London, England Today I went to the National Portrait Gallery, wherein you will not find two notable Americans. But there are famous Brits galore, and I challenge my local friends to identify all whom I showcase here.
However, today we Yankees also celebrate the birthday of George Washington, born in 1732. (The Father of our country must be turning over in his grave to see what time has done to our poor country. But, we will try to soldier on.)
Another very special American — in my book, at least — is my pal Don, who also celebrates a birthday today.
He is still incapacitated by a bad cold and spent the day in bed.
I made the outing to the National Portrait Gallery on his behalf. That was a fitting destination, as George Washington himself is memorialized nearby on Trafalgar Square, in front of the National Gallery, with a statue placed on a parcel of American soil.
How then to honor Don? There was no time to commission a statue. However, I was able to commission a bespoke poem from a clever young man who wasted no time being inspired by the occasion.
I’m certain Don will treasure it always.
Now, on to the museum. Yes, it has plenty of stiff and stuffy old kings and queens in all their finery.
But it has very contemporary collections of portraits, photographs and sculptures of people you feel you know.
From Nelson Mandela to the Beatles to Florence Nightingale, they are all here, in various media, captured in a moment in time.
Such a treat to see people of your own world staring back at you, though some I could have done without.
All in all, a lovely day, except for missing the birthday boy.