www.phaselis.org/en/about/about-project

Phaselis Research

 

Phaselis

 

When compared with the previous period of research on the history of the city over the past quarter century it has undergone radical changes. While modern scientists follow the path of their predecessors in collecting data through systematic processes and methodically analysing them, they change the route whereby they approach the city as a context- and a process-oriented structure, having economic, social, cultural, political and environmental dimensions which come together at different levels.

 

This considerably more inclusive definition expands the discipline concerning the city’s historical research, which consists of archaeology, epigraphy, ancient history and the other ancillary sciences and it encourages scientists from the natural and health sciences to participate within these studies. This is because in the course of the exploration of an ancient settlement the study of both the environment and the ecological setting which make human life possible; together with health issues, such as diet and epidemics, form the context within which human beings live, and which are thereby as important as the human actors.

 

Within the context of the planned Phaselis Research, even certain knowledge such as the settlement’s appearing on the stage of history as a favorite break-point with its three natural harbours, it being famous for its roses, the frequent seismic upheavals at sea and on its shores and its citizens leaving their homes because of a devastating malaria epidemic suggest the necessity of the application of this multi-dimensional research methodology in order to understand more fully the historical adventure of this city.

 

By presenting this research project, we aim to implement and realize this multi-dimensional research method, which as yet lacks widespread application in the field in our country, however conceptually and practically with a multi-disciplinary research team consisting of both national and international scientists, we intend to register systematically every kind of data/information regarding all contexts of the city employing modern methods and to present the results to the scientific world in the form of regular reports and monographic studies, thus forming a strong tie between past and future research.

 

Phaselis Territorium

 

The boundaries of the ancient city of Phaselis’ territorium are today within the administrative borders of the township of Tekirova, in Kemer District, determined from the archaeological, epigraphic and historical-geographical evidence, reaching the Gökdere valley to the north, continue on a line drawn from Üç Adalar to Mount Tahtalı to the south and extend along the Çandır valley to the west.

 

Phaselis was discovered in 1811-1812 by Captain F. Beaufort during his work of charting the southern coastline of Asia Minor for the British Royal Navy. Beaufort drew Phaselis’ plan and in the course of conducting his cartographic studies, he saw the word Φασηλίτης ethnikon on the inscriptions and consequently identified these ruins with Phaselis. C. R. Cockerell, the English architect, archaeologist and author came to Phaselis by ship and met Beaufort there. Then in 1838 C. Fellows, the English archaeologist visited the city. He found the fragments of the dedicatory inscription over the monumental gate built in honour of the Emperor Hadrianus and mistakenly thought the Imperial Period main street was the stadion due to the seats-steps on either side of the street. In 1842 Lt. T. A. B. Spratt, the English hydrographer and geographer, and the Rev. E. Forbes, the naturalist came to Phaselis via the Olympos and Khimaira routes. Due to the fact that they all came by sea and they only stayed for a short time, their descriptions of the topography inland are without detailed and there are serious errors in orientation.

 

PhaselisThose researchers who visited Phaselis between the late 19th and the early 20th centuries concentrated primarily upon the discovery of inscriptions. In 1881-1882 while the Austrian archaeologist and the epigraphist O. Benndorf, the founder of the Austrian Archaeological Institute, and his team were conducting research in southwestern Asia Minor, they examined Phaselis. In the winter of 1883 and 1884 F. von Luschan from the Austrian team took the first photographs which provide information concerning the regional features of Phaselis’ shoreline. In the same year the French scientist V. Bérard also visited Phaselis. In 1892 the members of the Austrian research team, O. Benndorf, E. Kalinka and their colleagues continued their architectural, archaeological and epigraphical studies in Phaselis. In 1904 they were followed by D. G. Hogarth, R. Norton and A. W. van Buren from the British research team. In 1908 the Austrian classical philologist E. Kalinka visited the settlement again, collected epigraphic documents and conducted research on the history of city (published in TAM II in 1944). The Italian researchers R. Paribeni and P. Romanelli visited Phaselis in1913 and C. Anti in 1921. Anti returned to Antalya overland and in consequence discovered several epigraphs and the ruins of structures within the territorium of Phaselis.

 

Further archaeological, epigraphical and historical-geographical studies of Phaselis were conducted by the English researchers F. M. Stark and G. Bean, who came to the region after World War II. In 1968 H. Schläger, the German architect and underwater archaeologist began exploring the topographical and architectural structures of Phaselis’s harbours. After Schläger’s death in 1969, the research was conducted under the leadership of the archaeologist J. Schäfer in 1970. H. Schläger, J. Schäfer and their colleagues obtained important data concerning the architecture and history of Phaselis through the surface exploration of the city and its periphery. Following the excavations conducted along the main axial street of the city, in 1980 under the direction of Kayhan Dörtlük, the then Director of the Antalya Museum and between 1981-1985 under the leadership of the archaeologist Cevdet Bayburtluoğlu; underwater exploration was carried out in the South Harbour under the direction of Metin Pehlivaner, the then Director of the Antalya Museum.

  

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phaselis

 

244 Lake Street, Oak Park, IL

 

Peripheral Vision: A Chicago Perimeter Ride project (2015-ongoing)

compoundyellow.com/events/2017/3/5/peripheral-vision-a-ch...

 

"Here's the three Rs -- Repetition. Repetition. Repetition." -- Mark e. Smith (the Fall)

 

Is the presence of a bicycle in an art gallery an inevitable Duchampian gesture, or is it sometimes just Freud's cigar? A bicycle without a cyclist is simply a potential ride, while a cyclist without a bicycle is a bi-ped.

 

"All is in flux, nothing stays still." -- Heraclitus

 

The Chicago Perimeter Ride is a fleeting, ephemeral yet concrete, street traffic performance staged site-specific on the outskirts and along the city limits of Chicago. The streets serve as a fringe theater where the methodical, methodized actor-cyclist performs his routine. This ritual ride is repeated like a meditation, a prayer, poem, a song.

 

"Repetition is a form of change." -- Brian Eno

 

The route is routinized but varies from time to time. This routine act, spinning bicycle and body, tracing boundaries and memories, traverses 90+ miles through Chicago's built environment. There have been 97 performances to date, both clock-wise and counter, encountering 39 of Chicago's 77 community areas and 30 adjacent municipalities, covering over 8,900 miles. During this same span another 10,000+ miles were pedaled outside the parameters of this project. These cyclical edge performances, fluid and mechanical, topographical but not isochronous, are typically six to seven hours in duration. Completing a circuit, I physically echo previous rides while simultaneously feel the invisible pull of (and anxiously anticipate) the next cycle round, looping endless endless.

 

The photographic canvases in this exhibition contextualize the space, the cityscape, in which the exercise is negotiated and performed -- the lakefront, Burnham Greenway, brownfields, arterial and residential streets, barber shops, hot dog stands, liquor stores and tap rooms, tamale carts, taverns, tire shops, taquerias, corner stores / bodegas, car washes, auto parts & repair, stranded boats and trailers, pink walls, graffiti scrawls, Virgin Marys and of Guadalupe, pylons and bridges, railroad crossings and church crosses, the Chicago and Calumet rivers, the Sanitary and Ship Canal, Wolf Lake, frozen beaches and on-ramp interstate wetlands, banquet halls, pizza joints, beauty salons, sub shops, paleterias and neverias, day care centers and cleaners, motels and shrimp shacks, travel agencies and print shops, Nicky's -- the home of the Big Baby, a power plant and a comfort station, American Legion posts and tanks along the border, Dinette World and dollar stores, joyerias and Jewel Stores, muffler men and upholstery shops, and the countless apartments above the shop or bar. Given the scope and scale of this project and its highly mobile nature, I hope to present multiple iterations at various locations throughout the city over time.

 

The two bikes on display, a 1987/1988 Peugeot Cologne and a late 1980s/early 1990s Quattro Assi, are two of the four machines on which the 2015-2016 Perimeter Rides were performed upon. The French-built Peugeot, made specifically for the German market for just two years, is constructed of Reynolds 531, the legendary steel tubing of Tour de France champions. The Italian-made, golden anodized aluminum "Four Aces" was a custom-designed rare bird built for a small bicycle shop in Texas. The two other bikes employed are a 1986/1987 titanium Litespeed and a 2003 carbon fiber/aluminum Colnago Dream.

 

In conjunction with the closing of the show in late March, I will invite all that are interested to join me on a guided perimeter ride, starting at Promontory Point in Hyde Park. We will stop at various select points along the route for refreshments, including a stop at Compound Yellow.

 

Exhibition opening Sunday, March 5th 2-5 pm

closing ride / party Sunday, March 26th 9am

Compound Yellow

244 Lake Street

Oak Park, IL

My first hummingbird moth! While over at my parent's house last week I saw this little guy feeding on a patch of bee balm. I didn't have a camera with me but fortunately when I returned the next day it was again at the same patch of flowers. Fun to watch, it moved from flower to flower very similar to a bumble bee with the exception that it never landed on the flower but hovered like a hummingbird at each petal as it worked its way methodically around each flower.

 

So glad I got to see one of these!

Nuova Arti Grafiche Ricordi 14946

© 2000 Jack Vettriano

1000 pieces, used and complete

478 x 655 mm

 

We knew when we spotted this Ricordi jigsaw of Jack Vettriano's 'Dance me to the End of Love' that we'd be in for a long, hard slog: after the figures were assembled it was simply a case of methodically trying every piece until they were all in place. It took us several days longer than usual but the finished result was well worth the effort. Complete.

 

2020 piece count: 19832

Puzzle 25

  

Image Description from historic lecture booklet: "The geisha houses, rather humble, certainly unpretentious abodes, group themselves in certain quarters, and the hiring of the girls is done methodically through a central office. The hiring should be accomplished by the restaurant keeper or by the housewife as early in the afternoon as possible, but not after six in the evening, unless absolutely unavoidable. For the preparation of the Geisha is an elaborate affair from the wonderful coiling and adorning of her hair to the fit of her white, heelless shoes. They are taken in rickishas to the house of entertainment and carried home in the same way when all is over.

 

The ordinary examples of the fine arts that one meets in the homes of Japan are the pictorial scroll or Kakemono with a picture above three feet long and half the width that hangs in the place of honor--in a recess called the tokonoma, and possibly a bronze or pottery statuette standing in a low pedestal in the same recess. A fine vase of metal or else a wonderfully decorated sword often takes the place of the statuette. Whatever it may be, it is there to be judged on its merits free of all competition with others of its kind, for the good lady of the house, though she owns ever so many pictured scrolls or statuettes or vases, will only exhibit on of a kind at a time. No walls hung with scores of pictures or shelves, or an array of pedestals about the rooms, enter in other scheme of domestic decoration in Japan, In some of the of the wealthiest homes, particularly those of noblemen who have traveled abroad, a "Western parlor" may be found furnished sumptuously in European style, and on whose walls hangs oil paintings in gold frames bought in the course of residence in European capitals."

 

Original Collection: Visual Instruction Department Lantern Slides

 

Item Number: P217:set 060 023

  

You can find this image by searching for the item number by clicking here.

 

Want more? You can find more digital resources online.

 

We're happy for you to share this digital image within the spirit of The Commons; however, certain restrictions on high quality reproductions of the original physical version may apply. To read more about what “no known restrictions” means, please visit the Special Collections & Archives website, or contact staff at the OSU Special Collections & Archives Research Center for details.

 

A storm clears the Friendship and the nearby Pedrick House. This building is the original building that was built in 1770 on the Marblehead side of Salem harbor. The building had many purposes over the years and it's link to Salem was through one of it's owners. William Story bought the building from Pedrick and intended to run his business from there as he was a ship captain and he sailed as Captain of the 1797 version of the Friendship (The link to Salem). The park service managed to get the building transferred to them and Salem's NHS (National Historic site) and then a labor of love began as it was taken apart very methodically and brought to Salem. It was then piece by piece put back together and it sits much as it had in the 1770s through the early 1900s..

The early news from the Pacific was bleak: the Pacific Fleet had taken a beating. With the battle line crippled, the undamaged American carriers assumed great importance. There were, on 7 December, only three in the Pacific: USS Enterprise (CV-6), USS Lexington (CV-2), and USS Saratoga (CV-3). USS Ranger (CV-4), USS Wasp (CV-7), and the recently commissioned USS Hornet (CV-8) remained in the Atlantic, Yorktown departed Norfolk on 16 December 1941 for the Pacific, her secondary gun galleries studded with new Oerlikon 20 mm guns. She reached San Diego 30 December 1941 and soon became flagship for Rear Admiral Frank Jack Fletcher's newly formed Task Force 17.

 

The carrier's first mission in her new theater was to escort a convoy carrying Marine reinforcements to American Samoa. Departing San Diego on 6 January 1942, Yorktown and her consorts covered the movement of marines to Tutuila and Pago Pago to augment the garrison already there.

 

Having safely covered that troop movement, Yorktown, in company with sister ship Enterprise, departed Samoan waters on 25 January. Six days later, TF8 (built around Enterprise), and TF17 (around Yorktown) parted company. The former headed for the Marshall Islands, the latter for the Gilberts, each to take part in some of the first American offensives of the war, the Marshalls-Gilberts raids.

 

At 05:17, Yorktown - screened by USS Louisville (CA-28) and USS St. Louis (CL-49) and four destroyers - launched 11 Douglas TBD-1 Devastators and 17 Douglas SBD-3 Dauntlesses, under the command of Comdr. Curtis W. Smiley. Those planes hit what Japanese shore installations and shipping they could find at Jaluit, but severe thunderstorms hampered the mission, and seven planes were lost. Other Yorktown planes attacked Japanese installations and ships at Makin and Mili Atolls.

 

The attack on the Gilberts by TF17 had apparently been a complete surprise since the American force encountered no enemy surface ships. A single four-engined Kawanishi H6K "Mavis" patrol flying boat attempted to attack American destroyers sent astern in hope of recovering the crews of planes overdue from the Jaluit mission. Antiaircraft fire from the destroyers drove off the intruder before he could cause any damage.

 

Later, another "Mavis"-or possibly the same one-came out of low clouds 15,000 yards (14,000 m) distant from Yorktown. The carrier withheld her antiaircraft fire in order not to interfere with the combat air patrol (CAP) fighters. Presently, the "Mavis", pursued by two F4F Wildcats, disappeared behind a cloud. Within five minutes, the enemy patrol plane fell out of the clouds and crashed in the water.

 

Although TF17 was slated to make a second attack on Jaluit, it was canceled because of heavy rainstorms and the approach of darkness. Therefore, the Yorktown force retired from the area.

 

Admiral Chester Nimitz later called the Marshalls-Gilberts raids "well conceived, well planned, and brilliantly executed." The results obtained by TFs 8 and 17 were noteworthy, Nimitz continued in his subsequent report, because the task forces had been obliged to make their attacks somewhat blindly, due to lack of hard intelligence data on the Japanese-mandated islands.

 

Yorktown subsequently put in at Pearl Harbor for replenishment before she put to sea on 14 February, bound for the Coral Sea. On 6 March, she rendezvoused with TF11 - formed around Lexington and under the command of Vice Admiral Wilson Brown - and headed towards Rabaul and Gasmata to attack Japanese shipping there in an effort to check the Japanese advance and to cover the landing of Allied troops at Nouméa, New Caledonia. However, as the two carriers - screened by a powerful force of eight heavy cruisers (including the Australian HMAS Australia and 14 destroyers - steamed toward New Guinea, the Japanese continued their advance toward Australia with a landing on 7 March at the Huon Gulf, in the Salamaua-Lae area on the eastern end of New Guinea.

 

Word of the Japanese operation prompted Admiral Brown to change the objective of TF11's strike from Rabaul to the Salamaua-Lae sector. On the morning of 10 March 1942, American carriers launched aircraft from the Gulf of Papua. Lexington flew off her air group commencing at 07:49 and, 21 minutes later, Yorktown followed suit. While the choice of the gulf as the launch point for the strike meant the planes would have to fly some 125 miles (200 km) across the Owen Stanley mountains - a range not known for the best flying conditions - that approach provided security for the task force and ensured surprise.

 

In the attacks that followed, Lexington's SBDs from Scouting Squadron 2 (VS-2) commenced dive-bombing Japanese ships at Lae at 0922. The carrier's torpedo and bomber squadrons (VT-2 and VB-2) attacked shipping at Salamaua at 09:38. Her fighters (VF-2) split up into four-plane attack groups: one strafed Lae and the other, Salamaua. Yorktown's planes followed on the heels of those from "Lady Lex." VB-5 and VT-5 attacked Japanese ships in the Salamaua area at 0950, while VS-5 went after auxiliaries moored close in shore at Lae. The fighters of VF-42 flew CAP over Salamaua until they determined there was no air opposition, then strafed surface objectives and small boats in the harbor.

 

After carrying out their missions, the American planes returned to their carriers, and 103 planes of the 104 launched were back safely on board by noon. One SBD-2 had been downed by Japanese antiaircraft fire. The raid on Salamaua and Lae was the first attack by many pilots of both carriers; and, while the resultant torpedo and bombing accuracy was inferior to that achieved in later actions, the operation gave the fliers invaluable experience which enabled them to do so well in the Battle of the Coral Sea and the Battle of Midway.

 

Task Force 11 retired at 20 knots (23 mph; 37 km/h) on a southeasterly course until dark, when the ships steered eastward at 15 knots (17 mph; 28 km/h) and made rendezvous with Task Group 11.7 (TG11.7), four heavy cruisers and four destroyers under the Australian Rear Admiral John Crace, which provided cover for the carriers on their approach to New Guinea.

 

Yorktown resumed her patrols in the Coral Sea area, remaining at sea into April, out of reach of Japanese land-based aircraft and ready to carry out offensive operations whenever the opportunity presented itself. After the Lae-Salamaua raid, the situation in the South Pacific seemed temporarily stabilized, and Yorktown and her consorts in TF17 put in to the undeveloped harbor at Tongatapu, in the Tonga Islands, for needed upkeep, having been at sea continuously since departing from Pearl Harbor on 14 February.

 

However, the enemy was soon on the move. To Admiral Nimitz, there seemed to be "excellent indications that the Japanese intended to make a seaborne attack on Port Moresby the first week in May." Yorktown accordingly departed Tongatapu on 27 April 1942, bound once more for the Coral Sea. TF11 - now commanded by Rear Admiral Aubrey W. Fitch, who had relieved Brown in Lexington - departed Pearl Harbor to join Fletcher's TF 17 and arrived in the vicinity of Yorktown's group, southwest of the New Hebrides Islands, on 1 May.

 

Battle of the Coral Sea

At 15:17 the next afternoon, two Dauntlesses from VS-5 sighted a Japanese submarine, running on the surface. Three Devastators took off from Yorktown, sped to the scene, and carried out an attack that only succeeded in driving the submarine under.

 

On the morning of 3 May, TF11 and TF17 were some 100 miles (160 km) apart, engaged in fueling operations. Shortly before midnight, Fletcher received word from Australian-based aircraft that Japanese transports were disembarking troops and equipment at Tulagi in the Solomon Islands. Arriving soon after the Australians had evacuated the place, the Japanese landed to commence construction of a seaplane base there to support their southward thrust.

 

Yorktown accordingly set course northward at 27 knots (31 mph; 50 km/h). By daybreak on 4 May, she was within striking distance of the newly established Japanese beachhead and launched her first strike at 0701-18 F4F-3's of VF-42, 12 TBD's of VT-5, and 28 SBD's from VS and BY-5. Yorktown's air group made three consecutive attacks on enemy ships and shore installations at Tulagi and Gavutu on the south coast of Florida Island in the Solomons. Expending 22 torpedoes and 76 1,000 pound bombs in the three attacks, Yorktown's planes sank the destroyer Kikuzuki, three minecraft and four barges. In addition, Air Group 5 destroyed five enemy seaplanes, all at the cost of two F4F's lost (the pilots were recovered) and one TBD (whose crew was lost).

 

Meanwhile, that same day, TF 44, a cruiser-destroyer force under Rear Admiral Crace (RN), joined Lexington's TF11, thus completing the composition of the Allied force on the eve of the crucial Battle of the Coral Sea.

 

Elsewhere, to the northward, eleven troop-laden transports - escorted by destroyers and covered by the light carrier Shōhō, four heavy cruisers, and a destroyer - steamed toward Port Moresby. In addition, another Japanese task force - formed around the two Pearl Harbor veterans, carriers Shōkaku and Zuikaku, and screened by two heavy cruisers and six destroyers - provided additional air cover.

 

On the morning of 6 May, Fletcher gathered all Allied forces under his tactical command as TF17. At daybreak on the 7th, he dispatched Crace, with the cruisers and destroyers under his command, toward the Louisiade archipelago to intercept any enemy attempt to move toward Port Moresby.

 

While Fletcher moved north with his two flattops and their screens in search of the enemy, Japanese search planes located the oiler USS Neosho (AO-23) and her escort, USS Sims (DD-409) and misidentified the former as a carrier. Two waves of Japanese planes — first high level bombers and then dive bombers — attacked the two ships. Sims, her antiaircraft battery crippled by gun failures, took three direct hits and sank quickly with a heavy loss of life. Neosho was more fortunate in that, even after seven direct hits and eight near-misses, she remained afloat until, on the 11th, her survivors were picked up by USS Henley (DD-391) and her hulk sunk by the rescuing destroyer.

 

Neosho and Sims had performed a valuable service, drawing off the planes that might otherwise have hit Fletcher's carriers. Meanwhile, Yorktown and Lexington's planes found Shōhō and sank her. One of Lexington's pilots reported this victory with the radio message, "Scratch one flattop".

 

That afternoon, Shōkaku and Zuikaku - still not located by Fletcher's forces - launched 27 bombers and torpedo planes to search for the American ships. Their flight proved uneventful until they ran into fighters from Yorktown and Lexington, who proceeded to down nine enemy planes in the ensuing dogfight.

 

Near twilight, three Japanese planes incredibly mistook Yorktown for their own carrier and attempted to land. The ship's gunfire, though, drove them off; and the enemy planes crossed Yorktown's bow and turned away out of range. Twenty minutes later, when three more enemy pilots made the mistake of trying to get into Yorktown's landing circle, the carrier's gunners splashed one of the trio.

 

However, the battle was far from over. The next morning, 8 May, a Lexington search plane spotted Admiral Takeo Takagi's carrier striking force - including Zuikaku and Shōkaku. Yorktown planes scored two bomb hits on Shōkaku, damaging her flight deck and preventing her from launching aircraft; in addition, the bombs set off explosions in gasoline storage tanks and destroyed an engine repair workshop. Lexington's Dauntlesses added another hit. Between the two American air groups, the hits killed 108 Japanese sailors and wounded 40 more.

 

While the American planes were occupying the Japanese flattops, however, Yorktown and Lexington - alerted by an intercepted message which indicated that the Japanese knew of their whereabouts - were preparing to fight off a retaliatory strike, which came shortly after 11:00.

 

American CAP Wildcats downed 17 planes, though some managed to slip through the defenses. "Kates" launched torpedoes from both sides of Lexington's bows. Two "fish" tore into "Lady Lex" on the port side; "Val" dive bombers added to the destruction with three bomb hits. Lexington developed a list, with three partially-flooded engineering spaces. Several fires raged below decks, and the carrier's elevators were put out of commission.

 

Meanwhile Yorktown was having problems of her own. Maneuvered by Captain Elliott Buckmaster, her commanding officer, the carrier dodged eight torpedoes. Attacked then by "Vals", the ship managed to evade all but one bomb. That one, however, penetrated the flight deck and exploded below decks, killing or seriously injuring 66 men.

 

Lexington's damage control parties brought the fires under control, and the ship was still able to continue flight operations despite the damage. The air battle itself ended shortly before noon on the 8th; within an hour, the carrier was on an even keel, although slightly down by the bow. However, an explosion caused by the ignition of gasoline vapors later caused a fire and tore apart the inside. Lexington was abandoned at 1707, and later sunk by USS Phelps.

 

The Japanese had won a tactical victory, inflicting comparatively heavier losses on the Allied force, but the Allies, in stemming the tide of Japan's conquests in the South and Southwest Pacific, had achieved a strategic victory. Yorktown had not achieved her part in the victory without cost, and had suffered enough damage to cause experts to estimate that at least three months in a yard would be required to put her back in fighting trim. However, there was little time for repairs, because Allied intelligence - most notably the cryptographic unit at Pearl Harbor - had gained enough information from decoded Japanese naval messages to estimate that the Japanese were on the threshold of a major operation aimed at the northwestern tip of the Hawaiian chain - two islets in a low coral atoll known as Midway.

 

Battle of Midway

Armed with this intelligence Admiral Nimitz began methodically planning Midway's defense, rushing all possible reinforcement in the way of men, planes and guns to Midway. In addition, he began gathering his naval forces - comparatively meager as they were - to meet the enemy at sea. As part of those preparations, he recalled TF16, Enterprise and Hornet (CV-8), to Pearl Harbor for a quick replenishment.

 

Yorktown, too, received orders to return to Hawaii; and she arrived at Pearl Harbor on 27 May. Performing a seeming miracle, yard workers there - laboring around the clock - made enough repairs to enable the ship to put to sea. Her air group - for the most part experienced but weary - was augmented by planes and crews from USS Saratoga (CV-3) which was then headed for Hawaiian waters after her modernization on the West Coast. Ready for battle, Yorktown sailed as the core of TF17 on 30 May.

 

Northeast of Midway, Yorktown, flying Rear Admiral Fletcher's flag, rendezvoused with TF16 under Rear Admiral Raymond A. Spruance and maintained a position 10 miles (16 km) to the northward of him.

 

Patrols, both from Midway itself and from the carriers, proceeded apace during those days in early June. On the morning of the 4th as dawn began to streak the eastern sky, Yorktown launched a 10-plane group of Dauntlesses from VB-5 which searched a northern semicircle for a distance of 100 miles (160 km) out but found nothing.

 

Meanwhile, PBYs flying from Midway had sighted the approaching Japanese and broadcast the alarm for the American forces defending the key atoll. Admiral Fletcher, in tactical command, ordered Admiral Spruance's TF16 to locate the enemy carrier force and strike them as soon as they were found.

 

Yorktown's search group returned at 0830, landing soon after the last of the six-plane CAP had left the deck. When the last of the Dauntlesses were recovered, the deck was hastily respotted for the launch of the ship's attack group - 17 Dauntlesses from VB-3; 12 Devastators from VT-3, and six Wildcats from "Fighting Three." Enterprise and Hornet, meanwhile, launched their attack groups.

 

The torpedo planes from the three American carriers located the Japanese striking force, but met disaster. Of the 41 planes from VT-8, VT-6, and VT-3, only six returned to Enterprise and Yorktown, collectively. None made it back to Hornet.

 

The destruction of the torpedo planes, however, had served a purpose. The Japanese CAP had broken off their high-altitude cover for their carriers and had concentrated on the Devastators, flying "on the deck." The skies above were thus left open for Dauntlesses arriving from Yorktown and Enterprise.

 

Virtually unopposed, Yorktown's dive-bombers pummeled Japanese aircraft carrier Sōryū, making three lethal hits with 1,000 pound bombs, turning her into an inferno.[2] Enterprise's planes, meanwhile, hit Japanese aircraft carrier Akagi and Japanese aircraft carrier Kaga - turning them, too into wrecks in short order. The bombs from the Dauntlesses caught all of the Japanese carriers in the midst of refueling and rearming operations, and the combination of bombs and gasoline proved explosive and disastrous to the Japanese.

 

Three Japanese carriers had been lost. A fourth however, still roamed at large - Japanese aircraft carrier Hiryū. Separated from her sisters, she launched a striking force of 18 "Vals" and soon located Yorktown.

 

As soon as the attackers had been picked up on Yorktown's radar at about 1329, she discontinued fueling her CAP fighters on deck and swiftly cleared for action. Her returning dive bombers were moved from the landing circle to open the area for antiaircraft fire. The Dauntlesses were ordered aloft to form a CAP. An auxiliary gasoline tank - of 800 gallons capacity - was pushed over the carrier's fantail, eliminating one fire hazard. The crew drained fuel lines and closed and secured all compartments.

 

All of Yorktown's fighters were vectored out to intercept the oncoming Japanese aircraft, and did so some 15 to 20 miles (32 km) out. The Wildcats attacked vigorously, breaking up what appeared to be an organized attack by some 18 "Vals" and 18 "Zeroes." "Planes were flying in every direction", wrote Captain Buckmaster after the action, "and many were falling in flames." The leader of the "Vals", Lieutenant Joichi Tomonaga, was probably shot down by the VF-3's commanding officer, Lieutenant Commander John S. Thach.[1].

 

Despite an intensive barrage and evasive maneuvering, three "Vals" scored hits. Two of them were shot down soon after releasing their bomb loads; the third went out of control just as his bomb left the rack. It tumbled in flight and hit just abaft number two elevator on the starboard side, exploding on contact and blasting a hole about 10 feet (3 m) square in the flight deck. Splinters from the exploding bomb decimated the crews of the two 1.1-inch (28 mm) gun mounts aft of the island and on the flight deck below. Fragments piercing the flight deck hit three planes on the hangar deck, starting fires. One of the aircraft, a Yorktown Dauntless, was fully fueled and carrying a 1,000 pound bomb. Prompt action by Lt. A. C. Emerson, the hangar deck officer, prevented a serious conflagration by activating the sprinkler system and quickly extinguishing the fire.

 

The second bomb to hit the ship came from the port side, pierced the flight deck, and exploded in the lower part of the funnel. It ruptured the uptakes for three boilers, disabled two boilers themselves, and extinguished the fires in five boilers. Smoke and gases began filling the firerooms of six boilers. The men at number one boiler, however, remained at their post despite their danger and discomfort and kept its fire going, maintaining enough steam pressure to allow the auxiliary steam systems to function.

 

A third bomb hit the carrier from the starboard side, pierced the side of number one elevator and exploded on the fourth deck, starting a persistent fire in the rag storage space, adjacent to the forward gasoline stowage and the magazines. The prior precaution of smothering the gasoline system with carbon dioxide undoubtedly prevented the gasoline from igniting.

 

While the ship recovered from the damage inflicted by the dive-bombing attack, her speed dropped to six knots; and then at 14:40, about 20 minutes after the bomb hit that had shut down most of the boilers, Yorktown slowed to a stop, dead in the water.

 

At about 15:40, Yorktown prepared to get steaming again; and, at 1550, the engine room force reported that they were ready to make 20 knots (23 mph; 37 km/h) or better. The ship was not yet out of the fight.

 

Simultaneously, with the fires controlled sufficiently to warrant the resumption of fueling, Yorktown began refueling the fighters then on deck; just then the ship's radar picked up an incoming air group at a distance of 33 miles (53 km). While the ship prepared for battle - again smothering gasoline systems and stopping the fueling of the planes on her flight deck - she vectored four of the six fighters of the CAP in the air to intercept the raiders. Of the 10 fighters on board, eight had as little as 23 gallons of fuel in their tanks. They were launched as the remaining pair of fighters of the CAP headed out to intercept the Japanese planes.

 

At 16:00, maneuvering Yorktown churned forward, making 20 knots (23 mph; 37 km/h). The fighters she had launched and vectored out to intercept had meanwhile made contact with the enemy. Yorktown received reports that the planes were "Kates." The Wildcats shot down at least three, but the rest began their approach while the carrier and her escorts mounted a heavy antiaircraft barrage.

 

Yorktown maneuvered radically, avoiding at least two torpedoes before another two struck the port side within minutes of each other, the first at 16:20. The carrier had been mortally wounded; she lost power and went dead in the water with a jammed rudder and an increasing list to port.

 

As the list progressed Commander C. E. Aldrich, the damage control officer, reported from central station that, without power, controlling the flooding looked impossible. The engineering officer, Lt. Cdr. J. F. Delaney, soon reported that all fires were out, but all power was lost and it was impossible to correct the list. Buckmaster ordered Aldrich, Delaney, and their men to secure and lay up on deck to put on life jackets.

 

The list, meanwhile, continued to increase. When it reached 26 degrees, Buckmaster and Aldrich agreed that capsizing was imminent. "In order to save as many of the ship's company as possible", the captain wrote later, he "ordered the ship to be abandoned."

 

Over the next few minutes the crew lowered the wounded into life rafts and struck out for the nearby destroyers and cruisers to be picked up by their boats, abandoning ship in good order. After the evacuation of all wounded, the executive officer, Commander I. D. Wiltsie, left the ship down a line on the starboard side. Buckmaster, meanwhile, toured the ship one last time, to see if any men remained. After finding no "live personnel", Buckmaster lowered himself into the water by means of a line over the stern, by which time water was lapping the port side of the hangar deck.

 

Salvage and sinking

After being picked up by the destroyer USS Hammann (DD-412), Buckmaster transferred to USS Astoria (CA-34) and reported to Rear Admiral Fletcher, who had shifted his flag to the heavy cruiser after the first dive-bombing attack. The two men agreed that a salvage party should attempt to save the ship, since she had stubbornly remained afloat despite the heavy list and imminent danger of capsizing.

 

While efforts to save Yorktown had been proceeding apace, her planes were still in action, joining those from USS Enterprise (CV-6) in striking the last Japanese carrier - Hiryū - late that afternoon. Taking four direct hits, the Japanese carrier was soon helpless. She was abandoned by her crew and left to drift out of control.

 

Yorktown, as it turned out, floated throughout the night. Two men were still alive on board her; one attracted attention by firing a machine gun, heard by the sole attending destroyer, Hughes. The escort picked up the men, one of whom later died.

 

Meanwhile, Buckmaster had selected 29 officers and 141 men to return to the ship in an attempt to save her. Five destroyers formed an antisubmarine screen while the salvage party boarded the listing carrier, the fire in the rag storage still smouldering on the morning of the 6th. USS Vireo (AT-144), summoned from Pearl and Hermes Reef, soon commenced towing the ship, although progress was painfully slow.

 

Yorktown's repair party went on board with a carefully predetermined plan of action to be carried out by men from each department - damage control, gunnery air engineering, navigation, communication, supply and medical. To assist in the work, Lt. Cdr. Arnold E. True brought his ship, USS Hammann (DD-412), alongside to starboard, aft, furnishing pumps and electric power.

 

By mid-afternoon, it looked as if the gamble to save the ship was paying off. The process of reducing topside weight was proceeding well - one 5-inch (127 mm) gun had been dropped over the side, and a second was ready to be cast loose; planes had been pushed over the side; the submersible pumps (powered by electricity provided by Hammann) had pumped a lot of water out of the engineering spaces. The efforts of the salvage crew had reduced the list about two degrees.

 

Unknown to Yorktown and the six nearby destroyers, Japanese submarine I-168 had achieved a favorable firing position. Remarkably - but perhaps understandably due to the debris and wreckage in the water in the vicinity - none of the destroyers picked up the approaching I-boat. At 15:36 lookouts spotted a salvo of four torpedoes approaching the ship from the starboard beam.

 

Hammann went to general quarters, a 20 millimeter gun going into action in an attempt to explode the torpedoes in the water. Her screws churning the water beneath her fantail as she tried to get underway - one torpedo hit Hammann directly amidships and broke her back. The destroyer jackknifed and went down rapidly.

 

Two torpedoes struck Yorktown just below the turn of the bilge at the after end of the island structure. The fourth torpedo passed just astern of the carrier.

 

About a minute after Hammann sank there was an underwater explosion, possibly caused by the destroyer's depth charges going off. The blast killed many of Hammann's and a few of Yorktown's men who had been thrown into the water. The concussion battered the already-damaged carrier's hull and caused tremendous shocks that carried away Yorktown's auxiliary generator, sent numerous fixtures from the hangar deck overhead crashing to the deck below, sheared rivets in the starboard leg of the foremast, and threw men in every direction, causing broken bones and several minor injuries.

 

All destroyers immediately commenced searches for the enemy submarine (which escaped) and commenced rescuing men from Hammann and Yorktown. Captain Buckmaster decided to postpone further attempts at salvage until the following day.

 

Vireo cut the tow and doubled back to Yorktown to pick up survivors, taking on board many men of the salvage crew while picking up men from the water. The little ship endured a terrific pounding from the larger ship but nevertheless stayed alongside to carry out her rescue mission. Later, while on board the tug, Buckmaster conducted a burial service, and two officers and an enlisted man from Hammann were buried at sea.

 

The second attempt at salvage was never made. Throughout the night of the 6th and into the morning of the 7th, Yorktown remained stubbornly afloat. By 05:30 on 7 June, however, the men in the ships nearby noted that the carrier's list was rapidly increasing to port. At 07:01, the ship turned over onto her port side and sank in 3,000 fathoms (5,500 m) of water, her battle flags flying.

 

Honors and rediscovery

Yorktown (CV-5) earned three battle stars for her World War II service, two of them for the significant part she had played in stopping Japanese expansion and turning the tide of the war at Coral Sea and at Midway.

 

On 19 May 1998, the wreck of Yorktown was found and photographed by renowned oceanographer Dr. Robert D. Ballard, discoverer of the wreck of the RMS Titanic. The wreck, 3 miles (5 km) beneath the surface, was surprisingly intact after having been on the sea bottom since 1942—much paint and equipment were still visible.

 

this is a scan from a print I recived from the Navy back in 1977

 

Somewhere in a far away land in the 1940’s....

 

“Rat-a-tat-tat” came the sound as a hand laid a rap on the screen door as it reverberated and rattled against its framing. Steps could be heard making their way for the door shortly afterwards. “Just a minute.” The unique knock could be that of only one but yet familiar person.

 

Of the stops on his route as a railroad messenger boy, this was one the few stops around town he enjoyed if not looked forward to. The Mister of this house was never one he had to chase down. Young Frank just out of school would often have to wade along riverbanks calling out the name of some brakeman trying his luck at the local fishing hole or stick his head in the doors of local stores, barbershops, car shops, pool halls or eateries to see if a conductor or engineer on his call list could be found. If an employee on this list couldn’t be found, it meant starting back over at square one with another exhaustive search for the next pulse holder. It could be a troublesome puzzle to put together but it was a matter of first come first serve with no predictability. “Why wasn’t I called?” The counter question was “Why couldn’t you be found?” Luck of the draw for better or worse.

 

Frank got along well with most of the flock under his steed. The job was an eye-opening experience for him. One minute he seemed shy and too immature for his job yet other moments he could out foul tongue many of the local tavern patrons and charge into places that they, let alone angels, would fear to tread.

 

Interrupting a family picnic could either be pleasantly cordial or could end with a volcano of cursing if not the occasional fist throwing by the recipient and dodging by the deliverer. He was just a mere delivery boy but because he was the first representation of the ball and chain they signed up for, he caught more than his share of flak. Though sympathetic, his face represented an intrusion. It was deciding whatever face he had to wear at any given moment that could be taxing more so than the long walks around town out on the hunt for another name but he was slowly adapting to the terrain in which he found himself deployed. He wasn’t bipolar. His job just had a bipolar atmosphere and outsiders were clueless. Maybe they had no idea just how lucky they were.

 

The worst for Frank, however, was the search for none other than one Walter Baum, a man who cared little for a rigid organized lifestyle of living by the clock. This was a man who lived by his own conceptions and if there were misconceptions in between then playing the victim was his preferred escape route no matter what side of the fence he was on at any given moment. He wreaked of stale cigarette smoke, flat beer and any other odorous trademark of the places where he called home in the concrete and neon jungles. To Walt paying rent meant spending money on bills which he saw as an encroachment into his frivolous lifestyle. He said fun was all that concerned him most. It appeared instead that he wanted to forget something.

 

The smell of repulsive body odor was just a small glimpse to his self-indulgence. Some of the local homeless would feel a bit better off than to be victims of the circumstances that this guy needlessly put himself through. The career he held was as unpredictable as he was. Walt was a well known drunk around town and to locate him for a call meant going to shady parts of town searching the local bars. If not in one of the local sipping troughs, his claim to fame as a ladies man could be waining. This then meant a trip to the obscure whore house in search of him nursing his self inflicted wounds at cost. The hollowed out walls Walt called home seemed to host the finest recent graduates of the nearby Pine Acres Correctional facility or at best their future clientele. One could be certain that many graduates would go back for further enlightenment.

 

Walt somehow intermingled with them and yet was never caught up in his cohorts lawless shenanigans and sent away to share bunks with them. Some claimed he was a mediator amongst them yet given his exploits many would beg to differ. Walt played the devils advocate for his own interest. He always seemed to have a ready supply of greenbacks or the name of some local eye candy on hand to dissuade a messenger boy of “having found his presence” so he could continue living it up. Many others in the town had kept their noses clean and their hopes aspired to hold down a lofty job at the railroad but found themselves toiling along in less glamorous jobs as they couldn’t fit through the eye of the needle. So many wanted that chance but the tidal wave of applications trying to get in watered down their efforts. Yet Walt had it made and seemed to have cared less. His grace was he stumbled in on the right day at right time. Whether he was sober or bored that day when he inked his name on the dotted line we’ll never know.

 

Sometimes his drunken incoherence upon being encountered made putting him on duty a bad proposition. This could go on for several days on end. Walt wasn’t a particularly bad person but he had different ways than the other railroaders of coping with the effects of the job but his methods caused his reputation to extend beyond himself him a bit. Back at Felix’s place with a home he and friends had built board by board and brick by brick things were different.

 

“Well hi there. Won’t you come in?”

 

“Mrs. Loretta, good afternoon to you. Smells like a nice dinner you have cooking. As much as I’d love to hang around until dinner is served I’m quite busy today.” Loretta glances down at Franks small satchel at his side bristling with envelopes awaiting delivery.

 

“Oh heavens, I would say so yes!”

 

Frank double checked the writing on the envelope that read...

 

“F. T. Strawbridge

217 Sycamore Street”

 

He handed it to Loretta saying “It’s the Beltmoore. He should be home in time for festival Sunday. Could you sign here please?”

 

Once a signature was received on the company crew call roster sheet, Franks job had been done. He couldn’t ring the doorbell and run leaving an envelope at a door step no matter how much he’d love to do so in most cases. Passing the buck to another blindly would have been better than Christmas or at best rivaling a sinners prayer. The employees signature was required as this showed they were alive, functioning and breathing enough to sign their name thus signifying their acceptance and acknowledgment that they would report for work. In the 27 years of the Strawbridge calls, there was never an issue. Loretta’s signature was as good as gold in place of her husbands.

 

“If you happen to have any leftovers I’d gladly accept them at the festival. Hope to see you and Felix and the family there.”

 

Mrs. Strawbridge waved a farewell to Frank who left for his scaling of the town for another name on the roster and closed the door behind herself. She ambled back up to the bedroom to find Felix sitting at the edge of the bed groggily rubbing his eyes and yawning as he said “Well let me see the prize winnings today. Only Frank has a knock that sounds like a fat kid tiptoeing through a field of crunchy dried out daisies. Loretta, I do believe if you could learn his knock you could awaken my dead carcass to attend church with you some mornings. By the second day of his knocking, I knew it couldn’t be anyone else aside from him. Any other knock would have bored me into a deeper sleep.”

 

“Well, they are putting in the new telephone wires just a few blocks away. The storms last week took a lot of the phone lines out. Hopefully, ours will be back in service next week. Seems weird seeing railroads using crew call boys again. I’m sure as they make more and more headway poor Frank will have to find a new line of work. Maybe he will enlist in the Navy. He said he had been thinking about it and their motto ‘Join The Navy And See The World’ had appealed to him.”

 

“Dear. Doing what he’s doing right now....he’s seeing things he wouldn’t see no matter how many times he sailed around the earth. Especially if he gets out looking for Walt.”

 

Felix reached for his glasses as Loretta handed him the envelope oblivious to the plight of the one who delivered it. He asks how her day has been as he opens the envelope and pulled out the paper. Atop it was the company logo of a 5 pointed star representing the 5 states served by his employer's rails. He giggled softly as he wondered what a Jewish Star of David for a logo would look like being the “Starlight Route” recently bought a connecting shortline in an adjacent state bringing them up to 6. His great grandfather would approve.

 

“The 136....” Felix said to himself in puzzlement.

 

“Felix he said the Bigbee Turn.”

 

Felix glanced up at the ceiling then to the floor as he struggled to put two and two together from his just awakened slumber. The railroad gave their trains numbers but the locals and railroaders gave them names to better understand their whereabouts and “where’a’to’s.” Rarely did the numbers mean anything to the outsiders so the namesakes helped things along.

 

“Well, that won’t be a bad nights worth of work. Just hope the rain holds off until the morning. Those crossties and roadbed were already beyond sponge stage from soaking up the previous week's rain.”

 

A distant train whistle blew and from the sounds of it, it was not the one Felix would take the helm of. Another shouldn’t be heard for another few hours giving Felix no sense of urgency. A look at his orders on the paper confirmed his thoughts. Frank wouldn’t knock too soon and yet even though his on duty time was a few hours away the tempting thought of another hours rest would do little but result in useless tossing and turning.

 

“Well come on down and I’ll put some coffee on for you. Madeleine and the kids are here. Little John has been raving all afternoon how he wants to see his pa paw. He wants to hear some of your ‘tales from the rails’ “ Loretta says laughingly.

 

“Glad I didn’t want another nap,” Felix thought to himself in light of the circumstances but was glad of the news of company before work.

 

After a few moments, Felix came downstairs into the kitchen as his wife and daughter sat at the table with plates already in place. The grandfather passed a tall grandfather clock, an assortment of pictures of his honeymoon, vacations, family and of fellow Marine Corps buddies continuing past well-crafted hand made in America furniture from a shop just down the road a piece. His grandson and granddaughter giggled as they played with Felix’s cocker spaniel, Wendy. Felix poured a cup of coffee and sat at the head of the table as a light Indian summers breeze flowed through curtains in an opened window.

 

“Kids, come on, s....”

 

He hushed Madeline’s command bringing a puzzled look to her face. There was no need to rush right into the early dinner. Time was available for talk and catching up.

 

“Shhhhh, let 'em play a little longer.”

 

She smiled and rested her chin in the palm of her hand, fingers resting along her cheek while looking at her father as her black hair rested lazily on her shoulders.

 

“So, how've ya been dad?”

 

A glance over his glasses as he sipped down his coffee and crossed his eyes caused the two women to burst into laughter.

 

“Ahhh come on pa. Surely it hasn’t been that crazy!”

 

He placed the coffee cup down and let out a giggle.

 

“Nah, all is well. Just been busy lately. There’s always something to do around this place. Always something needing tending too. Just trying to do my part to keep your mother from being run ragged.”

 

Loretta smiled as she got up and walked to the stove and began bringing dinner to the table.

 

Felix glanced in his wife’s direction and back over to Madeleine. “So how’s life on your end?”

 

“Fine...fine...” said half-heartedly.

 

“Audrey and John have been doing well in school and the new job is going well. Mr. Wallace gave me a raise and says I can work all the hours I want if need be. With the holidays coming up there’ll be no shortage there. He and his wife have been most generous. They’ve been understanding and working around my night classes. I only have one more semester.”

 

Glancing over at the two youngest, Madeline continued. “They have seemed to accept it a little. While they were in school last week, I....”

 

Her soft red lips began to quiver as she began to fight back a sudden unexpected tear. She told Felix in a barely controlled sob, “I miss Donnie so much.”

 

Loretta eased to her daughter's side to lightly console her and to shield the glances of the two littlest ones in the room away from their mother's condition. Their laughter continued as Wendy ran back and forth across the living room unwittingly diverting their attention from their grief-stricken remaining parent caught in the snares of a seemingly empty questionable future. For the moment Wendy was welcomed comedy relief.

 

“I lay in the bed at night reaching for someone who isn’t there and stare at the ceiling or out the window at the stars at night. It seems no matter how deep I bury my head into the pillow the kids still hear my sobs. They come in asking me what is wrong and I don’t know what to tell them. Its been almost a year now and no matter how much I pace the floors praying for an answer or seeking hope I just come up empty handed. Why the hell did...”

 

Madeleine drifted off into even deeper tears.

 

Felix extended his hand across the table to Madeleine, taking her grip in his, he softly kissed and softly squeezed her hand rubbing his thumb slowly back and forth over the top of it.

 

Regaining her composure yet looking into the table as if into an abyss she softly said “Mom...dad...your help the past year has meant so much to me. Thank you.” She was afraid to look up and make eye contact for fear of another rush of sudden emotions.

 

Felix leaned back and took another sip of coffee. “Maggie....that help will continue to be there as long as your mother and I have breath in our bodies. We can’t begin to imagine what it must be like with Donald gone. But rest assured our help for you will never cease.”

 

After a pause, Felix opted to Maggie, “If you need to there are two empty rooms right up those stairs there behind you. I seem to recall one once being yours and the other one belonging to that knuckleheaded brother of yours. If you need to, you, John and Audrey are welcome to stay with us. Your mother and I have already discussed this. If it’s to help shoulder the burden of your loss or if it just feels right....you can stay as long as you want or need to. With your brother gone, my erratic long hours and days away from home...and well...now with Donald being gone...I’m sure you could both use one another’s company...”

 

Madeleine slowly raised her head looking up at her mother and over to her father. “Thank you. Things are ok but we’ll see. Thank you for a safe harbor.”

 

Assured Madeleine was ok, Loretta went back to prepping the dinner table as Felix got up to let Wendy outside. The children filed to the table as Felix came back to have a seat. The time ticked on.

 

After dinner was finished little John walked over to his grandfather gathering all of his work gear. He said nothing but watched intensely as Felix slipped on his work shoes and grabbed his shiny leather satchel containing rule books, time tables, forms, pens, pencils, one days worth of clothes and several outdated but interesting copies of National Geographic. About that time Madeleine came to gather John. John looked up at his mom. “But pa paw was going to tell me a story.” Felix winked at his daughter and nodded.

 

“John, I tell you what little buddy, I have to get down to the station and be ready to take a train out. So sadly I won’t have the time to do that but...”

 

Felix dug into his satchel and pulled out a new cellophane wrapped copy of The Little Golden Books “The Little Engine That Could” and handed it to John who shrieked with joy jumping up and down. He had bought it some time ago and was keeping it ready for just such an occasion.

 

“When pa paw can’t be here to tell you any stories perhaps mom or grandma will see fit to read you a few pages from this. That sound like a pretty good deal little fella?”

 

Madeleine held her arm out as John ran to his mother's side while Audrey was already on the other side. Felix wrapped them all in a hug as he excused himself to grab the last of his things. Loretta escorted them out as Felix fills his thermos with coffee. He glances out the window looking out at the ensemble of his family huddled together at Madeleine's car. Looking on as his family went about their business while work kept him frustratingly away at arm's length was nothing new. This was a scene he had repeated time and time again in his career. Yet Felix had just as well learned long ago to accept it. Luckily the family did too. Others weren’t as fortunate or conscientious. He turns his focus to gathering lunch from the suppers leftovers. Madeleine looks into the window seeing her fathers silhouette. She kisses her mother’s cheek and drives away.

 

“My word! You ate enough to sink a battleship earlier.” exclaimed Loretta as she closed the door looking on at Felix placing one piece of fried chicken after another in his lunchbox.

 

“What has gotten into you lately? Have you gotten a tapeworm?”

 

“Dear I would think at 49 my tapeworm days are quite well behind me.”

 

The couple looks at one another across the length of the kitchen and laugh as they walk towards one another. Loretta takes her man in her arms in a deep embrace.

 

“Do you think you’ll be back in time for the festival this weekend?

 

“Oh, I should be. If all goes well I should be back home tomorrow night around 10 or 11. When does that thing start again? I can’t remember.”

 

“10 Sunday morning.”

 

“Ok. I should be able to.”

 

After a deep sigh and kiss on his wife’s cheek Felix puts on his hat and grabs his thermos, lunchbox, and satchel then heads out the door in an exchange of I love you’s.

 

Felix starts down the sidewalk with this work and personal belongings for other means along with extra baggage in his hands as he walks to the depot a couple of miles away in town.

 

DuPlois is home to about 17,500 and its largest employer outside of the railroad is the old Westinghouse lightbulb and fixture facility. Both run 365/24/7 except holidays and both equally kept the town afloat as they dueled in noise making through out the little towns concert and brick blocked walls. Most of DuPlois offerings lie along the stretch of Highway 25 called “Main Street” that runs east/west before swinging back north at the edge of town near the river. Either side of it more or less could be shoppers galore. Jewelry, clothing, home redecoration and sportsman stores and the like along with book, musical instrument and record stores held things down a bit. The pleasant stream is rippled a bit by the mortgage and loan offices. Even after most of the businesses have closed for the day potential prospectors can be found window shopping. Felix would usually allow himself an extra few minutes time in his walk to work to gaze into the displays in the shop windows and loved doing so after many had closed as to not have to deal with a pushy salesman or eager loan officers preying upon ones hardships only to bury them further. Commission has to be made somewhere somehow. Sometimes he deliberately contemplated using a fly swatter to keep the pushy at bay. The parking meter maid plying the sidewalks felt the same vibe only glancing at his reflection in the shop widows to break his monotony to see if his foot bouncing kept things slim and trim. While most of the goings on around town could be heard at local bait shops, the bus stop, the depot, some hair salon or any given church steps, this was the financial epicenter. To Felix it felt like a cesspool.

 

The bell to the courthouse clock makes its announcement that it is 1:00 pm. Felix stops and pulls out his railroad issued pocket watch seeing its 12:57 pm.

 

He grumbles to himself “Next week it will be off by 4 minutes. Maybe by this time next year, it will be 24 hours off and I can claim an unearned payday or send a replica of myself in.” Tucking his watch in his pocket he walks into the local diner across the street.

 

“Bob lemme have two sandwiches. One ham and one turkey. Both all the way.”

 

Tommy Dorsey’s “I’m Getting Sentimental Over You“ plays on the radio as Bob ask “Felix how are things down there on the R and R?”

 

Felix giggles at Bob’s sarcastic monicker. “Anything but rest and relaxation that’s for sure. Since we acquired the Noxapater & Northern back last fall it’s been hectic. Hopefully, things will even out soon. And they are starting to. Not complaining much. The extra money has been nice indeed. Just glad we aren’t stretched as thin as we were.”

 

“Yes indeed...” Bob slowly says as he finishes wrapping the last sandwich in wax paper putting it in a brown bag.

 

“That’ll be 3 and 2 5 there Feely.”

 

—————————————————————

 

Felix slides a chair up to the large round gray wooden table located in the break area after placing all his belongings off to the side. If you were joked about and laughed about while being able to take the heat, you were in and welcomed to the table. If you weren’t you were either an unknown, an isolationist or a woeful man who had been excommunicated from their circle. Getting kicked out was easy. Getting back in was almost impossible. At the round table there was no score keeping for the card games but in stature and loyalty which earned you a seat there.

 

Having a loose tongue, having assed up on the job over and over, not heeding and utilizing the advice of old hand railroaders, showing less than stellar work ethics, betraying a fellow rail brother, trampling over others to become a company man without earning approval and respect beforehand...these were grounds for expulsion. It sometimes took years to get a seat at the table but a moment of stupidity could result in your seat being little more than a mere season ticket. To sit there was a privilege not lightly given. You better be a trustworthy soul that could be counted upon in ethics, ability and mentality. Passing the company pre hire exams was one thing but this was another beast entirely. Proving yourself in the field was harder. A seat would be waiting for you if you got it right. A satanic caricature of Mickey Mouse laid painted in the center of the table. Mickey held a pitch fork in one hand and an unfurled reversed facing scroll in the other that said “Before you sits the highest order of the lowest of the low. Where the crossroads of aptitude and attitude meet.” Impaled on his forked tail was a caricature of some smug man who could have well been a company official. Maybe it helped keep them honest by way of becoming a source of one another’s entertainment or enjoying each others comradeship.

 

The air was thick with smoke from Lucky Strikes and Chesterfields, the pungent smell of King Edward cigars and Prince Edward pipe tobacco. The sound of click and clacks not of the rails but of balls on the two pool tables just behind them could be heard along with opening and closing Zippo’s. Never mind the playing of dominoes and dice rattling in between. Any gaps in sound were filled in with the shuffling and dealing of cards. The clacking of cue balls were usually made by the outsiders with no place to go. Their table was the pool table. This area was located next to the wash and locker rooms, the constant sounds of shuffling feet from those coming and going from them rounded things out even further.

 

One could have been forgiven if they mistook the scene for a shady dance hall or watering hole. However this was inside the regional railroad's main depot that rested on a central division point of several rail lines converging upon it. A sign with the company logo had a statement that said all was fine and well with the arrangements so long as money never changed hands in the act of gambling or affected company operations. On the bottom edge of the sign were some rather tactful statements written countering other corporate points of view. The masses would have revolted if management had tampered in kind with dear old Mickey.

 

“You gonna draw sometime today? By the time you get around to it, I’ll be drawing my retirement.”

 

George shrugged off the comment and continued looking around the table at others conquest deciding methodically what move to make next.

 

“George...honestly...why don’t you go over there to Herb The Turd and take him up on a game of chess. That may be more up to par with your slow speed taking all day to get something done.”

 

“Bill, do you mean just here at the card table or at on the job as well?”

 

The table erupted into laughter but that quickly ended when George laid out a straight flush.

 

George smiled widely with a toothpick on one side of his mouth and a cigarette hanging out of the other. George could be a bit aggravating to work with because he seemed to assess everything about the job. But when it all fell together he could build up or break down a train rather well.

 

“Well, guys that’s it for me.”

 

Around the table sat railroaders of various crafts and capacities. It wasn’t uncommon for a few retirees to drift in and hang around as if the depot were a VFW post. This evening was no exception. As George walked out looking to see if his train had arrived the eyes around the table gazed over to one of retired hanger on’s who’d occasionally stop in to hang out with their former brethren.

 

“Ellis you sure spend a lot of time around here for someone who said they wanted no part of this mess when they started drawing their pennies.”

 

“Pennies are right!” Ellis challenges in a gruff bark.

 

“You pay in a dollar and by the time you retire it may as well be a few pennies that you get back.”

 

“Awww hush Ellis! No one at home wanna hear you bitching anymore? You’ll run off the new hires with that tone. If you haven’t heard we’re short-handed as it stands. If you run them away I’m gonna make your retired ass mark back up on the board!”

 

“Yeah, Elly. Why aren’t you at home anyway?”

 

“What for? All I’ve got is that naggy baggy wife of mine and 6 kids....well it was 6 when I last counted.”

 

“And you wonder how she got that way?!”

 

“Ok boys. Here here. I know just the thing for him. We need to take up some money for poor old down in his luck Elly. What Elly needs is a television. He needs some entertainment. By gosh, if you put a TV in that house maybe poor 'ol Margret could get a break from childbearing.”

 

The room exploded with yet another round of laughter. Felix took off his glasses to wipe away the tears from the result of a hysterical direct hit to his senses. Even Ellis couldn’t help but chuckle at the proposition.

 

Dale who launched into the comical tirade looked over at Felix exclaiming “Man down!”

 

The atmosphere around the depot and roundhouse could have an almost prison feel to it. Not in the sense of being locked up. But in the sense of the large concrete and cinder block walls, easy on the eyes green paint though dimly lit, the heavy smell of oil and warm electrical cabinets humming providing power to the adjacent mechanical building.

 

There were however the foremen, yard masters, train masters, division and district superintendents who may as well been wardens. Understandably a screw up from someone underneath their wings would result in stress. They couldn’t be an everyone everywhere at once person. They had to have faith in their troops in the field. But the troops in the field had to have faith in them. So long as things were an equal measure there was no argument. Gilding the lily.

 

But it seemed some among the upper echelons were either power hungry and loved to smear their positions in the faces of the ones they guided or tried to brow beat them to their benefit losing touch with reality along the way. A fantasy land pedestal. The higher up you were the more weight your voice had. A broken olive branch meant little. There were plenty among the ‘foremanintendents’ who were all too happy to convey their sentences upon others. Some were fair, some seemed to have been spawned from Satan himself. Others amongst their rank claimed God was showing off when he created them. Resentment and hatred ran rampant on both sides of the wielding swords.

 

“Anyone here want to clue me in as to what that means?”

 

Oliver Pope took a draw off his pipe then pointed it to the door leading to the yard office. Felix glanced over and looked above the door to see written in blue chalk..

 

“ARBEIT MACHT FREI!”

 

“Well Mr. Pope, I have to say I’m at a loss on this diatribe.”

 

Pope walked closer and pulled out a note pad and jotted the phrase down.

 

“You guys can write all the sinister comical messages you want. Have your laughs. But when I find out what this says in Latin you had better hope for the sake of the pen weasel that this isn’t an anti-company statement. ”

 

“I’m sorry you can’t pat Dale on top of the head like a loyal follower but he gyrates like a fish out of water when playing that tune” retorts an on looker.

 

Yet another round of united laughter filled the entire room in opinion as the door closed behind a fuming Pope. Their disdain ejected him. His persona was shot down again.

 

“You’d think being that’s in the same vein seemingly of his managements role model. Surely he ought to know what it is” Felix quips.

  

Dale ends playing “Ride Of The Valkyries” on his harmonica as Pope removes his presence. Felix shakes his head cutting his eyes away from Dale.

 

“I really don’t get that guy” Felix says looking at the floor.

 

“He’s like one of those people who won’t take a bite off of their plate unless the T.V. or some radio show is on. They’ll even stop eating until some commercial break is over then go back to putting some steak or greasy cheeseburger away.”

 

Dale looks at Felix as if watching a leaf floating down a river.

 

“Some people just don’t want to do anything unless they have some sense of entertainment for their entitled ego.”

 

After trying to come to terms with Pope’s latest flared ulcers or at least flared ego the duo of Felix and Dale leave from the table and walk over to the bulletin and train order boards. Above it is the company clock with the official railroad time displayed which is in use across the railroads of the nation and beyond.

 

Felix looks down at his pocket watch and over at Dale as he checks his wristwatch then up to the company clock.

 

“Yep. The county courthouse is off a bit.”

 

“You too eh?” prods Dale.

 

“I noticed that earlier on the way in..”

 

Dale nods in agreement as they both turn for the yard office. They hang around waiting on the clerk to return. Frank is back for a short break in his evening searches. He assures the duo that the other 3 who’ll make up his train crew were notified. Of them, one’s pending presence is still questionable.

 

“Hey guys, what can I do for ya?”

 

“Yeah just here to grab the work and train orders for 136. Any idea where she’s at at the moment?”

 

The clerk walks over asking the dispatcher the last logged position. “Yessir at Cogswell.”

 

They turn and head back for the roundhouse and walk outside

 

Two of 136’s new crew, Desmond and Stan walk up to Dale and Felix as they get out of Stan’s car.

 

“Anyone around here seen Walt? 136 is about 10 miles out.”

 

Felix pokes his head in the break area as Stan gives Walt’s last known whereabouts.

 

“When we passed the Red Rooster he was standing outside with some fellas. Looked like he was having quite the time too. He seemed in no hurry but heck you can’t ever tell with that guy if he’s gonna show or not. How in the world ol’ scumbag gets away with what he does is beyond me!”

 

Desmond offers his take. “He had to done seen some executive or boss doing something they ain’t sposed to be doin’. Good lawd, maybe quite a few of skeletons in the closet he be done seen. I notice though each time he be act up, they like they be scared of him or something. Ain’t no way anyone else would gedda way with that sort’o stuff. Ain’t no way. There ain’t no way.”

 

Just as Desmond brings his insight to a halt, Walt’s distinctive laugh and cackling could be heard behind them as he came up joking wildly and loudly with a couple of the baggage handlers.

 

The three men turn to look as Walt carries on with his cajoling with the guy trying to get the bags in the baggage car but being hindered.

 

Almost having arisen from the ground at the trio's feet, Pope seemed to turn every shade of red possible. He looks Walt up and down who’s far from dressed for duty holding up others going about their work. It seemed as if Pope would self incinerate into ashes and blow away at any second with wind that carried carried away the smoke from Dale’s pipe who’s eyes were widened like watching an approaching tornado with no where to flee.

 

“Walt! Get the hell over here boy and leave those men alone. Stop holding up my trains. You’re holding up those men and your scraggly butt is far from ready for work!”

 

Walt snaps his head around with a confused look on his face as he walks up stopping arms length away in front of Pope.

 

“From the smell of things I can’t decipher between your stench between from an unwashed ass or the alcohol on your breath escaping from your pores that you’re ready to get at it.”

 

Pope glares intently searching for further reasons to humiliate Walt deeper for his own enjoyment.

 

“Mornin’ the Pappy Pope. Do you see a kid out here? I don’t. Who ya think ya yellin’ at like that?”

 

“You got a problem with authority? You looking for work?”

 

“Well...I got a problem with those with a silver spoon up their butt. I have a problem with brown nosed, backstabbing cutthroats who played others like a fiddle to get where they are. Authority. No. No problem with authority here. Authority figures? Anything is plausible.”

 

Felix shouted as he sprinted up “Walt! Knock it off!”

 

“Pope if you wanna chop things, why don’t ya take your butt over in those woods there. I’m sure there’s an axe ‘round here somewhere. See if you can figure out what wood to chop out there instead of here! You might even make some friends with the local wildlife. I’m sure some of your forked tongued relatives are slithering around in there.! You sorry m...” The words only ceased so Walt could land a plop of tobacco browned spit at Popes feet.

 

Pope looked down in an embarrassing horror to see if his white polished shoes were browned then gazed slowly up to Walt.

 

“If they chew spearmint they are catholic. If they chew wintergreen they are Methodist. If they chew peppermint they are Baptist’s. If they chew cinnamon they are Pentecostal. True fire warriors. The lazy they just chew fruit flavored. A mindless wild card . If they chewed any of it while they were in school they were backsliders. So Pope? Do ya think you’re a real man chewing gum or do ya wanna dive headlong into hell with some Beechnut chewer? You don’t have a soul ya sack of shit. A cockroach chewing on shit is more noble than you are! Show us who ya really are Pope!”

 

Felix slid between the two just at the first millisecond of the pause before the duo’s riled minds could send signals to ball up let alone swing a fist.

 

“Walt! I said knock it off. That’s enough!”

 

Pope folded his arms together angrily glaring back and forth into Felix and Walt’s eyes looking as if a bloodthirsty wolf, the very semblance of what Pope was.

 

“Lemme tell ya what stank ass. I’m tired of your flippant ass attitude and flippant ass work ethic! You’re like a cockroach. Unpleasant and unwanted, you pop up out of nowhere! I dunno if squashing you would put you out of your misery. It damn sure would put me out of mine! So help me if you delay another one of my trains you’ll be kicked beneath pan handling breadline hell. From the looks of things a monkey could do your job.”

 

The whistle of 136 blowing for the crossing just north of the depot calmly quieted the dispute.

 

Felix grabbed Walt by the arm leading him away to the depot's platform.

 

The others watch as Pope walks away fuming. Desmond with his slow heavy Mississippi drawl testifies to the others, “See there. Say I ain’t toldja. Ain’t no way. Ain’t no way.”

 

As they and others look on in shock and disbelief, others adored the episode that exploded before them. For whatever it was Walt could get away with and why was of no concern to them. They relished that Pope was getting his position made fun of, was being called out to light and more so not behind his back but directly to his face. Pope was known for throwing a fist to assert his alpha status and getting away with it but compared to Walt, it was no contest. The Pope’s best would have been nursery rhyme compared to anything Walt would have done just for mere starters. Walt wasn’t going to be shamed like some kid who had to explain to his parents why he chose shit himself to avoid the gym class he disdained.

 

Most of the train service crews equally despised both of them but to choose sides meant leaning towards Walt who was the wildest amongst them who’s tirades were true and honest. Pope unleashed his upon the undeserving or to weed out the ones who cared little to placate his inflated persona. This event didn’t need the judge, bailiff, and jury. Both were labeled as being lower than whale shit the deepest depth of the ocean. Seeing the Pope hunkered down was better than a cold beer on a hot summers evening to the on lookers.

 

Dale walks over to the duo to get things underway as the thunder subsided. Playing cards with apathy had to be done by someone. Differences aside there was a job to be done.

 

“Walt, go on and get ready and we’ll go over the 136 while you do that.”

 

As Walt heads inside Dale cuts his eyes to Felix and mutters quietly himself, “Take a bath while you’re at it.”

 

“If his mouth doesn’t get him thrown outta here then his hygiene certainly could.”

 

“For all my late night soul searching and daily misunderstandings I still could always come up with an answer for my short comings if I stared them down enough. To me that man is a damn enigma at its finest.” Felix ponders aloud to himself as he watches Walt slide back inside a doorway hoping privately that the man is too naive to the self imposed torture he creates for himself.

 

“Maybe he’s just hiding or running from something” Dale sighs.

 

“Yeah no point in blaming myself if he won’t face his demons. Hell at least he’s here. Guess that’s good enough.”

 

Dale slowly takes a draw from his pipe as he looks over the paperwork and train orders as Stan, Desmond and Felix head over to the previous crew of 136 still holding down their post. They go over what work is left and what the evenings trip will lay out before them. Felix talks to Harold the fellow departing engineer and head end crew. Walt should be present but as so typical he’s busy with other matters.

 

After a few moments their huddle breaks as one group heads for the train and the other heads inside for home. As soon Harold opens the door leading into the break area there’s the sound of loud upset voices and the like.

 

“What in the....?”

 

“Harold, what is it?”

 

“Feely, you ain’t gonna believe this.”

 

Felix sticks his head around the door and looking across the break area into the washroom stands a butt naked Walt scrubbing himself with a bar of soap from a waist high sink with wet soapy hair and no proper way to rinse. Felix drops his head and sighs deeply.

 

It begins to dawn upon Walt that he’s the center of attention.

 

“Walt! What in the Sam Hill are you doing?”

 

“Dale said for me to take a bath or I could lose my job. All the showers in here are full. Just doing my part.”

 

Walt looks around at the passerby’s.

 

“Any you got any lizard green? Lustereen?”

 

“Listerine Walt!”

 

“Yeah. That stuff. Uncle Dale said my mouth was a problem too.”

 

———————————————————————————

Once all were aboard Felix knocked off the brakes after the signal to proceed was given.

 

From both sides of the locomotive cab, Walt and Felix in unison call “Green board” after having gazed at the tricolored lights for several minutes anticipating their next move.

 

The sound of hissing air fills the cab only for its last remnants of protest to be drowned out by the sudden guttural roar as the engine digs in to move its burden. Felix doesn’t rush things on as a patient hand beats an eager hand any time. Even if it holds together it will scarcely move any meaningful inch. The engine bucks and slips momentarily. Felix is as careful and understanding with the throttle as he is with his own Loretta. Finessing is key. Overdoing things will just break the train apart causing delay and extra work.

 

A steady stream of smoke and sparks quickly exit the exhaust stacks as things get more vocal yet still slowly responsive. Walt leans out the window looking backwards for any signs of trouble. The two locomotives give their all as they dig in and claw forward. The gut hitting throb sang deeply as the organized chaos began to put on its show. The slack between cars tightened as wheel after wheel began to move. The snap of draft gear, couplers snapping together, clacks of wheels hitting joints and hollow booms from empty cars in the train began to fill the air. The parade had begun. The metal snake is coming to life.

 

Felix kept an eye on the ammeter only adding further fuel to the caged beast as the needle dropped comfortably away from the red. The snake was writhing.

 

Stan’s voice comes over the radio, “Rolling on the tail end” as Desmond can be heard mumbling in the background. The ace in the hole had been found. Old Sure Hand had done it again. In all of his years of getting a train out and over the road, Felix never busted a train in half no matter the territory, standing still or with an ill handling train. No one train was the same but Felix knew better than to be over eager or just plain stupid with his hand at the throttle. He never felt he had an image to upkeep nor did he ever dabble in competition with others among his rank. He was just that good at what he did.

 

With knowledge in hand that his train is in one piece Felix notches out the throttle a little more. His eyes dart from ammeter, the track ahead and speedometer while slapping the bell ringer in and blowing for the crossing just south of the roundhouse. He tips his hat at a few lookers on standing in a trackside parking lot. Any kids who weren’t watching were aspiring of other careers. To the kids who looking on in awe, these guys were their heroes. All the comic book heroes other kids emulated were nothing compared the rulers of the steel beast. They were their masters of the universe. Somewhere inside they couldn’t wait to grow up and shine the rails themselves.

 

As the train reaches 10 miles per hour Felix notches back on the throttle and holds at 10 as they waddle out of the yard, engine swaying side to side along with the occupants of its seats.

 

Felix notices a stick of blue chalk.

 

“Who’s is that?” as he glares at it rolling around on the floor.

 

“Beats me!”

 

He looks over at Walt frantically feeling around outside of his pockets to see if his blue saber was still there.

 

“Walt? You got some kind of an itch or something? I told you about picking those bad apples hanging around Eden.”

 

“Feely....just put your hands back on the steering wheel and drive.”

 

“Pope said you’re handy work was written in Latin. We didn’t tell him any different.”

 

They both smirk as the train rolls out of the yard.

 

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

 

Once the tail end of 136 clears the confines of the yard at DuPlois, Stan’s voice comes over the radio giving confirmation. Once that staticky crackle goes silent Felix leans into the throttle gaining momentum for an eventual climb down the rails. Despite pulling only a 51 car train, any momentum would help as Felix would have to battle an ascending S curve a few miles out of DuPlois which began a gradual dive at the other end tapering off into a long straight flat run for most of the way.

 

Behind the 136 is the pride of the company, their passenger train The Bluebird but known as the “BB” for short to many. More than one celebrity and a handful of Presidents had ridden the BB as the train was renowned for its class, luxury and service and none of the companies other passenger trains held the prestige of this torch bearer.

 

Any other time the lowly 136 would have waited for the BB to depart DuPlois and slither out behind it. However a delay a few towns back had it running far enough behind that the 136 was told to make Elmstadt siding and hold there some 40 miles away as the BB should be catching up by that point. It was all up to Felix.

 

Felix pulls one more notch into the growling beast as his train enters into first leg of the S curve. As the snake threads itself through the steel ribbons Walt again leans out the window looking back to the rolling wheels behind him for any signs of trouble. Just as the train curves into the other direction he tells Felix all was well. Felix begins toying with the air and throttle, manipulation of both as needed as his train starts it’s decent downgrade.

 

Felix looks back at his train anxious to see the caboose come out onto the straight away onto the flat straight away. When he turns back around there will be more throttle and no air brakes for the rest of the way until Elmstadt siding.

 

“Stan? Y’all hunkered down back there?”

 

“Yessiree we are.”

 

Felix throws the throttle wide open. With the BB breathing down their back this is the stretch that will give the 136 the rare opportunity to run at speeds reserved purely for company varnish.

 

Before their target siding lies the town of Elmstadt proper. As a coincidence 136 just happens to be polishing the rails at the exact same time the tardy Bluebird otherwise would be.

 

Before the station lies a curve with where a highway crossing runs interference.

 

Being a Friday evening the station platform is jammed with eager passengers ready to leave the confines of small town life and head for the concrete and neon jungles or just simply getting away or even further to put something behind them hoping to find another something somewhere beyond. The Bluebird was their savior for better or worse.

 

Almost on cue the grade crossing lights at the highway began to flash their message as the bell began to testify its warning. The passengers rushed to the edge of the platform to ready to board their savior.

 

Instead of the BB that would be slowing as it rounded the corner they were greeted with a speeding freight.

 

Felix laid into the horn blaring against the onrushing wind as the train roared around the curve drawing a bead on the station and platform. Before anyone had any scant chance of rushing back, the 136 descended upon them as if a beast sprung loose from the depths of hell. So much for their savior.

 

Walt looked back as they sped past in concern for the masses safety but laughed hysterically.

 

“Walt? What’s so funny?!”

 

Struggling to regain his composure he replied to Felix’s inquiry...

 

“In a swirl of newspapers and hats blown off heads I do believe I saw every shade of underskirts there could be from all those dresses flying up! It looked like the paper boy exploded in a clothing store!”

 

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

After having allowed the Blue Bird to stampede past them, the 136 ambles on into the low evening light as it arrives at Phoenix Creek to make pick up and set outs for a nearby industry. Stan and Desmond climb down from their perches into the thick oppressive humid summer evening to begin their first part of work as fireflies dance aimlessly casting their lights into the nearing darkness. After a few minutes a man, woman and their daughter come out from a tent in the woods and up to the tracks looking up to the cab of the locomotive.

 

Walt steps down from the engine and turns looking up as Felix hands down a bag full of food taken from home by himself and others among the crew. As Felix follows Walt, the small family walks closer. Walt passes off the bag and a $20 bill from his own pocket.

 

“Guys we really appreciate it. How we’d made it without you we don’t know. We hate to ask anymore of you considering all you’ve done.”

 

“Don’t worry about it. That’s what we do.”

 

Ben’s wife and daughter carry the care packages back to their tent as he and the others look on. Its a half lit area thick with trees and heavy kudzu and on days like today with heavy clouds, one could never know if it were just after sunrise or just before sunset unless they had a watch. For those among the woods here, telling time was set only by campfires set to cook the 3 daily meals and at best just once was a moment too few and far between. That was only when time meant the most to them. Smelling only fresh blooming honey suckles instead of sizzling bacon or boiling stew let the crew of 136 know that their offerings had arrived at a needed moment. The fireflies floating in the light breeze were about the only clock available letting one know nightfall was just around the corner.

 

Ben had been a fellow rail brother who lost his job with the railroad. With 7 years of service on the rails, he was never late, performed his duties with excellence and without grumble. For two years in a row right up to his termination he was deemed best employee on his district. One day as he reported to work he was fired and no reason was given. The matter was a mystery to everyone. Having lost his job and fallen on hard times during an economic downturn, he was unable to find work of any meaningful kind and looking further abroad was impossible. One by one the dominos fell until he and his family became squatters roaming the land. Eventually they ended up living along the tracks with a few others in search of work.

 

During a late night switching move, Ben creeped up out of the darkness upon Desmond and Stan. Looking for food and seeking employment he was desperate but his approach scared the two workers so bad they stuck him down beating him until he questioned aloud with a voice familiar to them if this is how they treated all rail brothers. Realizing their mistake and shining their lanterns upon him, they stood him up and brushed him off amongst a flurry of apologies. Shoot first and ask questions later had became the law of the land in the area riddled with economic woes and shady dwellers. They knew of Ben from another local railroad but in the inky darkness he could just as well been another over eager panhandler ready to make off with their wallets.

 

From that night on the crew of that nights 136 made a vow to look after him and the others as best they could. They were a source to Felix’s sudden tapeworms and gained his unopened army tent stollen on a dare during his stint in the Marines for their homestead. Ben would help them with work secretly along their route in order to meet what he felt were their charitable contributions. They never asked or welcomed him to do so but his persistence prevailed. Worried some railroad officers would notice an extra man on the playing field, they had a reason for their reservations. Ben however knew when to become a phantom. That along with his skill built their trust.

 

“Ben, why don’t you come down to DuPlois and talk to Murray about a job?”

 

“I don’t feel like that life again.”

 

“Do what?! You do pretty good at it.”

 

“I’m only trying repay your kindness.”

 

“We’ve told you that you don’t have to. Kindness is doing something without expecting a pay back.”

 

“Well still...”

 

“Still what? You wanna keep living like this? Why don’t you go try.”

 

“Because of Pope! That’s good and damn well why. I couldn’t put up with what y’all do.”

 

“His time is coming. That’s for sure.”

 

“Oh bull crap! You know how long that’s been said? I’d rather count nails in a burlap sack for 50 years than to have a step on step off job on his railroad for one night. He’s a snake and has blood on his fangs. If you want to call them hands then I’ll leave that up to you. One day y’all are gonna see it”

 

“We can’t support you and the others forever.”

 

“I’m not asking you to. There’s just no way I’m coming out there. A man has got to know his limitations and I know mine. Pope has smeared my name and no other railroad will touch me. If I got a gig with y’all I’d kill him the second my eyes saw him. I’d be a boundary he wouldn’t want to reckon with. Maybe hiding in his shadow is best for me.”

  

(Continuation & Editing Pause. This reading is posted here merely for the benefit of personal friends and family and if you’ve stumbled across it out of boredom please overlook my meanderings. It’s just a simple writing exercise and nothing more and written totally on the fly as the whim to do so strikes me. It’s not presented in it’s final form nor is it meant to be a professional writing by any means. If you enjoy it so though far I’d love to hear your comments even if I end up mortified by them ; )

For ABCs and 123s group, *D* is for DOOR

**********************************************************

 

FALL OCCURRED IN THE SPRING

 

That’s right; fall occurred in the spring of 2012. Not the kind of fall like a beautiful autumn, but the kind of fall like Humpty Dumpty. The “splat” type of fall, which must have been painful for him. Mine was surely painful for me.

 

Let me digress a bit. I already have severe arthritis in both of my knees. I was very close to having the Orthopedic Physician’s Assistant refer me to the Orthopedist for knee replacements. The assistant had already seen me for seven to nine visits or so, and a series of Orthovisc® shots, which did not help me. I understand they are a great help to some people, but I wasn‘t one of them. He told me something I was completely unaware of. He said my teeth were bad, which is true. I have upper dentures and only one real tooth in my mouth. The bottom teeth except the one I just mentioned are all rotted away. They didn’t rot completely away; there are still parts of them in and below the gum line. He said they would all have to be surgically extracted before I could have knee replacements done. I asked him, “What do my teeth have to do with my knees?” He said infection can easily set in the rotten teeth and go to the knee or cause problems with my heart, major problems like death. Thus the reader can understand how I arrived at the title for my photo set about my hospital stay…The Knee Bone’s Connected to the Jaw Bone, Huh?

 

I have been walking around with very painful knees for quite awhile now, and I cannot afford the $1,600 to $2,000 to have my teeth surgically extracted. I already paid a dentist $180 for an appointment and a Panaray® X-Ray, over a year ago, just thinking it would be nice to finally get some lower dentures too. I never did get them. He split town, taking or disposing of his equipment and his files and x-rays. That $180 is long gone for me. I cannot recover the old x-ray. Even if I did recover it, some new dentist would probably say it was out of date.

 

Medicare, which I am on, will pay for the two knee replacements, but here is the rub. They will not pay for dental. I have been in a surgical limbo with all the free pain I can stand.

 

That is the background information probably needed for this little story to be understood. There will be some OMG moments and some laughter. If it were a TV show, they would probably advertise, “You’ll Laugh; You’ll Cry; You’ll Sell Your Chickens; You’ll Call Your Congressman, and You’ll No Doubt Charge Your Cell Phone!”

 

That brings us to Thursday the 15th of March, 2012. (Beware the Ides of March). My daughter called to see if I could and would watch Rose all day Friday the 16th , as she had forgotten that she had signed up to be chaperone for her daughter, Anna Leigh’s, school field trip. It was going to be quite a bit out of town, the other direction from where I live. It was to be a special day. I wanted to be their hero; so I said sure. Some of you have seen Rose, the Hungarian Vizsla puppy among my photos. Rose is beautiful and young, and strong, and undisciplined and should probably be named Wild Rose. I love her, but she is a major handful. I had already watched her for 8 days while they went on a trip out of state, got one day off and then volunteered to do Friday the 16th.

 

Rose isn’t housebroken yet; so I took her out several times to encourage her to go outside. I was alone as far as other humans, and my daughter and granddaughter were about 60 miles away, on a school bus and then museum field trip. I live about 60 miles the other way from their home. It had been raining off and on and the ground and grass and driveway and mud were all pretty wet. My other trips outside with Rose that morning had been fine. I only had a thin shirt on, no extra shirt or jacket. I did not think I would be out in the yard very long.

 

Rose pulled on the leash too exuberantly, as she does often (she is five and a half months old, and has had puppy obedience training, but is in dire need of more of it). I slipped on a muddy and grassy slope. My right leg went out in front of me, and I fell on my rear end. My left leg folded underneath my thigh and toward my rear, and my weight, which is a lot, crunched it. It was bent backward way further than a knee is supposed to bend. I screamed bloody murder. I was afraid to even try to get up, as I thought I had probably torn a ligament or two.

 

Rose thought it was play time and was all over me. There was not a thing in sight that would give me any leverage to hold me up or to help me get up. I sat and I pondered what to do. My daughter and Anna Leigh would not be home for nearly 6 more hours. I thought, well I’ll just call 911 (the emergency number where we live). Wrong! No cell phone with me. It was inside their house, being charged up; ironically so it would be ready when I needed it.

 

I tried yelling for help. Nothing! A neighbor about a half an acre away, was mowing, and every time the mower cut off, I tried screaming for help. He must have had headphones on or something. Cars would drive by on the road way down the driveway, and I would yell, but no one had their windows down on that day. Did you know that when you have upper dentures and no lower ones, and you yell really hard, that it blows the upper dentures right out of your mouth? When I tried to hang onto them to keep them in my mouth, I was unable to cry out very loudly. I just thought I would throw that little trivia in. I didn’t know until that day.

 

I knew I couldn’t make it back in the house. There were too many upward slopes and an exposed aggregate patio and a few stairs. The front of the house was even worse, as it had more stairs. I looked down the driveway and saw a vehicle which had some metal protrusions, on the order of spare tire holder or something like that. I decided to try to scoot on my rear down to that metal thing. I thought perhaps it would give me leverage to get up. Rose thought that it was great fun to romp on and around me.

 

I thought the four chickens would be afraid to come around Rose. No, they are not very intelligent. They came right up to me and Rose and started pecking on me. I had never been pecked on my chickens before, and there I was on the ground with no help and Rose alternating between trying to attack the chickens and trying to play with me. Rose’s playfulness sort of resembles an attack, anyway. I scooted faster, much faster.

 

There was a light rain, but it was getting a little heavier. There was also a dusting of snow mixed with the rain. I was wondering how long it would take to get Exposure. I was wondering about Shock also. Can a person who has Exposure or Shock know that they have it? Ominous looking clouds were blowing quickly toward me. It was 1:30 P. M. when I fell. I didn’t have my phone, but I had my watch.

 

I scooted methodically toward the vehicle closest to me. I think it was about 100 feet. I got to it, and thought if worse came to worse with the weather, I could roll under the back of it. I did not relish thought of cold dark ground and spiders, but thought it might be better to risk them than the weather. I saw some wide strapping tape on the spare tire, which was loose. I didn’t want to risk hoisting myself up on the spare and its frame, as it was quite loose. But I took the tape and wrapped it around the metal thing that was separate from the spare tire things, and made it softer for my arm to lean on. I tried to prop myself up. No use; I fell back down. Not enough leverage. I put Rose’s leash handle on the trailer hitch. I didn’t want to just let her run free and maybe get hit by a car.

 

I tried again to get up and made it to both knees. It hurt so badly I went back down again. I noticed the license plate on the vehicle renewed on the ninth month of 2011. That said 911. I thought, “Oh yeah right, you inanimate license plate. Go ahead and taunt me! You know I can’t call 911.” I got a chuckle out of my own joke, and gave myself a figurative pat on the back for being resourceful about trying to get up.

 

I tried again. I got on both knees but the right one was in gravel that really hurt. Then I thought which knee should I put forward and which one should I try to rise on. I tried one, and it didn’t seem as if it would work so I tried the other way. That wasn’t the right way either. Finally I tried the first way again. I told myself on the count of three I would stand up, even if it hurt excruciatingly, I would scream but I would still get up. False start! Down again! I tried again and got up. I was standing!

 

Now was the problem of how to go anywhere, not knowing if my left knee would buckle at any time. I thought I had to try. I spotted my own truck further down the driveway, and decided to try to make it to it. I walked between two vehicles very carefully and slowly and got to my truck. I unlocked it with the remote key which I had in my pocket. After 11 years of driving it, the seat is pretty well conformed to me; so I didn’t have to bend my knees to sit down in it. I just leaned into the seat and put my relatively good right leg in. It was painful to bend my left knee to get it in the truck, but I did. Rose was still tied to a trailer hitch further back in the yard, but she was safe.

 

I looked at my watch. It was 3:30 P. M. It took me two hours to stand up and to get to some degree of safety and warmth. I could drive, as my truck is automatic. I drove down the road to a house that Anna had pointed out was where a schoolmate lived. I thought I could ask them to go in my daughter’s house and get my cell phone for me. There was a very large barking dog in the driveway, and no sign of humans, and the mother of the schoolmate has never even met me. I decided to go back to Jennifer’s home.

 

I found a cane in my truck that a charity, a different one than the one later in my story, had given me a few months ago. It is not a very sturdy one, but better than nothing. I did not use it on a regular basis. I used the hook end of it to fetch a large stick lying near the driveway (larger than a normal hiking stick). I pulled it to me, and stood back up out of the truck and used the big stick and the cane and balanced against two vehicles, and decided to try to get back in the house. I did. I got in the recliner and pulled a blanket up over me and slept until they got home.

 

After they got home, we all decided to go to the nearest Emergency room. It was a Friday night by then, and no normal doctor’s hours. We went to one closest to them, but it was still about 27 miles or so. They checked me out and did an x-ray. I told the Physician’s assistant nurse type lady about my knee history. She was fun and nice and caring and a little bit of a comedienne. She said that my left knee was really “ratty” looking on the x-ray. I laughed, because I’m sure it was. I have just never, in all my doctor visits ever had a nurse refer to one of my body parts as “ratty”. I suspect it is not a medical term. They said I sprained my knee, and gave me some medical records to take up to the emergency room (or my doctor) closer to where I live, seventeen miles from my home, the other direction from Jen & Anna. I wanted to be closer to the doctors and hospital that I know. I was given a prescription similar to Vicodin. Someone kindly pointed out that Walgreen’s was visible about a block away and their drive-thru was open. At that point I was still getting around by hobbling and by leaning on Jennifer. So I sat in a chair and she and Anna and Rose drove over to Walgreen’s . It seems as if it took a long time for them get the prescription filled.

 

While I was sitting there waiting, a employee came out to the lobby with clipboard in hand and asked if I were the lady with an injured knee. I replied that I was. She said, OK, come with me and we’ll have you see a triage. I thought it odd that I had already been seen and now they wanted to start all over again. I told her I had already been seen and x-rayed and all. It turned out there was another lady in the waiting room with an injured knee. It probably would have blown the Physician’s Assistant’s mind if I had played dumb and gone through everything again, and then told her when she looked shocked, “I’m coming through again; and this time don’t call my knee “ratty! Funny to imagine, but not a good idea.

 

Finally, my daughter and granddaughter returned to the hospital waiting room. Jennifer had forgotten her checkbook. So back they went and then it turned out, Jennifer couldn’t sign for my prescription, and she didn‘t have my insurance information. Thus, we all drove back over there. I was in line ahead of Jen‘s car. I told the pharmacist that my window did not go down well on the driver’s side, and I could not reach the pills in the drawer. So I would give him paperwork and cards he needed, but to please leave the pills themselves in the slide-out drawer. I said my daughter was right behind me and her window worked; and she would pick them up with my permission. Walgreen’s closed at 10 P. M. and it was about 9:57 P. M. Finally she got the pain pills in the drawer, but when we got out of Walgreen’s I flagged her down to stop and be sure to give me the pills to have with me before we forgot. Jennifer got them and handed them over to me. We laughed about how, at that time of night, it looked for the entire world like some sort of illegal drug deal.

 

We tried to go out for dinner, and the restaurant we chose put the closed sign in their front window as we were approaching. That always makes one feel so welcome, not!

 

Saturday, I rested, and then Sunday they took me to Good Samaritan Regional Medical Center. I had called my normal doctor, and he was out of the country (probably on some Doctors without Borders type thing). He participates in many good will efforts. The doctor filling in for him said to go to the Emergency Room. So I did, and they did an MRI, and I had torn the meniscus in my left knee. I ended up in the hospital for 8 days. No surgery was done to repair anything, because of the dental situation. But I got a walker, and some really nice nurses and physical therapy. I saw all kinds of doctors, and Home Health care people, and Senior and Disabled specialists. They must have taken my blood pressure 100 times, it seems. They always seem surprised that it is very good.

 

Anna Leigh, who is seven years old, threw a coin in the Hospital Fountain and made good wishes for me. She is such a sweetie. My daughter helped to clean up my place so when I went home the walker would fit through the rooms. I don’t know what I do without Jen and Anna. The first few days out of the hospital, I taught Anna how to play Monopoly, and she and Jennifer and I also did puzzles. There were some quality family moments. At one point I was eating a chip or cracker of some kind with my right hand, and trying to place a puzzle piece with my left hand. I got absentminded and stuck the puzzle piece in my mouth. I realized what I had done because the food tasted like cardboard. I took it out of my mouth. Anna about went into hysterics over it. I was laughing too. Anna’s Daddy called Jen about that time, and wanted to know what the laughter was all about. Anna wrote a note to show her Mom so her Mom could tell her Dad what happened. She spelled it phonetically, as she is only in first grade. I think she does really well, but Jen and I cracked up over how much Anna was laughing and over what she wrote. She wrote, “My grandmuther ate a pussel pees.” It looked substantially nastier than it was. Jen and I were cracking up about the note. Anna thought we were still laughing about the event itself, not the note. In any case, we all had some great belly laughs. Since the belly bone is no doubt connected to the brain bone and the knee bone, I think it was very healthy for us.

 

At first a physical therapist helped me in the hospital with a walker and with some small steps. After a few days, I could roam around the hallways on my own with the walker. At that point I took my camera. As I was practicing with my walker I took a number of pictures. I tried very hard to only shoot artsy type things and nothing about any patients or doctors that would invade their privacy. I had a bulletin board in my room just about me. I wrote “Exemplary Patient Award” on the comments. I wanted to see if it would make the nurses laugh. I thought it was funny to give myself an award. I enjoy making people laugh. I was curious if they would erase it, but it was still there when I was discharged.

 

I graduated from the walker to a cane yesterday. A home health physical therapist came to see how I was doing, and brought me a very colorful cane. I like it. It suits me, and it is brand new. There is a charity in my area called Love, Inc. I don’t know if it is just local or nationwide. Anyway, they gave him the cane to bring to me. Really super! Of course, I need to take a photo of it, and add it to this set. I’ll probably do that in the daylight.

 

I am still in surgical limbo, but a charity is going to come out and install grab bars on my shower, and still another charity will build up my recliner (which I sleep in) with a platform so it will be easier to get in and out of. It was suggested that I donate enough to cover the cost of the supplies but not the labor. I will probably make a donation, but I haven’t decided how much yet. I’m going to call my Congressman to see if something can be done about covering some dental procedures. I know him personally. He collects vintage cars, and has at least one Dodge and well over 10 Buicks. When I had a hubcap store, he would drop by and buy hubcaps for some of them. We would chat about politics, and automobiles, and high rent, etc. He probably won‘t be able to help, but I feel I have to try. Not just for me, but for a multitude of people.

 

I’ll close with a quote, although I don’t know who said it, “Be True to your Teeth and they will Never be False to You.” and “That is the Tooth, the whole Tooth, and Nothing but the Tooth.”

  

NOTE: Each picture in the set about my fall and my trip to the hospital has this story with it. However, I'm only submitting it to Pictures with Stores group and The Story Behind the Picture group one time. This version on this red door picture that says "STAIR" is probably the most corrected and polished so far. Also, I will put this on the color pictures of two walkers up against a wall. The other pictures in my set called "The Knee Bone's Connected to the Jaw Bone, Huh?" will have to wait awhile to get them most corrected version. It is tedious to copy and paste the most correct version to each one, especially if one is on dial-up as I am. If you spot a spelling error, please let me know. Thank-you, Delina

   

A tranquil oasis of peace and methodical Confucian design in one of China’s busiest urban landscapes, the 267-hectare Temple of Heaven Park is absolutely unique. It originally served as a vast stage for solemn rites performed by the emperor of the time (known as the Son of Heaven), who prayed here for good harvests and sought divine clearance and atonement. Strictly speaking, it's an altar rather than a temple – so don’t expect burning incense or worshippers.

 

The Hall of Prayer for Good Harvests is the most visually striking structure in the Temple of Heaven complex, this magnificent hall mounted on a three-tiered marble terrace is supported by pillars made of pine wood imported during the Qing dynasty from Oregon, USA.

+++ DISCLAIMER +++

Nothing you see here is real, even though the conversion or the presented background story might be based on historical facts. BEWARE!

  

Some background:

The Char B1 was a French heavy tank manufactured before World War II. It was conceived as a specialized offensive vehicle, armed with a 75 mm howitzer in the hull. Later a 47 mm gun in a turret was added, to allow it to function also as a Char de Bataille, a ‘battle tank’ fighting enemy armour, equipping the armoured divisions of the Infantry Arm. Starting in the early twenties, its development and production were repeatedly delayed, resulting in a vehicle that was both technologically complex and expensive, and already obsolescent when real mass-production of a derived version, the Char B1 "bis", started in the late thirties.

 

The outer appearance of the Char B1 reflected the fact that development started in the twenties: like the very first tank, the British Mark I tank of World War I, it still had large tracks going around the entire hull and large armour plates protecting the suspension—and like all tanks of that decade it had no welded or cast hull armour. The similarity resulted partly from the fact that the Char B1 was a specialized offensive weapon, a break-through tank optimized for punching a hole into strong defensive entrenchments, so it was designed with good trench-crossing capabilities and therefore the hull and the tracks had considerable length. The French Army thought that dislodging the enemy from a key front sector would decide a campaign, and it prided itself on being the only army in the world having a sufficient number of adequately protected heavy tanks. The exploitation phase of a battle was seen as secondary and best carried out by controlled and methodical movement to ensure superiority in numbers, so that the heavy tank’s mobility was of secondary concern. Although the Char B1 had a reasonably good speed for the time of its conception, no serious efforts were made to improve it when much faster tanks appeared.

 

More important than the tank's limitations in tactical mobility, however, were its limitations in strategic mobility. The low practical range implied the need to refuel very often, limiting its operational capabilities. This again implied that the armoured divisions of the Infantry, the Divisions Cuirassées, were not very effective as a mobile reserve and thus lacked strategic flexibility. They were not created to fulfill such a role in the first place, which was reflected in the small size of the artillery and infantry components of the divisions.

 

Another explanation of the similarity to the British Mark I lies in the Char B1's original specification to create a self-propelled gun able to destroy enemy infantry and artillery. The main weapon of the tank was its 75 mm howitzer, and the entire design of the vehicle was directed to making this gun as effective as possible. When in the early 1930s it became obvious that the Char B1 also had to defeat counterattacking enemy armour, it was too late for a complete redesign. The solution was to add the standard cast APX-1 turret which also equipped the Char D2 and the Somua S35. Like most French tanks of the period the Char B thus had a small one-man turret. The commander not only had to command the tank, but also to aim and load the anti-tank gun, and if he was a unit leader, he had to command his other tanks as well. This was in contrast with the contemporary German, British and to a lesser extent Soviet policy to use two or three-man turret crews, in which these duties were divided amongst several men, or to use dedicated command vehicles.

 

Among the most powerfully armed and armoured tanks of its day, the Char B1 was very effective in direct confrontations with early German armour during the Battle of France. The 60 mm (2.36 in) frontal armor was sloped, giving it an effective strength of near 80 mm (3.15 in), and it proved to be almost invulnerable to the 1940 Panzer II and III as well as the early Panzer IV with its short 75mm close-support gun. There were no real weak spots, and this invulnerability helped the B1 to close on targets, then destroy them with the turret 47 mm (1.85 in) or the brute force of the howitzer HE shells. However, its slow speed and high fuel consumption made it ill-adapted to the war of movement then being fought.

 

In the meantime, plans had taken shape to improve the Char B1, and this led to two developments that eventually entered the hardware stage: A further up-armoured version, the Char B1 "ter", was designed with sloped and welded 70 mm armour, weighing 36.6 tonnes and powered by a 350 hp (260 kW) engine. It was meant to replace the B1 bis to accelerate mass production, a change first intended for the summer of 1940 but later postponed to March 1941 and finally abandoned.

In the course of the redesign, space was provided for a fifth crew member, a "mechanic". Cost was reduced by omitting the complex Neader transmission for aiming the howitzer and giving the hull gun a traverse of five degrees to each side instead. The first prototype was shown in 1937, but only three prototypes could be partly finished before the defeat of France. Serial production was rejected due to the need to build totally new production lines for the much-modified Char B1 ter, so that this development was a dead end, even more so because it did not really cure the vehicle’s weakness of the overburdened commander and the split armament.

 

The latter issues were addressed with another development, a modernized variant of the existing Char B1 bis with a new weapon layout, the Char B1 “tetre”. Work on this variant started in 1936, as an alternative concept to the one-man turret and as an experimental carrier for a new high velocity semi-automatic 75 mm multi-purpose gun with a long barrel. Such a weapon was direly needed, because the biggest caliber of an anti-tank gun was a mere 47 mm, the SA 35 gun. The only recent alternative was the infantry’s 47 mm APX anti-tank gun from 1937, which could pierce 60 mm (2.4 in) at 550 meters (600 yd) or 80 mm (3.1 in) at 180 meters (200 yd), but it had not been adapted to vehicle use yet and was not regarded to be powerful enough to cope with tanks like the Char B1 itself.

 

This new 75 mm tank gun was already under development at the Atelier de Construction de Rueil (ARL) for a new medium 20-ton-tank, the Char G1 from Renault, that was to replace the Char B1. The gun, called “ARL 37”, would be mounted in a new three-man turret, and ARL was developing prototypes of both a turret that could be taken by the Char B1’s and S35’s limited turret ring, as well as the gun itself, which was based on the 75 mm high velocity gun with hydro-pneumatic recoil compensation from the vintage heavy FCM 2C tank

 

The ARL 37 had a mass of 750 kg (1,653.5 lb) and a barrel length of 3,281 mm (129.2 in) with a bore of 43 calibers. Maximum muzzle velocity was 740 m/s (2,400 ft/s). The gun was fitted with an electric firing mechanism and the breech operated semi-automatically. Only one-piece ammunition was used, and both HE and AP rounds could be fired – even though the latter had to developed, too, because no such round was available in 1937/38 yet. However, with early experimental Armour Piercing Capped Ballistic Cap (APCBC) rounds, the ARL 37 was able to penetrate 133 mm (5.2 in) of vertical steel plate at 100 m range, 107 mm (4.2 in) at 1.000 m and still 85 mm (3.3 in) at 2.000 m, making it a powerful anti-tank weapon of its era.

 

Since the new weapon was expected to fire both HE and AP rounds, the Char B1’s howitzer in the hull was omitted, its opening faired over and instead a movable 7.5 mm Reibel machine gun was added in a ball mount, operated by a radio operator who sat next to the driver. Another 7.5mm machine gun was mounted co-axially to the main gun in the turret, which had a cupola and offered space for the rest of the crew: a dedicated commander as well as a gunner and loader team.

The hexagonal turret was cast and had a welded roof as well as a gun mantlet. With its 70 mm frontal armor as well as the tank’s new hull front section, the conversions added a total of four net tons of weight, so that the Char B1 tetre weighed 36 tons. To prevent its performance from deteriorating further, it received the Char B1 ter’s uprated 350 hp (260 kW) engine. The running gear remained unchanged, even though the fully rotating turret made the complex and expensive Neader transmission superfluous, so that it was replaced by a standard heavy-duty piece.

 

Although promising, the Char B1 tetre’s development was slow, delayed by the lack of resources and many teething troubles with the new 75 mm cannon and the turret. When the war broke out in September 1939, production was cleared and began slowly, but focus remained on existing vehicles and weapons. By the time there were perhaps 180 operational B1 and B1 bis in all. They were used for the Sarre offensive, a short-lived burst without serious opposition, with a massive force of 41 divisions and 2.400 tanks. The Char B1 served with the armoured divisions of the infantry, the Divisions Cuirassées (DCr). The First and Second DCR had 69 Char B1s each, the Third 68. These were highly specialized offensive units, to break through fortified positions. The mobile phase of a battle was to be carried out by the Divisions Légères Mécaniques (mechanised light divisions) of the cavalry, equipped with the SOMUA S35.

 

After the German invasion several ad hoc units were formed: the 4e DCr with 52 Char B1s and five autonomous companies (347e, 348e, 349e, 352e and 353e Compagnie Autonome de Chars) with in total 56 tanks: 12 B1s and 44 B1 bis; 28e BCC was reconstituted with 34 tanks. By that time, a very limited number of Char B1 tetre had been produced and delivered to operational units, but their tactical value was low since sufficient 75 mm AP rounds were not available – the tanks had to use primarily the same HE rounds that were fired with the Char B1’s howitzer, and these posed only a limited threat to German tanks, esp. the upgraded Panzer III and IVs. The Char B1 tertre’s potential was never fully exploited, even though most of the tanks were used as command vehicles.

 

The regular French divisions destroyed quite a few German tanks but lacked enough organic infantry and artillery to function as an effective mobile reserve. After the defeat of France, captured Char B1 of all variants would be used by Germany, with some rebuilt as flamethrowers, Munitionspanzer, or mechanized artillery.

  

Specifications:

Crew: Five (driver, radio operator/machine gunner, commander, gunner, loader)

Weight: 36 tonnes (40 short tons, 35 long tons)

Length: 6.98 m (22 ft 10½ in) overall with gun forward

6.37 m (20 ft 11 in) hull only

Width: 2.46 m (8 ft 1 in)

Height: 2.84 m (9 ft 3¾ in)

Ground clearance: 40 cm (1 ft 3¾ in)

Climbing: 93 cm (3 ft ½ in)

Trench crossing: 2,4 m (7 ft 10½ in)

Suspension: Bogies with a mixture of vertical coil and leaf springs

Steering: Double differential

Fuel capacity: 400 liters

 

Armour:

14 to 70 mm (0.55 to 2.75 in)

 

Performance:

28 km/h (17 mph) on road

21 km/h (13 mph) off-road

Operational range: 200 km (124 mi) on road

Power/weight: 9.7 hp/ton

 

Engine:

1× Renault inline 6 cylinder 16.5 litre petrol engine with 350 hp (260 kW)

 

Transmission:

5 forward and 1 rear gear

 

Armament:

1x 75 ARL 37 high-velocity cannon with 94 rounds

2x 7.5 mm (0.295 in) Reibel machine guns with a total of 5,250 rounds

  

The kit and its assembly:.

This fictional Char B1 variant was based on the question what the tank could have looked like if there had been a suitable 75 mm gun available that could replace both its howitzer in the hull and the rather light anti-tank gun in the turret? No such weapon existed in France, but I tried to extrapolate the concept based on the standard Char B1 hull.

 

Two big changes were made: the first concerned the hull howitzer, which was deleted, and its recessed opening faired over with 1 mm styrene sheet and putty. This sound easier as it turned out to be because the suspension for the front right idler wheel had to be retained, and the complex shape of the glacis plate and the opening called for patchwork. A fairing for the co-driver was added as well as a ball mount for the new hull machine gun. New shackles were added to the lower front and, finally, new rows of bolt heads (created with white glue).

 

The turret was completely replaced with a cast turret from a 1943 T-34/76 (Zvezda kit). While its shape and gun mantlet are quite characteristic, I still used it mostly OOB because its size and shape turned out to be a very good match to contemporary French tank turrets. However, the gun barrel was moved and a fairing for a hydro-pneumatic recoil damper was added, as well as a French commander cupola. And an adapter had to be scratched to attach the new turret to the hull, together with small fairings for the wider turret ring.

  

Painting and markings:

I wanted a rather unusual paint scheme for this Char B1 derivative, and found inspiration in an operational museum tank that depicts vehicle “311/Rhin”: it carries a three-tone livery in two greens and brown, instead of the more common sand, dark green and earth brown tones or just two-tone schemes.

 

The colors were adapted to an irregular pattern, and the paints I used were Humbrol 120 (FS 34227, a rather pale interpretation of the tone), 10 (Gloss Dark Brown) and ModelMaster 1764 (FS 34092). As a personal twist, the colors were edged in black, enhancing the contrast.

The markings were puzzled together from various sources in an attempt to create suitable tactical codes of the early 1940 era. The “Ace of Spades” emblem on the turret is, for example, are a marking of the 1st section. The dot in front of the “K” probably indicated a command vehicle, but I am not certain.

 

Some post-shading was done as well as dry-brushing with light earth brown to emphasize edges and details. Then the model was sealed with matt acrylic varnish and received some dusting with grey-brown artist pigments, simulating dust around the running gear.

  

Well, not too much was changed, but the new, bigger turret changes the Char B1’s look considerably – it looks somewhat smaller now? Its new silhouette also reminds me of a duck? Weird, but the conversion worked out well – esp. the modified glacis plate without the howitzer’s recessed opening looks very natural.

 

Maybe it doesn’t slip through the air and soar over the trees but the canoe does offer a wonderful way to slip through the water silently and to move among the many animals that inhabit the bayou. I would say that around 95% of my photos are taken from my canoe and are all hand held that there is absolute no way that you can hide a 16 foot canoe from an animal that has two good eyes. It's a matter of using a slow and methodical approach.

 

In spite of the beautiful sky the wonderful colors that were in the sky about 20 minutes earlier were a wonder to behold, but I am at the mercy of the gate keepers of the park. I have to say that they do let us in early, but on this particular day it was not early enough. In this view Bay Area Park and the major part of Armand Bayou are to the right. Heading toward will take you down the last portions of Armand Bayou and toward Mud Lake and Horsepen Bayou. Hope everyone had a wonderful Memorial Day and that you’ll have great week. The good news is that we are finally getting some much needed rain here in Texas.

  

DSC01432uls

The Nutshell Studies of Unexplained Death are a series of nineteen (twenty were originally constructed) intricately designed dollhouse-style dioramas created by Frances Glessner Lee (1878–1962), a pioneer in forensic science. Glessner Lee used her inheritance to establish a department of legal medicine at Harvard Medical School in 1936, and donated the first of the Nutshell Studies in 1946 for use in lectures on the subject of crime scene investigation. In 1966, the department was dissolved, and the dioramas went to the Maryland Medical Examiner’s Office in Baltimore, Maryland, U.S. where they are on permanent loan and still used for forensic seminars.

 

The dioramas are detailed representations of death scenes that are composites of actual cases, created by Glessner Lee on a 1 inch to 1 foot (1:12) scale. She attended autopsies to ensure accuracy, and her attention to detail extended to having a wall calendar include the pages after the month of the incident, constructing openable windows, and wearing out-of-date clothing to obtain realistically worn fabric. The dioramas show tawdry and, in many cases, disheveled living spaces very different from Glessner Lee's own background. The dead include prostitutes and victims of domestic violence.

 

Glessner Lee called them the Nutshell Studies because the purpose of a forensic investigation is said to be to "convict the guilty, clear the innocent, and find the truth in a nutshell." Students were instructed to study the scenes methodically—Glessner Lee suggested moving the eyes in a clockwise spiral—and draw conclusions from the visual evidence. At conferences hosted by Glessner Lee, prominent crime-scene investigators were given 90 minutes to study each diorama.

View On Black

 

A reinterpretation of an old favorite. CSX Q174, a hot northbound intermodal train, blasts past the Dorsey MARC station on a cold, wintry day. The signal on the opposite track is displaying an "approach" aspect, which indicates to the engineer he or she must immediately reduce speed to 30 MPH and be prepared to stop at the next signal down the line. I'll miss the old B&O color position light signals (CSX is methodically replacing them all across its system).

FDMB crews on the scene have stabilized the pick-up with stabilization struts and cribbing to ensure they can remove the driver from inside safely. After an initial vitals assessment confirms they've got a viable patient, with no apparent life threatening injury, they work methodically to ensure he doesn't go from bad to worse.

 

See the notes for more info:

For more info about the dioramas, check out the FAQ: 1stPix FAQ

My first hummingbird moth! While over at my parent's house last week I saw this little guy feeding on a patch of bee balm. I didn't have a camera with me but fortunately when I returned the next day it was again at the same patch of flowers. Fun to watch, it moved from flower to flower very similar to a bumble bee with the exception that it never landed on the flower but hovered like a hummingbird at each petal as it worked its way methodically around each flower.

 

So glad I got to see one of these!

This composite image, taken at a distance of 2.5 km, shows a typical crow flight style. The following image shows that in essentially windless conditions a crow can fly across the wide scene towards its roosting site, with definite purpose, in an amazingly straight path and nearly constant altitude and speed, without navigational instruments other than its biological senses. Each bird shots in the second picture are shown at constant time intervals, and because the spacing between each bird shots are essentially equal, it can be inferred the bird is moving at a relatively constant speed. In the third image, several crows are flying across the field of view with only a couple of birds making significant changes in their flight plan by dipping its altitude. Interestingly, all the birds in the latter picture are descending pretty well at the same rate. I like the apparent banding displayed by the birds-in-flight, although this may just be a coincidence and brought about by the small sampling size. It appears that the commutes to the roosting sites are not free-for-all routines, they are structured. These crow flight attributes are tough to discern and appreciate when live watching as our brains cannot interpret the details of all that movement. This is further complicated by crows taking collision avoidance paths or interacting with one another in midair. Once they get to their roosting location in large gatherings, all bets are off with respect to describing the flight of any individual as it becomes mostly erratic in crowded three-dimensional space without air traffic controllers. However, in the end they all gradually and somewhat methodically land safely on city’s treetops where they will spend the night roosting.

 

A storm clears the Friendship and the nearby Pedrick House. This building is the original building that was built in 1770 on the Marblehead side of Salem harbor. The building had many purposes over the years and it's link to Salem was through one of it's owners. William Story bought the building from Pedrick and intended to run his business from there as he was a ship captain and he sailed as Captain of the 1797 version of the Friendship (The link to Salem). The park service managed to get the building transferred to them and Salem's NHS (National Historic site) and then a labor of love began as it was taken apart very methodically and brought to Salem. It was then piece by piece put back together and it sits much as it had in the 1770s through the early 1900s..

I’m methodical uploading my photos to Flickr. I prefer to upload them in chronological order, no filters - but they do go through Lightroom to crop and adjust lighting.

I need more photos now then

I think this one was curious. When I saw that the bird was methodically working its way along the beach I got myself ahead of it, and in position to have it walk right past me in order to get a few shots in the nice morning light as it did so. Usually, these Little Blues just keep on going and you get a few nice head shots, or if your lucky- an action shot. This bird however, stopped dead in its tracks when it heard the shutter, actually walking towards me a bit- then stopping to get a real good look. It seemed interested in the noise (I was only about 20 feet away) and stayed there for a few minutes just watching me. After a while I said in a quiet normal speaking voice: "do something!". It did. It slowly walked away. I was hoping for a yawn or something dramatic. I did get a head scratch, though.

 

WOWRb

With so few flowers in bloom at this time, I had to really be on the lookout for Hummers. The foraging Hummers also have to be on the lookout for any blooming plant.This lady was methodically sampling all of these red blooms on an ornamental shrub in my daughter's back yard. I saw only a few flying Hummers species (mostly female Anna's and Costa's). These ladies are segregated from each other for IDs mainly on their bill shapes. This bill is said to be more curved... but there is overlap.

 

IMG_9871; Costa's Hummingbird

Gandhara is the name given to an ancient region or province invaded in 326 B.C. by Alexander the Great, who took Charsadda (ancient Puskalavati) near present-day Peshawar (ancient Purusapura) and then marched eastward across the Indus into the Punjab as far as the Beas river (ancient Vipasa). Gandhara constituted the undulating plains, irrigated by the Kabul River from the Khyber Pass area, the contemporary boundary between Pakistan and Afganistan, down to the Indus River and southward towards the Murree hills and Taxila (ancient Taksasila), near Pakistan"s present capital, Islamabad. Its art, however, during the first centuries of the Christian era, had adopted a substantially larger area, together with the upper stretches of the Kabul River, the valley of Kabul itself, and ancient Kapisa, as well as Swat and Buner towards the north.

   

A great deal of Gandhara sculptures has survived dating from the first to probably as late as the sixth or even the seventh century but in a remarkably homogeneous style. Most of the arts were almost always in a blue-gray mica schist, though sometimes in a green phyllite or in stucco, or very rarely in terracotta. Because of the appeal of its Western classical aesthetic for the British rulers of India, schooled to admire all things Greek and Roman, a great deal found its way into private hands or the shelter of museums.

  

Gandhara sculpture primarily comprised Buddhist monastic establishments. These monasteries provided a never-ending gallery for sculptured reliefs of the Buddha and Bodhisattvas. The Gandhara stupas were comparatively magnified and more intricate, but the most remarkable feature, which distinguished the Gandhara stupas from the pervious styles were hugely tiered umbrellas at its peak, almost soaring over the total structure. The abundance of Gandharan sculpture was an art, which originated with foreign artisans.

  

In the excavation among the varied miscellany of small bronze figures, though not often like Alexandrian imports, four or five Buddhist bronzes are very late in date. These further illustrate the aura of the Gandhara art. Relics of mural paintings though have been discovered, yet the only substantial body of painting, in Bamiyan, is moderately late, and much of it belongs to an Iranian or central Asian rather than an Indian context. Non-narrative themes and architectural ornament were omnipresent at that time. Mythical figures and animals such as atlantes, tritons, dragons, and sea serpents derive from the same source, although there is the occasional high-backed, stylized creature associated with the Central Asian animal style. Moldings and cornices are decorated mostly with acanthus, laurel, and vine, though sometimes with motifs of Indian, and occasionally ultimately western Asian, origin: stepped merlons, lion heads, vedikas, and lotus petals. It is worth noting that architectural elements such as pillars, gable ends, and domes as represented in the reliefs tend to follow the Indian forms

.

 

Gandhara became roughly a Holy Land of Buddhism and excluding a handful of Hindu images, sculpture took the form either of Buddhist sect objects, Buddha and Bodhisattvas, or of architectural embellishment for Buddhist monasteries. The more metaphorical kinds are demonstrated by small votive stupas, and bases teeming with stucco images and figurines that have lasted at Jaulian and Mora Moradu, outpost monasteries in the hills around Taxila. Hadda, near the present town of Jalalabad, has created some groups in stucco of an almost rococo while more latest works of art in baked clay, with strong Hellenistic influence, have been revealed there, in what sums up as tiny chapels. It is not known exactly why stucco, an imported Alexandrian modus operandi, was used. It is true that grey schist is not found near Taxila, however other stones are available, and in opposition to the ease of operating with stucco, predominantly the artistic effects which can be achieved, must be set with its impermanence- fresh deposits frequently had to be applied. Excluding possibly at Taxila, its use emerges to have been a late expansion.

  

Architectural fundamentals of the Gandhara art, like pillars, gable ends and domes as showcased in the reliefs, were inclined to follow Indian outlines, but the pilaster with capital of Corinthian type, abounds and in one-palace scene Persepolitan columns go along with Roman coffered ceilings. The so-called Shrine of the Double-Headed Eagle at Sirkap, in actuality a stupa pedestal, well demonstrates this enlightening eclecticism- the double-headed bird on top of the chaitya arch is an insignia of Scythian origin, which appears as a Byzantine motif and materialises much later in South India as the ga1J.qa-bheru1J.qa in addition to atop European armorial bearings.

 

In Gandhara art the descriptive friezes were all but invariably Buddhist, and hence Indian in substance- one depicted a horse on wheels nearing a doorway, which might have represented the Trojan horse affair, but this is under scan. The Dioscuri, Castor and Pollux, familiar from the previous Greek-based coinage of the region, appeared once or twice as standing figurines, presumably because as a pair, they tallied an Indian mithuna couple. There were also female statuettes, corresponding to city goddesses. Though figures from Butkara, near Saidan Sharif in Swat, were noticeably more Indian in physical type, and Indian motifs were in abundance there. Sculpture was, in the main, Hellenistic or Roman, and the art of Gandhara was indeed "the easternmost appearance of the art of the Roman Empire, especially in its late and provincial manifestations". Furthermore, naturalistic portrait heads, one of the high-points of Roman sculpture, were all but missing in Gandhara, in spite of the episodic separated head, probably that of a donor, with a discernible feeling of uniqueness. Some constitutions and poses matched those from western Asia and the Roman world; like the manner in which a figure in a recurrently instanced scene from the Dipankara jataka had prostrated himself before the future Buddha, is reverberated in the pose of the defeated before the defeater on a Trojanic frieze on the Arch of Constantine and in later illustrations of the admiration of the divinised emperor. One singular recurrently occurring muscular male figure, hand on sword, witnessed in three-quarters view from the backside, has been adopted from western classical sculpture. On occasions standing figures, even the Buddha, deceived the elusive stylistic actions of the Roman sculptor, seeking to express majestas. The drapery was fundamentally Western- the folds and volume of dangling garments were carved with realness and gusto- but it was mainly the persistent endeavours at illusionism, though frequently obscured by unrefined carving, which earmarked the Gandhara sculpture as based on a western classical visual impact.

  

The distinguishing Gandhara sculpture, of which hundreds if not thousands of instances have outlived, is the standing or seated Buddha. This flawlessly reproduces the necessary nature of Gandhara art, in which a religious and an artistic constituent, drawn from widely varied cultures have been bonded. The iconography is purely Indian. The seated Buddha is mostly cross-legged in the established Indian manner. However, forthcoming generations, habituated to think of the Buddha as a monk, and unable to picture him ever possessing long hair or donning a turban, came to deduce the chigon as a "cranial protuberance", singular to Buddha. But Buddha is never depicted with a shaved head, as are the Sangha, the monks; his short hair is clothed either in waves or in taut curls over his whole head. The extended ears are merely due to the downward thrust of the heavy ear-rings worn by a prince or magnate; the distortion of the ear-lobes is especially visible in Buddha, who, in Gandhara, never wore ear-rings or ornaments of any kind. As Foucher puts it, the Gandhara Buddha is at a time a monk without shaving and a prince stripped off jewellery.

  

The western classical factor rests in the style, in the handling of the robe, and in the physiognomy of Buddha. The cloak, which covers all but the appendages (though the right shoulder is often bared), is dealt like in Greek and Roman sculptures; the heavy folds are given a plastic flair of their own, and only in poorer or later works do they deteriorate into indented lines, fairly a return to standard Indian practice. The "western" treatment has caused Buddha"s garment to be misidentified for a toga; but a toga is semicircular, while, Buddha wore a basic, rectangular piece of cloth, i.e., the samghiifi, a monk"s upper garment. The head gradually swerves towards a hieratic stylisation, but at its best, it is naturalistic and almost positively based on the Greek Apollo, undoubtedly in Hellenistic or Roman copies.

 

Gandhara art also had developed at least two species of image, i.e. not part of the frieze, in which Buddha is the fundamental figure of an event in his life, distinguished by accompanying figures and a detailed mise-en-scene. Perhaps the most remarkable amongst these is the Visit to the Indrasala Cave, of which the supreme example is dated in the year 89, almost unquestionably of the Kanishka period. Indra and his harpist are depicted on their visit in it. The small statuettes of the visitors emerge below, an elephant describing Indra. The more general among these detailed images, of which approximately 30 instances are known, is presumably related with the Great Miracle of Sravasti. In one such example, one of the adjoining Bodhisattvas is distinguished as Avalokiteshwara by the tiny seated Buddha in his headgear. Other features of these images include the unreal species of tree above Buddha, the spiky lotus upon which he sits, and the effortlessly identifiable figurines of Indra and Brahma on both sides.

  

Another important aspect of the Gandhara art was the coins of the Graeco-Bactrians. The coins of the Graeco-Bactrians - on the Greek metrological standard, equals the finest Attic examples and of the Indo-Greek kings, which have until lately served as the only instances of Greek art found in the subcontinent. The legendary silver double decadrachmas of Amyntas, possibly a remembrance issue, are the biggest "Greek" coins ever minted, the largest cast in gold, is the exceptional decadrachma of the same king in the Bibliotheque Nationale, with the Dioscuri on the inverse. Otherwise, there was scanty evidence until recently of Greek or Hellenistic influences in Gandhara. A manifestation of Greek metropolitan planning is furnished by the rectilinear layouts of two cities of the 1st centuries B.C./A.D.--Sirkap at Taxila and Shaikhan Pheri at Charsadda. Remains of the temple at Jandial, also at Taxila and presumably dating back to 1st century B.C., also includes Greek characteristics- remarkably the huge base mouldings and the Ionic capitals of the colossal portico and antechamber columns. In contrast, the columns or pilasters on the immeasurable Gandhara friezes (when they are not in a Indian style), are consistently coronated by Indo-Corinthian capitals, the local version of the Corinthian capital- a certain sign of a comparatively later date.

 

The notable Begram hoard confirms articulately to the number and multiplicity of origin of the foreign artefacts imported into Gandhara. This further illustrates the foreign influence in the Gandhara art. Parallel hoards have been found in peninsular India, especially in Kolhapur in Maharashtra, but the imported wares are sternly from the Roman world. At Begram the ancient Kapisa, near Kabul, there are bronzes, possibly of Alexandrian manufacture, in close proximity with emblemata (plaster discs, certainly meant as moulds for local silversmiths), bearing reliefs in the purest classical vein, Chinese lacquers and Roman glass. The hoard was possibly sealed in mid-3rd century, when some of the subjects may have been approximately 200 years old "antiques", frequently themselves replicates of classical Greek objects. The plentiful ivories, consisting in the central of chest and throne facings, engraved in a number of varied relief techniques, were credibly developed somewhere between Mathura and coastal Andhra. Some are of unrivalled beauty. Even though a few secluded instances of early Indian ivory carving have outlived, including the legendary mirror handle from Pompeii, the Begram ivories are the only substantial collection known until moderately in present times of what must always have been a widespread craft. Other sites, particularly Taxila, have generated great many instances of such imports, some from India, some, like the appealing tiny bronze figure of Harpocrates, undoubtedly from Alexandria. Further cultural influences are authenticated by the Scytho Sarmatian jewellery, with its characteristic high-backed carnivores, and by a statue of St. Peter. But all this should not cloud the all-important truth that the immediately identifiable Gandhara style was the prevailing form of artistic manifestation throughout the expanse for several centuries, and the magnitude of its influence on the art of central Asia and China and as far as Japan, allows no doubt about its integrity and vitality.

 

In the Gandhara art early Buddhist iconography drew heavily on traditional sources, incorporating Hindu gods and goddesses into a Buddhist pantheon and adapting old folk tales to Buddhist religious purposes. Kubera and Harm are probably the best-known examples of this process.

  

Five dated idols from Gandhara art though exist, however the hitch remains that the era is never distinguished. The dates are in figures under 100 or else in 300s. Moreover one of the higher numbers are debatable, besides, the image upon which it is engraved is not in the conventional Andhra style. The two low-number-dated idols are the most sophisticated and the least injured. Their pattern is classical Gandhara. The most undemanding rendition of their dates relates them to Kanishka and 78 A.D. is assumed as the commencement of his era. They both fall in the second half of the 2nd century A.D. and equally later, if a later date is necessitated for the beginning of Kanishka`s time. This calculation nearly parallels numismatics and archaeological evidences. The application of other eras, like the Vikrama (base date- 58 B.C.) and the Saka (base date- 78 A.D.), would place them much later. The badly battered figurines portray standing Buddhas, without a head of its own, but both on original figured plinths. They come to view as depicting the classical Gandhara style; decision regarding where to place these two dated Buddhas, both standing, must remain knotty till more evidence comes out as to how late the classical Gandhara panache had continued.

   

Methodical study of the Gandhara art, and specifically about its origins and expansion, is befuddled with numerous problems, not at least of which is the inordinately complex history and culture of the province. It is one of the great ethnical crossroads of the world simultaneously being in the path of all the intrusions of India for over three millennia. Bussagli has rightly remarked, `More than any other Indian region, Gandhara was a participant in the political and cultural events that concerned the rest of the Asian continent`.

   

However, Systematic study of the art of Gandhara, and particularly of its origins and development, is bedeviled by many problems, not the least of which is the extraordinarily complex history and culture of the region.

   

In spite of the labours of many scholars over the past hundred and fifty years, the answers to some of the most important questions, such as the number of centuries spanned by the art of Gandhara, still await, fresh archaeological, inscriptional, or numismatic evidence.

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gandhara

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gautama_Buddha

Gandhara is the name given to an ancient region or province invaded in 326 B.C. by Alexander the Great, who took Charsadda (ancient Puskalavati) near present-day Peshawar (ancient Purusapura) and then marched eastward across the Indus into the Punjab as far as the Beas river (ancient Vipasa). Gandhara constituted the undulating plains, irrigated by the Kabul River from the Khyber Pass area, the contemporary boundary between Pakistan and Afganistan, down to the Indus River and southward towards the Murree hills and Taxila (ancient Taksasila), near Pakistan"s present capital, Islamabad. Its art, however, during the first centuries of the Christian era, had adopted a substantially larger area, together with the upper stretches of the Kabul River, the valley of Kabul itself, and ancient Kapisa, as well as Swat and Buner towards the north.

   

A great deal of Gandhara sculptures has survived dating from the first to probably as late as the sixth or even the seventh century but in a remarkably homogeneous style. Most of the arts were almost always in a blue-gray mica schist, though sometimes in a green phyllite or in stucco, or very rarely in terracotta. Because of the appeal of its Western classical aesthetic for the British rulers of India, schooled to admire all things Greek and Roman, a great deal found its way into private hands or the shelter of museums.

  

Gandhara sculpture primarily comprised Buddhist monastic establishments. These monasteries provided a never-ending gallery for sculptured reliefs of the Buddha and Bodhisattvas. The Gandhara stupas were comparatively magnified and more intricate, but the most remarkable feature, which distinguished the Gandhara stupas from the pervious styles were hugely tiered umbrellas at its peak, almost soaring over the total structure. The abundance of Gandharan sculpture was an art, which originated with foreign artisans.

  

In the excavation among the varied miscellany of small bronze figures, though not often like Alexandrian imports, four or five Buddhist bronzes are very late in date. These further illustrate the aura of the Gandhara art. Relics of mural paintings though have been discovered, yet the only substantial body of painting, in Bamiyan, is moderately late, and much of it belongs to an Iranian or central Asian rather than an Indian context. Non-narrative themes and architectural ornament were omnipresent at that time. Mythical figures and animals such as atlantes, tritons, dragons, and sea serpents derive from the same source, although there is the occasional high-backed, stylized creature associated with the Central Asian animal style. Moldings and cornices are decorated mostly with acanthus, laurel, and vine, though sometimes with motifs of Indian, and occasionally ultimately western Asian, origin: stepped merlons, lion heads, vedikas, and lotus petals. It is worth noting that architectural elements such as pillars, gable ends, and domes as represented in the reliefs tend to follow the Indian forms

.

 

Gandhara became roughly a Holy Land of Buddhism and excluding a handful of Hindu images, sculpture took the form either of Buddhist sect objects, Buddha and Bodhisattvas, or of architectural embellishment for Buddhist monasteries. The more metaphorical kinds are demonstrated by small votive stupas, and bases teeming with stucco images and figurines that have lasted at Jaulian and Mora Moradu, outpost monasteries in the hills around Taxila. Hadda, near the present town of Jalalabad, has created some groups in stucco of an almost rococo while more latest works of art in baked clay, with strong Hellenistic influence, have been revealed there, in what sums up as tiny chapels. It is not known exactly why stucco, an imported Alexandrian modus operandi, was used. It is true that grey schist is not found near Taxila, however other stones are available, and in opposition to the ease of operating with stucco, predominantly the artistic effects which can be achieved, must be set with its impermanence- fresh deposits frequently had to be applied. Excluding possibly at Taxila, its use emerges to have been a late expansion.

  

Architectural fundamentals of the Gandhara art, like pillars, gable ends and domes as showcased in the reliefs, were inclined to follow Indian outlines, but the pilaster with capital of Corinthian type, abounds and in one-palace scene Persepolitan columns go along with Roman coffered ceilings. The so-called Shrine of the Double-Headed Eagle at Sirkap, in actuality a stupa pedestal, well demonstrates this enlightening eclecticism- the double-headed bird on top of the chaitya arch is an insignia of Scythian origin, which appears as a Byzantine motif and materialises much later in South India as the ga1J.qa-bheru1J.qa in addition to atop European armorial bearings.

 

In Gandhara art the descriptive friezes were all but invariably Buddhist, and hence Indian in substance- one depicted a horse on wheels nearing a doorway, which might have represented the Trojan horse affair, but this is under scan. The Dioscuri, Castor and Pollux, familiar from the previous Greek-based coinage of the region, appeared once or twice as standing figurines, presumably because as a pair, they tallied an Indian mithuna couple. There were also female statuettes, corresponding to city goddesses. Though figures from Butkara, near Saidan Sharif in Swat, were noticeably more Indian in physical type, and Indian motifs were in abundance there. Sculpture was, in the main, Hellenistic or Roman, and the art of Gandhara was indeed "the easternmost appearance of the art of the Roman Empire, especially in its late and provincial manifestations". Furthermore, naturalistic portrait heads, one of the high-points of Roman sculpture, were all but missing in Gandhara, in spite of the episodic separated head, probably that of a donor, with a discernible feeling of uniqueness. Some constitutions and poses matched those from western Asia and the Roman world; like the manner in which a figure in a recurrently instanced scene from the Dipankara jataka had prostrated himself before the future Buddha, is reverberated in the pose of the defeated before the defeater on a Trojanic frieze on the Arch of Constantine and in later illustrations of the admiration of the divinised emperor. One singular recurrently occurring muscular male figure, hand on sword, witnessed in three-quarters view from the backside, has been adopted from western classical sculpture. On occasions standing figures, even the Buddha, deceived the elusive stylistic actions of the Roman sculptor, seeking to express majestas. The drapery was fundamentally Western- the folds and volume of dangling garments were carved with realness and gusto- but it was mainly the persistent endeavours at illusionism, though frequently obscured by unrefined carving, which earmarked the Gandhara sculpture as based on a western classical visual impact.

  

The distinguishing Gandhara sculpture, of which hundreds if not thousands of instances have outlived, is the standing or seated Buddha. This flawlessly reproduces the necessary nature of Gandhara art, in which a religious and an artistic constituent, drawn from widely varied cultures have been bonded. The iconography is purely Indian. The seated Buddha is mostly cross-legged in the established Indian manner. However, forthcoming generations, habituated to think of the Buddha as a monk, and unable to picture him ever possessing long hair or donning a turban, came to deduce the chigon as a "cranial protuberance", singular to Buddha. But Buddha is never depicted with a shaved head, as are the Sangha, the monks; his short hair is clothed either in waves or in taut curls over his whole head. The extended ears are merely due to the downward thrust of the heavy ear-rings worn by a prince or magnate; the distortion of the ear-lobes is especially visible in Buddha, who, in Gandhara, never wore ear-rings or ornaments of any kind. As Foucher puts it, the Gandhara Buddha is at a time a monk without shaving and a prince stripped off jewellery.

  

The western classical factor rests in the style, in the handling of the robe, and in the physiognomy of Buddha. The cloak, which covers all but the appendages (though the right shoulder is often bared), is dealt like in Greek and Roman sculptures; the heavy folds are given a plastic flair of their own, and only in poorer or later works do they deteriorate into indented lines, fairly a return to standard Indian practice. The "western" treatment has caused Buddha"s garment to be misidentified for a toga; but a toga is semicircular, while, Buddha wore a basic, rectangular piece of cloth, i.e., the samghiifi, a monk"s upper garment. The head gradually swerves towards a hieratic stylisation, but at its best, it is naturalistic and almost positively based on the Greek Apollo, undoubtedly in Hellenistic or Roman copies.

 

Gandhara art also had developed at least two species of image, i.e. not part of the frieze, in which Buddha is the fundamental figure of an event in his life, distinguished by accompanying figures and a detailed mise-en-scene. Perhaps the most remarkable amongst these is the Visit to the Indrasala Cave, of which the supreme example is dated in the year 89, almost unquestionably of the Kanishka period. Indra and his harpist are depicted on their visit in it. The small statuettes of the visitors emerge below, an elephant describing Indra. The more general among these detailed images, of which approximately 30 instances are known, is presumably related with the Great Miracle of Sravasti. In one such example, one of the adjoining Bodhisattvas is distinguished as Avalokiteshwara by the tiny seated Buddha in his headgear. Other features of these images include the unreal species of tree above Buddha, the spiky lotus upon which he sits, and the effortlessly identifiable figurines of Indra and Brahma on both sides.

  

Another important aspect of the Gandhara art was the coins of the Graeco-Bactrians. The coins of the Graeco-Bactrians - on the Greek metrological standard, equals the finest Attic examples and of the Indo-Greek kings, which have until lately served as the only instances of Greek art found in the subcontinent. The legendary silver double decadrachmas of Amyntas, possibly a remembrance issue, are the biggest "Greek" coins ever minted, the largest cast in gold, is the exceptional decadrachma of the same king in the Bibliotheque Nationale, with the Dioscuri on the inverse. Otherwise, there was scanty evidence until recently of Greek or Hellenistic influences in Gandhara. A manifestation of Greek metropolitan planning is furnished by the rectilinear layouts of two cities of the 1st centuries B.C./A.D.--Sirkap at Taxila and Shaikhan Pheri at Charsadda. Remains of the temple at Jandial, also at Taxila and presumably dating back to 1st century B.C., also includes Greek characteristics- remarkably the huge base mouldings and the Ionic capitals of the colossal portico and antechamber columns. In contrast, the columns or pilasters on the immeasurable Gandhara friezes (when they are not in a Indian style), are consistently coronated by Indo-Corinthian capitals, the local version of the Corinthian capital- a certain sign of a comparatively later date.

 

The notable Begram hoard confirms articulately to the number and multiplicity of origin of the foreign artefacts imported into Gandhara. This further illustrates the foreign influence in the Gandhara art. Parallel hoards have been found in peninsular India, especially in Kolhapur in Maharashtra, but the imported wares are sternly from the Roman world. At Begram the ancient Kapisa, near Kabul, there are bronzes, possibly of Alexandrian manufacture, in close proximity with emblemata (plaster discs, certainly meant as moulds for local silversmiths), bearing reliefs in the purest classical vein, Chinese lacquers and Roman glass. The hoard was possibly sealed in mid-3rd century, when some of the subjects may have been approximately 200 years old "antiques", frequently themselves replicates of classical Greek objects. The plentiful ivories, consisting in the central of chest and throne facings, engraved in a number of varied relief techniques, were credibly developed somewhere between Mathura and coastal Andhra. Some are of unrivalled beauty. Even though a few secluded instances of early Indian ivory carving have outlived, including the legendary mirror handle from Pompeii, the Begram ivories are the only substantial collection known until moderately in present times of what must always have been a widespread craft. Other sites, particularly Taxila, have generated great many instances of such imports, some from India, some, like the appealing tiny bronze figure of Harpocrates, undoubtedly from Alexandria. Further cultural influences are authenticated by the Scytho Sarmatian jewellery, with its characteristic high-backed carnivores, and by a statue of St. Peter. But all this should not cloud the all-important truth that the immediately identifiable Gandhara style was the prevailing form of artistic manifestation throughout the expanse for several centuries, and the magnitude of its influence on the art of central Asia and China and as far as Japan, allows no doubt about its integrity and vitality.

 

In the Gandhara art early Buddhist iconography drew heavily on traditional sources, incorporating Hindu gods and goddesses into a Buddhist pantheon and adapting old folk tales to Buddhist religious purposes. Kubera and Harm are probably the best-known examples of this process.

  

Five dated idols from Gandhara art though exist, however the hitch remains that the era is never distinguished. The dates are in figures under 100 or else in 300s. Moreover one of the higher numbers are debatable, besides, the image upon which it is engraved is not in the conventional Andhra style. The two low-number-dated idols are the most sophisticated and the least injured. Their pattern is classical Gandhara. The most undemanding rendition of their dates relates them to Kanishka and 78 A.D. is assumed as the commencement of his era. They both fall in the second half of the 2nd century A.D. and equally later, if a later date is necessitated for the beginning of Kanishka`s time. This calculation nearly parallels numismatics and archaeological evidences. The application of other eras, like the Vikrama (base date- 58 B.C.) and the Saka (base date- 78 A.D.), would place them much later. The badly battered figurines portray standing Buddhas, without a head of its own, but both on original figured plinths. They come to view as depicting the classical Gandhara style; decision regarding where to place these two dated Buddhas, both standing, must remain knotty till more evidence comes out as to how late the classical Gandhara panache had continued.

   

Methodical study of the Gandhara art, and specifically about its origins and expansion, is befuddled with numerous problems, not at least of which is the inordinately complex history and culture of the province. It is one of the great ethnical crossroads of the world simultaneously being in the path of all the intrusions of India for over three millennia. Bussagli has rightly remarked, `More than any other Indian region, Gandhara was a participant in the political and cultural events that concerned the rest of the Asian continent`.

   

However, Systematic study of the art of Gandhara, and particularly of its origins and development, is bedeviled by many problems, not the least of which is the extraordinarily complex history and culture of the region.

   

In spite of the labours of many scholars over the past hundred and fifty years, the answers to some of the most important questions, such as the number of centuries spanned by the art of Gandhara, still await, fresh archaeological, inscriptional, or numismatic evidence.

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gandhara

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gautama_Buddha

I saw this place for the first time in June. I was hugely excited, in the special way reserved for one-time-only events.

 

Then I found myself back for a second time. The rush of discovery (coupled with the fear of being discovered) was much diminished. Which meant I could explore in a more thoughtful, methodical way.

 

It was very strange to find practically everything exactly as I'd left it. Stranger still - since my return, I've realized that a lot of people don't "get" ghost towns. I've even had a few people ask me what the hell I'm talking about when I use the g-word.

 

Ten totally loves that opening. She could talk for weeks about why she loves abandoned places, blithely ignoring the glazed, increasingly panicked look on the face of whoever she's blathering to. Meantime, 48 is secretly pleased to learn there's less competition for these places than she'd thought - and thrilled by the hope that, when she returns in the spring, things will, once again, be just as she left them.

 

Will the record player still be here, looking out the window at the sad, empty prairie? Will the swallows be back in their nests in every corner of the falling ceiling? Will the two little cake pans still be sitting on what was once the wood stove? Like a newly pregnant human, I'll just have to wait another nine months to find out.

December 6th was the National Day of Remembrance and Action On Violence Against Women. This was the day in 1989 that Marc Lepine walked into the L´École Polytechnique in Montréal and, separating the men from the women, methodically killed 14 women simply because they were women.

 

Each pair of shoes represent a woman who has been killed. A list of names is displayed to honour the memory of the women, and their families. After this memorial, the shoes are donated to women in need.

 

www.wecanbc.ca/

Vancouver Art Gallery

Vancouver, British Columbia

+++ DISCLAIMER +++

Nothing you see here is real, even though the conversion or the presented background story might be based on historical facts. BEWARE!

  

Some background:

The Char B1 was a French heavy tank manufactured before World War II. It was conceived as a specialized offensive vehicle, armed with a 75 mm howitzer in the hull. Later a 47 mm gun in a turret was added, to allow it to function also as a Char de Bataille, a ‘battle tank’ fighting enemy armour, equipping the armoured divisions of the Infantry Arm. Starting in the early twenties, its development and production were repeatedly delayed, resulting in a vehicle that was both technologically complex and expensive, and already obsolescent when real mass-production of a derived version, the Char B1 "bis", started in the late thirties.

 

The outer appearance of the Char B1 reflected the fact that development started in the twenties: like the very first tank, the British Mark I tank of World War I, it still had large tracks going around the entire hull and large armour plates protecting the suspension—and like all tanks of that decade it had no welded or cast hull armour. The similarity resulted partly from the fact that the Char B1 was a specialized offensive weapon, a break-through tank optimized for punching a hole into strong defensive entrenchments, so it was designed with good trench-crossing capabilities and therefore the hull and the tracks had considerable length. The French Army thought that dislodging the enemy from a key front sector would decide a campaign, and it prided itself on being the only army in the world having a sufficient number of adequately protected heavy tanks. The exploitation phase of a battle was seen as secondary and best carried out by controlled and methodical movement to ensure superiority in numbers, so that the heavy tank’s mobility was of secondary concern. Although the Char B1 had a reasonably good speed for the time of its conception, no serious efforts were made to improve it when much faster tanks appeared.

 

More important than the tank's limitations in tactical mobility, however, were its limitations in strategic mobility. The low practical range implied the need to refuel very often, limiting its operational capabilities. This again implied that the armoured divisions of the Infantry, the Divisions Cuirassées, were not very effective as a mobile reserve and thus lacked strategic flexibility. They were not created to fulfill such a role in the first place, which was reflected in the small size of the artillery and infantry components of the divisions.

 

Another explanation of the similarity to the British Mark I lies in the Char B1's original specification to create a self-propelled gun able to destroy enemy infantry and artillery. The main weapon of the tank was its 75 mm howitzer, and the entire design of the vehicle was directed to making this gun as effective as possible. When in the early 1930s it became obvious that the Char B1 also had to defeat counterattacking enemy armour, it was too late for a complete redesign. The solution was to add the standard cast APX-1 turret which also equipped the Char D2 and the Somua S35. Like most French tanks of the period the Char B thus had a small one-man turret. The commander not only had to command the tank, but also to aim and load the anti-tank gun, and if he was a unit leader, he had to command his other tanks as well. This was in contrast with the contemporary German, British and to a lesser extent Soviet policy to use two or three-man turret crews, in which these duties were divided amongst several men, or to use dedicated command vehicles.

 

Among the most powerfully armed and armoured tanks of its day, the Char B1 was very effective in direct confrontations with early German armour during the Battle of France. The 60 mm (2.36 in) frontal armor was sloped, giving it an effective strength of near 80 mm (3.15 in), and it proved to be almost invulnerable to the 1940 Panzer II and III as well as the early Panzer IV with its short 75mm close-support gun. There were no real weak spots, and this invulnerability helped the B1 to close on targets, then destroy them with the turret 47 mm (1.85 in) or the brute force of the howitzer HE shells. However, its slow speed and high fuel consumption made it ill-adapted to the war of movement then being fought.

 

In the meantime, plans had taken shape to improve the Char B1, and this led to two developments that eventually entered the hardware stage: A further up-armoured version, the Char B1 "ter", was designed with sloped and welded 70 mm armour, weighing 36.6 tonnes and powered by a 350 hp (260 kW) engine. It was meant to replace the B1 bis to accelerate mass production, a change first intended for the summer of 1940 but later postponed to March 1941 and finally abandoned.

In the course of the redesign, space was provided for a fifth crew member, a "mechanic". Cost was reduced by omitting the complex Neader transmission for aiming the howitzer and giving the hull gun a traverse of five degrees to each side instead. The first prototype was shown in 1937, but only three prototypes could be partly finished before the defeat of France. Serial production was rejected due to the need to build totally new production lines for the much-modified Char B1 ter, so that this development was a dead end, even more so because it did not really cure the vehicle’s weakness of the overburdened commander and the split armament.

 

The latter issues were addressed with another development, a modernized variant of the existing Char B1 bis with a new weapon layout, the Char B1 “tetre”. Work on this variant started in 1936, as an alternative concept to the one-man turret and as an experimental carrier for a new high velocity semi-automatic 75 mm multi-purpose gun with a long barrel. Such a weapon was direly needed, because the biggest caliber of an anti-tank gun was a mere 47 mm, the SA 35 gun. The only recent alternative was the infantry’s 47 mm APX anti-tank gun from 1937, which could pierce 60 mm (2.4 in) at 550 meters (600 yd) or 80 mm (3.1 in) at 180 meters (200 yd), but it had not been adapted to vehicle use yet and was not regarded to be powerful enough to cope with tanks like the Char B1 itself.

 

This new 75 mm tank gun was already under development at the Atelier de Construction de Rueil (ARL) for a new medium 20-ton-tank, the Char G1 from Renault, that was to replace the Char B1. The gun, called “ARL 37”, would be mounted in a new three-man turret, and ARL was developing prototypes of both a turret that could be taken by the Char B1’s and S35’s limited turret ring, as well as the gun itself, which was based on the 75 mm high velocity gun with hydro-pneumatic recoil compensation from the vintage heavy FCM 2C tank

 

The ARL 37 had a mass of 750 kg (1,653.5 lb) and a barrel length of 3,281 mm (129.2 in) with a bore of 43 calibers. Maximum muzzle velocity was 740 m/s (2,400 ft/s). The gun was fitted with an electric firing mechanism and the breech operated semi-automatically. Only one-piece ammunition was used, and both HE and AP rounds could be fired – even though the latter had to developed, too, because no such round was available in 1937/38 yet. However, with early experimental Armour Piercing Capped Ballistic Cap (APCBC) rounds, the ARL 37 was able to penetrate 133 mm (5.2 in) of vertical steel plate at 100 m range, 107 mm (4.2 in) at 1.000 m and still 85 mm (3.3 in) at 2.000 m, making it a powerful anti-tank weapon of its era.

 

Since the new weapon was expected to fire both HE and AP rounds, the Char B1’s howitzer in the hull was omitted, its opening faired over and instead a movable 7.5 mm Reibel machine gun was added in a ball mount, operated by a radio operator who sat next to the driver. Another 7.5mm machine gun was mounted co-axially to the main gun in the turret, which had a cupola and offered space for the rest of the crew: a dedicated commander as well as a gunner and loader team.

The hexagonal turret was cast and had a welded roof as well as a gun mantlet. With its 70 mm frontal armor as well as the tank’s new hull front section, the conversions added a total of four net tons of weight, so that the Char B1 tetre weighed 36 tons. To prevent its performance from deteriorating further, it received the Char B1 ter’s uprated 350 hp (260 kW) engine. The running gear remained unchanged, even though the fully rotating turret made the complex and expensive Neader transmission superfluous, so that it was replaced by a standard heavy-duty piece.

 

Although promising, the Char B1 tetre’s development was slow, delayed by the lack of resources and many teething troubles with the new 75 mm cannon and the turret. When the war broke out in September 1939, production was cleared and began slowly, but focus remained on existing vehicles and weapons. By the time there were perhaps 180 operational B1 and B1 bis in all. They were used for the Sarre offensive, a short-lived burst without serious opposition, with a massive force of 41 divisions and 2.400 tanks. The Char B1 served with the armoured divisions of the infantry, the Divisions Cuirassées (DCr). The First and Second DCR had 69 Char B1s each, the Third 68. These were highly specialized offensive units, to break through fortified positions. The mobile phase of a battle was to be carried out by the Divisions Légères Mécaniques (mechanised light divisions) of the cavalry, equipped with the SOMUA S35.

 

After the German invasion several ad hoc units were formed: the 4e DCr with 52 Char B1s and five autonomous companies (347e, 348e, 349e, 352e and 353e Compagnie Autonome de Chars) with in total 56 tanks: 12 B1s and 44 B1 bis; 28e BCC was reconstituted with 34 tanks. By that time, a very limited number of Char B1 tetre had been produced and delivered to operational units, but their tactical value was low since sufficient 75 mm AP rounds were not available – the tanks had to use primarily the same HE rounds that were fired with the Char B1’s howitzer, and these posed only a limited threat to German tanks, esp. the upgraded Panzer III and IVs. The Char B1 tertre’s potential was never fully exploited, even though most of the tanks were used as command vehicles.

 

The regular French divisions destroyed quite a few German tanks but lacked enough organic infantry and artillery to function as an effective mobile reserve. After the defeat of France, captured Char B1 of all variants would be used by Germany, with some rebuilt as flamethrowers, Munitionspanzer, or mechanized artillery.

  

Specifications:

Crew: Five (driver, radio operator/machine gunner, commander, gunner, loader)

Weight: 36 tonnes (40 short tons, 35 long tons)

Length: 6.98 m (22 ft 10½ in) overall with gun forward

6.37 m (20 ft 11 in) hull only

Width: 2.46 m (8 ft 1 in)

Height: 2.84 m (9 ft 3¾ in)

Ground clearance: 40 cm (1 ft 3¾ in)

Climbing: 93 cm (3 ft ½ in)

Trench crossing: 2,4 m (7 ft 10½ in)

Suspension: Bogies with a mixture of vertical coil and leaf springs

Steering: Double differential

Fuel capacity: 400 liters

 

Armour:

14 to 70 mm (0.55 to 2.75 in)

 

Performance:

28 km/h (17 mph) on road

21 km/h (13 mph) off-road

Operational range: 200 km (124 mi) on road

Power/weight: 9.7 hp/ton

 

Engine:

1× Renault inline 6 cylinder 16.5 litre petrol engine with 350 hp (260 kW)

 

Transmission:

5 forward and 1 rear gear

 

Armament:

1x 75 ARL 37 high-velocity cannon with 94 rounds

2x 7.5 mm (0.295 in) Reibel machine guns with a total of 5,250 rounds

  

The kit and its assembly:.

This fictional Char B1 variant was based on the question what the tank could have looked like if there had been a suitable 75 mm gun available that could replace both its howitzer in the hull and the rather light anti-tank gun in the turret? No such weapon existed in France, but I tried to extrapolate the concept based on the standard Char B1 hull.

 

Two big changes were made: the first concerned the hull howitzer, which was deleted, and its recessed opening faired over with 1 mm styrene sheet and putty. This sound easier as it turned out to be because the suspension for the front right idler wheel had to be retained, and the complex shape of the glacis plate and the opening called for patchwork. A fairing for the co-driver was added as well as a ball mount for the new hull machine gun. New shackles were added to the lower front and, finally, new rows of bolt heads (created with white glue).

 

The turret was completely replaced with a cast turret from a 1943 T-34/76 (Zvezda kit). While its shape and gun mantlet are quite characteristic, I still used it mostly OOB because its size and shape turned out to be a very good match to contemporary French tank turrets. However, the gun barrel was moved and a fairing for a hydro-pneumatic recoil damper was added, as well as a French commander cupola. And an adapter had to be scratched to attach the new turret to the hull, together with small fairings for the wider turret ring.

  

Painting and markings:

I wanted a rather unusual paint scheme for this Char B1 derivative, and found inspiration in an operational museum tank that depicts vehicle “311/Rhin”: it carries a three-tone livery in two greens and brown, instead of the more common sand, dark green and earth brown tones or just two-tone schemes.

 

The colors were adapted to an irregular pattern, and the paints I used were Humbrol 120 (FS 34227, a rather pale interpretation of the tone), 10 (Gloss Dark Brown) and ModelMaster 1764 (FS 34092). As a personal twist, the colors were edged in black, enhancing the contrast.

The markings were puzzled together from various sources in an attempt to create suitable tactical codes of the early 1940 era. The “Ace of Spades” emblem on the turret is, for example, are a marking of the 1st section. The dot in front of the “K” probably indicated a command vehicle, but I am not certain.

 

Some post-shading was done as well as dry-brushing with light earth brown to emphasize edges and details. Then the model was sealed with matt acrylic varnish and received some dusting with grey-brown artist pigments, simulating dust around the running gear.

  

Well, not too much was changed, but the new, bigger turret changes the Char B1’s look considerably – it looks somewhat smaller now? Its new silhouette also reminds me of a duck? Weird, but the conversion worked out well – esp. the modified glacis plate without the howitzer’s recessed opening looks very natural.

 

Photographed the Little Blue Heron in the Nellie Schiller Homosassa Springs Wildlife State Park located in Homosassa Springs in the State of Florida U.S.A.

 

The Little Blue Heron's breeding habitat is sub-tropical swamps. It nests in colonies, often with other herons, usually on platforms of sticks in trees or shrubs. 3–7 light blue eggs are laid. The Little Blue Heron stalks its prey methodically in shallow water, often running as it does so. It eats fish, frogs, crustaceans, small rodents and insects. White Little Blue Herons often mingle with Snowy Egrets. The Snowy Egret tolerates their presence more than Little Blue Herons in adult plumage. These young birds actually catch more fish when in the presence of the Snowy Egret and also gain a measure of protection from predators when they mix into flocks of white herons. It is plausible that because of these advantages, they remain white for their first year.

Another action shot from 'Kin' by Barely Methodical Troupe which is part of the The Underbelly Circus Hub at this year's Edinburgh Fringe.

 

As well as awesome circus skills, this show was extremelyfun.

 

You can book tickets here: www.underbellyedinburgh.co.uk/whats-on/kin

The side-splitting way of putting it, I am a cross between Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt (No, that doesn’t make me look like a bruised armpit). Perhaps those two hunks are the spitting images of me instead of the other way round. Of course I am joking! LOL!

  

Ojie did it! Right! That cute architect tagged me. It is less than cool to be tagged actually. But, in a true spirit of camaraderie in flickr, it makes me feel guilty when I am tagged and yet I don’t respond to it. To start my day today, Tuesday, May 5, 2009, I’d like to respond to this and hopefully you viewers will know me better. Knowing me is just like skinning an onion; you have to go one layer after another. I am now offering some layers of me, big time.

 

Here goes….

 

1.

There are a few names I go by, like, GAB (seriously it does, especially among my newly-met friends in the past 10 years), TM (this is very special, meant only for old friends from high school), Zack and Jay. Jay sounds imposing and unassailable while Zack sounds a bit playful that I’m prone to introduce myself with when meeting beautiful ladies.

 

2.

I’m married to a wonderful woman that we first met when we were still babies, methodically turned aficionado to one another at a very tender age until heaven called upon us to unite in early 90s. We are blessed with 3 beautiful and smart kids, namely, Fara Liyana (Fara), Farhan Azrayl (Sam) and Farez Edrin (Edrin) that now age 17, 15 and 12 respectively.

(Note: I have a story to share. If you care to read, go here)

 

3.

I am an American-trained, qualified professionally as an Engineer but later in my working life, my love in entrepreneurship supersedes other things that once I burnt my bridges, I never looked back since – and things couldn’t get any better with those bittersweet experiences of roller-coaster ride in my stride.

 

4.

They say smart people naturally have wide forehead as wide as a football field, but my smart is only confined to "In the Kingdom of the Blind, the one-eyed man is king". My forehead was already that wide when I was a kid while other kids had their hairlines like millimeters away from eyebrows. When the hairline recedes, it becomes even wider – but the good thing is, it’s not just that I don’t care, I even love it.

 

5.

I love my tummy too but they pushed me to hate it. I think I am one of the millions of men around the world who have this problem (but personally it’s not a big deal to me). I always give excuse to myself saying, a sign of prosperity. LOL! (For heaven's sake, mine is not that bad, OK!)

 

6.

I think my most treasured possessions are cool-under-pressure and my PR skills. I am capable of making a brute to go out of character by showing my intrepid and fearless face (God knows what’s brewing inside me though), and I have ways to talk people out in the most daunting moments.

 

7.

The idea of scary thing to me is only when a beautiful and sexy lady stood up on me saying she loves me. That’s still not too scary, but when I circumstantially would be head over heel with her; that’d bring a chill down my spine. Or maybe me I am confused with excitement here? Someone… care to explain this to me? LOL!

 

8.

Err…. What else I want to write here? I am stuck!.... Yeah… Let me be honest with you about physical things of the opposite sex that I found most appealing: Heavy at the top, nice fingers and pleasant walking style. (Does this hold water?!!!)

 

9.

I think I am a loving father that can be a bit sentimental when talk about my kids. I do carry pictures of them when they were babies in my wallet. Another way of saying, don’t grow up, please be my babies for as long as I live.

 

10.

I can be down to all minute and petty things around the house as I love to see things in perfect order but when you’re dealing with growing up kids, you can’t be too ideal.

 

11.

Man, forgot to write this in the earlier point – I was born in Narathiwatt, Thailand. Technically that makes me a Thai but that’s not the case as my parents are both Malays from Malaysia. Southern Thailand is actually as good as a part of Malaysia in the perspectives of livelihood, values, religion, language, custom and culture but rather unfortunate we are divided by a political barrier that the separation became obvious by the day.

 

12.

There are things that I wish I had but I don’t have it right now, like having time and enough savings for me to be on holidays round the world with my wife. Perhaps it’d take one year or two to complete. My other wish is to be granted with opportunity to travel into space – I wanna see how small the earth is from distance just to relate to how small I am as a person.

 

13.

I appreciate good music and I used to be a big fan of heavy metal music during my younger days. You name it, Judas Priest, Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden, Whitesnake, Deep Purple, Ozzy Osbourne and many, many more. I’ve seen most of them live in concerts those days during my reign of terror hunting for concerts in the eastern part of the American continent starts from Miami, Florida in the south until New Haven, Connecticut in the north, together with a few of my partners-in-crime. When thrash metal like Metallica came into picture, it was rather too late already. I was making an exit from the ring, and started to fall heavily for classical – I started to enjoy music by Tchaikovsky, Brahms, Bart, Beethoven and whatnot.

 

14.

If you asked me about my all-time favorite songs, I’d say too many of them. Offhand I’d say Just Another Brick in the Wall by Pink Floyd, Selimut Putih – the original rendition of spiritual song by Orkes El-Soraya of Indonesia and Hotel California by the Eagles (the song that I sang during a talentime when I was a kid that I even memorize the lyrics until today), Tchaikovsky symphony No. 5, Mozart - 7th Symphony, a few numbers by Deep Purple, Jimmy Hendrix, Whitesnake, Fleetwood Mac and Rush, just to name a few. If you allow me to add in a few more to the list, I’d say a local folk song “Pok Amai Amai” and Indonesian folk song of “Kodok Ngorek”. (It does not fit the profile? LOL!) No… that Boom Boom Pow by The Black-Eyed Peas is not my type.

 

15.

Wanna know things that I love doing in my spare time? I love to do drawing & designing (especially when my girl Fara is on my side appreciating my work), driving around with kids if I am not engrossed with my garden. And I just love to be by myself in the woods next to a waterfall or being somewhere in the busy crowds sitting there like stupid observing people. Funny, taking pictures not even my top priority.

 

16.

There are things that I want to do before I die: To impart as much as possible knowledge and values to my children and to let them know we’ll have yet another life together in eternity and to build an orphanage home (being an orphan myself when I was a kid, my heart goes to them)

 

Folks, I’d like to break the chain of this tagging thing by not tagging anyone.

 

thegoldensieve.com

 

A good thing continues

 

Some six months ago, I posted almost 100 images and a few thoughts I felt were missing from the many existing RX1 reviews. The outpouring of support and interest in that article was very gratifying. When I published, I had used the camera for six full months, enough time to come to a view of its strengths and weaknesses and to produce a small portfolio of good images, but not enough time to see the full picture (pun intended). In the following six months, I have used the camera at least as frequently as in the first six and have produced another small set of good images. It should be noted that my usage of the RX1 in the last six (and especially in the last 3) months has involved less travel and more time with the family and around the house; I will share relatively few of these images but will spend some time sharing my impressions of its functionality for family snapshots as I am sure there is some interest. And let it be said here: one of the primary motivations to purchase the camera was to take more photos with the family, and after one full year I can confidently say: money well spent.

The A7/r game-changer?

 

In the past six months, Sony have announced and released two full-frame, interchangeable lens cameras that clearly take design cues from the RX1: the A7 and the A7r. These cameras are innovative and highly capable and, as such, are in the midst of taking the photography world by storm. I think they are compelling enough cameras that I wonder whether Sony is wasting its energy continuing to develop further A-mount cameras. Sony deserve credit for a bold strategy—many companies would have been content to allow the success of the the RX1 (and RX1R) generate further sales before pushing further into the white space left unexplored by camera makers with less ambition.This is not the place to detail the relative advantages and disadvantages of the RX1 versus the A7/r except to make the following point. I currently use a Nikon D800 and an RX1: were I to sell both and purchase the A7r + 35mm f/2.8 I would in many ways lose nothing by way of imaging capability or lens compatibility but would pocket the surplus $1250-1750. Indeed this loyal Nikon owner thought long and hard about doing so, which speaks to the strategic importance of these cameras for a company trying to make inroads into a highly concentrated market.Ultimately, I opted to hang onto the two cameras I have (although this decision is one that I revisit time and time again) and continue to use them as I have for the past year. Let me give you a quick flavor of why.

The RX1 is smaller and more discrete

 

This is a small a point, but my gut reaction to the A7/r was: much smaller than the D800, not as small as the RX1. The EVF atop the A7/r and the larger profile of interchangeable mount lenses means that I would not be able to slip the A7/r into a pocket the way I can the RX1. Further, by virtue of using the EVF and its loud mechanical shutter, the A7/r just isn’t as stealthy as the RX1. Finally, f/2 beats the pants off of f/2.8 at the same or smaller size.At this point, some of you may be saying, “Future Sony releases will allow you to get a body without an EVF and get an f/2 lens that has a slimmer profile, etc, etc.” And that’s just the point: to oversimplify things, the reason I am keeping my RX1 is that Sony currently offers something close to an A7 body without a built-in EVF and with a slimmer profile 35mm f/2.

The D800 has important functional advantages

 

On the other side of the spectrum, the AF speed of the A7/r just isn’t going to match the D800, especially when the former is equipped with a Nikon lens and F-mount adapter. EVFs cannot yet match the experience of looking through the prism and the lens (I expect they will match soon, but aren’t there yet). What’s more, I have made such an investment in Nikon glass that I can’t yet justify purchasing an adapter for a Sony mount or selling them all for Sony’s offerings (many of which aren’t to market yet).Now, all of these are minor points and I think all of them disappear with an A8r, but they add up to something major: I have two cameras very well suited to two different types of shooting, and I ask myself if I gain or lose by getting something in between—something that wasn’t quite a pocket shooter and something that was quite a DSLR? You can imagine, however, that if I were coming to the market without a D800 and an RX1, that my decision would be far different: dollar for dollar, the A7/r would be a no-brainer.During the moments when I consider selling to grab an A7r, I keep coming back to a thought I had a month or so before the RX1 was announced. At that time I was considering something like the NEX cameras with a ZM 21mm f/2.8 and I said in my head, “I wish someone would make a carry-around camera with a full frame sensor and a fixed 35mm f/2.8 or f/2.” Now you understand how attractive the RX1 is to me and what a ridiculously high bar exists for another camera system to reach.

Okay, so what is different from the last review?

 

For one, I had an issue with the camera’s AF motor failing to engage and giving me an E61:00 error. I had to send it out to Sony for repairs (via extended warranty and service plan). I detailed my experience with Sony Service here [insert link] and I write to you as a very satisfied customer. That is to say, I have 3 years left on a 4 year + accidental damage warranty and I feel confident enough in that coverage to say that I will have this beauty in working order for at least another 3 years.For two, I’ve spent significantly less time thinking of this camera as a DSLR replacement and have instead started to develop a very different way of shooting with it. The activation barrier to taking a shot with my D800 is quite high. Beyond having to bring a large camera wherever you go and have it in hand, a proper camera takes two hands and full attention to produce an image. I shoot slowly and methodically and often from a tripod with the D800. In contrast, I can pull the RX1 out, pop off the lens cap, line up and take a shot with one hand (often with a toddler in the other). This fosters a totally different type of photography.

My “be-there” camera

 

The have-everywhere camera that gives DSLR type controls to one-handed shooting lets me pursue images that happen very quickly or images that might not normally meet the standards of “drag-the-DSLR-out-of-the-bag.” Many of those images you’ll see on this post. A full year of shooting and I can say this with great confidence: the RX1 is a terrific mash-up of point-and-shoot and DSLR not just in image quality and features, but primarily in the product it helps me create. To take this thinking a bit further: I find myself even processing images from the RX1 differently than I would from my DSLR. So much so that I have strongly considered starting a tumblr and posting JPEGs directly from the RX1 via my phone or an iPad rather than running the bulk of them through Lightroom, onto Flickr and then on the blog (really this is just a matter of time, stay tuned, and those readers who have experience with tumblr, cloud image storage and editing, etc, etc, please contact me, I want to pick your brain).Put simply, I capture more spontaneous and beautiful “moments” than I might have otherwise. Photography is very much an exercise in “f/8 and be there,” and the RX1 is my go-to “be there” camera.

The family camera

 

I mentioned earlier that I justified the purchase of the RX1 partly as a camera to be used to document the family moments into which a DSLR doesn’t neatly fit. Over the past year I’ve collected thousands and thousands of family images with the RX1. The cold hard truth is that many of those photos could be better if I’d taken a full DSLR kit with me to the park or the beach or the grocery store each time. The RX1 is a difficult camera to use on a toddler (or any moving subject for that matter); autofocus isn’t as fast as a professional DSLR, it’s difficult to perfectly compose via an LCD (especially in bright sunlight), but despite these shortcomings, it’s been an incredibly useful family camera. There are simply so many beautiful moments where I had the RX1 over my shoulder, ready to go that whatever difficulties exist relative to a DSLR, those pale in comparison to the power of it’s convenience. The best camera is the one in your hand.

Where to go from here.

 

So what is the value of these RX1 going forward, especially in a world of the A7/r and it’s yet-to-be-born siblings without an EVF and a pancake lens? Frankly, at its current price (which is quite fair when you consider the value of the the body and the lens) I see precious little room for an independent offering versus a mirrorless, interchangeable lens system with the same image quality in a package just as small. That doesn’t mean Sony won’t make an RX2 or an RX1 Mark II (have a look at it’s other product lines to see how many SKUs are maintained despite low demand). Instead, I see the RX1 as a bridge that needed to exist for engineers, managers, and the market to make it to the A7/r and it’s descendants.A Facebook friend recently paid me a great compliment; he said something like, “Justin, via your blog, you’ve sold a ton of RX1 cameras.” Indeed, despite my efforts not to be a salesman, I think he’s right: I have and would continue to recommend this camera.The true value of the RX1 going forward is for those of us who have the thing on our shoulders; and yes, if you have an investment in and a love for a DSLR system, there’s still tremendous value in getting one, slinging it over your shoulder, and heading out into the wide, bright world; A7/r or no, this is just an unbelievably capable camera.

Teal/aqua marine victorian/elizabethian style prom gown: like a royal teal/aqua marine Tang Tiarra crown dress set & a Belgium/Holland traditional wed. dress or the teal/aqua marine gown from the duchess of cambridge: Kate Middleton: teal/aqua marine dress:5/11/12, or the teal/aqua marine gown from Princess of Blegium Mathilde, Princess Mary Donaldson of Denmark, Princess Michaela of Kent, Princess Maxima of Holland/Netherland, Queen Margrethe of Denmark, etc...all symbolism that screams out to the world who I really am: my royal birth of east and west dynasties! a Royal Eurasian Baby, that's me! How the heck did I chose the right colors and style that is of my royal bloodline, lineage, ancestry, heritage from east to west, without knowing it: the colors: teal/aqua marine/turqoise: bluish/white/green: and victorian/elizabethian style gown:now I know to represent the very 1st development of these colors shown in ancient asian dynasties: tang/tartar/tang-silla tang/ming/yuan's (etc,...)porcelains, artifacts, art works and potteries and the dutch's introduction of these (blue/white/turqoise/aqua-marine)colors and porcelains in large quantities to all of europe and the world during the period of the silk road trade...you have to wonder how did I pick the right colors and style dress that symbolized both era/dynasties, was it 'incepted' in me, hypnotized, subliminal messages from the illuminated royal dynasties, was it inside of me, intuitively, instinctively, in my blood & genes? or both? 'cuz I was not at all studying the history of the world and dynasties of ancient europe and asia for that matter when I picked out this teal/aqua marine prom dress shown in the photo above...I was busy starting a business, reading about entrepreneurs and their histories to emulate and model after them...you can see that the photo shown above is not a digital photo but a real deal: film photogarphy picture...so, it's not manipulated, or photoshop finished...the photo of my teal/aqua marine prom dress was taken before the photos of all the princesses from Kate Middleton of England to Mathilde of Belgium who wore their symbolic teal/aqua marine royal gown in 2010-2012...how did they know I chose and wore a teal/aqua marine prom dress, and look at the rhododendron purple royal flower that I'm standing next to: it's symbolic of my eurasian royal bloodline lineage and the roosevelt connection of the connected illuminated bloodline....there's a rhododendron flower plant called the roosevelt rhododendron plant that's named after president roosevelt, do you get the symbolic representation now, ehh...now you all have to wonder why do all my addresses that I live at when I got moved around from places to places, towns to towns, states to states, schools to schools are streets named after the president of the united states or street names and address numbers of my van duyn/merovingian/carolingian and li royal illuminati bloodline: from #11 'clinton st. to rte 537 colts neck to rte. 34 phalanx to rte # 9 aldrich rd to #7 roosevelt: all of which are symbolic/references/link to the two royal dynasties: Li & van duyn/merovingian/caroligian and the European & U.S. presidents: United Nations...how is it that I'm the only one in this 'family-platoon-unit-surrogate-siblings' that is still living in this address linked to the real royal dynasties...and why is it that pete & chris sends their mail to this address and not their own? whether they went to another country or live in another town, state, etc,...they can open a mail box at the post office and send it there, or notify the mail office of change of address...is it a smoke screen of some sort?...well, all I can say is that I did notify the post office for a change of address & opened a mail box for where to send my mail to when I moved or traveled/vacation to another country...like when I visited australia and lived in another town or state like arizonia...and isn't it odd that when I moved to another state or country: I was still placed in addresses linked to my royal van duyn bloodline and li-bloodline, very odd ehh...and why is everything about me and the people I encountered along the way as I was growing up, if I was just a regular commoner/ a regular 'jo' so to speak? why is everything about me & my life that was 'IPI', intellectual property infringement: illegally taken (without my permission) and made into books, movies, my concepts and ideas illegally taken from me without my permission? you have to wonder why and believe that it's definitely a big conspiracy from the get-go: even the word;'phalanx' like: phalanx rd. colts neck, nj across from st. mary's church, colts neck, nj where I remember living in was set-up to explains what it all meant: phalanx means a group of people brought together for a common purpose or a body of troops or police officers standing or moving in close formation...do u understand now the implication of the that street name and word:'phalanx'...I'm sure you all do now, aye maties...it has to do with the bigger picture of the conspiracy across the board...and why is it that there were two pictures of the same house in the 'family-platoon unit's: moles' photo album of: 11 clinton st. one taken in '74/'75 and the other updated: in the 90's...they must have planned it from the get-go: the updated in the 90's one is what I remember living in...and why is it that when pete was nominated to the govenor's school in monmouth college nj: there were 7 nominated in the politically corrupt town of west long branch nj: and the 7 nominated kids have 1st names or last names linked and connected to the conspiracy across the board: Melissa Davison of Rumson, Erin Gossett of Aberden, Barry Langman of Holmdel, Thomas McClintock of Colts Neck, Hiep (pete) Vo of East Keansburg, Hanh Nguyen of Wayside, & Alfonse Simone of Lincroft: look at their last and first names: like Nguyen as in the Nguyen dynasty: Madame Nhu: vietnam war conspiracy:, or Alfonse like the 1st name of the infamous Alphonse Capone as oppose to the Royal Alfonso of Spain, Portugal, Kongo or the Alfonso Cuban noble family or Alfonso l d'este: Duke of Ferrara:House of Medici...is it all coming to light now...and isn't it odd that part of their requirement to get into the governors school was to pursue a 'film series'...'film series' ehh...and now there's the show business link and connection, aye maties:like'berny' in weekend w/bernie' or 'griswold vacation',ehh...and there's the st. mary's rev. griswold connection...now there's something about the movie: 'There's something about mary', ehh...'Mary Je?' perhaps....my real biological mother: huang man li/lei: aka: 'Mary Je' was an illuminated, president/owner of film production industry and an actress & president of the actor's workers union and I look like a'mirror image'of her...I must have been a 'test tube' or 'artificially inseminated' baby of some sort,(the 1st successful 'test tube baby was in 1978:Louise 'Joy' Brown: odd ehh...there's the word: 'Joy' and 'Brown': I got and gave herbal tea tin can package to friend: John Kellerher for the holidays: the company's name was: Browne & Ashley , odd ehh? was it incepted, intuition, instinct, in my blood or both? too much of a symbolic coincident, ehh)...'cuz I remember in 1997-1998 of articles/news and radio stations' announcers all talked about that: saying women can make babies in their 60/s-70's, and so on...so right around that time, I believe my real biological mother/father were trying to find me...and then the movie 'hanna' in 2011 was released...a sort of symbolic reference to this whole situation, aye, maties...in every movies, books and literary productions there is some sort of truth...whether embellished or twisted, it's always a representation of the author's experiences or other peoples' lives that the author comes in contact with directly or indirectly, believe it or not it is very true...so, it looks more and more like an elaborated conspiracy across the board: u took the royal illuminated baby which is me and methodically took every bits and pieces of me in every way and replaced it with all the conspiring 'cronies' to get into the royal bloodline, steal the cream and get rich, famous, power & control...if ur 'cronies' were well to do from the get-go...ur motive was to make them famous with fortune and fame and what not...and what about the fabricated article that the 'cronies' moles kept in their album: by Mauriel J. Smith: key name: MJ and surname:Smith across the board: from mary je to michael johnston to mary jane, to michael jackson, etc,...across the board and the last name 'smith' linked to the whole situation: why was this family-platoon unit singled out and written about? to possibly hide the truth and tell the truth at the same time: for me to decipher the reality and truth of two articles that were embellished, fabricated with lies but within the lies there were 'sprinkles' of truths that I now can decipher: take for instance the the use of the word 'sprinkle' in the radio station waves:cbs station and media news: I can now decipher the word 'sprinkle' what the newscasters/ djs/ radio announcers are really referring to is the surname: sprinkel: dutch meaning: lively one, the english surname sprinkle and the russian born american, sam born owner of 'just candy' in 1910 who was awarded the 'key to the city'...thus I can now decipher the hidden truths and lies in the article about this 'family platoon unit' by Mauriel J. Smith: in his/her article: it states that there's no living family members of this 'family-platoon unit' they all got killed during the vietnam war, yet there's proof that there's living relatives: sisters, cousins, brothers, fathers, & mothers living in california, texaas, long island, virgina, australia,the islands, asia, etc,..there's further proof that in 2005, I took a trip to australia to meet up with one of moles' living sister, to get away from the 'conspiracy' pick myself up and rebuild my life, career and love; start all over again...I have the itinerary airplane stubs to prove it, so that part in the article is a lie...the article further states that chi is an enterpreter but he can speak one or two language: interpreters are multi-linguist, so that's a lie too...it further states that chi doesn't feel welcome in vietnam supposedly where everyone of the 'platoon-family-unit' are from..that's because he knows he's not from that country....duh...the article further states that he doesn't celebrate his 'birthday' which is a lie 'cuz they do 'the surrogate-siblings' call to wish happy-birthday & give out birthday cards and stuff, so that's a lie...to decipher why chi or the writers put that statement 'not celebrating the birthdays' is in reality a reference to the fact that all of the 'family-platoon -units' surrogate siblings/ including my birthday is not the right birthdays at all, what happened to all of our important gov. doc. ehh? lost, when they got airlifted? that's what they say and their sticking to that story...but, if chi claims to be an interpreter for U.S. or U.N. I highly doubt it that all of their gov. documents can get lost...there's tight security for gov. employees...The gov. 'cover' their own, look after their own...so I highly doubt that the moles' & their conspirators' story of how theirs and the 'family-platoon-unit; surrogate siblings' important gov. doc. got lost, while being airlifted...There's back up-copies of all gov. employees' & their family's important doc, in washington or the U.N...So, I'm pretty sure that statement is also fabricated...what raise suspicion to their story is that I remember, a couple of the moles' friends living with us until they were able to support themselves and move, or was it really a big conspiracy: harboring immigrants, ehh...now, I have to wonder about that, based on everything that happened to me then and now...and speaking of raising suspicion, the dates & years when the two articles were written: the articles most likely wasn't written on the right year and date for that matter. It is most likely to elude the situation and hide the conspiracy across the board...raising another suspicion that chi and phong were supposedly, airlifted and were one of the lucky ones to escape the vietnam war and supposedly, all their family members/ relatives were killed during vietnam war, they were at the philipines then guam then america that led them to 11 clinton home, nj...this statement in the article by mauriel j smith is false, in fact, 11 clinton was not the 1st home in nj or america: phong's mother's picture with a philipine hut in the background proves that all their relatives weren't killed, in fact phong is most likely filipino, and the reference to guam is to the connection & reference to the house of representative: nancy pelosi: who owns a seafood manufacturing plant in guam: starkist I believe: 'cuz when you fastforward to my start-up sea breeze seafood company' which I got led into to most likely find out the truth of my royal birth & bloodline, then everyone will realize that what they were referring to in the article back then was that the link to guam was most likely not of the vietnam war but of the seafood industry connection, and what they were referring to back then of the link to the philipines was the foreshadowing of the present day conspiracy link to melissa de la cruz and the covenant heart: her 'IPI' book about me (her 'IPI'book titled: 'ashley series') and my 'blueblood' van duyn dynasty:her 'IPI' book titled: 'blueblood')...and also the link to the philipines is also a link not only to the United Nation Information Center(UNIC) but also the link to Taylor Fish Farm: key words that give rise to the truth is the word: 'manila' clams and manila, philipines:there's a margret sanate, shelton store manager at taylor fish farm, I think margret's from the philipines...it's really a conspiracy across the board, aye...from land, air, sea, politics, religion, dynasty and all....so, moving on...to the mauriel j. smith's article of the 'family-platoon-unit'...now, if chi & phong and the rest of the conspiring 'cronies' were really in the vietnam war, escape, and an intrepreter then why is it that they never once celebrated memorial day or veteran's day that I've seen ever since growing up...you would think that would play a major part in their live, yet I don't see them attending any memorial day/ veteran's day parade to this day..odd ehh? not, 'cuz I highly doubt that they were in the war, more like they were in the bronx with John & Dorothy Boese & Berny and Ralph Trapani, & St. Mary's: & fr. Bausch, Jean & Gerald Fitzgerald, Candy & Steve Morgan:Stephanie/Stephen Morgan Meyer, Cohen, Erin & Jen (Rardin)Pringle, Melissa de la cruz, Laura Rangel, Lisa Steen Proctor, Raj Sisodia, Jag Seth, David Wolfe,Tolle, Carol & Bill Eryres and others...I believe that all these people knew something about this political, religious, dynastic conspiracy across the board from the get-go or to some degree...how much, which side they were on, and how much they were involved, will eventually surface, if not already...now, getting back to the article by mauriel j. smith: in the article it further states that (chi) he doesn't teach the surrogate siblings/ family platoon unit anymore they teach each other like a 'blended' layer cake...to decipher what was meant by this: whether this was said by him or manipulated and written by the writers themselves: it was meant in reference to when he did teach me with a big black board:math: algebra: he beat the shit out of me with a belt, lamp post chord or anything he could find, (he had an illogical, irrational out of control temper) if I didn't get it right: well, that's 'cuz I wasn't suppose to be in that grade: we now know I was most likely placed in the wrong grades, classes, years, etc...to cover up the conspiracy and hide the truth that they all fast forwarded my years, age, birthday, time...etc...for this sole purpose of the conspiracy across the board...(chi's) irrational behavior & temper manifested and can be seen when I was a child living in rte 537 colts neck, nj:and saw him chain smoking everyday...like a curious child, I copied, and got the living room on fire, 'cuz I didn't know how to put the cigarrette bud out...I was just a child...he beat the shit out of me in front of his moles & friends & cronies...pretty embarassing, for a child, would you agree...he had me lay down faced down and with a belt beat the crap out of me in front of all his cronies friends...and you wonder why I don't smoke, ehh...and you wonder why I learned math quickly...it was either get a beating by a belt or a lamp post chord or get smart, ehh...so, I decided to be the first at what ever I was interested in, be smart, fart, or 'cheat'...well, I got smart, fart and became the 1st to start 'stuff' I liked...so, I didn't needed to cheat, aye maties...so, much for the old adage that we use only 3% of our brain power...when push comes to shove...and I sure would have liked to shove the belt up some idiots' ass, that's for sure...when push comes to shove everyone has the capacity to use 100% of their brain power, whether you're 1 yrs old or fricking 100 yrs old, aye, maties...in any case, I sure as hell learned quickly alegbra and math that's for sure...and now to decipher what was meant by 'blended' layer cake in the article by mauriel j smith & company: it is most likely in reference to the fact that all of this 'family-platoon unit' 'surrogate-siblings/moles and all, are not of the same race, ethnicity, culture, country or have the same parents but were all unwittingly forced & lumped into, 'blended' into this 'family-platoon-unit' for the 'phalanx'rd. colts neck nj:conspiracy purpose across the board: political, religious, dynastic factions' warring rife...and no, we didn't teach each other any school subject for that matter..that's a false statement...there were competition & sibling rivalries in school, sports, and I guess childhood friends and love life too...in hind sight, I have to wonder why I was friends with betty wang 1st, who introduced me to craig rothschild & company, then betty wang told me that pete was dating her older friend:kathy...and then I have to wonder why everyone of the surrogate-siblings, except for clare, joined track & field after I did. Pete initially joined school band, wrestling then track & field. Chung/Joan joined field hockey then track & field, chris joined soccer then track & field, clared joined soccer. I was asked to join soccer, softball or track & field by the coaches:mr. & mrs. smith, mr. neil, mr. christopher, mrs. van schack are thoses coaches if my memory serves me right. I liked all three sports, but decided on track & field 'cuz it goes right back to my childhood decision stated above: to be the 1st at what I liked or was good at, to be sport and pick the sport that I would be the 1st at or the best at based on my talents and skill...so, I decided to go with the sport that I knew I was very good at: track & field: which by the way is both an individual and team sport: a combination of both; u win for ur team & u win for urself: scores are calculated based on ur individual time and team accumulated team scores: individual merit & team merit.it's the obvious decision for me to make, ehh...I also joined school band, and tried out for cheerleading squad & color guard..didn't make it in the cheerleading squad: I was probably better fit for being the leader of the pack developing, making and leading the 'cheers' of the 1st 'brewski' then being the cheerleader for the 1st cheers of 'brewski' made, aye maties? ;) lol...I made it to the color guard finalist tryout but decided to concentrate on track & field: indoor, outdoor, & cross country sport. so in hindsight, I have to wonder if there were a bit of surrogate-sibling rivalries & competition at play or was it all orchestrated to prob me & what ever I did or was interested in and link everyone to it to take, replace, substitute in my place, ehh? isn't it odd, ehh? it's just too coincidentally peculiar & it sent a red flag my way:raising suspicion & doubt that this 'family-platoon-unit' was anything but average...we all weren't that very close, 'cuz everyone split up quickly after everything was copied, probed, pu into place, after all said and done: pete/chung:joan weren't around much of the time, chris & clare went off & did there own thing, and that left me wondering why this 'family-platoon-unit' was so...so we weren't that close I can only speak for myself and what I saw & experienced as I was growing up in this so called 'family platoon-unit', maybe some of the other 'surrogate-siblings' were closer than others, as for myself, no...I now think that it was all 'set-up' that way, because of this conspriacy, ehh...so, it wasn't all peaches & cream that's for sure...the fact that we all would only get together in special occasions, & holidays, would give rise to why this is so, ehh...so, what I'm saying to the world is that if things, events, people, and places doesn't add up or seem right, or out of place then obviously something smells a bit rotten, & fishy, aye maties...only the ones involved and the royal 'target' can decipher facts from fictions 'cuz they & I are involved and lived it...comprendre!!! Mother Chuckers! Stu McGuff! I think you all get the picture, ehh? get it? got it? good!....and moving on to the next extraction and deciphering of facts from fictions of the conspiracy across the board...so now, why is the yr book thorne jr. high, middletown, nj in the editorial page stated that it's the last yearbook and last year of that school...it must have been a 'special school' made and orchestrated just for me...I seriuosly don't believe it was the right year that the yearbook was published or even the right year that we were living in...it's not magic at all but a conspiracy meticulously conspired to hide the truth of the matter: my royal birth right/ place, my real age, my where about ('cuz I was 'taken'/'stolen') from my real biological parents and to hide the well thought out and wickedly planned conspiracy 'across the board'....like all the rest of the schools and places that I kept on moving around from places to places...not ever finishing a full amount of completed school yrs and never living in towns for a long period of time to get close to anyone, place, or things in my life...from birth to childhood to adolescent to young adulthood (in my mid20's)...as I stated above, I believe my life was methodically manipulated to hide my age, royal bloodline, and keep me hidden from finding out the wicked truth of what had happened to me since birth: 'taken' stolen' for this sole political, religious, dynastic of a rivaling conspiracy across the board...everyone in my life from the people, things and places that came into my life as I was growing up were more or less 'substitutes' of the real people, things and places that I was meant to be with, live, or accomplished: for even the meaning of the word:'surrogate' means: to take the place of, to substitute, to replace, a substitute esp. someone deputizing for another in a specific role: everyone in my life were a substitutefrom the people, things, & places that came into my life as I was growing up were 'substitutes'of the real people, things and places that I was meant to be with, live, and accomplish: from the 'surrogate-siblings' to the 'substitute' teacher:Ms. Linda 'Maas' to 'substiute' boyfriends/potential b/f/ prom date: 'TJ Miller to a stand in substitute friend:Pat in this picture: I have to elaborate on this one: TJ Miller & I were kids from two different schools, got introduced to each other by a mutual friend: declared ourselves boyfriend & girlfriend for 1 or 2 wks: we didn't really do anything but hung out with friends & innocently french kiss: he went to oregon for vacation: I got anxious, thinking he might cheat: I decided to test him: and see what he would say if we were to see other people: he didn't take it very well: we broke up & he bailed out a couple days before prom night: so, I asked an acquaintance/friend: pat if he wanted to take me to the prom as a stand in: 'substitute'...he said yes and there you have it...that's my friendly date for the prom...so, hah...take that...It's Miller Time!...and that's that...all that and a bag of chips, aye maties...and I have to say: 'What time is it? I'm late, I'm late for a very important date' 'What time is it?...it's Miller Time! Baby ;) lol...Give me a 'clutch' and I'll show you a 'hitter', and a 'precision three point hoop shooter'...I'm slick as moby dick with a nunchuck & a three-section stick that pricks, so take it easy, it's Miller Time for me baby, under high peer pressure, I'm the pressure cooker with a kool 'go-to-guy' by my side, and I'll have to say batter up, swing batter, batter, swing 'clutch hitter', 'three point shooter': Derek Jeter, A-Rod, Reggie Miller, it's Miller Time, baby...I'm turning lemons into melons & lemonaide, I'm making soft balls into fishballs & meatballs, with a bit of sauce ragu guru and a swissalicious switcharoo, like a hotpot with fondue...and for dessert, give me some limeaide in my funnel cake and a hi-five with 'Limes'in my key lime pie...and then I have to say: it's a Slam Dunk, for a prom date with a stand in hunk!...and then moving on 'from 'William Morrow: oh, my pain waiting by the phone, I'd rather be chatting up, buttering up croissants and girdle, potato, tattie scones, piazza pizza pies, and a ben & jerry's 'chunky monkey' ice cream cones...oh my pain...at au bon pain with some pasteries dane skipping pebble stones by the viking village, LBI beach house, water front ocean bay...and then I have to say, hey...I'm building blocks, papers to papers, scissors to scissors, rocks to rocks, to a stand in substitute acquaintance/bsns partner: Brian (Jensen) Ahlfeld to another substitute acquaintance/bsns partner:Harold R. Bailey Jr., from a potential acquaintance/friend/associate/date: Alex Debelov, jetsetter, jetrider: media social websetter, surfs up, movie buff:'surfer dude'.. to a stand in substitute:aquaintance/potential date: Yegor Ius: electromagnetic, polytech-tromatic igor notre dame in stranger tides, and scott versus the world movie crew buff got the pop corn, coca cola, 'perfectli's' 'milk' duds icandy treats, snack pack and who's got game and fame...I'm back tracking to and from a childhood infactuation Dominick Buonomo to a 'set-up' meeting my jr. prom date Craig Rothschild for the 'bigger picture': directly, indirectly, symbolically letting me know why I got asked and set-up to go to the jr. prom with Craig Rothchild: it's in the dynasty name: letting me know who I am, of royal birth bloodline and not a regular 'jo'/ commoner...from a childhood racing special event boy: Charlie Ferrari & a childhood playmate 'family-platoon unit' friend: Charlie Roberts to a symbolic substitute stand in, symbolically seen in articles, advertisements and orchestrated events in my life: one of ferrari: lamborghini/porche high speed caravan on the garden state parkway race nj turnpike police escort/ entourage articles posted: 4/23/12/ and the 5/27/12 article of model:1986fierro(spelling variation of :ferrari house)classic, toyota camry, and lexus and house burned up/torched:another word for 'mad' 'angry': all of which are symbolic in meaning: I believe the 'powers that be' enlightened ones were telling me what yr Charlie Ferrari was really born. the meaning of ferrari/ferro/fierro: iron, the meaning of camry👑like a king/prince/ princess/queen, the meaning of lexus: law(of luxury/elegance)all of which are reference to me, charlie ferrari and the dynasties to which we belong to: the royal house of ferrari: royal house of medici and the royal house of li and van duyn/mevoringian/carolingian bloodline, and a symbolic baseball players' surname frieri another stand in, substitute to let the world know or fill in the right surname/ childhood boy(house of ferro:iron:ferrari/fierro/ferrara/ferraro/ ferrerietc...royal house of medici: roman empire) that I relay race with and knew for a very brief moment in time 'cuz I kept having to move around from places to places, states to states, schools to schools all for the sole purpose of this wicked conspiracy across the board...from Charlie Roberts to a stand in, substitute of Philip Milant who I met at the Mercator Gerard de Gremor/de Cremer exhibition that I got invited to at the Astor library in Manhattan NYC...for the sole purpose of letting me know what had manifested in my life and upbringing. Ultimately, to let me know of the political, religious, dynastic conspiring factions at play...the similarities and parallelism between an enlightened genius/ mercator map projection inventor's situation and life and my situation and life... from a possible stand in, substitute:Philip Milant that most definitely I would think if I'm not mistaken what I picture Charlie Roberts to grow up to look like at present...and that's why it's a small world after all and it will most definitely 'ling'er' in our minds and thoughts, I'm sure of it...and you know what I mean Philip Milants by that: they're using that word 'ling'er' in the news and radio statio(cbs) waves just to let you and I know...so, if your reading this, and I'm sure you are...u will understand 'perfectly' like a perfect job...so, I believe you must be linked high up there...I sure as hope you are, 'cuz you better know what's at stake, and why we're all in this 'de ja vu' scene again....but I wonder one thing: are you of the Milant clan Milant/MacMillan/McDonald etc:of scottish/ french/ireland/ english/ italian...or are you of the House of Milan:Sforz of italian/ scottish origin...in either of the two case:it's all connected linked: especially to united nation: flanders/belgium too, ehh...I remember what you told me where you're from but I still have to question and research for the sake of clarification and truthfulness...since I get bombarded from all sides of the political, religious, dynastic factions, aye matie...all this symbolism and direct and indirect references all to shine the light on the world to see the truth: it's fit for royalty and a 'mirror image' of my mother: Huang man Li/Lei, Mary Je...and my dutch/belgium caucasian biological dad, both illuminated and 'in the know' aye maties!

This bee was so unimpressed with yours truly that she simply did not even notice me taking shots of her. I'd make a horrible paparazzo. Anyhow, she just worked and worked and worked in this flower as I shot it and did little else.

 

She was methodical and patient, carefully exploring every nook and cranny of the flower. I always find it amazing that such care and thought can be carried out by such a small creature.

"Glorious St. Joseph, model of all who are devoted to labour, obtain for me the grace to work in the spirit of penance in expiation of my many sins; to work conscientiously by placing love of duty above my inclinations; to gratefully and joyously deem it an honor to employ and to develop by labor the gifts I have received from God, to work methodically, peacefully, and in moderation and patience, without ever shrinking from it through weariness or difficulty to work; above all, with purity of intention and unselfishness, having unceasingly before my eyes death and the account I have to render of time lost, talents unused, good not done, and vain complacency in success, so baneful to the work of God. All for Jesus, all for Mary, all to imitate thee, O patriarch St. Joseph! This shall be my motto for life and eternity.

 

– Pope St Pius X.

 

1 May is the feast of St Joseph the Worker, and this stained glass of the saint is from the Dominican House of Studies in Washington D.C.

www.phaselis.org/en/about/about-project

Phaselis Research

 

Phaselis

 

When compared with the previous period of research on the history of the city over the past quarter century it has undergone radical changes. While modern scientists follow the path of their predecessors in collecting data through systematic processes and methodically analysing them, they change the route whereby they approach the city as a context- and a process-oriented structure, having economic, social, cultural, political and environmental dimensions which come together at different levels.

 

This considerably more inclusive definition expands the discipline concerning the city’s historical research, which consists of archaeology, epigraphy, ancient history and the other ancillary sciences and it encourages scientists from the natural and health sciences to participate within these studies. This is because in the course of the exploration of an ancient settlement the study of both the environment and the ecological setting which make human life possible; together with health issues, such as diet and epidemics, form the context within which human beings live, and which are thereby as important as the human actors.

 

Within the context of the planned Phaselis Research, even certain knowledge such as the settlement’s appearing on the stage of history as a favorite break-point with its three natural harbours, it being famous for its roses, the frequent seismic upheavals at sea and on its shores and its citizens leaving their homes because of a devastating malaria epidemic suggest the necessity of the application of this multi-dimensional research methodology in order to understand more fully the historical adventure of this city.

 

By presenting this research project, we aim to implement and realize this multi-dimensional research method, which as yet lacks widespread application in the field in our country, however conceptually and practically with a multi-disciplinary research team consisting of both national and international scientists, we intend to register systematically every kind of data/information regarding all contexts of the city employing modern methods and to present the results to the scientific world in the form of regular reports and monographic studies, thus forming a strong tie between past and future research.

 

Phaselis Territorium

 

The boundaries of the ancient city of Phaselis’ territorium are today within the administrative borders of the township of Tekirova, in Kemer District, determined from the archaeological, epigraphic and historical-geographical evidence, reaching the Gökdere valley to the north, continue on a line drawn from Üç Adalar to Mount Tahtalı to the south and extend along the Çandır valley to the west.

 

Phaselis was discovered in 1811-1812 by Captain F. Beaufort during his work of charting the southern coastline of Asia Minor for the British Royal Navy. Beaufort drew Phaselis’ plan and in the course of conducting his cartographic studies, he saw the word Φασηλίτης ethnikon on the inscriptions and consequently identified these ruins with Phaselis. C. R. Cockerell, the English architect, archaeologist and author came to Phaselis by ship and met Beaufort there. Then in 1838 C. Fellows, the English archaeologist visited the city. He found the fragments of the dedicatory inscription over the monumental gate built in honour of the Emperor Hadrianus and mistakenly thought the Imperial Period main street was the stadion due to the seats-steps on either side of the street. In 1842 Lt. T. A. B. Spratt, the English hydrographer and geographer, and the Rev. E. Forbes, the naturalist came to Phaselis via the Olympos and Khimaira routes. Due to the fact that they all came by sea and they only stayed for a short time, their descriptions of the topography inland are without detailed and there are serious errors in orientation.

 

PhaselisThose researchers who visited Phaselis between the late 19th and the early 20th centuries concentrated primarily upon the discovery of inscriptions. In 1881-1882 while the Austrian archaeologist and the epigraphist O. Benndorf, the founder of the Austrian Archaeological Institute, and his team were conducting research in southwestern Asia Minor, they examined Phaselis. In the winter of 1883 and 1884 F. von Luschan from the Austrian team took the first photographs which provide information concerning the regional features of Phaselis’ shoreline. In the same year the French scientist V. Bérard also visited Phaselis. In 1892 the members of the Austrian research team, O. Benndorf, E. Kalinka and their colleagues continued their architectural, archaeological and epigraphical studies in Phaselis. In 1904 they were followed by D. G. Hogarth, R. Norton and A. W. van Buren from the British research team. In 1908 the Austrian classical philologist E. Kalinka visited the settlement again, collected epigraphic documents and conducted research on the history of city (published in TAM II in 1944). The Italian researchers R. Paribeni and P. Romanelli visited Phaselis in1913 and C. Anti in 1921. Anti returned to Antalya overland and in consequence discovered several epigraphs and the ruins of structures within the territorium of Phaselis.

 

Further archaeological, epigraphical and historical-geographical studies of Phaselis were conducted by the English researchers F. M. Stark and G. Bean, who came to the region after World War II. In 1968 H. Schläger, the German architect and underwater archaeologist began exploring the topographical and architectural structures of Phaselis’s harbours. After Schläger’s death in 1969, the research was conducted under the leadership of the archaeologist J. Schäfer in 1970. H. Schläger, J. Schäfer and their colleagues obtained important data concerning the architecture and history of Phaselis through the surface exploration of the city and its periphery. Following the excavations conducted along the main axial street of the city, in 1980 under the direction of Kayhan Dörtlük, the then Director of the Antalya Museum and between 1981-1985 under the leadership of the archaeologist Cevdet Bayburtluoğlu; underwater exploration was carried out in the South Harbour under the direction of Metin Pehlivaner, the then Director of the Antalya Museum.

  

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phaselis

 

A small, dark heron arrayed in moody blues and purples, the Little Blue Heron is a common but inconspicuous resident of marshes and estuaries in the Southeast. They stalk shallow waters for small fish and amphibians, adopting a quiet, methodical approach that can make these gorgeous herons surprisingly easy to overlook at first glance. Little Blue Herons build stick nests in trees alongside other colonial waterbirds. In the U.S., their populations have been in a gradual decline since the mid-twentieth century.

Great Blue Heron

Ardea herodias

 

On the grounds of Metropolitan State Hospital

Norwalk, California

 

The hospital occupies about 170 acres in a completely urbanized portion the metropolitan Los Angeles area, and there are numerous large grassy plots with a thriving population of pocket gophers. This bird started at the north end of the facility and over a period of about three weeks worked his way south for the entire 3/4 mile length of the hospital grounds. His hunting method was remarkably methodical and patient - he stalked around slowly, then staked himself out within reach of a burrow and waited motionless, sometimes for 30 ~ 60 minutes, until a gopher barely poked his head out to survey the area. The ensuing strike was lightning-quick. During the several hours overall that I spent watching him I never saw him miss. Amazing.

 

Member of the Flickr Bird Brigade

Activists for birds and wildlife

 

Copyright - All Rights Reserved - Black Diamond Images

 

River Red Gums (Eucalyptus camaldulensis) line the shores of these inland rivers and were important sources of fuel for the paddle steamers that plied these waters in the last century when wool and wheat reigned supreme.

River Red gum was also a durable timber and was used for construction of the large wharf infastucture which was needed to support the paddle steamer business.

Paddle steamers were finally made redundant when the railways arrived along the rivers and that was timely as the River Red Gum resource was being heavily targeted and many parts of the rivers ecosystem have never fully recovered from the plundering of this timber resource during this era. The loss of trees along the river also led to river bank erosion.

Paddle Steamers required river free of snags so they were methodically cleared from the river without any thought as to the impact on marine life in the river. Snags offered a home to many fish and other marine life and once removed marine life was seriously impacted.

 

The Nutshell Studies of Unexplained Death are a series of nineteen (twenty were originally constructed) intricately designed dollhouse-style dioramas created by Frances Glessner Lee (1878–1962), a pioneer in forensic science. Glessner Lee used her inheritance to establish a department of legal medicine at Harvard Medical School in 1936, and donated the first of the Nutshell Studies in 1946 for use in lectures on the subject of crime scene investigation. In 1966, the department was dissolved, and the dioramas went to the Maryland Medical Examiner’s Office in Baltimore, Maryland, U.S. where they are on permanent loan and still used for forensic seminars.

 

The dioramas are detailed representations of death scenes that are composites of actual cases, created by Glessner Lee on a 1 inch to 1 foot (1:12) scale. She attended autopsies to ensure accuracy, and her attention to detail extended to having a wall calendar include the pages after the month of the incident, constructing openable windows, and wearing out-of-date clothing to obtain realistically worn fabric. The dioramas show tawdry and, in many cases, disheveled living spaces very different from Glessner Lee's own background. The dead include prostitutes and victims of domestic violence.

 

Glessner Lee called them the Nutshell Studies because the purpose of a forensic investigation is said to be to "convict the guilty, clear the innocent, and find the truth in a nutshell." Students were instructed to study the scenes methodically—Glessner Lee suggested moving the eyes in a clockwise spiral—and draw conclusions from the visual evidence. At conferences hosted by Glessner Lee, prominent crime-scene investigators were given 90 minutes to study each diorama.

U.S. Forces Afghanistan Protective Service Detail Sgt. Jaclyn Guzman from California maintains visual surveillance as shots are fired and explosions erupt from a building in Kabul, Sept. 13. Insurgents attacked the International Security Assistance Force Afghanistan headquarters and the U.S. Embassy in Kabul, Tuesday, with small-arms fire from outside the secure zone surrounding these compounds. Afghan and coalition forces trapped the insurgents in the partially-constructed, multi-story building they were using as a firing position, and conducted a methodical, floor-by-floor clearing operation.

U.S. Forces Afghanistan

Photo by Sgt. Catherine Threat

Date Taken:09.13.2011

Location:KABUL, AF

Related Photos: dvidshub.net/r/kuast5

I went on a tentative first hike since befalling serious injury at the start of June and it was certainly good to get up into the Peak.

 

A "safe" route was my main consideration for the day, I usually like to get hands on with the Gritstone and with that I passed by the gate to Crowden Clough (my favourite ascent up on the Kinder Scout massif) with a more than hint of disappointment. It's not that Jacob's Ladder isn't a scenic path to take, it's perfectly scenic and full of interest. But not quite the same as getting onto it with all appendages.

 

The light was very harsh for a lot of the day so my usual grand landscapes were not on the cards. I intended to scout out the Wool Packs for compositions but instead had my attention taken by the Cotton Grass. Yes. I know. More flowers!

 

I spent two-and-a-half hours mostly on the ground, craning my neck into all sorts of angles paying very little attention the scenery and views. The same methodical approach that I take to the landscape is also one I'm applying to the discipline of close-up, part of my DNA as a photographer at this point. I agree with Adam Gibbs that composition still needs to part of the process, despite there being a abundance of subject matter and the opportunity to shoot blindly and most likely come out with something worth the effort.

 

It's going to be interesting approaching the impending Heather season in High Peak with a new discipline to work on.

thegoldensieve.com

 

A good thing continues

 

Some six months ago, I posted almost 100 images and a few thoughts I felt were missing from the many existing RX1 reviews. The outpouring of support and interest in that article was very gratifying. When I published, I had used the camera for six full months, enough time to come to a view of its strengths and weaknesses and to produce a small portfolio of good images, but not enough time to see the full picture (pun intended). In the following six months, I have used the camera at least as frequently as in the first six and have produced another small set of good images. It should be noted that my usage of the RX1 in the last six (and especially in the last 3) months has involved less travel and more time with the family and around the house; I will share relatively few of these images but will spend some time sharing my impressions of its functionality for family snapshots as I am sure there is some interest. And let it be said here: one of the primary motivations to purchase the camera was to take more photos with the family, and after one full year I can confidently say: money well spent.

The A7/r game-changer?

 

In the past six months, Sony have announced and released two full-frame, interchangeable lens cameras that clearly take design cues from the RX1: the A7 and the A7r. These cameras are innovative and highly capable and, as such, are in the midst of taking the photography world by storm. I think they are compelling enough cameras that I wonder whether Sony is wasting its energy continuing to develop further A-mount cameras. Sony deserve credit for a bold strategy—many companies would have been content to allow the success of the the RX1 (and RX1R) generate further sales before pushing further into the white space left unexplored by camera makers with less ambition.This is not the place to detail the relative advantages and disadvantages of the RX1 versus the A7/r except to make the following point. I currently use a Nikon D800 and an RX1: were I to sell both and purchase the A7r + 35mm f/2.8 I would in many ways lose nothing by way of imaging capability or lens compatibility but would pocket the surplus $1250-1750. Indeed this loyal Nikon owner thought long and hard about doing so, which speaks to the strategic importance of these cameras for a company trying to make inroads into a highly concentrated market.Ultimately, I opted to hang onto the two cameras I have (although this decision is one that I revisit time and time again) and continue to use them as I have for the past year. Let me give you a quick flavor of why.

The RX1 is smaller and more discrete

 

This is a small a point, but my gut reaction to the A7/r was: much smaller than the D800, not as small as the RX1. The EVF atop the A7/r and the larger profile of interchangeable mount lenses means that I would not be able to slip the A7/r into a pocket the way I can the RX1. Further, by virtue of using the EVF and its loud mechanical shutter, the A7/r just isn’t as stealthy as the RX1. Finally, f/2 beats the pants off of f/2.8 at the same or smaller size.At this point, some of you may be saying, “Future Sony releases will allow you to get a body without an EVF and get an f/2 lens that has a slimmer profile, etc, etc.” And that’s just the point: to oversimplify things, the reason I am keeping my RX1 is that Sony currently offers something close to an A7 body without a built-in EVF and with a slimmer profile 35mm f/2.

The D800 has important functional advantages

 

On the other side of the spectrum, the AF speed of the A7/r just isn’t going to match the D800, especially when the former is equipped with a Nikon lens and F-mount adapter. EVFs cannot yet match the experience of looking through the prism and the lens (I expect they will match soon, but aren’t there yet). What’s more, I have made such an investment in Nikon glass that I can’t yet justify purchasing an adapter for a Sony mount or selling them all for Sony’s offerings (many of which aren’t to market yet).Now, all of these are minor points and I think all of them disappear with an A8r, but they add up to something major: I have two cameras very well suited to two different types of shooting, and I ask myself if I gain or lose by getting something in between—something that wasn’t quite a pocket shooter and something that was quite a DSLR? You can imagine, however, that if I were coming to the market without a D800 and an RX1, that my decision would be far different: dollar for dollar, the A7/r would be a no-brainer.During the moments when I consider selling to grab an A7r, I keep coming back to a thought I had a month or so before the RX1 was announced. At that time I was considering something like the NEX cameras with a ZM 21mm f/2.8 and I said in my head, “I wish someone would make a carry-around camera with a full frame sensor and a fixed 35mm f/2.8 or f/2.” Now you understand how attractive the RX1 is to me and what a ridiculously high bar exists for another camera system to reach.

Okay, so what is different from the last review?

 

For one, I had an issue with the camera’s AF motor failing to engage and giving me an E61:00 error. I had to send it out to Sony for repairs (via extended warranty and service plan). I detailed my experience with Sony Service here [insert link] and I write to you as a very satisfied customer. That is to say, I have 3 years left on a 4 year + accidental damage warranty and I feel confident enough in that coverage to say that I will have this beauty in working order for at least another 3 years.For two, I’ve spent significantly less time thinking of this camera as a DSLR replacement and have instead started to develop a very different way of shooting with it. The activation barrier to taking a shot with my D800 is quite high. Beyond having to bring a large camera wherever you go and have it in hand, a proper camera takes two hands and full attention to produce an image. I shoot slowly and methodically and often from a tripod with the D800. In contrast, I can pull the RX1 out, pop off the lens cap, line up and take a shot with one hand (often with a toddler in the other). This fosters a totally different type of photography.

My “be-there” camera

 

The have-everywhere camera that gives DSLR type controls to one-handed shooting lets me pursue images that happen very quickly or images that might not normally meet the standards of “drag-the-DSLR-out-of-the-bag.” Many of those images you’ll see on this post. A full year of shooting and I can say this with great confidence: the RX1 is a terrific mash-up of point-and-shoot and DSLR not just in image quality and features, but primarily in the product it helps me create. To take this thinking a bit further: I find myself even processing images from the RX1 differently than I would from my DSLR. So much so that I have strongly considered starting a tumblr and posting JPEGs directly from the RX1 via my phone or an iPad rather than running the bulk of them through Lightroom, onto Flickr and then on the blog (really this is just a matter of time, stay tuned, and those readers who have experience with tumblr, cloud image storage and editing, etc, etc, please contact me, I want to pick your brain).Put simply, I capture more spontaneous and beautiful “moments” than I might have otherwise. Photography is very much an exercise in “f/8 and be there,” and the RX1 is my go-to “be there” camera.

The family camera

 

I mentioned earlier that I justified the purchase of the RX1 partly as a camera to be used to document the family moments into which a DSLR doesn’t neatly fit. Over the past year I’ve collected thousands and thousands of family images with the RX1. The cold hard truth is that many of those photos could be better if I’d taken a full DSLR kit with me to the park or the beach or the grocery store each time. The RX1 is a difficult camera to use on a toddler (or any moving subject for that matter); autofocus isn’t as fast as a professional DSLR, it’s difficult to perfectly compose via an LCD (especially in bright sunlight), but despite these shortcomings, it’s been an incredibly useful family camera. There are simply so many beautiful moments where I had the RX1 over my shoulder, ready to go that whatever difficulties exist relative to a DSLR, those pale in comparison to the power of it’s convenience. The best camera is the one in your hand.

Where to go from here.

 

So what is the value of these RX1 going forward, especially in a world of the A7/r and it’s yet-to-be-born siblings without an EVF and a pancake lens? Frankly, at its current price (which is quite fair when you consider the value of the the body and the lens) I see precious little room for an independent offering versus a mirrorless, interchangeable lens system with the same image quality in a package just as small. That doesn’t mean Sony won’t make an RX2 or an RX1 Mark II (have a look at it’s other product lines to see how many SKUs are maintained despite low demand). Instead, I see the RX1 as a bridge that needed to exist for engineers, managers, and the market to make it to the A7/r and it’s descendants.A Facebook friend recently paid me a great compliment; he said something like, “Justin, via your blog, you’ve sold a ton of RX1 cameras.” Indeed, despite my efforts not to be a salesman, I think he’s right: I have and would continue to recommend this camera.The true value of the RX1 going forward is for those of us who have the thing on our shoulders; and yes, if you have an investment in and a love for a DSLR system, there’s still tremendous value in getting one, slinging it over your shoulder, and heading out into the wide, bright world; A7/r or no, this is just an unbelievably capable camera.

CANOGA PARK- The Los Angeles Fire Department battled a Major Emergency Structure Fire in the west San Fernando Valley on Monday, October 18, 2021.

 

The fire at 8423 Canoga Avenue in Canoga Park, was first noted at 12:18 PM by an LAFD Paramedic Ambulance crew returning from a nearby emergency. Within moments of their reporting the fire, flames were through the roof of the 125' x 125' one-story industrial building that also housed an adjoining but unrelated business at 8425 Canoga Avenue.

 

As that first-arriving LAFD Paramedic crew circled the structure to gain situational awareness and guide fellow responders, they encountered the first of three adult male civilians with severe burn injuries outside the burning building. Two proved to be in critical condition and the other in serious condition. All three were taken to area hospitals. Sadly, one of the critically injured men died later while undergoing hospital care.

 

The rapid spread of intense flames and multiple explosions heard within the building guided first-arriving firefighters to quickly commence defensive operations, applying multiple large diameter hose streams from the exterior, including two from atop extended aerial ladders, to prevent flames from extending beyond the well involved structure.

 

With the exception of a forty square-foot section of the roof at 8427 Canoga Avenue destroyed by surface fire, the tactics proved successful in holding the blaze to the pair of unrelated businesses under one roof at 8423 and 8425 Canoga Avenue.

 

It took 150 Los Angeles Firefighter just 75 minutes to extinguish the flames.

 

Firefighters remained active through the night extinguishing hotspots and minimizing hazards at the structurally compromised building with the help of LAFD's robotic firefighting vehicle and heavy equipment.

 

At daylight Tuesday, LAFD crews resumed a systematic search within the largely destroyed premises. During their methodical search among tons of burnt debris inside the structure, firefighters discovered the remains of an adult male, bringing the overall patient count to four, with a total of two deceased and two remaining hospitalized.

 

No other injuries were reported.

 

Scientific testing of materials inside the building of fire origin yielded positive results for hemp, and it appears that the operation inside involved the extraction from hemp, not dissimilar to that used in the Butane Honey Oil extraction process.

 

Though the business was a legal enterprise, the operation inside appeared to be illegal, as it did not adhere to established permitting processes and safety requirements.

 

Pursuant to protocol, the fire's cause remains the focus of a joint active investigation by the Los Angeles Fire Department, Los Angeles Police Department and the Los Angeles Interagency Metropolitan Police Apprehension Crime Task Force (L.A. Impact).

 

A positive identification of the dead men, as well as the cause, time and manner of their death will be determined by the Los Angeles County Department of Medical Examiner-Coroner.

 

© Photo by Gavin Kaufman

 

LAFD Incident 101821-0791

 

Connect with us: LAFD.ORG | News | Facebook | Instagram | Reddit | Twitter: @LAFD @LAFDtalk

thegoldensieve.com

 

A good thing continues

 

Some six months ago, I posted almost 100 images and a few thoughts I felt were missing from the many existing RX1 reviews. The outpouring of support and interest in that article was very gratifying. When I published, I had used the camera for six full months, enough time to come to a view of its strengths and weaknesses and to produce a small portfolio of good images, but not enough time to see the full picture (pun intended). In the following six months, I have used the camera at least as frequently as in the first six and have produced another small set of good images. It should be noted that my usage of the RX1 in the last six (and especially in the last 3) months has involved less travel and more time with the family and around the house; I will share relatively few of these images but will spend some time sharing my impressions of its functionality for family snapshots as I am sure there is some interest. And let it be said here: one of the primary motivations to purchase the camera was to take more photos with the family, and after one full year I can confidently say: money well spent.

The A7/r game-changer?

 

In the past six months, Sony have announced and released two full-frame, interchangeable lens cameras that clearly take design cues from the RX1: the A7 and the A7r. These cameras are innovative and highly capable and, as such, are in the midst of taking the photography world by storm. I think they are compelling enough cameras that I wonder whether Sony is wasting its energy continuing to develop further A-mount cameras. Sony deserve credit for a bold strategy—many companies would have been content to allow the success of the the RX1 (and RX1R) generate further sales before pushing further into the white space left unexplored by camera makers with less ambition.This is not the place to detail the relative advantages and disadvantages of the RX1 versus the A7/r except to make the following point. I currently use a Nikon D800 and an RX1: were I to sell both and purchase the A7r + 35mm f/2.8 I would in many ways lose nothing by way of imaging capability or lens compatibility but would pocket the surplus $1250-1750. Indeed this loyal Nikon owner thought long and hard about doing so, which speaks to the strategic importance of these cameras for a company trying to make inroads into a highly concentrated market.Ultimately, I opted to hang onto the two cameras I have (although this decision is one that I revisit time and time again) and continue to use them as I have for the past year. Let me give you a quick flavor of why.

The RX1 is smaller and more discrete

 

This is a small a point, but my gut reaction to the A7/r was: much smaller than the D800, not as small as the RX1. The EVF atop the A7/r and the larger profile of interchangeable mount lenses means that I would not be able to slip the A7/r into a pocket the way I can the RX1. Further, by virtue of using the EVF and its loud mechanical shutter, the A7/r just isn’t as stealthy as the RX1. Finally, f/2 beats the pants off of f/2.8 at the same or smaller size.At this point, some of you may be saying, “Future Sony releases will allow you to get a body without an EVF and get an f/2 lens that has a slimmer profile, etc, etc.” And that’s just the point: to oversimplify things, the reason I am keeping my RX1 is that Sony currently offers something close to an A7 body without a built-in EVF and with a slimmer profile 35mm f/2.

The D800 has important functional advantages

 

On the other side of the spectrum, the AF speed of the A7/r just isn’t going to match the D800, especially when the former is equipped with a Nikon lens and F-mount adapter. EVFs cannot yet match the experience of looking through the prism and the lens (I expect they will match soon, but aren’t there yet). What’s more, I have made such an investment in Nikon glass that I can’t yet justify purchasing an adapter for a Sony mount or selling them all for Sony’s offerings (many of which aren’t to market yet).Now, all of these are minor points and I think all of them disappear with an A8r, but they add up to something major: I have two cameras very well suited to two different types of shooting, and I ask myself if I gain or lose by getting something in between—something that wasn’t quite a pocket shooter and something that was quite a DSLR? You can imagine, however, that if I were coming to the market without a D800 and an RX1, that my decision would be far different: dollar for dollar, the A7/r would be a no-brainer.During the moments when I consider selling to grab an A7r, I keep coming back to a thought I had a month or so before the RX1 was announced. At that time I was considering something like the NEX cameras with a ZM 21mm f/2.8 and I said in my head, “I wish someone would make a carry-around camera with a full frame sensor and a fixed 35mm f/2.8 or f/2.” Now you understand how attractive the RX1 is to me and what a ridiculously high bar exists for another camera system to reach.

Okay, so what is different from the last review?

 

For one, I had an issue with the camera’s AF motor failing to engage and giving me an E61:00 error. I had to send it out to Sony for repairs (via extended warranty and service plan). I detailed my experience with Sony Service here [insert link] and I write to you as a very satisfied customer. That is to say, I have 3 years left on a 4 year + accidental damage warranty and I feel confident enough in that coverage to say that I will have this beauty in working order for at least another 3 years.For two, I’ve spent significantly less time thinking of this camera as a DSLR replacement and have instead started to develop a very different way of shooting with it. The activation barrier to taking a shot with my D800 is quite high. Beyond having to bring a large camera wherever you go and have it in hand, a proper camera takes two hands and full attention to produce an image. I shoot slowly and methodically and often from a tripod with the D800. In contrast, I can pull the RX1 out, pop off the lens cap, line up and take a shot with one hand (often with a toddler in the other). This fosters a totally different type of photography.

My “be-there” camera

 

The have-everywhere camera that gives DSLR type controls to one-handed shooting lets me pursue images that happen very quickly or images that might not normally meet the standards of “drag-the-DSLR-out-of-the-bag.” Many of those images you’ll see on this post. A full year of shooting and I can say this with great confidence: the RX1 is a terrific mash-up of point-and-shoot and DSLR not just in image quality and features, but primarily in the product it helps me create. To take this thinking a bit further: I find myself even processing images from the RX1 differently than I would from my DSLR. So much so that I have strongly considered starting a tumblr and posting JPEGs directly from the RX1 via my phone or an iPad rather than running the bulk of them through Lightroom, onto Flickr and then on the blog (really this is just a matter of time, stay tuned, and those readers who have experience with tumblr, cloud image storage and editing, etc, etc, please contact me, I want to pick your brain).Put simply, I capture more spontaneous and beautiful “moments” than I might have otherwise. Photography is very much an exercise in “f/8 and be there,” and the RX1 is my go-to “be there” camera.

The family camera

 

I mentioned earlier that I justified the purchase of the RX1 partly as a camera to be used to document the family moments into which a DSLR doesn’t neatly fit. Over the past year I’ve collected thousands and thousands of family images with the RX1. The cold hard truth is that many of those photos could be better if I’d taken a full DSLR kit with me to the park or the beach or the grocery store each time. The RX1 is a difficult camera to use on a toddler (or any moving subject for that matter); autofocus isn’t as fast as a professional DSLR, it’s difficult to perfectly compose via an LCD (especially in bright sunlight), but despite these shortcomings, it’s been an incredibly useful family camera. There are simply so many beautiful moments where I had the RX1 over my shoulder, ready to go that whatever difficulties exist relative to a DSLR, those pale in comparison to the power of it’s convenience. The best camera is the one in your hand.

Where to go from here.

 

So what is the value of these RX1 going forward, especially in a world of the A7/r and it’s yet-to-be-born siblings without an EVF and a pancake lens? Frankly, at its current price (which is quite fair when you consider the value of the the body and the lens) I see precious little room for an independent offering versus a mirrorless, interchangeable lens system with the same image quality in a package just as small. That doesn’t mean Sony won’t make an RX2 or an RX1 Mark II (have a look at it’s other product lines to see how many SKUs are maintained despite low demand). Instead, I see the RX1 as a bridge that needed to exist for engineers, managers, and the market to make it to the A7/r and it’s descendants.A Facebook friend recently paid me a great compliment; he said something like, “Justin, via your blog, you’ve sold a ton of RX1 cameras.” Indeed, despite my efforts not to be a salesman, I think he’s right: I have and would continue to recommend this camera.The true value of the RX1 going forward is for those of us who have the thing on our shoulders; and yes, if you have an investment in and a love for a DSLR system, there’s still tremendous value in getting one, slinging it over your shoulder, and heading out into the wide, bright world; A7/r or no, this is just an unbelievably capable camera.

If you are interested/affected/bored/irritated by this account, please let me know in the comments. This was written just after dad's death and the memories were raw.

 

Born in Birmingham on October 11th 1925. Went to Five Ways Grammar School. His father, William, died when Dad was 15. Was evacuated during the war with his mum to Monmouth. Joined the Royal Engineers and was promoted to Lieutenant. Didn’t see any action but built a lot of bridges across India and Japan, and played a lot of sport. He continued the army connection when he demobbed and joined the TA. He rose to the rank of Captain.

 

Went to Birmingham University for a while after the army. First job was with the weighing machine company, Avery. Became an insurance broker in Liverpool. He joined the Guardian Royal Exchange when the Royal Exchange Assurance company merged with the Guardian Assurance in 1968. He stayed with the GRE until his retirement in 1987.

 

Dad and Mum (Lorna) married in 1955, had Sue in ’56 and I followed in ‘62. We moved to Farndon in 1964 leaving Mum’s parents and Dad’s mother back in Liverpool.

 

Lorna and Denis were divorced in 1976. Dad moved in temporarily with Peter Rowlandson’s family at Twychooks near Farndon church, then moved on to lodge at Nancy’s opposite the garage. In 1978 he moved into 1, Speedsway, Farndon, and was soon joined by Claire, who stayed for several years before they went their separate ways. Dad retired in 1987 and spent many many happy days playing golf and Bridge.

 

His dream came true in 1994 when Mum came back to Farndon to live with him. Unfortunately the dream was shattered that same year when she died. Dad didn’t get over this and was never really the same again. Despite problems with his legs (which eventually caused him to give up golf) he still derived enormous pleasure from the golf club, the people there, and the Bridge.

 

Dad died at his home in Speedsway, Farndon, of bronchial pneumonia complicated by Chronic Obstructed Airways Disease on Monday, January 7th 2008.

  

Short pen portrait

 

On the face of it his appearance doesn’t sound very prepossessing. His self-perceived short stature (five foot eight – every inch of which he was always conscious about), bald pate and false teeth (since 25 when a cricket ball hit him in the mouth) don’t sound too good on paper, but Dad was a good looking lad and grew into a popular and famous (in Farndon and Curzon Park Golf Club anyway) ladies man. He was especially proud of his moustache and was often found stroking it. Dad never had a comb-over but tried his best to cover up the bald spot. The tonsure reached a maximum diameter very early on, it didn’t spread any further and this left him with a luxuriant growth around the sides and at the back through which he would drag his hands with such obvious relish and satisfaction (or was he just checking it was still there?).

 

He threw away his suits after he retired and spent the rest of his life in smart casual mode. Pastel shades took over from greys. He was an adventurous dresser – yellow trousers (not just for the golf course), pink shirts. Not a dandy, but careful about his appearance (it took him half an hour to get ready for the pub). He was not vain, but he was self-conscious. He hated his photo being taken.

 

He always thought he was skinny but actually he was quite well built and certainly not undernourished. He was fit and healthy despite suffering from piles for most of his life (everyone knew this; he was not afraid to give a commentary on his constant companions).

 

He had a very strong suite of ethics that included honesty and generosity (many thought – “ ... to a fault”).

 

He loved intellectually-challenging past-times like cryptic crosswords, quizzes, scrabble and Bridge.

 

He was a great dancer and women loved dancing with him.

 

The Masonic Lodge in Bootle was a major part of his life in the ‘60s.

 

Dad was renowned as a sportsman. Throughout his life he gleaned enormous pleasure from playing cricket (many clubs throughout the north west), rugby and hockey (with the army), badminton, tennis, bowls, and, of course, golf. He was a good sportsman too; Cheshire County Cricket standard (he was invited to play for them in 1959).

 

He was a member of Chester Curzon Park Golf Club for over 30 years and loved every minute (even the bad shots (and there were one or two) were soon forgotten). He was beloved in turn by most of the members, especially the ladies. His handicap went down to 10 at one stage, aided and abetted by a succession of drivers (including “Big Bertha”) and a thousand different putters.

 

His putting style was unique, no-one else putted side-on apert from Sam Snead. He swore by it but usually at it. He didn’t start a trend but he was more than happy to be a one-off and different.

 

He loved playing sport with me and Sue. He was a great coach. Very patient and knowledgeable.

 

With his wrinkles and laughter lines etched deeply into his face, his wicked chuckle and dirty jokes, his off-beat humour and his willingness to talk to anyone and everyone, Dad was a real character.

 

He was also an enigma.

 

Some Memories of Dad

 

Our Dad was as honest as they come; I don’t think he stole a thing in his life. When he needed some ashtrays he wouldn’t just take them from the pub, he had to ask the manager for one. And when they said no problem he insisted on paying for them, which of course resulted in a protracted argument. He usually won. Like when he was paying for drinks (he was always first to the bar) or for meals – it was always a struggle to ever pay for anything when Dad was around. Generous to a fault.

 

He was in Insurance for over 40 years but NEVER claimed on a thing.

 

He drank in moderation (usually lager, latterly white German wine) and smoked to excess.

 

Three main things brought pleasure to Dad – sport, smoking and the opposite sex. Not necessarily in that order, and not necessarily one at a time.

 

Sport, though, was his abiding passion. He held a cricket bat at the age of three and went on bowling until his late 50s. During this time he played for the army, Bootle and Sefton (both in Liverpool), Boughton Hall and Eaton (Chester). Very often he would forego the pleasures of a family holiday for the competitiveness of a cricket match. The smell of linseed oil is a strong memory for me. As are mouldy pads and cricket bags.

 

Entering his retirement he took to wearing really daring colours – pastel shades of pink, yellow, lime green, powder blue. Very out there. Unfortunately some of his trousers weren’t of the best quality, they lacked ... substance. They were sometimes semi-transparent and you could see his undies. This never seemed to bother him at all and he continued to wear them regardless.

 

Because of his recent relative immobility (very painful legs – he virtually subsisted off cocodomol) he had to give up golf and became passionate about Bridge instead. He loved intellectual card games and he threw himself into learning the ins and outs of bidding with as much gusto as once he’d devoted to sports. He was a little disappointed that I didn’t learn the game, but at least Sue learned to play in order to give him a game.

 

He was a young member of Edgbaston CC and collected many autographs.

 

He had a reputation for kindness. The new assistant secretary at the golf club said that he was the first person that she got to know at the club when he came in and gave her a hug. Another person said that he was the first person to help him when he moved into the village.

 

He could never understand why I was a vegetarian and was forever trying to convert me. He’d look at me and say “Go on, Tim, you’ll love this beef ... Mmmmm, this Spanish sausage is fantastic. Just try a little bit. Come on, you know you want to.” “No Dad, you want me to.”

 

In the last few years he had really become adventurous with his food. Previously a meat and two veg man, he moved into Camembert, goats cheese and Spanish meats. But garlic was a flavour too far. Never!

 

Films: war films mainly e.g. “A bridge too far”, “Tora Tora Tora”, “The Battle of Britain”, “Bridge Over the River Kwai” – he took me to see them all at the cinema. He didn’t like “Blade Runner” and eventually our tastes diverged and became too different for shared cinematic trips.

 

Everyone remembers Dad. At his local Barclay’s branch in Saltney, Pauline, the manager, said, “Oh Denis, of course I remember him, he was only in last month. He was such a lovely man. Always had a twinkle in his eye. Always liked a joke and had such a dirty laugh!”

 

He had an almost pathological fear of hospitals and doctors. You’d always know when “Casualty” or another medical drama had just been advertised on TV because there’d be “OH CHRIST!! Oh my GOD!!” followed by a frantic scramble for the zapper (some curses if he couldn’t find it) then silence (a very relieved silence). When I rang him on Sunday 6th January, and he sounded so weak and quiet, there was no way I could persuade him to call the paramedics … Perhaps I should have rang them but he’d have hated it. And he’d have hated the fuss.

 

Dad retired in 1987 but had spent many years leading up to this event by putting in some serious practice in order to make the most of his imminent leisure time. He was renowned for getting back from work in time for Jackanory. His routine was: drop Sue off at Queen’s School at 0900, get into office and clear desk. Leave for “The Paddock” (cafe in Chester’s precinct) at 0930 and stay there with his cronies, talking, and doing the Telegraph cryptic crossword, until 1100 when he’d nip into his car to get to his “patch” around Nantwich to arrive in time for lunch. Some work in the afternoon then back for Jackanory at 16.15. Perhaps I’m exaggerating slightly (his annual appraisals were all glowing and he always exceeded his targets) but work was definitely not his raison d’etre.

 

The oldest swinger in town …

 

Golf took over his life from about the age of 48. “Golfers World”, Ping clubs, Titlist balls, “Hill Billy” electric cart, George Parton (the Pro at Curzon Park), Vic the Secretary, milky coffees (made his own way at the club), a laugh with bar and restaurant staff, a laugh and a smoke with his mates, getting pleasure from saying, “No-one interested in the golf [on telly] then ....? Who the bloody hell is interested in this football game? ... Isn’t there cricket on the other channel? ... I wonder how the rugby’s going?” This gentle ribbing was a favourite past-time of his.

 

He hated playing snooker but would often indulge me at the club after a round of 18 (or 3 in later years). It wasn’t much fun. As soon as he started to miss pots (which was within the first two shots of the game) he would lose interest. He would give up and just whack the balls without looking at them. The old bugger.

 

He loved and looked forward to his Sunday evening telephone conversations with me. These went on every week (bar trips abroad) for 25 years.

 

Earliest memories of Dad include me being bored stiff at Farndon Memorial Hall whilst the parents played out their tennis match. The bowls there were more entertaining (and quicker). The Hall was a major venue of socialising for Dad – badminton, tennis, bowls and dancing.

 

One memory of badminton was when we were playing a “competitive” match against a killer local team (I think it was Aldford). He decided that a shuttle cock could be played on the other side of the net so long as the net wasn’t touched – you could reach over the net to smash it down before it came over to your side – a pre-emptive strike as it were. He was adamant about this and a huge argument resulted. He won the argument and the point but was later to be proved wrong. Dad was forceful and passionate but not always right.

 

He was a very loving, caring, and concerned father to me. We had a close relationship. I felt very protective about him but I still persisted in causing him stress and anxiety when I went abroad even though I knew it hurt him. He didn’t like it when I went to Venezuela over the Xmas period. He was always especially worried about where I’d sleep because years ago I was a little wild and slept in cars all the time, or beaches, or on benches .... I don’t do that anymore, I’m too old, so I recently had to constantly reassure him that I was going to use hotels and beds and bathrooms. It never helped. He was convinced I was sleeping in opium dens and on motorways. Maybe he thought he’d indoctrinated me into such behaviour from an early age when he used to order me out of the house and to go and play on the electric railway lines. He was joking. The closest were in Manchester and too far for me to walk to.

 

With his moustache and matinee-idol looks (see the photos if you don’t believe me!) Dad always liked to think of himself as a David Niven look-alike. Then DN died and he stopped saying that, although I cruelly went on to say that he resembled Niven more and more each day. In latter years I think he evolved from DN into Leslie Philips. He never went as far as to say “Ding Dong” but his lecherous laugh and twinkle in his eye were enough.

 

He was not renowned for his patience (except for coaching sports), especially when driving: “Look at this proper Charlie in front. Bloody road hog. Bet he’s wearing glasses. And a flat hat. Bloody hell, can’t he go any faster?!” And what happened in later years? Never drove over 40 mph, always wore his golf cap (flat) and had to use glasses for everything. (He had several pairs (in various states of disrepair) located thoughout the house where he could find them whenever he lost his usual pair.)

 

He tried to teach me to drive once. It was a nightmare. “Mind that bloody car! Pull over! Pull OVER!!! There’s a bend coming up. Mind that CARRRR!” He was especially annoyed when I crashed the car. He didn’t teach me again after that.

 

Dad had a very difficult relationship with Sue. This started in the early 1970s when she was 14 or so and he was about 45. I always felt awful and learnt to refuse to discuss the situation. Dad was always in a bad mood after the calls. Latterly the two seemed to be moving closer which made him happier. He became more talkative and enthusiastic about the positive side of Sue and her life.

 

Dad had really strange ideas about Capitalism. He was a confirmed Tory (a true True Blue) but he didn’t approve of commerce, entrepreneurs or making a career from “The Trades” (even though it would have resulted in a far better income than anything else Sue and I have tried our hands on). He didn’t even approve of me carol singing when, one Christmas, I set out with Steven Taylor for a tour of the Townfield estate. Afterwards, he ordered us to give the money back, virtually accusing us of obtaining money under false pretences. He was probably right.

 

He used to call me Timbo.

 

He loved antiques shows on TV, and was always on the lookout for valuable things he might have hidden away. He’d say to us, “That’ll be worth a bit”, and “Don’t whatever you do throw that away”, and “Just have a look in the attic, Tim”, and “I’ll leave this vase for you and Sue so that you can sell it”. Cheers Dad.

 

Midsomer Murders and Taggert were perennial favourites. The Golf Channel was the best TV channel ever created apparently.

 

Deafness came on him in the last 10 years, at least he was deaf when watching TV (not so deaf when you mumbled something derogatory about him under your breath). The volume was always turned up to excruciating levels. One time when he and the neighbours were enjoying Foyle’s War and I was trying to read a book, I put some ear-plugs in. He looked at me bemused, thought about it for a couple of minutes, then muted the sound. When I took the plugs out he turned the sound up again. It was difficult to understand him sometimes, and he could be quite contrary.

 

Fun on a “Solo” outing

 

Dad was pretty dashing when young. His uniform helped this image of course. First the Royal Engineers (Lieutenant) then the TA (Captain). The girls loved him and Dad liked to reciprocate in every way he could (get away with).

 

Here’s a wee limerick that Sue and I came up with this week: There was an old lecher called Dennis, who played a mean game of tennis. But he was better at cricket, and had a wicked middle wicket, which he used to become quite a menace. (Apologies to Uncle Ted.)

 

Claire moved in with Dad in 1978 and stayed for 5 years. One of the best holidays of his life was with Claire in La Rochelle, France. This resulted in one of the most beautiful photos of Dad – relaxed, smiling and obviously really enjoying himself. After they parted in 1983, Dad had plenty of ladyfriends but always lived alone. He was forever hoping to get back with Lorna.

 

He went to India, Japan and Glasgow when he was in the army. He hated travelling and didn’t have a good word to say about any of these places. The food in particular was “bloody awful”. He liked Chinese food though.

 

He could never understand my passion for foreign travel; worse still, he became frantic with worry whenever I told him of my plans. I used to wind him up something rotten and when he asked at New Year where I was heading for next (having just come back from the Amazon jungle) I said, “Kenya”. He said, “I knew you’d say that! Of all the stupid bloody things to do ...” I’m sure he knew I was joking. Maybe.

 

Last year I was in New Zealand and sent him constant postcards and emails during the 3 months I was away. One email told him of the sky diving I’d done over Lake Taupo. His reply (via the golf club’s secretary) was, “Sky Diving! Golly gumdrops, or words to that effect! Glad you told me after the event!” Absolutely Dad!

 

During this trip I was visiting various people including researchers, soil scientists and foresters, one of whom took me for a 9.5 hour tour of forests near Gisborne and I got a constant commentary: “ This is a tree I planted in 1978 ... This is a group we planted in 1982 ... Ooooh look at that! We should have planted up there ...”. There was almost 10 hours of this and Dad sent an email back saying, “Pity about the ‘woodsman’, he really must have been a pine in the ass!” His awful puns were a joy to behold!

 

We went for a holiday, the two of us, a few years ago when I was 36 and he was 73. We went fishing out of Lyme Regis (he always loved boats). After 10 minutes of constantly reeling in mackerel I became bored (and a little sick of it) and went for a jaunt around the boat. It was a small boat. I was walking around the narrow running-board the other side of the cabin when suddenly I heard, “TIMOTHY!! Timothy!! Get DOWN from there!!” I shared a smile of understanding with the other 12 year old who was on the boat with his parents. Dad was forever concerned for my welfare (and always regarded me as a kid).

 

When our family lived together in Townfield Ave (I was 6-ish and Dad was in his 40s) the parents used to hold parties for the locals (mainly sports people and Ravenites). 6 pint tins of Watney’s Red Barrel, elegant glasses of Babysham and sausages on a stick all accompanied by Top of the Pops Hits of 1969. I think Dad was the only person not swinging.

 

When he played football in the Farndon Boxing Day matches for the Raven (any excuse to get out of the house and avoid cooking, washing up, kids ...) his moniker in the team sheet notes was ‘Denis “Casanova” Bromilow’. One year the notes went, “Ex Hitler Youth movement and Kerry Packer’s circus, Stanley Matthews’ records pale into insignificance compared to Dennis’s (sic) performance. Sets a new league record in this match in being 10 times older than the youngest member of the team. Made some good passes recently but has not scored yet, is still once a year man – football of course.”

 

I played in one of these games one year (in 1978 as “Tiny Tim”) and in the notes we were the “dual act”. In this one Dad was ‘Denis “Grease” Bromilow. Ex-army (surplus) and Buckley Wanderers. Roy of the Rovers is alive and well and living in Farndon. The player possesses such supernatural talent that he has recently become a ‘Claire Voyeur’ [Dad’s girlfriend]. Still a keen sportsman despite his age [53!] and recently played golf in 6” of snow. His legendary fitness is partly attributed to his hobby – dancing (in fact he once danced with a man who danced with a girl who danced with the Prince of Wales). Lives with Nancy whose face is beginning to smile again [Nancy was his land lady after the divorce]. After the match a collection will be made for this player and the proceeds will go to any club willing to take him.”

 

Once he played the match wearing a Max Wall wig. It was a bizarre sight to see him dashing down the wing with the long hair streaming out behind him and gleaming pate glaring in the sunshine (well, perhaps this effect wasn’t so unusual). But he loved the joke. Nobody else would have done it.

 

He was a good sprinter even into his late fifties. I remember him challenging me to a race outside Speedsway when I was 20 and he was 57. He could probably have beaten me even then, but I couldn’t run for laughing and he had to help me back into the house because I hadn’t the co-ordination to walk unaided. The faces that he pulled in order to put me off, and the absurdity of the situation (added to the fact that he might actually have won) were too much for me.

 

His gamesmanship with me was a gift of God; he took the skill to higher levels that I’ve ever seen. On the 9th hole at Curzon Park he would always remind me about the pond that was 20 yards beyond the tee: ”Don’t worry about the pond now, Tim. Just put the pond out of your mind, don’t let the deep, dark, inaccessable depths of the pond put you off.” Inevitably I’d drive into it and I’d throw my club down and him a dirty look. He’d just laugh with that wicked chuckle of his and think about the next trick he could play, like walking on my line on the green, or standing with his shadow over my ball, or reminding me about the out-of-bounds on the 11th or 12th, or the trees on the left at the 7th. He wanted me to do well and he wanted me to win, but he didn’t want me to win by too many!

 

When we played tennis (I’d be in my twenties and he in his early sixties), he could beat me without breaking sweat simply by pulling faces and reminding me about the height of the net and the need to get my shots as close to the line as possible, and to serve as fast as possible, and to remember that he was an old man. I’d be a weak, helpless wreck who could hardly lift the racket for laughing.

 

He loved to pull faces with the kids especially. Some of my oldest memories are of him playing Dracula with his false teeth (his lower set were knocked out when a cricket ball ran up his bat and into his face when he was in his 20s) and scaring me rigid. He was still doing this last year with Fiona’s kids.

 

When I was a toddler he used to sit me on his knee and ask me to press the knob on his watch. This was a special knob that opened his legs so that I fell through with a rush. He’d always catch me before I hit the ground. The thrill of it was fantastic and he’d build up the tension like a fastly approaching train so that I was giggling before I’d even touched the watch.

 

I remember, when I was a kid, him driving the old Morris Minor, the model with the foot control for the headlights. He would press my nose and the floor control simultaneously going “On. Off. On. Off.” Not as many traffic accidents as you might think.

 

He hated football but claimed to support Everton. I used t think it was because the blue shirt meant that the team was Protestant (like Man City), but then I was told the team was actually Catholic. Dad confirmed this and when I asked why he supported a Catholic team he said, “I always thought the blue colour was so much smarter”. Sweet.

 

Recently he began to support Liverpool but this was only to get at me (in a jokey way). I’ve supported Liverpool for years but I was originally a fanatic of Leeds United. One day when I was 10 I changed allegiance and ever since (for 30 long years) he’s been ribbing me about it. So when he started supporting Liverpool (last year, after years of me asking how Everton were doing and knowing that there would be silence) he’d say “Come on Liverpool! Aren’t my team doing well? Everton who?” and he’d look at me out of the corner of his eye, and we’d both collapse into hysterics.

 

He was an excellent coach – cricket, golf, tennis, any sport except snooker, which he hated. Oh, and subutteo: when I asked for it one Christmas, he warned, “OK, but I won’t play with you!”

 

He tried his best to mould us both into champion sportsmen. He was the parent who took us to school matches or badminton clubs. He was a very patient coach. Very methodical. Read all the coaching manuals going. Didn’t mind when I hit the cricket ball through the glass-panelled front door or his bedroom window. That didn’t stop him from continuing the programme of tuition. He was so proud when I scored 20 runs for the Rabbits at Boughton Hall when I was 15. (He didn’t seem to notice that they were bowling underarm and the fielders were unable to catch the dolliest of chances.)

 

Not that he was obsessed with our success. He was not disappointed when in later life we failed to get to the Olympics or play for England. All he wanted was for us to enjoy sport and to play it to the best of our abilities. He was, though, quite disappointed when in later years I gave up golf and football, but he didn’t dwell on this. Not very often anyway. Every three weeks or so he might ask, “Did you play any sport this week?” “No.” “Oh” he’d say quietly, and you could hear the regret in his voice, but he wouldn’t say any more.

 

Receiving the Wyatt Cup (bowls?) in the army

 

Toilet was the best room in the house for dad. He used to spend hours in there, probably to get away from us. Peace and quiet! Quiet fag. Book. Toilet paper. What more could a man want.

 

Music never played a great part in Dad’s life; he liked it but he could easily go for several years without playing a record. His Hi Fi (which he bought when he moved into his ‘bachelor pad’ in 1978) was almost sealed with nicotine stains. But I do remember certain tunes that he used to hum and certain records he had. Records such as “The World of Paddy Roberts” and Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass, and The Drifters. Paddy Roberts sticks in the mind. We used to sing together the lyrics of “Gentlemen must please refrain from passing water while the train is standing in the station, stationary. Workers working underneath are apt to get it in the teeth, and they don’t like it, nor would you!”, and “I love Mary ...” and “The foggy foggy dew” and ... oh, there were so many.

 

Dad had a habit of matching songs to the situation or to the mood. He used to heartily sing “The sun has got his hat on ... “ whenever the sun came out. Or “we’re all going on a summer holiday ...”. Or, “I’m going to buy a paper doll that I can call my own, a doll that other fellas cannot steal ....” – a tune that he used to sing in the car when he picked me up and took me to golf when I was 14, after the divorce.

 

He was extremely upset by the divorce. He was always crying when he picked me up for badminton at Rossett on Wednesdays, and for golf at the weekend. This went on for at least two years. One time we were driving back from the club and as per usual he was crying, and he looked at me and said, very seriously, “Should we end it here? Now? Should I drive at the wall?” I told him that it wasn’t a good idea. He often took my advice, even way back then.

 

In his early years in Farndon he was a parish counsellor. I don’t remember that he did a great deal but he was very proud of the fact.

 

Dad loved to shoot his air rifle. He would stand (not sit) for hours at a time at the kitchen window looking out for wildlife to target – foxes, crows, pigeons – nothing was safe. In later years he actually began to be interested in birds and gardens (a major major change in attitude). He even went as far as to get an ID book of birds, and he invested in peanuts and feeders for the garden. Maybe he just wanted to lure in some more victims? He would still have his 22 at the window to the back garden (along with the binoculars). The book might just have been a chance to ID the birds he shot? Anyway, I think the birds got the message. The peanuts have lasted 3 years, unchanged, and not a bird was seen in his garden. Again, his reputation went before him?

 

But I don’t really think so. I think he was gradually (very gradually and slowly – after 40 years) adapting to rural life and becoming interested in natural things. The fact that birds didn’t visit his feeder really made him sad. It’s a shame, if they’d come in flocks of amazing numbers and colours and diversity he would have been exalted. Having said that, I saw a robin going for a mouldy peanut in his garden today ...

 

Over the years I’ve sent Dad loads of postcards and letters, and he’s kept them all. I usually sent him letters after arguments over the ‘phone. I would be trying to reason with him and he was refusing to listen. So I sent long letters explaining what I was attempting to say. He kept them and I think they helped him understand me (and himself) because he could read them at his leisure and digest the contents in peace. He never ever acknowledged that he had even received the letters let alone had read them or accepted their contents.

 

One such letter followed a particularly disturbing incident in the clubhouse a couple of years ago. Dad was very upset about the fact that my hire-car was playing up and he thought I wasn’t doing anything about it and so he was frightened that I would end up having a terrible crash and dying. I could see his point but from where I was standing everything was OK and under control. But he refused to believe me and ended up getting madder and madder. It was especially shocking as he appeared to have forgotten that he was in a very public place. This is my description of him in the letter I sent the next day (from Scotland):

 

“I have to explain how I felt when you spoke to me ... Please bear with me! But it’s not going to be nice reading. We were in the club house having a coffee. You sat next to me, shooting daggers out of the corners of your eyes, muttering, not so sanely or quietly, over and over again, “Stupid! Stupid!” ... You were mad. Unhinged. Distorted. Your face was so contorted it was barely recognisable. ... Your eyes seem to pop out, they bulge when you get mad (become mad). Your cheeks sink in, your mouth gets tight, small, thin-lipped; it purses out and looks like it wants to spit spite and bile and ill-words. … Your eyes fill with hate (they do!); you look as if I have behaved in the most heinous fashion, like I’ve murdered someone, like I’m the worst person in the world.! And all I’ve done is not heeded your advice and instead I have followed my own judgement. This is how I felt about you.”

 

Dad never referred to the letter, but I think he appreciated the tone of it, the non-accusatory but still shocked tone. He was very rarely like this but when it happened it was not a little disturbing.

 

Anyone who knew Dad for any length of time would have known all about his friends, the Haemorrhoids. Dad suffered from these from ... well maybe since he was a child. Ever since I’ve known him anyway. We used to get regular updates about their behaviour and health. Usually they were behaving very badly and were extremely poorly. Not surprising really when you add up all the time he spent reading and smoking fags on cold toilets. His piles went before him (so to speak): he went to a golf club for an “away game” one day and a person came up to him to shake his hand and his first question to Dad was, “And how are your piles?” Dad had never met the guy in his life.

 

As a small child (maybe of 6 or 7) I would periodically get fed up with the household and would pack a small brown paper bag with cans of food, can-opener and socks with the intention of running away (which I would announce solemnly to the family if they were around). One time when I did this, Dad followed me out of the house so I picked up speed to get away from him. He matched my speed and so I went faster. Eventually we were lapping the house at a rate of knots with me just out-stripping Dad, lumbering along with my brown paper bag, and Sue and Mum killing themselves laughing in the kitchen. I’m not entirely sure what was going on in Dad’s head at the time because he could have caught me in a sprint when I was 20 let alone 6.

 

On the other hand, after I was divorced (from my wife, Alison) I went to Dad to talk about what was happening and about me and about what was going on for me. Dad didn’t want to hear and walked away. I tried to catch him up but he walked away faster. We didn’t actually end up chasing each other around the house but it was a close run thing. Dad definitely didn’t like to discuss close, personal things.

 

Dad was a collector: of autographs (cricketers and footballers); of old coins (stuffed into jars and carefully wrapped); of stamps (some still to be pasted into his album). Not professional and not obsessive but I remember cleaning pennies with HP when I was young. Cheap child (family) labour was not a thing he had strong feelings about.

 

I was given 5p a grey hair when I was 8 or so. (I had to pull it out, not bring it to him.) He must have been in his early 40s at the time. Memories of me bending over his head whilst he sat in the chair and watched Grandstand. We must have looked like a family of chimps.

 

I'd be very interested to know whatvyou think. Could you please leave a comment?

 

He bought a small dingy when we were young (Dad must have been in his 40s). They called it “SueTim” maybe because our neighbours, Fiona and Bill Scott, had a boat called “Fibi”. We took it on to the Dee at Farndon one lovely summer’s day. Dad was so proud and I was so excited. We sailed it up the river and were going OK – no hitches or crashes within 100 yards of setting off, quite a record for us – but then we hit a spot where some boys (Leslie Norman I remember) were swimming. Leslie swam over to us and suddenly unhinged the rudder rendering us helpless and adrift. Whilst he and his gang were almost drowning with laughter, Dad was not-so-quietly turning puce with anger. He couldn’t do very much about it and we got to the bank safely but we didn’t ever sail there again.

 

Excavator coming along. I am ⅔ of the way through bag 4.

 

She is starting to get big. 4 more bags to go after this one!

Methodical building with los of gears.

by Monkey Bird Crew

Fiac Hors les murs

(Paris, 10/2014)

 

Monkey Bird Crew developed out of the association of 2 Young artists, Temor and The Blow. The Monkey Bird Crew has the original ambition of restoring spectres of an animal of the Anonymous walls of the metropolises, wich engulf them with their unquestioning supremacy. Interrogating the notions of freedom and inacceccible private property, theirillegal interventions murmur an Anonymous philosophy via monumental images. Fuelling their inspiration with etchings, signs, and cosmopolitain calligraphies, The Monkey Bird Crew seeks a universal dialect filled with methodical lines and redundant symbols.