Tuesday, June 2, 2020

Battle of Trump vs The United States

Chaos outside the White House on Sunday.

I just subscribed to the Newsletter of Paul Krugman, Nobel Prizewinner in Economics.

American Paul Krugman wins Nobel prize for economics Krugman was awarded the Nobel Memorial Prize in Economic Sciences (informally the Nobel Prize in Economics), the sole recipient for 2008. This prize includes an award of about $1.4 million and was given to Krugman for his work associated with New Trade Theory and the New Economic Geography. [83]

I wrote a note to the NY Times asking the following question.

One of their reporters is named Michelle Agins, an unusual surname.

I asked if she might be related to my Sunday school teacher in Cleveland, Mrs Ruth Agins.

Mrs Agins was a brilliant and passionate woman, later wrin up in the NY Times as being one of the oldest people in a nursing home.

This, of course, before the pandemic.

Well, I couldn't get an answer from the Times, so I simply deleted my request. 

Did I tell you I'm working on a novel? 

This is bc I'll get feedback from Pat Nestler and her gang at Montgomery County Community College.

As I sat reading Scott Turow's TESTIMONY on Scott's bench, I thought up a couple of possible names.

Also saw a pileated woodpecker, sqwauking blue jays, squirrels aplenty - wonder if Dr Ken Stamper still shoots em - and then my tush got tired so I went inside.

Will visit Scott now to watch the PBS Evening News.

Watched the film below, very similar to Trump The Narcissist and his deplorable ways of running the country. 

8:00 PM


A disgruntled factory worker is lured into joining a secret society out to terrorize foreigners.
BW- 83 mins, CC,

Poems I found just now while waiting for the Mailman

On my new MONARCH BUTTERFLY cards, I wrote my friend Helene Ryesky. Thanks to Scott for bringing the cards over. 

I made delicious bean soup this morning made with Goya pinto beans from the Willow Grove Giant.

Submitted "Where is Robbie Whalen" to Literary Yard. 

Am chomping Snyder's Dipping Sticks now. 

Could I survive living on a desert island with just pretzels? I believe I could.

Just glimpsed the Xena-look alike cat of my son Dan's. She blithely entered the driveway next to the Kiernan's corner house. 

Am trying to finish Rectify - is that the name? - before I write the first chapter of my new novel.


Parkinson's Disease
They arrive early in the morning
Dropped off by their loved ones
Sam, my favorite, comes over to our table
his blonde wife Libby
lets him through the door. He finds
a way to our table, but a sense of
direction he does not have, as once
I saved him from wandering into the
ping-pong room.

Every 20 minutes he asks me where
I live. "Willow Grove," I say,
"just down the road."

Two weeks ago we learned Wally,
the silent man, who would come
alive when we sang Sinatra, had
died. Sam had not forgotten and
kept asking, "Is everyone here
who's supposed to be here?"

I looked around. Elena with the
little beard was there. Anna, with
Parkinson's and hallucinations
was there, her arm stiff as a
block of wood, and Lily, who
thought people were stealing
from, her but could go to the
bathroom herself.

"They're all accounted for Sam,"
I said, deciding to skip
Wally's death.

Sam, a doctor in a former life,
dresses in spiffy clothes,
a warm brown sweater, round eyeglasses
like John Lennon's and saddle shoes,
neatly tied.

We smell the food getting ready
in the kitchen. Sam and I swivel
our heads just so and await the arrival
of meatballs and pasta.

Am I working here in a silent pact
with Fate to make sure my mind
remains free of all the terrible
conditions that await us?




Starving, I wolf down many layered sardines
bathed in olive oil.

The King’s picture is on the papery cover
That rattles invitingly to my touch.

King Oscar would protect you from every threat
Imaginable. Hordes of barbarians, with

Spears aloft. Floods on mountain-sides
That seek to squoosh us alive.

Thunderbolts of Zeus that
Would sizzle our skin.

Such a hero is the King.
Broad shoulders with

Epaulets like ship

Moustaches that sweep downward
A full beard like a roaring furnace.

He is our man.
The Good King Oscar.

Monday, June 1, 2020

Spring jumps quickly into Summer, June 1, 2020 - Poem: I Can't Breathe

Purple lilacs in my front yard.

PECO man fixing wire.

 Truck says Keep a safe distance.
 White azalea tree which was here when I moved in in 1989.
 White fence of Bill Adams Family next door. They're getting their pool ready.
This bush came back from last year. Blue. Exquisite!
 First of poppies. Two more bloomed since then. A huge orange puff, waiting for my caress.
The orange azalea, a gift from The Adams Family, is thriving in its new home.

When my jungle-long grass gets cut, it shore looks purty.
 Maxwell House coffee in my Chemex container.
 The sweet aroma of the peony.
 What could be better than a chopped liver sandwich from Ben and Irv's. Thanks, Ellen, for bringing it over.
In my ancient crock pot I made a baked apple, with butter and almond milk.

Not a mention on this blog of the rioting in our nation due to George Floyd's death by suffocation.


I lay in the street, a grown man, who did nothin wrong,
A white cop, got me in a choke hold, like he Rocky Marciano
waiting for the bell, when the damn bell went off.
me, a 48-year-old man, who did nothing wrong,
was dead as a slave, whupped to death.

Sunday, May 31, 2020

Is that all you do is watch movies?

Just finished watching My Son John on YouTube.

This 1952 film starred Helen Hayes as Mother and Leo McCarey as her 'fallen' son.

Her son was assassinated at the end of the film. He was a traitor, a Communist. Might Eddie Mueller use this on film noir?

Photos of Helen Hayes.


Helen Hayes - Actress - Biography.com

Helen Hayes MacArthur (née Brown; October 10, 1900 – March 17, 1993)[1] was an American actress whose career spanned 80 years. She eventually received the nickname "First Lady of American Theatre" and was one of 15 people who have won an Emmy, a Grammy, an Oscar, and a Tony Award (an EGOT). Hayes also received the Presidential Medal of Freedom, America's highest civilian honor, from President Ronald Reagan in 1986.[2] In 1988, she was awarded the National Medal of Arts.
The annual Helen Hayes Awards, which have recognized excellence in professional theatre in greater Washington, DC, since 1984, are her namesake. In 1955, the former Fulton Theatre on 46th Street in New York City's Broadway Theater District was renamed the Helen Hayes Theatre. When that venue was torn down in 1982, the nearby Little Theatre was renamed in her honor. Helen Hayes is regarded as one of the greatest leading ladies of the 20th-century theatre.
BOOK EM DANO. Those famous lines were said in the original Hawaii Five-o, which in Dame Ruth Z Deming's opinion was one of the greatest TV series of all time.

James Gordon MacArthur (December 8, 1937 – October 28, 2010) was an American actor best known for the role of Danny "Danno" Williams, the reliable second-in-command of the fictional Hawaiian State Police squad in the long-running television series Hawaii Five-O, and for playing the juvenile lead in a series of Disney movies. 

Ready for anudder color photo?

How about the rioting for Charles Floyd?

True life.

On the Philadelphia Parkway. Photo from Patch.com from the Inquirer.
The KOP mall was also damaged.

Dear Ruth Deming,

On behalf of the Directors of the PHL COVID-19 Fund, thank you very much for submitting a request to the PHL COVID-19 Fund. While the leadership was impressed with your application and commendable mission-driven work, we must decline support at this time. We consider a number of variables in making funding decisions. Unfortunately, at this time, the needs of the community are greater than the Fund’s capacity is able to meet. Consequently, some requests with considerable merit cannot be funded. We wish you success as you continue your efforts to support our community during this challenging time. Sincerely, PHL COVID-19 Fund Please direct all inquiries to covid-19@philafound.org.

Thank you,

This is an automated e-mail message - Please do not reply.
For assistance, please contact covid-19@philafound.org at PHILADELPHIA FOUNDATION.
1835 Market Street
Suite 2410
United States            

Saturday, May 30, 2020

My Jewish roots in Cleveland, OH - Rioting in these United States

In these days of the pandemic, I am waxing philosophical and thinking about my roots in Cleveland, Ohio.

Morrie Saltzman was one of the true humanitarians from Cleveland. Read about his life here.

It is people like him that make us wanna lead better lives.


George Floyd - age 46 - has become a household name.

I can't breathe, I can't breathe, he said repeatedly as a white cop suffocated him.  Floyd's photo is below.

Bay Area reacts to George Floyd killing | Piedmont Exedra

On Thursday, protestors took to the streets in Minneapolis to protest the police killing of 46 yr old Floyd. 
A second night of protests in Minneapolis over the police killing of 46-year-old George Floyd turned deadly Wednesday when a man was shot by a shop owner who suspected him of looting. The shooting victim was one of five people hit by gunfire on a night that saw police use tear gas and rubber bullets on protesters demanding justice for Floyd’s death.
Mayor Jacob Frey called on the Minnesota National Guard Wednesday night to help the Minneapolis Police manage the protests. The Star Tribune reports that the military “was ordered to the 3rd Precinct police station to relieve Minneapolis police officers, as demonstrators encircled the precinct.” The protests were concentrated around the precinct, where “virtually” every business within a two block radius was damaged in some way, according to CBS Minnesota.
As Bob Dylan sang in one of his early protest songs,
...Yes, and how many times can a man turn his head And pretend that he just doesn't see? The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind The answer is blowin' in the wind Yes, and how many times must a man look up Before he can see the sky? Yes, and how many ears must one man have Before he can hear people cry?

What can each of us do to help end racial injustice?

Poetry, newspaper articles, Art.

Hilda Whitegoat. 

Hilda Whitegoat is a full blooded Native American Indian. She was born in 1967 into the Navajo Nation. Hilda was inspired to continue a long lived tradition of working with art by observing her sister, Susie Charlie, work on her pottery. Susie who is credited with pioneering the popular Navajo Etched Pottery, shared the techniques of constructing the popular art form known today as “Navajo Etched Pottery” with Hilda. Hilda began crafting pottery at the age of 23, in 1989. The lucrative aspect of the business is also inspiration in her decision to become an artist,being that she has a family to raise and it keeps her close to her children.

Hilda paints on ceramic pottery and uses a sharp blade to hand etch on the pottery. Then, she fires her pottery in a kiln. She paints and etches on all sizes of ceramic and horsehair ware available to her. She signs her pottery as: Hilda Whitegoat, Navajo. Hilda is related to the following artists: Everson Whitegoat (brother), Myron Charlie (nephew), and Michael Charlie (nephew).

Friday, May 29, 2020

Sculpture on campus of University of California at Merced - Poem Lying in Bed and Trying to Fall Asleep

The meat of this blog is on the bottom.

This is the University of California at Merced.

Dr. Muñoz was recently selected to become the fourth chancellor of the University of California, Merced, the newest U.C. campus and one that has quickly solidified its place as a top educator of first-generation and Latino students — both groups that have been historically underrepresented at the University of California.
As a first-generation college student and U.C. alum himself, he said he was drawn back to California to be closer to family and to help shape a fast-growing institution.
Chancellor Juan Sanchez Munoz welcoming incoming students

I was drawn to the photo due to the sculpture sitting there.

I'd like all my readers to take a look at it and lemme know what you think.

I used to work at Art Matters under the late Doris Brandes and would often write reviews.

Those days are gone but these days are here.

My opinion of the sculpture?

Lacklustre, insignificant, a holy bore. Looks like a giant tweezers to extract splinters from your feet or fingers.

Sterilize first.

Note to Rem:

Rem, I'm always in a hurry when I decide to watch something on my upstairs TV.

So I check my fridge to see what's in there to nosh on.

A tomato! Yum!

I pour some mayo on top. If I have time I'll cut a piece of Cheddar cheese from Cabot - independent farms - and carry it up to my bed.

There's usually 6 plastic bowls up there in my BR. Corelle. Very attractive, orig bought via mail order from Walmart, tho I did go over there to check em out in person.

Just woke up for a second.

There's something really important I wanna write in my blog, but I must be downstairs to write blog.

Here's what it is.

Woke up and a chef was grilling food outdoors, as he always does. Meat.

As I walked to the baffroom I thought, Is my mother still around. If so, I'd like to talk to her.

Then I remembered that the 97 yo woman who just died WAS my mother.

Dammit. I'll never talk to her again.


Today's egg omelet which I'm eating as I type, is delicious! Added Tabby sauce, which I never refrigerate.

Last night at 7 pm I Zoomed with members of the writing group of Montgomery County Community College. My poet friend Cynthia Marcolina invited me.

There was Pat Nestler in her wonderful fluff of grey hair. Her husband David was helping with the teknical details.


Got briefly reacquainted w Laurence Salzmann, whom I'd sent the Atget fotographs to from the NY Times.

He's a filmmaker and photographer.

Website is here.

Below is one of his photos. I think we're in Mexico.

Ruth's poem of the day


Last night I lay "Testimony" by Scott Turow
on my bedside table and began to sleep.
As always, thousands of tiny dots flickered
on the ceiling.
When sleep came, I was awoken by loud
tapping on the always-closed window behind me

Rain? Or the ghost of Mr Travis, original owner
of my house.

It matters not, I thought.

I'll either wake up or I won't.

Wednesday, May 27, 2020

Mail Truck Poem


Wherever I am in my house
My antennae are alert for
the chugging sound of the
United States mail truck.

Such surprises the mail carriers
bring. Today got a newsletter
from the Medical Mission Sisters
of Fox Chase, where, once I
trod their labyrinth, as did
a monster long ago in the land
of Crete.

The Sisters love Jesus and
praise his name. I cannot quibble
with that. In my bare feet here
in the living room, I await
Christ the Saviour to bathe my feet.


Look! He's actually waving to us.

I was conversing with Rem, who works behind the counter at the Roslyn, PO, and told him I'd write a poem about a mail truck.

The reason it took so long, maybe 20 minutes, was bc I kept refilling my bowl with pretzels.

Listened to Fresh Air earlier today. Molly Ball has wrin a bio of Nancy Pelosi.  Pelosi had five children when she was younger which sparked her ability to schmooze with the best of them.

She is certainly not afraid of President Trump and is well known for wagging her finger at him.

Submitted my short story LOST AT THE MALL to my writing group in the Valley Forge area. I was so mad, as I critiqued everyone, but they never got around to me.

Shall I drop out and become a nun?

Just watched Andrea Boccelli on Great Performances.

He sang his version of Nessen Dorma which gave me the chills.

My snack?  Two Compari Tomatoes dipped in mayo.

Yes, I did try the new Blogger and am not happy with it!

As I began walking up hill on Sleighride, I thought, What if I pass out from heat stroke.

Not to worry, my thoughts were interrupted by one Bobby, the last remaining son of Luther Sanders, who was a nice enough neighbor.

He called me, Baby.

I set him straight and told him my name is Ruth and spelled it for him.

It's hard to find a job, he said, and said he was old fashioned and didn't use a computer.

My friend Sue strode by.

Here I am at your service, Ruth Z Deming.

It was my 70th birthday party.

Time goes by and now I'm 74.

Today is Wednesday, May 27 2020.

Woden's Day!

The Latin name dates to the late 2nd or early 3rd century. It is a calque of Greek ἡμέρα Ἕρμου (heméra Hérmou), a term first attested, together with the system of naming the seven weekdays after the seven classical planets, in the Anthologiarum by Vettius Valens (c. AD 170).
The Latin name is reflected directly in the weekday name in most modern Romance languagesMércuris (Sardinian), mercredi (French), mercoledì (Italian), miércoles (Spanish), miercuri (Romanian), dimecres (Catalan), Marcuri or Mercuri (Corsican), Mèrcore (Venetian). In Welsh it is Dydd Mercher, meaning Mercury's Day.
The Dutch name for the day, woensdag, has the same etymology as English Wednesday; it comes from Middle Dutch wodenesdagwoedensdag ("Wodan's day").

Oh, good Lord, let me get on with my Editor's Corner.

As I was falling asleep last night, after reading TESTIMONY by Scott Turow, a mosquito was flitting around on the ceiling.

I covered myself over with one of Sandy's blankets and hoped I wouldn't get bit.

Murderer at Large and more

Unable to shrink this photo.

Peter Manfredonia. What's your problem, dude?

This is, according to Patch.com.

Peonies are pollinated by ants.


It refused to be flushed down the sink so I saved its life, carrying him in a dish cloth out to the back yard deck.

I have lost so many posts on here just now, that I'll say Goodbye for now and drink one more cup of Maxwell House Coffee.

My poppies in my front garden finally burst open.

A surprisingly beautiful shade of pink.

Am working on the Compass now.

Just watched the film Therese Raquin on YouTube

Watched it here.

The Adultress (1953) :: Flickers in TimeFlickers in Time

Cast includes Simone Signoret. She was part Jewish, so took her Catholic mother's name.

Thérèse Raquin (also The Adultress) is a 1953 French-Italian drama film directed by Marcel Carné and starring Simone Signoret and Raf Vallone. The story is loosely based on the novel of the same title by Émile Zola but updated to 1953. It was screened at the 14th Venice International Film Festival where it won the Silver Lion.


Thérèse is unhappily married to her cousin, a haberdasher in poor health. They share their home with his domineering mother who makes Thérèse's life even more miserable. When she attempts to run away with a truck driver she has fallen in love with her husband tries to prevent her, forcing her lover to take extreme action.


As I said I didn't remember a word of French but could follow the plot fairly well.

The extreme action she and her lover were forced to take was pushing her husband off the train.

He put up quite a fight, did the husband, but lost out to the powerful Raf Vallone.

Look, it's nearly 12:30 am now and I'm gonna go up and read in bed.


Rem's indirectement.

Odd how we end up doing things we enjoy with only a brief word of encouragement.

Tuesday, May 26, 2020

Jane Austen may have had this room in her house

living room furniture

Again, from Architectural Digest, a room Jane Austen might have had.

Look at all them rugs. Which one would I trip on first?

The chairs look dreadfully uncomfortable.

Just sent some friends a great article from POLITICO on integrated the US Navy.

Called it MUST READ.

Read here.

And that just about does it as I shuffle off to Buffalo.

Your faithful companion,

Ruth Z Deming

PS  Gotta come up with a new short story by tomorrow.

Lovely room from Architectural Digest - Poem for Abbott Laboratories

A dining room designed by Juan Pablo Molyneux features walls decorated in a tile mural by Atelier Promthe and curtains...

All I can say is WOW about this lovely room from Architectual Digest.

Here's a poem I mailed off this morning about receiving my free insulin meter from Abbott Labs.

Subject: Poem for Abbott Laboratories

I had written a letter to the CEO of Abbott Laboratories who make my diabetes meter, which conked out on me.

Couldn't resist sending him this poem this morning.

His address in Alameda, CA.

May 26, 2020

Thank you Abbott Laboratories.

Just received my Freestyle Light Diabetes Meter this morning.

How I missed it, like a newborn kitten, with those blinkin confused eyes like my Tiny Tears doll I had as a child.

To lower my blood sugar, 221, I went for a walk around the block.
American flags were out for Memorial Day Weekend, but I'd already taken mine in.

The rapist, whose name I forget, has legions of flags on his front lawn.  I was friends with his dad, ole Luther Sanders, and would bring him chow. We'd relax with Folger's Coffee he'd make in his Mister Coffee.

The person I miss the most is next door neighbor, Eileen, whose mind worsened with dementia, so they put her in Riverside, in Abington, Pennsylvania.

Her mind is a goner, now.

So thank you, Mr. Abbott, for your contribution.


Neighbors, and I don't even know their names, are aimlessly walking around the block.

I discovered spider webs over my living room door and dragged out my small ladder and dusted them off with a Swifter. Threw it in the trash. Can just imagine it spritzing all over my My Lady Kenmore mom bought me years ago.


Man, that bean soup was awfully good.

Got a thank you note from RIVARD REPORT in the San Antonio TX area.

Residents at 1221 Broadway Lofts have started to return to the community swimming pool after stay-at-home orders are lifted.

Saturday, May 23, 2020

Miles did his Senior Project at New Directions - Poem: Stubbing my Toe - Birthday poem for Linda Barrett

Our law school graduate, Miles, wrote me:

Of course, Ruth! And thank you for always being there for me too. I can remember my Senior Project like it was yesterday— I observed and participated in New Directions group therapy sessions and that directly led me to my Psychology major as an undergraduate at Boston U. :)

Very cool!

Oatmeal on Ikea kitchen table first from Sean Toohey, then from sister Nicole Deming, plumping up but no frozen blueberries as they were all gone.

We're gonna ZOOM on Sunday night at 7 pm.

One day hence, which rhymes with the sycophant VP.

Learned online that today is Linda Barrett's birthday, so I wrote her a poem.


Driving around in her fashionable car
The passers-by wonder
Who is that lady?

If only they knew!
A poet! A first-class poet
who writes poems of nearly
everyone she knows, including
her elderly mother whom she
cherishes like maple leaves
swaying on rain-drenched trees.

She was born in May, the perfect
time for a poet who has many years
ahead of her to write more of her
imaginative, unusual, visual, mad-cap poetry.

"Creativity" is her middle name.

Love, Ruth Z Deming


Anything else Ruthie while you've got the chance?

Sure, thanks for the opportunity.

I stubbed my toe last night in my bedroom.


Was not wearing shoes. Many people break a toe this way.

Should I write a poem about this?


My cries echoed across my bedroom
The books, brochures, hankies and glass of water
wept in silence for my agony
How compassionate are my bedtime companions
And together we will prevail over Covid-19.

Thursday, May 21, 2020

Glorious spring

 Sweet smelling lilacs in the front yard.
 A murder of crows. Of course they jabber away when I go outside.
 Azalea bushes since I first moved in, in 1989.
 What kind of nest is this AND who or what brought it to Scott's back yard?
 Window sill in living room. My sacred objects are on there.

House next door. Bill Adams family. Mother Eileen is ensconced at Brookside, worst place to be during Covid 19.

Just lost a great photo by Bob across the street. A neon palm tree, all lit up. Who knows why?
 Nancy's house across the street. Her swan chairs are on the front porch. We used to sit outside in the warm weather and gab.
 The leaning Buddha.
The leaning Buddha. All day long I watched films. 

That's entertainment!

This one is next

Wash hands, wash hands POEM: Bill Payer

Just in from DBSA. Let's figure out what those letters mean.

Denver Broncos Salute Alabama?

Dolores Bonito's South America?

Never mind. Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance.

Okay, wish me luck. Am getting my mail now.

Twas my Comcast bill and I just paid it.

I get emails from National Geographic. On that page, Infinity, anudder name for Comcast, tells me they are suspending my subscription if I don't pay immediately.


The reason I pay immediately is b/c once I let the bills pile up. They were not due. But I almost forgot to pay them.

There goes the UPS truck. Years ago, I wrote a biz story for the Intelligencer on the UPS. The trucks are brown so they don't show the dirt.

In case I mysteriously disappear, most of my articles are upstairs in the hall closet in a black plastic bag.

Scuse me while I pour anudder cup of Vanilla Almond Milk.

My cough? Ate two tiny mini-Triscuits.

Gonna send a News Alert now about The QAnon group. Click here.

The writer's father is a believer in Conspiracy Theories.


As long as you have enough funds in your account
You can easily pay most bills.
Hit Transfer Funds
from Savings to Checking
Double-check everything.

They'll keep on coming
until the day you're a goner
like the honeybee found
dead on my kitchen floor.

Poem: Dead Bee Lying on Kitchen Floor


I bent down and cradled her in my hand a moment

A beauty, that's for sure,

Waited for her wings to flutter

She would fly into the living room and gather nectar

from a huge magenta peony

which stands in silence like a statue

Her burial chamber, the soft wet grass

beside the house.

Honeybees’ importance in North America is less than you think


Just had lunch and watched a YouTube film. Since YouTube is my faithful companion, they always have a suggested film for me.

The Monkey's Cat was one of the worst films I've ever seen. I think the word that would apply is STUPID.

Why, then, did I continue watching?

Was eating my delicious salad with Russian dressing.

Plus I wanted to catch some needed Zzzzs.

And did.


And now I've gotta get my mail, come inside and wash my hands.

Oh, did I tell you what happened to my poor feets?

Was cutting my nails out on the back porch step. Made 2 deep cuts w scissors that drew blood.

Forewent putting on a Band-Aid.

They will heal by themselves.

Here I am at the Beechman's former house.

My nephew Miles graduates from Columbia Law School

Wednesday, May 20, 2020

My nephew Miles graduates from Columbia Law School

First, though, The Times Chronicle published MAY IS MENTAL HEALTH AWARENESS MONTH.

Click here. Can you find the misspelling?

My electricity was out for two whole days. A wire was down.

Was sitting on the bottom step of the deck and the trees were swirling about like madly stirring cream into coffee.

My nephew Miles Greene graduated today from Columbia University. Watched the entire thing on YouTube, guided by his mom, my sister Lynn.

I waited until I saw his name. Miles Harrison Greene.

He also said something nice about Grandma Bernice who died on April 21 at age 97.

As I told Rem, I found all these great books in the lower level of my house. Dusted em off with pixie dust and now they're ready to read.

Remind me to watch EXPEDITION TO SURINAM on PBS tonight at 10. Told my friend Marcy about it this morning. Dunno if she watched, but I did, and wanna watch again.


You'd be so very proud
of Miles Harrison Greene
graduating from Columbia University

We believe you were there
wearing one of your lovely outfits
Lynn would buy you.

You looked great in blue
or even pink. Your closet filled
with clothes and warm sweaters
as you were always cold.

How I'd like to hold your hand
right now to warm you up.

Miss you more than I can say.
Are you surprised?
I am.