We succeeded in taking that picture [from deep space], and, if you look at it, you see a dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever lived, lived out their lives. The aggregate of all our joys and sufferings, thousands of confident religions, ideologies and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilizations, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every hopeful child, every mother and father, every inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every superstar, every supreme leader, every saint and sinner in the history of our species, lived there on a mote of dust, suspended in a sunbeam.

The earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that in glory and in triumph they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of the dot on scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner of the dot. How frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Our posturing, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the universe, are challenged by this point of pale light.

Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity - in all this vastness - there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves. It is up to us. It's been said that astronomy is a humbling, and I might add, a character-building experience. To my mind, there is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly and compassionately with one another and to preserve and cherish that pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known.

Mo and I logged about 4,000 miles in 10 days on our trusty Honda steeds!

I will try to get pictures from the other cameras soon (or links to them).

The internet shows us that we are not so special...

I'm playing around with the format of the album posting, so give me any feedback that pops into your minds.

The washing machine broke, your dog ran away and the boss chewed you out. You need some chocolate, dearie, and we know where to get a fix.

Not just any chocolate fix, but the best in town.

The Akron area is paved with outrageous chocolate desserts, from the fallen chocolate souffle at Ken Stewart's Grille to the molten chocolate-bananas Foster extravaganza at Tangier. Almost every restaurant that takes itself seriously offers a dessert that promises to whap you with an intense chocolate experience.

If Akron had an official cake, it would be either the sponge and custard cake sold at Ninni's, Vincent's and other Italian bakeries, or the banana-pineapple cake sold for years at Budd's.

We're short one cake these days. Budd's closed a year ago and may never reopen. As I reported in August (and again here for those who missed the item and have called to inquire), Budd's owner Jim Montgomery is enjoying being a stay-at-home dad. The economy, too, is playing a role in his decision not to reopen the bakery now or maybe ever.

Anyway, to fill the cake gap, I nominate Red Velvet. The 1950s cake, dyed a deep red and slathered with white frosting, disappeared along with Howdy Doody from most areas of the country. But not the Akron area. We still eat it up.

So far, I've found Red Velvet cake at Osman's Pies in Stow (and stores that carry Osman's products) and Nicolino's Baking Emporium in the Hartville Market Place.