /></span><span>never forget, and never repeat, and it is the obligation of those who<br /></span><span>are free to protest injustices to keep nations advancing and<br /></span><span>progressing towards all things free and fair.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><span><br /></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b>The PJ depends on reader support. Please help us by contributing financially to Philabooks@yahoo.com via Venmo, </b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b>or by contributing editorial content via PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com.| Established 1976 Richard Carreño, </b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b>Editor © MMXXI WritersClearinghouse All Rights Reserved.</b></span></span></p></div></div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">© MMXXIV WritersClearinghouse. All rights reserved WritersClearinghouse. Publication queries to PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6386882.post-30151990271059712212021-10-20T11:13:00.012-04:002021-10-20T11:14:39.032-04:00Past Favs<div><h1 style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: x-large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-B1y7AFQ8Uig/YXAxkkqWV_I/AAAAAAAAT9E/e1dZ8Ttk4iw0ZdK4fHgrQ73KaoIMCbNVACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/SF1.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-B1y7AFQ8Uig/YXAxkkqWV_I/AAAAAAAAT9E/e1dZ8Ttk4iw0ZdK4fHgrQ73KaoIMCbNVACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/SF1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8ef80dQqao8/YXAxktFSf0I/AAAAAAAAT9I/nu3pi7lvS3o1q3URJmrxMomJboWhx9gxgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/SF2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8ef80dQqao8/YXAxktFSf0I/AAAAAAAAT9I/nu3pi7lvS3o1q3URJmrxMomJboWhx9gxgCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/SF2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>MIND THE GAP</span></b></h1><div><b><span style="font-family: Allerta;">By Richard Carreño</span></b></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;">[WritersClearinghouse News Service] Posted 7 August 2014</span></div><div><b><i><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></i></b></div><div><b><i><span style="font-family: Allerta;">San Francisco</span></i></b></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;">San Francisco is well known for many things: Steve McQueen's blistering car chase in Bullitt. For the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz, and huffing and puffing up (and down) Telegraph Hill. Its user-friendly public transportation system (refurbished, retired trolleys and, of course, its hokey cable cars). An odd comestible known as Rice-A-Roni (and its catchy 'San Francisco Treat' ad jingle). Levis are of course synonymous with the city, and so are the 49ers who wore them. And who can forget the still wet-behind the ears Michael Douglas debuting in the TV series The Streets of San Francisco? </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;">But I knew I was in for a different kind of 'treat' as I settled in with my cabin mates for my flight from Philly to SFO. The surrounding businessmen were clearly representatives of a new, evolving San Francisco, and one I hadn't known before. And my last visit was only five years ago. Sporting iPads, iPhones, laptops, ear-plugs, and headsets, these New-Age 49ers where hardly Rice-A-Roni types. My heavily-wired companions, of course, were newly-minted Silicon Valley standard-bearers, and I doubt they were iTuned to Tony Bennett waxing lyrical about leaving his heart in the 'City by the Bay.'</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;">Welcome to San Francisco's corporate world of Google, PayPal, and Facebook -- and generic billion-dollar 'Googlers' from Instagram, Yelp, HubPages, Dropbox, Pinterest, Twitter, and dozens of other Internet sensations. If there were any Levis in sight, they were skinny jean versions, matched with shortie jackets, skinny ties, rectangular-shaped eyeglass frames, and other accouterments pinched from the pages of a recent J. Crew catalogue. Or, rather, this being San Francisco, Gap Inc and Banana Republic, also headquartered here.</span></div><div><span><a name='more'></a></span><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;">My return involved a more old-fashioned mission. Armed with a copy of Long Ago in France by M.F.K. Fisher (my non-electronic form of entertainment), I came to visit a Bay bookshop -- and buy a book. Not any bookshop. Nor any book.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;">For this plugged-in metropolis, my mission was downright quixotic. A bookshop? A book? San Francisco, after all, had long ago lost any claim to dead-tree publishing when Rolling Stone and Hearst moved to New York and when, more recently, the San Francisco Examiner, one of the West's better dailies, unceremoniously folded. In new San Francisco, even such a relatively contemporary author as my most recent read, the late M.F.K. Fisher, an erstwhile northern California resident, smacks almost of as much musty ancient history as Robert Louis Stevenson, Jack London, Ambrose Bierce, Jack Kerouac, and Mark Twain, all of whom were one-time leading literary lights here.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;">And my personal favorite, the late great San Francisco Chronicle columnist Lucius Beebe, who, in the mid-20th century, wielded his poison pen against the forces of modernity and change with wit and fury. Though he was writing decades before the advent of the Internet, it's doubtful that any nascent Mark Zuckerberg would have found any succor in the outspoken writer's acid-laced musings.'In Kansas City or Keokuk big thinkers and forward lookers are treated with slavering adulation. In San Francisco they use the trademen's entrance,' he dissed with customary distain. You can almost see the flick of his wrist.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;">Even remnants of San Francisco noir are hard to find. Yes, Dashiell Hammett Street, recognizing Sam Spade's creator, is a reminder of the city's trenchant literary history. Yes, you can still amble around the Stockton Tunnel, to where on Burritt Street Miles Archer met his maker in a fusillade of bullets. But Sam's Grill, nearby on Belden Place, the seafood restaurant that was the flesh-and-blood Hammett's favorite, was, according to signage, temporarily closed when I stopped by the other day. Actually, it looked forever closed.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;">My quest led me to City Lights Bookstore, arguably the West's most recognized and eminent bookseller. And, just as memorably, as a free speech mecca.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;">This duality harks back to to shop's Beat Generation roots and to its controversial founder, the poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;">The shop's original premise, as an all-paperback bookseller, was, in 1953 when the store opened, something of a big deal. So was its dedication to avant garde literature and poetry, which soon led Ferlinghetti to create City Lights Publishers. That subsidiary's subsequent publication of the works of Beat poet Alan Gingsberg, in turn, led in 1957 to the cause célèbre that forever changed the legal definition of First Amendment publication rights.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;">The case targeted Ginsberg's poetry volume Howl, kickstarting a series of Keystone Cop actions involving a police raid of the bookshop, the confiscation of import copies of Howl, and even Ferlinghetti's arrest. Though he could have probably just paid a fine to have the issue go away, Ferlinghetti instead fought back. The result was a precedent-setting verdict declaring that any published work that has 'the slightest redeeming social importance' is protected under the First Amendment.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;">The trial put City Lights on Page 1 of The New York Times -- and forever on the literary map for its historic championing of free speech. And now, in later years, not surprisingly, as tourist attraction, joining a cadre of select bookshops around the world that embrace a particular literary aura. (City Lights has a loose association with one of those bookstores, Shakespeare & Co. in Paris, whose later-day owner, the late George Whitman, was Ferlinghetti's friend. A small, wooden Shakespeare & Co. sign over a doorway leading into City Lights commemorates the mutual admiration). </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;">When I recently visited, the shop's warren of rooms in storefront at 261 Columbus Avenue were humming with shoppers, mostly young people.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;">I looked hard. Not a Googler in sight.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;">Oh, yes, about that book I was seeking. Howl, perhaps? No, I already have a copy.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;">My hunt was for the recently published English-language edition of A Sentimental Novel by Alain Robbe-Grillet, the late French author and screen writer. Like Howl, it's a hot potato, described as something like the Brothers Grimm on tour with the Marquis de Sade. Add incest, sexual torture, and tales of pubescent sex, and the book wound up in shrink-wrap with a warning label when it was originally published in France by Fayard in 2007.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;">Since then, American publishers have been reluctant to take on the book, citing its X-rated material as a deterrent to any marketing success and a possible source of censorious public backlash. In other words, forget the hard-won Howl verdict! Political correctness, anyone?</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;">Finally, this year, seven years after its French appearance, a cobbled funding collaboration by the University of Illinois, the Illinois Arts Council, and by the French Centre national du livre gave life to the English-language edition, translated by D.E. Brooke.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;">Of course, I asked for the book.</span></div></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">The PJ depends on reader support. Please help us by contributing financially to Philabooks@yahoo.com via Venmo, or by contributing editorial content via PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com.| Established 1976 Richard Carreño, Editor © MMXXI WritersClearinghouse All Rights Reserved.</div></span><div class="blogger-post-footer">© MMXXIV WritersClearinghouse. All rights reserved WritersClearinghouse. Publication queries to PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6386882.post-24492390591970150482021-10-12T09:28:00.001-04:002021-10-12T09:28:56.924-04:00Featured<div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: Allerta;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ncah1zQMMHc/YWWMphtG-NI/AAAAAAAAT2s/gzDpxnXbyI85KxOMusY-GMgY0LGpMocjACLcBGAsYHQ/s284/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="177" data-original-width="284" height="249" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ncah1zQMMHc/YWWMphtG-NI/AAAAAAAAT2s/gzDpxnXbyI85KxOMusY-GMgY0LGpMocjACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h249/images.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer">© MMXXIV WritersClearinghouse. All rights reserved WritersClearinghouse. Publication queries to PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6386882.post-72128630799106455822021-10-03T13:38:00.002-04:002021-10-07T16:24:31.403-04:00SPANISH RIDING SCHOOL <div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iZyQ77DR_Hw/YV9WzzB2cSI/AAAAAAAATqk/nqqNCdNnVAQ2BzpzWqdtphFOU3ZQN9TFgCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/IMG_0532.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iZyQ77DR_Hw/YV9WzzB2cSI/AAAAAAAATqk/nqqNCdNnVAQ2BzpzWqdtphFOU3ZQN9TFgCLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h150/IMG_0532.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SrcHOwysYmM/YV9WzyFPw8I/AAAAAAAATqo/zxngD9b1bcIIt1OPWT1gS8r69jdGZgPtgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_0531.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SrcHOwysYmM/YV9WzyFPw8I/AAAAAAAATqo/zxngD9b1bcIIt1OPWT1gS8r69jdGZgPtgCLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h150/IMG_0531.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gtQqbBADQpU/YV9Wz0VvOfI/AAAAAAAATqg/o88nf9wRaSo50KORyuukyrf90Wn2WvndgCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/IMG_0533.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gtQqbBADQpU/YV9Wz0VvOfI/AAAAAAAATqg/o88nf9wRaSo50KORyuukyrf90Wn2WvndgCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/IMG_0533.JPG" width="400" /></a></div></div><i> </i></div><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: x-large;"><b>VIENNA</b></span></h1><div><i>Click below</i></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://ginamc.blogspot.com/2017/01/richard-carreno-philadelphia-junto.html?m=1" rel="noreferrer" style="background-color: white; color: #338fe9; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline-color: var(--thin-outline-color); outline-style: dotted; outline-width: 0px;" target="_blank">https://ginamc.blogspot.com/2017/01/richard-carreno-philadelphia-junto.html?m=1</a></div><div><br /></div><span style="font-family: Allerta; font-size: x-small;">The PJ depends on reader support. Please help us by contributing financially to Philabooks@yahoo.com via Venmo, or by contributing editorial content via PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com.| Established 1976 Richard Carreño, Editor © MMXXI WritersClearinghouse All Rights Reserved.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">© MMXXIV WritersClearinghouse. All rights reserved WritersClearinghouse. Publication queries to PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6386882.post-56304132579752295112021-09-30T17:11:00.001-04:002021-09-30T17:11:48.757-04:00<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKrI_ANx3KI-ExrDznQm85yWWexPE7QQQfec-zA8Xi-RgmGNKl2LFglH8rZcjHGKTM5SShv3EgJ6RGREFeHEsO2bIOcuQbiazqjyd_wIzjBrUZuEx1Y6L7KBUm5pVVw1QcwZsHYA/s700/IMG_3451.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="152" data-original-width="700" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKrI_ANx3KI-ExrDznQm85yWWexPE7QQQfec-zA8Xi-RgmGNKl2LFglH8rZcjHGKTM5SShv3EgJ6RGREFeHEsO2bIOcuQbiazqjyd_wIzjBrUZuEx1Y6L7KBUm5pVVw1QcwZsHYA/w400-h86/IMG_3451.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />The PJ depends on reader support. Please help us by contributing financially to Philabooks@yahoo.com via Venmo, or by contributing editorial content via PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com.| Established 1976 Richard Carreño, Editor © MMXXI WritersClearinghouse All Rights Reserved.<div class="blogger-post-footer">© MMXXIV WritersClearinghouse. All rights reserved WritersClearinghouse. Publication queries to PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6386882.post-4775630300502827642021-09-17T17:28:00.003-04:002021-09-17T17:36:32.324-04:00PROMOTIONAL COVER<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Caesar Dressing; font-size: x-large;"><b>AVAILABLE IN 2022 FROM PHILABOOKS|PRESS</b></span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KouHlZ8x9W8/YUUE-L7wSdI/AAAAAAAATIM/15UOYE9xXXEuwA0chTN3uLypXPhU9-TPwCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/IMG_0421%2B%25283%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="500" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KouHlZ8x9W8/YUUE-L7wSdI/AAAAAAAATIM/15UOYE9xXXEuwA0chTN3uLypXPhU9-TPwCLcBGAsYHQ/w500-h640/IMG_0421%2B%25283%2529.jpg" width="500" /></a></div><br /><b><span style="font-family: Caesar Dressing; font-size: x-small;">The PJ depends on reader support. Please help us by contributing financially or by contributing editorial content via PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com. Empowered by WritersClearinghouse | S.P.Q.R. 1976 Richard Carreño, Editor Copyright MMXXI. All Rights Reserved.</span></b><div class="blogger-post-footer">© MMXXIV WritersClearinghouse. All rights reserved WritersClearinghouse. Publication queries to PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6386882.post-3602495916863026362021-09-03T11:36:00.002-04:002021-09-30T15:11:47.385-04:00Liverpool Learned Society Praises New Book on Local Art Collector John H. McFadden <div><blockquote><blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-QXSHcYz1wxM/YTI9xF9pxBI/AAAAAAAATAw/G4L3ATGYY8Q8gQjlNY1k6YuG62a6bCY6QCLcBGAsYHQ/image.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="128" data-original-width="300" height="137" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-QXSHcYz1wxM/YTI9xF9pxBI/AAAAAAAATAw/G4L3ATGYY8Q8gQjlNY1k6YuG62a6bCY6QCLcBGAsYHQ/w320-h137/image.png" width="320" /></a></div></blockquote></blockquote></div><div><header class="page-header" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><h1 class="entry-title" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: inherit; display: var(--page-title-display); font-weight: 500; line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 1rem; margin-top: 0.5rem;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Hammersmith One;"><i>John H. McFadden and His Age: </i></span><i style="color: inherit; font-family: "Hammersmith One";">Cotton and Culture in Philadelphia</i></span></h1></header><div class="page-content" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 0.9rem; margin-top: 0px;"><i>Richard Carreño 304pp.19 black and white illustrations. Camino Books, Philadelphia, 2021. Available from Amazon £18.69 hardback. ISBN: 978-1680980394.</i></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 0.9rem; margin-top: 0px;">I consider myself a reasonably well-read amateur Liverpool historian but confess that, until recently, I had never heard of John H McFadden. And, I suspect, neither had any of my fellow local history friends. This despite the fact that he and brother George headed up the biggest firm of cotton dealers not just in Liverpool during the late Victorian and early Edwardian era when the city was indisputably “King Cotton”, but on <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">both</em> sides of the Atlantic. </p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 0.9rem; margin-top: 0px;">Like John Howard McFadden’s life itself, this is a book of two halves covering his early and later years in Philadelphia and his two decades or so in Liverpool when he was at the height of his cotton dealing powers. In spite of his business success and the great wealth that went with it, McFadden largely lived his life under the radar. So, it is thanks to Carreño that he has managed to tease out so much of the detail of his life. Aside from dealing in cotton futures, McFadden had three main passions, and the money to indulge them: medical research (of which Liverpool was a major beneficiary), polar exploration (and in particular Antarctic explorer Sir Ernest Shackleton) and assembling an outstanding private collection of 18th and 19th century British paintings by the great masters, including one by Liverpool horse painter George Stubbs. </p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 0.9rem; margin-top: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 0.9rem; margin-top: 0px;">Whilst McFadden largely amassed his fortune during his days dealing cotton on Exchange Flags, and The Albany and the Cotton Exchange, Old Hall Street, it was his birthplace of Philadelphia that was the main recipient of his largesse. Having spent the greater part of his life buying British masterpieces, what to do with them with life drawing to a close? The answer was to donate them to his hometown. But the canny McFadden had one stipulation: the “City of Brotherly Love” must first build a fitting gallery in which to display them…and build it within a challenging timespan. And that is how the Philadelphia Museum of Art was born. Carreño has undertaken impressive research into this whole saga, which rightly takes up a goodly part of the book.</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 0.9rem; margin-top: 0px;">Whilst, as the title suggests, this book is principally about McFadden and his city of birth, it nevertheless contains much that will interest the Liverpool historian. Who knew, for example, that McFadden’s son, Jack, born at the family home, Worsely House, Croxteth Road (opposite Greenheys Road) Liverpool 8, in 1890, became President of the New York Cotton Exchange and an advisor to the National Cotton Council of America?</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 0.9rem; margin-top: 0px;">In other hands this biography might have resulted in a worthy but rather dull account of an extraordinary man leading a fairly ordinary life, but Carreño brings it to life, mainly because it is so well-researched and entertainingly written.</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 0.9rem; margin-top: 0px;"><b>—Ron Jones</b></p></div></div><div><header class="page-header" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><h1 class="entry-title" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: inherit; display: var(--page-title-display); font-weight: 500; line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 1rem; margin-top: 0.5rem;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Hammersmith One;"><i>John H. McFadden and His Age: </i></span><i style="color: inherit; font-family: "Hammersmith One";">Cotton and Culture in Philadelphia</i></span></h1></header><div class="page-content" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 0.9rem; margin-top: 0px;"><i>Richard Carreño 304pp.19 black and white illustrations. Camino Books, Philadelphia, 2021. Available from Amazon £18.69 hardback. ISBN: 978-1680980394.</i></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 0.9rem; margin-top: 0px;">I consider myself a reasonably well-read amateur Liverpool historian but confess that, until recently, I had never heard of John H McFadden. And, I suspect, neither had any of my fellow local history friends. This despite the fact that he and brother George headed up the biggest firm of cotton dealers not just in Liverpool during the late Victorian and early Edwardian era when the city was indisputably “King Cotton”, but on <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">both</em> sides of the Atlantic. </p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 0.9rem; margin-top: 0px;">Like John Howard McFadden’s life itself, this is a book of two halves covering his early and later years in Philadelphia and his two decades or so in Liverpool when he was at the height of his cotton dealing powers. In spite of his business success and the great wealth that went with it, McFadden largely lived his life under the radar. So, it is thanks to Carreño that he has managed to tease out so much of the detail of his life. Aside from dealing in cotton futures, McFadden had three main passions, and the money to indulge them: medical research (of which Liverpool was a major beneficiary), polar exploration (and in particular Antarctic explorer Sir Ernest Shackleton) and assembling an outstanding private collection of 18th and 19th century British paintings by the great masters, including one by Liverpool horse painter George Stubbs. </p><span><!--more--></span><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 0.9rem; margin-top: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 0.9rem; margin-top: 0px;">Whilst McFadden largely amassed his fortune during his days dealing cotton on Exchange Flags, and The Albany and the Cotton Exchange, Old Hall Street, it was his birthplace of Philadelphia that was the main recipient of his largesse. Having spent the greater part of his life buying British masterpieces, what to do with them with life drawing to a close? The answer was to donate them to his hometown. But the canny McFadden had one stipulation: the “City of Brotherly Love” must first build a fitting gallery in which to display them…and build it within a challenging timespan. And that is how the Philadelphia Museum of Art was born. Carreño has undertaken impressive research into this whole saga, which rightly takes up a goodly part of the book.</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 0.9rem; margin-top: 0px;">Whilst, as the title suggests, this book is principally about McFadden and his city of birth, it nevertheless contains much that will interest the Liverpool historian. Who knew, for example, that McFadden’s son, Jack, born at the family home, Worsely House, Croxteth Road (opposite Greenheys Road) Liverpool 8, in 1890, became President of the New York Cotton Exchange and an advisor to the National Cotton Council of America?</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 0.9rem; margin-top: 0px;">In other hands this biography might have resulted in a worthy but rather dull account of an extraordinary man leading a fairly ordinary life, but Carreño brings it to life, mainly because it is so well-researched and entertainingly written.</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 0.9rem; margin-top: 0px;"><b>—Ron Jones</b></p></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">© MMXXIV WritersClearinghouse. All rights reserved WritersClearinghouse. Publication queries to PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6386882.post-38211628604295317262021-08-26T11:55:00.001-04:002021-08-26T11:59:08.476-04:00LIVERPOOL'S LITTLE-KNOWN ART WORLD<div class="yiv7255446679"><div class="yiv7255446679" style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="yiv7255446679"><u><b><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></b></u></span></div><div class="yiv7255446679" style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="yiv7255446679"><u><b><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></b></u></span></div><div class="yiv7255446679" style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="yiv7255446679"><u><b><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-size: large; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VavUoXItTd4/YSe1717uLtI/AAAAAAAAS9Q/EEp44xi_VA0otTfx6tTmjd0JrpZRD5bowCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/42.%2BMcFadden%2Bcartoon.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VavUoXItTd4/YSe1717uLtI/AAAAAAAAS9Q/EEp44xi_VA0otTfx6tTmjd0JrpZRD5bowCLcBGAsYHQ/w480-h640/42.%2BMcFadden%2Bcartoon.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /><b>THE TOFF OF LIVERPOOL</b></td></tr></tbody></table><br />John H. McFadden and His Age</i></span></b></u></span></div><div class="yiv7255446679" style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="yiv7255446679"><u><b><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i>By Richard Carreño</i></span></b></u></span></div><div class="yiv7255446679" style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="yiv7255446679"><u><b><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i>Camino Press (2021)</i></span></b></u></span></div><div class="yiv7255446679" style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="yiv7255446679"><u><b><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></b></u></span></div><div class="yiv7255446679" style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="yiv7255446679"><b><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;">BOOK'S STARTLING REVELATIONS</span></b></span></div><div class="yiv7255446679" style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="yiv7255446679"><b><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;">GET ACCLAIM FROM LOCAL AUTHOR</span></b></span></div><div class="yiv7255446679" style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="yiv7255446679"><b><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></b></span></div><div class="yiv7255446679" style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="yiv7255446679"><b><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">By Ron Jones</span></b></span></div><div class="yiv7255446679" style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="yiv7255446679"><b><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i>Amazon.com</i></span></b></span></div><div class="yiv7255446679" style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="yiv7255446679"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="yiv7255446679" style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="yiv7255446679"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">This is no hagiography. Where there are skeletons in the cupboard (and there are), Richard Carreño relishes dragging them out into the light of day. I consider myself a reasonably well-read amateur Liverpool historian, but confess that I had never heard of John H. McFadden. And neither had any of my fellow local history buffs, despite the fact that he and brother George headed up the biggest firm of cotton dealers not just in Liverpool during the late Victorian and early Edwardian era when the city was indisputably “King Cotton”, but on both sides of the Atlantic. </span></span></div><div class="yiv7255446679" style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="yiv7255446679"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br class="yiv7255446679" /></span></span></div><div class="yiv7255446679" style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span class="yiv7255446679">Like John Howard McFadden's life itself, this is a book of two halves covering his early and later years in Philadelphia and his two decades or so in Liverpool when he was at the height of his cotton dealing powers. In spite of his business success and the great wealth that went with it, McFadden largely lived his life under the radar. So, it is thanks to Carre</span><span class="yiv7255446679" style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;">ñ</span><span class="yiv7255446679">o that he has managed to tease out so much of the detail of his life. Aside from dealing in cotton futures, McFadden had three main passions, and the money to indulge them: medical research (of which Liverpool was a major beneficiary), polar exploration (and in particular Antarctic explorer Sir Ernest Shackleton), and assembling an outstanding private collection of 18th and 19th century British paintings by the great masters.</span></span></div><p class="yiv7255446679" style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="yiv7255446679"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> <br class="yiv7255446679webkit-block-placeholder" /></span></span></p><div class="yiv7255446679" style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span class="yiv7255446679">Whilst McFadden largely amassed his fortune during his days in Liverpool, it was his birthplace of Philadelphia that was the main recipient of his largesse. Having spent the greater part of his life buying British masterpieces, what to do with them with life drawing to a close? The answer was to donate them to his hometown. But the canny McFadden had one stipulation: the “City of Brotherly Love” must first build a fitting gallery in which to display them…and build it within a challenging timespan. Hence the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Carre</span><span class="yiv7255446679" style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;">ñ</span><span class="yiv7255446679">o has undertaken impressive research into this whole saga, which rightly takes up a goodly part of the book.</span></span></div><div class="yiv7255446679" style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="yiv7255446679"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br class="yiv7255446679" /></span></span></div><div class="yiv7255446679" style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span class="yiv7255446679">In other hands this biography might have resulted in a worthy but rather dull account of an extraordinary man leading a fairly ordinary life, but in Carre</span><span class="yiv7255446679" style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;">ñ</span><span class="yiv7255446679">o’s hands it comes to life, mainly because it is so well-researched and entertainingly written.</span></span></div><div class="yiv7255446679" style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span class="yiv7255446679"><br /></span></span></div><div class="yiv7255446679" style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span class="yiv7255446679"><i>Ron Jones is a journalist based in Liverpool. He is the author of </i>The American Connection: The Story of Liverpool's Links with America from Christopher Columbus to The Beatles. </span></span></div></div><div class="yiv7255446679" style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br class="yiv7255446679" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">© MMXXIV WritersClearinghouse. All rights reserved WritersClearinghouse. Publication queries to PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6386882.post-9735308229800966122021-08-20T11:55:00.007-04:002021-08-20T11:55:33.307-04:00MOUNTAIN HIGH<div><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mb19MAjimqI/YR_PT7Cmb2I/AAAAAAAAS4A/AHv9n3JMaXYh3cFlGS8_6EUTvvlUoJMHgCLcBGAsYHQ/s960/IMG_0357%2B%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mb19MAjimqI/YR_PT7Cmb2I/AAAAAAAAS4A/AHv9n3JMaXYh3cFlGS8_6EUTvvlUoJMHgCLcBGAsYHQ/w480-h640/IMG_0357%2B%25281%2529.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEL-jy_MvgdVVrkapOJKrKaA_RWezjxDXpiZnUfac7RRv0B8CDYewlviWtWCeQyDiPtMJUHPAMnwyI6-vnRQZXOZXXeRYfI43CgF9N4s2n6fKR4C9GIBKSUzGFx1vj_IKRBXGHNA/s960/IMG_0362+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEL-jy_MvgdVVrkapOJKrKaA_RWezjxDXpiZnUfac7RRv0B8CDYewlviWtWCeQyDiPtMJUHPAMnwyI6-vnRQZXOZXXeRYfI43CgF9N4s2n6fKR4C9GIBKSUzGFx1vj_IKRBXGHNA/s320/IMG_0362+%25281%2529.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V46oqm-mOnw/YR_PUj6YrUI/AAAAAAAAS4U/kE6CzvuLICAbkqBqvbSHnoTRsF-QPNvgACLcBGAsYHQ/s960/IMG_0361%2B%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V46oqm-mOnw/YR_PUj6YrUI/AAAAAAAAS4U/kE6CzvuLICAbkqBqvbSHnoTRsF-QPNvgACLcBGAsYHQ/w300-h400/IMG_0361%2B%25282%2529.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qBonE7WUxCw/YR_PVl0DXII/AAAAAAAAS4c/XkhRGre_SLg6Jykk3QUER_CfX-KW-Rb7ACLcBGAsYHQ/s960/IMG_0363.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qBonE7WUxCw/YR_PVl0DXII/AAAAAAAAS4c/XkhRGre_SLg6Jykk3QUER_CfX-KW-Rb7ACLcBGAsYHQ/w300-h400/IMG_0363.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4V15d3Uuel8/YR_PV6vKIoI/AAAAAAAAS4g/hdCL-XexTpoG-RMhjlRDvqZW1-Oy0ASHwCLcBGAsYHQ/s960/IMG_0364%2B%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="616" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4V15d3Uuel8/YR_PV6vKIoI/AAAAAAAAS4g/hdCL-XexTpoG-RMhjlRDvqZW1-Oy0ASHwCLcBGAsYHQ/w410-h640/IMG_0364%2B%25281%2529.JPG" width="410" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>The Author</b></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b><br /></b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pgUWg-yfqK4/YR_PT8jDxBI/AAAAAAAAS4E/l4SC5RkWNOodVlFk4glkg_a_xOIL5rPVgCLcBGAsYHQ/s960/IMG_0358%2B%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pgUWg-yfqK4/YR_PT8jDxBI/AAAAAAAAS4E/l4SC5RkWNOodVlFk4glkg_a_xOIL5rPVgCLcBGAsYHQ/w150-h200/IMG_0358%2B%25281%2529.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjktn2NBn4RwMOj7tLYQNYbLUoUydUuoBgXWmyYPTZMTne3elkTbioAT55dqfewqhg0j58XYs8EcUikFxQz4dnghzXD7QcVoDVyLT8tkVNF3PUYDiWl1MLPtDkPblm8fPTdME2eYA/s960/IMG_0360+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjktn2NBn4RwMOj7tLYQNYbLUoUydUuoBgXWmyYPTZMTne3elkTbioAT55dqfewqhg0j58XYs8EcUikFxQz4dnghzXD7QcVoDVyLT8tkVNF3PUYDiWl1MLPtDkPblm8fPTdME2eYA/s320/IMG_0360+%25281%2529.JPG" width="240" /></a></div></span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><b>By Justin T. Carreño</b></span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Spent a few days exploring Zugspitze in the Bavarian Alps -- the highest point in Germany, straddling the border, so, once on the summit, we crossed into, and descended into Tyrol, Austria. </span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">One of the most beautiful climbs I've done, including the approach through the Höllentalklamm (Hell's Valley Gorge). We decided to take the more technical, Höllental route, which uses via ferrata (Italian for "by iron") or the German, klettersteig, which are fixed cables you clip into, used as protection on highest angle sections. </span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">We were the only Americans on the mountain, so it was great to learn German climbing terms, although "Stein!" is not one you want to learn on fly...</span></span></div><div><br /></div><span style="font-size: x-small;">The PJ depends on reader support. Please help us by contributing financially or by contributing editorial content via PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com. Empowered by WritersClearinghouse | S.P.Q.R. 1976 Richard Carreño, Editor Copyright MMXXI. All Rights Reserved.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">© MMXXIV WritersClearinghouse. All rights reserved WritersClearinghouse. Publication queries to PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6386882.post-67299241921756989002021-08-17T17:12:00.002-04:002021-08-17T17:13:02.478-04:00PHILADELPHIA MAGAZINE RAVES!<div><div dir="ltr"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">SERIOUS McFADDEN BIO</span></b></div><div dir="ltr"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">ALSO ROLLICKING FUN READ</span></b></div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><div dir="ltr">Take it from Sandy Hingston at<i> Philadelphia Magazine </i>and you, too, might spend a couple of reading days rollicking with Richard Carreno's bio of John H. McFadden, the Philadelphia 19th century millionaire, art collector, and founder of the Philadelphia Museum of Art.</div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><div dir="ltr">Click below:</div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><div dir="ltr"><a class="yiv9585743627enhancr_card_0167132171" href="https://www.phillymag.com/news/2021/08/17/john-h-mcfadden-biography-richard-carreno/" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" style="color: #196ad4;" target="_blank">This Collector You’ve Never Heard Of Helped Spark the Creation of the Philadelphia Museum of Art</a><br /></div><div><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "lucida console", sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /></div></div><div><br /></div><span style="font-size: x-small;">The PJ depends on reader support. Please help us by contributing financially or by contributing editorial content via PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com. Empowered by WritersClearinghouse | S.P.Q.R. 1976 Richard Carreño, Editor Copyright MMXXI. All Rights Reserved.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">© MMXXIV WritersClearinghouse. All rights reserved WritersClearinghouse. Publication queries to PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6386882.post-25489894449454803902021-08-13T10:50:00.017-04:002021-08-26T14:09:21.915-04:00GENERATION GAP? SPECIAL REPORT BY MATTHEW DAVIS<span style="font-size: large;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFfd8R6qftZ_LZIK5jfWtfUTeyEJ6A9SsOgBmEm6F2yy35Qq83cSJn1kGBtSx13LF0jxOM-yL0Jm-lj6GHgr99De0gUxSWYD4zGTelpIAvxZe_9XYnaWM8FcYsjTWxe71HlBkEUA/s392/Davis+O%2527Hara+Graphic+1+%25282%2529.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="63" data-original-width="392" height="64" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFfd8R6qftZ_LZIK5jfWtfUTeyEJ6A9SsOgBmEm6F2yy35Qq83cSJn1kGBtSx13LF0jxOM-yL0Jm-lj6GHgr99De0gUxSWYD4zGTelpIAvxZe_9XYnaWM8FcYsjTWxe71HlBkEUA/w400-h64/Davis+O%2527Hara+Graphic+1+%25282%2529.PNG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_3-M6C1xa-s/YSfXFO-3hRI/AAAAAAAAS-M/vgy6cPYSpooa5WnXE1fYLu3lH9qpyRlcwCLcBGAsYHQ/s520/Davis%2BO%2527Hara%2BGraphic%2B2%2B%25282%2529.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="415" data-original-width="520" height="319" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_3-M6C1xa-s/YSfXFO-3hRI/AAAAAAAAS-M/vgy6cPYSpooa5WnXE1fYLu3lH9qpyRlcwCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h319/Davis%2BO%2527Hara%2BGraphic%2B2%2B%25282%2529.PNG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">SEE BELOW FOR DETAILS </span></b><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>UVA Professor's Students Disagree with </b></span><div><span style="font-size: large;"><b>His Analysis of a John O'Hara Short Story. </b></span><div><span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Are They Right? </b></span><div><b><br /></b></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>Professor Matthew Davis Explains:</b></i></span></div><div><br /></div><div>What does it mean when three hundred bright college students disagree with your interpretation of a story? Or rather, what does it mean when you teach a story to three hundred students over the course of sixteen semesters and those students come up with all sorts of interesting ideas about the story, but not a single one of them comes up with the set of ideas that seems most plausible to you? </div><div><br /></div><div>Those are questions I’ve been asking myself recently -- because these things have happened to me. In English classes at the University of Virginia, I often teach a short story by John O’Hara called “Straight Pool,” and, over the years, my students have floated a wide range of interesting ideas about this story, but none of them have interpreted the story in quite the way I interpret it. </div><div><br /></div><div> “Straight Pool” is a four-page story that I usually teach as an example of a dramatic monologue. It was originally published in The New Yorker in December of 1933 and has been reprinted in a few anthologies over the years, including Points of View, edited by James Moffett and Kenneth McElheny. </div><div><br /></div><div> In the story we overhear a man speaking to a buddy while the two of them are shooting pool in a pool hall. The narrator sometimes discusses the action on the billiards table, but mostly he talks about his wife, Mae, who has been having crying spells and acting erratically recently. He is completely puzzled by his wife’s crying spells. He doesn’t understand why they occur. He doesn’t understand why they begin or why they end. Sometimes Mae cries. Sometimes she stops crying and just stares at him -- and he can’t understand why. Recently Mae has stopped cooking breakfast and doing the dishes, and she’s taken to getting drunk at night. The narrator says that he took Mae to a doctor, but the doctor found nothing physically wrong with her. </div><div><br /></div><div>He tries to stay with her and comfort her, but he can only stand so much of the crying and odd behavior, and eventually, when he can’t stand it anymore, he evacuates to the pool hall, where he delivers his monologue.
There’s one more thing about the husband’s monologue that seems like it might be important to mention: the husband tells his buddy – whose name is Jack McMorrow -- that Mae spends a lot of time talking about . . . Jack McMorrow.</div><div><br /></div><div>It seems Mae has been telling her husband not to go to the pool hall. She says she doesn’t want him to go there and talk to Jack McMorrow about her. The husband says he won’t. She says she doesn’t believe him. She thinks he will go to the pool hall and talk to McMorrow. And in fact he does end up going to the pool hall and talking to McMorrow, so it seems she was right to worry about that.
McMorrow and the narrator continue to play pool for awhile while the narrator goes on venting about his wife and her crying spells and the staring and the boozing. </div><div><br /></div><div>At the end of the story, the narrator tells McMorrow that he and Mae have just had a big fight:
Yesterday she didn't get up for breakfast, and last night when I came home from work she wouldn't say a word. And then tonight when I came home, the same story over again. Cockeyed [drunk] again. "What's the idea?" I said, and we had it out hot and heavy, but she didn't want me to leave, so I said I'd leave all right, and she was lucky if I came back. I got the hell out of the house as sore as a boil. I guess I oughtn't to be talking about her like this, especially to you, because you're the one she thinks is always talking about her, but I have to talk to somebody. I think I'll go to Brooklyn and get drunk. How about it?
. . . What's the matter? You quitting? ... Oh! If I'd of known you had a date, we could of made it twenty-five points. You're ahead anyhow, and I don't feel like shooting much. Guess I'll go to Brooklyn. My brother just got a gallon of apple ....
And that his how the story ends – mid sentence. </div><div><br /></div><div>When I teach “Straight Pool,” I always begin by asking my students what they think might be wrong with Mae. Responses vary, but I usually don’t have to call on more than four students before someone says, “I think Mae is having an affair with Jack McMorrow.” Usually several other students immediately chime in to agree with this idea. However, there is always a second group of students who are skeptical or unconvinced by this theory. This is almost always the first major interpretative disagreement about the story that surfaces, and I like to diagram the disagreement on the chalkboard as a fork in a road, where each fork indicates a possible “path of interpretation.” </div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div><br /></div><div>Since forking paths are hard to draw in an essay, I will present questions in boxes, with answers below.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-B6LDqE0X17M/YSfS_xeRtII/AAAAAAAAS9c/ERDpjodcaoo_li2FzOrgTqx59vQL7A3EACLcBGAsYHQ/s406/Davis%2BO%2527Hara%2BGraphic%2B1.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="145" data-original-width="406" height="143" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-B6LDqE0X17M/YSfS_xeRtII/AAAAAAAAS9c/ERDpjodcaoo_li2FzOrgTqx59vQL7A3EACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h143/Davis%2BO%2527Hara%2BGraphic%2B1.PNG" width="400" /></a></div><br />I would estimate that about 60 to 80% of my students say they think that Mae is probably cheating on her husband with Jack McMorrow. </div><div><br /></div><div>The others – 20 to 40% – say they are not convinced that she is. I give these percentages as ranges because the numbers vary from one semester to the next but also because students sometimes change their minds during class discussion. Every year there are some students who initially take the “no/not sure” position but eventually switch to the “yes/probably” position. </div><div><br /></div><div>Sometimes there are students who switch in the opposite direction, too.
When I ask the suspicious students what makes them think Mae is cheating on the narrator, their responses are usually based more on “gut” feeling than on textual evidence. One student told me, “I just have a feeling.” Another told me that his “spidey sense” told him there was cheating going on. I tell them that their responses interest me and I take them seriously. After all, they are young people who spend a lot of time negotiating the complicated world of dating, in which cheating does occur, so they are likely to have better cheating-detection equipment than an old, married guy like me. On the other hand, I also tell them that they won’t get far as essay-writers if all they have to share with their readers is what their “spidey sense” is telling them.</div><div><br /></div><div>That’s not the sort of evidence we English teachers are looking for!
Some suspicious readers point to Jack McMorrow’s saying he has “a date” at the end of the story as a detail that makes them suspicious. They think that date might be an assignation with Mae. Others say, “it could be anyone!”
Some say that the fact that Mae talks about Jack McMorrow quite a bit is evidence that she is having an affair with him, but other students say it’s not: “If she’s really cheating with Jack McMorrow, why does she talk about him so much? Wouldn’t she want to conceal his name? Isn’t that Cheating 101?” Some of the suspicious readers suggest that Mae must know it is unwise to talk about Jack but she simply can’t help herself. </div><div><br /></div><div>I call this the “girl can’t help it” school of interpretation.
Eventually, we transition to a discussion of why Mae might be crying. This is where I usually begin to encounter a wider variety of interpretations, which I will attempt to summarize below.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5yJBFwQkXno/YSfTx8gteSI/AAAAAAAAS9w/pywvPNX_qmIjU2KeMOVBpYh4WbmQSZ3CgCLcBGAsYHQ/s705/Davis%2BO%2527Hara%2BGraphic%2B2.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="420" data-original-width="705" height="239" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5yJBFwQkXno/YSfTx8gteSI/AAAAAAAAS9w/pywvPNX_qmIjU2KeMOVBpYh4WbmQSZ3CgCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h239/Davis%2BO%2527Hara%2BGraphic%2B2.PNG" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>I have printed question 2 next to question 1 in the table above because it is clear that these two questions are connected in certain ways. Students who think Mae is cheating with Jack McMorrow tend to account for her crying in different ways than students who doubt that she is cheating.
Among students who suspect that Mae is cheating, 80-90% conclude that she is cheating but is genuinely upset about what she has done. This interpretative path – which can be summarized, Yes, A – turns out to be the most popular interpretation in virtually every class I teach. </div><div><br /></div><div>Often it is the majority position. Although it is popular with all students, it seems to be especially popular with female students. Many of the young ladies I teach seem to feel that men cheat and don’t even feel bad about it whereas women cheat but at least have the decency to feel guilty about it.
Among students who suspect that Mae is cheating, there are almost always a few who are skeptical about the view I have just outlined and take a darker, less charitable view of Mae. </div><div><br /></div><div>These readers suspect Mae not only of cheating but also of crying strategically. They think she is crying to achieve a particular objective. When asked what that objective might be, many say that they think Mae is trying to cry the narrator out of the house so she can get rid of him and have a chance to rendez-vous with Jack. </div><div><br /></div><div>These readers make up the hard core of the suspicious group; I call them super-suspicious readers. Over the years, I would say that perhaps two-thirds of the super-suspicious readers have been males.
“Why does Mae cry?” turns out to be a difficult question for readers who don’t think Mae is cheating, and many readers in this camp cheerfully admit they don’t know why she is crying. Some suggest psychological reasons. Maybe she’s depressed. Or maybe she’s preoccupied with something unrelated to Jack McMorrow. Maybe she’s unhappy in her marriage but not actually cheating. </div><div><br /></div><div>A few think there must be some physical problem, even though the doctor couldn’t find one.
In recent years, some students have begun to suggest that perhaps Mae did have intimate contact with Jack McMorrow, but perhaps it was not voluntary sex. Perhaps she was sexually assaulted by Jack McMorrow at some point in the past. Proponents of this view say that it provides an answer to the question of why Mae talks so much about McMorrow. She wouldn’t do that, they say, if she were having a voluntary affair with him. In that case, she would try to conceal his name. Frequently mentioning his name but urging her husband not to talk with him would make more sense if Mae is ashamed and does not want her husband to find out about the assault – or if she just doesn’t want him to have anything to do with a man who assaulted her. This theory is put forward mostly by young women and has become more popular in recent years. However, it remains very much a minority opinion.
There is another school of interpretation that I need to mention, and that is what I call the “genius husband” interpretation. </div><div><br /></div><div>This can be illustrated by placing another question in a box and then appending the different answers students give. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ldRGKf0_UcQ/YSfUk2dRmtI/AAAAAAAAS94/Wr-3B8X3bKsl4VeZEKU0UNIqLNT3XHHKgCLcBGAsYHQ/s614/Davis%2BO%2527Hara%2BGraphic%2B3.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="274" data-original-width="614" height="179" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ldRGKf0_UcQ/YSfUk2dRmtI/AAAAAAAAS94/Wr-3B8X3bKsl4VeZEKU0UNIqLNT3XHHKgCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h179/Davis%2BO%2527Hara%2BGraphic%2B3.PNG" width="400" /></a></div><div> Among those who think Mae is cheating, the overwhelming majority of readers – I would estimate 98% -- believe that the narrator does not know what is going on. They think that this is part of what the story is about: it is ironic that the narrator who tells the story doesn’t understand the real cause of the behavior he is describing, whereas savvy, clued-in, suspicious readers of the story do. </div><div><br /></div><div>According to this line of thinking, the husband-narrator is “a dupe,” “a dope,” a “shmo.” He is “clueless,” “completely in the dark.” But he is also a victim. “Poor guy,” one of my students said, “Here he is trying to be extra nice to Mae and staying home with her and spending ‘quality time’ with her, and she is out fooling around on him. I feel sorry for him!” Such sympathetic sentiments are voiced much more often by men than by women.
Most readers – male and female alike -- think that the narrator does not understand what is actually going on. However, not everyone agrees. </div><div><br /></div><div>A few readers think that Mae is cheating and the narrator actually has figured out what she and Jack are up to and is in the process of confirming his theory. These readers believe the narrator is deliberately pretending to be clueless and then promising to go to Brooklyn, to see if he can lure Jack McMorrow to his house and catch him in bed with Mae. “It’s all a trap, you see!” </div><div><br /></div><div>This theory has relatively few advocates. They are mostly men, and, for whatever reason, they tend to be men who are very proud of themselves for having come up with this theory. They tend to think that this theory clears up all of the difficulties in the story. According to their interpretation, the narrator is not a clueless dupe; he’s a genius who’s fishing for a cheater – and is about to catch one.
There’s one last question I need to set out here. It’s another question on which I find that most students agree, and yet there are still two schools of thought.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RyiJbcan85o/YSfVhWWvJXI/AAAAAAAAS-A/rs3yOwD90JQJO4LAuD5IudE76V9wWk6xACLcBGAsYHQ/s650/Davis%2BO%2527Hara%2BGraphic%2B4.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="184" data-original-width="650" height="114" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RyiJbcan85o/YSfVhWWvJXI/AAAAAAAAS-A/rs3yOwD90JQJO4LAuD5IudE76V9wWk6xACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h114/Davis%2BO%2527Hara%2BGraphic%2B4.PNG" width="400" /></a></div><div> <br />Interestingly, I find myself in the tiny sliver of readers who say “yes.” Actually, it’s worse than that: I am the sliver. That is, I am the only person who says yes, Mae wants her husband to speak with Jack McMorrow. </div><div><br /></div><div>Of the 300 people in my classes who have discussed this story over the years, I seem to be the only one who thinks that Mae actually wants her husband to speak with Jack McMorrow. I grant that this is a surprising opinion to hold -- because Mae spends a fair amount of time telling her husband, “Don’t you go to that pool hall and talk to Jack McMorrow!” I can account for my peculiar views on this point, but I prefer to do so by circling back and revisiting the four questions set out above.
II
The first question, as you may recall, was “Is Mae cheating with Jack?” On this question, I agree with the majority of my students. I think Mae is cheating on her husband with Jack McMorrow. </div><div><br /></div><div>I thought this might be the case the very first time I read the story, but I did not initially have much of an evidentiary basis for my view. I have developed one over time, though.
Oddly enough, I convinced myself that there is probably hanky-panky going on when I sat down and reconstructed the pool game that is unfolding in the background while the narrator talks about Mae. </div><div><br /></div><div>The narrator and Jack McMorrow agree to play straight pool -- a variety of billiards for two players, in which there are fourteen balls to be sunk in each frame, and each ball is worth a point – and they agree to play until one player reaches 50 points. But the narrator has not been playing much pool recently -- he’s been spending a lot of time at home with Mae – so Jack agrees to spot him ten points.
That is the initial agreement, or contract, and what is important to notice is that Jack McMorrow initially agrees to a nice long evening of straight pool. Of course, it’s impossible to say how long the game will last. That will depend on how well the two men play, and how evenly matched they are. </div><div><br /></div><div>If the players are poor shooters or having an off night, it could take a long time for either player to get to 50 points. But even if both players are playing well, it could take quite a while. Suppose the two of them are very evenly matched; in that case they could conceivably play until the score is 49-49 and until the deciding ball falls, tipping the match to 50-49. That would mean 89 balls sunk in all. (It’s 89, rather than 99, because we have to subtract the ten points that Jack spotted the narrator.) In order to reach that point, the two men would have to complete six whole racks of straight pool and then set out a seventh. (89 balls divided by 14 balls per frame of straight pool = 6.36 racks.) </div><div><br /></div><div>Of course, if the competition is more lopsided, they might end up playing less pool. If Jack McMorrow were to make every shot and run the table, he could reach fifty points in four frames (14 + 14 + 14 + 8); and if the narrator were to make all of his shots and run the table, he could get to 50 points in three frames (10 point spot + 14 balls + 14 balls + 12 balls). But these extremely lopsided scenarios are extremely unlikely. It is more likely that the two men will need to play at least five racks of fourteen balls – and possibly six or seven.
What does all of this have to do with the question of whether Jack and Mae are cheating? I’ll get to that soon; I promise! </div><div><br /></div><div> I’ve said a little about how much pool the two men might have played if they had played on to the agreed-upon stopping point. But, of course, they don’t do that. I therefore need to change direction and look at how much pool the two of them actually play before they quit for the night. This can be puzzled out from details in the story.
It is clear that Jack and the narrator play one complete frame of straight pool, which Jack wins, ten balls to four: “That makes it ten to four this frame,” the narrator says (p. 33). To calculate the running score, however, we need to factor in the ten balls Jack spotted the narrator; so, the running score at the end of the first frame must be Jack: 10, Narrator: 14. The two men then call for the rack boy or rack girl, whose name is “Snowball,” to re-rack the balls in preparation for their second rack of straight pool: “Hey, Snowball, rack ‘em up” (p. 33). </div><div><br /></div><div>The second rack of balls is set out on the table and the players begin to sink balls, but they do not finish off the rack. The narrator begins this rack by going on his “high run,” sinking three balls in a row (p. 33); so he must have at least 17 points in total. But then Jack sinks several balls and we are told that he is ahead when they decide to quit (p. 35). If Jack is ahead, he must have at least 18 points, to the narrator’s 17. The score could be 18-17, 19-17, or 20-17. It is probably not 21-17 or 22-17, though, because the narrator never calls for Snowball to re-rack the balls, as he would presumably do if all 14 balls in the second frame had been sunk.
What happens at this point is that the narrator mentions that he might go to Brooklyn later and get drunk, and then Jack announces that he’s quitting.
I think I'll go to Brooklyn and get drunk. How about it?
. . . What's the matter? You quitting? ... Oh! If I'd of known you had a date, we could of made it twenty-five points. You're ahead anyhow . . .
It’s suspicious that Jack mentions a date, as my students point out, but what makes it more suspicious is the timing. Jack does not reveal that he has a date at the beginning of the night; he does not mention this until after the narrator says he is thinking he will go to Brooklyn for a few hours. </div><div><br /></div><div>That raises the possibility that Jack doesn’t actually decide that he has a date until the husband mentions his plan to go to Brooklyn. And what makes the whole situation even more suspicious is that this “date” seems to represent a revision of Jack’s original plan for the evening. Earlier in the evening, Jack indicated that he was willing to play four, five, six, or even seven frames of straight pool with the narrator. He evidently made no mention of a date at that point. </div><div><br /></div><div>By agreeing to play so much pool, he seemed to be implicitly indicating that he did not have anything else he wanted or needed to do. However, once the narrator declares his intention to go to Brooklyn for several hours, Jack suddenly decides to quit playing pool -- before he and the narrator have even finished the second frame! It’s this sudden revision of plans, more than anything, that makes me think Jack is up to something. At the beginning of the story, he seems to tacitly declare that he has nothing in particular to do all night; he is perfectly willing to play pool till the wee hours. However, as soon as he learns that the narrator will be away from home for a few hours, he thinks of something he would rather do than shoot pool all night. To make a long story short, a close look at the initial “contract” for the pool game and the hasty termination of the game have led me to conclude the suspicious readers are probably right. Mae and Jack are probably having an affair.
The second interpretative question introduced above was “Why does Mae cry?” </div><div><br /></div><div>On this question I side with super-suspicious readers who think that Mae is crying strategically. This is a problematic claim, I grant you, because usually when people cry they do so because they are genuinely upset. There’s not a lot of pretend-crying in the world, and it’s a difficult thing to do persuasively. Therefore, our initial presumption should be that a person is crying because he or she is genuinely upset. </div><div><br /></div><div>That assumption is going to be correct most of the time. In Mae’s case, however, there are some details that make me think we need to reconsider this initial presumption. In his monologue, the husband describes a curious pattern of crying and stopping and staring:
You know I'm not a hard guy to get along with. At least I don't think I am, but Mae gets these crying spells, and honest to God, I can't stay in the house another minute. And then if I say I'm going out, even if it's only for a pack of cigarettes, why, she suddenly all of a sudden stops crying and sits there looking at me, not saying a word, and it's worse than her crying. I don't know what makes her do that. (32)
What’s odd here is that Mae seems to be able to stop crying on a dime. Most genuinely hysterical people can’t do that. </div><div><br /></div><div>That should make us suspicious; it should make us wonder if she is turning the waterworks on and off, like a fountain, in order to attain some objective.
It is important to note that the narrator is not describing something that happened once and once only. He is using the habitual present tense to describe an ongoing pattern of behavior: “Mae gets these crying spells . . . . and then if I say I'm going out . . . she . . . stops crying and sits there looking at me.” It’s also important to note that all of these instances the narrator is summarizing seem to end with Mae staring at the narrator. It’s risky to interpret what that staring might mean; it could mean a lot of things. However, what I think it means in this case is, roughly, “You said you were going to leave: why are you still here?” Staring often has the effect of making people feel uncomfortable, and it looks to me like Mae is trying to make her husband feel uncomfortable about sticking around. </div><div><br /></div><div>In short, I agree with the suspicious readers who believe that Mae is trying to cry her husband out of the house. It looks like she may have begun with a simple cry-him-out strategy and then moved on to a more complicated cry-and-stare strategy. She cries until he declares his intention to leave; then she switches from crying to staring.
Unfortunately for Mae, these tactics do not have the intended effect. Her husband responds to her crying and staring by spending more time with her and not wanting to leave her alone: “honest, I'm afraid to leave her alone. When she gets in one of these spells, she's liable to do anything, so I very seldom leave” (p. 32). </div><div><br /></div><div>This is ironic for us, as readers, but it must be very annoying for Mae. As time goes by, she seems to try out other strategies for driving her husband out of the house. She stops fixing breakfast, stops doing the dishes (p. 33), and starts getting “cockeyed drunk with a bottle of gin” (p. 34). All of these actions can be viewed as genuine, spontaneous symptoms of distress, but all of them can also be viewed as motivated actions: if I can’t cry him out, maybe I can piss him off by neglecting my household duties or getting blotto. </div><div><br /></div><div>I am inclined to interpret them as motivated actions. In my interpretation, Mae has been cheating with Jack McMorrow and is eager to do so again. However, in order to do that, she has to get her husband to leave her alone. That is prerequisite for cheating, after all: you can’t do it until your spouse leaves your side. She tries to cry her husband out of the house, and when that fails she omits her household duties and starts getting drunk. This last strategy is ultimately successful. The narrator gets to the point where he can’t stand being home anymore and heads out for the pool hall. In short, there seems to a method in Mae’s madness.
The third interpretative question was “Does the husband know that Mae is cheating?” I believe he does not. I agree with the students who argue that the story is meant to be ironic. </div><div><br /></div><div>It’s ironic because the narrator doesn’t understand the true significance of the tale he is telling, and it’s ironic because he responds to the situation (her infidelity and the resulting behaviors) be trying to be more and more attentive to her, which is exactly the opposite of what she wants. As a married man, I find this to be a rather painful sort of irony, but it is irony nonetheless.
Now this brings us back to question 4: Does Mae want her husband to speak with Jack McMorrow? </div><div><br /></div><div> This is where I disagree with . . . everybody. I think Mae probably does want her husband to go to the pool hall and talk with Jack, even though she says pretty much the exact opposite. I reason thusly: Mae is apparently cheating on her husband with Jack, and she seems to be adopting various manipulative strategies to try to get her husband out of the house. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now, with those two ideas in mind, let’s look what happens in the story (or what I think happens). After Mae gets soused for the second night in a row, the husband bails out and goes the pool hall. He meets up with Jack and they agree to play straight pool -- first man to fifty wins. While they are shooting pool, the husband tells Jack all about his miseries at home and Mae’s odd behavior. Jack learns that Mae is at home and thinking about him. The husband then mentions that he might go to Brooklyn and get drunk later. Would Jack like to join him? No, Jack would not. Jack has a different activity in mind for his evening. He declares that he has a date -- and (I hypothesize) he goes off to meet Mae shortly after the action of the story ends. </div><div><br /></div><div> Now what could be better from Mae’s point of view? Things turn out perfectly for her – and perhaps she wanted them to turn out that way all along. Perhaps she hoped that her husband would become annoyed and go to the pool hall and talk with Jack. That would at least get him out of the house; and if he happened to talk about her with his buddy (as men often do), that would let Jack know how Mae feels; and if he happened to talk about his plans for the evening, that would let Jack know that he has a window of opportunity. </div><div><br /></div><div>Good, better, best!
Now, if this line of interpretation is correct, it means that Mae is not just a cheater. She is a sort of superstar of cheating. Indeed, she has pulled off an astonishing coup: she has managed to send a message to her lover using her husband. She has sent Jack McMorrow a husband-gram, and Jack McMorrow has received the message. As for the husband, he has delivered the message, but he doesn’t even realize he has done so! Surely that is one of the great achievements in the history of infidelity! </div><div><br /></div><div>I would rank it right up there with the achievements of “handy” Nicholas in Chaucer’s Miller’s Tale. One does not wish to encourage such behavior, but one has to admire the intelligence employed, even if for ignoble ends. </div><div><br /></div><div>I should also note that this interpretation makes an ironic story even more ironic because the difference between what the narrator understands and what we think is really happening grows even larger.
As we have seen, the interpretation I have been sketching can be encapsulated as a set of answers to the four questions set out above: Yes, B, No, Yes. This set of answers puts me in partial agreement with many of my students but it puts me in total agreement with none of them. Sixty to eighty percent of my students agree with me that, yes, Mae is probably cheating on her husband. </div><div><br /></div><div>I am suspicious along with those students. In addition, Perhaps 6% of my students agree with me that Mae is not only cheating and but also crying strategically to get her husband out of the house (2.B). I am super-suspicious of Mae, along with those readers. But nobody (so far!) agrees with my idea that Mae actually wants her husband to go to the pool hall and speak with Jack McMorrow (4.D). I have this super-duper-suspicious interpretation all to myself.
When three hundred bright people disagree with you and zero agree, it’s usually time to rethink your position. Perhaps I should, but I’m not convinced that my interpretation is wrong. </div><div><br /></div><div>In fact, my way of reading the story seems to me to fit in pretty well with what I know about John O’Hara’s modus operandi as a writer: Although I am not an expert on his work, I have read enough of it to know that marital infidelity is a subject he returned to again and again – and also that he likes situational irony.1 </div><div><br /></div><div>I also feel that my interpretation accounts for the details in the story better than any of the alternative views. At this point I would revisit some of those alternative views and indicate briefly why I find them less persuasive. </div><div><br /></div><div> The majority view (Yes, A, No, No). Adherents of this view think that Mae is cheating and her husband doesn’t know, but she herself feels awful about it, and that’s why she cries. I call this “the cheater with a heart of gold” theory, just to agitate the students who adopt it. Unfortunately, given the patterns of crying, stopping on a dime, and staring that we have observed, I think it is much more likely that Mae is a cheater with a mind of gold. (About her heart, perhaps the less said the better.) </div><div><br /></div><div>As far as Mae is concerned, I am reminded of the old legal principle: falsus in unum, falsus in omnibus. It looks like Mae is false in one way (In her motivated crying); so we have good reason for suspecting she may be false in other ways as well. </div><div><br /></div><div> The “no cheating view” -- No, C/D, not applicable, not applicable. Adherents believe that Mae is not cheating on her husband and must therefore be crying for some other reason, either psychological or physical. I have had some delightful, pure-hearted students who adopt this position. These students seem not to want to think badly of Mae -- or anyone else. That is a generous and humane response, but it ignores the evidence about Jack and Mae rehearsed above and leaves these students with no very good explanation of what the story is about. Why might O’Hara have thought this story was worth telling? What might he be trying to do? What might be the point of the story? Students who follow this interpretive path have difficulty answering these basic questions. For them the story is just a slice of life – and a mysterious one. </div><div><br /></div><div> The sexual assault hypothesis -- No, E, No, No. Adherents maintain that Mae has had intimate contact with Jack McMorrow but against her will. I think this is a very clever theory, and some of my students have shown me in papers that it really does account for a lot of details in the story. However, there are some things it does not account for very well, and the most important of these is the husband’s trip to Waterbury. This is an episode in the story that I have not had occasion to mention previously. At one point during Mae’s days of crying and staring, the narrator has to go to Waterbury, CT, for a family funeral. He invites Mae to accompany him but she declines. Surely her decision to stay at home is more consistent with her wanting to be left alone (possibly for cheating) than with her wanting to stay with her husband at all times in order to be protected from Jack McMorrow. </div><div><br /></div><div>Why would Mae stay at home by herself, in the territory of predatory Jack McMorrow, if she could go to Waterbury and be safe with her husband? What I suspect is happening with this school of interpretation is that current issues, including the exposure of predatory males like Jeffrey Epstein and Harvey Weinstein and the proliferation of #me too stories in the press, have encouraged readers (and particularly female readers) to find something in the story that probably was no part of O’Hara’s intention back in the 1930s. </div><div><br /></div><div>As readers, we do this all the time: we find contemporary significance in older stories, and it’s a good thing we do. But the significance of a story for a particular reader is not the same thing as authorial meaning, and that’s something I am interested in this case: authorial meaning. </div><div><br /></div><div> The “genius husband” interpretation -- Yes, B, Yes, (unclear) Adherents believe that the husband/narrator is not a dupe (as many readers think) but a savvy detective, who, in true Sherlock Holmes fashion, has solved the case and is now springing a trap to catch Jack McMorrow and his wife in the act. Again, it’s a very clever theory, and I’ve had students write excellent works of “companion fiction” describing what they think goes down back at the narrator’s house later in the night. (Things get broken!) I’m not sure I have an argument that refutes this interpretation absolutely, but I nevertheless feel that my theory is more plausible overall. One thing that troubles me about this theory is that it leaves us with a completely irony-free story. According to this line of thought, the whole monologue is a set speech – a fiction within the fiction -- that has been worked up by the husband for the express purpose of trapping Jack McMorrow. The husband dangles the speech in front of McMorrow like a fisherman dropping a lure in the water. And Jack seems to take the bait. Mission accomplished! </div><div><br /></div><div>High five! There is absolutely no irony in this reading, but that’s a problem for me – because I feel like there’s a lot of irony in the story.
Now you may be wondering what students have had to say about my own theory over the years. The truth is, they haven’t said very much – because they haven’t really had the time it would require. Over the years I’ve spent a lot of time listening to student theories and reviewing evidence relating to questions 1 and 2, and sometimes also question 3, but I’ve only occasionally had enough class time to fight my way through to question 4; and, on those few occasions when I have been able to address that question, I have found that my theory is met with uniform incredulity. The students are unpersuaded and mostly sit in puzzled silence. </div><div><br /></div><div>Perhaps it’s too much to take in all at once, especially at the end of class; or perhaps the students just don’t want to offend their professor; or perhaps my theory really is bonkers. At any rate, the students tilt their heads in puzzlement and seem glad when the period ends, allowing them to scamper off to Microeconomics class. Their reaction doesn’t really surprise me. After all, Mae says several times that she does not want her husband to go to the pool hall and talk with Jack McMorrow, and usually people say what they mean. It takes a pretty complicated theory to explain why Mae might not be saying what she really means, and I have never had enough time to set out my theory in great detail. (At least not until now!)
It could be that my theory is just not plausible, and that’s why none of my students go for it. </div><div><br /></div><div>But I think there may be another reason why students don’t ever seem to come up with this theory on their own and tend to be very skeptical when I present it in the last few minutes of class. I believe I am having trouble selling my theory partly because I am teaching the cellphone generation.
My students have grown up with cell phones. They have grown up with direct messaging, Snapchat, Instagram, and probably a half dozen other platforms for instantaneous communication that I am not even aware of. If a young lady wants to send a message to a man she’s interested in, she needs only two thumbs, his “digits,” and five seconds of typing time. </div><div><br /></div><div>What could be easier? The sexual revolution allows such directness, and cell phones make it practicable, almost effortless. From my discussions with students, I know that texting is in fact the usual method for arranging hook-ups and communicating with a “side guy” or “side chick.” It is an ideal medium for regular communication without detection. In short, the cell phone is the cheater’s best friend. But here’s the thing: Mae didn’t have a cell phone.
In fact, in the 1920s and 30s only a small portion of Americans even had private land lines. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I remember talking to my mother, who grew up in the 1940s. Her family was fairly well off, and they had a telephone in the house, but the line was a “shared line.” This meant that when they picked up the phone, they sometimes heard a dial tone but they sometimes heard other people talking on the shared line. At that point they were supposed to hang up; however, being human beings, they sometimes stayed on the line to try to figure out what the neighbors might be taking about. </div><div><br /></div><div>They had different ideas about appropriate female conduct in those days, too. It was unusual for a married women to go out at night without her husband. Some husbands would not have allowed this; many wives would not have been comfortable doing it. They knew if they did such a thing, eyebrows would be raised. This old way of thinking about gender roles is not quite dead, even today. </div><div><br /></div><div>Some older couples I know still operate on the old expectations; they are not comfortable going anywhere in the evening without their spouse.
The story was written the early 1930s, and I think it is likely that Mae is dealing with some of these old-fashioned societal expectations and also with some old-fashioned communication problems. Her husband doesn’t want to leave her in her distress (or seeming distress) – because that’s not what good husbands do. She can’t just run down to the pool hall to see Jack – because that’s not what good wives do. She certainly can’t text Jack McMorrow, and she may not be able to telephone him either. </div><div><br /></div><div>If she doesn’t have a phone, or Jack doesn’t have a phone, or if her husband is with her all through the evening, how on earth will she be able to communicate with the fellow she fancies? Mae could have a serious communication problem – but it’s not a problem that the Instagram youth of 2021 are equipped to understand. Communication is so easy for them that they struggle to understand how difficult it could be in earlier eras.
To understand “Straight Pool,” we may need to think ourselves back into the 1930’s. How can Mae, languishing in the cellphone-less 1930s, establish contact with Jack? How can she get a message to him? Well, I think the story shows us. In fact, it shows not just how she might do it, but how she actually does it. Clever lass: she sends her boyfriend a husband-gram. At least that’s my theory. </div><div><br /></div><div>But none of my students agree with me, so maybe I’m barking up the wrong tree. What do you think, reader? </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> Works Cited </b></div><div><br /></div><div> O’Hara. John. “Straight Pool.”<i> Points of View,</i> ed. James Moffett and Kenneth R. McElhaney. Revised edition. New York: Mentor, 1995.
Stambovsky, Phillip. “John O’Hara.” <i>The Columbia Companion to the 20th Century American Short Story.</i> Ed. Blanche Gelfant. 420-422. </div><div><br /></div><div>1 In his entry on O’Hara in <i>The Columbia Companion to the 20th Century American Short</i> <i>Story,</i> Phillip Stambovsky notes that O’Hara was fond of “narrative irony” and liked to write about “ungoverned passions,” “adultery,” “sexual betrayal,” “cruelty,” “the breakdown of human relationships” and “suffering . . . of the innocent.” That could be a summary of the themes in “Straight Pool” as I read it.</div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">© MMXXIV WritersClearinghouse. All rights reserved WritersClearinghouse. Publication queries to PhiladelphiaJunto@ymail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com