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Stumpage Reports
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Monday, March 31, 2003 :::
A Good Monday: or, Imbeciles and a Nice Dinner
A good day. No headaches. Made it to class where we talked about imbeciles and forced sterilization. Who said Constitutional History was boring. I met She Who Shall Not Be Named for our almost-weekly Monday night dinner. The imbeciles in the title refer to class, not her. We discovered a new restaurant, I don't even know the name of it, something-or-other Drafthouse. A little pricey, but they give you tons of food. I got fish and chips, it was about half a whale. Lotsa big old burgers, all kinds of chicken, steak, blue cheese, spinach, etc salads that make a whole meal. Its good to find another quality over-priced burger place since Second City Grill moved.
All the above was just to keep your attention until I got to the...
Quote of the Day:
"Three generations of imbeciles are enough."
--- U.S. Supreme Court Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr., upholding a Virginia eugenics law, May 2, 1927.
To read about the eugenics program in North Carolina, look here.
::: posted by tom at 9:53 PM
Sunday, March 30, 2003 :::
Cutting Unit Fact Sheets or Stumpage Reports? Who the Hell Knows.
I'm still working on the Forestry Foundation papers at my archives job. Today I got all the Cutting Unit Fact Sheets in order and labeled the folders. "Cutting Unit Fact Sheets, Sections 44-127-304 - 44-127-312, 1980 - 1981," and so on and so on... I spent two hours with them and I still can't tell you what a Cutting Unit Fact Sheet is. They are much more formal looking than Stumpage Reports. I did Stumpage Reports yesterday. They are anything from index cards, scraps of paper, or sometimes forms, that detailed how many cords of wood were on each truck the paper company was taking on outta there. From these they figured how much the paper companies owed the forest people. Of course they figured this amount using Stumpage Rates, and the Stumpage Reports. I still don't know what a Cutting Unit Fact Sheet is. Don't even ask me about about the damn Cutting Tallies, but they are in chronological order now. Tomorrow will be something different: Timber Purchase Sales Agreements. I really do like this job. They leave me the hell alone.
Quote of the Day:
To understand the South is to feel the pathos in its history. This aura of pathos is more than a delusion of historians, more than a vague sensation one gets when looking down an avenue of somber, moss-draped live oaks leading to stately ruins or to nothing at all. For Southerners live in the shadow of a real tragedy; they know, better than most other Americans, that little ironies fill the history of mankind and that large disasters from time to time unexpectedly help to shape its course.
Their tragedy did not begin with the ordeal of Reconstruction, or with the agony of the civil war, but with the growth of a "peculiar institution" (as they called it) in ante-bellum days. It began, in short, with chattel slavery whose spiritual stresses and unremitting social tensions became an inescapable part of life in the Old South.
--- Kenneth Stampp, The Peculiar Institution: Slavery in the Ante-Bellum South, 1956.
suzanne malveaux nude suzanne malveaux naked
::: posted by tom at 7:51 PM
Thursday, March 27, 2003 :::
Hello, My Name is Billy Bob and I Don't Give A Damn
We had an exam tonight in my Preservation class. I spent a lot of time this afternoon at work shooting the bull and studying with UVA Debutant Girl and UVA Married Guy. Girl is in the class, Guy has already taken it. We are all graduating in about five weeks and it is hard to tell who is more tired and unmotivated about school. I love school, I love reading, writing, and studying history but I'm tired. I am ready for a break. We all agreed there should be a class the last semester called "Career Strategies" where you make a resume and show it to your advisor and spend your time applying for jobs. I had two job applications to fill out this afternoon but needed to study for the darn test.
One of the job applications is for a position as one of the sun-shunning moles in the technical services department at the university library. Its nothing to do with my major and I'm overqualified for it but its a full-time state job with decent pay and you don't have to wait on the public. One of the spaces on the job application was for your "career goals." I wanted to put in there, "Get back at the government trough, give me enough work to keep me busy, and leave me the hell alone." Instead I put something in there about pursuing a career at an academic library.
Honesty Pays
The school library is having their annual book sale this week and I must say it sure sucks compared to last year. I got three volumes from this children's history series called The American Heritage Junior Library. I have 95% of the set but I keep buying them when I see them in nice shape, taking a chance I'm getting one I don't already have. My brother enjoys them too so I give my doubles to him. These things were in the regular non-fiction section of the book sale. As I stood in line I saw much to my chagrin the prices were $4 for a hardcover. I wondered about spending $12 on some books I might already have and briefly considered trying to pass them off as children's books which were only $2 each. When I got the register the lady said "Were these in the children's books section?" I briefly thought about saying yes, but then told her they were in the adult section. She looked at them and said "They look like children's books." I answered, "They do say 'junior' on them." She said "You're right, $6." So I got them cheaper without the associated guilt.
Dead Milkmen Lyrics can be found here.
Quote of the Day:
I never saw my mother, to know her as such, more than four or five times in my life; and each of these times was very short in duration, and at night. She was hired by a Mr. Stewart, who lived about twelve miles from my home. She made her journeys to see me in the night, travelling the whole distance on foot, after the performance of her day's work. She was a field hand, and a whipping is the penalty of not being in the field at sunrise, unless a slave has special permission from his or her master to the contrary--a permission which they seldom get, and one that gives to him that gives it the proud name of being a kind master. I do not recollect of ever seeing my mother by the light of day.
--- Frederick Douglass, Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave. Written by Himself, 1845.
::: posted by tom at 11:54 PM
Wednesday, March 26, 2003 :::
Things I Noticed Today Because I Walked Home Instead of Riding the Bus
1) Servitex Linen Service is no aceptando usos del empleo hoy.
2) Of the eight cars parked in front of the West German Garage Inc., only one was German, and that was a Volkswagon Rabbit.
3) There is a little campsite beneath the bridge over the railroad tracks on Gorman Street.
4) From the bridge over the railroad tracks on Gorman Street you can see three blue shopping carts from the local Food Lion abandoned in the weeds.
5) The busted up pickup truck camper shell in the woods near the railroad tracks isn't going anywhere. Its been there for two years.
6) People are litterbugs.
7) The girl with the "Tiki Hut Bar" t-shirt.
Quote of the Day:
Dear Max --
How about this for a title - For Whom the Bell Tolls A Novel by Ernest Hemingway. I think it has the magic that a title has to have. Maybe it isn't too easy to say. But maybe the book will make it easy. Anyway I have had thirty some titles and they were all possible but this is the first one that has made the bell toll for me. Or do you suppose that people think only of tolls as long distance charges and of Bell as the Bell telephone system? If so it is out. The Tollling of the Bell. No. That's not right. If there is no modern connotation of telephone to throw it off For Whom the Bell Tolls can be a good title I think. Anyway it is what I want to say. And so if it isn't right we will get it right. Meantime you have your provisional title for April 22. Let me hear from you. Best to Charley. Going now to the Jai-Alai to try and make it 21 straight.
Best Always
Ernest
--- Ernest Hemingway to Max Perkins, April 21, 1940.
::: posted by tom at 10:09 PM
My Favorite Comic Book Artists and Links to Their Websites
Berni Wrightson: the master of the macabre and the second comic book artist I became aware of.
Dave Stevens: the king of tease and creator of The Rocketeer.
Joe Kubert: this guy has drawn everything, including Sgt. Rock (of course). The first comic book artist I became aware of.
Jeffrey Jones: former studio-mate and collaborator with Berni, he pretty quickly moved beyond comics.
Michael Kaluta: another great and former studio-mate of Berni and Jeff, along with Barry Smith.
Can't do this without mentioning Jack Kirby, Carl Barks, and Al Williamson.
Quote of the Day:
The unleashed power of the atom has changed everything save our modes of thinking.
--- Albert Einstein, 1964.
::: posted by tom at 12:56 AM
Monday, March 24, 2003 :::
I used to have a job where I sat in a amall room with 1 to 4 other people and answered questions on the phone all day. You get to know your coworker's likes, dislikes, and quirks pretty well. Sometimes it would be one other person and me for three days in a row. The same one other person. We became desperate for diversions and as a result laughed at some pretty stupid shit. Keep that in mind as you read this. Maybe you had to be there.
Stupid Things at Work That Made Me Almost Wet Myself From Laughing, 1st in an Occasional Series:
Big Ed zipping around in a rolling chair, stiff backed and wearing a headset, intoning "Its a trap! That Death Star is fully operational!"
Quote of the Day:
I have often thought that nothing would do more extensive good at small expense than the establishment of a small circulating library in every county, to consist of a few well-chosen books, to be lent to the people of the country under regulations as would secure their safe return in due time.
--- Thomas Jefferson to John Wyche, May 19, 1809
::: posted by tom at 11:50 PM
Sunday, March 23, 2003 :::
Me vs. The Marine Corps Professional Reading Program List
If you read this blog on any kind of regular basis, I think you know I like reading about history and war. I ran across this The Marine Corps Professional Reading Program List courtesy of Metafilter. This is a list of recommended reading for Marines in this program. They are required to read two to four books from the list, depending on their rank, each year. Things like this make me wish I had my own web page, I'd post the whole list and put check marks next to each one as I read them. But not being able to do that, here's a list of books from the list I have read, arranged by which rank is recommended to read them.
Private, PFC, and Lance Corporals
Starship Troopers by Robert Heinlein
Corporal and Sergeant
The Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane
Staff Sergeant, Warrant Officer, and 2nd and 1st Lieutenants
Band of Brothers by Stephen Ambrose
Pegasus Bridge by Stephen Ambrose
The Face of Battle by John Keegan
The Killer Angels by Michael Shaara
The U.S. Constitution by James Madison and others
Gunnery Sergeant, 1st Sergeant, Master Sergeant, Chief Warrant
The Price of Glory: Verdun 1916 by Alistair Horne
The Price of Admiralty: the Evolution of Naval Warfare by John Keegan
Battle Cry of Freedom: the Civil War Era by James McPherson
With the Old Breed at Peleliu and Okinawa by Eugene Sledge
Major and Chief Warrant Officer
Knight's Cross: a Life of Field Marshall Erwin Rommel by David Fraser
Master Gunnery Sergeant, Sergeant Major and Lieutenant Colonel
Obviously I jumped over this rank.
Colonel
A Bridge Too Far by Cornelius Ryan
General
Reached my level of incompentence here.
I've got a lot of reading to do. There's some interesting stuff on the list.
If you're still with me...
Quote of the Day:
The trenches were the concentration camps of the First World War; and though this analogy is what an academic reviewer would call unhistorical, there is something Treblinka-like about almost all accounts of 1 July, about those long docile lines of young men, shoddily uniformed, heavily burdened, numbered about their necks, plodding forward across a featureless landscape to their own extermination behind the barbed wire.
--- John Keegan, The Face of Battle
::: posted by tom at 11:28 PM
They Came For Pics of S-----e M-----x, They Stayed For the Quote of the Day: or, The Last Word on This Crap I Promise
Background, blah, blah.... When I saw I had 25 hits by 10 AM on Saturday morning, I thought something was up. I figured out all the hits came from people all over the world searching the keywords "S-----e M-----x". Only six or so of them include the words "n-ked" and "n-de" I had frivolously put in next the her name. I have since altered the two "n" words lest I be accused of shamelessly pandering for hits.
The whole reason I brought this up again: I noticed when looking at stats for Saturday there were big clusters of hits, like 10 - 15 within 2 minutes. Today I was leaving for work just before 1:30 and went to turn the TV off when Wolf Blitzer shouted "And now we go to the White House with correspondent S-----e M-----x." I paused for a minute and thought, "Heeey, there she is," then turned the TV off and went to work. I got to work about 20 minutes laters and checked the stats and sure enough, there was a big cluster of hits right after 1:30. I was talking about it with a guy at work and I surmised "Do you think people saw her on TV and immediately got up and searched the internet for her?" He said, "Yes, except they didn't get up. They probably rolled across the room in their chair if they even had to move that far."
Coming Soon: Me vs. The U.S. Marine Corps Suggested Reading List
::: posted by tom at 5:07 PM
Friday, March 21, 2003 :::
On the Rampage at the State Archives
As I've said here before, my Preservation class is turning out to be one of the more fun and interesting classes I've taken this semester. Last night we went down to the conservation lab at the State Archives to get some hands-on conservation experience. The lady in charge brought out a bunch of sheriff's warrants or something like that from the 1830's. They were worthless and they planned to get rid of them. The lady said "You're gonna learn how to clean these things, so get 'em dirty." We threw them on the floor and stomped them and scrubbed dirt into them. Could Be A Punk Rock Girl works at a living history farm and she still had her work boots on and they were pretty useful. The conservation lady said most classes were hesistant about mauling these old documents, but we dove in with sadistic glee. After a year and a half of treating stuff like this like gold, it felt good to destroy.
After we scrubbed them with archival eraser bits, we washed them in water and dried them on blotter paper. Then it was time to learn to repair tears, so we ripped them in half and ironed them back together with this special tape stuff. After we got the poor things fixed up we got to encapsulate them in mylar with an ultrasonic welder. History nerds run amok, it was all great fun.
Related News...
Everybody at the State Archives, and a lot of my fellow students, are agog over the return of North Carolina's copy of the Bill of Rights. This is one of only fourteen copies made when the bill was adopted. One for each state and one for the feds. A damn yankee stole it back in 1865 and several times since then folks have tried to sell it back to North Carolina. There's been a display in the archives on the missing Bill of Rights for years, and our archives teacher has been kvetching about it since we've known him. The good news is they busted someone trying to sell it a couple days ago in Pennsylvania and it is on its way home. One account I read estimated the value at $40 million. But its really priceless. Not sure how long the link is good, but you can read a good story on it from the Philadelphia paper here.
Of course lots of jokes like: "Damn, that explains a lot about North Carolina. They didn't know what was in the Bill of Rights. Maybe some things will change around here now."
Quote of the Day:
Nobody but the dead know whether all these things people talk about are worth dying for or not. And the dead can't talk. So the words about noble deaths and sacred blood and honor and such are all put into dead lips by grave robbers and fakes who have no right to speak for the dead. If a man says death before dishonor he is either a fool or a liar because he doesn't know what death is.
--- Dalton Trumbo, Johnny Got His Gun, 1939.
::: posted by tom at 3:59 PM
Wednesday, March 19, 2003 :::
I Matriculate at Moo U: or, On Campus at Cow College
Since N.C. State is a land-grant, state college, it is heavy on the agricultural programs. Today the school lived up to its sometime derisive nickname of Moo U. There is a courtyard behind the library locally known as "The Brickyard." This morning I smelled manure as soon as I got off the bus and began walking to the brickyard.
When I went here as an undergrad in the mid-80s, the brickyard was bigger and more of a center of campus life. It is smaller because they added a wing on to the library, which is fine with me. The brickyard has lost a lot of its charm, sometimes there is an errant Crazy Brickyard Preacher, but that's about it.
No preachers today, but the brickyard was hopping, singing, mooing, bleating, growling, lowing, chirping, and oinking. Alpha Zeta sponsored Ag Awareness Week and that means loading up the brickyard with tractors, cows, goats, pigs, and chickens. A group of students was singing praise Jesus songs and a small gaggle of anti-war protestors vied for our attention, but the baby goats were just too cute.
It was nice, tons of people, lots of stuff to see. It reminded me of the good old days. If the weather had been nicer it would have been perfect. A welcome diversion from crazy preachers and skateboarders with their pants halfway down their asses.
Suzanne Malveaux News
The Suzanne Malveaux hits just keep piling up on this website. I'm not sure what the deal is. I just happened to mention her in connection with a story I told about the space shuttle crash. Yeah, she's kinda cute, like most TV newsladies, but I'm not obsessed with her or anything. Apparently someone is. I noticed if you do a Google search for "Suzanne Malveaux N-ked" or "Suzanne Malveaux N-de" you don't get any hits. But of course, soon you will, welcome to Stumpage Reports.
Quote of the Day:
You hear a couple lines from this quoted a lot, a I just heard a reporter on TV let rip with those two lines a couple minutes ago. I think you can guess which one. Well, no one ever quotes the whole speech, so here it is, courtesy of William Shakespeare:
ANTONY:
O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,
That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!
Thou art the ruins of the noblest man
That ever lived in the tide of times.
Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood!
Over thy wounds now do I prophesy,--
Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips,
To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue--
A curse shall light upon the limbs of men;
Domestic fury and fierce civil strife
Shall cumber all the parts of Italy;
Blood and destruction shall be so in use
And dreadful objects so familiar
That mothers shall but smile when they behold
Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war;
All pity choked with custom of fell deeds:
And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge,
With Ate by his side come hot from hell,
Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice
Cry 'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war;
That this foul deed shall smell above the earth
With carrion men, groaning for burial.
--- William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar, III, i, 254-275, (1599)
::: posted by tom at 10:50 PM
Tuesday, March 18, 2003 :::
Does It Bother the President?
I've been trying to avoid the news the past couple days. But I have become somewhat a connoisseur of White House Press Briefings. Its amazing how many ways Ari Fliesher can say "The President is not going to change his mind." The best reporter is an ornery lady named Helen Thomas who asks these flat-out blunt questions that no other reporters have the guts to ask.
Please look at the classic exchange between her and Mr. Fliesher here. A few samples I've culled myself here:
March 13, 2003
Helen: My point is, why is the President going through this charade of diplomacy when he obviously plans to go to war?
Fleisher: Helen, this is a very serious word, the diplomacy. And the President is carrying it out because he believes in the value of consultations.
March 18, 2003
Helen: Does it bother the President that most of the world is against this war, and half of America?
Fleisher: Helen, this is an issue where you and I will never agree when you state your premise about what the people think.
Helen: This isn't you and I. This is a very legitimate question.
Fleisher: There's a new poll showing --
Other Stuff:
Someone from the Justice Department looked at this web site today.
I've tried to change the tag line on this blog for the last five days and it won't seem to take.
A few weeks ago I mentioned CNN news vixen Suzanne Malveaux in connection with the space shuttle crash. She has now passed Abigal Adams as the Google search that has brought the most people to this page.
Quote of the Day:
In this very attitude did I sit when I called to him, rapidly stating what it was I wanted him to do--namely, to examine a small paper with me. Imagine my surprise, nay, my consternation, when without moving from his privacy, Bartleby in a singularly mild, firm voice, replied, "I would prefer not to."
--- Herman Melville, Bartleby the Scrivener: A Story of Wall Street, 1853
::: posted by tom at 10:37 PM
Monday, March 17, 2003 :::
Quiz Time
Back by popular demand (well, a couple people said they liked it). Are these real articles from the peer reviewed Journal of Popular Culture or complete bullshit I sat here and made up? Answers below.
1) From Minnesota Fat to Seoul Food: Spam in America and the Pacific Rim
2) The Female Eunuch in the Suburbs: Reflections on Adolescence, Autobiography, and History-writing
3) "But It Goes to Eleven": This Is Spinal Tap and The Revelation of St. John the Divine As Seen Through A Jungian Lens
4) The Monster Inside: 19th Century Racial Constructs in the 24th Century Mythos of Star Trek
5) Mandingo in Mayberry: White Power Hegemony and Miscegenation in The Andy Griffith Show
6) I Guess That�s Why They Call it the Blues: Elton John and Transgender Deconstruction
7) The Hilarious Rump: Our Fascination With the Arse in Early Comedic Film
8) �Guns. Lots of guns:� George Bush�s Foreign Policy and the Films of Keanu Reeves
9) Lady Madonna: The Vagina Dentata in the Music of Lennon and McCartney
10) Looking Through a Glass Onion: Rock and Roll as a Modern Manifestation of Carnival
Answers:
Real: 1, 2, 4, 7, 10
Bullshit: 3, 5, 6, 8, 9
Reading:
The Butchers Benevolent Association of New Orleans, Plff. in Err., v. The Crescent City Live-Stock Landing and Slaughter-House Company (1873) in Supreme Court Reporter, 16 Wallace 36.
Quote of the Day:
I remember him as if it were yesterday, as he came plodding to the inn door, his sea-chest following behind him in a handbarrow; a tall, strong, heavy, nut-brown man; his tarry pigtail falling over the shoulders of his soiled blue coat; his hands ragged and scarred, with black, broken nails; and the sabre cut across one cheek, a dirty, livid white. I remember him looking round the cove and whistling to himself as he did so, and then breaking out in that old sea-song that he sang so often afterwards:
"Fifteen men on the dead man's chest-
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!'"
--- Robert Louis Stevenson, Treasure Island, 1883.
::: posted by tom at 9:05 PM
Sunday, March 16, 2003 :::
Odds and Sods
Campus was really dead last week because of spring break, so its really apparent when we have visitors. Friday some group of people with purple jackets were all over campus. The jackets were purple and said something about U.S. Dept. of Agriculture on them and the initials "F.F.A." Future Farmers of America maybe? The kicker was they were all high school girls and had little uniforms on: short skirts and white dress shirts and ties. I don't say that for any particular reason, thats just what was going on on campus last week.
Another job application ready for the National Archives and working on one for the Pennsylvania Historical Society. No one can say I'm not trying. I've been mentally toying with the idea of applying for public library jobs, but an email from an ex-librarian friend put the kibosh on that, for a few days at least. She said "I'm sick and tired of kissing the whining public's ass." My sentiments exactly. Give me the papers of the Mid-Pennsylvania Horticultural Society to arrange and describe, stick me in the basement and leave me the hell alone. Thats the job for me.
Reading:
"The American Civil War as a Constitutional Crisis" by Arthur Bestor. The American Historical Review, January, 1964.
on deck:
"To Begin the Nation Anew: Congress, Citizenship, and Civil Rights after the Civil War" by Robert Kaczorowski, The American Historical Review, February, 1987.
Quote of the Day:
Both read the same Bible, and pray to the same God; and each invokes His aid against the other. It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God's assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men's faces; but let us judge not that we be not judged. The prayers of both could not be answered; that of neither has been answered fully.
--- Abraham Lincoln, Second Inaugural Address, March 4, 1865
::: posted by tom at 9:34 PM
Friday, March 14, 2003 :::
Wandering the Federal Job Web: or, The South Won't Rise Again On My Watch
Today I was wandering the tangle of federal job listings on the internet. I was mostly checking out civilian employment with different branches of the armed forces. While I was there, I wandered over to the CIA and the State Department web sites. I figured if they had a couple historians on their staff, maybe this country wouldn't be in the mess it is now. Of course, they are looking for Arabic speakers, and Mideast and Asia experts. Nothing for 19th and 18th century American historians.
I was thinking though, I could keep my eye on the South for them. All that talk about rising again and everything. The government could put me up in a house along the Battery in Charleston, SC. I could make sure the locals do not try and fortify the batteries ringing Fort Sumter. I've studied a lot about the decades leading to the Civil War and I'm sure I could recognize the signs again. I could keep an eye on C-Span to watch for any northern congressmen being caned. I'd even be willing to go to Richmond, Virginia once in awhile and check out Jefferson Davis's grave at Hollywood Cemetery and make sure there isn't any Boys From Brazil action going on.
I could guarantee the south wouldn't rise again on my watch.
Quote of the Day:
The old woman was nothing special. She was one of the nameless ones that hardly any one knows, but she got into my thoughts. I have just suddenly now, after all these years, remembered her and what happened. It is a story. Her name was Grimes, and she lived with her husband and son in a small unpainted house on the bank of a small creek four miles from town.
--- Sherwood Anderson, Death in the Woods, 1933.
::: posted by tom at 9:43 PM
Thursday, March 13, 2003 :::
The Field
I spent the first twenty years of my life in a small town in Michigan named Clawson. It was a lily-white suburb a little bit north of Detroit. Most of the houses were built in the 40's and 50's, with the most recent development in the late 60's, which included our second house there. The town was all built up except for a small area behind our house. We lived on the only cul-de-sac in the city and the half block or so behind our street consisted of a vacant lot, locally known as "The Field."
I wish I knew the dimensions of the field. It seems HUGE when I think of it now, but it couldn't have been that big. A wide dirt path cut down the middle, north to south. The southwest quadrant consisted a handmade baseball field, basically dirt trails connecting pieces of plywood for bases. The town had really good parks and lotsa ball fields and I don't remember anyone ever actually playing there.
The southeast section was basically a flat field. One time we dug a big hole there, covered it with scrap wood and piled dirt on the top, making ourselves a nice underground hideout until the big kids came and jumped on it and caved it in on us. There was lots of scrap lumber in the field, and every neighbor kid, including me, went to the doctor at least once for a tetanus shot after an encounter with a rusty nail.
The northwest section was known as "The Swamp." This was a pungent slop of water, black mud, and trees. If any treehouses were built, this is where it was done. Occasionaly someone would catch a crawdad in the swamp. That was pretty rare, usually it would bring kids for blocks around to see it. Sometimes our parents banned us from playing in the field, or sometimes we were allowed to play there with the caveat "Stay out of the swamp!"
"The Rockpile" filled up the remaining corner of the field. This was huge pile of busted cement slabs. They were piled in such a way that a little cave was formed in the middle. Sometimes there were empty beer bottles in the cave.
The whole field was a site of many snake-catching, hair-raising, and arm-busting adventures. I always wanted to live in the country when I was a kid and am thankful I had this little piece of dirt behind our house. When I was around 13 or 14 they began to build apartments there. We constantly went out and pulled up the surveyor's stakes, but to no avail. Of course, the construction site was good for lots of adventures too.
Quote of the Day:
Being on our march the fifteenth day of July and destitute of all kinds of eatables, just at night I observed a cheese in a press before a farmer's door, and we being about to halt for the night, I determined to return after dark and lay seige to it; but we went further than I expected before we halted, and a smart shower of rain with thunder happening at that time, the cheese escaped.
--- Joseph Plumb Martin, Private Yankee Doodle: Being a Narrative of Some of the Adventures, Dangers and Sufferings of a Revolutionary Soldier, 1830
::: posted by tom at 9:56 PM
Tuesday, March 11, 2003 :::
Movin' On Up With the N.C.F.F.
I have about 3 or 4 levels of migraine headaches I could talk about, but I won't. Instead, and this is an intro to my main point, I'll describe the three types of recoveries from migraines that I have:
1) the headache was so bad I had to take some medicine and I pray to God I don't have to be anywhere in the next three hours and my whole day is fucking shot.
2) the headache is just regular bad and I don't take any medicine and sit there and suffer. the headache either goes away or...
3) I reach the point where it is better but still hurts like hell and I gotta go do something.
Today was a 3 and I went into work at the University Archives about 1 PM. I was sitting there trying to dig a rusty staple out of a crumbling stack of financial statements from the 1940s while it felt like a wad of rusty staples was in my forehead trying to give birth.
The front desk guy was listening to the T.V. themes station on Spinner and he started dancing and singing to The Jefferson's theme, "Movin On Up." This guy is kind of obnoxious even when he breathes, I just sat there thinking "I died on I-40 last night and this is hell."
Speaking of I-40...
Last night I drove up to Chapel Hill and met Big Ed and Michaelspasm for dinner at Mama Dip's, where we hoisted glasses of sweet tea in honor of absent friends. They were in town for some indie rock show. To give you an idea of the level of socratic discourse that prevailed that night, here's a quick exchange we had in Harris Teeter. Big Ed's request followed by 'spasm and me's imitation of the hapless clerk:
Big Ed: Where's the chapped lips and diarrhea section?
Michaelspasm: What the hell have you two been doing?
Chavez: Maybe you two can help each other out.
Everyone: Ewwww!
All in all a good time was had by all. I'm amazed the three of us worked together as long as we did without getting fired.
Quote of the Day:
So Roger Chillingworth -- a deformed old figure, with a face that haunted men's memories longer than they liked -- took leave of Hester Prynne, and went stooping away along the earth.
--- Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Scarlet Letter, 1849
::: posted by tom at 9:47 PM
Monday, March 10, 2003 :::
In Search of Blackbeard's Head: or, A Drive to Beautiful Eastern North Carolina
(all photos linked to may not be geographicaly accurate)
Saturday morning I hit the road with the Lady I Can't Think of a Nickname For and we began to make our way to Bath, North Carolina. Bath is a cool place, it was the first town in North Carolina, about 200 people live there now, and Blackbeard the Pirate lived there for awhile. It is also the place they brought Blackbeard's head after they killed him.
Of course we went through lots of little towns on the way, like Washington (1st town named for George Washington!), Grimesland, and Chocowinity.
I just love those little towns in eastern N.C. Usually on the outskirts will be some kind of cinderblock building that has burned down. If the town is especially prosperous, there will be a pre-fab metal building that sells tractors and farm supplies. Of course there is always a decrepit gas station, sometimes falling down and sometimes being used as something else. Then there's usually some non-descript industrial buildings that you can't tell if they are abandoned or not. There is always downtown. Sometimes the downtown is really shabby and post-apocalyptic and sometimes they are fixed up nice with antique malls and good, local, non-chain restaurants.
All in all a good trip. We hit a few antique malls, walked through some 18th century houses and churches, had lunch and dinner, and saw lots of cool scenery.
I really need to get a digital camera.
Quote of the Day:
The great noise increased, beating of wings in the air. More dead men: a long neat line of dead, like a shattered fence. And now the canister, oh God, he shuddered, millions of metal balls whirring through the air like startled quail, murderous quail, and now for the first time there was screaming, very bad sounds to hear.
--- Michael Shaara, Killer Angels
::: posted by tom at 1:10 PM
Friday, March 07, 2003 :::
History Students Gone Wild: Spring Break Approaches
Last night I finished typing nine pages on a mid-term exam for Constitutional History and handed in a short paper for my Preservation class. Spring break officialy starts for me at 12:10. The first thing I will probably do is go to work.
The Lady I Can't Think of a Nickname For is coming into town this afternoon. Tomorrow we will probably head east and go to Bath, North Carolina and other places around there.
Last week I had a book review published in the North Carolina Historical Review. About 30 seconds after it came out I got an email from my advisor saying he enjoyed reading the review and then he pointed out a mistake in it. It was a pretty careless mistake on my part. The book is The Southern Dream of a Caribbean Empire, 1854-1861 by Robert May, and I heartily recommend it.
This weekend is the gala celebration for the centennial of the NC Office of Archives and History. The book I did photo research for last summer will debut this weekend too. Reserve your copies now.
UVA Debutant Girl got an interview at Monticello. I applied for the same job and don't hear my damn phone ringing. She told me about a similiar job working on the Papers of James Madison. I checked the job posting last night and the application deadline was February 28th. Grrr. I'm still practicing saying "Hello, Wake County Library, can I help you? Sure I'll waive those fines, I don't want any trouble."
Quote of the Day:
Whoever has made a voyage up the Hudson must remember the Kaatskill mountains. They are a dismembered branch of the great Appalachian family, and are Seen away to the west of the river, swelling up to a noble height, and lording it over the surrounding country. Every change of season, every change of weather, indeed, every hour of the day, produces some change in the magical hues and shapes of these mountains, and they are regarded by all the good wives, far and near, as perfect barometers.
--- Washington Irving, Rip Van Winkle, 1819
::: posted by tom at 9:55 AM
Thursday, March 06, 2003 :::
Remembering the Ladies: Abigal Adams and Google
In a previous blog I ran as the "Quote of the Day" a letter from Abigal Adams asking her husband John to "remember the ladies" as the founding dead white guys were drafting the Declaration of Independence. Where I come from, that thing is quoted all the time, and I just hauled it out because I couldn't think of anything else. Plus I think its kind of cool.
Well, looking at my blog statistics, I've been getting a hell of a lot of Google and Yahoo hits off of different word combinations like: Abigal Adams remember the ladies, Abigal Adams remember the ladies picture, picture of John and Abigal Adams, etc etc. Well, I hope I've been able to help these folks, and I believe I have since I always cite my sources.
If you're looking for a picture of Abigal Adams "remember the ladies" letter, you won't find it here or here or here. But you will find it here.
There is a nice article on the letter, and a discussion of where Abby was getting her radical ideas from, in the October 1999 issue of The William and Mary Quarterly, (that's volume 56, number 4, pages 745 - 774). I don't think you can get it online unless you're at an institution with access to Jstor.
I think one reason people are so interested in that letter is because it is a rare (I think) occasion of one of the Founding Mothers voicing some political opinions, and ones a lot of people today can agree with. I'm not sure if there are many similiar surviving letters from any of the other dead white ladies. I think I smell another feature for Michaelspasm.
Quote of the Day:
The air was thick with the war feeling, like the electricity of a storm which has not yet burst.
--- William Dean Howells, Editha, 1905.
::: posted by tom at 1:32 AM
Tuesday, March 04, 2003 :::
The Fate of Teddy Bears Lost at NCSU
The bus route I ride to class most days takes me past the campus motor pool, which includes all the maintenance buildings. Basically, the ass end of the university. Amidst this blue-collar jumble is a large cement platform onto which the garbage trucks drive so they can dump their trash in a big dumpster / compactor contraption.
The cement platform is surrounded on three sides by a chain-link fence. As we drove by it today, I noticed a large teddy bear stuck into the holes in the fence with his nose and arms. I pictured a burly, stogie chompin' garbage man catching sight of teddy as it drew towards the maw of the compactor. Stogie chompin' garbage man saved teddy from a millenia in the landfill and stuck him on the fence so he could watch the cars pass by.
Related Material...
When I was a little kid, like 5 or 6, my parents took me to a race at the Michigan Speedway. I left a teddy bear there and didn't notice until we were almost all the way home. My parents did not want to turn around and they assured me a race car driver had picked up teddy and he would get to become a race car driver. I still believe that.
Thinking about all of the above, reminded me of a painting by one of my favorite artists, Michael Kaluta. The painting is The Fate of Dollies Lost in Dreams. To me that painting shows he is one of those artists still plugged into what it feels like to be a kid. I mean that in a good way, not in a sick Michael Jackson kinda way.
Quote of the Day:
In the morning there was a big wind blowing and the waves were running high up on the beach and he was awake a long time before he remembered that his heart was broken.
--- Ernest Hemingway, Ten Indians
::: posted by tom at 9:50 PM
Monday, March 03, 2003 :::
Bonus A.M. Entry
My job-hunting travails don't even begin to equal those of Hopper, but I may be looking to him for inspiration in the coming months. I just got my second "don't call us we'll call you" response in addition to my one "you're not qualified" answer. This week I will mail material to the Massachusetts Historical Society for a job I have no hope of getting.
My mind can travel pretty far in just a few seconds, and this morning after getting the latest "no" answer, I was trying to mentally wrap my brain around working for the local public library again. For about 80 seconds I was seriously considering applying for a National Archives job in Anchorage, Alaska. Even to the point of plugging some figures into the salary calculator.
The fact I would not have the money to move out there, let alone live once I got there, discouraged me more than anything.
Maybe I need to practice saying "Wake County library, can I help you? Sure, I'll waive those fines, I don't want any trouble."
::: posted by tom at 9:35 AM
Sunday, March 02, 2003 :::
Bull City Photograph Tour Part II
Like I said in a previous blog, I drove up to Durham the other night with UVA Debutant Girl and Could Be A Punk Rock Girl. Its funny, they don't know anything about my blog or their blog nicknames, but they were thinking up some pretty good ones themselves. They talked about Russian History Boy and Inappropriate Homeless Guy. Those are names they thought up, I had nothing to do with it.
There are about 10 people in the class of '03. There's some other folks that take a class or two a semester that started when we did, but we all started at the same time and will finish the same time. There's one other guy and then this whole giggle of girls. We all get along pretty good and no one is a real idiot. I sit there and think these girls are cute and wonder about asking them out and they probably sit there and think "Tom is such an old fart he's probably safe for us to hang around." UVA Debutant Girl referred to some guy who was at least thirty.
We all decided everyone in our class is pretty smart, the class before us had some real morons in it, and we're not sure about the class that started last fall. We also joked about how by mid-April if we don't have jobs we'll all be applying at The History Factory.
One thing made me feel good. UVA Debutant Girl had just passed her oral exams and said a paper I wrote for Historical Writing class last spring was mentioned during her exam, in a good way. The paper was called "Memoranda on the Mammoth: Jefferson, Buffon, and the North American Pachyderm." I'm glad that came up, I'd been wondering how I was going to work that title into my blog.
Some of the Goofier Search Words People Have Used to Find This Site:
gay blue jeans
witchcraft stores near sullivan city
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pictures of people with mohawks
slaves by the last name kirby
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Quote of the Day:
The Declaration of Independence contains a long list of crimes committed by King George III. Here is a part of that list, which was cut out of the final draft of the Declaration. In Jefferson's recollection, "it was struck out in complaisance to South Carolina and Georgia."
The Declaration of Independence, uncut...
"He [the king] has waged cruel war against human nature itself, violating its most sacred rights of life and liberty in the persons of a distant people who never offended him, captivating & carrying them into slavery in another hemisphere, or to incur miserable death in their transportation thither. This piratical warfare, the opprobrium of INFIDEL powers, is the warfare of the CHRISTIAN king of Great Britain. Determined to keep a open market where MEN should be bought & sold, he has prostituted his negative for suppressing every legislative attempt to prohibit or restrain this execrable commerce."
--- Thomas Jefferson, draft of The Declaration of Independence, June 28, 1776
::: posted by tom at 10:34 PM
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