When the past becomes the present

Once again, we have a bit of a mysterious photograph. It was taken a few decades ago and, no, I am not among those shown on it. It does, though, compose a few sentences of my life, include a small part of my experiences, form an element of my memory. I was still a teenager when this photograph was taken. You almost certainly have not seen it elsewhere and, most probably, will not see it again elsewhere -- unless, of course, someone steals it from this post. The question is, why is this photograph here now? The answer is because the events which have been occurring in the Ukraine in recent weeks -- especially this week -- have been on my mind. Being an "involved student of history," I have been thinking about the Spanish Civil War of the 1930s, Africa and Cuba and Bolivia during the 1950s and the 1960s, the Yugoslav Wars of the 1990s -- need I mention more? Most of the time, it seems to me, "freedom fighters" and "terrorists" and "mercenaries" are difficult to distinguish from one another by anyone other than by themselves. As George Santayana wrote and others often paraphrase: "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." I like to think I have learned a few things since I was a teenager. Unfortunately, for humanity, too many fail to gain in wisdom no matter what age they reach.

A question: How would he/did he proceed?

"It depended on whose influence he was feeling most keenly. He was remarkably sympathetic, picking things up from the air, it seemed. A movie would stimulate him, and he'd draw on images from it. Something would happen in the news that set him off, he'd learn a new name, it would buzz around in his head until he found a way to use it. A painting could do it, and he was an inveterate museumgoer. He was a stimulus junkie, needed provocation to work."

The music

A friend introduced me to the music of Nick Neblo a few days ago. Some of it is magical. All of it is neat. It speaks for itself.