Monthly Archives: July 2013

Brain Twister



July 26, 2013 · 6:00 am

Humans of New York

I admit it. I have a Facebook page. Today I came across this page:

The page’s originator, Brandon Stanton, wanders the city taking pictures of people. He asks many, “What was your happiest day?” “What was your saddest day?” Others are simple quotes about their lives in general.

Some of them will make you laugh:

lots of sex

“I’m 92 years old.”
“What’s your secret?”
“Lots of sex.”

Some will make you think about life:

Life philosophy

I asked her for a piece of advice. She reached in her purse, pulled out a piece of paper, and handed it to me. It said this:

Life isn’t fair, but it’s still good. Life is too short– enjoy it. Cry with someone. It’s more healing than crying alone. Make peace with your past so it won’t screw up the present and the future. It’s OK to let your children see you cry.
Don’t compare your life to others. You have no idea what their journey is all about. If a relationship has to be secret, you shouldn’t be in it.
Take a deep breath, it calms the mind. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. It’s never too late to be happy. But it’s all up to you and no one else. When it comes time to go after what you love in life, don’t take no for an answer. Burn the nice candles, use the nice sheets, wear the nice lingerie, wear the nice clothes. Don’t save it for a special occasion. Today is special.
Over prepare, then go with the flow. No one is in charge of your happiness but you. Frame every so-called disaster with these words: ‘In five years will this matter?’ Always choose life. Forgive but don’t forget. Time heals almost everything. Give time, time. However good or bad a situation is, it will change. All that truly matters in the end is that you loved.
If we all threw our problems in a pile and we saw everyone else’s, we’d grab our’s back. Envy is a waste of time. Accept what you already have, not what you need. Yield. Friends are the family we choose. Life isn’t tied with a bow, but it’s still a gift.

And some of them will break your heart:

my baby

“My daughter died of a brain aneurysm when she was thirty. She wasn’t a baby, but she was my baby.”

There are hundreds of photos and this is a great page to browse through.

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The Fog Horn

To my everlasting shame I have a Facebook page. I belong to a couple of Facebook “Groups,” too. One is about the family restaurant, Philbrick’s Snack Shack, that was created by someone who worked for my brother, Jeff, when he owned the place. It was set up for former employees and people who loved the iconic dispenser of the world’s best onion rings.

Another group is for people who grew up on Cape Cod as I did. Today someone posted about how he loved the sound of fog horns. There is plenty of fog on the Cape. This immediately reminded me of a paragraph by the great science-fiction writer Ray Bradbury about fog horns…

“One day many years ago a man walked along and stood in the sound of the ocean on a cold, sunless shore and said, ‘We need a voice to call across the water, to warn ships; I’ll make one. I’ll make a voice like all of time and all the fog that ever was; I’ll make a voice that is like an empty bed beside you all night long, and like an empty house when you open the door, and like trees in autumn with no leaves. A sound like the birds flying south, crying, and a sound like November wind and the sea on the hard cold shore. I’ll make a sound that’s so alone that no one can miss it, that whoever hears it will weep in their soul, and hearths will seem warmer, and being inside will seem better to all who hear it in distant towns. I’ll make me a sound and an apparatus and they’ll call it a foghorn and whoever hears it will know the sadness of eternity and the briefness of life.'”

I doubt that I’ve ever been able to write something as lovely as that.


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Joyeux Anniversaire, France

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Happy Birthday, Mom

Had she lived, my mother would have been 95 years old today.

Mom 1944

Jean at 3-4 years old


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Another Small World Video Story

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Weekly Photo Challenge: Nostalgic

These are my paternal grandparents with my uncles Ed, Bill and Dick

Gram & Gramp Philbrick

This photo was known in the family as “The Music House.” That’s my paternal great grandfather in the back with the flute and my grandfather with the cello.

The music house

This is my mom at around 3 or 4 years old…SEE Tea Parties are for little girls, not crazy adults who create misspelled signs.

Jean at 3-4 years old

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