Today is the last day of school for our local school district. I jogged past the middle school this morning, noting that the PE-uniformed kids would be absent from the track for the next three months. Facebook has been awash in graduation photos of friends’ children. It remains bittersweet to me that my own son was denied his junior and senior years due to the virus. Can you imagine not having a senior year? Remember all the amazing things you did those last two years of high school? His class spent them in their bedrooms, staring at a laptop. In any event, I salute the class of 2023 today. May you go out and make this world better.
First it was tiny houses. Now it’s tiny cars. And I mean TINY.
This 1955 Eshelman may not seem like the perfect gift. Sure, it only has one cylinder and a horsepower of 3. Top speed is 25 mph. Brakes are a 2 wheel paddle. I don’t even know what that is.
But I know I don’t have to call shotgun. I don’t have to cart some scrub around because this ride only seats one. I don’t have to worry about driving too fast in the suburbs because I can’t gun it past the limit. No speeding tickets for me. And the color, why, it’s inspiring!
These fresh-faced ladies of the 1920s modeled the current swimsuit garb of “modish jersey tank suits, curl-revealing caps and high two-tone shoes.” One can hardly imagine lacing up shoes for the beach or how much sand would enter them.
In contrast, the 2/7/55 LIFE compares the bleak, black tank/shorts of the past to the fashionable “sweater-girl bathing suits” of the present, with clinging knit, loud stripes, broad straps, skirts, and sleeves. Plus, they had the luxury of going barefoot.
Either way, the lesson here is to always have a cigarette handy, especially at the beach.
Back in February of 2021, central Texas experienced what we’ve termed “Snowpocalypse.” We were iced in for five days, unable to step out onto our front porches, get mail, or get food. Many of us had no water, and others had no electricity due to downed lines. It was then that thousands of surrounding trees died.
We had high hopes that they would rally in spring, and a small few did. But most just died, and much money and time were spent in stumpgrinding and removal. Yards all over town have empty spots on their lawns, or small saplings still tied to the stakes. We let over a year pass until we finally gave up on our backyard palm tree. It gave up the ghost long ago.
Yesterday, however, we visited Margarita’s restaurant for the first time in years. It used to be visible from the road by its couple dozen large palm trees, swaying in the breeze. It was a lovely tropical vibe. Yesterday, we could barely see it from the road. Then we realized it, too, had suffered palm tree loss.
And yet all the trunks remain standing, like a once-tropical Stonehenge. At this point, they should be felled. But replacing them would run into the hundreds of thousands. Until then, I imagine they will stand proudly but sadly in the breeze.
Poor Tonto, stuck outside on a rainy day, while Buddy enjoys the warm house. Buddy was our Thanksgiving visitor, and the only dog with hypoallergenic fur, which meant he got to stay inside among the humans, especially the one with allergies.
Don’t feel sad for Tonto; Roxie kept him company. The patio was dry, and they were able to return to their plush dog beds by evening, when Buddy returned home. And if you think about it, Tonto doesn’t even have eyeballs, so he probably didn’t know Buddy was standing there.