Happy Thanksgiving

I have many happy memories of Thanksgiving, dating from my childhood days to the years when I took delight in planning and serving the family's Thanksgiving dinner at my house.  The menu always consisted of roast turkey with all the trimmings, mashed potatoes and gravy, two kinds of cranberries, relish and sauce, candied yams with red-hots and marshmallows, a choice of pie, pumpkin, apple or berry. There were vegetables galore along with numerous condiments and sparkling cider to wash it all down. 

Back in the days , when we lived on the asparagus farm, dinner was cooked on a big cast iron stove with water reservoirs on each side, a huge oven and a warming tray along the top.  There were four lids that could be opened when we added either coal or wood fuel, and there was a large flat grill for baking pancakes.  The oven was large enough to bake three cake layers at once or several loaves of bread plus a pan of cinnamon rolls.  The aroma of baking bread is one of life's pleasures and as children, we enjoyed the aroma several time a week when Mom made bread. 

As the years passed, the family spread across the country, but I was fortunate in having many members near enough to attend my turkey dinners.  I spent more time setting the table than I did baking the turkey and preparing the rest of the dinner.  I had a table with leaves that could turn it into a banquet table.  I liked to decorate it with a white cloth with matching napkins, my best set of dishes, sterling silverware and novel centerpieces. 

For the last several years I've shared the day with my son who lives nearby.  We have a traditional meal with choices of desserts and watch TV parades and games.  I look forward to the day and count my blessings.  I hope those reading this blog, will have a great day too.  Happy Thanksgiving!           

Melting Glaciers

A few days ago, while surfing TV stations, I chose to watch a National Geographic documentary released in 2012 called Chasing Ice. It was filmed by James Balog, and directed by Jeff Orloski. Its a multi-year, time-lapsed evidence of glaciers calving at an astonishing rate.

Difficulties encountered while filming this project were so enormous, they almost prevented the achievement of simultaneously recording frozen water of the glacier turning into a slushy tsunami, and landscapes that no longer exist, except on film. The difficulty of setting numerous cameras in dangerous areas that required the exertion of mountain climbers with gear to scale ice mountains. A season of filming was lost because high-tech cameras failed and had to be replaced with those of a simpler circuitry. James Balog, who had filmed glaciers around the world, had knee surgery during the multi-year project in order to continue his dedicated work.

Watching the time compressed calving of a glacier is a mesmerizing experience. As the glacier collapses, ice mountains crumble and cascade into a roiling, churning mass. As the camera pans the thousands of cracks and holes made by melting ice, to focus on the tsunami pouring over and around jagged points of glacier, one suddenly realizes what is actually taking place. Watching an area the size of Manhattan collapse is so shocking, it makes one stop and think.

I've heard about global warming; it was even mentioned in the presidential campaigns, but I must confess, combating global warming didn't really register with me. I thought of it being something politicians would eventually get around to. After watching Chasing Ice, I have a better understanding of what global warming means.

While we concern ourselves with things that won't make a difference a hundred years from now, our planet is changing. The glacial balance of melting, freezing, melting and refreezing is rapidly becoming unbalanced. Perhaps before the point of no return is reached, we can take measures to prevent it.

About the video:

This rare footage has gone on record as the largest glacier calving event ever captured on film, by the 2016 Guiness Book of World Records.

On May 28, 2008, Adam LeWinter and Director Jeff Orlowski filmed a historic breakup at the Ilulissat Glacier in Western Greenland. The calving event lasted for 75 minutes and the glacier retreated a full mile across a calving face three miles wide. The height of the ice is about 3,000 feet, 300-400 feet above water and the rest below water.

Footage produced by James Balog and the Extreme Ice Survey

Talking Heads

The talking heads are at it again.  As a species unto themselves, they are in shock.  Throughout the presidential campaign, the 24/7 parroting of each other, the collective and continuous touting of Hillary for president, which was disguised as analysis, they kept singing.....

"she'll be driving six white horses when she comes".....
"we'll all have chicken and dumplings when she comes"....

Now the talking heads are trying to figure out what happened.  They just forgot....

"The best laid plans of mice and men oft go awry".

Election Day

Its election day   Que sera, sera ......

Story Writing

Recently someone sent me information about the National Novel Writing Month, an annual internet-based creative writing project. It was suggested I look into it and write something. Its wonderful when someone thinks me capable of such accomplishments, but I know my own limitations. I love reading novels, and I read a lot of them, but writing one has never been on my agenda. I gave a derisive laugh and discounted the continuing suggestions. Finally, out of curiosity, I scrolled the internet on how to write a mystery. There were many pointers on how to make a mystery really mysterious, and I learned that writing the ending was the best way to begin. So, I wrote a sentence.

Day 1:

The sun was setting as she parked the car under the giant Sequoia at the side of the cabin.

She parked the car at the side of the cabin just as the sun was setting.

The sequoia at the side of the cabin shaded the car as she parked it.

She heaved a sigh of relief as she parked the car under the Sequoia tree.

She locked the car door, relieved to park before the sun set.

I kept changing the sentence, but couldn't come up with one that satisfied me, so I decided to let a few days go by before trying again.

Days later:

As she parked the car under the Sequoia, she noticed the vehicle following her slow down as it passed her driveway entrance, but it continued on.

That is about as far as my ability to write a mystery goes. I'll leave mystery writing to guys like Grisham.

Casey-Twenty Years Later

The Bugville Team was surely up against a rocky game;
The chances were they'd win defeat and undying fame;
Three men were hurt and two were benched; the score stood six to four.
They had to make three hard-earned runs in just two innings more.
" It can't be done," The captain said, a pallor on his face;
"I've got two pitchers in the field, a mutt on second base;
And should another man get spiked or crippled in some way,
The team would sure be down and out, with eight men left to play.

"We're up against it anyhow as far as I can see;
My boys ain't hitting like they should and that's what worries me;
The luck is with the other side, no pennant will we win;
It's mighty tough, but we must take our medicine and grin."
The eighth round opened; one, two, three; the enemy went down;
The Bugville boys went out the same, the captain wore a frown;
The first half of the ninth came round, two men had been called out,
When Bugville's catcher broke a thumb and could not go that route.

A deathly silence settled o'er the crowd assembled there.
Defeat would be allotted them; they felt it in the air;
With only eight men in the field 'twould be a gruesome fray,
Small wonder that the captain cursed the day he learned to play.
"Lend me a man to finish with," he begged the other team;
"Lend you a man?" the foe replied;  "My boy, you're in a dream;
We want to win the pennant too-that's what we're doing here,
There's only one thing you can do-call for a volunteer."

The captain stood and pondered in a listless sort of way;
He never was a quitter and would not be today!
"Is there within the grandstand here"-his voice rang loud and clear-
"A man who has the sporting blood to be a volunteer?"
Again that awful silence settled o'er the multitude;
Was there a man among them with such recklessness imbued?
The captain stood with cap in hand, while hopeless was his glance,
And then a short and stocky man cried out, "I'll take a chance."

Into the field he bounded with a step both firm and light;
"Give me the mask and mitt," he said, "let's finish up the fight.
The game is now beyond recall, I'll last at least a round;
Although I'm ancient you will find me muscular and sound."
His hair was sprinkled here and there with little streaks of gray;
Around his eyes and on his brow a bunch of wrinkles lay.
The captain smiled despairingly and slowly turned away.
"Why, he's all right," one rooter yelled.  Another, "Let him play/"

"All right, go on," the captain sighed; the stranger turned around,
Took off his coat and collar, too, and threw them on the ground.
The humor of the situation seemed to hit them all,
And as he donned the mask and mitt, the umpire called, "Play ball!"
Three balls the pitcher at him hurled, three balls of lightning speed;
The stranger caught them all with ease and did not seem to heed.
Each ball had been pronounced a strike, the side had been put out,
And as he walked in towards the bench, he heard the rooters shout.

One Bugville boy went out on strikes, and one was killed at first;
The captain saw his awkward pose, and gnashed his teeth and cursed.
The third man smashed a double and the fourth man swatted clear,
Then, in a thunder of applause, up came the volunteer.
His feet were planted in the earth, he swung a warlike club;
The captain saw his awkward pose and softly whispered, "Dub!"
The pitcher looked at him and grinned, then heaved a might ball;
The echo of that fearful swat still lingers with us all.

High, fast and far that spheroid flew; it sailed and sailed away;
It ne'er was found, so it's supposed it still floats on today.
Three runs came in, the pennant would be Bugville's for a year;
The fans and players gathered round to cheer the volunteer.
"What is your name," the captain asked? "Tell us your name," cried all,
As down his cheeks great tears were seen to run and fall.
For one brief moment he was still, then murmured soft and low;
"I'm might Casey who struck out just twenty years ago."

S.P. Clarence McDonald
1908 The San Francisco Examiner