Day 107/365 And Now A Message From Your Cat

Barring any important anniversaries or counterculture memories, this is an appropriate moment for a message from: ME. Seri. Your Kitty.

This morning I discovered an open kitchen window. The great outdoors was so close, I could taste it.

If somehow I could have just pushed that window up, just a bit. All it took was a little more muscle. Another little shove.

Oh hey - there's a bird.

And there's that grey kitty going after it. HEY! I SAW IT FIRST! HEY!

I wonder if I could fit through that little opening....

Oh. Hi.

What do you mean "What am I doing?" I'm not doing anything. Why would you think I am "up to something?" I am not up to anything.

Go away.

Fine.

I'll get down.

But that grey kitty is out there eating that bird.

It coulda been me.

All I needed was a little more muscle.

Or YOU coulda left the window open.

Woulda helped ya know.

Day 106/365 An Anniversary

On May 8, 1973, 36 years ago today, the second occupation of Wounded Knee came to an end.

Doesn't ring a bell?

It would have if you were living on the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota, if you were a member of the American Indian Movement, if you were living in Minnesota or South Dakota, or if you caught any of the evening national news broadcasts for the prior 70 days.

I won't even pretend to go into the history behind the Wounded Knee occupation. It's detailed and involved -the American government does not come out looking good in any way, shape or form, and whatever the Native American complaints are, they are more than likely not half of what they are entitled to be.

But the mission of the occupation was simple: the return of the Great Sioux Nation, a sovereign land base, consisting of the entire western half of South Dakota, recognized by the United Sates in the Fort Laramie Treaty of 1868.


In 1973, I was a freshman at Macalester College (actually a transfer student but admissions was still sorting that out at the time), and Macalester being the hotbed of liberal radicalism it was (and still is) it offered many opportunities for internships, one of which was stuffing envelopes at the St. Paul office for AIM, or the American Indian Movement.

That's how I came to meet Dennis Banks and Russell Means, the leaders of the American Indian Movement, fresh from occupying the island of Alcatraz for 19 months, and two of the most well-known radicals in country. Actually I didn't "meet them" so much as both of them yelled at me for not stuffing envelopes correctly. Not at the same time. I was gifted, in that I managed to irritate both of them at different points over the three month period I helped in the office. I doubt that either of them ever knew my name, or that of any of the other bleeding heart liberal white kids that helped. (Think of all those old westerns where the cast list reads "Indian #1, Indian #2; except in this case it would read "White Kid #1, White Kid #2).

Nevertheless I kept going back,doing my part to aid in the stuggle and soothe my white guilt.

At the same time, on our dorm floor, among the 300+ occupants were three Native American students, all Oglala Sioux tribal members from the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota. They lived on the opposite end of the dorm floor from me, and I have absolutely no idea what their names were, being that 296 people lived in between us.

But I do remember the night when I was sitting with friends in the lounge, and the elevator doors opened up, and two young men who were very obviously Native American stepped out. They headed down the hall towards the opposite end, and within 20 minutes or so, returned with the three native students, each with a back pack.

They stepped into the elevator, and never returned. Left everything except whatever they could carry in their back packs. Later the next day, we learned they had gone to join the occupation at Wounded Knee, and for the next 71 days, from February 27, 1973 through May 8, 1973, the evening news was the center of our attention.

I always wonder what happened to those three. I hope they weren't among the wounded, or the dead. I have read opinions on Pine Ridge have been splintered since the occupation - some feel it was a turning point and a beginning to the resurrection of traditional life. Others had families that were split apart (not unlike white families were split by the Vietnam War, and black families split by the Black Panthers and Black Muslims). Revolution has the tendency to do that.

Day 105/365 Synchronicity

Sometimes odd things happen to book dealers.

Or at least to me.

I have sitting behind my desk a box of books waiting for me to get around to listing on Amazon. They've been waiting awhile. Other boxes have looked more interesting. The garden has been taking up time. DD has needed my attention lately.

So this afternoon, I decided to get to listing that box of books. I also decided to grab one of the music tapes I picked up at the last box sale. It's The War Years, all music that was popular during World War II, nifty songs like I'll Be Seeing You, As Time Goes By, Shoo Shoo Baby and Coming In On A Wing and A Prayer.

This should give you the atmosphere in my office as I'm listing away: books on Atlantis, Ballet Basics, a Pola Negri photoplay book. Then I picked up the next book.

What I now have in my hand is an unusual military collectible, a collection of poems by a twenty-seven year old World War II soldier. The front endpaper has a gift inscription, signed by what I suspect to be the soldier's brother.

His parents arrived in this country in 1905, part of the immigrant wave from Sicily. C. Louis Carpentieri was born in Connecticut in 1916. He graduated art school,and then, unable to find work during the Great Depression, worked as a census taker, and then lived in a CCC camp for a year and a half.

In 1941, Louis joined the Connecticut National Guard, 169th Infantry, 43rd Division and in September 1942, joined the war in the South Pacific. During the battle for the South Pacific, he wrote poems, one right after the other,sometimes in the midst of battle itself, sending many home, some to be published in the the Hartford Times.

The 169th went first to New Zealand, then to Guadalcanal, then, for Louis Carpentieri, to a final long assault against the Japanese on the island of Munda.

He continued writing through it all, entitling one poem "Death on Guadalcanal".

In August 1943, his parents received a telegram from the War Department in Washington that their son was: "killed in action, July 19, 1943. In defense of his country." Letters followed from Secretary of War, Henry L. Stimpson and General George Marshall of the United States Army.

When his personal effects were returned to his parents, they included a still soggy, musty mess of wet paper scraps, some with almost indecipherable writing.

Louis Carpentieri was posthumously awarded the Purple Heart, and laid to rest under a white cross on the Pacific island of Munda. Five years later, he was buried with full military honors in the Mt. St. Benedict Cemetery in Hartford, Connecticut.

Eventually, Louis' sister and Martha Spencer, a reporter for The Hartford Times would be able to separate the wet papers, make out the faded writing, and bring them together in this book I now hold in my hand.

Sometimes the most unexpected stories come out of a box when you least expect it.

Youth, for one moment, fleeting
and unreal, divested of the
imagination which looks neither
forwards not backwards at things
they once loved, did what was to
be done! What had to be done!

Later, they would not be able to
recognize this grim self -
interlude of themselves.

Historian and biographer would
record only their heroic deeds!

Reaction of Gabriele During Battle, C. Louis Carpentieri, 1943


All this we have done in dreaming -
war and strife, struggle, love,
desire -
mad as they seem are but the
stepping stones to eternity.

Seeking Harbor, C. Louis Carpentieri, 1943

Day 104/365 The Day That Put the Led in Zeppelin

Look familiar? Here's a clue - it's 1937.

• H.P. Lovecraft has just died


• Howard Hughes has just set a record for flying from Los Angeles to NYC in in 7 hours, 28 minutes and 25 seconds


• 7 million people are unemployed in the U.S.


• FDR is sworn in for his second term


• Waldo Waterman introduces the first successful flying car, the Aerobile

Still doesn't look familiar?

Here's a look during construction.




Here's a more encompassing look during construction.

This is us, looking down towards those folks who were looking out at New York City.

Photo from: http://www.metroairpost.com/

This is one of 357 salvaged pieces of mail referred to by collectors as "crash mail". Can you now name which crash this piece of mail survived?

May 6, 1937: The crash of The Hindenburg, Lakehurst, New Jersey.

The Hindenburg was suppose to be the future of air travel. It was Hitler's bid to control the sky. Almost worked except for that whole pesky highly-flammable thing.

The Hindenburg was just shy of 804 feet long. For comparison, the Titanic was 882 feet long.

It took the Titanic 2.25 hours to sink. The Hindenburg went up in flames in 32 seconds, although some components burned on the ground for hours.

The common misconception is that the hydrogen that filled the Hindenburg caught fire - not so.

The frame of The Hindenburg was covered with canvas - canvas that had been coated with acetone lacquer. Even worse, the lacquer had particles of aluminum in it to make the airship a shiny silver. At high temperatures - say, those created when hydrogen is mixed with oxygen and catches fire - aluminum adds to the flammability.

The real fire hazard wasn't the hydrogen - it was the actual skin of the airship itself.

Various eyewitnesses said St. Elmo's Fire was seen dancing along the top of The Hindenburg's frame. Whatever started the fire, it was done in 32 seconds flat, dashing Hitler's hopes to the ground.

Still wondering what happened with that flying car though.

103/365 Old College Days

John Filo's Pulitzer-Prize winning photograph

May 4th always sticks in my mind as the day everything changed.

In 1970, I was just shy of 15 years old. In 1970, the coolest thing you could do in high school was cut class to go to an antiwar demonstration.

Not being a huge fan of geometry, I cut class a lot.

Back in those days there were lots of demonstrations. And almost everyone went, not necessarily to protest the Vietnam War, although that was pretty much a given.

People went because they hated the war, hated Nixon, hated Republicans, hated rules and restrictions, or because they loved good music, being with their friends, meeting guys or girls.

For the record, I knew my politics inside out, hated the war, hated Dick Nixon, wanted to be with my friends,and definitely hated geometry.

Where else would I be in 1970, except at a demonstration?

On April 30, 1970, Nixon announced the United States was going to invade Cambodia.

The latest in a long line of Nixon announcements, this one set off demonstrations and riots at hundreds of colleges and universities. Eight million students went on strike. At Iowa State University - where my father taught and my family lived- thousands of students, blockaded the campus streets. Most of my friends had older brothers and sisters at ISU, and of course, we went along to help. Who needs geometry when you can make history?

A few hundred miles away, a similar demonstration was taking place at Kent State, in Ohio.


It would end up being the famous one. You can google it for the details - there were several days of mayhem and riots, as well as arson (a National Guard Armoury was burnt -the arsonist never caught), there were threats and ultimatums from both police and students, and then there was tear gas. And bullets.

Years later, long after the smoke cleared and four students lay dead, there was an vague investigation. The National Guard said they feared for their lives, but eventually were ordered to state for the record that they "regretted their actions". There were rumors of a sniper on top of the building who fired the first shot. There was much discussion of how it came to be that the National Guard was firing on American citizens, and whether the university had any right to ban either students free speech or their right to assemble.

Neil Young wrote a song that became famous, nine other students recouperated from their wounds that day, and over the years, a memorial was held every year on that date. Getting the university to put up an actual memorial took even longer, but in the end, a simple memorial was erected over the exact spot where each student died.

But here's the thing.

That same day, May 4, 1970, when I was dropped off by my friends, after a long hot afternoon sitting in the middle of a four lane highway, in the middle of Iowa State's demonstration, I saw the evening news: nine wounded and four dead in Ohio. And at that exact moment, at the age of 14-almost-15, I saw everything in absolute clarity.

I have never looked at the government, the military, or the police the same way again. To me, they will never be completely "Officer Friendly", or the good guys that saved the world in World War II, or the people you can always trust in an emergency. They remain "the guys with the guns", people that may or may not be on my side, irregardless of the fact that I'm an American citizen.

It truly does amaze me - after 39 years of a crime-free life (except those few-and-far-between speeding tickets) - that I still feel that small, almost imperceptible, tug of discomfort during any contact with police officers or military personnel. Even more amazing is that I can track that feeling to its exact source -May 4, 1970.

I guess it just never occurred to me that they would shoot students. Or that it would stay with me for so long.

Day 102/365 My Life Is An Open Book

Or 10,000 open books anyway.

It's Big Book Sale Season again (versus Monthly Book Sale season). Wednesday was one of our two annual setups for a library sale in a county just north of here. Meaning we hauled home 7 boxes of books that day, including lots of military history for DD.


Today, after letting our backs recouperate a couple days, we went back for the Box Sale. At a library sale that's usually the last day, when all the remaining books are sold by the boxful for a set price, in this case $2.00 per box. I LOVE BOX SALES!

And there's always good books that have been missed. Today there were 15 boxes of good books. Lots of paperbacks, and even a few vintage hardbacks that were donated at the last minute, so the main crowds missed them completely.

Of course I rescued a copy of The Fiery Cross by Diana Gabaldon (my favorite author, out of many favorite authors). I have a policy of buying copies of her books whenever I see them - paperback or hardback - leaving them in a library sale or thrift shop would be too much like leaving good friends on the shelf. As a result that means I have at least 10 copies or more of each of her books. Several complete sets. Sets with dust jacket artwork from around the world. At least one complete set that is signed by the author herself. At least three sets that have been adopted out to carefully vetted adoptive homes. I retain visitation rights, with no prior notice.

Lots of history here -several of these will go in the homeschool classic lots. By the time I am done sorting paperbacks, my eyes are swimming and all the books look the same.

Except those irritating oversized paperbacks. Not quite trade paperbacks, but longer than regular paperbacks. They pack easily........nowhere.

I want the name of the guy who thought those were a good idea.

Day 101/365 Pandemic? What Pandemic?

I had a little bird,
Its name was Enza.
I opened the window,
And in-flew-enza.
—Children's Rhyme, 1918

More thinking on epidemics, pandemics, influenza, yellow fever, small pox, measles and other cheery topics. I got to wondering exactly how many epidemics have we had in America and/or worldwide.

Turns out, they are more normal than abnormal.

From the first white settlers to the American Revolution:

1628-1631 New England Small Pox
1638 New England Small Pox & Spotted Fever
1648-1649 Massachusetts Small Pox
1679-1680 Virginia Small Pox
1689-1690 New England Small Pox
1690 New York Yellow Fever
1693 Boston Yellow Fever
1701 Jamestown, VA Small Pox
1702 New York Yellow Fever
1702-1703 Boston Small Pox
1706 Charleston Yellow Fever
1711-1712 South Carolina Small Pox
1713 Boston Measles
1715-1725 The Colonies Small Pox
1721 Boston Small Pox
1723-1730 Boston, New York, Philadelphia Small Pox
1729 Boston Measles
1732 Charleston & New York Yellow Fever
1732-3 Worldwide Influenza
1735-1740 New England Small Pox, Scarlet Fever & Diphtheria
1734 Virginia Yellow Fever
1738 South Carolina Smallpox
1739-40 Boston Measles
1741 Virginia Yellow Fever
1747 New England Measles
1752 Boston Small Pox
1759 N. America (White pop) Measles
1760-1761 New England, Charleston Small Pox
1761 N. America Influenza
1762 Philadelphia Yellow Fever
1764 Boston Small Pox
1772 N. America Measles
1772-1774 New England Small Pox
1775 N. America Influenza
1776 Boston Small Pox

Keep in mind these all make the list because they generated the number of cases and deaths required to make them an official "epidemic".

It's amazing anyone was left to fight the Revolution.

Things got better after the War for Independance, right?

Not really:

1778 Boston Small Pox
1788 Philadelphia and New York Measles
1792 Boston Small Pox
1793 Vermont Influenza
1793 Virginia [500 dead in 4 weeks) Influenza
1793 Philadelphia Yellow Fever
1793 Harrisburg, PA [many unexplained deaths] Unknown
1793 Middletown, PA [many mysterious deaths] Unknown
1794 Philadelphia Yellow Fever
1796-8 Philadelphia Yellow Fever

(Unexplained deaths? Physicians then could identify major illnesses, so what were these"unexplained deaths"?)

Maybe after the 19th century began, things got better? Maybe life was safer, mortality not quite that constant companion?


Nope.


1803 New York Yellow Fever
1831-2 Nationwide Asiatic Cholera
1834 New York City Cholera
1837 Philadelphia Typhus
1841 Nationwide Yellow Fever
1847 New Orleans Yellow Fever
1847-8 Worldwide Influenza
1848-9 North America Cholera
1850 North America Influenza &Yellow Fever
1851 The Great Plains Cholera
1852 New Orleans Yellow Fever
1855 Nationwide Yellow Fever
1857-9 Worldwide Influenza
1860-1 Pennsylvania Smallpox
1865-73 Nationwide Smallpox, Cholera, plus recurring epidemics of
Typhus, Typhoid, Scarlet Fever, Yellow Fever
1873-5 N. America and Europe Influenza
1878 New Orleans Yellow Fever



Imagine 1852 in New Orleans: On the narrow, dark streets of the French Quarter, every corner has a sulfur bonfire bellowing with yellow smoke. The stench is thought to ward off the yellow fever. In the early morning, carts appear, pulled by men with faces wrapped in thick cloth. The men stop in front of each door and cry out "Bring out your dead!" The corpses of those who died during the night are passed out the door, to be taken to mass burning sites. Supposedly the city is quarantined, but some of the wealthy families smuggle themselves out to country plantations, spreading the disease as they go.

Eventually, 8000 people will die and be taken to the burning piles.

Then the 20th century arrives with all it's modern progress in sanitation and science.

Things really did get better this time around, right?

A little.

1918 Worldwide Influenza -More people were hospitalized in WWI from
this pandemic than from war wounds.

U.S. Army training camps became death camps

with an 80% death rate

1949 Nationwide Polio

1952 Nationwide Polio (between 1949 and 1952 6,000 die from polio)

1957 Worldwide Asian Flu Pandemic causes 4,000,000 deaths

1968 Worldwide Hong Kong Flu causes 750,000 deaths

1981–2007 Worldwidewide AIDS (total deaths as of 2007: 25,250,000)

Of course, there are more people in the world now, so any disease will kill more people, simply due to availability of victims.

In 1852, the total population of New Orleans was 116,000, meaning approximately 7% of the city died in the yellow fever epidemic.

For comparison, let's take a random U.S. city, say, Boston. As of 2007, Boston's population was 599,351. If 7% of the population died from a pandemic, that would mean 41,954 deaths.

Historically speaking, that's how bad it will have to be before we make it to pandemic levels.