esrosedotblog

In another life, I worked for the famous cranberry company, my second job.

It was a great emancipation from my first job with a large chain store company in its "engineering" department. I had a good time but they really didn't need me there. I did a lot of sitting. My boss wanted an MIT guy in his department and that is what I was. They had no idea what to do with me.

So I left to work with the cranberry company in Hanson Massachusetts. A down-home cooperative housed in old factory buildings with makeshift furnishings and dilapidated equipment. I loved it.

I stayed there five years and learned to love the unlovable cranberry.

A fruit so tart and nasty to eat that people constantly felt that it had to be healthful.

At that time, it was all about urinary health. It was claimed and proven that cranberry juice was good for the bladder and helped you to pee.

A health claim is very hard to get approval for. They finally got it and medical journals lauded the fruit. Never mind that the strengths required for the berry to work its magic were almost impossible to ingest in 24 hours. And it always tasted too sour. Hence, a huge amount of corn and cane sugars added. So much for health.

But they are still chasing the health benefits. Just in, this: The Cure for UTIs? It’s Not Cranberries

Oops. No. Another miss. But gee, something that tastes so bad has to be good, right? Guess not.

I left the barn a long time ago, many years. But I always watched the results of the marketing attempts with interest. Fruit blends, dried "craisins" and the like.

The co-op had a fractious grower membership who could rarely agree on anything. This led to the ability of a strong management, brought in as "saviors", to run the brands around the course to see if they could win the marketing race on the grocery shelf. Or something.

Every fall, the harvest leads to a secondary harvest of news items. This year is no exception.

I still like the sauce. I bought a can of the whole berry the other day. It felt like home in my hand.

Labels: history

Brought up in Eastern Pennsylvania, I was years ahead of y'all in knowing about Groundhog Day.

Now, it is a movie, an annual tongue in cheek celebration and, probably, a big commercial event where there is some money to be made out of a humble old fashioned custom.

The usual modern travesty made over from some nice old folklore.

There is nothing special about Punxsutawney other than the groundhog. They made it up and appropriated it.

Not many people know about groundhogs anyway.

They are grumbly, generally unfriendly cusses better left alone.

I understand that the 'hog did not cast nor see his shadow.

Groundhog Day: Punxsutawney Phil Did Not See His Shadow

Spring is just around the corner!

In Punxsutawney anyway.

Labels: history, holidays, Pennsylvania

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon.

After church.

My parents and I were sitting listening to the radio.

That is what we did back then. 1941. Sat and listened and looked at it.

Then a bulletin came on.

I sort of got the idea but not really. I was 4.

My mother fainted. Or pretended to. My Mom was like that.

There is not a lot to say.

It changed my life totally. My Dad ended up going to the Navy, a volunteer.

And so much more.

Labels: history

The time came when the so called Eastern Block of Soviet dominated countries had enough.

And did something about it.

This film depicts that time beginning with the self immolation of Jan Palach, a student who was part of the Prague Spring movement.

Burning Bush (2014)

Today, part 1 of three parts. The film is four hours long and was technically a miniseries but has now been welded together into one piece for a DVD audience.

This is rough stuff but beautifully handled. Edge of the seat moments.

It is a fictionalized version of the actual events so there is an interleaving of footage from that time. Very effective. Docudrama.

The suicide is over quickly and the film focuses on the people left to deal with it. The family of course, friends in the movement, and a few cops and government types who are not willing to sweep it under the table at the bidding of the government.

It provokes quite a dramatic emotional response. It is hard to be detached so I gave in to it.

Labels: communists, films, history

I use RefDesk as my default web site.

Is that the right term?

It is where I tell my computer to go when I open a screen.

Today, "This Day In History", a regular bit each day, features

this item.

Odd that it is not a 0 or 5 anniversary, it is a 31st.

I had one of these rather soon after they came out. I was not interested in a computer before this but the friendly features and the suggestions of my knowledgable kids won me over. Never to be the same again.

I became a member of the Mac universe. Never to use a PC and even hostile to it. The evil empire MS. DOS. Whatever the hell that means.

In the beginning it was kind of a movement and Steve and the boys at Apple were our demigods.

Now I am on my fifth iteration. The big flat screen one running 10.9.5 or something. I have never looked much past the screen. The great MacAdvantage.

Labels: history, macintosh

I have been to the Shaker Village in Pittsfield, MA.

It was a trip in time. Very nice.

Now this:Shaker Village Finds Enterprise Is Not So Simple

Preservation is a tricky business and I do mean business.

This is probably why it is most often done on a smaller scale.

This village is huge. A lot of employees. A major enterprise in a small town.

The Shakers are still right about keeping it simple.

There is nothing special about this result. It is a common outcome. At some juncture it is necessary to bring government into the process otherwise they are totally dependent on donations and admissions. Ups and downs.

The question of whether it is worth it arises.

My answer is yes. Unqualified. There is a deep experience here waiting anyone who goes. And a message about "keeping it simple". A good thing with a downside.

The Shakers were totally isolated and now this is not the case. The creepy consequences of capital come in and show their unforgiving side. The tyranny of the balance sheet. Balanced.

Labels: economics, history

It took a lot of balls for Obama to normalize Cuban relations.

It is a long time coming.

The diehards will probably bloviate and try to undo it but that he did it is enough for now.

I remember when this started. It is a long time problem. The Cubans in Florida are almost all Republicans because that is where their main support came from. To a great extent, they are single issue assholes.

But there are plenty of politicians who pander to them including some Democrats.

There will be fierce winds. Or, maybe, it will go down better than I think it will. God knows a lot of people are tired of it and forget the reasons we got to where we are in the first place.

Fox News was nuts this morning. I thought the fuckers would go dark with the vitriol. A breed apart.

For a long time, Cuba was a Republican pet project then when he turned commie the warmth went down the drain.

That Fidel was a sexy looking bugger wasn't he?

You know, the Canadians got over this long ago. A few Canadian friends go to Cuba for the holiday. It is a wonderful place, Havana. As though time stood still.

I suppose the old cars will disappear though. This could be a real boon for the auto industry. Wait a few days for the business interests to convince their GOoPer friends to cool it.

Labels: history

David Greenglass has died.

For most people, this is not even a tic on the scale.

He is unknown to most.

But in the day he was infamous as the man who turned in his sister and her husband, the Rosenbergs, for spying.

The Rosenbergs were executed.

Later, it turned out that much of Greenglass' testimony was wrong about his sister to protect Greenglass' own wife.

David Greenglass, Spy Who Helped Seal the Rosenbergs’ Doom, Dies at 92

At the time, it was front page news for months, years even.

Obsession.

The world was madness at that time. The Soviets, communism. The Rosenbergs did steal secrets or at least he did but the reaction to their crime was thought to be way out of proportion.

I don't know.

It is likely that anti-semitism had something to do with it too. Jewish names all around.

Greenglass changed his name and lived in anonymity most of the rest of his life.

If he had second thoughts and felt guilty of betraying his own sister is not really known although he claimed he did not feel contrite.

In any case, he got to live many more than the average years to contemplate his sins if any.

One aspect of the case is that the Rosenbergs had two kids. Over the years they have written about that time and had interviews. I was fascinated with how that was for them. There are photos of them reading headlines about their parents.

Keerist I am glad those times are long over.

I suppose there is just as much stuff now to get upset about but all this red scare stuff turned our country inside out.

Labels: history

I did not know that this was actually a wonderful horror movie.

Well, not horror perhaps. A thriller? Scary.

I thought it would be a comedy! It is funny but scary funny. The best kind of scary if you reflect on it.

Baghead (2013)

The Duplass Brothers who must know something about screen writers and other film folks ("write what you know" someone says so obviously that it is funny). Here they lay it out as four young people or is it three? Jesus. Some young film people go away for a weekend to write a script. Just toss one off.

There are unspoken tensions between them, mostly sexual but also artistic, that come to light as they try to create.

The tensions burst when a guy comes to the window, a window peeker, with a paper bag on his head.

This sounds funny and did to me until I saw it in the film. It scared the shit out of me.

It also freaks the young people out something wicked.

How they deal with this is the subject of the rest of the film as more stuff happens and the scares increase. Like most horror films the most upsetting part of watching this movie is the knowledge that something could or will happen any time and it will scare the shit out of me again.

When I was a kid, someone peeked into my window after I had gone to sleep and woke me up. It scared the shit out of me.

It was my Uncle Hank. He and others had been out drinking, I guess, and wound up at our house. Uncle Hank was a joker and this was his idea of a good time. As upsetting as it was for me I did get it and it set me on a lifetime of appreciation of rough play joking. My mother's family was noted for it and I became a practitioner as well. Yes, it is somewhat sadistic and sick. But that is its allure.

I think the Duplass Bro's play on this in the film. There is an appreciation of a scary joke finely played because of course no one goes around peeking in windows with paper bags on their head.

The twist here is that there is a consequence of the joke that turns out to be almost fatal. There another spoiler.

But is not. And these people, being rough players appreciate it even more especially the victim of the accident.

I liked this film a lot. I am in the middle of seeing all the Duplass films. This was their second one. Scary fun. These guys are really good.

A four out of Netflixfive. I forget the convention for writing this. Maybe it should change. Netflix4 out of 5? 4 out of Netflix5? We will see.

Labels: films, history

This guy was one of my star trainees in a public group that I ran many years ago.

Hamish Maxwell, Philip Morris Empire Builder, Dies at 87

An old client had become manager of training at Philip Morris. This was a little before this guy became President but he was a power to be reckoned with and he wanted to see the program before they bought it.

This is the kind of guy he was. He was his own guinea pig.

My friend and client nearly chewed his nails off with concern.

Hamish came to a public program so that people from his company would not be distracted. He had a great time. He was a wonderful participant. No nonsense. And he got a lot out of it apparently because they bought a whole lot of training from us.

The only drawback was that he had the idea that I was the only one who could train it so, as a result, I became their trainer. They never adopted a trainer training program as we wanted them to.This was an old problem for us. A lot of people wanted the authors or the principals. We were trying to grow and spread it out.

Eventually, Hamish forgot his original condition and we put other trainers into the mix.

I would not say that we had a thing to do with his ascension to the top but I certainly had to do with his affection for the program. I liked him a lot. I don't remember many participants, even the bigwigs, but I remember him.

Hamish put together the Philip Morris empire which now is being dismantled a piece at a time. But in its heyday it included a lot of companies. He started with General Foods for gods' sake. Another former client. But I always worked with the tobacco division.

Did I have moral qualms about the company? No. I didn't have moral qualms for the most part. I was a smoker at the time. It would have been hypocrisy to be choosy.

Labels: business, history, training

Today's film would be just an audacious stunt if it were not so successful a production at every level.

Russian Ark (2002)

Alexander Sakurov takes only 90 minutes, a continuous shot, a record time, to explore The Hermitage using over 2000 actors and a host of production personnel to say nothing of months of logistical preparation for the single day they have to make this unprecedented film.

Most of the film is in various periods of Hermitage history. The golden time of Peter the Great, the Catherines, some of the time just before the end of the Tzar's rule, the revolution.

Some people are in modern dress in certain galleries and a small "committee" of former directors of the museum are seen talking about what to do with and about government interference.

There is a narrator, a European who has contempt for the culture because he knows it is largely appropriated, not native, and that it will die out. Not destroyed but the Russias represented will not last.

It is actually quite dark in that respect and in the last scenes as the large, large crowd of ball attendees leave, there is overwhelming sadness. I always cry.

This is the third or fourth time I have seen it. It is timeless. The "making of" feature is interesting for five minutes but the magic quickly dissipates and so I quit watching it.

This is an automatic 5 out of Netflix5 because I have seen it over and over and it will still be a 5 because I will see it again.

Labels: films, history

I love this kind of story.

Mystery From the Grave Beside Oswald’s, Solved

Dan Barry runs down yet another Oswald conspiracy theory. Or theories. Or no theory at all.

The grave next to Oswald was empty for some time, then it was bought and a marker identical to Oswald's was placed next to him.

Nick Beef.

It turns out that a guy whose life was deeply affected by the Kennedy assassination and who also happens to have turned out to be a kind of performance artist discovered the grave site still for sale. One of his nom de performance is Nick Beef.

It has never gained big notoriety but more than a few of the conspiracy nuts tried to run down just who this guy was and where he came from.

As usual with the rabid and star eyed conspiracists they could not see the forest for the trees.

Dan Barry had no trouble tracking the guy down although I think the guy actually came to him. Then he ran it down.

Many of us remember those days. We know where we were when it happened. I was on an illicit coffee break with my friend John, going back to the office on 15th Street in Philadelphia. There was a day bar with a big window and the news was on the teevee. I suppose there were people yowling and upset or I don't think we could have noticed it.

I remember that we got back to the office and we both decided it might be inappropriate to tell people what we saw as they would correctly infer we were out doing what we were forbidden to do (It was that kind of place). Certainly we were not the only ones who disobeyed the rules. I flouted all of them. I was that kind of corporate player but I somehow escaped deep censure for it. Others were not so lucky.

Anyway, the news started to come in from wives and workers who were outside the monastery in which we worked. It was a sad day.

I saw Oswald getting shot. We were home, there was to be a church dedication in a little while. One of our sons had been in the hospital with a hernia. And we were sitting catching our breath.

Here comes Oswald. Here comes Jack Ruby. Bang.

It was one of those moments when it is hard to believe we are seeing what we are seeing. It was that way for the commentators as well.

Total confusion.

I remember getting it together and going to the service. I was debuting a specially composed "overture" for the opening of the church. A big deal.

I think things went well.

I never much bought into the stories and rumors. It was over. I did watch the funeral but it was hard to take.

While I am at it, I was in a car riding to western NY State to visit an apple processing plant when Robert Kennedy was killed. It had already happened but we had been on the road, stayed at a motel late, got up and hit the road. Then heard.

I didn't much like Bobby. It was awful but it didn't touch me. Jack? I also was not a fan. I was never surprised at the stuff that came out after about him. I don't think we had him long enough to see his mark. It would be hypocritical of me to say that it broke my heart. The President part did. Not the Jack part.

Labels: history

SILVER HAIRED HERO

Today's hero, a guy I admire who lived through to and beyond 90 years of age, is an improbable choice.

I haven't thought of him in, maybe, 30 years. More.

Slim Whitman Yodeling Country Singer With a Regular Guy Image Dies at 90.

Who? You may ask. A yodeler? A CW veteran.

I grew up with Slim Whitman, well, one of his biggest fans, my Dad.

There are a number of favorites, which even I in my sophisticated musical tastes, come to memory like an iconic moment. In my heart, I am a shitkicker and, because of my Dad, I particularly liked the shit that Whitman kicked.

One of my Dad's favorite songs was Silver Haired Daddy of Mine.

I always wondered about this as my Dad's father died when he was 8. Then, I realize that he had a step dad, Wes King, who was distinguished by very white hair.

I never knew "Wes", he was never by any other name. Well, I saw him. In the store. Around. He never came to the house. My Dad would go see him from time to time. He was a mystery. By then, he lived with Mrs. Van Dyne who had a small boarding house, a good view and a little money. I know now that he was an alcoholic. We are everywhere.

Anyway, there it is. He was my Dad's "daddy" but never my Granddad. In fact, I never had one. All were gone by the time I came around.

Back to Slim Whitman.

He wrote 500 songs and made 100 albums. One Hundred. We are supposed to use numerals for figures over ten but here I will make an exception.

In my time, Whitman was also a joke. Read the obituary here. They make the most of it in a very loving way. I love that

In the 1996 movie comedy “Mars Attacks!” Slim Whitman’s yodeling, high-octave rendition of “Indian Love Call” causes the heads of the invading Martians to explode, saving Planet Earth.

He had many firsts. Elvis opened his show as his first job. He "taught" McCartney how to play with his left hand. He had other big hits. “Have I Told You Lately That I Love You,” “Red River Valley,” “Danny Boy” and “I’ll Take You Home Again, Kathleen.

Kathleen was another favorite for my Father. I have no idea whether there was any "Kathleen" in his history.

Mr. Whitman told The A.P. in 1991 that he wanted to be thought of as “a nice guy” and a good father. “I’d like people to remember me,” he said, “as having a good voice and a clean suit.”

Labels: country, heroes, history, music

HERE IS TODAY

For a little context, click on this

Labels: history, space

GONE BUT NOT FORGOTTEN

On April 12, 1945, Franklin D. Roosevelt, the 32nd president of the United States, died of a cerebral hemorrhage in Warm Springs, Ga., at age 63. Vice President Harry S Truman became president.

Read more about it HERE

This is one of those days that I remember so clearly.

I was only 8.

My Dad was knocked for a loop. He revered FDR, we had a 12 inch bust in the house. An American flag in the pedestal.

As always, in time of trouble, family trouble usually, we loaded into the car and went to my Mother's oldest sister, Aunt Flora.

The sadness of this day is palpable.

It was totally unexpected although, at 63, he looked much older.

He had led the world through the Second World War and was near victory.

No one was prepared for it but the transition went very smoothly.

FDR was buried the next day. Astonishingly fast.

Truman took control and, in my estimation, was one of our greatest Presidents. The transition was smooth. It was wartime, after all.

Funny. The day FDR died, it was also a Friday.

One other thing. For those who think vitriol is new, particularly from the other side, Claire Smith and his wife from down the street declared it "good riddance". They hated FDR. Accused Eleanor of being a "high yellow" negro (the n-word of course. "Black" was not yet used, anywhere).

I am glad that I grew up next to bastards like the Smiths. They helped me get ready for a lifetime of this kind of thing.

John and I visited Campobello Island one year on the way to the Maritimes. A road trip.

The summer house is kept just as the Roosevelts left it.

On the porch there is an empty wheel chair. There is food in the refrigerator, the real thing. When you go around a corner an ancient radio is playing one of his speeches.

It is one of the best sites of its kind I have ever seen. Only Appomatox comes close for chills and deep feelings.

Labels: history, life

NOT A GIFT

We don't give each other gifts.

Except when we do.

For our 38th anniversary, I got this soapstone sculpture from John.

It is called "lover's knot" or "love knot" depending on which import house you look in to.

Its infinite surface gets the idea across pretty well.

And it is very handsome.

Red is the color of passion and strong feeling.

It is about 8 inches tall and has a nice feel.

So it fits pretty well. Infinite, passionate, the size, the feel. It is an "us" thing.

I didn't know much about soapstone which they cut by hand and polish, then paint. Artisans.

I suppose I have to also accept that it was done by poorly paid workers in a third world country but for now, it is my beautiful symbol of the love of my life.

Labels: art, history, life

HAPPY HOLIDAY

Special shoutout to James Buchanan, the only unmarried President but not the only one rumored to be homosexual.

The gay construct was not in place at this time.

And, a bi-shout out to none other than Abraham Lincoln for whom, sleeping with his bodyguard, same bed, counts for something.

I know, they say that a lot of men slept with their best friends and held hands and kissed and all. Bromances. But as far as I am concerned that puts them on the Kinsey spectrum.

Don't mind me. Everything comes up gay if you are one and have spent a long time hiding out about it.

Labels: gay history, history

SANDWICH SIGN

The sign flipper, the second post down from here, reminded me of a bit of personal history.

When I was a kid, I was fascinated by pictures of guys walking around with "sandwich signs".

These were poor guys who restaurants and stores would hire to walk around the city with their ads. Cheap labor.

I wanted to be one of those guys.

I never saw one. Not in New York, not in Boston and not in any other place.

I think they were a product of the depression. Guys desperate for work and tough times selling anything.

In fact, a lot of them were advertising themselves, looking for a job.

I don't think there were any tricks to be done with these signs. Just walking around.

Perhaps that was the appeal. It seemed like a simple task to carry out and, quite importantly, I could be the focus of attention as everyone looked my way.

Some guys used them to advertise their need for a job.

You can still buy a sandwich board to make a sign so someone, somewhere, must be doing it.

Labels: history

INFAMY

Today is Pearl Harbor Day. December 7, 1941.

I was four going on five.

I remember the radio on. People upset and coming and going in the house. My mother fainting and on the couch.

When something like this happened in the "old days" not everyone had a radio nor could comprehend what was going on. So they would get in their cars and go visit relatives and friends who would have the news or an idea of what it meant.

My Dad always had the latest and highest fi radio. You would be surprised at how good it was. Big speakers. A floor model.

My Dad also had an opinion because he read the papers every day and was thoughtful about world affairs. He listened to Lowell Thomas and other commentators.

So there were a lot of people visiting that day.

Me? I guess I knew something bad had happened.

Labels: history

FLIP FLOP

When I was a kid and there were wars and stuff going on, both parties seemed to be influential on foreign policy. Bi partisan.

Then, probably with Eisenhower being military and all and an expert on Europe, the shift came toward the GOP as the predominant party of national security and foreign relations.

In fact, they came to dominate it to such a degree that to vote Democratic was thought to ignore security issues importance. Or it was made to seem so at election time. Democrats always played catchup on those issues.

But now, it is the reverse. The GOP finally fell victim to hubris. The idea of American exceptionalism came to pass.

When Reagan got the wall down and the Soviet Union collapsed, things began to change. This article describes the situation nicely.

A Staggering Shift on the Politics of Foreign Policy.

Now, the Democrats own the high ground and the expertise. We are confronted by a GOP slate with no experience at all in these areas and whatever steps they have taken to inform themselves, they have gone to the worst sources for enlightenment. The Bush people who got the Republicans in so much trouble at the end of their dominance.

Labels: history, Republicans