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Pescadero State Beach
From the asphalt arteries of the San Francisco Peninsula, to the very edge of America, a narrow ribbon of road runs. Over the coast range and through redwood groves we ride the hairpin turns of a shoulderless, muddy path to find the salt-crusted and sea-battered granite boundary of the country. We ride with baby in tow, bringing him to open his infant eyes for the first time upon that rolling tempest we call the Pacific. Melville's Ishmael called gazing upon this ocean the answer to the long supplication of his youth; how wonderful it would be to live as a child within spitting distance of the waves. So we came upon Pescadero (the place to fish in Spanish) to spend a few moments on its mussel-tiled rock garden of a beach to watch the waves.
I am captivated by the idea of the coasts as a visible boundary to the United States. Northern and southern borders are marked by shabby fences and congested customs stations, one can pass from state to state with little more than a colorful road sign, yet here on the strand the whole edifice of a nation ends. I say "ends" with special reference to the West coast. This coast feels like a period on the end of the American sentence. Hawai'i rides the waves some few thousand miles over the surf, but it is these few feet of sand and stone between Pacific Coast Highway 1 and the briny lip of the rising tide that most dramatically mark the end of the country for me.
Make no mistake, on the Central California Coast (and just about every point north and south), our great country ends with a bang, not a whisper. To crest the coast range and come into late afternoon sunlight bathing cows grazing in strawberry- and mustard-painted pastures, to see the tempest send massive breakers onto the outer shoals of Pescadero is an experience to which I always look forward.
Beautiful in all light.
When first I moved here and began to photograph the coast, I headed out hoping for clear skies and sunsets. I've come now to hope for thick marine layers moving on shore at low tide. I've come to expect overcast skies and great heaving walls of brine. Learning to make stunning images in what some might call "ordinary" light is a topic for a coming essay, but for now let us suffice it to say that the Pacific seems anything but to me. Serene, amber, brilliant sunsets are not associative with the sea for me. Instead I think of the Pacific as the Kraken disembodied. Clawing, biting, gnawing it comes with tendrils, tearing at stone, gasping for the dry Earth. Even at low tide it salivates in foaming breakers upon the land. To create a photograph of an idillic ocean, rolling beneath a crimson sunset just wouldn't be as fun.
I climbed around outcroppings and scuttled over the stones, buried in the sand, to make a few images of the tide pools. The surf has ground at these few stone shelves over the eons, removing the softer rock and leaving irregular domes of granite studding the beach behind. In the brooding light, covered as they are by slick, black matts of seaweeds and anemone, they look like the cobbles of some submarine street revealed for a moment by the low tide.
Further north along the beach and there's a break from the cliffs, where the large outcroppings that lie further into the surf protect the shore. Here the rolling waves barely stir the sand. I stood along this peaceful stretch for some time, letting the occasional surge soak me from the knees down, so as to get an image of a harbor seal, enjoying a late-afternoon nap on his perch amongst the storm.
North of that serene bit of beach, the gray, rocky shoulder blades of California push back out from the sand and into the sea. A bit of scrambling affords some wonderful views of gulls and other foal scouring the landscape for food. Occasionally, if one is still, he can observe the birds wrestle mussels from the rocks and climb into the sea-spray on sorties to dash them upon the razor-like shoreline, the sharp staccato of shellfish on the granite and the hiss of the listing waves upon the shore the only sounds to break the silence. The place to fish indeed.
How could I tell you what I hope. I already said about us finally being in a place where we could really be happy for each other, and it's not a lie. Trust me. Now, enough about me..but questions-How about you? How have you been? Why did you do that?-are not allowed so I just write sentences here left alone.
In one sentence, Mark Twain, the renowned Indophile, has extolled the greatness of Varanasi thus: "Benares is older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend, and looks twice as old as all of them put together.
In Sanskrit, the word arti – written as aarati – is composed of the prefix aa, meaning complete, and rati, meaning love. The arti is thus an expression of one’s complete and unflinching love towards God. It is sung and performed with a deep sense of reverence, adoration, and meditative awareness. Aarti is said to have descended from the Vedic concept of fire rituals, or homa. In the traditional aarti ceremony, the flower represents the earth (solidity), the water and accompanying handkerchief correspond with the water element (liquidity), the lamp or candle represents the fire component (heat), the peacock fan conveys the precious quality of air (movement), and the yak-tail fan represents the subtle form of ether (space). The incense represents a purified state of mind, and one’s "intelligence" is offered through the adherence to rules of timing and order of offerings. Thus, one’s entire existence and all facets of material creation are symbolically offered to the Lord via the aarti ceremony. The word may also refer to the traditional Hindu devotional song that is sung during the ritual.
~~Wikipedia
This tree was serving a life sentence. groan I know .. this is my last one in the decay series of the jail ... thank you for all of the kind words !!
According to historical records "There are many people at Versailles today." was the only sentence spoken between the young dauphine Marie Antoinette and Madame du Barry, the mistress of the old king Louis XV. Marie Antoinette, coming from a strict christian background could not palate the king flaunting his lover at court and enmity sprouted between her and the sexually liberated du Barry.
I depicted this rivalry between the two women as a cold war of fashion, a contest where the gowns got bigger and the wigs more ridiculously elaborate. Marie Antoinette's pink silk robe à la française follows the traditional period fashions; where as dy Barry's blue gown is a more modern interpretation of the silhouette and "indecently" sleeveless. Both gowns come with a front hemline that can be hoisted up to reveal either their pantaloons or a tableau of a stage depicting the propaganda of the era, smearing each lady of the court for their frivolities.
Marie Antoinette is FR2 Agnes sculpt by Integrity Toys, painted with a disapproving expression as she utters the famous words "There are many people at Versailles today." Madame du Barry is the Luchia sculpt from the same company, her face charismatic enough to climb to to court from her humble beginnings, and amused at the small victory she gains as Marie Antoinette is finally forced to acknowledge her.
The pair comes with two sets of wigs: huge ones evoking the outrageous size of the fashion drawings of the era, decorated with hand carved ornaments of a three mast schooner and a girl on a swing; the other pair of wigs are a more modern interpretation of the pompadour style.
The OOAK shoes are hand sculpted from epoxy putty, covered with silk and lace and embellished with Swarovski crystal ornaments.
The pair is a commission project and not for sale.
(more details later, as time permits)
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Once upon a time, I had serious intentions of running the New York marathon. It was back in 1979, and the whole thing was much less formal than it is now. Indeed, it was sufficiently informal that Rosie Ruiz was accidentally given a “finished time” of 2:56:29 for the New York event that year, which qualified her for the 1980 Boston marathon. It was later discovered that she had not run the entire NYC course (nor did she do so up in Boston on April 21, 1980), and her time was ultimately rescinded in both races. Had her times stayed in the record books, her Boston time of 2:31:56 would have been the fastest female time ever in the Boston marathon and the third-fastest female time ever recorded in any marathon...
Informal as the New York marathon was in those ancient days, you still couldn’t just show up at the starting line and expect to be welcomed. On the other hand, all that was necessary to get an official invitation was going down to the main branch of the U.S. Post Office on 34th Street at midnight on some long-forgotten summer night,and waiting in line with a bunch of equally crazy people. I got my entry ticket (or letter, or certificate, or whatever it was) a few days later, and began following a fairly serious training regimen, working my way up to a modest 10-mile race … until a business trip took me to Sydney, Australia for most of the month of August, 1979. Between business and social events, and the cold, wet weather of Sydney’s winter season, I didn’t do any running at all for that whole month … and with my training regimen broken, I wisely decided not to run the marathon at all.
But since then, I’ve always had a fondness for the NYC marathon — especially considering how much it has grown, and what a city-wide celebration it has become. I missed the event in 2013 and 2012, so it has been three years since I watched on the sidelines in 2011. With the promise of cold-but-sunny weather this year, I decided to return once again — and, as in 2011, I positioned myself at roughly the 24.5-mile point, at the beginning of a downhill run at roughly 78th Street, at the side of the Central Park “inner roadway.”
The runners pass by all afternoon, and well into the evening; but it’s a little more difficult to anticipate when the lead runners will reach any particular point. There are now so many participants in the marathon (about 50,000) that the runners are released in “waves,” beginning with those on hand-operated wheelchair/bicycles, and the “elite” women, the elite men, and three or four waves of mere mortals. There was an additional delay this year, because the headwinds were so strong that the initial wave had great difficulty propelling their wheeled vehicles up over the “hump” of the Tappan Zee bridge. So if you’re standing somewhere along the route, at the 10-mile mark, or the 20-mile mark, or (as I was) the 24.5 mile mark, you can only guess at the moment when the lead runners — or a friend or family member whom you want to cheer onward to the finish line — might be coming near you.
On the other hand, there are some clues. Helicopters hover above the lead runners, low enough that you can hear the roar of their blades; and there are two or three waves of police cars and motorcycles zooming ahead of the runners, pushing people back to the sidelines, and ensuring that there are no disruptions or obstacles to slow them down. Then — and it’s always an adrenaline rush! — you see the official race car, driving just a few feet ahead of the lead runners, with a huge race clock mounted on its roof, showing those fast-moving runners the exact number of hours, minutes, and seconds since they started their journey back at the edge of Staten Island.
The lead runners, of whom there are often two or three or four even up to the last mile, are often several minutes ahead of the next ones; but those who are in positions three, four, five or ten, and who will get no recognition at all from the press, the media, or the crowd when they finish … well, they still run as if their lives depend on it. And the crowd cheers them on, clapping and calling out their names and urging them onward.
One of the differences I noticed this year was the widespread use of bicycle horns and cow-bells that the onlookers used to create a cacophony of merry noise; I don’t know if the runners took it as a sign of encouragement, but it sure sounded that way to me …
I stayed longer than I had intended, and took several hundred more photos that I had planned … but they’re all just bits on the camera’s digital memory card, so it doesn’t really matter. One might argue that I should have stayed for eight or ten hours, until the last runner had straggled by. And perhaps I should have photographed each of the 50,000 runners, for I’m sure they each had their own story to tell. But after a while, it gets overwhelming — and the faces and bodies and brightly colored shirts and tights and shoes begin to blur…
I think I got a representative collection of photos; and the video clips will give you a sense of the noise and the motion of what seemed like an endless stream of humanity racing past … but to really understand it, you need to be there in person. Barring a crippling storm (like Hurricane Sandy, which forced the cancellation of the 2012 marathon), you’ll find another crowd of 50,000 runners racing through Central Park at the end of next year’s marathon, on the first Sunday in November. And with any luck, I’ll be there with my camera …
Who knows: maybe even Rosie Ruiz will be there, too. It turns out that she was arrested in 1982 for embezzling $60,000 from a real estate company where she worked; after a week in jail and a sentence of five years’ probation, she moved back to south Florida, where she was arrested in 1983 for her involvement in a cocaine deal. But as of the year 2000, she still insisted that she had run the entire 1980 Boston marathon. C’est la vie...
Washington, D.C. (est. 1790, pop. ~690,000)
• Ford’s Theatre, site of assassination of U.S. President Abraham Lincoln
• theater’s site previously occupied by First Baptist Church of Washington (1834) [photo] • services held until 1859 • John Thompson Ford, Baltimore theatrical manager, leased the church bldg., converted it into a theatre • inaugurated Dec., 1861 as The "George Christy Opera House," presenting popular blackface troupe, Christy’s Minstrels
• following their final performance 27 Feb., 1862, further renovations made for presentation of theatrical (rather than musical) plays • 3 wks. later venue, renamed “Ford’s Atheneum,” entered Washington’s Civil War theater scene • presented excellent companies & first rate stars • Pres. Lincoln first attended Ford's on 28 May, 1862 • venue was profitable until the evening of 30 Dec, 1862, when it burned
• 2 mos.later, the cornerstone of a new theater was laid on this site by James J. Gifford, chief carpenter, architect & builder • the brick structure, modeled after the late Victorian design of Baltimore’s Holliday Street Theatre [photo], seated ~1,700 w/ 8 private boxes, two upper, two lower, located on either side of stage
• opened evening of 27 Aug., 1863 with “The Naiad Queen,” a "Fairy Opera" [photo] presented to a capacity audience • became one of the most successful entertainment venues in Washington —Ford’s Theatre, National Historic Site
• as Ford’s ventures prospered, a future competitor was making history • Mary Francis Moss was born, 1826, in Winchester, England • during childhood was a frequent visitor to the studio of "old man" J.M.W, Turner, the celebrated painter —The Life of Laura Keene [photo]
• married at age 18 to former British Army officer, Henry Wellington Taylor • 7 yr. marriage produced 2 daughters • husband was arrested for an undocumented crime, sent to Australia on a prison ship • to support her family, Mary Taylor became British stage actress Laura Keene, who made her professional debut in London, Oct., 1851 —Wikipedia
• in 1852, less than a year into her acting career, accepted an offer from impresario J.W. Wallack to travel to New York City, to audition for leading lady of the Wallack’s Theater stock company • became a popular star performer [photo] • began considering a move into an entrepreneurial role
• took over Baltimore's Charles Street Theatre, 24 Dec, 1853, w/ financial assistance from wealthy Washingtonian, John Lutz • managed it for 2 months, qualifying her as USA’s first female theater manager • Lutz became her business manager & by some unverifiable accounts, her husband, though she was still married to Taylor — Androom Archives
• moved to San Francisco & the Metropolitan Theatre [photo] • played opposite Edwin Booth, brother of John Wilkes Booth • toured Australia with Edwin, 1854
• by 1855 she had returned to NYC • retained architect, John M. Trimble, a theater specialist • the new theater, built to her specifications, was named the Laura Keene’s Varieties [photo], aka Laura Keene’s Theatre [photo], or Third Olympic Theatre • opened at 622 Broadway on 18 Nov., 1856 • managed by Keene until 1863 when she assumed the lease & took over D.C.’s Washington Theatre [photo] [ad] from lessee, manager & self-proclaimed “People’s Favorite Tragedian,” John Wilkes Booth
• in 1858, having returned to Laura Keene's Theatre in NYC, premiered Our American Cousin,” [script] a 3-act farce starring Laura Keene [photo], written by English playwright Tom Taylor, U.S./Canada rights owned by Keene • with a run of 150 nights, set new standards for New York theater
• synopsis: a coarse but honest American, Asa Trenchard, arrives at the British Trenchard estate to claim an inheritance as the last named heir • meets Lord Dundreary & other snooty relatives who are trying to keep up appearances & marry off daughters • servants gossip, villains emerge from the shadows, true love conquers all in the end, a farce satirizing pretension & manners —Helytimes
• this is the play Laura Keene chose for her 14 Apr., 1865 Ford’s Theatre engagement, a benefit & farewell performance [ad] for the beloved star [playbill] • “Our Leading Lady,” is a 2007 comedy inspired by Keene’s role in the events surrounding this performance
• Laura Keene would play her usual role as Trenchard’s wife, Florence • Harry Hawk [photo], a member of Keene’s NY company, was to play the boorish American, Asa Trenchard • the classic role of brainless aristocrat Lord Dundreary was given to Edwin "Ned" Emerson [photo], leading man in the Ford Stock Company, brother of a Confederate soldier killed in action in 1862 & close friend of John Wilkes Booth
"I knew John Wilkes Booth well," wrote Edwin Emerson, "having played with him in dozens of cities, throughout the East and Middle West. He was a kind-hearted, genial person, and no cleverer gentleman ever lived. Everybody loved him on the stage, though he was a little excitable and eccentric."
• while Ford's was presenting Keene's famous play, arch-rival Grover's Theatre aka Grover’s National Theatre, offered “Aladin and The Wonderful Lamp” • Leonard Grover advertised his theatre as the capital’s only “Union” playhouse, highlighting John Ford’s more “Secesh” (secessionist) sentiments • “Doubtless [Ford’s] personal sympathies were with his State and with that portion of the country in which he was born and reared.” —Leonard Grover
• according to Grover, during the four years of [Lincoln’s] administration, he visited his theater “probably more than a hundred times. He often came alone, many times brought his little son Tad, and on special occasions, Mrs. Lincoln.” The President also once told Grover, ”I really enjoy a minstrel show," • when Grover responded that Hooley's Minstrels [photo] were soon to appear, Lincoln laughed. "Well, that was thoughtful of you." • “[Lincoln] was exceedingly conversant with Shakespeare. He enjoyed a classical representation, of which I gave many” —Lincoln's Interest in the Theater, Leonard Grover
• the National’s policy of segregating blacks began when it opened in 1835 • a portion of the gallery was set apart for "persons of color" • it is not known how many black theatergoers were in the 5 Mar., 1845 audience for “Beauty & the Beast,” “Stage Struck Nigger” & the Congo Melodists, a Boston blackface minstrel group [photo], but Washington’s 7 Mar. “National lntelligencer” reported that the cause of the fire which had demolished the theatre on the 5th was "a candle without a stick left burning on a table by a negro...."
• although the Grover-managed version of the National also had its "colored parterre,” Ford's Theatre, excluded blacks entirely from its performances • the exclusion of black Washingtonians from public places in the nation’s capital helped secure the passing of the Civil Rights Act of 1875 which, in 1889, the Supreme Court held unconstitutional. —The National Theatre in Washington: Buildings and Audiences, 1835-1972
• Mary Lincoln had tickets to Grover’s but preferred seeing Laura Keene in “Our American Cousin” • with little interest, the president said he would take care of the tickets • a messenger was sent to the theatre around 10:30 A.M. to secure the state box for the evening • the Lincolns’ son, Tad, opted for Grover’s, thus would not be with his parents at Ford’s that night
• General Grant accepted Lincoln’s invitation to join them in the Presidential box, but when Julia Grant objected to spending the evening with the sharp-tongued First Lady, he canceled • Secretary of War Edwin Stanton, Speaker of the House Schuyler Colfax & son Robert Todd Lincoln also declined before Clara Harris (1834-1883), daughter of New York Senator Ira Harris (1802-1875), and her fiancé, Major Henry Rathbone (1837-1911), accepted. —History Channel
The theatre as it appeared the night of Lincoln's assassination:
• the stage
• “Laura Keene was on stage with E, A. Emerson when the Presidents' party entered the theatre. As the party made its way, Miss Keene halted the play, Conductor William Withers [photo] led the orchestra in Hail to the Chief,'
and the audience rose and greeted the President with 'vociferous cheering.' President Lincoln came to the front of the box, acknowledged the reception, [set his silk hat on the floor], and the actors resumed where they had left off.
“The fatal shot was fired during the second scene of the third act. Laura Keene was standing in the first entrance (wing), stage right, facing the audience, awaiting her cue for the next scene
“On stage, just prior to the shooting, Mrs. Mountchessington was squelching Asa Trenchard: I am aware, Mr. Trenchard, you are not used to the manners of good society, and that alone will excuse the impertinence of which you have been guilty. (Exit)
“This left Asa Trenchard (Harry Hawk) alone on the stage… The audience was silent, expectantly awaiting the punch line from Asa. Miss Harris and Major Rathbone were ‘intently observing’ the scene on stage.The President ‘was leaning upon one hand, and with the other was adjusting a portion of the drapery‘ which hung at the side of the box opening. [photo]
“At this moment John Wilkes Booth stood silently in the shadows of the state box, four or five feet directly behind the President. Probably the last words heard by Lincoln were spoken by Harry Hawk:
“ASA: Don’t know the manners of good society, eh? Wal, I guess I know enough to turn you inside out, old gal — you sockdologizing old mantrap.
“The audience roared. Then penetrating the laughter was the distinct sound of a shot. A puff of smoke drifted from the box, and Major Rathbone “saw through the smoke, a man between the door and the President. He ‘instantly sprang toward him,’ but the assassin wrested from his grasp and slashed Rathbone with a dagger across the left arm. Meanwhile, Harry Hawk looked up from the stage to see a man, knife in hand, leaping over the balustrade of the President's box onto the stage apron. Fearing he would be attacked Hawk ran off the stage.’ Booth ran across the stage, [illustration] brushed past Miss Keene in the wings…
—Harbin, Billy J. “Laura Keene at the Lincoln Assassination,” Educational Theatre Journal 18, no. 1 (1966): 47–54
• Edwin Emerson: “…near the beginning of the third act… I was standing in the wings, just behind a piece of scenery, waiting for my cue to go on, when I heard a shot. I was not surprised, nor was anyone else behind the scenes. Such sounds are too common during the shifting of the various sets to surprise an actor. For a good many seconds after that sound nothing happened behind the footlights. Then, as I stood there in the dimness, a man rushed by me, making for the stage door. I did not recognize Booth at the time, nor did anyone else, I think, unless, someone out on the stage, when he stood a moment and shouted with theatrical gesture, ‘Sic Semper Tyrannis!' (So perish all tyrants!) Even after he flashed by, there was quiet for a few moments among the actors and the stage hands. No one knew what had happened.”—Find a Grave
• running from the stage Booth exited the building into Baptist Alley, a public alleyway laid out in 1792 • grabbed the reins of his horse & rode off, turning right on F Street to head for the safety of of the Maryland night
• James S. Knox, witness: “…The shrill cry of murder from Mrs. Lincoln first roused the horrified audience, and in an instant the uproar was terrible. The silence of death was broken by shouts of "kill him," "hang him" and strong men wept, and cursed, and tore the seats in the impotence of their anger, while Mrs. Lincoln, on her knees uttered shriek after shriek at the feet of the dying President.” —Library of Congress
• video: Charles L. Willis, J.W. Epperson eyewitness accounts of the assassination
• according to legend, Laura Keene rushed to Lincoln’s box w/a pitcher of water • cradled his head, staining her cuff w/ his blood.
• The Night Lincoln Was Shot: Minute-by-Minute Backstage With John Wilkes Booth at Ford's Theatre
“In the lobby of Grover’s, as Tad Lincoln awaited his parents' carriage to take him back to the White House, he learned that his father had been shot • Grover, who was in New York, received a telegram from his associate manager: President shot tonight at Ford's Theatre. Thank God it wasn't ours. C. D. Hess."
“[two doctors] now arrived and after a moments consultation we agreed to have him removed to the nearest house… I called out twice 'Guards clear the passage,' which was so soon done that we proceeded… with the President and were not in the slightest interrupted until he was placed in bed in the house of Mr. Peterson… During the night the room was visited by many of his friends. Mrs Lincoln with Mrs. Senator Dixon came into the room three or four times during the night. The Presidents son Captn R. Lincoln, remained with his father during the greater part of the night.
“At 7.20 a.m. he breathed his last and “the spirit fled to God who gave it… Immediately after death had taken place, we all bowed and the Rev. Dr. Gurley supplicated to God in behalf of the bereaved family and our afflicted country.” —Report on the Assassination of Abraham Lincoln by Dr. Charles Leale [photo]
• Secy. of War Stanton ordered guards posted at the building [photo] & future dramatic productions canceled • later that year, attempts by Ford to reopen the theatre aroused public indignation • War Dept. ordered it closed, Ford threatened legal action, federal government responded by leasing & later purchasing the bldg.
• American newspapers report the shocking news in a country still younger than some of its citizens
• Willie Clark, the Petersen House boarder who lived in the room in which President Lincoln died, wrote to his sister four days after Lincoln's death...
“The past few days have been of intense excitement. Arrests are numerously made, of any party heard to utter secesh sentiments. The time has come when people cannot say what they please, the people are awfully indignant. Leinency is no longer to be thought of. A new code must be adopted.
“They talk of the tyranical administration of Mr. Lincoln, but we have a man now for a president who will teach the south a lesson they will know well how to appreciate…
“…Everybody has a great desire to obtain some memento from my room so that whoever comes in has to be closely watched for fear they will steal something.
“I have a lock of his hair which I have had neatly framed, also a piece of linen with a portion of his brain, the pillow and case upon which he lay when he died and nearly all his wearing apparel but the latter I intend to send to Robt. Lincoln as soon as the funeral is over, as I consider him the one most justly entitled to them.
“The same matrass (sic.) is on my bed, and the same coverlit (sic.) covers me nightly that covered him while dying.
“Enclosed you will find a piece of lace that Mrs. Lincoln wore on her head during the evening and was dropped by her while entering my room to see her dying husband It is worth keeping for its historical value.
“The cap worked by Clara and the cushion by you, you little dreamed would be so historically connected with such an event.”
“They talk of the tyranical administration of Mr. Lincoln, but we have a man now for a president who will teach the south a lesson they will know well how to appreciate. — Remembering Lincoln
• Lincoln's death was not universally mourned by Northeners even though his decision to resupply Ft. Sumter forced the Confederates into firing the 1st shots, an attack that triggered anger, patriotism & widespread support from Northerners • nevertheless, some who thought him too dictatorial & some Radical Republicans who thought him too lenient toward the enemy welcomed his assassination • Congressman George Julian recorded in his diary that the “universal feeling among radical men here is that his death is a godsend” Michigan Senator Zachariah Chandler wrote to his wife that God had permitted Lincoln to live only “as long as he was useful and then substituted a better man (Johnson) to finish the work.”—History Channel
• In the 2 wks. following the assassination, hundreds were detained, questioned, & some imprisoned • nearly all the personnel at Ford’s (actors, stage hands, musicians, etc.) were arrested & questioned • John T. Ford was visiting Richmond the night of the assassination • he & 2 brothers spent 39 days in the Old Capitol Prison before being cleared & released
• the Old Capitol Prison [photo] gained an association with the Lincoln assassination when it lodged several (but not all) suspected Lincoln assassination conspirators who, by order of the Secty. Of War, wore cotton hoods —Smithsonian
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• 5 days after the assassination, Laura Keene & 2 other cast members arrested in Harrisburg PA, returned to Washington & released by order of the Secretary of War the moment he heard of their unauthorized detention
• Louis J. Weichmann often stayed at the Surratt Boarding House, in contact with the Surratts, & John Wilkes Booth • arrested as a potential accomplice but became a star witness for the prosecution, his testimony helping to convict Mary Surratt
• Pres. Andrew Johnson & Secy. of War Edwin M. Stanton insisted on trying the conspirators before a nine-member military commission, where 5 of the 9 judges—rather than a unanimous vote like in a civilian trial—were required to establish guilt. 6 votes could impose the death penalty
• Federal authorities argued that because Washington, D.C., was a war zone in April 1865—Confederate troops were still in the field—the assassination was an act of war • opponents argued that a civilian court would allow for a fairer trial [photo]
• for 7 weeks in May & June 1865, nation’s attention riveted on the 3rd floor of Old Arsenal Penitentiary (now Fort McNair) [photo], where the alleged conspirators were on trial for their lives [photo]
• one of the first U.S. trials where “colored” Americans, e.g. Ford’s stagehand Joe Simms & cleaner Mary Anderson, were allowed to testify against white Americans in open court • their testimony was included throughout the trial —Ford’s Theatre
• accused were allowed by attorneys to question the 366 witnesses, but not permitted to speak on their own behalf —Ford’s Theatre
• All defendants found guilty, 30 June, 1865 • Mary Surratt, Lewis Powell, David Herold, & George Atzerodt sentenced to death by hanging [photo]
• Samuel Mudd, Samuel Arnold, & Michael O'Laughlen sentenced to life in prison • Ford’s stagehand Edmund Spangler sentenced to 6 yrs. in prison •all incarcerated at Fort Jefferson, off of Key West, Florida, pardoned by Pres. Johnson, 1869.
• following the assassination, [photo]Ford attempted to reopen on 7 July, 1865 but public outcry & threats forced him to cancel the performance, issue refunds & close the still-unfinished theater • bldg. seized July, 1865 by order of the Secretary of War
• interior torn out in August, 1865 • converted into 3-story office bldg housing the Army Medical Museum & Surgeon General • used for govt. purposes for several decades. —Ford’s Theatre National Historic Site
• 40-foot section of the facade collapsed from the 3rd floor, killing 22 War Department personnel, 1893 • alterations, including the facade, 1894 • building repaired, continued as government warehouse & storeroom until 1911 • vacant until taken over by Office of Public Buildings & Public Parks of the National Capital, 1928 • Lincoln museum opened 12 Feb., 1932, 123rd anniversary of Lincoln’s birth
• bldg. transferred to National Parks Service through executive order, 1933 —Ford’s Theatre, Washington, D.C.
• funding for restoration approved, 1964 • original building plans lost • relied on investigative work to extrapolate floor levels & wall locations from known “good” points in the building, w/ photographs & drawings providing supplementary detail • project supervised by Charles W. Lessig • restoration to its 1865 appearance completed, 1968 • theatre reopened 30 Jan., 1968 • following restoration, Presidential Box never occupied. —Ford’s Theatre
• externally west facade & north & south walls remain of the original theatre, although subject to modification, repair & remodeling over time • rear (east) wall, site of Booth’s escape door, is completely rebuilt—Restoration of Ford’s Theatre, Washington
• now a popular tourist destination & working theatre presenting a varied schedule of theatrical & live entertainment events • over 650,000 visitors/yr.
• Pennsylvania Avenue National Historic Site National Register # 66000865, 1966
• Ford’s Theatre National Historic site, National Register # 66000034, 1966
© 2013 Lechatbon/LGS All Rights Reserved
This photo taken in the (downtown) Seattle Public Library Evelyn W. Foster Learning Center, which houses the library's literacy, ESL and world languages collection.
The maple-wood floor was created by artist Ann Hamilton. It contains 556 lines of text (in reverse) from the first sentences of books in 11 languages and alphabets found in the collection.
Came across this sentence from @erickimphoto "learn from the master of street photography -v7" "if you have a photography which is weak without a compelling story, ditch the shot." How true. #bkk #bangkok #thailand #river #peace #pray #serenity #klongsuan #filmcamera #film #filmisnotdead #filmphotography #filmlove #keepfilmalive #lomography #twentytwopotatoes #fm2 #nikon #afgactprecisa #afga #kodak_photo #thefilmcommunity #filmphotographic @filmphotographic #filmphotographer #yourshot #travelphotographer #natgeotravel #guardiantravelsnap
Self Portrait
©Nourhan Refaat Maayouf
All rights reserved. My work is not to be edited, distributed, sold or uploaded anywhere without my written permission.
{telling me a joke after his shower}
my favorite portrait crop is square. something good about it, no?
oh...and i know...one post a day, but i couldn't hold back on this one after i processed. he's just so cute (says his biased momma).
A mosaic of images from the One Letter group, arranged by luminance & color.
Image created in Perl using the Flickr API and ImageMagick.
This will be much nicer when we get a larger assortment of letters in the pool If you like this, help us out by adding more licensed letter photos to this image pool.
Text: Lewis Carroll, "Jabberwocky"
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More stuff by jbum:
To see details in this drawing, try the largest image size...
The weather was hot, the creeks were spring fed and cold.
There was a BLUE MOON at this gathering! I wrote a long story about our trip, full of run-on-sentences. No names were changed to protect the innicent. All facts are just my opinions. I am not a journalist. Here is the story....
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Rainbow Recollections
1996 Missouri
"Who fears today
His rites to pay
Deserves his chains to wear.
The forest's free!
This wood take we,
and straight a pile prepare.
Yet in the wood
To stay 'tis good
By day till all is still.
With watchers all around us placed
Protecting you from ill.
With courage fresh, then,
Let us haste
Our duties to fulfill......" - Goethe
My daughter Skater (aka: Pixie, Shine, age 13) and I had a grand time at the Missouri Rainbow. We arrived Sunday June 23 and left July 3, and those were 11 magical days! Our drive in was 12 hours, and started with thunderstorms and a downburst in central Illinois that forced us off the road near Springfield. Big booming lightning! Old Mother Nature's power chords! Ba-BOOM!! Ka-Pow!!!!!
We got in about 1 am, drove right past FS road 3173 in the dark. Whoops! When we hit Thomasville we turned around and headed back north. Right exactly at 3 miles on the odometer from Thomasville there was FS #3173 off to the right. We drove on in quietly without seeing a single cop. There was the big green and yellow "Welcome Home" banner and a quiet group with a lone drummer singing and pounding out his heartsongs. We parked in the dark fog and decided to get some sleep in our old pickup until the sunrise. Just before dawn it rained hard for about 45 minutes, and that made the air smell clean and sweet! :)
We got up and meandered through the parking lot and met a lot of kind folks at the front gate. Out in the lot we met Katie and Brian and Althea (shy white Siberian husky puppy with pretty blue eyes) in the green bubbletop "Save the Buses" bus from Chicago. We also shared munchies and explored with Funky (Matt) and Shannon in the green VW camper bus, and met Victor and Kevin. At dawn we started packing for the hike in towards Kiddie Village where we would set up our camp.
It was nearly 3 miles to Kiddie Village. The first mile was dry and hot, then we started crossing the streams and it was like heaven to stop and play in that cold water. There was a steep incline down to the first stream, too steep for bikes to ride, but not too steep for horses. Spring creek was it's name, filled with tadpoles and there were lovely Spicebush and Pipevine Swallowtail butterflies hovering about the banks.
The second creek crossing had MARVELOUS sand!! SO nice on bare feet! The White Dove kitchen settled here and had the secret luxury of a hidden beautiful white portable shitter with a lid. "Pixie" was a frequent stopper at White Dove and we kept their secret close to the vest. Up the hill from the "good sand" crossing was the first clearing, a beautiful meadow with five tipis. The path here was named Hanuman Highway.
The main path crossed Spring Creek again and opened onto the big meadow with main fire circle and C.A.L.M. and good water piped from underground springs. We drank copious amounts of the spring water for 11 days with no problem. Our friend Question Mark happily spent his time filtering the water for anyone patient enough to get that extra protection. The pipe system evolved and grew with the gathering, so that eventually you were always close to a source of underground spring fed clean drinking water. We give an A+ to all who hauled pipe and ran samples for tests. GREAT water is such a luxury! :)
The next creek crossing had a pipe with roaring spring water you could shower in! Fill up the canteens! No waiting! Cold clean showers! The bridge there was called H20 bridge or Rainbow Bridge, and the crossing was called "Copperhead Crossing" after a snake was sighted in the water by some shady bushes. The original location of C.A.L.M. was to the right just after H20 Bridge. Continuing up, the main path was called Son Dance Trail and opened onto another fine meadow.
At the end of the meadow on the left side was Kiddie Village, which eventually grew to a City of Wonder! We parked our camp halfway twixt original C.A.L.M. and Kiddie Village, up into the shade of the tree line in the raspberry bushes by a big broken tree. Flattening out a place for our sleeping tent we ate juicy raspberries as we stomped. There was poison ivy everywhere so we sacrificed a shade tarp to cover the ground for safe lounging and relaxing. We set up a second small dome tent for all our gear and food and clothes and schtuff. We were on the map, had our own gnome home at home!
Pixie donated a pile of her old Golden Books to Kiddie Village. She talked with the smaller kids while I helped a crew installing support poles and guy ropes for that immense circus-tent-sized tarp for the main play area. I was amazed how four folks could hold a 25' ladder firmly in the air while another person climbed fearlessly to the top to adjust rope connections. The kids were having a blast here! There were four teeter-totters and the kids had figured how to "launch" each other, so the adults were trying to calm their butts down. Then we gravitated over to Kiddie C.A.L.M. where she helped Pat take care of several kids. One had poison oak all around his eyes.
Water and Flame were the main healers at Kiddie C.A.L.M., but Pat and the Swedish Bitters woman also put in huge hours there. Pat's dog Gaia was hilarious to play stick with. Gaia would plunge pell mell into high thick weeds and come out in a nanosecond with the very same stick you'd thrown. We trudged back to parking and got a second load of supplies that day. We donated a lot of apple juice and zuzu drink (cola) and that made for heavy loads to haul.
We learned to linger in the shade. In the stretches of sun it was best to conserve energy and keep moving towards the shade. We drank constantly from our canteens and often poured as much on our heads as we put in our mouths. We quickly learned all the places we could get water and paced our water consumption accordingly. It was close to 100 degrees everyday, and only rained one other time just before dawn for about two hours (July 2nd). Two pack loads in one day (and setting up the camp) wore us out, so we collapsed at sunset and slept with rainbow dreams. The Missouri whippoorwills sang us to sleep.
The next morning we found our Lovin' Touch kitchen up in the trees on the hillside in the shade. The big sign said "Kitten Safety Zone, All Dogs On Leashes!" and we met Grace, who had three kittens and a full grown cat! Grace told us how she and Steps had come in on June 10th and started Lovin' Touch in a shady patch of poison ivy. They knew where to find the good spring water, and they brought in a reporter from the West Plains Daily Quill. Grace opened her trunk and showed us the beautiful photo of the start of Lovin' Touch kitchen that made the front page of the June 13th Quill, along with an excellent article. Great public relations!!
Steps gave us the best hugs of the gathering and Piper played his didgeridu, and Lizard had made some great pancakes with apples and strawberries in them. This was OUR kitchen! I helped Justin chop wood and Pixie found every cat and dog in the area and gave em all hello hugs! There was a big tie-dye of a pot frond and hammocks strung all over. John was reciting poetry in the corner and Buddy Paul floated in with his beautiful cutaway Applause guitar and just let anyone play away on it.
The next morning we went to Copperhead Crossing for a shower and to splash in the stream and we met Nancy who was entering 6th grade in the fall. She was lugging around a big heavy bedroll. Pixie and Nancy became best friends instantly. I put her gear in my backpack and we trudged off to her mom's van back in A-camp, then came back to Kiddie Village. On the way they caught 50 tadpoles at the first creek crossing and had them all in a single drinking cup! Nancy slept about half the time in a hammock at Lovin' Touch. Nancy traded for two matching filigree rings and gave one to Pixie, and they changed their names to Sunshine. Pixie was Sun and Nancy was Shine. Nancy showed us where the kids were swinging off a rope into a deep cold spot in the creek. It was too cold for me, but the kids could stand it and had a great time!
There was also a swing/hammock for kids to swing in over the creek, and children's toys scattered about. The milk for Kiddie village was stored in the cold water, a natural refrigerator. Then came early dinner call at Kiddie Village! Many courses! Seconds and thirds for all who wanted!! Filled us up (yummy!) and we went off burping to the main circle to hear all the news and see how big the OM circle was getting. My best guess was two to three thousand at the site on our arrival June 23rd. When we left on Wednesday, July 3rd there were maybe 10,000 and it was growing every hour with the four day weekend approaching.
About Thursday, June 27th, Pixie patiently had sat through another evening main circle and eaten good Rainbow food. She went to her first "Sister Circle" with an older friend. The hot topic was the rape of a sister in A-camp. It turns out a young woman had gotten real drunk and been passed around and passed out. She wasn't with the girls discussing the hearsay at Sister Circle, she was already back getting loaded with those same brothers at A-camp who had taken advantage of her. The news I heard was that she was "consenting" until she passed out, but I wonder how could she consent while unconscious? A sorry story, but she apparently knew and stood by her rapist friends even afterwards. They were her drinking buds. A more tragic story was a pregnant 14 year old who miscarried at the Rainbow. I never met either woman, just passing on what I heard at the site.
The RUMORS on the computer newsgroup alt.gathering.rainbow (when I got home to read it) were really silly! The National Guard was not called out! No one was shot in A-camp. Hillbillies were NOT beating up hippies! The locals thought we were a godsend and treated us kindly with smiles! The police traffic checks were only for driver's license/insurance/registration. We passed in and out many times and most times there was no traffic check, or they just waved us by without stopping. Pixie did catch an ancient box turtle at the gathering, and had it in her lap on our way in when we were stopped. The Forest Service made her set the turtle free, it was a protected citizen of the Irish Wilderness!!
There were about 8 horse cops we met on the main trail and we learned the names of all the beautiful horses. Rebel Command and Ollie were our favorites. The riders were especially courteous, three women and five men, I think. There were about four FS cops on mountain bikes, and they ate a lot of dust from the cars on FS road 3173 going from the site to the police command location about 2 miles down the road. We stopped and greeted the FS and Dept. of Interior police we met and they were all friendly and kind. We even had a FS cop by A-camp get out of his jeep and paw through his supplies to find Pixie a Band-Aid for a finger cut.
One woman (who was a little crazed) climbed on top of a FS jeep and jumped up and down, denting the roof! And she wasn't arrested! Many were openly rude to the cops, calling out "Six UP!" or "Doughnut!!" as they went by. A select few chanted OM towards them. I always asked if all was well, and never heard any problems, although some were nervous and would say, "No problems .... yet!" I give the cops a C+, they are only human. We saw very little of them inside the real gathering, and only on the main trail, and always preceded by shouts of warning. I wish they would have stayed out of the church altogether and turned in their guns. HA!
The main trail crosses Spring Creek again to the right of Kiddie village, and heads upwards past the Animal Rainbow Family first aid for dogs and cats (Arf Arf!!) and Teen Village and Granola Funk Express kitchen. If you follow it all the way to the end there were three ropes tied across the trail and a sign that said "Turn around, Private property". Just before that sign, if you turned left, you could meander down to Cafe Cough Fee (Coffee Coffee) and find the best swimming spot of the gathering! Spring Creek is 12 feet deep here, fifty feet across, and cold cold COLD! The bank on the Coffee Coffee side is full of good mud and music all day. Those who can handle the cold water swim across and scramble up the rocky bank, and the adventurous climb up to dive off rock ledges 20 and 30 feet up.
There was a cave upstream to explore, and some kind souls left an inflatable raft for kids to paddle back and forth. Frisbees hummed back and forth as didgeridus droned and the mud people drew designs on themselves. This was a hopping swim hole! Musicians would gravitate in and stay for hours singing heavenly songs. We met Megan out by Coffee Coffee and she blew Pixie dust on Skater, then told her she was now a Pixie and had Pixie dust in her blood! That's when Skater changed her name to Sunshine Pixie, but she shortened it to Pixie later, and we got some gold glitter dust so she could turn others into Pixies. Skater was a glittering gold-dusted free spirit the last five days we were there. One bottle of glitter covers a LOT of people! :) Sparkling like star dust in the moonlight and sunshine!
Early in the gathering we met Steve and Cheyenne and their daughter. Steve was giving out water about the 1 mile point from A-camp at the end of a long dry path in the hot sun. Each day Steve and Foxfire (aka: Bridge Troll, Pegleg) went on a water run to Birch Tree and brought back water to give out at the water station, as well as "PowerBurst" electrolyte drink. Steve and Cheyenne also brought two riding horses and hung out a sign that read "Horse Camp". They brought a white horse (age 13) named Patches, and another spirited brown horse, both elegant females. Cheyenne took Pixie for a four hour horse ride one day, while I baby-sat their younger girl Kailey. Kailey was 15 months old and an energetic whirlwind. Kailey was born premature at only 1 pound and hydrocephalic, but was obviously doing well and happy to be at her first rainbow!
Cheyenne and Pixie washed the two horses and brushed them and got them water. Then they rode them down the steep path to the first creek for an hour or so and tried to get them to drink. Pixie rode the white horse, Patches. The brown horse drank some and had a coughing fit, Cheyenne thought maybe she had swallowed a tadpole! Then they went up into the first meadow and galloped around the tipis. They decided to take them all the way in to Kiddie Village and back.
In the main circle meadow they walked the horses through the big fire pit and really stirred up some ashes and dust. Then Pixie had to hold on as Patches decided to take off and run some around the main meadow, even leaping over some logs by where the wash station was later set up by the water people. Patches was the type of horse that needed to be ridden firm or whacked a bit with a stick to get going. Pixie was uncomfortable doing that, but she had a great time riding nonetheless. They rode through the thick fog of the gathering at sunset and came back after dark with the fireflies twinkling around them in the mist.
When they returned, Pixie had bowlegs and saddleburns and was worn out! That's when Cheyenne's stomach began to hurt a LOT! She tried some herbal cures from C.A.L.M. but nothing seemed to help. We all felt for her. She wound up going in to the hospital the next day before feeling better, and came back to the Gathering again. After her long ride Pixie volunteered to run the water station. It was dark and she was lit by a lantern and offered weary incoming travelers water or electrolytes or pixie dust. Just about everyone wanted pixie dust! A kind soul gave her a bag of little chocolate bars with the instructions to only give them to girls, but she gave them to everybody! We were given strawberries and watermelon and also changed Kailey's diaper twice! We stayed until after midnight, then closed down the water station and finally wandered back to our tent by the light of the big smiling moon.
One evening after main circle I went to wash our dishes while Pixie played hacky-sack with a group of teens. I met George while washing. His 12-string guitar was autographed by Peter Yarrow (of Peter Paul and Mary) and Stanley Jordan and Kenny Burrell and John Prine and Stevie Ray Vaughan's nephew Roy Vaughan, and about 40 others. He was from Austin and sang me a song he wrote about the Wyoming gathering... "on July 1st there was a fire, on July 2nd there was a fire, on July 3rd there was a fire, on July 4th there was a Raaaaaaainbow!" ...and as he sang the sunset disappeared quickly... where was Pixie?
The hacky-sack group was nowhere to be seen. I started looking for Pixie in her dark purple shirt. I circled the fire twice, the drummers were already roaring, a BIG crowd! I had lost her! I circled inside right next to the fire so Pixie could see me if she was there, I was wearing her giant red & black Dr. Suess hat. Night had come on in a hurry and it was too dark to see faces even up close. Being a parent is a wonderful thing, and I was VERY concerned. The gathering had grown to a sizable city. I wandered away from the fire and hollered out "Ska-a-a-a-a-aterrrrr!!!!" and she called out "Right here, Dad!" right under my feet! What a relief! After that I stuck with her like glue, and brought a white T-shirt for her to wear after main circle sunset!
That night Pixie wanted to stay by the fire, so we crept in close between the drummers and found two saxophone players and sat near them listening to the sounds. Pixie kept wanting to sit closer and closer to the fire and we wound up almost IN the fire! The fire tenders had to walk over us as they added logs, and we were well-done and roasted by the heat of the flames! All our clothes were covered in soot and the next day our throats were sore from breathing so much smoke! But we stayed right in the thick of the drums and dancers and hung in there until that blue moon finally went down behind the trees over the mountainside. Just before the moon disappeared she met her friend Eagle, they talked as the fire crackled and the dark night settled in around us. After about six hours at the main drum circle we crept back to the tent and brushed our teeth and slept.
All that night and most every night we visited the fire there was a big menacing dude like Big Daddy in sinister sunglasses with a shaved head. He apparently thought he was King of the Fire or something and would stop the drums and recite a short poem to tell us to listen to the birds or hear the spirits talk. He also threatened to shove the trombone up the ass of a trombone player! He also would occasionally give slices of sweet melon to everyone in the inner circle of the fire, and maybe also drinks of electric punch. He never bothered us, thank goodness, and Pixie was able to dust him with Pixie dust the last day we were there. Good work, Pixie! We always ended the day by brushing out teeth and started the day by brushing our teeth. We were probably the only two at the gathering that didn't have morning breath!
Three nights later it was a full blue moon! The main circle was filled with pomp and drama, lots of poetry and heartsongs and then a special OM circle where we all laid back and chanted to the sky while holding hands laying down! After the food there was a Rainbow Wedding and we got right up close to observe and take part! The crowd was swept up and chanting "HO!" as the couple exchanged vows and were blessed and covered with incense smoke and then there was a huge group hug and OM chant. Pixie had big stars in her eyes and she said, "Dad, I want a hippie wedding!"
They had piled up a huge pile of logs for the fire, and after the wedding it ROARED into life and there were tons of wild dancers circling the fire. Little blond 13 year-old Eagle came up with half his head shaved and the other half dyed bright green with braided dreads. He raced naked around the fire in circles leaping and cavorting! We were among the first to spot the moon's entrance over the hill, and the drumming soared with that big lunar energy! We hung in with the drums and the fire and wailed on our bells and trumpet and rhythm egg up till the moment of fullness at 10:58 pm, then meandered back listening for vampires and werewolves on the paths!
The full moon night, Pixie was asleep by midnight and I wanted to stay close to the tent but soak up some sounds of the gathering. About 50 feet away by the trail that leads to Lovin' Touch kitchen was a couple of flute players and a drummer that were jamming their asses off. Both flutists were singing and scatting into their flutes as they played, and throwing wild jazz riffs back and forth like two Johnny Heartsman clones with Roland Kirk egging them on! A person nearby with a laser light did a light show at their feet with that eerie flashing red light, and Piper wandered down from Lovin' Touch with his "D" wood flute and joined in.
This was the best music I heard at the gathering, these souls were on FIRE! I nestled up right next to them and leaned on my walking staff and just inhaled the magic for a half hour in delight! Afterwards there was a couple banjos and a guitar and a real fine fiddle over at Tea & Toke kitchen a hundred feet to the north of our tent. I sat down and played on the rhythm egg, and a big golden lab drooled all over me wagging his tail. They were playing real Ozark bluegrass, and they ripped through a dozen tunes and had a captive audience of about 40 clapping for more each time they would stop!
The first day we packed in I was lured into the Popcorn Palace kitchen by the sounds of Robbie playing a mandolin and singing. Robbie was older and his legs were crippled, but he could and did sing like a songbird and played that mandolin all the time beaming a big rainbow smile! He'd also been at the 1980 gathering and told us about how they had finally jailed the guy that killed the two girls hitching to that West Virginia national. While I was talking to him and his friends, a 17 year old named Cheshire Cat was trying to attach himself to Pixie! Cheshire was hard to escape the next two days. He found and followed us wherever we went. Finally Pixie met Eric (age 17) and then it was in reverse, with Pixie dragging Dad all over trying to find and hang out with Eric. After Eric, Dad got dragged around as Pixie hung out with Eagle (age 13) all day.
Eagle had a fake English accent and claimed to have 190 wives. His Mom had brought him to gatherings about every year and also to regional gatherings in-between, and he was a creative soul! After Eagle, a different fellow named Weasel decided to hang with us non-stop and try wooing Pixie. Weasel was 19, but shorter than Pixie by a couple inches, and liked to hang out with the younger kids. Weasel was extremely polite and good company, but he really had no business with a 13 year old just out of grade school. After a couple of days I told Weasel he was a little too old for my girl and he respectfully backed off. Rainbow men are cut of a finer cloth, I think. I had done my utmost patient share of being flexible and mellow and allowing Pixie to meet and mingle with a LOT of folks, all the while never letting her too far out of my sight. I did about seven days of non-interfering chaperoning before explaining to Pixie that we weren't there to chase and be chased by boys. Amazingly, she agreed! The rest of the time we hung together and still managed to have major fun!
Out in the parking lot after an early visit to Steve and Cheyenne to see about riding horses, Pixie serenaded the FS with her trumpet. They drove past in a jeep and stopped right in front of us and asked if she would play them a song. She pulled out her sheet music for "This Land Is Your Land, This Land Is My Land" by Woody Guthrie and blasted them with about three full verses with choruses! I was mighty proud! Afterwards we sang the two banned socialist verses to folks in the lot, and a day later I heard Pixie singing those verses to people at the Bliss kitchen!
"As I was walking, in the shadow of the steeple,
by the relief office, I seen my people.
As they stood there hungry, I stood there whistling..
(whistle melody to "This land was made for you and me")
As I was walking, I saw a sign there!
And on the sign it said, No Trespassing!
But on the other side, it didn't say nothing...
THAT side was made for you and me!"
The Krishna commune in West Virginia sent a bus and a couple of Swiss brown work bulls to the gathering. The bulls were twin brothers named Gita and Bhagavad. They were HUGE! We saw them as they arrived in a big trailer, and later grazing in a meadow. The Krishna's brought their usual assortment of fine musicians, including Indian drums and a harmonium, and put on theater in a stage in the first clearing. They had two big tipis and two large tents. Pixie and I stopped in their first tipi right after it went up, the incense was real fine and sweet and they were singing sweet songs to Krishna.
The inside of the tent had little triangular flags all around in a circle with some of the many names of god written on each flag. I wrote down the name of "Ksamah, one who is patient in all things!" Pixie grew impatient to leave and we tried to wait until their song ended, but it turned out to be an ENDLESS song so we snuck out quietly. They gave Pixie a glossy postcard of a blue lotus Shiva with four arms holding a nice talking drum and a ceremonial spear. Krishna was late arriving this year and we never made it to their kitchen, which opened about July 1st. Their kitchen has a reputation for the sweetest food!!
Josef arrived for the full moon sans his beard, but he brought his bagpipes! He remembered us from the Kentucky gathering where he worked communications and organized healers at the C.A.L.M. tipi. We also met Caribou, who maintains an unofficial Rainbow Family of Living Light homepage on the internet. Also it was a pleasure to meet Running Bear, an elder and cartoonist who posts regularly on the "alt.gathering.rainbow" internet newsgroup.
Early on we met Woody and his niece and her young friend David at the main circle. They were from West Virginia, and Woody told me an interesting tale of searching caves in Belize for artifacts. He was in a tight spot in a cave and poked at a mound of bat guano when a cloud of guano dust burst into the air and right down his lungs. He went into distress almost right away and developed histoplasmosis, a dangerous lung disease. After years of herbal and natural remedies, Woody's histoplasmosis is now in remission. Beware the guano dust in caves!
Woody's camp was near ours but on the other side of the Son Dance Trail and right next to Spring Creek. Woody heard some funny sounds one night and got up with a flashlight to find two armadillos had waddled out of the creek and were rummaging through his camp! He followed them a ways with the light as they waddled slowly off, and the next day he thinks he found their burrow a bit further downstream.
I would have loved to see those critters myself, but had to settle for the armadillos we saw hit by cars on the highway. Pixie and I stopped when we saw our first armadillo road-kill. The poor thing had really been clobbered by cars and we dragged it off the asphalt and into the weeds. Soon after we saw another armadillo in the classic four feet in the air bloated road-kill posture. Woody was a trader and kept business hours by his tent with wares on display luring folks in from the main trail. His demeanor was elegantly mellow and I liked him a lot. He had been at the Kentucky National in 1993, so I brought him some apple juice and a copy of the map I drew of that Gathering. He gave Pixie a beautiful ankle bracelet with bells. Later we brought him a set of juggling balls because the ankle bracelet was so sweet.
Everywhere we went we saw juggling sticks and Pixie was fascinated. The first juggler we saw with them was in Lovin' Touch kitchen, and he was a MOST excellent and smooooth juggler! Eric's friend Sage was playing an extended set of songs on Buddy Paul's guitar, and this juggler was sitting cross-legged in the dirt and working magic with those sticks in time with the music.
Sage was playing Nirvana and other tunes. He was real young but could play like my friend Johnny OH and sing like Kurt Cobain.
Sage and I traded songs later at their camp out by Granola Funk Express. Pixie was embarrassed to hear Dad chomping out bad versions of God Save The Queen (Sex Pistols) and Hey Baby (Hendrix) while she was trying to make eyes at Sage's friend Eric. Eric had a joker's hat and gave Pixie a necklace that came apart later. Pixie was sweet on this guy after getting that necklace! He was a drummer without a drum, promised to meet Pixie by the Kiddie Village swimming hole, but we couldn't find him. It's easy to lose folks at a Rainbow.
Trader's blankets were spread out at all the congested spots on the main trail, slowing foot traffic and bringing the shopping MALL spirit into the church. Call me a relic but I remember in 1980 the traders were NOT allowed to peddle inside until July 4th, when they flooded inside to the main meadow with all their trinkets glittering on their blankets. For many of these traders the Rainbow is just another stop on the flea market trail, and I resent this crass materialistic merchandising. Pixie was constantly drawn to gawk at their wares, and Dad (the Old Grouch) was given to grousing & crabbing & whining & beefing as I tried to pry her from those little portable stores. Jesus threw the bastards out of the temple on their ears, didn't he? Heeheheeheheee! Enough... :)
This was the first national where I didn't squirm my way into blowing the conch shell at main circle to call the family to grub. I must be getting old. The conch blowers I heard were doing their best but weren't getting the volume that the tuba player from Michigan got back in Kentucky in 1993! We had meadow neighbors from Urbana, Illinois, that brought a trombone and blew reveille way too EARLY one morning right next to our camp! Pixie had been sleeping but that blew her right out of the tent into the morning sunshine! Another trombonist at the Gathering liked to haunt the main drum circle and would let anyone pass around his trombone while he wandered off for hours. Way up by Arf Arf!! there was a cackle of five saxophones that regularly gathered in the shady trail and jammed together. They sounded to me like Frank Zappa's "The Eric Dolphy Memorial Barbecue // Dwarf Nebula Professional March & Dwarf Nebula", a real soaring pack of honkers in disarray.
Ours was the only trumpet we saw, and carrying it around a coupla days, we indulged a lot of requests from former trumpet players to play on it! It was played at the swimming holes with didgeridoos, tooted with wandering clarinets on the trail, and covered with fire soot at the main drum circle. We saw hordes of wood and orchestral flutes. There seemed to be a hundred didgeridoos! There were scores of guitars from the precious to the silly variety, and hundreds of big and small drums (the new Rainbow instrument of choice). SOOOO many drummers! Deep in the thundering buffalo stampede of oblivious amateur drumming there lurked a serious core of talented and demented real percussionists. The good drumming would surface and carry the energy in surprising places, even in the Walmart parking lot in West Plains!
There was a hilarious handbill posted at info about the telltale warning signs of drum abuse! It's interesting to note that lots of regional gatherings are just called "Drum Circles" now. The domination of the rhythmic ones has beaten the melodic minority to the sidelines! All hail the thumping BEAT!! Just kidding, I like drums a lot. Someday I would like to have a talking drum and a real low pitched booming tabla. I got a chance to play on both at the Shawnee regional in Early October! I didn't see many of either at this years National, but for all I know there were undoubtedly some real fine drums out there lurking in that foggy misty pulsing valley.
Pixie's new Rainbow friend Flipper was 19 and had been married and divorced twice already. Claimed to have already owned a house and had a high powered job at one point. He had a green spiked mohawk that kept lying down without his spray and mouse, and Pixie loved to take her fingers and mess it up! For him life was black leather and tattoos and musical angst (post-Punk) but he was obviously filled with joy and had a happy soul enjoying the Rainbow. He left July 2nd, hitching his way to Colorado with friends. A kind dude!
My Rainbow friend Jarrod had sliced three toes open in a farm accident loading hay bales a week before the rainbow. He wandered into Kiddie C.A.L.M. limping on a cane with no shoes or socks, and had flies crawling in & out of the mud caked around his wound! The Swedish Bitters woman decided he needed to clean that and apply Swedish Bitters. She prescribed Swedish Bitters for everything! We donated a clean sock for him to wear and he kept returning for more Swedish Bitters and cleaning each day. By the end of our stay he was walking without a cane, and new skin was growing on his wound. It was looking 100% improved! We poured through the ancient herbal tomes but never did find out the secret ingredients of Swedish Bitters. What the hay, Jarrod was healing fast! Center for Alternative Living Medicine does it again! May the Goddess praise Swedish Bitters!
A-camp, or Alcoholic Camp, lived up to it's bad reputation as usual. While there were a few kind souls welcoming folks home out on the road before parking, the welcome home info board area was home to a motley crue of sordid motorcyclists and macho self-designated Shanti Sena bosses. There was a giant "my-size" Barbi doll, naked, with duct tape over her mouth greeting everyone. The next day we went by and they were doing rather unspeakable things to her in the grass. I had Pixie turn her head and we walked quickly by.
The next time we went by, there was a crowd trashing a compact car. They had broken all the windows and were kicking in the doors. Some people have their own special forms of amusement, I guess. For a couple days there was a nice three-wheeled motorcycle that looked like a hearse parked right at the front gate, and the cycle gang members who brought it in were loading up on beer before hiking in where their feet would have to carry them.
The woman who had jumped up and down on the FS jeep without being arrested eventually calmed down a lot. We saw her several times being reeeeeally wacky but in better control. That day when she jumped on the jeep she had been hugging people on the trail, then tearing off their metal jewelry and throwing their rings and bracelets off into the weeds. Our friend Funky had his silver ring and silver bracelet thrown down into a ravine filled with poison ivy. Pixie and I and Cheshire Cat climbed down into it and helped him search. The bracelet was found quickly, but it was a long while later when Cheshire finally found the ring. Another brother lost an amulet and necklace and was extremely upset, but did not file charges against the woman.
One brother I met had the handle of "Less Stress". Now that is a good name! We can all use less Stress! Have you heard of "Vermin Supreme"? He is the infamous Disco Ball and giant toothbrush wielding hippie we met in Kentucky. He was here and passing out bumperstickers that said VERMIN SUPREME `96 "Brush Your Teeth, It's The Law!" We ran into him with a group that was asking cosmic questions of a Magic Eight Ball. I asked an important question and the 8-ball gave me the answer I was hoping for, but the exact words were, "Of course, you dork!"
The new summer edition of the 1996 Rainbow Guide was given away at info and there was a big color photo of Vermin Supreme with a shit-eating grin right on the cover! Fame!!! We had met Vermin in Kentucky in 1993. Vermin wandered around at night with a mobile and raucous party entourage. They carried that giant-size disco mirror-ball everywhere they went, shining flashlights on it and calling out for all to "Bow down and worship the Sacred Disco Ball!!" It was too-o-o-o hilarious! :)
Out in the parking lot we met and shared grub and laughs with Geo (George) from Minneapolis. The next night we heard machete whacking sounds back behind our camp in the trees, it seemed to go on all night! It was Geo and several of his Minneapolis friends carving out a shady campsite from the poison ivy and poison oak and raspberry brambles! Wack-a-wack-a-wack!! While we had set up at the tree line and had a tarp for protection from rain, the angle of the morning sun slanted in and heated up our tent in the early morning, ewwwwwwww!!!! Hot! Geo and friends did the extra work and wound up with a fine cool site with all day shade! A few set up tents out in the baking sun, only to move them the next day when they discovered how HOT the sun can be!
Our big hot meadow suddenly FILLED with tents on the weekend of June 29 and 30. An explosion of people arriving really changed the chemistry of the gathering from seed camp to full national homecoming! I crawled from our tent to find both paths we usually took to get to the main trail were now covered by new arrivals. There were tents everywhere!! A German shepherd from out of nowhere took umbrage at my emerging and growled and advanced on me to chew on my skinny leg!! I yelped backwards and grabbed my walking staff, which saved me! Dogs do not like big sticks wielded with a little bravisimmo! This big shepherd belonged to a tent two tents over, turned out to have a name (Nebraska) and took huge shits wherever he pleased.
The next night we tucked Pixie's sandals under the drop tarp next to the door of out tent because they were too raunchy and sandy to bring inside. The next morning Nebraska was using one of her sandals as a chew toy! I took several time outs during the gathering to move and cover other folks dog shit on the main trail. As much as I love cats, the Rainbow just makes me love cats all the more! I saw several people dive in to break up dog fights and almost got bowled over by fighting dogs a few times myself. As Bob Dylan says, "If dogs run free, then why not me? Across the swoop of tiiiiime........"
My favorite dog of the gathering was a three legged little black terrier that thought he was Napoleon! His name was Weasel. He stayed wherever he wanted, and had friends at Lovin' Touch and out at Horse Camp. His owner said he had picked a fight with a big German shepherd and got his leg bit off as a result. I was baby-sitting Kailey out at horse camp when a brother handed me Weasel and pleaded with me to hold him long enough for him to get away with his lady doggie that was in heat. Weasel had been romancing his pooch non stop, haahahaahaha! Who would bring a dog in heat to a Rainbow?
We also saw a beautiful brown/gray Afghan dog roaming without an owner (I like Afghans) and several big wolfhounds. There were a number of real classy fancy doggies whose owners kept them sensibly in tow, but 90% of the dogs just ran free. We came walking down the trail when two dogs locked in intercourse were captured by their owners who tried to separate them, but they were stuck! Pixie's eyes almost popped out of her head! Here were these silly humans pouring water and oil on these two pooches to no avail and trying to pull them apart. Oh the pain! I tried to move Pixie down the trail but all her friends had stopped to gawk at the sight.
Pixie was helping at Kiddie C.A.L.M. when a guy asked her to watch his little black cuddly puppy named Zodax while he ran a quick errand. Three hours later, the guy finally comes back! In the meantime, Pat had diagnosed Zodax as starving and loaded with worms! Pat and Pixie and I marched this guy down to the Animal Rainbow Family (ARF ARF!!) first aid camp. There he got medicine for his puppy and free food and a lecture, but the next day we found out he had given the puppy away. Rainbow people are BAD to their animals! Just my $.02 opinion! We met a family of 3 week old kittens in a sack. The mother had died, they said. They were taking care of them, they said. They had no milk, no food. My heart went out for them and their chances of surviving the Rainbow. :(
We saw lots of kittens but only about four adult cats. Adult cats will not put up with these conditions! Grace had a beautiful black and white cat named Fat Cat that ran free and safe at Lovin' Touch, but there was an uncomfortable and vulnerable black cat on a tied leash at the Popcorn Palace. We saw a couple of people on the trail carrying adult cats as they hiked. We saw people carrying mice and leading goats. Someone brought a rooster that crowed all day long! There were ferrets and pet birds and snakes and baby dwarf rabbits. Pixie caught and released her box turtle, caught and released butterflies and tadpoles. She got bit by a crawfish in the creek. We were all enjoyably nibbled on by little fish.
We both got chigger bites and TRIED not to scratch `em. We still have `em *scratch scratch* to tell ya the truth! There weren't many flies or mosquitoes or spiders. The great paranoia about Lyme disease from ticks was totally overblown. Any black bears or snakes probably fled the area after the first drum circle. Several folks went out of their way to seek out and kill some snakes, and their unlucky hides wound up as wares on the Trader's blankets. There were beautiful little golden finches fluttering around the kitchens and Red Tailed Hawks circling the updrafts above the hills. We spotted some fast little lizards that were black with narrow yellow stripes on their backs and bright blue tails.
I was really happy with the diversity of butterflies! Beautiful butterflies everywhere! Harvesters and Checkerspots and Blues and Viceroys and Fritillaries and lovely Dark Tiger Swallowtails! Saw my first live Zebra Swallowtail ever! And tattoos of butterflies! Tattoos everywhere! Tattoos in progress in the dust of the main trail! Pierced lips and tongues and nipples and belly buttons and ears and genitals and whole body irezumi tattoos. One woman from New Orleans wore an owl foot, alligator teeth, eagle feathers, and a gris-gris bag of zu-zu mamou! The further you got from A-camp, and the closer you got to the great swimming by Coffee Coffee, there were a lot of folks who wore only woven leaves of grape vine, or creative mud designs, or just shone with the light of their smiles! Rainbow spirit embraces all!!
Packing out the tents on our last trip down the trail, we came upon a man pushing his son (Zack) in a baby-buggy with little swivel wheels. The dirt path reached a rocky bUmPy stretch, so we swept the buggy up in the air and Zack was flying down the trail like a bird! We reached A-camp after a block-long flight, and set him back down on the dirt path. Dad suddenly took off and pushed that buggy about 200 yards down the path at a full sprint, with Zack laughing all the way! We were left smiling in clouds of buggy dust!
We saw a couple unloading a cello case from a van, so I asked about it. Sure enough, the kind brother got out his cello and treated us to a Bach concerto right there on the road in A-camp! Marvelous!!! I loooove cello! He was nailing the pitch and playing those hammer-ons and trills and getting those bow-stutters in there. I was in heaven! But soon we were loading the last of our gear into our old pickup truck. We ambled out of parking and onto FS road 3173. Eagle spotted us and ran to say farewell, then we headed out slowly, winding up through the Irish Wilderness towards Route 99. Farewell Rainbow `96!
Here's a partial list of kitchens and campsites we saw by July 3rd:
KITCHENS:
Tea Time
Granola Funk Express
Lovin' Touch/munchateria
Instant Soup
Ship of Love (Diva Diner)
White Dove
Bliss Kitchen
Brew Ha Ha
Popcorn Palace
Jah Love
Milliways (Cafe At The End Of The Universe)
Sun Dog
Musical Veggie
Have a Beautiful Day
The Woderfull Whirrled of OZ
Avalon
Everybody's Whatever Lovin' Ovins/NERT
Kool Aid Coroner
Cofee Cough (no fee, pop free)(Cafe Cough Fee)(Coffee Coffee)
Dee Bakery (Da Bakers)
Beeck Party
Jesus Soup Kitchen
Tow Back Go Kitchen
Krishna Kitchen
Turtle Soup
Dragon Kitchen
CAMPSITES and ORGANIZED MAYHEM:
Kiddie Village
Kiddie C.A.L.M.
C.A.L.M.
Info/Rumor control
Welcome Home
A-Camp
Bus Village
Teen Village
Kiddie Camping
Sorta First Aid
Celestial Tea & Toke
Lost Tribe
Kaw Valley
Mo Love/Dragon Camp
S.H.Y. Camp
Morning Star
Illinois Dysfunctional Family
Yoga Loca
Camp Got A Minute
Be Here Now
Butterflies & Roses
This Camp (Not That Camp)
That Camp (Not This Camp)
Thier Streak - Frier Camp
Sacred Space
Shama Lama Ding Dong
RME RUNE
Top Secret Research Facility
Area 51
Poison Ivy Camp
Teen Barbarian Space
Know Mun Land
FAEREYE Camp
Faerie Camp
Pixie Camp
Multi 4th Dimension
Polka Dot Camp
Safe Love Bowl
Baby Nap
H(({{OM}})) KLA HOMA
Sparrows Nest
Bliss Pit
Madame Frogs
World Peace Pilgrimage
Purple Gang
A.R.F. Animal Rainbow Family
Rest Area
Prop-A-Ghandi Camp
Seven Minit Low
Children Of The Sun
Health Info
Bench March
Calif Cove
Freedome Village L.P.
Camp Calm Union
Kamp U Can't Fine
Fallen Tree Tribe
Flip-N-Tripe E.E.
N.W. - S.W. Western Tribe (Scroll Deaf Tribe)
The Nurd Ick
Mother Ship of F.U.E.L.
NVR NVR LND
Bufins Party
Camp Of Know Repute
Yell Oh Flash Lite
No Feds Tree House
White Hawk
Kumformeee
Ora Gone Camp
Hum Zah
Bah Ree
Bi The Way
Serenity Ridge
Blissters
Cody Massage
Rooster Shack
Blues Party
Mayan Camp
Zoe (Ask For Oness)
High Times
Palm Tribe
Greenwitch Village
Sister Space
Aloha Camp
Om Home
Nowhere
Minnesota Camp
Turk's Head/East Wind
Katuah
No Butt Heads Be Us
The MADD Tea Party
Choc Olate Roomers
All Around The Universe
Coo Cool Ka Chew
Good Space Grove (New Amsterdam)
Well this rambling blathering spew has gone on long enough!
We had a great time and all was good!
The only way to describe a Gathering is to be there, really.
The vision doesn't get through to all,
but enough get the drift to keep this magical thing afloat now for 25 years!
Thanks for your patience and ear,
Lovin’ you,
guano
Shot at dawn. A memorial at the National Memorial Arboretum to those tied to a wooden stake and executed by firing squad for showing cowardice the face of the enemy.
They were sick, cold, hungry, tired and terrified. They saw their friends bombed, gassed and cut to pieces in spectacular numbers and they were reduced to trembling wrecks by relentless shellfire and the imminence of their own demise.
Many had lied about their age to fight for King and Country. But 307 of them were executed by their comrades, often for little more than being frightened, confused young men.
Between 1914 and 1920, more than 3,000 British soldiers were sentenced to death by courts martial for desertion, cowardice, striking an officer, disobedience, falling asleep on duty or casting away arms. Although only 11 per cent of the sentences were carried out, those who were shot at dawn were denied legal representation and the right of appeal. Medical evidence which showed that many were suffering from shell-shock - or post traumatic stress disorder - was either not submitted to the courts or was ignored. Most hearings lasted no more than 20 minutes.
Transcripts made public 75 years after the events suggest that some of the men were underage. Others appeared to have wandered away from the battlefield in states of extreme distress and confusion, yet they were charged with desertion.
One 19-year-old, Pte George Roe of the King's Own Yorkshire Light Infantry, was executed for desertion, even though one witness told his court martial: "[Roe] came up to me and asked if I was a policeman. He told me that he had lost his way and had been wandering about for two days."
Another 19-year-old, Pte James Archibald of the 17th Royal Scots, told his comrades he "felt queer" while en route to the trenches at 6.30pm on 14 May 1916. At 3pm the next day, he was found asleep in a barn. He was shot by firing squad three weeks later.
Sgt Joe Stones of the Durham Light Infantry was arrested in January 1917 after an ambush in which his commanding officer was killed. Stones, whose previous bravery had been acknowledged by officers, had wedged his non- functioning rifle across a narrow trench to slow down Germans who were pursuing him. He was deemed to have "cast away his arms" and was executed.
Pte Joseph Byers was underage when he enlisted in 1914. By January 1915, the war had ground the young man down and he went absent without leave. After being caught, he admitted attempting to desert in the naive belief that his honesty and contrition would earn him a prison sentence. He was shot at dawn two weeks later.
Andrew Mackinlay, the Labour MP for Thurrock who has been campaigning for pardons for the men for five years, said: "When the suppressed documents relating to these courts martial were released, they showed that these men were demonstrably shell-shocked."
"Even where we can't prove the men were ill, we can say that there was one common denominator - they were all denied natural justice. None was given access to legal representation or the right of appeal. Most of them were not given proper medical examinations and so their conditions were ignored."
Mr Mackinlay would like to see either a blanket pardon by royal prerogative - which would not require legislation - or each case to be examined on its merits by High Court judges. None of the cases he is concerned with involves treason or mutiny.
Julian Putkowski, co-author of Shot at Dawn (Pen & Sword), said: "The function of these executions was to intimidate and frighten soldiers in the battlefield to get them to take part in pointless exercises in which thousands were slaughtered."
"The composite soldier in the trenches would be suffering from chronic insomnia and anxiety attacks. He would be wet and cold in wind-chill factors that dragged temperatures as low as minus-18.
"It was enough to drive anyone crazy. To say that all these men who were shot were bad and deserved their punishment is to ignore all these factors. Most just couldn't take any more."
By 1930, Parliament had introduced legislation banning the death sentence for the offences for which the 307 were shot.
Sgt Joe Stones stood at just 5ft 2ins tall, but he was promoted over the heads of stronger men because of his acknowledged bravery and leadership qualities.
Time and again he led barbed-wire parties out into No Man's Land, risking his life while caring for the men in his charge. But he was executed for "casting away his arms" in one of the most bizarre tragedies of the war.
Stones, 25, of the 19th Durham Light Infantry, had been in the trenches of northern France for a year when, one cold morning in January 1917, he went on patrol with his commanding officer. The men were ambushed by Germans and the officer was killed, but Stones couldn't to return fire because he had not removed a protective cover from the breach of his rifle.
The young sergeant turned and ran but had the presence of mind to wedge his rifle across a narrow trench to slow the Germans. He reached his comrades in the rear, shouting: "The Hun are upon us," and gave them enough time to escape.
However, he was charged with casting away his arms and two corporals, John McDonald and Peter Goggins, were charged with quitting their posts as they made their escape.
At Stones's court martial, one officer, Lt J.Rider, wrote: "I have personally been out with him in No Man's Land and always found him keen and bold. In the trenches, he never showed the least sign of funk. ...I have had countless opportunities of seeing him under bad circumstances. I can safely say that he was the last man I would have thought capable of any cowardly action."
But Stones, along with the corporals, was executed anyway.
Like many families whose sons were shot at dawn, Stones's never spoke of him again. His great nephew, Tom Stones, 56, found out about him only last year.
"My grandfather was a lay preacher and he kept a bible with details of family members, the war and battles written inside - but there was no mention of my great uncle Joe," he said.
"What they did to him makes me very angry. They shot him like a rat. It's clear that the poor bugger was no coward. I don't want a medal for him, but I do think he should get a pardon and an apology."
Pte Harry Farr of the West Yorkshire Regiment had been in hospital for five months recovering from shell shock before they sent him back to the trenches.
For two years, the 26-year-old married man from Kensington, west London, had been through some of the worst action of the war before he cracked up in 1916. And, four months after sending him back into the fray, he cracked up again.
The transcript of his court martial at Ville-sur-Ancre records that Farr failed to report for duty on 17 September. He fell out without permission, intending to find an officer to report sick to. However, his pleas fell on deaf ears and he was dragged, kicking and screaming, towards the front before being charged with cowardice.
He told the court martial: "I returned to the 1st Line Transport hoping to report sick to some medical officer there. On the sergeant major's return I reported to him and said I was sick and I could not stand it.
"He then said: `You are a fucking coward and you will go to the trenches. I give fuck all for my life and I give fuck all for yours and I'll get you fucking well shot.'" He was shot at dawn on 18 October.
While he was in the hospital suffering from shell shock, a nurse wrote a letter home for him to his wife, Gertrude, because his hands were shaking too much to hold a pen. It was the last she heard from him.
Gertrude kept her husband's fate a secret for more than 70 years. She was 99 when the papers relating to his case were released and her granddaughter, Janet Booth, was able to explain that he had not been a coward, but was simply a sick young man unable to take any more killing.
"After all those years not mentioning him, she spent the last days of her life talking about Harry Farr," said Mrs Booth. "It meant an awful lot to her to have the stigma removed. Now I'd like to see my grandfather pardoned."
One of the oldest techniques in psychology, Sentence Completion often has been used to understand creativity, imagination, and personality.
How would you fill in the blank?
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The Painter mused on whether we might meet up at the railway station, spend some time over lunch then venture to the court where she has been framed.
Unremarkably, we met at the bus station. The court is The High Court, Australia's constitutional court. She is hung in the foyer, not literally, but as one of the artists to embellish its brutalist concrete walls. How was she framed? In wood. Her complaint was that the unfinished linen edge of her work was raw and undignified. Now was her opportunity to see how the framing sat with her work.
For such a momentous and solemn building, the attendants are charming and welcoming. Once The Painter introduced herself, it was as though we were old friends. They hold that the figure on the ramp is the lady who each morning rubs the smudges from the brass railing. It's true! This scene captures the morning light; the polishing hour.
We didn't use the terms rectilinear and orthorhombic as such, but when we ascended to the balcony that is the viewpoint for this work, The Painter did admit to taking liberties in the composition and perspective of her rendering of this scene. It's none the worse for taking on her expression.
For the curious, and just for fun, this was shot in "Pro" mode, cropped and "deskewed" in the device and posted as I watch the cycling on the idiot box… The white balance was set to daylight despite being indoors because, well, all the glass means that provides the most true colour rendering of this scene.
For SW Factions. Mato has a moment of clarity, and makes a choice.
Story below:
“Take the woman before the Hutt Lords.”
It was a death sentence. He had carried it out before.
His life was three things: putrid smells, fear of death, and orders from the Hutts. Mostly orders to kill.
He had killed people for talking back. He had killed people for failing Baga’s orders. He had even killed other enforcers, when the Hutts demanded entertainment during dinner. And now he would probably have to kill this woman.
The girl walked proudly in front of him. She was some sort of spy, trying to undermine the Hutts. He shook his head; he couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. She’d gotten in over her head.
“Have you lived on Nal Hutta long?”
The young woman’s question came out casual, almost flippant. Before he realized what he was doing, he stammered a reply.
“My whole life,” he said, then he corrected himself, twisting his weathered face into a snarl. “. . . Shut up and keep walking!”
The girl kept walking, but she kept talking too.
“My name is Yigs. I’m from a planet called Wayland. It’s beautiful there. The rain is fresh, there’s cool breezes . . . nothing like this toilet. You should see it, if you get the chance.” She frowned back, a sympathetic look that startled him. “I’m sorry that you’re stuck here.”
He growled. “There’s nothing to see. Nal Hutta is where the Hutt Lords rule. It’s an honor to even be in the same system.”
Even as he said it, he thought of his quarters. Swamp water pooling on the floor from the drain overhead. The smell of garbage rising from under the door. He had to keep a constant eye on his stained blankets, otherwise they’d be stolen. You couldn’t trust anyone. But that was just the way life was.
“You don’t even know, do you? You’ve never seen anything better than this stinkhole.”
He was silent.
She went on. “That’s why I’m here. There’s so many beautiful worlds out there, but they’re being ruined by the Hutts. People are free, and happy. They laugh at jokes and watch the sunrise. They have friends.”
The Weequay snarled. “Friends. Useless.”
“Hah!” her laugh was clear, strong. She wasn’t afraid, even though she must have known what was ahead for her. “Have you ever had a friend?”
It wasn’t condescending. She meant it.
He grumbled a non-committal answer, then said, “You should shut up. The Hutt Lords want a word with you. You can talk then.”
“What’s your name?”
“What?”
“What do people call you?”
“. . . Enforcer,” he joked, a bitter edge creeping into his voice. “Or wrinkle-head. Leatherskin. Sometimes just trash. Take your pick.”
“What did your parents call you? You had parents, right?”
What was he doing, talking to this dead woman? She was getting into his head. He’d be lashed if anyone heard them.
“Mato,” he heard himself say.
“Mato,” she said, her voice full of a fire and surety and fierceness he’d only seen in the Hutts themselves. But there was something else there that the slugs never had; genuine care. He figured either she had never had a boot on her neck, or she threw it off the moment it was placed there. Both boggled his mind.
“Give me your blaster,” she said seriously. “I can get us both out of here. I can get you to free skies, to friendly people. You don’t have to serve the slugs.”
He felt something new, bright, and frightening rising in his chest. He tried to push it away. “You’re a slave,” he spat. “What could you possibly do?”
“No,” she said firmly. “You’re a slave. And I’m going to free you.”
“No,” he said again, and his voice gave out. “Even if you could, I’ve . . . done too much. No one wants to help a Hutt enforcer.”
A sad smile twisted her mouth. “Really? I’m helping you right now, and you’ll probably have to kill me soon.” She caught his gaze, which had been set dully on the floor.
“Please, Mato,” she said. “Give me your gun, and I promise to get us both out of here.”
When he met her eyes, he was suddenly shocked with clarity. It was a moment of destiny, like a waking dream, where he saw two courses of life stretch forward. One was a stream of steaming swamp water. It was killing for the Hutts, eventually dying alone.
The other was what he imagined clean water might look like. He’d heard it was blue. That stream was helping the girl. With her, either he would die, or he would be free. No more Hutts. No more orders. No more slime.
When he compared the two streams, what did he have to lose? All he had to do was trust. To put his life in someone else’s hands. Could he do that?
He’d seen her fire. The light in her eyes. The care in her voice. Unlike anything he’d ever seen or heard.
He undid her cuffs, unbuckled his holster, pulled his blaster, and held it out to her.
“I hate the Hutts. I hate this killing. I’m done,” he snarled. “I choose the blue water.”
She nodded.
He felt sweat roll down his temple. He’d been so sure of his choice, but now there was no going back. “W-What now?” he asked.
She primed the blaster. A reassuring grin—confident, but not cocky—played on her face.
“Now, Mato, we ditch this place forever.”
He tried to smile back, but he was too nervous. He took a deep breath, and hefted his vibroaxe.
“Okay,” he exhaled, and nodded. “Okay.”
They turned to face the fight ahead. He felt so much better that she was in it with him.
Was this what having a friend was like? It was a brand new feeling. And he had a sneaking suspicion—though it was still just a hunch—that she wouldn’t even try to steal his blankets when he wasn’t looking.
Life would be different from now on.
Part 2 is here: www.eurobricks.com/forum/index.php?/forums/topic/178764-s...
Olympus E-M1 camera, Olympus 12-60mm lens, Olympus FL-50 flash. Flash shot off camera through umbrella on stand.
Location: Acton Arboretum, Acton Massachusetts
2015.09.19-17.19.05
Death sentence, December 23, 1941 Poventsa.
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Kuolemantuomio, 23.12.1941, Poventsa.
••••••••
[ sa-kuva | A.Viitasalo | 68127 ]
Three men and a woman have been sentenced after being rumbled by our detectives in Tameside investigating a drugs line that profited around £80k from the criminal exploitation of teenage boys.
Manchester Minshull Street Crown Court heard today (18 November 2021) how Ryan Wall, 24, Claire Daniels, 36, Christopher Thornton, 20, and Leigh Sleddon, 38, were involved in an organised crime group that trafficked class A drugs as well as vulnerable young people from Tameside to Blackpool.
Wall, of Lakenheath Road, Liverpool and Thornton, of Barlow Road, Dukinfield, were sentenced to a total of 17 years after admitting arranging or facilitating the travel of another person with a view to exploitation under the Modern Slavery Act - becoming GMP's first county lines offenders guilty of this offence.
Despite not being charged with the same offence, the court also accepted that Daniels - herself a mother - of Fitzroy Street, Ashton-under-Lyne, was aware and complicit in the movement of the teenagers in order for them to deal drugs and she was given a one year and two month suspended sentence.
Sleddon, of Claremont Court, Blackpool, admitted that the children had stayed at his address in return for him being supplied with drugs. He was given a two year suspended sentence.
The verdicts conclude an eighteen-month investigation into the transportation of drugs and children - aged between 13 and 16 - led by detectives in GMP Tameside's Complex Safeguarding Team.
Investigators began the operation - codenamed 'Fairview' - following the report of a boy missing from the Hyde area. After close work with Lancashire Police, it was identified that he had been moved to Blackpool and that he was being used by the gang to supply class 'A' drugs on the streets.
Enquiries confirmed that two other teenage boys who had been missing from the nearby Ashton area had been in contact with a number associated with Ryan Wall - who was jailed for nine years today.
Already a picture was starting to develop of a group conspiring to supply class A drugs - namely heroin and crack cocaine - and also transporting the young boys to Blackpool to deal these drugs on the streets, often leaving them to fend for themselves for days.
While it is not thought the two boys - and a third boy also found to be exploited - were ever injured, detectives believe by leaving the boys alone to be involved in illicit enterprises in towns miles away from home was exposing them to a real and significant danger.
Officers ensured the boys were immediately referred to relevant specialist agencies and safeguarded away from further harm, and have pursued with a victimless prosecution to ensure that the gang are still held to account for their crimes.
A strike day was executed at the start of October 2020 where eight people - aged 16 to 67 - were arrested, before Wall, Thornton and Daniels were charged and eventually admitted two counts of conspiracy to supply a controlled drug. The detectives were also able to prove to the court that Thornton, who was jailed for eight years today, was also controlling a 'drug line' local to the Tameside area supplying heroin, cocaine and cannabis. He had also entered guilty pleas for these matters.
Wall and Thornton pleaded guilty of four modern slavery offences between them while Sleddon pleaded guilty to participating in the activities of an organised crime group.
While similar charges have been secured in other complex safeguarding teams in Greater Manchester for offences relating to Child Sexual Exploitation, the unit in Tameside is the first to land a conviction under the Modern Slavery Act in relation to Child Criminal Exploitation 'county lines' gangs - with support from the Crown Prosecution Service.
Comprising of specially-trained detectives, safeguarding officers, and partners from Tameside Council; the Complex Safeguarding Team currently has nine ongoing investigations and a number of suspects have been arrested. Children who have been identified as needing to be safeguarded have in some cases been re-homed.
Detective Constable Matthew Elliot, from Operation Fairview, said: "Today, this group has been jailed for their roles in a county line gang - wrecking lives along the way through the dissemination of illegal drugs.
"But what we've been able to prove to the court during this investigation, is that Wall and Thornton - in particular - were not just trafficking drugs but also trafficking people.
"They were running their drugs line to Blackpool by deliberately targeting teenage boys, and exploiting them for their own illicit gains.
"These were boys who were identified by the group as vulnerable, and groomed into travelling between counties - left to fend for themselves and exposed to danger - to do the dirty work on the ground that these offenders didn’t wish to do themselves.
"The act of exploiting children and peddling them for such selfish and criminal ways is an abhorrent crime - but one that is complex and wide-ranging which makes today's outcome all the more of a success.
"And it isn’t just putting offenders behind bars that makes this operation a great result. The fact we have been able to work with partners and ensure victims have been safeguarded and away from harm is just as - if not more - significant.
"I would like to thank our partners at Tameside Council, Lancashire Police, and the Crown Prosecution Service, for the extensive support they have offered to this investigation and helping us ensure these historic convictions for GMP.
"This has been a tireless eighteen-month investigation by our Complex Safeguarding Team in Tameside, and hopefully the first good result of many.
"We have demonstrated how by working with local police forces, local authority, and other relevant supporting agencies, that we are able to target and dismantle those involved in this truly despicable criminal activity - while identifying and protecting victims in the process.
"If you feel you are being criminally exploited, or know someone who is, then please come forward to the police or Crimestoppers, knowing information will be treat with the strictest confidence."
Tameside Council Executive Member for Children and Families, Councillor Bill Fairfoull, said: “Superb partnership working has resulted in this first conviction of Modern Day Slavery in Greater Manchester. We have removed these drug dealers from our streets and stopped them from exploiting our children. Our Children’s Services staff have worked tirelessly with the police to secure this result and I’d like to thank everyone involved for their hard work.
“All of the children involved are being supported by our Tameside Complex Safeguarding Team and Tameside Youth Justice Service. I’m also pleased that the learning from this successful operation with be shared across Greater Manchester Complex Safeguarding Teams as a model of best practice.”
William Badger was sentenced to 6 months at Newcastle Gaol for stealing a watch in 1872.
Age (on discharge): 20
Height: 5.0
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Bluish Grey
Place of Birth: Newcastle
Status: Single
Occupation:Shoemaker
These photographs are of convicted criminals in Newcastle between 1871 - 1873.
Reference:TWAS: PR.NC/6/1/1133
(Copyright) We're happy for you to share this digital image within the spirit of The Commons. Please cite 'Tyne & Wear Archives & Museums' when reusing. Certain restrictions on high quality reproductions and commercial use of the original physical version apply though; if you're unsure please email archives@twmuseums.org.uk.
To purchase a hi-res copy please email archives@twmuseums.org.uk quoting the title and reference number.
MMA (ex-BN) C30-7 #5018 and ex-NS (nee-CR) C39-8 #8208 sit outside of Willard, awaiting to be sent out by CSX to LTE in Lordstown for disposal.
Title: Prisoners Awaiting Sentence, Juarez Prison. [No. 821]
Creator: Horne, Walter H., 1883-1921
Date: ca. 1910-1918
Part of: Elmer and Diane Powell collection on Mexico and the Mexican Revolution
Place: Ciudad Juarez, Chihuahua, New Mexico
Description: A real photographic postcard featuring an image of a prison guard sitting outside of Juarez Prison, with prisoners looking out of a barred window behind him.
Physical Description: 1 photographic print (postcard): gelatin silver; 9 x 14 cm
File: ag2014_0005_01_005_03_horne_079_prisoners_r_opt.jpg
Rights: DeGolyer Library, Southern Methodist University
For more information, see: digitalcollections.smu.edu/cdm/ref/collection/pwl/id/732
View the Elmer and Diane Powell Collection on Mexico and the Mexican Revolution: sites.smu.edu/cdm/cul/pwl/
Thomas Pearson, accomplice to Robert Hardy and George Ray, was sentenced to 4 months at Newcastle City Gaol after being caught stealing ale.
Age (on discharge): 31
Height: 5.8
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Grey
Place of Birth: Humshaugh
Status: Single
Occupation: Railway Guard
These photographs are of convicted criminals in Newcastle between 1871 - 1873.
Reference:TWAS: PR.NC/6/1/1175
(Copyright) We're happy for you to share this digital image within the spirit of The Commons. Please cite 'Tyne & Wear Archives & Museums' when reusing. Certain restrictions on high quality reproductions and commercial use of the original physical version apply though; if you're unsure please email archives@twmuseums.org.uk.
To purchase a hi-res copy please email archives@twmuseums.org.uk quoting the title and reference number.
يقول علماء النفس إن 99 بالمائة من مخاوفنا وهمية
لا توجد إلا بخيالنا و ليس لها أي أساس من الصحة
الخوف ليس إلا مجرد حالة ذهنية و الحالة
الذهنية قابله للسيطرة و التوجيه إذا وجدت الدوافع
نجد هذا الطفل دوافعه للركوب كانت أكبر من مخاوفه
ربي يحفظه وهو كاتب وصيته بجيبه
خخخخخ
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia:
The crucifixion of Jesus is an event that occurred during the first century A.D. in which Jesus was arrested, tried, and sentenced by Pontius Pilate to be scourged and finally executed on a cross. Collectively referred to as the Passion, Jesus' redemptive suffering and death by crucifixion represents a critical aspect of the doctrine of salvation in Christian theology. Christians regard Jesus as the Messiah, and understand his death as necessary for the forgiveness of sins, a doctrine generally known as atonement (and in some cases as substitutionary atonement).
Jesus' crucifixion is described in all four gospels, attested to by other contemporary sources, and regarded as a historical event. Christians believe Jesus' suffering was foretold in Hebrew scripture, such as in Isaiah's songs of the suffering servant. According to the New Testament, Jesus was arrested in Gethsemane following the Last Supper with the twelve Apostles, and forced to stand trial before the Sanhedrin, Pontius Pilate, and Herod Antipas, before being handed over for crucifixion. After being flogged, Jesus was mocked by Roman soldiers as the "King of the Jews", clothed in a purple robe, crowned with thorns, beaten and spat on. Jesus then had to make his way to the place of his crucifixion.
Once at Golgotha, Jesus was stripped and nailed to the beam and hung between two convicted thieves. According to Mark's Gospel, he endured the torment for some six hours, from the third hour[Mk. 15:25] until his death at the ninth hour.[15:34-37] The soldiers affixed a sign above his head stating "King of the Jews" in three languages, divided his garments and cast lots for his seamless robe, and offered him wine mixed with gall to drink, before eventually piercing his side with a spear to be certain that he had died. The gospels mention a total of seven statements that Jesus made while he was being crucified, as well as several supernatural events that occurred. Following his death, his body was removed from the cross by Joseph of Arimathea and buried in a rock-hewn tomb, with Nicodemus assisting. en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crucifixion_of_Jesus
The stained glass window was photographed inside Our Lady of Mount Carmel Church. The Catholic church is located in Boonton, NJ, USA.
Photograph Copyright 2010 Loci B. Lenar