It ain't necessarily so

Ah, granulated chemicals—is there no end to your wonders? A British toy company has used them to come up with a solution to your kids' bath-time avoidance strategy: Turn the bath into thick pink slime with a dash of Gelli Baff, better known around these parts as sodium polyacrylate, a super-absorbent polymer also found in disposable diapers. If the young'uns are fond of Ghostbusters 2 (are kids still into those movies?), I can't think of a better way to get them psyched about jumping in the tub. And if you're wondering about the potential havoc the stuff might wreak on your plumbing, not to worry. Just toss in the "dissolver packet" to turn the slime back into the liquid form from which it came.

You can buy a four-pack of Gelli Baff for £20, or a full pound of good ol' sodium polyacrylate (table salt works fine for the dissolving agent) at stevespanglerscience.com. —John Mahoney.

What a shame we find this so late. Our kids are out of the age of bathing in goo.

I found this cute little note while browsing for historical evidence that new thought is always, or at least most always, opposed by contrary thought. I found too much to quote it all. There was a powerful man at the helm of the Royal Society, who proclaimed that flight heavier than air is utterly impossible (did he actually think that the pheasant he shot for dinner was lighter than air while in flight, then gained weight in death? Absurd! Ah, of course, I forgot to account for the weight of lead shot with which the bird was peppered). That occurred just some 8 years before the Wright brothers took 'first flight'. The same man, Lord Kelvin by name, declared categorically that x-rays will be found a hoax. Radio, when first presented, was declared a passing fancy at best and no commercial value was allowed for it. Edison was chasing a laughable dream before he finally came up with a working light bulb) And if I am telling you that salt water can burn, and not only that, but will burn at a temperature of some 3000 degrees, you will declare me unfit for independent, unsupervised life. 'There were enough burning ships that sank in the sea and the water extinguished their flames. Never did such a brand set fire to the sea".

Well, since 2002 there are patent applications running. The phenomena was discovered by accident. Salt water was irradiated at a frequency used for treating cancer. It was found that it breaks down the bonds between the components of water - Na, Cl, O, H. Of course it is the hydrogen that reunites with the stabilizing oxygen and releases the tremendous amount of energy. What role sodium and chlorine play in this scheme is not discussed in the paper I've seen. I can imagine the patent lawyers are having a ball with this for the past ten years and into the future.

And so it goes with science, be it in physics or medicine, mathematics, astronomy or any other branch. The Jesuits were somewhat unhappy that Galileo was only condemned to recant his theory of heliocentrism and given house arrest. They would have preferred to burn him at the stake for heresy. And you must allow that the Jesuits are highly educated men. Their opposing view was firmly anchored in Psalm 104:5. But give things time, and some will evolve.  Freud is still described as a charlatan in some circles, the motor car was declared a creation of the devil not too many years ago, etc. We are now on somewhat more familiar terms with both of them even though we make jokes about old Siegmund, an often curse to other guy's motor car; sometimes even our own.

Isa's food for thought today.

The Hunt

As proof that we went out and did it. It was a wonderful day. You see an old-fashioned way - simulated - of a patriarch going into the wilds to provide for his family.

(Reference here?  Video footage of the shooting of the pheasants.)

Biorhythm

December 15, 2012 at 6:24 PM

There is an ongoing controversy about this theory that our life cycles are subject to mathematical regularity, or that such general (as opposed to individual) cycles really exist. The kindest critics describe this as a pseudo science.

I believe there is some heavy evidence that the theory has much truth going for it and that it should not offhandedly be rejected.

In 1953, Mims (your grandmother, Kaarin and Iivo) was diagnosed with a condition that made surgery necessary. Her surgeon was an adherent of this theory and I devised Mims to consider it.  After she and Pips, my dad, had done all research possible at that time in this field, they decided to listen to council and the date for surgery was set for late summer 1954. The scheduled procedure usually - even today - is accompanied by heavy blood loss. Back then, the need for many pints of blood transfusion was expected, and death was not uncommon. The date of the surgical interference came and, I admit, all of us were on our knees, which may have had some influence on the outcome, but the fact was that not only did Mims come out of this ordeal alive, nay, there had been no need for any blood transfusion, she was spry and chipper when she came out of anesthesia, and left the hospital after five days, with three weeks of hospitalization in such cases not uncommon in those days.

The date of the surgery had been set on the basis of her biorhythm and came so late after deciding to go ahead because the chosen date gave Mims maximum advantage, according to her biorhythm.
All of us, as a result, established our biorhythms, but we did not allow our lives be controlled by it. Rather, when we 'felt down', we would check the calendar and more often than not find that, biorhythmically speaking, we were at a disadvantage. We followed the doctor's and consultant's advise then "Do not resign yourself. Make an extra effort to overcome the disadvantage".

In 1954, in spring, I was faced with the 'Abitur', the final test required of secondary school students for admission to college education. Normally, this test takes place in the public school student's school and is administered by the school's teachers, so there is a definite 'home field' advantage. I had spent my last two years in a private school and had to face a national team of examiners, none of whom Knew me, and in a physical environment that was totally unknown to me.

The day of the exam came and I was in bed with a high fever resulting from an attack of the flue and the family doctor had advised me to stay in bed and not budge for at least three days.
Well, you probably guess the outcome of this: the doctor left, my parents had to go to town, I tossed for a while in bed and decided I better get on with it, or loose a full year because of this flue. So I got dressed and went to the place of examinations and, yes, after submitting to the exhausting process for three days, I not only came home with the fever broken, but in good spirits and a week later received a "passed" from the examining authorities.

After the experience at Mims' surgery, we went back over my calendar for the days of this examination and found that my biorhythm was in a very favorable situation at the time.
This was then followed by observation followed by observation and in the majority of cases, the validity of the theory was supported.

When personal computers became available, and I learned Basic programming, I built me a little calculator that graphs out the biorhythm and lets me see what is going on. I don't use it very often, knowing too well that feeling bad over feeling down does not help matters at all. But these last few days were a bit strange and the thought occurred to me to check back to my program once more. What was strange? Well, I fell in with a couple of horse traders that posed as modern day car salesmen and I agreed to a deal that I possibly would have rejected at another time. Then, the following days were wrought with little stuff such as dropping things that weren't designed for dropping at all, stumbling over carpet edges that I knew were there, not sleeping, not eating well, in short it was such a contrary time that makes one let go with long and gruesome complaints, uttered at highly elevated voice levels if nobody is around to hear it and I finally came to that biorhythm check I just mentioned. Yes, you guessed: I was in one of those doldrums that sometimes occur with all lines crossing the base line T or about at the same time. When that happens, a general 'down' can be felt and it lasts from about two days before the first crossing to about two days after the last crossing.

Look the subject up on the web. There are some good sites that give you a quick reading and better understanding. But don't suspect me of being a subordinate of all of this. It must never be a controlling factor in one's life to the point where one attempts to break the bank on good days and stays in bed with the blanket pulled over one's head on bad ones and blames biorhythm for all things that go well or go bad. No, give the chances of life and, perhaps, providence it's proper places and be ready for battle, knowing that you got an advantage or must draw from your last resources.

Happy fighting!
Opa

Please, if I said something that made your ears perk up and you want to know more, either go to the web and/or talk to me. Since I got the Apple into my life, I'm not sure I can transfer that Microsoft program to you, if you want it, but we might try.
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Sunday, December 16, 2012 at 7:52 AM

Hmmmm.  Interesting.  Turns out, "There's an app for that!"... 32 free choices for the iPhone alone, if you don't count the fancy ones designed especially for iPad or the plethora more if you're willing to pay.

My initial thoughts include remembrance of the biblical admonition, "As a man thinketh, so he is," and so I think it could be dangerous to check and know a biorhythmic forecast for one's day going into it. Kind of the self-fulfilling prophecy idea... 

I also remember Abe Lincoln's famous quotation, "I think most people are about as happy as they make up their minds to be." [I also know that, despite this (probably pretty accurate) belief, he struggled with consistently glum moods.]

I also remember Rob Weasley's stellar performance in the Quidditch match in some installment of the seven Harry Potter books-- all (and most would say only) because he thought he had consumed felix felicis, a potion guaranteeing success in all your endeavors. Never mind that he hadn't; he thought that he had.

Of course, several other realities also come quickly to mind: The reality of hormone fluctuations (and resultant mood changes) in the monthly menstrual cycle... The mood and energy swings (both elevations and drops) as well as insulin spikes and crashes associated with diet and particularly sugar consumption... Cortisol and adrenalin levels associated with stress and stress-management... Endorphins, dopamine, and other stress-relieving hormones released with exercise... Serotonin and melatonin levels, affected by sleep and sunshine and a host of other things beyond diet... And lastly--though certainly only last on the list, not in practice--the scientifically documented effect of prayer on mood, feelings, performance, and outcomes...

I think we're probably safest leaving consultation of the biorhythm chart where I long ago relegated the daily horoscope... "No, thank you."

Just my initial thoughts upon reading this fascinating note this morning.

So, happy Sunday, no matter what your chart says for today! ;)

L.

Baking for the Efficiency Nut

Remember me bemoaning life at our taco dinner, wishing we could wrap them in the kind of paper that Moe is using for his wrap-ups, so we could eat all we load on the soft tortilla without having to chase the contents all over the dinner table and in our laps?

Well, the problem is solved. Reynolds is offering non-stick pan lining paper that fits the bill perfectly. They call it Reynolds Wrap and it is parchment with a foil coating on one side. They advertise it for baking and cooking and have a tempting picture of a slice of lasagna coming right out of the casserole, without anything sticking.

I got me a roll and used it for making me a batch of Rock Cakes. The paper molds perfectly to the baking sheet, without the curling that you get from parchment. When you have the sheet in the oven, you load up another piece of Reynolds Wrap of the same size and when the first comes out, you simply slide the paper with the baked goods off and slide the second load on and you are back to baking within less than two minutes. Slide the paper onto the cooling rack, and do your next thing without time loss.

Got it? Have more fun outside the kitchen.

Isa

Texas

In 1963, The M.W. Kellogg Company began sending me out on field trips. I had started working there in 1961, just after my arrival in the US, as a design engineer in their heat exchanger department. These devices were used mostly in the refineries and chemical processing plants which Kellogg designs under contracts. When contracts were not forthcoming, the employees found themselves on the street.

In 1962 I got to experience such a dry time. On Fridays I watched one, or two of my colleagues called to the division manager's office, and after a few minutes come out with a long face, quietly return to his desk, pack up some personal items and leave before quitting time without talking to anyone. When I found out what all of this was about, I went to my boss and declared that I was not used to sit like a duck on the pond with the hunters standing around and waiting to get a shot at me. Either Kellogg would transfer me to a department  with a bit more job security, or I would quit.

Those were the days when I was still living with the famed Swiss hard-headedness and independence filling me up and open utterances of that sort were quite possible, because the consequences would fall solely on my own shoulders and affect the lives of nobody else. I was somewhat surprised that the company did not take me up on my word and let me go. Instead, I was called to an interview with Charlie Voelker, Chief Welding Engineer. I got my new desk there and a new title and a totally new portfolio of duties. I was now assistant welding engineer and was expected to "investigate and possibly improve construction methods."

Charlie was one of the line of great bosses I came across during my career. He left me alone. He basically, in the beginning, instilled in me the knowledge (!) that if a thing could be done, I was the one to do it. He would help if I asked, or got stuck. For instance: Ultrasonic testing of materials had taken foot in the medical science and in laboratories. There was some experimentation going on at Sperry Rand in the US and at Krautkraemer in Germany, to look into metals. Charlie wanted to know if that had any application for us, testing welds in pipes and structural members in the field. After a while of research in the market, the answer was yes and the charge was "get us set up". In the course of that, the field trips began.

This picture I took during one of my very first tours of the construction sites in Texas. I had heard so much about the Texas longhorns that I firmly believed the pastures would be flooded with those animals. Believe me, I drove far and wide on weekends to finally come up with that picture below: one set of horns.

Along the way I got an invitation to a Texas BBQ. One of the job managers of one of the Kellogg sites was a local man and had a small ranch operation on the side. Since his current work site was close to home, he invited his supervisors and other assorted guests to this affair. It was unlike anything I had seen in the way of BBQ. along the drive to the house, they had built a long strip of wood fire, burning big hunks of trees. Over this fire, they had set up four young trees, rammed into the dirt behind the fire and leaning over the flames. Onto each pair of these trees they had lashed one half steer carcass (the body split along the spine like they do in slaughter houses) and the meat roasted slowly in the radiant heat, while the fat ran along the meat and dripped into the grass next to the fire so that one never saw any big flair-up. I don,t know when they started that operation, but I suspect it was many hours before the guests arrived. When time to eating came, one went to one of the ranch hands tending this setup and pointed to the area of the roast where one wanted one's meat cut and would receive a slab on a paper plate. With black beans and baked potato - what a meal.

Of course eating BBQ beef was not the main thing I did in Texas. Most of those memories are rather technical and I don't want to bore you with that. Perhaps some other time, a little bit ;-)
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Sunday, December 9, 2012 at 11:02 AM

By the way...

Talking about Texas and not wanting to bore you with technical things: At the time, this was our main business: Kellogg had developed a very efficient way of synthesizing ammonia from natural gas and these plants popped up all over the south and south west. Of 10 plants being built, Kellogg would get 8 contracts with two getting into the competition's hands mostly because we were up to capacity. I got into those plants because of material testing, assembly of high-rise pipe systems, instrument tubing.



 On the left, you see that rusty looking structure going up. When finished, it would reach some 250 feet into the sky. On top sat a huge drum, which formed the heart of Kellogg's efficiency system. The wall of that drum was almost 2 inches thick and the piping that delivered fluids into the drum and out of it again was about an inch thick. The system operated under extreme high pressures up there and throughout the plant. There were some 15 pipes connected pipes going up into and coming out of these drums. All that piping was held up and in place by the structure of that tower.

We - i.e. Charlie and I - dreamed up a scheme where much of that piping were to be assembled in the piping contractor's plant, tested and approved, then hauled to the field and threaded into the tower and welded to the drum and into the growing plant system. The pre-assembly would save much time in the field and lift quality to a higher level. Saving time is equal to saving money. Improving quality saves one's name and in some cases one's freedom (see BP in the Gulf).

I'm proud to say we did it. I'm also proud to say that we gave mostly only guidance to engineers who had first to be 'brought over' to our side, because normally people feel that things are done in one way and not in another and if the known way leads to the wanted end then don't fool around with it. But we found believers in the engineering departments and in the cost estimator's ranks and in the transportation department and, of course, at the Trades on the construction sites and in the Unions.

There were some special problems: the two-inch thick drum welds had to be proven to be sound. X-ray was no good, because the x-ray picture had to be taken through two walls (You could not get the film on the inside and simply shoot through one wall from the outside) and became so fuzzy from scattered rays it showed nothing. We developed a way to do it with ultrasound. Then, when the pipes were at the plant, they could be assembled only to a length that allowed transportation on public roads. We organized some wonderful night-time trips of length of pipe reaching toward and above the 100 foot range.

These pre-assemblies came to the sites in Mississippi, in Texas, in Louisiana from Ohio and Pennsylvania and Indian. Then, those long pipe sections had to be threaded into the steel work of the towers by cranes, and cranes are very expensive to operate, so we had to find ways to cut those cranes loose as quickly as possible. We designed and built a device that allowed us to hang the individual pieces up after the threading, and then manipulate them without a crane into the position in which they were welded to the nozzles of that drum up there in the sky.

Finally, the testing of the welds was done by x-ray. I was in charge of obtaining and managing the Iridium 192 that we used in the field. I got licensed by the Atomic Energy Commission and carried those pills in their heavy spent Uranium cases all over the south, trained the operators and read thousands of film strips. And spent many a night working with my technicians taking pictures and making sure their procedures were safe and continued to be safe. Nobody would allow us to show up for work with that radioactive stuff before every soul had left in the evening, and nobody would come onto the job site until we opened the gates; and woe onto us if we had them still closed by the time the first soul showed up in the morning.

Somewhere in the treasures of the garage there is a movie I took of this piping assembly stuff I mentioned here. I used my own camera and when I showed the movie at the office, the Company wanted to buy it and the camera. The movie became a winner. We showed it to each department in rotation and from everywhere we got shouts of surprise: most of our people in our NYC headquarter had not the vaguest idea what we were doing to earn their living.

The story also helped our (Charlie and mine) names. Whenever we came up with another crazy, out of the box idea, people we wanted to harness to our projects listened and helped willingly. When we showed the movie, we highlighted the areas where specific employees and specific departments had left their mark. I think emphasizing the team idea is the only way to get complex jobs done well. And looking back to this now, you know, the greatest satisfaction comes from being able to say 'we' did it.

The stud, or, wearing someone else's feathers

It was in 1992, or perhaps 1993. Our friends, Al and Jessie Wilson from International Paper fame, had gone on a business trip and left me their house key with the charge to visit their home in Old Greenwich, CT on weekends or whenever I could find time, see if 'everything was alright' and "move their two cars a few times around the block". They had a conventional Buick and this gorgeous, beautiful Jaguar, which they had bought when Al came to Switzerland in 1958 to 1959 to set up a European Branch operation in Zurich. They loved that car so much they had it shipped to the US when they returned. I loved that car so much I couldn't wait to leave Manhattan, where I lived at the time I got this picture, and get my hands on the steering wheel.

The block around which I moved that car that weekend became rather large: From Old Greenwich over the Whitestone Bridge and up the Long Island Parkway and eventually all the way out to Montauk Point where I was forced to turn around and head back. That trip was unforgettable. You sit in that car and you see the scenery move by and there is not a sound until you open the windows. It is as if you were floating on a cloud, but not, as you might think, in a soft, wobbly fashion, but firm, with a grip on the road that makes you feel like you are driving a sports car instead of this limousine. The carpets in the back, where I had been condemned to sit with my parents during our many tours with the Wilsons in Switzerland were so soft and deep piled, one was tempted to take ones shoes and sox off and play in the fur with one's bare toes. Al loved that car so much, he never let anybody else drive it, and giving the keys to me was a vote of confidence I never forgot.

That car also was not one of many in the US during that time. Yes, the school kids in CT "all" drove the flying cigar, that famous two-seater XKE that took the fashion sports world in storm, back in the fifties. Those were the kids from families where the father was rumored to be so snobbish that he would leave his Rolls Royce and driver at home and drive his VW Beetle to work himself. The little bug also was a fashion item at that time, and became the choice of the flour children, together with its brother, the VW-Bus, only later in the sixties, when the fickle market turned its back on the VW and the used car lots filled up with the rejected vehicles. By that time, Wolfsburg had set up manufacturing of its cars in the US and failed when the public interest turned to other things. Anyway, Where that Jaguar showed up in its shiny British Green coat and the polished chrome trim, people would turn their heads. Young women were irresistibly drawn to that machine. Young, single drivers loved such fringe benefits!
That car had two tanks! in the back, there were two chrome fill-nozzles with quick-opening snap closures like sports cars. I forgot how much each tank held, but when I set out on my drive around the block they both were more or less full. On would burn the gas out of one tank and when it became empty one would switch a valve located in front of the stick shift and connect the fuel line to the other tank. That's something like the VW Beetle had, also, except that the second tank was merely a reserve and the switching reminded the driver that he had to start looking for a gas station in earnest. The Jag, on the second tank, could drive another few hundred miles.

When I got back to Old Greenwich that evening, both tanks were practically empty! So was my wallet. It was before the time of credit cards and the way out of such a dilemma for a bread earning start-up engineer was bread and water in order to save the money needed to fill those tanks up again before the Wilsons would return from their trip. A sobering experience, which made me judge sizes of blocks to drive around a bit more prudently in the future.
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Sunday, December 9, 2012 at 10:18 AM

Did you mean 1962?!  What a fun memory. A great chapter for your book...
L.
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Sunday, December 9, 2012 at10:57 AM

I rather think it was 1962, because in 1963 I began courting Tiiu and a trip such as that would have included her. It did not.

That yellow sweater you see me wearing was one of my favorites dating back to my skiing in Switzerland. I don't believe there are many ski trips on record where I did not wear this sweater. Later, when we lived in Washington Valley, TIIU got her hands on it and stuck it in the washing machine. Because it was pure wool, it came out too small for Elanore to wear it now. And it was solid enough to keep out rain. I cried and my mother got me another one next birthday or Christmas. It suffered the same fate. There is yet another sweater dating back to my skiing days before coming to the States. It is black, full, withy shawl or cowl collar. Somehow, I managed to keep it out of all helping hands and I can still wear it. I keep it 'in case I might find myself in Vermont one of the coming winters'. It's no good for NC.

You know, Laurie, I got up early, very early, to look for pictures I could use for Christmas cards.
Obviously, I was side tracked. Happens every time we open the old shoe boxes with old pictures. I haven't even had breakfast yet, even though I'm fully dressed, of course.

So now I go and do something to stop that rumbling in my stomach. Have a wonderful 2nd of Advent, and a wonderful, memorable weekend with your Iivo.
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Sunday, December 9, 2012 at 11:22 AM

But not 1992, as you originally (mis)stated...

You have always been--and continue to be--an exceptionally handsome man, but you didn't look like that the year I married into your family!

I love reading these musings. Let's get your blog up and running, on the way to a book...
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Sunday, December 9, 2012 at 5:03 PM

My goodness, what a typo. Of course it was rather 1962 than 1992. Thanks, Laurie, for catching me.

I better watch out! In the wrong pace, a mistake like that can cost one the right to have a glass wine for dinner!

Consider it corrected.
Love, Opa

We combined birds with birds...

Hi! And hi again!

We combined birds with birds and thought you might enjoy the results.

Love,

Kaarin, the holder of the body
Steve,the holder of the head
Opa, the puller of the trigger

Memories Will Never End

 Wednesday, November 7, 2012, at 8:43 PM

 http://static.panoramio.com/photos/original/10734407.jpg

I was reading one of Sherlock Holmes' tales and was raveling with him a ways, using Google world. In Meiringen I left his trail for a while and made a side trip up the Susten Pass. You might remember that sometime back in 1972 Toivo and Elve came visiting us at our home in St. Gallen. I borrowed the company's VW bus and we traveled that very road which I had traveled with my parents so many times before, while I was still a school boy. In those earlier days we would make a Sunday trip from Zurich, where our home was at that time. Sometimes we would drive from our apartment in Witikon down into the center of Zurich, where Migros, the large merchandising chain in Switzerland, much like our Walmart today, but smaller and without the connection to China, maintained a specialty store. They always had fresh grilled chicken available. The chicken were small, compared with what we are used to now, and we would buy three of them, load them into our trunk and head off to the mountains. At the very spot where this photo was taken there is a turnout on the road side and we'd park our car and walk for a stretch away from the road, carrying our pick nick basket and settle on the pasture with this view in front of us. The glacier you see did, at that time, reach way down into the valley and miss the little lake down there by a couple of hundred feet. I'm sure, if we were to roam through the shoe boxes with all the old pictures, we'd find one or several to match. We were very much aware at that time that we were at the downside of the most recent ice age and that glaciers were melting away under our eyes.

Anyway, knowing the spot, it is here where we stopped on our sight-seeing tour with Toivo and Elve, and you and Pia and Peeter were playing on the mountainside while we set up our lunch. Just for old times sake.   
Isa
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9:13 PM

 http://static.panoramio.com/photos/original/738735.jpg

Speaking of melting glaciers: this is the current view one gets of the glacier of the Rhone, the birth place of the river that fills the lake of Geneva, exits the lake at Geneva and heads down into the Mediterranean Sea near Marseilles.

You might have heard me tell the tale before: this is where my high school class took a weekend trip one year and we staked the glacier near its tip with pegs on the ice and pegs along the edges and then came back a year later and verified that a) ice flows down the mountain and b) our permanent glaciers are loosing ground to the steadily rising temperatures. The term 'global warming' and Al Gore were not known then. We simply spoke of the large rhythm in our climate and that we were on the downside of the most recent ice age. The glacier at that time reached all the way down to where the green ground cover starts and in width it came within a hundred feet or less of the hair needle curves of the Grimsel Pass, which you can clearly see in the picture.

This was another favorite destination of ours 'way back then'. There is a public park a little further down in the valley near Gletsch where one time Pips and I set up our little portable BBQ and proceeded to prepare lunch while Mims took a nap in the sun. We had chosen our spot so the steady wind from the east blew over us across the park. We had a leg of lamb on the spit and while I was turning the crank in a steady fashion, Pips kept our wine glasses full and he and I had a long, long conversation about anything and all things and off and on we took amused notice of the envious glimpses we received from other campers who had come with nothing but cold sandwiches and water bottles and had to contend with the scents coming from our grill carried to the by the breeze.

Ha-ha. En guete, and cheers!
Isa
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10:10 PM

In my last missive about the glacier of the Rhone I typed and error: the road I was referring to as being so close to the glacier is the one on the right of the picture, but that is the Furka Pass. The Grimsel is way over to the left in the picture.

You can see the Hotel Furka in one of the turns. That used to be a famous hotspot in alpine tourism. At my time, it was very much in the decline, and I don't think that it has regained any of its former luster.

The Furka leads over to Andermatt, at the foot of the Gotthardt Pass which is considered the heart of the Alps. At one time, the only road from north to south came through the very rough valley from Altdorf in the north and up to Andermatt and over the mountain chain into Italy in the south. On the way up from the north one had to cross the river - the Reuss - several times and the most famous and feared crossing was over the Teufelsbrücke, a wonder of Engineering of such character that legend wants it the builder had made a pact with the devil. Before the bridge was built, the horse drawn Postal Carriage stopped where the bridge is today. The travelers had to get our and cross the gorge over a rope bridge to reach another carriage on the other side. The luggage was carried across and the trip continued up the narrow road towardsAndermat.

Today there is the longest railroad tunnel in the world penetrating into the mountain just a little ways above Altdorf and coming back into daylight, way down in the Canton of Tessin on the southern side of the Alps.

Further on up the Gotthardt pass there is a monument to Hannibal, who crossed the Alps there coming from the south and met his end as a result of the losses his army suffered during that crossing.

And down in Altdorf of course is where the Wilhelm Tell legend takes its beginning: there in the town square is where the Hapsburg tyrant Gessler set up his hat and demanded that every passer show reverence to the hat! Wilhelm Tell came by with his son and, being a citizen with a strong and straight back refused to bow to this thing up there on the pole. He was seized and the shot of the apple followed and the stormy trip on the lake and the eventual end of Gessler up a ways near Küsnacht by the Rigi.

And speaking of the Rigi - did you hear the story Mark Twain told? He was on a tour of Switzerland and he and his companions climbed the Rigi to get an eyeful of the famous view from its peak. On the way up the were overtaken by fog and, knowing of the danger of traveling in the mountains when you can't see your hand in front of your eyes, they sought shelter under what looked and felt like a rock wall. Hungry and cold, hey had to wait through the night, hoping to continue their climb next morning after the fog had lifted, and reach the hotel where they had made reservations. After shivering through the night, they felt more than they saw the light of the morning sun penetrate the fog when all of a sudden they heard a noise as of tin cans rattling. One of the travelers crawled along the rock wall to investigate the source of the noise and found the hotel's kitchen boy carrying the trash out to the bins. They had spent the night sitting on the naked ground, leaning against the basement wall of the very hotel which they had wanted to reach.

If you travel from Küsnacht over towards Zug you come by the lake of Ägeri. On the upper end of the lake is the battle field (Morgarten) where the Hapsburg army suffered one of its most decisive defeats from the Swiss rebels. On the lower end lies Unterägeri, where Lulu and I spent most of the war years, waiting for Mims and Pips to come and again make a family with us.

Memories will never end.        With love, Isa
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11:20 PM

So now, with Google earth, you can insert photos of all the above as you compile your memoirs.  This makes for good reading. Blog time....  iivo

Opa, the waterman

Friday, November 2, 2012, at 8:40 PM

When Ema and I plotted to move south, one of my 'come on' calls was over a tourist office map that showed the Neuse River around Goldsboro. It looked like a wonderful water play area. My proposed scheme was to get a little (12 ft or so) boat with an outboard and fit it with a large cooler and get onto the river and cruise down - down - down. I said that eventually we would get to New Bern and there we would "turn right" and follow the intracoastal waterway to the Bay Shore Marina and from the docks we would call Kaarin on the cell phone and ask her to come pick us up. On the way down the river we would follow all those meandering loops and see the Cliffs of the Neuse and the towns along the river shore and the roads and the farms and the practically untouched wilderness of the river valley. And the cruise would be so soothing and comfortable, since we would let the river do the work of carrying us down on its back and we could lounge and watch the shore and the fish and the turtles and the birds and . . .

Just now I did the next best thing: I started Google World and put my little boat into the Little River near Riverbend and followed the contorted line of our 'little creek in front of the house'. I passed the seed beds of the Forestry Service and crossed under 70 at the Little River Plaza and passed the old Cherry Creek Hospital and eventually came down to the Neuse, just above the old Waynesboro settlement where the riverboats used to land before the railroad was built and took the town away from the river up to where the crossing steel roads prompted Goldsboro to spring out of the ground. That happened a bit before the civil war. The line from Williamstown through Goldsboro and up towards Richmond was the last straw to break Lee's back when the battle at Goldsboro bridge destroyed the bridge and deprived the souther army of the needed supplies. That's when Lee offered to shake hands with Grant at Appomattox. The aficionados of Civil War Lore will lynch me for abbreviating history like this.

Forgive?      Sure!     Forget?     Never

So I followed the river past the battlefield down by the new bridge and passed the Goldsboro water treatment plants at the end of the main runway of the Seymour Johnston Airforce Base and followed a stretch of 581, crossed it and then crossed 111 several times. There is some really torturous meandering going on just after I passed the Cliffs of the Neuse, which look like nothing exciting even by the view of Google, which is way more impressive than the view you get from the public parking area above. I followed that river turn by turn and was really impressed by the topographical contours which show that this river has held its present course no since a very long time. The old loops from earlier limes are clearly visible in the dark woods left and right of the water way and one gets the impression that down there, on the land, one would find what the early explorers found after they left their ship way down in the mouth of the river and began to explore the new world on foot.

I always thought that rivers meander because the land is flat, and if I go by this rule the the land up-river from Kinston is flatter than the land downriver to New Bern. Whether I'm right or wrong, the fact is that google shows very convoluted lines above Kinston, and lets the river straighten out considerably below that town, until one reaches New Bern itself, and the wide open space of the river and the first view of the barrier islands, where I found the intracoastal waterway and headed straight down to Bay shore. One day, perhaps, large scale topographical maps will be easily available and this question of where the real flat land lies can be answered.

Now that I've done that trip, I think I will reconsider the 12' flat bottom. I think I want something longer and wider, with a bent wood frame for a comfortable mosquito netted room, and perhaps enough floor space for an air mattress for one night out; and a place for a cooler plus a gas stove to have a couple of warm meals on the way down.  The Neuse looks brown and silty. But we've stopped often along her shores and noticed that it is the bottom of the slow flowing river that you see. The water itself appears to be clear. Considering the number of towns along its course, and how many times the water has been used and cleaned, it should be quite pure, wouldn't you think?

Opa, the waterman
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Saturday, November 3, 2012, at 8:03 AM

OK waterman (at your age this usually refers to some physical problems), so you googled the meanderings of a river.  Did you also find navigation charts to give you channel depths? Food and drink are to be accommodated, but how about firefighting equipment, flares, extra cell phone batteries, rain gear, etc. etc.  How about a marine weather radio?

I admire your tenacity. You know you could probably get to the Mississippi, then the Potomac, then the Hudson, then the St Laurence waterway, then the Atlantic, down to Boston Harbor...   

Riina

Law?

I picked this up from BBC news. This stuff makes me so mad I could become a real active activist. Any ideas how we can join the fight effectively? I really like the last paragraph quoted here; as long as we have an Executive Branch of government that is forceful enough to instruct the Judiciary, we really have nothing to fear. Who pays this guy? Obviously it's not the people; they are only paying the bills. Read what BBC says.

The 2nd Circuit Court of Appeals ruled 2 to 1 that the Defense of Marriage Act (Doma) is unconstitutional.

The act denies legally married gay couples federal benefits including the ability to file joint tax returns.

A Boston court unanimously ruled against Doma in May. The Supreme Court is expected to consider it next year.

Only it can issue final rulings on whether laws passed by the US Congress are constitutional or not.

In 2011, President Barack Obama instructed the Department of Justice not to defend the law, and earlier this year he announced that he supported the right of gays to marry.