When It’s Springtime Around the 42th Parallel

So many signs of spring. So many, in fact, that they aren’t signs any more. They’re simply things that happen in early spring.

It’s warm enough to eat lunch on my deck, for instance. Which I did today for the first time since some day in the fall when I sat there and wondered when the next time would be — not till April, I probably thought. (Not counting a couple of al fresco meals in Austin last month.)

The birds are noisy and the robins in particular are doing their bob-bob-bobing, as famed in song. I spotted a large rabbit near the house this afternoon. Pregnant, probably; breeding like, well, a rabbit. The grass is green and post-crocus flowers are emerging, including dandelions. A few men on the block can’t wait to mow the still-short grass, and I’ve heard them mowing it. I can wait. Today kids were playing baseball in the park behind my house.

Then there’s the cherry-picker on my street.

Cherry picker, Schaumburg, IL April 2016A crew contracted by the village came by recently to trim the trees along the street. A new thing. Unless I’ve happened to miss them every spring for more than a decade, which is unlikely, considering my self-employment, which started 11 years ago today. Blimey.

No Hot-Rod Ford, But I Do Have a $2 Bill

Today’s the day to mention the $2 bill. Or more exactly, the $2 Federal Reserve Note, which began circulating again on April 13, 1976, or 40 years ago today, after being discontinued for about a decade. The date was chosen because today is also Thomas Jefferson’s birthday (273rd today, 233rd back in 1976).

My Series 1976 $2 note is one make for the Federal Reserve Bank of Minneapolis. As a collector’s item, I’m pretty sure it’s worth around $2. I keep it anyway, because I want to have at least one.

For the the resurrection of the denomination, someone produced paper envelopes with a canned history of the $2 bill printed on the front and back, and an oval hole on the front to display Jefferson. It’s an odd thing, but somehow I still have one.

observereverseUnfortunately, I don’t have any older notes. The ones to have would be the Series 1886 $2 Silver Certificate depicting Gen. Winfield Scott Hancock, or the Series 1891 $2 Silver Certificate, with a portrait of U.S. Treasury Secretary William Windom. Or even the 1896 “Educational Series” Silver Certificate, which features an allegorical figure of Science presenting steam and electricity to commerce and manufacturing on the observe, and Robert Fulton and Samuel F. B. Morse on the reverse. They sure don’t make ’em like that any more.

Anyway, when I take a check to the bank, I sometimes get $2 bills. They sometimes find their way into tips, though more often I get dollar coins for that purpose.

On the FAQ page at the Treasury Department web site, there’s the following question: “Why did the Treasury Department remove the $2 bill from circulation?”

The answer: “The $2 bill has not been removed from circulation and is still a circulating denomination of United States paper currency. The Federal Reserve System does not, however, request the printing of that denomination as often as the others. The Series 2003 $2 bill was the last printed and bears the names of former Secretary of the Treasury John W. Snow and Treasurer Rosario Marin. As of April 30, 2007 there were $1,549,052,714 worth of $2 bills in circulation worldwide. [You’d think Treasury could come up with newer numbers than that.]

“The key for successfully circulating the $2 bill is for retailers to use them just like any other denomination in their daily operations. In addition, most commercial banks will readily supply their retail customers with these bills if their customers request them in sufficient volume to justify stocking them in their vaults. However, neither the Department of the Treasury nor the Federal Reserve System can force the distribution or use of any denomination of currency on banks, businesses or individuals.”

The reserve of the post-1976 note features a reproduction of the painting “The Declaration of Independence” by John Trumbull. Not all of the original image could be squeezed onto the note, however, so some of the delegates depicted at either edge of painting were left off of the note. I remember that caused a minor flap at the time, with (I think) Congressmen of the states so slighted complaining about it. Forty years on, absolutely no one cares.

Trump’s Manhood for VP?

Almost warm enough to sit out on the deck and eat lunch, but not quite. Not even when the wind dies down. Weather prognostication tells me that it will in fact be springtime warm by the end of the week. All I can say is, it’s about time.

Every now and then I return to Paddypower to look at the election odds. U.S. elections aren’t the only ones the Irish bookies care about, of course. Irish and British politics are betworthy as well, such as the odds on the vote in the UK in June to leave the EU. It’s predicted to be close: 45% to 50% voting to leave, which isn’t enough, 9/4. 50% to 55% voting to leave, which is, 9/4.

As for the U.S. presidential elections, Hillary Clinton’s still the favorite at 2/5, a gain for her compared with January. Donald Trump, at 6/1, has seen a considerable slip. Ted Cruz and Bernie Sanders both are 11/1, a slip for Sanders and no change for Cruz.

Vice presidential nominees now have odds. On the Republican side, John Kasich is the favorite to be tapped for the job, at 11/4, with Chris Christie (4/1), Nikki Haley (5/1) and Marco Rubio (8/1) coming next. On the Democratic side, Julian Castro is the favorite at 5/2, with Tim Kaine (junior Senator from Virginia) at 5/1, Elizabeth Warren at 7/1 and Martin O’Malley at 9/1.

The real oddity is a bet called “Trump’s Manhood.” According to the bookies, that “applies to the size of Donald Trump’s manhood when ‘standing to attention.’ Bets will be void if it is not revealed by end of 2016. PP Decision Final.” They must have had fun thinking that up. I refuse to quote the odds.

RIP, Jim Ridley

I didn’t know Jim Ridley, but I knew of him, and had I lived in Nashville longer than I did, I might have easily made his acquaintance. Lately he was the editor of The Nashville Scene, the alternative paper in that city, but was best known as a film critic. Stricken with heart attack late last month, he died Friday at the unnerving age of 50.

As it was, I also just missed knowing him at Vanderbilt, which he attended as a freshman the year after I graduated. He wrote for both Versus (the student magazine) and The Hustler (the student newspaper) that year, both of which I had just finished writing for. This is the picture of the Versus ’83-84 staff from the ’84 yearbook.

Versus Staff 1983-84Jim Ridley’s the large fellow toward the right of the picture with his hand on his head. As I said, I didn’t know him, but I did know more than half of the other people in that picture, all of whom were involved in one way or another with VU student publications when I was there.

Here’s his obit from his own publication, and an appreciation from another film critic. RIP, Mr. Ridley.

Also: a fellow named Archie Dees has died. I didn’t know him either, but Indiana University remembers him as a basketball star whose heyday was in the 1950s (he was 80 when he died). I noticed that he was originally from Ethel, Mississippi, though he went to high school in Downstate Illinois. His central Mississippi roots and his surname very likely mean we’re cousins of some kind. Go back far enough — a century and a half, maybe — and we’re sure to have some common ancestors.

The G.I.’s Guide to Travelling in Europe

Among the many books at my mother’s house, I found a copy of The G.I.’s Guide to Travelling in Europe, by Pfc. Arthur Frommer, first printing, dated August 1955. The book isn’t crumbling yet, but at 60 years of age it’s distinctly yellow, and at risk of falling apart if I handle it too much. Probably the only reason it hasn’t fallen apart already is that no one has handled it much since my parents came home from Europe in 1956.
GI's Guide to Travelling in EuropeAt the risk of damage, I took a look inside the book. It’s precisely what I’ve read it is — the first modern travel guide for a mass audience. In this case, U.S. military personnel stationed in Europe in the mid-50s. In the case of its successor title by Frommer, Europe on $5 a Day, American civilians traveling to Europe during that decade who had neither the time nor funds for a Grand Tour-style trip. Which would be most people.

The focus is on how, rather than what. Chapters include: Army Travel Regulations, Free Air Force Flights, Train Travel in Europe, the G.I. and His Auto, Cities, Hotels & Restaurants, Army-Run Resorts, Talking Through Europe, Menu Translations, Changing Your Money.

GI's Guide to Travelling in Europe backThe book’s done in a conversational, nuts-and-bolts sort of style, and quite well written. Besides the fact that Frommer was filling an unfilled niche, I can see why his books succeeded: useful content, done well.

“But where do I, as the author of this thing, get off posing as an expert on the subject?” Frommer wrote in the book’s introduction. “I’m a G.I. about to rotate home after more than a year of Army service in Germany. This was my first trip to Europe, and I wanted to see lots of it. During that year, therefore, I’ve taken the full allotted leave period of 30 days. I’ve requested and received, in addition, a 3-day pass per month. I’ve also traveled on several 3-day weekends resulting from Army holidays.

“In this manner, during a year of busy Army duty, I’ve been able to spend a full 3 to 10 days at every one of the following places: Paris, Rome, Madrid, Berlin, London, Barcelona, the Island of Mallorca, Vienna, Florence, Venice, Zurich, Munich, Frankfort, Innsbruck, Copenhagen, and Amsterdam.

“The entire amount of this travelling has been done solely on the proceeds of an Army salary that has never been higher than a Pfc’s pay. No money from home has ever defrayed any of these costs. Nor have I gone without coffee, razor blades and fresh laundry during the on-post portions of my Army life.

“Nor have I endured any grinding discomfort on any of the trips described… as the miles piled up, I learned; and the ordinary accumulation of experience was supplemented by a constant search for the gimmicks and short-cuts of European travel. I wrote for regulations and interrogated everyone I met. I was a pest, but I was able to accomplish a type and amount of travelling on the continent which — without fear of exaggeration or boasting — would’ve cost the ordinary civilian tourist over a thousand dollars, as well as months of free time. All at the expense of our benevolent Uncle.”

I hope my parents got their 50 cents’ worth out of the book. I’ll wager they did. I know they went to London, Paris, Strasbourg, Rome, Venice, and some other places from a posting in Germany. I rarely used any of Frommer’s later books myself in Europe or Asia, but I consulted others in the same style, and so have benefited from his work as well.

I’m also reminded of something my friend Dan, stationed in Germany as a Army lieutenant in the mid-80s, told me. By then, of course, getting around cheaply was easier (and there was no euro to mug you in places that should be cheap, like Italy and Greece). A handful of his men, Dan said, made an effort to go as many places as free time would allow, a la Frommer. A good many others, however, were content to hang around nearby and drink Bud.

Frommer, by the way, is still alive at 86. A few years ago, my friend Ed met the man in New York and did some walking around with him there. He says that was quite an experience, and I believe it.

The Seven Wonders, Overheard

Today I overheard another conversation, this time in line in an ordinary store in the ordinary suburb I call home. A man and a boy were taking, father and son, I assume. They too were about as ordinary as could be, both wearing sports logo shirts (Backhawks and Cubs).

“There was the Great Pyramid,” the father said.

“And the lighthouse and statue of Zeus,” the son said.

“Yes, and the mausoleum and the hanging garden and the lighthouse, and what else?”

“I already said the lighthouse.”

“Right. Now let’s see…”

They were talking about the Seven Wonders of the World. Maybe the boy, about 10, had been studying them, though I’d be hard-pressed to imagine they come up in school any more. Or in living memory. I didn’t learn about them in school. Maybe the boy had his own interest in them, or maybe the father did. Anyway, it isn’t something you overhear in line every day. Or ever. Until now. It made me smile, though I didn’t say anything.

I’m reminded of them time when some friends and I were in line to see a movie in Nashville, ca. 1986, and somehow the subject of the Frisian languages came up, including the notion that Frisian is as close to English as any language is, without actually being English. We’d heard that was the opinion among linguists.

A fellow behind us in line — this was at the movie theater at Vanderbilt — was visibly astonished. He felt he had to speak up, apparently, and he asked us how we’d heard about Frisian. He was from the Frisian Islands, he said, though at school at VU.

I don’t remember what we told him. I’d heard of Frisian somewhere before, maybe first in my American Heritage College Dictionary, which has a fine family tree diagram of Indo-European languages, with Frisian on it as a close cousin to English. No doubt he’d resigned himself to not bothering to tell Americans he was from the Frisians, but rather from the Netherlands or Germany.

See You Later, Alligator

While walking the dog during the most recent warm day — a few days ago now — I passed a knot of grade-school kids and their bicycles across the street. I didn’t pay them much attention, but after I’d passed by, I clearly heard one of the boys say, directed at one or more of the others, “See you later, alligator! After a while, crocodile!”

People still say that? Kids still do? It sounded old even when I was young, though I can’t say I heard it much. Later I heard the mid-50s song of that name, recorded by Bill Haley, which seems to have popularized the phrase, but not invented it.

I’d always imagined it was from the ’20s. It sounds like it belongs in the same league as the bees’ knees or 23 skidoo or the like, but after looking around a little, its exact origin and timing remain elusive. One source speculates it started with Swing devotees of the late ’30s, which is plausible, but who knows?

On the other hand, I do know that the phrase lives on in the 2010s. Maybe some celebrity who appeals to kids is saying it now.

Wisconsin, Home of Funny Hats

Various presidential candidates have been stumping just north of here recently, and when I opened Google News this morning, a Washington Post item, complete with Mars Cheese Castle photo, was prominent. I’ve never seen the junior Senator from Texas in person, but I have seen that cheesehead mouse.

The Senator reportedly declined to wear a cheesehead. Wearegreenbay.com quoted him as saying “there is an ironclad rule of politics which is no funny hats… And any hat is by definition defined as a funny hat.”

This from the man who wants to (ultimately) be in charge of the Bureau of Funny Hats, which is part of the Commerce Department, along with the Silly Walks Administration. I don’t think Ronald Reagan was afraid to wear funny hats.

The Manliest Vegetable

Today was one of the days that should be warm, but isn’t. Winter doesn’t want to let go. It even snowed a little, with cold rain predicted for the rest of the week. Bah.

I don’t have what it takes to be a drinking man, but I did visit a large liquor store not long ago, along with my brother Jay. That’s where I learned that potatoes are the manliest of all vegetables. Who knew? That’s a promotion for the humble spud, I think. Jay documented the evidence with his phone.
Total Wine & More San AntonioDeutsch Family Wine & Spirits imports the vodka into the United States, and its web site says: “Luksusowa Vodka (pronounced LOOK-SOO-SO-VAH) was created in 1928 in Poland. Luksusowa means ‘Luxurious’ in Polish… A smooth, rich, high-quality imported vodka that beats the competition in terms of flavor, mouthfeel & price.”

Mouthfeel? I’ve never heard of that before, but it’s one of those words that instantly explains itself.

Miyajima (Itsukushima) During Cherry Blossom Season

Here in northern Illinois, the grass is greening, small buds are budding and birds are making more noise. A few new-generation insects are in view. It’s even warm and sunny on some days, such as today, which followed a miserable, dank, cold Saturday. Such is the seasonal seesaw.

As this map and chart explain, early April is peak cherry blossom season in the Kansai and a few other parts of Japan. That’s when I saw the blossoms in Kyoto — the first year I was there — plus in parts of Osaka, including the crowded National Mint grounds but also the little-known but strikingly beautiful Osaka Gogoku Shrine in Suminoe Ward (which everyone simply called Suminoe Shrine).

In early April 1993, we went to Hiroshima for a weekend, and visited Miyajima (宮島), an island in the Inland Sea near the city. Formally called Itsukushima (厳島), it’s home to a Shinto shrine complex and best known for its monumental torii out in the water, which happened to be behind scaffolding when were were there.

Fortunately, the cherry blossoms were in full, unencumbered view. Temple deer were around, too.

Miyajima - near HimoshinaMiyajima - near Hiroshima 1993I didn’t know until recently that Itsukushima is a World Heritage Site, put on the list after we were there, in 1996. UNESCO notes: “The present shrine dates from the 12th century and the harmoniously arranged buildings reveal great artistic and technical skill. The shrine plays on the contrasts in colour and form between mountains and sea and illustrates the Japanese concept of scenic beauty, which combines nature and human creativity.”