Pearl Harbor Day

Today is December 7th, the 76th anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor, which led to the United States entering World War II.  This attack killed 2,403 people, on a level with the terrorist attacks on September 11th, and anyone alive at the time remembers it vividly.  My father Nelson served during that war as a dentist on Okinawa, to his great surprise.  He and his friend and fellow dentist Ed were listening to the Northwestern (my father's alma mater) football game when the doorbell rang and he got his draft notice.  This was at a time when he was in his mid-thirties.  His friend Ed thought that was real funny, and went home to find he got a draft notice, too.  Ed was sent to be a dentist in Paris, while as I said before, my father served on the typhoon plagued island of Okinawa. That Hoyt luck, by the way, continues to this day.

A Denver Zoo Flashback

It has been a while since I have had time to visit the Denver Zoo, and so I decided to look back through my files and choose a good zoo photo to put on the Blog, just for old times sake.  The photograph above is of a lion cub that I took back in May of 2013.  I believe 3 of them were recently born back then, and at that age they are still curious about their surroundings and the all the people they see looking at them.  Which is great for photo opportunities.  I just wish people were more like that.  Dream on, McDuff.

The Heart Of Darkness Club

I am currently reading The Heart of Darkness Club, the 3rd book in the "Murf" the taxi driver series by Gary Reilly.  Reilly wrote 11 of these stories before he passes away, and none were published in his lifetime.  After his death, friends and family got together to start Running Meter Press, which has so far published 8 of these novels and will eventually put all 11 in print.  Murf is a bohemian cab driver who lives in the Capitol Hill neighborhood of Denver.  He vows never to get involved in the lives of his fares, but always does, resulting in various, usually humorous adventures.  This time Murf picks up a man moving from one apartment to another, carrying all his possessions in a few cardboard boxes.  He winds up doing this twice, and each time tips Murf with a $5.00 bill with a cryptic message on it.  Murf can't resist trying to find out what it all means, and does so, with interesting results.  I recommend you pick up a copy today.

Bad Susie And Bad Janet

My sister Susan was waxing nostalgic the other day about her time living on East 85th Place on Chicago's South Side, where she (on the left in the attached photograph) and her friend Janet (on the right) ruled the neighborhood. Susan and my mother Mary lived there with my grandparents while my father was in the army during World War II.  Back then Susan and Janet were known as Bad Susie and Bad Janet, and would sometimes decide to take off their clothes and run around the block, prompting frantic phone calls to my Grandmother Spillard. In point of fact, they were ahead of their time - the world's first streakers.  A landmark achievement indeed.

Pick A Topic, Get A Poem

I took the photograph on the left at the First Friday Art Walk on Santa Fe Boulevard here in Denver the other evening.  The man in the photograph, typing away on an old typewriter, will write a poem for you on your topic of choice for a donation.  I have also seen a young woman sitting at this same typewriter on the 16th Street Mall on the weekends, with the same, handwritten "Pick a topic, get a poem" sign.  I assume they are a couple, and are somehow trying to earn a living doing this.  Although the woman standing in front of him seemed  pretty enthusiastic about it, I would have to think this would be a tough way to make a buck. Hopefully they both have regular full time jobs - possibly writing greeting card verses - and this is just a hobby.  If not, their next business sign will say "Will write poems for food."

The First Friday Of December

Yesterday was the 1st Friday of December, and I headed to the Santa Fe Arts District (located on Santa Fe Drive here in Denver) after work for the First Friday Art Walk.  It was a lot less crowded than in the summer, but there was still a fairly good crowd walking around, although the Michael Warren Contemporary Gallery - seen in the photograph on the left - was pretty empty.  They are currently displaying the art of Margaret Boozer, whose works of clay represent the landscape (harbors in this exhibit), but to me looks like cracked mud hanging on the walls.  I'm not exactly sure who would want to hang these things in their house, although I'm sure it would be a good conversation starter at parties.

There was also, as usual, musical entertainment, although I didn't hang around too long to listen.  At least the fellow in the photograph on the right was singing a song you could listen to, as opposed to the band in a gallery down the street, where the decibel level was about the same as a jet airplane taking off. Why do they do that?  As I have mentioned before, they play that hellishly loud and obnoxious music at ball games, soccer games, bars, you name it.  You can't hear yourself think, let alone have a conversation.  Am I truly becoming an old curmudgeon or what?

It's The Christmas Season!

Today, believe it or not, is December 1st, which means whether you want it to be or not, the Christmas season is upon us.  And to get into the spirit of things, I headed to Old Town Fort Collins last night after taking my sister home from visiting her husband George in a nearby rehabilitation center, and took the above photograph.  They decorate downtown Fort Collins to the nines during the holidays, and it really puts you in the holiday mood.  Of course, it was damn cold out last night,, so there weren't too many people out on the streets, but I assume they were all tucked away in the many restaurants and bars in the area. But since I had to get back to Denver, I didn't bother to check.   Probably for the best.