By lex, on June 15th, 2008
Your correspondent has spent the last four weeks “off” in between careers, which time he has spent placing polishing touches on the World’s Longest Master’s Thesis – the higher I climb, the taller the hill – fixing the domestic irrigation system, flaunting the manifest will of Nature’s God by trying to grow grass in the coastal desert, hitting the gym from time to time in a vain effort to slow down the hands of time – they will not be stopped, far less turned back – flying the occasional airplane, penning the random bit of desultory (albeit deathless, no doubt) bloggery and generally being incautiously underfoot of the high, stern ladies of the demesne.
We have among us a Lexican who posts some very rare photos on our Facebook page. And a couple of days ago, he posted this.
I’ve been transfixed by the emotions that this photo captured. It is 1956, and a German father, after being in a Soviet Gulag for 10 or 11 years, is finally reunited with his daughter. She last saw him when she was a year old. The fact that he even returned is a miracle in itself. So many died in the Gulags from overwork, disease, and starvation.
By lex, on June 19th, 2006
Weather perfect of course, and the only thing to be lamented was the all-too-frequent reminders from th’ingrateful children that school was out, summer was here and what had I planned for Monday?
By lex, on May 13th, 2007
It will not have escaped the astute observer that today is Mother’s Day, in consequence of which the All-Girl Spending Team was permitted to lay abed this morning, ditching out of our quotidian obligations of a Sunday – it is hoped that this will not be held against us in time.
By lex, on June 11th, 2011
Was unable to access the blog this AM during the customary hours of, well: Blogging. Spent half the morning trying to figure it out, and half the rest exchanging barbs with my hosting service. Then I had to fly. Had to. Five times, in the event. Which, even for a skydog like your host, is laying it on a bit thick. The first four were nobbut 30 minute learn-to-flies, and the last a dogfight. My man was six feet six and I had misgivings, but he managed to fold himself into the cramped back seat of the Mighty Varga, even if he had to go barefoot to do so.
By lex, on October 27th, 2009
It’s raining in West Florida, a warm, soft but insistent rain that seems to lack awareness of its own mortality. I sit in my son’s truck in the parking lot before his apartment in the darkness with the heater on, the windshield fogged, watching the raindrops form their mosaic, the larger ones gaining mass, starting to move, swallowing their neighbors up whole before racing to the bottom of the glass where they disappear out of sight, anonymous, ephemeral.
By lex, on October 23rd, 2009
Heading out in an hour or so with Son Number One on that long drive to Pensacola, Florida – the cradle of naval aviation. No intention to post over the next few days, so you’re welcome to talk among yourselves. Here or over on the other side.* Which, by the way – and I know that an “off the air notice” is a bad time to rattle the cup – but what with the server spikes we’ve been enduring the tip jar has been drained, and it’s out of pocket, I am, keeping this place humming. If anyone felt inclined to throw a fin in the jar, that’d be taken as a kindness.
By lex, on August 7th, 2011
Today I took the day off. Played golf in the morning (80 at Torrey Pines North), flew twice in the afternoon, took the Hobbit out to the cinema, then out for appetizers and adult beverages.
Back To The Index
By lex, on July 31st, 2011
No flights this weekend, so your host was free to indulge hisself, like. Played an early morning round o’ golf at MCAS Miramary, and shot an asymmetric 48/38.
Because you care to know.
This has become something of a habit with me of late, fierce struggles on the front nine followed by relatively smooth sailing on the back. It’s a mystery.