tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-194486352024-03-19T04:47:43.424-04:00Savannah SpellThree novels based on the Revolution in Georgia and Carolinaauthorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18148662593263874683noreply@blogger.comBlogger49125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19448635.post-64499327711528069492024-03-04T12:28:00.000-05:002024-03-04T12:28:47.006-05:00<p> </p><p><br /></p><p> Source Revolution</p><p>In the 1980s books began disappearing. Not only were they displayed less often in retail stores but in homes and libraries as well. Instead individuals, libraries, educational institution and retail stores were displaying many more computers. The latter frantically offered row after rows of computers. I fully expected Savannah's imposing Bull Street library to change the motto over its main entrance to read MAKE COMPUTERS THY COMRADES. Somehow, that just doesn't have the same awe inspiring affect as its current words "MAKE BOOKS THY COMRADES".</p><p>Computers are certainly a wonderful modern convenience. My former neighbor called the telephone number of of the Sears 24 hour catalog her suicide help number. Computers masterfully handle massive amounts of data efficiently. Beware, however, of the details of products for sale and sources. The former is often replaced by customer reviews with some even verified. While the latter may merely abandon any mention of sources. </p><p>Don't even mention and get me stated on Wikipedia.</p><p> </p><p><br /></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Braiswick books are available from all good bookstores</div>authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18148662593263874683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19448635.post-9508197277628357922017-05-04T18:05:00.001-04:002017-05-05T16:40:24.717-04:00"MAKE BOOKS THY COMRADES" <div class="MsoNormal">
Books are disappearing not only in bookstores but libraries
as well. That leaves us with fewer, if any, independent bookstores and
libraries’ budgets, usually funded by local governments, are purchasing instead
rows of computers. I fully expected Savannah’s imposing Bull St. Library to
change the motto over its main entrance to now read “MAKE COMPUTERS THY COMRADES”.
Somehow it just doesn’t make the same awe inspiring inscription as “Make Books
Thy Comrades”.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Computers are certainly a wonder of modern convenience. Not
only have they replaced what a former DeKalb neighbor called her suicide
hotline, the Sears catalog’s 24 hour shopping, but can masterfully handle
massive amounts of data efficiently. Beware though of the details of products
for sale and the sources of computer data .The former is generally replaced
with customer reviews easily manipulated by writing one without guarantee they
are neither an employee of the maker nor competitor. The latter generally
ignore footnotes and all references. One is left to merely hope it wasn’t
gathered by those ‘researchers’ commonly found in Malls with their clipboards
and questions. And don’t get me started on that most popular online
encyclopedia Wikipedia.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Athens is the home of the University of Georgia, first
public university chartered (1785). (North Carolina takes issue with that claim
as UNC was the first to actually admit university students (1789). Atlanta has
its state rival (publicly funded) Georgia Tech (1885). Colleges and
Universities provide captive customers for bookstores, of course, but academic
books are their bread and butter. Since the South built most colleges and
universities inland, the coastal towns were deprived of these state funded academic
bookstores just as their residents were of the opportunity of a nearby place of
higher education.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Despite this, while wintering in Savannah 2017, I found time
to read and so set out to browse Savannah’s independent bookstores. I was most familiar
with Ester Shaver’s since I had my first book signing there and was a docent
for Ester’s home a couple of years for the annual Savannah Tour of Homes and
Gardens. Ester has since sold it, remarried and moved from the city. However, I
didn’t make it that far. On Liberty Street I passed my first store, The Book Lady,
and went in. I was very familiar with the building as I studied there in the
40s when it was the dance studio of Dorothy Davis. That acute attack of
nostalgia was cut short when the first book I saw was “The Damned Don’t Cry”
(not to be confused with the totally unrelated Joan Crawford movie of the same
name). The main ‘character’ was a house despite the plethora of human characters. The house had personal significance to me but not nearly as much as
it did for the main female character of the book. I bought it on the spot,
turned and started home to read it. Again however, I didn’t make it that far. I
sat on the first park bench I passed in Colonial Cemetery and only put it down
when chores, company or eye fatigue called.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The book was out of print for 50 years because it was
definitely not politically correct. However it was an excellent book and I
highly recommend it. As one of my visitors who noticed it said, it would hurt a
child to the core to read such descriptions of his ethnicity. I agreed. Can’t
imagine why any child would wish to or be allowed to read the book. It had
bigotry loud and clear but as I pointed out at least it was equal opportunity bigotry.
It left no class, ethnicity nor gender un-offended. It was a snapshot of a time
when the whole world practiced wholesale bigotry. It was an excellent read.</div>
<div style="border-bottom: solid black 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: none; border-top: solid #222222 1.0pt; margin-left: -1.95pt; margin-right: -1.95pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid black .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid #222222 .25pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 0in 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .5pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid black .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid #222222 .25pt; mso-outline-level: 2; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 0in 0in; padding: 0in;">
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 6.5pt;">Friday,
March 26, 2010<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: #141414; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-outline-level: 3;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="7685536267899858636"></a></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background: #141414; line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 7.5pt;"><a href="http://author-savannahspelltoyorktown.blogspot.com/search?updated-max=2010-03-16T20:21:00-04:00&max-results=7" title="Older Posts"><span style="color: #444444; text-decoration-line: none;">lder Posts</span></a><a href="http://author-savannahspelltoyorktown.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: #444444; text-decoration-line: none;">Home</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Braiswick books are available from all good bookstores</div>authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18148662593263874683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19448635.post-64328653713923009552017-04-05T14:25:00.000-04:002017-04-05T14:25:29.297-04:00LESSER DIVERSITIES<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are many variations of locales/scenery,
customs/lifestyles, accents, foods, history and cultures in Georgia and
Georgians. My recent winter hiatus from my current home in the Appalachian
foothills to the coast reminded me of some of those contrasts.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The oddest and most puzzling among them I noted long ago.
The beds on the coast always seem to be twice as high as the one’s upstate.
Don’t ask me why because I haven’t a clue… there just seems to be an unwritten
rule. Many of the coastal beds would be easier to get into if accompanied by an
old fashioned two or three ladder steps similar to those sometimes seen in
Libraries to reach the upper shelves… but rarely are they provided. The highest
bed I’ve ever slept in was in S.C. at the old Anchorage, an antebellum mansion
overlooking Beaufort Bay on Bay St. It was also the noisiest since it, a
genuine antique, was stuffed with corn husks not, as a Hilton Head Island tour
guide once erroneously told tourists, softer Spanish moss. If Spanish moss were
used you’d be sorry because it is notoriously infested with red bugs.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Those high beds are also much easier to make-up come morning
as they don’t require the make-upper to constantly bend over as you’re
struggling with the linens. Of course that latter difference disappears if, as
my grandson taught me after his year in a military boarding school, you make
the bed up while still in it. He developed a very ingenious method of doing
that which I, now in my later years, often use. An added skill neither advertised
nor charged for by boarding schools, is that pupils in them must exercise and
develop amazing levels of creativity in order to evade following the rules
without actually breaking them… thus cleverly avoiding punishment.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Other notorious difference is the upstate
attitude about building, land value and bookstores. On the coast they consider
anything built above the ‘fall line’ to be viewed as disposable. Since I’m too
wordy those are left for later blog(s).</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">Braiswick books are available from all good bookstores</div>authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18148662593263874683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19448635.post-79152067794336054442017-03-18T20:45:00.001-04:002017-03-25T15:50:00.727-04:00IS MOTHER NATURE QUITE DEAD BENEATH THE WALL?<div class="MsoNormal">
With both the Ides and St. Patrick’s Day behind us I was
looking forward to the arrival of Spring. However, upon returning to north
Georgia from our milder coast I was in for a surprise. Seems Mother Nature
decided not to start winter here without me!! As flattering as that might have
been my ready-to-bloom iris plants were appalled. We had cold, rain, freeze as
if it were January and not the middle of March. I stayed inside until it
returned to the 60s which was yesterday.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I could have used a volume of Walt Whitman to read but alas
and alack, as they say, my personal library consists of mostly history books. I
do have one book of poetry by my late nephew but his writing, though quite excellent,
tends to prod one to despair as well as deep thoughts. An example comes to
mind: </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I climbed upon a steepled church to view the world from such a perch.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So high was I when I did fall</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
that nothing now I see at all.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Quite dead am I beneath the wall.”</div>
<h2>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Not light reading by any means. Then I recalled from memory
a Whitman-like poem written by my late mother and used it as my mantra until
the wintry blasts passed. I had to rely on memory because if she ever
published it, I don’t own a copy. As I recall it went like this:</span></span></h2>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“There’s a hustle and a bustle now among the forest folk</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Old Mother Nature’s spoke to them that’s why they have awoke.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She said, 'Get up and dress yourselves or ere you will be
late.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I saw a nest of Robbins today so Spring is at the gate'….”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
It goes on for many stanzas but that beginning is all I
recall. It helped. If any forest folk see this you might want to heed her
words.</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Braiswick books are available from all good bookstores</div>authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18148662593263874683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19448635.post-5445855952034016272017-03-06T21:48:00.000-05:002017-03-08T14:28:55.987-05:00RETURN FOR A NATIVEHaving been brought up in Savannah and spent many years there since, I knew what to expect when I chose it over a cruise to Barbados or a couple of months on the US Gulf coast. It would be a generally mild winter with a couple of frigid, i.e. below freezing, nights but with speedy warm ups. It did not disappoint. Of course my primary residence north of Atlanta also had a milder than usual winter but still the change of venue was good.<br />
<br />
Savannah has changed though since I left it in 2005/6 ish as I suppose my living in Roswell this decade+ has changed me. It wasn’t a holiday time but the city was always packed with tourists. Tourists originally came in the hopes of getting a peek at the, some might say odd balls portrayed in the best seller, <i>Midnight in the garden of Good and Evil</i>, but I prefer the term unique people who make up the population. And, of course, they come to see the unparalleled architecture and notorious city planning of our founding fathers. Wlliamsburg, Va. has similar architecture but it is a replica, built in the 20th century, as I recall with Rockefeller money. Only Charleston and Beaufort in S.C. have the authentic architecture and though they have other historical features they lack the gorgeous parks called squares by natives (though they’re really ovals).<br />
<br />
The tourists are so numerous in fact that the tables have turned and the city’s population, or at least those that dare the impossibility of parking and very slow and POLITE drivers in the Historic District, gape at the outlandish get-ups of tourists. Don’t these people have mirrors in their hotel rooms? It has become a city where tourists come to marvel at other odd-ball tourists… whether they know it or not, I‘m not sure. Still it works… though at first I thought surely someone is paying these people to parade by and entertain me.<br />
<br />
It was a very restful visit. I felt as if I were living, through time travel, in about 1930. For those who wish they‘d lived in the olden days when life was slow, I recommend it. The PEDESTRIANS, carriages, bikes (not as many as Asia but getting there) and two-wheeled-platform gizmos are the predominant means of transport though others which challenge Rube Goldberg apparatuses are also in use. As mentioned the few cars are so polite you become accustomed to drivers who gesture to each other, “you go” and get the response, “no, after you.”<br />
<br />
Which brings me to my moment of alarming realization: I was indeed home but forgot what it really was like. I’d been to the grocers and parked at my front door. Carrying my groceries across the sidewalk, I paused when a very rapidly walking student passed but abruptly stopped and spoke to me in shock, “M’am, how far do you have to carry those? I’m late but…”<br />
I interrupted him saying, “Just up the step to my front door. I’m fine but thank you.”<br />
<br />
Sadly there were no tourists to witness that exchange between two obviously rare but authentic odd ball Savannahians.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Braiswick books are available from all good bookstores</div>authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18148662593263874683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19448635.post-59762992463577096942017-03-02T16:45:00.001-05:002017-05-07T14:33:42.170-04:00RETREAT FROM WINTER QUARTERS<div class="MsoNormal">
After a two month winter retreat to a warmer climate, I’m
home again… jiggedy jig! The return trip was exhausting and as I was returning
from east Georgia to north of Atlanta part of the reason was at one point I was
surprised to find myself in South Carolina. If you know your geography you know
there is no valid reason one should be in our northern neighboring state when
making such a journey.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After unloading my “luggage” (primarily one piece of actual
luggage and mannnnny large plastic containers) I rested and then got to the
chores that accumulate when you vacate your primary residence for months: picking
up month’s worth of snail mail from the US Postal Service; going online to pay
accumulated bills and checking my emails. My snail mail was delivered to me in
a huge plastic container which nicely matched my above mentioned ‘luggage’ of
such containers but for the United States Postal Service lettering and logo on
the side. I’ve been home three days and am yet to reach the bottom of it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Checked my emails which I had attempted to mange while on
vacation by buying a gadget called “a tablet” (of course it wasn’t a REAL tablet but an electronic one) and a mobile WI-FI. In this user's hands it was
not a good pairing so I wasn’t able to. One of my email boxes had well
over 500 unread… let alone answered, emails.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m managing to whittle down these chores and came home with
fabulous material for new blogs. Will be posting anew and often once I’m able
to catch up.</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Braiswick books are available from all good bookstores</div>authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18148662593263874683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19448635.post-11387120303048151132016-12-27T16:57:00.001-05:002016-12-27T17:05:18.861-05:00RECENT BLOG STATS<div style="border-bottom: solid #EBEBEB 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid #EBEBEB .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 8.0pt 0in;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=19448635" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Graph of most popular countries among blog viewers" border="0" height="640" src="file:///C:/Windows/TEMP/msohtmlclip1/01/clip_image001.gif" style="cursor: move;" v:shapes="Picture_x0020_1" width="0" /></a><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoNormalTable" style="width: 347px;"><thead>
<tr><td style="border-bottom: solid #6F7277 1.5pt; border: none; padding: 2.25pt 11.25pt 2.25pt 11.25pt;" valign="bottom"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="color: #4b4a4a; font-family: "inherit" , "serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 18px;">Pageviews by Countries</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="color: #4b4a4a; font-family: "inherit" , "serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="color: #4b4a4a; font-family: "inherit" , "serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="color: #4b4a4a; font-family: "inherit" , "serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Entry<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
</td><td style="border-bottom: solid #6F7277 1.5pt; border: none; padding: 2.25pt 11.25pt 2.25pt 11.25pt;" valign="bottom"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="color: #4b4a4a; font-family: "inherit" , "serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Pageviews<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
</td></tr>
</thead><tbody>
<tr><td style="background: white; border: solid white 1.5pt; padding: 1.5pt 11.25pt 1.5pt 11.25pt;" valign="bottom"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: "inherit" , "serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">France<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td><td style="background: white; border: solid white 1.5pt; padding: 1.5pt 11.25pt 1.5pt 11.25pt;" valign="bottom"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: "inherit" , "serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">7<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td></tr>
<tr><td style="background: #F3F7FB; border: solid #F3F7FB 1.5pt; padding: 1.5pt 11.25pt 1.5pt 11.25pt;" valign="bottom"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: "inherit" , "serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">United States<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td><td style="background: #F3F7FB; border: solid #F3F7FB 1.5pt; padding: 1.5pt 11.25pt 1.5pt 11.25pt;" valign="bottom"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: "inherit" , "serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">7<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td></tr>
<tr><td style="background: white; border: solid white 1.5pt; padding: 1.5pt 11.25pt 1.5pt 11.25pt;" valign="bottom"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: "inherit" , "serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">China<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td><td style="background: white; border: solid white 1.5pt; padding: 1.5pt 11.25pt 1.5pt 11.25pt;" valign="bottom"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: "inherit" , "serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">1<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td></tr>
<tr><td style="background: #EEEEEE; border: solid #EEEEEE 1.5pt; padding: 1.5pt 11.25pt 1.5pt 11.25pt;" valign="bottom"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: "inherit" , "serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Russia<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td><td style="background: #EEEEEE; border: solid #EEEEEE 1.5pt; padding: 1.5pt 11.25pt 1.5pt 11.25pt;" valign="bottom"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: "inherit" , "serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">1<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td></tr>
<tr><td style="padding: 0in 0in 0in 0in;" valign="top"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "inherit" , "serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Pageviews yesterday<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td><td style="padding: 0in 0in 0in 0in;" valign="top"><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: right; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "inherit" , "serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">5<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoNormalTable" style="border-bottom: solid #DDDDDD 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: none; border-top: solid white 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid #DDDDDD .75pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid white .75pt; mso-cellspacing: 0in; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 0in 0in; mso-yfti-tbllook: 1184; width: 301px;">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td style="border: none; padding: 0in 0in 0in 0in;" valign="top"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "inherit" , "serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Pageviews last month<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border: none; padding: 0in 0in 0in 0in;" valign="top"><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: right; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "inherit" , "serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">93<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=19448635" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Graph of most popular countries among blog viewers" border="0" height="640" src="file:///C:/Windows/TEMP/msohtmlclip1/01/clip_image001.gif" style="cursor: move;" v:shapes="Picture_x0020_1" width="0" /></a><br />
<table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoNormalTable" style="border-bottom: solid #DDDDDD 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: none; border-top: solid white 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid #DDDDDD .75pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid white .75pt; mso-cellspacing: 0in; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 0in 0in; mso-yfti-tbllook: 1184; width: 301px;">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td style="border: none; padding: 0in 0in 0in 0in;" valign="top"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "inherit" , "serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Pageviews all time history<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border: none; padding: 0in 0in 0in 0in;" valign="top"><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: right; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "inherit" , "serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">1,961<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="border-bottom: solid #EBEBEB 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid #EBEBEB .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 8.0pt 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid #EBEBEB .75pt; mso-outline-level: 3; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 8.0pt 0in; padding: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "inherit" , "serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;"><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shapetype id="_x0000_t75"
coordsize="21600,21600" o:spt="75" o:preferrelative="t" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe"
filled="f" stroked="f">
<v:stroke joinstyle="miter"/>
<v:formulas>
<v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"/>
<v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"/>
</v:formulas>
<v:path o:extrusionok="f" gradientshapeok="t" o:connecttype="rect"/>
<o:lock v:ext="edit" aspectratio="t"/>
</v:shapetype><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_1" o:spid="_x0000_i1025" type="#_x0000_t75"
alt="Graph of most popular countries among blog viewers" style='width:240pt;
height:120pt;visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square'>
<v:imagedata src="file:///C:\Windows\TEMP\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image001.gif"
o:title="Graph of most popular countries among blog viewers"/>
</v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "inherit" , "serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=19448635" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Graph of most popular countries among blog viewers" border="0" height="640" src="file:///C:/Windows/TEMP/msohtmlclip1/01/clip_image001.gif" style="cursor: move;" v:shapes="Picture_x0020_1" width="0" /></a></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Braiswick books are available from all good bookstores</div>authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18148662593263874683noreply@blogger.com0world34.597041516144166 -163.476564511.667083016144165 155.2148415 57.527000016144171 -122.1679705tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19448635.post-23461603414402750002016-12-16T13:55:00.000-05:002016-12-16T14:16:11.591-05:00SAD BAD OLD DAYS<div class="MsoNormal">
The good old days photos and newspaper clippings brought
back from my recent Savannah visit are still spread pell-mell on my dining table
awaiting my sorting. Thanksgiving Day I and visiting family were entertained
going through them so they have served some purpose. Since I’ve taken a closer
look and found some items might be more interesting as examples of the so-called
GOOD old days in light of the continuing world disasters we’ve since come to
accept on an almost daily basis… or perhaps it is just my passion for history.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Going through copies of old G Southern U newspapers from
when I attended, there were whole editions I’d put away to later clip and save. One
such was a 1955 front page headline “’Dear Brutus’ cast set For Spring
Production” (Don’t ask me what the choice of Capitol letters indicates since I
haven’t a clue.) I was in that play so I clipped and read it. An early paragraph
caught my attention and brought a flood of memories that spanned several decades:
“Darwin Humphrey, freshman, Vidalia, has been chosen to portray Mr. Dearth,’ a
good man who has gone wrong, and in his heart despises himself for it’.” The
last paragraph deals with yours truly thusly: “In the role of Mrs. Purdie will
be Nan Waters, senior Savannah. Mrs. Purdie is: ‘a simple young wife, wistful,
who knows her husband is fond of Joanna’.” The only thing I remember about that
play was being criticized in my portrayal for what I thought was showing
simple and wistful facial expressions as I stood behind a tree spying on them.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fast forward to the 80s when I was listening to my car radio
and a rather well known Georgia humorist, Lou Grizzard, was doing a bit. I
was shocked to hear him remark that another award winning journalist Georgian,
Darwin Humphrey had several years before (1978) been murdered in the Jonestown,
Guyana masacre. That was the first I’d heard of whatever became of my long ago stage buddy. How could I have missed that fact as closely and vividly as TV coverage
was of that horror show when over 900 members of Jim Jones ‘s Peoples Temple
commune were also killed?!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Simple! His professional name, used for years while covering
the Viet Nam War including the fall of Saigon and as NBC newsman who won four
Emmys and DuPont/Columbia Award, was not Darwin Humphrey but Don Harris.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sadly, some good old days were not so good after all.</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Braiswick books are available from all good bookstores</div>authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18148662593263874683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19448635.post-64069212999483599462016-12-08T17:00:00.000-05:002016-12-15T19:33:44.965-05:00"I GOT CULTURE" part 2<div class="MsoNormal">
She then showed up, apparently thinking that waiting "someplace
in the general area of" was the same as waiting "at Frogmore".
The remainder of my vacation was a complete hassle after she insisted on taking
charge. They treated me to "breakfast" at a nearby strip
mall... a far cry from a leisurely and scenic brunch on Beaufort Bay. As I
gulped down my so-so she crab soup, Madame Art Association informed me she'd
arranged for cocktails on an acquaintance’s boat for our afternoon... Oh and
BTW invited them to my dinner I had arranged for the evening (and foolishly
invited Mme AA and hubby to, sight unseen, as a thank you for her kindness
to my college mate). I only glared at her news of the latter and informed her I
wouldn't be able to attend her impromptu nautical cocktail party.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Went on to Fripp to check in and enjoy. Took a while for the salty
marsh fluff air, gently lapping Low Country water below my balcony, etc. to
relax me after exposure to such strange manners. Put it out of mind and
telephoned old friends from high school and arranged to ride in with one for my
dinner party. Briefly apologized to said high school friend as we rode to
dinner saying I'd never been exposed to some we were to dine with as they were
the type who thought it was acceptable behavior to invite other strangers to attend a
dinner party as long as you'd been invited so could make no promises about the
company we'd be keeping. "Just roll with any punches, please." <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After dinner Mme AA's behavior remained consistent. She and hubby with College mate in tow followed us to my friend's home afterward and came in. Mme AA arranged a
full day for the next but was politely told by my high school friend she had
other plans already. Mme AA undauntedly rushed on to say since she'd be riding
home with me and my College mate, we could meet here first thing on our departure date for a coffee since we all knew where it
was and I didn't know where their vacation trailer was!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gladly took off for Fripp and bed after such as miserable experience,
hoping I'd seen the last of the woman. Not to be so but I was civil, .. barely. She managed to insert herself into the driver's seat of my car in the later and
final episode so it was with great pleasure that I called her at 5 AM (YES, I'M
AWARE THE CORRECT TIME FOR CALLING CIVILIZED PEOPLE IS 9 AM TO 9 PM) on the last day of MY VACATION and when it went to machine
announced I'd be going to the nearest car dealership to repair an under drag
problem before returning home so she and College mate could ride home with
hubby and the dogs in their pick up.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That woman badly needs an I GOT CULTURE
lapel pin and if Gov. Deal thinks we can't afford to have an Arts Comm. at least require these regional volunteers to take a basic etiquette course particularly if they're from out of state.</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Braiswick books are available from all good bookstores</div>authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18148662593263874683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19448635.post-65613315378030367412016-11-27T16:25:00.000-05:002016-12-05T14:29:39.606-05:00I GOT CULTURE<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love that 1960s' slogan when the Savannah Symphony Orchestra handed
out it printed black on a large white lapel
button to attendees. It brought a smile and inferred inclusion of everyone, not
merely the usual elite, to their performances. Any reared and educated in
Savannah were taught perhaps a uniquely Savannah saying: “Got is Rot and Gotten
is Rotten” in proper English usage… so perhaps it was more amusing to us. As
I’ve taught and traveled in many other places, I’ve learned <i>got</i> is
apparently more acceptable now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A decade later my son went to his school’s costume party as a hobo
with a tattered white shirt, askew string bow tie, ragged tails (all reasonably
priced and slightly altered via Goodwill store), five o’clock shadow cum eyebrow
pencil, obviously recycled butt of a cigar, white gloves with holes in some
fingers and that ‘I Got Culture’ lapel button. Don’t remember if he won the
prize but his outfit was a big hit.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Great Recession recently caused our state government to budget cut
and relieved us of the 'non-essentials' like the Georgia Arts Commission. .
even though it had served the state well through political
contentions such as completion of the relief sculpting on Stone Mountain
without ever losing sight of our heritage of remaining gracious in the face of
aggressive and hostile rudeness. This now former Georgia Arts Commission served
as a sort of aid and clearing house for the entire state for all of the Arts
(visual, musical, literary, performing, etc.). <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By 2016 I’d forgotten the ‘I GOT CULTURE’ button but on a
mini-vacation trip to the coast was reminded of that lapel pin in reality. And
it wasn’t even slightly amusing. An artist friend of mine and I set out to our
mutual College reunion's Bar-B-Q etc. just west of the coast with the thought
of making a side trip to the beach. All went well until the next morning when, awakened by said College mate at 8 AM. I looked at her as if she were insane
since obviously she was. We'd known each other for 63 years and never in that
time had I been a morning person. Her mantra was "Early to bed and early
to rise" so I knew never to call after sundown. She knew never to call me
before eleven in the AM. Why on earth would she wake me on the first day of a vacation?
Apparently because someone on her cell phone needed to talk to me!! Really??
REALLY!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don't remember the exact words she spoke but it was something about
picking up my fellow college mate as she was to stay with them while I went on
to Fripp Island. Nor do I remember my exact words but they were something like,
I'll be having breakfast across the street from my motel on the picturesque bay
so why not pick her up there. I was not rude as Southerners are not naturally
so. Amazingly she, who had a vacation place in Beaufort didn't know where
Beaufort Bay was! Would I bring her to Frogmore instead? (Not Frogmore as in
Queen Victoria's favorite place belonging to the Royal family of the UK but a
two story white wooden structure in the midst of St. Helena's Island in SC.
about 5-10 miles distant from my motel). "Sure".<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I drove to the gas station facing the house known as Frogmore and
waited, having no coffee and not eaten but my friend had taken advantage of my
motel's free breakfasts hours earlier. I gassed up the car but still no sign of
the woman. Earlier I'd expressed my
feelings to my passenger about this pushy person who defended her by
explaining, "She is, but she has to be to run our Art Association" (albeit as an unpaid volunteer). My jaw went slack and I said, "Oh, really", but kept the rest of my
thoughts to myself... now mentally adding <i>and
obviously dumb and/or unpunctual woman</i> to my impressions of her. Asked my
passenger to call the woman on her cell and ask where she was as I waited coffee-free in
Frogmore. (To be contd.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Braiswick books are available from all good bookstores</div>authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18148662593263874683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19448635.post-86141646353232683352016-11-19T19:50:00.000-05:002016-11-21T17:27:39.547-05:00WHAT WAS THAT SUPPOSED TO BE?<br />
Fresh from what supposedly was my annual Physical Exam, now question if it were elder abuse, a USMC endurance test, the medical profession revolt against Medicare and/ or the recent election or simply sadists enjoying testing me for masochism. WHICHEVER, I managed to get through it while retaining my sense of humor, manners, sanity and life. It went like this and I do not exaggerate:<br />
Instructed to have nothing but water from Midnight until after my exam brought Problem #1. My blood pressure, allergy and thyroid medications are all pills taken by mouth.( I awoke at an hour I normally reserve for an adequate reaction time for, if not an alien invasion of earth at least a foreign invasion of the USA... felt this at least qualified for the latter since I was about to undertake the two most dangerous things an elder can undertake: #2 a bath and #1 drive the Atlanta Expressway System which is the most dangerous in the nation for any of any age… Did I mention, and me without a drinkable cup of coffee?)<br />
Stared at my pill bottles pondering if I dared swallow my medicine. Called the doctor’s office (listened as recording gave the disclaimer telling me if an emergency hang up and call 911, followed by a lecture on arthritis which claimed there were over 100 different types… relieved they didn’t detail each but feared they might, followed by another on the qualifications/ training of Internal Medicine specialists before a human thankfully interrupted and told me to take my meds.<br />
Survived bath, dressed, and with prepacked overnight ‘bag’ drove up to the exit gate which opens automatically to avoid the Home Owners Association being sued for unlawful imprisonment but Problem #2: it didn’t. Considered the cost of said lawsuit vs ramming it when I discovered it also opens when I push the entrance button on my remote so now joined the stalled cars on Ga. Hwy 400 (northern expressway that feeds the Atlanta Interstates)<br />
Navigated both exits to I-285 East and West bur alas Problem # 3: Traffic blocked Exit 3 to my Doctors office and couldn’t safely exit there. Oh well, I'd use the next exit and double back to it. The next exit proved to be ‘Beautiful’ down town Buckhead/ Lenox Square/ Phipps. Speak of urban traffic snarls this is the King Kong of them. Managed to maneuver without a wreck and get back on 400 to my Dr. Office’s exit. Despite the ticking of the clock and hassle of it all, I was pleased to have DONE it.<br />
Next on to parking: there are more hospitals and professional offices with attached parking garages in this area than concrete in NYC (oops exaggerated). Got trapped in the wrong one but managed to escape to the right one but no space available so toured it several times until one opened. Clock still ticking. Got on the first elevator available (though going the opposite direction but exited the parking lot on 8th floor level (the Top) and remembered the secret (no signs) of turning to exit through the rear. Remembered to go around the corner to the left and enter the professional office building’s elevators to doctor’s top floor office,.. all kept secret since there is no signage. Arrived a few minutes before my scheduled 11 AM appointment, Whew!<br />
Beginning hunger pangs so read travel rather than food magazines. Finished two issues of <i>Conde Nast</i> when sign politely reminded me to shut off my cell phone which took away my only time piece. Whipped out my handy dandy electronic bridge game for a few hands to ignore my now growling stomach so got up and checked the time. 11:30 gone and headed for noon this was the longest I’d ever had to wait, here or perhaps ever. Finally an assistant type called me in. This usually started blood and urine sampling which would allow me to eat the snack I’d brought in case this sort of delay happened. Didn't happen. They wished to delay that until the MD saw me. Took all vital signs and usual measurements. Dr. saw and examined me, saw me again, EKGed me and at last took a urine sample after they bled me for about a half liter (oops again) of blood<br />
Long story shortened,.. Returned via the already described nightmare of traffic as efficiently as possible but now am a distracted driver still fasting but cramming snacks down my mouth. Between 1:30 and 2 PM arrived home and stepped from my car stumbling from dizziness to my neighbor's dismay. I recovered my balance immediately assuring I was fine. Surely this Health CARE system can't last. More like survival of the fittest.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Braiswick books are available from all good bookstores</div>authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18148662593263874683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19448635.post-31873386024127392412016-11-09T17:27:00.001-05:002016-11-09T17:27:55.074-05:00EUREKARemember when I was surfing the net in search of the good old days? Well, as fate would have it, I sadly found them and I should be finished sorting them just in time for the next US Presidential election. Seems the good old days were recorded by photographers in the form of old pictures and newspaper (remember those) clippings.<br />
<br />
My nieces inherited my now deceased sister's home and, after leasing it out for a movie filming, they sold it. These photographed good old days we're pretending I left in the house when I lived there, despite the fact that I shipped them to my oldest son in NOLA. My older niece had them already boxed up for me when I got there on my recent jaunt to the coast.<br />
<br />
I'm back now but have only unloaded the top items from said box: a picture of my late Mother, a photo album and wedding album. Mother's portrait presented no problem but the photo album was another matter. I visually scanned all remembering well each event. Some highlights included photos of when my oldest son went with my brother and many others to the Caribbean on bro's sister ship to the Honeyfitz; newspaper and campaign literature on some ex-in-laws who were in politics on the west coast (including one of Robert Kennedy where they supported his Presidential campaign on top of ? Mt. Hood); son's first sailboat, an AMC minifish called <i>Chicken of the Sea</i> ( that name served as constant reminder to him that it wasn't ever to go to sea... only lakes, estuaries and such) etc., etc., etc. <i>ad infinitum</i>. That was 6 days ago and the mess still sits in the midst of the dining table awaiting its fate. Needless to say I haven't cracked the wedding album yet. Once pristine white it's now more of an unmellow yellow from age... as am I.<br />
<br />
The moral of this blog is be #$%^$%^careful what you search for because you may just find it. <div class="blogger-post-footer">Braiswick books are available from all good bookstores</div>authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18148662593263874683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19448635.post-36457726266479822942016-10-30T00:50:00.000-04:002016-10-30T10:44:47.390-04:00 THANK YOU, ANDY BOROWITZ<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Talk about
LOL! I really did… and it added 11 years to my life! Exactly what I, whose
family left the UK in ~1600, needed. Having been stressed beyond words about
choices of this election, I took the coward’s way out. About to hit the road
again on a lengthy trip from the Appalachian foothills to the Atlantic coast, I
cast an early ballot and decided there was no way I was going to chance being
involved in an auto accident and not have a say in our impossible choices for
President. Read Mr. Borowitz’s <i>New Yorker</i>
article and immediately and deeply regretted my haste.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In case you
missed his satire, Queen Elizabeth II addressed the US recently from her
palatial office and made us, US citizens, an offer many I’m sure would welcome.
She offered to restore British rule over us. Wait now and think about it. Her
offer said we wouldn’t have to put up with Parliament and even appeared to
throw Charles and Camilla under the bus, so to speak! She selflessly declared
our social experiment with a Democratic Republic was obviously a disaster as
evidenced by our 2016 Presidential contest. It would be an old fashioned
Monarchy where her rule would be totally Autocratic. Her heirs to her throne
would be William and his adorable children. All we have to do is write in her
name on our ballot. NOW you tell me, YOUR MAJESTY… after I’ve already voted!?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Braiswick books are available from all good bookstores</div>authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18148662593263874683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19448635.post-9694787692034861002016-09-06T15:48:00.000-04:002016-09-06T15:48:05.000-04:00YOUNG MUTANTSLong past midnight I was self-tasked with keeping
an airplane aloft from NOLA to Japan with not one, not two but three typhoons
aimed at that plane’s destination. The plane left NOLA at 5 AM (EST),
about the time the first typhoon was predicted to hit Tokyo. Two other typhoons were still waiting to land. On that plane is a young lady of admirable strength:
a Katrina survivor, NOLA native, high school valedictorian, etc. <b>She arrived safely in Tokyo 1:30 AM (EST)</b>,
a journey by jet of twenty hours 30 minutes. She had not slept for 27 hours.
She was there to fulfill an earlier commitment as a partial repayment to all
the people who came to NOLA’s aid after Katrina. She was there to help Japanese
survivors of a tsunami. She has not reached the ultimate destination of those
tsunami survivors yet but is well and on her way as the Tokyo pictures she sent
back testify.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
She is not a politician, rock star, star of an upcoming
movie, book author or any other celeb looking for a photo op. She is a lowly
college sophomore doing what generations of decent people have done and do:
paying forward people to people aid. I mention her story because today’s media
give little exposure to such good news.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Shortly after noting the nomadic and pay it forward nature
of the above relative my youngest (22 YO) grandson made a 3000 mile vacation
trip so the travel lust may have a genetic component. He spent a week in
Seattle, Washington… not Japan but closer to it than his lifetime home in
Atlanta. He loved it. The only negative was he found his wardrobe inadequate for
the climate there. That gave me pause regarding his judgment but a minor glitch
as travel problems go. He returned yesterday and I was not prepared that during
that vacation he called his Atlanta boss and gave his two week notice after
finding and accepting a job he liked in Seattle. Found an apartment there and
signed a lease. Upon his return he sold all his non essential possessions and
packed his car with his essential possessions and will drive back to Seattle.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me thinks the genes they are mutating since my family got
off their boats from Europe 1585-1607 in the South and have sat in the area
never budging to go very far for very long.</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Braiswick books are available from all good bookstores</div>authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18148662593263874683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19448635.post-74063198693229558742016-08-15T16:40:00.000-04:002016-09-19T19:32:06.051-04:00ART APPRECIATION: The Hart to The High<div class="MsoNormal">
Sadly the only time I’ve seen Dilworth’s art exhibited was
at Atlanta’s High Museum in the late 60s. Yep, I’m talking last century. One
piece, an approximately 40 inches in diameter granite peach, was partly sliced
open exposing part of the peach’s pit. Not surprisingly it was titled a Georgian
Peach. Keep in mind this was a decade before someone followed with Steel
Magnolia. The peach was highly polished granite which is, of course, how Georgia
women like at least to think of ourselves. I was surprised and quite proud as I
read the name of the artist. We had gone to undergrad together in the 50s.
Actually I went to the High that day to see a painting by another well known
Georgia artist, Ann Osteen, from my hometown.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hartwell is fortunate, particularly for any sophisticated
art connoisseurs in the area. One of our country’s most gifted artists, Mary
Lula Dilworth resides there. Hartwell will have an exhibition of her works and
only hers, a one woman show. She’s done her civic and regional duty often acting
as judge and allowing pieces shown in Hartwell, Anderson and other fortunate
spots in the area. However, October 1 some new pieces never before displayed
will be seen. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One of my favorites was featured in Vivian Morgan’s
excellent June 16<sup>th </sup>Hartwell Sun article on Mary Lula and her works.
The canvas is of several women and the topmost face, about 2<sup>nd</sup> from
left must be her self portrait. It looks as she did in her youth. Excellent
likeness. The 3<sup>rd</sup> from left also intrigues me. It seems to be
someone I don’t know at all but at the same time I know dozens of women who
look just like her and they all have an identical personality. They present
themselves attractively almost identical to some prototype. That face’s right
ear is clearly non-functional, indicating a common feature of that personality
type. The 1<sup>st</sup> face with its collared neck doesn’t intrigue me at all,
possibly because of her obvious bondage status. Yet the hand/arm with the
possibility that the collar is also around a wrist does... there’s a lot of geometry
in that face. That piece is an example of why Dilworth is one of America’s foremost
artists; the more you look, the more you find. The apparent nose, to the left
of the first eye begs the question is it phallus instead. Before I could
resolve that I was struck by the recurring possibility that the eye’s position
and shape was not unlike testicular. In fact, all the noses and eyes on those
faces are. Keep in mind that Art Appreciation can reveal more about the observer than the artist. To see the picture go to www.mdilworth.com.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Another of my favorites she admits took 47 years to complete
and I have personally known that wooden sculpture since it was merely one of
many trees bull-dozed to construct I-285. About 1970 I received an excited
phone call from her telling me she had just saved some trees. Being a lifelong
tree-huger; literally so, usually in order to not fall as I loved to climb
them. Then as a Biology major in undergrad, I studied under Botanist Dr. Donald
Caplenor and much later once had myself a three storied home built completely
around an ancient sycamore. So I was impressed by Mary’s rescue. Never knew she
gave a fig about trees. Of course, as a tree-huger I was less impressed to
discover she ‘saved’ them <i>after</i>
they’d been bull-dozed. She was ecstatic at the prospect of using them for wood
sculptures.</div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I have looked at that former tree several times
through the years and the progress of her sculpturing of it. Last time I saw ‘the
tree’ it was a voluptuous nude, though obviously quite gravid female. It too
was pictured in the Hartwell Sun’s story... Wood sculpturing has a strength
requirement that few women, even as young adults, would undertake and Dilworth
is 82. Impressive again, but no surprise. She takes roads her art requires her
to take. She was the only woman ever known to enroll and gloriously complete
Industrial Arts at our <i>Alma Mater </i>.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">Braiswick books are available from all good bookstores</div>authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18148662593263874683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19448635.post-61196193596565653962016-08-04T17:27:00.000-04:002016-08-15T16:43:27.205-04:00SURFING the NET in SEARCH of the GOOD OLD DAYS<div class="MsoNormal">
SURFING the NET in SEARCH of the <i>GOOD
OLD DAYS</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As my 2016 birthday approaches I find myself nostalgic for <i>the good old days</i>. Without divulging my
specific age, which no woman should or so the cliché claims: When I celebrated
my 80<sup>th</sup> my daughter-in-law asked what my thoughts were. I paused and
tried to look beyond the most obvious one, “when can we cut the cake?” and came
up with, “Since according to the doctor who delivered me I was born dead. The
year was during the Great Depression of the 1930s. So all things considered, celebrating
this birthday is almost miraculous for me.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As if surviving after being pronounced dead, being one of
seven children when employment, money and food were practically non-existent,
even Baby boomers may know what followed. Yep, World War II! With three
brothers, we contributed one to the Navy, one to the Army Air Force and the
youngest to the Marines. That made WWII and The Occupation very personal. After
that there was Korea, Viet Nam, <i>ad
infinitum</i>. Hopefully by now you’re asking yourself why, with that history,
would I be searching for the old days and how do I have the nerve to call them
good. Have you looked at the news of the world today on the internet?</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Throwing most of the election 2016 news out, here is what’s
going on in a capsule: Indianapolis Star reports USA Gymnastics hid sexual
abuse accusations to protect reputation of coaches; De Pillis on Yahoo says
“Baby boomers Are Taking on Ageism…” (Oh, I remember Boomers they’re the ones
who coined the phrase “Don’t trust anyone over 40”just in time for my 41<sup>st</sup>
birthday. Good luck with that, guys and gals!); Women with Tonsils and
Appendixes removed are still fertile; Clint Eastwood, the only person in the
world who looks older than I but isn’t, says, “It’s a sad time in history” and
Pokemon Go is the newest game craze. I admit I chose the last item from the
technology articles because it is the only one I can remotely relate to,
remembering my now 22 Year Old grandson’s Pokemon card collection.<br />
<br />
Perhaps the <i>Good Old Days </i>I seek is better explained by a friend's wall plaque: The best thing about the <i>Good Old Days </i>is simply that I was neither old nor good.</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Braiswick books are available from all good bookstores</div>authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18148662593263874683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19448635.post-8307821846080479602016-05-06T18:23:00.000-04:002016-08-12T16:01:18.304-04:00HERE'S LOOKING AT YOU, MICHELANGELO<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You’re not going to believe this but let me tell you of my
apparently pornographic half bath. I bought a condo in a northern suburb of
Suburbville, GA (others call it Atlanta). It was in lousy condition still I
call it home after some insane DIY projects. These gave me bonding time as well
as a way to give spending money without danger of spoiling him, with an
otherwise distant grandson. It went like this:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Son, would you like to earn some money by painting my half
bath for me? I have the paint and all.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Eye rolling, fake grimacing, heavy sighing Grandson: “what
size?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Quart and a five inch brush.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pitying look at me, head shaking and eye rolling Grandson:
“I mean room size?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Like a big closet… really.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
GS with a sneering look of authority and might’ve known:”You
didn’t even measure it before buying the paint, did you?” toward my head shake. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Such was our ‘bonding’. I leave it to your imagination as to
the look he gave when he opened the paint and found it to be super-duper high
gloss and pitch black but his disbelieving words were. “Do you have any idea
what you’re doing using this freakish paint?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Once done, off went my GS with words of urgency of school
work. As I was left to clean the brushes, remove floor tarp and generally act
as clean-up guy I pondered suspiciously his sudden devotion to homework.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Eventually I added my decorative touches. My hobby is
painting but obviously not the room kind. I had my pencil sketches of statues of
artists in front of the Telfair Gallery in Savannah and put them in gilded
frames but really needed another to fill the bathroom shelf. Meanwhile,
WalMart had great plush, black, edged in gold guest towels. Except for another
picture of an artist, I liked the room even better than I’d imagined.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then I rushed to locate a picture of one more artist. Bingo!
Found the perfect one on, of all places, the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel…
well, no, didn’t really go to the Vatican in Rome but that’s why we have the <span style="background-color: yellow;">web</span>. Right? Michelangelo, the guy that ‘painted’ that ceiling, used his
own self portrait as St. Bartholomew. My pencil sketches were white on black
paper and Mickey-O’s was black on white paper. Also my sketches wore their
clothes and Michelangelo was naked as a jaybird but I dared not be dumb enough to
mess with any M painting. Besides I really like the contrast of the one white
among four blacks. I was thrilled but not without fear that my GS would really
roll his eyes and worse when he saw it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tried phones, Texts, Emails to get GS to view my finished
room but without success. Soon his Dad decided he had no room for a family
heirloom resulting in my looking out my window to see GS. ROLLING said
heirloom, a round table, on the concrete to my condo. Felt the need of
Aunt Pity Pat’s smelling salts but being more the Prissy type tried to appear calm. Like all teenagers he had more like himself in tow. He briefly
introduced me to friends who’d helped him with the chore while I resolved this
was not the time to unveil my finished bathroom. I offered them glasses of tea after
they placed the table as directed. They were leaving when one emerged from the
bath with a red face, painfully resisting the urge to burst out laughing. He whispered
urgently in his friends’ ears and suddenly GS ducked into the bath. He emerged
with eyes rolling like they’d entered the Daytona 500 and I braced myself.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Baxter, you’re a dork. Next year when you’re a senior like
me you’ll take Ms. Carr’s Art Appreciation class and learn nudes are NOT porno,
you dweeb! Nudes ’ve been around since fifth century B.C. To the Greeks and
Romans the nude body represented Humanity and depending on how shown represents
heroism, vulnerability, purity, idealism and that kinda stuff.Those remotely sexy
are meant to arouse only the mind. That’s not porno! That’s a great Renaissance
artist plastered among a lot of other nudes including God on the inside of the
best known church in the world, you Neanderthal.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
GS was still making his point as they left. I was now the
one rolling my eyes… mostly heavenward in relief and thanks for education.</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Braiswick books are available from all good bookstores</div>authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18148662593263874683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19448635.post-25554800527487591812011-08-30T16:43:00.001-04:002016-08-26T16:28:46.270-04:00IRENE It’s that time of year again as Irene just reminded us. Have been a hurricane evacuee three times on land with two of those real horror stories but my worst experience with a hurricane came at sea. My parents gave me a cruise to Bermuda for college graduation. The ship left Savannah and everything started out sunny: swimming pool; food every hour; flying fish off the bow and then my favorite the little red dingy Savannah way outside the harbor marking the entry to our port. I was in my element. I loved my first voyage. When not in the pool if you’ve ever seen the movie Titanic you know what I did: stood on the bowsprit and enjoyed the crashing waves – long before Gwyneth was born. I marveled at the sea and sky.
<br />
A day later the clouds moved in; white caps whipped up and swells grew larger by the minute. When the weather didn’t improve they emptied the pool and finally told us what we already suspected: we’d run into a hurricane. Apparently, the Captain was the last to know. It was only a decade since WWII and I doubt our young German crew had ever been near a hurricane before. . I was fine as long as I stayed in the open air. If I went inside I felt queasy so I stayed outside and slept in a deck chair. Soon lifelines were strung on deck to hold onto and lots of green looking people joined me on the deck, some leaning over it with gusto. Joyously we made Bermuda and the island and its weather were perfect.<br />
Before the return trip began many questioned the Captain before boarding and he assured them the storm had moved on north. Nonetheless a passenger from Charleston swore off cruising for life and took a flight home.One day out and we met our old nemesis again, only this time it was worse. The troughs of water between the mountainous crests of waves were deeper. We rolled so that you could only see water until it rolled the other way and you only saw sky. We pitched and dishes and glasses fell from the racks and broke when the props came out of the water. The whole ship shuddered as if it would shatter each time that happened. At meals the elegant dining was gone as we made do with sparse settings. No big deal since few showed up inside for meals where you had wine OR water OR tea OR a cocktail since there was only one glass per guest allowed. Very sobering!<br />
We safely made it home a day late with many worried but welcoming friends and families with outstretched arms awaiting us.
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Braiswick books are available from all good bookstores</div>authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18148662593263874683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19448635.post-60977363696917916792011-08-10T17:03:00.002-04:002016-10-20T17:49:53.845-04:00GARAGE STALESJust received an E-mail from my niece with the subject line: Cleaning out Mom's garage. Nearly needed the late Anne Sanford's (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">UGA</span> football stadium bears her family's name)Victorian fainting couch but alas it is inside said garage. I thought my niece a brave soul to undertake such. While a columnist in Savannah its staggering contents were one of my favorite subjects which turned the place into a minor Savannah icon. Since I once lived in the house attached to it for about five years she wanted to know if I wished to reserve anything in it. Wow!
<br />
I once wrote 500 words in my column about a peach gown originally owned by an aunt but used by everyone in the family, actually the females only... as far as I know, for four decades. It served as the gown for Jeanette in my role in Christopher Frye's <em>The Lady Is Not for</em> <em>Burning;</em> with a hoop my cousin was a southern belle at a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">UGA</span> fraternity's Old South Ball; and my E-mailing niece wore it in her lead role in <em>Bell, Book and Candle </em>and with a boa the newspaper photographed her in it at the final gala before the razing of the original Hotel <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">DeSoto</span>. That gown hangs among racks of similar vintage clothes including my own wedding gown and veil. My first computer, an Apple given me by my oldest son in the mid-80s; varied paintings I've never finished; a huge life-sized portrait of Ben Hogan which my late <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">PGA</span> brother left in my care because he couldn't chose which of his sons should inherit it (must be a genetic flaw because neither can I); the Sanford couch already mentioned bought from neighbor Anne's estate sale; and endless other such are all in there.
<br />
In the end I asked niece to save the Ben Hogan, an unfinished portrait of herself I started and the Apple's Owner's manual (good basic 'How to' for computers). Sent a PS for her to pass on my crabbing net in there to someone in the family as I won't be needing it here.
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Braiswick books are available from all good bookstores</div>authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18148662593263874683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19448635.post-26858120587792157612011-06-16T19:30:00.006-04:002016-08-12T16:15:01.540-04:00BULL SHARKS and BIG BLUE HERONSSome left over scraps from the wedding- I was preoccupied that the groom’s family follow the prescription of my mother-in-law who as a Missouri Protestant minister’s wife put together many a wedding in her day. She said the groom’s mother should wear beige (meaning drab and colorless so as not to steal the bride & Co. thunder) and his family should sit still and be quiet. We were doing fine until a nephew and wife decided to seat themselves just as it was time for the father-of-the-bride to begin their entrance. My son, seated on the row with them leaned over and quietly said hello to his cousin whom he had not seen in decades. Nephew demanded, “Who are you?” When son identified himself they stood, shook hands and had old home week! I apologized to the bride afterwards but she assured me she didn’t even notice. I also was apparently so busy recovering from that so I missed the groom fixated on the Bull shark swimming behind the ceremony as it took place. Apparently there was also a Big Blue heron not frightened from his fishing by the predator. Possibly they’re two pretty good symbols for a young couple starting a new life together (and the rest of humans as well) but let’s not dwell on that.<br />
I finished writing a non-fiction piece of 40,000 words if any non-fiction publishers out there are reading this. It goes like this: one of the most condemned and vilified women of history, presents one of its greatest mysteries. Inspired fiction writers treat her kinder than writers of her earliest alleged non-fiction with the latter’s many self-evident errors. These blunders occurred because factual records like the State Papers of Thurloe and Clarendon, various government Calendars, Letters between rulers and/or administrators, Memoirs, and even Hotten’s Lists were not made public until usually centuries later. Her slanderers, not knowing or caring that reliable contemporaries were recording events which along with advances in science would one day prove their accusations impossible, are “hoisted on their own petard.” Search for her historic truth continues. One need only use a computer’s search engine to find the scandalous details recorded of her. She has been a popular subject and herein is a review of some reportedly non-fiction facts about her. She has inspired more defenders than accusers in the last two centuries and each defender examined the evidence and usually established only one or two new truths regarding her. Now time has established enough accumulated valid evidence at least to sketch her real character.<br />
Heavy work.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Braiswick books are available from all good bookstores</div>authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18148662593263874683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19448635.post-15549230736696135082011-05-17T22:43:00.003-04:002011-05-17T22:48:01.311-04:00Home AgainReturned Sunday from Skidaway Island off the Georgia coast to chilly weather. Barely 60 degrees F but we expect a warm-up by the weekend. No, this is not going to be another one of my weather reports. Pulled some winter clothes out which I efficiently put away before heading southeast for my grandson’s May 14th wedding.<br />My son, his wife and I took a rental home at the Landings on Skidaway for the occasion and it was nice to be back in my home area. Sat on the patio at night and listened to the swamp sounds coming from our lagoon. A resident Blue Heron successfully fished ten feet away. Anhinga dived for their dinner and then spread their huge wings to dry in the sun. The rehearsal dinner was at Bonna Bella Mariner, a Savannah landmark and as mariner oriented as the name implies. Had a somewhat formal version of a Frogmore Stew/Dump/Low Country Boil (different names given the same dish depending on which part of the Carolina-Georgia coast it’s held), chicken and accompanying fare. Saw people I had not seen in thirty years and another even before that from the west coast. Took my older sisters and another to lunch in the kitchen at Savannah’s “World famous” (are they sure?) Johnny Harris’. Shared memories with family, friends and enemies equally. Toured my late mother’s old home with its wealth of photographs and art and gave tours of it to all as well. The wedding took place there outdoors facing the east and the Vernon Estuary after a full day of steady rain that stopped an hour before the ceremony. My mandatory grandmother heels sank a bit on every step as one of favorite grandson’s friends from his cradle days escorted me to my seat. The reception followed at a Golf Club on the nearby Landings where I darted between the Peacocke’s family table, my birth family’s table and the bride’s family while watching the dancing expertly coordinated by an emcee imported from Atlanta and designed to entertain onlookers. Fun, exhausting but the change was good for me.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Braiswick books are available from all good bookstores</div>authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18148662593263874683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19448635.post-87270579881400512012011-04-08T20:30:00.001-04:002011-04-08T20:32:37.260-04:00Augusta, Georgia RevisitedSpring, pre-Easter, brings unstable weather particularly in upstate Georgia. Severe thunderstorms rolling through as cold and warm fronts meet progressing to tornado watches and warnings. Sorta like early autumn brings hurricanes to our coast. Have lived through many harrowing experiences with hurricanes but I feel more comfortable, maybe familiar is a better word, with those threats than the uncertainty of a first tornado experience. No lengthy warning time with tornadoes. Monday night was severe weather that almost instantly brought ‘The Night the Lights went out in Georgia.’ We had no power until the next day, minor since six people lost their lives in the area. My battery operated emergency high powered light enabled me to check for any debris (from within the safety of my home) when a nearby transformer exploded and intermittently check for any visible Georgia Power crews. Nothing from either. Got bored with that but noticed an interesting fact in the high beam of my flashlight: my house is filthy everywhere. I don’t see it in the daylight or with my predominant fluorescent lighting so I was shocked. That discovery led me to go out after the storms passed and buy an electric, vacuum broom. My floors are all new within the last two years and I thought those easy, convenient swiffers were keeping them clean. Not so! Hmm… what is my problem that with a storm like that I focus on the cleanliness of my house? The best news is my seemingly forest has reappeared as vast and green as a barrier against a busy intersection. Georgia’s pleasant spring event, The Masters golf tournament began… delaying my usual, already-too-late-at-night Craig Ferguson show. Having spent ten plus years in Augusta I’ve never looked back, not even at Master’s time. Since it was watch The Masters or do something productive, I watched. Made me all nostalgic. The picture of the course may look like a staged production but it really is at least as beautiful as the cameras show. My friends the late Helen and Forest Boshears lived adjoining it and during Masters had a week long Open-House for friends. Their drop-in guests, Southern style, didn’t arrive empty handed so there were always wonderful dishes and liquid refreshments. Their comfortably convenient shelter was welcoming if the weather or tournament play got dreary. Good times! At the Boshears’ you met new people from all over the globe since Forest was in Aviation. Must share Forest’s experience when he, hard of hearing like most aviation pioneers, got a loud radio call at Daniel Airfield in Augusta that he manned, often alone. The call was, “Look outside.” When Forest opened the hangar door from his small office, he gasped at the plane that was inches from the hangar door complete with skid marks. The 747’s pilot had mistaken Daniel Field for the Augusta Airport. No damage or injury but the national media had a field day.Last time I attended a happy event in Augusta it was at the signature Green Jacket the closest establishment on Washington Road to Magnolia Lane. It had sadly gone out of business as its former self and was then a Special Events site.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Braiswick books are available from all good bookstores</div>authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18148662593263874683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19448635.post-48967835942107776872011-03-23T16:54:00.001-04:002011-03-23T16:55:37.286-04:00AHHH...Ahh…<br />A welcome, early and beautiful Spring. I witnessed my first customer at my new personalized birdhouse, a lovely hand-made Christmas gift from family. Know naught about ornithology but it was a small bird with a large caudally curved beak. Actually feasted on the “whatever” food that came in it.<br />Am having my kitchen redone which means work-men in and out. It began with my son’s gift of painting my two story high foyer that I couldn’t reach. Then I had the 4 ‘ x 7’ “oriental rug” I spent 19 years painting on duck hung in that space. Guy did a so-so hanging job so my oldest grandson re-hung it. It made the adjoining space look neglected so I painted it a new color of peach (chosen from the many colored “rug”) which everyone offended me by calling pink. So I painted the trim apricot which made it look less pink. Wanted molding which my grandson did a beautiful job on (naturally as he’s perfect). Then I painted the loft room over-viewing the “rug” the darker rose color from it. The paint store salesman warned me when I chose it that it was the hardest color of all to paint regardless of the quality of the manufacturer. He was right though understated. Impossible to paint would have been more accurate. Two and three coats later I hired a painter to do the adjoining alcove as I was exhausted. Now he is.<br />My grandson and I discussed re-doing the kitchen. His pending May wedding seems to have taken over his life, however, which is understandable. So hired the painter and associate to do the kitchen cabinets and walls in a deep blue (again selected from colors in the “rug”). I don’t care for hardware on my cabinets so they placed curved carvings on the inside lip which won’t show when I open one with flour on my hands. His comment: most people are afraid to use colors the way you do. Pictures to follow.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Braiswick books are available from all good bookstores</div>authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18148662593263874683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19448635.post-11006546961040960832011-02-27T18:31:00.003-05:002011-02-27T18:36:38.803-05:00LIFE IN A "DOC MARTIN" EPISODECut over 10,000 words from the Completed trilogy before preparing for a reading for Audio disc. Lost nothing important but merely tightened the writing. At my age, it was more important to complete it than to tighten the writing.<br />A delightful week of spring weather allowed me to get my tulip bulbs in a week ago and my ponytail palms, snapdragon and hen and biddies plants from the inside to the patio since. Patio thermometer was eighty today. As the checkout line at the Supermarket agreed, we’ll probably get a March cold spell yet though. Meanwhile I check for the tulips each morning but nothing… probably something to do with a watched pot.<br />Have been having a “fun” week of Russian roulette with my blood pressure medicine. Ordered it weeks ago and although they promptly claimed to ship it and efficiently charged me for it, no medicine has arrived. My Health/ Prescription insurance has a deal with a Mail-order pharmacy so after hounding them and the USPS went local pharmacy counter to pharmacy counter literally begging from previous providers. After two claimed they couldn’t help went to Wal-Mart’s and they “gave” me one since they couldn’t charge me for it with no prescription (ran out on a Sunday). Monday one of the former two denials gave me the equivalent of six after going online and transferring my original prescription. That begging carried me a week and when still no delivery from the mail-order people, called the doctor’s office and asked them to call me in another Rx to another local pharmacy which they promptly did. Meanwhile again called the mail-order people and they tried giving me the run-around again. Finally got a supervisor and told them to either get me the medicine STAT or refund my money. Said they’d ship again tomorrow. This morning opened the new local Rx picked up yesterday. It wasn’t my usual shaped pill so called the providing pharmacist. Seems the doc’s office sent in a different but similar RX!!!! Do they know it? It’s Sunday again so went ahead and took the medicine which is minus one ingredient and will deal with the doc’s office tomorrow. Meanwhile life is like an episode of <em>Doc Martin</em>.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Braiswick books are available from all good bookstores</div>authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18148662593263874683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19448635.post-81644357454466824782011-02-10T01:58:00.001-05:002016-09-19T19:42:29.778-04:00WHINE! Whine! Wine?It is snowing. It has been snowing for hours. Each time I think it's time for moderation... a banner on one of the three columns on our state flag... they predict snow. If I liked snow I'd move to northern Europe, north of the Mason-Dixon Line, Colorado, Alaska or some other uninhabitable place on the planet.<br />
Mea Culpa! We're in great shape compared to the mid-wheast (It's an American in-joke), Northeast US and , alas, the Aussie floods. Still, I've done little lately other than write, make sure I have enough food/supplies to be marooned for awhile, celebrate never-ending family birthdays and generally survive cabin fever. Busy Busy Busy!<br />
And the upcoming wedding in the family, my oldest grandson's, is beginning. First party for moi to attend is on the 19th. The groom had his bachelor party in Vegas last weekend with half the US airports closed and dudes due in from the west coast, North Dak etc.<br />
Most of my current writing still at the back-up research stage. Have six books in front of me and on an important quote, two say his majestie's and two say her majestie's (we're talking 17th century, European non-fiction here so it matters!). Finally resolved that conflict with my 1930s french book. They're both sa majestie so a matter of personal choice. Such is the life of a writer.<br />
Still snowing but I'm good. Have humus, tarragon chicken salad, lots of other food and wine.<br />
Hmmm... need to check on other essentials like when in the world can I dispose of my garbage and recycling.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Braiswick books are available from all good bookstores</div>authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18148662593263874683noreply@blogger.com0