Tuesday, May 26, 2015

Methuselah


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           Methuselah

 Perhaps you may already know the terrible true story of Masada. In brief, it is the story of how a number of Jews revolted against Roman rule. They chose to make a last stand, atop a thousand foot cliff fortress named Masada. As a student of history I must resist to relate all the details. If interested just look it up.

One part of the story has become very important for us today. When the Roman ramp had almost reached the top, the Jews piled up all of their possessions in a warehouse, and set it on fire. The walls then collapsed on top of everything. Following this, they all committed suicide, rather than face Roman  slavery. Today Masada is one of the top sites for tourists visiting Israel.

The debris pile was left undisturbed for the next 2,000 years. But in 1960, archaeologists unearthed a large number of  ancient shekels, which made coin collectors very happy. In addition there was grain, salt, olive oil, wine, pomegranates and date palm seeds.

Dates were their most famous crop, mentioned in the Bible and the Koran. Some of the date seeds still had scraps of fruit on them.

The question was, would these ancient seeds still have any life in them? Surprise! The answer is yes! In 2005 a lone shoot was seen growing. Today the ten foot tall date palm tree named "Methuselah," has a gate around it with watering system, burglar alarm, and security camera. The tree was named for the oldest character in the Hebrew Bible. Other seeds are also now being tested, but the results are not yet released to the public.

So ancient seeds will sometimes grow. When there was a craze in Egypt during the 19th century for ancient Egyptian things, wise salesmen were selling "King Tut peas." I don't know if this was true, but it could have been, who knows?

We do know for a fact that seeds from a silk tree brought to London in 1793 sprouted when a German bomb hit a green house during during WWII.

Canna lily seeds from a 600 year old American rattle germinated. Botanists have been pushing back the record for seed longevity.

You may be interested to  learn that we have a seed storage vault located on the edge of the Colorado State University campus. Sometimes called the Doomsday Vault, it was built to withstand any kind of disaster. There is also a seed storage vault located in the Norwegian Arctic.

Work is continuing to adapt seeds to changing climate changes. The International Space Station carried basil seeds in the cold vacuum of space for a year, and they sprouted successfully.  

Why am I so interested in seeds? It is because of classes I had in botany at the University of Michigan way back in 1962.  I could go on and on, but your best bet if interested, is to read a new book "The Triumph of Seeds," by Thor Hanson. And all those coconuts we have here in Hawaii, are just big seeds.

         Aloha
         Grant

In Just a Minute


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          In Just a Minute

I was about to enter a contest, and mentioned to Teena that my mother used to enter many contests. She would often win small prizes, but one time she won a new Polaroid Land camera. This was a new marvel in photography, take a picture and it would be ready in a minute. Teena said that she saved enough money to purchase one for her parent's 12th wedding anniversary. The cameras were expensive.

As I remember, the camera worked this way: after snapping the picture, you opened the back of the camera and pulled a tab. This caused rollers to squeeze developing flu onto the exposed paper print. Next, you would wait impatiently, watching the sweep hand on your watch go around for one minute. At the end of one minute you pulled the paper print from the camera and coated it with a wide brush filled with goop which was probably hypo which would preserve the print. There you had it! A black and white print! With all to technical progress, the Polaroid Land Camera faded in to photograph history, but in its day it was a wonder.

         Aloha
         Grant  

Friday, May 22, 2015

Marlene's Story


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          Marlene's Story

This story rightly belongs to Marlene, who told it to my wife and I. Although it is a family story, it is also an important bit of history, which otherwise would be forgotten.

The year was 1944, and Ray's plane a B-24 called Shackrabbit, had been shot down over Nuremberg, Germany, and he was listed as missing in action. His brother, Ted, was soon to leave with his B-17 to the air war over Germany.

Ted and Ray's mother, Frances Rae, father, Walter, and sister Marlene were determined to see him  before he left. He was stationed at Pyote, Texas. That was a long way from home in Michigan. Everything was rationed, including sugar, meat, gasoline, and auto tires. Friends and family chipped in with gas and ration coupons, and cousin Judd put his car up on blocks, letting them use his tires so that there would be good tires for the trip to Texas.

To hear Marlene tell the story brings tears to your eyes. They packed peanut and jelly sandwiches for the trip in an empty shoe box, because they did not have to keep them cold.

 But it was such a long way to Texas, and money was tight. Marlene did not give any details of the journey.

When they arrived at last, it was during a sandstorm. They were told they could sleep in an Army guest quarters, and when they pulled back the covers, the sheets were full of sand.

They were united with Ted, and given a tour of a B-17 bomber. The events end here with Marlene's story. But I do know that Ted's brother Ray, was killed, and Ted survived the missions his plane flew.

This was all so long ago, and it is only a small piece of the puzzle of WWII. The events which took place here, were repeated time after time all over America. Thank you, Marlene, for sharing your story with us.

       Aloha
       Grant  

Monday, May 18, 2015

Duck Tale


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              Duck Tale

I like duck. And so on a whim I bought a frozen duck. It was beautiful. By that I mean that I didn't have to sit in a blind freezing my butt off, and blowing a duck call. There were no feathers to pull off, no insides to be removed. There it was, clean and frozen solid. It was about then that I decided to make a memorial Sunday dinner. A  dinner we would always remember.

I have been cooking for many years, but this time I wanted to do something special.So I consulted Julia Child's "Mastering the Art   of French Cooking." There I found a recipe for duck stuffed with sausage and apples. It sounded good, and I had most of the ingredients. Three items had to be purchased.

I set to work. The duck thawed in a sink full of water. I browned the sausage, and then lightly browned the apple slices in the remaining fat. Next,Julia told me to place the sliced apples on a platter and sprinkle  a mixture sage, cinnamon, salt, sugar over all. Then I was directed to sprinkle two tablespoons of Cognac over all. This was beginning to look pretty good. The Cognac was another of the items that had to be bought, the other two were Port wine, and sausage.

After the sausage had cooled, I was told to pour a reduction of Port and beef broth over it. Next I was to delicately mix the apples and sausage, and place the stuffing in the duck. So far, so good. The duck was roasted for an hour and a half. I sliced the bird, mashed the potatoes, nuked the peas, grabbed the salad and we were ready to eat.

We had a guest for dinner Pete, a WWII vet. We all sat down and then came a crash from the kitchen. Teena took off to find out what had happened. I never visited the scene of the crime, but she told us later about the event. Our white, fluffy dog Mai Tai, had jumped up to the kitchen counter and seized the duck carcass. There was a struggle, the carcass went down the trash chute, the dog to his prison. There was duck grease everywhere. She was a long time cleaning up the mess, and her dinner got cold. And frankly, I don't think that after all that work, it wasn't worth the trouble. Sorry Julia.

I wanted a dinner to be remembered and I got it. I was reminded of the short story and movie "A Christmas Story." I'm sure you have seen it. Remember how the father in the story didn't have turkey for dinner as the neighbor's dogs ran off with the bird. And, what did they end up having for dinner at a Chinese restaurant, duck!

      Aloha
      Grant  

Friday, May 15, 2015

Texas Remembered


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           Texas Remembered

I will never know why my parents decided to sell our house and move to Texas. But what I think must have happened, was that my father had been taking college classes on the G.I. bill, in the hastily-built barracks, after the fire had destroyed the old brick buildings of the college.  Maybe the program of studies were not to his liking. Or maybe it was simply his desire to see Texas. The destination was to be the small town of San Marcos, the home of Texas State Teacher's College. Was it my father's plan to become a teacher? I will never know.

Our large old house on the corner across from the Methodist Church was sold, and we had an auction. I will long remember that my ten foot toboggan went for twenty-five cents. But, what would I have used it for in Texas?

Our pre-war Packard car was soon replaced by a 1940 Chevrolet, equipped with over-load springs, electric brakes, and a heavy-duty trailer hitch.

We had a house trailer for our new home. Today, we call them mobile homes. Ours was twenty-something feet long and was without a bathroom. At that time it was understood that you used the bath facilities at a trailer park, or at a friendly gas station. Inside, the trailer there was a sink and cupboards on one wall, and seats. On the opposite side there were seats. At the far end where you entered, there was a long seat that made into a bed. At the other end of the trailer was a bedroom. Windows were on each side, and front and rear. That was it. It wasn't far from the idea for a mobile home in the 1920's when it was called a "House Car," and you built it yourself on a  truck frame.

My father cursed all the way to Texas. The trailer was heavy, and difficult to pull. We spent some nights next to gas stations, sometimes a trailer camp.

Upon arriving in San Marcos, we took up living in Rio Vista Trailer Park, on the Brazos River. There was a communal shower and laundry for all the residents.

And I went to school. I think I was in either the fifth or sixth grade. I rode the bus to school in the morning, but walked home with some of the other kids. On the way we would often find an armadillo, which we would use as a football, and kick it all the way home.

School was very different from what I had been used to. You could go there in your bare feet. I was often called "Damn Yankee," and there were a few fights. There was a popcorn machine and candy machine in the lobby. I thought my classmates were really stupid, as they couldn't name the Great Lakes. I had a brief crush on a girl whose name was Juanita, and I pronounced her name all wrong. How was I to know that her name was spelled with a the letter J. That was my first brush with Spanish. But things got better when I fell in love with my Spanish teacher Mrs. Schultz.

In addition to the usual subjects, we were taught square dances. I remember that we did the "Grapevine Twist, "Put Your Little Foot, "Virginia Reel," "Texas Star," and many others. I also learned and sang "The Eyes of Texas Are Upon You."

At the end of the school year there was picnic at the park with swimming in the Brazos River. I couldn't swim, but managed to keep my head above the water. A water moccasin snake swam with us, until a couple of boys chased it ashore, put on their cowboy boots, and stomped it to death.

My parents soon grew tired of trailer life, sold it, and rented an apartment in town. I had my own room with a balcony.

A guy my father knew, had a job caring for horses outside of town. Sometimes he would take me with him. He was surprised that I had not learned to drive. He taught me to shoot jack rabbits out of the window of the pick-up. That was great fun. I remember too, cow horns all around the loading shuts next to the rail siding. The cattle had their horns sawn-off to prevent injury during the long journey to the stock yards.

Our stay in Texas was not very long. Why we left to return to Michigan, I have no answer.
           Aloha
           Grant
     

Tuesday, May 5, 2015

World War II Chinatown


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       World War II Chinatown

I enjoy taking the bus to Chinatown. Some of the sidewalks are paved with large square blocks that were used as ballast in sailing ships. The old buildings, shops, bars, and fresh tropical produce I find interesting.   Some very fine restaurants are located there also.

I sometimes think of the many brothels that used to be located there. For prostitution was legal, as there were 375 servicemen in Honolulu for every woman. The police kept a blind eye on the situation in Chinatown.

 Big money was made by madams,$150,000 a year (now about $2million). Prostitutes earned $25,000 ($350,000 today.) They could not have a steady boyfriend, own a car, go to golf courses, or ride a bicycle. These women also paid income tax and bought war bonds.
 
I often think as I stroll these streets about all the young, lonely men who were going to war, and to die somewhere in the Pacific, without ever having known the love of a woman. It's all so very sad.

     Aloha
     Grant

The facts and figures I stole from a recent story in our local paper by Cheryl Chee Tsutsumi.



Sunday, May 3, 2015

Left-handed Ball Glove


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      Left-handed Ball Glove

On the wall in one bedroom hangs a shadow box, containing an old baseball glove under glass. It has the name "Eddie Waitkus," stamped on it. It is my sixth-grade ball glove.Teena brought it to Hawaii,without my knowing it. I am very glad she did.

A couple of days ago on a sudden impulse, I decided to do some research, and find out who this ballplayer was. I was greatly surprised to learn that he was the player who was the subject of Bernard Malamud's book, "The Natural," published in 1952. A movie by the same name with Robert Redford and Glenn Close came out in 1989.

Eddie Waitkus played first base for the Cubs and the Phillies in the National League. And with the Orioles in the American League. He had an 11 year career. He threw both left and batted left too. He wrote poetry and spoke four languages. As a rookie he was called "the natural." He saw bitter combat against the Japanese in the Philippines.

When he returned to the Cubs he was hitting .300, and being stalked by an obsessed 19 year old girl named Ruth Ann Steomhagen. When he was traded to the Phillies, she could only see him eleven times a season. So she planned to kill him in 1949. She lured him to a room in the Edgewater Beach Hotel in Chicago, and shot him in the chest with a.22 caliber rifle. When she was discovered, she was holding his head in her lap.

Eddie had four operations to try and remove the bullet which was near his heart. He did recover, and she spent three years in a mental institution. She dropped out of sight and died at age 83 in Chicago.

In his later years he had a failed marriage, and began drinking, troubled by his history in combat and being shot. After he left the majors, he taught at Ted Williams Baseball Camp. He died of cancer in 1972, at age 53.

I remember well how I came to have my glove. We used to play ball in a vacant lot and I had to borrow some kid's glove. I had difficulty fielding the ball, pulling off the glove, switching the ball to my left hand, and throwing the ball. I really needed a left-handed glove. My mother took pity on me and bought me the glove in the shadow box.

        Aloha
        Grant