tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85651601693910248682024-02-19T13:22:17.745-06:00Footnotes to Stories"So in the long run the stories all overlap and mingle like searchlights in the dark.… And my story and your story are all part of each other
too because … we are at least a footnote at the bottom of each other's stories."
Frederick Buechner, Secrets in the DarkCarolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04341027209994226229noreply@blogger.comBlogger161125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565160169391024868.post-44012447962055643592016-10-29T12:57:00.005-05:002023-10-04T15:05:38.451-05:00Footnotes2stories has moved<h2>
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<h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Readers, if you land here, on purpose or by accident, this blog has moved to my website, <a href="https://footnotes2stories.com/">https://footnotes2stories.com/ </a></span></h1>
Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04341027209994226229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565160169391024868.post-12168765259034419932015-03-28T20:20:00.000-05:002015-03-28T20:20:29.290-05:00The Story Pictures Tell<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqQ2B8htBrZvkJkDLEx8B5i_r019122Ff41PT1MmR07qK0Xra8vu-yHgfbe3WemXZnqvOqnsxl6NDX9Of9VAcBK7xiGxPRdI4f4xfGza37F_hcTU3uWX0PlBLRJ2viI3lYH3F04NhVSSI/s1600/Loretta_age+3_ret.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqQ2B8htBrZvkJkDLEx8B5i_r019122Ff41PT1MmR07qK0Xra8vu-yHgfbe3WemXZnqvOqnsxl6NDX9Of9VAcBK7xiGxPRdI4f4xfGza37F_hcTU3uWX0PlBLRJ2viI3lYH3F04NhVSSI/s1600/Loretta_age+3_ret.jpg" height="320" width="256" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Why bother to take photos?</span></span></h2>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">In 1934, a photo of my mother won honorable mention in a contest at
Sanger Brothers in Dallas, a contest her mother had entered. That photo became even more valuable to my mom when her mother
died at age 26. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And then there's me.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7hkjbfXvIsFuXYMdRuIuCJVZxPUajpQlaGdpGcc8QepCbZsPYoy5hB-jfW6JlYZL7JGjAhPTHrwTaLGsJDUlmgYhKSzjWGNid6m0eY10u7tHwrYb16kYAfI0RY-HVEObOpfZmnFmi8tE/s1600/Carol_age+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7hkjbfXvIsFuXYMdRuIuCJVZxPUajpQlaGdpGcc8QepCbZsPYoy5hB-jfW6JlYZL7JGjAhPTHrwTaLGsJDUlmgYhKSzjWGNid6m0eY10u7tHwrYb16kYAfI0RY-HVEObOpfZmnFmi8tE/s1600/Carol_age+1.jpg" height="320" width="241" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">My love affair with photographs began when as a child I would look through the giant photo album my mother had purchased from a professional photographer. This purchase included a few sittings to produce studio quality portraits. A picture of me before my first birthday was on page one.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">My mother was making a values statement. She valued photos. She wanted to tell her story. She sought to preserve memories.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">How important are photos to you?</span></span></h2>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidK_G-b_lrLv0zF3dlSDBYXCO1T1cbRxMSCvjpGAg3dmVNmKhSz6KTzcx5qqeEl5XublesEQSHUCesPCvR8V2qo9MAURq3Cvi1xXgUoF9SQfGecWXeRIeVl_pVAWePpa00Z0f0ZmZ19jY/s1600/Photography+for+P.E.O_edited.006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidK_G-b_lrLv0zF3dlSDBYXCO1T1cbRxMSCvjpGAg3dmVNmKhSz6KTzcx5qqeEl5XublesEQSHUCesPCvR8V2qo9MAURq3Cvi1xXgUoF9SQfGecWXeRIeVl_pVAWePpa00Z0f0ZmZ19jY/s1600/Photography+for+P.E.O_edited.006.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This is part of my story too. I took pictures long before I had a camera. And long before I knew anything about photography. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Pictures tell stories. And I'm fascinated both by the images and the stories pictures represent. A camera gives me permission to be involved and curious about other people's stories. And I like that.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga8GJyXPQbO4NhxgkNbnpyVOEqJN6Lhzyat7PsA04bg0HaCNs8Cuhm9Ehc0YXPZj_NFjA9dI0M-DvRdA06uL6BR3LbqCJdQ-klk0XeEh9KDvP8S_WfgiHZbYWM7H9iTgd9IJCIcshU58U/s1600/Photography+for+P.E.O_edited.002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga8GJyXPQbO4NhxgkNbnpyVOEqJN6Lhzyat7PsA04bg0HaCNs8Cuhm9Ehc0YXPZj_NFjA9dI0M-DvRdA06uL6BR3LbqCJdQ-klk0XeEh9KDvP8S_WfgiHZbYWM7H9iTgd9IJCIcshU58U/s1600/Photography+for+P.E.O_edited.002.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Besides 4 years spent at Amarillo College studying photography, I operated this business for 5 years. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> A Brief History of Photography</span></span></h2>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The first camera obscurra or pin-hole camera appeared c. 1500. The next leap in photography came with the daguerrotype around 1840. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Nearly 50 years passed before George Eastman founded Kodak and introduced a roll-film camera. In 1900, the Kodak Brownie was the first mass-marketed camera. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Throughout the 20th century, color film, 35mm cameras, slide film (Kodachrome), the Polaroid camera (first with B&W film and later color), Hasselblad's medium format camera (a square negative, bigger than 35mm), these cameras and the film medium dominated photography and dictated its course. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But in 1981, the first digital camera was introduced and Kodak in 1991 was first to make a professional digital camera. Ironic, since the digital revolution ultimately led to Kodak's demise. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sharp made the first camera phone in 2000. And in 2001 Polaroid went bankrupt and in 2004, Kodak quit making film. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Drum roll … the iPhone came out in June, 2007. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvrXMRKXGXXeGIbxOSbeZMwVnZK_duoTUXKQdAArkrKjgmBH59GlZhumaoKhGKm94CYX01ufWhTXY3WVGDu498GpL-uWaEqjQahq_5TVOWIH7dt2mm05_UC8JXQdCE5mmLlW0uOPy82Jc/s1600/461950594_3b5b74d6e0_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvrXMRKXGXXeGIbxOSbeZMwVnZK_duoTUXKQdAArkrKjgmBH59GlZhumaoKhGKm94CYX01ufWhTXY3WVGDu498GpL-uWaEqjQahq_5TVOWIH7dt2mm05_UC8JXQdCE5mmLlW0uOPy82Jc/s1600/461950594_3b5b74d6e0_z.jpg" height="320" width="209" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Why the dates?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Perspective. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We've come a long way, baby. In a relatively short time. I guess. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">What's Next? </span></span></h2>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">What do we have to show for all the camera clicks? Where are most of the pictures we take? In shoe boxes, crates or on Facebook? Today, who has time to let pictures tell their story?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Considered the father of modern photojournalism, </span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Henri Cartier-Bresson said, "Photographs deal in things which are continually vanishing and when they have vanished there is no contrivance on earth which can make them come back again." </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But in fact, a photograph reminds us of those moments and the people who make moments and places worth remembering. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">An art for the heart, I like what Cartier-Bresson said about portraits, "You have to try and put your camera between the skin of a person and his shirt." </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">That idea helps explain why I take so many pictures. Like a hunter on safari, I try to capture that one image to represent my subject in the best light possible. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Photography means "painting with light." Light and shadow are what give a picture its life and dimension. Without the subtlety of shading, detail in both highlights and shadows, a photo remains as flat as the paper it's printed on. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">What follows are a few tips to help you take better photos and then too encouragement to preserve the best of your photos.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Something my photography instructor taught </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04341027209994226229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565160169391024868.post-73460100957279076812014-10-13T08:25:00.000-05:002014-10-13T08:25:41.230-05:00Rewards for Reading<h2>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Awards and rewards </span></span></h2>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">When I was 16, I read <i>Gone With the Wind </i>for the first time. I imagined myself in scenes, and as a high school senior I extracted a scene from the book, memorized and performed it for my drama class assignment. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Next I competed against 35 girls who represented 23 schools in the Dallas area UIL speech tournament. The scene where Mammy helps Scarlett get dressed for the barbeque at Twelve Oaks––I played both parts––won me a first place trophy.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbLaMHc4HTc4550BSKYLcVSF2sjo5NRk-b9YueAeQEAXbyBHdmQ7nFuz23CLPeqJvJUh-D1oAYZKu0Az3ADtm1aWMEXU7jDtAzCfZ_-Jc69_50N1Dy0pxjqyvI1F6VGlSe5O0Hy60i8bA/s1600/Carol+Reeves.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbLaMHc4HTc4550BSKYLcVSF2sjo5NRk-b9YueAeQEAXbyBHdmQ7nFuz23CLPeqJvJUh-D1oAYZKu0Az3ADtm1aWMEXU7jDtAzCfZ_-Jc69_50N1Dy0pxjqyvI1F6VGlSe5O0Hy60i8bA/s1600/Carol+Reeves.jpeg" height="320" width="232" /></a>Seated near the back of the high school auditorium, stage right under a balcony, </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">when the announcer called my name, </span></span>I was as overwhelmed and mystified as any Academy Award winner. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Breathless and speechless by the time I got to the stage, I accepted that award. But afterwards, in the picture taken for our school newspaper, I look askance, nervous, self-conscious, wearing a dress I had made, back when dresses were all a girl could wear to school.</span></span><br />
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<h2>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Hide and Seek </span></span></h2>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">At this stage of life, I know that most actors hide behind the characters they play, and when they must come out from behind the camera or the footlights, their insecurities pop out like a red-head's freckles after a day in the sun.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Still, I remain fascinated by drama in its many forms. Whole worlds get compressed between the pages of books and during the screen hours of a movie. And there, the reader or watcher loses himself. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And if he or she is lucky, they might find themselves too.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">That's what happened to me back when I picked up the 1,037 pages of Margaret Mitchell's story of the Old South. I found myself in Scarlett O'Hara's character, enough to know that I didn't want to be like her, or rather, end up like her.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">In a way, Scarlett set me on a course, a trajectory pointed away from innate selfishness.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Even author Margaret Mitchell said of "my poor Scarlett" that being compared to her was not a compliment. "Scarlett was a hussy and I am not."</span></span><br />
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<h2>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Fact and Fiction: Mirrors of self </span></span></h2>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">When I read any book worth reading, I expect resonance. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I expect, because I am a human being, to see some aspect of myself revealed––good or bad. Most often, both. I expect that what the writer took the time and care to capture in words will be worth the reader's time to follow. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I expect a carrot or a stick. A reward or a reminder. A good book will show me something about life.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Because <a href="http://storylineblog.com/2012/03/06/how-to-tell-a-good-story-with-your-life/" target="_blank">each of us is the main character in our own story</a>, you and I are interested in ourselves and how our story will turn out. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And we are never more interesting to ourselves––or more human––than when we can recognize ourselves in the mirror of another person's life. </span></span><br />
Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04341027209994226229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565160169391024868.post-63956893314245112082014-10-08T20:34:00.000-05:002014-10-08T20:34:09.663-05:00Loving Your Children<h2>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We are family </span></span></h2>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The talk I gave last week for "Apples of Gold," a mentoring program for younger women, was about loving your children. I focused on wisdom as an aspect of loving your children because all 4 of my children are grown and now have children of their own to raise. We all need wisdom.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAszoYft3CSuOmb9aI9z3tU1xNUnSiIoXbfAXyrqXLiUvBA7iwpx4YWPFrzu0ZR9GX7RnedX2e-epkWBe0jKm1pMXnn-GW9Ai0QkflmOmmS-889lWkT8t90Pl1-ASWfFM3C9EQVbznqdo/s1600/Carol+&+James.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAszoYft3CSuOmb9aI9z3tU1xNUnSiIoXbfAXyrqXLiUvBA7iwpx4YWPFrzu0ZR9GX7RnedX2e-epkWBe0jKm1pMXnn-GW9Ai0QkflmOmmS-889lWkT8t90Pl1-ASWfFM3C9EQVbznqdo/s1600/Carol+&+James.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> James and me in Budapest, Hungary</span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvTs15m-Ttcm3kS8C3m-hzHxY6DA3GIxIoCQFt5N9cn2qF1TPj9L-Fp5u9UuFkpqFz8AW_t713UqIDlLBHKE_Dc5BKj5lIXoBdnx16Zaixv1bw7um6sP7SxxtrUBQuo9-pzntWe8gwnBw/s1600/First+day+school+1989.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvTs15m-Ttcm3kS8C3m-hzHxY6DA3GIxIoCQFt5N9cn2qF1TPj9L-Fp5u9UuFkpqFz8AW_t713UqIDlLBHKE_Dc5BKj5lIXoBdnx16Zaixv1bw7um6sP7SxxtrUBQuo9-pzntWe8gwnBw/s1600/First+day+school+1989.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">My 4 kids on the first day of school, 1989</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>But
where can <b>wisdom</b> be found? Where does understanding dwell? </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>Job 28:12</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>I
thought, ‘Age should speak; advanced years should teach <b>wisdom</b>.’ </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>Job
32:7</span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>Only I didn't want to speak on this subject because, well, I'm not that old. And I'm not that wise. </span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>But with 10 grandchildren and number 11 on the way, I accepted this assignment––my own misgivings aside for telling other people how to raise their kids. Because anyone can be a parent, but not everyone knows how to parent. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>Each parent must work out his/her own salvation with fear and trembling, I'm afraid. Yet some principles abide, enduring time's testing and cultural distinctions. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>So in the end, I came up with my own contemporary 10 commandments to guide parents who truly love their children. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div>
<h2 class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>10 Commandments for loving your children</span></span></span></h2>
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div.WordSection1
{page:WordSection1;</style><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">Thou shalt not idolize your children.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">Thou shalt not treat children as little adults.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">Thou shalt not cover up mistakes your children make or make
excuses for their failures.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">Thou shalt discipline your own children when they overstep
boundaries.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">Thou shalt teach your children to work.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">Thou shalt teach your children to tell the truth. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">Thou shalt teach your children to respect themselves and
others. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">Thou shalt teach your children good manners. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">Thou shalt read to your children early and often, starting
with the Bible. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">Thou shalt not text and drive.</span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">While there's a story behind each of these opinions strongly held by yours truly, I shall spare you those explanations. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"> </span></span></span></div>
<h2 class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">Here are 10 reasons I believe Thou shalt not text and drive should be a commandment. </span></span></span></h2>
<h4 class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">6 grandsons: </span></span></span></h4>
<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://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiejXDgNT2zjKfxggnZtIVNdbdzafWTuyd-vKEoupQ_Odw1OZx3dkxz86eiKj59ay4cZNDcG6wEzubF1vY6HSxVsHuZryuQdA2e_Et_vcN043s4WmQK2latc5xtqgWmhGlNTfXTRv6IBP4/s1600/IMG_0222.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiejXDgNT2zjKfxggnZtIVNdbdzafWTuyd-vKEoupQ_Odw1OZx3dkxz86eiKj59ay4cZNDcG6wEzubF1vY6HSxVsHuZryuQdA2e_Et_vcN043s4WmQK2latc5xtqgWmhGlNTfXTRv6IBP4/s1600/IMG_0222.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beau and Beck</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZMiynlpRXO00iXwESUDBv0fjIB8j-Hl2JB0QHIEk_TZkZof7QUxR-QDB5P9qMLzqch9-gEAUPjGkfWjJXrucGV0BCV3Lyun8bH7bvFhmrKyZjOYKm8MnhTr94Rm28n7FE_2OL1lG-Tl8/s1600/IMG_0238.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZMiynlpRXO00iXwESUDBv0fjIB8j-Hl2JB0QHIEk_TZkZof7QUxR-QDB5P9qMLzqch9-gEAUPjGkfWjJXrucGV0BCV3Lyun8bH7bvFhmrKyZjOYKm8MnhTr94Rm28n7FE_2OL1lG-Tl8/s1600/IMG_0238.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dax</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSnsoCTCF9TuDsH6EHDGovZXINVQCIVNpMES4ZltH3QUGyS2QOHcQGSYack8XNwXIZa3HlrZ9inuKhPsFXGZpPikA_4h7KJX6c_zAsfIkEebkUzdFAIrdcEny3-TWwFzTeM6lPQVlQADk/s1600/Samuel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSnsoCTCF9TuDsH6EHDGovZXINVQCIVNpMES4ZltH3QUGyS2QOHcQGSYack8XNwXIZa3HlrZ9inuKhPsFXGZpPikA_4h7KJX6c_zAsfIkEebkUzdFAIrdcEny3-TWwFzTeM6lPQVlQADk/s1600/Samuel.jpg" height="320" width="203" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Samuel</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU0u3ZMWL00C97oNH8HD64dTd1cRh1fQzo_UVXNMKe32mfsJdubDNHaNDHrJ__8pAkck0yhsofipkyCV0KYR-jqS01paAB2iswnC6ueDF4jVVb5ycbDiQ1_Sgtz6oKrSN-FPdSjj9ZdlY/s1600/JP.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU0u3ZMWL00C97oNH8HD64dTd1cRh1fQzo_UVXNMKe32mfsJdubDNHaNDHrJ__8pAkck0yhsofipkyCV0KYR-jqS01paAB2iswnC6ueDF4jVVb5ycbDiQ1_Sgtz6oKrSN-FPdSjj9ZdlY/s1600/JP.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">James-Paul</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVCTOtBb9EUJXxeqCOddlVdOTybJjDcGXGOW3JZERP4cZzlOKJCSJ8JCcq4qXYo3qgQiaiPb1VJ9ayRZXVRRPZBP5zygWCJ2a7eVvCb_ejwOK-AlO8eMivdPQJ3GTOrx9Zy85Xmdd2tF4/s1600/IMG_0259.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVCTOtBb9EUJXxeqCOddlVdOTybJjDcGXGOW3JZERP4cZzlOKJCSJ8JCcq4qXYo3qgQiaiPb1VJ9ayRZXVRRPZBP5zygWCJ2a7eVvCb_ejwOK-AlO8eMivdPQJ3GTOrx9Zy85Xmdd2tF4/s1600/IMG_0259.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hayden </td></tr>
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<h2 class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">4 granddaughters</span></span></span></h2>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_QTUsfj3Z0isvPuhpdrJLs9wxWC-AVzoMyXwcs_iqin_bxCRaJE6Bbc7cXOc2HFOwyNkuY9yd846nUDFhECaD3-RZrSONe9VsXDx48IYzFeTbQDR0VYd2cs7iq9sKBVfZFgYuOuyUrR8/s1600/avaRachael.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_QTUsfj3Z0isvPuhpdrJLs9wxWC-AVzoMyXwcs_iqin_bxCRaJE6Bbc7cXOc2HFOwyNkuY9yd846nUDFhECaD3-RZrSONe9VsXDx48IYzFeTbQDR0VYd2cs7iq9sKBVfZFgYuOuyUrR8/s1600/avaRachael.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">cousins Ava and Rachel </td></tr>
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<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://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwGTrqFr3_a_Rrs7zdUla11B2rm3L41nsc8vLovJNd4yb5HD3_h4VVXEFZsjCC32HKdvGwAfGhAoiSXleRSi-lprQ_NN1fyH7w5FGNPyBJGuRWmYA_ta4nlxAar9jFFXZESlo2NzHxbDs/s1600/IMG_0360.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwGTrqFr3_a_Rrs7zdUla11B2rm3L41nsc8vLovJNd4yb5HD3_h4VVXEFZsjCC32HKdvGwAfGhAoiSXleRSi-lprQ_NN1fyH7w5FGNPyBJGuRWmYA_ta4nlxAar9jFFXZESlo2NzHxbDs/s1600/IMG_0360.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1st grandchild, Kate</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRG2VpaH5qKKiBbvmLAdhzWAw_odyGbVFI3BmrhKy6P6n41O51xYMfzNYNQt3DIb3OJAfMjINz8MeMcuND1bNGY9hr3HVyT1bE-EDNDPRjiKLK2u-awnivjD8ozxRJq4EbGpXlD5woX44/s1600/Sarah.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRG2VpaH5qKKiBbvmLAdhzWAw_odyGbVFI3BmrhKy6P6n41O51xYMfzNYNQt3DIb3OJAfMjINz8MeMcuND1bNGY9hr3HVyT1bE-EDNDPRjiKLK2u-awnivjD8ozxRJq4EbGpXlD5woX44/s1600/Sarah.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sister Sarah</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-QxUqBzYxn4xAtcqi5wuXWeHB8lncMIi-a4NkuZF9YvpE3wZo_yuJiJXgNsgiCCPWt_4bZpQFIQcAQfL30LWTHjZPoqCz5j4vIKg9YKfLNMuf8jEx1wbWxF7asvX8KnMTbF0jy_lcIXE/s1600/IMG_1855.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-QxUqBzYxn4xAtcqi5wuXWeHB8lncMIi-a4NkuZF9YvpE3wZo_yuJiJXgNsgiCCPWt_4bZpQFIQcAQfL30LWTHjZPoqCz5j4vIKg9YKfLNMuf8jEx1wbWxF7asvX8KnMTbF0jy_lcIXE/s1600/IMG_1855.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">fun when cousins get together</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">By the way, it's against the law in California to text and drive. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">Here's to parents and grandparents everywhere who are doing the best they can to love their children. </span></span></span></div>
Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04341027209994226229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565160169391024868.post-57115097089130965982014-09-22T16:43:00.000-05:002015-03-28T19:18:33.606-05:00The Making of Gone With the Wind, part 2<h2>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Clark Gable is Rhett Butler</span></span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaHYRb8PpQYUipLtXdliVYx93qGDTM5jboR8yLVnYHKAXks8-a-nnredXF7F5CwZxQdxL5FyBPyrlkt0YBdRAeTCokwbuafxJVFNljl509D2n6v09UcFj-ocpn-BFcInic_tOQinSvUuA/s1600/IMG_5496.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaHYRb8PpQYUipLtXdliVYx93qGDTM5jboR8yLVnYHKAXks8-a-nnredXF7F5CwZxQdxL5FyBPyrlkt0YBdRAeTCokwbuafxJVFNljl509D2n6v09UcFj-ocpn-BFcInic_tOQinSvUuA/s1600/IMG_5496.JPG" height="400" width="266" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Never any
doubt in the minds of the reading public that Clark Gable should play Rhett
Butler, only Gable himself needed convincing. And so did Louis B. Mayer, Selznick’s
father-in-law, who had Gable under contract to MGM. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Although
Selznick considered others, actors he had under contract, he wanted Clark Gable
as much as anyone. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This
letter to DOS captures the spirit of all those who felt sure nobody but Gable should play Rhett:</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><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://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5iVx0TzXQKNJt2vH_HNfQO4tiWqF0SdrR0oTdgpEdRKqkPXELcxgAJcJTeYViiZnhFiCJkcWvBgYiX-GRkr_cbFd9_N0JA9pum5DvuBjICNcheaSV-7cgeragJOovmgW_DNY0Rn1jf8s/s1600/IMG_5509cr.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5iVx0TzXQKNJt2vH_HNfQO4tiWqF0SdrR0oTdgpEdRKqkPXELcxgAJcJTeYViiZnhFiCJkcWvBgYiX-GRkr_cbFd9_N0JA9pum5DvuBjICNcheaSV-7cgeragJOovmgW_DNY0Rn1jf8s/s1600/IMG_5509cr.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"This is Rhett Butler, or else, 10,000,000 broken hearts."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The readers of GWTW assumed
too that Margaret Mitchell had Clark Gable in mind as she wrote her book, only at
the time Gable still worked in the Oklahoma oilfield, earning $12. a day. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">No, Mitchell
insisted. “I was thinking of Groucho Marx.” She loved the Marx Brothers.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">All the
more to wonder at the astonishing outcome when at the Atlanta premiere,
December 15, 1939, Margaret Mitchell praised Selznick for his “perfect cast”
and his obstinacy to secure it.<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://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsOoSZIy9npG7ehv8cM5N8WW3OXbJJpx9MMrDaMI_de29hJln5-weeGN_CbM9gJPY36XSzzbfb6gP-KlMz1Fw-e-CbzNKXXBfxEPQiBkGHDIJganFS3kl1Os2J7zQiQXnyc4_8LMimoPQ/s1600/Rhett.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsOoSZIy9npG7ehv8cM5N8WW3OXbJJpx9MMrDaMI_de29hJln5-weeGN_CbM9gJPY36XSzzbfb6gP-KlMz1Fw-e-CbzNKXXBfxEPQiBkGHDIJganFS3kl1Os2J7zQiQXnyc4_8LMimoPQ/s1600/Rhett.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">from the Motion Picture Edition, picture taken with my iPhone</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Frankly, my dear …</b></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">David O.
Selznick added the “frankly” to the line that in the movie almost had to be cut. But frankly, frankly wasn’t the problem. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">As
Margaret Mitchell had written the end of her story, Rhett Butler’s answer to
Scarlett’s question “… If you go, what shall I do?” reads, “My dear, I don’t
give a damn.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The
preview audience heard the line as, “My dear, I don’t care.” Uh-hmm. Gag. Choke. Spit out that line.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">To use the
line as written in the script, Selznick had to do battle. Following written
appeals by Selznick, citing the <i>Oxford
English Dictionary’s</i> definition of damn, a vulgarism rather than an oath or
a curse, as well as popular magazines’ use of the word, those who fought
against this iconic bit of dialogue surrendered. Waiving the profanity clause for Selznick,
the Motion Pictures Production Code was later rewritten.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But just
in case appeals were lost, other options considered were “Frankly, my dear:</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-left: 1in; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">·<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>it leaves me cold.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-left: 1in; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">·<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>it has become of no concern to me.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-left: 1in; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">·<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>I don’t give a Continental.”
[whatever <i>that</i> means]</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-left: 1in; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">·<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>I’m not even indifferent. I just
don’t care.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-left: 1in; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">·<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>I’ve withdrawn from the battle.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-left: 1in; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">·<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>the whole thing is a stench in my
nostrils.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-left: 1in; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">·<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>it makes my gorge rise.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-left: 1in; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Whatever a
gorge referred to, any tampering would have removed the unforgettable parting shot Rhett gave
Scarlett. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn” left just the right taste in Rhett Butler's mouth.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Still, Selznick, true to Margaret Mitchell's novel,
didn’t leave Scarlett in a puddle of tears. She’d go home to Tara. She’d think
of some way to get Rhett back. She’d think about that tomorrow. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“After
all, tomorrow is another day.” </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="line-height: 200%;">Gumption</span></b></span></span> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The
camera pulls back, the music rises and Scarlett once more shows her gumption.
After all she has been through, not to mention all the trouble she has caused, Scarlett’s
face brightens at the thought of Tara. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Margaret
Mitchell had said that the theme of her story was survival. She had wondered
how some folks have what she called, “gumption,” the ability to endure and
survive the most tragic, confounding circumstances while others simply do not. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But
when people went so far as to compare Margaret Mitchell to her literary
heroine, she protested. “Scarlett was a hussy and I am not.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The story of how Mitchell’s 1,037-page novel came to be published in the first place displays
the author’s gumption. When one of Margaret's writer friends said, "You don't have what it takes to be a serious writer,” going so far as to challenge her for never having been rejected by a publisher, Mitchell
gathered up her incomplete manuscript––what amounted to a suitcase full of manila envelopes with chapters of the book she
had written over the course of 10 years. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Still fuming from the insult, Margaret gave </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">to Harold Latham, associate editor at Macmillan, who had come to Atlanta as part
of a 3 month search for new talent, </span></span>what she had never intended to submit for
publication</span></span>.</span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Her </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">disorganized manuscript had no opening chapter. In fact, Margaret Mitchell had
written the last chapter first. She had duplicate versions of some chapters. </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Penciled revisions and corrections, typed on yellowed paper, she
</span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">felt embarrassed by the condition of her
manuscript and </span></span>sought its return as soon as she calmed down. </span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Instead,
Macmillan publishers refused and sent her a check for $5,000. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">With the book's publication, a series of events transpired that made Margaret Mitchell's real life almost as dramatic as her novel. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Drama Behind the Screen</b></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8kZL_Xreai9Fom1PalEY8d7PiJ3tGlWu1SgQq8rCPIQkSoApPjU081_lptKgBmUuBJbwnoxFMSL2WALIwy5cUXcyxa91_5jAvjuqpv2cb2rbBeAX8hQw33yAx-Uly7Yc66DGvEY0TmO0/s1600/IMG_5490cr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8kZL_Xreai9Fom1PalEY8d7PiJ3tGlWu1SgQq8rCPIQkSoApPjU081_lptKgBmUuBJbwnoxFMSL2WALIwy5cUXcyxa91_5jAvjuqpv2cb2rbBeAX8hQw33yAx-Uly7Yc66DGvEY0TmO0/s1600/IMG_5490cr.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The <i>Jezebel</i> issue intrigued me. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">On display as part of</span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> the Ransom Center exhibit </span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">in a letter from DOS to Harry Warner, head of Warner Brothers Pictures, Selznick confronts WB for capitalizing on the publicity surrounding GWTW. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLAp7Qg4X32OOWhKQRQulMe8ha3k61H2KOr_T3XS6n4qNeccgsJuAFsuZgMhUG9rOISQA-4FNOyHlsAIcU0BE_OJUi1cHQRQJiUdxePMhgtNC9Mlh257fiB9F6SaZvkjI3Wz5D141j1n4/s1600/IMG_5491cr.jpg" height="640" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="425" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"May I remind you that the rights to 'Jezebel' were repeatedly turned don … until …"</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLAp7Qg4X32OOWhKQRQulMe8ha3k61H2KOr_T3XS6n4qNeccgsJuAFsuZgMhUG9rOISQA-4FNOyHlsAIcU0BE_OJUi1cHQRQJiUdxePMhgtNC9Mlh257fiB9F6SaZvkjI3Wz5D141j1n4/s1600/IMG_5491cr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">No studio wanted to film <i>Jezebel</i> until after <i>GWTW</i> made its literary splash and Selznick had secured film rights. Jealousy erupted among studios and Warner Brothers made a shameless imitation.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">By comparison, shot in less than 8 weeks, </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Jezebel</i> was a Civil War lightweight. </span></span>Yet</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> because Bette Davis won the 1938 Best Actress Academy Award for her role in <i>Jezebel</i>, a wave of support for her to play Scarlett O'Hara crested. Selznick went as far as to consider her for the role with Errol Flynn to play Rhett, but Davis refused to play opposite Flynn.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Circles inside circles: Guess who owns the film rights to <i>Gone With the Wind</i> today? </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In 1995, Ted Turner (TCM) sold the rights he had purchased to Time-Warner. In an ironic twist, Warner Brothers now owns the movie Selznick originally produced, the film WB tried to overshadow with its copy. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Other circles inside circles:</span></span></h2>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Selznick managed to sign <b>Clark Gable</b> in a costly deal he made with his father-in-law Louis B. Mayer, head of MGM. Mayer convinced Gable that a hefty paycheck for starring in <i>GWTW</i> would induce his second wife, 17-years his senior, to grant him a divorce. During the filming of <i>GWTW</i>, March of 1939, 37-year-old Gable, married the love of his life, 30-year-old Carole Lombard. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Vivien Leigh</b> was also married and had a 4-year-old daughter, as did actor Lawrence Olivier, with whom Leigh had had a lengthy affair. Both eventually divorced their respective spouses and married each other. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Leslie Howard</b> was married but living with another woman who accompanied him to the set of <i>GWTW</i>. From the outset, the 45-year-old actor was disinterested in his role. Howard read the script only for the scenes in which he played the character Ashley Wilkes. To Selznick, the actor who played the part of Ashley was as important, if not more so than who played Scarlett. Selznick gave Howard a copy of the novel as a gift, but he still refused to read it. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Olivia de Haviland</b> was not married but at the time of filming she was dating millionaire Howard Hughes, who later that year proposed to Olivia's sister, Joan Fontaine. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Costumes</span></span></h2>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Before </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">the </span></span>Academy Awards had a category for costume design, Walter Plunkett designed these and countless other exquisite
costumes down to the petticoats. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">When one of the actresses thought Mr.
Selznick could save money, since no one would know authentic
petticoats were there, he told her, "You will know it's there."</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Co50shEwSQGvBCACI8YIB5Bsril-yT4XHN-SjWhkwI5R8P2SWzi0JuxXo4xlN_fcm9_-Omo5fbbWFFCUW3SDJQwS7XtjOdUdGx997g2zDE4j4M5jqHPT-yiXODbSzYsdbuIRzRXA9ww/s1600/IMG_5436.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Co50shEwSQGvBCACI8YIB5Bsril-yT4XHN-SjWhkwI5R8P2SWzi0JuxXo4xlN_fcm9_-Omo5fbbWFFCUW3SDJQwS7XtjOdUdGx997g2zDE4j4M5jqHPT-yiXODbSzYsdbuIRzRXA9ww/s1600/IMG_5436.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQZo7d4_1vy4ba1ofENcY7bI2yv0_rkZPdKCeKnIwFJMvtb7YjYnuTVqqJxyrSvFft_5z_C7UoH9xITEFum0tYMg00iPvwy-1hpozuNvsvwqvgf2bPxB9TJgkWBWktLpls99rhLsmwsHc/s1600/IMG_5611cr.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQZo7d4_1vy4ba1ofENcY7bI2yv0_rkZPdKCeKnIwFJMvtb7YjYnuTVqqJxyrSvFft_5z_C7UoH9xITEFum0tYMg00iPvwy-1hpozuNvsvwqvgf2bPxB9TJgkWBWktLpls99rhLsmwsHc/s1600/IMG_5611cr.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walter Plunkett, Costume Designer</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQZo7d4_1vy4ba1ofENcY7bI2yv0_rkZPdKCeKnIwFJMvtb7YjYnuTVqqJxyrSvFft_5z_C7UoH9xITEFum0tYMg00iPvwy-1hpozuNvsvwqvgf2bPxB9TJgkWBWktLpls99rhLsmwsHc/s1600/IMG_5611cr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix9K6DqONg-VPJp16fbEAYH6Ap74dMZ16aZCRjhijv1v4tj-HbpLsYo-slQ0aty7LeMUsVQvnbHdlbhCtX9Qdnp_8A_t8PeMlj_ApslpR_gSIzyQMVIbUqKSaS5XaEuo7NP5DacB54Jhw/s1600/IMG_5585cr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The dress Scarlett wore for her wedding to Charles was worn for filming almost as briefly as the on-screen marriage lasted. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Of the 5 costumes on display at The Ransom Center, the wedding dress is a recreation. The rest shown are restored originals. <a href="http://footnotes2stories.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Yesterday's blog post</a> shows pictures of the famous green curtain dress. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix9K6DqONg-VPJp16fbEAYH6Ap74dMZ16aZCRjhijv1v4tj-HbpLsYo-slQ0aty7LeMUsVQvnbHdlbhCtX9Qdnp_8A_t8PeMlj_ApslpR_gSIzyQMVIbUqKSaS5XaEuo7NP5DacB54Jhw/s1600/IMG_5585cr.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix9K6DqONg-VPJp16fbEAYH6Ap74dMZ16aZCRjhijv1v4tj-HbpLsYo-slQ0aty7LeMUsVQvnbHdlbhCtX9Qdnp_8A_t8PeMlj_ApslpR_gSIzyQMVIbUqKSaS5XaEuo7NP5DacB54Jhw/s1600/IMG_5585cr.jpg" height="425" width="640" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Pictured above, Vivien Leigh is wearing the dress that in the movie Scarlett wore to the barbeque at Twelve Oaks. This scene was shot 5 times. After Vivien Leigh had been given time to recover from 125 days of shooting that ended in July, she came back in October, refreshed and again youthful looking for a retake, wearing the white prayer dress. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Controversy and Art </span></span></h2>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Controversy and censorship issues as well as personality conflicts
behind the scenes reflect stories that are as much a part of the actual
history of "The Making of <i>Gone With the Wind</i>" as the fictional telling of history both the novel and the film depict. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Whether words on a page or scenes on a screen, these artistic creations cannot be </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">revised</span></span>, nor should they, to fit cultural tastes of current readers and audiences. They can be revisited.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">To think this story represents a revisionist history of the old South, think again. View artistic creations like paintings in an art gallery. Frame representations in their context. Accept what cannot be altered and admire the work of artists. For eventually, the artists themselves are Gone With the Wind. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The main thing to remember is "The movie did not disappoint the readers of the book."</span></span> (DVD commentary)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And I say, "Fiddle-dee-dee." Enough already. There's no end of stories surrounding the making of <i>Gone With the Wind</i>. Trivia for the most part, perhaps, but what reading about the movie reminds me is that while the audience sees what gets shown on the screen, real people whose lives scarcely resemble the characters they portray work to create the timeless illusion. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWi0FGNUUMCZjo15Xp9pLxDPi_6fmzSZQoKqod4c7KZ2xyrGRWqijCUDnk3Kd-iB63BBqdhW_PRER9aTZO03OpzRvTzGkHY9U6Zd0TsDko77rwoHvR0lMAq0gI16mEEE23RfCDMZ4upm0/s1600/IMG_5577cr.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWi0FGNUUMCZjo15Xp9pLxDPi_6fmzSZQoKqod4c7KZ2xyrGRWqijCUDnk3Kd-iB63BBqdhW_PRER9aTZO03OpzRvTzGkHY9U6Zd0TsDko77rwoHvR0lMAq0gI16mEEE23RfCDMZ4upm0/s1600/IMG_5577cr.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix9K6DqONg-VPJp16fbEAYH6Ap74dMZ16aZCRjhijv1v4tj-HbpLsYo-slQ0aty7LeMUsVQvnbHdlbhCtX9Qdnp_8A_t8PeMlj_ApslpR_gSIzyQMVIbUqKSaS5XaEuo7NP5DacB54Jhw/s1600/IMG_5585cr.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Maybe the movie at 75 is showing its age. But the very existence of this classic film continues to teach me something about life. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhKhxgnZA_tRZ3ebpa9FmHNN4QsS6OpvlhBBtgsCKo8Pv5l6ysch-8mE1WTF0d7wzXfd4r1pmiWLTN5Q3x7pWtudUxpikRQ5y8dS2PFprFUJk630EARYI0o1aUf_OUGTLTHuXv629JYHM/s1600/IMG_5578cr.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhKhxgnZA_tRZ3ebpa9FmHNN4QsS6OpvlhBBtgsCKo8Pv5l6ysch-8mE1WTF0d7wzXfd4r1pmiWLTN5Q3x7pWtudUxpikRQ5y8dS2PFprFUJk630EARYI0o1aUf_OUGTLTHuXv629JYHM/s1600/IMG_5578cr.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The first audiences to view the film in 1939 had endured war and the Great Depression. These people were acquainted with hunger and starved for hope. This film showed them characters on both sides of a civil struggle who fought for what they believed. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">If anything makes the movie seem archaic, maybe it's because people today don't believe in much, or else they don't know what they believe. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And nothing sinks a soul so deep as to believe in nothing.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">For now, my cup runneth over with <i>GWTW</i> … </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">the story, the author of the book, the movie, the man who made the movie, the actors who portrayed characters that came to life in my imagination, the roles each person played in the making of </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Gone With the Wind</i></span></span></span></span>. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Enchanted still by this epic film and stories that surround its making, I hope that generations of 16 year-old girls will like me continue to read the novel. And see the movie. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">If not today, then think about it tomorrow. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"After all, tomorrow is another day."</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">See GWTW at the movies, Sunday Septmember 28 or Wednesday, October 1, 2014. Check local theater listings for showtimes of this special event.</span> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Note: Relying on
multiple sources results in variations on the same story, therefore editing for
this post, I have used information, comments and ideas that reflect my own
conclusions. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Thank you very much for your kind consideration.</span></span></div>
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</span></span>Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04341027209994226229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565160169391024868.post-79786007815985519812014-09-20T13:22:00.000-05:002014-09-23T15:26:43.019-05:00The Making of Gone With the Wind<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">September 9, 2014–January 4, 2015.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Enchantment with the book, the movie,
the story of survival </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">set against the backdrop of the Civil War and Reconstruction that followed,</span> </span>began for me when I first read Margaret Mitchell's book at
age 16––the same age as Scarlett O'Hara when the story begins. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Hadn't I already seen the movie? Yes. </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Alert with a wide-eyed thrill of let's go to the movie, m</span></span>y mother had taken me to see <i>Gone With the Wind</i> when I was
4-years-old. Afterward, a vague recollection of holding her hand amidst a pressing crowd, I stumbled through the lobby following a lengthy nap. </span></span><br />
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</span><span style="font-size: large;">Back when great films only reappeared in limited release
in select theaters, I saw the movie <i>GWTW</i>
for a second time during my </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">high school </span></span>senior year, inside a lavish BIG-screen
theater at Northpark, in Dallas, TX. Bowled over was I.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Christmas in September</span></span></h2>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF3fXq6g-pUYSncsGFknvA6TWS0gpS5MndWmjjoMRxYyYKwxGpfprwAkqfcZDRMRg9cf6LcVaJ1GInsqvL0Ww7EaTXZhSngNYVdFTRbUqBkBWrHFIcdgZRyFlDiaNlQC1YJJfjoPGu4Aw/s1600/IMG_4430.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF3fXq6g-pUYSncsGFknvA6TWS0gpS5MndWmjjoMRxYyYKwxGpfprwAkqfcZDRMRg9cf6LcVaJ1GInsqvL0Ww7EaTXZhSngNYVdFTRbUqBkBWrHFIcdgZRyFlDiaNlQC1YJJfjoPGu4Aw/s1600/IMG_4430.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Reading about the restoration of some of the costumes and the planned <i>GWTW</i> exhibit a year ago, as soon as tickets became available, I looked forward to this trip to</span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Austin as if waiting to unwrap a Christmas present. </span></span></span></span>At the <a href="http://www.hrc.utexas.edu/" target="_blank">Harry Ransom Center</a> on </span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">the campus of the University of Texas, </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>September 5, 2014, my husband and I joined a few hundred invited guests to a preview
event that commemorates 75 years since
the release of the movie, <i>Gone With the Wind</i>.</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Items selected from David O. Selznick's private collection, including the green curtain dress, display in chronological order the saga of making this epic film. </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR6Iz2jQaNMVDKcqLZ9O8k7w6YdAqhqgLFAVggejsJJyM7V-pHPrd86ESsWw0-EAjTWhU5llCZ5lQXA0i3Bx8m_Tidw1QB1Abz1jlnlhoeKDYdVFYZN5cb19SVaiHQsVUuu5M7Od5b6Ws/s1600/IMG_5449.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR6Iz2jQaNMVDKcqLZ9O8k7w6YdAqhqgLFAVggejsJJyM7V-pHPrd86ESsWw0-EAjTWhU5llCZ5lQXA0i3Bx8m_Tidw1QB1Abz1jlnlhoeKDYdVFYZN5cb19SVaiHQsVUuu5M7Od5b6Ws/s1600/IMG_5449.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVXUdjj3q3xARXHcxSV20p7atzwbcDegfO-j8_4cXHndrGfw_Z3ffkoetiAyHuUTacKgWJ7XmVgycRi33P6hSyXY5gtRT5V1e0KdOTYglXp90fj3KyDNnmkI2Tav9HT8smkdOFsr1-Dqw/s1600/IMG_5448cr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVXUdjj3q3xARXHcxSV20p7atzwbcDegfO-j8_4cXHndrGfw_Z3ffkoetiAyHuUTacKgWJ7XmVgycRi33P6hSyXY5gtRT5V1e0KdOTYglXp90fj3KyDNnmkI2Tav9HT8smkdOFsr1-Dqw/s1600/IMG_5448cr.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ1H5JtokmcQbCzC10bydMwCQlRlyXg5_ugDwaBWclJbVueZ1SaTTMalc5AdV6iElrg9-l-rsedLoGZslPMBHMTosp-Pkxl79qMGwiq9TdHxChnTiajMzQ6YpbC6ceie6fENvLjZ-y8Ds/s1600/IMG_5463cr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ1H5JtokmcQbCzC10bydMwCQlRlyXg5_ugDwaBWclJbVueZ1SaTTMalc5AdV6iElrg9-l-rsedLoGZslPMBHMTosp-Pkxl79qMGwiq9TdHxChnTiajMzQ6YpbC6ceie6fENvLjZ-y8Ds/s1600/IMG_5463cr.jpg" height="320" width="256" /></a></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Today, Turner Classic Movies (TCM) offers regular showings on television, and copies of </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">restored versions on VHS and DVD's make </span></span>the film readily available. Still, for me, the thrill of watching, and talking about, <i>GWTW</i> has not gone.</span></span><br />
<h2 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-size: large;">"My own true love" </span></span></h2>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This past week, I gave a program on "The
Making of <i>Gone With the Wind</i>" based on the Ransom Center exhibit. Information from several books <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Complete-Gone-Wind-Trivia-Book/dp/1589798201/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1410983762&sr=1-1&keywords=gone+with+the+wind+trivia">about
the movie</a> and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Margaret-Mitchells-Gone-Wind-Bestsellers/dp/1589795679/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1410983871&sr=1-2-fkmr0&keywords=Margaret+Mitchell+odessy">about
Margaret Mitchell's novel</a> and some notes from DVD extras that were included
in the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Gone-Wind-Two-Disc-Anniversary-Edition/dp/B002M2Z3BA/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1410983940&sr=8-1&keywords=70th+anniversary+gone+with+the+wind">70th
Anniversary edition of the film</a> supplement what I saw at the Austin exhibit. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Seizing this opportunity, I also paid tribute to the
parody, "Went With the Wind," performed on the Carol Burnett Show in 1976 by wearing my own green curtain
dress. Watch the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pjUYw2HKB7o" target="_blank">YouTube</a> video of the other Carol, not me. Still makes me laugh out loud.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx4L0PeRRIquRFap-fH338ftfBN-wf2qBnZDfOzOOTPEwWsftWyw-mcDKhutTI4oeJhIIS-PZ2HeMpTHV31HtO-5-dPinVG4bsRES22zZHrPIG3UmPtlgGimkQDkNBqMsFFKShWNFN9ok/s1600/IMG_1549.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx4L0PeRRIquRFap-fH338ftfBN-wf2qBnZDfOzOOTPEwWsftWyw-mcDKhutTI4oeJhIIS-PZ2HeMpTHV31HtO-5-dPinVG4bsRES22zZHrPIG3UmPtlgGimkQDkNBqMsFFKShWNFN9ok/s1600/IMG_1549.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Costume-in-progress</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDjqTJs1GjTg3RSDmLy8HoBCMKovTpaLp0aVeay3_iVj1ZGkAYVcB58wNAjyS1r0Pv3jRr-_BVTLP6S8otp8HPtqR7yeAEEjxR7SHMJWj4aLKCP9AO9vdTbMphmgCPXDEPCG0dhc7E2pk/s1600/IMG_5649.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDjqTJs1GjTg3RSDmLy8HoBCMKovTpaLp0aVeay3_iVj1ZGkAYVcB58wNAjyS1r0Pv3jRr-_BVTLP6S8otp8HPtqR7yeAEEjxR7SHMJWj4aLKCP9AO9vdTbMphmgCPXDEPCG0dhc7E2pk/s1600/IMG_5649.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Standing next to me is Miss Scarlett, the dress form</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">How can a 75-year-old movie still captivate audiences?<b> </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>David O. </b> </span></span></h2>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC_BD9Ctfj7HD_L_gVvvpBqYo8RoKDwoS89yxy1vsCtMt9HQoEcUYZXjxJqO-0AtDMp1kgTjcNGXmvq1INl0VTH_MdZkDIhvaoEG0WWZb_Jp5aFukoGPtb70TkCjUPCeqi_YW3G-fKwGM/s1600/IMG_5510.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC_BD9Ctfj7HD_L_gVvvpBqYo8RoKDwoS89yxy1vsCtMt9HQoEcUYZXjxJqO-0AtDMp1kgTjcNGXmvq1INl0VTH_MdZkDIhvaoEG0WWZb_Jp5aFukoGPtb70TkCjUPCeqi_YW3G-fKwGM/s1600/IMG_5510.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">David
Selznick himself added the O to his name. A flourish, he liked the way the O made
his name sound. O could represent the producer’s magnificent obsession to make
a movie masterpiece. But along the way, DOS (how Selznick often signed telegrams
and memos) endured setbacks, criticism and jealousy as his enterprise earned
the name “Selznick’s Folly.”</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Days after
the novel's release in June, 34-year-old David O. Selznick purchased the movie
rights for $50,000. Yet more than 2 years would pass before filming began. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The
original Macmillan published release of <i>Gone
With the Wind</i> sold more than 176,000 copies, continuing to sell "at a furious rate," 1.7 million copies in a year, selling 50,000 copies in one day. Margaret Mitchell had hoped that the book would sell 5,000 copies "so they won't lose money." </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">In 1937, Margaret Mitchell won the Pulitzer for her
novel, further compounding Selznick’s anxiety and a sense of urgency that his film version capitalize on the novel’s success. He had more than a few days yet to tote the weary load of this monumental task.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibUsWHReCzrD08gxuNj8Aa7ZBCTz9cm43zgN22XQsiEjAQJweuVO_3KMUXDuf6x4XSA3Wd4grBrpRgJODYMfiSbBgAXRrk7xkNuPJWg-L3XgzT2WVZs4xXvpqpBNXqA7UNFmZ4bgTnIKE/s1600/IMG_5500.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibUsWHReCzrD08gxuNj8Aa7ZBCTz9cm43zgN22XQsiEjAQJweuVO_3KMUXDuf6x4XSA3Wd4grBrpRgJODYMfiSbBgAXRrk7xkNuPJWg-L3XgzT2WVZs4xXvpqpBNXqA7UNFmZ4bgTnIKE/s1600/IMG_5500.JPG" height="400" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A first edition of Margaret Mitchell's surprising best-seller</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMJBtbIRpxvpvYpJuLQrr1zU_egnrWa2F-TMCzCqAWI3XwMMrTZbPzkoF1Xm-oecF2VrZ6cs69aWPk9ZJCKFhmPd4z1i2D8poyisVMzJ3R-iOe423w4pr5e6GzSwPGr01N1xKhTItgjQo/s1600/IMG_5527.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMJBtbIRpxvpvYpJuLQrr1zU_egnrWa2F-TMCzCqAWI3XwMMrTZbPzkoF1Xm-oecF2VrZ6cs69aWPk9ZJCKFhmPd4z1i2D8poyisVMzJ3R-iOe423w4pr5e6GzSwPGr01N1xKhTItgjQo/s1600/IMG_5527.JPG" height="400" width="266" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">To
maintain public interest and secure free publicity for the film, Selznick's studio embarked on a nationwide search for the woman to play Scarlett O'Hara, a
search that played out in newspapers across the country. For possibly the most
coveted </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">film </span></span>role in history, stars and wanna-be-stars auditioned, wrote
letters and launched campaigns to attract attention. In all, Selznick conducted
1,600 screen tests before selecting his Scarlett. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Vivien Leigh was there</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">On the
back-lot of the old RKO studio, known by then as Selznick International Pictures,
December 10, 1938, the first scene filmed showed the burning of Atlanta. <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://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT7Ir3UWlF0XhFxG4ZC3iP8fv7emHBY1BSK1OVuWSbUVaZb-63clYH2huhI5Qu7NparApRtlK5YwegkP_iidqny5svH79Cyfqxz7HfbV241LCS_MaWbaOtaCiJ91ZByDfgJcaSAHaPxik/s1600/IMG_5610.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT7Ir3UWlF0XhFxG4ZC3iP8fv7emHBY1BSK1OVuWSbUVaZb-63clYH2huhI5Qu7NparApRtlK5YwegkP_iidqny5svH79Cyfqxz7HfbV241LCS_MaWbaOtaCiJ91ZByDfgJcaSAHaPxik/s1600/IMG_5610.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Production Designer William Cameron Menzies' designs for the burning of Atlanta</td></tr>
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In a dramatic scene that recreates Sherman's army's march through the South, Selznick captured on film the inferno that signaled all but the official end of America's Civil War. </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">No re-takes for this spectacular,
stunt-filled scene.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Delapidated backlot sets burned as 7 Technicolor cameras rolled, making way for the 90 sets that would
be built for <i>GWTW</i>, using more than a
million feet of lumber. A virtual
fireworks display with Los Angeles area fire departments standing by, filming had begun. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">David
O. had lit the match. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Rather than alert news outlets, calls from residents to police and fire departments brought media attention as people reported seeing an enormous blaze light the night sky.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">After filming that pivotal scene, DOS had burned his first bridge. No turning back. Now he had to choose his Scarlett. </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Another
publicity stunt, concocted for the press, Vivien Leigh with her newly signed
agent, Myron Selznick––David’s brother––and Lawrence Olivier, whom Leigh would
later marry, arrived just in time to watch sets from <i>King Kong</i> and <i>Garden of Allah</i> collapse. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Vivien Leigh's face that evening––a warm glow cast from the flames that burned––may have
given her the distinct advantage she needed to win the role of Scarlett. But contrary to the myth that this night was the first time Selznick had laid eyes on her, </span></span>DOS had already met Miss Leigh, hidden her at the Beverly Hills Hotel, and planned her dramatic arrival to stage his so-called discovery of new-to-America talent.</span></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The search for Scarlett narrowed to 4 actresses: </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Vivien Leigh, </span></span>Paulette Goddard, Joan
Bennett, and Jean Arthur, who each made screen tests of the same 3
scenes. Goddard who had been favored early on to play Scarlett lost to the latecomer, British
actress Vivien Leigh.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsUwkMNMr4qCPf-DMMN-_akScqm8_xsG4mqSUvdGhGr-Mxb9KTx2ojJYyUb6cB5I6BoDdkW_LEtTHPsGYyrY6NHOjwQlVITTubosLJezkgv2nm3ONWFz8bEA-WJcNnSNI34xEQGHZeneU/s1600/IMG_5604.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsUwkMNMr4qCPf-DMMN-_akScqm8_xsG4mqSUvdGhGr-Mxb9KTx2ojJYyUb6cB5I6BoDdkW_LEtTHPsGYyrY6NHOjwQlVITTubosLJezkgv2nm3ONWFz8bEA-WJcNnSNI34xEQGHZeneU/s1600/IMG_5604.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vivien Leigh</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMUJfZBEHKbsKJlJ37T5ZQcx5U9SoT4YnwImgBJrS_Gy8mPKFVl9IPj2ZIrTiZFr9rdlOwCdCL3OeiG5oMLNZfAAvxYylpl4rNNd4p47hq3JzbLlsjBJ2Dsg3bs5cvKkMDH_yIr6NwBYs/s1600/IMG_5539.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMUJfZBEHKbsKJlJ37T5ZQcx5U9SoT4YnwImgBJrS_Gy8mPKFVl9IPj2ZIrTiZFr9rdlOwCdCL3OeiG5oMLNZfAAvxYylpl4rNNd4p47hq3JzbLlsjBJ2Dsg3bs5cvKkMDH_yIr6NwBYs/s1600/IMG_5539.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paulett Goddard</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Friday,
January 13, 1939, Selznick announced his <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;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4wjgj8ZcGj14NKlB9-MBU-FGdBJ0uzrqgjoUCtFNaFddUHt2iCKQNqdmRYBfGUKyXChpcyeXyqB4aySsMQyA3araw04pG1_GWpJi9NuhQtGxo8ozdj4i8Ve7KKRbPmNDADsVq6bVvjlE/s1600/IMG_5603.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4wjgj8ZcGj14NKlB9-MBU-FGdBJ0uzrqgjoUCtFNaFddUHt2iCKQNqdmRYBfGUKyXChpcyeXyqB4aySsMQyA3araw04pG1_GWpJi9NuhQtGxo8ozdj4i8Ve7KKRbPmNDADsVq6bVvjlE/s1600/IMG_5603.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Signing contracts, January 13, 1939</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
selection of Vivien Leigh, along with
the rest of his cast, Clark Gable as Rhett, Olivia de Havilland as Melanie and
Leslie Howard as Ashley Wilkes. Official filming began January 26,1939. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Noting dates emphasizes the speed of production for what in
hindsight became a miraculous film achievement. </span></span></div>
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</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Script? What Script?</b></span></span></div>
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</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Screenwriter
Sidney Howard had managed to distill Margaret Mitchell’s story to a 6-hour script.
Had the novel been filmed as it was written, it would make a movie 168 hours
long. That translates to a week of 24/7 viewing time.</span></span><br />
<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://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj87hNLbaRToeKGcbD_zZGvYSvDLdVinOgkCyfWpQNjcEsitUapKds-EhNMaHCsZKL6RBoTkmiU_vGpHK4xSrv81vU_rFkmloFxjOezZf4YbrQBixhqu4MMyH57tKN18q9wCT82Gy4N7OU/s1600/IMG_5597.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj87hNLbaRToeKGcbD_zZGvYSvDLdVinOgkCyfWpQNjcEsitUapKds-EhNMaHCsZKL6RBoTkmiU_vGpHK4xSrv81vU_rFkmloFxjOezZf4YbrQBixhqu4MMyH57tKN18q9wCT82Gy4N7OU/s1600/IMG_5597.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Colored pages reflect script changes</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
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</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Multiple
screenwriters, 2 Directors, daily script revisions, as well as scenes filmed
out of sequence, produced an unwieldy mess. Chaos and fatigue beset nearly
everyone involved with filming. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Selznick oversaw everything from production design, to costumes, </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">to
issues of censorship and racial controversy, </span></span>to hovering
over director George Cukor who was fired (or did he resign?) after 2 weeks, and then second-guessing replacement
director Victor Fleming. Fleming, who received screen credit for direction, also directed <i>The Wizard of Oz</i> that same year. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">How did one man, DOS, keep up with
so many moving parts? </span></span></div>
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</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The
higgledy-piggledy filming of the movie would eventually consume 449,512 feet of
film––160,00 feet of film printed–– and 20,300 feet of film in the final film
with a running time of nearly 4 hours. </span></span></div>
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</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“Accurate
continuity didn’t exist except in [Selznick’s] head,” remarked someone close to
filming and post-production. David O. Selznick spent 4 intense months editing,
“a demented process,” this same source said, yet Selznick’s editing ability shone
in the finished film. </span></span></div>
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</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">A “No
Press preview” in Riverside, CA, a 2-hour drive from Hollywood, stunned the
audience who thought they had come to the Fox Theater to see the movie <i>Beau Geste.</i> </span></span></div>
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</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">When t</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">old this audience could not leave once the movie began, their t</span></span>hunderous
applause erupted as curtains opened to a framed still: </span></span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“David
O. Selznick’s <i>Gone With the Wind</i>.” </span></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The movie had no titles or its own yet-to-be written by Max Steiner score for the soundtrack
(<i>The</i> <i>Prisoner of Zenda</i> soundtrack played instead), yet this one and only preview audience
saw the long-awaited movie Selznick managed to film in 125 days, and complete in time for the 1939 Academy
Awards. </span></span></div>
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</span></span><br />
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<h3>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">End of
part 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJZh7UQKchz_l9KvoW9KZ1mUXITi8tZhkf-l3oHUHL59eeudLPeukzfhZ3tQ1IUQijrkMqmLlemDpWNBgBBpIZtBX92mQ5TQFOPAA0Yx-cgCGaVdWVRshyYfz6O8wEAWlNfiWtuWs5ecQ/s1600/IMG_5524cr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJZh7UQKchz_l9KvoW9KZ1mUXITi8tZhkf-l3oHUHL59eeudLPeukzfhZ3tQ1IUQijrkMqmLlemDpWNBgBBpIZtBX92mQ5TQFOPAA0Yx-cgCGaVdWVRshyYfz6O8wEAWlNfiWtuWs5ecQ/s1600/IMG_5524cr.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
</span></span></h3>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">In part 2, read about Clark Gable and the line that could have caused the end of the movie to fizzle. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">[Note: Photography at the exhibit was permitted and the photos posted here were taken with my Canon G15 camera.] </span></span></div>
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</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04341027209994226229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565160169391024868.post-14907727854058804612014-07-18T18:57:00.000-05:002014-07-18T18:57:10.519-05:00"Roses," a novel about forgiveness<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq0Ul0AArBzUYY2xez5H8HELx-N6xljDQzmIyCQlgahF6ysF1ARE8VRAvc2c487is-10py102eu3crqCRcSD0HH8fdLn7jep6ctDKl0BppRUXAKpsTO5K3stJ46bYHb0qtmDNkPi3paZ8/s1600/Roses+book+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq0Ul0AArBzUYY2xez5H8HELx-N6xljDQzmIyCQlgahF6ysF1ARE8VRAvc2c487is-10py102eu3crqCRcSD0HH8fdLn7jep6ctDKl0BppRUXAKpsTO5K3stJ46bYHb0qtmDNkPi3paZ8/s1600/Roses+book+cover.jpg" height="320" width="178" /></a></div>
<br />
<h2>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Unintended Consequences of Secret-keeping </span></h2>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">A followup to <a href="http://footnotes2stories.blogspot.com/2014/07/somerset.html" target="_blank">"Somerset,"</a> I read "Roses," in chronological order rather than the order these 2 books by Leila Meacham were written and published. Finishing the combined 1216 pages between the 2 books in less than 2 weeks, I read the last 100 pages or so last night. Now what? I need to talk about it.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Like "Somerset," this book puts forth complications set in motion by people who keep secrets. "Roses" ends neatly, with loose ends tied like a bow rather than an unraveling mess. Novelists can sort out the messy business of life and leave the reader satisfied by the way things work out, despite disappointments along the way. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Secret-keepers, in this case characters who think they can control others and
effect outcomes to suit themselves, encounter unforeseen complications that hurt those they intended to protect. I'm trying not to spoil the plot. I guess you could say, I'm keeping secrets. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But as a friend of mine says, "It's never right to do wrong."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<h2>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">An Emblem of Forgiveness</span></h2>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I especially like the use of roses, emblems of the two rival branches of the royal House of Plantagenet, Lancaster and York, who were ancestors to the Tolivars and Warwicks. Their common history provided the foundation for the lives these families carved out in East Texas.</span></span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“The red and white rose, what else? They will be a reminder of my duty
to our friendship, to our joint endeavors. And if ever I should offend
you, I will send a red rose to ask forgiveness. And if ever I receive
one tendered for that purpose, I will return a white rose to say that
all is forgiven.”</span></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The point of the story saga is that each and every character needed forgiveness for something they had done that hurt someone else. In some cases a person is the offender and in other cases, that same person was the offended. Like Paris, forgiveness is always a good idea.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">When I finished reading "Roses," the Lord's Prayer came to mind … forgive us <i>AS</i> we forgive others. "As" means, in the same way, and to the same extent. In effect, we create our own measuring rod for forgiveness by the way we forgive others. </span></span><br />
<br />
<h2>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Unforgiven </span></span></span></h2>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8_tUpgpFO0c4FdsDPKCPxRODxD3LG4qb8XK-vkUGjTyhJ-GAYGryjLMD_GRK4Iupahm7YU8sLm1s3vylodkEEeDhk_k2t0Ppd1Ona_y9ZDt5n52LB1Iq-kpay94xuG5OuZURoEC3JXmE/s1600/DSC_5181_1low.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8_tUpgpFO0c4FdsDPKCPxRODxD3LG4qb8XK-vkUGjTyhJ-GAYGryjLMD_GRK4Iupahm7YU8sLm1s3vylodkEEeDhk_k2t0Ppd1Ona_y9ZDt5n52LB1Iq-kpay94xuG5OuZURoEC3JXmE/s1600/DSC_5181_1low.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A red rose extended to ask for someone's forgiveness and a white rose to grant forgiveness, the color pink was eschewed, representing unforgiven. A character in "Roses" chose pink to send the message, in effect saying, I will never forgive you. Only the irony is that the one who chooses not to forgive someone else remains unforgiven. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: large;">That particular character leaves a vivid, haunting picture of their
unwillingness to forgive, showing how bitterness and resentment destroy a person who refuses to forgive. </span></span><br />
<h2>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></h2>
<h3>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Would a book by any other name captivate and motivate forgiveness?</span></span></span></h3>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Don't know that I will ever look at roses the same way after reading this book. At one point, a character says, "I guess the most we can hope for at the end of our lives is an armful of white roses," or words to that effect. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Imagine the fragrance. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Seeking forgiveness turns into something beautiful and remarkable when forgiveness is bestowed because forgiveness is never deserved. </span></span><br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Which reminds me of something else that Jesus said, </span></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="text Luke-7-47" id="en-ESV-25234"><span class="woj"><span style="font-size: large;">Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven—for she loved much. But he who is forgiven little, loves little. ––Luke 7:47</span></span></span></span></blockquote>
<br />Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04341027209994226229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565160169391024868.post-65611770867883281592014-07-10T12:54:00.001-05:002014-07-10T14:11:56.629-05:00Somerset<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOG8_AwqXp546Ux9QmrKNJqNdKT-8wJ659hIk4MBofs3-CDlPPyQig0ksNGEDDjIzntS72MrzFr7kWhCJhr5cGDK1m9WT7gco7NQMLk7J_F7GaZvbPDrq0oTHQIfg0l5TChJN2t9dqQIs/s1600/Somerset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOG8_AwqXp546Ux9QmrKNJqNdKT-8wJ659hIk4MBofs3-CDlPPyQig0ksNGEDDjIzntS72MrzFr7kWhCJhr5cGDK1m9WT7gco7NQMLk7J_F7GaZvbPDrq0oTHQIfg0l5TChJN2t9dqQIs/s1600/Somerset.jpg" height="320" width="210" /></a></span></span></div>
<h2>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">How I spent part of my vacation</span></span></span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span> </span></span></h2>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Sitting on the deck of our cabin, I finished the 607 pages of "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Somerset-Leila-Meacham/dp/1455547395/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1405007429&sr=8-1&keywords=Somerset" target="_blank">Somerset</a>," a prequel to the NYT best-selling novel "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Roses-Leila-Meacham-ebook/dp/B00329UW8G/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1405007749&sr=1-1&keywords=roses" target="_blank">Roses</a>," both by author <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Leila-Meacham/e/B001KMICXY/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1405007749&sr=1-2-ent" target="_blank">Leila Meacham</a>. Still in my robe, I am savoring a most satisfying read. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The main character Jessica writes, then publishes the history of the 3 families who settled in East Texas, in the fictional town of Howbutker, just as the state was born in 1836, and then follows the families' sagas up to the year 1900. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"She finished her book and then she died," I said to my husband James as he sat at the table outside eating a bowl of granola with peaches. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"Good reason not to finish your book," he said. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"Well, by age 83 I hope to be gone anyway." </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<h2>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Romantic but not a romance</span></span></span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></span></h2>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Jessica married Silas, whose best friend Jeremy also loved Jessica. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It sounds corny, I know. But laid down on pages the way author Leila Meacham tells the story, the characters seem real and the story more than plausible. If you want more of the story line, here's a link to the <a href="http://www.dallasnews.com/entertainment/books/20140214-book-review-somerset-by-leila-meacham.ece" target="_blank">Dallas News review of Somerset</a>.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">If anything does not hold true to life in this novel, it is men making declarations of love, reading between the lines and figuring out how to connect the dots that women scatter like seeds. Women have intuition to recognize motives in a way men rarely do. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But if life does not neatly answer our questions, a good novel can. And now I have "Roses" to look forward to, invested in characters I care about even before we are introduced. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I'm
glad my friend Sharon recommended these books, and glad my daughter Erin
recommended I read "Somerset" first, and I am glad I got first editions
of both. Like "Gone with the Wind," these books may one day be
valuable, though more so to collectors if these copies hadn't been read, or if these books
were signed by the author. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But
I won't be around anyway to know if any of the books I have purchased
and prized will be valued and valuable to anyone but me. </span></span><br />
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<h2>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The Truth shall set you free</span></span></span></h2>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span> </span></span></h2>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Meacham's device in telling this story involves a curse, how each generation of Toliver's grapples with whether or not tragedies they experienced were related to a curse. This is something I could relate to because of my mother's upbringing in the all-too-real East Texas town of Marshall, mentioned in Meacham's book. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">My mother grew up in that place where and during a time when superstition mingled with religion and ignorance accounted for the ways people saw and interpreted their lives. Like the dirt comic strip character Pig Pen never shakes, superstition followed my mother throughout her 67-years, leading her to make crazy decisions, as if she expected things to turn out badly, as if she believed herself under a generational curse. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Particularly in marriage, Mom made one bad decision after another. Only I wouldn't be here if she were not my mom, and if the man I never knew was not my biological father. In my life, as in Meacham's enchanted tale, secrets kept fires smoldering and the truth, when it came out, set people free. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5b-qs6UrVUrQOg9YNxBBcgT0ryzVWuxw8gKNKiQUKq2lo7DXR7FfQYUaPa2Mwd72Wz946CWHtMa6X586tAUd5bjMba8dnHtLtoYHlDzAcRueCVPJwEdNPEXSE70UoILze5NY9IqS5edA/s1600/IMG_4157.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5b-qs6UrVUrQOg9YNxBBcgT0ryzVWuxw8gKNKiQUKq2lo7DXR7FfQYUaPa2Mwd72Wz946CWHtMa6X586tAUd5bjMba8dnHtLtoYHlDzAcRueCVPJwEdNPEXSE70UoILze5NY9IqS5edA/s1600/IMG_4157.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I suppose that as a writer, this is what I want: to set people free from the power of secrets. But then sometimes knowing the truth––because truth is partial, at best––can be used to justify the very behavior the truth-teller hopes others will avoid. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I think the author's point was that true, consequences, not curses, do follow our bad decisions, but in the wake, there are also compensations––blessings that would not have been known and enjoyed had a person taken any other course of action. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It's just in life, lived every day as it is, connections are not as obvious between decisions and outcomes as they are in a book. A book compresses the passing of time. A book leaves out boring parts, which truth be told, most of our daily lives are boring. Or rather, ordinary.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Thank God for that!</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04341027209994226229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565160169391024868.post-27606820937587223372014-06-21T15:59:00.000-05:002014-06-21T15:59:39.908-05:00Live Love Laugh<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A cursory Internet search leads me to conclude that most people track the source of the popular saying––Live, Love, Laugh––to the poem "Success," written in 1904 by <a href="http://askville.amazon.com/live-love-laugh-phrase-originate/AnswerViewer.do?requestId=12934753" target="_blank">Bessie Anderson Stanley</a>. But in that poem, the words are not in the same order, but occur, "lived … laughed … loved," past tense. And yes, some of the renditions place the words in the order, Live Laugh Love. Plus, right or wrong, there are various other <a href="http://www.inspirational-sayings-in-action.com/live-laugh-love.html" target="_blank">derivations and attributed sources</a> as well. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But no one mentions a song.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">By now the saying Live Love Laugh goes beyond copyright, but the exact phrase is embedded in a song, recorded by many artists and written by <a href="http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/When_the_Red,_Red_Robin_(Comes_Bob,_Bob,_Bobbin%27_Along)" target="_blank">Harry M. Woods.</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">How did this connection occur to me? Driving by, I saw a red robin splashing in the street's gutter and the next thing, I'm singing aloud:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>When the red, red robin comes bob, bob bobbin' along</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>There'll be no more sobbin' when he starts singin' his old sweet song.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Wake up! Wake up, you sleepyhead</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Get up, get up, get out of bed</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Cheer up, cheer up, the sun is red</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>LIVE, LOVE, LAUGH and be happy …</i></span></span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i> </i></span></span> </i></span></span></div>
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<tr align="center"><td><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2O8a7es3dbtEf2gPGcd-jBvwsrv69V2n7vxAf_STT5T5Lo3GjZb1b9isia2cIQATdK0aFYp5Fpexe7S_4NT6bfoqOKVZGurdp1KCVrCT55E600EiSjQ7SDOB8xqy5vqp1iC89OZrGDcQ/s1600/mkDm0NS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2O8a7es3dbtEf2gPGcd-jBvwsrv69V2n7vxAf_STT5T5Lo3GjZb1b9isia2cIQATdK0aFYp5Fpexe7S_4NT6bfoqOKVZGurdp1KCVrCT55E600EiSjQ7SDOB8xqy5vqp1iC89OZrGDcQ/s1600/mkDm0NS.jpg" height="255" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Photo courtesy of <a href="http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mkDm0NS/Singing+Robin" target="_blank">Scott Liddell</a></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Aha! Who knew? And now you do, and that makes me happy.</span><i> </i></span></span></div>
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Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04341027209994226229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565160169391024868.post-49436271583097125722014-06-12T09:34:00.001-05:002014-06-12T09:34:29.702-05:00Let It Go<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Instead of whistling while I worked, I kept humming and singing "Let It Go."</span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
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<h2>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">More than a messy closet</span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></h2>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">A week ago today,</span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> I tore into my closet, a job long overdue and much dreaded.</span> Good thing my husband went with our son-in-law to spend the night at his ranch.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">Last Thursday, after 9,940 steps on my Fitbit, I did not uncover my bed until 10:54 p.m. You have to make a bigger mess to clean a mess, and mine had been accumulating, gaining ground, burying me under too much stuff. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">Only that day was just the beginning.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR_oU2LS7rJZrt-2qOid00x7wEsP5GCdeHxo2JctmYQYUSPLzqxfIrHr_mZtG0AIOltRc38DJbQVsnMcoVr03I3oe3ZBRgiQa2uzNk2jzq9PbBso7p3AOM7CPXTnqAJ3l2-rwGIYiU6aQ/s1600/IMG_4110.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR_oU2LS7rJZrt-2qOid00x7wEsP5GCdeHxo2JctmYQYUSPLzqxfIrHr_mZtG0AIOltRc38DJbQVsnMcoVr03I3oe3ZBRgiQa2uzNk2jzq9PbBso7p3AOM7CPXTnqAJ3l2-rwGIYiU6aQ/s1600/IMG_4110.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">People can get used to anything.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpwZCDbdpOpkIqBYpMxHQYr9Jx5ONvdwkRGItaIj01m1j0LIsqem2urufCBZlmaO-1ZUb7qH4kILJwovaiQV5J8OX6_DWEwEbItAmE2gumX0FN_eNjT2R7M82InfEhM9qKAmHUU9XAUMo/s1600/IMG_4115.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpwZCDbdpOpkIqBYpMxHQYr9Jx5ONvdwkRGItaIj01m1j0LIsqem2urufCBZlmaO-1ZUb7qH4kILJwovaiQV5J8OX6_DWEwEbItAmE2gumX0FN_eNjT2R7M82InfEhM9qKAmHUU9XAUMo/s1600/IMG_4115.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">My bed is under there somewhere</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJNnuXZxJyyvpbklkckxUdALbOPyz-n7EWt0NpAGHTn3HlHwfxAI80VHaN1Oo6lyJ7gOBrFTaPp3ENglw6kk4eiSb-_PA5pAZCTzIRRPQuOQn1T8HDl5jDQBPVRDlXAkhYMjwHyX1WKA/s1600/IMG_4117.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJNnuXZxJyyvpbklkckxUdALbOPyz-n7EWt0NpAGHTn3HlHwfxAI80VHaN1Oo6lyJ7gOBrFTaPp3ENglw6kk4eiSb-_PA5pAZCTzIRRPQuOQn1T8HDl5jDQBPVRDlXAkhYMjwHyX1WKA/s1600/IMG_4117.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">Almost empty</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">Lunch Break </span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">Before my husband left for the ranch, I confessed my sin. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">"This is psychological." And even as I try to admit my problem, I feel as though I'm hiding behind fig leaves. I'm ready to cry.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">"I thought you were just cleaning your closet," he said. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">No. I am tortured by this mess. By insecurity, this need to have more than I need. Some kind of buffer against deprivation. Both my daughters recognize and associate my pathology with "whatever happened to you in childhood." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yes. Adult children of alcoholics develop ways of coping with fear and insecurity. In the back of my mind as I worked is what my husband has said repeatedly. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">"You can't tell the difference between what's important and what isn't." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">So every<i>thing</i> becomes overly important, things too important to part with because of what some keepsake represents to me. Not to mention clothes I no longer wear. How's that for tip of the iceberg analysis?</span></div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8565160169391024868" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">My Crazy Heart</span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">In the movie <a href="http://www.foxsearchlight.com/crazyheart/" target="_blank">Crazy Heart</a>, the character Jean Craddock, played by Maggie Gyllenhaal says to Bad Blake, played by Jeff Bridges, "Living with you is like living with a rattlesnake." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">The fear of stepping the wrong way, saying the wrong thing, when all you want is to go your way, survive, that fear is crippling for persons who live with an alcoholic, or in my case grew up living with an alcoholic. Today I have oodles of empathy for what caused my parents to drink, but the effects on me have remained. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">My husband and eldest daughter tell me. </span>"If you died today, it would all get hauled off."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">A Crisis of Belief</span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">Do yourself and everyone you love a favor. <b>Let it go.</b> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx4eR94ZtNgA5O4sxVgl4Dmu2kXwwXaTYwjRu5ZqAyVNV4i7wohCaDgy39DDfqIld42N9pSUrznZzupgH7exQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>… I finally can breathe. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i> I know I left a life behind</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>But I'm too relieved to grieve</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">Earn its place</span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">My eldest daughter recently emptied her closet, saying that everything she put back once it was emptied had to "earn its place."</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSDqCFTCb_zg3hjyv-UlhTTE6bdHL-SSAR18-YuFurMPdvtYPVz3oIueV66hZxVT73FmWOtaSRSPL_-KWFwCvOMMuVfvgYma5-IUcoN_zys2GXHZK13xfN0x7yUvF7P8bpy2Uicwt_RBM/s1600/IMG_4119.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSDqCFTCb_zg3hjyv-UlhTTE6bdHL-SSAR18-YuFurMPdvtYPVz3oIueV66hZxVT73FmWOtaSRSPL_-KWFwCvOMMuVfvgYma5-IUcoN_zys2GXHZK13xfN0x7yUvF7P8bpy2Uicwt_RBM/s1600/IMG_4119.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">Edit as you go</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></td></tr>
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<h3>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></h3>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">Bonus Round</span></h2>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">My youngest daughter came and helped me organize office space, which is why I can sit down and write this blog. But the real reason I share this cathartic experience has to do with the weight lifted and the freedom I feel now that this job is done. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now I can think. And play. And write. Ta-dah! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnd-XlO5AHnl0_9-rrcHCAj-0W2v81t4SQX_oPr_Lt83eDQeG74KEuR0VB6gn1ZQ_ijIumjYJh8FMts99zaO3lprP8dz2X-g7jqE88a0p3YLBcHQg_932yF_FJQbxIkx8lw1-cq1W8j0M/s1600/IMG_4136.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnd-XlO5AHnl0_9-rrcHCAj-0W2v81t4SQX_oPr_Lt83eDQeG74KEuR0VB6gn1ZQ_ijIumjYJh8FMts99zaO3lprP8dz2X-g7jqE88a0p3YLBcHQg_932yF_FJQbxIkx8lw1-cq1W8j0M/s1600/IMG_4136.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Where I sit to blog</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04341027209994226229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565160169391024868.post-42234858026705615362014-03-30T08:18:00.001-05:002014-03-30T12:09:33.349-05:00G.W. in Lubbock, America<br />
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<tr><td><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9IdBLvE2MvfwkLf-zxMbNvGKuOpuoT6ocU-pkm0twXrfufOnl6XAATkH_h6tn1f_YkfI3TWaXHiCcHSZh02GpNSUlv-sl8NjRQy_VaLHNcnDc2WGl8TiYVBKNSfJlUaVpko5xYy0W-f4/s1600/IMG_2046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9IdBLvE2MvfwkLf-zxMbNvGKuOpuoT6ocU-pkm0twXrfufOnl6XAATkH_h6tn1f_YkfI3TWaXHiCcHSZh02GpNSUlv-sl8NjRQy_VaLHNcnDc2WGl8TiYVBKNSfJlUaVpko5xYy0W-f4/s1600/IMG_2046.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Picture taken through glass gives the appearance that the President has lost some hair. No, he still has a full head of hair.</span></span></td></tr>
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<h3>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"This ain't my first rodeo."</span></span></h3>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">On
Thursday, President George Bush spoke at the fundraiser for Trinity
Christian School, where 4 of my grandchildren attend. Before a sellout crowd
of 1500 seated in a tent the size of a football field, with Texas
barbeque and a silent auction, the former President's presence made
Spirit Ranch the best place to spend the evening in Lubbock, America. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixLJHKbSxmh306rCdrcrdA2TJwPMKyvsOZBpBd16xp69_IXshyphenhyphen9eWuFElep4al17mOa5AxOc13QfeHCal0U6GVyf9cPCBeNP89ZelYipmlLyBcBFLvfPYT27Eo2IZLPHZYeefk403omn0/s1600/IMG_0685.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixLJHKbSxmh306rCdrcrdA2TJwPMKyvsOZBpBd16xp69_IXshyphenhyphen9eWuFElep4al17mOa5AxOc13QfeHCal0U6GVyf9cPCBeNP89ZelYipmlLyBcBFLvfPYT27Eo2IZLPHZYeefk403omn0/s1600/IMG_0685.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Rt: grandson, Beck (one of the twins) <br />pictured here with friend, Ellie and the Trinity mascot</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Seated
in a comfy chair in front of a black backdrop, where a fireplace and
other furnishings created a homey setting, George or G.W., spoke as he
would in the living room of a friend. No cameras or recording devices
were permitted once the event began, and perhaps that contributed to the
relaxed atmosphere. </span></span><br />
<br />
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<tr><td><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbPGwPrmyyzyUcPE2UsiUhTyV5nXDwTkTCNcqF9EHsmoXdydlopr2FxIOp5hZtnPBhhhXwCdEF3VIvce1J3aOtjOlNPEcJIUp6swlXGp1Akoqiz1hLe4FWR62f6GbvpIUCABcK3yR9xdo/s1600/IMG_0688.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbPGwPrmyyzyUcPE2UsiUhTyV5nXDwTkTCNcqF9EHsmoXdydlopr2FxIOp5hZtnPBhhhXwCdEF3VIvce1J3aOtjOlNPEcJIUp6swlXGp1Akoqiz1hLe4FWR62f6GbvpIUCABcK3yR9xdo/s1600/IMG_0688.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The setting</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">At
one point when the moderator asked if President Bush got to see his
twin daughters much, he said, "No, they both live in New York. I hate
New York. I'd rather come to Lubbock."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">That
says something considering the 30+mph winds that afternoon, and the
dusty field where the tent was set up along with the parking lot across
the highway where guests could catch a ride on a golf cart to avoid at
least some of the dirt that clings to boots and jeans. Springtime in
Lubbock includes a bit of dust and wind, but the people make up for what
the geography lacks. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUfbDPXnR0N2q3APow9lWkiZ2S4VAzaMifM6W2aCGbEkkXNlWnm5jROC3GgtIUSne5Fr40lYUOw6WtUKMoyMVSEKXajPVml4eLvg-3hT_VAwigbxSYMwps2XFIh-oRPDsnoS_GsB_gzZM/s1600/IMG_0703.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUfbDPXnR0N2q3APow9lWkiZ2S4VAzaMifM6W2aCGbEkkXNlWnm5jROC3GgtIUSne5Fr40lYUOw6WtUKMoyMVSEKXajPVml4eLvg-3hT_VAwigbxSYMwps2XFIh-oRPDsnoS_GsB_gzZM/s1600/IMG_0703.jpg" height="140" width="640" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">At 4:00 p.m. it was as dusty as the tail end of a cattle drive. By 8:00 p.m. a glorious twilight.</span></span></td><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></td><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></td><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>
<h3>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Family Life</span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span></h3>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Speaking
of his daughters, the President acknowledged that his girls had tested
parental limits as teens. He stressed unconditional love as the most
important aspect of parenting. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">G. W., the father, told Jenna and Barbara, "I love you.
There's nothing you can do to make me not love you. So stop trying."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And speaking of his wife, Laura, when the moderator asked, "What's it like living in the White House?"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">His
answer, "What's it like living in a museum? It's cold and isolating.
But Laura made it warm and comfortable." Promoting literacy and reading,
among other things, Laura brought children to the White House to watch movies.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>
<h3>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">People who influenced the President</span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span></h3>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"We
had a joyful White House," which President Bush attributed to the
people who aided him. "I'm not afraid of making decisions. [But] no one
person can know everything. I believe in the Socratic method––learn by
asking questions. You surround yourself with people who know [things]
you don't, people who know they are needed. Patriots, first and
foremost. And secondly, those who have a sense of responsibility."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoXq9TTP6abMuLWvULDet08kdjlvfoKlq-042ybeD000FKAwUC6Z7NYaUIZ7xTqsbfFPtTr5gI0GqvD6G1B4E4QfDipUy06TUZmmF4Y2misH3bdUOFZBU4_Dt8HmUUsl4jkf4ce-ZEgaQ/s1600/IMG_0709.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoXq9TTP6abMuLWvULDet08kdjlvfoKlq-042ybeD000FKAwUC6Z7NYaUIZ7xTqsbfFPtTr5gI0GqvD6G1B4E4QfDipUy06TUZmmF4Y2misH3bdUOFZBU4_Dt8HmUUsl4jkf4ce-ZEgaQ/s1600/IMG_0709.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<h3>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Politics is noble</span></span></h3>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The
first thing President Bush said was that he would not criticize a
sitting President or demean his administration. Later, when asked about
the attacks made on him during his presidency, he said that he was
disappointed, not hurt, because what hurt him was to hear his dad
criticized during his term as President. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"I
understand the process; consequences for decisions, I understood." But
he objects to elected leaders "sullying the process," which sends the
signal that "politics is not noble." While admitting what he referred to
as "truth––I should have been more circumspect in my language––I said
'mis-underestimate' in a press conference, generally I didn't pay
attention" to critics.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Know
what you believe. Listen carefully. Base decisions on principles. Give
people access to inform decisions were key values President Bush
stressed. In fact, that's what distinguishes George W. Bush, in my
estimate. Core values and principles guide his politics as well as his
personal life. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<h3>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The President's Legacy</span></span></h3>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"America
is not a nation of revenge. We're a nation of justice." This President
Bush said in response to questions about 9-11, the defining moment of
his presidency, and now memorialized as the centerpiece of the Bush
Library. He compared that event to the previous generation's experience
of Pearl Harbor. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">He
described the horror of 9-11, saying, "Evil exists. It is real … The
human condition elsewhere matters to National Security. Where tyranny
exists, there is hopelessness." He spoke of the danger of isolationism,
"creating vacuums where evil then enters." He believes that the advance
of freedom for all––"marginalize hate"––offers hope to oppressed peoples
everywhere. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">When the President walked among the ruins of the Twin Towers after 9-11, he compared walking into the hole at Ground Zero to hell. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />"I
don't know what hell's going to be like. I don't intend to go." But, that pit felt like hell was his point.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">He
spoke about the 3 hours he spent there comforting those who hurt. "I
didn't want to be the one to break the news," that their family member
had not survived. Instead, he gave hugs. It seemed an anguished moment for him to even speak of
that time.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"You're hermetically sealed as President. You don't see citizens … [but then] I saw the horror, the shock on parent's faces."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"I
was in a classroom with children when I got the word on 9-11 … I
overruled the Secret Service when 'Angel,' code for the White House,"
since no one knew if the White House would be attacked next. "But I
didn't want the country to see me cowering in a bunker. I wanted to
speak from the Oval Office. In a crisis, 2 things. Project calm. Do
nothing. Secondly, say something. Fill the void with some kind of
assurances."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And fill the void, President Bush did throughout his presidency and again on Thursday evening. </span></span><br />
<br />
<h3>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Faith</span></span></h3>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Since
leaving office, the president said "It's harder when you're
comfortable, surrendering when you have an ego like mine. Prayer, with
an uncluttered mind … Faith is very important to me. Comforted by prayer
as President, [it] was an unbelievable experience." </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"It's
a precious freedom to worship as we see fit, if not all do. Public
policy [also] protects the right NOT to worship; a sacred right, freedom
of religion."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"My
favorite verse is speck/log," a reference to Jesus saying in the Sermon on the Mount, <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew+7%3A3-5&version=NIV" target="_blank">(Matthew 7)</a>, </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Don't be judgmental. Be careful, those who
think they're better. We're all sinners … Be guarded when you yourself
have your own flaws."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<h3>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Future Exploration</span></span></h3>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The
former president shared that he has started painting. Inspired by <a href="http://www.winstonchurchill.org/images/pdfs/for_educators/BACH-EnglishLanguage.ChurchillPainting.pdf" target="_blank">an essay he read by Churchill</a>, "I paint a lot. Unbelievable experience. Do it.
Don't just lament. Pick something and do it." </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"Explore to the last breath of your life."</span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
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<tr><td><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQGYoCNzaf9HmseJY6gfoEiv_3WKvHU17CxnHCwxrAWIYkExuNxYwMeGZWdco0nAkYxyxITzX2Y3YtXRjefpolD5rwdlbqGq08pp2mpE6sT1RNgJ45wJKhqWU-NmdlgV1a9sY7vUMD3Dk/s1600/IMG_0692.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQGYoCNzaf9HmseJY6gfoEiv_3WKvHU17CxnHCwxrAWIYkExuNxYwMeGZWdco0nAkYxyxITzX2Y3YtXRjefpolD5rwdlbqGq08pp2mpE6sT1RNgJ45wJKhqWU-NmdlgV1a9sY7vUMD3Dk/s1600/IMG_0692.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Family matters</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKylIHM0KXFuv6w-EJh3Q9O7Rv_i0rR8xDJXNUp7Zx45rGxV1lhbJwmAuGVxQywcPraWK9nRdJI_43xlMc3hq5kHoYGJGnxwWswn4iiRFScyY0bSY3hYuqlZtqtFQmJPX7anfmmP4nDu4/s1600/IMG_0694.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKylIHM0KXFuv6w-EJh3Q9O7Rv_i0rR8xDJXNUp7Zx45rGxV1lhbJwmAuGVxQywcPraWK9nRdJI_43xlMc3hq5kHoYGJGnxwWswn4iiRFScyY0bSY3hYuqlZtqtFQmJPX7anfmmP4nDu4/s1600/IMG_0694.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">People waiting to use the "Royal Thrones"</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Catered barbeque</span></span></td></tr>
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Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04341027209994226229noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565160169391024868.post-67154976271671316032014-03-12T17:34:00.001-05:002014-03-12T17:34:31.971-05:00Meet Bob Goff and Love Does<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://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNB5VkDjXWdJxeU6IlhRxc0YNVwyyH54h-F9-8_7GgWk-PsXnd5aLw-zb18cspJatsDy-OYw3gITvUJndKi5zCVPWs5yCV5tatLKkt9Ano9o4lJm10Z_-HAMlHAuOSfICjmXxNGsRY6GE/s1600/IMG_2990.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNB5VkDjXWdJxeU6IlhRxc0YNVwyyH54h-F9-8_7GgWk-PsXnd5aLw-zb18cspJatsDy-OYw3gITvUJndKi5zCVPWs5yCV5tatLKkt9Ano9o4lJm10Z_-HAMlHAuOSfICjmXxNGsRY6GE/s1600/IMG_2990.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Bob said he thinks Jesus will touch people on the nose when he meets them face-to-face. </span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container"><tbody>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGVYG-xbnT6qvTVw9V9SCEDx9jB8Gq42xb5Qldzkf2WDmiU5JtpreJiSCD6V4AoalvgJVJ-XJ6ZYUi08_AzgRf5LXViCChfmAmhYGMtmeNtbmu9D8NkHcoqcyqgtzz-9cHxFZGHkem2-U/s1600/DSC_5177_retSF.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGVYG-xbnT6qvTVw9V9SCEDx9jB8Gq42xb5Qldzkf2WDmiU5JtpreJiSCD6V4AoalvgJVJ-XJ6ZYUi08_AzgRf5LXViCChfmAmhYGMtmeNtbmu9D8NkHcoqcyqgtzz-9cHxFZGHkem2-U/s1600/DSC_5177_retSF.jpg" height="200" width="142" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Julie, a writer friend</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Julie, Donald, Petie and Bob</span></h2>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">In the beginning, a girl named Julie introduced me to Donald Miller via his book <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Blue-Like-Jazz-Nonreligious-Spirituality/dp/0785263705/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1347390950&sr=1-1&keywords=blue+like+jazz" target="_blank"><i>Blue Like Jazz</i></a>. Read and passed on to my son John, he too became a big fan. Then I read the other books by Miller, including my favorite, <i>A <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Million-Miles-Thousand-Years-Learned/dp/1400202981/ref=pd_bxgy_b_img_y" target="_blank">Million Miles in a Thousand Years</a></i>.
This book too I shared with family and friends, including my friend
Petie, who when she returned my copy, told me that Bob Goff, who factored
prominently in Donald Miller's book, was someone she and her husband and
their 3 sons knew when they lived in San Diego some 25 years ago.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Bob
Goff actually met </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"Sweet Maria" </span></span>in my friend
Petie's living room. Bob fell in love with Maria that night and eventually convinced her to marry him. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">When Bob Goff wrote <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Love-Does-Discover-Secretly-Incredible/dp/1400203759/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1394659307&sr=1-1&keywords=Love+Does" target="_blank"><i>Love Does</i></a>, my friend Petie bestowed upon me a copy, as giddy when she gave it to me as if she had written the book herself. In turn, I gave away 10's of copies. Is that a good way to put it? Well, far more than 10 yet less than a hundred.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></h3>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Behind the book is a person </span></span></h3>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Last
week, I met Bob Goff face-to-face. My friend Cynthia offered my husband
and me places at the table they had reserved where Bob was the speaker.
Cynthia nudged me, "There he is," knowing I had driven 120 miles from
Lubbock to Amarillo to meet Bob Goff. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEs_1vaeJFj4ZmVnZqQJjx5sgqSGUo_YUFy3bJWHRccmeO1jCcQKRPHCh2oZY03nFWvmYiHnWbx891yWwPwEMPROmq1IPxW2R1jDpGv54aSu5ptNpUXHA5nLbrWfswPTlHbLWYFjWhOyc/s1600/IMG_2985.JPG" height="240" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">My friend Cynthia took this picture of Bob and me</span></span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEs_1vaeJFj4ZmVnZqQJjx5sgqSGUo_YUFy3bJWHRccmeO1jCcQKRPHCh2oZY03nFWvmYiHnWbx891yWwPwEMPROmq1IPxW2R1jDpGv54aSu5ptNpUXHA5nLbrWfswPTlHbLWYFjWhOyc/s1600/IMG_2985.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsFqtRsyGGzk5vUNQzsr2cyX9lUkQPT4XrrPA-lWKv0wD7kBq1aNuz5Q5U8gH4OO4pnm-OKDUpzji9DGE71AMLmXim118vow_iEMxnEAYO4GfogMEMeQBwuII6uiF9emNEWBOcfF1aU90/s1600/IMG_2984_crop2.jpg" height="200" width="167" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"I'm Petie's friend."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"I'm a hugger," he said, bending down to engulf me in the kind of hug you hate to let go.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"Ah, Petie and Doc," Bob said. "It all started in their living room," referring to his story of life with wife, Sweet Maria. (See chapter 7)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And
suddenly I could see connections, circles inside circles, where
people meet, their lives intersect or parallel for a time, for moments
or for years, and the impact of some incidents ripple to unimagined
outcomes. Unforeseen to me that day in the parking lot at DTS when Julie told me to read Donald Miller's book, one day I would find myself seated at <i>Storyline</i> conference in June of 2012, listening to Donald Miller (<a href="http://footnotes2stories.blogspot.com/2012/07/my-storyline-experience.html" target="_blank">see previous post</a>), someone whose ideas fascinate as well as resonate. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCtuo11GYL9ABLoKAObUIaWAVG4iaKMuF_wzNeqmdxPxZ6vtGY1EyKbt-ITXShsdCTMPL63bFFIAf40fXNFFac-x-_tcDrrUWTSwBcGaIXNJ3YLINMIP4UAT2R9Adg1t51iySGkO76r3U/s1600/Donald+Miller_James+and+me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCtuo11GYL9ABLoKAObUIaWAVG4iaKMuF_wzNeqmdxPxZ6vtGY1EyKbt-ITXShsdCTMPL63bFFIAf40fXNFFac-x-_tcDrrUWTSwBcGaIXNJ3YLINMIP4UAT2R9Adg1t51iySGkO76r3U/s1600/Donald+Miller_James+and+me.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Storyline conference in Santa Barbara, CA June 2012</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Same with Bob Goff. When I told Bob Goff that I had attended <i>Storyline</i> in Santa Barbara, with hopes he would be there too so I could tell Petie I met her friend, he offered without coaching to follow what I was saying, "Yeah, I was in Canada." Back then, Donald Miller shared stories about Bob, even in his absence. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyPf2YeinhlSAlrqJVJn1KgijRYJR_8Pk9F6K2czfA9-NXmXd3SmiYX2hNmT2VFoYpwhKI4vF2wWk_yaNx9ilqEb7W-jXBK5MMJSKc8qBgXOUZpoW33Cdxext2P7bAT2drCpIZft3PthE/s1600/IMG_7734.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyPf2YeinhlSAlrqJVJn1KgijRYJR_8Pk9F6K2czfA9-NXmXd3SmiYX2hNmT2VFoYpwhKI4vF2wWk_yaNx9ilqEb7W-jXBK5MMJSKc8qBgXOUZpoW33Cdxext2P7bAT2drCpIZft3PthE/s1600/IMG_7734.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I took this shot of the screen when Donald Miller told people about Bob</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiMs91WjqVEkbVR2UB8k2dadapaiVohc2EDQ1qw02TK_L6Z6XhQY0ZJrHYvwd-UCkgnwPwIuEvqVqtfwx1nf3t5Jb5YnHoGF7cxkRN48R7jxG7YT_Caqhe-ZWXniCKcA-faNgUK_kxPyU/s1600/IMG_7735.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiMs91WjqVEkbVR2UB8k2dadapaiVohc2EDQ1qw02TK_L6Z6XhQY0ZJrHYvwd-UCkgnwPwIuEvqVqtfwx1nf3t5Jb5YnHoGF7cxkRN48R7jxG7YT_Caqhe-ZWXniCKcA-faNgUK_kxPyU/s1600/IMG_7735.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Same little boy lifted up, like the movie UP, by a thousand helium-filled balloons</span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3beB-xV7EU3GyhU858E3XZVbXxobnEKL0RphlwDT7fnDQo1sRUSS9OxzvFomRgxhCFf7DohO4g8jcF0J_9ibFu2HzJroaOFJrs756xoaOd4HJV868Tc2POk1c241RPe4TGH9XUbolFdo/s1600/41+IoEK9zsL._SY344_PJlook-inside-v2,TopRight,1,0_SH20_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3beB-xV7EU3GyhU858E3XZVbXxobnEKL0RphlwDT7fnDQo1sRUSS9OxzvFomRgxhCFf7DohO4g8jcF0J_9ibFu2HzJroaOFJrs756xoaOd4HJV868Tc2POk1c241RPe4TGH9XUbolFdo/s1600/41+IoEK9zsL._SY344_PJlook-inside-v2,TopRight,1,0_SH20_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" height="320" width="210" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">"I used to think…but now I know…"</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Including the story about the boy from Uganda that Bob has since adopted. Adopted after Bob secured for this child a delicate operation to repair/replace what the Ugandan Witch Doctor had cut off, leaving the child to die. Only the boy didn't die and connections were made, need and provision matched, a real doctor working miracles. Bob recently took this 10-year-old son on a trip to climb Mount Kilimanjaro. UP. Way, way UP. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Bob Goff does. He practices the message he preaches in <i>Love Does</i>. As Bob's book describes his story, "I used to think, but now I know …," he illustrates that the narrative of our lives should flow from grace with an openness both to God's message to us as well as expressed through us. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So if per chance in this world of Internet connections you should meet Bob Goff here, there or anywhere, tell him that a girl named Carol told you that he's a great guy and you should read his book, <i>Love Does.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"Go do stuff," he said the night I heard him speak. "Be not afraid. Just live extravagantly."</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">He added. "If you've got a guide you can trust, you don't need to see where you're going." </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04341027209994226229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565160169391024868.post-6072667922470876292013-11-22T16:40:00.001-06:002014-07-30T13:49:16.021-05:0011/22/63<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">C.S. Lewis, who died less than one hour before President John F. Kennedy was shot, wrote in <i>The Magician's Nephew</i>, "What you see and what you hear depends a great deal on where you are standing. It also depends on what sort of person you are."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Today's date speaks to everyone who lived through the events 50 years ago no matter where they were standing. No one stood in exactly the same place, and today none of these people I will write about here have any connection to one another except the death of their president. And that they told me their story. These people have sealed in the vaults of memory their own newsreels of that ominous day.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></h4>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Meet David––"A primary source of data" </span></span></h2>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">David is my brother-in-law, whom I have known for over 40 years. Fifty years ago today, he and 3 of his friends were among the throngs that turned out to see President and Mrs. Kennedy arrive first at Love Field in Dallas. Afterward they sped downtown to situate themselves on Market Street under a viaduct, where "We knew the driver would make a hard right turn and we'd get a really good look at the president." These 4 high school seniors knew how to navigate the surface streets of Dallas.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">They had skipped school that day after persuading their teacher in "Problems of Democracy" class to let them do some first-hand research on their project "Subversive Organizations in the U.S."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">At Love Field, David said, contrary to expectations, there were no protest signs. "The sky was blue. He was the most handsome man I'd ever seen," he said, "and she, the First Lady, was stunning. I had never seen fashion like that. They both looked so happy."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">By coincidence, he says, the street where these 4 students later parked was "exactly the street to take to Parkland Hospital. We were standing about 15 feet from his car when it sped past us. I saw his wound … there was no backside of his head. Horrible. Really emotional … 45 minutes earlier seeing this vibrant man and now," as David tells this story to me he says he remembers "a big bloody piece of nothing."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The 4 guys jumped into their car and followed the president's limo to the hospital. "We thought it was weird that it [the limousine] didn't slow down." The Press Corps behind the limo got caught in traffic.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Senator Ralph Yarborough and Mayor Earl Cabell were in the second car. David said he talked to Yarborough, "who was crying, inconsolable." And later, it was Yarborough who told the press to talk to David and his friends.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"These boys saw him," Yarborough said.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2P30PAWCqEv1qZg_JW0aezBo06QAxtdyymtqliTTt7CJv0XQsqFwiqtodiOxyukPRFmTZ6c5cjlTKBm_Jt1V-L0AiafGOZllyGvaKDn0hv7EJXJNuasGsqnLm1ldpvAvVciVBH5iH0CA/s1600/IMG_24934blog.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2P30PAWCqEv1qZg_JW0aezBo06QAxtdyymtqliTTt7CJv0XQsqFwiqtodiOxyukPRFmTZ6c5cjlTKBm_Jt1V-L0AiafGOZllyGvaKDn0hv7EJXJNuasGsqnLm1ldpvAvVciVBH5iH0CA/s400/IMG_24934blog.jpg" height="400" width="227" /></a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">David said, "And then the press swamped us." David's friend Will had used his student press pass to get into the hospital press conference. "He had an ABC News Press card and went to the official press conference."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Meanwhile, in a second limo, in the backseat, the roses presented earlier to Jackie Kennedy lay strewn across the backseat.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2P30PAWCqEv1qZg_JW0aezBo06QAxtdyymtqliTTt7CJv0XQsqFwiqtodiOxyukPRFmTZ6c5cjlTKBm_Jt1V-L0AiafGOZllyGvaKDn0hv7EJXJNuasGsqnLm1ldpvAvVciVBH5iH0CA/s1600/IMG_24934blog.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a>
The photo on the right shows what David was looking at: Jackie's roses. You can almost see in his expression and body language the wheels turning––should I or shouldn't I?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"I reached into the limo––I can't believe I had the nerve. There was blood on the rose I got."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The next thing he did was turn on the radio in the limo. "We didn't know what was happening… We heard Walter Cronkite saying," and here David couldn't finish his sentence. After a pause, he said, "I knew he was dead."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This picture of David ran in the Houston Chronicle on the front page of the 25th Anniversary of the assassination, November 20, 1988.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">David has framed the blood stained rose as well as newspaper clippings and prints made from his friend's camera.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmtirQUaADRrcBONODZvAj7qtqlTXOMPw8dqGZoX2SU06hTej5PVynTwDvLAqLPRC1ccGMxH94EuX-PyN3-isRI-yi0jsSNAmox4gQmMdH-Dvx8W7THLRYgBu-XKm4tBqHX3vwH4U44Sc/s1600/IMG_2494CR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmtirQUaADRrcBONODZvAj7qtqlTXOMPw8dqGZoX2SU06hTej5PVynTwDvLAqLPRC1ccGMxH94EuX-PyN3-isRI-yi0jsSNAmox4gQmMdH-Dvx8W7THLRYgBu-XKm4tBqHX3vwH4U44Sc/s320/IMG_2494CR.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Dallas Times Herald, November 22, 1963</span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRPwvba82zKooapgZlH6SXYU-KzahIVMI16DCyEKKtdtkA0jQ9HhTQxXLQQsxzOU2B4BV78YX4allri6malp_ELB5uTucvcUhcQeDx4T5j97HWMCNBjhT79Qm9nlqsUmPQ4L-DBl52zpE/s1600/IMG_2502CR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRPwvba82zKooapgZlH6SXYU-KzahIVMI16DCyEKKtdtkA0jQ9HhTQxXLQQsxzOU2B4BV78YX4allri6malp_ELB5uTucvcUhcQeDx4T5j97HWMCNBjhT79Qm9nlqsUmPQ4L-DBl52zpE/s320/IMG_2502CR.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Behind the policeman, a man moves the glass bubble that could have shielded the president, but President Kennedy had asked that the bubble top be removed. </span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyXe_ppmGSG2bIVQMz3NyQdC7WtvRwSb0K-83_3kMM2aeokDlcFftzlQA40v4BLDs-yXX_JXB7zl64mwJ-Omj7haVEMiJJuSxngQsijVHR759jfVk8d_63j8evgQUf7mBFJxn1GADoAxg/s1600/IMG_2506CR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyXe_ppmGSG2bIVQMz3NyQdC7WtvRwSb0K-83_3kMM2aeokDlcFftzlQA40v4BLDs-yXX_JXB7zl64mwJ-Omj7haVEMiJJuSxngQsijVHR759jfVk8d_63j8evgQUf7mBFJxn1GADoAxg/s320/IMG_2506CR.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Crowd gathered outside Parkland Hospital Emergency Room</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">At the hospital, David's friend, Charles, took pictures with the camera he had brought with him that day. By the time reporters got there, people (Secret Service or local cops?) had
cleaned up the car. They wiped off blood, took the top out of the trunk,
put it on and drove away the limo Kennedy had been riding in. Charles, who later became a lawyer, started negotiating with reporters, who bid on his camera "sight unseen" and paid $700. for its film, with Charles retaining first prints and credits for any photos used.</span></span><br />
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<h4>
</h4>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"When I testified, 10, 15 or 20 years later," David said, "I flew into Dallas to the museum to record a filmed testimony. The only thing interesting [to them, those who questioned him] was that President Johnson came out surrounded by Secret Service men, guns out, and loaded him into a VW Beetle with at least 4 agents with him. They covered him with their bodies." </span></span><br />
<h4>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></h4>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Meet Dr. Bob McClelland, a friend of a friend</span></span></h2>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I met Dr. Bob McClelland this past summer, a mutual friend introducing us, because she knew I had been particularly interested in the Kennedy history. Sitting around my friend Norma's kitchen table with her husband Royce, also a doctor, and their son Todd and my friend Pat, Dr. McClelland shared with us his first-hand testimony of that day in Trauma Room #1 at Parkland Hospital. Bob and Royce have been friends and colleagues for over 50 years. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnrDP7Elkpgv_lYAyJqv4eQpV_0jwB20775BSRJDBRVn_LRWse1NF3Xx_TMDSRU6tGxpvwCphB3R7bLiPRWhU5Kk-WQKtUMCp-WkumrO_XTax7kbjROA74QQCqRaLDonMrbG_sIT5wJ5I/s1600/IMG_47224blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnrDP7Elkpgv_lYAyJqv4eQpV_0jwB20775BSRJDBRVn_LRWse1NF3Xx_TMDSRU6tGxpvwCphB3R7bLiPRWhU5Kk-WQKtUMCp-WkumrO_XTax7kbjROA74QQCqRaLDonMrbG_sIT5wJ5I/s320/IMG_47224blog.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This is the shirt Dr. McClelland was wearing that day, the shirt he has preserved, he says, because he once saw a piece of clothing in a museum that was stained with President Lincoln's blood after he had been shot.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"To start," he said, "with a worm's-eye view in the OR, 2 days after my 34th birthday, I had been on the surgical faculty [of Southwestern Medical School] since 1962. I was in a conference room showing a movie to senior residents on how to repair hernias."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Dr. Crenshaw said, "Mac, will you step out here? Got a call to ER. They're bringing President Kennedy in."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"He and I got on the elevatior, rode 2 floors down, trying to cheer each other. The door to 'the Pit' opened," a space he compared to the size of Norma's kitchen and den, with patient cubicles separated by curtains off that hallway. "Trauma rooms 1, 2, 3, and 4 were opposite, where we took seriously injured patients."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"What I saw … the area was jammed with people, men in business suits, a sea of hats … the crowd parted [to let them pass]. On a chair outside Trauma room 1, Mrs. Kennedy was sitting … I walked toward her. I forced myself."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Oh, no," I thought. "I was it, or so I thought." </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"There were 4 of us [doctors] inside now, and Doris Nelson, the nurse in charge of the ER." Later, Parkland hospital records would indicate 6 doctors attended the president.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"A surgical drape on the president, I saw him lying, cut out of his clothing, covered in blood. It was a horrible sight. Dr. Malcolm Parry and Dr. Baxter were there, and I [was glad] I wasn't by myself. Parry on one side and Baxter on the other," Dr. McClelland stood at the end of the gurney, noting that the doctors were working on a wound "the size of my little finger in his neck." Did a bullet hit the carotid artery? he wondered. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Dr. Carricho put a tube in the trach [tracheotomy]. He was a resident at the time, but later he was chief of the department."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here, at this point in the conversation, Dr. McClelland reached up and touched his own head near the crown, indicating where he saw "a huge hole in the back of the President's head." He thought before he spoke, "The right side of his head is gone, meaning the right half of the cerebral hemisphere is gone. However, he was breathing and had good cardio on the monitor."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The doctors completed exploration of the neck wound, about 6 minutes spent, he said, before they cut Kennedy's chest open and Mac [Dr. McClelland's nickname] massaged his heart.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6VyFod6THqWgVYBiDz5pNNRJ8kI8Lrl2Hm-Soac17l97-jiR05eCFXDdeKnLQHtHKVBgspoN3GtFVMyGzi-KHlPFKhLLU7Go2oPh2y-6MCK_N-WPpN94Mfvh3y9e2Shwkqj-xfd0KA98/s1600/Dr.+McClellan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6VyFod6THqWgVYBiDz5pNNRJ8kI8Lrl2Hm-Soac17l97-jiR05eCFXDdeKnLQHtHKVBgspoN3GtFVMyGzi-KHlPFKhLLU7Go2oPh2y-6MCK_N-WPpN94Mfvh3y9e2Shwkqj-xfd0KA98/s1600/Dr.+McClellan.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Here Dr. McClellan looks at one of the countless books he has read about the assassination of JFK. The plastic bag contains the shirt he was wearing while he treated President Kennedy in the Parkland ER</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Dr. Clark, a neurosurgery professor, noted that the ECG monitor had straight-lined. "Mac, you can stop now. The President is gone."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Shows how news media can bend things," Dr. McClelland said. "Mrs. Kennedy wasn't in the room when Dr. Clark made his pronouncement." With that, he said, the crowd left the room.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Dr. Baxter and I were shoved up against the wall of the trauma room, after the others left. Just as we got around the cart, a priest came in. Couldn't knock him down, could we? Father Huber, there to administer Last Rites. He bent down to the President's left ear, saying 'If thou livest' and then his voice dropped."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Next, the door opened and Mrs. Kennedy came in. I couldn't hear, but I surmised [that that the priest had given] 'conditional absolution.' She grimaced but said nothing. She exchanged the ring from her finger to his, and his to hers. She stood by the President's barefoot, leaned over and kissed his foot. Then she left the room.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This detail, which I had never heard mentioned or written, was the most poignant, personal aspect of what Dr. McClelland witnessed that day. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Meanwhile, Forensic pathologist, Dr. Earl Rose, later described to Dr. McClelland what he had seen while sitting downstairs in his office. He looked out into the corridor and saw O'Neal funeral home arrive with a coffin. The president's body was brought out [up to that place in the hospital] to an ambulance on the same cart he had been treated on. Two Secret Service men walked in front and Mrs. Kennedy was on the side opposite her friends Kenny O'Donnell and David Powers.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Dr. Rose stepped out of his office to stop them saying, 'I'm required by Texas law to conduct a postmortem on any murder committed in this state. Dr. Rose said a Secret Service man picked him up, and set him down and waved his finger [back and forth] in front of his face."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Besides being in Trauma room 1 when Kennedy was shot, Dr. McClelland was called in on Sunday to Trauma room 2 where Lee Harvey Oswald lay mortally wounded.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"That's where our personal part goes," Dr. McClelland said, noting that it would be years later when he saw the Zapruder film on Geraldo Rivera's show in the early 1970's that he began to question what had happened at Dealy Plaza that day. He and the other doctors who treated President Kennedy found themselves in the midst of a battle, in an undeclared war, treating the Commander-in-Chief of the United States of America. </span></span><br />
<h4>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></h4>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Meet Clint Hill, Secret Service Agent assigned to protect First Lady Jackie Kennedy</span></span></h2>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Earlier this week, I wrote about the book <i>Mrs. Kennedy and Me</i>, written by Clint Hill. Here, the view from where he stood that day reflects a different angle. Agent Hill continues to see things, not only in light of his protective detail's concerns, but also from his personal attachment to Mrs. Kennedy. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Incidentally, later that same day I gave my book review, I was seated at lunch with a man whose uncle, a professor at Baylor University, served as a forensic expert at a mock trial held in Dallas. This man told me that his uncle actually got to examine the bullets, and his uncle's conclusion? </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Two shooters. </span></span><br />
<h4>
</h4>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">What's that mean?</span></span></h2>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Bob Shieffer said on CBS news this morning, "Nobody knew what this meant." <i>This</i> meaning, the end of the innocence in this country. The end of believing in idealism. The end of trusting those in authority.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This date also marks the beginning of an era of unrest, of divergence from values that once held the disparate states and opinions of people together in something resembling a whole. One nation under God had elected a young, vibrant Roman Catholic president. A new day dawning, even though in hindsight, we have to admit that John F. Kennedy had his concealed flaws. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We have the buffer of history to interpret for us meanings. The nation was not attacked. Oswald, presumed guilty, met death equivalent to a lynching. He got what most people believed he deserved. That's how things were done in 1963. Find a patsy, which is how Oswald referred to himself. Hang him publicly. Quiet the crowds. Show everyone, "We got our shooter."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">No matter where a person stands today to reflect on events that occurred 5 decades ago, the conspiracy conversation continues. Whether Oswald was the lone shooter, a misanthropic loser who sought a place in history books, or a conscripted assassin, the country took a hit that day, one that continues to ooze as questions reopen the wound. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">For my part, whatever was concealed from the public must have been dreadful. I don't trust the Warren Commission's report. I have never found a place to stand where I could see what the Commission presented as the whole truth and nothing but the truth. </span></span><br />
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Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04341027209994226229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565160169391024868.post-74725923886764619322013-11-20T10:30:00.001-06:002013-11-23T12:05:35.674-06:00Mrs. Kennedy and Me<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yesterday I gave a brief book review at the Sherick, a residence for senior ladies, where I serve as one of the board members. This year as librarian, I get to choose books to read and recommend––books available in large print. </span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4qgQkTtC3BKT9xEOexdElT5jEMsWoBx2GyYSpfaHXpcVbuQB4u8RJ__sU_Aqg6INaule7gUCm46V3fTEVCNgaTraveV_LCrGo4TYdM3GUJ7NCur1cHgec_X4BgyEu6tiFJ_RHLezkVEU/s1600/Mrs.+Kennedy+and+Me+book+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4qgQkTtC3BKT9xEOexdElT5jEMsWoBx2GyYSpfaHXpcVbuQB4u8RJ__sU_Aqg6INaule7gUCm46V3fTEVCNgaTraveV_LCrGo4TYdM3GUJ7NCur1cHgec_X4BgyEu6tiFJ_RHLezkVEU/s320/Mrs.+Kennedy+and+Me+book+cover.jpg" width="212" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">History I lived through as well as the recommendation of a fellow board member led me to read <span style="color: white;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Mrs-Kennedy-Me-Clint-Hill/dp/1451648464/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1384967086&sr=1-1&keywords=mrs.+kennedy+and+me" target="_blank"></a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" target="_blank"><i>Mrs. Kennedy and Me</i></a></span>, written by Clint Hill, the former Secret Service agent who for four years was assigned to protect Jacqueline Kennedy, wife of the 34th President of the United States. Timely. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">Clint Hill is the agent in film footage and still shots seen jumping on the back of the president's limousine in Dallas, attempting to shield the First Lady.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">I wedged
myself between the left and right side of the vehicle, on top of the rear seat,
trying to keep my body as high as possible to shield whatever shots might still
be coming. I had my left hand on top of the left door frame and my left foot
wedged against the inside of the right frame, my right foot hanging over the
top of the car frame on the right. I twisted around to make eye contact with
the follow-up car. They had to know how bad it was. With my one free hand, I
gave them the thumbs down sign and shook my head.</span></div>
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<h4>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>An Infamous Date in History</b></span></h4>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">Compare November 22, 1963
to 9-11-2001. People remember where they were and what they were doing when the
unthinkable occurred. </span><br />
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">I was in gym class, right
after lunch, standing in front of my locker changing clothes when an
announcement by the principal came over the intercom. The President of the
United States had been shot. Killed by an assassin's bullet. School
dismissed. </span><br />
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">People gathered around
mostly black-and-white television sets, watching history unfold as something
fundamental about America changed that day. Walter Cronkite's face drained of
color before cameras that could only record black-and-white images. </span><br />
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">As kids, we took our cues
from adults, and like a death in the family, the news was devastating. My own
dad had died the year before. In that moment, John F. Kennedy was everybody's
dad. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<h4>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>An Insider's Story</b></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b> </b></span></h4>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">This book, however,
concerns itself mostly with the person Jackie Kennedy. As Agent Hill lovingly
recalls what it was like for him to watch her move from private citizen to
First Lady of the United States, to grieving widow who led the nation in
mourning, his admiration for her poise, strength and courage swelled. When the
president died at age 46, Jackie was only 34-years-old.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">As Hill describes Jackie,
she was the first President’s wife who herself became a celebrity. Jackie was
the first First Lady to have her own press secretary.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">Because Agent Hill
accompanied the First Lady, almost like her shadow, once when Jackie asked,
“Doesn’t anything ever impress you, Mr. Hill?” he writes, </span></div>
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<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">I wanted
to say, “You know what impresses me, Mrs. Kennedy? You. Everything you do
impresses me. The way you handle yourself with such grace and dignity, without
compromising your desire to enjoy life and have fun. You don’t even realize the
impact you have, how much you are admired, how you just single-handedly created
bonds between the United States and two strategic countries far better than any
diplomats could have done. And you did it just by being curious and interested
and sincere and gracious. Just by being yourself. No politics. No phoniness.
Just you being you.” But I was there to do my job, and my job did not entail
saying things like that to her. So all I said was, “I guess it takes a lot to
impress me, Mrs. Kennedy.” </span></div>
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<h4>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></h4>
<h4>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">An Impressed Reader </span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></h4>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">As a reader, this memoir
impressed me for its candor as well as restraint. This book is no tantalizing,
tell-all account of the inner-workings of the Kennedy family.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">As a Secret
Service agent willing to sacrifice his life for the person he was assigned to
protect, <a href="http://www.newsday.com/entertainment/tv/tv-zone-1.811968/clint-hill-agent-9-on-today-1.6457660" target="_blank">Clint Hill</a>, now 81-years-old, continues to protect the memory of Jackie Kennedy, a woman
he not only admired but also grew to love. </span></div>
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Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04341027209994226229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565160169391024868.post-87653308472658430442013-08-07T11:45:00.000-05:002013-11-23T12:03:34.541-06:00"The Way, Way Back"<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Last week, whether inspiration or impulse, I started a new blog. And I patted myself on the back for 3 consecutive posts, Wednesday–Friday, thinking I can do this. I can excerpt pieces of Letters from Mom (which, incidentally is what I called said blog) and then comment on the selected content. This idea had been simmering so long, the idea had almost evaporated. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">My plan was to write the posts for the week ahead by Sunday. But that night, after reading numerous letters, I had nightmares, the kind that woke me and my uneasiness did not go away by dawn's early light. And the question, WWMT? (what would Mom think?) coupled with, if you do this, you will relive that past, I deleted said blog first thing Monday morning. Whew!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Glad I got that off my chest.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Yesterday my husband and I saw the movie <a href="http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/the_way_way_back/" target="_blank">The Way, Way Back</a>, funny and poignant is how some reviews describe it. My daughter saw this movie in Dallas last week and highly recommended it.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Duncan, a 14-year-old, at that most awkward age for boys, must accompany his mom and her boyfriend and his daughter to their beach house on a vacation Duncan doesn't want to take. Turns out his dad, recently remarried to someone younger than Duncan's mom, doesn't want him, so where else can he go?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This man who his mom has been in a relationship with for a year (a friend with benefits) bullies and belittles Duncan. "Hey, you need to make this work," he snaps at Duncan. Still, it takes Duncan's mom the length of the movie to see this guy's true character.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And when she does, she tells Duncan, "Fear makes you do things …" She attempts to help Duncan understand why she would settle for such a man.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And that's where the movie struck a chord, for when I was 14-years-old, my mom got involved with someone.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Of all the forks in the road throughout her life, that was the defining left turn she took. And I believe she took it out of fear.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Fear of loneliness. Fear of the future. Fear that she couldn't survive without a man.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<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;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7fMbLk656UEXo8fny2Z65dGaaPu4oQN7JjGCiWclsnigW0CfP3eX6fIXxho0bbOUrF45psFzOLPaHSwLyd9zEMGBj2LO2aVhNee17Tv4IQJwmavgVDx14LIbMFglgt9GSMiEPfsfuc-Q/s1600/Loretta+in+Beverly+Hills-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7fMbLk656UEXo8fny2Z65dGaaPu4oQN7JjGCiWclsnigW0CfP3eX6fIXxho0bbOUrF45psFzOLPaHSwLyd9zEMGBj2LO2aVhNee17Tv4IQJwmavgVDx14LIbMFglgt9GSMiEPfsfuc-Q/s320/Loretta+in+Beverly+Hills-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">My mom when I was 14-years old and we lived in Beverly Hills, CA</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Looking back, I calculate that Mom was a widow for 5 years before remarrying, when as she later wrote, "____ was on the way and we had to because of Carol [that's me]," which was the prevailing belief or attitude at the time.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But on an emotional level, it was fear, not love, that propelled my mom's decisions.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And fear is never a good motivation for decisions. "Perfect love casts out fear."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I like the way the movie ended. Sometimes the way forward is the way, way back.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Thank you, Kind Readers, for bearing with me.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">You are loved!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
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Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04341027209994226229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565160169391024868.post-4264149933866580962013-07-04T18:24:00.000-05:002013-07-04T18:24:59.099-05:00Statue of Liberty Reopens<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="http://life.time.com/history/the-statue-of-liberty-stirring-photos-of-the-face-of-freedom/?xid=newsletter-daily#1" target="_blank">Life magazine</a> has posted historic pictures of the Statue of Liberty, its reopening after repairs made following damages from Hurricane Sandy coincide with today's 4th of July celebration. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This slideshow reminded me of my last visit to see Lady Liberty and some of the pictures I took then. </span><br />
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<h3>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> Isn't she lovely?</span> </h3>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM1YBYqCPCrrQtYpspSlQLj-5mFb-DhSv1jC8c3S5XW2XBSTjYFIqyXcZuY7LYHSi2ggdJiOaab5ori-7f3IMRhwuGHSRQzFs7rSyo1hCcOQNU4B1HnQowD5yuypWwenX4sCTB1xXkTQ4/s1600/IMG_8604.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM1YBYqCPCrrQtYpspSlQLj-5mFb-DhSv1jC8c3S5XW2XBSTjYFIqyXcZuY7LYHSi2ggdJiOaab5ori-7f3IMRhwuGHSRQzFs7rSyo1hCcOQNU4B1HnQowD5yuypWwenX4sCTB1xXkTQ4/s640/IMG_8604.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo by Carol Frugé</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHDb-esFbp57Wxs8RtfnclVqgQs1qis9T7kSf9Bql4jRMQkf6KhopZfqTMW7r8THa3Oyf2zytIQWuNpqYx7Va6CGeXe0eoIPWcRK4sTw9taLN_c43oBMvbo62S_oVZGXQAL05svqbutBw/s1600/IMG_8591_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHDb-esFbp57Wxs8RtfnclVqgQs1qis9T7kSf9Bql4jRMQkf6KhopZfqTMW7r8THa3Oyf2zytIQWuNpqYx7Va6CGeXe0eoIPWcRK4sTw9taLN_c43oBMvbo62S_oVZGXQAL05svqbutBw/s400/IMG_8591_1.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo by Carol Frugé</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The little people at the base of the statue's plinth look up to the torchbearer who welcomes the tired, poor and huddled masses yearning to breathe free, a familiar line from the poem "The New Colossus."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Independence Day makes me want to be a better student of American history</span>,<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> as well a citizen who prizes the heritage of this country.</span> <span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Parades and fireworks and picnics are a great way to celebrate, but it's worth remembering too what sets this day apart––because freedom isn't free.</span><br />
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<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;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKhIXZoetn5N5bLzccYVFyIHJvoJHOF83jeCnVSfhvXhi3LXkOwjptR3bzA99QSXwwVzomRiAxabcJEuGANUz9XTRK1heIzsFaCd2OMLJ1vShis1zZ6lyDWuOOZ1Kgjjd5qn6lLLltZWo/s640/New_Colossus_manuscript_Lazarus.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="518" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poem written by Emma Lazarus in 1883, engraved on a bronze plaque inside the Statue of Liberty</td></tr>
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<a href="http://www.earthcam.com/usa/newyork/statueofliberty/?cam=liberty_crown" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Check this out: </span>Earthcam view of the Statue </a></h3>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKw-HH9WESZsBknF_CXAxBdIL0PC58EtSeqcriOfULd2iLX6PGvW-cl1RY8G5CpDIsXJvIyMS9zXvtnUsHtxL-TZ4cO5Sq6TCud6nrgpuoS4i-j08ogmMOzEG2klKlWrSrdZ3hgX7rH2Q/s1600/IMG_4572.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKw-HH9WESZsBknF_CXAxBdIL0PC58EtSeqcriOfULd2iLX6PGvW-cl1RY8G5CpDIsXJvIyMS9zXvtnUsHtxL-TZ4cO5Sq6TCud6nrgpuoS4i-j08ogmMOzEG2klKlWrSrdZ3hgX7rH2Q/s640/IMG_4572.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo taken at the George W. Bush Library, where I visited last week</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I like that this flag emphasizes the story, of which each of us is at least a footnote. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Happy 4th of July </span></h3>
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Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04341027209994226229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565160169391024868.post-25756913633343530992013-02-25T20:18:00.001-06:002013-02-25T20:18:18.627-06:00Oscar Highlights 2013<h3>
A Night to Remember</h3>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg1gMLZwPOzkUWMVEZk_MCJl4fz5Y8eGDkvKK7J9uVu3GdcfajF1zgs3ma2xo9kfv1jfL1IO4w4yphiEPqRHhzNqXYKPe7XluKEKxEj9S6em8rcmymA9aVyZMXYO_rt_AB8YYTHkWYqHE/s1600/IMG_28352.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg1gMLZwPOzkUWMVEZk_MCJl4fz5Y8eGDkvKK7J9uVu3GdcfajF1zgs3ma2xo9kfv1jfL1IO4w4yphiEPqRHhzNqXYKPe7XluKEKxEj9S6em8rcmymA9aVyZMXYO_rt_AB8YYTHkWYqHE/s320/IMG_28352.JPG" width="320" /></a></h3>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4-HuwW68t_0tQjeYcV5U1sNCiGgpFJeyTzmK-g-ahHPZveyXMXi4NMwt4RoN4-QKt45qdF8khhUZDWwBAUWCipgktPAGVuuscF_8rI6Xni-V0Wl9iMCn5Ko_TW3pNa7tMv-6xBxWSScc/s1600/IMG_28392.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4-HuwW68t_0tQjeYcV5U1sNCiGgpFJeyTzmK-g-ahHPZveyXMXi4NMwt4RoN4-QKt45qdF8khhUZDWwBAUWCipgktPAGVuuscF_8rI6Xni-V0Wl9iMCn5Ko_TW3pNa7tMv-6xBxWSScc/s320/IMG_28392.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cheri and brother, James (my husband)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">My s</span><span style="font-weight: normal;">ister-in-law Cheri speaks into the microphone (not pictured) to describe her elation at winning an Oscar after 10 years of trying. </span></h3>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD-NKqBT7383KRci9ml56kjF7i-Ho39kCtA0xQFIk_JV_QiihCo2OprwVZEGm-vx_vA1dEjHwjU6cxK34ng_jKpkf3RCGBhSVXtrYVU1xMWP9rup30tRNkeQqakOwuOnrVLbTOmFQ46pM/s1600/IMG_28332.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD-NKqBT7383KRci9ml56kjF7i-Ho39kCtA0xQFIk_JV_QiihCo2OprwVZEGm-vx_vA1dEjHwjU6cxK34ng_jKpkf3RCGBhSVXtrYVU1xMWP9rup30tRNkeQqakOwuOnrVLbTOmFQ46pM/s320/IMG_28332.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The 3 of us tied for 1st place, so Cheri and I each will keep Oscar for 6 months. Yes, there was money on the line, too.</td></tr>
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Wait for it. Wait for it … The Academy Awards start at 5:30 in California</h3>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifaXICZnIC1fzD-rIoDt1abZ6m-muk-bX9I32P_RYTvKTrr46jGmTmd2KrOEKcwCkeRs4jU7gA3NMqwgVkbUSrADsEDXlXTokIxbjQJHbTSUPlkWY1FsMcn3FLrsknIttoiAdduA73XWk/s1600/IMG_25912.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifaXICZnIC1fzD-rIoDt1abZ6m-muk-bX9I32P_RYTvKTrr46jGmTmd2KrOEKcwCkeRs4jU7gA3NMqwgVkbUSrADsEDXlXTokIxbjQJHbTSUPlkWY1FsMcn3FLrsknIttoiAdduA73XWk/s320/IMG_25912.JPG" width="320" /></a></h3>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFAd_6fYkAyERDacPPzvxNbd7l81LcXnK7mAJ3U8Z85kfNxIbUSs-e6HvpD2fBGp8T7Ah56FocHFVaQa0PnVaaubCA8CL3MS2_NhYzB-Sge6ar0l0XvjPmbHeTtB3WuVik6PjHYtdZ8Do/s1600/IMG_25902.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFAd_6fYkAyERDacPPzvxNbd7l81LcXnK7mAJ3U8Z85kfNxIbUSs-e6HvpD2fBGp8T7Ah56FocHFVaQa0PnVaaubCA8CL3MS2_NhYzB-Sge6ar0l0XvjPmbHeTtB3WuVik6PjHYtdZ8Do/s320/IMG_25902.JPG" width="320" /></a></h3>
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Movie lovers await "The envelope, please."<br />
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Mostly Pictures of Moving Pictures</h3>
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Hollywood <i>In Crowd</i> gathers for gala</div>
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A new host changing the course of Oscar history? The worst? Or not?<br />
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<i>Ted</i> says, Oh yeah?</div>
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Seth McFarlane's <i>Room with a View</i></div>
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William Shatner's <i>Star Trek</i> view from the future</div>
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An expressive guy</div>
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If you can make these guys laugh, you're <i>In Like Flint.</i></div>
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Emmanuel Riva, nominated for her role in <i>Amour</i>, celebrated her 86th birthday at the 85th Academy Awards, giving a unique perspective to the aging Oscar. </div>
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Jennifer Lawrence survived <i>Hunger Games </i>to experience a knot in her stomach as she awaits one of the evening's last awards</div>
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Retrospect: 50 years of Bond films. <i>Never say Never </i>as<i> <a href="http://www.bbcamerica.com/anglophenia/2013/02/oscar-night-recap-daniel-day-lewis-skyfall-make-oscar-history/" target="_blank">Skyfall</a> </i>made Oscar history.<i> </i></div>
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A stiff Ben Affleck as an award presenter looks as if he's <i>Waiting to Exhale</i>. </div>
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A relieved Ben Affleck accepts his Oscar for Best Picture 2012, <i>Argo</i>.</div>
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<a href="http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/envelope/moviesnow/la-et-mn-oscars-2013-best-speeches-daniel-day-lewis-ben-affleck-20130224,0,6733710.story" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">Best Acceptance Speeches</span></a><br />
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Best Supporting Actress Anne Hathaway wins for her role as Fantine in <i>Les Miserables.</i></div>
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Anne called husband <a href="http://www.parade.com/celebrity/news/2013/02/25-anne-hathaway-husband-hes-made-everything-better-oscars-2013.html" target="_blank">Adam Shulman</a> her "soul mate."</div>
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Anne Hathaway, the eyes have it. </div>
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Hugh Jackson, who played Jean-Valjean, looked genuinely pleased for his co-star and she said she would not have won the award but for his generosity as an actor.</div>
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Quentin Tarantino looks as if he couldn't be happier.</div>
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Quentin Tarrantino paid tribute to writers since he knows the challenge of facing the blank page. </div>
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Hollywood aristocrats Michael Douglas and Jane Fonda make an appearance</div>
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Ready for my close up, Mr. De Mille.</div>
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<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">Daniel Day Lewis thanked his wife Rebecca Miller for putting up with the very strange men she has lived with––a reference to method acting, the way he becomes the character he portrays</span><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">.</span></div>
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What's his name? Into the galaxy's Black Hole that devours luminous stars, last year's Best Actor winner for his role in <i>The Artist </i>illustrates that winning an Oscar does not guarantee future roles.</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jennifer Lawrence in her Dior gown tripped on the stairs but quickly composed herself before a supportive audience. <span style="text-align: left;">"You guys are just standing up because you feel bad that I fell and that's really embarrassing."</span></span></div>
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Jennifer's co-stars exude their approval of the young actress.</div>
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Here's the shell-shocked shot. And didn't Jennifer thank Meryl Streep for not being nominated in the Best Actress category?</div>
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And speaking of Streep, she looked great.<br />
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Effusive<br />
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Emotive</div>
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Evocative</div>
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A winner even when he doesn't win the Best Picture or Director award, Steven Spielberg is proud of his <i>Lincoln</i>.</div>
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And Daniel Day-Lewis got the laughs when he said that wires got crossed. Spielberg had intended for him to play Margaret Thatcher and Meryl would play Lincoln.<br />
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Screen wife Sally Field who played Mary Lincoln and Daniel's wife Rebecca Miller </div>
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Eidelweiss: Does Russell Crowe look happy to greet anyone?</div>
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He's back. Jack Nicholson loves to spring a surprise.</div>
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First Lady got to open the envelope and announce the Best Picture.</div>
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Grant Heslov and George Clooney hold Oscars before stepping aside to let Ben Affleck speak</div>
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Co-Producers of <i>Argo </i>share the moment of vindication for Ben Affleck, who despite being overlooked in the Best Director category, takes home an <a href="http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/envelope/moviesnow/la-et-mn-oscars-2013-academy-awards-20130224,0,648894.story" target="_blank">Oscar for Best Picture of 2012</a>.</div>
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Who's sorry now?</div>
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Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04341027209994226229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565160169391024868.post-66912468689944795062013-02-24T16:10:00.000-06:002013-02-24T16:21:14.770-06:00Oscar Party in California<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: 19px; font-weight: bold;">From the Red Carpet: The Stars are out</span></div>
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Lights, Camera, Action</h4>
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We are here! We are here! In California for the "Wallace Tenth Annual Oscar Party Celebrating the 85th Academy Awards."</div>
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My sister-in-law and brother-in-law take this event and make it a serious party for serious movie-lovers. </div>
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There's even a contest where the Oscar statuette is awarded to the two who score the highest––correctly guessing the winners in 24 categories. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Take me home, Carol.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3EyH9OVv7eoUopvKy4pZP_RXDe_EGaHAcZ3dQDlg7QtN-c0PK96_aW4J7wXJK5_rESM7NRlOIn6IIvCHhMkQq_FFTl0rETT0fZikzVQ_-JJa2P8w3s99FTPMamgs0hiK3cFoXj7Zgpos/s1600/IMG_2545.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3EyH9OVv7eoUopvKy4pZP_RXDe_EGaHAcZ3dQDlg7QtN-c0PK96_aW4J7wXJK5_rESM7NRlOIn6IIvCHhMkQq_FFTl0rETT0fZikzVQ_-JJa2P8w3s99FTPMamgs0hiK3cFoXj7Zgpos/s400/IMG_2545.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mmmmmm.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMTSO_pQsLC0avnYPAbE-CHmOXhBA96g3FgB1HOvaScJU1azRPplIhnPMx3tG5h86G5CD2WlvJ-z7RsZfr7eRo-8XEEt69StBVynPHhtLPxGt8822MMSrZwQBuTsBK3O-EdawTxa7I_6w/s1600/IMG_2471.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMTSO_pQsLC0avnYPAbE-CHmOXhBA96g3FgB1HOvaScJU1azRPplIhnPMx3tG5h86G5CD2WlvJ-z7RsZfr7eRo-8XEEt69StBVynPHhtLPxGt8822MMSrZwQBuTsBK3O-EdawTxa7I_6w/s640/IMG_2471.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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The tables are set. Director chairs out. And yes, that's a Chagall over the mantel. </div>
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Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04341027209994226229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565160169391024868.post-63096685521185868622013-02-20T23:00:00.002-06:002013-02-20T23:00:45.425-06:00Prof Hendricks Joins the Cloud of Witnesses<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTl8KF8znZVSY8Jxbnh1Px0Adzz4P_Dmz8tKxosrKjgTemIZJ2-vmiuSYNsWxM3AMv_JBsx6qBVRHanHdIrdU8kLyB7pSOjO-e2kG_L1X4yD1V1KC6X4uTmKyeunhwOVQ7SvRF_m6vjCA/s1600/Prof&me_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTl8KF8znZVSY8Jxbnh1Px0Adzz4P_Dmz8tKxosrKjgTemIZJ2-vmiuSYNsWxM3AMv_JBsx6qBVRHanHdIrdU8kLyB7pSOjO-e2kG_L1X4yD1V1KC6X4uTmKyeunhwOVQ7SvRF_m6vjCA/s320/Prof&me_2.jpg" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In my last class with Dr. Howard Hendricks, 2008</td></tr>
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Early this morning, our beloved Prof Hendricks departed from this life to the life beyond
the world as we know it, released from physical limitations to enjoy
unlimited spiritual freedoms. Whether we call the place where Howard Hendricks is now heaven or
paradise, the apostle Paul wrote, "To be absent from the body is to be
present with the Lord."<br />
<br />
I can only imagine.<br />
<h3>
A Leader and an original</h3>
<span style="font-size: small;">Dr. Hendricks said, “Don’t start with
others; start with yourself. God is in the character, not the credentials.” Prof backed up these words with his life.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">"You will become the leader you desire to be and that you decide to be." And then, "You can't blame others for who you are. You cannot expect others to make you what you ought to be. That's your assignment."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">Dr. Hendricks spent a lifetime carrying out that character building assignment. He loved God. He loved teaching the Bible. He loved people.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"> Of all the things I heard him say, I most often quote, "All people are born originals but most die a copy."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">1924–2013, Howard Hendricks remained an original. A work of art. No one like him. Irreplaceable. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Thanks be to God for giving me the gift of knowing Prof, sitting under his teaching throughout the 4 years I spent at Dallas Seminary, and for ways in which he influenced my life and the lives of countless others. </span><br />
<h3>
<a href="http://www.dts.edu/howard-hendricks-tribute/" target="_blank">Tributes to Howard Hendricks</a> </h3>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYTLmwflb9d69zdFvdzq5aYopK73Pioe9pg4zOqnDETz554-wLIcUI6z5lW9aLZ4VwmrPUJCHPuuMMnHqqSyP79XFkRLFuv3YWhoulpsECCQjhwuiP2P25zWKbUQVUeLWn22hshXwvZqc/s1600/August_Hendricks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="386" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYTLmwflb9d69zdFvdzq5aYopK73Pioe9pg4zOqnDETz554-wLIcUI6z5lW9aLZ4VwmrPUJCHPuuMMnHqqSyP79XFkRLFuv3YWhoulpsECCQjhwuiP2P25zWKbUQVUeLWn22hshXwvZqc/s400/August_Hendricks.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On a trip to Israel in 2005, I took this picture, adding Prof's quote</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"></span>Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04341027209994226229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565160169391024868.post-13650262004909731022013-02-18T11:00:00.001-06:002013-02-18T11:27:14.694-06:00Downton Downer"You do know that Downton Abbey is not reality television."<br />
<br />
That caption in a cartoon I saw weeks ago my husband repeats every time he hears me vent about Downton Abbey.<br />
<br />
Downton ended on a downbeat. Drat. Today I vent, and even though I watched the finale days ago, I waited until after the episode aired last night on Masterpiece Theater to comment.<br />
<br />
How can we the viewers across the pond await the rest of the story? Will the characters' response to this tragedy seem muted by the time between now and then? Will the story resume days, months or years beyond the accident, as if to say Keep a stiff upper lip and all that rubbish?<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://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg8ihi8uyU36wqS-FutYRiAjH6tsJhQI07MqLwRriv_Ph1wsEJCdjXbnMALcNSL8TPN9ej1hv7D663inozHg112nxDrks4TQ3d9FRWcID387HXUcs7VdJJkJMiOYJRIWN-oPeyfNRkABs/s1600/Dowton+Abbey+cast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg8ihi8uyU36wqS-FutYRiAjH6tsJhQI07MqLwRriv_Ph1wsEJCdjXbnMALcNSL8TPN9ej1hv7D663inozHg112nxDrks4TQ3d9FRWcID387HXUcs7VdJJkJMiOYJRIWN-oPeyfNRkABs/s640/Dowton+Abbey+cast.jpg" width="545" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The cast of characters viewers have come to love</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h3>
Spoiler: Read only if you know the ending </h3>
<a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/tvandradio/downton-abbey/9765334/Dan-Stevens-Why-I-left-Downton-Abbey.html" target="_blank">Matthew Crawley</a>, aka. Dan Stevens the actor who plays Matthew, had decided to leave the show even as Season 3 began filming, so I guess it was up to writer and series originator <a href="http://www.cinemablend.com/television/Why-Downton-Abbey-Why-Julian-Fellowes-Explains-52690.html" target="_blank">Julian Fellowes</a> to decide how and when.<br />
<br />
A pall cast over the entire season, I awaited the outcome since, early on I had glimpsed a headline that reported Stevens's departure from the show.<br />
<br />
Should we wish him well?<br />
<br />
I think not. Why not suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune and see the remarkable story through to the end? This forced ending seems a crime against viewers who had grown to trust this family, upstairs and downstairs.<br />
<br />
Then I reminded myself that the theme of the series revolves around the ongoing estate. A residence. A relic. A snapshot of British history. Then time (WWI, for instance and the sinking of the Titanic foreshadowed events) swamped former things (entailed estates and class distinctions, for example) and all things became new, with or without the consent of the landed gentry.<br />
<br />
The message reads: Change or be changed. Life has a way of sweeping the living in its path on to new ways of seeing and doing. <br />
<h3>
Comments from friends</h3>
"Terrible ending for us."<br />
<br />
See? We viewers do take the series personally.<br />
<br />
"Dangit Downton. I protest that ending. I want a do-over."<br />
<br />
"(............................" A response made only with keyboard strokes.<br />
<br />
<div class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent">"It occurs to me as I bawl my eyes out that I am far too emotionally invested in Downton Abbey."</span></span></div>
<br />
In the old days, Hollywood showed to preview audiences a film and changed the ending if it soured viewers. Three such films come to mind: the original black-and-white <i>Wuthering Heights</i>, <i>Our Town</i>––in both cases the audience hated that the lead character died at the end. A more recent film, <i>Fatal Attraction</i>, the audience wanted the female lead to die.<br />
<br />
So here I confess my own fatal attraction to a television series destined to disappoint. For like all series, even those that enjoy the limelight pinnacle, Downton will one day end. Cut. That's a wrap.<br />
<h3>
Maggie Smith plays a defining role </h3>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS-KTgPJIdd7oVPOOwpNlgQfu2HoOcqjO_-F4z3mxV8eTxeFpGidPUvtXYXawnto8G8tgzmF6ax8LYRohunrQgvyhPr-JlBwTSsJzql4hB6GHFw-NFddebw8eWZAu_VRIdIfoABGLtIWs/s1600/r-MAGGIE-SMITH-DOWNTON-ABBEY-large570.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS-KTgPJIdd7oVPOOwpNlgQfu2HoOcqjO_-F4z3mxV8eTxeFpGidPUvtXYXawnto8G8tgzmF6ax8LYRohunrQgvyhPr-JlBwTSsJzql4hB6GHFw-NFddebw8eWZAu_VRIdIfoABGLtIWs/s640/r-MAGGIE-SMITH-DOWNTON-ABBEY-large570.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
And won't we all cry when The Dowager Countess Crawley, played by Maggie Smith, is deprived of those lines she delivers like a bee sting? So beautiful even when it hurts.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.vulture.com/2011/01/downton_abbey_maggie_smith_quo.html" target="_blank">Some of her "spiky" quotes</a><br />
<br />
"Spiky" 78-year-old Maggie Smith gave a rare interview on 60 Minutes last night.<br />
<br />
In that interview, Maggie Smith stated that she has not watched the series and perhaps she will, she said, when it is complete. Until then, she prefers not to second-guess her acting instinct. When asked about acting advice, she said a director once told her not to think about how [to say her lines], but rather why. <br />
<br />
When interviewer Steve Kroft asked, "Do you accept the fact that you're a star?" Maggie said, "If you say so. I don't feel any different . . . [It] is entirely due to the television set."<br />
<br />
Yes. It is entirely due to the television set that today millions of viewers feel letdown.<br />
<br />
We will recover ourselves. Viewers always do. We awaken as if from a dream and admit, Yes, I know that Downton Abbey is not reality television. But what a reprieve it gives fans of the show from what does pass for reality. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04341027209994226229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565160169391024868.post-13101291864718892472013-02-15T18:59:00.003-06:002022-03-31T13:28:42.927-05:00Will the real Scout please stand?<h3>
An actress remembers her lines</h3>
Wednesday I drove from Lubbock to Canyon to hear a lecture
at West Texas A&M University given by Mary Badham, who braved the snowy
weather to appear before a packed lecture hall that holds 700 people.<br />
<br />
Mary Badham put the screen face on Harper Lee's unforgettable character, Jean Louise Finch, aka. Scout. Harper Lee won the Pulitzer for her first and only novel, a story that transgressed social boundaries by bringing to the fore racism, prejudice and bigotry as seen through the eyes of children. Mary Badham was nominated as Best Supporting Actress for her role as Scout in the 1961 film.<br />
<br />
"A child's point of view made it easier for people to grapple with the subject [of racism]," said Badham.<br />
<br />
"Mockingbird has taken me around the world," she said, noting that she was 9-years-old when filming the movie <i>To Kill a Mockingbird </i>began and 10 when the movie premiered. Now, Mary––wife, mother, grandmother and working woman––lives in Virginia.<br />
<br />
One of her regrets is that she has worked constantly––she considers herself a workaholic––and she missed time with her children, something her children remind her of often. She thinks people should learn to live on less in order to have time with their children. <br />
<h3>
Meet Scout</h3>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpY-Ab0Bz4erPnU9hmDMqsHb8_vRO5YRrA-D9v1yp9e9xMm_meSvL5VYIYmTKbnL73jL0RgHOuaEDEpuW-9EDepH9lYGtSFofpdrN3xbQWrGx-DVwImDz0I_B3usXxhf_SkGtmp3gn7gY/s1600/IMG_2129.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpY-Ab0Bz4erPnU9hmDMqsHb8_vRO5YRrA-D9v1yp9e9xMm_meSvL5VYIYmTKbnL73jL0RgHOuaEDEpuW-9EDepH9lYGtSFofpdrN3xbQWrGx-DVwImDz0I_B3usXxhf_SkGtmp3gn7gY/s320/IMG_2129.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
Instead of standing to talk, Mary sat in a chair on the stage at a table set for 2, her moderator more a prop than a prompter. A microphone set up in the audience permitted people to line up and ask questions.<br />
<br />
Lifted by her dad to speak, this little girl said, "Hello. My name is Scout." The audience applauded.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDv6zmFW4bnQYjfEx9uNMQV0_9JkS3twxk9EviJpDvh7v_fdnqWVXdYPCNGjOwAcRg-2EYdTajuzFH-VVlaCrnK-3_aqzJ9fQ-zYTwSlURByZZ-6TvUP2JYJtNBO26deWL_qQs6ibDXlQ/s1600/IMG_2136.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDv6zmFW4bnQYjfEx9uNMQV0_9JkS3twxk9EviJpDvh7v_fdnqWVXdYPCNGjOwAcRg-2EYdTajuzFH-VVlaCrnK-3_aqzJ9fQ-zYTwSlURByZZ-6TvUP2JYJtNBO26deWL_qQs6ibDXlQ/s320/IMG_2136.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9g8Ejslxvllqla6Z_TCIH7wL6ptSJ6pXECwzE4egIwEKW8g4lK_sgaCZgnWslBlcGu01a1Nff-4FefX-TTl8Nu7zViRt4kOPgWwFCAeE3s05c11tDemtOyy0Q0hkk_4cQhYi3INxYs-g/s1600/IMG_2139.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9g8Ejslxvllqla6Z_TCIH7wL6ptSJ6pXECwzE4egIwEKW8g4lK_sgaCZgnWslBlcGu01a1Nff-4FefX-TTl8Nu7zViRt4kOPgWwFCAeE3s05c11tDemtOyy0Q0hkk_4cQhYi3INxYs-g/s320/IMG_2139.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here, a smiling Scout poses for a picture.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Mary had already responded to someone who said their dog's name is Scout. "More dogs and cats and fish and animals are named Scout because of Mockingbird."<br />
<br />
And I had to grin because my female black schnauzer is named Scout. When I introduce my dog, I say her full name is "Scout Harper Lee," so that maybe people will not think she's a boy, and if whomever has read the literary classic, they get it. <br />
<h3>
Buckshot instead of a bullet</h3>
Mary covered topics from family life to politics to her travels to education and "the freedoms we step on every day." Once she wound up, while conceding that there are some good teachers, she said she is appalled at the ignorance of students and teachers she meets in her travels to speak at high schools, colleges and universities. "It's unconscionable to live in a country and not be able to speak our language."<br />
<br />
She and I have more in common than I thought, maybe because we are about the same age. A recent <a href="http://www.cbsnews.com/video/watch/?id=50134941n" target="_blank"><i>60 Minutes</i> interview with David McCullough</a> highlighted some of these same concerns about American's ignorance of history. History and literature.<br />
<br />
She had the audience repeat with her "Ignorance is the root of all evil," and "Education is the key to freedom." Someone asked her when then is ignorance bliss? Her answer implied, only when you are spared something evil.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFkXw6RbwpXWxsnBgjKxM_vLwD1bOX7z9IsVCfwEbBv5M6Xa_5WqkjyvUm798Uh9bwlsTgQorDmGLegFb4CuFIqwKoojEI-wKJSmrYEZ1Aq_OEka0BocvGMEOeF9dQ7G8o2wFdPujVHK0/s1600/IMG_2132.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFkXw6RbwpXWxsnBgjKxM_vLwD1bOX7z9IsVCfwEbBv5M6Xa_5WqkjyvUm798Uh9bwlsTgQorDmGLegFb4CuFIqwKoojEI-wKJSmrYEZ1Aq_OEka0BocvGMEOeF9dQ7G8o2wFdPujVHK0/s320/IMG_2132.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Mary Badham dispensed motherly advice saying, "You are in charge of you. Who you surround yourself with determines who you become. Your choices make you," adding "Decide early to separate yourself from bad influences." Most of her opinions sounded like something I would say, but I came expecting to hear, or at least hopeful of seeing a polished speaker deliver a pointed talk.<br />
<br />
<h4>
A Brief Comment about Truman Copote</h4>
Here, Mary Badham speaks
about Nell's (Harper Lee) relationship to Truman Capote, how their
friendship dissolved after Nell won a Pulitzer and he did not win a
Pulitzer for <i>In Cold Blood</i>. Truman had been Nell's friend since childhood and she had based the character Dill on him.<br />
<br />
<h4>
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<h4>
Signing Autographs</h4>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH8dchigfftlGA8MzxXo6ttxtTJ975Xzb5UdZ0cup3abRSkPWqFby6M7c_UYML3Wo1DmfzwljpmD98zc9BeUsUinuHkZcB0YgfeL8lIA7NLFoI7rVFzdZvnrpHJA_A1xBW7RZtgmE7F1g/s1600/IMG_2143.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH8dchigfftlGA8MzxXo6ttxtTJ975Xzb5UdZ0cup3abRSkPWqFby6M7c_UYML3Wo1DmfzwljpmD98zc9BeUsUinuHkZcB0YgfeL8lIA7NLFoI7rVFzdZvnrpHJA_A1xBW7RZtgmE7F1g/s320/IMG_2143.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I didn't see the movie Scout in Mary until I saw her up close, her eyes. Fair complexion, freckled, she has blue eyes.<br />
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<h4>
My Personal Thoughts </h4>
When Mary said during her introduction that she would need to charge $20 for each autograph, I have to admit that this put me off, set me on edge for how I listened to what she had to say.<br />
<br />
Instead of thinking about the movie <i>To Kill a Mockingbird</i>, I thought of a line from <i>Jerry Maguire</i>. Instead of "You had me at 'hello'," I thought You had me until you said I need to charge $20 to sign a copy of the book, the movie or a picture because "I have a kid in college, and some of you know what that's like." So another line from the movie <i>Jerry Maguire</i> came to mind. "Show me the money!"<br />
<br />
And I thought, Good grief! You didn't write the book. You said you didn't even read the book until after your daughter was born, and then only because someone who had asked you to speak insisted that you read it. So I passed on the signature, but no matter, plenty of others lined up to get her John Hancock.<br />
<br />
Maybe it was just the manner in which she made this comment that struck me the wrong way. In America, a celebrity is a celebrity is a celebrity, whether greater or lesser lights. <br />
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<h4>
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iRmIef02Ajk" target="_blank">Watch this video clip from the 1961 movie</a> </h4>
One of the best scenes in the movie occurs when Scout says, "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iRmIef02Ajk" target="_blank">Hey, Boo</a>," tying a thread stitched early in the story. If you haven't seen the movie, you should. Mary said that <i>To Kill a Mockingbird</i> is taught in school<span style="font-size: small;">s</span> in Russia.<br />
<br />
"Racism and bigotry hasn't gone anywhere. It's just changed his clothes," Mary said.<br />
<br />
And I say that <i>To Kill a Mockingbird</i>––both the book and the movie––remains a timeless historical and artistic artifact worthy of the attention it receives whenever and wherever people stop and think about it. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04341027209994226229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565160169391024868.post-49632635612591027782013-02-14T12:18:00.000-06:002013-02-14T12:52:19.200-06:00Happy Valentine's Day, again<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<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://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzBQgav7j80wbAX9HrLsbYoq9oWdiyx3T9fZ4O3qdVTMFIRt33iMV4F4zhz7FncgUzuPYYHhrpE5OMDY_JK6YY2BuDuJ3KaCg_DX_Wzm0P9FhpPw4Eh6hjDRV23nfTcccsmfoCJQmeaws/s1600/IMG_2122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzBQgav7j80wbAX9HrLsbYoq9oWdiyx3T9fZ4O3qdVTMFIRt33iMV4F4zhz7FncgUzuPYYHhrpE5OMDY_JK6YY2BuDuJ3KaCg_DX_Wzm0P9FhpPw4Eh6hjDRV23nfTcccsmfoCJQmeaws/s400/IMG_2122.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Funny Valentine!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Nine-year-old Ava made a movie poster for a book she read, completing a school assignment this past Sunday at Gran's house. The 4 glitter-gold "Oscars" at the bottom represent her awards for the book.<br />
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<b>IA</b>, inside the box to the left of the Oscar statuettes, indicates that she rates this made-up movie for "Insect Admirers." Not G or PG, but IA.<br />
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Gotta love her creativity. And her execution.<br />
<br />
When I took her home, I asked if she knew what the word "execution" meant.<br />
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"The way I did it?"<br />
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Yes! And then we talked about when at age 4, Ava used the word cumbersome to describe something heavy she carried as the family moved into their new house.<br />
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Like the character Scout in <i>To Kill a Mockingbird</i>, Ava knew how to read before she started school. <br />
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Last night, I attended a lecture by Mary Badham who played Scout in the film version of Mockingbird. I will post about her tomorrow.<br />
<br />
Or like Scarlet O'Hara, I will at least think about that tomorrow.<br />
<br />
I love … books … and movies … and my grandkids … and writing about what I love. <br />
<br />
Since it's Valentine's Day, again, here's a re-posting––<a href="http://footnotes2stories.blogspot.com/2011/02/happy-valentines-day.html" target="_blank">Valentine's Day Movie Quotes</a><br />
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If there were more hours in the day, I would watch these movies once a year.<br />
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That is, if my husband would let me control the remote.<br />
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Which is your favorite?Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04341027209994226229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565160169391024868.post-15942644723799413852012-10-20T14:35:00.002-05:002023-09-16T08:52:46.200-05:00Make Ahead Pie Crust Recipe That Lasts<br />
Proverbs 25:11 says, “A word fitly spoken is like <b>apples</b> <b>of</b> <b>gold</b> in a setting of silver.”<br />
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For seven weeks in the Fall, I assist the Cooking Team as part of a program called “Apples of Gold,” where older women mentor younger women. This year, 17 young women signed up to attend the weekly dinners that include teaching designed to help them as wives and mothers with practical cooking skills,
entertaining and character development. The church I attend has been doing this for 8 years, and this is my second year to help.<br />
<br />
The Cooking Team prepares the meals and each week demos a “how to.” This past week, my daughter and I showed how to make Aunt Doshie's pie crust, so I thought I would share with the rest of the cooking world instructions and pictures because Fall is the perfect time to make up this pie mix. The mix does not require refrigeration. And it makes enough for 12 single crust pies, or quiches, cobblers or tarts aplenty. Following these steps makes pie-making a cinch instead of a stomp-that-crust-on-the-floor, as my mother did the first time she tried to make a pie.<br />
<h3>
Aunt Doshie’s Pie Crust, see also <a href="http://footnotes2stories.blogspot.com/2011/03/pie-making-101.html" target="_blank">Pie-Making 101</a></h3>
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Ingredients:<br />
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5 lb. bag Gold Medal flour (No substitutes)</div>
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3lb. can Crisco shortening (No substitutes)</div>
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1 ½ T. salt</div>
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<h3>
Making a batch of pie crust all at once</h3>
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In very large bowl, dump bag of flour. Add salt and mix
slightly to disperse the salt. Start adding Crisco in big chunks, but not the whole can at
once. Using a pastry blender or two knives (or both) start cutting
shortening into flour. </div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">IMPORTANT: DO NOT USE
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Continue to cut in shortening until entire can is mixed with
the flour. Use a spatula or a large spoon to bring flour up from bottom of
bowl. Mixture should resemble course meal without large pieces of shortening
unmixed. </div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">To make a single pie
crust</b>:</div>
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Measure 2 c. mixture into glass or stainless bowl.</div>
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Add 2–2½ T. ice cold water, 1 T. at a time, stirring with
fork after adding water</div>
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Gather dough with hands, gently. Do not handle too much. </div>
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Tear two sheets of wax paper and place dough ball in center of
one, and the other on top.</div>
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Flatten slightly and begin to roll out from center to make
piecrust to 1/8” thickness.</div>
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Carefully lift up wax paper from topside of dough. Take your time because you should only roll out pie dough one time. Handling pie dough too much makes it tough.<br />
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Then with wax paper still in place, turn over and lift up
underneath side of wax paper. Remove this and then transfer piecrust to 9” pie
plate, dough side down. Carefully remove the other wax paper, which was
loosened before.</div>
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<br />
For filling, I used 1 1/2 cans of cherry pie filling, plus 3/4–1 t. almond extract for added flavor.<br />
I usually make pies from scratch, but in this case, I was going for fast and easy. <br />
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Dot the top of filling with butter (about 2 tablespoons) …<br />
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<br />
…and sprinkle on top of filling and butter about 1/4 c. sugar.<br />
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<br />
To make a lattice top crust, roll out pie mixture the same as for bottom crust, cut in strips and basket-weave the strips. Then flute the edges of crust and again sprinkle with sugar.<br />
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<br />
Before placing on baking sheet to bake at 375 degrees for 35–45 minutes, tear a sheet of foil to make a square. <br />
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<br />
Fold that foil square into fourths.<br />
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<br />
Then cut a semi-circle from the center.<br />
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<br />
Open the folded foil and place over the edge of pie crust. Remove this foil about half-way through cooking. This keeps the crust from browning too much on the edges. Much easier than crimping strips of foil and then burning yourself when you try to remove the foil when it's hot!<br />
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<h3>
Storing Aunt Doshie's Pie Crust</h3>
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<br />
Use empty Crisco can to store some of the mixture. Store the
rest in Tupperware or Ziploc storage bags (freezer bags work best, but do
not freeze). </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You can, however, make up pie crust as directed and freeze in pie plates or aluminum tins, if you have room in the freezer to store.</div>
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<br />
This is<b> a baked crust</b>, used for cream pies. Be sure to prick holes with a fork in the unbaked crust before baking in 400 degree over for 15–20 minutes, until lightly browned. You can also use pie weights or dried beans on top of a piece of aluminum foil gently pressed on top of the unbaked pie shell. <br />
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<h3>
Ta-dah! Mama Bear made Three pies</h3>
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<br />
<br />
Fudge pie, the recipe from the Bluebonnet Cafe in Marble Falls, TX. Yummy!<br />
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<br />
And I baked a lemon meringue for my son-in-law's birthday this week. Another recipe from Bluebonnet Cafe, this was probably the best-tasting lemon pie I ever made.<br />
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<br />
The meringue, however, split because I debated between two recipes. One said to spread the meringue over hot filling and the other said to spread over cooled filling. I chose poorly.<br />
<br />
Leave a comment and I will tell which way works best. <br />
<br />
But I was ecstatic that my meringue did not “weep.” That comes from <b>under-beating</b> meringue. I read in the cookbook from the Peachtree Tea Room in Fredericksburg, TX that the test for whether you have beaten the egg white/sugar mixture enough is to hold the bowl over your head. If the meringue doesn't plop out, it’s just right.<br />
<h3>
Baby Bear porridge</h3>
Pies don’t have to be perfect-looking. Aunt Doshie's pie crust recipe, besides being almost fool-proof, is light and flaky.<br />
<br />
Although not as sturdy as crusts made with butter, refrigerated before rolling and about a half-dozen other things you need to learn by doing, heading into the holidays, Aunt Doshie’s is the one to have on hand. I use a couple of other recipes when needing to make only one or two pies.<br />
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<br />
<br />Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04341027209994226229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565160169391024868.post-90465868218685645332012-10-09T11:42:00.001-05:002012-10-09T11:43:37.169-05:00Love Lost and Found in 1913<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5e6QgqrBVjC3WFDXkoU3-WTrfAPun2cBNIL1Q6RT2UL5Dz964hUZ9KcVc6sv75Ez0G4cAkx2aPClVaPezP4V2FZOyW7fVhUGQXlM7rKKXnTp1o0XK6ITcpn1P8O1OVBf5UAhwtu6NSz0/s1600/Aunt+Bessie+at+18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5e6QgqrBVjC3WFDXkoU3-WTrfAPun2cBNIL1Q6RT2UL5Dz964hUZ9KcVc6sv75Ez0G4cAkx2aPClVaPezP4V2FZOyW7fVhUGQXlM7rKKXnTp1o0XK6ITcpn1P8O1OVBf5UAhwtu6NSz0/s320/Aunt+Bessie+at+18.jpg" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The girl, Bessie Smith</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Since Aunt Bessie was 18 when she married DeWitt Brown, the year would have been 1913. But that first marriage lasted only so far as Dallas, TX where Bessie got off the train bound for California and returned east to Marshall, TX. DeWitt journeyed on, the marriage later annulled.<br />
<br />
Here follows the rest of the story, as I know it, that I called "The Ballad of Bessie Brown." <br />
<br />
A poem that the second Mrs. Brown, Lillie, sent to Bessie is not dated. The envelope is lost and so too the picture she enclosed to show and tell my mother's Aunt Bessie about the life that Bessie could have had in sunny California.<br />
<br />
It astonishes me, however, that Lillie spent the time, the creative trouble and the postage to tell Aunt Bessie, Who's Sorry Now? Only Lillie titled her poem "The Cord That Bound Three Hearts, The Will That Severed Two––To Miss Bessie Smith" [sic]. Or rather sick? Or syrupy sweet?<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXdYBkZ8PsV-z2p2q36pFg6Pz8CQTs-eUZeL3ZibocmjYmAOXv14ft4XTnT_jhp7x6wewpTwza2iQgVBzYHkzi5SGSDV6CNfkYNfhF2Le68rBpQcu-g6ERwoXbYdxoYkm2qnz_hR58368/s1600/Aunt+Bessie+letter_1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXdYBkZ8PsV-z2p2q36pFg6Pz8CQTs-eUZeL3ZibocmjYmAOXv14ft4XTnT_jhp7x6wewpTwza2iQgVBzYHkzi5SGSDV6CNfkYNfhF2Le68rBpQcu-g6ERwoXbYdxoYkm2qnz_hR58368/s400/Aunt+Bessie+letter_1.jpeg" width="322" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Page 1 of 6</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h3>
</h3>
<h3>
</h3>
<h3>
Girl Meets Boy</h3>
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Thou once wert young and fair, <br />As sweet as girl could be, </span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Thine eyes were like the summer skies,</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Or like the deep blue sea …</span></i><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The man was young and brave, </span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">A noble man was he;</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">His face was sweet, his heart was true,</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">As honest as could be.</span></i><br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4piqBG3PrGPPDoaLpJgfhItk2-NB3DsMNWXU8WN8FUPCMCxEWL2NOSQOL0RMbaSso3T3N1KrY0hdywoM-Iyuvr0kMo8StVGFtD_ZRtYFG5Y9z-btruxP6DLn37oG9UtfdgCgT9RqwUsQ/s1600/Aunt+Bessie+letter_2.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4piqBG3PrGPPDoaLpJgfhItk2-NB3DsMNWXU8WN8FUPCMCxEWL2NOSQOL0RMbaSso3T3N1KrY0hdywoM-Iyuvr0kMo8StVGFtD_ZRtYFG5Y9z-btruxP6DLn37oG9UtfdgCgT9RqwUsQ/s320/Aunt+Bessie+letter_2.jpeg" width="258" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Page 2 of 6</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Thou sat'st his heart aflame</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>With love's bright glowing blaze;</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4piqBG3PrGPPDoaLpJgfhItk2-NB3DsMNWXU8WN8FUPCMCxEWL2NOSQOL0RMbaSso3T3N1KrY0hdywoM-Iyuvr0kMo8StVGFtD_ZRtYFG5Y9z-btruxP6DLn37oG9UtfdgCgT9RqwUsQ/s1600/Aunt+Bessie+letter_2.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"></a></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>For hearts like his will melt so soon</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Beneath his lover's gaze.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>The cord of love soon spun</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Her web around each heart;</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>And verry [sic] soon the tie was made, </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Until death doth us part …</i></span></div>
<br />
On page 3, the story heats up. How Bessie's heart turned to stone, stone De Witt's love could not penetrate.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">He pled with thee, my child, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">to turn and do the right; </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">But thou wouldest not, and so soon </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Despised him in thy sight…</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">… But hardened in thy ways, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Thy proud heart harder still;</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">E'ne tears of grief and words of love</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Could never break thy will.</span></i></div>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Boy Loses Girl</span><i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span></i></h3>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdDzmQRCKByoV9ow3ydSLJUlfgYyJHBjNeCWErI9llaWSR-ccgZ7-ZM1wECNtU0Y6i5DFDFpgFFv9nB8M2XOHxdknJplPWckbRmKOdTUa92pmQtzmY2vH5VAFWNTDthX5Clc5yGO88eOE/s1600/Aunt+Bessie+letter_4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdDzmQRCKByoV9ow3ydSLJUlfgYyJHBjNeCWErI9llaWSR-ccgZ7-ZM1wECNtU0Y6i5DFDFpgFFv9nB8M2XOHxdknJplPWckbRmKOdTUa92pmQtzmY2vH5VAFWNTDthX5Clc5yGO88eOE/s320/Aunt+Bessie+letter_4.jpeg" width="258" /></a></div>
On page 4, God enters the picture:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And God in heaven knows</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The day the deed was done, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">When in thy wrath the cord was cut</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Which bound thee to this one. </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Alas poor man he wept, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Thy love had proved untrue;</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">When this one hasty step ye took, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Which many others do …</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Looks like Lillie means to curse Bessie:</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">God grant you may escape</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The awful pain he bore;</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">But Bessie, I'm afraid, my girl</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">It's coming to your door. </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<h3 class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Boy Gets Better Girl</h3>
Page 5 recounts the truer love heartbroken Dewitt found in Lillie.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">This love will ne'er be quenched</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">As God is on his throne;</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">'Tis burned so deep within two hearts, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">It never can be known. </span></i></div>
<br />
That's stickin' it to her, Lillie. Turn that knife and make her bleed. The letter is tattered, suggesting that Aunt Bessie read this tome many times.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ62qLheLbheR5UJZaSdrVQ3sgug2ouDWcC-Qnc3iiqFDeUkmlaG08Z1qzPus9DHfDv_29aH1LDu5qr8G_v5XdzfxUTUsmmP0ln2lU9pZsnxBtnj5y8TKHgH5_yf_CzC2GhdzFADk0Xi8/s1600/Aunt+Bessie+letter_6.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Page 6, a summary: He's mine now. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ62qLheLbheR5UJZaSdrVQ3sgug2ouDWcC-Qnc3iiqFDeUkmlaG08Z1qzPus9DHfDv_29aH1LDu5qr8G_v5XdzfxUTUsmmP0ln2lU9pZsnxBtnj5y8TKHgH5_yf_CzC2GhdzFADk0Xi8/s1600/Aunt+Bessie+letter_6.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ62qLheLbheR5UJZaSdrVQ3sgug2ouDWcC-Qnc3iiqFDeUkmlaG08Z1qzPus9DHfDv_29aH1LDu5qr8G_v5XdzfxUTUsmmP0ln2lU9pZsnxBtnj5y8TKHgH5_yf_CzC2GhdzFADk0Xi8/s320/Aunt+Bessie+letter_6.jpeg" title="" width="257" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">… The love thou shouldst have known, </span></i></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The joy that should be thine, </span></i></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">A darling husband's tender care</span></i></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Has turned and now is mine …</span></i></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">… May God forgive you, Dear</span></i></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The mistake of your life;</span></i></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">For He was merciful and kind, </span></i></div>
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And gave DeWitt a wife. ––Mrs. Lillie Brown</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></i><br />
<h3>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Epilogue</span><i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></i></h3>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Although Bessie married again, three more times in fact, I wonder if she wondered what her life would have looked like had she gotten on that train to California in 1913.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
This picture tells more than a thousand words for it looks as if Lillie continued to rub it in. Lillie sent Bessie several such pictures of the happy couple. </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I wonder if the Browns ever had kids. Aunt Bessie didn't.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTQuoOpkIwR_KLn-SxatUnzWUhxZIvvXs2tnoOysqdaSs2MFUmS8Fg-vbpRwba44rqbYYiYjjEThOiFsbiQlQQ1bXX3mowuPxTR4Lq3nqGr1QJiXa3jCHzIx6Wt_cb8BQKablzXx_hysM/s1600/Dewitt+and+Lillie+Brown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTQuoOpkIwR_KLn-SxatUnzWUhxZIvvXs2tnoOysqdaSs2MFUmS8Fg-vbpRwba44rqbYYiYjjEThOiFsbiQlQQ1bXX3mowuPxTR4Lq3nqGr1QJiXa3jCHzIx6Wt_cb8BQKablzXx_hysM/s320/Dewitt+and+Lillie+Brown.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bringing in the sheaves</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<br />Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04341027209994226229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565160169391024868.post-72473046524463825752012-10-04T11:34:00.001-05:002012-10-09T12:11:32.323-05:00The Ballad of Bessie BrownAunt Bessie’s death stunned the family when she died at age 79, 3 weeks short of her 80th birthday. Not that she wasn’t old—she had always seemed old to me—but she insisted she would live until the Rapture. “Jesus is going to come back while I’m alive,” I must have heard Aunt Bessie say so a hundred times. But He didn’t, and the house where she lived in East Texas, where she had perched herself high on the pillared porch to look down on passersby, that house burned down. Only the slab sits to recollect the years of her life––so exalted, settled and secure.<br />
<h4>
A Woman of Influence</h4>
<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;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZe5EQXTQf9FZn08ysLraciPkHqXulQtjZyrqV2UiGvnMh771vei9sb4sAfYYPh_3sWXdC6OHr0n7EMhCVrdl-FrkZciWeGE4fbPcUCBvzJHxjto5C-VEXMYw-YVBKiXAkYaevM2HVi1U/s1600/Aunt+Bessie+in+Galveston.jpeg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZe5EQXTQf9FZn08ysLraciPkHqXulQtjZyrqV2UiGvnMh771vei9sb4sAfYYPh_3sWXdC6OHr0n7EMhCVrdl-FrkZciWeGE4fbPcUCBvzJHxjto5C-VEXMYw-YVBKiXAkYaevM2HVi1U/s320/Aunt+Bessie+in+Galveston.jpeg.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mother's Aunt Bessie in Galveston</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-fareast-language: JA;">Aunt Bessie––the eldest of eight children, the progeny of Ma and Papa, who had until she died lived the
longest––weaved a tangling web of influence on all her siblings and demanded strict adherence to standards she herself did not keep. </span><br />
<span style="mso-fareast-language: JA;">My mother's mother, Prudie, died from a ruptured appendix at age 26, when my mom was 7-years-old, her younger sister, Joyce, was 5, and "the baby"––as they called her until she died at age 43––Syble was 16-months-old.</span><br />
<span style="mso-fareast-language: JA;">Aunt Bessie's
funeral in Marshall marked the last time my mother and her sisters would ever
spend together. They all got drunk.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-fareast-language: JA;">Aunt Bessie,
despite multiple marriages had no children, so instead she manipulated and shaped her nieces to fit her own design. </span></div>
<h4 class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-fareast-language: JA;">A Bundle of Inconsistencies</span></h4>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-fareast-language: JA;">Aunt Bessie smelled of
talcum and splashed rosewater on her neck before putting on her pearls. She
stuffed her bulging body into a corset with drawstrings in back, her
bosom inflated but soft like a roasted marshmallow. I might never have known how
she managed such a shape but for seeing her get ready for bed the times I
slept on a pallet in her bedroom. </span><br />
<span style="mso-fareast-language: JA;">It surprised me every time I saw her let down </span><span style="mso-fareast-language: JA;"><span style="mso-fareast-language: JA;">her
hair</span>—thin, silver-gray tresses that reached to her waist got bound and
pinned each day in a bun, her crowning glory. </span><span style="mso-fareast-language: JA;"><span style="mso-fareast-language: JA;">Before bed</span>, Bessie would sit on a bench facing the
dresser mirror, count aloud 100 strokes using a tarnished silver brush. A rigorous routine.
Religious.</span><span style="mso-fareast-language: JA;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-fareast-language: JA;">Sitting down at the dining table, Aunt Bessie prayed, her eyes closed but her left hand
raised, sputtering unintelligible words sprinkled with "Thank you,
Jesus," words that passed her lips before the food got passed to eat. And when the
noon meal was over, Aunt Bessie put a cloth over the table, covering the
leftovers that would serve as supper. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-fareast-language: JA;">After the last meal I ever ate at Aunt
Bessie's, I slept in the small room off of her bedroom––suffocating without a
fan or windows––and I had nightmares that night, visions that danced on the
ceiling, made me afraid to be in that place, afraid that demons had in this house found a
host.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-fareast-language: JA;">Aunt Bessie's religious beliefs allowed her to impose a
self-righteous pietism that “’llowed a little” for her indiscretions but
drew sharp distinctions around the sins of others. My mother baulked at the incongruities. My mother's experiences colored my own impressions of Aunt Bessie. </span></div>
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<span style="mso-fareast-language: JA;">When my mother was a young girl, she got to sew stitches in a quilt stretched over a frame suspended from
the ceiling in Aunt Bessie’s parlor. The frame hung ready for the weekly
quilting circle where other women encouraged my mother to learn to quilt and imparted a lifelong love for handmade quilts. But Aunt Bessie removed Loretta's
stitches right after she got sent to bed. </span></div>
<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://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhirC0j-aKUEbUdwsHTlQyVZZKJRsikBLSR_bKa_-SbdnSA0RQsIsSwHag3z5hKyvOKcqb_xP2rLwJNajpzDti5gSNUAPM6jcxXxaUlwnIVOaXG4vuyE_sZhdlKvAxR5TdhgBB3tUi8WFQ/s1600/088.jpeg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhirC0j-aKUEbUdwsHTlQyVZZKJRsikBLSR_bKa_-SbdnSA0RQsIsSwHag3z5hKyvOKcqb_xP2rLwJNajpzDti5gSNUAPM6jcxXxaUlwnIVOaXG4vuyE_sZhdlKvAxR5TdhgBB3tUi8WFQ/s320/088.jpeg.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is me with my great-aunt Bessie and Aunt Syble's Yorkie, Cindy</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="mso-fareast-language: JA;">Marriages not made in heaven </span></h4>
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<span style="mso-fareast-language: JA;">Aunt Bessie
reigned over three husbands; all died leaving her more property than she had
had before they married—a farm, a grocery store and a house in town. Except her second husband, 20-years younger than she, married her for her money and they divorced in 1946. Divorce was a scandal for everyone except Aunt Bessie.</span></div>
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<span style="mso-fareast-language: JA;">A ledger
would fail to account for the difficulty I have imagining Bessie as the object of
anyone’s passion, her breasts heaving beneath any man’s head, let alone three
or four or more different men. I knew her only when she was old, wearing print
dresses she had made for herself where she ‘llowed a little on account of the
“little dab of leftovers, not enough to keep,” which Aunt Bessie would rather
eat than save. <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-fareast-language: JA;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span><span style="mso-fareast-language: JA;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><span style="mso-fareast-language: JA;">Aunt Bessie sewed dresses and
skirts for me, too, ones that she 'llowed a little too much fabric––ill-fitting, so that I felt tacky wearing these creations that
she boasted about making without a pattern. As they say in East Texas, I looked like something the cat dragged in. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="mso-fareast-language: JA;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><span style="mso-fareast-language: JA;">But in deference to my mother's Aunt Bessie, who made an annual trek from East Texas by train or bus to visit us in Las Vegas, I wore these dresses to school and to church.</span></span></span><span style="mso-fareast-language: JA;"> Like it or not.</span></div>
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<span style="mso-fareast-language: JA;">A Marriage Annulled </span></h4>
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<span style="mso-fareast-language: JA;"> At age 18, Aunt
Bessie married DeWitt Brown who took her by train to live in California. The
couple got as far as Dallas and Aunt Bessie turned back, went home to Marshall
where that marriage was annulled. A record of this scandal––for it truly was scandalous at the time––might not have
survived but for the letter the second Mrs. Brown wrote to Aunt Bessie. </span></div>
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<span style="mso-fareast-language: JA;">A
gloating letter––thank you very much for breaking his heart but now he has me
and we’re rich. The new Mrs. Brown enclosed a picture of Dewitt and herself wearing a
mink coat and a wide-brimmed hat like those worn by First Class passengers on
the Titanic. She also wrote a poem capturing in curly cursive, rhyming stanzas this romantic saga which she titled “The Cord That Bound Three Hearts––The
Will That Severed Two.” I call it “The Ballad of Bessie Brown.” </span></div>
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<span style="mso-fareast-language: JA;">I also call it an act of vengeance. But that Aunt Bessie kept the letter that told the tale tells me that she did, after all, have a heart. </span></div>
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Next time, excerpts from the letter. </h3>
Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04341027209994226229noreply@blogger.com0