Daily Challenge Today 1154

[MoonMind]

Et ceterum censeo: No pasarán.

M.

 

[re-note]

 

[Charzes44]

Isle of Wight car ferry.

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[wee-pics]

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[wee-pics]

Congratulations Matt, 100 K reactions

I was checking my personal account data because of yesterday's problems with getting connected with cam .
And, surprise, surprise ... I saw that you were close to hitting the roof or going through the ceiling as we call it.
So I decided to quickly give you my daily reactions, and there we are. The score shows that we folks do like what you post.

Wishing you better times to come and many happy hours spent behind your various cameras and lenses.
And you can definitely feel yourself up on (in spirit ... the rest is still needed ).

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[MiguelATF]

In the U.S., Memorial Day is ostensibly a day consecrated to remembering the lives, deaths, and assorted 'sacrifices' of soldiers who died while in some way 'defending' their country. Of course, that's an oversimplification, albeit a useful one. Originally, before becoming a national holiday, and before it was called 'Memorial Day', in many part of the U.S. (both in the 'North' and the 'South', that is, the two former warring sides in America's brutal and bloody 19th century Civil War, which had the end result of nominally abolishing the legalized slavery of human beings that formerly flourished, mainly in the 'South'), it was called 'Decoration Day' - and was a day on which many people visited cemeteries, to 'decorate' the graves of soldiers (from both sides of the War, though usually, in regional areas, only the soldiers belonging to 'your' particular side would be buried in a local cemetery). Even today, many old folks or old timers, still persist in the custom of calling it 'Decoration Day'. A debate has raged for years (and many many decades) as to which 'side' (the South or the North) was the first to hold Decoration Day celebrations, in honor of their deceased soldiers, before 'Memorial Day' became a national holiday. Most of which is known, more or less, to the handful of students who didn't actually fall asleep in their 'boring' (all too often, for some) history classes. I'm mentioning all of the preceding for two reasons. First, my photo today is of a local Decoration Day at a southern Oregon cemetery; but second, because I recently discovered that one of the first ever post-Civil-War public Decoration Day celebrations was held in Charleston, South Carolina (ironically, the Southern City where the Civil War began), long a bastion of pro-Slavery forces - and it was organized, not by the whites who had always controlled the local society and economy, but by thousands of freed African-American slaves to celebrate those who had literally given their lives to end slavery. It's a great story and one worth reading. (Here's the link: One of the Earliest Memorial Day Ceremonies Was Held by Freed African Americans ) One of the most poignant parts of the story, for me, is the fact that southern historians (largely white, of course) and southern and American 'society' as a whole (dominated, historically, by whites) somehow either conveniently forgot, dismissed, or swept under the rug almost any and all mention of this first huge public Decoration Day celebration, because, presumably, it did not fit or square with more acceptable or patriotic versions of the origins of the celebration.

My photo is of the grave marker of my wife's father, Roy Bashaw, who served in World War II as a sailor in the U.S. Navy, and survived the conflict. He was a thoughtful man and a lawyer who spent many years doing 'pro bono' (i.e. free or with no charge) legal work for poor people who needed legal representation but couldn't afford it. He was also, for a number of years, a local judge with a reputation for honesty and clarity. After his death, I discovered that he had resigned his judgeship, and learned why reading his resignation letter - in which he articulated his belief that, after years of attempting to do what he thought judges should do, that he could no longer, in conscience, continue doing it - since he had come to the conclusion that the American judicial system was fatally flawed in favor of the wealthy, who generally could 'buy' results with better lawyers. (I know, it sounds like he was a radical left-wing agitator, but in reality he had always been more of a thoughtful, middle-of-the-road 'moderate' or 'liberal', guided more by humanism than any ideology.) Of course, if he had been killed at sea during the War, then my wife would have never been born and I never would have met her. (This kind of thinking can either take you down interesting rabbit holes, or inspire you to start penning sci-fi stories.)

The flowers are hand-picked ones from the greater garden area, and the shadow belongs to the photographer.

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[MoonMind]

In the U.S., Memorial Day is ostensibly a day consecrated to remembering the lives, deaths, and assorted 'sacrifices' of soldiers who died while in some way 'defending' their country. Of course, that's an oversimplification, albeit a useful one. Originally, before becoming a national holiday, and before it was called 'Memorial Day', in many part of the U.S. (both in the 'North' and the 'South', that is, the two former warring sides in America's brutal and bloody 19th century Civil War, which had the end result of nominally abolishing the legalized slavery of human beings that formerly flourished, mainly in the 'South'), it was called 'Decoration Day' - and was a day in which many people visited cemeteries, to 'decorate' the graves of soldiers (from both sides of the War, though usually, in regional areas, only the soldiers belonging to 'your' particular side would be buried in a local cemetery). Even today, many old folks or old timers, still persist in the custom of calling it 'Decoration Day'. A debate has raged for years (and many many decades) as to which 'side' (the South or the North) were the first to hold Decoration Day celebrations, in honor of their deceased soldiers, before 'Memorial Day' became a national holiday. Most of which is known, more or less, to the handful of students who didn't actually fall asleep in their 'boring' (all too often, for some) history classes. I'm mentioning all of the preceding for two reasons. First, my photo today is of a local Decoration Day at a southern Oregon cemetery; but second, because I recently discovered that one of the first ever post-Civil-War public Decoration Day celebrations was held in Charleston, South Carolina (ironically, the Southern City where the Civil War began), long a bastion of pro-Slavery forces - and it was organized, not by the whites who had always controlled the local society and economy, but by thousands of freed African-American slaves to celebrate those who had literally given their lives to end slavery. It's a great story and one worth reading. (Here's the link: One of the Earliest Memorial Day Ceremonies Was Held by Freed African Americans ) One of the most poignant parts of the story, for me, is the fact that southern historians (largely white, of course) and southern and American 'society' as a whole (dominated, historically, by whites) somehow either conveniently forgot, dismissed, or swept under the rug almost any and all mention of this first huge public Decoration Day celebration, because, presumably, it did not fit or square with more acceptable or patriotic versions of the origins of the celebration.

My photo is of the grave marker of my wife's father, Roy Bashaw, who served in World War II as a sailor in the U.S. Navy, and survived the conflict. He was a thoughtful man and a lawyer who spent many years doing 'pro bono' (i.e. free or with no charge) legal work for poor people who needed legal representation but couldn't afford it. He was also, for a number of years, a local judge with a reputation for honesty and clarity. After his death, I discovered that he had resigned his judgeship, and learned why reading his resignation letter - in which he articulated his belief, after years of attempting to do what he thought judges should do, that he could no longer, in conscience, continue doing it - since he had come to the conclusion that the American judicial system was fatally flawed in favor of the wealthy, who generally could 'buy' results with better lawyers. (I know, it sounds like he was a radical left-wing agitator, but in reality he had always been more of a thoughtful, middle-of-the-road 'moderate' or 'liberal', guided more by humanism than any ideology.) Of course, if he had been killed at sea during the War, then my wife would have never been born and I never would have met her. (This kind of thinking can either take you down interesting rabbit holes, or inspire you to start penning sci-fi stories.)

The flowers are hand-picked ones from the greater garden area, and the shadow belongs to the photographer.

View attachment 390802

Thank you so much for providing so much helpful context - for me as an outsider, this was invaluable!

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From my friends' terrace this evening ...

(The 15mm f/1.7 tends to flare somewhat prominently, alas - however, I was torturing it in this case.)

M.

 

[drd1135]

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[MoonMind]

Congratulations Matt, 100 K reactions

I was checking my personal account data because of yesterday's problems with getting connected with cam .
And, surprise, surprise ... I saw that you were close to hitting the roof or going through the ceiling as we call it.
So I decided to quickly give you my daily reactions, and there we are. The score shows that we folks do like what you post.

Wishing you better times to come and many happy hours spent behind your various cameras and lenses.
And you can definitely feel yourself up on (in spirit ... the rest is still needed ).

View attachment 390779

I honestly don't know what to say - well, at any rate, thanks for carrying me over the line (another nice Germanism ).

As always, I feel honoured - it's been a worthwhile journey so far, and being with all of you is what keeps me going.

M.

 

[donlaw]

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[JensM]

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[Briar]

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If Baxters doesn't get there first.

 

[drd1135]

View attachment 390873
If Baxters doesn't get there first.

How Warholian of you.

 

[donlaw]

In the U.S., Memorial Day is ostensibly a day consecrated to remembering the lives, deaths, and assorted 'sacrifices' of soldiers who died while in some way 'defending' their country. Of course, that's an oversimplification, albeit a useful one. Originally, before becoming a national holiday, and before it was called 'Memorial Day', in many part of the U.S. (both in the 'North' and the 'South', that is, the two former warring sides in America's brutal and bloody 19th century Civil War, which had the end result of nominally abolishing the legalized slavery of human beings that formerly flourished, mainly in the 'South'), it was called 'Decoration Day' - and was a day on which many people visited cemeteries, to 'decorate' the graves of soldiers (from both sides of the War, though usually, in regional areas, only the soldiers belonging to 'your' particular side would be buried in a local cemetery). Even today, many old folks or old timers, still persist in the custom of calling it 'Decoration Day'. A debate has raged for years (and many many decades) as to which 'side' (the South or the North) was the first to hold Decoration Day celebrations, in honor of their deceased soldiers, before 'Memorial Day' became a national holiday. Most of which is known, more or less, to the handful of students who didn't actually fall asleep in their 'boring' (all too often, for some) history classes. I'm mentioning all of the preceding for two reasons. First, my photo today is of a local Decoration Day at a southern Oregon cemetery; but second, because I recently discovered that one of the first ever post-Civil-War public Decoration Day celebrations was held in Charleston, South Carolina (ironically, the Southern City where the Civil War began), long a bastion of pro-Slavery forces - and it was organized, not by the whites who had always controlled the local society and economy, but by thousands of freed African-American slaves to celebrate those who had literally given their lives to end slavery. It's a great story and one worth reading. (Here's the link: One of the Earliest Memorial Day Ceremonies Was Held by Freed African Americans ) One of the most poignant parts of the story, for me, is the fact that southern historians (largely white, of course) and southern and American 'society' as a whole (dominated, historically, by whites) somehow either conveniently forgot, dismissed, or swept under the rug almost any and all mention of this first huge public Decoration Day celebration, because, presumably, it did not fit or square with more acceptable or patriotic versions of the origins of the celebration.

My photo is of the grave marker of my wife's father, Roy Bashaw, who served in World War II as a sailor in the U.S. Navy, and survived the conflict. He was a thoughtful man and a lawyer who spent many years doing 'pro bono' (i.e. free or with no charge) legal work for poor people who needed legal representation but couldn't afford it. He was also, for a number of years, a local judge with a reputation for honesty and clarity. After his death, I discovered that he had resigned his judgeship, and learned why reading his resignation letter - in which he articulated his belief that, after years of attempting to do what he thought judges should do, that he could no longer, in conscience, continue doing it - since he had come to the conclusion that the American judicial system was fatally flawed in favor of the wealthy, who generally could 'buy' results with better lawyers. (I know, it sounds like he was a radical left-wing agitator, but in reality he had always been more of a thoughtful, middle-of-the-road 'moderate' or 'liberal', guided more by humanism than any ideology.) Of course, if he had been killed at sea during the War, then my wife would have never been born and I never would have met her. (This kind of thinking can either take you down interesting rabbit holes, or inspire you to start penning sci-fi stories.)

The flowers are hand-picked ones from the greater garden area, and the shadow belongs to the photographer.

View attachment 390802

Miguel,
Although it has occurred to me many times before to do so, only now am I mentioning your eloquent and professional writing skills. Very lovingly written background story on Decoration/Memorial Day and its connection to your wife’s family. Thank you for doing It.
My father was a WWII veteran too. He served the US Army against Nazi forces in the northern Italian front. There he was captured in battle, became a POW but was ultimately rescued about a week later. Following that experience, he lost an eye to shrapnel and was discharged as the European theatre was concluding. I frequently wonder about his experiences back then as he joined up at only 17 by lying about his age (a typical thing for that war). He would never speak about his time in the war, and there was no understanding of PTSD and how it affected the lives of soldiers back then. Thank you for making this day a little better with a personal story!!

 

[MiguelATF]

Miguel,
Although it has occurred to me many times before to do so, only now am I mentioning your eloquent and professional writing skills. Very lovingly written background story on Decoration/Memorial Day and its connection to your wife’s family. Thank you for doing It.
My father was a WWII veteran too. He served the US Army against Nazi forces in the northern Italian front. There he was captured in battle, became a POW but was ultimately rescued about a week later. Following that experience, he lost an eye to shrapnel and was discharged as the European theatre was concluding. I frequently wonder about his experiences back then as he joined up at only 17 by lying about his age (a typical thing for that war). He would never speak about his time in the war, and there was no understanding of PTSD and how it affected the lives of soldiers back then. Thank you for making this day a little better with a personal story!!

Thank you, Don.
And thank you, too, for the brief words about your father. I've occasionally indulged in paranoid imaginary fantasies about what it would be like to lose some or all of my vision (it's a writer's thing), and wondering how I would survive or adapt, but what your father experienced was obviously, in ways I don't imagine I can fully understand, the real thing. Added to the fact that, like many others, he had to lie about his age to risk his life... well, he sounds like a fine and fascinating person. I also understand, partly I think, the reluctance to talk about what he had actually been through. From what I understand, that reluctance was a common one. But PTSD was and still is very very real, and many of its effects have been (thankfully) better documented and understood now. But I imagine he may have had some difficult moments along the way.

Another holdover from bygone wars that took place in previous centuries, was a phenomenon my mother described to me decades ago. She had spent several years of her young womanhood living in the South, in Atlanta, Georgia, where she'd been a journalist and columnist for a large newspaper, before later marrying my father and moving with him first to Bolivia and later to the West Coast. She talked about a common thread or belief among many Southerners that the South hadn't really 'lost the war' (the Civil War, that is), but rather had been sneakily defeated by the Yankees (aka the Northeneres) using a variety of underhanded and dishonorable tactics. The phenomenon she mentioned was that, dining out, whether in a 'nice restaurant' or an inexpensive dive, often, late at night, someone would play a recording of 'Dixie' (the 'Anthem' of the South during the Civil War) - and when it was played, everyone in the place would get to their feet and stand up, respectfully. When she told me this, I found it hard to believe; or rather, hard to believe that the custom (which she had witnessed repeatedly in the 1930's) could still have persisted near the end of the century. But then, year later, in the late 1980's, I took a trip through parts of the south - visiting, among other places, South Carolina, Florida and Georgia. And... sure enough, the phenomenon she described was still happening half a century later: people getting to their feet and standing (at 'attention') when Dixie was played.

I don't know if there's a moral to this story or not; or maybe if there are several. But my own moral is akin to the lyrics of an old Doors song: "People are strange..."

 

[wee-pics]

In the U.S., Memorial Day is ostensibly a day consecrated to remembering the lives, deaths, and assorted 'sacrifices' of soldiers who died while in some way 'defending' their country. Of course, that's an oversimplification, albeit a useful one. Originally, before becoming a national holiday, and before it was called 'Memorial Day', in many part of the U.S. (both in the 'North' and the 'South', that is, the two former warring sides in America's brutal and bloody 19th century Civil War, which had the end result of nominally abolishing the legalized slavery of human beings that formerly flourished, mainly in the 'South'), it was called 'Decoration Day' - and was a day on which many people visited cemeteries, to 'decorate' the graves of soldiers (from both sides of the War, though usually, in regional areas, only the soldiers belonging to 'your' particular side would be buried in a local cemetery). Even today, many old folks or old timers, still persist in the custom of calling it 'Decoration Day'. A debate has raged for years (and many many decades) as to which 'side' (the South or the North) was the first to hold Decoration Day celebrations, in honor of their deceased soldiers, before 'Memorial Day' became a national holiday. Most of which is known, more or less, to the handful of students who didn't actually fall asleep in their 'boring' (all too often, for some) history classes. I'm mentioning all of the preceding for two reasons. First, my photo today is of a local Decoration Day at a southern Oregon cemetery; but second, because I recently discovered that one of the first ever post-Civil-War public Decoration Day celebrations was held in Charleston, South Carolina (ironically, the Southern City where the Civil War began), long a bastion of pro-Slavery forces - and it was organized, not by the whites who had always controlled the local society and economy, but by thousands of freed African-American slaves to celebrate those who had literally given their lives to end slavery. It's a great story and one worth reading. (Here's the link: One of the Earliest Memorial Day Ceremonies Was Held by Freed African Americans ) One of the most poignant parts of the story, for me, is the fact that southern historians (largely white, of course) and southern and American 'society' as a whole (dominated, historically, by whites) somehow either conveniently forgot, dismissed, or swept under the rug almost any and all mention of this first huge public Decoration Day celebration, because, presumably, it did not fit or square with more acceptable or patriotic versions of the origins of the celebration.

My photo is of the grave marker of my wife's father, Roy Bashaw, who served in World War II as a sailor in the U.S. Navy, and survived the conflict. He was a thoughtful man and a lawyer who spent many years doing 'pro bono' (i.e. free or with no charge) legal work for poor people who needed legal representation but couldn't afford it. He was also, for a number of years, a local judge with a reputation for honesty and clarity. After his death, I discovered that he had resigned his judgeship, and learned why reading his resignation letter - in which he articulated his belief that, after years of attempting to do what he thought judges should do, that he could no longer, in conscience, continue doing it - since he had come to the conclusion that the American judicial system was fatally flawed in favor of the wealthy, who generally could 'buy' results with better lawyers. (I know, it sounds like he was a radical left-wing agitator, but in reality he had always been more of a thoughtful, middle-of-the-road 'moderate' or 'liberal', guided more by humanism than any ideology.) Of course, if he had been killed at sea during the War, then my wife would have never been born and I never would have met her. (This kind of thinking can either take you down interesting rabbit holes, or inspire you to start penning sci-fi stories.)

The flowers are hand-picked ones from the greater garden area, and the shadow belongs to the photographer.

View attachment 390802

What a story. Our generation can call itself lucky ... over 70 years now without any wars in the country. My grandmother lived through two wars with all the sufferings and losses of sons, husbands and fathers. Thanks to your soldiers the Nazi regime was brought to its knees. And if my father who was forcibly sent to the East-Front aged 17 had not survived the five years of "work camp" in Siberia, I too wouldn't be here. I'm wondering at times how I have earned this special grace.