Two weeks ago, on a Sunday, George Mendonsa died. He was 95.
This may not mean much to you, it certainly didn’t to me. I had no idea who the guy was, but…
I’d seen his picture. We’ve all seen his picture. This picture…
1945, Times Square, New York.
People poured into the streets to celebrate the end of WWII and a kiss was caught on camera. That image has become a romantic icon.
The moment captured though, according to the two people involved, wasn’t romantic at all.
George Mendonsa and Greta Zimmer Friedman weren’t a couple, they didn’t even know each other.
George, who’d served on a destroyer during the war, saw a woman in a nurse’s uniform and wanted to say thank you to all the nurses who’d cared for the wounded sailors on the hospital ship.
Greta, who passed away in 2016 at 92, remembered not having much choice in the matter. A stranger grabbed her, kissed her in celebration. In her own words, “It wasn’t a romantic event.”
But, the camera didn’t know that.
Here’s the thing about cameras, they see everything, and interpret nothing.
That’s our job.
We’re all paranoid these days, with Google listening to our every word and Facebook tossing our personal information around like so much confetti.
My phone reads my emails and pops flight information into my calendar. Convenient, but just a tad creepy.
And yes, I can search Incognito to keep targeted ads from talking to me on my tablet. Psst, did you forget? Don’t you want to buy…?
I can, but I don’t.
Truth is, as pathetic as I am with tech, I like it. Forgetting my cell phone at home makes me break out in a cold sweat. I thank Google just to hear her say, “No problem.” How cute is that?
Am I aware that some machine somewhere is crunching numbers about my spending habits, that Big Brother is watching me?
Just a thought, but it occurs to me that while the tech aspect may be new, someone was always watching…
The Palace of the Grand Master, Rhodes, Greece.
Over a weekend, in the middle of January, winter bared its teeth and bit us hard.
For those of you who remember the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson…
Drum roll… How cold was it?
Cold enough to dig out the winter hat I bought in Russia and thought I’d never wear.
Cold enough to actually wear it.
Cold enough for the snow to protest with a high pitched squeak as you drive over it.
Cold enough for frost bite to threaten any sliver of exposed skin.
Cold enough for me.
In proof of the old assertion, This Too Shall Pass, I offer…a scene from summer 🙂
Remember what sweltering in +34C was like?
Yeah, me neither 🙂
Want a beach to yourself, but can’t manage the down payment on an island?
Take a walk down to Lake Ontario when the thermometer reads -8 Celsius.
Cobourg, Lake Ontario.
Still beautiful, but you might want to hold off on the bikini 🙂
Window on Time
Walk with the Eternal.
Wishes over water.
All pictures: Pont du Gard, France.
Watching with care,
Waiting in welcome,
Windows of the soul.
You’re late. Where are you?
Are you thinking rain, grey skies and puddles on the street?
As the Gershwin classic goes, “It Ain’t Necessarily So”.
Umbrellas can mean blue skies …
and sunshine …
and days at the beach.
They can mean that, but not in Toronto. Not in March 😦
To borrow from Elizabeth Barrett Browning,
How will I miss thee?
Let me count the ways …
None, zero, not at all.
I will not miss you
Wet, white, cold.
I will not long for your chill embrace.
I will not pine for your ice and sleet.
I will not miss you winter mine.
I will not miss you,
Not not one flake.
Hello, Florida 🙂