Category Archives: Over the Transom

Ants!

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Ah, spring. When ants scurry through vast cities and elk eat weeds. We took a walk in the Ned Brown Forest Preserve (Busse Woods) on Saturday, among the flush of new green trees and carpets of light purple flowers in the undergrowth (phlox? They have five petals). Just next to the paved path I noticed the largest ant hill I’ve ever seen, distinguished by dark earth a bit darker even than the surrounding rich Illinois soil.

It had a rectangular shape, about 10 feet by four: 40 square feet of ant hill surface. Puny by world standards, but still big. A close look revealed a multitude of active mid-sized black ants. I don’t know exactly what kind, but does that matter? (They’re all bent on world domination.) Someone had put three footprints in the ant hill, probably just to stir up the ants. The ants marched through the foot-sized depressions without any trouble.

Wonder how deep it went. If a cursory investigation’s any indication, a fair ways down. Something I didn’t know existed: ant hill casts.

Other insects are emerging. The season’s first mosquito landed on my arm. It was sluggish, and in a moment I snuffed out whatever existence it enjoyed as a mosquito. But more of its ilk will soon be on the wing. At Busse Woods in particular, which is marshy in a lot of places, and sporting a lot of puddles, since it’s been raining nearly every other day lately.

We saw larger creatures too. Elk Grove Village maintains a small herd of elk in a large fenced enclosure near the intersection of Arlington Heights Road and Higgins Road. Usually they’re off in the distance, but on Saturday they were near the fence and easy to see: three males with short horns still, three females. Mostly going about ruminant business. They seem fond of dandelions.

Thursday Squibs

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Sometimes at the bank I get a roll of dollar coins, which totals 25 all together. These days, most of them are presidential dollars, though some Sacagaweas and Susies are usually mixed in. Since the presidents after Garfield have relatively low mintage — Garfield had a total of 74.2 million from both mints, while Arthur had only about 10 million — it’s rare to see one of the later presidents. This week, a TR coin turned up (one of 9.2 million minted) in a roll. In worn condition. Odd.

“What’s syncopation?” Lilly asked recently. Being in band, I thought she’d know that. Maybe not. I learned about it in high school, but when she asked I realized I’d forgotten how to describe it. Just what YouTube is for: this is a lucid explanation, and he even makes Philip Glass a little more interesting.

In line at a grocery store the other day, a man behind me was carrying on a vigorous conversation on his phone. Nothing unusual about that anymore, unlike the day in 1989 when I saw a woman pull a brick of a phone from her purse at the McDonald’s that used to be on the Mag Mile and start talking into it. Overhearing one side of a call these days might even be annoying, depending on the conversation.

I couldn’t pin down his language. It didn’t quite sound like Russian, but it was some kind of Slavic tongue. Maybe Ukrainian. Anyway, he had a good voice, so I listened. There wasn’t much else to do in line anyway. Then I started to notice: talktalktalktalk OK talktalktalk OK talktalktalktalktalktalktalk OK talktalktalktalktalktalk OK.

I know OK is practically universal. (Or do the French resist?) That wasn’t a surprise. Still, I marveled that a bit of 1830s American slang, whose origin even now isn’t quite certain, has traveled so far. So naturally did he use the word, it might as well have been native from his point of view.

New fact for the day (a couple of weeks ago for me, when I learned it): Neil Diamond wrote “Red, Red Wine.” A strange notion at first, but then again he’s written other songs with an alcohol motif. Then I learned that that’s his actual birth name: Neil Diamond, son of Akeeba and Rose Diamond of Brooklyn. It always sounded like a stage name to me.

In Branson in 2012 I met a fellow whose act was a Neil Diamond impersonation (tribute, as they say). He had the enormous mane and the good looks of young Neil Diamond, but I didn’t get to hear whether he had similarly impressive pipes. I’d hope so.

The last episode of Mad Men is on Sunday. A lot of shows now have last episodes, so it isn’t quite like the novelty of watching the end of The Fugitive (which I don’t remember) or even, come to think of it, The Mary Tyler Moore Show (which I do). Here’s an interesting essay about final shows, though maybe covering something that doesn’t really deserve an essay, namely the last episode of Hogan’s Heroes.

Still, I’ll be watching Mad Men. If only to see whether Roger Sterling gets one more funny line or scene.

Thursday Olio

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A recent sunset. Still pre-leaf.

Torches Light the Western Sky March 2015Not long ago I overheard two young women ahead of me in line. A bit of their talk went like this, more or less.

The One: Don’t end up being the stupid girl with the stupid tattoo.

The Other: Only one friend of mine has a tattoo, Sonya, and she’s the stupidest person I know.

One: Why are you friends with her?

Other: Well, our great-grandparents were in a displaced persons camp together, and our families have been friends ever since.

DogThe other day I wondered what dogs would come up with as their traditional measuring system. Or at least some dogs — say, the dogs of the British Isles, which they later took to many parts of the world. Provided, of course, dogs could do that kind of abstract reasoning. Assume they can for a moment.

Let’s stick with units of length. The paw would be the basic unit. Four paws to a snout, eight paws to a tail (four is important to dogs; in fact, they use Base 4 for counting). A dog mile — I don’t have a word for that yet — would be 800 tails. What would these be in human measurement? I don’t feel the need to work that out just now.

In modern usage, the snout’s mostly obsolete. And the rest of the traditional measurements are in danger of disappearing. During the revolution, Jacobin dogs in France came up with lengths supposedly based on 1/4,000,000 of the distance from the equator to the North Pole, but I’ll leave that for another time.

The Latest in Cuckoo Clocks

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The great melt is under way, at least on my property. The back yard, which is a southern exposure, is mostly a mud flat now, with rims of snow. The dog is happy to explore it, and then report back to us, carrying mud specimens with her for our floor, clothes, etc. Even the front yard, with its northern exposure, is beginning to reveal itself again. I’m curious to see how my exercise in green yard management is going. That is, I didn’t rake leaves last fall. They’ve been decaying in place since then, in theory providing nutrients for the grass this spring.

Some time ago, I wrote about the Batman Express (italics from the original source material): “It’s an HO-scale train set that ‘is powerfully embellished with dramatic full-color artwork by some of DC Comics greatest artists,’ according to the letter. ‘You’ll thrill to each outstanding portrait of Batman as he battles his arch villains including The Joker and Catwoman.’ … That’s the world of collectibles, I figure. Anything goes with anything, if it sells…”

I’m reminded of that again. This time, a print ad that recently wandered into the house informs me that it’s “Time to Celebrate the Chicago Blackhawks® Championship Legacy!” And how so? “Now, you can demonstrate your team pride any time of the day with the Chicago Blackhawks® Cuckoo Clock.” Limited edition (of course), so get yours now. The earliest orders will receive the coveted low edition numbers! (Who indeed would want clock 9995 out of 10,000?) For some reason, the ad emphasizes that the clock is 2 Feet High!

Clearly, it’s a special clock. Done up in red and black, with the Blackhawk mascot painted on it, hockey sticks for weights, and a cuckoo that wears a hockey helmet. It can be yours for only five convenient installments of $39.99, for a total of $199.95.* Asterisk = $23.99 shipping and service. Limit one per order. By golly, who can resist all that?

The Oak Park Love Locks

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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.

Oak Park Jan 30, 2015They 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.

Air Plant Trio

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

Air plants 2015“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.”

boss air plant 2015My 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.

Efficient Neighbors & Us

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Rec’d a letter from our electric utility, ComEd, a while ago — a “Home Energy Report,” it says, for the period October 25 to December 26. I don’t remember seeing one before. Could be members of utility middle management cooked them up for the purpose of better serving the energy-consuming public. That or keeping busy.

The letter says we’ve used 2 percent less electricity than my “efficient neighbors” for the two-month period above. Who? It helpfully explains the universe of neighbors in this case is about “100 occupied nearby homes that are similar in size to yours and have gas heat.” Efficient neighbors are the “most efficient 20 percent from the All Neighbors group.”

Ah, but over the last 12 months, we’ve used 20 percent more electricity than those efficient people, the letter also says (yet still less than the universe of 100 neighbors). Makes me think the most recent months are a fluke. Can’t think of anything we’ve been doing to cut electric use, though I’ve switched off a lot of lights in empty rooms. But I’ve always done that.

Never mind, we can still claim to be righteously green. A nice letter is one thing, but what about a rate reduction. No? I didn’t think so.

Thursday Odds and Ends

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Throwback Thursday? Where did that come from? I’m always late to the meme party, not that that makes any difference. I first saw the term after I sent my old friend Tom an image of him that I scanned from a color slide.

TomJones1979I took it outside my house in the spring of 1979, and it’s now proof that Tom once had hair. He posted it on his Facebook page on Jan. 1, calling it a “Throwback Thursday” picture (though curiously, Jan. 1 is a day people tend to look ahead). I don’t think I’ll throwback on Thursdays, except for this picture. Thursday’s a good day for odds and ends, though.

Part of Isaac’s Storm, which is mainly about the Galveston Hurricane of 1900 (see Jan. 19), mentions previous big blows in passing, such as the Great Storm of 1703, which slammed into Great Britain. I didn’t know, for instance, that that storm destroyed — completely scoured off the rocks — the first Eddystone Light. With builder Henry Winstanley and his crew, who were doing repairs, still inside. More about all four lighthouses on those rocks is here, including the incredible fate of the lighthouse keeper when the second one burned down. Here’s a short of a fellow visiting the current lighthouse (a cool destination if there ever was one).

I don’t think I have the patience to read Daniel Defoe’s work on the subject, The Storm — or, to give it its full name, The Storm: Or, a Collection of the Most Remarkable Casualties and Disasters Which Happen’d in the Late Dreadful Tempest, Both by Sea and Land — which is available thanks to Project Gutenberg. But it’s good browsing. Some people died in 1703 from falling chimneys, for instance:

In Threadneedle-Street, one Mr. Simpson, a Scrivener being in Bed and fast a-sleep, heard nothing of the Storm; but the rest of the Family being more sensible of Danger, some of them went up, and wak’d him; and telling him their own Apprehensions, press’d him to rise; but he too fatally sleepy, and consequently unconcern’d at the Danger, told them, he did not apprehend any Thing; and so, notwithstanding all their Persuasions, could not be prevailed with to rise: they had not been gone many Minutes out of his Chamber, before the Chimneys fell in, broke through the Roof over him, and kill’d him in his Bed.

I suppose that counts as a throwback, too, though I bet most people who use the term don’t go back as far as 1703. So here’s something new: socks that Yuriko brought back from Japan for Ann.

JsocksToo cute for words, as Japanese design sometimes is.

An Early Three-Cent Card

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The U.S. domestic postcard rate went up to 3 cents on August 1, 1958. The postmark on the following card clearly says August 1958, but the exact date is impossible to suss out. Its message is also short and to the point — from the West Coast back to the East Coast, an image of Grauman’s. Lots of people have been there before and since. Graumans1958.1Gaumans1958.2I didn’t forget! We stopped here on our tour of Hollywood and Beverly Hills! We are having a wonderful trip.

Emily Loeser

It’s addressed to Robby’s Beauty Salon (originally “shop,” but it’s crossed out) in Elizabeth, New Jersey. Note the staple holes in upper-right corner. I like to think that the recipients at Robby’s stapled the card to a bulletin board or the like for a while.

Another Two-Cent Card

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On July 13, 1958, a fellow named Ned mailed a hotel card – one depicting the Radisson Minneapolis surrounded by what I take to some Minneapolis sights. A busy design, but the Radisson has had a long history in the city.

Raddison1958.1Raddison1958.2Dear Mother & Dad

Here is where I stay in Minneapolis. Heading home Tuesday. Hope you are OK.

Love, Ned

Ned could have put that in a tweet, I think.