Reviews - GEORGE VECSEY

How's This for a Biology Lesson? Photo by Anjali - VII

3/29/2015

Anjali was in biology class with her nice teacher. Somebody came in and told the students to look out the window, at a red-tailed hawk with the remains of a pigeon.

http://photographybyanjali.com/Artist.asp?ArtistID=43010&Akey=M235PYD5

Photo by Anjali, from her classroom window

Janet Vecsey

3/29/2015 08:16:44 am

I just looked at Anjali's photography page. She is certainly talented. Could make a living that way.

George Vecsey

3/29/2015 03:21:38 pm

Janet, thanks. She used to see eagles in Seattle...now she is in NY and a hawk decides to have lunch right outside her classroom window. Didn't waste a second. See you soon, George

Thor A. Larsen

3/30/2015 11:45:57 am

I am so impressed with Anjali's photographs. Capturing the hawk so well meant quick and focused response. Her portfolio demonstrates considerable imagination, sensitivity to colors and compositions.What a wonderful aptitude and interest!

George Vecsey

3/30/2015 12:06:44 pm

You should have seen her quickie of the steamed carrots, round, like marbles, at lunch Sunday. She just sees stuff, whisks out her smartphone, clicks once and done.
the hawk outside class was bizarre for somebody who knows so much about birds.
see you soon,
GV

bruce

4/3/2015 03:34:13 am

George,

i'm doing my group read of your stuff. enjoy reading a bunch because one is over too quickly.

nice giving Anjali a forum to show her skill.

I've seen a red tailed hawk dismantle a mourning dove in mid air outside my window.

unfortunate for the victim but spektaklar--as your late lamented prezdent dubya might say.

hope your easter weekend is a good one.

bruce

George Vecsey

4/3/2015 10:30:01 am

Bruce, thanks again. There was a gorgeous piece of writing in the NYT magazine a few weeks, about falcons in urban settings of Dublin, soaring downward for an attempted kill. Link below:

http://www.nytimes.com/2015/03/15/magazine/a-falcon-in-the-city.html?_r=0

bruce

4/3/2015 10:38:05 am

George,

thanks. I read it when it appeared.

we have tons of peregrine falcons in this area. they have been bringing them here for well over 20 years. in the roof atop the Sheraton hotel, Mohawk college where I used to work...also starting to see bald eagles.

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QUOTES
More and More, I Talk to the Dead--Margaret Renkl

NASHVILLE — After my mother died so suddenly — laughing at a rerun of “JAG” at 10 p.m., dying of a hemorrhagic stroke by dawn — I dreamed about her night after night. In every dream she was willfully, outrageously alive, unaware of the grief her death had caused. In every dream relief poured through me like a flash flood. Oh, thank God!
Then I would wake into keening grief all over again.
Years earlier, when my father learned he had advanced esophageal cancer, his doctor told him he had perhaps six months to live. He lived far longer than that, though I never thought of it as “living” once I learned how little time he really had. For six months my father was dying, and then he kept dying for two years more. I was still working and raising a family, but running beneath the thin soil of my own life was a river of death. My father’s dying governed my days.
After he died, I wept and kept weeping, but I rarely dreamed about my father the way I would dream about my mother nearly a decade later. Even in the midst of calamitous grief, I understood the difference: My father’s long illness had given me time to work death into the daily patterns of my life. My mother’s sudden death had obliterated any illusion that daily patterns are trustworthy.
Years have passed now, and it’s the ordinariness of grief itself that governs my days. The very air around me thrums with absence. I grieve the beloved high-school teacher I lost the summer after graduation and the beloved college professor who was my friend for more than two decades. I grieve the father I lost nearly 20 years ago and the father-in-law I lost during the pandemic. I grieve the great-grandmother who died my junior year of college and the grandmother who lived until I was deep into my 40s.
Some of those I grieve are people I didn’t even know. How can John Prine be gone? I hear his haunting last song, “I Remember Everything,” and I still can’t quite believe that John Prine is gone.
-----
https://www.nytimes.com/2023/01/30/opinion/death-grief-memory.html
Jan. 30, 2023

How's This for a Biology Lesson? Photo by Anjali - VII

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