We love people still discovering the movie THE ROVER and appreciating Rob’s performance as REY. We found this comment by a FanGuy on Facebook today:

“Whether you loved "The Rover” or hated “The Rover”, Robert Pattinson should have been nominated for an Academy Award for his portrayal of the sympathetic and unsettling Rey. He reminded me of me in the strangest way.“



Hmph.  The ficlet I wanted to write you all for #ItsStillBeautiful, about Hannibal stealing all of Will’s dogs back for him, has decided to morph and become a ficlet about how Molly Formerly-Graham becomes a cat lady.  And that ficlet will not be done today as it’s going to need some serious rewriting, having morphed so much along the way.  But in the spirit of the thing I offer an excerpt. All you really need to know about this is that Winston has disappeared, and that Molly’s been making inroads in befriending a feral cat she found roaming her property, and that she just got a call from the FBI about a new set of Murder Husbands photos that have merged and seem to offer clues to Winston’s whereabouts:

Excerpt from The Untitled Molly-The-Cat-Lady Fic

Molly gives herself a while to calm down before she turns on the computer. First she lets the dogs in, counting heads as they roll past her in a wave of fur and tails.  Then she pours herself precisely one glass of wine.  Then she looks at the clock to make sure she has plenty of time before the bus drops Walter off.

Finally, she takes her laptop upstairs to find Sylvia.  She stretches out on the bed next to Syl, but not actually touching her, and she’s rewarded with the slow blink of feline approval.  They’re still working out their boundaries, Molly and Walter and Syl and the dogs, and Syl patrols hers with teeth and claws.  But she likes company, if it respects her space.  

Molly finds the cat oddly calming.  The dogs are always needing, always excitable, always in a tumult about something.  Syl understands about quiet and space, and on the rare occasions when she decides to let herself be petted, or to knead gently against Molly’s leg, it feels like Molly’s earned something precious.

She’s not sure it’s love for either of them yet, but it’s respect and cautious trust.  And sometimes Sylvia puts a velvet-soft paw on Molly’s arm to hold her still, and in those moments Molly’s not sure it’s not love, either.  

Syl’s probably not going to run off with a psychopathic murderer, so that’s something, anyway.  Which brings her to… ugh.

She powers up the laptop and flips quickly through the photos that have arrived in her email, as Jack promised.  Much later that night she’ll probably have the rest of the wine and make terrible life choices and read the Tattle Crime article that goes with them, but for now she just needs to see it for herself.

She’s never seen Will tan.  Even their honeymoon had ended up mostly rain. She doesn’t look too closely, except to let herself note that in addition to the tan and the shorter hair, he seems to be doing well physically.  At least well enough to be running down a beach with a multicolored brown mutt galloping along at his heels, ears perky, tongue lolling from his mouth in a grin. She focuses on the dog.

It could be any dog. There are so many fluffy brown mutts in the world.  Will could have picked up a stray that reminded him of his old life, for nostalgia’s sake.  

She knows he didn’t.  She knows that look on Winston’s face, as if he’s with the only person in the world he wants to be with.  (They’d joked about that, sometimes - most of the dogs had readily accepted her as Will’s equal, but Winston never really had.  He’d played favorites.)

Winston’s looking at Will.  Will’s looking at the camera, or maybe just past it, now that she lets herself look.  There’s someone he’s running toward, someone he’s happy to see.  She remembers that expression.

It would be nice to imagine it’s anyone other than Hannibal Lecter, but Molly’s not an idiot.  

Ugh, again. 

Party Like It’s 1951

Today’s post was written by Stephen Charla, Archivist at the National Archives at Philadelphia.

Recently, while processing records of the National Park Service, our staff ran across a fun set of photographs.  In a folder of correspondence sent from Shenandoah National Park to the Park Service’s Southeast Regional Office, we found a memorandum sent by Shenandoah’s new superintendent to his boss, the Regional Director.  The park superintendent attached photos of the annual party of the Shenandoah Employees Association, held at the park’s Big Meadows Lodge on April 13, 1951.

Most of the photos show the park’s employees, the park’s concessioners, and their spouses playing a number of party games, including:

An “egg relay,” in which participants needed to beat one another to the finish line while balancing raw eggs on demitasse spoons;

A “husband guessing contest,” in which women were blind-folded and had to figure out which of the men seated in front of them were their husbands, but could only use their sense of touch to do so;

A “cracker eating contest,” in which party guests tried to whistle “Yankee Doodle” while eating crackers;

And the game pictured in the photo here, in which some of the men present were challenged to remove oranges tucked between the neck and shoulders of some of the women, without using their hands.

It’s hard to imagine that in the days before social media, any of these partygoers would have believed that a photographic record of their antics that evening could resurface 65 years later.

Curious to know what else you might uncover in our National Park Service holdings?  You can make an appointment to view them in our research room by calling us at 215-305-2044 or e-mailing us at

Photograph titled “The Tall and the Short of It”; Attachment to a memorandum from Guy D. Edwards, Superintendent, Shenandoah National Park, to Regional Director, Region One, dated April 26, 1951; Box 75; General Files of the Regional Director; Southeast Region (Region 1); Record Group 79, Records of the National Park Service; National Archives at Philadelphia (Record Entry ID: PH-3521) (NAID: 1308690)