TUESDAY TRAVELS

I went to the throwback machine for these Tuesday's Travels.

First to Miami Beach, Florida.

The year was 1968 and the event was the Republican National Convention.

While the Republicans battled over who would be their candidate, Nelson Rockefeller or Richard Nixon, I attended meetings of the North Dakota delegation which I was covering and spent idle afternoons at my hotel's bar on the swimming pool deck overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.

Not a bad gig.

And you can save your comments about the turtleneck and the Nehru jacket.

I've heard 'em all before and it was the style of the day.

I generally avoided the convention hall after the first day though I do remember standing at the base of the podium on the final day staring straight up at Nixon as he delivered his acceptance speech.

A couple of weeks later it was on to Chicago where protesters against the Vietnam War, poverty, Mayor Richard Daley and whatever cause turned the city into what they called "an armed camp".

These nicely-garbed young ladies were posing next to Michigan Avenue in front of the Conrad Hilton Hotel, which was de facto the convention hotel.

The Avenue did turn into an armed camp as the National Guard was called out to protect against riots.

In Grant Park, across the avenue from the Hilton, protesters were allowed to mass most of the time.

While they held rallies and made speeches and listened to music and waved their banners, all was peaceful.

When they tried to march to the hotel or the convention hall they were met by the Guard and the Chicago Police Department's "thin blue line".

I got a little too close while covering a confrontation one night and walked into a cloud of tear gas.

Some of the big names of the civil rights era were also at the convention, at one point driving a mule-driven wagon through the streets.

That's the activist priest, Father Michael Groppi of Milwaukee, and civil rights marcher Ralph Abernathy in the wagon.

Here was Abernathy and one of his colleagues, Andrew Young.

And who should appear in Grant Park one day but comedian and activist Dick Gregory.

Like this year's "Bernie" surge, there was a candidate favored by the youth, Senator Eugene "Clean Gene" McCarthy.

But like this year with Bernie Sanders, he went down to defeat as the convention nominated Vice-President Hubert Humphrey to be defeated by Nixon in November.

Chicago in '68 was a whole different scene from anything this boy from the plains of the Dakotas had ever witnessed.

Hmmm, I may not have to put up a Throwback Thursday post this week.

I think I just did.

THE ARTIST

The BRD (Beautiful Rich Daughter) at home doing what she does best - artistic creation.

Over the years she has worked in a multitude of areas, from painting to stained glass to ceramics with many stops along the way.

She has shown incredible talent in each field though the pressures of running her own dental laboratory have kept her artistic output at a low level.

Along the way she has always relied on a muse in the form of her "constant companions".

This feline, known as "Mister", had better not get too close.

He may get his nose painted.

Or tickled.

HOP, SKIP, DIP AND A SIP

FRIDAY FUNNIES

After last night's speech about America struggling with the apocalypse and the Orange Knight roaring to the rescue, I think we need a lot of humor today.

Let's get to it.

(Oops, sorry. heh-heh)

(Oh, darn it. I did it again. heh-heh.)

All right, Gentle Readers, maybe that daffy dozen will help you make it through a free weekend until the Democrats begin their free-for-all on Monday in Philadelphia.

Remember, there are only 109 days left until it's all over and always keep a silly grin on your face.

The next one is for those of you who are baking in record heat waves this weekend.

Here, kitty-kitty.

GOOD DAY AT BLACK ROCK

Well actually it wasn't Black Rock, it was Black Canyon City.

And actually it wasn't Black Canyon City per se but a sort of a "suburb" known as Rock Springs.

Wednesday in Rock Springs meant lunch at the famed Rock Springs Cafe, the home of myriad pies.

My dining companions were a couple of former colleagues at The Dozen . . . KPNX-TV Channel 12 in Phoenix.

Two legends in their own minds times, Steve Torbeck and Lew Ruggiero.

I worked with Steve as a young photographer from Tucson who arrived just a tad later than I did. He eventually worked his way into doing a feature called 12 Country where he wrote, photographed, produced and voiced stories from around Arizona.

As he once described it "a poor man's Charles Kuralt".

Lew came as an assignment editor but like Steve he took to the street becoming probably the best television reporter Phoenix had and has ever seen.

They're both long retired from The Dozen, as am I.

Come to think of it, I'm not sure why they even agreed to meet me for lunch.

But the sandwiches were great, as were the pies from this House of Pies (although Steve didn't have any) and the conversation was, as always, trenchant and acerbic.

Good time with old long-time friends.

WHAT AILS FOX?

The embattled CEO of Fox News, Roger Ailes, has been forced out of his job over sexual harassment charges.

Reportedly he'll leave at the end of this week.

BUT.

He apparently will be leaving with a 40 million dollar Golden Parachute, health care for life, security for another six months and an agreement from the Murdochs that they'll pay up if he loses the case Gretchen Carlson filed against him.

Plus he reportedly will continue to "assist" Fox News as a "consultant."

I wonder what this old Nixon hand has on the Murdoch family that would result in that kind of a payoff.

And Melania Trump's speech last night at the Republican convention contained several phrases that mirrored those delivered by Michelle Obama at the Democratic convention in 2008.

Trump campaign chairman Paul Manafort said Hillary Clinton was responsible for bringing the plagiarism similarities to light.

She wasn't.

Former campaign chairman Corey Lewandowski said on the air of his new employer, CNN, that Manafort should resign.

Meantime Angie Holan, the editor of the Pulitzer Prize winning Politifact had this to say about some of last night's speeches at the GOP gathering:

We found inaccurate claims that Clinton supports the Trans

Pacific Partnership (Mostly False), that she is for open borders

(False) and that 350,000 people illegally cross the U.S. border

every year (False).  We also rated this blast from the past -- the

claim from the actor and convention speaker Antonio Sabato Jr.

that President Barack Obama is a Muslim. Pants on Fire!

One can only wonder, how long can this go on while the party's candidate for President refers to Mrs. Clinton as "a liar."

(And people wonder why I don't blog about politics.)

MONDAY, MONDAY

I had entertained the idea of not blogging today because of a lack of anything to blog about.

Not about police shootings, not about Donald Trump or the Republican convention, not about the various birds that have decided Monday is a perfect day for bathing outside my window.

But then Lori from Seattle came through with a page of links to humor, videos, pictures.

This is one of the stories:

A couple who work at the circus go to an adoption agency.
 
Social workers there raise doubts about their suitability as parents.
 
The couple produce photos of their 45 foot Class A Prevost coach, which is equipped with a beautiful nursery.
 
The social workers then are doubtful about the education that the child would receive.
 
"We've arranged for a full-time tutor who will teach the child all the usual subjects, plus French and Mandarin languages and computer skills."
 
Still, the social workers have doubts about raising a child in a circus environment.
 
"We have arranged for a nanny who is an expert in pediatric welfare and diet."
 
Finally, the social workers are satisfied.
 
The adoption agency asks, "What age child are you hoping to adopt?"
 
"It doesn't really matter, as long as he fits in the cannon"

LOOK WHO'S BACK!

If you'll take a look at the sidebar, under Others Observations, you'll see a link to Prescott Area Daily Photo.

That's the blog of my pal, Judy (not SWMBO though) who has blogged from this area for probably longer than I have.

She took a break about 11 months ago and has just returned a few days ago.

Hopefully she's refreshed and, to quote somebody, "fired up and ready to go."

Judy, I (for one) missed you and am very happy to see you're back.

And like myself, if you miss a day or two here and there, no problem.

Except answering all those questions like "Where have you been? What's wrong? Are you ill? etc. etc. etc."

Glad to see you've returned from your "vacation".

FRIDAY FUNNIES

In spite of yet another tragedy in France, I am going to forge ahead with the cartoons, trying hard to keep a bit of a smile on my face, while sending our thoughts to Nice.

All right, perhaps that's enough for this week.

If you're smiling, keep it up and try to cheer someone else up.

Have a contented weekend. We'll see you next week.

Here, kitty-kitty.

THROWBACK THURSDAY

This is a story about a true broadcasting pioneer.

I met him when we lived in Mexico during the 1980's and 1990's.

He became my best friend in those south of the border days.

His name was Walter E. Nixon.

This picture was taken after we had left Mexico and he had come to visit us in his beloved home state of Texas.

He was born in 1922 and raised in Harlingen, Texas.

But his career in radio began in New York City.

After working for newspapers, in political campaigns (he was a Yellow Dog Democrat), and in public relations he moved to the Big Apple right around his 33rd birthday.

A friend of his from Austin, Jack Summerfield, was hired to run a new non-commercial radio station owned by the Riverside Church.

Mrs. John D. Rockefeller had put up enough money for great studios, the best equipment and the first 5 years of operating costs.

At a party, Summerfield asked Walter what he thought his new station could do that no one else in New York was doing.

Walter said what was needed was good coverage of the United Nations.

Summerfield thought that was a great idea and asked Walter to do it.

Walter said he had no experience in radio.

Summerfield responded "Good! No bad habits to unlearn!"

Walter began producing a weekly 15-minute program called U.N. Journal.

When the COMSAT satellite went up, WRVR hooked up with WGBH in Boston and a station in Washington as a mini-network providing public affairs programs.

Walter's U.N. Journal, by now a daily program, went on the network.

I figured you might be getting a bit weary of this by now so . . to break things up . . here's a picture of Walter with my beautiful wife at a party in Guadalajara.

That should hold you for awhile.

Meanwhile, back in New York, other stations began hearing about the network, wanted in and it became National Educational Radio, the forerunner of National Public Radio.

Walter became news and public affairs director of WRVR as well as a senior producer.

In 1962, Walter got about a 4-hour beat on everyone else with news at the U.N. of the settlement of the Cuban Missile Crisis.

During the so-called Civil Rights era, a crew went down to Birmingham the day Martin Luther King announced an agreement with city leaders over integration.

They worked all night in a motel room to produce a program called "A Happy Day in Birmingham".

Walter voiced it.

They also went to a Ku Klux Klan rally where Walter interviewed then Imperial Grand Dragon Robert Shelton.

On the way back to the motel they heard about A.D. King's house being bombed and produced several more programs.

Their coverage from Birmingham won them a Peabody Award.

By the middle 60's the money was running out and Walter went back to free-lancing.

Later he decided to put his Masters Degree in Economics to use and went to work for Standard and Poor's.

He retired in 1986 and moved to Guadalajara.

Walter Nixon had been a heavy smoker much of his life and suffered from emphysema when I knew him.

I've mentioned him before on this blog as the father of the stage and screen actress Cynthia Nixon.

One year in Mexico a festive party was held at Christmas and I wrote a limerick for each of the guests and then recited them before dinner.

For Walter I wrote:

About Walter, a puzzle most vexin'

keeps my poor brain a-flexin' and flexin'.

After several careers

in New York -- 30 years!

He still sounds the same: like a Texan.

A great guy and many years later I still miss him.

HORTICULTURE CLASS

In my constant effort to identify the trees and flowering shrubs that surround us I have made a new discovery about this rascal.

This is actually on the property of my neighbors but we have one growing in our front yard, as well.

Two, actually.

On the recommendation of another neighbor who said it was a Mexicana plant, we pruned ours to within a propinquity (heh-heh) of death this spring.

But it has sprung back.

(Again, this is not it but one close by)

(As is this.)

That plant quite obviously has not been pruned back to the ground.

Consequently it is much larger than ours.

(At last. This one is ours.)

When the Google images showed a Mexicana plant to have bright yellow flowers, I searched further.

I noted the leaves with their near-Marijuana leaf shape and wondered hmmmmmmm . . .

And the flowers, as you can see, are bright purple.

And then the great gods of Google revealed the truth.

This plant is a Texas Purple Sage!

So what is it doing in Arizona?

It turns out that this is its natural habitat and that it thrives during the monsoon.

Which is now, even though we have had very little rain this season.

So we have TWO kinds of sage.

You remember the Rocketman Russian Sage, which is blooming its fool head off in the back yard.

Incidentally, all that purple foliage turns out to be a natural draw for what appear to be hundreds, if not thousands, of bees.

They move quickly but I got this fuzzy picture of one of them gorging himself.

The first time I saw the bee swarm I was nervous and backed away.

But later, armed with my trusty camera, I found that the bees are so interested in the flower pollen they have no time or inclination to attack a human.

Another fact is that the bees often share the plant with finches of more than one variety.

The goldfinches seem particularly fascinated.

So there you are, Gentle Readers.

I hope you enjoyed your horticulture lesson for the day, (I concluded, sagely.)

Heh-heh.

DRINKING

Sometimes the only thing that makes sense in this increasingly insane world is dulling the senses with vodka.

LIFE . . .

. . . is just a bowl of cherries.

(Idea and food styling by SWMBO!)

FRIDAY NIGHT PIZZA

Friday night is pizza night at my casa.

SWMBO gets the night off as I "fix dinner".

Warning to the purists: I do not make my own dough.

I buy a DiGiorno's thin crust pepperoni pizza and doctor it at home.

Last night's version featured extra pepperoni, globs of mozzarella, mixed sweet peppers and some grape tomatoes.

Topped off with freshly grated Parmesan fresh out of the oven.

Catalyst's "doctored DiGiornio's".

So it isn't P.C. (Puristically Correct)

It's still darned good.

And I've got leftovers for today!

TEARS

This Friday nothing seems funny.

THROWBACK THURSDAY

Today is a day to remember for Arizona and U.S. historians.

July 7th, 1981, a mere 35 years ago, was the day President Ronald Reagan nominated a judge from Arizona, Sandra Day O'Connor, to become the first female justice on the U.S. Supreme Court.

When her confirmation hearings began in the U.S. Senate the television station I was working for at the time in Phoenix sent a crew to Washington to document the momentous occasion.

Ron Talley (on the left) was the reporter and I was the field producer.

Wally Athey, who probably took this picture, was the photographer.

O'Connor was confirmed by the Senate and served 25 years on the high court, marking her spot in the history books.

Today there are three women on the court.

FOOD FOR THE FOURTH

The Fourth of July is a day famous for grilling and fireworks and flag waving and celebrating the birth of our nation.

I hung our flag for the day.

And SWMBO grilled a typical American dinner for us.

Spicy Swai, a fish similar to catfish.

This particular Swai was farm-raised in Vietnam and the Google tells me it is a product of the Mekong Delta.

How's that for a red, white and true blue American meal?

(It was delicious.)