I worked at an exhibit manufacturer in the early 70's while going to art school. The cabinet makers would listen to Harvey every day at lunch time. Harvey represented their entire political/cultural knowledge. His signature line--'Good Day'--meant it was the end of lunch.
when i moved to montana in 1971, i was prepared for everything but the lame radio available. the only public radio was in missoula, far to the south, and i couldn't pick up cbc well. i had never heard of paul harvey before, he wasn't on pacifica radio. between listening to him and garner ted armstrong it is a wonder i stayed. my parents sent me a shortwave radio, and i then got bbc, cbc and more. paul harvey could instantly transport me to my early days in the flathead, my last innocent time. i had my 'whole life' in front of me. of course i still do, but at 60, it is different than 22.....
Posted Mon Mar 23, 2009 10:24pm AEDT
Updated Tue Mar 24, 2009 12:14pm AEDT
American author and poet Sylvia Plath took her own life in 1963.
American author and poet Sylvia Plath took her own life in 1963. (en.wikipedia.org)
The son of poets Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes has committed suicide 46 years after his mother gassed herself.
Nicholas Hughes, 47, was found dead at his home in Alaska, sister Frieda Hughes - who is also a poet - told Britain's Times newspaper.
"It is with profound sorrow that I must announce the death of my brother, Nicholas Hughes, who died by his own hand on Monday, March 16 ... He had been battling depression for some time," Ms Hughes said.
Alaska State Troopers said in a statement they had gone to a house in Fairbanks on March 16 where a man had hanged himself.
Emergency services took Hughes to a local hospital where he was later pronounced dead.
No foul play was suspected, the troopers added.
Hughes, who was unmarried, had until recently been professor of fisheries and ocean sciences at the University of Alaska.
Plath - an American famous for her autobiographical novel The Bell Jar and the poetry collection Ariel - has been at the centre of a literary cult since she committed suicide in 1963 at the age of 30 in a London flat while her children - one-year-old Nicholas and two-year-old Frieda - slept.
She left bread and milk for the children and sealed their room against the gas. They were unharmed.
Critics blamed Hughes for driving Plath to despair and their relationship has been a source of public fascination fanned by the 2003 film Sylvia starring Gwyneth Paltrow and Daniel Craig as the troubled couple.
Hughes's lover Assia Wevill also committed suicide in 1969, at the same time killing her young daughter from her relationship with the poet.
He was one of Britain's most distinguished poets and was appointed poet laureate, but Plath's suicide cast a shadow over him until his death in 1998.
this could have been in music, funny stuff, and perhaps a few more discussions, but i post it here - tribute to bea arthur. she took a lot of flack,
First Abortion: Whoa, what happened between the dull TV '60s and 1972? Women's liberation, the start of the gay rights movement, and a dude named Norman Lear. The boundary-pushing writer was responsible for many television firsts, including a two-episode Maude storyline in November 1972 in which the title character, played by Bea Arthur, became pregnant and had an abortion. Two affiliates refused to run the episodes, and others agreed not to rerun them — even though the second episode attracted 65 million viewers. Think about the cultural climate of today and consider how amazing this is: There was once a time when a sitcom could get 65 million viewers. See the first episode here: http://www.seattlepi.com/tvguide/405608_tvgif27.html
Wow, The King of Pop, Michael Crotch-grabbing Jackson, and our favorite hard nipples queen, Farrah Faucet(s) have died on the same day. Is that cosmic or what?
Of course the news is already turning MCJ into mother Theresa. And the third-worlders are all moonwalking in the streets because the ideology of Martin Luther was replaced with the ideology of never-never land. Beautiful.
Moonwalking and crotch-grabbing about sums up American culture. Gotta love it.
MJ was the same age as Ms. Medusa. Yes - he went strange - but you can't deny the talent that oozed out of every pore.
My feelings about him when he was on top of the pop world was that he was the Beatles to Prince's Rolling Stones. And, just as I liked the Beatles but preferred the bad boy Stones - I was much more interested in Prince in his heyday than the former lead singer of the Jackson 5.
If they preserve his nose implant, then they might be able to resurrect the whole body sometime in the future. Oh wait...that's a Woody Allen movie.
Here's the pinnacle of MJ's career right here--his Motown 25 appearance at the Apollo theater. I'll be honest...I caught this performance live back in '83 and was absolutely blown away. We all know that child prodigies, more often than not, lead tragic lives.
Billy Mays is dead, sigh, now who am I gonna watch info-mercials to see?
Seems like they're droppin' like flies here lately.
Scary, the people who raised Michael and fucked him up so bad might get custody of his children. Ah, what a world.
I had a strange dream last night about a sweet young girl I knew quite well back in the ol hip-pie days.
So I googled her name today... oh don't look at me like that. You've done the same thing... I know you have. Anyway, if my information is correct, she passed away in 1979... 30 years ago. She would have been only 25 years old... and it would have been only six or seven years since the last time I saw her. I couldn't find any more information than that. For some reason. it hit me kinda hard. I assumed she got fat and dowdy like the rest of us and had health grumbles and divorces and kids and economic crashes and everything else. But no. She was probably very much like the sweet young thing that appeared in my dream.
I felt ashamed that I hadn't thought about her in all these years. We were quite close-- she a young Catholic schoolgirl drum majorette... her senior year year in High School. Me, a nasty old corrupting hip-pie bad-influence guy at the gnarly old age of 22. I asked her to run away to the East Coast with me as soon as she got out of school... and she said "yes." We never did. I'm sad that I don't remember why... but I seem to remember it was my fault. Not enough money... not enough room... or some shit like that. I left her behind... forever.
Oh, Rhonda... beautiful beautiful girl... I wish we could have said goodbye.
Hey, welcome back, man. Maybe the dream was the result of too many Electric Prunes.
Seriously, I think you just gave Rhonda the best goodbye ever.
And yeah. Something must be in the air--I just recently went through an old girlfriend googling spree. A couple of 'em popped up on facebook. Oh joy. I've even looked up a couple of their houses on google maps to see what kind of lifestyle their living now. Guess that makes me a worse pervert than you.
Actually, I think we can chalk it up to being hopeless romantics. Damn. So many mistakes made. If only...