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11 ~ 18 ~ 14

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~  My  God  Mother  Aunt  Colette,  Don {friend}  and  my  Mother

Today would have been Aunt Colettes birthday. We lost her this year and I think of her often.

She was this incredibly vivacious person. Charismatic to any and all !

When she passed, I was allowed to have some of her ashes. It was July 4th when I took the walk to Golden Gate Park.  The goal was to take her to the Rose Garden, however along the way, I stumbled upon Shakespeare Garden. An executive decision was made and she has a view of both.

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~  This garden  was  spectacular !  It  is  a  must  see and  made  a  lovely  resting  spot

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~  There  were  copper  sheets  with  quotes  in  the  back.  Cymbeline IV . 2  seemed  so  apropos

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~  At   the  Rose  Garden  I  wanted  her  at  the  center  of  attention  like  she was  !  When  I  got  there  the  roses  in  the  center  were  called  New  Beginnings

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11 ~ 11 ~ 14  Veterans  Day

~  My  Father  is  to  the  right

I  love  the  smoke  and  light  of  this  old  picture

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~  My  Father  is  the  second  to  left

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11 ~ 4 ~ 14

~  Moonlit  Voting

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Boo

10 ~ 31 ~ 14

~  Punk  Rock  Pumpkin  is  thinking  about  a  nose  ring  and  a  tat

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~  Here  he  is  after  nose  ring,  still  no  tattoo  artist  for  him

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~  U. F. P.  ?

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~  Hungry  Pumpkin

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Reading Righting Rhythm

The pad on Lenox was jumping. The musicians ranged from white to tan to brown to black. No one in that room was thinking about anything but music. I sometimes think all racial prejudice in the world would evaporate if everyone were taught to play an instrument and then allowed to join a gigantic international band. I’ve never yet met a musician, black or white, who has let color become any sort of a barrier. And this holds for musicians who come from neighborhoods where racial prejudice is taught from the cradle by well meaning parents preparing their kids for the hard knocks of life. It doesn’t work on musicians. There’s no room for hatred when three men or six men or a dozen men or two dozen men are blowing their separate sheets and making a conglomerate sound. The sound is the thing and music has its own color, blue or red or pale yellow or misty pink. ~ Ed McBain ~ Né Salvatore Lombino

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