Many of us have dogs in our lives. Here, the New York Times takes a look back in its photo archives to see how dogs figured in the public view before social media. Included is one image (left) captured by my old friend, Lee Romero, when he worked at NYT. (And I also have a once-in-a-while collection of “Dogs and Their People” at HHR.)
Standing at the window,
Watching the wind in the trees,
Overcome with sadness and remorse
For all that is gone and will never be.
A parent, a friend, an old car,
Money scattered like the brittle leaves
That flutter away in a sudden gust,
Then fall in a just as sudden calm.
They will skitter across the sidewalk
And into the boisterous street
Where a car speeds in one direction,
And a car going even faster
Speeds in the other. To where?
And why such urgency,
When the brittle crunch beneath the tires
Will fade with the swelling warmth,
And buds will appear on the branches,
And when no one is watching,
Unfurl into leaves, dark or bright,
Slender or broad, ready to dance
In a freshly awakened breeze.
© Dennis Hathaway
[return to POTD index]
There are heroes unknown to those
Who worship the celebrities smiling
Or frowning, as the case may be,
At the supermarket checkout counters,
On TV talk programs, on billboards
That implore us to buy a product,
See a movie, take a trip to an exotic place,
Somewhere we can forget what we are
In the bigger scheme of things.
The woman who brings the mail,
In the heat, the cold, the rain, the Santa Ana
Winds that carry the desert’s dessicated breath
All the way to the inexorably rising sea,
Knowing that her motley bestowal
Will go, almost immediately, to the reclycling bin.
And yet she always smiles, says Hello,
How’re you doing? I knew her name once,
But now it’s gone, buried with other facts
In a hidden corner of the brain that rusts,
Not of disuse or neglect, but from an oversupply
Of information, most of it worthless,
Mistakenly allowed to collect in the belief
That it mattered. That vast knowledge would
Be the mark of heroism, when in fact that elusive
State of being arises not from anything grandiose,
But small, diligent, infinitely repeated acts
Of good will. Like smiling and saying Hello
When trudging the same drab street every day,
Bringing the unwanted mail.
© Dennis Hathaway
[return to POTD index]
Today, youth around the world protested the inaction their elders and their political leaders are taking around climate change. One of the foremost activists in this movement has been Greta Thunberg of Sweden. Learn more about her here. And we also saw this interview a few nights ago.
What is a home?
Floor and walls,
Ceiling and roof,
Doors to walk
In and out of,
Windows to let
In light and air.
Lamps that come on
When you flick a switch,
Water that pours out,
When you turn a faucet.
Heat that drives away the cold
Of winter days.
Or is it a place
In the head and heart?
A place where comfort
Is not a matter of
Light and water and heat
But of all the moments
Shared with the ones
You love, the memories
Of bodies entwined,
Of kindness given
And received,
Of the knowledge
That in an inconstant world,
There is something
That will never change.
© Dennis Hathaway
[return to POTD index]
I continue to be astonished by how much false or misleading information comes to my attention almost each day, some of it sent along by well-meaning but misinformed acquaintances. Fact-checking can be tedious and challenging, but it is a skill that is necessary if one is to be a well-informed, thinking citizen. In my former profession as a Government investigator in the 60s and 70s, we often had to spend thousands, even millions, of dollars and months of time to get to the bottom of issues that we were expected to pass judgment on. Few individuals have those kinds of resources to use in their daily lives. But there are actions and approaches that you can take to help get a handle on truth and facts, as summarized by this Quartz article published today, along with this YouTube video:
The refrigerator said to the kitchen range
I’m more important than you,
People can live without cooking,
But imagine if you didn’t have any place
To keep the meat, and the milk,
And the six pack of beer.
That may be, the range said,
But I’m more important than the dishwasher.
People can always wash dishes by hand,
But how would they get hot water
For their coffee and tea?
Don’t forget me, said the microwave oven.
I can heat water. I can make popcorn.
I can make those frozen tamales people like.
You don’t make them, said the blender.
They’re already made. All you do is thaw.
That’s pretty basic, as I see it.
On the other hand, I can blend,
Mix, puree, make smoothies.
Who else can say that?
The refrigerator looked at the kitchen range,
And said, I think you’re pretty cute.
Likewise, said the range. If you really tried,
You could definitely turn me on.
That’s ridiculous, said the toaster.
You can’t even touch each other.
But I’ve got slots where people can put things.
It feels good, especially bagels
That are nice and plump.
Just then the washing machine spoke up,
Loudly, because it was in the laundry closet.
Let me tell you, the things I get to handle.
Once it was this article, I don’t know what it’s called,
From Victoria’s Secret.
That’s nothing, said the dryer.
I got to give it a tumble, fluff it.
You just made it wet.
Stop arguing, said the TV set in the living room,
Does anybody sit for hours watching you?
They open your door or turn on your burner
And throw dirty stuff inside you and that’s it.
What a boring way to live.
No, no, said the stereo system,
People don’t care what they see on your screen,
They’re just zoned out and passing time.
But when they listen to me they’re interested,
They’re engaged.
But the point is, the refrigerator said,
Nobody really needs you. You’re not essential
Like me. I’m not saying that because
I think I’m better than you, it’s just a fact.
Stop it, said the crock pot. You’re being absurd.
We’ve all got our roles to play.
Take mine, sitting here all day simmering.
Do you think that’s fun?
No, but it’s my role and I don’t complain about it.
That’s right, said the juicer,
People could pull things out of the ground
And eat them raw. They could wash their
Clothes in a ditch and dry them on a tree limb.
They could read a book instead of listening
To music or watching TV. Nobody needs us.
That’s sad, said the toaster, what would I do?
They’d throw you away, said the dishwasher,
Like some piece of worthless trash.
I don’t want to spend my last years
In a dump somewhere, said the refrigerator,
And the range said, why don’t we get out of here,
While we still can.
© Dennis Hathaway
[return to POTD index]
