Books, Politics, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Edward Bear and Stochastic Terrorism

As America wakes up this Sunday morning it is confronted with the horror of two major acts of domestic terrorism. America is being dragged down – bump, bump, bump on the head – as the atrocities mount up. It is  thanks to a white nationalist race-baiter squatting in the White House. And a Republican Party rendered inert and spineless by…

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Politics, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Dem Debates: And the winner is ….

It’s hard to cut through the clutter and fog of an overcrowded political field. But Elizabeth Warren did it this week. The debates were not conducive to any kind of discussion of issues beyond sound bite point scoring. They were structured for personal zingers and not for any exploration of policy differences. All that time spent on health care but…

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Politics, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Let Me Be Clear

We are well into the election season although the actual vote is well over a year away. This time in 2020 we will know our Democratic presidential candidate. It’s a crowded field and candidates must find a way to distinguish themselves from the pack. Right now we have four clear leaders – Joe Biden, Kamala Harris, Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth…

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City and Country, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Save Your Neighborhood

Buy local. If you live in a city, town or village you probably appreciate the local amenities. These include the local shops. If you want to preserve your neighborhood then buy local. Small independent stores and businesses are under siege and we need to support them if we care about preserving our neighborhoods.  Let’s imagine a densely populated city like…

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Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

The Gossips

She never!            She did! Well blow me            A right carry-on What a palaver             It’s always something More out than in so they say             You could have knocked me down with a feather Well I should say so          …

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Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Stroll, Soodle or Stroam

Soodle – it means means to walk in a slow or leisurely manner; to stroll, saunter. With so many alternatives to the word ‘walk’ it seems superfluous to promote more. But “soodle” just seems so right especially for this time of the year when it takes effort to move at all when the heat is high and the humidity stifling.…

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Art, Film, Photography, RattleBag and Rhubarb

The Art of Toni Morrison: The Pieces I Am

Two Sundays, two documentaries and two very satisfactory movie experiences. The first was Maiden at The Moviehouse in Millerton, NY. The second Toni Morrison: The Pieces I am at Upstate Films in Rhinebeck. And before say anything about either film I have to comment on the pleasure of film-going at Indy cinemas like these. Two recent movie going experiences at…

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RattleBag and Rhubarb

Night Fog

Some left over words from another post and borrowed words not exactly put to music. Boundaries blur. The streetlamp a smudge. Steps behind you muffled. Stop. When you stop. The roots that clutch. Do they follow? Who is the figure in the window, watching? Nerves are bad tonight, yes bad. Just the street and the fog that dissolves and distorts.…

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Art, Film, Photography, City and Country, Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

New York City Through the Window: Poetry

In 1975 the poet Allen Ginsberg was in hospital. At a later poetry reading he explained the causes in an introduction to a poem that he had written from his hospital bed.:  I got real angry and wound up sick in a hospital, for various karmic reasons, and woke up looking out the window, and started taking notes on what…

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Art, Film, Photography, City and Country, RattleBag and Rhubarb

New York City Through the Window: Art

And New York is the most beautiful city in the world? It is not far from it. No urban nights are like the night there. I have looked down across the city from high windows. It is then that the great buildings lose reality and take on their magical powers. They are immaterial; that is to say, one sees but…

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Art, Film, Photography, Books, RattleBag and Rhubarb

The View from the Room

It was pleasant to wake up in Florence, to open the eyes upon a bright bare room, with a floor of red tiles which look clean though they are not; with a painted ceiling whereon pink griffins and blue amorini sport in a forest of yellow violins and bassoons. It was pleasant, too, to fling wide the windows, pinching the…

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Education, Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

After great pain, a formal feeling comes

It’s graduation season and across the land schools are saying goodbye to students and students are moving along and into the next phases of their lives. It’s all very heartwarming and etc. I usually couldn’t wait for them to be over.  All that dressing up and ceremony and sitting and waiting in uncomfortable chairs. At least at the dentist you…

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City and Country, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Bench Warfare: Satanic Panic on the Rail Trail

A favorite place for a walk is the Hudson Valley Rail Trail. There’s at least one stretch north of Hopewell Junction that is regularly infested with religious messages of fear, doom and  gloom. Eternal damnation is predicted for us all. The trail starts at the old railway depot at Hopewell Junction and connects with the Walkway Across the Hudson in…

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Education, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Celebrating a Trevor Class and a Teacher Retirement

Just a few pictures of very lovely evening at Trevor Day School. Great appreciation to all who helped make this reunion celebration so successful. It was good to be back among Trevor folk and to catch up with so many people. And congratulations to the ever wonderful Diane Tisman, head of the world languages department, who has been an extraordinary…

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Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb, WW1

Who was May Herschel Clarke?

It started with a tweet from yesterday morning: So off to google where I found the same inaccurate one-line biography pretty much everywhere, including Wikipedia.  May Herschel-Clarke (1850–1950) was an English poet. She is chiefly known today for her Anti-War poems Nothing to Report and The Mother, the latter of which was published in 1917 as a direct response to Rupert Brooke‘s famous poem The Soldier.…

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