I adore this story. I am thankful there are such people.
Tag Archives: love
Debussy for Elephants
Dance, Dance, Dance!
Another D-Day Story
I found this story particularly poignant.
D-Day veterans have returned to the beaches where they landed 75 years ago to lay crosses and remember their fallen comrades.
Trooper Albert Price, 93, was an 18-year-old gunner with the Royal Dragoon Guards when he landed on Gold beach on D-Day.
He took Betty – his wife of 67 years – by the hand and walked with her on to the historic beach for the first time today.
Read the whole thing and enjoy the pictures. As the kids say, “relationship goals.”
My brother died six years ago today. I never have sufficient — or original — words for this anniversary, so I’ll leave it to John Ford. Alan was a big fan of Ford’s films (as am I), and Ford was fond of one hymn in particular. Enjoy these scenes from Tobacco Road, My Darling Clemetine, Wagon Master, Seven Women, Stagecoach, The Searchers and Three Godfathers.
Alan adored The Searchers, in particular.
V.S. Naipaul, RIP
He wrote four masterpieces: A House for Mr. Biswas; Among the Believers; Guerrillas; Miguel Street. That is many more masterpieces than many of us will write. He was, apparently, a cantankerous fellow, but what I loved most about him was this interview he gave about his kitty (oddly, the kitty is not mentioned in the headline). He understood the love of a cat. His feelings about Augustus are the feelings I had (and have) for all the cats of my life.
I Dearly Hope this Sort of Thing is Over for Me
I mean, I assume it’s over, but one never knows what is around the corner. To what do I refer? To this kind of confusion.
(Is it just me, or is the afore-linked wonderfully Talmudic?)
Kitty Foyle is one of my favourite schlocky movies from days of yore: it’s sort of an early rom-com, though short on comedy, more of a romance novel (and it actually was a novel) turned vehicle for Ginger Rogers (who was terrific in the role). One has to take it, though, as being “of its time,” so to speak. There is, for example, one particularly cringe-worthy moment where Kitty says that she is “free, white and 21.” Oy.
I watched it recently on Turner Classic, and I realized that for me, it represents a connection to both of my parents. My dad told me once that in his youth, he had a big crush on Ginger Rogers, though he got over it when he discovered that she was, in his words, “a fascist.” Now, I did some reading on Rogers, and she was not a fascist. She was a Republican and not a fan of the New Deal or FDR. That said, when the war started, she abandoned the Republican isolationism of the era and became a full-on supporter of the war effort – she owned a ranch that donated milk to soldiers and she performed in numerous USO tours.
It connects to my mom, at least in my mind, because of her love of the word “pill” to describe a certain type of man. What type of man? Well, just watch Kitty Foyle and you’ll see that she is torn between two pills. In the end — spoiler alert — she chooses the pill who wants to marry her, rather than the pill who just wants her as a mistress. It’s a smart choice, I suppose, though one senses Kitty preferred the latter pill.
Here is the original trailer of the movie, in which you can see both pills, and Ginger rocking the role of a white-collar gal. (By the way, I like to think of myself as a “sassy mick,” just like Kitty!)