Muri McCage

Author published in Analog and several anthologies. Screenwriter who has advanced well in competitions.

[Muri McCage @MuriMcCage]

Very into photography, with smart phone and Nikon D 3400. You can check out my Fine Art America Gallery here:
https://t.co/D0Dc3hsCYp;

[rinoire @Rinoire]

#TargaTuesday

[Elle Lookbook @EvaLovesDesign]

Yes, a thousand times yes.
Let’s go ✨

[The Figen @TheFigen_]

He will always remain a legend.

[Rosie Lee 🇬🇧🇬🇧 (Rho) @RosieLee777]

Today's picture

[PROTECT ALL WILDLIFE @Protect_Wldlife]

#FoxOfTheDay 🦊.

A stunning image of a Fox peering over a snow drift in the Republic of Karelia.

Image Credit: Mikhail Kalinin.

@ChrisGPackham

[Fascinating @fasc1nate]

Princess Diana, 1991.

See more photos: https://t.co/Pgcn2bknZu

[Nature Beauty @naturebeautyh]

Sunset🌇🌞

[𝙈𝙖𝙟𝙖 𝙎𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙖  @MajaSenda]

©Fabio Pelinga

[Mike Netter @nettermike]

In 1955, when CBS offered Bob Keeshan his own children’s show, he didn’t ask for a bigger paycheck or more airtime—just one radical condition: no commercials aimed at children.
Executives stared in disbelief. Kids’ TV was advertising. It sold toys, sugar, and Saturday mornings. But Keeshan simply said, “If I sell to them, I lose them.” With that quiet defiance, he didn’t just create Captain Kangaroo—he created a sanctuary in a noisy world.
Before the red coat, the jingling keys, and the gentle smile millions grew up with, Keeshan had seen the darker edges of humanity. At eighteen, he joined the Marine reserves during World War II. He never saw combat, but the discipline and the shadows of war stayed with him. “I learned what fear does to people,” he later said. “And I promised myself I’d never be the reason a child felt small.”
When television was still new, he found work as Clarabell the Clown on The Howdy Doody Show. For forty dollars a week, he honked a horn and never spoke a word. Kids loved him—but he didn’t love what he saw. The noise, the slapstick, the relentless advertising. “It was chaos disguised as entertainment,” he recalled. So when CBS handed him the keys to his own show, he unlocked something rare: gentleness.
Captain Kangaroo began not with shouting, but with silence—then the slow swing of a door and the Captain’s warm voice: “Good morning, children.” No tricks. No hype. Just kindness. He filled the show with warmth—Mr. Green Jeans, Bunny Rabbit, Grandfather Clock—and lessons that never scolded but always cared.
Producers begged him for cereal sponsors and action-figure tie-ins. He refused them all. “Children need calm more than candy,” he told CBS executives, his tone as firm as it was tender. Over the next thirty years, that conviction made Captain Kangaroo the longest-running children’s program in network history—more than six thousand episodes of laughter, empathy, and unhurried wonder.
Offscreen, Keeshan became a tireless advocate for early education. He lobbied Congress against marketing to children, warning that “we’re not raising consumers—we’re raising people.” He earned six Emmys, three Peabody Awards, and the undying affection of a generation who trusted him completely.
When asked late in life why he never raised his voice on camera, he smiled.
“The world already teaches them to shout,” he said softly. “I wanted to teach them to listen.”
Bob Keeshan didn’t just entertain children—he protected them.
He proved that true strength doesn’t roar. It whispers, patiently, with love.

[Mike Hudema @MikeHudema]

Good news for this little guy! Thousands of acres of koala habitat (8,400 hectares (21,000 acres) of forest) are now protected and offlimits to logging in New South Wales: https://t.co/Os4xFPjRxS

Nature is amazing. Protect it. #ActOnClimate

#climate #biodiversity

[FruitfulPuzzles @onmyway1133]

Do you know what this is ?

[Liza @lizaphoto20]

how hope travels
#photography

[390k 😊 Paris Paname 🔄 @ParisAMDParis]

La Maison Rose, rue des Saules et de l'Abreuvoir, Montmartre.
c.1950. Paris 18e

[Tracy Shuchart (𝒞𝒽𝒾 ) @chigrl]

Van Gogh died broke because nobody wanted his paintings. He sold maybe one during his entire life. The art world thought his style was too immature. His brother Theo, an art dealer, kept him alive by sending money constantly.

When Van Gogh passed in 1890, his brother, Theo died just six months later. That left Theo's wife Jo as a 28 year old widow with a baby and about 900 paintings nobody wanted, plus hundreds of letters.

Here's what actually mattered. Van Gogh had written hundred of letters letters to Theo and Jo explaining individual paintings and his life as an artist. He told them the stories behind each work, what he was trying to express, what each one meant to him.

After both brothers died, Jo remembered these letters and published them.

That's what made him famous. People could read Van Gogh's own words about each painting. The works stopped being random art and became stories he had experienced. The paintings got context directly from him explaining what he was doing. Jo gave the world Van Gogh's voice attached to his work.

By the time she died in 1925, he had gone from total unknown to art historical icon.

[Helen Day @LBFlyawayhome]

Beautiful everyday Ladybird things.
‘Marbles’ (1959)
Artist: G Robinson