Thursday, November 16, 2017


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

My posts about the background of The Only Living Boy In New York and the histories of the two contenders in my Battle of the Bands (Simon & Garfunkel and PigPen Theatre Co.) will be delayed or might not happen at all, but I'll certainly return on November 21st to announce the winner.

At long last, I'm in the final stages of getting a job. I can't tell you what it is, but it involves an extensive background check. I have a lot of forms to fill out. There's so much I don't remember about my own work history, such as starting and ending dates. It's probably going to take me a while to get through all the paperwork.

Please say a prayer for me, send positives vibes toward Florida, cast a happy spell, and wish me well. If everything works out, it will mean a new job for me in the new year.

In the meantime, if you haven't voted yet in my BATTLE OF THE BANDS: THE ONLY LIVING BOY IN NEW YORK, I hope you'll listen to the two versions of the song and tell us which one you prefer.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Wednesday, November 15, 2017


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

It's November 15th, so it's time for this month's Battle of the Bands, hosted by Stephen McCarthy at STMcC Presents 'Battle of the Bands'. I urge you to visit his blog to see the complete list of participants in the battle and to visit them.

Here's the deal: I present two renditions of the same song. In your comment, you vote for the one you prefer, and if possible, tell us the reason for your choice. You have until midnight on November 20th to vote. On November 21st, I'll tell you who the winner is.

Today I present a competition . . . well, I'll let T. S. Eliot tell you what I'm thinking through the voice of the poetic persona in The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock:

"And indeed there will be time / To wonder, 'Do I dare?' and, 'Do I dare?' . . . Do I dare / Disturb the universe?"

For I have known them all already, known them all––
Have known the evening, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
     So how should I presume?

I did not think, Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell, that I dared make anyone compete against Simon & Garfunkel, performing a song that Paul Simon wrote to/for Art Garfunkel. Paul and Artie are icons of American music.

I am one who would say, Of course I shall vote for Paul and Artie. I cannot do otherwise. But I dare disturb the universe because I heard a cover of The Only Living Boy In New York that gave me chills although I adore the original.

But how should I presume? Even if this battle is a blowout in favor of Simon & Garfunkel, then at least I will have introduced you––if you do not know them already, as I did not––to PigPen Theatre Co.

In the days to come, I'll also write posts about the meaning of The Only Living Boy In New York and the histories of Simon & Garfunkel and PigPen Theatre Co. If you cannot vote today, it's okay. You'll learn and you'll listen more and you'll come back from a farther room to vote another day.

We participants in the Battle of the Bands often ask our followers to ignore videos of the bands if we use them, but I shan't do that today, for music can be more than aural grandeur.

We begin with Simon & Garfunkel:

And now PigPen Theatre Co.:

Thanks for joining me in this battle. I hope you enjoy The Only Living Boy In New York.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Friday, November 10, 2017


Hello. It is I, Penelope.

Mom Mom does not feel well. She keeps dashing off to the bathroom to sit on her white throne. Do not worry. I am tending to her.

That is all.

Friday, November 3, 2017


HI! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi, every buddy! It's me me me me me me, Franklin the Bordernese, and I wanna show you some pretties that will please.

Me and Mom know a very cool blogger named Low Rainy Day, and she . . .



Her name is Lorraine, says The Queen of Grammar who always has to get stuff just right.

Now let's see if I can continue without more interruptors.

Lorraine blogs at We are:Clamco. Me and Mom have liked Lorraine for a pretty long time, but we got even more interested in her when she started painting pretty things on rocks. Yes! Fur real rocks, like you find outside.

Lorraine even sells the pretty painted rocks, and we gots some. I can't show you pitchers of them because they're going to be Kissmas presents. You know how I love Kissmas.

But Lorraine said we can use some of her pitchers to show you her rocks.

Looky here:

Lorraine's rocks are so bootiful that she has sold most of them, but if you wanna see what she has left so you can buy me a Kissmas present, you can look at her Facebook page. She has a photo album there with lots of rocks she's painted. You can ask her which ones are still left and how much they cost.

Some of them are sins of omission, which means . . .

What now?


They're commissions, which means that people ask for them and Lorraine paints what they want on the rock.

But if you don't wanna buy rocks, it's okay. Me and Mom hope you will visit Lorraine because we think you will like the pitchers on her blog of her painting and then she shows us how the rocks turn out.

Mom actually said something pretty smart about the bootiful rocks. She said, Franklin, sometimes people say "dumb as a rock" or "stone deaf." Suck phrases suggest that a rock is as dead as anything can be. But when Lorraine turns a rock into art, then it lives because art is alive forever.

Don't you think Mom is rotund?


Mom says she's not rotund and that the word I should use is profound. snicker snort

Mom is kinda rotund. snicker snort snicker snort

I wonder if I can hold a paintbrush in my paw.

Penlapee! Do you wanna take a nap?

Here she comes.

Okay I love you bye-bye.

Friday, October 27, 2017


Hi! It's me! It's me! It's me! Me me me memememememememememe! I'm Franklin the Bordernese! When I run I'm as fast as a hurricane's breeze!

Early this morning when it was still dark and Mom was asleep, me and Penlapee came up with a plan. We wanted to go outside to run and play, but we knew Mom wouldn't want to get up.

So I paced up and down next to the bed and whimpered a little bit to make her think I needed a potty break real bad. Sure enough, we fooled her. She got up and we went out in the backyard.

What Mom didn't know is that we weren't coming back. When Mom called us, Penlapee kept running in circles and I hid behind the garage. Mom acted all sweetie sweet and said, Come on now. Let's go back to bed, darling puppies.

Ha! I came out from behind the garage so Mom thought we would come inside. Instead, I ran over and hid under the big bush.

Mom came out on the deck and said in a way that was kinda stern, Now that's it. Get in here. It's time to go back to bed.

Penlapee was still running in circles (I don't know where she thinks she's going), and I hid behind the garage again. Mom started to get kinda mad. She said, Get in this house right now!

Nope! Not us.

Mom went inside. I thought she'd go back to bed and we could play as long as we wanted, but that's not what happened. Mom is a tattletale. She really went inside to get Big Human Brudder. He gave me a bath with the hose a few days ago and he squirted my butt. It was so embarrassing.

Big Human Brudder came out. The jig was up. He said, Come inside.

We went. We have to do what he says cuz he can pick us up and move us wherever he wants us to be. We hate that.

Mom said, This is ridiculous. It's five a clock in the morning. Now let's all go to bed.

And that's what we did.

But only because Big Human Brudder was there.

Okay I love you bye-bye.

This happened to me once.
Thanks a bunch for the cartoon about it, Mrs. Ducky.

Saturday, October 21, 2017


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Thank you for your interest in my return to the Battle of the Bands, hosted by Stephen McCarthy at STMcC Presents 'Battle of the Bands'I appreciate the time you took to vote and read my posts about the song for my battle––Strange Fruit.

And the winner is

Billie Holiday with 18 votes


Nina Simone finishes with a respectable 13 votes.

After spending so much time on a song about lynching and writing about the connection between its author, Abel Meeropol, and Julius and Ethel Rosenberg, I had a nightmare Thursday night that I was fighting with someone who was trying to kill my daughter in the electric chair. I didn't sleep well the rest of the night. 

I mentioned the nightmare to my son and told him I would also be opposed to his execution in the electric chair (or by any other means).

Isn't it strange that the man who wrote with such eloquence about lynching went on to adopt the sons of people who were, in essence, lynched by their own government?

On a happier note, it's a bit cooler here. Franklin and I have resumed our walks to the neighborhood park. While we often meet other dogs who are walking their people, last time we met a horse. She was beautiful, and was accompanied by her human friend, who had stopped to give her a break from her trailer.

That's the first time we've come across a horse in the park. Franklin was curious about her and seemed unafraid, but when we returned to the path, he was in a hurry. She had four legs, but she was the biggest dog he'd ever seen.

I'll leave you with another song by Abel Meeropol, whose pseudonym as a songwriter was Lewis Allan in honor of his two stillborn sons with wife Anne. Sing us out, please, Ole Blue Eyes.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Thursday, October 19, 2017


If you want to read my posts for this week in sequence, please start with BATTLE OF THE BANDS: STRANGE FRUIT. The contenders are Nina Simone and Billie Holiday. You have until midnight on Friday, October 20th, to vote. I'll announce the winner on Saturday, the 21st.

My posts that expand on information about Strange Fruit are the following (in order):


And now for today's post:

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Today we finally get to the connection between Julius and Ethel Rosenberg and Abel Meeropol, who wrote Strange Fruit.

Michael and Robert Rosenberg, known as Robbie, went through hell when their parents were arrested, tried, and executed. Michael, who was ten at the time of the execution, remembers their parents better than Robbie, who was only six.

Here the boys are escorted by their grandmother to visit their parents in prison a few days before the execution:

Although the boys spent some time with each of their grandmothers, no relatives wanted to keep them. Everyone was afraid to be associated with the convicted criminals. Michael himself recalls denying that he had any association with his parents.

They ended up in an orphanage, where they were abused.

Their parents' will named one of their lawyers, Emanuel Bloch, as the boys' guardian. Bloch found a home for the two with none other than Abel and Anne Meeropol, who had never met the Rosenbergs but were sympathetic to their cause.

Abel and Anne adopted the boys, who are still known as Michael and Robert Meeropol.

Here are Michael and Robbie with Abel Meerepol:

The two credit the Meeropols with saving their lives. Both grew up to have their own families, successful careers, and to acknowledge their identities as the sons of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg.

In fact, for many years they fought to clear their father's name. As more information became available to them, they accepted his guilt, but continue to believe that what he provided to the Soviets was useless.

They asked President Obama to exonerate their mother before he left office, which he did not do. They are ardent believers in their mother's innocence. She was convicted because of her own brother's false testimony.

When he consented to an interview with 60 Minutes in 2001, David Greenglass stated: "I would not sacrifice my wife and my children for my sister. How do you like that?" He still insisted on having his face and voice disguised. 

Thanks to all of you who have followed this series of posts that began with the song Strange Fruit.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Michael Meeropol

Robert Meeropol

If you'd like to read more about Michael and Robert Meeropol, I suggest, where you can read the transcript of their interview with Anderson Cooper on 60 Minutes. I also recommend Ivy Meeropol's documentary, Heir To An Execution. Ivy is Michael's daughter. The documentary is available on HBO Now, can be purchased from Amazon, or is available on DVD from Netflix.