Weather in the Tries:
   It appears we head now to warmer temperatures. The nights are still cool at or slightly below freezing but the days are scheduled to be almost bikini time ranging from 45-50F. Winds (Sammy hates wind) some sun, clouds and maybe a bit of rain (Sammy hates rain). But I have this feeling that Spring is coming, ready or not!

Do you remember Billie Holiday?
   For the last Monday in February, I thought I’d highlight a black singer singing a song written by a Jewish school teacher. Actually, I was just going to feature the singer, but the rest of the story is too interesting, at least to me.
   So, I asked myself the question, do I remember Billie Holiday? I was thirteen when she died. And listened to rock n roll. I don’t think I listened to R&B unless one of the DJs put it on for some reason, so no, I don’t think I remember her from my actual life memories, but I’ve heard/seen her on YouTube. And I remember her song, Strange Fruit but I’m sure I remember it as an adult, not a kidlet. If I heard it as a kidlet, it wouldn’t have made much sense to me, as I didn’t understand, probably didn’t know, that lynchings were still going on. And I had zero knowledge of metaphors.
   It was while looking up some stuff on Ms. Holiday I came across the story of Abel Meeropol, the Jewish teacher, poet, and songwriter who published under the pen name of Lewis Allan, the names of his two boys who were stillborn. 
   I was a kid when Julius and Ethel Rosenberg were arrested, tried, convicted, and murdered for espionage. I remembered being quite concerned about their two boys, Robert and Michael and if their mother was killed, who would raise them, love them, kiss their oweeees, be their mommy. At that time, I had no concept of what espionage was. My grandmother tried to assure me the boys would be taken care of, but I never really quite believed her. Well, they were adopted and took the last name of their adoptive parents—Meeropol. The very same Abel Meeropol who was struck by a photo of a lynched man and wrote the poem, Strange Fruit, that Billie Holiday recorded and then sang often, as hard as it was for her. Her father (or at least the man she identified as such) was denied medical treatment because of the color of his skin and died from a treatable condition.
   As the Rosenbergs awaited their date with destiny, I remember hearing that she sang in Yiddish, songs of encouragement to her husband, Julius who she perceived at the weaker one. They were in the same prison, out of sight from each other, but close enough he could hear and respond. I was seven when they were arrested, ten when they were killed.

   Talk about degrees of closeness—Rosenbergs to Meeropols to Billie Holiday to thee and me.

   Just for grins, I searched for Robert and Michael Meeropol to see what they are up to now, very interesting. This would be, I think, what Paul Harvey would call “The rest of the news!”

   The rabbit holes one can find in a computer! And, time is different when one is traversing rabbit holes in one’s computer! It’s three in the afternoon when I start down the hole, and a few minutes later, when I come out it’s seven already yet.

Photos of the Week:

Entertainment:
Books: Remember if I finish a book, I review it (eventually) at https://lenoragood.blogspot.com 
   I am lax in posting a couple of books, it’s been a weird week or two. Your patience is appreciated.

Movies/Tv:
   Haven’t seen anything but news.

Sammy Says:
  My human is right when she says I don’t like water falling on me, or wind. The water is cold and it hurts. I don’t have the fat other dogs have, and I don’t have a lot of fur. And the wind throws dirt in my eyes, and sends the zombie leaves  to attack me, and everybody knows that zombie leaves love to eat puppy brains and I don’t have enough brain to spare.