Saturday, June 19, 2010
|A young and gorgeous PK with baby Quinn and Pop Pop Korbulic, 1978. Like father, like son. Isn't that just what babies need? To be surrounded by people who love them? Pop Pop is gone now.|
|My father Floyd Strube enjoying a laugh with our youngest son, Chris, 1987. My dad is gone, too.|
It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better.
The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat.
Teddy Roosevelt, Speech at the Sorbonne, Paris, April 23, 1910.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
|This is the scene beyond the garden this evening around 8 p.m. Cool, dark, foggy, and raining HARD.|
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
|No roses yet, but plenty of buds.|