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AGED TO PERFECTION

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By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

John Goodenough

There’s been a lot written lately about the age of our President.  “Too old to run” is the prevailing theme. They are wrong – age has less to do with it than cognitive ability.  I have some insight and experience with this issue and what I’ve learned is that age cannot be generalized.  I’m tired of hearing age 81 referred to as “elderly”, as if that means that all people of that age are ready for “the home”.  There are people in their 80’s and 90’s who can run circles around people of any age.  And generally, they possess common sense – something that is a rare commodity these days.   As recently as 2019 the Nobel Prize for chemistry was awarded to John B. Goodenough, (who certainly was) for his work on lithium batteries.  He was 97! Is he an outlier?  Of course.  But then again, so are most Nobel Prize winners. He died last year at age 100, still working to improve the all-solid-state battery.

Over the next few weeks the Olympics will showcase young people at the peak of their physical strength and endurance.  They are the very antithesis of “too old”, although Simone Biles, at age 27, is jokingly referred to as the “grandma” on the gymnastics team.  But to prove that age is just a number, I went in search of octogenarians who exhibit that same Olympian standard of excellence. I didn’t have to look far.  Here are just a few:

        David Blaylock

David Blaylock – age 80 – won the USA Track and Field 100-mile Championships in his age group in a time of in a time of 29 hours, 47 minutes and 29 seconds.  I’m assuming that did not include any time for a nap.  His closest competitor, “Fast Eddie” Rousseau, of Minnesota, is 83.  Blaylock attributes his endurance to mental toughness.

Flo Meiler

Florence “Flo” Meiler – in 2022, at the age of 87, Meiler broke two American records in the High Jump and the Hurdles events at the USA Track and Field Masters Indoor Championships.  Meiler was not always an athlete, in fact, she admits that she used to indulge in French fries on a regular basis.  But at age 60 she began to work out and found her passion.  When asked how she works out six days a week and competes in events, she says, “You can do whatever you set your mind to.”

 

Johanna Quaas

Johana Quaas – has been certified as the world’s oldest gymnast.  Born in 1925, Johanna started in gymnastics at the age of 9, but then quit after WWII. She picked up gymnastics again at the age of 57. At the young age of 91, she impressed the crowds at Berlin with a stunning performance and flawless moves. In her words, “If you’re fit, it is easier to master life.” I think she’s right.

The Over-80 US Hockey Team – The U.S. men’s team won the Canada 150 Cup tournament in February of this year.  The team, led by 84-year-old coach Ken McKinnon only came together in the fall of 2023.  McKinnon loves to compete and encourages other older athletes to get in the game.  He says, “You can challenge yourself to get better and keep up for a number of years. It takes effort to go out there and do it, but once you get out there, you’ll have fun.”

Gladys Burrill

Gladys Burrill is sadly no longer with us.  She died in 2019 at the age of 100, but she is worth mentioning because she ran her first marathon at the age of 86 and then went on to complete 5 more marathons. At the young age of 92, she became the oldest woman to run the Honolulu Marathon. She credited her success to eating healthy and exercising.  Shoot – I’m out of breath walking from the bedroom to the kitchen!

There are many more examples I could cite, but you get the point.  In reading about these master athletes I noticed one common trait – mental toughness.  I think all of them believe that despite their age, they can do anything.  The narrative about age needs to shift, so we assess cognitive ability and dispose of the age-old canard that someone is “too old” to be successful in their endeavors. As for me, I plan on eating cake until a ripe old age.

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HAMBURGERS, HOT DOGS AND SHOOFLY PIE

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By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

Here we are…the week of the 4th of July where thoughts turn to our country’s independence.  Right about now I’m guessing most people desire some independence from our politicians, but this being an election year I think we’re stuck with four more months of campaign ads and robo calls.  Hopefully no more debates.  But that’s a subject for another week.  This week I want to focus on an important part of any July 4th celebration – the dessert.  Last week I was looking for some ideas for a 4th of July cake and found most every food site suggests a cake with fruit on it – ideally in the shape of the American flag.  Fruit on cake???  Pies or tarts, yes, but not cake!  Cake and frosting should contain sufficient amounts of sugar and butter that you stay just this side of diabetes and clogged arteries.  I went down a rabbit hole looking for unique dessert ideas and discovered that people are quite weird – or desperate – when coming up with a proper dessert.  Here’s just a sampling of what I found:

              Shoofly pie

The Shoofly Pie – this cake actually has a tie to the 4th of July.  Shoofly pie is a molasses-based pie with a crumbly, streusel-like topping. No one knows for sure how the pie got its name, but it might be from the fact that its sweet and sticky surface tends to attract flies.  Now there’s an appetizing thought.  It might also, and more likely, be named after an early brand of molasses called Shoofly Molasses. According to some sources, the recipe for shoofly pie dates to 1876, originating with a crust-free molasses cake called centennial cake that was served to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence in Philadelphia. Other sources attribute the recipe to the German immigrants of Pennsylvania Dutch country in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, who may have used molasses in a variation of an older British recipe known as a treacle tart. This sweet and crumbly pie is still popular among the Amish and Mennonite communities of Pennsylvania and Ohio. Well, I say let them have it.

The Tomato Soup Cake – this is wrong on so many levels.  The recipe dates back to 1922, and some accounts say the dessert was popular among Irish immigrants in New England. Personally, I think they should have stuck with Guinness. It is said that the tomato soup produces a moist red-orange cake that doesn’t taste like tomatoes at all, thanks to the cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg in the mix. I’ll take their word for it.  The cake was popular through the 1930s and 1940s, when Depression-era and wartime shortages called for culinary creativity. People sought out affordable substitutes that could stand in for pricier ingredients (such as tomatoes) without sacrificing flavor. In the 1940s, the Campbell Soup Company began experimenting with variations on the tomato soup cake recipe and, in 1960, printed a version on its tomato soup label — the first recipe to appear on a soup can. I don’t know who thought of putting tomatoes, fresh or in soup form, in a cake, but I would venture it was someone who never had a slice of Death by Chocolate.

Carrot Pudding – first, the word pudding is used in the British sense, loosely meaning dessert.  Carrot cake has been around for a while and in a pinch, it isn’t bad (especially if there is pineapple rather than raisins).  But before there was carrot cake, there was carrot pudding. A recipe in the 1591 English cookbook describes carrot pudding as a savory pudding made of chopped liver, breadcrumbs, spices, dates, and sugar that is then stuffed inside a hollow carrot. By the 18th century, carrot pudding had evolved into a sweet dessert baked in a pastry shell, similar to pumpkin pie. Another variation, called steamed carrot pudding, was made with shredded carrots and potatoes and steamed in a gelatin mold. In my opinion no good dessert contains the words “gelatin mold”. Regardless of its preparation, carrot pudding sounds like something you might serve to people you never want to come to dinner again.

After reading about these odd alternatives to cake, I decided that fruit in a cake might not be such a bad alternative.  Still, as it turns out I’ll be going to our club’s BBQ on Thursday and we have an awesome pastry chef.  While he may get cute with a berry 4th of July cake, I can guarantee he won’t be slipping any chopped liver into the mix.

Happy 4th of July to everyone!

 

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THE NEW SCHOOL: NAKED ZOOM

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By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

I’ve been reading several articles about how to keep your brain engaged as you age.  Apparently playing endless games of Candy Crush aren’t doing anything to fire up my brain cells.  Knitting is good, as I have to use mathematics, but not often enough to make a difference.  So, I set out to find a way to stave off “mush brain” and quite happily discovered the Osher Lifelong Learning Institute (OLLI).  OLLI is a branch of The Bernard Osher Foundation, an organization that makes grants and endowment gifts to colleges, universities, and other non-profit organizations in four areas, among them lifelong learning institutes for seasoned adults.  Almost makes us sound like a rack of ribs. Nevertheless, I began to look into their programs.  First, I learned that OLLI is found on the campuses of 125 colleges and universities throughout the U.S. The class offerings are wide-ranging and are specifically developed for adults aged 50 or older who are interested in learning for the joy of learning. As a bonus, there are no tests and no grades.  Luckily for me there is a branch of OLLI at Arizona State University, so I signed up for the summer session.  Unfortunately, “summer” was defined as the month of June.  Well, who can blame them?  No one wants to be here in July and August.  Due to the brief length of the term, the classes are one-shot seminars, each lasting 90 minutes.  Some are in person, but most are on Zoom.  Zoom can be perilous – but more on that in a moment.

Will Ferrell, if he’d taken quantum physics

Since I was only committing 90 minutes of my life at a time, I decided I would sign up for some classes that are outside my wheelhouse.  First on the list – quantum physics.  The professor was an amazing young woman, who had a wonderful sense of humor and knew that she had a challenging – or challenged – audience.  After the first 30 minutes I was glad we were on a Zoom call, as my attention began to lapse, and I found myself drifting into thoughts of what I’d have for lunch.  I was not the only one – several people at the end volunteered that maybe they weren’t cut out for a career in quantum physics.  Still, it was interesting, and I only invested 90 minutes to learn that I need to stick to the social sciences.  I took an in-person class from a retired physics professor (can’t seem to avoid physics) who lectured on the history of Stonehenge.  He was fabulous – 90 years old and a testament to lifelong learning.  I participated in a Zoom class conducted by an ex-newspaper reporter who followed the Rolling Stones on their very first US tour back in the 60’s.  He had some wonderful insights and opinions about the music of the time and how it changed the recording and radio industries.

Next, I took a Zoom class on the life and works of George Gershwin.  This is where things got interesting.  At the beginning of the class the ASU administrator cautioned us that we must put our computers on mute, and that if we planned to walk around, eat, or do anything else that might be distracting, we needed to cut our video feed as well.  Almost everyone chose to cut the video, so that only our names appeared in the box.  About a minute after her cautions ended, a new person joined the call.  Her audio was silenced but her video feed was on.  She was clearly in her bathroom, with her closet in the background.  All we could see was her head, which was wrapped in a towel.  I thought maybe she was running late and had just ducked out of the shower.  That was confirmed a couple of minutes later when she stood up, revealing that she only had a towel wrapped around her.  What could possibly go wrong?  A few minutes later she went off-screen, only to return walking across the screen – NAKED.  She casually walked into her closet, obviously trying to decide what to wear, all the while showing us her assets.  Literally.  She then turned around and proceeded to put on her undergarments.  Finally, she donned a blouse, much to our collective relief.  She then sat down and proceeded to blow dry her hair.  I guess that was the gesture that sent the administrator over the edge, as she sent a private message to this woman to let her know her video was on.  In the group chat the woman replied, “Oh no.  Sorry!”  Well, it was too late for sorry.  I will never unsee what I saw.  To her credit, the woman blacked out her video, but she stayed on the call. I would have immediately packed my bags for Argentina.

I have five more seminars to attend this month, on subjects ranging from a Vietnam retrospective to Woodstock to the establishment of the 13, 14 and 15th amendments.  Luckily for me, OLLI at ASU added a true summer session, each class lasting six weeks in July and August.  I’m taking two classes: one on the great films from the 1920’s to the ’60’s and one on the automobile’s impact on society.  I highly encourage you to check out OLLI – the classes are wonderful, you might gain a brain cell, and it’s fun to learn with other people who are “seasoned”. But I must say the most important lesson learned so far: cut the video feed on a Zoom call.

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THEY WERE SOLDIERS ONCE AND YOUNG (2024)

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This annual Memorial Day post is written in remembrance of the soldiers from my high school who died in the Vietnam war.  I first published this in 2014, and each year since then I hear from people who relate similar stories about the losses suffered in their hometowns or, worse, their families. This weekend, as you commemorate the holiday, please take a moment to remember all of the brave young men and women we’ve lost in conflict. 

Five boys from my high school were killed in the Vietnam War. For a small town like Novato, that was an enormous number. We were such a close-knit community that even if we didn’t know one of them personally, we knew a sibling or friend. So when I planned my trip to Washington D.C. last month, I scheduled time to visit the Vietnam Veterans Memorial to see their names on “The Wall”.

To refresh my memory, I pulled out my high school yearbooks and found them all – smiling for a formal portrait or posing for a team picture. Each image reflected a boy, fresh-faced and full of hope, his life stretching out before him. I looked at those young faces and found it hard to believe that their lives ended so soon after the bucolic days captured in the photos. None of them reached the age of 22, their dreams extinguished on the battlefield. While we, their classmates, lived long enough to enjoy the internet, smart phones and streaming movies, most of them didn’t live long enough to see color television.

I reflected on the stories I’ve read of WWII vets who speak so reverently of the “boys who didn’t come home”. As I perused the yearbooks, I finally understood their sentiment. It is only when looking back through a 50-year lens that one can appreciate just how young these soldiers were and how many of life’s milestones they missed. So, on this Memorial Day, I’d like to pay tribute to “The Boys from Novato”.

Robert Johnson
Bob Johnson joined the Army in the fall of 1965, in what would have been his Senior year in high school. I remember him as a very nice, quiet guy. Before he enlisted, he asked his high school sweetheart to marry him – they wanted something to hang on to while he was gone. His entry into the service occurred just as the war was escalating. He was sent to Vietnam in March of 1966 and three weeks later he was killed by enemy gunfire during “Operation Abilene” in Phuoc Tuy Province. As his former classmates excitedly anticipated their Senior prom and graduation, Robert had already made the ultimate sacrifice. In the 1966 yearbook, where his senior portrait would have been, his mother placed this photo of him in uniform along with a tribute. He was the first Vietnam casualty from Novato.

Mike Tandy

Mike Tandy graduated from NHS in 1965. His sisters, Sue and Sarah also attended NHS. Mike was a good student, who participated in the first swim team our high school fielded. He was an Eagle Scout and according to his friend Neil Cuzner, “he was highly intelligent, a great guy and an excellent scout. He was in the Senior Patrol and a young leader of our troop. He led by example”. After graduation Mike joined the Marine reserves and was called up in January 1966. He was sent to Vietnam shortly after that. On September 8th he was on patrol in Quang Nam with another soldier when his footfall detonated a landmine. He was killed instantly. He had celebrated his 19th birthday just five days prior. His classmates had moved on – either to college or working – but the Tandy family was left to grieve the loss of their son and brother. In 2005 Sarah posted to the virtual Vietnam Wall: “Thanks to all of you who come here and remember Mike. All of our lives were changed, and I thank you for not forgetting.”

Allan Nelson

Allan Nelson played football at College of Marin with my brother, Bob. Allan’s sister, Joanne, was in Bob’s class in high school and his brother, Steve, was in mine. So we were well aware when Allan was drafted into the Army and sent to Vietnam in July 1966 at the age of 20. Five months later, on December 1, we were devastated to learn he had been killed by gunfire during a battle in Binh Dinh Province. I still remember the day Steve came to school after Allan’s death; red-faced with tears streaming down his cheeks. He had always been such a happy guy but was now changed in ways that were hard for his 16-year-old friends to understand. As I look back now, I can’t imagine what it must have been like for him to go home from school each day, to face parents who were shattered by grief. Joanne posted the following on a memorial page and perhaps sums it up the best: “Allan was my brother, not just a brother, he was my best friend. All I know is December 1, 1966, was the saddest time for me and my family. My family loved each other so much, but when Al was killed the joy died in my family. Allan had his whole life planned. He had just turned 21 on Oct. 20th. When we were young, he couldn’t wait to be 21. I am so sorry for all the families that lost a son and a brother. It will be 33 years in Dec. The everyday sad feelings of loss are gone but on special days it still hurts.”

Jim Gribbin
Jim Gribbin graduated from NHS in 1966. He was on the football team, very active in school clubs and was well-liked by everyone he met. He joined the Army Reserves and when called up, became part of the Special Forces, where he rose to the rank of Captain. He served two tours of duty in an elite MIKE unit. In March 1970 his unit was on a night defensive mission in Kontum Province when they were ambushed by enemy troops. Jim sacrificed his own safety by running into open territory – twice – to aid and retrieve wounded soldiers under his command. He was shot both times and taken to a rear medical facility where he died from his wounds. Ironically, for this affable Irishman, he succumbed on St. Patrick’s Day. He was awarded the Silver Star and the Bronze Star for Valor. Jim’s dad was a veteran of WWII. When he died in 2011, he requested that he be buried in Jim’s grave, with his name and vitals carved on the back of Jim’s headstone. One can only imagine the grief that he carried all those years. Hopefully he is at peace now that they are forever reunited.

In 2018 I was contacted by a woman in New York who signed up for a grueling physical event that honors Vietnam veterans.  She chose to represent Jim and wanted to know more about him. You can read my post about her and the event here: https://fromabirdseyeview.com/?p=7111

Wayne Bethards

Wayne “Ed” Bethards was in my graduating class, but I didn’t know him well. His family moved to Novato just before the start of our senior year. His mother, Betty Bethards, was the author of the international best-seller, “The Dream Book”. Again, Neil Cuzner has provided a bit more insight: “Wayne was a good person. He had a great love of baseball and had actually started a small league while over in Nam. He was sharing his love of baseball with the Vietnamese children.” Cuzner went on to say that Wayne was a religious person and did not want to kill anyone; he struggled greatly with his deployment. He was drafted into the Army and was sent to Vietnam in October of 1970. In January 1971, he was killed while on patrol by the accidental detonation of a mechanical device in Quang Tin Province. He was the last boy from Novato High School to die in the war.

Jerry Sims

In April 2017, I heard from a former schoolmate, Dennis Welsh, about Jerry Sims, a boy who died in the conflict whose hometown was listed as Novato. I found in my research that sometimes the Novato “hometown” designation was for those affiliated with Hamilton Air Force Base, not graduates of Novato High School. Since there were no records of Jerry at NHS, I assumed he was from Hamilton, but that was not the case. Dennis told me that Jerry moved to Novato from Texas in the Spring of 1966 to live with his sister. He tried out for the football team during spring training and made the squad. But despite that automatic inclusion into a social group, he was unhappy living in California and being the “new kid” going into his Senior year. Dennis said that he never saw him again after football tryouts and didn’t learn of his fate until he spotted Jerry’s name on “The Wall”. After some research I learned that after Jerry left Novato in June 1966, he joined the Army and was sent to Vietnam in November. On February 6, 1968, he and several others in his unit were killed by small arms fire in Gia Dinh province. Jerry was 19 years old. His former platoon leader said this on his memorial page: “I was Jerry’s platoon leader on the day he died. He didn’t have to be there, since he had a job elsewhere in Vietnam, but he requested a transfer. He had already spent a year with the Wolfhounds, but for reasons all his own, he wanted to come back to this unit. He died doing his job as a squad leader in my platoon.” It would seem Jerry finally found his home – and some peace – with his Army brethren.

Jim Wright

Update May 2022: Each year this annual tribute receives a lot of viewings around Memorial Day.  This year I was fortunate to hear from Bill Sauber, a 1966 graduate of NHS, who told me of another NHS connection: Jim Wright.

Jim celebrated his 18th birthday in January 1966 and was drafted into the Army shortly thereafter. I suspect that he had dropped out of school, as he was in his sophomore year in the spring of 1966, so would not otherwise be eligible for the draft.  After basic training he was sent to Vietnam in May as part of the 27th Infantry, known as the Wolfhounds. On November 5, 1966, he was killed by enemy gunfire in Darlac province. He posthumously received a Silver Star. His official records indicate that by the time Jim died, his father was not living in Novato, his mother could not be located, and he had married a woman named Linda.  It is hard to imagine that in the space of one year Jim celebrated his 18th birthday, was drafted, married, and ultimately, killed.  As with Bob Johnson and Jim Gribbin, he lies at rest in Golden Gate National Cemetery. I am hopeful that someone reading this post knew him and can provide more insight into his time at Novato High School.

When I visited “The Wall” I found the boys from Novato, each name etched on that long expanse of granite. I thought about their families and the sorrow they endured. It was overwhelming to realize that sorrow had been replicated 58,286 times. Each of the names on that black, shiny surface represent a family forever destroyed. As I walked along the pathway, I looked at all of the mementos that were left as tributes to the fallen – notes, flowers and flags mostly. But then I spotted something different – a tribute from Jim Dart to his brother, Larry. It was a Kingston Trio album, along with a note about the good times they shared learning the guitar and singing songs together. I was overcome with emotion reading Jim’s note. My brother, Bob, owned that same album. He and his best friend, Don, often entertained our family playing their guitars and singing songs from that record. Bob was a Naval officer in Japan during the Vietnam war and was safely returned to us. I wept as I stood looking at the album, realizing that but for the grace of God – and military orders – how easily it could have been Bob’s name on that wall and me leaving a Kingston Trio album in his memory. I can’t imagine our family without his presence all of these years. I ached for Sue and Sarah and Joanne and Steve and all the other siblings who never got to see gray hair on their brothers’ heads; their family gatherings forever marred by a gaping hole where their brothers should have been. When I stooped down to take the photo, I noticed that several other visitors had stopped to look at it too. As I glanced at those who were of a certain age, I could see my own feelings reflected in their eyes. We know how much of life these boys missed. We mourn their loss – and ours.

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THE CELEBRATION OF A LIFETIME

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By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

Jack and Bob

Last weekend our family and a few friends gathered together in our home for a Celebration of Life for Alan.  Which meant a lot of celebrating occurred and I’m operating on little sleep and lots of emotions as I write this.  The invitation to the event included a photo of Alan teeing off on his favorite hole on his favorite course in Sun Valley, Idaho.  Relatives came from far and wide.  In fact, I’m not even sure I’m related to some of these people.  To get the party started we had a family BBQ on Friday night, which involved a lot of laughter, some good-natured ribbing, loud singing (mostly on key), and some tears.  It was also an opportunity to celebrate my niece Shelley’s milestone birthday. 

Shelley and family

 

I had decided more than a year ago that this might be a good birthday for me to pass down the family diamond to her.  The diamond was originally given to my great-grandmother in 1892 and has normally been passed down upon the death of the owner.  But I believe that it’s good to give things away while you’re still alive to see the person’s reaction to receiving it.  She was genuinely surprised, and seeing her reaction was a moment I would not have missed. I know she will wear the diamond in the tradition of strong women in our family.

          The cookie

Alan’s Celebration of Life party on Saturday was everything I could have wished for.  Usually after an event I’ve hosted I find some flaw – something I could have done better or differently.  But not this.  As I went to bed Saturday night, I honestly thought the night had gone perfectly; I wouldn’t have changed a thing.  Even the weather cooperated as the predicted strong winds didn’t occur.  The flowers were phenomenal, the food was outstanding, and everyone enjoyed the special touches of napkins and cookies that reflected the theme of “Until We Tee It Up Again”.  Of course, what made the day most special were the wonderful tributes paid to Alan by his children, Colin and Wendy, son-in-law Steve, and my brothers, Jack and Bob.  Everyone depicted Alan accurately.  He was funny, a prankster, enjoyed music and the outdoors, and was a master cheater at board games.  But most importantly what came through in those tributes is their love for him and their knowledge that he returned that love in full measure.  I wrote a eulogy that touched on his humorous antics, his remarkable achievements, and the wonderful times we shared together.  The event was filled with love and laughter, and I know that is exactly what he wanted.

        The family

I have been asked why it took me so long to have this Celebration of Life.  After all, Alan died July 28th, so it’s been a long time as these things go. What I didn’t realize before I became a widow is that the loss of a spouse shakes the very foundation of your life.  Everything – absolutely everything – is changed, from the moment you awaken in the morning to the moment to go to sleep at night.  I’m sure I could have arranged a Celebration directly after his death, with a lot of help from family and friends.  But it wouldn’t have been the same.  All of us family members have now had eight months to reflect on him and his life.  All of us who spoke about him were able to do so with some humor – which was his hallmark trait – and that would not have been possible in the first days after he died.  Now, we are all able to put his life, and death, into some perspective.  I chose a date close to his birthday and actually enjoyed planning the event and thinking about what he would have liked, right down to having pineapple upside down cake, which was his favorite birthday cake.

So, to all the people who questioned why I waited so long I say this: good things come to those who wait.  Should you ever find yourself in the unenviable position of having to plan a Celebration of Life, do what YOU feel is best.  Throw tradition and what is “normally” done out the window, unless that fits with your desires.  I’m so glad I did, and I know that Alan is looking down, happy that his Celebration was such a fun – and funny – gathering. At the end of the day, that’s all that matters.

 

 

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GREED IS … AN ARMONICA

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I love it when a confluence of interests come together, and such was the case for me last week when I learned something new about Benjamin Franklin that also involved Ludwig van Beethoven.  I wrote about Franklin last July 4th, not only due to his involvement in the founding of the country, but also because he was a peculiar, but talented, Rennaissance man.  Last week I began watching the new Apple TV series, “Franklin”, starring Michael Douglas.  I wanted to fact-check something I saw and that led me down the primrose path that I’m writing about this week.  First, I have to say, I’ve only watched the first episode of the series and it appears to be quite well done.  That said, whenever I see Douglas on screen, I can’t help but think of Gordon Gekko and his famous, “Greed is good” line.  I find it very distracting.  Secondly, much of the dialogue is sub-titled.  I’m all for authenticity (which is why they all speak French), but when you’re trying to do something else, in my case, knit, I hate it when I miss the gist of what’s going on because I missed reading the subtitles.  Anyway, it you don’t mind subtitles – or you don’t knit – you may thoroughly enjoy the story.

Franklin’s armonica

In doing my fact-check I discovered that among the items Franklin invented is the armonica.  No, not harmonica, like Stevie Wonder.  The armonica consists of a series of glass bowls that make different sounds.  Franklin got his inspiration after he saw an Englishman, Edward Delaval, playing water-filled wine glasses.  And haven’t we all done that at a dinner party? Franklin worked with London glassblower Charles James to build his new instrument and it had its world premiere in early 1762.  His armonica consisted of 37 glass bowls of varying sizes, arranged concentrically to eliminate the need for water and mounted on a rounded rod. The rod was moved by a foot pedal, and the glass bowls were played by rubbing one’s fingers along their edges. It was meant to produce tones similar to “singing” glasses. Franklin wrote from London in 1762 about his musical instrument: “The advantages of this instrument are, that its tones are incomparably sweet beyond those of any other; that they may be swelled and softened at pleasure by stronger or weaker pressure of the finger, and that the instrument being well-tuned, never again needs tuning.”

The armonica was an instant sensation. Marie Antoinette took lessons, Thomas Jefferson was a fan, and Ludwig van Beethoven and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart both composed music for the novel instrument. As I recounted here in January, one of my goals for 2024 is to learn Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” by the end of the year, so I’ve been studying a bit about Beethoven as well.  He only wrote one major piece for the armonica (and thank God it wasn’t “Moonlight Sonata”.  But I do enjoy learning that two historical people that I admire also admired each other.

Despite its initial popularity, the armonica fell out of favor by the 1820s, due in part to its purported negative effects on mental health — attributed at first to the instrument’s ethereal tones, but later thought to be due to lead poisoning from the paint applied to the bowls. There was never any scientific proof of lead poisoning, but even without the sensation of social media, false stories spread about it and in some cities, it was banned as a safety precaution.

Franklin at his invention

Today, the armonica is used by some niche musicians, a second life that would surely please Franklin, who said the instrument had brought him “the most personal satisfaction.” An original Franklin armonica is in the archives at the Franklin Institute in Philidelphia, having been donated in 1956 by Franklin’s descendants after the children took great delight in breaking the bowls with spoons during family gatherings. It is only placed on display for special occasions, such as Franklin’s birthday.

I walked away from learning about this with two thoughts: first, I’d like to think that Ben and Ludwig are somewhere rocking out together on the armonica and second, I think the Franklin family gatherings might have been a lot of fun.

 

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A GAME CHANGER

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Okay, first of all, my brother’s post last week was an April Fool’s Day joke.  You cannot get rid of us that easily!  But a surprising number of people didn’t even read through the first paragraph to learn he was fooling us.  I just want to say that these people might want to start reading the fine print, lest they be taken advantage of by people more nefarious than my brother!  Anyway, we’re here again on a Monday morning with a perspective on some history that was new to me, and perhaps will be to you as well.  As a life-long student of WWII history I’ve read hundreds of books about the war and the people who fought it.  But last week I came across an article that was a surprise and once again illustrated why the British were known as masters of spy craft.

Clayton Hutton, the mastermind

When the first British airmen were captured by the Germans in 1940, the British intelligence services established a new section, MI9, specifically to help captured Allied prisoners of war escape. Intelligence officer Clayton Hutton was put in charge of masterminding a plan that would be both effective and foolproof. He came up with a plan to devise some “toys” that could be introduced into the POW camps in an innocuous – and continuous – manner.   Hutton seized upon the fact that the Germans liked to see games in the prisoner’s care packages, as they thought that prisoners concentrating playing games wouldn’t be concentrating on plotting an escape. The prisoners, for their part, liked playing familiar, ordinary games as a welcome pastime to help them forget the realities of war, if even for a short time.  So, Hutton conspired with the U.K. Monopoly manufacturer, Waddington’s, to produce special Monopoly boards that could be distributed as part of larger aid packages.  In addition to the standard thimble and dog game pieces, each board contained metal “playing pieces” that were actually escape tools, such as a file and magnetic compass.  He also invented a sort of Swiss Army Knife piece, but with wire cutters and lock breakers along with the traditional screwdrivers and bottle openers.

The games were always sent via private, often fictitious, organizations, like the Licensed Victuallers Prisoner Relief Fund. No escape aids were enclosed in the Red Cross parcels so that the Germans would have no justification for stopping these much-needed parcels from reaching the prisoners. Unique clues, known only to the British, were included in the return addresses and on the game board itself. Each version also contained silk maps packed into the game’s hotels which could be unfolded discreetly without drawing attention, as silk made no noise as it was being pulled from the game piece or a pocket. The silk escape maps were probably the most important part of the secret version of Monopoly, as they provided logistics for European countries such as Norway, Sweden, Germany, France, and Italy.  These “special editions” of the game also hid German, Italian, and French currency under the fake Monopoly money for use in bribing guards.

           British POWs in Germany

Once the games were being sent on a steady basis, soldiers were told that, should they be captured, they should be on the lookout for the special Monopoly sets. Reportedly, 35,000 prisoners of war managed to escape prison camps in Nazi-occupied Europe, and it is believed that nearly 20,000 of them had a silk map, compasses, and other supplies that had been hidden inside the Monopoly boxes.  The success of the Monopoly ruse eventually led British intelligence to conceal maps inside chess sets and packs of cards.

Unfortunately, there are no surviving boards or pieces from those special Monopoly games, as once the escape aids were removed, the games were destroyed lest they fell into German hands. The games destined for POW camps were custom made, and the few that remained after the war were destroyed to keep the practice secret in case it was needed again.  Clayton Hutton passed away in 1965 when much of this information was still classified. He was never credited for his brilliant inventions and ideas until recently, when his work came to light.  Thankfully Hutton is no longer an unsung hero of WWII.
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ELLIS ISLAND: THE ULTIMATE TEST

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By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

                           Ellis Island

Well, so far, I have not been burgled by the Chilean crime tourists, but I came very close. One evening two weeks ago, a trio of them were caught by our security department trying to get into our community.  Around 8:30, just when I was settling down with my book, I heard helicopters overhead.  For the next seven hours police helicopters circled over my house and directed their floodlights into my front and back yard several times.  They were shouting from their bullhorns, “Come out, with your hands up!”.  I assumed they meant the burglars and not me.  Thankfully by 6:30 the next morning they caught them. That’s the good news.  The bad news is that their presence in our city has generated a lot of conversation about out our immigration and visa policies and, as is usual these days, the “conversations” soon devolve into political debate.  People WRITE IN ALL CAPS in the hope it will make their point more factual.  Coincidentally, last week I received an email from the history site I subscribe to that contained a piece about Ellis Island.  Although I am unofficially the family historian, I’ve never paid that much attention to Ellis Island, as both our maternal and paternal great-grandparents immigrated from Europe between 1854 and 1880, before Ellis Island was established. I thought in light of the current national debate about immigration it might be useful to look back at our previous methods of screening immigrants.  I learned a lot.  Okay, maybe my previous knowledge was a low bar, but I hope this piece also provides some new insights for you too.

First, the basics.  Ellis Island was the designated as the official federal port of entry from Europe in 1892. Prior to that, immigration policies had been handled at a state level.  Up until the late 1880’s, most immigrants to the U.S. were from Germany, Ireland, Britain and the Scandinavian countries.  But political and economic turmoil in other parts of Europe caused a surge in immigrants to the U.S.  Among this new generation of immigrants were Jews escaping czarist Russia and eastern Europe, as well as Italians escaping poverty in their country. There were also Poles, Hungarians, Czechs, Serbs, Slovaks and Greeks, along with non-Europeans from Syria, Turkey and Armenia, fleeing for the prospect of a better life in America.  Due to the influx of “new” immigrants, congress acted to establish immigration policies at a national level.  So, a whopping $75,000 was appropriated for construction of the first federal immigration station on Ellis Island.

The new Ellis Island port of entry opened on January 1, 1892, on six acres of land.  Each arriving passenger (almost all immigrants arrived by ship) went through an inspection process that lasted about two hours. Doctors would examine immigrants for signs of physical ailments or mental illness; at one point, they would flip back people’s eyelids to look for a contagious eye disease. If an immigrant had one of these problems, then a letter symbol would be drawn on his or her jacket with chalk — for example, E for eyes or X for suspected mental problem. And contrary to popular belief, the process did not involve changing one’s surname to one that’s easier to pronounce, which is one of the biggest myths that persists about Ellis Island. If names were changed, that would happen earlier, when the ship’s manifest was written in Europe at the home country’s consulate. Overall, despite these procedures, only two percent of immigrants were turned away.

           A ship arriving in 1907

From 1900 to 1914—the peak years of Ellis Island’s operation—an average of 1,900 people passed through the immigration station every day. Most successfully passed through in a matter of hours, but others could be detained for days or weeks. The record for the number of people processed in a day was April 17, 1907, when more than 11,747 people passed through Ellis Island.  April 1907 was, in fact, a banner month for Ellis Island, with more than a quarter-million passengers from around the world coming through. That year was Ellis Island’s peak year, as more than 1.2 million immigrants came to the United States.  Immigration slowed after that in part due to a new federal law excluding persons with physical and mental disabilities, and children arriving without an adult.

World War I caused a huge drop in immigrants, from 178,416 in 1915, to 28,867 in 1918.  The military took over the island during World War I to use as a place where injured soldiers could be sent after the war for recuperation. In 1917 a literacy test is introduced for all immigrants; it stayed on the books until 1952. Those over the age of 16 who could not read 30 to 40 test words in their native language were no longer admitted into the country. Nearly all Asian immigrants were banned for no other reason that just being Asian.

In 1921 President Harding signed the Emergency Quota Act into law, which stated that annual immigration from any country could not exceed 3 percent of the total number of U.S. immigrants from that same country, as recorded in the census of 1910.  The Immigration Act of 1924 went even further, setting strict quotas for immigrants based on country of origin, including an annual limit of 165,000 immigrants from outside the Western Hemisphere.  Interestingly, by 1932 the Depression had taken hold in the U.S., and for the first time ever, more people left the country than arrived.

Japanese on a harbor boat to Ellis Island

From the 1920s to 1950s, Ellis Island was mostly used as a detention center; during World War II specifically, it served as a detention center for “enemy aliens” who were Japanese, German or Italian.  After the war, with the advent of modern air travel, immigration points were established throughout the country and Ellis Island fell into disrepair.  It was permanently closed in 1954 and was not reopened until 1990, when it became a museum.

I found the history of Ellis Island fascinating and given its history and all that has happened since its closure, it’s clear there is no simple answer to immigration policies.  Although little common sense in Washington DC might go a long way.  Maybe we need to re-institute an immigration law from 1875 and impose it on Congress: it restricted “lunatics” and “idiots”.

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IT’S ALWAYS A GOLFER’S FAULT

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By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

Yesterday marked the beginning of Daylight Saving Time, an annual event that causes grousing throughout the world from people who wonder where they go to get their lost hour back.  And no wonder. Daylight Saving Time (DST) has been linked to negative health consequences that include increased risk of heart attack, traffic accidents, sleep disruption (duh!), mood changes, depression, weight gain, and cluster headaches.  Not to mention getting called out by the boss for being late to work.  As a resident of Arizona, I no longer have to worry about DST, as our state, as well as Hawaii and several U.S. territories in the Pacific Island region, don’t believe in such tomfoolery.  We get enough sun during the summer to last the whole year – we don’t need to have any more “sunshine saving” when it’s 110 degrees outside.  But why does most of the world observe DST?  Turns out, it all started with a man and his golf game.  That always spells trouble.

   William Willet

One of the first people to advocate adjusting the clock seasonally was a British builder named William Willett.  He had noticed that few people were out in the early morning light during the summer because their clocks indicated it was too darn early to be up.  More importantly to Willett, his golf games often ended early because it became too dark to play. So in 1907 Willett started a campaign to “save” daylight by adjusting the time.  He published “The Waste of Daylight,” in which he suggested changing the clocks at 2 a.m. on Sundays during the spring and fall — something we still do today. But, unlike today, the transition was to happen 20 minutes at a time over the course of four weeks, twice a year, for a total of eight time changes each year. And rather than an even hour, the time difference would be 80 minutes. Willett’s proposal was considered in the British House of Commons in 1908, but it was soundly rejected. Who in the heck wanted to change the time eight times a year?!

But during World War I many countries were looking for new ways to save money. Inspired by Willett’s original proposal, which had included estimated savings in electricity costs, Germany and Britain implemented “Summer Time” in 1916, changing the clocks just one hour twice a year. Ironically, Willett died of influenza in 1915, so he didn’t live to see his idea come to fruition. The United States first observed daylight saving time on March 31, 1918.    Originally scheduled for six months of the year, it was extended by Congress in 2005 to eight months.

According to the most recent polling, most people aren’t feeling great about DST.  More than 40 states have passed legislation to make either daylight saving time or standard time permanent.  The problem is that states don’t have the authority to actually stop the clocks from moving forward or back. That authority rests with Congress.  Senator Marco Rubio and Rep. Vern Buchanan have tried several times to make daylight saving time permanent with the “Sunshine Protection Act”. While the Senate has passed the bill, it has stalled before a House vote and has never gone before President Biden to be signed into law.  Given the ability of our elected representatives to agree on anything, I’m not sure the Sunshine Act will ever see the light of day.

The upside of changing clocks is that there has been a tandem effort to remind people to change the batteries on their smoke detectors at the same time they change their clocks.  Because we don’t observe DST in Arizona, I guess I am throwing caution to the wind and will have to suffer the consequences when my units start to chirp – inevitably at 2 a.m.

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A CRIME SYNDICATE COMING TO A TOWN NEAR YOU

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By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

In the shadowy world of organized crime, a peculiar breed of criminals has emerged: South American Theft Groups. They are burglars often referred to as “crime tourists” because they enter the U.S. legally under the Visa Waiver Program that has been in place with Chile since 2014.  The Chilean waiver is the only one issued to a South American country. It allows Chileans to be in the U.S. for 90 days for either personal or business reasons.  The problem is that for some, their “business” is robbing Americans.  This problem has existed for around five years (with a short break due to Covid travel restrictions) and has recently emerged in the greater Phoenix area.  Since December there have been 111 burglaries netting more than $3 million…and counting!  They almost always hit during the early evening when people are out to dinner, thus earning them the nickname of “The Dinner Time Burglars”.  This group is a growing problem nationally – in the past month there has been a rash of burglaries in Philadelphia, New York, Miami, Edina, MN, Los Angeles, San Diego, Detroit, Ashville NC and Indianapolis, just to name a few.  Their method of operation is consistent:  they enter the backyard of a home either through open space or a golf course, they smash through a glass door or window (thus not breaking the seal on a home alarm sensor), they upend everything in the primary bedroom and bath, and take jewelry, cash, expensive handbags, and other small items.  The average time from beginning to end of their caper is 5-8 minutes.

            The 3 Phoenix Burglars

So… why have they been so successful in eluding capture?  First, there are a LOT of them.  Last week three police officers held a meeting for our homeowner’s group to discuss the overall problem and they said they are seeing an increase in the number of burglary cells because of the ease with which they can obtain visas or enter through the southern border. The detective said that the Chilean crime syndicate has established training camps where the burglars learn how to surveil properties, break through doors and windows, and evade security cameras.  The trainees who are the fastest are the ones sent to the U.S.  When they arrive here they generally rent a high-end car so as not to look out of place when they’re scouting high-end neighborhoods, and they rent homes through Airbnb or VRBO, so they aren’t observed in hotel lobbies or parking lots.  As unnerving as this all is, you would think just setting an alarm and operating security cameras would provide adequate protection.  You would be wrong. A woman across the road from me had jewelry and cash stolen.  She said that her Ring alarm/camera system was on, but it didn’t capture the burglars who entered her home.  And there’s a good reason for that.  The latest tool in their bag of tricks is a Wi-Fi and cellular frequency jammer, that disables security systems and cell phone transmissions.  Last weekend the technology expert, Kim Komando, was exposed to this group when they tried to rob several houses on her street in Phoenix.  Because she recently designed and built her house (and she is a technology expert) her home has a hard-wired security system.  Fortunately for her the burglars moved on from her house but she was able to capture the 22 SWAT team members who swarmed her back yard looking for evidence.  They found several jammers strewn around the area.  Neighbors reported losing their Wi-Fi/phone connectivity, but assumed it was a simple internet outage.  The truth was obviously far scarier.  In that incident the police were able to capture three of the burglars as they tried to escape. According to court records, all three suspects were of Chilean descent, overstayed their visas, and were carrying bogus ID cards from Spain, with fake names and birth dates. 

      A New Friend for Dash?

Over the past three weeks we have had two attempted burglaries in my community.  In the first one the owner came home from walking her dog and surprised the burglars.  The second incident last week involved them shattering a bedroom slider, but they were scared off when they realized the owners were home in another part of the house.  I don’t want to get into a discussion about continuing the visa program or our southern border.  But piggybacking on Bob’s post from last week, it may be time to throw out ALL of our politicians and find some who can find some solutions. For now, all I know is that in twenty-four years of living in this house I have rarely turned on the alarm system.  Now, it’s on all the time.  I have installed more security and have taken extra precautions for my personal security.  I’m thinking of getting Dash the Wonder Dog a friend.  One who bites.  I never thought I would live like this.