View allAll Photos Tagged foundling
Eines unserer Findelkinder . Gefunden im tiefen Wald mit dem stolzen Alter von ca. 6 Monaten.
One of our foundlings.
Found in the deep forest with the proud age
of about 6 months.
Uno dei nostri trovatelli.
Trovato nella foresta profonda con l'età orgogliosa
di circa 6 mesi.
LITTLE FREDDY:
Is it really you?
Are you my big brother Freddy? www.flickr.com/photos/40262251@N03/
I can not believe it. Someone found me in the woods and left me as a foundling at the door of one Marian.
I'm so scared big brother. There's a dog living in that house and you know I've become very afraid of dogs. Only you know why. What should I do Freddy. I prefer to stay in the box.
Sponsored Photo for~
.:: Hanatsumi ::.
Featured items~
Nalani (Dress)
Akemi (Nails)
Both found @ Mainstore (Ride Offered Above!)
Little Freddy is a foundling and would like to know if he has any family. If you recognize Freddy, please report immediate
Freddy is a fox from the UK crafted in Merrythought a British historical factory. The plush is mohair and the paws are made of cotton velvetly
It's very beautiful hand-crafted
Thanks to www.flickr.com/photos/40262251@N03/ because he helped contribute having a Merrythought bear
found in boo's last spate of digging up my flower beds.
no telling how long this polaroid had been lying around in the soil.
I washed it off.
I love it.
Blöd wär nur, wenn ich jetzt die Augen schlösse. Und dann öffne und plötzlich wärst Du gar nicht da.
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Just a moment. And I keep my eyes open ;-)
I was inspired by the song by Dota / All you, all major
///
Nur ein Augenblick. Und ich lasse die Augen auf ;-)
Inspiriert hat mich der Song von Dota / Alles Du, alles Dur
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
www.youtube.com/watch?v=lKooUzApXVU
www.youtube.com/watch?v=4CkrH8fyEqg
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Zähneklappern, Zähneknirschen, und dazu die barschen, wirschen
Mienen, Blicke, Kommentare. Das muss das harte, wahre Leben sein,
Jedem sein Los, seine Last, seinen Trost, ich wär fast
Verzweifelt ob der Müh der langen Straßen. Was soll ich hier?
Seh keine weiten Wege, seh nur Fluchtpunkte auf dem Weg zu Dir.
–– Und dann in Deinem Arm, alles gut, alles andre egal,
Alles Du, alles Dur, alles nur, ein Kitzellachen, fühl mich wohl,
Das sind Momente, wie Geschenke, wie Getränke mit Limettensaft und Alkohol.
Und dann in Deinem Arm, alles gut, alles andre egal, unbezahlbare Stunden, mal die bunten Bilder an deine Wand, Tage wie Sekunden und Du mein Prinz und Findelkind im Wunderland.
–– Und Patati und Patata, soviel Palaver und ich harder und ich harre und ich starre.
Abracadabra, bin ich da! In deinen vier Wänden ein bergendes Zelt,
Mit dem Fenster zum Himmel, und der Türe zur Welt.
–– Und dann in Deinem Arm, alles gut, alles andre egal,
Bin ich frei, bin ich Kind und wir sind unterwegs,
Die Welt steht offen zu entdecken,
Also könn wir uns genausogut noch heute hier verstecken.
Und dann in deinem Arm, alles gut, alles andre egal,
Alles Du, alles Dur, blöd wär nur, wenn ich jetzt die Augen schlösse und dann öffne und plötzlich wärst Du gar nicht da.
... ...
///
Chattering teeth, gnashing of teeth, and in addition the harsh, twisting
Expressions, looks, comments. That must be the hard, real life
Everyone his lot, his burden, his consolation, I was almost
Desperate at the effort of the long streets. What am I supposed to do here?
Don't see long ways, just see vanishing points on the way to you.
–– And then in your arm, all well, nothing else,
All you, all major, all just a tickling laugh, feel good,
These are moments like gifts, like drinks with lime juice and alcohol.
And then in your arm, all good, everything else doesn't matter, priceless hours, times the colorful pictures on your wall, days like seconds and you my prince and foundling in Wonderland.
–– And Patati and Patata, so much palaver and I harder and I wait and I stare.
Abracadabra, I'm there! A sheltering tent in your four walls,
With the window to the sky and the door to the world.
–– And then in your arm, all well, nothing else,
I'm free, I'm a child and we're on the go,
The world is open to discover
So we might as well be hiding here today.
And then in your arm, all well, nothing else,
All you, all major, would only be stupid if I now close my eyes and then open and suddenly you would not be there.
... ...
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#LookingCloseOnFriday / #Eyes / #Ojos
babies, infants, altar servers; children; children’s choir; choir boys; foundlings; students; against ambition; against jealousy
Fourth day of Christmas octave 2022: First Martyrs!
Some people get foundlings or changelings or bastard heirs left on their doorstep. I get dead and broken things, sent here to be filed away and forgotten.
IMPORTANT: for non-pro users who read the info on a computer, just enlarge your screen to 120% (or more), then the full text will appear below the photo with a white background - which makes reading so much easier.
The color version of the photo above is here: www.lacerta-bilineata.com/ticino-best-photos-of-southern-...
THE STORY BEHIND THE PHOTO:
So far there's only been one photo in my gallery that hasn't been taken in my garden ('The Flame Rider', captured in the Maggia Valley: www.flickr.com/photos/191055893@N07/53563448847/in/datepo... ) - which makes the image above the second time I've "strayed from the path" (although not very far, since the photo was taken only approximately 500 meters from my house).
Overall, I'll stick to my "only-garden rule", but every once in a while I'll show you a little bit of the landscape around my village, because I think it will give you a better sense of just how fascinating this region is, and also of its history.
The title I chose for the photo may seem cheesy, and it's certainly not very original, but I couldn't think of another one, because it's an honest reflection of what I felt when I took it: a profound sense of peace - although if you make it to the end of this text you'll realize my relationship with that word is a bit more complicated.
I got up early that day; it was a beautiful spring morning, and there was still a bit of mist in the valley below my village which I hoped would make for a few nice mood shots, so I quickly grabbed my camera and went down there before the rising sun could dissolve the magical layer on the scenery.
Most human activity hadn't started yet, and I was engulfed in the sounds of the forest as I was walking the narrow trail along the horse pasture; it seemed every little creature around me wanted to make its presence known to potential mates (or rivals) in a myriad of sounds and voices and noises (in case you're interested, here's a taste of what I usually wake up to in spring, but you best use headphones: www.youtube.com/watch?v=AfoCTqdAVCE )
Strolling through such an idyllic landscape next to grazing horses and surrounded by birdsong and beautiful trees, I guess it's kind of obvious one would feel the way I described above and choose the title I did, but as I looked at the old stone buildings - the cattle shelter you can see in the foreground and the stable further up ahead on the right - I also realized how fortunate I was.
It's hard to imagine now, because Switzerland is one of the wealthiest countries in the world today, but the men and women who had carried these stones and constructed the walls of these buildings were among the poorest in Europe. The hardships the people in some of the remote and little developed valleys in Ticino endured only a few generations ago are unimaginable to most folks living in my country today.
It wasn't uncommon that people had to sell their own kids as child slaves - the girls had to work in factories or in rice fields, the boys as "living chimney brushes" in northern Italy - just because there wasn't enough food to support the whole family through the harsh Ticino winters.
If you wonder why contemporary Swiss historians speak of "slaves" as opposed to child laborers, it's because that's what many of them actually were: auctioned off for a negotiable prize at the local market, once sold, these kids were not payed and in many cases not even fed by their masters (they had to beg for food in the streets or steal it).
Translated from German Wikipedia: ...The Piazza grande in Locarno, where the Locarno Film Festival is held today, was one of the places where orphans, foundlings and children from poor families were auctioned off. The boys were sold as chimney sweeps, the girls ended up in the textile industry, in tobacco processing in Brissago or in the rice fields of Novara, which was also extremely hard work: the girls had to stand bent over in the water for twelve to fourteen hours in all weathers. The last verse of the Italian folk song 'Amore mio non piangere' reads: “Mamma, papà, non piangere, se sono consumata, è stata la risaia che mi ha rovinata” (Mom, dad, don't cry when I'm used up, it was the rice field that destroyed me.)... de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kaminfegerkinder
The conditions for the chimney sweeps - usually boys between the age of 8 and 12 (or younger, because they had to be small enough to be able to crawl into the chimneys) - were so catastrophic that many of them didn't survive; they died of starvation, cold or soot in their lungs - as well as of work-related accidents like breaking their necks when they fell, or suffocatig if they got stuck in inside a chimney. This practice of "child slavery" went on as late as the 1950s (there's a very short article in English on the topic here: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spazzacamini and a more in depth account for German speakers in this brief clip: www.youtube.com/watch?v=gda8vZp_zsc ).
Now I don't know if the people who built the old stone houses along my path had to sell any of their kids, but looking at the remnants of their (not so distant) era I felt an immense sense of gratitude that I was born at a time of prosperity - and peace - in my region, my country and my home. Because none of it was my doing: it was simple luck that decided when and where I came into this world.
It also made me think of my own family. Both of my grandparents on my father's side grew up in Ticino (they were both born in 1900), but while they eventually left Switzerland's poorest region to live in its richest, the Kanton of Zurich, my grandfather's parents relocated to northern Italy in the 1920s and unfortunately were still there when WWII broke out.
They lost everything during the war, and it was their youngest daughter - whom I only knew as "Zia" which means "aunt" in Italian - who earned a little money to support herself and my great-grandparents by giving piano lessons to high-ranking Nazi officers and their kids (this was towards the end of the war when German forces had occupied Italy).
I never knew that about her; Zia only very rarely spoke of the war, but one time when I visited her when she was already over a 100 years old (she died at close to 104), I asked her how they had managed to survive, and she told me that she went to the local prefecture nearly every day to teach piano. "And on the way there would be the dangling ones" she said, with a shudder.
I didn't get what she meant, so she explained. Visiting the city center where the high ranking military resided meant she had to walk underneath the executed men and women who were hanging from the lantern posts along the road (these executions - often of civilians - were the Germans' retaliations for attacks by the Italian partisans).
I never forgot her words - nor could I shake the look on her face as she re-lived this memory. And I still can't grasp it; my house in Ticino is only 60 meters from the Italian border, and the idea that there was a brutal war going on three houses down the road from where I live now in Zia's lifetime strikes me as completely surreal.
So, back to my title for the photo above. "Peace". It's such a simple, short word, isn't it? And we use it - or its cousin "peaceful" - quite often when we mean nice and quiet or stress-free. But if I'm honest I don't think I know what it means. My grandaunt Zia did, but I can't know. And I honestly hope I never will.
I'm sorry I led you down such a dark road; I usually intend to make people smile with the anecdotes that go with my photos, but this one demanded a different approach (I guess with this latest image I've strayed from the path in more than one sense, and I hope you'll forgive me).
Ticino today is the region with the second highest average life expectancy in Europe (85.2 years), and "The Human Development Index" of 0.961 in 2021 was one of the highest found anywhere in the world, and northern Italy isn't far behind. But my neighbors, many of whom are now in their 90s, remember well it wasn't always so.
That a region so poor it must have felt like purgatory to many of its inhabitants could turn into something as close to paradise on Earth as I can imagine in a person's lifetime should make us all very hopeful. But, and this is the sad part, it also works the other way 'round. And I believe we'd do well to remember that, too.
To all of you - with my usual tardiness but from the bottom of my heart - a happy, healthy, hopeful 2025 and beyond.
Here are two mini bears of our bear family.
When sitting they are 5cm high. Their heads are less than 2cm wide.
The brown one used to go on motorbike tours with my husband as his lucky charm.
The green cutie is a foundling. Years ago my daughter picked her up in the street and brought her home for me.
HMM to all participants 🐻🐻🐻
crossroads of roads in the area Kitai Gorod (Moscow);
Crossroads shopping roads in Russia were considered not only a geographic label, but also an important symbol. On them appeared cities were built chapels, were installed. crosses. And it was believed that the herb has magical powers growing here. In Russia the crossroads called "Kresttsy".
Hardly anyone knows how Kresttsy was in Moscow because of the numerous wars, fires, reconstructions, replanning ... But in historical documents in Kitai Gorod mentioned Vavarsky, Ilyinsky and Nikolsky Kresttsy.
On the Kresttsy declared royal decrees was brought foundlings to give for upbringing, and died in prison without kith or kin prisoners, to raise money for their funeral.
....and finding it promptly ....
he was running in high speed along the road, but was luckily caught, identified and brought home
Найдёныш растёт, набирает вес.
Rescued foundling is getting bigger and stronger, gaining weight.
Десять дней назад:
Ten days ago:
www.flickr.com/photos/pavel-omsk/53931455182/in/photostream/
Две недели тому назад:
Two weeks ago:
www.flickr.com/photos/pavel-omsk/53922114103
Первые дни в клинике:
First days at the veterinarian:
www.flickr.com/photos/pavel-omsk/53898355932
(IMG_20240829_090138_ON1)
Tisha had breakfast, ran around the apartment, and then snuggled down on my shoulder, not stopping to purr.
Just an intriguing old building in a small town...with a strange collection of "things" around it! I almost went to check the basket to see if there might be a foundling in it...
The Ways of Mandalore refer to the cultural and religious practices of the Mandalorians, a group of warriors and artisans from the planet Mandalore. The Ways of Mandalore are deeply rooted in their history, traditions, and values, and are a central part of their identity.
The Way of the Mandalore is a code of conduct that guides the behavior of Mandalorians. It emphasizes the importance of protecting fellow Mandalorians, taking in foundlings, and wearing a helmet at all times. The Way is also associated with the Children of the Watch, a group of Mandalorians who seek to reestablish the traditional ways of Mandalore.
The Mandalorian Creed is a central part of the Way, and is recited by new members of the tribe when they are given a helmet. The Creed is a promise to never remove the helmet, and to follow the Way of the Mandalore.
The Ways of Mandalore also include a strong emphasis on tradition and cultural heritage. Mandalorians place great importance on their history and customs, and strive to preserve and pass them down to future generations.
In addition, the Ways of Mandalore are closely tied to the concept of “This is the Way,” a phrase that is often used by Mandalorians to express their commitment to their code and their way of life. This phrase is often used as a rallying cry, and is a symbol of Mandalorian identity and unity.
Overall, the Ways of Mandalore are a complex and multifaceted aspect of Mandalorian culture and identity, and are deeply rooted in their history and traditions.
Picture taken at Sunny's Photo Studio
[DPSP] - RB Backdrop V3 - No Pose
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Sunny%20Photo%20Studio/55/...
Pose B(U)Y ME Poses - Dean
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/BuY%20ME%20POSES/162/70/27
Mandalorian Armor [AD] Mando Gianni Black Set
Gacha Set.
Piper's Version
Lincoln's Inn Chapel
In the heart of Legal London, hidden away from the hustle and bustle of the busy city outside, stands the historic chapel of Lincoln's Inn, surrounded by a mix of historic buildings going back to at least the 15th century. The Lincoln's Inn Chapel dates to 1623 and was designed by Inigo Jones.
HISTORY
The origins of Lincoln's Inn are lost in the mists of time, but we do know that it was in existence long before the first written records occurred in 1422. It is possible that the name 'Lincoln's Inn' refers to Henry de Lacy, the 3rd Earl of Lincoln (d. 1311). The Earl owned property in this area of London and may have been one of the Inn's earliest patrons.
We know that there was a Chapel at Lincoln's Inn in 1580 when the Inn's 'Benchers' purchased the freehold of the property from the Bishop of Chichester. A Bencher is a member of the Council, the body responsible for administering the Honourable Society of Lincoln's Inn
By the early 17th century that chapel was proving too small and in need of replacement. Architect Inigo Jones, best-known for his design of the Queen's House in Greenwich, was called in to design the new building. Work started in 1620 and was complete by 1623. The chapel was repaired in 1685 with input from another famous English architect, Sir Christopher Wren.
Much of the chapel was rebuilt in 1797, and there was a major refurbishment in 1883. More repairs were needed in 1915 when a Zeppelin bomb fell in neighbouring Old Square and blew out the glass of two windows. The lesson was learned, and when WWII broke out all the chapel's glass was removed and put in storage for the duration of the war. You can see pockmarks caused by wartime damage on the north wall and the undercroft.
THE UNDERCROFT
The chapel is elevated onto the first floor and supported by a vaulted undercroft at ground level. Because it is at ground level the undercroft is open to the outside air, and pedestrians pass directly through the undercroft as they navigate Lincoln's Inn.
The undercroft is a frequent meeting place for the Benchers, and has even been a recreation area in the past. It has also served as a crypt; a burial place for the Benchers. Not only Benchers were buried there; sometimes servants or other members of the Society.
In the 18th century the undercroft was used by poor mothers to leave newborn babies they were unable to care for. The foundlings were usually cared for by the Inn and were all given the surname Lincoln.
THE CHAPEL BELL
The Chapel boasts a bell that forms an important part of Lincoln's Inn tradition. The bell is said to have been cast in 1596, though this seems unlikely. According to an ancient tradition, the bell wound sound the curfew at 9:00 pm each night, with a stroke added for every year of the serving Treasurer's age. The bell is also rung between 12:30 and 13:00 to mark the passing of a Bencher.
THE PAINTED GLASS
One of the highlights of the Chapel interior are the six richly coloured painted glass windows, designed by the Van Linge brothers. These are not 'stained' glass windows, but painted glass, where vitreous enamels were painted onto clear glass to create a design which was then fired.
Abraham and Bernard van Linge were natives of East Frisia who worked in Paris. They fled France in 1621 during a period of religious intolerance and found a new home in London. The brothers painted glass designs are featured in several Oxford colleges, including Lincoln College, Christ Church College, and the reading room at the Bodleian Library.There are three Van Linge windows on each side of the chapel. Those on the south side depict the Chapel and the Hall of Lincoln's Inn with figures representing the Treasurer and the City of London accepting the keys to the Chapel in 1623.
The large east window depicts heraldic coats of arms of the Treasurers of Lincoln's Inn, beginning in 1689.
THE PERCEVAL MEMORIAL
Another thing to look for is a memorial plaque commemorating Spencer Perceval (1762-1812), the only British Prime Minister to be assassinated. Perceval was educated at Lincoln's Inn and practised as a barrister before becoming a King's Counsel. The then turned to politics where he experienced a meteoric rise as a follower of William Pitt the Younger.
Perceval served as Chancellor of the Exchequer and Leader of the House of Commons before becoming Prime Minister in 1809. He was killed by a merchant named John Bellingham who had been imprisoned unfairly in Russia and had his claims for compensation ignored by the government.
The Chapel is used for musical performances as well as church services. It is normally open daylight hours to visitors and is the only one of Lincoln's Inn's building to be open (visitors are always welcome to walk through the Inn).
GETTING THERE
There are two ways into Lincoln's Inn; through the historic medieval gatehouse on Chancery Lane and from the picturesque set of gates facing Lincoln's Inn Fields on Serle Street. The nearest underground is Chancery Lane.
From the station follow Holborn west to Chancery Lane, turn left and you will find the gatehouse across the road on your right after one block. Go through the gatehouse and follow the obvious sign for Old Square. Turn right and you will find yourself at the Chapel. From the underground station to the Chapel is a very easy walk taking no more than 5-7 minutes.
Happy Caturday. Foundling kitten "Sox" 2019.
I discovered Sox as a tiny kitten hiding in a pipe, I raised him in isolation while waiting for health test results. During this time, we initially dubbed him Mr. Bitey, but realized the name would be a hindrance in adoption; and so changed his name to Sox (he had a penchant for biting socks with toes inside). Tests proved he was perfectly healthy with the exception of a tiny patch of the fungal infection ringworm (which involves no worms whatsoever); and so I continued caring for him in isolation until he had 2 negative ringworm tests. Locally, a history of ringworm is frequently a death sentence for shelter cats, so he officially adopted us after he was clear (the ringworm never spread within the household).
We've kept one of the Foundlings, he's cute, but quite the Wild Child, and our older Cat isn't always that amused, but it's getting better :)
The house (my photo) is the LeDuc mansion in Hastings, MN.
Credits, with many thanks!
Woman in foreground: www.deviantart.com/art/Victorian-Ball-4-51793803
Woman in background: magikstock.deviantart.com/art/princess-8-363012548
Baby carriage: doloresminette.deviantart.com/art/Carriage-361530288
We where up in the lakes taking pics and this guy followed us and played in the water for ages , it was freezing too
In Flanders fields, the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below...
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields...
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields...
Videos related to the writing of the poem
www.histori.ca/minutes/minute.do?id=10200
www.dailymotion.com/video/x4kod9_john-mccrae-flanders-fie...
Armistice Day occurs next Tuesday… “at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month”. My father's brother, John Barber, died in 1917 when a stove exploded in a Belgian army camp. My mother’s brother, Bill Watson, was killed on July 23, 1944, when the Wellington Mk X bomber in which he was navigator ditched into the Irish Sea while on a training mission. All on board were killed.
I decided it would be fitting to travel the short distance to Guelph, Ontario, to visit the birthplace of Lt. Col. John McCrae, who penned “In Flanders Fields” on a piece of paper held tightly to the back of his friend, Colonel Lawrence Cosgrave while they were in the trenches during a lull in the bombings on May 3, 1915. McCrae had witnessed the death of his friend, Lieutenant Alexis Helmer, the day before. The poem was first published on December 8, 1915 in Punch magazine, London.
The light wasn’t the best for my photoshoot, since the front of the house receives very little sunlight at any point during the day. Did my best. Someday I'll redo it when the skies are overcast.
Over the next week, I will be posting images taken during the visit. I will also be posting pictures of Uncle Bill and Uncle John, as well as of Bill’s flight crew. I will tell as much of their stories as I know.
From my set entitled “John McCrae Birthplace” (under preparation)
www.flickr.com/photos/21861018@N00/sets/72157608733775580/
In my collection entitled “Places”
www.flickr.com/photos/21861018@N00/collections/7215760074...
In my photostream
www.flickr.com/photos/21861018@N00/
Reproduced from Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_McCrae
Lieutenant Colonel John Alexander McCrae (November 30, 1872 – January 28, 1918) was a Canadian poet, physician, author, artist and soldier during World War I and a surgeon during the battle of Ypres. He is best known for writing the famous war memorial poem In Flanders Fields.
McCrae was born in McCrae House in Guelph, Ontario, the grandson of Scottish immigrants. He attended the Guelph Collegiate Vocational Institute. John became a member of the Guelph militia regiment.
McCrae worked on his BA at the University of Toronto from 1892-3. He took a year off his studies at the University of Toronto due to recurring problems with asthma.
He was a member of the Toronto militia, The Queen's Own Rifles of Canada while studying at the University of Toronto, during which time he was promoted to Captain and commanded the company.
Among his papers in the John McCrae House in Guelph, Ontario is a letter John McCrae wrote on July 18, 1893 to Laura Kains while he trained as an artilleryman at the Royal Military College of Canada in Kingston, Ontario. "...I have a manservant .. Quite a nobby place it is, in fact .. My windows look right out across the bay, and are just near the water’s edge; there is a good deal of shipping at present in the port; and the river looks very pretty.’ [1]
He was a resident master in English and Mathematics in 1894 at the OAC in Guelph, Ontario. [2]
He returned to the University of Toronto and completed his B.A. McCrae later studied medicine on a scholarship at the University of Toronto. While attending the university he joined the Zeta Psi Fraternity (Theta Xi chapter; class of 1894) and published his first poems.
He completed a medical residency at the Garrett Hospital, a Maryland children's convalescent home. [2]
In 1902, he was appointed resident pathologist at Montreal General Hospital and later also became assistant pathologist to the Royal Victoria Hospital Montreal. In 1904, he was appointed an associate in medicine at the Royal Victoria Hospital. Later that year, he went to England where he studied for several months and became a member of the Royal College of Physicians.
In 1905, he set up his own practice although he continued to work and lecture at several hospitals. He was appointed pathologist to the Montreal Foundling and Baby Hospital in 1905. In 1908, he was appointed physician to the Royal Alexandra Hospital for Infectious Diseases.
In 1910, he accompanied Lord Grey, the Governor General of Canada, on a canoe trip to Hudson Bay to serve as expedition physician .
McCrae served in the artillery during the Second Boer War, and upon his return was appointed professor of pathology at the University of Vermont, where he taught until 1911 (although he also taught at McGill University in Montreal, Quebec)
When the United Kingdom declared war on Germany at the start of World War I, Canada, as a Dominion within the British Empire, declared war as well. McCrae was appointed as a field surgeon in the Canadian artillery and was in charge of a field hospital during the Second Battle of Ypres in 1915. McCrae's friend and former student, Lt. Alexis Helmer, was killed in the battle, and his burial inspired the poem, In Flanders Fields, which was written on May 3, 1915 and first published in Punch Magazine, London.
From June 1, 1915 McCrae was ordered away from the artillery to set up No. 3 Canadian General Hospital at Dannes-Camiers near Boulogne-sur-Mer, northern France. C.L.C. Allinson reported that McCrae "most unmilitarily told [me] what he thought of being transferred to the medicals and being pulled away from his beloved guns. His last words to me were: 'Allinson, all the goddam doctors in the world will not win this bloody war: what we need is more and more fighting men.'"[3]
'In Flanders Fields' appeared anonymously in Punch on December 8, 1915, but in the index to that year McCrae was named as the author. The verses swiftly became one of the most popular poems of the war, used in countless fund-raising campaigns and frequently translated (a Latin version begins In agro belgico...). 'In Flanders Fields' was also extensively printed in the United States, which was contemplating joining the war, alongside a 'reply' by R. W. Lillard, ("...Fear not that you have died for naught, / The torch ye threw to us we caught...").
For eight months the hospital operated in Durbar tents (donated by the Begum of Bhopal and shipped from India), but after suffering storms, floods and frosts it was moved up to Boulogne-sur-Mer into the old Jesuit College in February 1916.
McCrae, now "a household name, albeit a frequently misspelt one",[4] regarded his sudden fame with some amusement, wishing that "they would get to printing 'In F.F.' correctly: it never is nowadays"; but (writes his biographer) "he was satisfied if the poem enabled men to see where their duty lay."[5]
On January 28, 1918, while still commanding No 3 Canadian General Hospital (McGill) at Boulogne, McCrae died of pneumonia. He was buried with full honours[6] in the Commonwealth War Graves Commission section of Wimereux Cemetery, just a couple of kilometres up the coast from Boulogne. McCrae's horse, "Bonfire", led the procession, his master's riding boots reversed in the stirrups. McCrae's gravestone is placed flat, as are all the others, because of the sandy soil.
McCrae was the co-author, with J. G. Adami, of a medical textbook, A Text-Book of Pathology for Students of Medicine (1912; 2nd ed., 1914). He was the brother of Dr. Thomas McCrae, professor of medicine at John Hopkins Medical School in Baltimore and close associate of Sir William Osler.
McCrae was the great uncle of former Alberta MP David Kilgour and of Kilgour's sister Geills Turner, who married former Canadian Prime Minister John Napier Turner.
Several institutions have been named in McCrae's honour, including John McCrae Public School (part of the York Region District School Board in the Toronto suburb of Markham, Ontario), John McCrae Public School (in Guelph, Ontario), John McCrae Senior Public School (in Scarborough, Ontario) and John McCrae Secondary School (part of the Ottawa-Carleton District School Board in the Ottawa suburb of Barrhaven). The current Canadian War Museum has a gallery for special exhibits, called the The Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae Gallery. Guelph is home to McCrae House, a museum created in his birthplace.
The Cloth Hall of the city of Ieper (Ypres in English} in Belgium has a permanent war remembrance[8] called the In Flanders Fields Museum, named after the poem.
There are also a photograph and short biographical memorial to McCrae in the St George Memorial Church in Ypres.
Post Processing:
PS Elements 5: slight posterization
Smile on Saturday: Mini figures
I had a photo ready for SoS and then my husband brought home this "Baby Yoda" and that was that. It's actually an eraser about 3 cm high. (Plus it comes with a display stand.) The Mandalorian is a Pez dispenser. I used a pipe cleaner to give him a shoulder shape and then draped him in black fabric to serve as his cape.
Edit: That should say, shaped like a Pez dispenser. The top opens to reveal a lollypop, not to dispense Pez.
A foundling. A severe storm. A destroyed nest, a distraught parent with one living and one dead chick. A cool night on the ground, small predators, weasels, foxes. No chance of survival. Warmth in my hands, rescue, protection.
Ein Findelkind. Ein schweres Unwetter. Ein zerstörtes Nest, ein verzeifeltes Elterntier mit einem lebenden und einem toten Küken. Ein kühle Nacht am Boden, kleine Raubtiere, Wiesel, Füchse. Keine Chance zu überleben. Wärme in meinen Händen, Rettung, Schutz.
Had a lovely two day road trip to Scotland with great friends. We came to Troon beach to catch the sunset. I found this abandoned little bear on the sand. I had to use him in my photo. I wanted to take him home with us, but left him on a post with the hope he would be reunited.
Das Palais Toerring-Jettenbach ist ein ehemaliges Adelspalais in der Altstadt von München. Es wird auch als ehemalige Haupt- bzw. Residenzpost bezeichnet. Von dem Gebäude ist nur der klassizistische Nordflügel erhalten, den Leo von Klenze ab 1825 nach dem Vorbild des Findelhauses in Florenz hinzufügte. Ab 1825 entstand nördlich gegenüber der Königsbau der Residenz nach Vorbild florentinischer Renaissancepaläste. Die Nordfassade des Palais war bis dahin schmucklos geblieben, da sie an das Franziskanerkloster angrenzte. Das Kloster wurde zu jener Zeit abgerissen, wodurch der heutige Max-Joseph-Platz entstand. Leo von Klenze blendete der nun freistehenden Nordfassade eine florentinische Säulenhalle vor, das Palais selbst wurde 1836–1839 zur Haupt- bzw. Residenzpost umgewidmet. Der barocke Westflügel des eigentlichen Palais, das Ignaz Anton Gunetzrhainer ab 1747 errichtete, wurde 1944 beschädigt und danach abgerissen. Nach dem Auszug der Post wurden 2009 alle nicht denkmalgeschützten Teile des Gebäudes abgerissen, während der vollständig erhaltene Arkadengang Klenzes in einen Neubau einbezogen wurde. Über den Arkaden blieb der ehemalige Fernmeldesaal, bei seiner Eröffnung 1954 der größte in ganz Deutschland, als Opernsaal erhalten; eine Struktur, die baulich noch auf Klenze zurückgeht. Schließlich erfolgte unter dem Marketingnamen „Palais an der Oper“ der Umbau zu einem weiteren Luxusquartier an der Maximilianstraße mit Ladengeschäften, Gaststätten und Büroräumen.Die Mietwohnungen gehören zu den teuersten der Stadt. In den Arkaden befindet sich wieder ein Café.
de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Palais_Toerring-Jettenbach
The Palais Toerring-Jettenbach is a former aristocratic mansion in Munich's old town. It is also known as the former main post office or residence post office. Only the Neoclassical north wing of the building remains, which Leo von Klenze added in 1825, modelled on the Foundling Hospital in Florence. From 1825 onwards, it was built north of the Royal Palace of the Residence, modelled on Florentine Renaissance palaces. The north façade of the Palais had remained unadorned until then, as it adjoined the Franciscan monastery. The monastery was demolished at that time, creating what is now Max-Joseph-Platz. Leo von Klenze added a Florentine colonnade to the now free-standing north façade, and the palace itself was converted into the Main and Residence Post Office between 1836 and 1839. The Baroque west wing of the actual palace, which Ignaz Anton Gunetzrhainer built from 1747 onwards, was damaged in 1944 and subsequently demolished. After the post office moved out, all parts of the building that were not listed as historical monuments were demolished in 2009, while Klenze's completely preserved arcade was incorporated into a new building. Above the arcades, the former telecommunications hall, which was the largest in Germany when it opened in 1954, was preserved as an opera hall, a structure that still dates back to Klenze. Finally, under the marketing name ‘Palais an der Oper’, it was converted into another luxury quarter on Maximilianstraße with shops, restaurants and office space. The rental apartments are among the most expensive in the city. There is once again a café in the arcades.
are patron saints of babies, altar servers, children's choir, choir boys, choir girls, other little children who serve the Church, foundlings, infants, pro-life movement, small children, school children, the innocent and against ambition.
Explore at www.flickr.com/explore/2020/08/10
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