And I”ll leave you with this disconcerting Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade float:
I think my favorite one is the lady front and right, with her chin tilted down.
These cutie patooties in Mrs. Staples’ class sat in an overcrowded classroom in Nome, Alaska in 1904.
A small gathering of folks posed in front of this sod schoolhouse in Custer County, Nebraska in 1886.
These bearded fellows here are listed as veterans of the Battle of San Jacinto, circa early 1900s. That would make them all at least 80 years old by that point. If you’re not clear on that battle, here’s some quick history.
Remember the Alamo: At 5am on March 6, 1836, Mexican troops under Santa Anna launched their final assault on the Alamo. By 6:30am, the Alamo had fallen. As news of the Alamo’s fall spread, angered volunteer ranks grew. On April 21, under Sam Houston, the Texian (yes, Texian at that point) cannon fired, beginning the battle of San Jacinto. Per Wikipedia,
After a single volley, Texians broke ranks and swarmed over the Mexican breastworks to engage in hand-to-hand combat. Mexican soldiers were taken by surprise…Within 18 minutes, Mexican soldiers abandoned their campsite and fled for their lives…Texians continued to chant “Remember the Alamo! Remember Goliad!” while frightened Mexican infantry yelled “Me no Alamo!” and begged for mercy to no avail. In what historian Davis called “one of the most one-sided victories in history,” 650 Mexican soldiers were killed and 300 captured. Eleven Texians died, with 30 others, including Houston, wounded.
Anyway, y’all, that’s why we remember the Alamo. Afterward, the Treaties of Velasco required that all Mexican troops withdraw south of the Rio Grande, which became recognized as the border between the two countries, and that’s right about where Trump plans to put that wall.
Perhaps it will look like this border fence in Eagle Pass, Texas, right next to a golf course in Shelby Park and half a mile from the Rio Grande.
My son took these pics of the Super Moon; he’s really enjoying using his Canon. The tripod helped to keep it steady as the moon rose.
When’s the last time you mended a garment? I don’t mean a simple button replacement; I mean adding a knee patch, darning a sock. For me, the answer is never. Mending is a lost art. It’s much easier to drive a mile down the road and grab a dozen socks for $10 than repair the one with the hole in the heel. That sock was weak and deserves the trash.
I wonder if some readers have never seen a plastic wicker sewing backet.
I own my great-grandmother’s sewing basket, similar to this one, but I confess I’ve never used anything inside. Sentiment over function. At this point, it’s more art than utility. Do you remember one from your childhood?