I thought of this when reading a piece yesterday in the Times, "Here’s Lucy! ‘Scary’ Statue Is Replaced With One That Looks Like Her." (That's the replacement statue, above.)
I have to admit, that's a heck of a picture of Donna Reed. A friend of mine once told me that when he was young he thought his mother was the most beautiful woman in the world. That's probably not uncommon. But even I don't think my mother was as beautiful as Donna Reed.
Why is any of this important? It's not, I guess. Just thinking about my mother.