Friday, January 20, 2017

Harry

Today Caroline’s 14th birthday, shortly we leave for Tallahassee and to visit Pat & Bob Horn, Trinity Apalachicola friends and parishioners recently relocated there. Mid afternoon be at Charlotte’s middle school to pick her up when school lets out. Birthday supper wherever Caroline says, RON at Hampton Inn, breakfast likely at Village Inn and resist the pies. To satisfy my longing for pie, sometimes I treat the Spinks family to the pie of their choice. 

Saturday’s plan was drive on down to Apalachicola, Trinity Church Sunday, return 7H Sunday afternoon, but cancelled that because of heavy weather forecast, seeing our main Apalachicola activity is walking around town; so return to PC tomorrow, traveling mercies and God willing. No Apalachicola this time but another stoppage time day or two.

Yesterday. Several chapters of Laurus. Two or three Tolstoy short stories, two, three, five pages each, not novellas like Ilych. Read a long dissertation on War and Peace which novel I started and put down years ago, to refresh the whole story, meet the characters again — keeping track of names and nicknames in a Russian story is boggling — then the part one of the Soviet movie of it that took six years to film 



an hour of enough to remember that I no longer want to read all of W&P after all. More of Laurus, which I’ll take to Tallahassee with me. 

This morning, prepping for today, read a biography of Harry Truman: as I recall, Harry Truman was a haberdasher, so what the hotel — actually he wasn’t, he and a WW1 buddy owned a men’s clothing store a couple years in the early 1920s before it went under in financial crisis of the time. HST proved that any decent person can successfully be president of the United States. I remember the day FDR died and VP Truman became president and shocked people were saying “Harry WHO?”, and I remember Hitler rejoicing at Roosevelt’s death, and I remember Hitler’s suicide, and I remember Eisenhower’s rejection of the proposed German conditional surrender, and I remember unconditional VE Day; and I remember newsreels stupifying, horrifying us with tours through German concentration camps, ovens, stacks and stacks and stacks of naked corpses, shameful inhumanity images that irrevocably clouded my opinion of Germans and humans and that with me will only be closed in the sod; and I remember the atomic bomb as Truman’s alternative to hundreds of thousands upon thousands of young American soldiers whose lives would have been lost in OperationD, the scheduled invasion of Japan, and I remember VJ Day … and I remember my first bitter taste of liberal academia in my MBA studies at UMich in 1963, astonished that there were people who didn't "know" what I "knew," arguing with my Ethics professor about the bomb, me as the only politically incorrect student in the class receiving A+ on my term paper and semester grade anyway. 

Where am I this morning: remembering watching wondering anxious trembling hoping



DThos+  

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