The Permanent Motherly/Sonly Record
DebK of Rosemount: “A crew installing some kind of infrastructure ‘upgrade’ has managed to sever our ‘fiber-optics,’ leaving us without Internet connection, a situation that has freed up quite a lot of time I’d otherwise have wasted on email and blogs and the like. I’ve dedicated many of these liberated hours to preparing for the arrival of Texas Sis, whose stay will overlap the visit of Favorite Son and his family.
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Our pets, ourselves
joegolfer writes: “The recent stories about cats jumping on food, and Vapid in Vadnais‘ recollections, prompt my confession.
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Our birds, ourselves
The Original Robyn From Maplewood: “Golfer Guy Mike and I have been feeding birds by way of feeders on our elevated deck for a couple of years now. We realize that in some circles, this activity qualifies us for geezer-hood, but we’re OK with that, having been called much worse in our respective seven decades.
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Sunday thoughts on a long afternoon
Know thyself!
Tim Torkildson writes: “Subject: Me, myself, and I.
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memories of my old clown companions, Steve Smith
Till death them do part
And: Not exactly what (if anything) he had in mind
Reports Fevered Rabbit: “Subject: Sometimes one is all it takes.
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My memoir of Bill Ballantine, Dean of Clown College.
Our theater of seasons
Mid-Atlantic Division
Mounds View Swede reports: “On a visit to relatives in Silver Spring, Maryland, we took a late-morning venture into D.C. before the snows started later that day. The cherry blossoms were starting to bloom, hooray!
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Musical notes from clown alley
It happens every spring
Sleepless from St. Paul (in Minneapolis) has sent us “an interesting spring-training tidbit I came across a few years ago:
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Forty-five years ago a newspaper editor interviewed me about my LDS faith. What I told him then I still believe now.
Everyone’s a copy editor!
PH of Maplewood: “Subject: Editor Desperately Needed.
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Read more of my clown memoirs at Tim Torkildson’s Clown Alley
Our theater of seasons
Al B of Hartland: “A lone Canada goose flew overhead, honk-a-lonking at a good goose speed. It’s head turned from side-to-side. I hoped it would find whatever it was searching for.
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Clowning around
Including: Then & Now
Another circus memoir from Tim Torkildson (which we urge you to read, even if you aren’t so big a fan of these circus tales as we are — we know you’re out there!): “The Ringling clown alley in its heyday was an uninhibited bedlam, but with an underlying bedrock of showbiz professionalism. It really didn’t matter who you were, what you did or thought, or how often you sang ‘Ridi Pagliaccio‘ to no one in particular — as long as you showed up fairly sober for each show and didn’t steal from a fellow clown. Just about everything else, in clown alley parlance, was ‘jake.’
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