Day 902: What is that a sign of?

Since January, 2013, I’ve been writing a post every day, through:

  • rain,
  • snow,
  • light
  • dark, and
  • three Father’s Days.

What is that a sign of?

I can never remember where to put the apostrophe in “Father’s Day.”

What is that a sign of?

My father died in 1997 and I still think about him, almost every day.

What is that a sign of?

I often see something — in my daily journeys — that inspires the title of my next blog post.

What is that a sign of?

Once I decide on the title of a blog post, many things I see seem to fit that title.

What is that a sign of?

Are these signs of anything, to you?


                                                                                                          

     
I could easily think that everything I encountered yesterday was a sign of SOMETHING. For example,


… my initials and my father’s initials are the same.

What is that a sign of?

When I’m thinking of my father, Aaron Koplow, the song “Trans-Island Skyway” by Donald Fagen often shows up, as it did yesterday.

What is that a sign of? I’m not sure, but the lyrics include the following:

We reach the sprangle
Just at dawn
These little streets I used to know
Is that my father
Mowin’ the lawn
C’mon Daddy get in let’s go
C’mon Daddy get in let’s go
C’mon Daddy get in let’s go
C’mon Daddy get in let’s go
C’mon Daddy get in let’s go
C’mon Daddy get in let’s go
C’mon Daddy get in let’s go

I don’t know what a “sprangle” is.  What is that a sign of?

Whenever I hear that song, I can see my father on our lawn.

What is that a sign of?

If you leave a comment, I won’t necessarily take it a sign of anything, but I will definitely appreciate it.

Many signs of gratitude and thanks to my father, to signs everywhere, to Donald Fagen, to sprangles (and other things I don’t know the meaning of), to sky-ways and by-ways, to everything  I saw and heard yesterday, and to you  — of course! — for reading this Father’s Day 2015 post, here and now.

Categories: in memoriam, Nostalgia, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , | 53 Comments

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53 thoughts on “Day 902: What is that a sign of?

  1. A song that brings a memory is a sign of love I believe

  2. I really like the gate/fence painted on the wall.

  3. I think this is a sign that you take the time to observe, recall and report. I also think that this is a sign that a film developing company probably went out of business when you went digital. May your father’s memory be eternal.

    • Strangely enough, Ray, I never took many photos before this blog. Indeed, if you look at the beginning months of my blog, there are barely any of my own photos.

      And, I see your comment as a sign of how wonderful you are.

  4. This is a sign of Ann paying attention and capturing each moment as it unfolds … with a curious and quirky eye for detail 🙂
    So many to wonder about today. Thank you Ann!

  5. Your blog is a sign of tenacity, Ann. How impressive that you have done this every day for so long, documenting your life in photos that we get to share. A sign of a special blogger. Thank you. 💕

  6. Ann, your posts all indicate that you are SEEING Life, really looking, instead of being consumed with the past, or being in the mind, or busy with conversing with a piece of technology. You are looking through open eyes, and for this, I am thrilled. I Love your enthusiasm and I Love your attitude. Keep up both!! Happy Sunday, my friend! Love, Amy ❤

  7. Thank you for reminding us to remember our own Dads and not just our partners. The cat gave my DH 2 Peeping Felines tea towels, which means 14 bowls of food for needy animals. But until I read your post I forgot to remember my own dad who’s been gone 30 years now, younger then than I am now. Daddy was a good man, smart, creative, enthused about so many things. When I recall him, I hear Harry Belafonte singing “Scarlet Ribbons”, because music on records and radio was a huge part of our home life, and in the 50s I wore two ponytails with ribbons in them. I didn’t get the meaning of that song until I was an adult. I see him tan and in a straw hat, pushing the rotary mower across our little front lawn, whistling. Thank you Ann!

  8. Can it be said that we sprangle thru life, meandering the possibilities, closing and opening new doors along the way?

    I believe your photos sprangled the passing of back and forth thru events: Air Raid shelter, beautiful flowers abandoned in front of what now appears to be a pvc pipe cutting site. We can sprangle about, directing our routes thru the village, note the municipal buildings, the sites of all those who live within this area,. Vicariously sprangle thru their daily jaunts.

    Could assumptions be strangling our perspective of what we feel is Truth? Each of us sees life thru eyes born of our years of experiences. Do we sprangle as we grow in our understanding?

    I cannot sprangle back to remember my father, cannot delude myself into thinking he deserves “Happy Father’s Day” wishes. But I know many wonderful fathers that I can send a wish to, and to them, I wish them a joyous day!

    ❤️

  9. So many of these pictures seem to be signs of memory, or is it just that memories are so easily sparked by what we see? That’s a reminder of Proust, although scents prompted his most powerful memories, and of Mitch Hedburg who said, “Every picture of you is a picture of when you were younger.” And The Kinks, “People took pictures of each other/To prove they loved each other/A long time ago.” I may not have those lyrics exactly right because I’m quoting from memory. That’s a reminder that memories change, which reminds me of a story of a traveler in a dark forest who had a dream that he should pick up all the pebbles he could carry in the morning. He did and when he arrived at his destination the memories turned to gold. The story was a metaphor for how memory can make even our worst experiences valuable later on. Metaphors are important in poetry which I remember hearing defined as “language that is greater than the sum of its parts”. So too we are the sum of our memories, but so much more. I was going somewhere with all this, but I’ve forgotten where.

    • It’s not the destination that matters so much, Christopher, as the journey. You went lots of places, all golden. Thank you for this memorable comment.

  10. Those are good signs of Father’s day 🙂

  11. It’s always a good sign when I see notification of your blog. Often times a phrase enters my thoughts that I end up writing a post about. Sometimes it ends up being the title, sometimes not. When these thoughts pop in my head I know when I have to write something, even if I don’t know what it is. 😉

  12. Reblogged this on By the Mighty Mumford and commented:
    SOME SIGNS ARE MORE OBVIOUS THAN OTHERS! A LOT GOING ON HERE!

  13. Ann,
    On this Father’s Day I do as I do each day since he passed in 1969 when I was a teen. I pray to him and ask his prayer in return. And the prayer is answered as I remember the wonderful dad that he was/is. I became a son the day he became my father; to which I am most thankful to God.

    If you get a chance, I have re-posted my Father’s Day tribute from last year. You will get a sense of the man who makes fatherhood something for men to strive for.
    -Alan

  14. Still struggling with my relationship with my dad, who has dementia, but I love this song written by Dolly Parton, “To Daddy”, fills my heart with tenderness:

  15. Ann … I’d say that your many photos are a sign of how you notice what many take for granted. It’s also a sign that I need to pay more attention when I’m out and about. 😉

  16. What can one say so many signs that say so many different thoughts about signs

  17. To sprangles, doohickeys, fathers past and people who send resumes to work at Sinco Inc.

    Happy day, Ann.

  18. I love the blue beckoning finger in the stone wall. I reckon a sprangle is a sprawling jungle. Good post Ann.

  19. Jan Woodruff

    looks like alot of wall, hard things, time limitis and ways to ‘get out of here’.

  20. A sign of a fence is intriguing, because you never know what is on the other side.

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