Mt. Saint Helens

As you may remember in the early morning hours of May 18, 1980 Mount Saint Helens blew its top, literally. It was the deadliest and most economically destructive volcanic event in the recorded history of the United States. It was especially heart wrenching to Linda. As a young girl she spent a lot of time at the Girl Scout camp located on the eastern shore of Spirit Lake, which sat at the base of Mt. St. Helens. The evening news reported that Spirit Lake had completely vanished and the girl scout camp as well. We wondered, how could that possibly be? And the answer: an avalanche of biblical proportions caused by the eruption roared down the mountainside and plummeted into the lake. When tons of dirt and rock hit the water it caused a tidal wave. When it struck the shore it  removed everything in its path down to bedrock and when the dust had cleared Spirit Lake had vanished, so it seemed. Some time afterwards it was learned that the lake was still there. It was hidden under a layer of trees, trees that had been mowed down by the tidal wave and the enormous shock wave that tore through the forests. That shock wave undulated, rising above the trees in places and then descending to the ground in other places. Each time it touched down it acted like a giant scythe cutting a path through the trees. 

    On one of our road trips we camped near St. Helens and then journeyed by car to the newly established viewing place where people could see into the caldera and learn of the destruction. Several people had had the same idea and when we arrived they were sitting in bleachers and a ranger was describing what had happened that fateful day. While listening I tried to feel the magnitude of the eruption. It must have been horrifying to those few people who had refused to heed the warnings and remained in place only to be snuffed out in a twinkling. The ranger said that fifty-seven people died that day and that autopsies showed that most of them likely died from asphyxiation after inhaling hot ash. Several days after the eruption and while the ground was still warm the ranger told us about a barbecue that the park staff organized. They buried a butchered pig in the still hot ground and when it was cooked just right, they sat around eating their volcanic pig roast. It sounded possible, but I still wonder if that really happened. 

    I remember reading about Harry R. Truman who operated Mount St. Helens Lodge. He was among those who perished. At first people who knew Truman thought that perhaps he had survived the eruption, because he had once claimed to have provisioned an abandoned mine shaft with food and liquor in case of an eruption. To this day his remains have not been found. I remember a TV docudrama I saw many years ago. It was titled, The Legend of Harry R, Truman, and starred Art Carney playing the part of Truman. Darn it, I tried looking for it on the Internet, but had no luck. I do recall the final scene. There’s Truman sitting in a row boat. His fishing on the lake, when all of sudden there’s a loud explosion, he looks up with a puzzled look on his face and then the scene goes blank. Goodbye Harry R. Truman. The End

      I leave you to ponder this sobering thought: We live on this planet just as long as the forces of the Universe allow us to remain.   [Note: I made the photograph of Spirt Lake several years ago and of course long after the eruption Those are floating logs at the end of the lake.]

k

Bodega Bay

Why in the world didn’t we think to go to Bodega Bay before we did? I guess we never really considered it, most likely because it’s on narrow Highway 1 that has a gazillion curves. Driving a 30-foot, 19-ton motor  home on windy, narrow roads can get a bit dicey. Bottom line, it was white knuckle driving that kept us away. But then I discovered you could actually get there and avoid all that. It’s practically a straight shot from Santa Rosa.

Before going any farther, here’s a brief history of the area… In 1775, the Peruvian explorer, Juan Francisco de la Bodega y Quadra sailed into a small harbor and immediately named it for himself. In the early 1800s, the Russians established Fort Ross fifteen miles up the coast. They began using the bay as a port, shipping out grain to their holdings in Alaska. Later, lumber was the big-ticket item until the North Pacific Coast Railroad bypassed Bodega, having chosen a route several miles inland. Next PG&E wanted to build a nuclear power plant on Bodega Head. They began digging a very large hole and lo and behold they uncovered a seismic fault, ooops. Now that should have been something they should have suspected. They immediately abandoned the idea and the hole remained and is now called... wait for it...“Hole in the Head.”  Today it's full of water and home to birds, which to a whole lot of people is a much better usage. Speaking of birds, Alfred Hitchcock discovered the area in 1963 and made a movie in which a bunch of seagulls attack Tippi Hedren, but that didn’t happen in Bodega Bay; it took place over in Bodega, which is a nearby town with a similar name that just happened to have a large Victorian house that Alfred Hitchock thought would go weil with all those birds.

Now back to our visits… Well, what we found when we finally got there was a very nice, not too fancy RV park with front row seats for watching fishing and pleasure boats sail in and out of the bay. And to top it all off, twenty steps out our front door a fishmonger sold fresh-caught crabs. In addition, there were nice restaurants, a wonderful view, and full hookups…what could be better than that?

I recall one special time when Linda walked next door and bought a live crab. She had a large boiling pot of water waiting for a rather large crustacean of the sea. When she lifted the lid on the pot, the crab got the message and Linda had to struggle to get it into the large pot, but she being an old hand at crab wrestling won out and the end result was delicious.

Maybe what actually kept us away is the fact that Bodega Head, which sits across the bay and in full view of our rig, is on the Pacific Plate, while the village is on the North American Plate. All of this comes to us through the courtesy of the San Andreas Fault, which divides the two. If you didn’t understand the ooops in paragraph two, now you should. To this Native Californian, who knows full well the “big one” is just around the corner, having the mighty San Andreas Fault a few hundred feet away is little unsettling, however, on our several visits we detected not the slightest movement in the plates. 

So with all of this information, it’s now up to you. Go there … or not.



Note: The photo is not one of mine. I borrowed it from the net. If you look carefully, you will see the spot where we usually parked out motorhome. Look right of center in the image.

Ahjumawi Lava Springs State Park

A golden eagle perched high in a poplar tree surveys his domain. He sees something far below. It’s a wary ground squirrel moving along the lava rocks. The squirrel stops under the protective cover of a red and green leafed California redbud. He looks all around; he seems to know he is being watched. The eagle’s attention is diverted by a noisy flock of Canadian geese flying across Big Lake to the fields beyond. When the eagle turns back, the squirrel has disappeared. And so, once again, nature’s drama is played out in Ahjumawi Lava Springs State Park.

Ahjumawi (Ah joo maw we) is a lonely place. It’s located in northeastern California and is one of that state’s most primitive state parks, and it may be the least visited, as well. Lassen Peak to the south and Mt. Shasta to the north are visible from many spots within the park. Think of it, a state park that has no cars, no RVs, no crowded campsites, and for much of the time no humans. In addition, there are no occupied buildings, only an abandoned farmhouse, a barn, and a 19th century trapper’s cabin.

There is a bit of a mystery as to the meaning of the Indian word, ahjumawi. Some say it means, “where the waters come together,” while others maintain it’s the name the Indians, a band of the Pit River group, gave themselves, “the river people.” Water was extremely important to the Ahjumawis. In this area they found a plentiful supply of it from several lakes, ponds and the largest system of fresh water springs in the US. All this water provided the Ahjumawis with an abundance of fish.      

Along the park’s shore one can find ancient prehistoric fish traps. There were comprised of a succession of increasingly smaller ponds, into which the Ahjumawis literally herded fish until all they had to do was reach down, grab and toss the fish ashore. They were especially fond of suckerfish, which they smoked and ate head and all.

As you might imagine, the park is accessible only by boat. Visitors must bring their own; there are no rental boats available. At a spot the locals call “The Rat Farm,” located a half-mile north of the town of McArthur, there is a launch site. The waterway into the park passes over ancient lava flows. In some places there are narrow channels between the barely submerged rocks. The water is clear, so obstacles are visible to the watchful boater. However, anyone not paying attention can easily scrape across a lava flow and do damage to a boat’s hull, or an engine’s prop.

Ahjumawi is a haven for nature lovers, photographers, canoeists, and people looking for contemplative solitude. Some day Ahjumawi may have the kind of facilities that all the other state parks have. But for now, anyone who enjoys the primitive will find this park ideal. So load a boat with your fishing gear, your camera equipment, your artist palette, your bird watching binoculars, or your favorite book and go to Ahjumawi. Just don’t be surprised if you find yourself there alone.

Q

The Great Equalizer

We humans have a tendency to put certain people up on a pedestal. Any celebrity goes up on that pedestal and depending on who it may be, the worshipers are either a small tightly knit group, or a throng of several million. Athletes and entertainers are prime candidate for an overwhelming amount of hero-worshipping. Some deserve it and some definitely do not, but that’s a matter of opinion. What is not a matter of opinion is the fact that they’re not a higher order of human at all. They are basically subject to the same constraints, have the same desires and failings and must conform to the same laws to which all of us mere mortals must adhere. So the next time you feel like hero-worshipping, just so the desire doesn’t get out of hand, think of this photograph. It’s truly the common denominator and goes far in bringing the hero into perspective.

Sheep Ranch

Many years ago I attended a photography workshop in Sheep Ranch located in the Sierra foothills, not far from the historic town of Murphys. I used to come to Murphys in the old days when it was just a tired out reminder of a time when people rushed in for gold. It always appeared to be barely alive, but in recent years it has had a new birth and is now called the “Queen of the Sierra, One of the Ten Coolest Small Towns in America.”

   I drove down the main street passed boutiques, gift shops, cafes and wineries searching for Sheep Ranch Road. The first time through, I passed right by it; I thought it was an alley. The road was narrow and wound its way up, over and around many mountains. The mountains showed the scars of a recent fire. The Mother Lode country has had a long tradition of burning out its inhabitants, but still they come.

   Sheep Ranch got its name because of the sheep corrals that surrounded it. In 1860, the place quickly changed to a mining town when gold was discovered in those corrals. In a quick gold rush minute it went from corrals to fifteen saloons and five flourishing gold mines.

    Today it’s a mixture of old dilapidated shacks and a few newer homes. When I arrived some children had placed a small bicycle ramp in the middle of “Main Street” and were noisily enjoying themselves. The heart of what’s left of downtown with its one building was just a mere twenty feet from where they played. Part of the old building was the post office, which appeared to be alive and well, the other part looked like it might have been at one time a grocery store. Outside an old Texaco pump with a glass top sat rusting. Everywhere paint was peeling, creating rich patterns of age and neglect.  

    The inn where I stayed was also a relic from a time when stagecoaches were the mode of transportation and passengers stopped for the night. The parlor was filled with overstuffed furniture and a large steel barrel stove. The green and red walls were a mosaic of pictures, deer heads, tools, a stuffed badger and a stuffed squirrel, the Mona Lisa and an assortment of treasures that one might find in an antique store. Downstairs also contained a bar complete with a barber chair and spittoon, a small poker room just big enough for one table, a kitchen confused with old and new, two bedrooms with marvelous period furniture, and a large dining room with a buckboard hanging from the ceiling. Upstairs there were more bedrooms, creaking floors and lumpy beds. Bathrooms came late in the life of this old relic. At some point a two story tower was added on the backside of the building. it housed two bathrooms down and two up.

    Next-door, George Hearst made his fortune. From the 3600-foot shaft George and his miners coaxed, sweated, and blasted millions of dollars worth of gold. While nosing around I discovered a small mountain of tailings. While I stood on the pile of rocks, I imagined the following scene. George Hearst and his son, perhaps on that very spot were deep in conversation. George wanted his son to continue the family business.       

    “No, Father I have other plans, besides I rather live in an enormous castle on a mountain top overlooking the Pacific.” 

    “Ok, my son here’s a couple million. Go peddle your papers.” 

    And so William Randolph Hearst did precisely that.

I haven’t returned to Sheep Ranch. I’ve often wondered if it’s still the same sleepy out-of-way place.

Ansel Adams’s Lone Pine Photograph

Ansel Adams made the photograph, Winter Sunrise, Sierra Nevada from Lone Pine in 1944. It should be obvious to anyone who knows Adams’s work that the picture here is not one of his; it’s a photograph I made near where he made Winter Sunrise. I offer it here, because I’ve been involved in discussions about the ethics of removing elements from photographs and Winter Sunrise has always been one that springs to mind during such discussions.  

    Adams awoke early on four successive mornings and tried to make the picture he had envisioned, but conditions weren’t what he wanted. On the fifth morning he struck pay dirt. It was still dark and very cold when Adams drove to the spot he had chosen, located just outside of Lone Pine, a small town 58 miles south of Bishop, California on the eastern side of the Sierra Nevada. He set up his camera on the new platform that had been bolted to the top of his car. When he finished, he climbed down and he and his wife, Virginia, sat in the car waiting and sipping coffee. Just before the first light of dawn, he climbed back onto the platform and at that time he has been quoted as saying, “I finally encountered the bright, glistening sunrise with light clouds streaming from the southeast and casting swift moving shadows on the meadow and dark rolling hills.” Just as Adams exposed the film the horse that had been standing in the meadow turn sideways and the sun sent beams of light that highlighted the horse and the trees in the foreground. That moment was not only the beginning of one of his most recognized photographs, but later it would give rise to one of his famous quotes, "Sometimes I think I do get to places just when God’s ready to have somebody click the shutter.”

    The one thing about the photograph that disturbed Adams was the white washed L-P that high school students had painted on the rocky slopes of the Alabama Hills. “It was a hideous and insulting scar on one of the great vistas of our land,” so stated Adams. He removed all of the L-P that he could from the negative and spotted out any remaining trace on the final print. He was criticized for doing that, because many people think it unethical to remove elements from photographs. In his defense he said, “I am not enough of a purist to perpetuate the scar and thereby destroy for me, at least, the extraordinary beauty and perfection of the scene.” 

    On one of my trips down U.S. Route 395, I stopped off in Lone Pine and made the photograph you see here from nearly the same spot as Winter Sunrise and there sits the L-P. For this to be a true comparison, I would have had to be at that spot at o-dark hundred, which is against my basic principles. That’s why I have no sunrise photographs in my portfolio. Copyright laws prohibit me from using Ansel’s print here, but if you Google it, you’ll see the difference that a master of technique can make in a photograph. And I have no quarrel with anyone who removes elements from photographs as long as they fess up to it and clearly state the fact, which is precisely what Ansel Adams did.

Note: You can find a discussion of Ansel Adams’s Winter Sunrise in his own words in his book, Examples, The Making of 40 Photographs.

Cherry Creek

If you wander the unpaved streets of Cherry Creek, a living ghost town, with a population of around 70 people, you'll find plenty of abandoned houses that are slowly withering away. They were built in the late 1800s by hard rock miners who came to Nevada in search of fortune. Today relics sit side by side with newer homes, occupied by people who still work a few of the mining claims. Some of them brought in mobile homes, while others beefed up old buildings and added new rooms. There are even a few mud houses remaining that were half-buried in the ground. They had wooden floors and doors and wooden beam roofs, on which sod was piled. All of this variety makes for a cacophony of architectural styles.

The house you see here was one of the first brick structures built in Cherry Creek and now it's the sole surviving brick building. That wood you see in front of the door might seem like a porch, but it isn't exactly. It was the porch's roof. A tremor, or maybe age weakened the supports and down it came.

Cherry Creek got its start in 1872 when two old sourdoughs located silver ore and named the strike, the Tea Cup Mine. One year later, there were nine other claims along with a town of around 400 people. Legend holds that the town’s name came from a small creek that got its name from either wild cherries or chokecherry bushes that grew near it. The area went from boom to bust, then fire, then more boom, more fire and more bust. All told there were three cycles of riches to rags over an eleven-year period.

At the top of the boom times, about 1880, Cherry Creek had a transient population of about 6,000 with about 1800 permanent residents. The bustling town at one point had all the services miners needed: a livery stable, blacksmith shop, hotel, boarding houses, restaurants, two stamp mills, a post office and most important to thirsty miners, an amazing twenty-eight saloons. It's reported that altogether a total of some where around $20 million in gold and silver came out of the mining district. Small leaseholders continue to be active, probably because gold is selling at a price that makes it worth the effort to go after the small pockets that are left. Residents own most of the claims.

All the activity that once was and the growth that was the result is certainly not apparent today. You have to use a great deal of imagination to see what it must have been like to be there during the boom years. I think of this brick house as a symbol of the rags to riches to rags history of Cherry Creek. If only that house could talk.


Cherry Creek is located about an hours drive north of Ely.

Zzyzx

Many years ago I was looking for photographic workshops to attend. I'd heard about the ones offered by UCSC Extension. I thought to myself, “ Ansel Adams started the program; they must be great.” Of the ones offered, one in particular stood out because it was in a place with an impossible name...Zzyzx (ZYE zix). My curiosity got the better of me and before I knew it, I was off to the lonesome East Mojave Desert and Baker, California. A right turn off I-5, several miles shy of Baker, took me onto a dirt road headed for Soda Springs, which sits on the edge of an enormous playa. This oasis has been used for hundreds, if not thousands, of years by people traveling through the high desert. Four and a half miles later I arrved at the Desert Studies Center, a field station of California State University. I was amazed at what I saw. Palm trees, a large pond with a rock fountain and cement buildings. 

    The Center use to be a resort, the Zzyzx Mineral Springs and Health Spa, founded by Curtis Howe Springer, a radio evangelist, self-proclaimed medical doctor, Methodist minister and maybe a bit of a con man. In 1944, Springer and his soon-to-be bride filed mining claims for a 12,000 acre parcel of federal land surrounding the Soda Springs. They made up the name, so it would be last in the telephone book, bottled the spring water and offered it to travelers. Always an enterprising soul, Springer planned and built a sixty-room hotel, a radio broadcasting station, a church, a cross-shaped health spa, a private airstrip, which he named “Zyport,” a pond with a fountain he called Lake Tunedae, and several other buildings on the property. Springer traveled numerous times into Los Angeles to gather up workers, usually derelicts. He’d offer them room and board in exchange for their labor. At the height of his enterprise, 221 stations in the U.S. and 102 overseas syndicated his radio program, a mixture of religious music and his own brand of evangelism. He solicited “donations” that would buy listeners his special cures for everything from hair loss to serious diseases. These concoctions were a blend of celery, carrot and parsley juice. At the resort, visitors could avail themselves of goat’s milk and an allegedly life-prolonging “Antedeluvian Tea.” They were also offered a $25 dollar self-administered hemorhoid cure. Each day, Springer gave two sermons over the loud speakers that were spread throughout the resort and ended with more solicitations for donations. All went well until the federal government caught up with Springer. He was charged with squatting on federal land. Springer offered to pay back rent, but the government refused the offer and in 1974, he and a 100 of his followers were evicted. He was also charged and convicted of making false claims about his products. 

    In 1976, the Bureau of Land Management allowed a consortium of California State Universities to take over the management of the property and its facilities. Today the facility is used not only by people who study and learn about desert fauna and flora, but those who attend special classes and workshops.

    All my stays at Zzyzx have been very comfortable. Electricity was provided by both solar and wind power, the water was pure, the food was wholesome and the dorm rooms were as good as can be expected. 

    So how do I feel about Zzyzx? I would go there again in a quick Mojave minute.

Miscellaneous Ramblings Vol. 9 No. 5

Hello Everyone, It’s  May of course. Been that way for the last two weeks. I’m sure you’ve noticed.

I am determined to be cheerful and happy in whatever situation I may find myself. For I have learned that the greater part of our misery or unhappiness is determined not by our circumstance but by our disposition. ~Martha Washington

>>>The Cats… Have you ever driven Hwy 17 to Santa Cruz? Probably. And probably you've noticed the two beautiful white 8' cats that mark the entrance to an old 34 acre estate. Conventional wisdom dictates that the cats were inspired because of the town of Los Gatos, which in Spanish means “the cats.” But hold on there buckaroo, it ain't true. The estate owners, Colonel Charles Erskine Scott Wood and his partner poet, suffragist Sara Bard Field named the cats, Leo and Leona and apparently the couple just happened to like cats. Actually, Los Gatos was named in honor of the mountain lions and bobcats that frequented the Santa Cruz Mountains back in 1840 when the town was looking for a name. 

>>>>In my ever-to-be-humble opinion… Now I understand why the two statues don’t look anymore like mountain lions or bobcats than Calvin Coolidge looks like Meryl Streep. But then again, they are very nice examples of artistic license, aren’t they?

>>>The man left his mark… Irish warring king, King Niall of the Nine Hostages may have more descendants than any other male in Irish history, or any other country's history for that matter. It's estimated that this prehistoric king may have as many as 2 to 3,000,000 descendants. How do we know that? Well, people who study such things discovered the King Niall had the Y-chromosome, haplotype. Don't ask me how they were able to go back thousands of years to find this out. Probably had something to do with analyzing the king's bones, or what's left of them. And don't ask me about digging the old boy up either. So anyone with that chromosome marker is therefore related to King Niall. Oh, and about his title = Remember he was a warring king, and as a result, he held nine royal hostages in his castle’s dungeons. They were captured in each of the lands he conquered. Voilla...King Niall of the Nine Hostages. 

>>>Spending money… Question: does our government spend our tax money wisely? The answer depends on the issue upon which the money is being spent and whether or not the many different factions agree it's a wise expenditure. Anyway here's one example that has been floating around for some time: When NASA started sending astronauts into space, they quickly discovered that ball-point pens would not work in zero gravity. To combat this problem, Congress approved a program and NASA scientists spent a decade and over $165 million developing a pen that writes in zero gravity, upside-down, on almost any surface and at temperatures ranging from below freezing to over 300ºC … the Russians on the other 

hand used pencils.

>>>And now the rest of the story… The story above is an

urban legend, but there is a grain of truth however: NASA began to develop a space pen, but when development costs skyrocketed the project was abandoned and astronauts went back to using pencils, just like the Soviets. However, the claim that NASA spent millions on the Space Pen is incorrect, as the Fisher pen was developed using private capital, not govern-ment funding. NASA – and the Soviets  – eventually began purchasing such pens.” 

>>>A final word on US spending… The Feds spent a total of $3.8 trillion in 2015. That’s $3,8000,000,000,000. Another way to look at it: it’s $12,000 for each man, woman and child in the country. The $3.8 trillion represents only 21% of the nation's economy (Gross Domestic Product, the value of all goods and services produced in a year). So how much did the Feds collect in taxes in 2015? That number is $3,248,723,000. Do you see the problem?

>>>Water jet cutter... A water jet cutter, also known as a water jet or waterjet, is an industrial tool capable of cutting a wide variety of materials using a very high-pressure jet of water, or a mixture of water and an abrasive substance. WOW, water cuts! My son was doing a kitchen remodel and told me that the granite kitchen tops were cut out with one of these water jets. Again WOW! If you're interested and want to find out how it works, then google “How Water Jets Work – YouTube.” First we did it with a chisel and a hammer, then along came diamond bladed saws and now with water, so what next?

>>>Old VW microbus uses… If you trek over to the Capitola Mall on 41st Avenue you might want to spend some money at this unusual vending machine. It’s a lousy thing to do to a wonderful old microbus. But there’s no accounting for human behavior.

Seven Facts… 1) You cannot put soap in your eyes.  2) You cannot count you hair.  3) You cannot breathe through your nose, with your tongue out.  4) You did #3, didn't you?  5) When you did #3, you realized its possible, and you look like a dog.  6) You're smiling right now.

>>>A Thought to Leave On…. I've heard different speakers use slightly different words to define the Hindi (India) word: namasteI (NOM uh stay). Namaste is used as a customary greeting when individuals meet, and a valediction upon their parting. I chose the following wording: My soul honors your soul. I honor the place in you where the entire universe resides. I honor the light, love, truth, beauty and peace within you, because it is also within me. In sharing these things we are united, we are the same, we are one… After reading that, think what the world would be like if everyone understood and adopted the concept behind namaste: we are all one.

Well, that’s it for this time, stay tuned for the next time, which may be some time from now, or not... But in the meantime ... stay well, be safe, keep in touch,    Sam

And little ZeeDee says, “Woof.”

Miscellaneous Ramblings Vol.9 No.2

Hello Everyone… It’s  February. Love in bloom!

Kindness is the language the blind can see and the deaf can hear. ~Mark Twain

>>>An Italian chef dies…He pasta way. We connoli do so much. His legacy will become a pizza history. Here today, gone tomato. How sad that he ran out of thyme. Sending olive my prayers to the family. His wife is really upset; cheese still not over it. You never sausage a tragic thing. It’s such a shame good people have to die fusilli reasons. It was a fearfalle from grace.

>>>Mega Ship... One of the largest container ships in the world came into the port of Oakland, all 1300 feet of it. 1300 feet is about a quarter mile!

>>>Speaking of that… Here’s an interesting comparison, the old cruise ship Titanic and a modern cruise ship behind it.

>>>Sports… Want to know my favorite name in sports? Okay I’ll tell yah … Manu Tuiasosopo (Too e ahso so po). Say that several times and perhaps you’ll like it too, if you don’t already. So what’s your favorite sport name? Just the name, not necessarily the individual. Hmmmm?

Disclaimer… Those of you who are not TV situation comedy watchers, and you know who you are, will most likely not be on speaking terms with one of the most popular shows on TV, The Big Bang Theory. So you may want to skip the next two entries.

>>>Trouble on The Big Bang Theory… It seems the song sung to calm the fractious Sheldon Cooper is said to be stolen merchandise. The producers of the program are being sued by the daughters of the late-poet Edith Newline. There on page 27 of Laura MacCarteney’s 1937 book of songs for children is Newline’s poem, Warm kitty, soft kitty, little ball of fur; Happy kitty, sleepy kitty, purr! purr! purr! The Big Bang’s version is slightly changed: Soft kitty, warm kitty, little ball of fur; Sleepy kitty, happy kitty, purr! purr! purr! 

>>>Law Suit… The music company that sold Soft Kitty to the Warner Brothers, producers of The Big Bang Theory bought the rights to MacCarteney’s book. Ergo... The key legal question in this case comes down to whether the publisher, by buying the rights to the book, also acquired the rights to the songs contained therein. Hmmmm?

>>>Corrections… A friend monitoring the accuracy of what I include in these ramblings points out the following in last month’s issue: 1) Twain never said to “Twenty years from now, etc, etc…” It’s not clear who did, nevertheless, it remains good advise and for some reason sounds like something Twain might have said whilst piloting a paddle wheeler down the Mississippi. 2) The “God Bless You” account didn’t happen quite that way. The incident was embellished due to the telling and the retelling. But it seems so plausible. Away, one can’t believe everything one reads. Such is life.

>>>A definition… Some people, especially politicos, get upset at the thought of compromising. But, A compromise is an agreement reached by mutual consent. Now I ask you, what’s wrong with that?

>>>A case of radio procedure rudeness... I’m sure you’ve heard someone talking on a shortwave radio, such as in one of those old war movies, or a truck driver using a CB. The person says, “roger, over and out”… That literally means, “I understand what you said, it’s your turn to talk, but I’m not listening.” What should have been said was either, “roger, out” (if the conversation has ended) or roger, over” (if the conversation is to continue.) Thought you would want to know that. You didn’t…oh well.

>>>Something to ponder… You want peace of mind, well here's what experts have found that contribute greatly to emotional and mental stability. 1) The absence of suspicion and resentment. 2) Not living in the past. 3) Not wasting time fighting conditions you cannot change. 4) Force yourself to stay involved with the living world. 5) Refuse to indulge in self-pity when life hands you a raw deal. 6) Cultivate the old-fashioned virtues – love, honor, compassion and loyalty. 7) Don't expect too much of yourself, in other words don't make your goals so high that they're not attainable. 8) Find something bigger than yourself to believe in.

>>>Quiz…Mary's father has five daughters: 1) Lala, 2) Lele, 3) Lili, 4) Lolo... What's the name of the fifth daughter?

>>>More neologisms (newly coined words)… 1) negligent (adj.) describes a condition in which you absentmindedly answer the door in you nightgown. 2) lymph (v.) a walk with a lisp. 3) gargoyle (n.) gross olive-flavored mouthwash. 

A final thought…The difference between the almost right word and the right word is really a large matter – ‘tis the difference between the lightning-bug and the lightning. ~Mark Twain

Well, that’s it for this time, stay tuned for the next time... But in the meantime ... stay well, be safe, keep in touch, Sam

And little ZeeDee says, “Woof.”

La Purisima

Father Fermin Lasuen founded Mission La Purisima Concepcion de Maria Santisima (Mission of the Immaculate Conception of Most Holy Mary) in 1787.  Today, it's simply known as La Purisima.  It was not the first mission to be called that.  The first was established in the California desert near the Colorado River.  Yuma Indians wiped it out along with another mission seven years earlier.

     Progress on the eleventh mission was slow.  The padres had no funds to start the construction and no master builder to supervise it, so the plans languished until 1800.  Two years later work on the church was finished and a large mission garden surrounded by an adobe wall was in place.  Two more years passed and by then 1500 neophytes were living at the mission.  The mission continued to grow, before long over a hundred buildings were constructed, crops and livestock were raised and an elaborate and efficient water system was developed.

    In 1812 a series of small tremors were felt at the mission and then came a tremendous jolt, which shook the ground for four minutes.  Then a half hour later a strong aftershock hit.  The great earthquake of 1812 was not just restricted to La Purisima.  It did serious damage all the way from Mission Santa Ines in the north to Mission San Fernando in the south, a distance of 100 miles.  It destroyed many of Mission Santa Barbara's buildings.  The continuous aftershocks and a drenching rain sealed La Purisima’s fate, bringing down the church and turning most of the buildings into mud.  Father Mariano Payeras, then in charge, was granted permission to rebuild four miles to the northwest.  It went from being off the beaten path to being on the El Camino Real in La Canada de los Berros (Canyon of the Watercress).  A few years after it was relocated, it became a great ranching enterprise, with over 20,000 cattle and sheep and hundreds of horses, mules, burros and other livestock.

    The peaceful nature of the mission was shattered again in 1824 when a growing conflict between the Chumash and the soldiers exploded into armed revolt.  Beginning at neighboring Mission Santa Ines, the unrest then spread to La Purisima.  The Indians killed a neophyte and four hapless travelers on the road.  They then seized the mission and turned it into a fortress.  This lasted two months until one hundred soldiers from Monterey restored order.  As punishment, seven Indians were executed, and twelve others were sentenced to hard labor at the military fort in Monterey.   

    The mission was secularized in 1834.  A series of administrators that followed were more interested in their own prosperity than in the mission's.  They disposed of most of the land and livestock absconding with the money.  By 1829 only 122 Indians and crumbling buildings were left.  The property then passed from owner to owner until finally in 1933 it was donated to the public by the Union Oil Company. 

    Over the succeeding years, it has been extensively restored and is the most complete and, some say, the most authentic of the twenty-one missions.  The area surrounding the mission is now a State Historical Park with a little under a thousand acres, which is to say the least, only a small portion of the original 300,000 acres.

    To walk onto the property is to walk back in time.  The mission stands much as it did a century and a half ago.  There is no evidence of the modern    world.  You can stand in the middle of the field and turn 360 degrees and there are no cars, no power lines, and no way to tell that you are still in the 21st century.  And to add to the realism, volunteers who are known as Prelado do los Tesoros ("Keeper of the Treasures") dressed in period costumes are busy going about what must have been daily mission tasks.  They provide information and tours in true period style. 

     There is still one more realistic element that gives a further sense of mission life...pigs, goats, sheep, long horned cattle and horses can be found standing in their corals just as others like them must have done so long ago.

NOTE:  La Purisima is the only example in California of a complete Spanish Catholic mission complex and it is the only mission that was laid out in a linear fashion, with no quadrangle.   The mission is part of the La Purisima Mission State Historic Park within the California State Park system.  There is a visitor center that offers guided tours.

Mission Santa Barbara

Europeans first saw the bay near where the tenth mission was to be established when Juan Cabrillo’s two tiny caravelles anchored in its waters in 1542.  Sixty years later, the Spanish Viceroy of New Spain appointed Sebastian Vizcaino in charge of locating safe harbors along Alta California’s coast.  When Vizcaino reached the bay that Cabrillo had sailed into, he entered the name “Santa Barbara” on his sailing chart.  Gaspar Portola and Franciscan missionaries rode into the area in 1769 and immediately determined that it would be an ideal location for a mission. 

    By 1782, Father Serra had founded nine missions and was anxious to begin a tenth.  The new mission was to be located at Santa Barbara.  However, the politics of the time were working against him.  After having established a presidio and chapel, he was told that the mission would have to wait.  Alta California’s Governor, Felipe de Neve caused the delay. He was concerned that the Franciscan’s economic power was growing with each new mission, so he delayed his approval. The governor also convinced the viceroy, his immediate boss, to withhold the funds. Father Serra died in Monterey two years later. It was his successor, Padre Fermin Francisco de Lasuen, who finally established the mission on December 4, 1786. It took nine years before the first quadrangle and a temporary church were built. The mission was named for the Great Martyr, Saint Barbara, who as legend has it was beheaded by her father for being a Christian.

     A second quadrangle was built next to the first, along with a succession of larger churches. The last one, which had six side chapels, was the most elaborate. That church was completely destroyed in a series of earthquakes in 1812. Then in 1815, construction began on the majestic church that stands today. Its interior uses imitation marble to form a neoclassical look. The mission's facade is adapted from a design of a Greek temple. The plans called for twin Spanish bell towers, but at first only one was built. It may seem odd to mix Greek and Spanish architectural design elements, but in this case they do work together beautifully. Building the arches was a remarkable feat of construction by the Chumash Indians, who under the direction of Father Antonio Ripoll built the mission. For five years they quarried native sandstone, creating walls that were as much as 5-1/2 feet thick. A second bell tower was added in 1833, making it the only mission with two of them.

    In the early years of the 1800s, the great days of the missions were slowly drawing to a close. They had weathered the plundering of pirates, natural disasters and Indian uprisings. Mexico had gained its independence and the missions were about to be secularized, which was a devastating blow to them. Santa Barbara escaped the exploitation suffered by other missions, due largely because Narcisco Duran, presidente of the missions and Francisco Garcia Diego, first bishop of California chose Santa Barbara as their headquarters. It is the only California mission never to have been abandoned. It has had continuous use since 1786.

    In 1925, an earthquake, once again destroyed the church. Restoration began immediately. The "new" church was faithful to the original design. Twenty-three years later, the building materials were not holding up well because of some sort of chemical reaction. Concrete and reinforced steel was added, giving the structure added strength. What we see today is true to how the majestic church appeared in its glory days.

    The mission continues to serve the community as a parish church. The Franciscan Province of Santa Barbara owns it, and the local parish rents the church from them. Members of the Franciscan order live at the mission and care for it.

 

Note: Juana Maria, the Lone Woman of San Nicholas Island portrayed in Scott O'Dell's, Island of the Blue Dolphin was buried in the mission cemetery in 1853.