VS and YA are out and about this week. A few clues:
Where are we?
Header photo credit: Peter Isotalo A 1:10 scale model of Vasa’s elaborately decorated stern.
On August 10, 1628, The Vasa, a brand new war ship commissioned by King Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden, set off on its maiden voyage from Stockholm. It got about a mile into the harbor when a mild gust of wind tipped it over and sank it, killing about 30 sailors. It wasn’t salvaged until 1961. Quite a bit of the remains of the ship and much of its fittings and cargo are on display in a very popular museum in Stockholm.
The Vasa Syndrome is a term used today to describe modern institutional or business failure due to poor communication, unrealistic goal setting, and lack of adaptability by management. Gustavus was off fighting a war in Germany and Poland, but kept making changes to the design of the ship, insisting, for example, that there be 84 bronze cannons when the ship could only hold 36. He wanted it built quickly, with elaborate decorations and carvings that showed off his grandeur and greatness on its multiple decks, the height of which made it unstable in the water. It was tested for stability in the water and failed the test, but was allowed to sail anyway. It ended in disaster. It seems things never change.
What are your experiences with the Vasa Syndrome? Got any good stories about boats?
I have always loved popsicles. I ate so many as a small child that I got lots of cavities in my teeth. My early favorites were the blue raspberry ones. Ice cream bars were never a favorite, not until I spent a month in the summer after Grade 11 in Saltillo, Mexico studying Spanish. It was hot there in July, and I discovered a world of wonderful frozen confections. My favorite were strawberry ice cream bars with a ripe strawberry at the base. I looked for them in vain in the grocery store back home, but never found them again. I stopped eating popsickles and ice cream bars over the years. My frozen treat consumption had dwindled to mainly bowls of vanilla ice cream.
Just the other day I was wheeling my cart past the frozen treat section at Walmart when I spied some interesting looking frozen treats with a lot of Spanish words on the boxes. I bought some ice cream ones and some fruity ones that had the slightest hint of hot chili. They were all wonderful, and the strawberry ones were very much like the Saltillo strawberry bars. I am in Heaven!
What were your favorite summer treats as a child? What do you like now?
Daughter told me that when she was at a farmers market in Tacoma last Saturday, she ran into another graduate of Concordia College. (I and both our children graduated from there). I asked her if she knew the person. Daughter said no, but the woman recognized her Concordia ring and identified her as a Cobber. As you can see from the header photo, it is a pretty plain ring and not all that easy to spot on someone else’s hand.
The College magazine is full of stories of Cobbers encountering other Cobbers in odd places, always identifying each other by their rings. “Marlys Swensrud (’64) was surprized to meet up with Lars Lindstrom (’88) on a bird watching trip in Cyprus last August”. You would think all we alums do is stare at people’s hands hoping to find a fellow graduate. It isn’t even that the ring tells much about what sort of people we are, only that we have a shared experience of a certain place. I think that if I wanted to let people know about me by wearing something symbolic, it would be small ceramic pins in the shape of a pie or a garden hoe, or perhaps a Welsh Terrier.
What symbol would you wear to let people know about you? What do you think are some symbols that could identify us as Baboons?
I’m not sure what motivated me but last night I clicked on CNN.com. I know, I know… what was I thinking? It went against my ostrich imitation of the last couple of months (head in the sand), but something drove me to it.
But amid all the bad news, there was an interesting bit. Apparently when asked a direct question about whether the U.S. is still interested in buying Greenland (despite it definitely NOT being on the market), a straight answer was not to be had from the Secretary of State. Here’s a link to the story, which is kinda funny: https://www.cnn.com/2020/07/22/politics/trump-buy-greenland-pompeo/index.html
I don’t really have much to say about this (since it is so beyond absurd that “absurd” isn’t a good enough word) except that I think I might prefer for us to get a tropical island instead.
What do you think? If we have to buy an island, which one to you think we should put in our shopping cart?
On June 24, 1497, John Cabot and his ship bumped into Nova Scotia, thought it was Asia, and claimed it for England. My, was he wrong!
I love maps and reading maps. I hate being told I am wrong. I don’t know if Cabot learned he was wrong or how he felt if he found out he was wrong. I reluctantly use Google Maps in cities if I don’t know my way around. I am a visual person, and I prefer to see where I am going. I wonder about the maps Cabot had to follow. I would have had a word with chief navigator about this entire continent being in the way of Asia, and no one knowing about it.
When have you been wrong? What is your favorite way of getting information?
We were asked to go fishing on Lake Sakakawea on Saturday with a colleague and his sweetie. He is in his 70’s, still works at my agency as a psychologist, and loves to fish. He has a rather nice boat, about 20 feet long, with a live well, windshield, and comfortable seating. It had been a couple of years since we had gone fishing with him, and he was excited to spend some time with us. He has been working from home since the virus struck, and has felt rather isolated. It is a two hour drive up to the lake on oilfield highways, and we planned to leave about 6:00 am. We were in charge of the lunch, and I had prepared Baboon Joanne’s Southwest Salad, rhubarb muffins, banana bread, and ham and beef sandwiches.
At 5:00 AM, our friend phoned and said he was in too much pain from bone spurs in his neck, and he had to cancel the trip. I felt sorry for him, but I was so happy we didn’t have to go. I don’t like boats, I especially don’t like boats on big lakes, and I find fishing unutterably boring. Husband likes to fish, and I didn’t want to disappoint him or our friend, so I was prepared to go along and do my best to have a good time. I may not have had any siblings, but I don’t want to act like the stereotypical spoiled only child. (Only children aren’t any more spoiled and self centered than any other children, as a rule, but we have to combat these inaccurate stereotypes.)
We spent the day in the garden Saturday and got a lot of things done around the house. We had lots of good food already prepared. It was a good day.
When have you been relieved lately? What do you put up with out of love and affection?
Twice before in my life in corporate America, it has been rough times. Nothing quite like this, but for the travel industry, tough. After 911, with all the airlines shut down and folks scared, everything went very quiet in my division for several weeks. The second time was the recession of 2009, when companies thought that having incentive programs would make them too “visible”. All the bank programs went first (even the banks that never took monies from the government), but many followed suit. During both of these times, management was very serious and a vice president actually said out loud that it wasn’t a time for happiness.
I’m feeling the same right now, as if joy and happiness have been outlawed and I think this is more stressful for me than the general situation. So it is with trepidation that I announce I am experiencing some happiness right now.
When YA was six, we took that vacation to Maine for the Machias Blueberry Festival. I know I’ve mentioned this before. I journaled, took photos and collected postcards, placemats, brochures and anything else I thought could be useful in a scrapbook. When we got home, I found a good supply of stickers and doo dads at the craft store; I already had a good supply of rubber stamps of lighthouses – I’ve collected them for years.
I got the scrapbook designed and in the first month or so, I managed to get about a third of my material mounted and decorated. Then things got busy and I put all the items in a black wire basket that eventually got shunted to the top of my studio bookshelf. As YEARS went by, I often looked up at it, but never felt like I had time to really dig back into the project. Well, I have time now, so last weekend, I pulled the basket down, dusted everything off (cough, cough) and got to work. It took me a bit to figure out the font I had been using and I spent about an hour sorting everything out, putting things in piles by location and eventually finding a scrap of paper in the bottom of the basket that I had used to record where we had been each day. Gold.
So I’m happy to announce that finally, nearly 20 years later, the Maine scrapbook is finished. I was on a roll, so I also did two little scrapbooks for Rhiannon and Zorro as well! I have all three of them in my bedroom, where every time I notice them, I get a little thrill of accomplishment. Wondering if I would have such a good feeling about the scrapbook if I had actually finished it 20 years ago?
Any projects you’ve been putting off for far too long?
When they re-made Murder on the Orient Express a couple of years back, I made it a point to NOT go see it. The Albert Finney version made in 1974 is a favorite of mine and you all know full well that I don’t generally like Hollywood to re-make my favorites.
But it’s been on tv lately, so I succumbed last week. It wasn’t a good beginning as far as I was concerned and by the time it got to the discovery of Ratchett’s body (which was very weirdly and disorientingly shot from above), I was done. Then a couple of nights ago, I thought “what the heck” and clicked it on. By luck of the draw, it was right in the spot where I had turned it off before so I didn’t have to watch the first 25 minutes again. I made myself watch it until the end.
For the most part I like Kenneth Branagh but his Poirot was dark and moody, something I didn’t expect. The characters weren’t all the same and the two movies varied widely on how the interviews were done and the murder solved. Not to mention a couple of wildly grandstanding moments like when Branagh is standing on TOP of the stalled train “thinking”. This MOE just isn’t a good a film as the 1974.
The wide variations between the two films made me really stop and wonder. Do I really know which of the two movies is closest to the book? I have to admit that no, I do not. I read Murder on the Orient Express in high school, which is when I read all the other Agatha Christie novels. High school was a LONG time ago so I’ll have to say, except for the stunning “they all killed him” denouement at the end, I really don’t remember most of the book.
You know where this is going, right? I’ve requested the book from the library to find out. I’m hoping the 1974 version is closer to the book, but even if it isn’t, I’m pretty sure it will still be my favorite!
When was the last time you had to look something up to refresh your memory? Any movie remakes that you actually LIKE?
Last week, on what may very well have been the last below-freezing day we have this winter, I pulled what I lovingly refer to as “my London jumper” out of my closet. I bought this sweater over 30 years ago; it is black with various bright-colored threads woven through out – yellow, turquoise, red and blue. It is a turtle neck and very warm so doesn’t get worn too often each winter.
When I went to London about 5 years back, I packed the sweater, thinking it might be a good thing for a chilly British evening (and, of course, it goes with anything). I did end up wearing it on the evening we visited the Aqua Shard, a restaurant on the 34th and 35th floor of The Shard, the tallest building in the U.K. The group I was with had a few drinks and were coming down in the elevator when a young man (probably in his early 30s) noticed my sweater, or “jumper” as they say across the pond. He gushed over my sweater, made sure everyone in the elevator noticed it and eventually put his arms around me and asked if I wanted to join his little group. Obviously there was some alcohol involved. I said no and at the end of the elevator ride, his group and mine went our separate ways.
I’ve told this story to a few folks over the years but last week, when someone asked me about it, they were horrified about the fact that I was “assaulted” (their word) on a work trip. Had I reported it in London? Did I report it at work once I got home? I feel strongly about the MeToo movement but I don’t believe that every time one person touches another, it is “assault”. I was in a large group of people in the elevator, some of whom were with me, the young man was not aggressive, his hug did not include any kind of groping and importantly, when we got to the ground floor, he didn’t make any attempt to force me to go with his group. I didn’t feel a moment of anxiety and I actually laughed at the time – not out of nervousness, but because I genuinely found the whole scenario funny.
So I still think of this sweater fondly as my “London jumper” as it reminds me of an amusing experience on a nice trip.
Does any of your clothing have a backstory?
Trail Baboon 