The Last Train from Hiroshima: The Survivors Look Back by Charles Pellegrino

I am fascinated by the science of atomic bombs (read American Prometheus), yet a devout pacifist. I would like to believe that if The Last Train from Hiroshima by Charles Pellegrino was required reading in high school history classes, we’d never have to worry about atomic war again. But I know that’s not true. War isn’t about what makes sense, it’s about power, or if you’re so inclined, standing up against tyranny, but whatever the motivation, it will never go away.

Aside from the following facts, I loved this book: (1) The author has, under huge criticism, admitted that he was duped by one of his information sources. The books were supposedly recalled and edits made (about 5 pages). (2) The stories are horrifying, graphic and soul crushing. FYI, James Cameron has optioned this book for a movie....

How could I love a book like this? Because I loved the way that Charles Pelligrino clinically broke down the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki to nano seconds, dissecting the mechanics of the bombs in a way I’ve never heard before, i.e., “One ten-millionth of a second later, a sphere of gamma rays escaped the core at light speed.” Click on Read More.

One Hundred Things My Mother Taught Me A Million Times - Chapter 28

#28 – “Always compliment a man on his tie.  That will start the conversation on him and he will be flattered.”
(Mom - with Bruce Todd - totally busted! Bruce was Mayor of Austin, then County Commissioner and my boss.)

My mother was a shameless flirt, even when she was 85-years-old, even when she was 95! I vividly recall one particular incident at Las Palomas Restaurant in Westlake. We were celebrating her 80-something birthday and she was so “involved” with one of the waiters that we could have left the table, gone shopping, returned an hour later and no one would have noticed. I thought we were going to have to tell them to get a room.

Mother’s flirtations were never ever crude though. You may recall my saying that the naughtiest thing I ever heard come out of my mom’s mouth was “d-e-e-r-n,” which I suppose was a throttled-back damn or dang. Her flirtations were more like a Sally Rand fan dance, no flesh revealed, but plenty of titillation. I cannot tell you how many times I saw some hunk lured into the dance. You could see the evolution of attitude on their faces:
1. Ah, what a sweet old lady. I should be nice.
2. Gaud, is this old bitty flirting with me?
3. OK, so she’s a pretty funny ole’ gal.
4. Un huh, well, I got some stuff too. Take that!
5. Woo hoo, this is fun, but I sure hope that no one I know is watching.
6. OK, I’m blushing. Uncle!
Click on Read More.