The DuPage River snakes through downtown Naperville, Illinois. The last time we were there, the sun shined bright on the leafy greenery along its riverwalk.
On Saturday, the look was a little different. We took a walk along it.Plenty of trees along the way, including this enormous oak. Ash. Not sure, that gnarled bark could be either, according to my untrained eye. Usually the presence of oak leaves and acorns would confirm that one way or the other, but those tree scatterings are covered by snow these days. In the hollow of the tree — — peanuts? Yes. Maybe a squirrel squirreled them away. Or maybe whimsical placement by a human.
Near the riverwalk I spotted a couple of plaques-on-rocks. This one has the look of passing a number of winters (and summers) out in the elements. DuPage County Sesquicentennial
1839-1989
This recognition has been a joint effort of the DuPage County Sesquicentennial Celebration Inc., the city of Naperville, and the Naperville Heritage Society in honor of DuPage, the voyageur, for whom the county was named. DuPage operated the first recorded trading post at the forks of the DuPage River in Naperville, which eventually became the first county seat.
DuPage might have actually been Pierre Page, but he certainly was a trader in the area and had an establishment in the future DuPage County. Wheaton has been the county seat for a long time, since 1867.
A newer-looking plaque. As it should be, since it’s less than a year old. This is its first winter out in the elements. I’m not going to transcribe all that, but it honors one Chuck Papanos, a long-time Naperville Park District employee associated with the riverwalk. “Chuck’s hard work helped make the riverwalk a place of beauty for everyone to enjoy,” it says in part.
Attaboy, Chuck. We did enjoy the riverwalk, even on a chilly January day.
Much work these days. Lots going on. Will post again on January 19. The more holidays the better, and I’ll bet — considering the inclinations of the incoming administration — Juneteenth will be a federal holiday before long. Or at least the closest Monday.
Ice crystals on our deck. They didn’t last long. Later came snow, which mostly melted. To follow Sink the Bismarck!, a taut 1960 British war movie, for contrast I recently watched Portrait of a Lady on Fire (Portrait de la jeune fille en feu, 2019), an engaging French love story set just before the Revolution. I haven’t seen many movies as painterly Portrait of a Lady on Fire.
A few weeks ago, before the violent national scrum, we started watching the short series The People vs. OJ Simpson. Top-quality historical fiction. Doesn’t feel historic, just like a good while ago. An increasingly long time ago, more in feeling than strict chronology. When the trial was actually happening, I remember thinking, do I have to hear about that again? Enough time has now passed for the subject to be of some interest.
That said, do I ever feel nostalgic for the ’90s? No. The underappreciated ’70s is more my flavor, and for the exact same uninteresting reason as most people. Nostalgia for one’s youth.
I didn’t know until I read about it a little while ago, but The Great Gatsby is in the public domain now. I could publish 100 words from that book, in order, or maybe reverse order, until I’d gone through the entire book, with the time needed to put the text in my only real cost. I don’t think I’ll do that, but it’s nice to know I could.
The immortal Ella.
A much later version. Recent, in fact, by the highly talented Hot Sardines.
The Hot Sardines’ singing is top notch, but I’m really taken with the animation in the video.
Another recent version by the Speakeasy Three.
Fine harmonies. The video is so stylized that it approaches parody, but doesn’t quite get there. Somehow, that works. Also, am I right in thinking there are celebrity lookalikes in this video? Recent celebrities, not swing-era ones. I don’t care enough about celebrities to find out, but I get that sense.
A site that visit every few months: The Comics Curmudgeon. On Jan 13, he mocks the comic strip Crock, which isn’t hard, but it is hard to be funny while doing it. The writer of the site, Joshua Fruhlinger, pulls it off.
One the characters says to another one, “I can’t wait to meet the blind date you got me. When can I call her?”
“Anytime but the weekends,” the other character says. “That’s the busiest time for blacksmiths.”
Fruhlinger comments: “I was going to go all in on ‘Why is it funny that this woman is a blacksmith,’ but we all know the reason why it’s supposed to be funny: blacksmithery is not a traditional feminine job so can you even imagine going on a date with a woman who would engage in it? What would you even call her? A blacksmithrix? Haw haw! Anyway, that’s stupid, so instead I’m going to focus on something actually puzzling: the assertion that weekends are ‘the busiest time for blacksmiths.’ I guess that’s when most Renn Faires are? Are we dealing with a universe where blacksmiths are a vital part of the everyday economy, making horseshoes and tools and such, or are we in a more modern environment where mass manufactured goods are omnipresent and easy to get, and the only people who go to blacksmiths are weirdos who are obsessed with swords? This is the Crock worldbuilding background that I have a million times more in interest in than I do in Poulet’s love life.”
I’ve started reading American Slavery, American Freedom, subtitled “The Ordeal of Colonial Virginia,” by Edmund S. Morgan (1975). I’m not far along, but enough to know he’s a good writer. The first chapter is unexpectedly about of Sir Francis Drake in Panama in 1572, but I think I can see where he seems to be going with the narrative, which will get to colonial Virginia before long.
A fair amount of work today, but I did take some time to watch — in the modern way, on a small screen on my laptop — part of the impeachment vote. Historic moment and all that.
If you asked me, there’s been entirely too much history made this month.
I was surprised recently to find Sink the Bismarck!on YouTube, gratis, no commercials even. Did the copyright lapse? So over the last few days I’ve been watching it as time allows. I think I rented it on VHS in Japan nearly 30 years ago, but I’m not sure; might have seen it later.
Considering that the ships are obviously models, this is a movie that’s improved — to modern eyes, used to better effects — by being on a small screen. Much of the story involves talking, and occasionally the exposition pops through (especially at the beginning), but on the whole it’s fast-moving and, in its way, suspenseful. The main actors all do well, especially the leads.
Also, it’s reasonably accurate in terms of its history, though since the movie came out in 1960, it wasn’t up to speed on the fact that British intelligence had cracked German codes, or that the men on the Bismarck scuttled her at the very end. No matter, it’s been a good diversion from the pace of work and the woes of the nation.
What, another national park? Don’t we have enough? (This makes 63.)
I’m referring to New River Gorge National Park and Reserve in West Virginia, which sounds like a fine place to visit, including the bridge. But does it need to be a national park? Wasn’t national river good enough?
The new designation was tucked away in the latest omnibus federal budget, a document probably as sprawling and wild as some of the larger national parks. Maybe there’s also something there about a new park on the Moon, though I expect that would go against the Outer Space Treaty of 1967. Then again, could be that the treaty is silent on that question.
Today was the last day for the Christmas tree. As usual, it’s been nice having it around, but its time had come. Before long, I’d removed the ornaments. No one volunteered to help. Including Eggplant. I think we bought that one at an impromptu crafts sale at an apartment building near where we lived the year Lilly was born. I expect she was there with us, strapped in a carrier. The lord. Got him about the same time as Eggplant, though I can’t remember where. I like to think of him as one of the 10 Lords A-Leaping, resting between leaps.
Soon all the ornaments were off. Except the Star of Bethlehem. It’s always the last to go. I bought it at a garage sale years ago because it is a gold colored version of a silver star I put on our tree growing up. The exact same style.
After everything was off, I dragged the tree outside. The dog decided to investigate the mass of needles left behind in the living room. We will find needles in odd spots for months. Until next Christmas, probably. Last stop (on our property, anyway): the curb. That’s the tree well-illuminated by the nearby street lamp.
That doesn’t look too bad for January. Been reading a lot about the insurrection today, partly because it’s my job, partly as an American citizen who ought to take an interest in the political illness gripping the nation. With any luck, in retrospect, yesterday will be the day the fever broke. But I’m not betting the mortgage money on it.
Oddly enough, Quartz published an article about the flags carried by the insurrectionists. I was inspired to look into the matter when I noticed some flags that I didn’t recognize in the many photos of the event.
Besides the modern U.S. flag, many others are recognizable, of course, such as the 13-star U.S. (Betsy Ross) flag, the Confederate battle flag, the Gadsden Flag, the U.S. Marine Corps flag and the Thin Blue Line flag.
Even odder, according to Quartz, “the flags of Canada, Cuba, Georgia, India, Israel, South Korea, and South Vietnam were spotted in the mob.” Go figure.
I don’t know Rep. Mike Gallagher (R.-Wis.), but I believe he had the spot-on quote for the day, which I heard on the radio this afternoon: “This is banana republic crap.”
Five months ago, the full flush of summer marked Spring Valley. Two days into the new year, the place was markedly brown and gray and white.We had a pretty good walk anyway, especially since the paths were mostly clear of ice patches. Snow and ice fell during the last days of December, and on New Year’s Day itself, but it was above freezing the next day, enough to melt some of the ice. Not much ice on the creek either, but I wouldn’t want to fall in. The unpaved trails offered the crunch of snow underfoot, a sound I like. The peony field.
The snow was wet enough to cling to most of the trees.It sifts from Leaden Sieves — It powders all the Wood. It fills with Alabaster Wool The Wrinkles of the Road —
It’s becoming clear that my approach to travel — to finding things to see, anyway — has had two distinct phases. One is before I started using Google Maps, the other after I did, a phase that I expect to continue for the rest of my life.
Visiting Voyageur Landing (see yesterday) only counts as travel in the technical sense that we went to a place that isn’t home, or even in our neighborhood. Even so, it was a new destination and before we went, I scouted it on Google Maps. Pratt’s Castle? I had to found out more about that, and I did.
“A man’s home may be his castle but when was the last time you actually saw a castle in a residential neighborhood?” says Historic Elgin. “Medieval history buff Harold S. Pratt built this imposing replica in 1937. His real home was nearby on Douglas Avenue.
“Pratt modeled the design on a castle he saw along the Rhine River while serving in World War I. This building was a private museum housing Pratt’s personal collection of medieval artifacts. The 50 foot tall tower is surrounded by a mini-moat and a working draw bridge.
“The castle is still in private ownership, although, [sic] Pratt’s collection is no longer here. So, please respect the privacy of those living here and stay on the bike path.”
More about the castle is here, but I haven’t found out much else about the fate of Pratt’s collection, probably because I haven’t bothered to contact the Elgin History Museum. Since we were planning to visit the nearby Voyageur Landing, I made a point of seeking out the castle as well. Google Maps at work, in other words.
First you go to Trout Park River’s Edge, which sure enough is at the river’s edge. A trail leads both north and south from there, part of the lengthy Fox River Trail, formerly a railroad line (and the green line on the map above). A ten-minute walk southward takes you to the castle. Structure. It’s about as much of a castle as Mars Cheese Castle. Still, worth going (slightly) out of our way to see.
Two days after Christmas, it was warm enough to visit yet another forest preserve. This time of the year, any day above freezing without patches of ice counts as good enough for a walk. Snow and ice would fall a few days later.
We went to a relatively small patch of land in Kane County, hugging the west bank of the Fox River: Voyageur Landing.
Did roving Frenchmen pass this way in centuries past? Could be. In late December 2020, not many people at all were there, just us and a dogwalker and a jogger or two.
The preserve stretches to the north of the bridge that takes I-90 across the Fox. From there you follow the river. Through the wintertime forest. She found a large number of places to sniff. Not so surprising even for an old dog.
Plenty of trees along the way, including this enormous oak. Ash. Not sure, that gnarled bark could be either, according to my untrained eye. Usually the presence of oak leaves and acorns would confirm that one way or the other, but those tree scatterings are covered by snow these days.
In the hollow of the tree —
— peanuts? Yes. Maybe a squirrel squirreled them away. Or maybe whimsical placement by a human.
DuPage County Sesquicentennial
I’m not going to transcribe all that, but it honors one Chuck Papanos, a long-time Naperville Park District employee associated with the riverwalk. “Chuck’s hard work helped make the riverwalk a place of beauty for everyone to enjoy,” it says in part.
