VIEW FROM INSIDE THE HIVE

Many year ago I spent an enjoyable hour inside a bee hive.

It was possible at that time, during World War II when I was stationed with the 467the Bomb Group, USAF, airbase at the village of Rackheath, Norfolk County, England, just four miles or north of the city of Norwich.

A large, walk-in bee hive was a feature at that time among the exhibits in the old Norman Castle which rises on a three hundred foot man-made hill in downtown Norwich not too far from the high spire of Norwich Cathedral. I say “was” because , when I visited Norwich twenty-nine years later, I chanced to be waiting at a bus stop in downtown Norwich. I got to talking with a local citizen who was waiting for his wife to meet him from Christmas shopping. I had been walking about the city and we benched and chatted for a time. It turned out that he had been one of the men charged with care of the large, glass walled, walk-in honey bee hive in the Castle Museum. He told me it had been discontinued as an economy measure after the war.

The Castle has just undergone a full scale modernization and restoration and it is my hope that the hive was reconstituted. If not, there will be marked lacuna waiting me the next time I get to visit the sturdy old fortress.

The bees had access through openings in thick stone walls of the castle to the bountiful Castle Garden outside, and on the sunny day I was there they were one busy bunch of bees. The narrow corridors one went trough had to watch them had glass panels on either side and the place was only dimly lit so you could watch hundreds, perhaps thousands of bees going their systematic ways each one busy about their assigned hive job. Although the openings were not visible from that interior point, I imagined the air-conditioning bees stationed on the uppermost area of the tunnels near the opening were fanning away to keep the hive properly air-conditioned and in touch with the floral displays outside in the Castle Gardens.

“Topic” has readers in England, and anyone in Norwich or East Anglia in general, who knows if he bees are back in the restored and renovated castle, might drop me an e-mail line to let me know if the new hive is thriving.

I have many other pleasant memories of my three-year stay in the area and especially of the fine people I came to know so well. I arrived early, months before the Bomb Group and the B-24's came in. There were a hundred and six of us, I think. We shared our set-up tasks with an RAF group some of whom had returned from Malta. The second advantage I had was that I was assigned to play bass with the 467th dance orchestra named the “AirLiners” and we got to travel about a great deal. We were regulars at St. Andrews Guild Hall on Friday nights when were “at home.”

Odd, isn't it, that of all many more important events events and memories, one that should be trivia stays so close to me, watching The live bees at work inside the Castle building stocking their own castle.

A. L.M. November 29. 2002 [c551wds]

 
POSITIVE VALUES

Most of the time, when talk turns to the 1929 and the 1930's - the era marked by the Great Depression - we hear about all the miseries of that time.

I have found that if I try to say anything good about those years, I am greeted with obvious signs of disbelief.

Yes, there was misery aplenty. There were shortfalls in every facet of life in those days and the stories about doing without things are not at all exaggerated., but it was also a time in which we learned lessons about many facets of living. I would not recommend it as method by which one might learns such things, but it did have some positive values.

I can remember on such event now that winter weather is with us and the ice is frozen solid on ponds. The ice froze just as firm in those days as it does today, but we were without skates, so we made our own. Here's how it was done.

We took pair of old automobile license plates which were larger then than they are today. It was necessary to cut a slot in edge of the tag. I remember punching such holes with a screw driver and hammer perhaps half an inch back from the edge of the plate. Using old belts or pieces of reins which were hanging everywhere in old sheds and barn, we laced the strap under the foo, down, then up through the slots to pull the metal up when the belt was buckled across the foot. Next we fitted the skate to the individual by having him stand on the plate and using pliers to bend the two front corners over his shoe. A tight fit was essential.

At that stage one could slide on the ice but that was not skating. The next step was to find some old, rusty iron rods – finger-sized was best , if possible, an d then to cut them to at lest two,maybe four inches longer than the plate-skate under construction For pennies, the blacksmith around the corner from our house would bend the front end of the rod up in a graceful half circle and connect the rod, now a blade, to the keel of the plate-skate usually at three of four places - front, middle and rear- with a glob of white- hot metal. He dipped them in the nearby horse watering tough and out of the cloud of steam a new skate was launched.

Of course, they were not really skate. We knew that, but they were better than nothing at all and we did many an hour on the ponds nearby using home-made ice skates.

In the same line, we used old cardboard boxes as toboggans or sleds. It was best to coat the bottom with candle wax which used up every stub of a candle in the area and some good ones, as well, I suppose. Wooden barrel staves, buckled on pretty much as we did the skates, served as our ski gear.

We have a set of place mats on our kitchen table today using art by Currier & Ives which reminds me of those skating days every time I see them ...a large frame house and down a small slope a frozen pond with kids skating around happily.

No, Great Depression Days talk need not be all negative.

A.L.M. November 27, 2002 _Thanksgiving Day [c579wds]

 

NEIGHBORHOOD-ISM

Is there hope for the re-establishment of a neighborhood feeling in our cities ? Does more mean better?

I bring those two related questions because I notice our nearest city, the urban center in which we shop most frequently, is developing into complex grouping of pairs, or more, of business firms which seem to be placed to serve a segment of the nearby residents. We went through a phase of intensification when businesses tended to head for the Mall on the edge of town. That mall, of course, has now being overwhelmed with new shopping centers on every side of it, and while it continues to do well, so do the stores at other locations – some of them duplicates of the Mall shops.

Ours is a small city with a population of around thirty-thousand. It is fortunate to have a large area from which it draws shoppers in a least twice that number It has two universities and another college nearby which is a factor of great importance with seasonal jumps of about fifteen thousand residents. Construction of apartments and town houses continues unabated ,much of as student housing. The city fathers have wisely provided well in advance to meet increasing traffic and utility needs and to control
the growth of the city and to refurbish the downtown area which has, like many others, suffered a measure of blight.. Right now, it sports the lowest unemployment rate in the State of Virginia up a bit to l.4%.

A small city, you might say, and growing.

This small city now has two Wal-Mart Super Stores, with a third one under construction and no talk, thus far, of closing one of the others We have five Food Lion stores and three or four more in small towns in the area. Three Radio Shack stores are making a living, two McDonald's, three major book outlets, and another opening soon. Pairs are endless all over two in the fast food stores, pizza shops and convenience stores, auto supply shops, gas stations, banks and ethic restaurants abound.

And, if you watch carefully you will see a family tendency to try to live pretty much within the section of town in which their home is located. They bank at the branch nearest them; the visit the food store nearby, they do all they can as close to home as possible. They go outside the neighborhood area for employment, for medical care, and for entertainment and much of their neighborhood shopping, such as food, health and vanity needs, is done as they are going in-or- out of the larger community.

For those of us who saw merit in the old neighborhood scheme, this appears to be a blessing we can come to enjoy all over again, with modifications, of course. Go with the flow of progress, it seems, and you will find we “progress” in large circles. We tend to re-try what we have done before with subtle changes, of course, which - we hope - will make it be an even better time way of living.

a.l.m. November 27, 2002 [c519wds]

 
CAPTAIN FLOYD

Most sea captains we read about made more than one voyage but that is not true about Captain Floyd. He made one and that was it.

The first Floyds to come to America were two brothers from Wales and they settled on the eastern shore edge of Virginia. One of those brothers had son named William. He married Abileah Davis, from Amherst County in central Virgnia who was of Indian decent. John Floyd was their son, and he was born about 1750.

Growing up on the Eastern Shore he became well acquainted with sea going people and with various types of ships. He married at age eighteen. His wife, fourteen years old when they married, died within the year. John left the Eastern Shore to begin life anew as a school teacher in Botetourt across the Blue Ridge Mountians in Southwest Virgnia.

When not engaged in school teaching, John clerked or“wrote in the office” of Col.William Preston the County Surveyor and he also acted as a deputy for Col. William Chrisian who was High Sheriff . Until 1773 he lived with Col. Preston at “Smithfield” which was then in Fincastle County.

At that time, the county embraced most of what is now Kentuckey and Col. Preston appointed John Floyd as a deputy and sent him to survey lands along the Ohio river.

Later, in 1775, when he returned to "Smithfield”, John Floyd became engaged to Jane Buchanon, daughter of Col. John Buchanan; grand daughter of Col James Patton and second cousin of Col. Preston.

After the signing of the Declaration of Independence, three gentlemen of the area decided to buy, of all things, a sea-going schooner named “The Phoenix”. Dr. Thomas Walker, Edmund Pendeleton and Col. Preston formed the company and they had the ship fitted out as privateer. They gave commnd of the ship to John Floyd .

One can only guess their purpose in getting in to the merchandise shipping busness, which was, at that time, in particularly the "privateering" aspect of it all, was suspect. It was about as close to piracy as one could get. It started during the time of Elizbeth I and continued, virtually unabated, until 1819 in most areas of Earth's troubled waterways.

The “Phoenix”, commanded by Captain John Floyd, started on a West Indies cruise and soon captured a merchantman with a rich cargo. Floyd, thinking, his fortune already made, decide to go home, but just before they came within sight of the Virginia capes, "The Pheonix" was overtaken and captured by a British Man-0f-War. Captain Floyd was taken, in irons, to England where he was held in prison for nearly a year.

The unbelievable part of it today – actions we have seen in a score of movies - insists the jailer's daughter obtained the key to his cell and let him out. He begged his way to Dover where he found a clergyman who, it seems ,was in the habit of helping in such situations. He concealed him until he could arrange passage to France.

The French people gave him bread and grapes and Dr. Benjamin Franklin, at Paris, furnished him means of returning to the United States.

John Floyd retuned to “Smithfield” to a joyful reception. Miss Buchanon broke off her engagement to one Col .Robert Sayers, and married Floyd in November 1778. They had three sons and one daughter. John Floyd was morally wounded in an Indian attack when he and his brother were retirning from Salt River to Floyd's Station. His brother got him on horseback and managed to get him home, but he died the next day. Ten days later his third son was born....his mother named him John.

That was April 24, 1783. Two hundred nineteen years ago.

Yet, it could do very well, I think, as a novel, a movie or TV special today.

A.L.M. November 26, 2002 [c631wds]

 
DISCOVERY

“I have found a new friend!”

Those words are certainly among the most promising you can hear yourself say. You may not say them aloud, but you will know.. you will sense that someone new and special has come into your life. You have found someone who will be your associate in all that you do; someone with whom you will share innumerable treasures.

A good friendship is a new source of wealth for you. With proper care and good management it will earn is own keep and and actually grow in value.

A friend shares his blessing with you, and you respond in the same manner. There is no prescise starting point at which this begins, no recess period once started, and no closing time.

Friendship becomes a binding ageement without any legal documents having been drawn up. It is a mutual understanding in which one will always stand ready to respect the views and feelings of the other. Both may be totally unaware that such conditions exist.

It cannot be said that it is all a happy time and a joy forever. Far from it. A true friend stands by you through "thick or thin"; through "in sickness and in health" and it is just such distressful times that demonstrate the validity of the relationship.It can either be underscored and strengthed by such moments, or blighted. Occasionally, it all just ceases to be with the same mysterious phases by which it came to be. It never leaves forever, I like to believe. The spark is stlll there, and may be revived by gentle, loving breeze to bring remembered warmth back into your lives once more.

And we must always remember that friendships are a two-way street.

At this very moment someone may see you as you go about your daily affairs; hear you express ideas they think are valid and true; listen to others and what they say of your ways of doing things and wondering how they can go about becoming a friend of ours.

You showcase yourself in everything you say or do.

A.L.M. November 25, 2002 [c428wds]

 
ERSATZ REALISM

We have had just about enough faked realism on our TV screens! Isn't it about time for some fantasy, fable and fun? Some enlightenment, perhaps?

In recent months, we have pushed the realism envelope a bit too far I'm afraid until it has become evident that much of the material was contrived, faked, or severely modified while claiming to be actual happenings in progress live from some of the most outrageous settings in the world.

Oddly enough thus is not a new situation at all. There are quite a few persons out there who continue to believe the "Six Million Dollar Man" stories of many years ago were the true story of an Air Force pilot restored electonically to fight and win the magnifienct battles which were the core of the series. Others accept the "Gilligan's Island" actors as being really shipwreaked on a distant island.

This past seaon gave rise to two monsters - the quiz/money shows and the realism series. Both were borrowed from England. The very same people who are cointinually poking fun at the old-fashioned ways of Eruopean television, have to get their new shows from the very place they so often deride as being stuffy and bound by trandition which forbids innovation and creativity.

That's where we acquired "Millionaire" - from jolly 'ole, up-tight Britain - which quickly spawned a dozen or more immitators . One by one, each network had to have its version of a kindred format. It is interesting to see that, while all the others have gone toes-up, or wherever and in what position dud-Tv shows go, wlth the "Millionaire" continuing to do well l with Meridith Vieira overseeing the "hot seat" area. "Millionaire" survives without Regis Philbin who is now one himself. and quite busy with other things he, wisely, never gave up. One good thing came out of all of hese quiz/money shows and that was a restoration, for a time, at least, of two respected emcee personalities from the past -: Maury Povich and Bob Eurbanks.

Isn't it time now for Ameican television to start to live up to the reputation it has built around the world as being vibrant, strong, and energentic - not only in the technical sense, but also from the standpoint of creation of inspiring, useful enjoyable program materials. Certainly, the world is full of writers who think along such lines. The industry, largely from sheer laziness, has accepted, without question, the antiquated, self-serving mode of literary agents - the same system used by film companies from the silent movie days.

We now need a totally new way of developing televison materials. Competitions through schools of all levels, plus scholarships to keep them filled with would be writers and artists who will become a positive, practical, immeasurably better way - a real step forward looking to a time when TV script production will be a planned, rather than a hapazard operation. We cannot go on much longer being content to exixt on printed materials adapted to the small screen. Television, here in America, is now old enough, wise enough, strong enough to start doing more things on its own.and one of them is the creation of new materials.

When you watch "Jeopardy" and "Wheel of Fortiune", two successful shows past years which have continued. through sysdication, and are still popular, notice the quick credit at the end which reads: "Created by Merv Griffin" We need more "Merv's" in production and management, just as we need new writers.

A.L.M. November 24, 2002 [c526wds]

 
BOY TIME BASEBALL

We had our own, individual brand of baseball as kids.

It cannot be referred to as “sandlot” play, because we lived in limestone country and our playing field was a grassy plot with some stone outcroppings. At home plate, and at the base locations, it soon became hard, packed clay with just a hint of a path leading from one to the other.

It was a wonderful past-time, and I dare say that is why, to this day, baseball remains my favorite sport over all others to be seen on TV. Saturday was our main school-time day depending the weather. Summer extended play until dusk.

We played under a host of ”Ground Rules” formulated to meet the limitations of the area. Anyone could play largely because it was hard to get enough the make up two teams. Girls were included on occasion when we were short of players.

We had some sort of ritual for choosing up sides, as I remember. The two oldest, and usually the loudest, boys tossed a bat high into the air and other other caught it well down on the heavy end as possible. He grasped it firmly and the other chooser put is hand above the original and the one who held the bat the longest, even by the very tips of his fingers won the first choice. He won the right to make his selection from the rooster of players around them. There was also a special step to this selection process at times, but I can't remember why. The winner of the toss had to hold the bat by whatever grip he ended up with - maybe even the tips of his fingers – and the opposition man got to kick the bat three times. If he dislodged it, he became the winner. If not, the fist winner got two “first” choices. We called this disaster addition “Double or Nothing” and it was a “I double dare you!” item.

There was an amazing amount of team spirit, too, once the sides had been chosen. The biggest and best players where chosen first and my brother and I were always down in the middle somewhere. At times we took big league team names and the umpire, if we had one at all, was a community kid who didn't play and be successful managers. The town's main street backed our Home Plate which made it all very interesting when the town's only trolley car went buzzing past. People on the street car turned to look at us and we turned to look at them. On our right a solid brick wall of a three storied building behind which rested the local Chevrolet car dealership. No windows. Out in right field, however, we had an automobile paint shop which did have windows... three of them with small panes. Mr. Whitt, who ran the shop, must have been a boy himself at one time, because he eventually bought a wooden case of window panes, the small size, packed in a sawdust. when we broke a pane - which happened now an then - whoever broke it had to go fix it. Center field was wide open to the next block and the apartment house in which we lived was on our left far enough away to be out of the fly ball zone as a rule.

Consider the amount of proper baseball equipment we did not have, it is amazing how well we go along. Most of us had gloves of some sort. What we then called “painter's caps “ subbed for heavier billed baseball caps, and he most honored among us actually possessed a baseball. The were finely crafted things in that day, made in Haiti, far better, of course, that those we get today from Costa Rica. At least we considered them to be wonderful creations. The twined, cord body was sturdy and, once the cover had been shattered and blown to bit by a mighty wallop, the remainder could be covered with black insulation tape kept for months until a new ball came as a Birthday or Christmas gift. There was built-in, automatic feature. When a fly ball developed a black tail and appeared as a comet streaming through the sky, we knew it was time to re-tape the ball.

None of us every made the big leagues, of course, even the minors, for that matter, but we did have lots of good, outdoor and inexpensive fun. I re-live some of it today when I watch the Atlanta “Braves” play on TV.I remember losing interest when we had recurrent “Subway Series”. This year we had a “Shakey Side Series” but our “Sandlot Series” play has meant a lot to us over the years and shadows of it reappear frequently.

A.L.M. November 23, 2002 805wds]

 
MAXIMUM MAXIMS

Do you have a favorite family saying? It may come from something your Grandmother used to say or it can be straight out of Ben Franklin's “Poor Richard's Almanac”. It could even be something you “made up” which is always there in the back of your mind to help you do the right thing when you have decisions to make.

It may be such a guide line is more important you than you realize, too, because we tend to cover up such homely things in favor of those with more novelty and show about them.

Mine is something my mother used to tell us when we were children and it has stuck with me all these years. It has proved itself worthy many times during my life. It is so simple and directly, I hesitate to set it forth as an “example”.

It reads: “Always leave a room better than when you found it” .

It urges me to always try make a difference, small though it might be, with everything I try to do It ,no doubt, was originally intended to concern itself with homemaking and with keep a house in good order. It still works for me and I have found that, in my particular phase of housekeeping at my desk, in my writing area other such places. The simple rule of leaving the area “better than I found it” actually eliminates a great deal work later when we finally reach that point when can do little else than rearrange things, discard clutter,or do what my Pennsylvania Dutch ancestors used to call “redding up”... putting things is order as if you were expecting company.

“Always leave a room better than you found it.” Remember that idea. The exact words may vary a great deal, to give you some leeway from time to time. It can be made less demanding: “Try to leave every room better..etc....” Or, stricter: “See to it that you always leave..etc.”.

After a while the action becomes natural. Even if I am just passing though a room, searching, let's say, looking for our always for our meandering TV “channel changer”, I find myself re-stacking magazines on a table or pushing a chair into the proper formation to help make the room “right”.


My particular maxim proves to be elastic and can be made to apply readily to many aspects of living, not just homemaking. I would imagine you might do the same, but you, first, need such an addition to your inner life before you can modify it to suit your needs.

You are welcome to use mine if you find it meets your needs.

“Always leave a room better than you found it.”

A.L.M. November 23, 2002 [c459wd]

 

HOW? WHY?

Ogam, or Ogham was an ancient writing system used by the Celtic people of Ireland. It is not unusual to come across inscriptions, usually on stone, in Ireland and the British Isles; in a lettering style which resembles sticks placed in rows.

I find it to be of special interest, however, that the longest, translated Ogam inscription in the world is to be found in West Virginia!

The strange petrograph is to be seen at Horse Creek,West Virginia located on the southwestern end of the State in Mingo County next to the Kentucky line. Anoher smaller Ogam inscription is to be found in neighboring Wyoming County.

For years it was assumed the translation would need to be done through Celtic sources but all such trials were unsuccessful. The ten-foot long sign is in the form of a large bison or buffalo both in size and placement of the characters. Eventually it proved to be translatable only through the Basque language. Ancient writings hold that the Irish, at on time, carried on trade with Bay of Biscayne peoples.

The prevailing theory is that St. Brendan did, indeed, make a trip to the New World as Irish lore has insisted all along he had. That would be somewhere around 600 to 700 AD. It would also be a time when the most primitive native tribes occupied the area until exterminated by the Cherokees some decades later.

The theory also holds that the Irish people who made up the small group were Christians but of the Gnostic style centered in Alexandria and when Ireland, suddenly switched to being Roman Catholic, with all eyes turned to Rome, heretical group of Gnostics, thought to be in lands afar, were ignored and forgotten.

Other fragment Ogam markings are found in New Hampshire, Vermont, New York, Virginia and Pennsylvania, Colorado, Newfoundland, as well as those in Kentucky and West Virginia.


The translation of the text of the petroglyph at Horse Creek tells of a large buffalo hunt undertaken by a group. A passage had been walled off and closed and the plan is to stampede the herd into the trap where they would be run off a cliff and those not killed by the fall could then be clubbed to death for meat and hides. The plan went well and the herd stampeded with noisemaking and yelling. They, then, set about the butchering with which the visitors were not experienced. I wondered why they divided the meat and hides into three parts. Two insertions also excite our special curiosity. The writer notes, after the success of the killing, says the “clan mother” was ”pleased” with their cooperative effort. Later only the “clan mother” sees a large thunder storm developing and rush to the butchering site to warn them to get out of the canyon lest they be drowned in a wall of water which may come rushing down the canyon. She arrives just in time, too.

The inscription in Wyoming County gives a short version of the beginning of the Christmas story... speaking of Christ being born in a cave.

Many seem to think the Horse Creek writing was done by a Gnostic Priest in the group who could have been learned in the Basque language and also aware of maternally organized tribes.

Any World War II veterans visiting the the Ogam site, would certainly, look around expecting to see small signs or chalk markings reading: “O'Kilroy was here!”


A.L.M. November 21, 2002 [c583wds]

 
ARE WE THERE YET?

Parents, or almost anyone who has driven a car loaded with small children on a long trip, will know the import of the question: “Are We There
Yet?

Children are often curious and so full of anticipation concerning arrival at a destination - let's say, to the beach for a week - that they find it difficult to refrain from asking the question.

Now -the same situation but in a different guise - an adult one.. Let's shift ages and roles.

Think of President George W. Bush as the driver and all of us the kids in the back seat. We realize we are on a journey, a passage from one point to another We long for a return o prosperity;repeat the “ Good Times” we think we remember so well. Most of us have confidence that the driver know where he is going, so it's largely a matter of time and patience. We don't want to wait, however, so we ask again: “Are We There Yet?”

Just as Dad did when he was driving, he had an answer ready, but it was to simple and direct; too factual for our ideas of a proper reply. So, he turned to Mom seated there beside him and she could see the frustrated. quizzical -“What'll-I-do-now!” look in his eye. She turns and calmly explains the situation to us.

In our adults version this would be Bush staffers and associates – Condoleeza Rice or Colin Powell, for instance, who would turn to sooth the backseaters with promising words, and allusions to the happiness ahead. Mom did the job by getting the kids to look out of he windows at the steady stream of exciting traffic; play guessing games - that sort of thing. Just as Mother could never bring about complete tranquility among us, some of the adult-kids riding with us, will question if the the diver how to get to wherever it might be we are going. There will be some disconcerting bickering concerning details of the trip.

Mon used to tell us to watch for sea gulls flying through air, then we would know we were near the ocean and the sunny beach we yearned for
so much.

We need watch for certain, dependable guideposts along the way, too, which tell us we are on the right road. The kids were urged to read he advertising signs they saw which often told them how many miles it was to certain motel's or restaurants. For older kids it means watching for economic indicators which show that the economy is improving; watching the stock markets; looking for healthy signs; crowds thronging into stores and emerging loaded down with packages. Sing happy songs, too, just as we did,. Far better to sing light-hearted songs dirges which seem to invite gloom and despair in our homes. I remember quite well, how we sang “Happy, Dy Are Here Again!” when we felt the Great Depression 1929 into the '30's was coming to an end.

We are on the way. We have a dependable car; good tires are eating up the miles which will take us to our goal. In the proper time we will get there.
Stop bugging the driver with: “Are We There Yet?” You will among the first to know when we do arrive.

A.L.M. November 21, 2002 [c562wds]

 
TRIBUTE TO TESLA

I have no idea how it could have happened, but I grew up without ever hearing of Nicola Tesla.

Thomas Alva Edison was, I suppose, the epitome of everything electrical to us. There were others, of course - Westinghouse, Marconi. Morse - from time-to-time as our level of interest and concern swerved. But it was many years later when I chanced upon a mention of Tesla as being the pioneer in so many phases of electrically-oriented inventions and applications.
Some of them, it was plain to see, were basis to the development of many things we have today.

When I did start reading about Tesla and his work, I came to feel he had been short-changed by historians,I could not bring myself to believe that other scientists of that day had, in any way, either knowingly or unknowingly, contrived a way of avoiding giving him due credit for his innovative concepts. Now, years later, I am not so sure they treated him fairly. I think I have justified their non-action by remembering that business ethics were not he polished, gentlemanly art some deem them to be today. Business was a rough and tumble arrangement then which stretched the truth at times, if it seemed convenient to do so, Such practices where, then, considered to be “good business”. It happened in oil, banking, textiles and others, so why not in electronics as well?

Nicola Tesla was born, we are told, at the stroke of midnight which accounts for the fact that we often see the date of his birth given as July 9/10, 1856. And, the birth took place in Smiljan, Croatia or Serbia, depending on the political inclination of the biographer you happen to chose. His father was an Orthodox Priest and Orator. His mother was Djuka Mandic, said to have been unschooled but very intelligent and I find her tagged as having been an “inventor”, although with not a hint of what she might have invented. Inventing Nicola was, I'd say, enough because he grew up to actually patent over seven hundred items. The boy got the urge from someone and he started early. As youngster he became obsessed with the idea a flying and went through all the usual phases including jumping from a barn roof with an open umbrella. He landed, unconscious, on the ground but suffered no ill effects otherwise. He then built a sixteen-bug flying machine. He joined light splinters of wood together and glued live June bugs to them. When the bugs buzzed their wings the thing was supposed to fly which it did not. Young Tesla stayed with the project until a younger friend of his came to his work place and ate all of his extra June bugs. We don't know about the bug eater, but Tesla go deathly sick, vomited and discontinued the 16-bug flying machine project.

After graduation from the University of Graz, Austria and University of Prague Engineering and Mathematics schools in 1880 he worked in the government's telegraph engineering office in Budapest and it was there he worked out his first real invention - a telephone repeater. He also developed his ideas concerning rotating magnetic fields and at Continental Edison, in Paris, he built, in his spare time, his first induction motor. But, during all of that time, America –the land of opportunity - was calling louder and more urgently.

He left France in 1884 at the age of twenty-seven. He became a citizen in 1891, the same year in which he invented the Tesla Coil, widely used in our radio and television sets. And, he did well. Young Tesla had only four cents remaining in his pocket when he landed at The Battery, but while was walking along Broadway he came upon three men trying to repair an electric motor. He fixed it for them and they paid him twenty-dollars. His idol, of course, was a Thomas Edison, so he went to him seeking a job. He found it, too, but it became apparent that the two were so has different backgrounds and working methods. They did not agree and soon parted. Tesla has sold his patent rights to his polyphase system of alternating-current dynamos, transformers and motors to George Westinghouse in 1895.

Tesla went on with his busy career. It is far too complex to detail here. Read up on Tesla's achievement. He was an eccentric, in many ways, but he left a fine heritage for all of us in his inventive role.

A.L.M. November 19. 2002 [c758wds]

 
GONE? NOT YET!

From time-to-time it appears we have among us today a fringe of persons who seem to feel we are, as a nation are, either “on our last legs” or dead and unaware of that fact. They are chronic doom sayers.

A scattered hand full of these unhappy residents of this wobbly edge of our society are, then, exhibited to the world as being typical of the manner in which the majority of us are said to think and live. This negative view of Americans and of our well-being as a nation, needs to be refuted.

In spite of what many mean-spirited poll, surveys and studies might suggest, we are not totally devoid of moral sensibilities in this country.
Contrary to the picture of us as presented by portions of the media here and even larger parts of the media overseas, we are not a desolate, depraved, licentious, hard-hearted, conniving and and unforgiving people. We actually think we are just the opposite and we have good reason which we can set forth for people to see which will that side of our nature that we may be almost as pure, charming and lovable as we think we are. It is time we stated clearly a few of the better qualities the American life instead of letting the unhappy few dictate a badly warped image of what is to be seen as being normal living for Americans.

It is contrary to my basic religious beliefs for one thing, and also because I can not respect those who would be so eager to place such a Mark of Cain upon others. I have a strong feeling they might look to their own lapels for long-standing badges of such membership with qualifications of selfishness, lying and sundry and general of malfeasance. But, I'm no especialy interested in seeing them happy, I only want them to go their way and let me go mine. We have always had a wide gamut of views in his country and I hope we can go right on being that way without to much bickering over who may be right or wrong. If you have one view, show me, by example, how it is better than mine – and I'll be there. But don't try to haggle me into accepting your way.

Some of our dissident groups try to hide their ultimate purpose and goals behind a flimsy screen of religion too, often of their own making, or mute it with some by some vocative allegiance to a quirk of ecology or a curious freak of social or natural conditions. They spin out generous supplies of colorful selections of badges, pins, rings, bracelets, bumper stickers, poster sheets - and do wholesale mailings to every citizen in the realm.

They cry desolation, destruction, and ruin! They attend every petty parade through the streets and byways crying hopelessness and despair and doing clever tricks so they can get some free time on the TV news

We are a young nation, as nations go. We have only begun to be whatever we are becoming , so it's far too early to count us out.

Dwell on the past too much and it will rule you, Look to the bright, promising future and it will guide you to a better life. Condemning what we have is not a wise thing to do..

A.L.M. November 18, 2002 [c570wd]

 
GRANDPA EXPLAINS “PERSUASION”

My Grandfather was always ready to explain things to us which we did not understand.

“What does “persuade” mean?”

“Hmmm....” He thought about the subject for all of ten seconds.

“Well, “persuade” sorta means getting someone to do something they should have done anyway only they needed a little push... a nudge, a little poke to get them started. Like a “reason why” they should get things moving.”

Now, for some that may be just like a cup of hot, freshly brewed coffee to sweep away the cobwebs and let the bright sunlight of a new day creep into life. Others, it takes something more than just a jolt to cause any reaction and there are persons who never get hit by anything more than a bite from a stray mosquito with nothing else to do.

It was the King of France, I'm almost sure, who, years ago got word that his bakers were short-bunning his peasants by counting out only eleven hunks of crust to the basket when a dozen had been requested. Now, when Ole Le Roy first heard this vile practice had become common among his dough-slingers, well, he just couldn't believe it.

“Just imagine that!” he scoffed in perfectly good French because the King of France did not speak English in those days. He said he'd fix them and he did issue one of his royal decrees... by callin' his secretary with her law-changin' pad.”

“Mon Cherry,” he said sternly ,”Write this little change in our Baking Laws and have the Minister of Public Welfare post a copy in every bake shop in ye realm 'fore 'he day's sun goeth down.” Kings were expected to get a bit carried away like that when they were composing or decomposin' laws in those days. The secretary, of course, wrote down that the Minister of PW was to get the new law posted before sundown of that same day. It was already 2:25 in the afternoon and that was before the days of copying machines, too!

The new law said: “All Bread Bakers! 12 = 12. When a dozen buns are ordered do not stop counting at eleven instead! Try that just one more time, and off comes your head!”

Things changed! From that day on bread buyers often found not eleven, not twelve but thirteen buns in their baskets. Bakers were, persuaded, you see to add one extra roll, just to be safe. They liked to go home a night and put their head on a pillow attached to a live neck! And – that's where we get the expression you hear today... “a baker's dozen!”

Granddaddy's explanations always had a point to them - after a while.

A.L.M. November 16, 2002 [c461wds]

 
COMMANDER COOK

We owe James Cook a more than we can ever repay.

He explored more areas and discovered more places than any other man and brought us a wealth of scientific knowledge as well. He explored on all seven continents including two trips to chart the edge of Antarctica.

I have no idea why we “demote” the man, for he attained to the rank of Commander, it may well stem from the man's natural sense of modesty and his insistence on doing things properly.

Often, I feel, we fail to realize the unique nature of his explorations. Most of the expeditions were funded by commercial interests such as several merchants joining to share the cost in return for treasures to be brought back to them, by Kings and Queens to add to their holdings, by religious groups, or by adventurers bordering, at times, on being renegades. The major trips taken by Cook were all funded by the Royal Geographic Society.

Following the coal collier years, He enlisted in the Royal Navy as a common seaman and continued to study surveying, navigation and astronomy. As a result of this unusual use of his time, he rose quickly through the ranks. He served in the Seven Years War and he was in the group which surveyed and charted the St. Lawrence River in advance of Wolfe's campaign in Canada.

Cook show a special ability to lead men and got along well with the scientists who became a part of ship's personnel on every trip he made after his navy years. They were often of an academic sort and must have caused some disruptions to routines aboard ship, especially in emergency times when they were called upon to serve as crew members rather than guests. Cook could, it seems, act as one of them on such occasions.

Read a good biography of this man's interesting life. The heritage he left us is complex and spans so many spheres of knowledge. It is said that Captain Cook explored or named one-third of all the places we know in the Pacific area today.

The story of his life has a tragic end at sixty-nine years of age. The facts prove that he was killed by Hawaiian natives. One version has him being revered as the God Lono and was suddenly discovered to be be a mere man because he bled. He was, That version insists, bludgeoned to death then and there. It happened in the very island he had discovered and named in honor of Lord Sandwich. He was one of the first to travel the high seas without losing crew members to scurvy. He insisted on vegetables and sour kraut in their mess kits and he kept a milk goat aboard as well.

While not a perfect man by any account, James Cook deserves more recognition than he has received.

A.L.M. November 15, 2002 [c483wds]

 
NENE?
If it had not been for my liking crossword puzzles, I might never have come to know what a “nene” is. Oh, there's and outside chance I might have gone to Hawaii for a few weeks, but that has not happened in the past four-score-and-six years, or I could have chanced upon it while reading travel folders.

The nene is the state bird of Hawaii.

It looks like a Canadian Goose many seem to think except when they start listing ways in which they differ the analogy gets lost. The Nene is smaller than the Canadian cousin, measuring from 21-to-26 inches in length compared to the Canuck version checking in up to 46-inches long. The people who give birds Latin-looking, letterery names tell us they may have been the same at one time long ago, but evolution has made some very real modifications. Oddly enough, there is absolute equality in male and female nene since they both sport about the same feathery covering, largely black and with white stripes across the wings. They have feet which are only partly webbed and with more toe and claw allowed for firm gripping on rocky lava floe surfaces in the areas in which they thrive.

The species was almost extinct in 1940 largely because of imported dogs, cats and mongoose predators which feed on nene eggs and young.. Some estimates have said that there was about 25,000 of the birds in Hawaii when Captain James Cook visited in Hawaii several times during the 1761-76 era. But, in 1940 , biologists had trouble finding forty of them to be placed under special, nurturing care on the island of Kaua'i.

Mother Nature showed science a better way when the area was a hit by a hurricane in 1982. The storm destroyed the nene cages and set the growing flock free. They took to the wilds and have prospered ever since on their own. Escaping to feed of the lush flatland grasses in mongoose-free territory these birds did so well biologists soon exported some of them to other areas and that, too, has been successful. Today, in addition to he wild flocks, There are now about a thousand nene in zoos around the world.

One of the largest groups is in Slimbridge, England and a few birds from that closed operation escaped and took up residence in the waters of old London's St. James Park, next to Buckingham Place. They, too, have done very well. Ordinarily, genetic problems and disease do not permit much distribution of the nene in foreign climes. They have remained, by and large, natives of Hawaii.

The voice of the nene is heard throughout the islands, but it is usually soft and restrained. It resembles the sounds made by geese usually interpreted as a “honk”which is resonant, yet less strident. Some seem to say ”ha-wah” a well, and many chatter in conversational sounds when communicating with each other. They fly and swim very little.

The breeding season of the nene runs November through March, and they build a round, bowl-like nest lined with soft down feathers. The nest is usually placed in the most concealed spot to be found. Typically, two to five eggs are found in each nene nest. Estimates place wild nene flocks at around eight hundred and growing steadily with each breeding season.

It may well be that Hawaiians will, in time, find themselves knee deep in nene.


A.L.M. November 15, 2002. [c578wds]

 

REDO I-81

We've been talking about updating I-81 for months and there is still a cloud of doubts and indecision.

It is obvious that Interstate 81 has become hazardous to those who use it because of increased traffic. Something must be undertaken promptly and, up to this moment, we seem to have been discussing expensive “make do”, “get by” and “Band-Aid” changes which will be obsolete before they are completed.

Six months ago, in these pages, we suggested that it might be time for us to share our problems with others. The suggestion offers a way whereby much of the traffic now being handled by I-81 could be siphoned off pretty much as  I-81 has done with I-95 for years. The plan would prove to be less costly that proposed modifications widening exiting I-81 to add extra lanes; and it would bring other advantages to much of Virginia as well.

Basically the plan calls for at totally new north-south interstate highway east of the Blue Ridge mountains from a point in the Raleigh-Durham,N.C. area to Danville in Va., Lynchburg, Charlottesville and, then into the Frostburg, Md. vicinity avoiding highly compacted northern Virginia/DC.

Legislators and citizens of the districts involved should be beating the drums loudly for such a major interstate thorough their areas, and the sooner they start the better.

All the proposed “fixes”for I-81 are meeting with opposition and understandably so, especially the obvious plight of trucking firms being asked to pay tolls if they use the “new” or “modified” highway. It is time to check comparative costs, advantages and disadvantages while I-81 proposals are “on the shelf”. Objections are largely because of public outcry against the apparent foolishness of many of the costly proposals for temporary modifications, at best.

It is, no doubt, also probably accurate to point out that any plan is without permanence. At that point it will be time for citizens state house persons west of the Appalachians to talk up a Greenbriar Valley interstate. It might start in Tennessee, move through the Greenbriar Valley to Elkins and then into Pennsylvania. The interstate situation is no longer a Shenandoah Valley matter; not just a problem Virginia alone must face. It is an Atlantic states dilemma and should be treated as such. The same people should be considering ways of establishing distribution centers of commerce closer to existing marketing centers to make much of the excessive traffic unnecessary. We can control the flow if we really choose to do so.

Talk with your concerned political leader; talk to owners of trucking firms about this possibility. The need for a new Piedmont Interstate highway is urgent. It will be costly, but far less so in both money and human lives, than to continued patching-up, mending and the seemingly endless suggested repairs on I-81 to meet traffic needs it was never designed to handle.

A.L.M. Nov . 15, 2002 [c485wds]

 
A THRU G

The names Arafat and Gore have been noticeably lacking in the news of late.

It used to be that we could depend on one or the other, and often both at the same time, to keep the news wires warm when real news was running low.

We hear that Yasher Arafat has been scheduled for export if Mr. N. gets named as Prime Minister in Israel and that would seem to be one way of getting rid of this gnat-like nuisance who has plagued Prime Ministers of Israel for some years. Mr. Benjamin Netanyahu has threatened to pack Arafat and his mini-burnoose headpiece collection off somewhere - possibly to Paris to join his wife and daughter - if an when he become the next Prime Minister. I found it to be surprising to find that the present P.M. Ariel Sharon has opposed such an idea and objected to such treatment of Arafat. It may be that Arafat-Head of The Palestinian Liberation Organization has more positive things going for him than we know about. While often cast in the role of a political clown, he may be far easier to get along with than whomever might rise to the surface of the constantly fermenting pool of potential Arabic leadership.

There might be some wisdom in that stand, too. I think so many Americans seem to think of Arafat as oft-times welcome sort of comic-relief personality in today's problems. His Houdini-like escapes from entrapment over the years have been almost farcical at times including his two recent total isolations at his desk with tanks at the ready awaiting he word – but the command never came and Arafat goes on-and-on like some batteries are said to do. If he should be set aside I, for one, would miss him in the news, I'm sure, as I have for he past six weeks or so.

Not a word from either Albert or Tipper Gore following the recent election. I fully expected some: “See! I-told-you-so!” comments when the new voting machines starting acting up a bit in parts of Florida. It seemed a good time to do some re-runs of the one-time Florida flap, but not a word did I hear. So, I asked around.

The Gores are traveling, I understand, at the present time, doing autograph signings to push the sale of their new books. Both Gores have new books on the market. I have forgotten which one wrote a book on the importance of family life and which one wrote one on raising children, but they are both new authors now. They have been quoted as saying they “suddenly found themselves with nothing to do” – so they dashed off a pair of books. They are doing a book-signing tour of major cities.

It just doesn't seem right that people should just drop out of the news like that, does it?


A.L.M. November 15, 2002 [c473wds]

 
SADDAM

We know him well enough to call him by his first name.

But, the tone in which his name is being said these days, at least here in America, is anything but friendly.

We called Hitler “Adolph” and there was Kaiser “Bill” before that. Along the way we have mentioned others in such a folksy manner as well, but it has been said in ridicule and in some cases complete names have been difficult to pronounce or squeeze into limited headline space.

When a subject or person becomes “a laughing matter” with people here in the United Stated it is often a good indication they are “done for”...”kaput” or “finished.” Humor can be, and has been used as a weapon in politics and warfare for much longer than we might think. It has been used successfully to point up the basic weaknesses of the subjects being pillared and to caricature them in terms everyone understands at his or her own level.When we refer to Amin as “Edie” or Castro as “Fidel” we are reducing them from man-sized problems to kid-sized tormentors.

Thomas Nast is generally credited with introducing the fine art of political cartoons to the world of print, by verbal lampooning has been in practical use ever since man first learned to point his finger at someone else and laugh.

When we choose to speak of individuals in this manner we are showing we do not accept them as mature men and women. We do the same to artists of various kinds – actors, actresses, writers, and others - we don't quite accept them as being what they pretend to be, or think they are, other than haughty and egocentric as a rule.

Ridicule can ruin.

A secondary phase is already underway in regard to Saddam. When this step starts critics begin to append descriptive titles and sub-titles and the meaning becomes more intense. How often , just in recent weeks, have you heard of “Saddam, the Thief of Bagdad” or “Saddam. the Beast of...”, or “the killer of Bagdad!” How about “Saddam – the Butcher of Bagdad?”

There is one thing, however, that is not funny at all about this tendency of Americans to see humor in such situations!

We must be sure we are not trying to cover unpreparedness and not being ready to best such enemies or that by laughing at anything bad we can drive it way! Ask any professional comics. They will tell you: “Being funny is serious business.”

A.L.M. November 13, 2002 [c426wds]

 

MUMBO JUMBO

She was not witch. Let's set that silly Salemism aside and resolve to avoid any references to the occult as we go along.

When I was nine or ten years of age, I had a rather noticeable wart on the back of my right hand. It was right on that muscle at the base of the thumb which old folks use to stretch out by raising the thumb itself to form natural snuff holder. The powdered tobacco was sifted into the hollowed-out cup , then raised to the nostrils for inhaling. Anyway, I had a hard wart on my snuff box strap.

A young negro girl who helped my mother with housework noticed it when we were seated at the kitchen table having lunch one day.“Nipper,” she said, having picked up the nickname from my Granddaddy 's most recent visit, ”would you like to get rid of that ugly thing?”

I said I would.

”I can take it away for You, if you believe I can?”

I must have looked at her in a puzzled way. “It won't work, if'n you don't believe it will. I know the magic words. My Grandmammy told them to be afore she died. They's secret words. Ain't many people admits they know them, but I do. I kin take that ole wart of your'n off if you just believe I kin! Hit won't hurt a bit, either.....”

The way she left the invitation dangling the air like that, demanded a positive answer. “Yes”, I said, “ I believe you can do it.” She seemed so straight forward and honesty about it all that I really believed she could. I turned to my mother who was seated there with us listening. I think I must have been seeking parental reassurance as I felt myself stepping to the unknown. “”Mom, Ada, here, says she can take my wart off. Can I let her do it?” She agreed. “Get rid of that thing. I hate to see you chewing on it like you do, anyway!”

I was about to protest that accusation, but I knew it to be true. Ada broke the silence of the moment when she asked Mom if she had a small onion handy. Our onions were kept in a net sack hanging inside the pantry, so I was sent to get on.

Ada took it in her hand; deftly skinned the light covering and the pungent smell of raw onion became noticeable. “Now, do 'zackly what I tell you,” she admonished, when I, at her urging, placed my hand on the table on the table in front of her. She began rubbing the wart with half of the onion as she squeezed juice from it. “Jus' you keep a'thinkin' out loud: “Ada kin take my wart away. She kin do it. Ada can make my wart go away. She kin do it...I know she kin.. i know she can....”

That continued for a minute or more, then Ada stopped rubbing and sat still. We all did so. Absolute silence for moment. Then she handed me the fresh half of the onion from the table after touching it lightly to the crushed portion on the table. “Eat it! Now!”

I did so and tears welled into my eyes.

She put the squeezed portion of the onion it my hand and ordered me to go out and bury it in yard. I was to kick a hole in the sod with the heel of my shoe and not to use anything to dig with.

When I returned Ada and Mom were busy doing dishes.

Without looking at me Ada said. “ When that onion rots away out there yo' wart will follow it.”

How ? Who cares! No scar. Not the slightest indication of any wart to this day!

A.L.M November 11, 2002 [c645wds]

 
CHANGERS

Don't think, for even a moment, that you are totally free from others about you!

Far too many among us get such an idea, it seems. Then, some come to believe they are some one set apart from all others. They are also confident that the reason for their having been selected is because they are in possession of stellar qualities of character for which others have only striven.

Ambition, of course, and Hope for betterment are good guide lines to keep in mind, but to think that we have attained a measure of excellence over and above that of others around us is an illusion which can prove to be costly to the individual who deceives himself or herself in that manner.

How many much-needed reformations have either been delayed or caused to fail because of excess fervor by someone among those working to bring about the desired change?

In our time we see “protesters” who engage in conduct ranging to the very edge of anarchy supposed to bring about what they call “Peace.”... Chaos to create order, wry actions, pointless pontifications and even cheap trickery. They will expend time, money and effort to bring about lawless climes to engender lawfulness to effect changes which will work to their ultimate disadvantage by alienating the very people of attainment, substance, ability and real holdings who can help support and sustain the ideal portions of their ideas ...their true concepts.

Reformers who use the easy method of getting others to march up and down the street bearing placards and shouting inane slogans, purposely disturbing the well-being of all, hindering the normal flow of traffic and calling forth the worst and most bestial instincts of man's past eons of depravity, do us all a great dis-service.

Such a stance leads to mob action, to recklessness and abandonment of decency and of fair play. What is the great merit of such plans of action ? Wherein lies the wisdom of opposing one's own stated ideals? Far better to seek the steadier platform of legislative halls, or even the venue of the soap box disclaimer in a public area.

True reform, I feel, suffers great loss today because of adverse affects of such tantrum tactics.

Vital energies are consumed needlessly as such attempts are made to dramatize need. Genuine need is apparent to any thinking, observing citizen and it is past time for reformers and protesters to align themselves with humanity instead upon standing in opposition - pathetically alone.

Reformers and Protesters too often leave out the main ingredient in their recipes seeking change. They must learn to stir in generous quantities of The People.

A.L.M. November 11, 2002 [c450 wds]

 
YES. IT'S TRUE!

I find to be a fact that a number of you do not accept the assertion that the tallest building in the world is not located in the United States.
I am especially thankful for the fact that so many of you refrained from writing to me saying I was in error when I mentioned that fact recently.

Does it hurt so much not to be “first” in everything?

I can understand some such feeling because here has been some controversy associated with this matter of measuring buildings...short or tall. We abide by rules in such matters and while it might seem better if the rules all were fashioned to agree with the way we want it done,. Then, there's no reason for measuring tapes.

Such regulations are established by the Council on Tall Buildings and Urban Habitat. The rule is that spires count but antennae do not. Even though they do not, as a rule, contain floors or rooms, spires do count officially. Remember when ocean liners were competing to see which could be the longest. They did it by extended the bow far ahead or by adding a few feet the aft deck area. Both, if necessary.

The Petronas Towers, Kuala Lampur, Malaysia were completed in 1998 at a cost of around $l. 6 billion. They stand 1,834 feet above the ground and there are eight-eight stories. The two towers are joined together at the 42nd floor by a “flexible” skybridge. The building are of concrete and steel and facing materials are aluminum and stainless steel. If you saw a Sean Connery film called “Entrapment” you realize that, seen from above, the floor plan forms an eight-pointed star said to have been inspired by traditional Malaynese and Islamic patterns..

Chicago's Sears Tower is 33 feet short of the l,487 feet set by the Petronas Towers. To keep the argument going, the top floor, occupied in the Sears building is actually 200 feet higher than the top floor of the Petronas Towers and the antennae stretch even higher. If you ignore the rule that towers count but antennae do not, you can keep the discussion going for some time.

Regardless of who wins, the Petronas Towers are a marvel of construction using almost thirty-seven thousand tons of steel and fitted with thirty-two thousand windows. The window material was made by DuPont and that was how I became aware of the fact that the towers were being built, from reading about DuPont's part in the venture in a company publication. For some reason, we have not encouraged our media to mention the existence of Malaysia's Petronas Towers.

The highest man-made structure in the world is The National Tower, in Toronto, Canada. That is good to know in case the Towers argument lags a bit and needs a fresh angle or shift of emphasis to give you time to get off the hook on the tallest building question.

A.L.M. November 9, 2002 [c495wds]

 

Yo Yo

I don't know what year it might have been – possibly in the early 1930's if I had to guess. But, I do recall that our Granddaddy Loeffert, then living in South Norfolk, Virginia, sent us gifts he found of interest from time-to-time. That one year he sent us two growing boys a toy which - about one year later- suddenly became the nation's number one toy. It was a “Depression Time” play thing ...a strange, wooden spool with a string attached - called a Yo Yo top.

One of them was a bright blue; the other fire-engine red. The red one was mine. In those days new toys did no arrive in colored boxes with detailed instructions therein explaining how the toy was to be used to best advantage. I suppose,Grandpa assumed that any grandsons of his would be smart enough to figure out how the things worked.

We didn't. Not really, that is. Oh, we learned to spin right wooden wheel up and down the string, of course, but the other kids on the block thought it was baby stuff. Not much interest; not even a tinge of jealousy or envy. Before too long the poorly made tops came apart; the paint faded and they were more,or less discarded. One year later, when the Yo Yo craze hit and every kid had at least one Yo Yo. We had to dig ours out, repaint and glue them to join the crowd. Granddaddy John Loeffert was one year ahead of the tide as he seems, now, to have been in much of living. From that point on Yo Yo spinning moderated and was taken over by older folks - or young people who had grown old using them.

Just as suddenly as it came upon us, the Yo Yo fever faded slowly away. And the return of prosperity brought with it brighter, noisier, and battery operated toys instead. Yo Yo's continued to be sold but in moderation... some with batteries which caused them to light up colorfully when twirled. I never really learned to do all the tricks and showy stunts the Yo Yo artist can now do now, but we did enjoy ours as long as the fad lasted.

Years later - much later – I learned that the Yo Yo, originally weapon, came from the Phillipines. In the years after the Spanish-American War there was a large migration of Phillipinos to the United States and one of the things those immigrants brought with them as a sort of Good Luck charm to protect them on their long journey and into their new life. In the Depression Years, about thirty years later, a young American man saw Phillipinos in this “toy”, so we have Donald F. Duncan to either praise or blame for bringing the Yo Yo into the place it assumed . Among young people and, then adult performers, many came to use the tiny spool with amazing skill. Duncan controlled the Yo Yo market until his string snarled and he went bankrupt before his death in 1971. From time-to-time we have had attempts to revive the Yo Yo as a “skill toy”, so it returns often. The very name “Yo Yo” means “come back”.

Or course,, it was not inability or sheer laziness which prevented me from become adept at Yo Yo spinning. I just recently learned that there were two types of knots which could be used in tying the string to the dowel between the halves of the top. Beginners were to use one loop and those who advanced in the skill were to use a double looped knot. That important detail may well have been what prevented me from being a yo yo spinner of note.

A.L.M. November 8, 2002 [c633wds]

 

WEST COAST TRY

I was rather surprised to find that “Measure No. 23” which appeared on ballots in the State of Oregon attracted so little attention in the rest of the nation. The title for No. 23 was “Comprehensive Health Plan” and it is all that proponents of socialized medicine could have hoped for in the United States.

It failed to pass at the polls, but I have strong feeling it will be used as a handy, ballot-tested model for future health plan suggestions in other states from time-to-time. Much concern was expressed during the early days of the Clinton administration about what seemed to be a headlong rush into such a nationwide health care system. You certainly recall the intensity of opposition to even proposed items which might be included in such a plan if it ever materialized which it did not do.

Those who prepared the Oregon proposal made it long enough so that few people will read it all, but accept, rather, the judgment of people who have read specific portions of it. I, personally, have not read it all and don't intend to do so. I have read enough of it to be convinced I have seen he raw template for future health plan urging to be put before voters in other states.

I have no intention of going into details of the plan herein. That would be like opening a flood gate or breaking a levee. Think of any and all medical situations you can dream up from the cradle to the grave and rest assured that every penny of whatever they cost will be paid for with you reaching into your pocket. It offers all that's good for anyone who signs a form attesting to the fact that he or she wishes to reside in such-and-such a state. The state was Oregon last week. Who know what state might be so designated in the future?.

When something like this reaches referendum status, even in one state, it is time for the rest of us to start paying attention to what is happening... going on... or coming off.

If you value our future. Read it. “Measure 23” Don't just take anyone's word for it... including mine. Read it for yourself.

A.L.M. November 6. 2002 [c383wds]

 

SMALL TOWN

Ours is, by any standards, a small town. We meet the criteria set by lore, learning, literature and living.

I think the most recent census put our total population at 993, plus or minus whatever lag is thought to be techniques census taking. Let's call it a thousand.

In keeping with established low of the land, the citizens of our area paraded to the voting booth - singular because there was just one of them - along with many voters all over the nation on the Tuesday designated.

In the very process of voting we became an integral part of the whole nation and the circumambient blending of small town and big city dwellers of all races, creeds, colors and political affiliations. We were taking part in a process which was being woven into a wholeness from points all over the land which would tell what we thought and felt about our circumstances. There was a massive unity at work even in our small rural gathering.

The mood continued to be folksy and friendly, however. I had neglected to take my identification along with me in the form of a Driver's license. Since I don't drive any more, I don't carry it with me wherever I go.The clerk dutifully asked me for my permit to drive which I hoped was being done elsewhere. The inquiry into my qualification and identifications held up the line of course, as the clerk - whom I have known for fifty years, at least - went to get a printed form done just for trouble-makers such as I . I was asked to write, then print my signature on the two lines at the bottom of the from while the clerk intoned the facts that if I was not who I said I was, I could look forward to a fine of some fantastic dollar amount or ten or more years in jail. “At my age, “I told her, “I think I'll take the ten years or more plan!”I had, of course, by this time forfeited my normal place in like for the voting machine across the hall. The young lady ahead of me motioned for me to join my wife and I thanked her and told her my wife and I liked to vote together because my parents always did so. Every election day one or the other would say: “C' mon, Honey, let's go down and cancels each other's vote!” The girl laughed. “My parents said and did that to! One Democrat and one Republican!” All these years I though that was one of my very own little family stories.

Just one machine at the precinct this time. I imagine it was because this was an off-year election and the turnout was expected to be light. Even with a cold, steady rain all day I was not, however, but higher than expected.

While standing there in line, I had a chance to look at the crowd of local people at the Rec Center to vote and, of the group, I found I knew very few although several other look vaguely familiar. I was reminded of how like Class Reunions Election Days can be. Everyone but us seemed to have grown older and fatter. And you wonder about the people who are not there as they should be. It hits sharply you when you realize they're dead.

At the booth! Swing the curtain shut. Tweak the latches downward, in our case... Zing! Zing! Etc!. That's it! Done! Open the curtain with a mighty sweep of the long handle and stand forth as people watch you receive a red, white and blue sticker attached to your coat: “I voted!”

You feel closer to everybody. It's a strange sensation.

Small town? Small world, too.

A.L.M. November 6, 2002 [c640wds]
.

 
'02 THE NO-GREENS YEAR


Years from now this Year of 2202 will be noted as having been, locally, at least here in Virginia, as a time when a marked shortage of summer-time rains resulted in a “greens-less” Fall.

Virginia is far enough south that such a condition can be a tragic thing.

It is tantamount to Vermont running out of maple syrup; Maine or Idaho having a poor potato crop, or the questing watermen finding fewer oysters in the Chesapeake Bay. When “greens” are in short supply, late summer and fall gastronomic treats become limited and longed for by devotees thereof. And, I am one of them.

It has not seemed at all proper this year that we have not have been inundated with more than ample supplies or green vegetables from garden plots around us. Usually, at this time of the year - starting the end of October - it is not uncommon for us to have extra supplies of Fall favorites stacked on the back porch, in the basement or taking any extra space remaining in that oft-times laughable addition to many homes called a “garage”.

The very term “greens” must be clarified or “translated”, it seems. South-born folks take their greens eating much more seriously than do other not born to the subtle touches of both the preparations for, and proper enjoyment thereof. By greens, I mean, the stalwart, fully grown leafy portions of a number of garden plants - most of which have a long and glorious history at home and abroad.

The more prominent ones among them include: collard greens, mustard greens, kale, which comes in several crinkle and non-crinkle types, and turnip greens are also included especially if one grows the type which is all leaf without turnips being appended. There are others, of course, and they need not be green in color - such as beet greens – the leafy portion the Red Beet plant.

The proper prepping of these vegetables for eating starts with neat harvesting, cut rather than torn from their roots. Then, they are all sent through “seven waters” before they are ready to steam or boil . Spinach, among them is know for hanging on to particles of grit as if holding on to the Earth it does not wish to leave, and kale, accordingly ritual preparation calls for: inspection and trimming away any blemishes before washing through seven changes of fresh, cold water. After six such washings you might think you have all possible grit is removed, but do the seventh one one to be certain. Family recipes vary as to additions to be made. Older folks simply dropped in a slab of “fatback” and put “'her on 't bile”. I like the fat back scored almost all the way through in half- inch sections so a small dab of back can be included when greens are served just by chipping section off with a fork, knife or even the ladle because it usually cooks well done. That's especially true with Collards which I have been mentioning first because they are my favorite. The rest of he family prefers Mustard Greens or Kale. Greens are always plural, you can't eat one green.


Add salt to your liking, of course. Pepper, too, if that suits your fancy, or garlic. All Southern cooks, even those who won't admit it, add sugar to just about everything they cook so if sugar turns up in your makings no one will complain.. A ham bone makes a good substitute fatback or side meat, too.

This does not, in any way, disparage such greens as Spinach, especially served raw after passing though seven waters, of course, and lettuce which is also “greens ”. They are more delicate. and suited to sandwich times. But, let's not overlook a generous serving of spinach sprinkled with vinegar and topped with sliced, hard-boiled eggs and a bit of salt. Cabbage, of course, is in a Greens league all by itself.

One word of caution! Make more than you think you'll need.. Greens cook down a lot and they increase the average appetite on sight!


A. L. M. November 5, 2002 [c693wds]

 

WHAT INSPIRES THE DOODLE?

It strikes me as being impressive how many people I know display artistic talent. They exhibit it unintentionally when they “doodle” with pen or pencil.

Maybe you doodle as I do when you are on the phone in a not too demanding situation, or waiting for someone or even looking-at rather than really watching TV. Often you simple make little squiggles, checks, x's, ovals or “push-pulls”- as they were called if you are old enough to have had “Locker System” handwriting exercises in your early school days. Up-and-down, up-and-down - endlessly across the page until, it was full, but neat as could be, mind you. Neat and orderly. They were doodles, of a sort, marching under your control in disciplined rows.

Just this morning my wife did a fine doodle drawing on the small clipboard pad we keep next to the phone. It was a five-inch flower sketched down one side of the pad, and if I had available some means of copying it I would have done so. A fine bloom of some complex type, with leaves coming from the stem complete with convoluted shades and shadows marking every subtle second of growth. I don't know the nature of the phone call in which she was engaged at the time, but the flower was well done. Had I asked her to draw such a flower for me, I doubt that it would have been so satisfying.

All of which has, this day, caused me to wonder how often other facets of change and discovery have first been thought of in the doodle mode.

There is a certain freedom and spontinaity when we do things which have not been pre-cut, patterned, templated or in any way set. Working too hard at something can cool creativeness, at times, and it is possible that some great inventions have been sketched out as “might be” things. Only then, do they become real when one, erases the “ifs” one by one to make them realities, you might say.

Notice too, in so much of the literature you get suggesting contributions to charitable causes, how important – really essential – the seemingly casual photograph of a needy child is considered to be. Think of it a “doodle art” and the copy ...the test printed nearby is merely the tool which tells you where to send your contribution. The picture does the selling of the idea of doing so!

There must a school of social doctors who can see personality traits by studying a person's doodle drawings, too, I suppose. Great potential values may be there, as well.

Let's not discount the art of doodling and call it idleness until we have made sure it is not all the things it seems it could be.

A.L.M. November 5, 2002 [c470wds]

 


CENSORED!

If you merely mention the word “censorship” you can upset a great many people.

We have all been subjected to it in one form or another, too. It is not restricted to foreign shores or wartime only.

What really concerns most people is “official” censorship, by which we mean control of our lives by government. We seldom think of other forms of control over out social lives as being censorship at all, but the elements are there and are abused at times, I'm sure you will agree. At any time you see one man, or a clique of some sort, domineering a group of people in a dictatorial manner, you will find censorship goes right along with it.

Just about anyone who served in the armed forces during World War II, particularly overseas in any theater, will remember that all of our mail was censored. We were aware of that fact; knew about it and saw a good reason for it - to keep the enemy in the dark. In many outfits, once it was discovered who was doing the actual censoring, it tended to loosen up a bit; even falter in its intended purpose. It became a game of a sort between enlisted men and officers. It was difficult at times, to see why and how officers who attended the same schools we did and had the same jobs we had at home, we suddenly designated to read and censor our mail home. I have yet to find an officer who liked doing the job.

I recall how I, unintentionally, let my wife know - within four miles of where I was stationed when shipped to England. I did it by being honest. I told my wife in one of my first letters home that I had been to the grave of Edith Louise Cavell the famed World War I nurse, who was executed by the Germans. I wrote of standing there and wondering what she might be thinking about finding us back again doing he same things Americans had done in l917-18. All my wife had to do was to pickup the nearest encyclopedia., turn to the “C” pages, and read a moment, to discover that I was standing to the rear of the Cathedral in at Norwich, England. She could not have known, of course, however, that I was four miles from my base at Rackheath which, in time, proved to be one of nineteen American air bases in Norfolk County around the city. By and large we respected the need for such a program, but in looking over mail received from us here at home I found to have been a hit-or-miss scheme with, perhaps only one out of twenty or more letters being razored and the rest untouched by censoring hands.

Prior to that, after being rushed to Florida, the small base as a municipal airport was suddenly clamped down tight! No phone calls for any purpose whatever! No letters, post cards! No communication whatsoever, because we were shipping out for a Port of Embarkation.We were not told where that port might be either.

On the train moving north we, in some mysterious way, came to know without being told we were going to Camp Shanks, NY. We arrived at night, I remember, and the next morning after an early breakfast and before too long the telephone calls came flooding from New York City from wives and fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers They had all sent neatly printed post cards informing them that we were leaving Florida on such and date and that we would be a Camp Shanks.

We arrived at night, I recall, and the next morning after an early breakfast, phone calls flooded in from where wives, friends and relatives were waiting to see us. No leaves! No passes! A few days later, when they had all gone home - my wife included – we were given passes “do the town”.

A whole group of censors shot themselves in themselves in their collective feet with that mess, I'd say. Good. Never liked 'em anyway.

A.L.M. November 3, 2002 [c690wds]

 
BIG, BIGGER....

When does “big” become “too big?”

We have learned a great deal about that problem in recent years especially as it applies to bay windows, beer bellies and real-life bustles, bosoms, biceps and mouths. Does “big” make any of them better? We have even come to question the art of building bigger and higher buildings.

In view of the fact that the United States, for many years now, been able to qualify about having the tallest building in the world, or the tallest “man-made structure” in the world, a great deal of interest in such records. Malaysia has the tallest but buildings in the world; Canada has the tallest man-made structure on Earth, but only a chronic joy-killer would even brings the subject up for general discussion.

There remains , however, one area in which I think the United State has a strong lead on having the big, bigger or biggest or whatever - and that is in the huge throngs of humanity seen attending sports events. Our spectator sports displays pull fifty thousand people together in on spot for hours and we, thus far, at least, manage to keep most of them alive and reasonably well. Sooner or later – and, I am afraid it will prove to be sooner – we are going to find we have run out of stadium space in which to stuff ever-growing groups of spectators!

What is all that going to do to spectator sports as we know them today?

If we continue present trends, before too long, in order to actually attend a favorite sport event to witness it first-hand will find themselves seated somewhere in the adjoining county. Even now we find people habitually lugging radios, TV sets, hand-held computers and kindred devices, binoculars and cell phones with them. The often find they are so far from the arena, stage, ring, field, court, track or other playing area that they need assistance to keep in touch with what is going on “down” or “over” there at the event they have paid handsomely to see.

Then, as dusk arrives, falls, and the rumor spreads quickly that the game is “over” down or over there; a few bring out electronic directional finding gear for active use. If they are lucky they might get back to where they had to park their car before nightfall sets in solidly with seasonal blasts of cold wind and icy snow.

I would be tempted to vote against anyone who tells me that the steadily increased costs of attending sporting events is going to cut down on the number of those actually attending. It doesn't seem to have worked that way up to this time. Some once held that, first radio; then TV coverage would cut crowds. They didn't. They enhanced them.

We had a “Shaky Side” Series this year so crowds were said to be smaller, but the stands appeared to be full night after night just as were at the ”Subway Series” games in New York. Look at the 49,000 fans in the stands at NASA race and think of them as paying $30.00 per head just to be there. I use that price because I heard it being hawked as a “bargain” price for a particular race. A friend of mine who, occasionally, likes to go a big league game a hundred and fifty miles away from our home, told me that me that a man, his wife and two kids better have at least two hundred loose dollars handy.

Can organized sports outgrow the space we have for it?

I once heard a member of the Congress of the United States say which I consider to be one of the brightest quotes I have heard from august body: “America,” he said “ has an almost criminal devotion to bigness!”


A.L.M. November 2, 2002 [c645wd]

 

HATE

What one thing do your dislike more than any other? Could you call that your pet “hate?” Or, would you rather think you can' t truly hate anything or anybody?

Many of us, with our religious background - tend to equate hatred with evil. We often fail to realize that in order to oppose that which is wrong in our society we must, logically, feel sentiments of hatefulness toward all evil as such. We must constantly hate and despise all that are evil about us and attempt to do something about it including taking steps to be taken which will, in time, enlighten us and changes in our thinking which will change even that distrust and hatefulness to some form of Love and understanding.

Make certain your hatred is curbed by proper restraints and limitiatons, however. Far too often, we allow our displeasure with circumstances which annoy us to flow over into other aspects of our lives and this can lead only to ruin. You hate the circumstance but do not actually hate the perpertrator...not in the same sense, at least. You may distrust that person , you may think that person to be beyond redemption, but there is - in our religious concepts - always a chance he or she can be reclaimed and we owe them that chance - however slight it might, in our mind, seem to be.

Next Tuesday happens to be Election Day in our community, and I will go to the polls as is my right and duty as a citizen. I will vote according to my personal feelings, but I cannot , as so many seem to do, hate and despise people who happen to want to vote otherwise from my choices. There is, probably, no one place in which we see wrongful hatred is displayed
than in the area of political affairs and that factor, I think, is a main barrier preventing many people from participating in the democratic rites of their own government.

We must learn to condemn wrong when we see it, but to be compassionate with worthy wrongdoers.

It is, oddly enough, a reciprocal arrangement; a two-way street, because the person we deem to be taking wrongful actions is, in all likelihood, seeing us doing much the same thing. In our mutual ignorance, we often commit crimes of misjudgment against each other and these, most often, petty differences, can grow to be major complications to the ultimate ruin of both groups. In such situations there a no lasting victories.

We cannot rule hate out of our lives completely. It is a human quality which will manifest itself at times, just as Hunger, Thirst and the need for Sleep do, but we can learn to accommodate our lives to make use of its power, drive, and special capabilities to drive Evil from our midst.


A. L. M.. November 1, 2002 [c483wds]

 

PEACE RECIPIENTS

I feel it to be most unfortunate that some people chose to express chagrin because former President Jimmy Carter was designated to receive this year's Nobel Peace Prize. To do so, and to make a public show of the act, is an affront to good taste and common sense.

The very nature of the Nobel Peace award, the only one awarded from Norway, has made it one of the most coveted of all and one taking with it much more than the monetary portion of the honor. The Peace Prize is truly international and we , as a nation, should be grateful that the award came to one of our own. To quibble over others who might have been selected can be an embarrassment to Jimmy Carter and an affront to others considered in deciding the awards.

Yes, there are others who merit consideration. Their time may well come. The Nobel prize is not a glittering bauble to be treated casually nor is it awarded, as a rule for a single peaceful action, but an extended aura of benevolent understanding and the gradual building of new, unifying bridges.

We should been encouraged to find that the judges deemed the continued work a former President Jimmy Carter as being worthy of such recognition. We should be appreciate the fact that he did so without fanfare and exhibitionist excess which is noticeable in so many would be nominees.Some other work eagerly, hoping to increase their chances; Jimmy Carter simply lived it. His basic insistence on more attention to “human rights” is indicative of the unchangeable certainty of spirit which guided his steady quest.

It my well the true that the Nobel Peace prize has yet to be awarded to a “most” qualified person. I have an idea that person might well prove to be a woman; someone who has never given a thought to winning such an honor. Is there a young woman somewhere, possibly a mother, who this very day, is nourishing a young man or young woman by example and by teaching, cajoling, urging, demanding and building character in those young minds and bodies fitting them for leadership. They might grow up to rule with greater wisdom and expertize than anyone before them ever has before. Though they rule with the Peace and Purity of angelic hosts, the prize would go, not to either one of them, but to their mentor, mother, and guiding, and guiding force.

There was a pop song lyric years ago which seems to apply. Very
ungrammatically it pointed out :

“It ain't what you do; it's the way that you do it!”

A.L.M. October 31, 2002 [c448ws]

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06/25/2006 - 07/02/2006
07/02/2006 - 07/09/2006
07/09/2006 - 07/16/2006
07/16/2006 - 07/23/2006
07/23/2006 - 07/30/2006
07/30/2006 - 08/06/2006
08/06/2006 - 08/13/2006
08/13/2006 - 08/20/2006
08/20/2006 - 08/27/2006
08/27/2006 - 09/03/2006
09/03/2006 - 09/10/2006
09/10/2006 - 09/17/2006
09/17/2006 - 09/24/2006
09/24/2006 - 10/01/2006
10/01/2006 - 10/08/2006
10/08/2006 - 10/15/2006
10/15/2006 - 10/22/2006
10/22/2006 - 10/29/2006
10/29/2006 - 11/05/2006
11/05/2006 - 11/12/2006
11/12/2006 - 11/19/2006
11/19/2006 - 11/26/2006
11/26/2006 - 12/03/2006
12/03/2006 - 12/10/2006
12/10/2006 - 12/17/2006
12/17/2006 - 12/24/2006
12/24/2006 - 12/31/2006
12/31/2006 - 01/07/2007
01/07/2007 - 01/14/2007
01/14/2007 - 01/21/2007
01/21/2007 - 01/28/2007
01/28/2007 - 02/04/2007
02/04/2007 - 02/11/2007
02/11/2007 - 02/18/2007
02/18/2007 - 02/25/2007
03/25/2007 - 04/01/2007
04/01/2007 - 04/08/2007
08/05/2007 - 08/12/2007
08/26/2007 - 09/02/2007
11/18/2007 - 11/25/2007
12/09/2007 - 12/16/2007
12/21/2008 - 12/28/2008
01/04/2009 - 01/11/2009
07/26/2009 - 08/02/2009