A few weeks ago, my grandson Jason left a comment on my "Blue Daze" tam post, saying that he'd seen my tams and coveted one of his own. (When was the last time your grandson asked for a tam?) After some back-and-forth emailing, we settled on an orange/brown color scheme. I made one, but it was much too small (was I thinking of Jason at 8 or 9?). Finally finished another for him, just in time for his graduation next month. He's been studying to be a sound engineer--the sort of person who mixes music for concerts and recordings--and already has a job! (Who knew that all that punk rock might someday pay off?) Happy graduation, Jason! I've already cast on the next tam, although I lost track in the fifth row, wasted one whole hour trying to figure out where I was, and then--in a fit of frustration--ribbited the whole durn thing.
I'm writing (you'll find notes to the WIP on the Pecan Springs Journal), doing some housecleaning (where DOES all that stuff come from?), reading a little, and watching Ken Burns' The War on PBS. Have you seen it? I like the way the stories have been woven together, soldiers' stories, home front stories. What strikes me so forcefully about it is the extent to which everyone agreed that it was a necessary war. The US stayed out of the fight until it was absolutely essential to join it. And all Americans joined the war effort (I'm old enough to remember for myself some of what was going on in those days) because all Americans understood how important, how right it was. Our current situation stands in stark, sad contrast.
Reading note. Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies, in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and not clothed.--Dwight D. Eisenhower
