Hearted Youtube comments on The History Guy: History Deserves to Be Remembered (@TheHistoryGuyChannel) channel.
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Starry, starry night
Paint your palette blue and gray
Look out on a summer's day
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul
Shadows on the hills
Sketch the trees and the daffodils
Catch the breeze and the winter chills
In colors on the snowy, linen land
Now, I understand what you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now
Starry, starry night
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze
Swirling clouds in violet haze
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue
Colors changing hue
Morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand
Now, I understand, what you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity
How you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now
For they could not love you
But still your love was true
And when no hope was left inside
On that starry, starry night
You took your life as lovers often do
But I could have told you, Vincent
This world was never meant for one
As beautiful as you
Starry, starry night
Portraits hung in empty halls
Frameless heads on nameless walls
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget
Like the strangers that you've met
The ragged men in ragged clothes
The silver thorn of bloody rose
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow
Now, I think I know what you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity
How you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they're not listening still
Perhaps they never will
~"Vincent", Don McLean 1971
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I had the distinct honor of knowing Ruth Heckinger, born in Queens, NY on June 19th, 1923, who was an Army Flight Nurse, flying on the China-Burma-India (CBI) route. Flying over the Himilayas was terrifying, as they had to fly low to keep the whole blood they were carrying to keep it from boiling due to the low air pressure at altitude. One time they were landing on an island where the men stationed there hadn't seen a woman in 18 months, so her pilot asked her to radio the tower for clearance. It took a few tries to get a shy response from the tower, and during taxiing to the tower they could see men all up and down the hangars trying to get a glance of the woman on the R4D plane! Ruth was a joy, a force of nature, and was always up to party. Ruth passed in her sleep January 25th, 2023 at 99 years of age, in Bradenton, FL. She was a force of nature, and is sorely missed
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My, how things change. We watch this video from the comfort of our ... wherever... , maybe even our trusty horseless carriage, scarcely able to imagine the toil and hardship this family endured for weeks in every weather in an extremely primitive vehicle.
Bathrooms? Enclosed cabin? Gas available AT ALL? Restaurants? Not even a place to wash your dishes after you cook while on the road. Power steering? Electric starter? Automatic transmission? Automatic choke? Power brakes? Properly formatted video? GPS? Maps that fold properly? Roadside assistance? Who needs that when you have a shovel, winch, windlass, and a 30-30 Winchester? There's coyotes, you know. Also wolves, bears, mountain lions, trigger- happy shepherds. Oh my.
Where they were going, they didn't even need roads!
Lance, I loved this video.
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Didn't go thru all the comments, but I'm probably closed to the oldest commenter, I'm 80, and interesting enough, my wife and I had "baloney" sandwiches yesterday. I prefer white bread, Miracle Whip, lettuce and slice of sweet onion. The "real" stuff isn't so inexpensive today, unless you buy the stuff that's made with TURKEY!
Anyway, whenever I have a "baloney" sandwich, I'm ten years old, camping in the mountains of Wyoming, hoping my fishing pole has got a trout caught while I ate lunch. As Bob Hope used to sing to close out his show "thanks for the memories".
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This video brought back childhood memories of my grandmother, who worked at a commercial laundry, in Amityville, NY. She would collect loose buttons. Not just a few, but jars and jars of buttons. She taught me, and my siblings, how to sew buttons, by sewing her collection to pieces of 3 by 5 index cards. We were then taught how to use her sewing machine, a trustworthy Singer. Years later, as I got married and had children, it was not my wife who taught my daughter and two boys how to sew. It was me. To hear my son pipe up at a cub scout event, years ago, when asked if his mommy could sew on her badges, he said, "Mommy doesn't know how to sew, my daddy does!" It caused quite the chuckle from all of the adults there. Now, my kids are all grown up, and know how to mend any rips or tears that might befall their clothes. And if they lose a button? You'd better believe they know how to sew on a button! Thanks for bringing back such a great memory from my childhood.
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