Bring Me That Horizon

Welcome to jennyweber dot com

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Home of Jenny the Pirate

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Our four children

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Our eight grandchildren

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This will go better if you

check your expectations at the door.

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We're not big on logic

but there's no shortage of irony.

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 Nice is different than good.

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Oh and ...

I flunked charm school.

So what.

Can't write anything.

> Jennifer <

Causing considerable consternation
to many fine folk since 1957

Pepper and me ... Seattle 1962

  

In The Market, As It Were

 

 

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Contributor to

American Cemetery

published by Kates-Boylston

Hoist The Colors

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Insist on yourself; never imitate.

Your own gift you can present

every moment

with the cumulative force

of a whole life’s cultivation;

but of the adopted talent of another

you have only an extemporaneous

half possession.

That which each can do best,

none but his Maker can teach him.

> Ralph Waldo Emerson <

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Represent:

The Black Velvet Coat

Belay That!

This blog does not contain and its author will not condone profanity, crude language, or verbal abuse. Commenters, you are welcome to speak your mind but do not cuss or I will delete either the word or your entire comment, depending on my mood. Continued use of bad words or inappropriate sentiments will result in the offending individual being banned, after which they'll be obliged to walk the plank. Thankee for your understanding and compliance.

> Jenny the Pirate <

A Pistol With One Shot

Ecstatically shooting everything in sight using my beloved Nikon D3100 with AF-S DX Nikkor 18-55mm 1:3.5-5.6G VR kit lens and AF-S Nikkor 50mm f/1.8 G prime lens.

Also capturing outrageous beauty left and right with my Nikon D7000 blissfully married to my Nikkor 85mm f/1.4D AF prime glass. Don't be jeal.

And then there was the Nikon AF-S DX NIKKOR 18-200mm f:3.5-5.6G ED VR II zoom. We're done here.

Dying Is A Day Worth Living For

I am a taphophile

Word. Photo Jennifer Weber 2010

Great things are happening at

Find A Grave

If you don't believe me, click the pics.

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Dying is a wild night

and a new road.

Emily Dickinson

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REMEMBRANCE

When I am gone

Please remember me

 As a heartfelt laugh,

 As a tenderness.

 Hold fast to the image of me

When my soul was on fire,

The light of love shining

Through my eyes.

Remember me when I was singing

And seemed to know my way.

Remember always

When we were together

And time stood still.

Remember most not what I did,

Or who I was;

Oh please remember me

For what I always desired to be:

A smile on the face of God.

David Robert Brooks

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 Do not regret growing older. It is a privilege denied to many.

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Keep To The Code

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You Want To Find This
The Promise Of Redemption

Therefore seeing we have this ministry, as we have received mercy, we faint not;

But have renounced the hidden things of dishonesty, not walking in craftiness, nor handling the word of God deceitfully; but by manifestation of the truth commending ourselves to every man's conscience in the sight of God.

But if our gospel be hid, it is hid to them that are lost:

In whom the god of this world hath blinded the minds of them which believe not, lest the light of the glorious gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, should shine unto them.

For we preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus the Lord; and ourselves your servants for Jesus' sake.

For God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.

But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us.

We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair;

Persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed;

Always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in our body.

For we which live are alway delivered unto death for Jesus' sake, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in our mortal flesh.

So then death worketh in us, but life in you.

We having the same spirit of faith, according as it is written, I BELIEVED, AND THEREFORE HAVE I SPOKEN; we also believe, and therefore speak;

Knowing that he which raised up the Lord Jesus shall raise up us also by Jesus, and shall present us with you.

For all things are for your sakes, that the abundant grace might through the thanksgiving of many redound to the glory of God.

For which cause we faint not; but though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day.

For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory;

While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal.

II Corinthians 4

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THE DREAMERS

In the dawn of the day of ages,
 In the youth of a wondrous race,
 'Twas the dreamer who saw the marvel,
 'Twas the dreamer who saw God's face.


On the mountains and in the valleys,
By the banks of the crystal stream,
He wandered whose eyes grew heavy
With the grandeur of his dream.

The seer whose grave none knoweth,
The leader who rent the sea,
The lover of men who, smiling,
Walked safe on Galilee --

All dreamed their dreams and whispered
To the weary and worn and sad
Of a vision that passeth knowledge.
They said to the world: "Be glad!

"Be glad for the words we utter,
Be glad for the dreams we dream;
Be glad, for the shadows fleeing
Shall let God's sunlight beam."

But the dreams and the dreamers vanish,
The world with its cares grows old;
The night, with the stars that gem it,
Is passing fair, but cold.

What light in the heavens shining
Shall the eye of the dreamer see?
Was the glory of old a phantom,
The wraith of a mockery?

Oh, man, with your soul that crieth
In gloom for a guiding gleam,
To you are the voices speaking
Of those who dream their dream.

If their vision be false and fleeting,
If its glory delude their sight --
Ah, well, 'tis a dream shall brighten
The long, dark hours of night.

> Edward Sims Van Zile <

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Freedom is a fragile thing and is never more than one generation away from extinction. It is not ours by inheritance; it must be fought for and defended constantly by each generation, for it comes only once to a people. Those who have known freedom and then lost it, have never known it again.

~ Ronald Reagan

Photo Jennifer Weber 2010

Not Without My Effects

My Compass Works Fine

The Courage Of Our Hearts

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Daft Like Jack

 "I can name fingers and point names ..."

And We'll Sing It All The Time
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Easy On The Goods
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    starring Geoffrey Canada, Michelle Rhee
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    starring Jack Black, Shirley MacLaine, Matthew McConaughey
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    starring Barbara Stanwyck, Fred MacMurray, Beulah Bondi, Elizabeth Patterson, Sterling Holloway
  • The Ox-Bow Incident
    The Ox-Bow Incident
    starring Henry Fonda, Dana Andrews, Mary Beth Hughes, Anthony Quinn, William Eythe
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    starring Nancy Kelly, Patty McCormack, Henry Jones, Eileen Heckart, Evelyn Varden
  • Shadow of a Doubt
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    starring Teresa Wright, Joseph Cotten, Macdonald Carey, Patricia Collinge, Henry Travers
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    starring Tilda Swinton, Donald Crowhurst, Jean Badin, Clare Crowhurst, Simon Crowhurst
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    starring William Holden, Gloria Swanson, Erich Von Stroheim, Nancy Olson, Fred Clark
  • Penny Serenade
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    starring Cary Grant, Irene Dunne, Edgar Buchanan, Beulah Bondi
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    starring Fred MacMurray, Barbara Stanwyck, Edward G. Robinson, Porter Hall, Jean Heather
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That Dog Is Never Going To Move

~ RIP JAVIER ~

1999 - 2016

Columbia's Finest Chihuahua

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~ RIP SHILOH ~

2017 - 2021

My Tar Heel Granddog

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~ RIP RAMBO ~

2008 - 2022

Andrew's Beloved Pet

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« What It's All About | Main | Nothing Could Be Finer ... »
Sunday
Nov182007

Giving Thanks For Thanksgiving

Several people I know claim that Thanksgiving is their favorite holiday. Better even than Christmas! I think I understand why. Thanksgiving is about lots of good food and family get-togethers, with none of the pressure of decorating a tree and buying gifts. Thanksgiving is usually relaxed and comfortable and not at all frenetic. It is a delightful prelude to all the excitement and traditions of Christmas, but absent the angst and painful nostalgia often attendant on that holiday. Unless it is marred by travel nightmares, Thanksgiving has the potential of being laid-back, slowly savored, and very satisfying. And although other countries may celebrate a holiday somewhat like Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving itself is uniquely American. Just ask the Pilgrims. I love anything and everything that is uniquely American.

Earlier this week I was reminiscing with my daughter about both Thanksgiving in general and a certain Thanksgiving of which I have vivid memories. That would be 44 Thanksgivings ago: November 28, 1963. This Thursday, Thanksgiving Day, November 22, 2007, will mark the 44th anniversary of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy -- an event that shook America to its core just six days before Thanksgiving. I was six years old; I remember being sent home from school in the middle of the day and finding my mother sitting in front of the color television set in my grandmother's living room, crying. There was a lot of crying over the next three days as the President's body lay in state in the Capitol rotunda. Then came the day when the riderless horse pranced along the funeral route to a dolorous drumbeat, and little John-John stepped forward and gave his heartbreaking salute to his dead father.

My sister and I were once again living in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, that fall, in a tiny house that our mother had rented for the three of us. It was one of the many times during my childhood when we were on our own with our mother, who had separated briefly from our stepfather. This occurrence would repeat itself many times over the years until the final time they split in the early '70s, and I don't remember any particulars of this "father"less interlude except that in my mind's eye I can see our neat little living room. I can see the Sunday night in February of 1964 when, bathed and clad in cotton pajamas, I sat at the end of the couch to watch The Ed Sullivan Show as I always did on Sunday night. Hoping for a routine by my beloved Topo Gigio, instead I got the Fab Four. I still remember loving the songs "Till There Was You" and "I Wanna Hold Your Hand."

But less than three months before the world was rocked by The Beatles, the world was rocked by the incredibly brutal public assassination of a president. The Zapruder film is available for viewing today on hundreds of Web sites, but back then only the authorities had seen it; the general public could only whisper about what had been seen and documented in Dealey Plaza and on the grassy knoll. The Warren Commission was established a week after the assassination, but it would be ten months before they would report that they believed Lee Harvey Oswald had acted alone. My daughter asked my husband and me this week how the assassination of President Kennedy compared to the events of September 11, 2001, in terms of how it shocked and upset us. "It was about the same," my husband and I agreed. And although I was a first-grader, I still remember the fear and horror of those days in November of 1963. I remember all the tears that were shed by the grownups, and knowing that something had gone horribly and permanently wrong.

But at my grandmother's lovely home in the suburbs of Baton Rouge on that warm and sunny Thanksgiving Day in 1963, I seem to recall that we tried to put the sadness of the previous week behind us. Scads of my mother's kinfolk were assembled for the delicious meal that would be prepared by my grandparents. In addition to Mamaw and Papaw and my mother and sister, there would have been a plethora of aunts, uncles, and cousins. I remember that the children sat outside that day, at my grandmother's black iron patio furniture, to eat our meal. There was moist, hot turkey, cornbread dressing made from scratch and drenched in giblet gravy (with hardboiled egg slices floating on top), sweet potato casserole with pecans and marshmallows tucked down inside, ambrosia salad, cranberry sauce, dinner rolls ... and each of us got our own "little" Coke in a bottle, frosty cold from the cooler. There was probably plenty of pie, too, although I don't remember that part. No one went hungry; that much is for sure.

This Thursday our family will be together in northwest Ohio, where my husband was born and raised. We, along with my husband's brother and sister, are now the aunts and uncles as well as being grandparents in our own right. All of our children and our children's children (my goodness are we ever getting old!) constitute the cadre of cousins, and some are themselves aunts and uncles! The more things change, the more they stay the same. The meal will not be exactly like the one I was always given on Thanksgiving as a child, but it will be good and there will be plenty of it. I've come to crave the cranberry salad made to perfection each year by my mother-in-law. I'll miss having cornbread dressing and giblet gravy the way my grandmother always made it, but maybe I can get my mom to make some for me before the new year.

Assassinations and terrorist plots aside, America with its remarkable history has a great deal to be thankful for not only on Thanksgiving Day, but every day. And I am thankful for Thanksgiving, and the opportunities it affords to remember all there is that we should never forget. I plan to purposely count all my blessings as our family wends its way northward on I-75 this Wednesday in three separate vehicles. It will give me something to do as we anxiously cover the miles to Grandma and Grandpa's house which will be warm and inviting, full of laughter, and redolent with the unique smells of Thanksgiving. I'll enjoy every minute because when I get back home, it will be time to decorate the tree and get busy buying gifts.

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