the wind beneath their wings

Next Sunday's issue of the New York Times includes a fascinating article about swifts, those mysterious birds that almost never land. If you want a lovely diversion from these troubling times, I recommend heartily.

My favorite paragraph: "During World War II, swifts in Denmark and Italy grabbed chaff, reflective scraps of tinfoil dropped from aircraft to confuse enemy radar, flashing and twirling as it fell. They mate on the wing. And while young martins and swallows return to their nests after their first flights, young swifts do not. As soon as they tip themselves free of the nest hole, they start flying, and they will not stop flying for two or three years, bathing in rain, feeding on airborne insects, winnowing fast and low to scoop fat mouthfuls of water from lakes and rivers."

I love how the innocent birds unknowingly did their part to help the good guys win the war. Call them the greatest generation with feathers.

gigglemugs

The circa 1889 photograph seen below (enlargement) presents an upper middle class group outside what is likely the family home to one or several of them. Three of the people, to our right of each row, sport slight smiles, not a common sight in Victorian photography.

The gent on the left in the second row, however, is bursting with laughter, something even less common in photos of the era. That might make him, in the parlance of the times, a gigglemug, late nineteenth century slang for a habitually smiling person.

Victorians eschewed smiling in photographs for a variety of reasons. Often they had bad teeth. And some perhaps remembered earlier in the century, during the daguerreotype era, when exposure times lasted several minutes, thus smiling without blurring the result was all but impossible.

As well, there was the Victorian attitude that frowned upon appearing in a photo in a way that seemed less than dignified. After all, if you didn't smile broadly in an oil portrait, why should you in a photograph?

To our modern eyes, however, the gent's big smile humanizes him unlike the other sitters. He seems like someone more from our own times. Albeit inadvertently, he has bridged the past to the present in a way few of his contemporaries could.

doctor stench

Last month, I wrote an entry about an article warning of the hazards of overwashing yourself.

Turns out, the author of that piece, who is a medical doctor, doesn't use soap at all, per a profile currently running in the Guardian, other than when he washes his hands. He showers with water and nothing more.

I don't know about that. Odor-causing bacteria can collect and multiply on your skin, particularly in the surface oils. Soap breaks down the oils so they can be rinsed away.

The Amish are mentioned in the piece as having "optimally diverse microbiomes" without specifying why. Living without indoor plumbing, they don't bathe like most of the rest of the world. But here's a reality about the so-called plain people that I remember well when I used to encounter them on visits to my grandparents in Pennsylvania: many of them outright stink.

So, yes, by all means be careful and don't overwash. But proceed with great caution if you decide to abandon soap entirely. Your loved ones and those you regularly encounter will likely have a few thoughts about things if you do.

the lottery

In my and a lot of other people's opinions, Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery" is one of the greatest short stories ever written in the English language. I think I first read it in either late elementary or early middle school.

The story was originally published in The New Yorker in 1948. This week's issue focused on material from their archive, so it was the perfect time to publish it again.

If you haven't ever read it or not recently, give it a read (again). You'll be glad you did.

cooties!

When I was in first grade, some of the other students, mainly girls, started talking about cooties. I vaguely remember thinking that I'd never heard my MD parents mention any such thing so I was immediately suspicious.

I remember asking my dad one night about cooties and he told me it was nonsense and to ignore it. He said when he went to elementary school in the 1950s, kids were obsessed with cooties back then. And according to Wikipedia, children and cooties go back even further than that.

I have a memory from second grade when the teacher, who was something of a harridan, made the whole class sit down and listen to her short, firm lecture about how cooties were not real and any child heard talking about them would receive demerits. Based on the questions some children asked, it was clear they were not convinced by what she said, but she apparently realized on the spot that facts about germs were mixed into the cootie mythology. When she tried to explain germs, however, I think a good portion of the class ended up entirely confused.

Flash forward nearly three decades and I happened to think about cooties again in the age of pandemic. If American and Canadian children are still concerned about cooties (a phenomenon that does not really exist outside North America), that might actually help them understand the dangers of contracting coronavirus.

My second grade teacher tried to turn a discussion about cooties into a teaching moment about germs but fumbled in her attempt. I think she was on to something, however. Perhaps she should've started with a short lesson about germs, and then transitioned into something like "germs are what you're calling cooties."

FWIW, cooties are not an issue with children here in Australia. They never made it down this far. Perhaps they don't like to travel over water.

the eternal scream

Pictures of mummies with their mouths frozen open in what appears to be a scream certainly seem dramatic. They look like something from a horror movie. They're not uncommon but they're not particularly common, either.

Turns out the explanation why is far less dramatic. Sometimes the mummification bandages loosened and the mouth just sagged open. Other times the body wasn't discovered until rigor mortis had already frozen stiff the joints.

To me, the most fascinating aspect of mummification is the whole idea that someone or several people, way back in the beginning, thought up the idea for mummifying people to begin with. Who and why thought it was a good idea to stop the clock on decomposition? I would have to think all the religious beliefs about mummified people then developed afterwards.

It's a practice not unique to the ancient Egyptians, although their process was. But other peoples who had no contact with Egypt, like certain tribes of new world natives, also practiced mummification. Why are humans inclined to keepsake their dead?

goodnight irene

Yesterday, my husband was telling me something, and at one point I reacted and said "as my grandfather would say, 'goodnight Irene.'" My Australian husband then looked at me in confusion. He had never heard that expression before. One says it upon learning surprising or startling news.

"Goodnight Irene" is apparently only an American idiom and generally heard uttered by older people. I imagine in a few decades it will pass out of use completely.

I had no idea as to its origin so I headed to Google. Turns out it was inspired by the song first made popular in the the 1930s with the title of "Goodnight Irene." That song is known here Down Under but apparently not the saying.

And now, performing that song for you, it's none other than a younger Eric Clapton.

ava gardner and me

Back in the days of when I was an erotic dancer, several older gents told me at various times that I reminded them of the young Ava Gardner. I could see some resemblance in our looks but many ways in which she differed.

My voice is nothing like hers. She had a deep, sultry voice whereas I still have, and will probably always have, a higher, girly voice. Gardner also was a heavy smoker, which probably added some more growl to her voice.

The thing that strikes me most about Gardner is how now, thirty years after her death, she is only known by film buffs and older people. She last acted in the 1980s but primarily had only supporting roles since the mid-1960s. She has faded from the public zeitgeist. I'll bet if you stopped a random hundred people on any American street, only a handful could even say who she was.

Of course, this could describe many movie stars of the past. Fame is most often ephemeral. It can and often does fade during a famous person's life. Death arguably accelerates this process.

backsliding down under

Until very recently, Australia has done an excellent job containing Covid-19. The per capita infection rate here is a little over 500 per million. In the US, it's roughly 12,500 per million. The US ranks tenth from the top in per capita infection states; Australia ranks 124th.

The death rate stats are even better. Australia is five per million. The US is almost 450 per million. Australia ranks 141th in the world. The US ranks eleventh.

But now Australians are starting to backslide. Yesterday saw the highest number of new infections per day here in Australia. Most of these new cases were in Victoria, where Melbourne is located, the state to the south of ours.

Some 90 percent of people who tested positive for coronavirus have not been isolating themselves. That's the reason, in great part, why infections are skyrocketing.

I suspect some of the reason why people are backsliding is that it's been more than four months since everyone began modifying their behavior to curb infections and initially were rigorous in doing so. That kept the infection rate low. Now they're getting sloppy because they know how well the country has done compared to the rest of the world.

Until effective vaccines are widely available, however, modified behavior must remain the standard. Otherwise, you end up with big spikes in infections and a runaway epidemic, just later than everywhere else.

Hopefully this problem will not spread into other Australian states. The population density up here in New South Wales is higher and Sydney is a lot bigger. Getting careless now risks spoiling the success we've achieved over these last four-plus months.

dance fever

The June 2020 issue of BBC History magazine, which I regularly read cover-to-cover, featured a short piece about how medieval Europeans were caught up in a mania that literally caused them to dance themselves to death.

I had encountered this before in something else I read but never explored it further. The magazine piece had no sources so I turned to Google, given it had sounded so apocryphal the first time I read about it.

Turns out the incidents were widely documented by independent sources in multiple countries. So chalk it up to another one of those "strange but true" things.

Mob psychology is always a curious critter. Things like stampedes and riots understandably can be caused by a mass emotional explosion. The dancing business is more curious. The fact that it no longer happens in modern times seems like it should mean something, but I can't figure out what.

clown town

Kanye West made noises for a number of months that he would run for President as an independent. Then he said he was running. Then he said he wasn't running. And then, once again, he said he was running. He had a new party name — The Birthday Party. Seriously.

He quickly failed to secure enough signatures in seven states to appear on their ballots, about half of which will be swing states hotly contested by the two major parties this year. He has landed on only one state ballot so far: Oklahoma, about as far from a swing state as you can get.

Wearing a bulletproof vest, West held a surreal rally in South Carolina over the weekend, where he defamed American hero Harried Tubman, and hosted ten petition signing events, appearing at none of the latter. The South Carolina deadline passed and he never bothered to submit any signatures. No ballot slot for him.

As for his positions, to say they're all over the map — and in motion still — would be an understatement. He was anti-abortion and, at his rally, gave a long tearful monologue about how he was almost aborted. He finished that up by saying he was now pro-abortion.

Is he serious about running for President? Or is he just clowning around, panning for attention? The answer seems obvious.

the adventures of yipyip

If you need proof that life sometimes resembles a Disney movie, you couldn't do any better than the example of YipYip.

While out on the water, a Canadian rafter heard a commotion along the shoreline. He investigated and discovered it was a drowning orphan coyote pup.

He fell in the water trying to rescue the tyke but was able to nab the critter, brought it back to life with field CPR, and took it back to his raft. Because he was out in the boonies, he kept the pup with him for ten days, feeding and sleeping with the youngster he named YipYip.

Finally, when he returned to civilization, he turned the animal over to rescue authorities. Once it's a little older, YipYip will be reintroduced to the wild.

Now let's all say it together: awwww.

the power of persistence

As you probably know if you're an American, civil rights legend John Lewis died on Friday night. He certainly lived an eventful and inspiring life.

What struck me most while reading his obituaries was about he never wavered in his commitment to nonviolent civil disobedience. He led many sit-ins and marches yet they were always peaceful on the protesters' side. He was beaten many times and even his skull was broken at one point yet never hit back. Like Mahatma Gandhi, he persisted because he never lost sight of his goal and never raised a fist to anyone.

There are those who say change only comes with violence. John Lewis proved them wrong with his life and his deeds. May he rest in peace.

rooms with a view

Here's a wonderful diversion: WindowSwap, where people share full-screen ten-minute videos of the view from their window at home. The site features views from all over the world, and users can submit their own window view to be added to the digital exhibit.

"Window Swap is here to fill that deep void in our wanderlust hearts by allowing us to look through someone else's window, somewhere in the world, for a while," says the website founders. "A place on the internet where all we travel-hungry fools share our 'window views' to help each other feel a little bit better till we can responsibly explore our beautiful planet again."

I'm thinking about submitting a video from our window, but I better do some yard tidying first. And I should probably clean the window itself, too.

the original masochist

I always presumed the word masochist was from old German roots in origin but I learned yesterday I was wrong. The word was actually coined from a real man's name, Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, an Austrian aristocrat and writer.

Leopold's kinky side was at least somewhat publicly known, based on something I've been reading offline. He signed contracts with his mistresses to be their slave and begged to be humiliated by them while they wore furs.

He also got his jollies by traveling with his mistress, posing as a servant, while she was squired by another man as a sexual partner. Leopold got his thrills shining that man's boots outside their train compartment while the latter banged Leopold's mistress inside.

Several of these individuals later wrote autobiographical accounts of their life with Leopold on their escapades. Little of that work has been translated into English, however.

Victorians could certainly be mighty kinky!

running on empty

Coree Woltering is an amazing man. He ran the 1,147-mile Ice Age Trail in twenty-one days. That means he ran about fifty-five miles each day for three weeks straight.

He now holds the record for running the Trail in the shortest time, beating the last record by some five hours.

He said the secret of his success is to break down the distance into ten-second intervals. But, holy hell, that's a whole lot of ten-second intervals.

I remember how dog tired my feet and legs felt after a long day when I worked as an exotic dancer. I have to image running fifty-five miles in a day is a whole lot more painful than that. Now multiply that my twenty-one and yeesh.

rakish

On Wikipedia yesterday, an Australian soldier circa 1918 was featured on the front page, wearing a very stylish, rakish hat. That reminded me of how Australian military hats are often nattier than in the United States.

Check out the photo below of Australian Army 2nd Cavalry Regiment soldiers on parade (enlargement). I mean could you see slouch hats with ostrich plumes in any American military unit? I don't think so.

I think the most rakish headgear in the United States military are berets for some units, which can look pretty badass. But many other nations' military also wear berets, and some at very jaunty, rakish angles more on the sides of their heads.

Perhaps it's time for a makeover in American military uniforms.

flirting with death

Earlier this month, I wrote an entry here about how students in Alabama were hosting Covid parties where they invited people known to be virus positive in order to gamble on which attendee first contracted coronavirus from one of the infected guests.

Now comes a news report from Texas where a 30-year-old man reportedly attended just such a party. He admitted as much shortly before he died from the coronavirus. The linked news item includes details about others who have attended such parties and became sick and died.

And now comes a news report from Ohio about a 37-year-old man who had an active social media profile denouncing the coronavirus as a hoax. "Let make this clear. I'm not buying a f---ing mask. I've made it this far by not buying into that damn hype," he wrote in late April. Flash forward ten weeks to when he died from Covid-19.

When you flirt with death, sometimes she takes you up on your offer.

a disgusting ear story

Around the beginning of July, I began experiencing a mildly painful earache. So I whipped up some peroxide and water solution, an ear cleaning remedy I've discussed on this blog before, and the pain faded for a day or so.

But then it came back again the day after that, more painful upon reappearance. I cleaned my ear again, and the pain faded for a day. And then returned once more, more painful this time. This cycle repeated several times, each time returning more painfully. I then started getting a swollen gland on that side in my throat.

Yesterday morning, I had enough. I was planning to make an MD appointment to see if I had an ear infection, but I also had my husband look into my ear to see if he might spot anything. Using a bright mini-flashlight, he said "there does look like something in there."

Needless to say, little by little, both of us were able to work it out of my ear. And it was truly disgusting. It was a big dark brown ball of wax that was almost as hard as a small rock. Larger than a pea and slightly smaller than a marble, it looked like a round turd. When I crushed it, most of it came apart like gritty sand. I'm amazed I could even hear with that big thing hiding in there.

Once it was out, not surprising, my ear immediately felt better and feels fantastic today. And I can hear much better, too.

I'm guessing it's slowly been building since I had a physical last year and even my regular ear cleaning with peroxide didn't destroy the bastard. It would probably shrink some with a cleaning and then start building back up again. I have now vowed to clean my ears once a month rather than once a quarter.

subjunctive pet peeve

Trivia pop quiz time. First question — which is the correct song title from Fiddler on the Roof: "If I Was a Rich Man" or "If I Were a Rich Man"?

Last question — was the classic hot dog commercial lyric "I wish I were an Oscar Mayer Wiener " or "I wish I was an Oscar Mayer Wiener"?

If you answered "If I Were a Rich Man" you would be correct. And if you answered "I wish I were an Oscar Mayer Wiener" you would also be correct.

Hence my pet peeve. I don't know how many times I've seen this wrong in print. Both example phrases above use the subjunctive form of the verb "to be" which, in this case, is "were" not "was." End of story.

The worst thing of all is not the number of times people get this wrong. It's when someone gets it right and a self-appointed but wrong grammar Nazi boldly declares "Was, not were. 'If I were' is wrong." Ugh.

If you're still confused, this explainer might help you out.

And now, because you probably already have an earwig running around in your head singing "If I Were a Rich Man," here is the real thing. Let's all sing along, shall we?

requiem for an ancient phone

I wrote here last year about how I still used a circa 2009 "dumb" phone. I am saddened to report that phone is circling the drain after eleven years of use.

In early June, my ancient phone was starting to get tetchy. You'd push its buttons sometimes and it wouldn't do anything. Other times were fine. So I finally decided it was time to buy another "dumb" phone aka feature phone aka non-smart phone.

But I still kept the old phone with me because of the directory and I liked the alarm feature.

Alas, last night, its little screen started to go wonky, blinking in and out and also developing an odd blob in the lower portion. I decided it was time to put it out of its digital misery.

I turned it off, put it in a sandwich baggy, and laid it in my desk drawer. I could take it to community recycling where they collect unwanted phones, but I will hold off for now. That just seemed so, I don't know, disrespectful.

I've been mourning the loss of that faithful phone. I know that's absurd. It was an inanimate object. It was never alive and never would be. It wasn't like it was a faithful dog.

I really am a sentimental fool.

participation trophies

The picture below shows North Korea's top generals. It's hard not to laugh because they look so preposterous.

Do they think they look really formidable because they're literally covered with medals? The guy on the right has no more chest for any more decorations.

These remind me of participation trophies given to children just for showing up at some event. When I was a small girl and took ballet, I was given a few such trophies just for showing up at a recital. I knew even then, without even being told, they were a joke.

So do these generals feel foolish or badass with their absurd uniforms?

no screaming

Amusement parks have reopened in Japan with a new rule for roller coasters: no screaming. Some doubt that the rule will be widely followed. Big surprise.

I haven't ridden on a roller coaster since I was maybe fourteen. I never screamed on a ride but I sure did yell. I would think it would be very, very hard to stop oneself from having an outburst, particularly if it was your first time on a particular ride. They're designed to scare the shit out of you.

There's a good reason behind this "quiet rule"— screaming could help spread coronavirus. You scream and droplets from your breath could end up in the face of someone behind you.

But IMHO this is an unreliable fix to a real problem. It would be far better to require face shields — not just masks — for people who ride the roller coaster.

You might have already seen people wearing these, particularly children. They're lightweight clear shields that cover the entire face and are worn something like a welder's helmet. Problem solved.

the king of laughs

Comedy legend Carl Reiner died last week of natural causes at the age of 98. In remembrance, NPR's Fresh Air broadcast a tribute the other day that they compiled from several past interviews with Reiner and other legends who had worked with him. The show can be downloaded as a podcast without charge.

In the beginning, the program includes a clip a 1950s magician skit in which Reiner appeared with another legend, Sid Caesar. I searched for that online and you can see it in the first YouTube clip below. The gag from the clip is toward the beginning.

The second is a clip from sixty years later with Reiner and Ceasar performing it together when they were in their eighties. The best part of the clip is how all the other comedy legends assembled on the stage roar with laughter. They surely have seen the routine many times over yet are so full of joy they can't help laughing again.

sit tight

Yesterday, as I was getting ready to go out on our daily walk with the boys, I said something like "sit tight a minute; I need to get something from my room."

Later, on our way down the front walk, my middle son asked why I always said that — "sit tight" instead of just "sit."

I replied that it was an idiom and hopefully explained in terms understandable to a four-year-old what that was. Americans use a lot of idioms as do Brits and Aussies.

He then asked me why people say that phrase and I had no idea about its origin. So later, I had a look via Google.

Unfortunately, I could not find a clear answer. Most idiom pages only told what it meant, but I already knew that.

A site called the Idiom Reference linked its use to rope beds. But that doesn't really make any sense for sitting. And quite honestly, I think the page is wrong about bed rope tightening; that wasn't something done on a daily basis but only occasionally.

A site called the Online Etymology Dictionary reveals that the phrase "sit tight" has been in use since 1738 but nothing about its origins. It does explore some earlier meanings of the word "tight," particularly "dense" and "close" and "compact."

So no satisfactory resolution to the question at this point. I will keep researching. In the meantime, sit tight.

the great crab migration

I was reading something offline about Christmas Island and learned it was part of Australia, a fact I did not know. It's actually much closer to Indonesia than to Australia.

That sent me to Wikipedia to read more where I learned about the great Christmas Island red crab migration. That's when 100 million crabs on the island all march to the sea within the span of about ten days to two weeks. It is the island's biggest tourist attraction.

To assist the critters in crossing roads, the government has built bridges all over the island where they may pass safely overhead, as you can see in the photo below (enlargement).

Apparently, the critters will not attack or pinch you if you sit down in their path when they're on the march. They'll just walk around and over you and keep on going. They're heading to the shore in order to mate, so they have one-track minds when they're on their way.

sad but fascinating

Two Australian academics wrote a very interesting but sad article about discovery of the oldest surviving photograph of a Māori native.

Māori, of course, are native peoples indigenous to New Zealand, where the majority still live. Nearly 150,000 of them, however, now live in Australia.

The piece is sad because the Māori young man in the 1840s photograph — technically a daguerreotype — was literally carted around like chattel by Europeans. History tells us he was not the only person victimized in this way. Ota Benga, for instance, was a Congo pygmy who was actually put in a zoo in New York on display.

The young Māori in question, named Hemi Pomara, looks proud but melancholy in his photographic image, IMHO. Hopefully he found moments of joy in what had to be an unhappy, lonely life at many times.

happy independence day!

Happy July 4 to Americans everywhere. Our country is not without flaws, but it nonetheless has many great strengths. It is also the world's longest-lasting democracy and still going strong.

Without all the ads and other Independence Day fanfare here Down Under leading up to July 4, the holiday almost caught me by surprise. The same thing happens with Thanksgiving. And tonight will almost certainly pass without the sound of a firecracker somewhere nearby. But at least it's Independence Day in my heart.

So whatever you do today, remember my motto — if you can't be good, be careful!

coronavirus parties

Alabama students are throwing "Covid parties," inviting other students known to be virus positive, and then gambling on which of the uninfected attendees will be the first stricken with the virus. How insane is that?

The parties are reported to be in Tuscaloosa, thus suggesting students involved in the events are from the University of Alabama, which is located in that city. If so, it certainly doesn't speak well for the institution.

If you're young and healthy and you catch the virus, there's a good chance you will survive. But the chance isn't 100 percent, either. Don't be an idiot and invite trouble. How hard is that?

butternut squash hair

I occasionally see a woman walking with her small daughter in our and nearby neighborhoods. When I've passed her out walking, I always say "hello" but she only smiles and nods in response, suggesting she does not speak English.

She's a striking woman who looks like she could be of Sicilian or Greek or Middle Eastern ethnicity. She has lovely olive-brown skin.

Her hair, however, is a different matter entirely. She wears it in a pageboy style. That's fine. What's not is the cooked butternut squash color, an example of which can be seen below.

It's obviously not a natural, real hair color. I can't figure out if she has it dyed like that, knowing it won't look real, or does she think it makes her look like she's blonde? If it's the latter, she's sadly mistaken. Not only is the color phony, she has the wrong skin to be a blonde.

I've remarked here before about how I think hair coloring should be real-looking or don't bother. Clownish-colored hair doesn't make a woman look beautiful but, instead, freakish.

the monkey on their back

I watched the beginning of this short clip before I read the comments and had no idea what was going on. I thought she had to go to the bathroom or had a leg cramp. Then I noticed the man standing next to her. Oh boy.

Turns out they're both nodding off because of heroin. Yeesh. How did they manage to drive the car into that station without hitting anyone or the pumps? Or had they been standing there for an hour thinking they're filling the tanks when they're not doing anything?

I can understand why suffering people become addicted to pain medication end up transitioning into heroin. What I have never understood, however, are people who end up on heroin without pain. I guess I'm terribly naive.