What I read this month

I read seven books this month. Four were fiction, three were nonfiction. All of the fiction books were from series. The nonfiction selections were a military history, a somewhat biography, and a literary biography. First, the fiction selections...

“To Helvetica and Back”, by Paige Shelton: This is the first in a series, taking place in fictional Star City, Utah, and it’s about a young woman and her grandfather who own a store that repairs typewriters, sells expensive paper, and repairs valuable books. I enjoyed it overall, but not as much the Brooklyn Wainright series by Kate Carlisle. I got the impression after I finished it that another character maybe should have been the main character. I may read the next one when it comes out, but with no rush.

“The Cracked Spine”, also by Paige Shelton: Also by the same author, but this is set in Edinburgh, Scotland, and it features a young American woman from Kansas who accepts a position in a very different bookstore with the book’s title. A murder occurs soon after she arrives, and typical of many of these type mysteries, she eventually solves it, but not before almost getting herself killed. Don’t know about reading any more of this one. I actually like the characters in this one better though.  

“The Alamat Ambush”, by Anthony Price: the second in the David Audley, a British spy, series of the 70’s and 80’s. This one was at that time and about the Middle East and such. As in many of these, Audley was not the main character but played a major role. This one was Hugh Roskill, an air force pilot. This one was more convoluted and harder to follow than his first which I read last month (The Labyrinth Makers”). This series, by the way, is a re-read. I enjoyed these overall but have only 11 of 19.

“William Shakespeare’s the Force Doth Awaken”, by Ian Doescher: I love this series. As the subtitle says, it’s the seventh, keeping up with the movies. Of course, I read the previous ones in the same order that the films were made. I enjoy Shakespeare, so that was what drew me to this series. You see, I have not yet seen any of the Star War movies. That’s right, none. My friends can’t believe it. I tell them that I will one day. I actually am learning quite a bit about the series by reading the books. Obviously, these are written as if WS would have written them himself. The eighth one is due to come out this July. Of course, I will buy it in hardback; all of mine are. And maybe, just maybe, I will have watched one or two by then.

Tomorrow…the nonfiction…

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My Sports Career

I always loved sports. I enjoyed playing football, basketball, and especially baseball when I was young. Unfortunately, it was always by myself or my younger brother. We had no nearby friends that we could play with except when special arrangements were made. It was just easier to play alone. I enjoyed playing, especially baseball. I had no delusions that I was very good, but I knew I was okay or average. I could play on a team if we had one. But we didn’t.

When I went to high school, some of my friends were going out for wrestling. Not being big enough for football, and besides, it conflicted with the band, I decided to try out for wrestling. I spent a season on the freshman wrestling team. I was at 112 pounds, but I had to move to the 120 lb weight so that the upcoming state champion would be wrestling at 103 lbs. Don’t ask. It was very confusing.

I wasn’t very good. In fact, I never wrestled in a match. But I always went to practice and matches. I finished the season. I wasn’t a quitter. And I guess that was the point. I did enjoy gym when I was allowed to do the high jump. I was good at it. I didn’t like playing basketball which we played all the time. It was easy for the gym teachers to organize and control. My problem was simple. I could shout fine. I could dribble. I just couldn’t dribble and move own the court at the same time. I had to watch either the ball or the court. I sucked. Gym didn’t have baseball. I don’t know why I never tried out for baseball.

Of course, college was all about ROTC and getting my degree and commission. One I was in the army I was always worried about passing the Annual Physical Fitness Exam. It originally contained a mix of regular exercises with military – type events. In addition to the run, pushups, and overhead bars, we had the grenade throw and the Run, Dodge, Jump. I always passed everything except the bars. I really had no overhead strength.

In 1978, at Ft. Leavenworth, I failed the PT Test. By then, it was only a one-mile run, push-ups, and sit-ups. I failed the run. I was overweight and I smoked. I went home that day and ran a mile on my own. Three days later I stopped smoking. Eight weeks later, I passed my PT Test, including the run.

I began running seriously then and eventually ran 11 marathons, a couple of ultramarathons. I ran many shorter races. I was always better at longer and slower races than the speedier ones.

I stopped running in 2004 and began walking. I am an off-and-on walker now, mostly off. I need to get back to walking…and maybe to run again.

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My Music Career Ends

As I said before when I got to high school, I was in the Beginning Band. There I met another drummer, Bill. He was a football player as well, but as a freshman, he only played on the lower squad. He left the next year and concentrated on football. I don’t remember much about that year in the band except I liked it and worked hard. I wanted to skip Intermediate Band and go straight into Senior Band (I think that was what it was called) my sophomore year.

My sophomore year I did make both the senior school marching band and orchestra. During football seasons, I started by playing the cymbals and bass drum, but quickly got “promoted” to snare drum. I enjoyed everything about the marching band, from the intricate formations we’d do at halftime on the football field, to coming up with new and snazzy drumbeats that we played to keep the band in step when we marched without any music.

The winter season brought indoor concerts and again, in the spring. I played mostly snare drum and bass drum my sophomore year, but my junior year I became Head Drummer and played only snare drum and tympani. I was very good on snare drum, but I was tone-deaf. I tried to tune the tympani but had to rely on the Band Director to tune it for performances. He didn’t worry about practices, letting me find a higher tone and then a deeper tone that sounded close. “Kansa” was a favorite on the tympani for me.

My senior year I was selected as the Drum Major for the Marching Band so I led the band onto the field. The Head Majorette was in charge of the other majorettes. I stayed as Head Drummer since when concert season began, I didn’t have any other responsibilities as Drum Major. My senior year I also finally made it all State Band. I had made County Band and District Band before, but never State. I played the bass drum for the concert held on Penn State campus during the winter.

Finally, what I consider the most important thing I did in my drum career was when I was a junior. My younger brother was three years behind me and wanted to play football in high school. He was too small for football and I told him that. I kept encouraging him to let me teach him the drums. If he couldn’t play football, he wasn’t going to do anything, he said. I kept on him until, as he told me today when we Skyped, he got off the bus just before his 8^th grade Christmas vacation, and told Mom to tell me that he wanted to learn to play the drums. We began that evening; every evening for 45 minutes for the rest of the year.

He went to high school the next year and made Intermediate Band. He made Senior Band the next year and went on after that to make State Band several times, as well as Honors Band, an exclusive regional band in the tri-state area centered on Pittsburgh. I had tried but never made it. He made it the first time his sophomore year. He went on to major in music at Carnegie Tech, then Carnegie Mellon by the time he got his masters, got drafted into the Army and played in the NORAD Band in Colorado, got out, stayed in Colorado, taught music in the Colorado Springs school system for years before he retired around 1990. He still gives private lessons and coaches local high school percussion sections.

When I graduated from high school and went to college, I didn’t join the band. I never picked up a set of drumsticks again.


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My Music Career Begins

My music career began when I was in the eighth grade. Actually, it started the year before. Our grade school (there was no middle or junior high back then; just grade school and high school) was starting a music program the next school year, so the principal had an evening assembly for interested students and their parents. So Mom and Pop and I went. My brother, who was three years behind me, was too young, but I am sure he went as well.

After we listened for a while about the program, which to be honest I don’t remember a thing, I do remember what happened next. When we were asked what we wanted to play, two of my three closest friends, Bob and Fred, and I all said we wanted to play the saxophone. Then the music teacher had us get in line, and one by one, she inspected our mouths! She was looking at how our jaws closed to see if there would be any problems with blowing the reed on the sax. Both my friends passed, but I didn’t. I can’t remember what the problem was, I just remember being crestfallen about not being able to play the sax. I don’t know if I was offered any other instrument or not, but I do know that the teacher did offer me the opportunity to play the drums. I jumped at the chance.

What sealed the deal was that the drumsticks cost one dollar, and the drum pad just a few dollars. Pop said after looking at the pad, “I can make one better than that”. And he did. And so my music career began then next year. By the way, another close friend, another Bob, was going to play the drums as well.

The funny thing is that I do not remember anything about playing music or drums or anything during eighth grade the next year. But I must have because when I got to high school, I was in the Beginning Band. And I knew how to play the snare drum. And all of my friends who played sax, and Bob on the snare drum, and Terry, another friend, on trumpet, were all there as well.

I say I don’t remember playing, but that is not exactly the truth. I do remember playing at home. I started out with a set of 2B drumsticks, a music book for drums, and a homemade drum pad. Pop made it first just like the store bought ones with a thin piece of about 4” square rubber simulating the drumhead on an angular wooden base just like a real drum would be angled. Later, the rubber was replaced with linoleum. It sounded snappier.

The story will continue…    

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Reading about reading and books

I enjoy reading books about reading and books. I’m not completely sure why, but I always find it worthwhile when I spend time reading about books and reading. I read once about a man who told how he logged and registered every book he obtained – whether he purchased it, or was given it as a gift or whatever – as soon as he got the book home. It was an elaborate process, especially if he had several books. I found it interesting and very much like I used to do. I don’t do that anymore. I’m not sure why. It might have to do that I once lost my library file and its backup and the thought to start over was just too much for me to ponder.

I read another small book about books and reading and libraries by Anne Fadiman. It was called, appropriately, “Ex Libris”. I actually have read it twice. It begins with a charming article about merging her library with her husband’s “after living together for six years and married for five”, as she says. The short chapter is entertaining and makes one wish that they could write so well (at least it does for me whenever I reread any of the others). I just pulled it down from the bookshelf and will begin to read it again this evening.

I have read books about book thieves and persons who have stolen old maps from books by cutting them out of the books in libraries! I have read about famous people’s libraries and what they look like. Whenever I read a novel and books play an important part either in the plot, or maybe just the setting, the writer takes a good deal of time to describe what the library looks like, and where the person would read the book, to the point where I can imagine myself sitting there, by the fire, with my whisky and my dog lying next to me on a cold winter’s evening… Oops, got carried away. Sorry.

Anyhow, on that note, I am going downstairs to sit with a whisky and my “Ex Libris”. More about this topic again… Slainte! 

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Bookmarks

People sometimes use the oddest things as bookmarks in their books.  I shouldn’t complain, however, since anything is better than turning down the top corner of the page, or breaking the spine of the book by laying it open face down, or putting a pencil or pen in it and closing the book.  Thankfully, here are some things I have seen people use.

      A purchased bookmark (APB) with an uplifting saying on it
      APB made of leather or cloth that was a souvenir from someplace visited
      A free bookmark given by the bookstore from where the book was purchased
      A sales receipt 
      An airline boarding pass
      A used monthly train ticket
      A used metro or subway card
      A two-dollar Jefferson bill
      A scrap blank piece of paper
      A scrap piece of paper with something written on it
      A pencil or pen
      A folded blank piece of paper
      A business card
      An appointment card from a doctor or dentist
      A shopping list
      An old letter to someone
      An unused postcard
      A postcard received from someone
      A blowout card from a magazine
      A ribbon built into the book or the book caddie
      A flyleaf, either the front of the back, of the book
      A Post-it note
      A homemade postcard with pressed flowers, a pressed spice or herb covered in plastic
      A homemade bookmark obviously made by a child, usually one’s own
      A blank 3x5 card
      A 3x5 card with random notes on it
      A 3x5 card with notes about the book on it

And each one of them, except for the blank scrap of paper or the unused Post-it note, has some story behind it.  Maybe the story is connected to the book; maybe it’s connected to the reader.   Maybe neither.  But it still has a story. 

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Rereading a Book

 Some time ago I wrote about whether it was better to read more than one book at a time.  Today, I want to discuss whether it is ever worthwhile to reread a book other than the sheer pleasure you get from it.  That’s assuming, of course, it’s your choice and not an assignment.  But why would you reread a book for any other reasons except for pleasure or an assignment?

One of the first reasons I can think of, especially for fiction, is that you can’t remember the ending.  For that matter, you can’t remember much at all about it.  You just know that you did read it before and decide to read it again.  I did that recently.  I reread a novel set right at the end of WW2 about an American Army officer assigned to investigate reported murders of two German civilians (the book had the imaginative title of “The Investigating Officer”).  I remembered vaguely some details and kind of remembered the ending.  As I read the story, however, I found that I missed or forgot many things that should have stayed with me.  This morning as I sat in my loft thinking about today’s writing, I began to remember this story.  Guess what?  I have lost many details again!  Why?  It was a very enjoyable book and I thought very well written.

Another reason for rereading fiction is if it is a series and you have lost the thread of the earlier books, forgot characters and plots, and need to bring things up-to-date.  I find myself doing that often, especially when a favorite author hasn’t published in a while.

As for nonfiction books, rereading is rather a necessity if you have forgotten much of it, regardless whether you enjoyed it or not.  I find that I take more notes with them than I do with fiction.  I think that’s obvious.  Why then do people reread a nonfiction book?  Essentially for the same reasons they do for fiction – they can’t remember things and what to for whatever.  My guess is that it is probably easier to read a fiction book a second time than it is a nonfiction book. There's just too much information you will want to remember the second time you read a nonfiction book.

I think in the end the real reason people reread a book is that they enjoyed it the first time (or last time if they have read it several times by now), and want to experience it again.  That is why I reread them.

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Living with Color Blindness

I am color blind.  Not totally, but enough that I can’t pass the photochromatic dots test that they give you when they are testing you for color blindness.  I think it got worse as I got older.  I used to be able to see a few more numbers before I went “blind”.  Nowadays, it’s almost useless to even pull the little booklet out and flip through the pages.  I don’t even think I got more than 1 or 2 the last time I did it.  I was told I was red-green color blind, which is one of the most common, but I have trouble seeing other colors as well, especially shading. Browns and greens are confusing. Gray can be added to the list when we begin to work with shades.

I know I miss many beautiful things in life.  The fall is particularly bad.  Everyone talks about the changing of the leaves and how beautiful it is.  Only when it is vividly bright and sunny and the leaves have several different colors can I see them.  I can only imagine what it really must look like to people with normal vision.  Before the changes really get sharp I can’t really see anything; still a bunch of grays and drab greens and browns.

And let’s not even start to talk about wearing matching clothes.  I’ve always told people that a major reason I stayed in the Army for a career was that I never had to match clothes; it was done for me.  Class A’s were green coat and trousers with a blue-green shirt and black tie and black shoes.  BDU’s were green fatigues starting out, then went to camouflage which was even easier to match with anything if I had wanted.  Black boots were the only color I wore except during Vietnam when I did wear some tan ones for a while.  But I preferred black tanker boots with my Class C (fatigue duty) uniforms.

Wearing civilian clothes, however, was a different story.  I had to remember what colors went together and what colors clashed.  To me, clashing colors meant brightness.  Once I knew what shirts went with which trousers, I separated them in my closet.  I would hang my ties on dress shirts to ensure a matching appearance when I dressed for work after I left the Army.  My shoes and belts were easy – black with black; brown with brown.

At times, though, I sometimes think it would be interesting to see in only black and white.  I seem to remember that I read or heard that some animals see only in black and white.  I can’t remember which ones or even if that is true.  I’ll have to investigate that.  It will be sunset soon; I think I’ll go and enjoy it before it turns gray, then black.


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Another "Backaching" Day

          Well, the cocktail last night was only temporary...today has been a miserable day with respect to my back. It hurt worse getting up than it has for some time. I can't remember when it was this bad. Actually, I do. It was back in the summer when I was being treated for the thigh pain. Come to find out it was a compressed disk on a couple of nerves that ran through my leg. Now it seems to be back.

          I can see why people get addicted to pain meds that they take for bad backs, etc. So far, my Aleve has been working and I only have to take it about once a week when the pain gets too much. But I have taken it two days in a row this time. Only have Trivia Night this evening. I'll have a couple of beers.

          Wish me luck...

Volunteering and Backaches

          I had three days of heavy volunteering over the past four. Started out on Friday with a special tour of the Stonewall Jackson House. It's closed during January and February every year for maintenance and general sprucing up. But there a special group of people from one of the nearby hospitals that like come down every year at this time. I have volunteered for the last six years to do the tour. I enjoy it. This year I was on my feet for over three hours straight once you count arriving, waiting, and talking afterward. It put a lot of stress on my back with a pinched nerve, as well as my sore thigh muscle. 

          I didn't get much rest on Saturday and was right back at the SJH on Sunday giving free tours for his birthday. He was born on January 21, 1824, in Weston, WVA (then it was still Virginia). I stood for most of the four hours I was there, though I did get to sit during breaks in the visitor traffic.

          This afternoon I spent three hours working at the library sitting and typing into a computer. I tried to sit up properly, but nevertheless, my back is really bad now. I had taken an Aleve just before I went to the library this afternoon. I think it only deadened the pain. Fortunately, I can relax tomorrow until the evening when we have another Trivia Night. 

          I think I'll make a cocktail...



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More Toy Memories

          Continuing from yesterday’s writing, there were several other toys we played with as we grew up.  A favorite from early on was toy guns.  We had many.  Some were cap guns; some were water guns; some probably even fired small toy projectiles though I can’t remember specific guns that did other than rubber dart pistols.  We had western guns, pistols, rifles, and even bows and arrows with rubber suction cups; space guns that made sparks and noise; guns for war including submachine guns and life-like automatic .45 Colt pistols.  I had a western six-gun with a very long barrel.  It was Wyatt Earp’s Buntline Special.  I even had a special holster to carry it in when we played Cowboys and Indians.

                    I do remember another kit we had as we grew up.  It was a wood burning kit.  We could make signs and decorative pictures on wood boards with a handheld burning tool.  It got hot!  Today, children wouldn’t be allowed to use it without adult supervision.  I remember using it while still in grade school and we didn’t have any parent around.

          As we got older we began to play sports.  We didn’t play organized team sports in school, but we did play in the backyard.  Our favorite sport was baseball.  I remember playing football and basketball – Pop even made us a basketball net on a backstop and mounted on a locust tree in the backyard – but it was baseball that we enjoyed most.  At least I did.  We could play simple catch; one of us could pitch over a plate and the other would be the catcher; sometimes one would be the batter instead of catcher, but this would necessarily slow the game down because if the batter missed the ball, he had to go get it.  The brick chimney on the back of the house was a good backstop, but we still had to run after the ball.  Because there weren’t many boys our age – or even just boys and girls – playing a real game wasn’t possible.  I do remember playing with friends when their parents came to visit Mom and Pop.

          Another thing I vaguely remember playing with was something I wish we hadn’t and saved instead.  Somehow Pop still had his oxygen mask from his days when he flew in WW2.  I remember it was gray, rubber, and very flexible.  We also had his pilot’s Class A cap.  And even Ration Stamps from the period that Mom must have used during the war.  I can’t believe they let us play with those things and now they are gone.

          I am sure there were other toys.  When I remember more, I’ll write again.  On the other hand, some these deserve stories of their own.  We’ll see. 

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Childhood Toys, the Stuffed Animals, the Sets and the Kits

I’ll try not to make this just a list.  I remember having a lot of toys, mostly plastic and metal guns, some stuffed animals, building and science kits, and of course, the usual sports equipment and bikes.  And we didn’t always get them only for Christmas, though that is where we usually got our big toys.

          The earliest toys I remember were stuffed animals.  I remember I had a lamb, an elephant, and a teddy bear.  The lamb was creatively called Lambie Boy.  The bear was Chico.  I don’t remember if the elephant had a name, but suspect it did; probably Dumbo.  Chico was my favorite.  I think he finally died when his neck got so loose one day his head finally fell off.  His name probably came from one of the favorite TV programs of the day, The Cisco Kid.  Maybe I couldn’t say “Cisco” correctly.  I’ll have to ask my brother.

          A real favorite group of toys was the kits.  The earliest were Tinker Toys and Lincoln Logs.  The logs are still around today, but not sure of the Tinker kits.  I remember building cars, house frames, and even dinosaurs from the sticks and round connectors.  There were no motors that I remember of with the Tinker Toys.  That came with the Erector sets.  Oh, these were great!  Small nuts, bolts, metal girders, washers were common in all kits, but of course, motors in the bigger kits.  The kits came with small wrenches to tighten the nuts.  We made mostly buildings and things that had motors, but to tell you the truth I don’t remember having motors until we got older.  Most of our Erector sets came without motors.  It was less expensive.

          But my favorite kits were the chemistry set and the microscope kit.  We could mix all kinds of chemicals and do tests and watch the reactions when we put the stuff together.  As we got older we could use household items like sugar, match heads, vinegar, bleach, etc.  Always being safe of course!!  I shudder when I think of those experiments we did in the garage next to the car with a full gas tank, all under our home. 

The microscope kit was safer but in its own way just as much fun.  We got to see the world that was too small to see normally.  Just looking at leaves or dead flies opened up windows of imagination that we never thought about before.  We looked at grains of sand, blood and water drops, and other insects, or at least parts of their bodies.  I couldn’t wait until high school when I could use more powerful scopes.  But when I got into high school I didn’t like either chemistry or biology.  I had discovered mathematics.  But back then, there were no toys for math except for the slide rule.  No one had yet invented pocket or personal calculators.

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A Very Busy, Busy Day

          Today was a very busy day. I had a special tour to give at the Stonewall Jackson House. I give this one every year and look forward to it. I also am babysitting the daily book sale shelves at the local library for a friend of mine who is away this week. She is very particular about who she wants as a stand-in and the other person has been sick all week. So I had to step up. And I began the morning with an appointment to set up my colonoscopy. (It's now set for 8 February.)

          Consequently, this entry will be very short. And I will not get in any writing today. That's right; I try to write every day. Many days it is nothing more than my blog entry, but sometimes it is completely different. I try to fill one page and only one page. If I can write (read type) over half of a page then I consider it satisfactory. And on the other end, I try to keep it to only one page.

          So what did I not get done today? I didn't get my treadmill walk in at all. Neither did I get to do any weight exercises. The latter is important because I have yet to restart them. I also am staring stretching exercises. Anyhow, none of these got done today.

          I also did not get my required reading done. What is required reading? It's the reading every day of the books for the book group. I have two because one is for February and one is for March. The March book is my book, "Flatland", and I am the leader that month. I need to read some background material and develop some questions as well.

          The other thing that did not get done was completing my response to my ex-student about the paper he sent me. I owe him a very thoughtful and reasoned reply. I will try for this weekend.


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Auto-Antonyms

          A little shorter entry writing today. I have spent the last hour and a half trying to find this. It was a few days ago that I first came across it. I can’t remember exactly, but I just remember that I was reading about antonyms and the subject veered over to auto-antonyms. I was intrigued, but not intrigued enough to write the name down. Shame on me. I’ve learned my lesson. After checking so many websites on language and related subjects, and going through my 3x5 cards, I went back to the computer and typed in “antonyms” into Wikipedia. And it took me to “Opposites”. And on the article's page three was what I was hunting for.

           

            What is an auto-antonym? Simply put, it is a word that can mean the opposite of itself depending on the way one uses it. One of the examples that Wikipedia gave was “fast”: it can mean moving quickly, or it can mean fixed firmly in place. “Enjoin” can mean to prohibit, or it can mean to order. Some other examples the article gave were “cleave” (to split; to adhere); “sanction” (prohibition; permission); and “stay” (postpone or remain in place; movement, or guide direction).

          Now that I knew what to call it, I typed in "auto-antonym" into the Wikipedia Search space. And I found an entire article just on it! And I found a much longer list of such words. I've accomplished something. I feel good. I should have been an English major (just kidding).

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Moby-Dick

          I recently finished a library book about the novel, Moby Dick.  It was called, “Why Read Moby-Dick?” and written by Nathaniel Philbrick.  He has written other historical books on the Mayflower and the whaling ship Essex among others.  This book was a short, 131-page, 28 short chapters, about the book and how and why Melville wrote it.  Philbrick has read the book about a dozen times according to his count and unabashedly tells the reader he loves the book.  

          While often I got lost in some of the heavier stuff, I did enjoy it enough to attempt to read it – again.  That’s try to read it because I never finished it. I learned something whaling and how the ships would clean the whales while still at sea.  I never really thought about that, but it makes sense.  Shipping out of Nantucket, which was the whaling center in America in the 19^th century, the boats would go into the Pacific as well as the Atlantic Ocean.  The language was not the easiest to read, but now that I have a taste for it, it will be easier I believe. I think the main thing is to read slowly.

          The author talked about several of the main characters, including Ahab the captain.  Of course, it is written from the standpoint of Ishmael, ultimately the only survivor.  He also talked of making coffin-canoes, tribal safety rafts-of-sorts.  He talked of how Ahab seduced the crew with magic-like words and actions to get them to support and follow him on his quest to find the “White Whale”.

          Some of the best parts I enjoyed were where time was spent explaining how the whales had to be stripped and cooked so that the oil, blubber, and skin could be saved.  In one particular incident, Pip, a young boy was put in a whaling boat because one of the normal seamen couldn’t go out.  Instructions were given to him to not stand in the boat, but when the whale surfaced it scared Pip and he jumped up and the whale knocked him overboard.  The whale had to be let loose so that Pip could be saved.  Pip was told the next time that he would not be rescued.  The whale was worth more than he was.  It didn’t matter – he fell over again, and was left on his own!  He did survive that only to be present at the end when the White Whale sank the Pequod.

           All in all, it would have to be read along with something else very different.  One reason this book was a little difficult was that I was reading the story of the HMS Endurance and Shackleton’s South Pole adventure.  It was difficult keeping the two boats and their stories separate.

(Book Antiqua 11)

My Olympic Adventure Ends

The “Day” finally arrived. I was to be in position on East Maiden Street about a half-mile east of South Main Street. I would be running westward. I was in my uniform and holding my torch, ready for the runner coming at me. I don’t remember much about the runner except it was a “he”. When he approached me, I noticed he was jogging slowly, more slowly than I had anticipated we would be going. But there was a very good reason for this. Too fast and the flame could go out. It was a butane lit device nestled in the top of the torch, but a strong breeze or wind could very possibly blow the flame out.

            As the runner came up to me, he stopped and leaned his torch towards mine. I did the same. His flame lit mine. This was a magical moment for me. I was holding the flame that began on Mt. Olympus a few months ago! (I guess I forgot to mention that the torch was not past, just the flame. We got to keep our individual torches!)

            Once lit, I began my run – or jog. I ran past my college old biology and English buildings. I ran until the Maiden Street – Main Street intersection. I stopped kitty-corner from the old drug store that I learned about JFK’s assassination 21 years earlier. I transferred the flame to the next runner, again I can’t remember him or her. My two grandmothers were there as well as Mom and other family. Except for Pop. I had to go show him the torch and tell him all about it at the hospital.

            You ask, “How did you get your picture in the leading Pittsburgh newspaper?” Simple – my mother picked up a young man with a bunch of cameras slung over his neck on her way to the torch relay. When he told her who he was and what he was going to do – ride the Press Truck just ahead of the runner – Mom told him I was one of the torchbearers. He took a few notes, then told her if he got a good picture that he would send it to her. Little did anyone know that I would get my 15 minutes of fame from it!

            I don’t remember how I got to the airport the next day. Truthfully, if this was a memoir, I could make something up, but I really can’t remember. Anyhow, when I checked in I only had a checked bag, a backpack, and my torch which was in a very nice soft, zippered bag. When they said I would have to check it, I told them “No!”. I knew I would never see it again. We compromised. I took out the wick and butane container from the base. They let me take it into the cabin. I kept it next to me all the way home.

            When I got home, I was still not done. During the few days and weeks, I went around to the schools and various organizations that contributed to my run to show them the torch and tell them the story. The students all wanted to touch the torch, and truthfully, many of the adults did as well. It took me some time to fully digest everything that happened to me.

            Epilogue: Sometime later, Pop gave me a glass case that he had made for the torch. He made it from cherry wood. From cherry wood from the cherry tree that grew in our backyard when I was growing up. I climbed that tree all the time, eating cherries, and thinking of all the great things I was going to accomplish when I grew up.

My Olympic Story Continues

15 January 2018

Landing in Pittsburgh I am picked up by family and driven to my parent’s home near Washington where I grew up. Normally, Pop would have picked me up, but of all times he was in the hospital for a pacemaker replacement. Nothing serious, the batteries were running down. He wouldn’t see me carry the torch. My memory says it was Mom’s brother, my uncle. I can’t remember. Anyhow, I had to get to the Meadowlands Racetrack about 5 miles north of town to register at the track hotel. I was carrying the torch the next day.

            When I drove to the hotel later that afternoon, I was a little early so I went to the restaurant to get a bite to eat. I had been traveling all day and I was famished. I never liked airplane food. I sat down, ordered, and waited for my meal. In the booth next to me were several people, also eating, and talking about the torch coming through town the next day. My mom, who was with me by then, reached over and tapped this really huge man on the shoulder and said “My son here is carrying the torch tomorrow”. Then the man stood up and reached his massive hand across the booth to shake my hand. That’s when I noticed he had a Super Bowl ring on. It was Dwight White, ex-defensive end for the Pittsburgh Steelers, and part of the famous Steel Curtain! He said, “Congratulations’”, and I mumbled some kind of thanks, all the while a little starstruck.

            After I came down from my cloud, I had to go to one of the hotel rooms where the torch carriers were to register. Bell Telephone was a major sponsor of the Olympic Torch Carry. When I found the room, I knocked and went in. There were familiar looking two older ladies sitting at the desk who greeted me. I said hello and told them I was a runner for the torch the next day. They asked my name. When I told them. One said to the other, “There was a young boy who worked as a janitor for our telephone company awhile back with that last name. Do you know him?” I had worked there as I went to college. It was only a half a block from school. When I told them I was that boy and now an officer in the Army getting ready to retire in a few years, we all briefly reminisced. They gave me my uniform and of course, my torch. It was beautiful.

          All-in-all, it was quite an afternoon. Later still that evening, I went to the hospital and showed Pop my uniform and the torch. He was impressed. The story continues…

Olympic Throwback 1

I am trying to get my mind around the upcoming Olympics next month. I enjoy watching the Summer Games, but the Winter Games do not excite me very much. It is especially difficult when the time zones are so different that it's like watching day at night, or vice versa.

          My favorite Olympics was 1984 in Los Angeles. That is because I was a participant. I was able to carry the Olympic Torch on its way to Los Angeles. It's an interesting story. Let me explain.

           The powers-to-be decided a way to get money to help pay for the games would be to offer people an opportunity to carry the torch on its route to the games. If I wanted to carry the torch, all I had to do was raise $3,000 and donate it to a charity of my choice. Choosing the charity was the easy part. I selected the Special Olympics. Collecting the money was a different matter. I was on active duty in the Army at the time and stationed in the Finger Lakes area of New York. I was an avid runner. So I began by contacting my family, friends, and co-workers and asked for a charitable donation. It started okay, but stalled out about halfway there. Then I was interviewed by the local newspaper. A few days after the article was published in the paper, I received a phone call from a local resident; a lady named Pat who read my story said she wanted to help. She had experience in fundraising and wanted me to see my dream come true. Well, to make the story a little shorter, we did it. But I wouldn't have without her help. I got my $3,000. But I still had things to do.

           The distance I would run would be no problem. It was one kilometer, about .6 of a mile. According to a map of the route the torch would take, it was nowhere close to where I was stationed. But it did run right through my hometown of Washington, Pennsylvania, a small Appalachia-like town about 30 miles south of Pittsburgh. And even more, the route ran right through the town on a street that ran past the college I graduated from in 1966: Washington and Jefferson College. All I had to do was simple: 1) ask the organizers to give me the part of the route that would run past the college, and 2) find a way to get to my hometown. Once I heard from the organizers that I could run the route I wanted, I purchased a round-trip airline ticket to Pittsburgh.

           I was going to be part of the 1984 Summer Olympics... (to be continued)

           

Playing Catch-Up

Today is a Catch-Up day. I have got behind in my required reading & I need to spend quite a bit of time on that. I've got the book group read, my selection for the book group that I am studying up on, and I still have to complete the paper written by my ex-student. The last I have actually read. I just need to respond to him in an email as I told him I would.

          The weather is dropping again today, so it doesn't keep one wanting to go out. Hopefully, I'll have more time to write about things tomorrow.

          Until then...

Watching Early Morning Ads on TV

At my age, I get up early. I can't sleep more than five or so hours. Usually, I rise about 4:00 am and go out to feed Allie, our black and white "rescue" cat (another story), make a cup of Keurig coffee and sit with the cat to watch early news. One of the things I really enjoy watching are the ads for all kinds of things. I'm reminded of an episode of the show "Home Improvement" starring Tim Allen. He couldn't sleep so he would wake up and watch TV. When he saw these ads on TV he couldn't help himself. He would order whatever they were selling. And he would order it again the next time he saw the ad!

          Anyhow, I haven't yet ordered anything though I've seen some things that might be nice. What I enjoy watching most is the actors playing the parts and their reactions - both before they have the item being sold and then after they get it. I guess the ad agencies think that if we can't see the difference between before-and-after that we will miss the point of having the item being pitched. Their actions are exaggerated to a silly degree. I have a couple of favorites.

          My favorite is when a couple is eating dinner and the lights go out. Next, you see the man trying to hold a flashlight with his chin and shoulder and dropping it almost into his pasta. His wife, meanwhile, is frantically waving her hands and arms around and mouthing things at him, and both are shaking their heads in complete frustration. Instead, the ad shows a power lantern that can give a powerful enough light for over two miles, sits like a table light and makes dinner so easy, you just have to have one of these. Now when the light goes out, the couple was just sitting there with the light and were prepared and are so happy...

          The other ad I love to watch is when a couple is trying to hang a motion light on the front of the garage and the man is totally uncoordinated with the wiring as tries to hang it. Again, the wife is adding to the confusion by again waving her hands and arms and verbaling (I assume) accosting her husband for being such a dufus. Scene changes and now you see the wife - I guess it is to show how easy a woman can do it - reaching above the garage door and simply by applying some pressure a square-shaped light sticks to the brick - or wood. Of course, maybe the woman was watching early morning TV and saw the ad and just ordered the light to surprise her dotard of a husband. There is another one about night lights where a man is carrying out a garbage bag when he trips and falls into the trash can, knocking him and it to the ground. I love it!

          Try watching ads the next time you can't sleep!

Running & Walking

If I would have stayed with running, this month on the 28^th I would be celebrating my 40^th year of running. I stopped in 2004 when I moved to Pennsylvania from New Jersey. It was primarily fitting it in with my job I said. But upon reflection, I don’t think that was the reason. My running had slacked off for about 2 or 3 years. Probably after 9/11, it took a real dive. Funny, but you would think that a committed runner would have stepped up the running. After all, I wasn’t running for physical health, but probably almost exclusively mental reasons.

          I began to walk regularly from 2004 until about 2010 when I moved again, this time to Lexington, Virginia, where I currently reside. I again fell off the exercise wagon. That was until 2012 when I found out I had a partially blocked artery in my neck. So once again I began to walk religiously for three years until about the end of 2015 when again a cold winter destroyed my motivation.

          It now the beginning of 2018, about two years of starts and stops, and excuses. It’s time for another shot of motivation. I can’t return to running because my leg muscles around my knees are weak as are my knees themselves. I know my knees are good from a recent X-ray. So walking is the obvious choice. But there’s a fly in the ointment. There always is, isn’t there? About a year and a half ago, I had some skin cancer removed from my forehead. Ever since I have been hesitant walking outside even though I now wear sunscreen.

          This time I am going to add meditation to the mix and see how this comes out. Last year I read the “10% Happier” book by Dan Harris from ABC News. It was an interesting read and I believe it can help. I will take it step-by-step. Actually, that is the name of a book memoir by Lawrence Block. I read it about three years ago. It’s about his transition from running to race walking because of bad knees. I’m not sure I will ever be a racewalker, but I will give some serious thought.

I want to return to competitive running, or racewalking at the very least. The fact is that I love running. I always have. I will take a later post and explain how I got into running. It’s quite a story. But for now, walking will have to do. Stay tuned…   

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Book Group Meeting and Trivia Nite

Yesterday was busy. We had our first book group meeting of the new year yesterday afternoon at our local pub. The book was an exciting read for all of us. It was "Endurance" by Alfred Lansing, written in 1959, and about the Ernest Shackleton Antarctic expedition to the South Pole in 1914. The expedition never came close to the pole, but all 28 men survived over a year and a half! 

            We take turns "hosting" the meeting which includes developing and sending out questions and then leading the discussion at the meeting. The discussion ranges from specific things that were read in the book, good and bad, to similar books, and even maybe films that were made of the book or similar events. Being a catastrophe on the sea, there was no shortage of comparisons. It was a book I would never have read on my own, but am glad I did. But I still not think I will read another of this type on my own.

            Next month's selection is "1776" by David McCullough. I have just started it and as usual with McCullough's books, I am enjoying it. I'm confident that this book will be liked by most of us. David McCullough is a favorite author. This is the fourth book on the early American time period we've read as a group, but we seem to enjoy that period. March's selection will be my choice which is "Flatland" by Edwin Abbott Abbott, written in 1884, in England, but has never gone out of print. On the surface, it is a mathematical fantasy of a two-dimensional world where a man is shown the existence of a third dimension. It is also a social satire of the Victorian times in that period. I hope folks like it, but you never know.

            Yesterday evening at the same pub, we had trivia night; a regular event twice a month. Teams of up to six persons vie against each other over usually a series of 20-25 questions. Most evenings the theme is general, but sometimes it is specific, such as politics, sports, music, or Christmas, to name a few recent ones. Last night was general. It started out with only 7 teams but quickly grew to 11 with some late arrivals. Each team has its own name; ours is Deeds Alone, but more on that later. We've been doing well lately, winning the 3 of the last 4. We had a couple of subs, but that wasn't the reason we didn't win last night. There was some smart competition. We ended up tied for 4th, only three points of the lead, but two teams tied for the top spot. After several sudden death questions, it was still tied, and the emcee called it a draw. The next trivia night is next week, so we're looking forward to reclaiming our throne. 

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Book Group Discussion Questions

I've been busy working on questions for this month's book group meeting. No, I didn't write them. Another member did. I'm just trying to answer them before the meeting. It should be a very good meeting this afternoon. The book is "Endurance" by Alfred Lansing, and it's about the 1914 Ernest Shackleton expedition to the Antarctic.

1. What do you think Shackleton is feeling as the ice closes on the ship?  What does he convey to his men?

2. What did he do to build confidence in his men?

3. Discuss his reading of the “contract”!

4. Other than Shackleton (as the leader of the expedition), who do you feel is the second most important individual on the trip?

5. What are the things he needed to do to prepare for the voyage?

6. To what extent do you think he was influenced by his family motto, “By endurance we will conquer”?

7. Do you think Shackleton knew and drew upon his talents?

8. What do you think about his reaction to the King’s question when he was asked, “Do you feel fear when you embark on a journey like this”?

9. Would anything have changed if some of the crew had died?

10. What are your overall impressions of Shackleton?  What drove him to make this expedition?

11. Name one thing that saved the men on this expedition!

My Deaf-Blind Argument Part 1

This is an internal argument I have been having with myself for decades. I know what some of you are thinking. “Why would he think about such dreadful calamities to him?” And you’re right. But it’s something I have always struggled with ever since I was young. How young, you ask? I guess it goes back to when I was in high school.

            When I was in school I played in the band. I loved music. Still do. I couldn’t think of not being able to listen to music. Yes, if I were blind I couldn’t read music to play, but I could play it after I heard it and discussed it with others. I wasn’t the reader back then that I am now. But I never made a firm decision.

            As I grew older, and I became more of an avid reader, the pendulum began to swing in the direction of keeping my sight over my hearing. Again, there were things I could do to get that would allow me to read. Early on there was – and still is – Braille reading. (I used to drive for a blind lady who worked for the state blind association. She would visit other blind folks and help them adjust and live with their blindness. She would sit in the back of her car while I drove her from home to home, reading her Braille books! When we would get to a home, she would describe it to me including the number of steps we had on the walk up, the color of the house, whether we rang the doorbell or knocked, and million other things. She was amazing. I’ll save more of this for a later post!) Somehow though, reading those large books with my fingers never got me interested enough to learn Braille and try it.

            But giving up either sense is more than just giving up either just reading or listening to or playing music. However, for purposes of my argument here I am going to limit it to only those two activities. Sight reading books and listening to music.

            Today there are alternatives for sight reading that may worth considering. There are audiobooks. Or one can hire a reader. But why would one of these be better than reading a Braille book?

            I am at the bottom of my page and the artificial limit I put on my daily writing…to be continued…

(Ebrima 12 font)

I am a Book Smeller

I once read an article by the comedian and writer, Art Buchwald, who confessed he was a book sniffer as he called it.  While I was happy to find someone else confess to this bibliographic crime, I have always said that I smell books, not sniff them.  I guess there is a difference and if I looked up both in the dictionary I would see the difference.  But I’m not sure that I am ready to be told what it is.  The result is the same.

          I have always remembered smells, both good and bad before any other senses I think.  I vividly remember in elementary school the smell of a freshly sharpened pencil mixed with the smell of paper in a Clearfield writing tablet with an Indianhead, complete with a chief’s headdress on the cover. Since I went to school in Pennsylvania, I always figured that the paper tablets were made in Clearfield, PA.  It’s hard for me to describe what those smells were except to say the pencil smelled of freshly cut wood.  It didn’t have a heavy woodsy smell or one that smelled of cedar or something else.  It was almost like sawdust. The paper is even harder to explain.  I always associated it with plain, inexpensive paper which it probably was.  It didn’t have a shiny feel to it, but soft, but rough feel if you will.  Every once in awhile, I find a paperback whose pages smell just like that.

          Books smell differently depending on their subject matter.  Nonfiction smell different from fiction.  And textbooks smell completely different.  When I smell a textbook I am instantly back in college – not high school for whatever reason, but college – I’m usually in Dr. Mitchell’s English history class.  I’ve always loved to smell my books, but never really tried to give the odors a name.  That is except for old, moldy books.  They smell of mold; which is different than old books in good condition which just smell old and warm.  Yes, warm.  If you smell a shiny textbook or any book for that matter, it will have a cold feeling smell.  I guess I will have to try harder to classify each book’s smell so I can compare them.

          Of course, some books are not worthy of reading because of their smell or odor.  I’m not saying a natural smell that came with the book, but one that was subjected to intense torture and attempted murder.  I once found a library book on the shelf which looked like it was dipped in some kind oil and dried.  Its pages were warped and stained. When I opened it, the odors of cigarette smoke and cooking oil was so intense I immediately closed it and turned my head for a clean breath of air.  Oddly, it was not a cookbook.  It was Jaws, by Peter Benchley.  Go figure.  

(Ebrima 11 font)

Boustrophedon and Ablaut Reduplication

Amazingly, I came across two new facts today that I didn’t know about writing and language (That is not really that hard since I’m not an expert in either by any means). The first, boustrophedon, was the “Word of the Day” on Dictionary.com. The other, ablaut reduplication, came in on my daily “ScienceABC Newsletter”. As usual, I find both fascinating.

            Boustrophedon is from the Early Greek meaning literally “like the ox turning”, as in plowing. It is an early form of writing that alternates direction line by line. The first line of writing is from right-to-left with the letters reversed. The second line is from left-to-right with the letters as we normally write. Successive lines continue to alternate. Cool, huh? I haven’t found anything explaining why this method was used, but it was used primarily on the stone tablets of the Greeks. Maybe because it was a quick way to write without the wasted motion of returning the hand and stylus to the edge to begin writing again. And I didn’t find anywhere where someone explained why our writing finally only went from left-to-right, especially since Arabic and Hebrew, to mention a couple civilizations, write right-to-left.

            The ablaut reduplication is when a word is repeated but with a modified vowel or an altered consonant. Examples given in the newsletter were “tick-tock” for the former, and “nitty-gritty” for the latter. There were no set rules, but it did explain that if the word had an “i”, then the next word would probably have an “a” or “o”. Again, the reason for this was not definitely explained, but two connected reasons were offered. The first involved the movement of the tongue. To make the “i” sound, the tongue moves very little, but when the other vowel is sounded, the tongue and lower jaw both move which requires more time and a lower sound. And the higher sounding “i” makes you think something else is coming, while the lower sounding “a” or “o” sounds likely it’s at the end.

            I find this type of information so fascinating. I can’t wait to find them as trivia answers. These would be quality additions to aglet and philtrum. 

(Gadugi 12 is the font)