Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow...

This photo has been sitting on the desk in our laundry room for a year or so and I’m not exactly certain of its provenance. My best guess is that it’s me, taken about 1969 or ’70, when my family was visiting my mom’s relatives in Massachusetts. However, I’m not sure I could ever have then, or even now, composed my face into such a grim and serious visage (see detail):

Plus, at that age,  whenever I was in the cold, my cheeks were a flaming red (well, pink). So, as I said, I’m not entirely certain. Also, I’m pretty sure the snowperson’s top hat isn’t a real top hat.

My own mom had a couple bad days this week. Disoriented and much worse, anxious: not knowing where she was but not wanting to be there (here) but also not knowing where she wanted to be. It’s hard not being able to help her when she gets like that.

Anyway, we’ll have a quiet holiday. My dad has been ordering seasonal treats from several catalogs, so we’ve been snacking non-stop since Thanksgiving, basically. He said a few days ago that we’ll celebrate Solstice this year, which is an unforeshadowed first; not that we’ve ever been particularly religious, we’ve just always had whatever festivities on the 25th. I guess I should get the tree and lights up if we’re doing it on Solstice. When is that this year, anyway?

My son will be home the 22nd from his Speech Therapy internship in Alaska, of all places. Not the best time to be traveling, but I admire his fortitude in finding a school district that was willing to bring in interns during the pandemic. He has certainly learned a lot about doing speech therapy sessions online this year.

He may be here for a couple days before he goes back to his mom’s. I’m not sure where we’ll put him. Before it started raining we set up a bed for him under the wisteria when he has visited over the last few months, but now it is not so clement. Maybe I’ll go to the Army-Navy store and get him a tent.

I could go on. If you'd like to hear someone else’s ramblings once in a while, let me know.—D.G.

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The Old Wolf's photos

 So this is what greeted me upon leaving work today:

And here is my mother's older brother and sister in Spanish Fork, Utah, around 1917:

Salt Lake City after a snowstorm, 1972:

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Wow, Wolfington. I really love your last photo. I can see myself leaving footprints as I walk through this snowy paradise.

A Frog Applause reader photo: Father and Daughter

 

My dad and I got rubber masks for Christmas in this photo. The masks were made by my uncle. This was probably around 1980. You would think this was a Halloween photo, but note the Santa with Prayer Hands in the background. 

This is probably my favorite picture of me and my dad— ironically, you can’t see our faces! But I feel like it really defines our relationship well. --S.L.M.

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Teresa says:

The photo is a bit fuzzy, but that doesn't diminish its emotional impact of such a heartwarming scene. No wonder SLM cherishes this picture so much. (By the way, those ponytails look perfect for pulling then running...) 

Don't Santa's hands look out of proportion to the size of his

head/face to anyone else? The skin tone of his hands look off as well. I love weird details such as this in photos.

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Jan Brown (1922 - )

 

Jan Brown is an Australian artist living in Canberra.

Jan Brown is particularly well known for her works involving nature and her fondness for magpies and currawongs. The group of magpies are typical of Jan's style which reflects the essence and character of the subject.

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Outlaw Pizza

 Story by FA reader Steve Bartholomew https://www.gocomics.com/profile/1065480

Description:

Ever since they outlawed giving presents, only outlaws give presents.

What would happen if gift-giving and Christmas were outlawed? Some guys would do stuff just because they were told they couldn't. For a couple of young desperadoes, looking to make reputations, laws were meant to be broken … especially when they're hungry for pizza.

A short work of alternate history from our Orbits line.

Excerpt:

We strolled down the empty street, wearing our “disguises.” Mine was a big fake earring in the shape of a skull and cross bones. It made it look like I had a pierced ear. Jake’s was a bright yellow scarf. People usually don’t remember much what other folks look like. If any witnesses were to talk to the police, they would probably say, “One of these guys had pierced ears. Wore this weird skull ring. The other guy had an ugly yellow scarf.” Useless description. Of course we never wore the same disguise twice.

It was getting dark. Not many people out at this time of year. There was a bite in the air, like it might snow. It looked like slim pickings, unless we got lucky.

Jake nudged me and nodded toward an old man just going around the corner. We followed him in our soft shoes, making no noise. We managed to corner the guy in an apartment house doorway. He had a folded newspaper under his arm. Jake got in front of him, with me in back.

“This is a shake-down,” Jake said. “Don’t make any noise and you won’t get hurt. How much money do you have?”

The old guy pulled an ancient wallet out of the pocket of his worn-out coat. He looked inside.

“Eight dollars and forty-two cents,” he said. His voice was hoarse, like he’d been sick for a long time. “I don’t get my retirement check till next week,” he said.

Jake shook his head. “Eight forty-two. That’s pathetic. Here’s two bucks. Don’t argue, and don’t call the cops till we’re gone, or we’ll come back and beat you up.”

Jake shoved two ones in the old guy’s wallet, and we took off fast.

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Ice cream vendors

#FB00186. Photo submitted by a "Frog Applause" reader. Thanks, coltish1. 

Victims of the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church bombing on Sept. 15, 1963: Denise McNair, 11; Carole Robertson, 14; Addie Mae Collins, 14; and Cynthia Wesley, 14. (Credit: AP Photo)

In a special election on December 12, 2017, Alabama 

chose Democrat Doug Jones over Republican and 

allegedsexual predator Roy Moore. 

Jones will now head to the U.S. Senate, bringing to a 

close an election that drew national and international 

attention—unusual for a state election, but even more 

so for Alabama.

Much of the media attention on Jones, the first Democrat 

elected in the state in a quarter century, focused on his 

role in prosecuting Ku Klux Klan members who had 

planted a bomb that killed four girls at a black church.
Story https://www.history.com/news/how-doug-jones-brought-kkk-church-bombers-to-justice.
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