These are the twins of one of my very closest friends. I’ve known them from the day they were born. Watched them grow together- laughing, crying, fighting, seeing how they shared that special bond that only twins have. Always knowing they have each other no matter what.
This week, let your inner world and the outside one converge in a photo. How closely do the images and your mood align? Every photo we take says something about our emotions at the moment of taking it. So this week, share an image where you see a particularly strong connection between what we see and what you felt as you pressed that shutter button on your camera or phone.
I stayed overnight at the NJ shore this past summer, and one of the things I enjoy more than anything is sitting on the beach to watch the sunrise. It fills me with a sense of calm and of peace. Watching the ocean waves hit the beach, lapping at the shore then receding back into the sea as the sun breaks on the horizon and sheds light across the water always fills me with awe. Fills me with thankfulness to be able to see another day, watch another sunrise. Fills me with hope.
And then the sky changes color, the stillness breaks, and it is time to acknowledge the day ahead
Today would have been my father’s birthday. He died 11 years ago.
I think of him often.
Are we who we are because of genetics? environment? a combination of both? As I have grown older I have to come to realize I am my father’s daughter most certainly. So much of who I am, the things that make me tick, are because of him. I was always closer with my father than my mother. He was always the more “emotive” parent- free with his hugs, easy to laugh, a good listener who really heard what you had to say. He was willing to engage in discussion at times when my mother just saw everything as black or white, gray never existed in her world. I was an emotional child- easy to cry, sensitive- my mother didn’t know what to do with it- thankfully my father was always there.
He grew up poor with an alcoholic father and no education past high school, but succeeded in rising above it and away from it, following the lead of people willing to help him, observing people, paying attention to how they got to where they got to, and reaching those heights himself because of it. Did he have a darker side, yes, but I am happy to remember what was so wonderful about him, and understand where the darkness came from and why it was a part of him and accept it.
One of my earliest memories (I was 5) is of us going bird watching together. He was an avid bird watcher and part of a club. We would leave the house before daybreak, and meet his birding group. I remember spotting a Snowy Owl once- a major sighting! My love of nature and birds stems from those early morning trips.
He loved music and loved to sing. He had hoped to become a professional singer in his early 20’s, but real life came along and he needed to be able to make a living. His love for music was infused throughout our home-he always sang to us and for us, he played the banjo- old folk songs with verses we could all join in on.
My father recorded a few songs in a studio when he was thinking he could turn his singing into a career. The recordings were on 78 rpm records. Shortly before he died I was able to have the recordings converted to CD. I remembered hearing the recordings as a child, but had literally not heard them in 45 years. At the sound of the first note of him singing, what a rush of emotion- music or a song can always take you back to another place and time- but to hear his voice! What a gift to be able to hear that beautiful voice again.
His favorite poem was Robert Frost’s The Road Not Taken.
He read it to me many times, and always reminded me of the importance the following lines held for him.
“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.”
I am thankful to have had a father that understood me, helped me to grow as a person, and who lives within in me. I feel my ability to be a good listener, to search for deeper meaning in things, comes from him. I’m grateful to have had the opportunity to tell him those things before he died. I made the following photo montage with one of his recordings playing in the background, if you’d like to take a listen.
I grew up vacationing with my Grandparents every summer at their home in Southampton, New York.
My grandparents and siblings
My cousin and me
My grandfather had purchased a house there in the 1950’s, long before it became the mecca it is today for the rich and famous. The house my grandfather owned was situated on a beautiful plot of land with water surrounding it. We grew up collecting shells off the beach, swimming in the pool
or spending the day at the ocean running down the dunes with my father.
Days spent fishing on my grandfather’s boat,
where I caught a Bluefish-much to the amazement of my Uncles and Grandfather. I wrote about it here
The house was sold after my grandfather died and the new owners tore it down. An enormous house went up on the property. A few years ago I was in the area and stopped by the new house. The owners were very welcoming and gave me a tour and allowed me to walk around the property and take pictures. The new house bore no resemblance to my Grandfather’s home, it was only when walking up the lawn that overlooks the bay that I felt any sense of nostalgia. I was happy to see the tree my Grandfather had planted when I was born was still standing. He had named it “the Lisa Tree”, and there it stood having outgrown me in its 58 years.
It was time spent with my grandparents, my grandmother who I shared a special relationship with, the summer evenings we would gather on the screened in porch listening to my parents and grandparents talking and laughing, while my siblings and I played games or read- there was no TV reception there in those days so we entertained ourselves.
My Grandmother feeding the ducks
My Grandfather feeding one of the swans that frequented his feeders
These traces of my past run deep within, when I think back I always get nostalgic for the world that was then, the child I was, the easiness of the summer days floating by. Happy for the memories of those summers and the smile they still bring to my face when thinking of them.
On Sunday I went for a bird watching walk with the local chapter of the Audubon Society. The first sign that spring is soon coming was spotting some Red Winged Blackbirds who have returned to our area. 
and Crocuses- a sure sign of Spring.
This pair of Mourning doves turned to look at us as we passed by
and this Robin said hello too
We could hear the tapping and drumming of many Woodpeckers- claiming territories and attracting mates at this time of year we were told by our leader. Here’s a male Downy Woodpecker. 
This Orieole’s nest was spotted high up in a tree hanging from a branch. Their nests are not set within a tree’s branches, but made like a sack, hanging from one. I found it amazing.
This little Chickadee ate from a feeder set up within the Preserve we were walking in. 
We walked for two hours listening to the sound of the birds calling and taking in the nature around us. 
First light of day coming up over the ocean
Late afternoon light reflecting on a pond
Last light of day peeking through the trees as it says goodbye
Light-Black & White Sunday
Trent asks: What made you smile this week?
This year I have started eating lunch everyday in school with a group of assistant teachers like myself. (I previously wrote about them here) They are a lively bunch, 30 years younger than I am. I enjoy being in their company and they seem to feel the same about me even though I am older than most of their mothers. This past week they invited me to join them for a “paint party”- where someone leads you through the process of creating a work of art on a canvas, step by step. It was my smile for the week, first that they invited me to join them, and next that we had such a good time together laughing and painting for close to three hours.
Today is the first “anniversary” of my brother’s death. I wrote about his death, by his own hand, here last year. I have been thinking about him today. Saddened at the thought of his being gone from this world, sad for the troubled life he led, and sad at the thought that so few remember him. I am thinking about the mark each of us leaves, or maybe doesn’t leave. My sisters and I remember him, his 1 niece and 1 nephew whom he lived near and saw fairly frequently until his mental issues prevented that. Our cousins remember him as a young boy, teenager, young adult, the person they spent summer vacations with and shared holiday meals with growing up. It’s a small list of people as he didn’t have friends, was divorced for almost as long as he had been married. I hope somewhere at some time he had touched someone’s life in a meaningful way, shared a laugh with them that they remember, showed a kindness before his mental illness erased the good that had once existed within him. Replacing it with anger and irrational thoughts and all the injustices he thought had ever rained down upon him.
Today I choose to try to think back to those times before the darkness descended, to when he joked around and found humor in silly situations, to the laughter we shared together, to his love of the sea, of nature, how he loved to read the Encyclopedia. His curiosity about things and wanting to learn more and find out more. His love of yoga and meditation that centered him for a time, bringing solace to him and his world. Remembering that once long ago there had been light in his life.
Seagulls landing on ice
Seagulls eating on ice
Geese on ice
A pond frozen over with ice
As Paula said, Surreptitious photography is challenging, but it may have its rewards like ending up with really candid shots, or it can have undesirable effects such as being beaten up or sewed.
I always feel a bit funny when taking a photo of someone when they are not aware I am doing so, but sometimes I just can’t help it. I took these photos surreptitiously as I walked along the East River in NYC in Carl Schurz Park.
Catching some rays
A view, a guitar and a dog
Quiet reading with a dog under the bench
I loved this woman’s stance engaging in conversation with the gentleman I assumed she was a caregiver for
Everyone needs a good stretch and to shake it off every now and then
Travel Theme-Where’s My Backpack
Sammy & Max – In Our Hearts Forever
Two rescue dogs that brought us joy
Sammy lived to 19 and Max to 17
Trent over at Trent’s World asks every week, “What made you smile?”
President’s Day is coming up this Monday and my 1st Grade Class has been learning all about George Washington and Abraham Lincoln. I have to say I have been impressed by how interested they have been. They ask questions and day after day remember the facts about both Presidents. As part of our lessons we like to do a craft project, and last year I had found a fun one on the internet that I made sure to save for this year. When I showed the class the model I had made of what they would be making their reactions brought a big smile to my face. “Oh cool” “Wow, we’re going to make that?” “That’s so neat!” Once they completed the project I had even more to smile about. Something as simple as covering a roll of toilet paper with construction paper and then coloring a template, cutting it out and scotch taping it to the roll, resulted in these Abraham Lincoln creations
Each individually colored in, some with more detail than others-check out Abe’s blue eyebrows below.
All proudly displayed on the bulletin board in the hall for everyone to see. My smile of the week to see the class enjoying their ability to each express themselves through color and make their very own Abe Lincolns. (There were a few George Washingtons, but Abe won out in popularity.)
William Earle Dodge – President of the State Chamber of Commerce in NYC from 1865 to 1875 standing in Bryant Park NYC
Ralph Kramden – famous Bus Driver played by Jackie Gleason outside the Port Authority Bus Terminal in NYC
Jose Bonifacio De Andrada E Silva – Patriarch of the Independence of Brazil-standing in Bryant Park NYC-A gift to the City of NY from Brazil
Peter Stuyvesant – The last Dutch Director-General of the colony of New Netherland from 1647 until it was ceded provisionally to the English in 1664, after which it was renamed New York. Standing in Stuyvesant Square Park, NYC
Peter Pan – sitting in Carl Schurz Park on NYC’s Upper East Side
Daily Prompt: Write about your first name: Are you named after someone or something? Are there any stories or associations attached to it? If you had the choice, would you rename yourself?
I remember my mother telling me she always like the name Lisa and how it was not a popular name, but always liked the sound of it so chose it for me. Little did she know how many other parents were thinking the same thing and as a result there were always 2 or 3 Lisas in all my classes in school as I was growing up. I never thought one way or the other about my name- it’s a name, a simple one with just 4 letters and is easy to pronounce. It is a shortened form of Elizabeth and means “God is my oath”, from the Hebrew name Elisheva, which is my Hebrew name.
There are names people associate with how a person may look, or act but I can’t say there is anything about my name that screams “yes, she is such a Lisa.” Does my name “define” me- I don’t think so, it is just what I am called. A friend of mine never called me Lisa but always Lee-shortening my already short name. I hadn’t seen him for over 20 years but upon meeting again he immediately addressed me as Lee. No one else had ever called me that, it gave me pause for a moment, there was something comforting and familiar about it, an endearing nickname that he alone chose to call me. So I suppose the special changes or nicknames we hold for those we love can make our names more special for us or at least make us feel more special when called by them. 
Old kitchenware keeping one another company on a shelf. A depression glass salt shaker, a ceramic teapot, a bottle from the 1960’s. The ceramic pitcher a mere 25 years old compared to the others.
For the month of February
Jude has asked for monochrome photos in color or black & white.
mon·o·chrome:
a photograph developed or executed in black & white or in varying tones of only one color
My Uncle Jacob lived a long Time
Born 1903-Died 2010-
He was in good health until one week before he died at age 107
A Day In The Life 
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