a review of EPILECTIC's illustration "Watching the Box"
AN ESSAY ABOUT PROPAGANDA, ILLUSTRATIONS AND A FREE AMERICA
Isn't it odd how society can change images through education. For example, when attending elementary school, many of our books illustrated men smoking pipes. They were usually the kind, grandfatherly type and often pictured with their grandchildren or children. Now, 60 years later,the non-smoking advocates in government positions have decided that smokers are deviant beings who are determined to foul the environment, thus making them a negative part of our populace. Now, one never sees reality in textbooks or advertisements illustrating pipe-smoking men.
As a pipe smoker since I was 12, I have seen this movement evolve. Now, when enjoying a pipe at a park with my grandchildren, other children passing by will stare at me as though I were a troll; some point and comment to their guardians. I am, in their eyes, a criminal because I am smoking. This is an example of how education can use propaganda to ruin the character of members of the population.
I am waiting to see a textbook illustrating citizens shooting up with needles in public parks. Yes, I am waiting for illustrations of how gangsters and thugs go about intimidating those in Central Park or on the streets. I am waiting for illustrations of events where beer is being served to create negative attitudes about Americans enjoying a cold beer.
This is how the socialists sitting in their cubicles will demonize those celebrating 4th of July celebrations, Christian holidays and free enterprise. Yes, illustrations can definitely effect the ideas of young children. It all depends on who is a socialist and who is one who wants this wonderful nation of democracy and free enterprise to fail.
By Robert L. Huffstutter
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Watching the Box
Thursday, March 22, 2012
rapture tune
HOW DO I SEE THIS PAINTING? IS IT MORE THAN A PAINTING, BUT AN ESSAY ABOUT OUR PURPOSE ON EARTH?
This is a consolidated work of extreme knowledge about a wide-array of subject matter, combined with what I would suspect is an eclectic philosophy, or the philosophy of one seeking wisdom of the ages.
There are symbols of a multitude of defining ideals, reminders of a search by past cultures and causes for the truth. Within this assortment of graphic excellence is a theme of simplicity, a kind of river of goodness trying to flow smoothly.
From my position as a viewer, I see grief and I see joy, but moreover, I see a hope that is present in all who are alive and seeking goodness and joy. It is the kind of painting that exercises one's mind. My congratulations to the artist whose talent created this graphic pleasure.
Robert L. Huffstutter
rapture tune by artist's gallery
Thursday, March 8, 2012
HEADED TOWARD CALIFORNIA 1959
If I only knew then what I know now. Wow, what a joy. But I had my share of fun. It seems that fun was what life was all about back then....
___________________________________
Photo taken by my Aunt Dorothy when I was getting ready to go to the Union Station to board a train for Los Angeles.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Presenting Elvis Presley
Wouldn't it be nice to come and go at will? Thanks to Thomas Hawk for posting this on Flickr.
Friday, July 8, 2011
KISSING NASA GOODBYE. WHY?
KISSING NASA GOODBYE. WHY?
Nobody other than the employees seems to really care. Oh, I am sure the Chinese and Russians are pretty excited about NASA going out of business. Now, the starwars technology will belong to those who would like to see us take a number and wait in line.
Listening to the talking heads about the closing of NASA makes me laugh. One of them says there must be some "bittersweet memories" here and there or something akin to that tripe. Most were not even born when we went to the moon? How do these media voices become so full of wisdom? Perhaps they were not around to share the pride and excitement when the USA reached the moon? That is part of the pride of Americans who grew up in the 60s.
When our illustrious President was HOPING to become President, did he tell us that he had plans to shut the SHUTTLE PROGRAM DOWN and ride with the RUSSIANS? Or did we simply assume that our Commander-in-Chief would realize there is more involved in the NASA Program than moonlight sonatas, that NASA is the launching pad of what might have to be serious STAR WARS deterrents?
Do you suppose that if President Obama had been an officer in our Armed Forces, even in the JAG, that he might have a different outlook on the NASA Program?
Sunday, May 8, 2011
General Douglas MacArthur's Lockheed C-121A Constellation -Bataan
General Douglas MacArthur's Lockheed C-121A Constellation -Bataan, a photo by wingsnstuff on Flickr.
I have added this image to several more of my Flickr galleries. I now have nearly 800 galleries, many of a historical nature.
History is such a comforting subject in one's advancing years for several reasons. It is an intensely active subject without requiring the viewer or reader to be totally mobile. Whatsmore, the history I enjoy ends in the manner it should, in my opinion, with the victory celebrating the defeat of evil.
What will happen in the future, in a time when my generation will have exited, is still to be seen. I can only hope that the genes of our fighting and victorious forces of the past will remain dominant in future generations.
The recent victory over the infamous designer of the WTC tragedy gives me some assurance that our fighting men and women will prevail over the evils we have yet to meet. Robert
___________________________________
My sincere gratitude to Vance V. Lessard, the photographer, for permission to include this photo in my online blog. His Flickr photostream, aptly named WINGSNSTUFF, features many unique photos of aircraft.
I want to take this opportunity to thank Mr. Lessard for his military service.
Friday, January 21, 2011
WIEN COFFEE SHOP, YOKOHAMA 1962 & 1963
_____________________________________________________
We met here on Saturdays around noon, sometimes earlier. The moment we saw each other was magical. I can still remember her smile, her very essence. She was perfect in every way, shape and form. And we thought our romance would last forever.
It would have, but there were decisions that were wrong, on the spot, without thought, in haste. It no longer matters; I will remember her as I saw her last. In some ways, it is best this way. My only hope is that she feels the same. In each others mind, we will always be in our early twenties.
___________________________________________________
WIEN COFFEE SHOP, YOKOHAMA 1962 & 1963
blogaboutjapan.blogspot.com/
Uploaded by roberthuffstutter on 20 Jul 09
Monday, December 6, 2010
Tokyo Woman
Tokyo Woman
Originally uploaded by humbletree
Tokyo Woman
Among the many sights of Tokyo, the style conscious Japanese woman in heels with her keitai (cell phone) in hand, is one of the more fascinating and photogenic. I was never satisfied with Deep Purple's "Woman from Tokyo" hit of the 70's as a proper tribute so I decided to do my own song which has been a work in progress for 2 years or more. This latest version is combined with 60+ images collected over a similar 2 year period of trips to Tokyo. Some of the shots were taken on the run or from the hip and present only a fleeting, blurred vision of this elusive creature. The Beach Boys had their California Girls and Lenny Kravitz his American Woman. This is my humble offering to Tokyo Woman.
Tokyo woman, I wonder what you hear
with your keitai denwa pressed against your ear
Tokyo woman, kakko ii desho
Tokyo woman, doko iku no?
Uploaded by humbletree on 20 Jul 09, 5.46AM PST.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Parkview_Package_Store_MD
Parkview_Package_Store_MD
Colorful and whimsical treatment for this large neon liquor store sign - Parkview Liquor Store, Cumberland, Maryland.
Uploaded by PopKulture on 21 May 10, 4.34PM PDT.
Colorful and whimsical treatment for this large neon liquor store sign - Parkview Liquor Store, Cumberland, Maryland.
Uploaded by PopKulture on 21 May 10, 4.34PM PDT.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
MALIBU, CALIFORNIA, EARLY 1970S BY R.L.HUFFSTUTTER
MALIBU, CALIFORNIA, EARLY 1970S BY R.L.HUFFSTUTTER
Uploaded by roberthuffstutter on 8 Aug 10, 8.25AM PDT
Uploaded by roberthuffstutter on 8 Aug 10, 8.25AM PDT
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
ONE VERY BEAUTIFUL YOUNG WOMAN
a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/29578994@N08/3526099779/" title="026 by hikaru_yf19, on Flickr">
There is a sensuality about the young woman that will surely guarantee her a most successful modeling career wherever she might choose. There is, too, the world of cinema. If I was a producer, a director or the owner of a movie production company, I would pursue her and feel as though she would become the star she looks like. My congratulations to the photographer, and to the young lady. Wishing you the best in your future.
There is a sensuality about the young woman that will surely guarantee her a most successful modeling career wherever she might choose. There is, too, the world of cinema. If I was a producer, a director or the owner of a movie production company, I would pursue her and feel as though she would become the star she looks like. My congratulations to the photographer, and to the young lady. Wishing you the best in your future.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Riding Amtrak (1975)
Riding Amtrak (1975)
Eastern USA, November 1975.
Uploaded by Hunter-Desportes on 22 Nov 09, 11.37AM PDT.
Eastern USA, November 1975.
Uploaded by Hunter-Desportes on 22 Nov 09, 11.37AM PDT.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
THE WAY IT WAS DURING THE LAST WAR...
THE STORY OF HOW I CAME ABOUT MY ALMOST COMPLETE COLLECTION OF NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINES By Robert L. Huffstutter
CHAPTER ONE
When I was a little kid (child), I had an elderly couple who lived across the street from me. She was a cheerful lady, always out in her yard tending to her flowers, always wearing a floral bonnet tied up beneath her chin with long, wide strings.
Those outfits she wore were nearly as colorful as her garden.
And her garden? My, what an array of floral splendor, but a most informal type of garden. It was only in the last few years that I learned the definition of English garden. Thus, it was an English garden she was tending, all dressed in her gingham outfits and bonnets, always smiling.
She had the cheeks of a character illustrated in a very deluxe and leather-bound tale of English fables with graphics that were the state of the arts in the late 1890s. She was a child of the 19th century who had grown old and grand in the mid 20th century. But more about her as the feminine half of the couple I mentioned before entering upon this detailed and refined description of the lady whose name was Mrs Bresingham, an English name, perchance, but it was the name of her man, her husband, that male counterpart of this couple I want to tell more about, but in time.
Now, Mrs. Bresingham would trim her garden with snippers as I watched, tossing leaves and greenery behind her but never near me. She sensed my presence before she peered up with her blue eyes that knew no shadows and only reflected the sunlight that streamed through the gaps between the many diverse and mature trees that adorned her yard. But not her yard alone, for it was her husband's yard too.
"Hello, Bobby," she would speak so precisely as our eyes met. And her eyes were so blue they fascinated me. It was only later in life that I imagined they might have reflected the sea near the White Cliffs of Dover on a clear day, but at that time, at that moment in time, I had yet to hear about the White Cliffs or the songs that were sung about them in the war years. And the war years had ended only five years from the time when this scene I am describing took place.
"Hello, Mrs. Bresingham," I would respond and stand at a kind of attention stance, watching her.
Alas, she would take off her gloves, lay down her shears and adjust her bonnet while untying her chin strings. "The mister is expecting your visit, " she would say softly. "He is so happy you are going to visit with him for awhile."
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER ONE
When I was a little kid (child), I had an elderly couple who lived across the street from me. She was a cheerful lady, always out in her yard tending to her flowers, always wearing a floral bonnet tied up beneath her chin with long, wide strings.
Those outfits she wore were nearly as colorful as her garden.
And her garden? My, what an array of floral splendor, but a most informal type of garden. It was only in the last few years that I learned the definition of English garden. Thus, it was an English garden she was tending, all dressed in her gingham outfits and bonnets, always smiling.
She had the cheeks of a character illustrated in a very deluxe and leather-bound tale of English fables with graphics that were the state of the arts in the late 1890s. She was a child of the 19th century who had grown old and grand in the mid 20th century. But more about her as the feminine half of the couple I mentioned before entering upon this detailed and refined description of the lady whose name was Mrs Bresingham, an English name, perchance, but it was the name of her man, her husband, that male counterpart of this couple I want to tell more about, but in time.
Now, Mrs. Bresingham would trim her garden with snippers as I watched, tossing leaves and greenery behind her but never near me. She sensed my presence before she peered up with her blue eyes that knew no shadows and only reflected the sunlight that streamed through the gaps between the many diverse and mature trees that adorned her yard. But not her yard alone, for it was her husband's yard too.
"Hello, Bobby," she would speak so precisely as our eyes met. And her eyes were so blue they fascinated me. It was only later in life that I imagined they might have reflected the sea near the White Cliffs of Dover on a clear day, but at that time, at that moment in time, I had yet to hear about the White Cliffs or the songs that were sung about them in the war years. And the war years had ended only five years from the time when this scene I am describing took place.
"Hello, Mrs. Bresingham," I would respond and stand at a kind of attention stance, watching her.
Alas, she would take off her gloves, lay down her shears and adjust her bonnet while untying her chin strings. "The mister is expecting your visit, " she would say softly. "He is so happy you are going to visit with him for awhile."
CHAPTER TWO
Sunday, February 14, 2010
MOTOMACHI MEMORIES: REMEMBERING JAPAN OF THE 1960S
IN RESPONSE TO A COMMENT MADE ABOUT THIS PHOTO ON MY FLICKR PHOTOSTREAM. Comment made by Quietude
TO QUIETUDE...Thank you for your comments.
We share many of the same memories and this makes us good friends in that the sights we saw are memories. That we now realize that change takes place and removes the realtiy of returning, we share the same thoughts about those memories being real, and memories that trigger pleasant thoughts.
Thank you very much for mentioning Motomachi, an area where a young man from far away found much joy and friendship among the people there at that time. I knew many of the shop-keepers, the owners and cooks of the small soba shops and restaurants.
There were many weekends spent in Motomachi. Although pizza was relatively a new item, especially in Japan, we found a place where pizza was sold. So, the weekends were filled with special moments, conversation, sketching, reading haiku and American poetry, pizza and sometimes sake and sometime soft drinks.
If the night was cold, the innkeeper would bring us a small iron vessel with charcoal embers that radiated heat enough. The rooms were traditional, with tatami mats, one small and low table, and a futon. There was no Television provided, but a radio was tuned to the popular Japanese songs of the day, thus the nights were filled with melodies and haunting, romantic lyrics, love songs mostly, long gone, songs that are probably much like the USA's Golden Oldies.
Yes, I loved the Japanese music too. Sometimes, specail times in our lives are not destined to last, but to serve only as memories of our youth and special times in youth, a time to remember when we grow older and need to reflect on our youth. Thus, that is the view I must take of Motomachi memories, lest I be burdened by too many regrets. Regrets, I have a few, but far too many to remember everyday. Frank Sinatra said it best in song...
TO QUIETUDE...Thank you for your comments.
We share many of the same memories and this makes us good friends in that the sights we saw are memories. That we now realize that change takes place and removes the realtiy of returning, we share the same thoughts about those memories being real, and memories that trigger pleasant thoughts.
Thank you very much for mentioning Motomachi, an area where a young man from far away found much joy and friendship among the people there at that time. I knew many of the shop-keepers, the owners and cooks of the small soba shops and restaurants.
There were many weekends spent in Motomachi. Although pizza was relatively a new item, especially in Japan, we found a place where pizza was sold. So, the weekends were filled with special moments, conversation, sketching, reading haiku and American poetry, pizza and sometimes sake and sometime soft drinks.
If the night was cold, the innkeeper would bring us a small iron vessel with charcoal embers that radiated heat enough. The rooms were traditional, with tatami mats, one small and low table, and a futon. There was no Television provided, but a radio was tuned to the popular Japanese songs of the day, thus the nights were filled with melodies and haunting, romantic lyrics, love songs mostly, long gone, songs that are probably much like the USA's Golden Oldies.
Yes, I loved the Japanese music too. Sometimes, specail times in our lives are not destined to last, but to serve only as memories of our youth and special times in youth, a time to remember when we grow older and need to reflect on our youth. Thus, that is the view I must take of Motomachi memories, lest I be burdened by too many regrets. Regrets, I have a few, but far too many to remember everyday. Frank Sinatra said it best in song...
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
RARE PHOTO OF MY GRANDFATHER, BORN IN 1856
To Kayceetee and Salinagrrrl...........Thanks for the comments, feedback and suggestions. No, it is the way it is, the way I happened to find it several days ago. Had never seen it and I have only a few photos of this man who is responsible for my presence in that, of course, he is my grandfather.
His story is somewhat unique in that he began a second family in the 1890s, the family that includes my uncles and my dad. According to the family legend, he wanted to leave what was his original home and journey to Missouri to begin a new enterprise. There are several stories about where he called home. What is somewhat odd is that he was married and had children in whatever was his location. And like so many men in today's world, he simply decided to go to greener pastures. His wife, however, was not willing to pack up and leave. Here is the rub--was she simply an independent woman who felt like she had a right to weigh in on the decision or was she, according to Scripture, disobediant in that she did not obey her husband's wishes and did not support his plans for seeking new opportunities?
Now, so far removed from that domestic situation, I have no way to find out the exact details. I do know that wherever he was when he decided to move without his wife and family, there would be the descendents of those who know the details. Whatsmore, since he had a very large family, there are descendents to whom I am related but have not responded to any of my inquiries.
In more than one instance when inquiring, I received not even an acknowledgement that there are other people who are related to them.
That my grandfather was a man who followed his dreams can be attested to by the fact that, according to the stories I've heard, he simply "packed his wagon and headed to Missouri." From what we have been able to put together, he settled first in Tarkio, Missouri, northwest of Laredo, Missouri. To bring this part of the story to a conclusion, Robert Levi moved to Laredo, a railroad town, in the 1890s and married a woman named Sarah Jane or Sarah Ann Rooks. She was twenty-plus years his junior. I do not know if she was previously married or whether her union with Robert Levi was her first marriage.
Robert and Sarah had a large family. His first child was Frank, born on New Year's Day in eithr 1899 or 1900. (If there are relatives reading this who know the exact date, they are welcome to contact me via my Flicker E-mail, the only E-mail that I am able to use due to a real large amount of confusion using the messenger service, etc).
Grandad Huffstutter and Grandmother Huffstutter's family consisted of: George Francis Huffstutter, James Eldon Huffstutter, Ella Huffstutter, Lenore Huffstutter, Marietta Huffstutter and my dad, the last sibling, born in 1912. Sarah, the mother, died either in childbirth with my dad, or within several years thereafter. The information is available, but I have forgotten. Grandad Huffstutter lived from 1856 until 1938. He passed away four years before my birth. Yes, it would have been great to have known him.
His youngest grandchild would be, according to my calculation, my sister Linn, born in June of 1943. According to my stats, I am his last grandson, thus I do feel a link to him that transcends much time with very little interruption from his birth to mine, the only link, my dad. Many people believe I am referring to my great grandfather when I mention that my grandad was nine years old when President Lincoln's life ended. No, he was my grandfather.
Throughout my lifetime, I have met Huffstutters who know nothing about this tale. I have also met other Huffstutters, or talked with them via phone, who acknowledged that they were related to my grandfather, but were not sure where the links were.
One of my first contacts with another Huffstutter I never met was in the autumn of 1958 when my high school buddy and I decided to drive to Denver. We were only 16, and we surprised our parents by taking this unauthorized trip. Anyway, while in Denver, I looked in the phone book and found a Huffstutter, called them and recall they said, "yes, we are related." I do not recall their first names, but I was elated, finding a new family member. It was a real find for a 16 year old boy.
My next encounter with a Huffstutter was while in Japan. I decided I wanted to go to Hiroshima and caught a ride on a USN plane from NAS Atsugi to MCAS Iwakuni, Japan. Upon checking into the desk at the Marine Corps Air Station, a Marine behind the counter asked if I was related to Colonel (Lt-Col) Hardy V. Huffstutter, a base or wing commander, I cannot recall. He might have been the base commander, I do not know. I responded truthfully, elated that I might be related to a Marine officer. "Yes, I think we are distant relatives," I answered.
There are many Huffstutters out there. According to the family tree, one I viewed at a website that existed several years ago called "The Huffstutter Connection" the first Huffstutter, arrived in this country from Switzerland. The year was 1732, the port, Philadelphia, the vessel, the Priscilla. According to extended history, he fought in the Indian wars and the Revolutionary War.
There was a cartoon series I enjoyed when I was younger. It ended with the familiar words, "That's All Folks." Thus, that is the story around my Grandfather in a nutshell. If there are those who want to share more information, feel welcome to send me a Flicker E Mail.
Robert L. Huffstutter
His story is somewhat unique in that he began a second family in the 1890s, the family that includes my uncles and my dad. According to the family legend, he wanted to leave what was his original home and journey to Missouri to begin a new enterprise. There are several stories about where he called home. What is somewhat odd is that he was married and had children in whatever was his location. And like so many men in today's world, he simply decided to go to greener pastures. His wife, however, was not willing to pack up and leave. Here is the rub--was she simply an independent woman who felt like she had a right to weigh in on the decision or was she, according to Scripture, disobediant in that she did not obey her husband's wishes and did not support his plans for seeking new opportunities?
Now, so far removed from that domestic situation, I have no way to find out the exact details. I do know that wherever he was when he decided to move without his wife and family, there would be the descendents of those who know the details. Whatsmore, since he had a very large family, there are descendents to whom I am related but have not responded to any of my inquiries.
In more than one instance when inquiring, I received not even an acknowledgement that there are other people who are related to them.
That my grandfather was a man who followed his dreams can be attested to by the fact that, according to the stories I've heard, he simply "packed his wagon and headed to Missouri." From what we have been able to put together, he settled first in Tarkio, Missouri, northwest of Laredo, Missouri. To bring this part of the story to a conclusion, Robert Levi moved to Laredo, a railroad town, in the 1890s and married a woman named Sarah Jane or Sarah Ann Rooks. She was twenty-plus years his junior. I do not know if she was previously married or whether her union with Robert Levi was her first marriage.
Robert and Sarah had a large family. His first child was Frank, born on New Year's Day in eithr 1899 or 1900. (If there are relatives reading this who know the exact date, they are welcome to contact me via my Flicker E-mail, the only E-mail that I am able to use due to a real large amount of confusion using the messenger service, etc).
Grandad Huffstutter and Grandmother Huffstutter's family consisted of: George Francis Huffstutter, James Eldon Huffstutter, Ella Huffstutter, Lenore Huffstutter, Marietta Huffstutter and my dad, the last sibling, born in 1912. Sarah, the mother, died either in childbirth with my dad, or within several years thereafter. The information is available, but I have forgotten. Grandad Huffstutter lived from 1856 until 1938. He passed away four years before my birth. Yes, it would have been great to have known him.
His youngest grandchild would be, according to my calculation, my sister Linn, born in June of 1943. According to my stats, I am his last grandson, thus I do feel a link to him that transcends much time with very little interruption from his birth to mine, the only link, my dad. Many people believe I am referring to my great grandfather when I mention that my grandad was nine years old when President Lincoln's life ended. No, he was my grandfather.
Throughout my lifetime, I have met Huffstutters who know nothing about this tale. I have also met other Huffstutters, or talked with them via phone, who acknowledged that they were related to my grandfather, but were not sure where the links were.
One of my first contacts with another Huffstutter I never met was in the autumn of 1958 when my high school buddy and I decided to drive to Denver. We were only 16, and we surprised our parents by taking this unauthorized trip. Anyway, while in Denver, I looked in the phone book and found a Huffstutter, called them and recall they said, "yes, we are related." I do not recall their first names, but I was elated, finding a new family member. It was a real find for a 16 year old boy.
My next encounter with a Huffstutter was while in Japan. I decided I wanted to go to Hiroshima and caught a ride on a USN plane from NAS Atsugi to MCAS Iwakuni, Japan. Upon checking into the desk at the Marine Corps Air Station, a Marine behind the counter asked if I was related to Colonel (Lt-Col) Hardy V. Huffstutter, a base or wing commander, I cannot recall. He might have been the base commander, I do not know. I responded truthfully, elated that I might be related to a Marine officer. "Yes, I think we are distant relatives," I answered.
There are many Huffstutters out there. According to the family tree, one I viewed at a website that existed several years ago called "The Huffstutter Connection" the first Huffstutter, arrived in this country from Switzerland. The year was 1732, the port, Philadelphia, the vessel, the Priscilla. According to extended history, he fought in the Indian wars and the Revolutionary War.
There was a cartoon series I enjoyed when I was younger. It ended with the familiar words, "That's All Folks." Thus, that is the story around my Grandfather in a nutshell. If there are those who want to share more information, feel welcome to send me a Flicker E Mail.
Robert L. Huffstutter
Monday, February 8, 2010
80's spandex girls
WHEN I SAW THIS PHOTO, I THOUGHT ABOUT THE EARLY MORNINGS IN THE 80S WHEN I FIRST TURNED ON THE TUBE AND SAW A SEXY GROUP OF MOST APPEALING YOUNG WOMEN DOING AEROBICS. OH', IT WAS SUCH A STIMULATING SHOW, SO FULL OF APPEAL AND PURE LUST; IT WAS CALLED "THE TWENTY-MINUTE WORKOUT." YES, I BECAME AN INSTANT FAN. I WORKED OUT RIGHT ALONG SIDE OF THEM. IT WAS NOT TOO LONG AFTERWARDS THAT I BOUGHT MY FIRST 55 INCH TV....
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80's spandex girls
Uploaded by lovesthesmokeyladies on 21
__________________________________________________
80's spandex girls
Uploaded by lovesthesmokeyladies on 21
Decatur, IL Neon Shoes
WOW.............yes, it has the "wow" factor I kid you not. These old signs are a definite reminder of an era when coffee was a nickel or a dime and beer was usually no more than 25 cents per large mug. I cannot tell you how many times I wandered beneath these signs back in the 60s after a night at the Cozy Inn, to check into my hotel room for the night in some city across the USA. Oftentimes, there was one of these buzzing neon "hotel" signs right outside my window.
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Decatur, IL Neon Shoes
Decatur, IL: Looking south...Classic neon sign for Raupp's Florsheim Shoes on Water St. in downtown Decatur.
Uploaded by pobrecito33 on 19 Nov 09, 4.19PM PST
POBRECITO HAS A REALLY FANTASTIC PHOTOSTREAM ON FLICKR AND I HIGHLY RECOMMEND READERS TO PAY THE PHOTOSTREAM A VISIT. Robert, Editor BLOGABOUTMEMORIES...
_____________________________________________________
Decatur, IL Neon Shoes
Decatur, IL: Looking south...Classic neon sign for Raupp's Florsheim Shoes on Water St. in downtown Decatur.
Uploaded by pobrecito33 on 19 Nov 09, 4.19PM PST
POBRECITO HAS A REALLY FANTASTIC PHOTOSTREAM ON FLICKR AND I HIGHLY RECOMMEND READERS TO PAY THE PHOTOSTREAM A VISIT. Robert, Editor BLOGABOUTMEMORIES...
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Happy New Year for all!
Happy New Year for all!
I wish 2010 will be an amazing year for all of us!
Uploaded by Princess Cy on 31 Dec 09, 7.50AM PST.
I wish 2010 will be an amazing year for all of us!
Uploaded by Princess Cy on 31 Dec 09, 7.50AM PST.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
bare midriff
A BEAUTIFUL IMAGE............
bare midriff
Young woman with tied underware shirt revealing bare midriff.
Uploaded by hotsin07 on 4 Jul 09, 9.31AM
bare midriff
Young woman with tied underware shirt revealing bare midriff.
Uploaded by hotsin07 on 4 Jul 09, 9.31AM
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Broken Road
Dave, this is one of your all-time classics. When I look at this one, it makes me realize what an amazing photographer you are and how much I have learned about photography through these past few years by the simple look and see methods. Just a note to say that your photos will always be special. Here's hoping you are having a great wintering over season in your mountain domain...Rob
Many years ago, while hitchhiking across these great United States, I thought I had a sure ride into Los Angeles, but little did I know that the driver had planned on turning north, or south, about three hundred miles away from Los Angeles. This could be the lonesome spot where my ride ended, the spot where I spent one of the coldest nights in my life. There were few auto traversing this route then, and few were eager to pick up a young man in a sailor suit, or perhaps I was wearing scraggly clothing, I can't recall, but I do recall the howls of the wolves and coyotes at night. For the record, when you publish that coffee table book........................
Many years ago, while hitchhiking across these great United States, I thought I had a sure ride into Los Angeles, but little did I know that the driver had planned on turning north, or south, about three hundred miles away from Los Angeles. This could be the lonesome spot where my ride ended, the spot where I spent one of the coldest nights in my life. There were few auto traversing this route then, and few were eager to pick up a young man in a sailor suit, or perhaps I was wearing scraggly clothing, I can't recall, but I do recall the howls of the wolves and coyotes at night. For the record, when you publish that coffee table book........................
Friday, January 1, 2010
GRANDFATHER WITH LITTLE FRANK, JR.
ESSAY ON OLD VINTAGE PHOTOGRAPHS
This is one of many vintage photographs I have saved from our family albums. It has taken some doing, but through the years, whenever I saw a box of our old photos that seemed to be destined for attic storage or out of the way in some remote location, I have saved them in special places for just such times as these. I knew the time would come when I would want to review them once again.
Having been to some old estate sales as a young lad in Missouri, I saw tons of boxes of old photos being sold in odd lots by relatives eager to rid themselves of all the memories of beloved relatives. At the time, it seemed very odd and confused me. Why would one get rid of old photos of people who were dear to them I asked myself. I would have purchased those boxes had I had the money, but I will never forget the sadness. Will we all end up in old boxes at estate sales someday? Hopefully, we have taught our children better; hopefully, the memories they have of us will spare us such fate.
Robert L. Huffstutter
This is one of many vintage photographs I have saved from our family albums. It has taken some doing, but through the years, whenever I saw a box of our old photos that seemed to be destined for attic storage or out of the way in some remote location, I have saved them in special places for just such times as these. I knew the time would come when I would want to review them once again.
Having been to some old estate sales as a young lad in Missouri, I saw tons of boxes of old photos being sold in odd lots by relatives eager to rid themselves of all the memories of beloved relatives. At the time, it seemed very odd and confused me. Why would one get rid of old photos of people who were dear to them I asked myself. I would have purchased those boxes had I had the money, but I will never forget the sadness. Will we all end up in old boxes at estate sales someday? Hopefully, we have taught our children better; hopefully, the memories they have of us will spare us such fate.
Robert L. Huffstutter
Saturday, December 12, 2009
FIRST COUSIN, SECOND COUSIN AND THIRD COUSINS
GLORIA AND HER DAUGHTER, CHERYL...and her little ones. Time flys. This photo was taken in 1970. See other references to and about this photo: MARIETTA MC DANIELS, SUMMER OF 1959, BILL MC DANIEL, NIGHT IN JUAREZ, FIRST TRAINTRIP TO CALIFORNIA 1959
My California cousins. The last time I saw them was in the summer of 1959. This photo was taken in approximately 1970 and was mailed to my Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Jim.
My California cousins. The last time I saw them was in the summer of 1959. This photo was taken in approximately 1970 and was mailed to my Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Jim.
CALIFORNIA COUSINS AT DISNEYLAND IN 1959
REFERENCES IN MY FLICKR AND BLOGS:
CALIFORNIA COUSINS AT DISNEYLAND IN 1959
MARIETTA'S DAUGHTER AND GRANDCHILDREN.
SUMMER OF 1959, FIRST VISIT TO CALIFORNIA, GLORIA AND JACK, AUNT MARIETTA, BILL McDANIELS
Uploaded by roberthuffstutter
CALIFORNIA COUSINS AT DISNEYLAND IN 1959
MARIETTA'S DAUGHTER AND GRANDCHILDREN.
SUMMER OF 1959, FIRST VISIT TO CALIFORNIA, GLORIA AND JACK, AUNT MARIETTA, BILL McDANIELS
Uploaded by roberthuffstutter
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