Romance is officially dead! ;o) Happy Valentine’s Day!

(Source: bornbeforethewind)


These ‘Let’s Talk’ tweets and facebook updates brought to you by a telecom that uses mental illness and honest-to-goodness sometimes cripping emotional challenges as part of a fucking BRANDING EXERCISE is galling.

(Note: Tumblr is being fussy, so I reposted this with new thoughts.)

I know all…

Spooner’s Delight

Post-marked, 1909, addressed to Hyndford P.O., Renfrew Co., Ontario

Dr. Johnson and His Cronies” From the original painting by A.J. Ruskin Spear, A.R.A.

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents — except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.

 Edward Bulwer-LyttonPaul Clifford, 1830

Edward Gorey, Untitled

Happy Hallowe’en 1966!

It’s a shame this is the only picture I could find of the robot costume that hung around in our dress-up box til well into the 70s, by which time it was pretty battered.  In its heyday, it seemed much more spectacular, than you can tell from this photo. It had been fitted with various switches and knobs and dials that really worked (not that they did anything, but pushing and spinning them around was fun). And it had an Uncle Fester-type lightbulb that did light up when the wearer touched two wires together.

djgagnon replied to your photoset: I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side…

Very sorry to hear this. Take care. David

Thanks so much. She was so amused that some of the photos I’d posted of her here were “liked” and reblogged!

scout1222 replied to your photoset: I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side…

I love these photos. Hugs to you!

Thanks, Scout! (I just figured out how to reply to these notes … not too bright)

I am standing upon the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze
and starts for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength,
and I stand and watch until at last she hangs
like a speck of white cloud
just where the sea and sky come down to mingle with each other.
Then someone at my side says,
" There she goes! "
Gone where?
Gone from my sight … that is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull and spar
as she was when she left my side
and just as able to bear her load of living freight
to the place of destination.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her.
And just at the moment
when someone at my side says,
" There she goes! "
there are other eyes watching her coming …
and other voices ready to take up the glad shout …
" Here she comes! "

Parable of Immortality
Henry Van Dyke

Rest in Peace, mom.

Rose Lenore (McLean) Shaw, August 17, 1933- February 29, 2012

For all the Valentines, past and present …

Jill Kinmont (1936-2012)

As a young girl I was fascinated (and horrified) by the 1975 movie The Other Side of the Mountain and its sequel a few years later. It’s the reason I’ve never tried anything more daring than cross-country skiing. To this day I can’t even look at a bunny hill on skis without picturing the horrifying plunge Marilyn Hassett, playing Kinmont, takes over the mountain. ::shudder:: Kinmont, though, remained a huge inspiration to me. She died February 9th.

Coincidentally, the Sports Illustrated cover feature here, run in January, 1955, appeared the same week as the accident that left her a paraplegic occurred.


strobehearted asked:

This is regarding your grandfather, whose autograph book you featured, was he an illustrator, as well? (sidenote: I love this post because my husband is a comics critic and has a series of books of artists sketches -- autographs of their kind, I guess.)

I don’t know if my grandfather was artistic in that way - he died when he was only 33, during WWII. None of the illustrations in the book were his own though - he seems to have had a lot of friends with a humourous bent!

Autograph book (1929-31) belonging to my grandfather Art McLean (1909-1942).

Glove Flirtation, from grandmother’s notebook, dated 1928-29