cooper & barb // pre-1.6, pre-war
wc: 404 // no warnings
Cooper always had a little apocalypse fantasy. Every straight white American man did back then. Granted, his didn’t ever involve a bunker or bomb shelter— he didn’t much care for confined spaces— but it featured a hefty dose of masculine heroics all the same.
He would use the knowledge he learned from his tour in Alaska (he never stopped going to the gun range after returning, even if just for the pastime— those prick neighbors of his who never served were kidding themselves by stocking up on firearms they didn’t know how to use) to dispatch any attacker who came for his wife and daughter. Then he’d scoop them both up on horseback in valiant medieval fashion and ride out to Bakersfield, where he would grinningly surprise barb with the fact that he secretly bought a ranch. A sanctuary of sorts, miles away from any fighting. A little eden.
In his mind— as he dozed off in his chair at night, the TV blaring and a smoldering cigarette precariously dangling between his fingers— an acres-wide patch of grass like that could conceivably be so perfect, so special, so imbued with strange power, that if the bombs ever came for Los Angeles, it would gently disconnect itself from the earth and float out to space for a while. Just until Janey was older, and the world had got tired of fighting once and for all.
Then, like atomic clockwork, just as he was beginning to snore, Barb would flutter by in her nightgown and transfer the lit cigarette from his hand to the safety of an ash tray, kissing him gently on the forehead as fires raced in her mind.
Barb knew better than to fantasize about such things; fantasies are for those with the privilege of being oblivious to the real cog-motions of the world. Fantasies are dangerous and fleeting.
But the bombs were real. And her family was also real, and fragile, and small. These were the parameters she was given. She was not permitted to dream.
Still, let her husband dream on the couch as her daughter did in the next room. Let their imaginations find solace where she did not. Let them sleep soundly while she sat by the moonlit window with a pack of Big Boss in her trembling hands, chain smoking through the drapes and trying desperately— pointlessly— to tamp down the guilt and pain that wracked her heart.
I do (want it to be the best season with Mercedes) and that's probably the most painful part right now, you know. I think everyone in the team, they want it to be a great year, everyone's worked so hard, back at the factory. No less than they did ever before. For me, this whole journey, it has been massively emotional. Just because, I have so much love for this team. I'm not leaving 'cause I'm unhappy there, I'm not leaving because of relationship issues. Mercedes has supported me since I was 13. I love the brand, I love the people and they've been with me through thick and thin. So, it's definitely a strange transition at the moment - Lewis Hamilton
Award-winning journalist Charles Osgood, who anchored "CBS Sunday Morning" for 22 years and was host of the long-running radio program "The Osgood File," died Tuesday at home in New Jersey. He was 91.
The cause of death was dementia, his family said.
Osgood, a gifted news writer, poet and author, spent 45 years at CBS News before retiring in September 2016. Osgood began anchoring "CBS Sunday Morning" in 1994. During his run on the show it reached its highest ratings levels in three decades, and three times earned the Daytime Emmy as Outstanding Morning Program.
[...]
Often referred to as CBS News' poet-in-residence, Osgood was called "one of the last great broadcast writers" by Charles Kuralt, whom Osgood succeeded as host of the Sunday morning magazine program in 1994. But he did more than carry on a great American oral tradition; he could also play piano, organ, banjo, violin, and was an accomplished composer and lyricist who could also sing along. He employed his many talents inside and outside CBS, sometimes performing with professional orchestras such as The New York Pops, The Boston Pops and The Mormon Tabernacle Choir.
"To say there's no one like Charles Osgood is an understatement," said "Sunday Morning" executive producer Rand Morrison. "He embodied the heart and soul of 'Sunday Morning.' His signature bow tie, his poetry … just his presence was special for the audience, and for those of us who worked with him. At the piano, Charlie put our lives to music. Truly, he was one of a kind – in every sense."
Veteran broadcaster Jane Pauley, who succeeded Osgood as host of "Sunday Morning" in 2016, said, "Watching him at work was a masterclass in communicating. I'll still think to myself, 'How would Charlie say it?', trying to capture the elusive warmth and intelligence of his voice and delivery. I expect I'll go on trying. He was one of the best broadcast stylists and one of the last. His style was so natural and unaffected it communicated his authenticity. He connected with people. Watching him on TV, or listening on the radio, as I did for years, was to feel like you knew him, and he knew you. He brought a unique sensibility, curiosity and his trademark whimsy to 'Sunday Morning,' and it endures."
Former CBS Sunday Morning host Charles Osgood passed away at 91.
New! Cabaret at the kit kat Club NYC> Sunday Morning CBS' new interview upcoming !
📷 Credit: Sunday Morning on CBS News Producer Jay Kernis on Facebook : "If all goes well, on this week’s Sunday Morning Mo Rocca looks at the enduring popularity of the John Kander/Fred Ebb musical "Cabaret," from its debut in 1966 and the Oscar-winning Bob Fosse film, to the latest revival on Broadway, in a production titled "Cabaret at the Kit Kat Club." Correspondent Mo talks with actors Eddie Redmayne (who plays the Emcee), Gayle Rankin (Sally Bowles) and Bebe Neuwirth (Fraulein Schneider), and with designer Tom Scutt, about their goal of immersing the audience in the story".