Susannah's essay was in the Washington Post this weekend.
Saturday, August 24, 2013
Discerning Genes Prolong Life
No sooner had I read this passage from tomorrow's NYT Sunday magazine
Our genes may have a more elevated moral sense than our minds do, according to a new study of the genetic effects of happiness. They can, it seems, reward us with healthy gene activity when we’re unselfish — and chastise us, at a microscopic level, when we put our own needs and desires first.
Then I opened my email to read the Moravian Daily Text, read by millions around the world. This Hebrew bible verse was chosen by lot.
Whoever is steadfast in righteousness will live, but whoever pursues evil will die. Proverbs 11:19
The NYT essay reveals the research behind the idea that genes are smart enough to discern moral codes. The blood of hedonistic people (mainly concerned about themselves) contained more cells that result in disease (cancer, diabetes, cardiovascular) than the blood of people who focused on a higher purpose and service to others. Moreover, the hedonistic group had fewer antibodies that fight off infections.
I could not keep myself from noting the coincidence. The Hebrew Bible verses for each day are drawn by lot, and one pastor adds a New Testament verse, a prayer, and a hymn.
The added verse is a joyful one that can be enjoyed by all.
I have a hope in God that there will be a resurrection of both the righteous and the unrighteous. Acts 24:15Dear God, as your righteousness extends to us, help us extend righteousness to your children everywhere. At home, at work, and at play may we be clothed in you. We are your children, everywhere. Amen.
PS: These verses below supposedly have nothing to do with the above. They are the "read through the Bible" lectionary verses. But it is intriguing to try to discern their connections.
Saturday, August 24 -- Psalm 103:1-5
Jeremiah 23:1-32; 1 Timothy 5:9-16
Our genes may have a more elevated moral sense than our minds do, according to a new study of the genetic effects of happiness. They can, it seems, reward us with healthy gene activity when we’re unselfish — and chastise us, at a microscopic level, when we put our own needs and desires first.
Then I opened my email to read the Moravian Daily Text, read by millions around the world. This Hebrew bible verse was chosen by lot.
Whoever is steadfast in righteousness will live, but whoever pursues evil will die. Proverbs 11:19
The NYT essay reveals the research behind the idea that genes are smart enough to discern moral codes. The blood of hedonistic people (mainly concerned about themselves) contained more cells that result in disease (cancer, diabetes, cardiovascular) than the blood of people who focused on a higher purpose and service to others. Moreover, the hedonistic group had fewer antibodies that fight off infections.
I could not keep myself from noting the coincidence. The Hebrew Bible verses for each day are drawn by lot, and one pastor adds a New Testament verse, a prayer, and a hymn.
The added verse is a joyful one that can be enjoyed by all.
I have a hope in God that there will be a resurrection of both the righteous and the unrighteous. Acts 24:15Dear God, as your righteousness extends to us, help us extend righteousness to your children everywhere. At home, at work, and at play may we be clothed in you. We are your children, everywhere. Amen.
PS: These verses below supposedly have nothing to do with the above. They are the "read through the Bible" lectionary verses. But it is intriguing to try to discern their connections.
Saturday, August 24 -- Psalm 103:1-5
Jeremiah 23:1-32; 1 Timothy 5:9-16
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
The "Aha" Moment: Guest Post by Marion Reinson
This is a guest post by my friend Marion Reinson. Thank you, Marion!
If you were able to attend the WIBA Women of Achievement Awards breakfast last week you had the good fortune to hear one of the honorees, Barbara Fox, speak about the special “AHA!” moments in her life; those moments when you realize the purpose of why you were put on this earth. If you missed the event, allow me to share with you what Barbara shared.
Barbara is 73 years old and holds an English degree from Duke University. She’s married to George Fox. That morning was my first time meeting George, and the love shared between the two is palpable – you can feel it from the way they look at one another.
Barbara is the mother of 3 wonderful children.
What many of you probably already knew about Barbara is that she is focused and determined. She decided, in 1976 while staying at home with her three children, to become a published journalist by writing a story about Elizabeth Dole for the Baltimore Sun. Barbara seized the moment when Bob Dole was nominated as a vice presidential candidate. Elizabeth Hanford Dole lived on Barbara’s hall in college and Barbara knew that if she was successful in writing a story about Elizabeth, the article would be published and she would become a published journalist. So she set out to scoop the
story of whether Elizabeth Dole would quit her job as a Federal Trade Commissioner, in order to campaign for her husband.
The Sun said ‘yes’ and agreed to pay Barbara $125, with the article due in 2 weeks.
Barbara continued to tell of her own two week experience - a disrupted family vacation, a $165 long distance phone bill (remember those?), conversations with Dole’s roommates, sorority sisters, family members and culminating with a brief, almost meaningless interview with Elizabeth (in true political fashion). Being $40 in the hole didn’t stop Barbara. Off she trekked to DC, got more interviews, borrowed a typewriter from the federal government and typed the end of the story. She delivered the article to the Sun who changed her pay to $25 and the story was published the next morning.
Elizabeth Dole announced her resignation the next day at noon and Barbara’s career in journalism began.
Ten years later, Barbara got her dream job as the first full time reporter for U.S.1. “When others were splitting hairs over whether a business was in Princeton Borough or Township or West Windsor or Monmouth Junction, Richard Rein’s vision for U.S. 1 was to label them all part of a greater Princeton business community.” The paper began as a monthly publication, and the rest, they say, is history. There for nearly twentyfive years, Barbara had the opportunity to speak to everybody – CEOs, entrepreneurs, leaders in the nonprofit world, authors, artists and scientists. They all told their stories to her, in great depth.
Here again, Barbara shared an AHA moment of how childhood experiences - dance, piano, singing, elocution, drama, ice skating lessons and Girl Scouts all helped with the interview process. She shared her experience working in her parents’ cancer research lab. “Flaunting the child labor laws, when I was six years old, I was helping take care of laboratory mice.” When Barbara interviewed a person for an article, she very likely knew their language and could relate to the subject matter.
At 73, Barbara’s still going strong. Semi-retired and continuing to make those valued introductions through the Princeton Chamber, as well as at the Princeton United Methodist Church, a enriching and culturally diverse community.
Having grown up in the segregated south, Barbara actively supports the PUMC initiative co-founded by her cousin Ann Yasuhara, “Not in Our Town” an interracial, interfaith social justice group focused on combatting prejudice and racial bias in Princeton.
Another Aha moment occurred at a NIOT workshop on “White Privilege” – a tough topic. “Not in Our Town” was created to initiate these difficult conversations. One such conversation is focused on the inequities of the criminal justice system as told in the book, The New Jim Crow, which discusses how black men get sent to prison, and for the same crimes, white men go free.
I always appreciate and enjoy Barbara’s company and her unique perspective on the world. After having the privilege of listening to her share her life’s experiences, I cherish her even more. I wanted to share her speech with you because I felt that many of you would appreciate her stories and Aha moments as much as I did. Thank you, Barbara, for being you - a wonderful and caring human being who’s not afraid to speak her mind.
If you were able to attend the WIBA Women of Achievement Awards breakfast last week you had the good fortune to hear one of the honorees, Barbara Fox, speak about the special “AHA!” moments in her life; those moments when you realize the purpose of why you were put on this earth. If you missed the event, allow me to share with you what Barbara shared.
Barbara is 73 years old and holds an English degree from Duke University. She’s married to George Fox. That morning was my first time meeting George, and the love shared between the two is palpable – you can feel it from the way they look at one another.
Barbara is the mother of 3 wonderful children.
What many of you probably already knew about Barbara is that she is focused and determined. She decided, in 1976 while staying at home with her three children, to become a published journalist by writing a story about Elizabeth Dole for the Baltimore Sun. Barbara seized the moment when Bob Dole was nominated as a vice presidential candidate. Elizabeth Hanford Dole lived on Barbara’s hall in college and Barbara knew that if she was successful in writing a story about Elizabeth, the article would be published and she would become a published journalist. So she set out to scoop the
story of whether Elizabeth Dole would quit her job as a Federal Trade Commissioner, in order to campaign for her husband.
The Sun said ‘yes’ and agreed to pay Barbara $125, with the article due in 2 weeks.
Barbara continued to tell of her own two week experience - a disrupted family vacation, a $165 long distance phone bill (remember those?), conversations with Dole’s roommates, sorority sisters, family members and culminating with a brief, almost meaningless interview with Elizabeth (in true political fashion). Being $40 in the hole didn’t stop Barbara. Off she trekked to DC, got more interviews, borrowed a typewriter from the federal government and typed the end of the story. She delivered the article to the Sun who changed her pay to $25 and the story was published the next morning.
Elizabeth Dole announced her resignation the next day at noon and Barbara’s career in journalism began.
Ten years later, Barbara got her dream job as the first full time reporter for U.S.1. “When others were splitting hairs over whether a business was in Princeton Borough or Township or West Windsor or Monmouth Junction, Richard Rein’s vision for U.S. 1 was to label them all part of a greater Princeton business community.” The paper began as a monthly publication, and the rest, they say, is history. There for nearly twentyfive years, Barbara had the opportunity to speak to everybody – CEOs, entrepreneurs, leaders in the nonprofit world, authors, artists and scientists. They all told their stories to her, in great depth.
Here again, Barbara shared an AHA moment of how childhood experiences - dance, piano, singing, elocution, drama, ice skating lessons and Girl Scouts all helped with the interview process. She shared her experience working in her parents’ cancer research lab. “Flaunting the child labor laws, when I was six years old, I was helping take care of laboratory mice.” When Barbara interviewed a person for an article, she very likely knew their language and could relate to the subject matter.
At 73, Barbara’s still going strong. Semi-retired and continuing to make those valued introductions through the Princeton Chamber, as well as at the Princeton United Methodist Church, a enriching and culturally diverse community.
Having grown up in the segregated south, Barbara actively supports the PUMC initiative co-founded by her cousin Ann Yasuhara, “Not in Our Town” an interracial, interfaith social justice group focused on combatting prejudice and racial bias in Princeton.
Another Aha moment occurred at a NIOT workshop on “White Privilege” – a tough topic. “Not in Our Town” was created to initiate these difficult conversations. One such conversation is focused on the inequities of the criminal justice system as told in the book, The New Jim Crow, which discusses how black men get sent to prison, and for the same crimes, white men go free.
I always appreciate and enjoy Barbara’s company and her unique perspective on the world. After having the privilege of listening to her share her life’s experiences, I cherish her even more. I wanted to share her speech with you because I felt that many of you would appreciate her stories and Aha moments as much as I did. Thank you, Barbara, for being you - a wonderful and caring human being who’s not afraid to speak her mind.
Sunday, June 2, 2013
Yerkes Ancestor: Motorcycle Speedster in 1910
Children and grands -- one of your ancestors was a renowned motorcycle racer, back in 1910 -- Jonathan Yerkes, in the birthplace of Meghan -- Jacksonville. Courtesy of RosalieAnn, here is the link
Friday, October 5, 2012
Nervous as a Cat: 1/13/58
A letter in my sophomore year, describing a "harrowing experience" of a meeting of the Westminster Fellowship council (apparently I was on it) with people from the National Synod about building a new student center. "We don't even bother with an organized budget and they were talking about our raising thousands of dollars. They asked searching questions aout the kind of job we were doing. It was very stimulating to say the least and I never realized how poorly we were doing."
Then some notes on how almost everyone at WF is a Sigmu Nu or pinned to a Sigma Nu. "Very nice for the Sigma Nus but I remember that last year i felt like I was invading an upper class clique." (I went to a retreat at Montreat and got to know everyone and was then feeling more comfortable.)
"I almost didn't go to this meeting, but I'm glad I did, even tho it has made me nervous as a cat." Then the kicker: "I hope in my naivete I didn't say anything tonight which sounded hypocritical or like I was saying what they expected me to say."
Already a rebel.
Then some notes on how almost everyone at WF is a Sigmu Nu or pinned to a Sigma Nu. "Very nice for the Sigma Nus but I remember that last year i felt like I was invading an upper class clique." (I went to a retreat at Montreat and got to know everyone and was then feeling more comfortable.)
"I almost didn't go to this meeting, but I'm glad I did, even tho it has made me nervous as a cat." Then the kicker: "I hope in my naivete I didn't say anything tonight which sounded hypocritical or like I was saying what they expected me to say."
Already a rebel.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Four in a Two Door '48 Ford
>I was just thinking I need to tell my grandchildren about our trip out west
>in 1948 in a two door Ford named Daisy. This is Barbara, and comments from
my sister, RosalieAnn, are in Italics
She was Daisy Mae because that was L'il Abner's girl friend's name.The 1940 black 2 door Ford also had a name, but I can't remember it
now. We got the new car because we didn't think the old one was up to
the mountains. To keep it from overheating going up the mountains, we
would release the hood latch and the hood would then be up a bit and
it would squeak in that position.
>I was 8 and in 4th grade, RA was
>10. We camped, and even with no tent we had so much gear that there was a
>tower of stuff in the back seat between my sister and me. Of course we were
>always arguing about who had less room. And we had stuff under our feet.
each other.
>And no radio or other entertainment. And no air conditioner. Blistering hot
>through farm country.
>
>Even with no AC, there were the triangle shaped side windows that we could
>strategically position to have a breeze, and I think the back seat windows
>could open. When we came to a town, our first stop was the ice factory, to
>replenish our refrigerator and pass around good-sized cubes of ice which we
>placed (again strategically, this time with anatomical strategy) on our
>pulse points. I can still remember how the ice felt on the back of my
>knees, elbows, and on the back of my head.
>
>Though RYF used to decry all the AV available to children today, I reminded
>her that, before interstates, there was always something to look at or
>count. We had endless contests. Red barns. Cows. and of course colors of
>cars. We made up superstitions. See a white horse and you made a fist,
>licked it, kissed it, stamped it, and you would have good luck. All bridges
>required holding your breath (perhaps a holdover from the Billy Goats
>Gruff?) and of course, in the interests of George's swimming prowess, I re
>instituted that with our family.
figuring out how far to the next town.
>
>My sister had the role of story teller. She spun endless yarns. The only
>one I remember was called "Rub Don't Blot," derived from a sign on the
>towel dispenser. I don't remember whether it was paper towels or one of
>those circular linen towels where you pulled to get a clean place for your
>own hands. (BTW when you drive so many miles, how the rest rooms are
>becomes a big part of your life. I am reminded of that when we travel by
>any form of transportation now.)
>
>The story: There were two children named Rub and Blot. One was good (Rub)
>and the other (Blot, of course) was always into mischief. I believe the
>gist of the story was that the mother was always saying "Good, Rub! Don't
>do that, Blot!" And to be sure her children behaved, she went around
>writing it on walls everywhere, shortened for efficiency, as in "Rub, Don't
>Blot!"
I remember doing that story but didn't remember the story itself. I>My sister had the role of story teller. She spun endless yarns. The only
>one I remember was called "Rub Don't Blot," derived from a sign on the
>towel dispenser. I don't remember whether it was paper towels or one of
>those circular linen towels where you pulled to get a clean place for your
>own hands. (BTW when you drive so many miles, how the rest rooms are
>becomes a big part of your life. I am reminded of that when we travel by
>any form of transportation now.)
>
>The story: There were two children named Rub and Blot. One was good (Rub)
>and the other (Blot, of course) was always into mischief. I believe the
>gist of the story was that the mother was always saying "Good, Rub! Don't
>do that, Blot!" And to be sure her children behaved, she went around
>writing it on walls everywhere, shortened for efficiency, as in "Rub, Don't
>Blot!"
do remember that I would ask you to give me three objects and I would
make a story up about them. I know I did one about the Magic
Hairbrush.
>
>I don't remember reading a lot of books on this trip. I don't remember
>carrying a lot of books in the car -- we would not have had room. We must
>have had a couple. I do remember begging and pleading and finally being
>said yes to, to buy a couple of comic books. My mother did not approve of
>comic books, but we did have a few, worn thin with rereading. I can
>recreate Archie and Veronica in my mind. Also some Classic comics, like
>Tale of Two Cities, hard to understand.
I don't remember that. I remember collecting milk bottle tops from>I don't remember reading a lot of books on this trip. I don't remember
>carrying a lot of books in the car -- we would not have had room. We must
>have had a couple. I do remember begging and pleading and finally being
>said yes to, to buy a couple of comic books. My mother did not approve of
>comic books, but we did have a few, worn thin with rereading. I can
>recreate Archie and Veronica in my mind. Also some Classic comics, like
>Tale of Two Cities, hard to understand.
the different dairies and writing letters to Grandmummy about the trip
and naming our sleeping bags. One was Deerfield and one was Ravena -
named for towns we passed through.
>
>We tented. In rainy weather we slept in the car. Every several days we
>would stay in a motel or, more likely, a tourist home. Motels weren't
>ubiquitous in those days. If in a motel or tourist home, my sister and I
>would sleep in one twin bed and my parents in the other. They did not seem
>to mind the crowding.Hmm.
Mother had made screens for the car windows so if was rainy or>We tented. In rainy weather we slept in the car. Every several days we
>would stay in a motel or, more likely, a tourist home. Motels weren't
>ubiquitous in those days. If in a motel or tourist home, my sister and I
>would sleep in one twin bed and my parents in the other. They did not seem
>to mind the crowding.Hmm.
particularly mosquitoy we slept in the car.
I don't remember twin beds in motels - I do remember one place in
Scotland where there were just three single beds and Mother and Daddy
shared. We went to a motel to get a bath every few days. And we
stayed in one tourist home in Silver Cliff where we had to go the gas
station to use the bathroom.
>
>If in the car, my father took out the cotter pins so the front seats would
>drop down. Being sure you did not lose the cotter pins was important. I
>don't think we did; maybe we had extras. My place, at age eight, was with
>my feet under the steering wheel and my body angled diagonally to the
>driver's side door. Everybody else fit in somewhere.
That wasn't the way it was. Daddy being the tallest had his feet>If in the car, my father took out the cotter pins so the front seats would
>drop down. Being sure you did not lose the cotter pins was important. I
>don't think we did; maybe we had extras. My place, at age eight, was with
>my feet under the steering wheel and my body angled diagonally to the
>driver's side door. Everybody else fit in somewhere.
under the steering wheel and his head toward the opposite corner.
Mother was next to him on the passenger side with her head in the back
corner. I was next to him on the driver's side. You were in the
corner next to mother on the passenger side.
>
>We always started out at the crack of dawn, or before dawn, to do as many
>miles as possible before the heat. I did not like those breakfasts, sitting
>on the fender, eating sloppy cold cereal out of the box. I was expected to
>be cheerful, but if I managed to be that, it was under duress.
>
I remember Daddy shaving using a mirror hooked to a tree branch.>We always started out at the crack of dawn, or before dawn, to do as many
>miles as possible before the heat. I did not like those breakfasts, sitting
>on the fender, eating sloppy cold cereal out of the box. I was expected to
>be cheerful, but if I managed to be that, it was under duress.
>
>Lunches, however, were very satisfactory. We had a standard lunch. Mother
>loved milkshakes. We would find a Walgreens, and she would order thick
>chocolate milkshakes all round, and lecture the waitress on how we wanted
>them through a straw. Delight. They were always accompanied by packages of
>peanut butter crackers. Chocolate milkshakes and peanut butter crackers
>were the unvarying lunch fare, and always in an ice cold drugstore.
I did remember the milkshakes, but not the other things.>peanut butter crackers. Chocolate milkshakes and peanut butter crackers
>were the unvarying lunch fare, and always in an ice cold drugstore.
>After hitting the ice house again, we would be off for a couple hours of
>driving and then make camp. Remember, we didn't have a tent, but we each
>had a sleeping bag, an industrial strength Army surplus camouflage sleeping
>bag good for 30 degrees below and with a waterproof cover. We spread these
>out on a big canvas tarp, and we had pillows, and we tried to stay cool.
>
T-shirt. But it got cold at night so we would put on jeans and a
sweater and crawl into our bags. One morning in the Grand Tetons we
woke up next to a snowbank.
We also stayed in a cabin at Yellowstone - they wouldn't let us camp
without a tent there because of the bears. It was the 4th of July and
they let us have sparklers.
>We camped in farmyards and in parks; there were no real campgrounds then.
>The one place I remember camping was the Badlands of South Dakota. We had
>just been to visit the (what is the four faces on a mountain site?) and the
>badlands was quite deserted. No other people were around. Somebody -- I
>don't remember if it was my sister or my mother -- found a toad hopping
>across her face, screeched, and threw it into the bushes. Major excitement.
>
some people coming to the overlook above us about dawn and suddenly
seeing our sleeping bags below and hushing their voices.
>We had a small green gasoline stove (coleman), which I think we still had when we
>closed the house. My father was a good cook on that stove. And we had a set
>of nesting pots. I guess we had hamburgers and hot dogs, I don't remember,
>but I do remember his cooking some fish that we caught and famously
>teaching me that the fried fish eye was a delicacy. And of course I still
>like to scandalize diners today by crunching on those eyes. They aren't
>that bad but they do taste better fried.
>
>Mother made a point of taking us to see the capitals and RosalieAnn -- who
>did way more traveling than our family did -- continued that tradition.
>Whatever there was to see, we stopped to see. And mother was an inveterate
>pointer outer of sights. She truly loved adventuring, and noticing, and
>learning about nature. We marveled at clear blue skies with rainbows, and
>sunrises, and sunsets. Every sunrise and sunset had to be photographed by
>Daddy. Every road side historic sign had to be stopped for and read. Every
>continental divide had to be honored with a photo of our beet planted, one
>on each side. Every mountain was anticipated, as we drew nearer and nearer
>but never seemed to get closer to the foot.
>
>The one fishing trip that I really do remember was with my cousins, Carol
>Lynn and Dorothea, who lived on their father's state game farm in Colorado.
I don't remember this as a fishing trip - just a camping trip. And I>of nesting pots. I guess we had hamburgers and hot dogs, I don't remember,
>but I do remember his cooking some fish that we caught and famously
>teaching me that the fried fish eye was a delicacy. And of course I still
>like to scandalize diners today by crunching on those eyes. They aren't
>that bad but they do taste better fried.
>
>Mother made a point of taking us to see the capitals and RosalieAnn -- who
>did way more traveling than our family did -- continued that tradition.
>Whatever there was to see, we stopped to see. And mother was an inveterate
>pointer outer of sights. She truly loved adventuring, and noticing, and
>learning about nature. We marveled at clear blue skies with rainbows, and
>sunrises, and sunsets. Every sunrise and sunset had to be photographed by
>Daddy. Every road side historic sign had to be stopped for and read. Every
>continental divide had to be honored with a photo of our beet planted, one
>on each side. Every mountain was anticipated, as we drew nearer and nearer
>but never seemed to get closer to the foot.
>
>The one fishing trip that I really do remember was with my cousins, Carol
>Lynn and Dorothea, who lived on their father's state game farm in Colorado.
remember mother wanting to camp down by a stream and Daddy insisting
that we camp up on the bluff. And in the morning there had been a
cloud burst upstream and the water was up to where we were.
>It was not a planned trip but happened for a sad reason. Shortly after we
>arrived at their farm (he was a game warden, and he took in the injured
>animals and the baby orphans) I met m father's mother (Bertha/Barbara) for
>the first time. Within the next couple of days she died. I'm not sure how
>that sequence worked, I'm not sure we knew she was sick. Anyway I was
>dramatically distraught, sleeping in a bed with my non-crying cousins (who
>actually knew her), Sarah Bernhardt sobbing her heart out. To get us all
>out of the house so preparations could be made, my parents took us and the
>cousins on a fishing trip for a couple of days. I don't think the youngest
>cousin, Beth, went with us. Carol Lynn was a little older than I and
>Dorothea is a little younger.
Lynn ALSO crying. And I remember mother telling me not to bother
Daddy because he would be sad because his mother had died.
>
>We have movies of us on the farm, having similar fun to George's family
>having fun on the Mallarnee farm, getting scolded for jumping on the
>haystacks, feeding baby deer with a bottle, running after the pheasants,
>such delight.
We were scolded for jumping and sliding on the feed bags because that>We have movies of us on the farm, having similar fun to George's family
>having fun on the Mallarnee farm, getting scolded for jumping on the
>haystacks, feeding baby deer with a bottle, running after the pheasants,
>such delight.
made the feed all dusty and crumbling. We went out into the pheasant
pens in the morning to find their eggs which we would have for
breakfast.
>
>Then we turned around and drove home. It took the summer. I think we went
>out by the northern route (the Badlands) and home by the southern route
>(Carlsbad Caverns - we have movies of the bats leaving) and Tennessee (we
>spent some time in Oak Ridge, where I puzzles and puzzled over the comic
>book that was supposed to explain nuclear energy, but I still couldn't
>understand it.).
>Then we turned around and drove home. It took the summer. I think we went
>out by the northern route (the Badlands) and home by the southern route
>(Carlsbad Caverns - we have movies of the bats leaving) and Tennessee (we
>spent some time in Oak Ridge, where I puzzles and puzzled over the comic
>book that was supposed to explain nuclear energy, but I still couldn't
>understand it.).
> We were used to long hot hours of waiting for grownups
>from working in the un airconditioned mouse lab (that's another story) and
>waiting for our parents on the surface of the Pennsylvania coal mines
>(that's still another story). Maybe it helped us "build character."
>from working in the un airconditioned mouse lab (that's another story) and
>waiting for our parents on the surface of the Pennsylvania coal mines
>(that's still another story). Maybe it helped us "build character."
We drove from St. Louis to home all in one day because Daddy had to be
back for something. So Daddy would drive and I would read the map,
and you and mother would sleep, and then mother would drive and you
would read the map - we went for 24 hours that way.
>
>Often we whiled away the long hot hours by singing, any song that anybody
>could remember, often in animal voices. Using the Old MacDonald pattern, we
>sang each song in animal talk, especially Oh Susannah! and You Are My
>Sunshine. Usually we stopped singing when we got to a town, but we would
>squeal with delight when -- at an intersection -- my father would stun the
>passersby with his Woody Woodpecker laugh. This trip is what I think of
>when I hear those songs, those words, whether in human talk or pig oinks or
>horse neighs or cat meows or...
back for something. So Daddy would drive and I would read the map,
and you and mother would sleep, and then mother would drive and you
would read the map - we went for 24 hours that way.
>
>Often we whiled away the long hot hours by singing, any song that anybody
>could remember, often in animal voices. Using the Old MacDonald pattern, we
>sang each song in animal talk, especially Oh Susannah! and You Are My
>Sunshine. Usually we stopped singing when we got to a town, but we would
>squeal with delight when -- at an intersection -- my father would stun the
>passersby with his Woody Woodpecker laugh. This trip is what I think of
>when I hear those songs, those words, whether in human talk or pig oinks or
>horse neighs or cat meows or...
Great memories!
>
>
Friday, August 5, 2011
Salt Mines and Bike Tours
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