And the rockets’ red glare…
American children of many ethnic backgrounds celebrate noisily in 1902 Puck cartoon
Statue of Liberty.
Elcobbola - Own work
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Commentary
Thursday, July 4, 2019
It’s the 4th of July.
Cause for celebration.
Not the time to point out flaws, which exist everywhere, at all times.
Celebration.
Ceremonies.
Respect, festive, rejoicing, praise, admiration, shout outs.
Fireworks.
Little Hoodsie cups.
Remember those?
My country tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing.
Land where my fathers died!
Land of the Pilgrim's pride!
From every mountain side,
Let freedom ring!
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Weather
Thursday, July 4, 2019
On this day Boston will enjoy mild temperatures, with a high of 84* and a feels-like of 95* with mainly sunny skies.
Except for Saturday, very humid and risk of thundershowers, the next days look splendidly summery.
Anyone complaining?
So many variations.
Our own chicken stock and the fresh clam both are the invariables.
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Dinner
Thursday, July 4, 2019
Dinner Tuesday was a hot pot.
Stunningly good.
Salmon, fresh little neck clams, chicken drumsticks, cappellini, romaine lettuce, mushrooms, carrot pennies, and tuna fish in olive oil, in a chicken broth, our own, of course, and clam broth with saffron and fresh parsley.
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We love getting mail.
Contact me at domcapossela@hotmail.com
Thursday, July 4, 2019
This from Jim Pasto, re: Cecile Chaminade post bemoaning the lack of critical attention paid to her:
Dom,
I love Chaminade’s music, though I am partial to all the French and Belgian composers. Her Piano Trios are also lovely. Thanks for sharing these!
Jim
Web Meister Responds: Delighted to share your enthusiasm.
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Chuckle of the Day:
Thursday, July 4, 2019
Q: How do you know if an Asian tried to rob your house?
A: You get home and your math homework is done, your computer is upgraded, and two hours later he’s still trying to back out of your driveway.
The lay of the last minstrel
Sir Walter Scott
Illustrated by James Henry Nixon
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Today’s Thumbnail
Thursday, July 4, 2019
Breathes there the man, with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
'This is my own, my native land!'
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned,
As home his footsteps he hath turned,
From wandering on a foreign strand!
If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
For him no Minstrel raptures swell;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust, from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonoured, and unsung.
We, Americans, have so much to be grateful for.
I started a list but quit after the forty-seventh with no end in sight.
I keep that incomplete llst in here.
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Good Morning on this Thursday, the fourth day of July, 2019
Our lead picture is a piece of Americana, supplemented by a Thumbnail adding to the discussion.
The commentary encourages celebration of America’s progress.
We posted the Boston weather report, the ticking calendar, and the growing number of posts as a calendar marker.
We detailed our dinner and posted a chuckle with a gentle and loving tweak.
And a letter from Jim P on Cecile Chaminade.
And now? Gotta go.
Che vuoi? Le pocketbook?
See you soon.
Your love.