“Alternative facts and fake news are just other names for propaganda.” ― Johnny Corn

Welcome back. It is Monday, September 16, 2019, and I'm sitting here thinking about why the media continues to be in a funk because people, by and large, are not believing their stories. Last week on 9/11, the NY Times official twitter feed put out this bit of information, "18 years have passed since airplanes took aim and brought down the World Trade Center. Today, families will once again gather and grieve at the site where more than 2000 people died." Fortunately, the citizens of our nation are paying attention and this tweet received an avalanche of blowback, negative responses. (And, yes, I did immediately think about the comment made by the US House Representative who is Muslim, when she referred to 9/11, she said, "Some people did something.") "Airplanes took aim?" The NY Times deleted the tweet and put one up later that said they had reworded the accompanying story and made some changes. The updated story did call the perpetrators terrorists, but, did not identify them as Islamic radicals or Jihadists associated with Al Qaeda. Back to my opening thought. They do things like this and then they can't understand why people doubt the accuracy of what they report. It comes down to my ludicrous example for the day, "Tonight a gun took aim at a convenience store operator and the gun ended up killing him." Airplanes, guns, bombs, poisons, and every other instrument of threat becomes the actor when an incident occurs? Okay. I've beat that one enough, but, I don't think you need to ask what I think about it. One last thing, the NY Times refuses to comment on this tweet, the corresponding story, or anything else pertaining to this type of reporting. They count on the soundbite mentality that prevails today. It was a story for 30 seconds, now, everyone has moved on.

One of the 5 original canvases.

My sweet wife at the piano.

Our print, photo, and my flash.

The wife bought a print of an Auguste Renoir classic, Two Young Girls at the Piano. This was a commissioned piece he did in late 1891 and early 1892. Renoir was invited by the French government to execute a painting for a new museum in Paris, the Musée du Luxembourg, which was to be devoted to the work of living artists. He chose as his subject two girls at the piano. Aware of the intense scrutiny to which his submission would be subjected, Renoir lavished extraordinary care on this project, developing and refining the composition in a series of five canvases. The wife had no interest in the painter or the history of this particular painting. Her interest had to do with a memory and a photograph. She stuck the photo in the corner of the painting. It too shows too young girls with a piano. The wife is at the piano and her sister is sitting beside her. This is how art becomes a part of the decor in our home. It is currently on display along with a whole lot of other stuff, artifacts, knick-knacks, and whatever she and her decorator sister can come up with. I think I've heard some of it called dust catchers, but, that would have been commentary from some yokel who certainly would not have known anything about art.

I will tell everyone a little secret. I like the little photo more than the painting. To be honest, she wasn't too much bigger than she was in that photo when I first started sitting next to her at Church. She is fresh back from an unplanned trip to Louisiana. She went to a viewing Friday evening for a family friend who passed away last week. That friend was a fellow who dated her when she and I would break up. She was close to the family as they all grew up together and were in Church together. He had a good life and left behind a good testimony of faithfulness to God and his family. Back in the early 1960s the guys out where I came to date my future bride, well, they didn't like me. Not at all. I was intruding on their territory. They made that very clear to me. Obviously, I felt stronger about seeing her than my concern over their implied threats. That was a long time ago. I would have gone with her, but, I stayed behind to take care of Mr. Bentley and to get one of our grandchildren to her job. On Saturday, the wife and her sister, the other girl in the photo, was able to attend the memorial service for our pastor's wife's mother. Her service was about an hour away from where the wife was staying with her sister. She reported that service was sweet because this dear lady also had lived a life of love for the Lord and in serving Him by serving others. Mr. Bentley and I camped out here, all alone, at the hacienda. I prefer for her to be here. Always. But, she knows that. I do too. May God bless the families mourning the loss of their loved ones. Amen. ....More later.