Heading Back South

Well, not everyone in the family tree actually made it to the Pearson Fest this year. My Dad, Robert Whiton Pearson, didn't make it, nor did the more distant relatives here in the Smithsonian Natural History Museum make it, either.

Maybe next year, let's all hope. Always nice to talk to your relatives before they're dead. Makes the conversation a lot less stiff, so to speak.


This is the Pearson Diamond, also at the Natural History Museum. Nice rock, eh? You might have to double click the image to read the title down below on the right side of the picture. I tried to tell them at the museum it was mine, I showed ID and everything. But, for now, the Smithsonian still has their grubby, greedy little hands wrapped around it.


And, speaking of grubby, greedy little hands, here's the where the guys who spend your tax dollars hang out, when they come to work at all, that is.


Nice kitty. Snow leopard, I think. Can't keep it off the dern furniture, as you can see.


Some wild, wacky art structure near the Art Museum. Kind of a cool, structure. All held up by tension and gravity.


This is the Kudzu Memorial, at National Airport, that John was kind enough to show Bob and I. Cool place.


And, of course, John and Bob, looking at the Big Picture of National. I really like this shot.