Bring Me That Horizon

Welcome to jennyweber dot com

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Home of Jenny the Pirate

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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

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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 =

Hoist The Colors

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I am a Blue Star Mother

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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

In The Market, As It Were

 

 

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Contributor to

American Cemetery

published by Kates-Boylston

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

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 Jack Black, Shirley MacLaine, Matthew McConaughey
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    starring Barbara Stanwyck, Fred MacMurray, Beulah Bondi, Elizabeth Patterson, Sterling Holloway
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    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
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    starring Teresa Wright, Joseph Cotten, Macdonald Carey, Patricia Collinge, Henry Travers
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    starring Jean Arthur, Joel McCrea, Charles Coburn, Bruce Bennett, Ann Savage
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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
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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

Simple. Easy To Remember.

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« To the trained eye | Main | An Apple every two decades keeps the dream alive »
Thursday
Oct132011

Deauxdie Dodie Dody

Cary Gorgeous GrantDid you know Cary Grant never actually said "Judy, Judy, Judy" in a movie?

At least that's my understanding.

It's, like, one of those urban legends.

(Actually when quoted it comes out much more Cary-Grantish: "Juday Juday Juday!")

But here are a few possible explanations for why Cary Grant, the Johnny Depp of his day, is credited with the expression.

And doesn't he have the most unusual signature? Sort of reminds me of my own.

No kidding. I've posted a picture of my signature below. If you can forge it, you're welcome to keep whatever it gets you.

I don't know what made me think of all that except the different ways my Uncle Dodie has rendered his name over the years.

Oh! I forgot to tell you why I was thinking about my beloved Uncle Dodie in the first place.

It was due to this email I received on Wednesday evening:

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 I get my coffee in the mornings and come upstairs and get on the computer. Check email, see how many hits my vids got on youtube, make a quick scan of FB, and read "I'm having a thought here." I love your blog Jenny, can't wait to read the book.

>++++<

I've been blessed in my life with only three uncles, so it's a good thing they're of the over-the-top wonderfully loving variety.

L to R Dodie, Linda, Sherrill, Ann circa 2007

My father was an only child. No uncles there. My mother has two brothers -- Sherrill and Dorsey Jr. (Dodie) -- plus a sister, Linda, whose husband was my unique, funny, crazy-talented Uncle Don.

Uncle Don passed away in 2001. I still miss him.

I could never choose one of my uncles over the other, but Uncle Dodie is extra special.

For one thing, he's only ten years older than me. So when I was little, we were buddies. He used to tickle me until I nearly passed out.

Dodie's the one for whom my mother -- Pirate! -- stole the Southern Cross of Honor from a Confederate grave.

L to R Linda, Sherrill, Ann circa 1943

Which sacred item is now in my possession.

All three of my uncles are and were immensely creative and artistic people.

Uncle Don was a musician, comedian, and photographer. He excelled at all three.

Uncle Sherrill in his youth could dance on roller skates like Fred Astaire on a gleaming studio set. Again: no kidding. You have never seen anything more stylish and graceful.

And although I'm not sure he can quote it flawlessly anymore, as a mature adult he memorized William Cullen Bryant's Thanatopsis.

I have heard him recite it verbatim several times, impromptu and on demand:

    • O him who in the love of Nature holds
      Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
      A various language; for his gayer hours
      She has a voice of gladness, and a smile
      And eloquence of beauty, and she glides
      Into his darker musings, with a mild
      And healing sympathy, that steals away
      Their sharpness, ere he is aware. When thoughts
      Of the last bitter hour come like a blight
      Over thy spirit, and sad images
      Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall,
      And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,
      Make thee to shudder and grow sick at heart;--
      Go forth, under the open sky, and list
      To Nature's teachings, while from all around--
      Earth and her waters, and the depths of air--
      Comes a still voice--Yet a few days, and thee
      The all-beholding sun shall see no more
      In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground,
      Where thy pale form was laid with many tears,
      Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist
      Thy image. Earth, that nourish'd thee, shall claim
      Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again,
      And, lost each human trace, surrendering up
      Thine individual being, shalt thou go
      To mix for ever with the elements,
      To be a brother to the insensible rock,
      And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain
      Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak
      Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould.
       
      Yet not to thine eternal resting-place
      Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish
      Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down
      With patriarchs of the infant world--with kings,
      The powerful of the earth--the wise, the good,
      Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,
      All in one mighty sepulchre. The hills
      Rock-ribb'd and ancient as the sun,--the vales
      Stretching in pensive quietness between;
      The venerable woods; rivers that move
      In majesty, and the complaining brooks
      That make the meadows green; and, pour'd round all,
      Old Ocean's grey and melancholy waste,--
      Are but the solemn decorations all
      Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun,
      The planets, all the infinite host of heaven,
      Are shining on the sad abodes of death,
      Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread
      The globe are but a handful to the tribes
      That slumber in its bosom.--Take the wings
      Of morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness,
      Or lose thyself in the continuous woods
      Where rolls the Oregon and hears no sound
      Save his own dashings--yet the dead are there:
      And millions in those solitudes, since first
      The flight of years began, have laid them down
      In their last sleep--the dead reign there alone.
      So shalt thou rest: and what if thou withdraw
      In silence from the living, and no friend
      Take note of thy departure? All that breathe
      Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh
      When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care
      Plod on, and each one as before will chase
      His favourite phantom; yet all these shall leave
      Their mirth and their employments, and shall come
      And make their bed with thee. As the long train
      Of ages glides away, the sons of men,
      The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes
      In the full strength of years, matron and maid,
      The speechless babe, and the gray-headed man--
      Shall one by one be gathered to thy side
      By those who in their turn shall follow them.
       
      So live, that when thy summons comes to join
      The innumerable caravan which moves
      To that mysterious realm where each shall take
      His chamber in the silent halls of death,
      Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
      Scourged by his dungeon; but, sustain'd and soothed
      By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,
      Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
      About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

 >++++<

No, I didn't expect you to read all that. Although it wouldn't hurt you.

That leaves Uncle Dodie, who is a gifted musician, painter, and sculptor.

He also has bags of charm and charisma.

And by the way, all three of my uncles were/are exceptional cooks. I mean yeah y'all. I'm talking about the kind of Southern and Cajun cuisine that makes your tongue slap your brains out. Grab a biscuit and pass the butterbeans.

So when I read in his email about monitoring hits on his YouTube vids, I thought: What YouTube vids?

I went to check it out and found this one:

Which made me mist up a trifle because first of all, Aunt Leslee could have gotten the camera on his face a little better instead of on the red wagon so much, and also because of the way he talks about baby Trey.

But mostly it was because of how much as he ages, Uncle Dodie looks and sounds so uncannily like his father: my Papaw.

Before I put this thing to bed let me show you one other, older, video of Uncle Dodie playing the harmonica.

That's Papaw too. He's been gone seventeen years and I can still hear the sometimes tender, sometimes urgent whine of his harmonica.

He's playing as the long train of ages glides away.

Reader Comments (11)

A few things.
You need to use a fountain pen for your signature, then it would be just like Cary's.
Is that accent for real? It's great! I took a video of my aunties having a chinwag when I was in Birmingham and it is hilarious. Some accents are just so bizarre they are wonderful.
I loved all my uncles too, even though I never got to see much of them after we moved to NZ. There's only one left now, but we got to have a cuddle last week.
My boys revel in their roles as uncles. I get a kick out of watching them with their nieces and nephews and seeing the hero worship.

October 13, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterSue the Hobbit

Oh yeah, I forgot. Ashamed to say I skimmed Thanatopsis. Don't do that again, okay?
Hanging head.

October 13, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterSue the Hobbit

@Hobbit ... Yeah girl, that accent is the genuine article. Like warm molasses poured over sandpaper. Ain't he something? Just a good ol' Louisiana boy. My kids enjoy the aunt-uncle role too. I think it's a charming familial connection. Oh and she who was pushing Shakespeare so recently would not read every word of Thanatopsis? HA, j/k. I knew nobody would read it but I wanted to show how much he memorized. Can you imagine?

October 13, 2011 | Registered CommenterJennifer

Thanks, Jenny. I always enjoy reading about family--especially from your perspective. You may have only a few uncles, but they are mighty good ones! So glad and grateful that I share 2 of them with you! We are blessed. Love you!

October 13, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterDonna R.

@Donna ... hey luv, good to see you. I'm glad and grateful that your dear dad was one of my three precious uncles. He was a trip and a half.

October 13, 2011 | Registered CommenterJennifer

I loved this! Family is a real blessing and I can see that you are blessed for sure! Loved the accent, and his love for little Trey. He's good on that harmonica too!

October 13, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterMari

"Strolling him in the yard"....Hahaaaa....LOVE these!
Wish I had videos of My clan....
hughugs

October 13, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterDonna (Texas)

Okay, I succumbed and read the whole thing. Interesting that he wrote it when he was only 16 and that critics pretty much pan it as hogwash. Personally, I think it is a pretty amazing poem and more amazing still that your uncle memorized it.

October 13, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterSue the Hobbit

@Mari ... Ditto! You should hear him play the guitar.

@Donna ... Girl wouldn't that be something.

@Hobbit ... Th'sis is a masterpiece. Poetry critics know less than nothing, and besides only one humorist called it hogwash. Interesting that you came back and "succumbed" ... *evil grin*

October 13, 2011 | Registered CommenterJennifer

What a grand signature! And I can't read it, LOL! Honest! Love the harmonica wailing by your uncle too!

October 13, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterDonna M.

Oh my, that's a great post. You are lucky to have so much and to know so much about family. I have so little information, all has been lost through the years, family members were spread out across the nation, lost touch.

"Cary Grant, the Johnny Depp of his day," Only you would make that connection, ha.

October 14, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterDebbie

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