Phil Plait at the Cernan Center

Posted on February 10, 2015 by admin

On Saturday evening, we – all of us but Lilly, who had other things to do – went to the Cernan Earth & Space Center to see “Bad Astronomy,” a show mostly narrated by Phil Plait. It pretty much encapsulated what he has to say: there’s a lot of bad astronomy in movies, astrology is nonsense, of course men went to the Moon, and so on.

Not much new for me, though Ann probably got something out of it. In fact, she said she did, but also that she already knew there’s no sound in space. Not many movies or TV shows set in space bother with that, usually for sensible dramatic reasons – imagine the Enterprise passing by without that swoosh — though I can think of a few exceptions: 2001, Firefly.

Plait also mentioned in passing, without naming it, that there’s a place on the Moon where the Sun (almost) always shines. Never heard of that before, and it intrigued me. He must have been talking about the Peak of Eternal Light, which besides sounding like a cult, is an actual place near the south pole of the Moon.

We also got Ann a shirt from the small gift shop (which has no postcards): a map of the constellations.

Happy Turn Rice Crackers

Posted on February 9, 2015 by admin

Yuriko bought some Happy Turn rice crackers (senbei) recently. They’re oval crackers with a light sweet-soy flavor. Happy Turn is the name — or rather, the English rendering of the katakana name, ハッピーターン. A product of Kameda Seika Confectionery.

They’re very popular in Japan with both adults and children, and they didn’t last long in our house. I prefer Bonchi rice snacks myself, which are shaped like small bowls and are a bit saltier, but I’m fond of these too. Been a while since we’d had any.

Execution of Justice

Posted on February 8, 2015 by admin

Execution of Justice was the first play I saw in Chicago after moving here in 1987. I’d seen a number of plays in the city before, such as Vicious, Rap Master Ronnie, and All My Sons, because it was a good thing to do when visiting town. Chicago’s got first-rate theater. Once I came to live there, I went to the theater every other month or so.

The play, by Emily Mann, is about the trial of Dan White, assassin of George Moscone and Harvey Milk, and the reaction to his absurdly light sentence. White had been in the news again not too much earlier, in late 1985, for committing suicide.

The “Twinkie defense” was part of the play, but I don’t remember if it was treated as the myth it is or not. As Scopes puts it, “better to believe the jury was hoodwinked by some pseudo-scientific nonsense about junk food than to acknowledge the fact that our legal system sometimes absolves defendants of responsibility for the most heinous of crimes.”

I best remember the depiction of the White Night riots, with a dark, quiet stage suddenly exploding with light and noise and the motion of actors. You could tell the audience was startled.

Divers* Notes on an Ordinary Thursday

Posted on February 5, 2015 by admin

Maybe it’s time to go on another literary bender. Lately I’ve been reading The Dog of the South, which I’m enjoying, so maybe Charles Portis is just the thing. Since I read True Grit not that long ago, that only leaves three more novels of his left to read. The man’s got a gift for understated humor. Sometimes that’s the best kind.

Got one of a mass email from the principal of Quincy Adams Wagstaff Elementary School recently – an email of the times: “In light of the recent news regarding measles at a Palatine child care facility, District π is sharing with all families this Measles Fact Sheet from the Cook County Department of Public Health. At this time there have been no reported cases of measles in District π. Should there be a case of measles at your child’s school; [sic] parents/guardians would be notified.

“Measles is a highly contagious disease. However, more than 99% of our students are vaccinated against this disease and the measles vaccine is highly effective.”

What he didn’t say, but I wouldn’t have minded if he did: “We’re glad there aren’t a lot of anti-vax morons in our district.”

The usual suspects were over to celebrate Ann’s birthday last week.

A close up of the cake. It’s the same kind as seven years ago, at Ann’s request. (She didn’t remember having it before, but was impressed when she saw it, and wanted it.)

To quote myself: “[The cake is] very dark and very round, heavy as a manhole, rich as Bill Gates. Among chocolate cakes, it’s a Union Pacific steam locomotive.”

* For some reason, I’ve long been fond of the archaic form of diverse “divers.” According to Grammarist: “The archaic adjective divers means various or many. Diverse means having great variety. For instance, a group of three can be called diverse if all three elements differ from one another, but we wouldn’t call the group divers because three are not many. Still, divers (usually pronounced DIE-verz) has given way to diverse in the sense meaning various, and in the many sense it gives way to other synonyms. The word has not been widely used in over a century, and even in the 19th century it was mainly a poeticism.”

Friday in the Park With Geof

Posted on February 4, 2015 by admin

The last time I went to the Garfield Park Conservatory, about a year and a half ago, I took a good many pictures (such as these and these and these). This time around, which was on last Friday, not so many. On the other hand, my old friend Geof Huth, who was visiting from New York state, snapped up a storm. Many of his images ended up on Facebook.

I didn’t remember seeing this before, though I probably have.

A nearby sign says: “This fountain is a gift from Chicago’s Sister City of Casablanca, Morocco to the people of Chicago. It is covered with special hand-cut terra-cotta tiles called “zellij” … the round patterns on the front of our fountain are intended to represent flowers. The zellji technique was developed in the 10th century in North Africa and Andalusia and has been faithfully practiced up to the present day.”

The Oak Park Love Locks

Posted on February 3, 2015 by admin

Lilly sometimes studies at the other desk in my office. This evening the object of her studies was various bones, for her anatomy class (I’m pretty sure that subject wasn’t offered at my bronze-age high school). I suggested that she can learn bones listening to “Dry Bones.” She’s used to this kind of suggestion.

On Friday, I was briefly in Oak Park. But long enough to take a look at the Oak Park Love Locks.

They are at the Metra and El line underpass on Oak Park Ave. They’re a little thin on this side of the underpass (the south side), but thicker on the north side, where there was also a lot less light.

A helpful sign posted by the Oak Park Area Arts Council says, in part: “On a bridge over the river Seine in Paris, lovers write their names and dates on padlocks, attach them to the rails, and throw the padlock key into the river to symbolize their commitment. The locks form a colorful, metallic tapestry that testifies to the power of undying love.

“As part of The Ernest Hemingway Foundation of Oak Park’s Hemingway Birthday Celebration, we are bringing this part of Paris to Oak Park and inviting the community to create its own statement of romance.”

Something about this cries out to be mocked. According to some sources, Parisians aren’t particularly fond of this practice, which isn’t very old either — certainly nothing Hemingway had anything to do with. And while bridges on the Seine might inspire romance, a dimly lit concrete-and-steel underpass in suburban Chicago doesn’t have any of that vibe. Also — just to note — the thing is sponsored by a major padlock maker. Bet they have romance in their corporate heart.

If the Arts Council really wants to bring some of Hemingway’s Paris to the 21st century Midwest, I have a few suggestions: cafes and zinc bars with subsidized drinks, so they’re cheap like Paris in the ’20s; a bookstore that looks exactly like Shakespeare and Company; and a statue of the gentlemen who invented pharmacy.

Sort of a Blizzard ’15

Posted on February 2, 2015 by admin

Going into yesterday’s snow event, it was simply going to be a winter storm. At some point during the storm, officialdom started calling it a blizzard. I’m skeptical. A lot of snow fell, but it took all night and day, and some wind blew, but it wasn’t a howling fury. That’s what a blizzard is to me: howling fury. Like in ’99 or ’11.

I went outside twice yesterday and once this morning for snow removal. So it the pain-in-the-butt, risk-your-heart sense, I guess it was a blizzard. The Tribune tells me that “As of about 7 a.m. Monday, O’Hare International Airport had a total of 19.3 inches of snow, making it the fifth-largest multiday storm on record, according to the National Weather Service.”

The snow certainly made mighty piles. On my deck, some of them.

Also, the ornamental bridge is just as buried this time as in 2011. (Has it really be four years since that happened? Four years to the day, in fact, before the latest storm?)

The wind sculpted some odd forms. On the other side of our roof, there wasn’t much snow cover at all.

It looks like you can’t open the door with our hitting the snow lip, but it’s hanging far enough away that the door doesn’t touch it.

Snow in Osaka

Posted on February 1, 2015 by admin

Snow throughout the night and into the day today. Not a blizzard exactly, just a steady build up with some wind. Just when our driveway was more-or-less clear from previous non-blizzard buildup. But at least it’s February. The best thing about that is that it’s not January any more.

The view of the back yard around noon today. Much more snow was to come.

Osaka’s hot and humid much of the year, with mild winters. A gas-burning space heater was all I needed to heat my small apartment in the winter. But it did get cold. Early in 1994, Osaka got snow. Like the San Antonio snow event 21 years earlier, it was novel enough so that I took pictures.

Just a coating. The white building in the background was my apartment building, known as the Sunshine Mansion. The windows of my third-story unit are mostly obscured in this shot by the twin utility poles, but I had a fairly good view.

A few blocks away is the Nagai crossing of the JR Hanwa Line. The partial rainbow marks the site of a pachinko parlor. Behind that was a grocery store I went to often (pachinko, never).

Follow those tracks far enough, and you get to Wakayama. In the other direction is the much closer Tennoji terminus, which is in the city of Osaka. But I rarely took the Hanwa line. Not far away was the Nagai station of the Midosuji Line of the Osaka subway system, which is how I usually got around.

Lopadotemachoselachogaleokranioleipsanodrimhypotrimmatosilphioparaomelitokatakechymenokichlepikossyphophattoperisteralektryonoptekephalliokigklopeleiolagoiosiraiobaphetraganopterygon

Posted on January 29, 2015 by admin

Just showing off. This week I thumbed through my beaten-up copy of The Book of Lists (1977), and came across its list of long words. Such as Lopadotemachoselachogaleokranioleipsanodrimhypotrimmatosilphioparaomelitokatakechymenokichlepikossyphophattoperisteralektryonoptekephalliokigklopeleiolagoiosiraiobaphetraganopterygon. These days, that word has its own Wiki page. As is probably should.

It’s been years since I looked at the book, but looking again I can see why it was a mammoth bestseller. It’s one of the best browsing books that I know of, and the godfather of the slide show and the listicle. The back cover promises: the 10 worst films of all time; 7 famous men who died virgins; 10 sensational thefts; 15 famous event that happened in a bathtub; 20 famous high school dropouts; 9 breeds of dogs that bite the most; 10 doctors who tried to get away with murder; the 14 worst human fears; and much, much more! That last one’s no hype. The book comes in at 519 pages with fairly dense text.

The male virgins, incidentally, are on page 321, a list based on conjecture (and weaselly calling them “full-time or part-time” virgins). More accurate would be a list of historical figures suspected of long periods of celibacy, but that kind of phasing wouldn’t get enough eyeballs, to put it in modern terms. On the list: Isaac Newton, Immanuel Kant, Louis XVI, John Ruskin, George Bernard Shaw, Havelock Ellis, Adolf Hitler.

Another interesting list, more-or-less at random: Top 10 Air Aces of World War I. Of course, everyone’s heard of the number-one ace, Rittmeister Manfred von Richthofen, one way or another. But what about number 2 and 3 — a Frenchman and Briton, respectively? That would be Capt. René Fonck and Maj. Edward Mannoch. (Though Wiki puts Mannoch at number 5.)

And one more fun one: people who became words. Bloomer, Bowdler, Boycott, Braille, Chauvin, Diesel, Guillotin, Lynch, Nicot, Quisling, Sacher-Masoch, and of course John Montagu, the Earl of Sandwich.

Air Plant Trio

Posted on January 28, 2015 by admin

Lately we can look up from our dining table and see a trio of tillandsias.

“Tillandsia is the largest genus in the bromeliad family, accounting for approximately 550 of the over 2,500 species of bromeliads,” the aptly named Plant Oddities web site tells us. “They are native to the warmer climates of the Americas. Commonly known as air plants, they are found from jungle to rain forest to arid desert environments – from sea level to high mountain regions.

“Most Tillandsia species use their root systems to attach themselves to trees or rocks and absorb moisture and nutrients through their leaves. This classifies them as epiphytes. Absorption occurs through small scales on their leaves called trichomes… Since Tillandsia’s are epiphytes, the mounting medium you choose is limited only by your imagination. These hardy plants are adaptable and tolerant to a wide range of environmental conditions and require minimal care.”

My nephew Dees and his girlfriend Eden thoughtfully sent us these air plants for Christmas. The last time I was at their apartment in Austin, I’d seen some hanging near one of their windows and asked what they were.

Been There, Seen That

By Dees Stribling