Uncle Orson Reviews Everything
January 27, 2011
Every Day Is Special
First appeared in print in The Rhinoceros Times, Greensboro, NC.
Keyboards, Good-bye to Medium, Harry's Law
When I was growing up, I considered a typewriter to be a household appliance -- because in my
house, it was. My mother was a keyboard athlete -- her 100 word-per-minute speed sounded
like the whining of a high wind through the eaves of a house.
She was so good at it that she didn't bother with typewriter erasers -- they always left ugly
smudges anyway. If she made a mistake on the last letter of a page, she'd pull out the sheet, tear
it in half, insert a new one, and type the page over.
"It's faster to retype it than to try to erase it," she said, and for her it was true.
My mother needed to type because her job, whether she worked inside or outside our home,
involved that keyboard. She was on the "wrong" side of that vast gulf between bosses and the
people who type for them.
She knew shorthand and took dictation, then transcribed it, wordlessly correcting grammatical
errors and making incoherent sentences make sense.
By the time I was ten I began to try touch typing on the family's little portable manual
typewriter. It was only five times heavier than a good solid laptop today. I ended up doing the
four-finger method that most untrained typists eventually develop.
When I was thirteen, my parents enrolled me in an adult typing class in the local university's
evening school. By the end of the semester I was at about fifty words a minute. This was back
when a keyboard required real strength -- you were pushing downward to mechanically flip a
metal lever upward to smack the typewriter ribbon with a letter-shaped chip of metal.
If your rhythm was not perfectly even, two keys would arrive at the same time and jam, so
evenness of rhythm was part of being a good typist. Then along came the IBM Selectric
typewriter with a little ball covered in letters.
With all the "keys" controlling which face of the ball struck the rhythm, keys never jammed and
it took nowhere near as much strength to make the keys work.
"Now anybody can type," my mother once said scornfully. And she was right. But I was still
proud of having the strength to get firm, even key imprints from a clunky manual typewriter.
Then computers came along, and a strange thing happened. Yes, secretaries' lives became
easier, but then, with email and laptops, the computer moved across that great divide and started
showing up on bosses' desks.
The oldest of the old coots aren't using computers, but most of the generation right behind mine
is sending their own emails. Typing has become a useful skill for everyone. If you count
thumbing texts into a smartphone, almost everyone is typing now.
Most of them are using the primitive-but-natural four-finger method (index and tall finger of
both hands, with the typist peering intently at the keyboard rather than the screen). But they're
typing, and they're pretty quick.
It's as if my mom and I became experts at an uncommon sport like, say, the discus. And then
suddenly the frisbee was invented and now everybody is pitching the discus. Only we're still
better than most.
A few months ago, however, I found out that something quite dreadful had happened. My
mother couldn't type as easily as she used to. It was keeping her from writing emails. It wasn't
about her skill and speed -- those continued unabated.
It was the small letterforms on the computer keyboard.
Now, as a touch typist she shouldn't have needed to see the keys at all, should she? Here's one
of the secrets of touch typing: She and I learned to type before there were any function or cursor-control keys. And since every computer keyboard places these keys eccentrically, you have to
look at the keyboard to make sure you're finding the right one.
And as her eyes had a harder time changing focus -- even from screen to keyboard -- she just
couldn't make out the difference among the keys, especially the ones that all begin with F.
I certainly didn't want to stop getting emails and other writings from my mom. So I went to that
great department store called Amazon.com (it's not just about books anymore) and looked for
large-print keyboards.
There were several choices, but the ones that seemed best to me were called "Keys-U-See Large
Print Keyboards." They came in black with white lettering and white with black lettering.
And the letters, numbers, and symbols were so large and clear that you could read them from
Nebraska.
Not knowing whether black on white or white on black would be better for her, I ordered both --
they were cheap as can be. My family reported that the quality seemed excellent -- good stroke
and tactile feedback, rugged-seeming case, quick electronics.
And not only my mom, but other family members, some of them younger than my mom,
reported that the keyboard (they ended up choosing the white letters on black keys) was much
easier to read.
It seems to me that if even a wizard touch-typist needs bigger letters on her keyboard, then four-finger and two-finger typists will need it sooner, since they have to look at the keyboard to type
simple text, and not just to see the function keys.
*
I don't believe in mediums or psychics; I think the ones that put themselves forward (especially
for money) are all fakes. So when the show Medium came on the air in 2005, based on the "real
life adventures" of a self-promoting psychic from Phoenix, I dismissed the whole idea with
contempt.
Until I was visiting with some friends during the second season and they prevailed on me to
watch the latest episode, which they had TiVoed. "Don't think of it as real," they said. "Think
of it as fantasy -- if psychics could actually hear from the dead or see visions, what would it be
like to live with that gift?"
With that happy attitude in mind, I watched ... and fell in love. Not with the idea of psychics, but
with the dead-on realistic family life of Allison Dubois (Patricia Arquette) and her husband Joe
(Jake Weber). Their relationship as husband and wife was written and played so believably that
I thought there must be at least one writer associated with the show who was actually happily
married -- or knew someone who was.
Most of the time Hollywood depicts marriages nastily or so ideally that you can't believe the
writers had ever met a married person except for their own parents, whom they had still not
forgiven for the crime of being imperfect.
It's either the ideal sticky-sweet marriage of Father Knows Best or Leave It To Beaver, or it's the
savage parody of Married with Children or All in the Family.
Medium also showed them as good-but-human parents from the first episode to the last. Sofia
Vassilieva as the oldest daughter, Ariel, and Maria Lark as the tough-talking middle girl,
Bridgette, were written as believable kids. Sometimes they could be brats, but they weren't
trying to be, and they loved their parents and each other.
The crime-solving-through-dreams-and-visions storylines were always intriguing and
resourceful, and if they relied heavily on "visions" that only gave partial answers until the full
reveal came right at the end of the episode, hey, that's the way they set up the rules of magic in
this fictional universe.
There were missteps and imperfect episodes, but all in all it was handled about as well as a show
that pretends fake psychics are real possibly could be.
Last week, as the sixth season ended, so did the whole series. No cliffhangers this time.
Somebody had watched the original film version of The Ghost and Mrs. Muir, and that's the
ending they went for, though there was plenty of mystery and courtroom action, too.
That last episode accomplished two wonderful things. First, it flashed forward enough to give us
an idea of how everything worked out for all the characters. And, second, it showed us that the
family's lives would be so sharply transformed that even if somebody tried to continue the story,
it wouldn't work -- the magic of Joe and Allison (of Patricia Arquette and Jake Weber) simply
couldn't be there.
No, they accomplished three wonderful things: They left open the door for a spinoff series
starring Sofia Vassilieva as the psychic daughter who went off to college.
Vassilieva, like Arquette, is attractive without being a model-like cliche; what matters, though, is
that she has the warmth and sparkle and make us want to spend time with a character week after
week. As long as the writing is as good as what was saw in Medium, and they don't give her a
bunch of stereotype college sidekick characters, I think Vassilieva could carry a series.
Maybe nobody's thinking that way, but I hope they are, and that such a series is in development.
If series creator and show runner Glenn Gordon Caron (who also wrote for and ran the best years
of Moonlighting) is involved, I think it could be as good as the parent series.
I can hope, can't I? Because finding a good family realistically depicted on television is as rare
as finding a realistic and sympathetic Republican character on a David E. Kelley series.
*
Speaking of which, at our house the jury is still out on the new Kathy Bates series Harry's Law.
We're serious Kathy Bates fans (loved her guest spots on The Office and she's always better than
the movies she's in), and we like the actors playing her supporting cast, especially Nathan
Corddry as her volunteer junior partner in her new storefront law practice.
We just aren't sure David E. Kelley can write a watchable series any more.
He's like a born-again Christian who has to make all his episodes bear witness to the faith --
only Kelley's religion is the hatred of all things Republican (though his other series have shown
that he has never, for an instant, made an attempt to understand a single idea that is not affirmed
by America's extreme-left "intellectual" elite).
It took him a fully year before Boston Legal became unwatchable propaganda, with straw-man
conservatives popping up to mouth a bigoted liberal's version of conservative ideas and then get
shot down.
But Harry's Law jumped the shark in episode one, where, in the middle of a ridiculously
unbelievable courtroom argument (had the judge died? Taken a sleeping pill?) Bates's character
goes off on a completely unnecessary Republicans-are-Satan riff.
Here's the thing -- Kelly can't be so stupid as to believe he's actually persuading anybody to
believe as he does. All he's doing is guaranteeing that anybody who isn't already a committed,
Kool-Aid-drinking member of his fanatical cult will be repulsed.
A smart writer -- a good writer -- with the goal of persuading an audience to embrace a
particular (minority) view would write stories that reached out to include everyone and then
gently lead them to consider the writer's point of view. Over the length of a season, with
characters following the storyline for the sheer delight of it, they might also shift their attitudes.
But Kelley starts out by slapping the conservative plurality of the American viewership right in
the face and calling them names. The message couldn't be clearer: We don't want you ugly
people who are different from me and my cool friends to sully this show by watching it.
Add to that the over-the-top absurdities of the situation and it's hard to imagine that Kelley will
allow me to keep watching these fine actors saying his clever dialogue for more than another
episode or two.
If people want to know where the rhetoric of hate comes from in American life, it ain't talk radio
-- it's "mainstream" television where the vilifications and deceptions of a writer like Kelley,
about people he doesn't like and ideas he doesn't understand, are put on the air, apparently
without any network executive even thinking, Don't we actually want some conservative
viewers, considering that there are enough of them to have kept electing George W. Bush and the
recent House of Representatives?
Well, that's OK. It's just an opportunity for writers like me, who actually want to write, not
propaganda, but truthful stories about real characters no matter what their personal beliefs are.
You watch -- over the next few years, some of the exciting projects I'm hearing about right now
will become publicly available.
No, I'm not talking about rightwing propaganda. I'm talking about non-political fictional
programming that doesn't spend all its time spitting in the face of traditional values. The people
I'm hearing from and talking to are committed to high quality writing and acting above all. I
think they can make it work. I hope I'm part of it.
Meanwhile, Kathy Bates and the other actors in Harry's Law are wonderful, and when he's not
ranting, Kelley is still a talented writer. Maybe he can pull something watchable out of this. I'll
be watching for a while longer, just to see if he even wants to speak to anyone but the Kool-Aid
drinkers.
Every Day Is Special
First appeared in print in The Rhinoceros Times, Greensboro, NC.
Challenger, Curmudgeons, and Freedom Day
Thursday, January 27th -- Smoke Gets in Your Eyes Day
American composer and songwriter Jerome Kern was born on this day in 1885. Among his
scores for stage and screen were such memorable songs as "Ol' Man River," "Smoke Gets in
Your Eyes," "I Won't Dance," "The Way You Look Tonight," "All the Things You Are," and
"The Last Time I Saw Paris." If you can't hum every one of these songs or conjure up a great
performance of them in your memory, you don't really know music.
*
The World War II siege of Leningrad was lifted on this day in 1944. Russia's second-largest
city and former capital (called St. Petersburg whenever Communists didn't rule) was bombed by
the Germans for 430 hours starting on September 4, 1941. The suffering of the people of
Leningrad during the 880-day siege was one of the greatest tragedies of WWII. More than half
the population of Russia's second-largest city died during the winter of 1942. (The novel Winter
Garden by Kristin Hannah is partly set during the siege.)
*
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was born on this day in 1756 in Salzburg, Austria. He began
performing at age three and composing at age five, and he was trotted out and exhibited all over
Europe by his impresario-father.
Friday, January 28th -- Challenger Day
Twenty-five years ago today at 11:39 a.m., the Challenger space shuttle exploded 74 seconds
into its flight and about 10 miles above earth. Killed were teacher Christa McAuliffe (who was
the first ordinary citizen in space) and six crew members: Francis R. Scobee, Michael J. Smith,
Judith A. Resnik, Ellison S. Onizuka, A&T alumnus Ronald E. McNair, and Gregory B.
Jarvis.
*
Welsh-born Explorer Henry Morton Stanley was born on this date in 1841. In an era when
Africa was still largely unmapped, Stanley led the expedition to find missing
missionary-explorer David Livingstone, who had not been heard from for more than two years.
Stanley began the search on March 21, 1871, and finally found the explorer at Ujiji, near Lake
Tanganyika, on November 10, 1871, whereupon he asked the question, "Dr. Livingstone, I
presume?" which became famous because its utter lack of emotion was so very British.
Saturday, January 29th -- Curmudgeons Day
A curmudgeon is strictly defined as "an ill-tempered person full of resentment and stubborn
notions," but in recent decades seems always to be linked to the words "beloved old," so that it's
now an almost affectionate term. By calling someone an "old curmudgeon," you recognize their
dissatisfaction without recognizing any obligation to do anything about it, so that it is, in effect, a
way to marginalize the perpetually miserable. Even when someone calls himself a curmudgeon,
he's generally saying, "Don't mind me, I'm always stubbornly unhappy."
Probably the best-known curmudgeon was W.C. Fields, whose persona both on and off screen
was entertainingly displeased and unlikeable. That is why his birthday -- this date in 1880 --
was chosen for Curmudgeons Day, though the founders of the day call curmudgeons "crusty yet
insightful wags who consistently apply the needle of truth to the balloons of hypocrisy and social
norms." In my experience, however, curmudgeons rarely have any special insight into what's
true; they simply prefer their own ignorance and prejudices to those of other people.
*
Great Russian playwright and short story writer Anton Chekhov born today in 1860. He is
especially remembered for The Three Sisters and The Cherry Orchard, and "method acting" was
born with Stanislavski's production of Chekhov's first play, The Seagull, which is why
Stanislavski's seminal book An Actor Prepares is usually published with a depiction of a seagull
on the cover. Chekhov's place are invariably misunderstood today by actors and directors who
insist on playing them as ponderous tragedies from the start; what Chekhov wrote were light-hearted, witty comedies that gradually devolve into tragedies, with the bewildered characters not
quite sure what happened to their pleasant lives. In other words, what he wrote was reality
without foreknowledge.
*
The Mormon Battalion arrived in San Diego, California, on this day in 1847. In 1846, as newly
penniless Mormons were fleeing the American mobs that drove them out of their city of Nauvoo
in Illinois, the U.S. government -- which had done nothing to protect them from their enemies
-- came to their relief by enlisting 500 of their men into the only religiously-based unit in the
history of the U.S. military in support of the American side in the Mexican War. All of them
donated their $42 pay, given them in advance at Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas, to the Mormon
Church, which used the $30,000 actually received to feed the refugees from Nauvoo and buy
wagons and supplies for the trek west to the Salt Lake Valley.
Leaving Council Bluffs, Iowa, on July 16, 1846, the 500 men of the Mormon Battalion (and the
50 women and children who accompanied them) marched through Mexican territory for 2,000
miles -- the longest march in modern military history -- at first under the command of non-Mormon James Allen, and then, from Santa Fe on, under West Pointer Lt. Col. Philip St. George
Cooke. Along the way they established the first wagon route from Santa Fe to southern
California, later called the "Santa Fe Trail"; their historic arrival is commemorated every year in
San Diego's Old Town with a military parade.
Their story doesn't end there, however. After their discharge, some former Battalion members
stopped near Sacramento, California, on their way to the Mormon Church's new headquarters in
Salt Lake City, to earn money to supply themselves at Sutter's Mill, and were there when gold
was discovered, launching the California Gold Rush. The Mormon veterans brought back
$17,000 in gold to contribute to the economy of the Mormon colonies in Utah -- and Forty-Niners passing through Salt Lake City on their way to the gold fields also gave the Mormons an
economic boost as they supplied themselves for the journey across the wastelands of Nevada.
*
Edgar Allan Poe's most famous poem, "The Raven," was published anonymously on this day in
1845 in New York's Evening Mirror newspaper. The poem was a sensation -- it would be
reprinted at least 16 times in various periodicals and books that same year -- and soon Poe's
authorship was revealed. But the celebrity status Poe enjoyed as a result of "The Raven" did
nothing to relieve his poverty -- Poe had received a total of $15 for the poem. The classic lines
"Once upon a midnight dreary" and "Quoth the Raven, 'Nevermore'" were recited by thousands
of schoolchildren, and appeared in hundreds of anthologies -- as well as in parodies -- to this
day. I, for one, cannot understand the poem's appeal; even as a child, I thought it to be nothing
but pseudo-portentous twaddle. But then, I've never been much of a fan of horror, Poe, or
gloomy emotional poetry.
Sunday, January 30th -- Franklin Roosevelt Day
On this day in 1969 the Beatles performed together in public for the last time in a show on
the roof of their Apple Studios in London, England. It was interrupted by police after they
received complaints from the neighbors about the noise.
*
On this day in 1798, the first brawl in the US House of Representatives broke out during an
argument between Congressman Matthew Lyon of Vermont and Roger Griswold of Connecticut,
when Lyon spat in Griswold's face. A resolution to expel Lyon from Congress was introduced,
but the measure failed and Lyon maintained his seat.
*
Franklin Delano Roosevelt was born on this day in 1882. Elected as the 32nd President of the
United States in 1932, he was the only president to serve more than two terms. Others might
easily have served more than two terms, but all FDR's predecessors modestly followed George
Washington's wise example and declined to run for a third term. FDR was elected four times,
even though his health was so bad the fourth time that he died on April 12, 1945, only a few
months into the term. His primary achievements in the fourth term were, first, to give in to
Stalin on every major point in the "big three" conference at Yalta -- shutting Churchill, who
might have resisted Stalin, out of much of the deliberations, and listening to Communist spy and
American State Dept. official Alger Hiss while he did; and, second, to choose Harry S Truman as
his Vice President, who surprised everyone by being a tougher and, by my measure, better
President than his predecessor.
Roosevelt is regarded as a great president by many; what all can agree on is that he was one of
the most powerful and politically astute. When the Supreme Court blocked many of his attempts
to remake America along socialist lines, he attempted to add six new justices to the Supreme
Court; since they would all be appointed by him, they would have joined with Roosevelt's
existing allies on the court to form a reliable majority. Then there would have been no limit to
his power, since he had huge majorities in both houses of Congress. This would have thwarted
the checks and balances of the Constitution and made him, in effect, dictator for life.
But Roosevelt's image of invincibility was shattered by the public resistance to the court-packing scheme, and so while he got the "for life" part, he wasn't able to become the dictator.
All of this, of course, would have been "for the good of the people," though none of his
economic policies managed to end the Great Depression and, in the view of many economists,
tended to worsen and prolong it. However, his enactment of Social Security and his efforts to
supply England and keep it alive when Churchill stood alone against Hitler were solid
achievements well worth honoring. Perhaps he put America in its worst danger of losing the
Constitutional protection of democracy since the Civil War, but the Constitution survived the test
of Franklin Delano Roosevelt.
Monday, January 31st -- Social Security Day
The first Social Security check was issued on this day in 1940, to Ida May Fuller of Ludlow,
Vermont, who received her first monthly retirement check in the amount of $22.54. Fuller had
worked for three years under the Social Security program (which had been established by
legislation in 1935). The accumulated taxes on her salary over those three years were $24.75.
She lived to be 100 years old, collecting $22,888 in Social Security benefits.
*
Dentist and author Zane Grey was born on this day in 1872. He is known for writing more
than 80 very popular books, most of them set in the American West; the most popular was
Riders of the Purple Sage. If you've never heard of him, don't be surprised. His fame faded
along with the popularity of the Western in American culture.
*
Inspire Your Heart with the Arts Day is intended as a day to experience art in your life. Say
the promoters, "Food sustains you as a human, art inspires you to be divine." We are
encouraged to go to an art museum, browse through an art book at the library, enroll in an art
class or commission an artist to paint or sculpt something. Personally, I will be stunned if
anyone is thereby inspired to "be divine." We are also encouraged to "read your favorite poem
out loud. Go to a concert or play. Sign up for dance lessons."
Given the current state of American culture, very little contemporary art is actually intended for
the enjoyment of ordinary people; it's usually specifically designed to exclude us so that the
cultural elite can feel superior by liking the deliberately unlikeable. Fortunately, there is plenty
of non-contemporary art around for our enjoyment; my heart is mostly inspired by art from now-dead artists.
Tuesday, February 1st -- Freedom Day
Besides being Black History Month, which starts today, February has been designated as the
month for several other causes:
Bake for Family Fun Month: This is a happy thought. In honor of National Pie Day last week,
my wife taught our 16-year-old how to bake her flawless pie crust. As a result, I got a wedge of
banana cream pie, my daughter had a lesson in pie-making from a longtime master, my wife and
daughter had several happy and cooperative hours together, and many people in years to come
got whatever excellent pies our daughter makes. Learning how to make chocolate chip cookies
from my older sister and learning how to make spice cake with penuche icing, as well as salmon
loaf and many other dishes, from my mom were many of the best days of my childhood -- and
as a result, I can, alone in a kitchen, put together creditable meals and desserts without repeating
a recipe for at least a couple of weeks. Get your daughters and sons into the kitchen and teach
them, in an atmosphere of patience and pleasure!
Library Lovers Month: I love libraries so much that I never check out their books. This is
because I carry on a fervent dialogue with the authors of the books I'm reading, which results in
marginal notes, savage underlining, and endless dog-earing. Better if I own my own books, I
think.
National Bird-Feeding Month: I'm glad I didn't wait for February to start feeding birds;
though that is usually the month when birds have exhausted most of their most plentiful sources
of food, this winter they've needed what I offered them since December. Besides, birds are kind
of stupid and it takes them a while to notice the food you've left out for them. So if you put up
bird feeders early in February, don't be surprised if you aren't visited by gangs of avian diners
until March. Then again, they might discover you immediately and festoon your patio or yard
with augean evidence of their alimentary plenitude before the week is out.
Return Shopping Carts to the Supermarket Month: There's a month for this? Regular
readers of Uncle Orson Reviews Everything will note that I am a shopping cart fanatic -- on my
walks through the neighborhood, I sometimes scoop up as many as five or six carts that have
been strewn like confetti along my route push them up the hill to Harris-Teeter. Every now and
then I find a Food Lion cart that has somehow migrated from Church Street to Elm, and then I
ponder on the vicissitudes of cartly existence, and how I might be frustrating all the hopes and
dreams of a cart that has desperately been trying to get as far from Food Lion as possible. To
carts, I may be a villain; but I don't care. Returning carts is a civilized thing to do.
*
Both director John Ford (1895) and actor Clark Gable (1901) were born on this date.
*
Freedom Day is the anniversary of President Abraham Lincoln's approval of the 13th
Amendment to the Constitution, abolishing slavery. Unbelievably, there are boneheads in the
world so fanatically politically correct and so utterly ignorant of historical context that they call
Lincoln racist for having supported proposals about slavery that fell short of what said
boneheads think he should have done. The fact is that Lincoln was an adamant opponent of
slavery and supporter of the rights of blacks in America, and without his bold actions there is a
good chance that blacks would have remained enslaved in America at least as long as they were
in Brazil, and perhaps longer.
People who claim that American slavery would have ended without a northern victory in the
Civil War would do well to look at how Brazil ended slavery "peacefully." First, Brazil had
the example of America's bloody war to spur them toward emancipation; they began gradually
in 1871 by declaring that the children of slaves were all born free -- which doesn't really help
much when their parents remain enslaved. Only seventeen years later, in 1888, was slavery
fully abolished -- when Emperor Dom Pedro II was away in Europe and his daughter, Princess
Isabel, signed the Golden Law in his absence. The reaction of the outraged slaveowners set off a
parliamentary crisis that ended with the abolition of the monarchy and the exile of the royal
family. Slaveowners, as a group, do not voluntarily give up their slaves.
So let's keep in mind that Black History Month begins with the 146th anniversary of the day that
Abraham Lincoln's stubborn pursuit of victory over the South set American blacks free. If he
had not been reelected in 1864, George McClellan, as president, was committed to a negotiated
peace that would have let the South go ... with their slaves still in chains. Freedom Day is
Lincoln's achievement.
It is no coincidence that Freedom Day was also the day chosen by North Carolina A&T students
Ezell Blair Jr. (now Jibreel Khazan), David Richmond, Joseph McNeil, and Franklin McCain to
launch their sit-in at the Woolworth lunch counter on Elm Street in Greensboro back in 1960.
*
Robinson Crusoe Day is the anniversary of the rescue, on February 1, 1709, of Alexander
Selkirk, a Scottish sailor who had been put ashore (in September 1704) on the uninhabited island
Juan Fernandez, at his own request, after a quarrel with his captain. His adventures formed the
basis for Daniel Defoe's novel Robinson Crusoe. It's "a day to be adventurous and self-reliant."
Self-reliant ... do Americans even know what that means anymore? If Robinson Crusoe were set
today, Crusoe would have died on the beach complaining about how government efforts to save
him were inadequate and too slow, and he was going to sit there in protest until they arrived.
Wednesday, February 2nd -- Groundhog Day
Groundhog Day is quite possibly the stupidest holiday ever to afflict two supposedly advanced
nations, the U.S. and Canada. No doubt that's why Harold Ramis chose it as the title and pretext
of his brilliant 1993 romantic comedy Groundhog Day, the only movie in which I actually liked
performances by Bill Murray, Andie MacDowell, or Chris Elliott.
The fact is that everything about Groundhog Day except the groundhog originated with the feast
of Candlemas, which commemorates the presentation of baby Jesus at the temple in Jerusalem.
The old belief was that if the sun shines on Candlemas Day, six weeks of deep winter will ensue.
(During the Little Ice Age from 1350 to 1850, this happened pretty much whether the sun shone
on Candlemas or not; but the belief probably originated during the 500 years of warmth before,
when the global climate was warmer than it is today.)
An old Scottish rhyme had it that "If Candlemas is fair and clear/There'll be two winters in the
year." Only in America would people find a way to link Candlemas with a rodent.
*
This is Sled Dogs Save Nome Day. When a diphtheria outbreak was diagnosed in Nome,
Alaska, (population 1,500), on Jan. 21, 1925, the nearest adequate supply of antitoxin serum was
in Anchorage. Bitter winter temperatures made air delivery impossible, so 300,000 units of
serum were sent by train to Nenana, Alaska, the nearest train station. On Jan 27th, in
temperatures of 40 and 50 degrees below zero, twenty mushers drove scores of dogs to make the
674-mile journey to Nome in 127 hours. The lead dog for the first 350 miles was Togo, and
Balto was the lead dog on the final 53 miles -- but Balto got all the credit.
The frozen serum arrive at 5:30 a.m. on February 2nd, and once it was thawed and administered,
there were no more diphtheria deaths. Balto became a national hero, and a statue was erected in
his honor in New York City's Central Park. Togo was apparently ignored. Our younger kids
loved the 1995 movie Balto, in which the title role was voiced by Kevin Bacon.
*
The war between Mexico and the U.S. formally ended on this day in 1848 with the Treaty of
Guadelupe Hidalgo, signed in the village for which it was named. The treaty provided for
Mexico's cession to the US of the territory that became the states of California, Nevada, Utah,
most of Arizona, and parts of New Mexico, Colorado and Wyoming, in exchange for $15 million
from the U.S. In addition, Mexico relinquished all claims to Texas north of the Rio Grande.
Since the War of 1812 was mostly about trying to conquer Canada, the Mexican War was pretty
much a second try, this time farther south and west. In both Texas and California, American
colonists declared "independence" from Mexico without asking the opinions of the Mexican
citizens living there (they were against it), expecting the U.S. to send military forces to back up
their "independence" until they could be admitted as states.
Texas was annexed by the U.S. as a slave state -- with the right to split itself into five states
whenever it wanted, thus guaranteeing that slave states could maintain their control of the
U.S. Senate. (Pro-slavery forces were adamantly opposed to states' rights in that era and right
on up to the Civil War -- they wanted to impose slavery on all the new territories.) The
California "revolution" was conducted by deniable agents of the U.S. government (John C.
Fremont was apparently charged with that responsibility by America's most imperialistic
President, James K. Polk).
The Mexican government, in the midst of great turmoil, was incapable of accepting Polk's offer
to buy California and New Mexico (the rest of the territory between Texas and California) --
governments that were willing to agree to the purchase kept getting thrown out of office. In
those days the Rio Grande had never been accepted by Mexico as the southern border of Texas
-- they put it much farther north -- so when American troops marched to the Rio Grande it was
considered an invasion of Mexican territory and war ensued.
American victory was not assured -- Mexicans fought fiercely in defense of their homeland,
aided by endemic diseases. But without a strong central government and lacking funds to equip
and supply an adequate army, the Mexicans were defeated and stripped of more than half their
territory, and were paid a hopelessly inadequate sum for it. Many of those who believe this was
the most unnecessary and unjust war America ever fought, consider the legal northern boundary
of Mexico to still be the border between California and Oregon. Therefore, Mexicans who enter
the territory south of that line that by rights should still be Mexican are not illegal immigrants at
all; they are the true owners returning to property stolen long before. This is not, however, a
widespread or popular view.
And one should keep in mind that I do have a peculiar view of the Mexican War: My Mormon
ancestors left American territory and colonized at the Great Salt Lake specifically so we could
live under the (weak and distant) Mexican government and get away from U.S. persecution. We
arrived only to have the depressing news that we were still in America after all. Soon the U.S.
government sent troops to invade and occupy Utah ... to encourage the Mormons to be obedient
American patriots. Since then the conquered and oppressed Mormons of Utah, once staunch
Democrats, have become the most Republican state in the union. Ain't history fun?
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