tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64251476056547809652024-03-13T12:23:25.517-07:00Colleen's Posts Articles by Colleen FliednerColleen's Postshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11393970457136406476noreply@blogger.comBlogger47125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6425147605654780965.post-62020079877718571752023-05-28T17:23:00.000-07:002023-05-28T17:23:56.820-07:00<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjleR3UPcCFxCUQQMoDfPw_FypLM04zLfy3aC_C_voU9DBsASe-WY3NZQvI8vKcGGUzVjYqEAD22X553ex_AD2-ybJ4noIONgnJcrmV3Ggv1O4ZIHEE3W5W8gxkx-ehfju1R-v7DNR0KCiSlye-DU06aIqfoptb1ImpoK9vIKX9GykjWUDxEJzOLIQq/s1200/Stubby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjleR3UPcCFxCUQQMoDfPw_FypLM04zLfy3aC_C_voU9DBsASe-WY3NZQvI8vKcGGUzVjYqEAD22X553ex_AD2-ybJ4noIONgnJcrmV3Ggv1O4ZIHEE3W5W8gxkx-ehfju1R-v7DNR0KCiSlye-DU06aIqfoptb1ImpoK9vIKX9GykjWUDxEJzOLIQq/s320/Stubby.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">SERGEANT
STUBBY, WAR HERO<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Wars
affect everything and everyone, including all creatures great and small. In my
World War 1 presentation, I talk about the many animals, and even some insects,
which played an important role in the fighting between the British allied
countries and the Germans and their allies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>This Memorial Day, I decided to focus
my BLOG on one of the bravest canines of all time – a dog that received
international acclaim and numerous medals for his heroism. We don’t know his
real name, but Corporal James Conroy of the 102<sup>nd</sup> Infantry called
him “Stubby” because of his diminutive size. And the name stuck. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The year was 1917, and
hundreds of American men were training at Yale University before they were to
be transported to the war front in France. Lost and alone, the shabby Boston
Terrier wandered into the military encampment where he found open hands and
open hearts. He was adopted by the troop of soldiers and was fed and cared for.
When it was time to leave for France, Corporal Conroy smuggled the small dog on
the ship that would take them to the war zone. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Stubby’s presence was discovered by
Conroy’s commanding officer, the dog saluted him as every good soldier would
do. Conroy had trained his dog to prepare him for that very moment. And it
worked. Stubby was allowed to stay as the troops’ mascot.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Living conditions in the
trenches were terrible, and the constant sound of machine guns and cannon fire
must have been difficult for the dog. Rather than simply keeping the men
company, Stubby was soon put to work doing his part in the war effort. He was
an intelligent dog and quickly learned what was needed of him. But it wasn’t
long before the little dog was injured during a mustard gas attack. The
soldiers created a special gas mask for their mascot, and from that time on,
Stubby would warn his fellow soldiers when a mustard gas attack was about to
begin. His barking allowed the men enough time to put on their gas masks…and
his. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Each day, the terrier roamed
the battle zone, known as No Man’s Land, between the German and Allied troop
trenches, searching for wounded soldiers. He would return to the trench and
guide the rescue team to the injured men. Months later, he was injured by a
hand grenade. But like a true hero, he recovered and went back to work in the
trenches helping to save wounded soldiers.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There
are many stories of Stubby’s bravery. On one occasion, he’s credited with
attacking a German who was sneaking up on the American encampment. Barking and
biting the enemy soldier, he held onto him by the “seat of his pants” until
members of Stubby’s regiment arrived. The commanding officer recognized the pup’s
bravery by officially making him a sergeant. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
German troops soon became aware of the dog’s important role in protecting his
men. Snipers used binoculars to search for his small silhouette in the foggy,
smoke-filled areas between the trenches. Stubby was injured yet again by
another grenade. And once again, the tough terrier recovered. His legacy grew,
and women in the French town of Chateau-Thierry made him a chamois coat so that
he could wear the numerous medals he had been awarded.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When
the war ended in late 1918 and the troops were sent home, James Conroy took
Stubby with him to Connecticut. But the story doesn’t end there. Stubby’s fame
had traveled back to America. He was a famous war hero and made personal
appearances in parades, sporting events, and even at vaudeville shows. Stubby
was introduced to three American Presidents and in 1921, he was presented with
a gold medal by General John J. Pershing. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>After
his death in 1926, Stubby was preserved by a taxidermist. The famous little dog
now resides at the Smithsonian National Museum of American History. In 2018, an
animated film about the life and legacy of the brave terrier, <i>Sgt. Stubby,
An American Hero</i>, was released. After the death of <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>James Robert Conroy, his family had a
life-size bronze statue of Stubby placed at Veteran’s Memorial Park in
Middletown, Connecticut. And Stubby, the hero dog of World War 1, is still
remembered through books and articles and even a website for his fan club: </span><a href="http://www.stubbysquad.com/"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">http://www.stubbysquad.com</span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>Colleen's Postshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11393970457136406476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6425147605654780965.post-70217165015912318842023-01-04T13:30:00.000-08:002023-01-04T13:30:04.017-08:00<p> </p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">THE AMAZING AVOCADO<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Avocados. That was one of my mistakes,” explained actor
George Burns, who played the key role in the movie, <i>Oh God.</i> “The pit’s
too big,” he added. The avocado’s pit may be a little out of proportion, but
this vitamin packed bundle of flavor is anything but a mistake of nature. In
fact, people in areas where avocados are believed to have originated (Mexico,
Central and South America) have been eating them for centuries. The Aztecs of
ancient Mexico likely invented guacamole, which remains the most popular way to
eat avocados. When the Spanish conquered Mexico in 1519, the Conquistadors
recorded the widespread use of avocados in the native diet. Just like today,
the Aztecs mashed them and mixed the paste with tomatoes, onions, and chilies. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ZrOaIKHzBaEPxxDr1vrvdIY3Ko9Wux3hbbU6wgSTCfK9DwOd3wV9-ERNHyp7vQ-iNWVkR1LCK9OER7xC7ci4DuncGMU7WuGSUpdTfCiBgFm-YyjyOMRWBtHRJq66UYIqnUbj6d5nbROoXUwTMazFf0htCF8p18AW7fnG8iqhoRpR0tWZFZbThiuX/s4271/HAAS%20AVOCADOS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4133" data-original-width="4271" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ZrOaIKHzBaEPxxDr1vrvdIY3Ko9Wux3hbbU6wgSTCfK9DwOd3wV9-ERNHyp7vQ-iNWVkR1LCK9OER7xC7ci4DuncGMU7WuGSUpdTfCiBgFm-YyjyOMRWBtHRJq66UYIqnUbj6d5nbROoXUwTMazFf0htCF8p18AW7fnG8iqhoRpR0tWZFZbThiuX/w206-h209/HAAS%20AVOCADOS.jpg" title="HAAS Avocados" width="206" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The Spanish found the green meat of this “buttery” fruit
(and yes, it’s a fruit and not a vegetable) found that avocados were a delicious
addition to their own foods, mixing it with salt and pepper, or adding sugar to
create a dessert. As for that enormous pit? Squeezing out the milky liquid, the
Spaniards discovered that avocado pit juice changes into a blackish/red
indelible ink. Old Spanish documents written in avocado ink still exist.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Avocados were also enjoyed in the West Indies. When George
Washington traveled to Barbados in 1751, he wrote about the tasty “avavago
pears” that were grown there. And when British sailors discovered the green
pear-shaped fruit, they brought them along on their voyages. In the absence of
butter, they mashed the soft fruit and spread it on their hardtack, giving
avocados a new name: “midshipman’s butter.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">THE AVOCADO AS AN APHRODISIAC?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">No one knows how the avocado got its reputation as an
aphrodisiac. Maybe it was because of its pear-like shape and the fact that it
hung in clusters of two that the Aztecs called it the “testicle tree.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Due to the avocado’s reputed romantic
qualities, Aztec maidens were kept indoors when the trees were harvested.
Spanish padres took the avocado’s reputation seriously. In fact, they went so
far as to prohibit their planting in the missions’ gardens. During the 1920s,
avocado growers launched a public relations campaign assuring American
consumers that there was no proof the strange green fruit indeed had this
“undesirable” side effect. Today, the avocado industry will neither deny nor
confirm the fruits’ qualities as an aphrodisiac!<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">CALIFORNIA AND THE AVOCADO<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Avocado trees were introduced into the United States in
Florida around 1833. Although Judge R.B. Ord of Santa Barbara brought the first
avocado trees to California in 1871, it was another forty years before they
would be grown commercially, when Carl Schmidt, who worked for a nursery in
Altadena, found a perfect variety for California’s weather pattern while
visiting Puebla, Mexico. He planted numerous saplings in a grove in what is now
San Marino. Only one tree survived Southern California’s “great freeze of
1913.” This hearty avocado was named <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fuerte</i>,
which means vigorous or strong in Spanish.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Today, the Hass avocado is the most commonly grown variety
in the world. Developed accidentally by Rudolph Hass, a postman who owned land
in current-day La Habra Heights. The rough, dark variety was the result of a
failed graft in 1926. The Hass owes its overwhelming success to its long
growing season (8 months), its creamy texture, and its buttery flavor. Hass
avocados are easily identified by their pebbly skin, which changes from forest
green to blackish purple when ripe. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">AVOCADO FACTS:<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<ol start="1" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">Did you know that the avocado is among the top 10
heart-healthy foods?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s true!
Although this nutty tasting fruit is high in fat, it’s the good kind
(monounsaturated) that can actually help lower LDL cholesterol. It has 60%
more potassium than a banana (which helps lower blood pressure), as well
as folic acid, dietary fiber, and vitamins C, E and B6 (and the important
mineral K). Recent studies have shown that its phytonutrients can help protect
against prostate cancer.<o:p></o:p></li>
</ol>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<ol start="2" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">They are loaded with vitamin E, lutein (a
phytochemical that can help prevent common eyesight problems), and
glutathione (a cancer-preventing antioxidant).<o:p></o:p></li>
</ol>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<ol start="3" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">Avocados are not only eaten for their health
benefits, but the leaves and fruit are used around the world for medicinal
purposes and for beauty treatments. Avocado oil is especially popular as a
skin and scalp ointment.<o:p></o:p></li>
</ol>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<ol start="4" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">California farmers produce 95% of all avocados grown
in the country. Why is avocado production so successful in Southern
California? Because of the ideal growing conditions: good soil, proper
drainage, and abundant sunshine.<o:p></o:p></li>
</ol>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<ol start="5" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">The word avocado comes from the Spanish <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">aquacate</i>, which was a corrupted
version of the Aztec term <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ahuacatl</i>.<o:p></o:p></li>
</ol>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<ol start="6" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">Avocado trees have been known to produce fruit for
over 200 years!<o:p></o:p></li>
</ol>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<ol start="7" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">There’s actually an Avocado Fan Club! <o:p></o:p></li>
</ol>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Tips:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To speed up
ripening, put the avocado in a paper bag with an apple, which releases a
harmless gas that hastens the process.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Once the meat has been exposed to air, it will darken. After making
guacamole, place the pits in the bowl with the dip. The natural enzymes will
help preserve the taste and pale green color. When using a portion of an
avocado, brush the remaining exposed area with lemon or lime juice and secure
it tightly in air-tight plastic wrap.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 7;"> </span>*<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">AVOCADO SALSA<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Mild and delicious. <span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">4 avocadoes - diced<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">¼ bottle green tobassco sauce (I use less because I like it
very mild)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">1 can diced tomatoes (drain off a bit of the juice)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">1 pkg. or about 1 cup grated cheese<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">1 finely chopped Bermuda (purple) onion<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">½ small can diced Ortega chilis<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Finely chopped cilantro (I use about ½ bunch or to your
taste)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">2 small cans sliced black olives<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Pinch of sugar (or to taste)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Garlic salt to taste<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Mix and chill. I use a half recipe for smaller gatherings.<o:p></o:p></p>Colleen's Postshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11393970457136406476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6425147605654780965.post-57262548102527851932020-06-21T14:57:00.000-07:002020-06-21T14:57:27.861-07:00<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">THE
1918 INFLUENZA - THE LAST GREAT PANDEMIC<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">On
April 6, 1917, Woodrow Wilson declared war on Germany and its allies,
collectively called the “Central Powers.” The president had flipped his
anti-war promise on its proverbial head, facing the challenges of preparing the
country for war like a bull charging a matador’s cape. Going to war had been a
difficult decision, but Wilson was left no choice when Germany had become more
aggressive towards the Unites States. Kaiser Wilhelm II had announced that all
ships, including American passenger liners, would be sunk on sight. In
addition, the British had intercepted a coded telegram sent by Germany’s
Foreign Secretary to the German Ambassador in Mexico. The message proposed that
Mexican troops invade the United States to start a war to reclaim New Mexico,
Texas and Arizona. The Central Powers would supply weapons and money to support
Mexican troops. That way, the U.S. military would be too busy fighting against
Mexico to send troops overseas to join the Allied forces. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">With
only 127,151 men serving in the U. S. Army at that time, Wilson would have to
implement the draft immediately. Make-shift training camps were set up, and
steel mills and factories producing weapons would have to move at lightning
speed. To keep up morale, Wilson’s representatives made sure that newspapers
were censored so that nothing negative about the war was printed. People who
spoke against the war were often brought to trial; some were even imprisoned.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">In
the military encampments, new recruits were squeezed into barracks and tents,
their cots so close together that there was barely room to move between them.
At Camp Funston on the massive grounds of Fort Riley, Kansas, an estimated
56,000 young men were being trained. Little did anyone know that a battle
almost as terrible as the one they would face in the trenches abroad would soon
come to call on the home front.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">To
this day, scientists battle about where or how the “Great Influenza Pandemic”
began. One theory is that the virus had infected pigs on a farm near Camp
Funston. It all started, they said, two days after the farmer burned piles of
hog manure. The wind carried a storm of smoke laden with the virus into the
camp. Men began to sicken by the scores. Within three weeks, 1,100 had died.
Other researchers stated that it was impossible for this kind of virus to
survive burning, let alone to be infectious after being swept along for miles
before finding a human host. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">A
more popular theory was that the killer influenza had been created by German
scientists and brought to America on a submarine. The newspapers picked up on
this idea and people believed the story. After all, the Germans had created
deadly gases which had killed thousands of soldiers in the trenches. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Yet
another hypothesis was that the influenza outbreak during the winter of 1916-17
at a British encampment in France had symptoms eerily similar to the strange
new strain of the killer flu. Some researchers believed that because of the weakened
condition of the soldiers and the filth in the rat-infested trenches, the germs
had mutated into an even stronger strain that was easily transmitted. The
killer flu spread from stricken French soldiers in concentric circles to
soldiers on both sides and into the cities. It hitched rides on unknowing hosts
boarding ships bound for ports all over the world, eventually making its way to
America…and possibly to the overcrowded military base in Kansas.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Ironically,
the new flu was nicknamed “the Spanish influenza” even though it didn’t begin
in Spain. Most likely, it reared its ugly head in France and Britain first and
was likely carried to Spain by infected people spending time in Spain’s warm
coastal resort towns. Because the war’s propaganda machine in the Allied
countries had forbidden their newspapers from printing information about the
outbreak of the flu and the toll it was taking on the troops, Spain, a neutral
country with newspapers that included stories about the influenza outbreak in
its country, was blamed for its beginnings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The
reality is that we may never know the influenza’s origin. The fact is that it
moved through military bases in America and overseas like locusts ravaging a
wheat field. Soldiers who had been exposed – and even those who were already
showing symptoms – were deployed overseas. Shiploads of sick men arrived and
spread the disease by the thousands. The strange virus preyed most often on the
young and healthy. Symptoms began with headaches, violent coughing, body aches,
sore throats and high fevers. Although some recovered, others weren’t so lucky.
After a few days, their lips and even their faces turned blue when their lungs
became congested with blood and fluids. Scientists worked madly to come up with
a cure or, at least an inoculation. But in 1918 their microscopes weren’t
advanced enough to view, let alone understand how to destroy, the viruses that
were wreaking havoc on the world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">It’s
ironic that the pandemic struck during a time when the world was at war.
Military ships with soldiers carrying the flu stopped for fuel and supplies in
ports all over the world. There are stories about sailors disembarking their
ships in a port and infecting entire communities, such as in Western Samoa,
where 8,000 people died after a vessel from Auckland docked there for
refueling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Meanwhile
in America the flu continued to sweep across the country. People wore flimsy
gauze masks hoping to protect themselves from the invisible enemy. Restaurants,
churches and theaters closed, and people were advised to avoid crowds and stay
home as much as possible. Mingling closely with other people was banned in many
areas. For most Americans, however, that wasn’t an option. They had to work.
Without them, who would build the much-needed military trucks and guns and
cannons to ship to the troops? And of course, they caught and passed on the flu
to their fellow workers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: red; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">One of the worst massive public exposures to the Spanish influenza occurred
in Philadelphia when a Liberty Bond parade wasn’t canceled by the city’s
leaders. With the war raging on overseas, money raised through the sale of
Liberty Bonds was needed to support American troops. While numerous health
officials warned against bringing that many people together during a world
pandemic, Philadelphia’s leaders ignored their warnings and moved forward with
their plans. The public wasn’t notified of the danger. Sadly, around
three-hundred thousand residents lined the parade route. Within three days, an
estimated hundred thousand Philadelphians had become infected. Thousands of
men, women and children – often entire families – died. And the virus found
even more hosts who would continue to infect other unsuspecting friends and
family members.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Meanwhile
on the battle front, the influenza had sickened and killed thousands of
soldiers on both sides. By fall, battle-weary Bulgaria, Austria, Hungry and
Turkey had asked the Allies for peace. Germany would soon do the same, signing
an armistice on November 11. The war was over, and the flu had more than a
little credit for its somewhat quick end. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Although
the flu continued its killing spree in second and third waves for months, the
epidemic seemed to be over by the early winter of 1919. The public was
ecstatic, patronizing their favorite eateries, partying, attending social
functions, and shopping. Slowly, things returned to normal. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The
total number of people who died from the 1918 influenza is believed to have
been more than the those who died in World War 1. Because many of the countries
affected by the virus didn’t keep accurate records, the numbers of dead are
only estimates and range somewhere between 40 million and 100 million
worldwide. Added to the 20-plus million soldiers and civilians who had been
killed in World War 1, the loss of life during this time is staggering.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">For
the scientists who couldn’t find a cure or what had caused this new variety of killer
flu, their work continued. No one doubted that the day would come when another
mutated disease would disrupt the world. It took over 100 years, but during the
current outbreak of COVID 19, lessons learned from the 1918 flu were put into
practice. Avoiding crowds, closing businesses, and asking people to stay home,
helped then as it has helped now. And the good news is that our ancestors’
lives did, indeed, return to normal. Strangely, the 1918 influenza hasn’t been
included in history classes, and few books have been written on the topic.
Until the recent pandemic, the “Spanish” flu had been forgotten by most
people…with the exception of the generations of scientists who have worked to
understand exactly what caused the deadly flu of 1918. Their hope has always
been to prevent another similar outbreak.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">And
the battle to find a vaccine goes on….</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Colleen's Postshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11393970457136406476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6425147605654780965.post-23057343323031274182019-11-11T16:49:00.001-08:002019-11-11T16:49:53.902-08:00ARMISTICE DAY OR VETERANS DAY?<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Did you know that Veterans Day was originally called Armistice
Day? On November 11, 1918, after </span><i style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">more </i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">than four bloody years of fighting, World
War 1 ended. German officials surrendered and the Armistice agreement took effect
at 11:00 a.m. on 11-11-1918. That date – called Remembrance Day in many
countries – was observed in the United States until 1954, when the name was changed
to Veterans Day so that veterans of all wars would be honored.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PKrMc8o2FCg/XcoAcvD4RfI/AAAAAAAAAco/-j54jSQtgIAIRKxXARLafB7vlvywOUXoQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/amer%2Btroops%2Bmarch%2B2%2Bwar%2B1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="584" data-original-width="800" height="232" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PKrMc8o2FCg/XcoAcvD4RfI/AAAAAAAAAco/-j54jSQtgIAIRKxXARLafB7vlvywOUXoQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/amer%2Btroops%2Bmarch%2B2%2Bwar%2B1.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When the First World War began overseas in August 1914,
President Wilson refused to involve America in a conflict that didn’t directly
involve the United States. Many people in America and, indeed, Great Britain,
believed that Wilson should have declared war on the Central Powers (Germany,
Austria-Hungary and their allies) after a German submarine sank the RMS
Lusitania, a British-owned luxury liner, on May 7, 1915, killing 1,200 men,
women and children, including 128 American citizens. Wilson refused to budge. However,
he began to change his mind when German U-boats (submarines) attacked American
ships, and German spy networks detonated numerous bombs and incendiary devices
on American soil. The final blow came when a letter to the Mexican president
was intercepted and taken to the White House. The letter’s contents were
shocking: the German government offered to assist Mexico with invading America
to take back the border states of Texas, Arizona, and New Mexico. They also
proposed that Mexico convince the Japanese to switch sides and join the Central
Powers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Within days, Wilson declared war on the Central Powers
in April of 1917, more than 2-1/2 years after the war had begun. By the time
the Germans surrendered, the war had claimed over 18 million lives, with an
additional 23 million wounded (including civilians).</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fbro7dowVMM/XcoAUDKUkHI/AAAAAAAAAck/MeXKDuD915wR6md72yhk16Qb9zJGzwK-gCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/11-11-11%2Bcease%2Bfire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="377" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fbro7dowVMM/XcoAUDKUkHI/AAAAAAAAAck/MeXKDuD915wR6md72yhk16Qb9zJGzwK-gCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/11-11-11%2Bcease%2Bfire.jpg" width="300" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The official peace agreement, The Treaty of
Versailles, wasn’t signed until June 1919, after months of meetings, arguments,
and negotiations between the representatives of the conquering nations
regarding how the countries that made up the Central Powers should be
punished.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">An interesting fact is that representatives from the
Central Powers – most importantly, the Germans – weren’t included in the actual
peace negotiations in France. When the dust settled, the Germans were fined a
half-trillion dollars (in today’s currency), a monumental debt that wasn’t paid
off until 2010. The war devastated Germany economically. The people were
impoverished, starving, and humiliated. Germany was seriously in debt, not to
mention that they had lost millions of young men. In addition, they had lost
face and a great deal of territory.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-J-J6pEqY0A0/XcoAqMBxouI/AAAAAAAAAcw/SoGf8f0ot54YD4-qipKjlppL0fW1CYT1QCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/end-of-wwi-armistice%2Bcelebrate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="176" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-J-J6pEqY0A0/XcoAqMBxouI/AAAAAAAAAcw/SoGf8f0ot54YD4-qipKjlppL0fW1CYT1QCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/end-of-wwi-armistice%2Bcelebrate.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Forced to sign the Armistice agreement, Germany was
humiliated, their economy ruined, and millions of their young men were
dead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kaiser Wilhelm, grandson of Queen
Victoria, had been at the helm during the war. He resigned his position as leader of the German Empire and spent the rest of his life exiled
in the Netherlands. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">These factors contributed directly to Adolph Hitler’s
rise to power. He used the devastating reparations the Germans would have to pay
to ignite the fuse of hatred that would lead to World War II less than twenty
years later.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Colleen's Postshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11393970457136406476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6425147605654780965.post-30359434861229853492019-08-27T22:05:00.003-07:002019-08-28T07:46:20.011-07:00<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;">MATA HARI<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Mata Hari</span></i></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">.
The very name conjures images of a beautiful temptress; a double agent who
betrayed the Allied forces during World War 1 costing the French countless
lives. But who was the real Mata Hari? Was she actually the evil seductress
remembered as a counter agent during the Great War? And did she really change
her allegiance to the Allies (Russia, France, Britain, Serbia, Japan and Italy)
to spy for Germany?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wR2MXRqbQ9k/XWaQur5xG5I/AAAAAAAAAbQ/K9uNxUZRH-wO8nB1aj21GB_X0oSMi2GPgCLcBGAs/s1600/Mata_Hari_21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="755" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wR2MXRqbQ9k/XWaQur5xG5I/AAAAAAAAAbQ/K9uNxUZRH-wO8nB1aj21GB_X0oSMi2GPgCLcBGAs/s200/Mata_Hari_21.jpg" width="125" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">During the early 1900s, Mata Hari was a famous exotic
dancer. She advertised herself as a princess from Indonesia, and world
audiences bought into her ruse. Her scanty costumes left little to the
imagination, and her gyrations shocked, and yet titillated her audiences…which
included the era’s most rich and famous, as well as royalty.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Mata Hari’s real name was Margaretha Zelle, and she
wasn’t a princess, nor was she from an exotic country. Actually, she was born
in the Netherlands, and her father owned a hat shop.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">After a tumultuous childhood, Margaretha moved to
Indonesia and married a well-to-do widower, who was 20 years her senior. He was
well-off financially and was a high-ranking officer in the British military.
But he was an alcoholic, and he often beat her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zS3igRkah9U/XWaQ7ezMkQI/AAAAAAAAAbU/IJVx-DjeXV4A0uAicU_PcHqncGRLy0-QACLcBGAs/s1600/Mata_Hari_22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="745" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zS3igRkah9U/XWaQ7ezMkQI/AAAAAAAAAbU/IJVx-DjeXV4A0uAicU_PcHqncGRLy0-QACLcBGAs/s200/Mata_Hari_22.jpg" width="123" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Margaretha’s life was made even worse when both of
their children died of what was believed to be syphilis. She found solace in
learning Indonesian dances. So, when she found herself divorced and on her own,
she changed her name to Mata Hari, which means “eye of the day” in Indonesian.
Fabricating a fake past, she performed her sensational dances.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When the war broke out in 1914, she was on tour in
Europe and fell madly in love with a Russian pilot who flew for the French.
When he was shot down during a dog fight, he was badly injured. Margaretha
tried to visit him in a military hospital in France. But the French would only
allow it if she agreed to spy on Germany, or more exactly, seduce the eldest
son of Kaiser Wilhelm II, who had been infatuated with her when she performed
in Germany. The French military wanted her to get information out of the young
German prince and pass it on to them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JgUG0KXvDYI/XWaRnrzYDcI/AAAAAAAAAbo/J856GIGzQJ4AXyN9o7EHF0MfekHDHX72QCLcBGAs/s1600/Mata_Hari%2B23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1069" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JgUG0KXvDYI/XWaRnrzYDcI/AAAAAAAAAbo/J856GIGzQJ4AXyN9o7EHF0MfekHDHX72QCLcBGAs/s200/Mata_Hari%2B23.jpg" width="178" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Did she become a counterspy during her few years of
working undercover for France? Or was she set up by a German officer with whom
she had a relationship? A rejected lover, perhaps? All we know is that he sent
a coded message indicating that Mata Hari was spying for Germany – and he sent
it in a code that he knew could be easily deciphered by the French.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mata Hari was arrested and executed in France
in 1917. She swore she was innocent until the end.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Most scholars who have reviewed the trial documents
believe she was simply made a scape goat by the French government. After all,
it was convenient to blame her for the fact that the French had lost a major
battle, rather acknowledging that poor tactics had been used by the French
commanders.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GEJQdYqA4J0/XWaRNWyNGMI/AAAAAAAAAbg/9Q6faLxGNwI_X51NW8ODuJvSxZE42nwqQCLcBGAs/s1600/MATA%2BHARI%2B4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="900" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GEJQdYqA4J0/XWaRNWyNGMI/AAAAAAAAAbg/9Q6faLxGNwI_X51NW8ODuJvSxZE42nwqQCLcBGAs/s200/MATA%2BHARI%2B4.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The new International Spy Museum in Washington, D.C.
has an exhibit about Mata Hari which includes some of her personal possessions,
such as the metal bra top she wore as part of her dance costume. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KIYxKy0HvXs/XWaTmnVfJaI/AAAAAAAAAb8/62iEs6qnwUk-L-hPEn899UgAdaaEmg5uwCLcBGAs/s1600/PUB%2BDOMAIN%2BSYMBOL%2BXSML.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="30" data-original-width="30" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KIYxKy0HvXs/XWaTmnVfJaI/AAAAAAAAAb8/62iEs6qnwUk-L-hPEn899UgAdaaEmg5uwCLcBGAs/s1600/PUB%2BDOMAIN%2BSYMBOL%2BXSML.jpg" /></a>Images from Wiki Commons Public DomainColleen's Postshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11393970457136406476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6425147605654780965.post-80012599187658815102019-04-22T17:39:00.004-07:002019-08-28T07:49:44.299-07:00<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></b>
<br />
<div class="ChapterTitle" style="text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oNP__YUvUa8/XWaUKZDbbHI/AAAAAAAAAcI/QGGVc2kIxsQRzuclVe-RHfyjC4pXg7PGwCLcBGAs/s1600/ITSOW%2BCOVER%2BLBF%2B75.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="188" data-original-width="130" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oNP__YUvUa8/XWaUKZDbbHI/AAAAAAAAAcI/QGGVc2kIxsQRzuclVe-RHfyjC4pXg7PGwCLcBGAs/s320/ITSOW%2BCOVER%2BLBF%2B75.jpg" width="221" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><strong><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">In </span></strong><strong><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">the Shadow of War: Spies, Love and the Lusitania</span></strong><strong><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></strong></span></div>
<div class="ChapterTitle" style="text-align: center;">
<strong><span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></strong></div>
<div class="ChapterTitle" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><strong><span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Chapter 2</span></strong><strong><span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p></o:p></span></strong></span><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></strong></div>
<div class="ChapterTitle" style="text-align: center;">
<strong><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">St. Patrick's Cathedral</span></strong></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">March 2, 1915<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 2.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 2.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">IT WAS HARD for Josette to
believe her childhood friend, Julian Laurent, was dead. Sitting in St.
Patrick’s Cathedral where Julian would be eulogized during the morning Mass,
his death finally seemed real. His parents received the devastating news in
February. Thousands of Allied soldiers had died that day. There was no way to
send their bodies home or to bury them individually. Instead, a deep trench – a
common grave – had been dug near the battlefield. Mr. and Mrs. Laurent brought
a portrait of their son to the service – it had been painted after his
graduation from Harvard. It rested on an easel near the stairs that led to the
altar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">The morning air was heavy with
an icy chill that crept clear to her bones. Shivering, Josette buttoned the top
button of her coat. The fact that St. Patrick’s Cathedral was a cavernous
edifice of stone and marble and stained-glass windows didn’t help, either. This
was the first Mass of the day, and at seven a.m., the heating system, such as
it was, hadn’t yet warmed the interior of the massive structure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">Josette,
her twin sister, Yvette, and their mother sat in a pew located at the far-left
side of the crowded cathedral. They wore their warmest black mourning attire.
Mother, always dressed as if she was off to the opera, had selected her black
ensemble trimmed with white rabbit fur. Her hat had an over-sized brim and was
covered with fake flowers and netting that hung to the level of her brows.
Mother always dressed to impress. But then, that was Mother.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">Speaking
in monotone Latin, Bishop Hayes, wearing a beautiful long purple robe, struck a
commanding figure. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sanctus,</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sanctus, sanctus</i>,” he said, interrupting
Josette’s thoughts. He stood beneath the large golden cross, his back to the
parishioners. After making the sign of the cross, he steepled his hands at
chest height.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">Looking around the massive
interior, Josette noticed that the early morning light beamed a rainbow of
colors through the stained-glass windows, scattering a diffused glow over the
nave and rows of pews. This was one of the holiest times of the year in the
Catholic faith. The weeks of Lent were underway and, as such, the edifice was
made even more beautiful by the addition of silky, royal purple fabric draped
across the statues and crucifixes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">Wearing a serene smile, the
Bishop began to speak the special eulogy prayer in English. “Many of us have
gathered here in the light of God, the Holy Mother, and our Lord and Savior,
Jesus Christ, to pay homage to one of our parishioners, Julian James Laurent.
He was baptized in this church and served the Lord as one of our very special
altar boys. We are honored to have Mr. and Mrs. John Laurent, his parents, here
worshipping with us today.” He paused, nodding to Julian’s family seated in the
front center row.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">Bishop Hayes continued. “Let me
open with a passage from Ecclesiastics 44, Verse 9. ‘And some there be, which
have no memorial, who are perished, as though they had never been; and are
become as though they had never been born.’” He paused, his gentle gaze clearly
locked on Mr. and Mrs. Laurent. “Though Julian’s earthly remains rest with his
fellow soldiers in a field in France, you can be sure he is with God. Lo, they
are all with God.” He raised his arms, looking to heaven. “‘And their bodies are
buried in peace; but their name liveth evermore.’ They may be gone, these young
brave men, but they will never be forgotten. And now, let us pray.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">Josette hadn’t seen much of
Julian since he was sent away to boarding school as a teenager. And then, he had
gone on to Harvard University. Glancing at his portrait again, Josette’s eyes
welled with tears. She opened her purse, retrieved a handkerchief, and dabbed
away the moisture from her cheeks. Julian’s parents had begged him not to sign
up as a soldier with the British army. Mrs. Laurent said that when Julian read
the newspaper accounts of how the German army had marched across Belgium, a
neutral country, and laid waste to its capital, murdering innocent citizens and
poisoning wells in the process, it had been the last straw for the
conscientious young man.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">Heavy footsteps echoed on the
cold, marble floor, snapping her out of her reverie. She turned as a man
wearing a long, brown coat walked by. Without so much as a glance at her, he
stopped at the end of the next pew. Balding, with a thin fringe of very dark
hair around the bottom of his head, he carried a huge cigar with a glowing end
in his right hand. No one dared to smoke inside the cathedral. Everyone knew
that. Josette was shocked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">The odd man stood there
silently without genuflecting – obviously not a Catholic – and then settled in
the empty spot in front of her. Surprised at his strange behavior, at the fact
he was smoking a cigar, Josette stuffed her handkerchief back into her purse,
snapped it closed and tapped him on the shoulder. He half-turned to look at
her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">“Excuse me, sir,” she
whispered. “You need to snuff out your cigar.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">With that, he twisted
completely around and shot a foul glower at her, his eyes filled with hatred. A
tingle crawled up her spine, and she drew back. She was sorry she had said
anything. Those eyes. Dark. Cold. So angry. Then he turned forward again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">“How dreadful!” The words
slipped out of her mouth. Josette scooted to the right, as far away from him as
she could, so that her body was close to her sister’s. Yvette’s head was
lowered in prayer. Josette tapped her on the arm, glancing at the ill-mannered
lout. “Can you believe it?” she whispered to Yvette from the corner of her
mouth, her gaze still locked on the back of the man’s hatless head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">Yvette looked puzzled. “What in
the world is going on?” she said in such a low tone, her words were barely
audible.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">Widening her eyes, Josette
said, “He’s smoking!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">Yvette drew back. “What? Oh, my
heavens!” she said softly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">“Shhh,” Their mother mouthed
with an angry expression.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">Josette and her sister pressed
back in their seats. A thought ran through Josette’s mind. If the man wasn’t a
Catholic, then he must have been a friend of Julian’s. That seemed highly
unlikely to her, since he was rude, disrespectful of being inside a church. And
looked at least forty. Julian was in his late twenties, for heaven’s sake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">She heard more footsteps
approaching. Another man passed, pausing in the aisle beside the pew where the
first man sat. Italians, she surmised, noting their coloring and features. This
one, likely in his late twenties, had a full head of curly, coal-black hair and
long sideburns. And then she noticed that he, too, carried a lighted cigar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">Josette let out a gasp. She and
Yvette exchanged confused glances. Before Josette could say anything to the
newly arrived Italian about the matter of smoking, the bell sounded signaling
the worshippers to kneel again. Both Mother and Yvette went back to the
kneeler. But not Josette. Instead, she watched as the seated man motioned to
the younger man, indicating he should continue walking towards the front of the
cathedral. With that, he ambled forward slowly, stopped, crossed himself and
kneeled to pray near one of the enormous stone pillars at the front of the
sanctuary. But why there? In the walkway? Why didn’t he slide into one of the
empty pews?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">Josette scooted left, back to
the end of the seat, stretching her upper body into the aisle to see what he
did next.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">The Italian who knelt in prayer
wore a long, black, split-back woolen coat. It had frayed elbows and looked as
if it had faded several shades. Something, a large lump, seemed to make his
coat pocket jut out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">The scrub woman, who had been
cleaning the vestibule area when they entered the cathedral earlier, moved in
Josette’s direction. She dusted a window sill, the gate across the aisle, a
pillar base, and then strolled over to wipe the carved end of Josette’s pew.
The woman smiled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">Josette forced a smile in
return. The poor young dear was certainly homely—a large nose, rutted skin
covered by a thick layer of caked powder, and bright red lipstick. And then a
second cleaning woman appeared. Even more unattractive, she wore baggy clothes
and had her faded red hair plaited into a long braid that hung down her back.
The two scrub women exchanged knowing glances.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">It was all so strange. Why were
they cleaning while a Mass was underway?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">Still holding his cigar, the
unpleasant man in front of Josette rose, stepped into the aisle, pushed past
the cleaning ladies, and bolted up the aisle. The shorter of the two cleaning
ladies lifted her skirt, exposing a man’s laced shoes, and scurried after him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">Flabbergasted, Josette watched
as the red-haired woman dashed down the aisle. In an abrupt move, the kneeling
man reached inside his coat and pulled out a good-sized, strange-looking object
bound with what looked like copper wire. Placing it on the floor against the
marble pillar, he touched the glowing tip of his cigar to a thick cord
protruding from the object. It only took a few seconds for the cord to ignite.
He got to his feet just as the cleaning lady arrived and grabbed his shoulders.
The pair struggled. The Italian pulled himself free and sprinted for the aisle.
It was obvious the cleaning lady wasn’t a woman, but a man dressed in woman’s
attire. He dove for the fleeing man, wrestling him to the floor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">The shock of what was happening
swept through Josette’s body like a lightning bolt. “It’s a bomb!” she said in
a near shout, as she got to her feet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">Yvette and Mother looked up
with terrified expressions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">“Quick! Run!” Josette said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">Without responding, Yvette and
their mother were beside Josette, pushing their way up the aisle with the other
parishioners from nearby pews who had seen the commotion. The elderly, bespectacled
usher who had guided them to their seats that morning, bolted past, sprinting
in the direction of the explosives.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">Josette glanced back just in
time to see the usher’s gray wig fall to the floor as he leaped on the lighted
explosives.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CenteredDot">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">STANDING OUTSIDE the
cathedral’s front entrance with dozens of parishioners who had escaped duri<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a>ng the turmoil, it seemed quite strange to Josette that
there were still hundreds of worshippers inside and that the Mass had
continued.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">Nearby, a rotund woman sat on
the top step sobbing loudly, face buried in her hands. Her husband stood over
her, trying to calm his wife. No one in the crowd seemed to know what to do
next. Their faces reflected confusion, fear.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">Yvette was visibly shaken.
“Why? Why did they want to blow up the cathedral?” she asked Josette. “They
could have killed all of us.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">Josette shook her head and
exhaled a breath. “I don’t know, Yvette. I just don’t know.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">Mother looked dazed. Yvette
slid her arm around their mother’s shoulders. “It’s all over now. Everything is
fine.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">“As Father would say, ‘the plot
was foiled,’” Josette said, attempting to lighten the moment. Yet, she knew if
the bomb had exploded, the big support column would have been seriously
damaged. It probably would have toppled over, bringing down part of the roof
onto the worshippers below – hundreds of innocent men, women and children could
have been killed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">Who were these terrible men,
and why were they so calloused, so angry…such cold-blooded killers? Josette
wondered. Where could anyone go these days to stay out of harm’s way? Even
churches were no longer safe. A sense of anger, of sudden determination rose
from deep inside her. “You stay here with Mother,” Josette instructed her
sister. “I’ll be right back.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">Josette approached a nearby police
officer who was speaking to a small group of people. “Pardon me, sir.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">He
excused himself and turned to face her. The clean-shaven young officer looked
quite dashing in his crisp, dark-blue uniform. “Yes, miss? Are you and your
family doing all right?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">“We’re well, thank you. I have
a question, however. Those cleaning ladies. And the usher. They were men,
weren’t they?” She already knew the answer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">“They was all New York Police
Officers at their finest.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">“And those men? The ones who
attempted to blow up the church. Who were they?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 2.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">“The Department has been
tracking them two Italians for quite a while. They’re part of a group of
anarchists based right here in the City.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 2.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">“That’s a chilling thought,
sir,” she said, drawing in a deep breath. “I read in the newspaper that they’ve
been setting off bombs all over the country.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 2.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">“I’m afraid it’s true, miss.
But we got the ones here in Manhattan dead to rights!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 2.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">“Well, then. Thank heavens for
all of you brave men who risk your lives to keep us safe, and most especially
the officers who kept those men from carrying out their deplorable plan.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 2.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">The officer puffed out his
chest like a rooster about to crow. “I’ll pass that along to the men, miss. And
don’t you worry. Them Italians won’t be planting no more bombs around here.
They’re handcuffed and on their way to Police Headquarters. You’re safe and
sound. You have the personal guarantee of Willie Crabtree, at your service.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">“Pleased to meet you, Officer
Crabtree,” she said, politely bowing her chin. “I’m Josette Rogers, daughter of
Henry Rogers. Would you please ask Captain Tunney to telephone my father at his
office to tell him his family is doing well? It’s my understanding that the
captain and my father are acquaintances.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 2.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">“Of course, Miss Rogers.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">“One more question, if you
don’t mind, Officer Crabtree. Why do you think so many of the parishioners
didn’t evacuate the cathedral when we did?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 2.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">He shrugged. “I suppose since
the ruckus was all the way over on the far west side of the cathedral where all
of you was sitting, the folks all the way across on the other side just didn’t
hear nothing. St. Paddy’s is like a gigantic cavern, isn’t it now?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 2.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-outline-level: 1; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">“Yes,
but—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got
to get going. I’ll be sure to give your message to Captain Tunney.” With a tug
on the cap’s brim, he descended the stairs to a waiting police vehicle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">Josette stepped back to where
Yvette and their mother waited.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mon Dieu, Mon Dieu! </i>Mother muttered. We forgot communion.” She
blinked several times, looking like a confused child. “We should go back
inside, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">n’cest-ce pas</i>? To finish.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">“Let’s go home,” Yvette said,
taking their mother’s hand. “Come with me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">“I’ll hail a taxi. Mr. Herrmann
wouldn’t be here with the car to pick us up for quite a while,” Josette said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 2.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">The threesome made their way to
the curb in front of the grand cathedral. The police cars were gone. The
sidewalk that had been roped off to the public was now open. The ever-present
throngs of pedestrians pushed their way along Fifth Avenue at a hurried pace,
late for this or that, as if nothing had happened. Life, it seemed, had already
returned to normal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">And yet, as she and her sister
helped their mother into the back seat of the taxi, Josette knew it might be a
long time before life in New York City would truly be normal again. Too many
men were unemployed. People, and especially the immigrants, were starving.
According to the<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> New York Times</i>,
Italian anarchists had turned their anger towards Catholic churches; a gruesome
way to express their bitterness against the wealth of the Catholic hierarchy.
The church’s wealth, the anarchists believed, should be used to feed the poor.
Josette could sympathize with their argument, but not the violence that had
followed their protests.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">On top of that, the war
overseas had already claimed the lives of a generation of young men not only
from England, France and Russia. The Germans and their allied countries were
suffering greatly as well. Rumors of German spies swirled everywhere. The
United States, the world, everything was in turmoil.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 2.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif";">At that moment, Josette set her
mind to help with efforts to keep America from becoming involved in what was
now being called, “The Great War.” But what could she, a woman who hadn’t quite
yet reached the age of majority, hope to do?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Colleen's Postshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11393970457136406476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6425147605654780965.post-75018632606988185652019-01-10T09:21:00.000-08:002019-01-11T10:28:04.994-08:00<i><b><br /></b></i>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><i><b>GERMAN SPIES IN NEW YORK CITY</b></i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">In 1915 while the First World War raged in
Europe, Americans, and especially New Yorkers, faced their own “silent war” at
home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Angry with America’s so-called
promise of “neutrality” and overt trade deals with England and France, the
German government set up a spy ring headquartered in Manhattan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their espionage and terrorist networks had
tentacles reaching all the way to the German Ambassador in Washington D.C.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>German operatives planted explosives on
American and British ships enroute from New York to England, France, and Russia
successfully sinking hundreds of cargo vessels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They plotted to blow up trains, bridges, factories, and even the U.S.
Capitol Building.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were attempted
assassinations of powerful Americans, including J.P. Morgan, Jr.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They even used germ warfare to kill much-needed
horses and mules waiting to be shipped to the warfront in France.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Based on these and other true events, my novel,<b>
<i>IN THE SHADOW OF WAR</i></b>, tells the story of how Americans, and especially
residents of New York City, faced the constant threat of terrorism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Through my characters’ eyes, the story shows
the human toll experienced by people on both sides of the war.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In their heads and hearts, the</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HN9AIoJERJg/XDgo-GcC2KI/AAAAAAAAAZk/3NGy1ltrRdYe0-sc0xXufSCEdpHmxCUkQCLcBGAs/s1600/Broadway%2BNYC%2B1916%2B-%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="675" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HN9AIoJERJg/XDgo-GcC2KI/AAAAAAAAAZk/3NGy1ltrRdYe0-sc0xXufSCEdpHmxCUkQCLcBGAs/s320/Broadway%2BNYC%2B1916%2B-%2B2.jpg" width="269" /></a></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> characters
wrestle with their own feelings about whether the United States should join its
Allies and send American men to fight in what was considered a European war.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ironically, the majority of Americans were of
German descent at that time!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Although America was supposedly a neutral
country, J. P. Morgan facilitated a $500 million loan (approximately $ 625 billion
in today’s dollars) to bail out the nearly bankrupt British and French
governments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>American businesses also
benefited from selling materials and products to the Allied nations who were
need of supplies and weapons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The German
government protested that the United States had clearly sided with England,
France, Italy, Russia and Japan, and that they and their affiliated nations
(Austria, Hungary, Bulgaria and the Ottoman Empire) had been rebuked<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Blatant evidence of
this was the growing number of German ships, including passenger liners, that
had been seized by the American military.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>By 1915, an estimated 80 German-owned vessels were moored along the
Hudson River. Although their German crews and passengers weren’t arrested, they
weren’t allowed to return to the Fatherland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Imperial Germany protested that this favoritism shown by the U. S. was
tantamount to an act of war; that they should be receiving the same treatment
as were England, France, and Russia. Kaiser Wilhelm and his generals felt
justified doing anything necessary to level the playing field. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The German espionage network was efficient and effective.
Bombs, chemical warfare, spy networks, the attempted assassination of J. P.
Morgan, the bombing of the U.S. Capitol; and sinking the palatial passenger
ocean liner, the RMS <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lusitania, </i>all
woven into the book’s plot, weren’t enough for President Wilson to declare war
on Germany.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That didn’t happen until
1917 following the Kaiser’s policy change which had allowed passenger liners to
travel safely through the English Channel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>All ships, regardless of whether they were cargo ships, military
vessels, or ocean liners, could and would be sunk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Meanwhile, the Germans continued their
undercover spying throughout the war.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Many were captured and jailed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Most surprising was that they were simply released after the war was
over, including Lothar Witzke, who set off a huge explosion on a military base
on California’s Mare Island, killing an entire family whose home was completely
destroyed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was also involved in the
huge explosion at Black Tom island in New Jersey killing 7 and destroying much
more, including damage to the Statue of Liberty. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p></o:p></b></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #cc0000; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> <i>Photo citation: ( ca. 1916 ) Broadway from Bowling Green, New York City. Photograph from the Library of Congress, <www .loc.gov="" items=""> .<www .loc.gov="" item="">.</www></www></i></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><i style="background-color: #cc0000;"><br /></i></span></div>
<br />Colleen's Postshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11393970457136406476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6425147605654780965.post-10878992130230437752017-11-16T14:18:00.001-08:002017-11-16T14:18:03.946-08:00Colleen's reflectionsColleen's Facebook<br /><br />
https://www.facebook.com/colleenfliednerColleen's Postshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11393970457136406476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6425147605654780965.post-67857474408318730422017-11-15T17:51:00.001-08:002018-09-11T08:26:07.026-07:00<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>ARMISTICE DAY VS. VETERANS’ DAY</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Did you know that November 11<sup>th</sup> was
originally called Armistice Day? After
the end of World War 1 in 1918, President Woodrow Wilson chose that date
because it was when the Germans finally surrendered. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">President Wilson had been reluctant to involve the
nation in a war that didn’t directly involve America. That all changed, however, when German U-boats
(submarines) attacked American ships and had spy networks that detonated bombs
and incendiary devices on American soil.
The final blow came when a letter to the Mexican president was
intercepted and taken to President Wilson.
The letter’s contents were shocking: the German government offered to
assist Mexico invade America to take back the border states of Texas, Arizona,
and New Mexico. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Within days, Wilson declared war on the “Central
Powers” (Germany, Austria-Hungary and their allies) in April of 1917, four
years after the war had begun. By the
time the Germans surrendered on November 11, 1918, the war had claimed over 18
million lives, with an additional 23 million wounded (including
civilians). <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6JXq29AuKY0/Wg4Ko9WJCRI/AAAAAAAAAZA/UOcQQSgF8dEekxJkMhTlXlkcs2z61sZqgCLcBGAs/s1600/Signing%2Bof%2Bthe%2BTreaty%2Bof%2BVersailles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="441" data-original-width="600" height="233" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6JXq29AuKY0/Wg4Ko9WJCRI/AAAAAAAAAZA/UOcQQSgF8dEekxJkMhTlXlkcs2z61sZqgCLcBGAs/s320/Signing%2Bof%2Bthe%2BTreaty%2Bof%2BVersailles.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Versailles ~Image courtesy of commons.wikimedia.org</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The official peace agreement, The Treaty of
Versailles, wasn’t signed until June, 1919, after months of meetings, arguments,
and negotiations between the representatives of the conquering nations
regarding how Germany and the Central Powers should be punished. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">An interesting fact is that representatives from the
Central Powers – most importantly, the Germans – weren’t included in the actual
peace negotiations in France. When the dust settled, the Germans were fined
what amounted to a half-trillion dollars (in today’s currency), a monumental
debt that wasn’t paid off until 2010.
The war devastated Germany economically.
The people were mpoverished, starving, and humiliated. Germany was
seriously in debt, not to mention that they had lost millions of young
men. In addition, they had lost face by
their defeat. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The Germans were forced to sign the Armicist
agreement. Germany was humiliated, their
economy ruined, and millions of their young men were dead. Kaiser Wilhelm, grandson of Queen Victoria,
had been at the helm during the war and had been forced to resign his position
as unquestioned leader of the German Empire.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">All of these factors contributed directly to Adolph
Hitler’s rise to power. He had been a
foot soldier who had been injured in a mustard gas attack by the British. His anger at the countries which had defeated
Germany grew. He used the devastating reparations the Germans would pay for
generations to ignite the fuse of hatred that would lead to World War II less
than twenty years later. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Colleen's Postshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11393970457136406476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6425147605654780965.post-39184186489679478822017-10-12T10:02:00.001-07:002017-10-12T10:02:15.809-07:00Colleen's Facebook<a href="http://colleenfliedner.blogspot.com/2017/10/halloween-in-hudson-valley-fall-comes.html#links">Colleen's reflections</a>Colleen's Postshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11393970457136406476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6425147605654780965.post-76877132723189298532017-10-11T19:39:00.001-07:002018-09-11T08:25:29.349-07:00<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 106%;"><b><i>HALLOWEEN IN THE HUDSON VALLEY</i></b></span> </span></div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BKFxBAO3P1E/Wd7Th9k8QQI/AAAAAAAAAYM/IAJ9nOUgq4kj5yq5LD9BNFAeAapKLGy8ACLcBGAs/s1600/HudVly%2BBlaze%2B1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BKFxBAO3P1E/Wd7Th9k8QQI/AAAAAAAAAYM/IAJ9nOUgq4kj5yq5LD9BNFAeAapKLGy8ACLcBGAs/s200/HudVly%2BBlaze%2B1.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 106%;">Fall comes to New York’s Hudson Valley in October, just in time for area’s multitude of annual Halloween events. The town of Sleepy Hollow, immortalized in
Washington Irving’s classic tale of Ichabod Crane and the Headless Horseman,
welcomes thousands of visitors for all-things-Halloween during the entire
month. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 106%;">Years ago, I wrote an article for <i>AAA Home & Away Magazine</i> about the
awesome Halloween events held in the beautiful towns skirting the Hudson River,
including Sleepy Hollow and Tarrytown.
And yet, I had never actually visited these legendary towns in the
autumn, when the trees morph into variations of orange, crimson, and gold. When the air is crisp and the brisk wind
nudges fallen leaves into the streets and walkways.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Geb4Lv4J7to/Wd7TiHXcTMI/AAAAAAAAAYU/GlZnf7CqRy88MuBwt_Rqcq3ZhwSOX2oywCLcBGAs/s1600/HudVly%2BBlaze%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="150" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Geb4Lv4J7to/Wd7TiHXcTMI/AAAAAAAAAYU/GlZnf7CqRy88MuBwt_Rqcq3ZhwSOX2oywCLcBGAs/s200/HudVly%2BBlaze%2B2.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lyndhurst Mansion</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0vVZaFb2TRE/Wd7Th9xqfSI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/F7JGyNEemQI8RwT1O54RY2woPoV1hxaRQCLcBGAs/s1600/HudVly%2BBlaze%2B6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="447" data-original-width="800" height="111" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0vVZaFb2TRE/Wd7Th9xqfSI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/F7JGyNEemQI8RwT1O54RY2woPoV1hxaRQCLcBGAs/s200/HudVly%2BBlaze%2B6.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 106%;">Several of these towns have Halloween parades, with
costumed residents, floats, and bands.
In Sleepy Hollow, Horseman’s Hollow is the biggest event, a lengthy,
spread-out maze of dark and scary walk-through buildings filled with monsters,
ghosts, and ghouls. They loosely
represent the story of the Headless Horseman…who actually makes his appearance
on his steed as you leave the Hollow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 106%;">Just south of Sleepy Hollow is Lyndhurst Mansion, a
Gothic Mansion once used as the setting for the Dark Shadows television series
and several creepy movies. Open for
tours, the house’s beautiful interior is converted to a more Halloweenish,
haunted décor at night, when costumed actors occupy the hallways, frightening
the stream of guests who dare enter the realm of the unliving.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 106%;">The little burg of Sleepy Hollow has assorted
events, including readings of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow (what else?), tours
of author Washington Irving’s house, haunted hayrides, and lantern-led tours of
Sleepy Hollow Cemetery.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NvX_-9_I8Bc/Wd7TkS4A6II/AAAAAAAAAYc/cAVnq4DFwGoq4W_2iL1ZxAcwrcytCTK9ACLcBGAs/s1600/HudVly%2BBlaze%2B8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="150" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NvX_-9_I8Bc/Wd7TkS4A6II/AAAAAAAAAYc/cAVnq4DFwGoq4W_2iL1ZxAcwrcytCTK9ACLcBGAs/s200/HudVly%2BBlaze%2B8.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gG_5rhbE-Tc/Wd7TkNT1AoI/AAAAAAAAAYY/VgoL69wSQAQqCCeowc20mvgzsHfgeqxBwCLcBGAs/s1600/HudVly%2BBlaze%2B7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="150" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gG_5rhbE-Tc/Wd7TkNT1AoI/AAAAAAAAAYY/VgoL69wSQAQqCCeowc20mvgzsHfgeqxBwCLcBGAs/s200/HudVly%2BBlaze%2B7.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 106%;">By far, the most fantastic Halloween event, the Great Jack O'Lanter Blaze, takes place about 30 minutes north of Sleepy Hollow at the Van Courtlandt
Manor in Croton-on-Hudson, New York. Some
10,000 pumpkins are carved and arranged into exhibits unlike anything you’ve
ever seen. Follow the pumpkin-rimmed
paths to see an over-sized pumpkin clock; life-sized dinosaurs; circus animals
and a small train; a sea serpent; an enormous cake made from layers of
elaborately carved pumpkins; ghosts, singing skeletons, and a giant spider web
and super-sized arachnid, and much more…all made from myriads of the orange
orbs. Volunteers scour the exhibits
daily to make sure none of the pumpkins need to be replaced, a full-time job
throughout the month.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 106%;">Whether you live on the East Coast, or plan to visit
during leaf-peeking season, don’t miss spending a few days in the gorgeous
Hudson Valley. Visit </span><a href="http://www.hudsonvalley.org/"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 106%;">www.hudsonvalley.org</span></a><!--[if !supportNestedAnchors]--><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 106%;"> for more information. Tickets are available online.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Colleen's Postshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11393970457136406476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6425147605654780965.post-54559233950389473902017-06-09T16:38:00.006-07:002017-06-09T16:51:56.511-07:00<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">SOPHIE CHOTEK:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>THE SHUNNED DUCHESS<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">While Sophie Chotek’s youth was one of privilege,
palaces, servants and dances, her later years were filled with rejection and
frustration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Born in Stuttgart, Germany
in 1868, Sophie was the daughter of the Count of Hohenberg, which was a small
area near what is now the German/Czech border. Sophie’s high-ranking status
gave her access to meeting royalty, including Archduke Franz Ferdinand, the
royal prince and heir to the throne of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V2tYcrMGswo/WTsxM62jm_I/AAAAAAAAAXw/JBBR_dVCqwIegSD0GdYY2AQ3-kizrI2bQCLcB/s1600/Younger%2BSophie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="315" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V2tYcrMGswo/WTsxM62jm_I/AAAAAAAAAXw/JBBR_dVCqwIegSD0GdYY2AQ3-kizrI2bQCLcB/s320/Younger%2BSophie.jpg" width="252" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It’s believed the Archduke met Sophie at a ball in Prague
in 1894. Franz was smitten by Sophie’s beauty, and the couple fell in
love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Theirs was a clandestine courtship,
and it was kept secret for good reason. When their engagement was finally announced,
the news created a huge scandal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although
Sophie’s family tree included nobility that could be traced back to the 18<sup>th</sup>
century, her blood wasn’t “royal enough,” simply because none of her ancestors had
been of “dynastic status.” In other words, there were no kings in her
bloodline. The Archduke’s uncle, Emperor Franz Joseph, ruler of Austria, King
of Hungary and Bohemia, intervened, forbidding the couple to marry. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Infuriated by his uncle’s proclamation against
Sophie, Archduke Franz was determined to spend his life with the woman he
loved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On July 1, 1900, after suffering
humiliation and denouncement by her husband’s family and the members of the
Imperial Court, Sophie married Franz. Very few of the nobles attended the
ceremony, including Franz Ferdinand’s own brothers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Shortly before the wedding took place, Sophie had to
sign legal documents acknowledging that she would never be Empress or hold a
high-ranking title. She eventually received the lower-level title of Duchess of
Hohenberg, despite the fact that one day, when the aging Emperor Franz Joseph
died, her husband would become the new Emperor. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Throughout their fourteen-year marriage, the couple continued
to be shunned by most of the royal courts of Europe. We can only imagine how
she felt about being prohibited from accompanying her husband on official
trips, riding with him in the Imperial carriage, or standing beside him at most
functions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As if it wasn’t enough to
punish the Duchess for lacking the appropriate royal blood, none of the
couple’s three children or their descendants would ever be allowed to acquire
any royal titles.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Ironically, it was the United Kingdom’s King George
V and Queen Mary who finally welcomed the Archduke and Duchess Sophie at
Windsor Castle in November of 1913.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Were
the British King and Queen reaching out to the future rulers of Germany’s
biggest allies (the multitude of smaller countries that once made up the Austro-Hungarian
Empire) at a time when so many European royals had rudely rejected Franz and
Sophie?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">THE END OF THE LOVE STORY<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Archduke Franz Ferdinand was disliked immensely by
his uncle, the Emperor. Not only did he marry Sophie, going against the
Emperor’s direct orders, his nephew, Franz, had very different political
ideals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Archduke was reformist who
planned to ease the tensions between countries included in the realm. There was
so much political unrest in Europe by 1912, the entire area of today’s Balkan
region was like a powder keg just waiting to be ignited.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">On June 28, 1914, Archduke Franz Ferdinand was
invited to Sarajevo, the provincial capital of Bosnia and Herzegovina.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Normally, Sophie’s lower rank would prevent
her from accompanying her husband on any official visit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, the Archduke insisted that Sophie be
allowed to attend the dedication of the new museum with him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The couple rode together through the streets
of Sarajevo in an open-topped touring car unaware of the impending danger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Minutes later a man in the crowd threw a
grenade at the Archduke’s automobile. Spotting the explosive device hurling in
their direction, their driver sped up the vehicle. The grenade landed under the
official car behind them and blew up, seriously injuring a number of
people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Believing the danger had passed, Franz and Sophie
were driven to City Hall for an official reception.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Franz insisted he wanted to visit the
wounded in the hospital, he was warned that it was still quite risky, as no one
knew how many men were involved in the plot to assassinate him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still, the Archduke wanted to go, though he
told Sophie that she should remain at City Hall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Duchess Sophie refused to stay behind,
arguing that if her husband was going to expose himself in public again, she
would be at his side.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MRBY7aXdrGQ/WTsxQTHiwZI/AAAAAAAAAX0/8wmAUuSPJo8lWcauo2xmjxWz8w5dXc29QCLcB/s1600/Franz%2BFerdinand%2B%2526%2BSophie%2B4%2Bblog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="273" data-original-width="400" height="218" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MRBY7aXdrGQ/WTsxQTHiwZI/AAAAAAAAAX0/8wmAUuSPJo8lWcauo2xmjxWz8w5dXc29QCLcB/s320/Franz%2BFerdinand%2B%2526%2BSophie%2B4%2Bblog.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">That was a fatal mistake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On their way to Sarajevo Hospital, a
teenager, a radical Serbian named Gavrilo Princip, stepped towards the Imperial
automobile, aimed his gun and fired twice at close range.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sophie was shot in the stomach, and Franz was
struck in the neck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Reportedly, Franz
begged his dying wife to live for their children’s sake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sadly, they were both dead within the hour.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">UNIMAGINABLE CONSEQUENCES<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">For decades, the political climate in this part of
Europe had been shaky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>War was inevitable,
and the assassination of the Archduke and Sophie was likely the catalyst to the
events that would trigger World War I, resulting in the deaths of more than 17
million people.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In one final insult to Duchess Sophie, her earthly
remains weren’t allowed to be entombed in the Imperial crypt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Aware of this situation before his death, Archduke
Franz Ferdinand had left instructions that he be <a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a>interred
beside his beloved wife at Artstetten Castle northwest of Vienna.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because she could never be considered his
equal in life and in death, Sophie was placed on a bier 18” lower than the
Archduke’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I found it terribly disturbing that Sophie is rarely
mentioned in books about World War I.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That’s why I decided to write this Blog article focusing on Sophie,
rather than her famous husband. For the most part, Duchess Sophie has been
forgotten…until now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
See my website at: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/colleen.fliedner">Visit me on facebook at: </a>Colleen's Postshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11393970457136406476noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6425147605654780965.post-40257095547622754932017-05-24T17:02:00.001-07:002017-05-24T17:02:38.818-07:00Colleen's reflectionsColleen's reflectionsColleen's Postshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11393970457136406476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6425147605654780965.post-46867028566093210362017-05-24T15:15:00.002-07:002017-05-24T15:15:55.752-07:00
WHAT'S NEW !!!<br />
<br />
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As some of
you know, I’ve been working on a historical novel, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Winds of Change,</i> for the past couple of years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The
Winds of Change—</i>the first book in a two-part series—takes place in 1915 and
1916 during World War I.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The story is
set in New York City; on the luxury liner, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">RMS
Lusitania</i>, which was torpedoed by a German submarine, killing nearly 2,000
men, women and children when it sank; in Queenstown, Ireland, where both the
survivors and bodies of the dead were taken; and in England and Scotland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
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The novel is currently with
editors, and I’m beginning the process of finding a new agent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thus begins the next step on the ladder to
publication.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stay tuned.</div>
<br />
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>In the
meantime, while researching the book, I found so many fascinating details that
wouldn’t “fit” into a work of fiction, I’ve decided to share them with you in a
Blog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For example, in the early 1900s, a
German professor at Harvard University, Eric Muenter, killed his wife,
disappeared for years, and then showed up again in 1915 when he committed numerous
acts of espionage in New York City.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve
included Muenter in my novel and the true facts that on July 3, 1915, he set
off a bomb inside the U. S. Capitol building.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>From Washington, D.C., he took the train to Long Island, New York,
barged into J. P. Morgan, Jr.’s mansion, and shot the millionaire…twice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve inserted my male protagonist, Curtis
Carlson, into that horrific scene, so we can experience what happened through
his eyes. The life of Eric Muenter will be one of many thought-provoking Blogs,
and perhaps, even a great nonfiction book.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Hmmm….</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Other Blogs
will include interesting life stories about many of the people who died on the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">RMS Lusitania.</i> I hope to eventually put these
accounts into a book called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Voices from
the Lusitania.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll also write Blogs
about the underground German spy network in New York City and the fact that
they planted explosives on countless ships traveling from New York Harbor to
England.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did you know that German spies
brought germ warfare to the U. S. to kill the horses and mules being sent by
ship to the Allied troops?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ever heard of
Mata Hari, the seductive woman spy who was convicted and hanged in 1917.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was she truly a German spy, or was she
innocent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are tons of great stories
to share with you.</div>
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I was a history major in college,
and WWI was barely mentioned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And yet,
the impact of the war, the millions of people who died, and the resulting repercussions
changed the course of world history.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Most importantly, even though Germany lost, the terms of the Treaty of
Peace signed at Versailles, France in 1919 were so severe, the result was a
growing resentment among in the German people, allowing Adolph Hitler to come
to power. (Incidentally, did you know that Hitler fought as a soldier on the
battlefields of France and that his life was spared by a French soldier, who
chose not to shoot the “young German” who had run out of ammunition?)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can you imagine…?</div>
<br />
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Please join
me for my next Blog, which is scheduled for Friday, June 2. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll begin with the why, where, and how there
was a First World War.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here’s an often-over-looked
fact:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Austria’s Archduke Franz Ferdinand
was assassinated in June 1914.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But what
most articles don’t mention is that his wife, who sat by the Archduke’s side in
the carriage, was also shot and killed by the assassin. Who was she and why has
she been forgotten.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And how did their
deaths prompt Germany and Austria to declare war on France? The story will be
on my website: <a href="http://www.colleenfliedner.com/"><span style="color: #0563c1;">www.colleenfliedner.com</span></a>.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I look forward to meeting you and
discussing your questions and comments. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
Colleen's Postshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11393970457136406476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6425147605654780965.post-35382191769627175292015-09-04T13:43:00.002-07:002015-09-07T10:29:54.887-07:00<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;">CLOWN
OF THE SKY</span></span></h2>
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by Colleen Fliedner</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The poor crow is the most
misunderstood and under-rated of all our feathered friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s not noble, like the Eagle. Nor is he
equated with love or peace, like the venerable dove.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He certainly doesn’t have the beautiful
plumage of a Cardinal or multi-colored parrot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And no one has ever considered attaching a message to a crow’s leg like
the dependable homing pigeon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>In fact, most people consider the
crow to be nothing more than a pesky chatterbox; or even worse, a mysterious,
malevolent creature associated with witches and wizards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most experts believe that crows are the most
intelligent, highly evolved of all birds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Crows are monogamous creatures, staying with a mate until death. Couples
are usually seen sitting together, affectionately caressing and preening one
another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And when one of the pair dies,
the other usually dies of grief within a short time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With an
average wing span of between two and four feet, the crow is the most powerful
of the perching birds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Generally dining
on berries, insects, seeds and grains, a crow will eat just about anything –
from the Big Mac smashed in the road, to the new lawn seeds you’ve just
planted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For obvious reasons, these scavengers
are hated by farmers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But large farm
animals will actually solicit the crows’ attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the insect-covered beast relaxes, the
accommodating crows pick the juicy bugs from the animal’s body; a symbiotic,
win-win situation for both creatures, to be sure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Crows are intensely playful, often
teasing other animals and even imitating various sounds, including barking dogs
and other birds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oftentimes, the
black-feathered avians dance around on the ground just for the fun of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Young crows can make great pets, rolling on
their backs to juggle an object with their feet or playing tug-of-war.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Able to mimic sounds, they can be taught to
say a few words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> Most
surprising is that, technically speaking, the crow is a songbird.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, the sounds that emanate from the
throats of the big black birds are anything but pleasing to the human ear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still, the next time you’re annoyed by the
incessant caw of a crow, remember that beneath that layer of iridescent black
feathers lies the heart of a clown.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
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Colleen's Postshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11393970457136406476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6425147605654780965.post-12696184517840100712010-11-07T05:17:00.001-08:002010-11-21T16:39:14.955-08:00Pawnee, OklahomaPAWNEE, OK<br />
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Two years ago, I visited Pawnee, Oklahoma, on a press trip. The town isn’t much, though there are a few small shops and places to eat along the main drag. But it was the stop at Pawnee Bill’s former ranch that was particularly memorable. It was one of those places that called to me, and I was anxious to see it again. So when Rick said we would be staying in an RV park located about 45 minutes from Pawnee.<br />
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In case you’ve never heard of Pawnee Bill (I never had), he was a famous western showman who got his start as one of the starring acts in the Buffalo Bill Wild West Show in the late 1800s. His real name was Gordon Lillie, but he actually lived with the Pawnee Indians in this part of Oklahoma. The story goes that a member of the tribe sold Gordon an enormous chunk of land located about 20 minutes from the town of Pawnee, where he built a series of structures to house everything from a blacksmith shop, to his beautiful home. Pawnee Bill’s heyday was at the time the Old West was dying, and people all over the world were eager to see the Wild West Shows in an attempt to recapture to romance of the old west. Both Buffalo Bill and Pawnee Bill became very wealthy providing old west hungry audiences with mock Calvary/Indian battles, rodeo-type acts, trick horseback riders, and sharpshooters.<br />
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Eventually, Pawnee Bill spun off his own version of the Wild West Show, incorporating an Asian group of performers after spending time in the Far East. It was Gordon’s wife, May, who was the real star of the show. May was raised as a Quaker and married Gordon Lillie when she was only 15. She had never shot a gun; nor had she ever ridden a horse. That changed immediately after her marriage, when her groom surprised her with a shiny new rifle and a horse. Much to everyone’s surprise, May became one of the best women shooters in the world, rivaling the famous Annie Oakley. Actually, I think May was better than Oakley, as May did her sharp shooting while riding a galloping horse!<br />
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Gordon Lillie and Buffalo Bill Cody remained friends throughout their lives and even teamed up in later years to join their shows in world tours. Both Buffalo Bill and Will Rogers were frequent visitors at the ranch, and the mansion has preserved a few articles that had belonged to them.<br />
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May Lillie’s story would make a terrific book. Hum…. I may be heading back to Pawnee in the near future to do research! I also recommend that any of you who are interested in the old west, or who would like to see what remains of Pawnee Bill’s own herd, visit the ranch.Colleen's Postshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11393970457136406476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6425147605654780965.post-49274468236116196952010-11-04T06:01:00.002-07:002013-12-19T18:56:00.468-08:00Heart of the OzarksTHE OZARKS<br />
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One of the highlights of the trip was having a chance to visit with our son, Dane, his wife, Sapna, and our two grand daughters. They drove to the Ozarks from Texas and rented a cabin. We stayed in one of the few RV parks in the area, located about 30 minutes from the kids’ cabin. Day One entailed a hike. A very grueling hike, to be more precise. Dane thought it was 2.8 miles total. But because there was so much climbing involved, including what seemed like endless stone staircases that the Dept. of Forestry had built up some of the steepest paths, the hike seemed to go on forever.<br />
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We packed a lunch and carried it with us, stopping to picnic on some rocks beside a slow moving stream. Like so many areas in the Mid-West, Arkansas is in the midst of a draught, so rivers and streams are the lowest they’ve been in years. Without enough water, the trees turned quickly from green to gold to, well, dead and brittle leaves. A few hillsides near water sources were splashed with colorful leaf changes: orange, crimson, gold. <br />
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But I digress. Back to the hiking trail. The reward at the end of your effort is a cave containing a small waterfall. Portions of the cavern have ceilings so low that you have to crawl on hands and knees to get through. Here and there, water drips from the rock ceiling to the earth floor, making the crawl space a muddy mess. Still, it’s worth the trek. Even in this bone-dry season, the cascading waterfall, called the “Hidden Falls,” was a fascinating sight.<br />
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Anyone who knows our Dane will recall his love of the out-of-doors. Now a doctor with a family and little time to enjoy nature, he revels in things that involve outside activities. So, on Day 2, Dane wanted for all of us to canoe on the Buffalo ??? River. Never mind that all but one of the canoe rental places were closed for the season. And never mind that the river was so low, we could see sandbars from the bridges. Off we went in search of canoes, paddles, and life vests.<br />
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We were taken by van to a launch site, an area underwater in a normally wet year, and set off for a three-hour journey that involved scraping the bottom of our canoes over rocks and sandbars. In spite of the fact that it was more work than any of us had anticipated, it was a great day of fresh air, family fun, and exercising muscles that Rick and I hadn’t used in years.<br />
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To my surprise, I enjoyed canoeing, something I had never done. My first love has always been sailing, but now, canoeing is a close second.<br />
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We spent a great deal of time with our son and his lovely family. Sapna did a bunch of cooking at the cabin, and we had a great time playing with the girls. It was over too soon, but we hope to repeat the experience somewhere else next year. Hopefully, there will be more water in Oregon, where we plan to meet in the summer of 2011.<br />
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Now, it’s time to turn back towards home in So. Calif. We’ll go back the same way we came, though we’ll avoid the noisiest campgrounds when possible. We’ll eat at Cracker Barrel Restaurants until there aren’t more along the highways. California and Nevada don’t have CBs, so we’re trying to get our fill of their homemade biscuits, fried apples, chicken salad, and (for Rick) the chicken and dumplings.<br />
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So, it’s good-bye for now. We’ll be taking another big trip in the spring, so stay tuned…. And thanks for joining us on our first big adventure with Shamu. (One of my friends suggested that I call the blog “Stories from Inside the Whale’s Belly.” What do you think?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rick & Colleen at the start of the hike up to the waterfall / cave. <br />
We didn't look so spry after the hike !</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside the cave where the waterfall lands. </td></tr>
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Pitch black inside, so you just point<br />
and shoot and hope to get something. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roof of the cavern with a watefall inside... had to spelunk to reach it. </td></tr>
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Colleen's Postshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11393970457136406476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6425147605654780965.post-52982727977041813122010-11-03T05:59:00.001-07:002010-11-09T05:10:21.699-08:00I almost forgot this place !Springfield, Missouri ... most memorable for it's forgetableness...<br />
Main thing we did there was fix the TV antenna that had gotten<br />
bent up in the ferocious winds the day before on the road from<br />
Hannibal. Had to remove it, bend it back, add reinforcing plates,<br />
paint it, and re-install it. Added a dryer vent cover as a <br />
streamlining device in front of it to prevent the winds from <br />
picking it up and bending it again.Colleen's Postshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11393970457136406476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6425147605654780965.post-68928615422025650382010-11-02T05:59:00.002-07:002010-11-09T05:04:44.331-08:00Lake of the Ozarks, MissouriBrief rest after a grueling day. Got there late, set up "camp", ate dinner and flopped. Got up<br />
the next morning and pushed on toward Jasper, Arkansas and meeting up with our Son, Dane <br />
and the grandkids.Colleen's Postshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11393970457136406476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6425147605654780965.post-31454456931196042422010-11-01T05:58:00.005-07:002010-11-07T18:29:10.964-08:00Tom Sawyer's and Huck Finn's genesis<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">HANNIBAL, MISSOURI</div>Mark Twain's home and the birthplace of many of his stories.<br />
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You’ve all heard of Hannibal, Missouri, right? No? Well, in case you haven’t, it’s where Samuel Clemens (aka Mark Twain) was born and spent his childhood. Hannibal is situated on the Mississippi River, about 110 miles north of St. Louis. Because it was built in a valley between bluffs to the north and south, and at a narrow point in the river, it became a favorite stop for steamboats picking up loads of crops and wood from local areas back in the mid 1800s.<br />
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This was the setting for Mark Twain’s fictional books, Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn. Although he changed the names of people and places, Clemens eventually named names, and places like Becky Thatcher’s house are clearly identified.<br />
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Hannibal has fallen on hard times in this recession, and in spite of the 100th anniversary commemorating Clemens death in 1910, tourism is down. Blocks of historic buildings where businesses once thrived have been deserted. There are still a few places to eat and several motels, but the once-grand Mark Twain Hotel has been converted into apartments. <br />
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If you go, do visit Mark Twain’s house and the museum. There’s a touristy steamboat that will take you on a ride along the Mississippi, narrating Hannibal’s history and places along the river where Sam Clemens played as a child, then used the places and events in his stories. <br />
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We stayed in the Mark Twain Cave campground of Tom Sawyer fame, which is about 10 minutes south of town. That’s 10 minutes by car through hilly roads, but when Clemens and his friends hiked over to the caverns that he made famous in his Tom Sawyer story, it would have taken an hour or two for the kids to get there.<br />
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Okay, here’s what happened. It had been windy on our trip to reach Hannibal. Rick wrestled the beast all day to keep it steady on the road. We toured a little the first afternoon and had a so-so dinner in town. That night, the winds picked up considerably. Shaking the coach, it howled and whistled through the trees. The TV. shows were continuously interrupted with high wind warnings. Then tornado warnings were announced for our area! There were very few people in the campground (mostly full-time residents in their trailers), and the office, which was a considerable distance from us, was closed. <br />
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Many of the campgrounds where we had stayed actually had tornado shelters on the grounds. They were marked on the maps you are given when you check in. But not at this campground! We had absolutely no idea where to go, and the other RVs weren’t anywhere near us, so we didn’t know if the other people had evacuated. But where would they have gone? Rick decided that a nearby concrete block bathroom and laundry room would be stronger than anything else in the RV park. By now, the winds were gusting at over 60 mph! Leaves were flying and swirling, making it difficult to see outside. <br />
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At about 2 a.m., the tornado sirens still hadn’t gone off, and we were exhausted. We laid on the bed, fully dressed, the rest of the night. We dozed off and on, not knowing what to expect next. Boy, was that a long night.<br />
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Well, the tornados touched down about 20 miles away, then swept over to Indianapolis and up to Chicago. This weather front created a lot of destruction, breaking all of the records for wind speeds. Give me earthquakes, thank you very much!<br />
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The next morning, trees were down, branches had been snapped, and our TV. antenna, which was actually down, was considerably bent. It was still windy, and the weather was uncertain. We thought about simply leaving, but the winds were too high to be on the road.<br />
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The first thing we did was head for the campground office. We were advised that if the winds kicked up again, and tornados were in the area, we should run for the Tom Sawyer caverns. That was the tornado shelter! Wish they had told us the day before….<br />
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Anyway, we had planned to take the steamboat ride the next day, but it was so windy, the trip was cancelled. Instead, we visited some of the shops, the museum, and the cemetery where Clemens family is buried. Lunch was at the Rustic Oak Riverview Café in the touristy Sawyer’s Creek village across from our campgrounds. What a surprise! The food was fabulous! In fact, it was so good, we had to go back for dinner. As the sun set and the sky turned shades of pink, the muddy river actually looked beautiful.<br />
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The wind blew throughout the night, but the bulk of the storm had moved on, so the wind speeds weren’t nearly as bad. We were both pooped and let the shaking of the RV rock us to sleep.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Statue of Mark Twain ovelooking the Mississippi in Hannibal, MO</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Statue in Mark Twain's boyhood home in Hannibal.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Entry on gangway in Hannibal</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNYA5OosRpI/AAAAAAAAATc/3FwogwtE4zE/s1600/HANNIBAL+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="226" px="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNYA5OosRpI/AAAAAAAAATc/3FwogwtE4zE/s320/HANNIBAL+5.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mark Twain's boyhood home and the famous fence.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNYA9JFbTPI/AAAAAAAAATg/W3RLF4fgyNo/s1600/HANNIBAL+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="218" px="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNYA9JFbTPI/AAAAAAAAATg/W3RLF4fgyNo/s320/HANNIBAL+6.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Becky Thatcher's house ... across the street from Twain's.</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNYBBKEifOI/AAAAAAAAATk/Xonnwd2LiyY/s1600/HANNIBAL+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" px="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNYBBKEifOI/AAAAAAAAATk/Xonnwd2LiyY/s320/HANNIBAL+7.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of Hannibal from Lover's Leap.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNYBEK7YvTI/AAAAAAAAATo/MgrbygBSkEM/s1600/HANNIBAL+8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="173" px="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNYBEK7YvTI/AAAAAAAAATo/MgrbygBSkEM/s320/HANNIBAL+8.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old Town Hannibal ... some of which Mark Twain would have seen.</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNYBH-Vn7bI/AAAAAAAAATs/2lZrzpHH4Kw/s1600/HANNIBAL+9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="188" px="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNYBH-Vn7bI/AAAAAAAAATs/2lZrzpHH4Kw/s320/HANNIBAL+9.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tom Sawyer's village on the river ... kid's park and good cafe.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNYBMQDk1iI/AAAAAAAAATw/ehtbEzLLB5E/s1600/HANNIBAL+10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="215" px="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNYBMQDk1iI/AAAAAAAAATw/ehtbEzLLB5E/s320/HANNIBAL+10.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Entrance to the Cave of Tom Sawyer fame and our RV campground.</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNYBQeIF3CI/AAAAAAAAAT0/Yc_SIjZc35E/s1600/HANNIBAL+11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="210" px="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNYBQeIF3CI/AAAAAAAAAT0/Yc_SIjZc35E/s320/HANNIBAL+11.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shamu and friend in the Cave campgroundl</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNYY4pZY_uI/AAAAAAAAAT4/e4ZzD-8yTmc/s1600/HANNIBAL+12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: right; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="203" px="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNYY4pZY_uI/AAAAAAAAAT4/e4ZzD-8yTmc/s320/HANNIBAL+12.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mark Twain's boyhood home in Hannibal.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNYAuRInwLI/AAAAAAAAATQ/wYKXHW7fWD4/s1600/HANNIBAL+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNYAuRInwLI/AAAAAAAAATQ/wYKXHW7fWD4/s320/HANNIBAL+2.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mark Twain statue on the banks of the Missl</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Colleen's Postshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11393970457136406476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6425147605654780965.post-75240303699589077962010-10-30T05:56:00.003-07:002010-11-07T18:52:47.336-08:00Lincoln's Home<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNXBHkwXVqI/AAAAAAAAASU/mj9O_PAmiOA/s1600/SPRNGFLD+-+LINCLN+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="194" px="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNXBHkwXVqI/AAAAAAAAASU/mj9O_PAmiOA/s320/SPRNGFLD+-+LINCLN+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lincoln's home from 1850 ish to his death.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS<br />
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If you have even the slightest interest in President Lincoln, you absolutely have to head to Springfield, Illinois. Springfield is a good-sized city (actually, it’s the capitol of the state), and there are a lot of restaurants, hotels, etc. There are lots of beautiful neighborhoods, containing large traditional homes, sprawling lawns, and perfectly manicured gardens.<br />
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But THE neighborhood that is a must-see is the one where Abraham and Mary Lincoln lived. The Lincolns lived in this home for a little over a decade before moving to the White House when Lincoln took office in 1861. The thing that surprised me was that it wasn’t huge, nor was it grandiose. In fact, to the contrary, it was far more modest than you would expect, especially since Lincoln was a lawyer, a Illinois Representative many times, and then a U. S. Representative prior to his election to the presidency.<br />
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Here’s the thing that puzzles me. Mary Todd married Abraham, who wasn’t exactly a good-looking man, right? When she was growing up in Lexington, Kentucky, before they were married, she was considered a really attractive young lady and a real social butterfly. Plus, her father was wealthy, and the house in Lexington was large and lovely (please see the earlier entry from Lexington for photos). So, she marries this homely guy with very little money, and moves into a not-so-wonderful house for years before he becomes president. Hum…. I’ve been trying to figure out why she would do that! There was no way she could know he would become President of the United States. What do you think?<br />
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Anyway, the Lincoln’s neighborhood is a historic district containing about a dozen restored houses on streets that aren’t open to traffic. Walk from house to house, tour them, and learn their history. It’s a great way to spend an hour or two. There’s also a Visitor’s Center with gift items and a few displays.<br />
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In addition, there’s a Lincoln Museum/Library downtown if you want to see more of the Lincolns’ personal affects. We skipped it, as we were running out of time, and we wanted to get up the hill to the Lincoln Memorial at the Springfield Cemetery. <br />
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The huge memorial wasn’t built for quite a few years after Lincoln’s assassination. After it was completed in 1874, Lincoln’s body was removed from the temporary crypt that had been built on a nearby hill. His casket was placed in the room beneath the memorial, where it sat for a number of years. In fact, there was a plot to steal Lincoln’s body, though the robbers were caught before they completed their grisly deed.<br />
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Eventually, Abraham, Mary, and three of their four sons were entombed within the memorial. It’s magnificent and well worth a visit.<br />
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Meanwhile, back at the RV park, there weren’t many other people there, except for a few permanent residents (who live in their trailers). But the motorhome parked across from us had the prettiest paint job I’ve ever seen. Take a look at the photos I took and notice that the swirl patterns change color, depending on the direction from which I’m taking the shot. Purple, then green, then brilliant turquoise, then nearly tan/gold. Rick said this is one of the most expensive paints ever made, and I can see why. It seems crazy to spend that kind of money on RV paint, since RVs are constantly getting dinged by rocks and debris on roadways, scraped by trees and bushes, get filthy dirty in dusty and/or muddy campgrounds, etc., etc. And yet, that paint was mesmerizing!<br />
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Abraham Lincoln's home in Springfield, Illinois. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNXBMRUnOtI/AAAAAAAAASY/EfQo6xWhZlE/s1600/SPRNGFLD+-+LINCLN+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="220" px="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNXBMRUnOtI/AAAAAAAAASY/EfQo6xWhZlE/s320/SPRNGFLD+-+LINCLN+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lincoln's desk in his bedroom in his home.</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNXBRJACQII/AAAAAAAAASc/DBmanHn8NCw/s1600/SPRNGFLD+-+LNCLN+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="215" px="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNXBRJACQII/AAAAAAAAASc/DBmanHn8NCw/s320/SPRNGFLD+-+LNCLN+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Info about the desk / bedroom.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNXBXjvUwTI/AAAAAAAAASg/wlRM1ApmeCo/s1600/SPRNGFLD+-+LNCLN+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNXBXjvUwTI/AAAAAAAAASg/wlRM1ApmeCo/s320/SPRNGFLD+-+LNCLN+4.jpg" width="195" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even the Pres. had to use the outhouse.</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNXBbt-SmII/AAAAAAAAASk/1IyYpwx-3cw/s1600/SPRNGFLD+-+LNCLN+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="208" px="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNXBbt-SmII/AAAAAAAAASk/1IyYpwx-3cw/s320/SPRNGFLD+-+LNCLN+5.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of the back of Lincoln's home.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNXBhUcDY4I/AAAAAAAAASo/dz9yJ7gdhcg/s1600/SPRNGFLD+-+LNCLN+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="195" px="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNXBhUcDY4I/AAAAAAAAASo/dz9yJ7gdhcg/s320/SPRNGFLD+-+LNCLN+6.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Street view of the Lincoln "village" .</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNXBmPB89_I/AAAAAAAAASs/NNoovqNX-rQ/s1600/SPRNGFLD+-+LNCLN+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" px="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNXBmPB89_I/AAAAAAAAASs/NNoovqNX-rQ/s320/SPRNGFLD+-+LNCLN+7.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Side of Lincoln's home.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNXBsfV7FPI/AAAAAAAAASw/vzzbBTvDoCE/s1600/SPRNGFLD+-+LNCLN+8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNXBsfV7FPI/AAAAAAAAASw/vzzbBTvDoCE/s320/SPRNGFLD+-+LNCLN+8.jpg" width="274" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lincoln's mausoleum memorial. Impressive !</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNXBvsQLFgI/AAAAAAAAAS0/kXnk0pB5SHo/s1600/SPRNGFLD+-+LNCLN+9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNXBvsQLFgI/AAAAAAAAAS0/kXnk0pB5SHo/s320/SPRNGFLD+-+LNCLN+9.jpg" width="237" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lincoln mausoleum. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNXB2mvI_kI/AAAAAAAAAS4/3znCsGF1rNw/s1600/SPRNGFLD+-+LNCLN+10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNXB2mvI_kI/AAAAAAAAAS4/3znCsGF1rNw/s320/SPRNGFLD+-+LNCLN+10.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colleen in the doorway of Lincoln's mausoleum.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNXB7PjQw1I/AAAAAAAAAS8/VrRSUt5YQlA/s1600/SPRNGFLD+-+11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="206" px="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNXB7PjQw1I/AAAAAAAAAS8/VrRSUt5YQlA/s320/SPRNGFLD+-+11.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Motorhome with ridiculously expensive ChromaLusion paint. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNXB_kGdvJI/AAAAAAAAATA/k4gy4uC9TEU/s1600/SPRNGFLD+-+12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" px="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNXB_kGdvJI/AAAAAAAAATA/k4gy4uC9TEU/s320/SPRNGFLD+-+12.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another view showing how the paint changes color.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNXCEpvtppI/AAAAAAAAATE/KC0f7x-kj_4/s1600/SPRNGFLD+-+13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" px="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNXCEpvtppI/AAAAAAAAATE/KC0f7x-kj_4/s320/SPRNGFLD+-+13.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another view.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNXCITIdWJI/AAAAAAAAATI/xowMI6RmZEo/s1600/SPRNGFLD+-+14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="206" px="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNXCITIdWJI/AAAAAAAAATI/xowMI6RmZEo/s320/SPRNGFLD+-+14.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And finally, another view. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>Colleen's Postshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11393970457136406476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6425147605654780965.post-91965164015810991112010-10-28T19:25:00.005-07:002010-10-29T06:54:15.708-07:00INDIANAPOLIS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong>Indianapolis …. The good, the bad and the ugly !</strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong>Rick's Blog ...</strong></div><strong>The Good ….</strong><br />
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Having been a car racing fan since 1954, Indy has always been near the top of my “bucket list”. Since Indianapolis was on our route home from Ohio, I wanted to visit the track, race or not. We got there in the early afternoon and got into a huge crowd of young farmers…there was a FFA convention at the fairgrounds that weekend and the track was overrun. We hopped on a tour bus, took a ride around the track, stopped at the yard of bricks at the finish line and toured the garages, the pagoda, the press room ( huuuuuggge ! ) and back to the museum. It was full of cars that won at the track and raced around the world. One of the cars, a Mercedes Benz W196 streamlined was the first race car that caught my interest in 1954 and started my fascination with racing, aerodynamics, et al. It is even more amazing in person than in pictures. Way ahead of it’s time! The track is so huge that you could fit Vatican City, the Coliseum, the Rose Bowl, All of Wimbledon and more inside it with room to spare. Frankly, the track is too big. The racing is boring and you really can only see a little of the track from most seats. The tradition and lore are better than the reality. <br />
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<strong>The Bad ….</strong><br />
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On the way to the RV park, which happened to be the State Fair Grounds in Indy, we ended up on some narrow residential streets. A Salvation Army truck was parked at the curb, but it’s mirror hung over into the second lane, and on my left was a Honda pilot too close for me to move over. Our right mirror hit the Salvation Army truck's left mirror, destroying both. After stopping and exchanging info., we crawled our way back to the fairgrounds and RV campground. After disassembling the mirror and finding out what parts I needed to fix it, the search began. Dozens of phone calls and running around later, I found a local dealer that could order the parts from Wisconsin and have them in by Saturday noon. $ 250 and a day later, I had my parts and set about repairing the mirror. We would be ready to take off Sunday morning. <br />
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<strong>The Ugly…</strong><br />
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On going out to the Honda to get some parts and other stuff, I found the right front tire flat. Wunnerful! So, I had to put on the goofy spare and go get parts and find someone to fix the tire. I was directed to a tire repair store not far away. It was in a very bad part of town and I was the only Caucasian in sight. I got the tire plugged, paid my bill and got the heck out of there, asap. <br />
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<strong>We're outta here !</strong><br />
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Finally, Sunday morning and Indianapolis is in our rear view mirrors !!! It will be a long time before I return there ! <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Salvation Army truck mirror <a href="mailto:#@%&*#*%$@*$&^%">#@%&*#*%$@*$&^%</a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMq-Q1l2TXI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/Py9sfwNXVok/s1600/INDY+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" nx="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMq-Q1l2TXI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/Py9sfwNXVok/s320/INDY+2.jpg" width="179" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shamu's wounded wingl</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMq-VU3D-sI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/tGh5vOOnxpc/s1600/INDY+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" nx="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMq-VU3D-sI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/tGh5vOOnxpc/s320/INDY+3.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the front straight at Indy</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMq-Z0JYWjI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/vZE55q0ScFM/s1600/INDY+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" nx="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMq-Z0JYWjI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/vZE55q0ScFM/s320/INDY+4.jpg" width="215" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the front straight at Indy</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMq-eN7pa_I/AAAAAAAAARA/SvVCenRx4Eg/s1600/INDY+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="236" nx="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMq-eN7pa_I/AAAAAAAAARA/SvVCenRx4Eg/s320/INDY+5.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The old guy at the press desk.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMq-iVQTrOI/AAAAAAAAARE/tLXah2bQ0f0/s1600/INDY+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="253" nx="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMq-iVQTrOI/AAAAAAAAARE/tLXah2bQ0f0/s320/INDY+7.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The podium in the press room</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMq-nflHAcI/AAAAAAAAARI/K9Qbkq_tFl8/s1600/INDY+8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="203" nx="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMq-nflHAcI/AAAAAAAAARI/K9Qbkq_tFl8/s320/INDY+8.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Start-Finish line ... 3 feet of bricks ... goes all the way thru the garages. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMq-rw89k_I/AAAAAAAAARM/z6kkIwTIljQ/s1600/INDY+9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="233" nx="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMq-rw89k_I/AAAAAAAAARM/z6kkIwTIljQ/s320/INDY+9.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Start-Finish line</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMq-xIQtsFI/AAAAAAAAARQ/EZyMdd2RdiY/s1600/INDY+10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="231" nx="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMq-xIQtsFI/AAAAAAAAARQ/EZyMdd2RdiY/s320/INDY+10.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1954 Mercedes Benz W-196 streamlined Formula 1 Car</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMq_CdpOsdI/AAAAAAAAARY/tdYENlzKPQc/s1600/INDY+12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="182" nx="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMq_CdpOsdI/AAAAAAAAARY/tdYENlzKPQc/s320/INDY+12.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMrRyRJe6bI/AAAAAAAAASM/zNkAvjj5U80/s1600/INDY+11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" nx="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMrRyRJe6bI/AAAAAAAAASM/zNkAvjj5U80/s320/INDY+11.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMrR7hW2eqI/AAAAAAAAASQ/_wkJTcvABXg/s1600/INDY+13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" nx="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMrR7hW2eqI/AAAAAAAAASQ/_wkJTcvABXg/s320/INDY+13.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Colleen's Postshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11393970457136406476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6425147605654780965.post-63505957997659854292010-10-27T06:33:00.000-07:002010-10-31T08:13:17.903-07:00AIR FORCE MUSEUMDAYTON – Home of flight and aviation.<br />
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Another Rick blog .....<br />
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Where the Wright brothers developed their first powered airplane, Wright-Patterson Air Force Base is home to the US Air Force and the Air Force Museum. This is a huge facility with an Imax theater on the front, 3 enormous hangers full of historical airplanes and weapons and a huge silo at the back populated with full sized rockets. Starting with the first biplane all the way up to the latest F-22 fighter, it is a walk through history. The aircraft industry in the USA provided a lot of jobs for lots of people across the nation, including me. I worked for Lockheed from 1962 thru 1971 with a break for college. <br />
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Many of the planes that I admired in my youth are there in full size and some of the planes that I worked on, the SR-71 and the U-2 are there but not the L-1011. And planes that my son, Gary worked on in the Air Force, the F-111 swing-wing bomber and the F-117 Nighthawk “fighter” bomber are there. If you have any interest in aircraft, this is a must. <br />
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The history of amazing technological advancement there is stunning. Unfortunately, so is the fact that we, as a nation, have produced the most efficient machines and weapons for killing other people in the history of the planet. Necessary during WWII, fear and greed hav driven most of the development since then. Eisenhower was right .. "beware the military-industiral complex !" I’m afraid that in 50 or 100 years, history won’t treat us too well, recognizing us as the most violent society of our times… The technological advances are great; the weapons are not. I think the money would have been better spent on helping the people that needed it in our country and worldwide. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMrMXJ68sgI/AAAAAAAAARo/pF6MbdKhlWs/s1600/USAF+MUSEUM+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" nx="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMrMXJ68sgI/AAAAAAAAARo/pF6MbdKhlWs/s320/USAF+MUSEUM+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The SR-71 Blackbird ... fastest jet ever. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMrMdH5tqGI/AAAAAAAAARs/A5fd66lAacI/s1600/USAF+MUSEUM+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="192" nx="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMrMdH5tqGI/AAAAAAAAARs/A5fd66lAacI/s320/USAF+MUSEUM+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The SR-71 .. no weapons, just spy cameras. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMrMhWkYvGI/AAAAAAAAARw/YL2vQcn1nPI/s1600/USAF+MUSEUM+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="198" nx="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMrMhWkYvGI/AAAAAAAAARw/YL2vQcn1nPI/s320/USAF+MUSEUM+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The U-2 above a lot of famous airplanes. No weapons, just cameras. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMrMk8BEsOI/AAAAAAAAAR0/clgjS67rk9s/s1600/USAF+MUSEUM+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" nx="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMrMk8BEsOI/AAAAAAAAAR0/clgjS67rk9s/s320/USAF+MUSEUM+4.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The giant B-36, successor to the B-29 that bombed Hiroshima. <br />
I remember in my youth hearing these behemoths droning overhead. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMrMpw_TQ7I/AAAAAAAAAR4/Fgl1LCm_np8/s1600/USAF+MUSEUM+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" nx="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMrMpw_TQ7I/AAAAAAAAAR4/Fgl1LCm_np8/s320/USAF+MUSEUM+5.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little Boy and Fat Man ... A bombs dropped on Japan. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMrMuoXGmaI/AAAAAAAAAR8/0x1fOJc0Bg8/s1600/USAF+MUSEUM+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="172" nx="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMrMuoXGmaI/AAAAAAAAAR8/0x1fOJc0Bg8/s320/USAF+MUSEUM+6.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">F-117 Nighthawk .. stealth fighter/bomber Gary worked on.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMrMynWsHzI/AAAAAAAAASA/c01D9vM7Vow/s1600/USAF+MUSEUM+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" nx="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMrMynWsHzI/AAAAAAAAASA/c01D9vM7Vow/s320/USAF+MUSEUM+7.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">F-22 ... the lates killing machine in our arsenal. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMrM3QxQMlI/AAAAAAAAASE/nAjVdX9KVFQ/s1600/USAF+MUSEUM+8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" nx="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMrM3QxQMlI/AAAAAAAAASE/nAjVdX9KVFQ/s320/USAF+MUSEUM+8.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The B-2 Stealth Bomber</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMrM7gLZqwI/AAAAAAAAASI/NXCqnqrT6gE/s1600/USAF+MUSEUM+9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="192" nx="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TMrM7gLZqwI/AAAAAAAAASI/NXCqnqrT6gE/s320/USAF+MUSEUM+9.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Apollo 15 Lunar capsule .. no weapons !</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Colleen's Postshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11393970457136406476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6425147605654780965.post-37291410190667329492010-10-23T08:18:00.001-07:002010-11-07T08:35:05.670-08:00<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">AMISH PIES, CAKES AND CANDIES</div><br />
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There are many areas in Ohio that Amish country. I always thought their settlements were clustered in the northeast portion of the state, but on our way driving southwest from Newark to an archaeological site known as “Mound City,” near Chilicothe, I noticed one of those classic black buggies parked beside the road. Nearby, a folding table had been set up under a canopy. A middle-aged woman and a little girl, dressed in typical Amish attire complete with bonnets, sat on folding chairs. Unlike the Mormon polygamist wives we saw in Arizona, their clothes were drab neutral colors (see earlier entry). The table was strewn with all sorts of homemade goodies: cookies, candies, pies, cakes…you name it! <br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I really didn’t want to buy anything (honest), but I was dying to have Rick take some photos. It would have been too rude to simply cruise by, roll down the car window, and snap their pictures (drive-by style). So, I casually sauntered over to their table, while Rick surreptitiously took a few shots of me talking to the Amish woman.</div><br />
She was very nice and seemingly “normal,” except for her clothing. The woman actually invited us to “the ranch,” in Circleville, ( named after Native American mound circles found there ), where they not only had more types of candies for sale, but furniture, quilts, and other items their community had produced. Okay, now I felt guilty about only looking at the yummy stuff she and the other Amish had made. I knew this was their main means of support. Besides, the little girl was really, really cute. So, I scooped up several little plastic containers filled with a variety of candy. “The pies were fresh baked this morning,” she said with a pleasant smile. “They’re really good.” So…long story short, I bought a peach pie, our favorite.<br />
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Continuing on our way to Mound City, the smell of the pie (which was still slightly warm) wafted through the car. In a word, it smelled wonderful. If we had forks with us, we might have dug in right then and there. No, we promised ourselves we would wait to have a piece after dinner that night. <br />
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Mound City wasn’t nearly as interesting as the Newark Earthworks. It’s believed by many historians and archaeologists that there’s a direct link between the two sites (which are about 70 miles apart and were once connected by a walled pathway). So, we walked around and took some photos.<br />
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That night, I cooked a light dinner in the beast (soup and salad), in an effort to save space in our stomachs for a piece of that much-anticipated, delicious-smelling pie. We warmed up a couple of pieces, plopped on a scoop of vanilla ice cream, and got ready to devour it.<br />
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“Oh, no. This is terrible!” I said. Had the Amish forgotten to include sugar? It was so sour! And the crust was absolutely awful. Rick sprinkled some sugar on his piece and managed to choke it down, but I wound up throwing the entire pie in the trash! Store-bought pies were better than this one. I don’t know about you, but I figured that the Amish had been at pie baking for generations, and that they would have perfected it by now. What in the heck happened?<br />
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Oh well. Calories saved for the Fliedners, who certainly need to watch their weight and get more exercise! The candy was good, though most of that wound up in the trash as well. Too many calories!! But at least we got our pictures!!<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNbUmVxZIdI/AAAAAAAAAU0/MHp1KBdRkog/s1600/AMISH3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" px="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNbUmVxZIdI/AAAAAAAAAU0/MHp1KBdRkog/s320/AMISH3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNbUikZuV7I/AAAAAAAAAUw/tuB0N9XEDW4/s1600/AMISH1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="209" px="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNbUikZuV7I/AAAAAAAAAUw/tuB0N9XEDW4/s320/AMISH1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNbUfFmkSTI/AAAAAAAAAUs/4B70nJw2iOQ/s1600/AMISH2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="220" px="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNbUfFmkSTI/AAAAAAAAAUs/4B70nJw2iOQ/s320/AMISH2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNbUpXt3ntI/AAAAAAAAAU4/_WhvI2NdT64/s1600/AMISH4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s80SvM9PHSw/TNbUpXt3ntI/AAAAAAAAAU4/_WhvI2NdT64/s320/AMISH4.jpg" width="304" /></a></div>Colleen's Postshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11393970457136406476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6425147605654780965.post-46303764121986713002010-10-22T17:31:00.004-07:002010-10-28T18:49:46.188-07:00THE EARTHWORKS<br />
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The Newark Earthworks are the reason we went to central Ohio, and we weren’t disappointed. If you’re like me, you don’t know much about this massive archaeological site. Heck, I even took archaeology, Native American, and U. S. history courses in college. Although I read something brief about the ancient “Mound Builders” in America, I had never read about the Newark Earthworks! And it’s such a major thing! Go figure.<br />
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Last summer I learned that the site and that it has been nominated for World Heritage status. When I was told that little-to-nothing had been written about the site in magazines, Rick and I thought it would be worth making the trip to check it out personally. The museum’s director and head of the CVB also mentioned that they needed a book written about the Earthworks. Too tempting…we had to go!!! <br />
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So, the museum director set me up with Dr. Dick Shiels, the official historian for the site, who gave us a guided tour of the massive site. Newark Earthworks spreads for more than 4 acres of what looks more like a park than an archaeological site. The area is fairly flat, except for the circular rise completely encompassing the historic grounds. Known as the “Great Circle,” the native people who built it 2,000 years used baskets and primitive tools to dig out dirt. They piled it high, (about 8 feet in places) creating a perfect mound-like wall that surrounds what was once a sacred center. Not only have archaeologists and historians studied the site to find out its purpose, but mathematicians and astronomers have been part of the scientific team studying the site. While much still remains a mystery, these experts have determined that the Earthworks, which are actually made up of several geometric circles, squares and octagons, have a connection to the moon’s cycle. Yet, there are many unanswered questions, including who the people were that built the mounds, circles, and other geometric mounds.<br />
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This part of the country is rich with history. Plus, it’s pretty as the dickens. Not sure if I’ll write a book about the Newark Earthworks, but will definitely put together a few magazine pitches.Colleen's Postshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11393970457136406476noreply@blogger.com0