Reflective Ruminations, by Fletcher Dodge

Archeologists have learned that the whole "Pharaoh is a living god" thing was just a big pyramid scheme.

Well, if that's the way the blog wind blows…

So, don't like the the old tried and true New Year's Resolutions, eh?

Gotta be all "progressive" and try to "start something new" eh?

"Tell you what, we’ll just create one, call it the Flashback meme: post your last sentence from the last post for each month of 2011."

Well, if that's the way the blog winds blow, then never let it be said that I don't blow.

Jan: What did I miss? How do you think we'll get our comeuppance?

Feb: The post-modern alt-pop-blues-folk singer-songwriter, not the Fox News crybaby.

Mar: I know we use some pretty big words, but try to follow along.

Apr: You may have heard of it. It was in the news and everything.

May: I did record video of the meeting, and it's pretty damn entertaining if I do say so my damn self.

Jun: I've got some ideas, just not the concurrent time and motivation.

Jul: Given the local temperatures around here lately caused by an infernal Heat Dome, I thought this brief synopsis of Dante's Inferno seemed apropos.

Aug: As a parent, I'm just flipping the script on them. Using the same kind of marketing tactics to trick my kids into eating something less unhealthy.

Sep: Word up Mr. P!

Oct: But I think the biggest affect this unusually vivid dream on me has been that I no longer have much of an appetite for sushi.

Nov: (Sorry, I wasn't feeling particularly bloggy this month. But I guess even choosing not to say anything is saying something, right?)

Dec: -- Patricia Highsmith (New Year’s Eve Toast, 1947)

tagged: blog, meme, New Year, review, 2011, quote

As Seen in Kansas: The Western Home

One of the truths that I hold to be self-evident is that places aren't boring, people are.

As a life-long Kansan maybe that's just some kind of defense mechanism. But I've traveled a fair bit both domestically and abroad, and I find that no place it boring as long as you're curious.

Take, for example, the middle of nowhere.

It would be tempting to look at a flat, mostly blank spot on the map, such as Smith County, Kansas, (the entire population of which numbers fewer than the available parking spaces where I work) and conclude that there can't possibly be anything of interest there.

But with a good guide and sincere curiosity, I've found that even such places as these have interesting nuggets to yield. And, to steal a line from Bill Cosby, if you're not careful, you might learn something.

One of the nuggets of interest we checked out on our recent visit there was a small, ancient cabin in the woods.

The cabin, of basic construction and even more basic amenity, is notable for it's original occupant, Dr. Brewster Higley, né Brewster Martin Higley VI, a homesteader originally from Ohio.

Higley's primary claim to fame is a poem he wrote in 1873 after moving to the Kansas prairie and building cabin by a small creek. The poem was called The Western Home, and it so captured life on a pioneer homestead that it was set to music and became a popular folk song.


The Kansas Legislature adopted it as the official state song in 1947.


The cabin, as it stands today, in the midst of a wild cannabis grove near a wooded creek, has been reinforced with stone, cement and angle iron. There is also a gigantic circular saw blade that I'm pretty sure wasn't part of the original structure.


But much of the original log structure is still there. You can see axe marks in the wood and the rusty square nails from the era.


It's difficult to imagine being the original occupant of this house. Indeed, most people these day's have nicer garden sheds. I'm fairly certain that nobody today would be inspired to think of "home" given a life in these accommodations. The interior has barely room for a single mattress, let alone a queen sized bed. The "kitchen" consisted of a small, camp-sized wood-burning stove and the air conditioning was provided by half-inch gaps between the logs (though I assume these were patched when people were actually living here).

I guess it's possible that Dr. Higley's poem may have been more aspirational than inspirational — not so much an ode to his little hovel, more of a longing for something nicer. Still, it's impressive to consider the hardy folk like Dr. Higley (and perhaps more impressively, Mrs. Dr. Higley) who chose this lonely, primitive lifestyle in pursuit of their American dream.

tagged: Kansas, Smith County, Brewster Higley, cabin, Home on the Range, pioneer

Don't know much about history…

Say what you will about the new Netflix pricing changes/fiasco, they still have some really good, not to mention educational, video content.

The other night I logged in through our Wii to watch a fascinating documentary about ancient Persia. And while I still believe our civilization is accelerating downward and that my kids will probably be the last generation to truly benefit from the heights we've reached, these heights are really impressive.

The shear amount of information and analysis that is at our fingertips is mind boggling. Just a few watts of power and a half dozen click was enough to bring up an extensive 2-hour program about a little known chapter in the long history of ancient Persia.

The documentary, narrated by Hollywood's hunky Jake Gyllenhaal, told the story about a Persian king and his efforts to keep his family together, build a dynasty and thwart schemes and coup attempts by those who would usurp his throne.

This fascinating history isn't something we covered in World History back in high school.

At the center of the king's efforts to maintain control of his empire was a magical dagger that could give its wielder control over the flow of time itself!

Needless to say, I was blown away by the amazing historical account and by the fact that very few people in our increasingly superficial country are even aware of these events.

But what blew me away even more was the revelation that people in ancient Persia spoke a language and dialect that sounds almost exactly like English spoken with a fake British accent.

I know what you're thinking, you would expect a Persian accent, or maybe something that sounded like a Greek accent or something. But no, it's a British accent that all the ancient people seem to have.

Amazingly, it's the same dialect that was spoken by Senators, Legionaries and gladiators during the Ancient Roman empire and by the Pharaohs and Jewish leaders of the Ancient Egyptian dynasties.

I tell you, the more I learn about history, the more amazing it is.


tagged: Netflix, movie, Prince of Persia, history, Gladiator, Egypt, Jake Gyllenhaal

Random Photo XXXVII: Liberty Memorial

We hit up the Liberty Memorial and the National World War I Museum last weekend. We really enjoyed ourselves, though we didn't allot enough time to tour the museum. Unfortunately, it closes at 5:00 and we didn't get there until around 3:30 p.m. An hour and a half sounds like a good amount of time, but not when you consider all there is to see.

One thing we made a priority was a trip to the top of the Liberty Memorial. That's where I snapped this shot looking down at the plaza 217 feet below.

You can tell that it was late after noon by the quality of light and the length of the tower's shadow. I also shot a pic of the tower from the bunker museum below.

If you haven't visited the WWI Museum/Liberty Memorial in a while, I highly suggest you make it an item on one of your weekend itineraries.

tagged: random, photo, Kansas City, Liberty Memorial, World War I, museum, history

Day at the museum

Our family celebrated Mother's Day on Sunday with a trip to one of the best cultural attractions in the metro area.

The Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art was hoppin'. A lot of people had the same idea. It was a bit gloomy outside on a cool and breezy day, but not too bad to go out and enjoy a nice walk though the Nelsen's sculpture park.

But the art and attractions in the museum were shining. We arrived around 2 p.m. and it was already busy with crowds of people showing up to view the amazing modern art in the new Bloch Building. One of my favorite pieces was Mark Rothko's Untitled No. 11, 1963, a piece (as most Rothkos are) that must be seen in person to fully appreciate.

One of the proudest moments for me was when we were browsing through the European art galleries when my 7-year-old daughter, an aspiring artist herself, recognized and named the Claude Monet painting.

Undoubtedly, most patrons came to museum on Sunday for the opening of the newly renovated Egyptian Galleries.

Kansas City welcomes Meretites! Exciting new Egyptian galleries will feature an elaborate and complete funerary assemblage from the tomb of a 2,300-year-old noblewoman, Meretites, which translated means Beloved by her Father.

Visitors will have the rare opportunity to view a spectacular inner coffin and outer coffin from middle Egypt, both decorated with hieroglyphics and images of gods and goddesses. The collection includes a gilded mask and protective body plates, plus intricately carved blue and green figurines called shabtis, which were intended as workers in the afterlife.

Their website says there was a fee to view the new gallery, but they didn't charge us anything. We gladly mad a donation since, again, this is an incredibly worthy local attraction.

I didn't get a picture of the mummy in the new display. Too dark, and I didn't want to use my flash.

But I did get a shot of this 2200-year-old Assyrian relief...It's a image of a winged genie fertilizing a date tree and is inscribed with cuneiform markings telling about the conquests of Assyrian monarch Ashurnasirpal II of Nimrud.

With the weather going into a cloudy/rainy pattern, I highly recommend you make a trip to the Nelson and reacquaint yourself with the great collections. Maybe even buy yourself a membership...

tagged: art, museum, Nelson-Atkins, Egyptian, Assyrian, Mark Rothko, Claude Monet, Mother's Day, Kansas City

As seen in Kansas: Fr. Kapaun Memorial

Catholic leadership has been taking a lot of heat recently, and rightfully so. You can't give tacit (or even blatant) approval to pedophilia without getting some pretty serious backlash.

People just aren't going to put up with it. Nobody should.

I'm not Catholic, and I'm not going to make any excuses for any of that stuff. But I do think it's important to point out that there are a lot of people, Catholic and otherwise, that have contributed a lot of good to the world.

One person in particular was Father Emil Kapaun, a Korean War hero from the tiny Kansas hamlet of Pilsen.

Kapaun was the son of Czech immigrants, grew up on a small Kansas farm and graduated from Conception Abbey seminary college north of Kansas City.

He was serving as an Army chaplain in Korea when his army unit was overrun by a Chinese invasion force. Rather than retreating with the main Army force, he stayed behind with his battalion, ministering to wounded and giving medical aide.

Eventually, Kapaun and about 40 soldiers found themselves huddled in a trench surrounded by hundreds of Chinese. To the soldiers, who had heard rumors of the Chinese "take no prisoners" policy, surrender was suicide. But with the mortar rounds falling, Kapaun worked with a captured Chines officer to negotiate a surrender. He risked being shot in the back to stop the execution of wounded American soldiers at the hands of the Chinese.

Soldiers who survived the Chinese attack say Kapaun's negotiation and bravery is responsible for saving the lives of 40 men that day.

In the North Korean POW camp, Kapaun made it his duty to ministered to the other prisoners and keep up their morale. There are many accounts of him giving up his food rations and other personal items to fellow prisoners.

He died of exhaustion and pneumonia in the POW camp at the age of 35.

The Army awarded Kapaun the Distinguished Service Cross, and there is currently a bill in Congress to award Kapaun the Medal of Honor, the highest military decoration awarded by the United States government.

The Catholic Church declared Kapaun a Servant of God, and he has become a candidate for sainthood. If his canonization is approved, he will be only the third Catholic saint to be born in the United States.

In his hometown of Pilson, Kapaun is memorialized in a bronze statue depicting him helping a wounded soldier off the battlefield. There are also many schools, Army bases and chapels and other sites named in his honor throughout the state, country and even the world.

tagged: Kansas, history, Pilsen, Emil Kapaun, Korea, war, hero

As seen in Kansas: The final resting place of Fokker Niner Niner Easy

A week ago today, and 79 years, the coach stood frustrated at Kansas City Municipal Airport after missing a reunion with his two sons. He boarded the plane to California, there to consult on a movie commemorating his career, and would never see his sons again.

A few hours later, Knute Rockne and five other passengers and two crewmen of the Fokker 999E plummeted into the Kansas prairie and were killed instantly.

By some early accounts, a freak storm caused the plane to crash. Those of us who've lived in Kansas for a couple of years wouldn't doubt it, especially in that era of aviation. But further investigation concluded that the crash was caused by the catastrophic failure of a wing strut on the Fokker 10AF Trimotor plane.

Regardless of the cause, the result was a scorched spot in the Kansas Flint Hills. You can imagine what it must have been like for the first people on the scene. Weather probably much like today's weather. Cool morning, moist grass. The smell of gasoline and hot oil hanging in the air.

It was a rather gruesome tourist attraction for weeks. Kansans from the area, unfortunately, had little respect for the deceased or for Rockne's surviving sons, 14-year old Billy and 12-year-old Knute Jr., who had returned that day to Pembroke Hill School in Kansas City after an Easter vacation in Florida. Newspapers reported people slogging their way through muddy fields to the crash site to walk away with various chunks of debris as grisly souvenirs -- a chunk of rubber from the plane's tire or a piece of its rudder. There's even one account of a person claiming to have found a gold tooth at the crash the site.

In the years since, the sensation of the incident has worn off and the site has been treated with more respect. A small, tasteful memorial on the site has been maintained for decades by Easter Heatherman who, at the age of 13, was one of the first people to arrive at the crash to render aide. And the Matfield Green travel center along I-35 also has an exhibit commemorating the accident.

While tragic, the resulting investigation into the crash revealed a flaw in the wing spars caused by moisture weakening the wood laminate. All US airlines at the time were forced to ground their Fokker FA10s and many were discovered to have the same flaw. No doubt many more lives were saved.

Also, the intense public interest in the accident forced the Aeronautics Branch of the US Department of Commerce (forerunner of today's FAA) to abandon its policy of keeping the results of aircraft accident investigations secret.

tagged: Kansas, Knute Rockne, Fokker, airplane, crash, Flint Hills, Matfield Green

Beating up Bill

It probably shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone that the anniversary of the Bill of Rights was a couple of days ago and nobody noticed.

In a more rational time in our history, our country's founding fathers were more concerned about the corrupting influence of governmental power than they were with making sure there were no performance enhancing drugs in baseball. Because of this rational concern one of the first and most important things our federal legislature did was pass a set of constitutional amendments aimed strictly at limiting government power.

It was a great idea. Unfortunately, they forgot to include an 11th amendment that went something like "No, really. We really mean it. You can't do the stuff that these first 10 amendments say you can't do. Really. Seriously, just stop it."

With a complicit congress, our last few presidents have done a pretty good job of telling Bill of Rights to sod off. Let's review, shall we?

1. Free speech – Today you can be thrown in jail for videotaping your sister's birthday, or fined into poverty for endorsing a product on your blog. Hurray for free speech!
   
   
2. Bear arms – In a lot of places, you can still legally own a gun (at least for another year or two). Of course, "bearing" it will usually get you tossed in jail. Or worse.
   
   
3. No quartering – This is probably the only right that Americans still have intact. 1 for 3! Huzzah!
   
   
4. No unreasonable search – Oh sure, but what's a little domestic spying among comrades?
   
   
5. Due process – I guess you could say that the city of New London, Conn., went through due process before condemning, confiscating, and destroying Suzette Kelo's home at the request of a large pharmaceutical corporation. Of course, you would totally be wrong despite what the Supreme Court says.
   
   And don’t even get me started on the whole red light camera scam.
   
   
6. Speedy trial – I wonder what the kind gentlemen at Guantanamo Bay would say about this.
   
   
7. Civil trial by jury – With the low level of education in this country, I'm not so sure this is a right you would want to exercise. Besides, with the country simultaneously becoming both a police state and a nanny state, this one probably won't last long.
   
   
8. No cruel punishment – Well, unless you happen to be a "enemy combatant."
   
   
9. Rights not enumerated – Just to review, the founders were saying that, just because we're layin' it down that we have these rights in these 10 amendments, don't assume that we don't also have other rights that we haven't mentioned. Like, maybe, the right to keep the money we earn at our jobs.
   
   
10. Powers of States and people – Again to review, the founders are saying that if the Constitution doesn't say the Federal government can do something, then the Federal government can't do it. For example, neither the constitution nor any of the amendments thereof mention anything about spending $650 million to make sure everyone has a digital television converter box.

So, can we just stop referring to America as a democracy? Or even a democratic republic? I don't know what we are, but it's pretty clear the constitution has about as much authority anymore as an Bannister Mallcop.

tagged: Bill of Rights, America, Constitution, Founding Fathers, democracy, history, government

A pink carnation and a pickup truck

I'm going to my high school class reunion this weekend, (yes, there was a time when I had class). To mark the occasion I thought I'd take a little stroll down Amnesia Lane and pull this story out of the dusty archives of my past life for your entertainment.

It was the spring of 1989, a completely different time in America. We were euphoric as the Berlin Wall was torn down and democracy erupted and was then crushed in Tienanmen Square.

Gasoline still cost less than a dollar a gallon despite Capt. Hazelwood dumping a bajillion gallons of crude oil into Alaska's Prince William Sound. TV audiences were introduced to a comical animated family known as The Simpsons, and Milli Vanilli had lip-synced their way into our hearts with with Girl You Know It's True.

In Smallville, Kansas, that clear spring evening, we had just finished the formal dinner portion of our prom. Dressed to the nines in tuxes and gowns, we were making our way across town to the sock up in the school gymnasium. But first, nearly every kid in school hopped into a car for the traditional main street cruise.

I'd borrowed dad's car for the evening. My date, Samantha, was riding shotgun and our friend Andie was in the back seat. We were full of smiles and laughter and youth as we cruised the streets jammed with broken heroes on a last-chance power drive. Windows down, radio blasting, waiving and yelling at friends in passing cars as the cool spring air blew through our hair. There was only the now.

We'd completed a circuit of the Main Street cruise and pulled into the convenience store parking lot to do a U-turn and another lap.

The next few seconds were strange, because they seemed to happen in slow-motion and at hyper speed at the same time. I had been waiting for an opening in the heavy traffic to make the right-hand turn back onto Main. When I saw the opening I quickly accelerated into the street. At the same time some unknown traffic obstruction down the street caused a sudden domino affect of seven or eight cars breaking in quick succession.

The result was that the car in front of me hit the breaks just as I hit the accelerator. The result of that was severe front end damage to my dad's car -- so severe that it was undrivable.

So prom night, dressed up, cruising main, smashed up car -- my life had become a John Hughes movie.

It took an hour or so to get everything taken care of, make sure nobody's hurt, clear the street, call my parents, try to explain -- eventually I made my way with my best friend (shout out WT!) to the prom dance. I don't really remember much from the dance, except for the drama between Andie and Blane (it was good to see Blane stand up to his snobby friends, but sheesh, Andie has to make everything about her).

The PTA sponsored an after-prom party (strictly non-alcoholic, thank you very much) which I went to since I was now hitching a ride with my friend Cameron Frye and his date. It was a good enough time, snacks, dancing, movies and stuff.

But what sticks out are the door prizes. Every 20 minutes or so they would have a drawing for a door prize, a gift card for local restaurants for example -- one of my friend even won one of those cool newfangled Compact Disc players.

Well in a final ironic kick in the metaphorical crotch, my number was called for one of the door prizes. What did I win? I'm glad you asked.

It was a gift card for $50 worth of gas a the local convenience store.

tagged: prom night, car crash, ironic, High School, John Hughes, reunion, Hazelwood

Land of the slightly free and the home of the indebted

In our ongoing social/civic/economic discussion, Xavier Onassis, my second cousin twice removed and head of the International Organization of Bald Guys with Sunglasses and Goatees (IBGSG for short), made some valid points showing how the Obama administration is pushing our country closer to what the Founding Fathers had in mind.

The current administration is ...making the painful and expensive, but necessary, investment into the social, legal, political, and physical infrastructure that facilitate our pursuit of the ideals that this country was founded on. ...With Obama at the helm, America may finally become the country it has always aspired to be.

And I can't see how anyone could argue these points.

I mean, the evidence is everywhere. Just look at the domestic spying bill Obama and his Democrats (and Republicans) have continually supported. It hearkens back to the "Spying on our own people is totally cool" clause of the U.S. Constitution written way back in 1787.

Then, of course, there's the babillion dollars we've spent bailing out businesses that, by all rights, should have been buried years ago. This is consistent with Thomas Jefferson's line in the Declaration of Independence where he writes "When in the course of screwing the country out of billions of dollars it becomes necessary to give those parties trillions more dollars for even more screwing activities..."

Also, I know all of the Founding Fathers were big supporters of huge taxes. They all believed that U.S. citizens should pay at least 55% of their annual incomes to the government, which they in turn believed should be the largest employer in the country. This was demonstrated by the Boston Tea Party, where patriots dumped boxes full of Tetley into Boston Harbor because they thought taxes were waaaaaaay too low.

Finally, the Founding Fathers were all about Americans sacrificing liberty for the illusion of security. I think it was Ben Franklin who wrote "If we restrict freedom to attain security, we will totally be able to raise taxes have huge inaugural balls and people will still kiss our asses."

So yes, XO. If the Founding Fathers were alive today, they probably wouldn't have their own blogs trying to call attention to the absurdity that our federal government has become.

tagged: government, Constitution, founding fathers, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin, Obama

YouTube Tuesday: Cinco de YouTube

In honor of taking the day off (I wish) and drinking lots of Mexican cerveza and refusing to refer to it as "Mexican Flu" -- here's a quickie YouTube history lesson for you.



tagged: YouTube, Cinco De Mayo, Mexico, video, RocketBoom, history

Don't turn around, uh-oh

KCMeesha today has a fascinating post about the revisionist propaganda and photographic falsification employed by the post-revolution USSR.

The post includes a discussion of the book “The Commissar Vanishes” and some very interesting photos.

In fact, the photos were so interesting that it prompted me to do my own ad-hoc internet photo search. I was amazed by what I found.

Evidently, our Russian friend is not only the sole survivor of Lenin's core braintrust, he's also some kind of Jewish/Russian/American Highlander.


tagged: Russian, Lenin, photo, photoshop, The Commissar Vanishes

As seen in Kansas: Road less traveled

Sometimes those interesting historical footnotes are hiding right under your, well, feet. And it only takes an afternoon walk on fine midwinter's day to discover them.

I must have driven past this historical marker a million times before actually seeing it in my own neighborhood.

It denotes the crossing of the old Ft. Leavenworth and Ft. Scott Military Road -- not that it means much to the modern pilots of SUVs and minivans that now zip by at about 40 miles per hour today.

Ft. Leavenworth-Ft.Scott Military Road? All I knew was what I could infer from the context. Obviously it was a road used by the military to get from Ft. Leavenworth to Ft. Scott. Seems simple enough.

But I thought there must be more to the story, or else why put up a sign? So I did a quick Google search.

According to this detailed and lengthy (if somewhat dry) account from the Kansas State Historical Society, the need for the road arose in the early to mid-1800s as the U.S. pushed the indigenous Indian populations into the "Indian territories" -- what today is Kansas and Oklahoma.

This was back before the residents of Missouri had to worry about fighting to keep their slaves from being freed by those pesky Kansans.

Back then, they were more worried about the Choctaw, Shawnee and Cherokee who might have felt a bit peeved, a bit miffed about being forcibly removed from their native lands after passage of the Indian Removal Act of 1830.

So starting in about 1835 there was strong congressional interest in building a road along the then western edge of the United States from Iowa to Arkansas that would act as a kind of border that the U.S. Army could patrol.

By 1842 with the establishment of Ft. Scott, the military road was pretty much completed.

The road was heavily used by military and commercial interest and was important as the only direct route from Iowa to Arkansas and Texas.

But it didn't take long for westward expansion to leave it behind.

As the frontier advanced westward the importance of Fort Scott decreased. In 1852 present Fort Riley was established as Camp Center on the Kansas river at what was thought to be the head of navigation of that stream. The following year Fort Scott was abandoned.

The military road, however, continued for several years to be an important highway. In 1854 Kansas became a territory and a law enacted by the first Kansas territorial legislature (meeting in 1855) stated: "The road as now located and opened from Fort Leavenworth to Fort Scott, known as the military road, is hereby declared a territorial road." Within this decade other highways, came to be more traveled. Only a few landmarks can be pointed out today as marking the route of the old Western military road in Kansas.

Related:
Atomic Cannon
The Answer My friend

tagged: history, Kansas, Native American Indians, Ft. Leavenworth, Ft. Scott, military, Missouri

Remembrance: Greg Hawley

This morning's sad news proved that my self-imposed protective media shield isn't impermeable to all of the mass media's messages.

Reading that Greg Hawley was killed the other day really struck a chord with me.

Sure it's sad anytime you hear of someone's death, especially if the death is random and meaningless (as most are).

But Hawley's death seems to me a particular loss to the community.

I had several occasions to meet Hawley, once when I was profiling him and his museum for a local fishwrap and again when I was visiting the museum for fun with the family.

I don't claim to be a friend of his. He certainly wouldn't know me from any of the other thousands of slightly bald, slightly pudgy suburbanites. But I was and am a great admirer of what he and his family have done.

Here's a little background for those not familiar with the Hawley's: Greg and his friends and family decided, seemingly on a whim, to find and excavate one of the hundreds of legendary steamboats that sank in the Missouri River during the late 1800s.

When they found the Steamboat Arabia, it was buried under 50 feet of Missouri River bottom farmland. Still in the cargo hold was a veritable general store of everything a pioneer could need in the 1850s, including barrels of pickles that, according to Hawley, were still edible and delicious.

The Hawley's took the trove and opened the Steamboat Arabia museum which in my opinion is one of the jewels of Kansas City. It tells a story of the people who passed through, who stayed, who lived and died here.

In this time when chain stores and restaurants seem to be flooding the metro, when any project of meaningful size seems to be managed by an east coast or west coast company, the Hawleys just seem much more organic. They belong to Kansas City like barbecue and blues.

So the death of Greg is a loss to the city.

If you've never been to the Arabia museum, or even if it's been a while since your last visit, I think now is a good time to drop in, offer condolences to the family and learn a little about our local history.

Related:
I was with Greg Hawley, a great man
Thanks, Greg Hawley
I wouldn't wear that coat around the jail...
A Riverboat Legacy
A terrible loss for historical preservation

tagged: Greg Hawley, Kansas City, Steamboat Arabia, history, Missouri River, museum

half staff

tagged: flag, half staff, 9/11, Sept. 11, photo, anniversary

Unfinished blogness: The Twilight Zone Meme

Last year, I was tagged by one of Kansas City's most no-no-notorious bloggers in the Twilight Zone Moment meme. The instructions:

Recall and relate a time when you experienced a "paranormal event"
Explain it rationally if you can
Inflict this meme on 5 other people

It took me a while to come up with the right Twilight Zone Moment. There have been so many in my life.

I could write the story about the time I was locked in a bank vault while the rest of the world underwent a nuclear holocaust. Or there was the time I went half-crazy in a military experiment because I thought I was the only person on Earth. Or there was the time when I, as an elderly man, learned the secret of how to become young again by playing kick-the-can and left my old, wrinkled friends to rot in an nursing home.

But then, over the holidays, I had the following experience that I think qualifies.

EDIT: Oh crap! I forgot the most important thing -- the spreading of the virus. So, John B., R. Sherman, Cara (Just Cara), Shane and KC Sponge consider yourselves infected.

---

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December, and we were visiting my parents' house for a few days (this all happened before the Christmas Eve Massacre of 2007, but in retrospect I wonder if the two events aren't related by some mysterious cosmic force).

My Supermodel Wife and I were assigned one of the nicer guest rooms in my parents' large country estate home. It's a nice big room with great view of the river that runs at the base of a limestone cliff in the back yard. I always liked that river because it provides a soothing "gurgling brook" sound, a sort of a natural white noise to help you sleep.

The only problem is the bed. It's an old four-poster bed made out of walnut. Legend has it that it's been in the family for over a century. And that might have had something to do with why I was wide awake at 1:45 in the morning.

To say that it is uncomfortable is to undersell the definition of the word "uncomfortable." Medieval torture devices are uncomfortable. Water boarding is uncomfortable. This bed seemed to have an unholy grudge against my lower back.

It started out as a dull ache as I tossed and turned on the bouncy boxspring, trying not to wake up the sleeping beauty beside me. I tried sleeping on my back, on my side, on my other side, but that dull ache grew into an excruciating malevolent presence slithering from my lower back to the base of my skull and back again, each time making me crazier with the pain.

Soon I was delirious. I wasn't in control of my own mind. I began to hear a voice, a whisper at first that grew in to a howling shriek: "KILL THEM... KILL THEM ALL."

I crawled out of the bed in a pathological sweat, my mind on the sharpened ax near the woodpile at the back door. It was clear that there was only one way, one bloody, murderous way to relieve the pain.

But as I made my way to the foot of the stairs, my mind began to clear. Already I was feeling better, the devilish pain in my back now subsided once again to a dull ache. So giving up the quest for the ax (what did I need that for again? I couldn't remember), I made my way to the kitchen for a glass of ice water.

The light from the kitchen cabinets illuminated a stack of old family photos and books on the counter top. Some of the family had been reviewing these old photos and diaries from the family archive that my mother maintains in the old part of the house (originally built of native limestone in 1873 by my great, great grandfather).

I casually browsed through some of the pictures as I sipped the water. The suddenly I did a double take at one that was near the top of the stack. I bent down for a closer look and sure enough, there it was.

A group of settlers posing in their fine cloths, the men with long beards, the women in frumpy dresses, the children in decidedly stiff looking collared shirts and jackets. They were all posed around a bed. A four-poster bed that appeared to be made of walnut.

It was the very bed I had climbed out of only a few minutes before.

I picked up the picture to examine it. On the back was written, in very fine handwriting, the names of my ancestors in the picture along with the notation that they were "seated around Mama and Papa's bed made from walnut taken from the Stump Patch."

The Stump Patch! Of course, everything started to come together in my mind. The Stump Patch is well known in my family as the small section of field about a quarter mile west of the house, up stream along the creek that flows through the back yard.

The original settlers of the property, those who built the house in 1873, had given it the name Stump Patch after harvesting a grove of walnut trees one year, leaving a field of stumps that would later have to be uprooted and removed.

It was only as they removed the stumps the next year that my ancestors discover that it was not a naturally occurring walnut grove, but rather a grove planted intentionally by a large settlement of Arapaho Indians to enshrine the final resting place of many of their tribe who had died in a small pox epidemic in the early 1800s.

I finally began to understand. The murderous rage I had felt as a result of sleeping in the bed, the very bed made from the very walnut trees my ancestors had taken from a hallowed burial ground in an unwitting act of desecration was the Indian spirits' way of righting an ancient injustice.

Just then, my Supermodel Wife walked into the kitchen with a deranged look on her face and a cheese slicer...

tagged: story, Twilight Zone, Arapaho, ax murder, Stump Patch, cursed bed, Christmas

I ask myself the same question

It's ANZAC Day in Australia and New Zealand (or at least it was when it was today there).

This day obviously has more meaning for the Aussies and Kiwis than to a Yank like myself, but it always makes me think of the famous and excellent song And The Band Played Waltzing Matilda by Eric Bogle.

In my opinion this is one of the best war songs written. Definitely not a jingoistic, rah-rah patriot song, but not quite a preachy protest song either.

Just a song that makes us to ask serious and important questions of ourselves.

This version is performed by the Clancy Brothers.



My brother in-law Nick will be home this weekend from Iraq for some much deserved shore leave. It will be great to see him again.

tagged: Australia, New Zealand, And The Band Played Waltzing Matilda, Anzac Day, war, Eric Bogle, Clancy Brothers

By the Dead Seaside

I mentioned previously that my Supermodel Wife and I went to Union Station Wednesday to see the famous Dead Sea Scrolls.

We were both excited to see this exhibit. It has certainly been ballyhooed in KC since it opened a few weeks ago. The actual experience didn't necessarily live up to my expectations. Don't get me wrong, there were some very positive points. But there were a few things that left me thinking it could have been much better.

First, despite the millions of dollars spent to bring the exhibit to KC, despite all of the preparation and publicity, when we actually arrived at Union Station the admission process didn’t say "We're excited you’re here and we want you to see this exhibit."

There was a single person selling tickets at the ticket counter. I imagine they typically don't need more than one person on a Wednesday morning at Union Station. From what I've heard, foot traffic can get pretty non-existent there. But one would think that the heightened traffic drawn by the Dead Sea Scrolls would have been anticipated, and our 20-minute wait on line could have been avoided.

When it was finally our turn with the ticket agent, we were told that the 11 a.m. was the earliest time we would be able to view the exhibit. I’m not sure why the viewings were scheduled in blocks like this, perhaps to limit the size of the crowd inside the exhibit. If that’s the case, why not just keep track of how many people go in and come out, thus ensuring a constant number of visitors at anyone time.

But hey, what do I know.

Once we actually were admitted to see the exhibit, it was pretty darn good. There was a good amount of archaeological and historical background detailing how the scrolls were found, how they were preserved, who wrote them and hid them, etc.

And thanks to a device called an "audio wand" – essentially an mp3 player with a keypad to dial up each audio track – those of us who are really lazy didn't have to read the comments throughout the exhibit because they were being read to us.

The scroll fragments themselves were very different from what I expected. Maybe it's too much Fiddler on the Roof, or Indiana Jones, but I had this vision in my mind of a Tora-type document rolled around wooden handles a couple of feet long. Of course I expected them to be highly deteriorated and barely legible after 2000 years.

The actual scrolls are only a few inches high, about the dimension of a roll of toilet paper. Though deteriorated by time, the writing that is left is exquisite. It is very clear and highly legible (assuming, of course, that you're fluent in ancient Aramaic or Hebrew).

Despite the hassle of getting in to see the scrolls, it was pretty amazing and awe inspiring to stand inches away from ancient texts that were written before the time of Black Jesus.

Should you go see the scrolls? If you're really into history as I am, go see them. If you don’t mind a few hassles, go see them. If you can afford the price of admission without sacrificing your Friday night weed money, go see them. And if you don’t mind hanging out with a bunch of oxygen tank breathing, walker using, slow moving geezers, go see them.

tagged: Kansas City, Union Station, Dead Sea Scrolls, history, antiquity, Hebrew

Dinner with a celebrity

Dinner last night was at Plaza III with some business associates and agency partners.

It's one one of the nicer places in KCMO, so if you're going spot a celebrity in this town, it would just as well be there.

And, since it is rumored to be George Brett's favorite restaurant (I've heard he likes it more than his own restaurant), it wasn't a surprise to see him walk in while we were picking at our hors d'oeuvres.

But that's not the celebrity I'm referring to. The person I met and had pleasant conversation with wasn't a celebrity in the pop culture sense -- not a bubble-headed hotel heiress or a no-neck millionaire jock or a blinged-up, p-diddy hippity-hop pimp from the hood.

Overland Park resident Paul C. Rogers is a bit more unassuming than all of those people. Still, he has contributed more to the good of the world than any of them (and most of us) ever will.

Rogers, a good friend of one of my business associates, is one of the few remaining members of 101st Airborn Division, Easy Company, the famed Band of Brothers documented by the HBO mini series.

Rogers entertained us with stories of the D-Day invasion, including his early morning jump from an airplane into the Nazi-occupied French countryside. On the way down, he lost his jump bag (which contained most of his gear including his rifle and ammunition) and landed in a tree. With only his trench-knife, a few grenades, some water and chocolate rations he managed to evade German troops long enough to catch up with the rest of Easy Company.

All of us at the table were riveted by his stories, even as he told about his interviews for the Band of Brothers production, meeting Tom Hanks and touring France 60 years after the D-Day invasion. We were humbled to be in his presence.

The man is all class. Quite a departure from today's popular so-called celebrities.

As Mr. Rogers left after a long and satisfying dinner, he remarked that "I've dined with movie stars and dignitaries, but I've enjoyed talking to you all more than any of them."

Like I said, all class.

We all know how the war turned out, but it's something special to hear about it from someone who lived through it. So many sacrificed so much for so few.

From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother;

tagged: WWII, World War II, Band of Brothers, Easy Company, celebrity, Kansas City, plaza