… inspirational motivational signs that keep mysteriously appearing all over town. Illegally, on utility poles along the edge of the street, close to curb. Often viewed when traffic is stopped at or adjacent to an intersection where driver would see them. Not always wording that would be provoking, some just thoughtful. Occasionally published poetry, some just ‘think about life from a different perspective’, occasionally try to consider how others are seeing/feeling situations.
There have been a few with just an interesting illustration, with no actual wording. One, a bit larger than average, posted on a pole, almost not noticeable. Near one of several tunnels that take traffic through a steep ridge, close to a private school.The illustration only has outlined cat shapes on the board attached to the pole. No wording, just notice all those felines. Sometimes: just amusing.
… a book from the library: a ‘southern-ism’ worth passing along. Most families will, over time, discover colloquial sayings, little oddments that are not likely found cropping up in other people’s conversations. Not necessarily unique to a particular region, area, culture, but just some small part of speech not commonly heard in other families or groups. Usually just a letter of the alphabet mispronounced as a youngster is hearing, listening, gradually increasing vocabulary when learning the common language of the family or community.
This noticed: around a dinner gathering when someone mentioned a garbled expression referring to nearby chain where essentials are purchased. A small child struggling to pronounce letters spoken by an adult, with the result being a late night run tot he supermarket to assure there would be milk to go on the Cheerios for breakfast: referring to the store as the ‘doddy-dough’ rather than preparing for a trip to grocery shop. Similar to a small friend whose inability to pronounce the letter “L” had him reporting that flying a kite required a ‘whittle’ wind, and a ‘whittle’ No Wind.
This summons an image many will easily recognize from too much television on a Saturday morning. With a bowl of cold cereal and milk, sitting on the shag carpeted floor in front a the screen that served as a sitter when parents were still in bed and allowed endless hours of mindless numbing cartoons. The screen was usually line drawings, always black-and-white without shading or color: but entertaining and such a great novelty to be allowed that time of unsupervised viewing. Other than the usual sibling squabble, with the eldest being the bully to decide between the TWO choices as one would end and the next begin.
Mickey Mouse: driving around a steep mountainous road, in a ridiculous cartoon vehicle, with the wheels wobbling at an outlandish angle, not actually possible due to the laws of physics, but drawn by those men in the workshop wearing their green celluloid visors, working under task-master deadlines for producing a certain number of frames per day. The axles on the vehicle opening to accommodate the twisting road, then collapsing to round a curve. Background music usually some classical piece appropriated from a previous century – borrowed for adding a note of urgency as a ‘score’.
… from a weekly newspaper. There has been a lot of information printed in recent weeks after the somewhat surprising, unexpected death of the beloved entertainer and All Round Decent Human Dolly Parton. The drawing is clever, with the outline of that well-known piece of clothing she wrote about, as well as the song lyrics, many of which she seemed to spontaneously generate along with musical accompaniment.
A bit of backstory to give history of how the garment, as well as how the recording came to be. She was a young, budding artist, working in Nashville, under the guidance of Porter Wagoner who hired her as a singer. Waggoner was well- established, a successful popular touring musician. Traveling on a tour bus, she could find nothing to preserve her thoughts to pen the lyrics on: other than a piece of paper that was a dry-cleaning receipt. Writing on the back of paper picked up from the laundry whee his flashy custom-designed, rhine-stone covered suits were taken.She used the scrap of paper to write her thoughts.Dolly eventually gave him the preserved paper, which he kept and had framed. Now in the museum dedicated to her life in DollyWood, along with a recreation of that coat her mother made from the box of cast-off fabric given to the family.
… in Chattanooga. On the north side of town, at the intersection of Ely Rd, and Ashland Terrace, between Dayton Blvd., and Hixson Pike. The Lane Funeral Home has a memorial service to honor those Americans who died in the terror attack in 2021:New York City,Pentagon, Shanksville, Pennsylvania. There are almost three thousand small upright American flags planted in tidy rows in a small grassy plot just off the edge of the street, at the
According to the information found in the internet, the display is installed by a group of ROTC students in early September, with plans to have a Day of Remembrance Memorial celebration that includes speakers, recognition of first responders, and patriotic tributes.Though the little flags are fairly small, the overall display is impressive: a noticeable, thoughtful way to remember Patriot’s Day without appearing to be overblown gaudy or tacky. The little cloth flags, printed with red, white and blue are about three by five inches. Large enough to notice as vehicles pass, stop at the traffic signal, wait to make a turn, but discreet: A reminder about our collective history, a reason for gratitude.
… for something that has limited appeal: if you are not the person in your household who regularly does the laundry, not interested in making the chore a bit easier, no need to read further. This recipe is a proven resource for helping with problems in cloth. The guy who shared it with me, does most of that particular chore at his house, which seems like an unusual choice for a man. Maybe just me being biased, but it seems like most of the males of a ‘certain age’ were not trained in their youth to take care of their own clothing. Raised by mothers who did the work: sorting, washing, drying, ironing, folding, putting away.
The scenario I clearly remember: my brother coming home on a Friday from uni with a duffel full of dirty clothes. Leaving on a Sunday afternoon with all those clothes clean, ironed, on hangers ready to be worn. Without him giving a thought to how they got out of the dirty laundry bag, or who did all the work of folding or ironing, putting on hangers. All the effort required to have him ready to load the car with his freshly laundered clothing, ready to return to his studies.
This recipe is for removing stains. Like putting an ink pen in your pocket with the point exposed so it leaks on your shirt. Grease from food accidentally spilled on a good shirt or blouse that too quickly absorbs the salad dressing or ketchup when you dipped your fries before it could get to your mouth, dropping bits on your shirt front. Checking the oil level under the hood before starting out on a road trip, and getting a drip on your pant leg. We all know that any type stain is best treated as soon as possible, and certainly before you put the item in the washer. But in a perfect world…
Equal parts baking soda, original Dawn, peroxide. Works best when freshly mixed,not so effective after sitting a while. So only mix in small quantities like 1/4 tsp. of each ingredient to avoid throwing away the excess.
Pretty simple recipe. And if it doesn’t work you have not really lost anything except the effort, as it will not damage the fabric or remove the color to the point that it has to go to the thrift store. Which is really not the worst thing ever, as a trip to the Goodwill will provide an opportunity to thumb through the rack, just in case there might be something interesting. Always in the market for another long-sleeved, button front shirt – light weight enough to not be ‘seasonal’,and something that can be worn year-round.
… town, where several of those signs of affirmation were spotted (illegally) posted on utility poles. Near the area where there are several soccer fields, charter schools, a large house of worship, social service programs started by local non-profits to benefit minorities, teaching English as a Second Language, providing assistance with housing, meals, other connections to support and benefit hose coming into the area without resources.
The signs, according to what has been published on the internet: remain a mystery. A particular individual’s name is attached to sparse information available: though maybe taken with a grain of salt as many things generated by the world of artificial intelligence should be without confirmation. Materials used are often donated, especially if the size of the posted sign on those utility poles seems to appear to be within the parameters of those small political campaign notices scattered along the edges of public thoroughfares.
Those little plastic ‘vote for’ identifiers, looking like they are made of corrugated plastic, similar to a cardboard carton, but completely weather-proof. With names of candidates on wire frames visible along the right of way at polling places: community centers, churches, government facilities where voting occurs. Not every candidate wins, of course, so perhaps those who are no longer competing agree to have those political notices recycled and turned into the affirmations, encouragements, thought-y messages posted for public observation?
Most of the small notices, seen when passing slowly enough to take a quick photo, appear to be mounted with a washer, wood screw, probably a hand-held drill. Maybe from the back of a truck or van for height. Actually, some disappear after a few days: which makes it likely other passers-by have found the sentiment posted so appealing it vanished into private ownership…
… by prolific author Michael Connelly. With a number of published works to his name, the titles seem to indicate the novels are written in the same vein of ‘who-dun-it’ type plot, This one, in a paperback edition, published in 2005, has a list of over a dozen others, including “The Lincoln Lawyer”, made into a movie with Matthew McConnahey and Jared Leto.
Apparently, Connelly develops characters and story-lines that will follow his fictitious people from one book to the next. In this one, the detective Harry Bosch, retired from the LAPD, is called back into service. With some encouraging support by his former partner, Rider, they are part of newly formed team created to work on what is commonly known as ‘cold cases’. Unsolved over time, but with evidence stored, and loose ends preventing the case from being put to rest.
As Bosch and Rider delve into the voluminous paper work, including what is referred to as the ‘murder book’, a binder filled with data: witness statements, crime scene photos, documentation of evidence, they find there is a possibility of a bad behavior by the investigating detectives. Aware of a history of crooked cops, they begin to work the case, as they gather info., discovering one of the two cops from the 17 year old case died of suicide: maybe carrying around a burden of guilt he could not reconcile.
There is a great deal of detail, conversations as the pair investigate, as the author carefully describes what the detectives are discovering, going about the business of reviewing and collecting info from the murder of a seventeen year old girl. And a big surprise at the end of the book. Not at all what I had expected!
The book reviewed here, and several others, written as the characters develop over time, have been made into screenplays. After viewing some of the series, it seems easy to get attached to Bosch and his dark moody ways in the same manner anyone can sit down in anticipation of having an appointment to see the same actors each week on the small screen, having the same small dramas in an apartment, bar, location where the scene is set for them to interact.
… by Amity Gaige. Published in 2025, the author has four other publications listed to her credit. She teaches creative writing at Yale, and has received a number of notable awards for her writing, including a Guggenheim Fellowship.
The plot revolves around a woman who vanished while trekking in Maine along the Appalachian Trail. Several incidental characters she encounters along the way come up, after she veers off the trail and finds how easily she gets disoriented. Just a brief side step into the underbrush, and she cannot locate the narrow path through dense foliage, although the way is clearly marked by blazes on trees as the pilgrims trek, heading north or south along the way to Maine or Georgia.
Missing persons are the responsibility of the Maine Game Warden Service, with the authority to organize a search: having the ability to mobilize hundreds of SAR, air rescue, volunteers, law enforcement and others to canvas the forbidding forests, mountains, narrow valleys, water features hoping to find the lost hiker. The warden Beverly is organizing, leading the search, over a number of days. Hoping to find the missing hiker who vanished less than two-hundred miles from the end of the trail.
Valerie Gillis, vanished hiker, who started out with her partner, soon told him she wanted to go it alone,although he has been supportive in meeting her along the way, with food, supplies, helping to make the trek successful. Valerie finds herself at the mercy of a young man, who is unstable: paranoid about a private preserve that is a training ground for para-military workers in the depths of the Maine forest. Constantly hungry, under stress, unable to eat the food she can forage: grubs, berries, her body has begun to deteriorate, organs failing due to lack of nutrition.
… a novel by Anna Quindlen. Quindlen is a prolific author, with a number of bestsellers, selections chosen by well-known media personalities as ‘club’ material, and several books for children as well as a popular memoir. This book, recently published was recommended by a relative who works in a bookstore as an enjoyable read, requested from the local library and read over several days and in the wee hours.
Polly Goodman is an English Lit. teacher in a girls private prep. school in New York, high-end education for females with parents of both means and desire to raise daughters into successful adults: with the expectation the graduates will be accepted to Ivy league colleges as legacy students, and on to careers in government and private firms. Married to Mark, who is a vet. at the Bronx Zoo, the couple has been dutifully following protocols for years in an effort to conceive. Polly has three devoted friends who comprise a book club, with the understanding they will not actually read the book, but meet monthly to maintain their strong bonds.
Out of the blue, the three others give Polly a DNA test for a birthday gift: she does the test on a lark, and gets a response: an unknown relative contacts her hoping to build a relationship. Although Polly is confident she is the sibling of Garrison, the daughter of a city court judge held in high esteem and the judges’ husband, now declining with dementia: she is curious. Agrees to meet this person in a coffee shop in Vermont, only to find she is young, black, with a deceased mother who was born in Ghana, adopted by a white couple in the midwest. Nothing at all what she expected when she sent the sample off for testing, on a lark.
The story is well written, building characters and fleshing out the humanity and rough edges of daily life. Highly recommended. Not a spoiler precisely – but a sweet ending that might make the readers eyes leak…
… by Anne Lamott. A small book (which would be easier to write than a large one, if your editor/publisher decides it has enough words to print and sell?) about the size of the average paperback, or an issue of Reader’s Digest. Printed in in 2013, she initial felt a need to respond to the tragedy of the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting in New York state, where a number of children were randomly gunned down Lamott.also has a written number of others on various subjects relating to her experiences, life-lessons, years of observing the natural world where she resides in the hills of southern California.
“Stitches” refers to her perception of how the world holds together when everything seems to be falling apart. Family and friends find their lives untenable: a beloved couple, life partners for decades, receives an unwelcome medical diagnosis. A parent, stalwart and faithful, suddenly no longer the capable independent adult who has always been a resource of knowledge, now in need of support, assistance, care as strength and health decline, with loved ones helpless observing from the sidelines.
Trying to make sense of the senseless, provide a logical explanation for the inexplicable, pondering the varigeties of the universe when it seems the planet might be slipping from it’s axis to twirl away in an unpredictable, random manner.
a cup of stone soup 