The 117 Most Beautiful Words in the English Language

Via Yorick Reintjens

Love made the list…

Fiery Foliage Against the Blue Sky

Acquiesce Submit or comply silently or without protest.

Ailurophile A cat-lover.

Ameliorate To make or become better, more bearable, or more satisfactory

Assemblage A gathering.

Becoming Attractive.

Beleaguer To exhaust with attacks.

Brood To think alone.

Bucolic In a lovely rural setting.

Bungalow A small, cozy cottage.

Callipygous Having beautifully proportioned buttocks.

Cathartic Inducing catharsis; purgative. Continue reading

An Excerpt

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This is from this memoir in progress which I hope to complete soon — if it doesn’t kill me first!
“…When I used to drive by that cemetery that’s down the hill from Sears and I’d see the little Cuban flags stuck on the frozen ground, a name like Garcia or Perez on the tombstone, and I knew that there laid a Cuban buried over a thousand miles from his family and the place that he first called home. I always thought it was the saddest sight in the world, those little flags. Most of the old Cubans came over thinking that it was a temporary stay and most of us thought we weren’t going to be buried here. Guess what, that’s going to be me, come this winter, my little Cuban flag planted on my forehead…”

Just a Reminder, People…

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That’s right, Glenn Beck, Lou Dobbs, Hannity et al: there was a legitimate election a few months ago and your guy-gal team LOST!

You Birthers and the Socio-Communist Fear-Mongering Brigade: they counted the votes and you LOST!

RNC and FOX and the NRA: you LOST this one!

It must be difficult to get up every morning and realize that you’re no longer in charge of the levers. I know it was hard accepting President Clinton’s election. You wouldn’t let it go until you had the guy impeached. But when his popularity with the American people reached superstar numbers, it drove you crazy.

That was nothing compared to how insane having the first black Commander-In-Chief seems to be driving you. And a wise Latina in the Supreme Court will probably kill a few of you. The allegations, the lies and the conspiracy theories are coming fast and furious from your side. They are an indication of a desperate mood. I know that accepting reality can be difficult. Especially if it’s at odds with your long held prejudices and backward ideas.

You had eight years and you ruined everything — except your own bank accounts and those of your friends. Now we get a chance to clean up your mess and restore this country on its path to greatness.

I’ll say it again: WE WON! Get used to it.

It’s going to be a long four years. Maybe eight.

Or longer, if you keep up the nonsense…

Growing Up To Be Hal Pereira

Growing up with American television, I got to know Hal Pereira. All I knew about him was that he was an Art Director. His name would come up at the end of most black and white shows — especially sitcoms — from the Fifties and Sixties. Seeing his name, in such a prominent place, amidst American names, gave me a sense of pride. Watching those credits roll reminded me that in America, if you had talent and worked hard, even if your name was Gomez or Hernandez or Pereira, you could find a meaninful career.

Hal Pereira reaffirmed my beliefs in the promises of this country. Even if Hal was not a name I recognized, I was sure that we shared a heritage and he became a small symbol, among many I picked up, of what I could achieve.

I just looked up Mr. Pereira’s bio online as I was about to write this post. I found out that he was born in Chicago in 1905 and he died in Los Angeles in 1983. He had an long and fruitful career in the movie and television industry. Hal Pereira was nominate twenty three times for an Oscar for his work in film and won once, in 1958 — three years after I was born — for The Rose Tattoo. When he retired in 1968 from Paramount, after 18 years as head of the studio’s art department, he worked as a design consultant for his brother, architect William L. Pereira.

Inspiration is to be gotten from wherever we can find it. Thank you, Mr. Pereira.

I took my son to the playground last week. He ran and climbed and jumped with twenty or thirty other kids from the neighborhood. African-American kids, Hispanic kids, White kids, Asian kids. As he was making his way from the swings to the slide to the jungle gym back to the swings, it occurred to me that the African-American and Hispanic kids now have a President and — unless hell freezes over — a Supreme Court judge that looks just like them. They’ll have inspiration that my generation never had. I can’t wait to see how far that inspiration will take them.

I have a great deal of hope for the future of those kids. Not only the African-American and the Latino kids, but all the kids that were at the playground that day.