In honor of the birthday of Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822).
In honor of the birthday of Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822).
This entry was posted on Wednesday, August 4th, 2021 at 12:22 pm and is filed under simple pleasures. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.
Wisdom doesn’t necessarily come with age. Sometimes age just shows up all by itself. —Tom Wilson
Dear whatever doesn’t kill me, I’m strong enough now. Thanks.
Home sweet home
Bob's sister Hannah
Bob's sister Ada
Bob's brother Otto
Bob's sister Eve
Bob's sister Nan
A baby picture of Bob and his siblings (clockwise from upper left: Otto, Eve, Hannah, Ada, Bob, and Nan)
Bob's childhood home
Bob's mom and dad
Bob in his youth
Bob's cousin Alphonse
Bob's Uncle Ralph and Aunt Edna
Bob's cousin Archibald
Bob's stepbrother Herbie (who really needs to quit smoking)
Bob's cousin Chester
Bob's Great Uncle Norbert and Great Aunt Phyllis
Bob's cousin Saffron (who will do anything for a drink)
Bob's cousin Thorndike
Bob's brother-in-law Vinnie
Bob's cousin Orville, who loves the Green Bay Packers
Bob's nieces Lulu and Bitsy, the biker chicks
Bob's stepsister Eloise, with the twins, Rudy and Trudy
Bob's Uncle Henry and Aunt Rowena
Bob's niece Esmerelda (who likes to live dangerously)
Bob's Great Uncle Arthur up in Saskatchewan
Bob's cousin Louie, the grackle of grumpiness
Miss Screech, Bob's journalism teacher
Bob's nephew Winthrop, who loves sports
Bob's Uncle Seymour and Aunt Bernice
Bob's second cousin Schlomo in Brooklyn
Bob's nephew Baxter
Bob's cousin Darrell
Bob's sister-in-law Delphine, who volunteers at the animal shelter
Percy the Pickpocket, Bob's third cousin once removed (the relative no one likes to talk about... every family has one)
The Bluebird of Happinessâ„¢ (no relation to Bob)
A pair of boobies (also no relation to Bob, but included for readers who desire titillation)
Bluebird Bitterâ„¢, the beer they named for Bob
How I wish I could run into the woods today.
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Back in college some 50 years ago had to do an essay on the Lake Poets. I wrote on Percy, Bysshe and Shelly if as though they were three different people. The professor was unrelentless in his ridicule I don’t remember but I got a D or F in the course. He was completely dismissive of me and any work assignments I turned in.
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Oh, that’s so unfair!
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A true educator cares about helping students, not criticizing or belittling them from an ivory tower. Shame on him; he didn’t deserve to be in the job.
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“I fall upon the thorns of life I bleed” used to be my go to line to express contempt for self-dramatization. So, you’ve pulled off something I thought was impossible: redeeming Shelley.
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I long to run to the woods myself, or at least find some nature trail! For now I’ll just imagine, with the pigeons on my fire escape.
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Awwwe!
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Being in nature is always restorative for me. And I love Mutts 😀
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