So it is ....

Today is Memorial Day ....

It began as an event to honor and to remember the Union dead from the American Civil War. After World War I, it was extended to include all the men and the women who died while serving in any war or military action. It initially was called Decoration Day, becoming Memorial Day after World War II and officially named as such, by act of Congress, in 1967. Over the ensuing years, it has become more and more a day in which people recall and honor family members and friends who came before them. The affiliation with the poppy, incidentally, began in 1918 and the poppy became the American Legion official symbol of remembrance in 1920.

Enough with the history ....

To maintain my Semper Fidelis attachments, included here are three videos (sort of) related to the U.S. Marine Corps. And, in keeping with one of the traditions of the Corps, the photograph was "liberated" from the internet where it was attributed to Getty Images.

 

Welcome, to the Merry Month of May

No, this is not a photograph taken from the deck of Fridtjof Nansen's ship, "Fram," to illustrate what happens to a sailing vessel frozen into the Arctic ice cap or one taken recently to demonstrate the ferocity of Minnesota winters. This is a sidewalk on Main Street in Cottonwood. Best guess is that the photograph was taken around 1910 .... Cottonwood is the small, rural, Minnesota town in which I spent the first eighteen years of my life.

 

While the town did not even exist until 1888 when a post office was established and the railroad arrived, the first homesteaders had appeared in 1871. Although I was not present in 1888 or even in 1910, this is the way I remember Cottonwood during winter months and the way I remember the depth of the snow: One did not shovel the sidewalk; rather, one shoveled a one-way path along the sidewalk.

The small sign in the foreground reads: "J V Mathews Lawyer"

Behind it, the sign proclaims: "Meat Market"
Further down the street, the sign says: "Restaurant"

There is a photograph of Mathews, incidentally, in, "An Illustrated History of Lyon County Minnesota," published in 1912. He was born on his parents' homestead on March 30, 1879, moved to Cottonwood on March 12, 1907, and had his office on the second floor of the Grieve & Laingen Building. Although the "snow shoveler" is not identified, he very well might be Lawyer Mathews.

By the way, welcome to the Merry Month of May. I shoveled snow both yesterday and today ....
 

Farthest north .... for a brief moment ....

 One hundred twenty-two years ago at this very moment, a wooden ship which had been deliberately frozen into the polar ice cap was adrift within it and captive to it. Each man aboard among the all-Norwegian crew was harboring the hope -- the dream -- of drifting over the North Pole and, by that means, being the first to reach it. The name of the ship was, "Fram," which in the Norwegian language means "forward." It had been designed and constructed for this specific purpose.
 

The leader of the expedition, Fridtjof Nansen, and a companion, Hjalmar Johansen, had left the vessel earlier and were on the ice retreating for Franz Josef Land after an unsuccessful attempt to reach the North Pole by sledges and skis. On April 7 in the year 1895, they had reached a point farther north than anyone before them. It was at that location Nansen decided if he and Johansen did not turn around then and there, death on the ice cap would undoubtedly overtake them. Farthest north, for a moment -- then, the moment is gone and the trek is over and the dream is forever vanished ....

As it was, Nansen and Johansen did spend eight months living in a stone/moss/ice hut at Cape Felder on the western edge of Franz Josef Land, living off polar bear/seal/walrus meat obtained by hunting. Their journey had begun in 1893 and did not conclude until 1896. Nansen, incidentally, had been the first to cross the Greenland ice cap on skis. This dash toward the North Pole venture was his last on the ice. He became a professor of oceanography, and he received the Nobel Peace Prize in 1922 for his work with refugees. Johansen went on to explore Antarctic regions, but his luck was bad and his taste for liquor was unquenchable. He committed suicide at age forty-five.

When I was a boy, I idolized Nansen and had dreams of leading a similar life. This took me to books and to hunting and to winter camping on frozen Minnesota lakes in the midst of blizzards and sub-zero temperatures. I named my first canoe Fram, but cruising among January "ice bergs" on Lake Superior was the extent of its "far north" exploits. Hmmmm .... I wonder who the boys of today idolize and what dreams they might have ....

This has been sort of a post .... the photograph, incidentally, was taken of the ice-bound Fram by one of the crew in 1896. The ship and the crew did make it safely back to Norway, and the vessel later spent four years in the Canadian arctic and went on a south polar expedition. It is now on display in the Fram Museum near Oslo.

I will be back sooner or later .... probably later ....

You looking at me ??!!

There seems to be a bit of "the grouch" revealed in the eyes of Buddy as he tries to catch up on his sleep, but is awakened by me stalking him with my camera .... click, flash .... click, flash .... click, flash. This is not an actual post, but, rather, a facsimile created to substitute for the real thing. Today, March 16, is my birthday, and I felt the need to mark it one way or another. What better way than by a photograph of Buddy ?? I doubt I will be back this way again until mid-April .... I feel a sort of strong urgency to pack up and move on, and time is becoming precious to me .... but, who can say ?? Certainty about anything or anyone is a scare commodity in these times.

One more time for now .... and, then ....

You may have noticed me mention in a place or two that I did break down and buy still Another Smith & Wesson revolver -- and, this time, another .38 Special, this one seventy years old and looking every day of it. I usually search out "old guns" which look like new. Obviously, they are the most valuable. This time what attracted me is a revolver which looks like it has been carried and used every day for seven decades. Actually, it is clear it has been a "working gun" in terms of being carried as evident through holster wear. Usually, I comment how reflection on the photograph of a gun is light glare; in this instance, however, it actually includes areas where outer blue finish has been rubbed off from holster wear. Close examination shows, though, it has not been fired a great deal. My guess is that this pre-Model 10 S&W has been a police gun where it was carried almost daily, but fired only once or twice a year for officer handgun qualification. The holster, incidentally, did not come with it. It is a George Lawrence Company holster. It dates at least to the 1950s and, very possibly, much earlier -- the firm has been around in initial form since 1857. Anyway, this will be my woodland-carry revolver in non-bear country. Next, I guess, is an illustration of a "split personality." If I want a good time and just plain have fun, I will head for a working man's saloon or a concert venue where a band like .38 Special or Lynyrd Skynyrd is performing. If you never have tried it, I would recommend going with a group rather than alone, because you never know what might happen. Come to think of it, I would recommend that for any saloon or concert hall. If I were looking for inspiration or the possibility of discovering Neverland, I would pick a performance by someone like Sarah Brightman or Andrea Bocelli. I assume no additional explanation is required, and I will end the list there for now. I also will include a song from .38 Special and from Sarah below. I almost feel like apologizing for including, "A Whiter Shade of Pale," as the Sarah-song, so often do I place it with my posts: It is haunting to me.

See you in February ....
(Continued from January 11 ....

I need to clear my mind (if that is possible) and decide if I want to continue playing the games of contemporary life styles or if I want to shed gadgets and gadgetry, kiss off political and social ideologues, change my persona to emulate Henry David Thoreau and wander off into a different neck of the woods to discover my own version of Walden Pond and put a fence around it. You might recall I tried that once, and called it my Sanctuary/Refuge .... well, I have two strikes left to accomplish that goal ....

I frequently write in my posts, but have not for a long while, that I call the varying stages of my life my "incarnations." That is to say, my college days were one incarnation; my Marine Corps time was another incarnation; my journalism trek was still another incarnation, although that one was not continuous and existed in segments.

During these times, my persona often changes to fit the situation. (Here we have another description I sometimes utilize -- the chameleon affect.) In other words, my hair style (and facial hair) will change; my manner and habit of dress will change, for instance, from suits and tie to jeans; my type of vehicle will change, for instance, from Audi to Suburban .... and on and on and on ....

It seems to me another new incarnation began last January/February and took a significant leap last mid-June. I think it will be moving into another stage soon. This blog has been part of my current incarnation; I do not think it will be part of the next.

Ain't life strange and weird and sort of .... ???? .... !!!!

In terms of the sea of blogs, I am not going "cold turkey" with it. For now, I plan to post on the the sixteenth of February and the sixteenth of March, and, we shall see after that ....

There are a few on the blogs I also will continue to visit. I think you know who you are ....

Send me smiles and stay safe and wish me luck .... barring the unforeseen .... see you in mid-February ....

Odds & ends ....

This post is going up late. I meant to publish this piece on January 13, but it actually is going up on January 16. (Superstitious guy, am I.) I fell ill (almost literally) during the night of January 11-12, and could do little more than crawl around for the next forty-four hours or so. (I call such "episodes" a reoccurring "jungle bug," which likes to remind me I am human -- all too human –- as Friedrich insists on repeatedly telling me; I have been "delving into" his book a bit during recent weeks.)

I spent about twenty-two hours of January 12 sleeping on my living room floor .... my poor, puppy-boy, companion, Buddy, only got outside to do his business three times; he did get his food, but it was late coming and he survived the test and stayed near me to show his understanding and sympathy. Since the last sighting of a coyote, I do not dare to allow him outside alone.

I was improved, but still slept most of January 13/14/15. Such is life ....

January 13 -- Happy Birthday, Mother.

January 16 -- It makes no difference to me which religion, calendar or ecological reckoning of weather patterns might be considered the to be the mid-point of winter -- January 16 is the marker for mid-FramWinter. If you lived somewhere like Minnesota, the Dakotas, Michigan or Montana, for instance, I think you might agree with me.

January 17 -- Happy Birthday, Rory.

January 21 -- My first blog was born on January 15, 2009, and I began this blog on January 21. I kept them both for a few weeks, then eliminated the original one. Anyway, this is the timetable I am working on with my plans.

January 24 -- Happy Anniversary, Me & the U.S. Marine Corps