Guest Post - Confederate and Union Graves Mingle at Fort Smith National Cemetery

Hello readers! I am guest posting for Alana's blog today while she guest posts on my Travel Browsing blog. I live in the Fort Smith area of Arkansas and normally write about fun travel sites and activities in the state, as well as across the world. Be sure to check out Alana's post today on the carousels ofBroome County.

For my guest post, I'd like to share a little about the National Cemetery of Fort Smith . First created back in 1817, the site is the final resting spot for many local historical figures, including those who fought in most of the country's wars. But the biggest impact comes from the rows upon rows of tombstones of soldiers who died during the Civil War.

Fort Smith National Cemetery

The site was first used when the frontier fort was established on Christmas Day 1817 by General William Bradford. When a new fort was constructed in 1838, the post cemetery was expanded.

Although the fort was abandoned at the beginning of the Civil War, it was soon occupied by a Confederate garrison. During their time there, nearly 400 soldiers were killed and buried. Union forces retook the fort in September 1863 and in 1867, the cemetery became an official National Cemetery.

At that time, remains from several nearby battlefield cemeteries were taken and re-interred in Fort Smith.

Notable Civil War skirmishes near the area included the Battle of Pea Ridge, which was fought March 6-8, 1862. Although the Confederate army outnumbered the Union soldiers during the battle, the Union managed to hold off the attack and drive the Confederate force off the field, eventually leading to control of Missouri and northern Arkansas by the Union. The Battle of Prairie Grove was a hard fought stalemate in December of the same year. Two Confederate Brigadier Generals who died in these battles were laid to rest in the Fort Smith cemetery.

There are currently more than 13,000 internments at the cemetery, which encompasses over 32 acres. These include 928 union unknown soldiers and 475 confederate unknowns. There are also 5 mass graves for those who did not have full sets of remains (probably due to cannonball explosions).

Interestingly, the graves aren't separated into areas for the union or for the confederate soldiers. But it's easy to pick out which side the deceased fought on. All the union tombstones are rounded/squared on top, whereas the confederate ones come to a point.

A long-told rumor explains this difference, although it has never been officially acknowledged as truth. It states that when the cemetery earned its "National" designation, it was decided that the wooden tombstones that had been used would need to be replaced by 6 x 6 granite squares.

But because the Army, and therefore the union, would be in control of the cemetery, those who had fought on the confederate side were worried that headstones for their fallen brethren might be used to rest upon by the soldiers in charge of the site's upkeep. So their tombstones were given a pointy top to keep people from sitting on them!

Confederate headstone on the left, Union on the right)

"Some cemeteries segregate the two types of soldiers but ours are mingled in together. This wasn't specifically a battlefield-type cemetery, so people were buried as soon as remains were recovered and in no particular order," said cemetery director Craig Lachance, during an interview we conducted in his office that looks out onto the grounds.

"As for that story as to why the confederate headstones are pointy, that is strictly a legend. Whether it's true or not, we don't actually know," he laughed.

Visitors to the large cemetery can grab a free guide to a walking tour of the area, complete with interesting factoids about some of the "residents" there, including the founder of Fort Smith, Major William Bradford, and of Cromwell Swift, who entered the army as a drummer when he was only 12-years-old and who later became a union soldier.

Also, the Union veteran Calvin Whitson is buried there. During the war, he received several wounds including the loss of one eye. Because of his "crusty character," ever-present eye patch, and later work as a U.S. Deputy Marshal, he is thought to be the basis for the "Rooster Cogburn" character in the original True Grit book.

Non-Civil War notables at the Cemetery include Fort Smith native Brigadier General William O. Darby (who led "Darby's Rangers" during World War II) and the area's infamous hanging judge, Isaac C. Parker.

Grave of William Darby

"You walk on hallowed ground. Honor those who have come to reside here in perpetual rest and the country for which so many gave their last full measure of devotion." - Judge Jim Spears during a re-dedication ceremony on April 2, 1996.

Biography: Deborah has lived in scenic Arkansas for the past 3 years, after spending 7 years in the tourist capitol of the world - Orlando, Florida. In addition to writing about all things travel related for publications such as Orlando Attractions Magazine and Southern Hospitality, she is also a medical journalist for Medscape Medical News.

The 50 Something Lack of Planning Autism Blues

I want to take a little detour around my normal subjects. I don't blog about it a lot, but I have a 50-something brother in law who has autism. 

Last week, I blogged about the hard questions a parent of a child with a disability (specifically, autism) must ask, in preparation for the eventual adulthood of their child. I promised to tell my story - which is really the story of my brother in law. Because he is not online, and doesn't know about my blog (or blogging, for all I know) I will respect his privacy and let him remain nameless.

My  brother in law with autism was born in the late 1950's.  In those days, there was no Child Find. The word "autism" was not in the public vocabulary.  There were few or no support groups.  No Internet.  No, there were only bad parents, each struggling individually.  My mother in law was one of those "bad parents".  This was not her first child, nor her second.  She was an experienced mother and yet...he wasn't talking.  (Why? Obviously, she was spoiling him. Or so her doctor said.  In those days there was a common belief that autism was caused by "bad parenting."

He didn't talk until he was five.  There were other things wrong, too, and my mother in law knew it, but the doctors didn't seem to care much.  Did the schools help? No. He was put into special ed, which, in those days before the Americans with Disabilities Act and like laws, was not much better than being locked in an attic.  He was bullied.  Eventually, a teacher did make a big difference in his life, and he graduated from high school.  But it was a huge struggle for my mother in law and for my brother in law.  

While this was happening, a final child was born and my mother in law battled health challenges.  Time passed.

When he was 19, a family friend strongly suggested she get an assessment.  She did, and the verdict:  autism.  He ended up in a sheltered workshop.

Fast forward a whole lot of years, to 2013. My brother in law still lives at home. It's the only home he's ever known. Meantime, time has not been kind recently to my mother in law. She is now a widow. She had a stroke several years ago,and has a lot of problems with mobility.  She has injured herself time and again by falling.  She's in her 80's and people in their 80's do not mend well.

Her other children are "normal", grown, with their own lives.   My spouse is the oldest. He is several years older than his brother.  I've known my brother in law for over 40 years now.

My mother in law has never hidden my brother in law away, and I give her a lot of credit for that, given the times she raised him in.  But she won't let this son move out of the house to another placement that would allow him a life of his own.  She wants him by her side until she dies (in her home, in her sleep, is her prayer.)  Other than that, there is a black hole of not enough frank discussion that she has tiptoed around and we have allowed her to tiptoe around.  It's a very long story, and I am not telling this story to assign blame to anyone.  We've been working on this for years and now we are going to have to switch our work into high gear.


"To be Continued".

Tomorrow, on the Word Count Blogathon, it is Guest Post Day.  My normal Wednesday feature will be later in the week.

Are you a caregiver of someone with a disability?  What has been your greatest challenge?

A Bowl of Strawberries

Yesterday, it was a beautiful day, almost picture perfect.  Blue skies, sunshine, some clouds.  I had a lot of free time while my 20-something son and a friend were rebuilding a fence that my spouse had put up, using pre built panels, too many years ago to prevent my son (then a toddler) from falling down a slope at the edge of our property.

I'll be blogging more about the rejuvenation of my back yard fence another time.

But, mid-afternoon, I suddenly got an attack of the "I'm not appreciated, I'm the last one invited to the party, no one wants me around" blues.  I have no idea why I suddenly felt this way but it was too nice a day for feeling blue.

Then, I thought about this bowl of strawberries.

The picture was texted to me the other day by my friend of over 50 years in Brooklyn.  I visited her in May and she had shown off her garden. In a small backyard in Brooklyn, she grows everything from strawberries to tomatoes to rosemary and other herbs. She even starts plants from seed in a little upright plastic greenhouse. This, despite many health challenges.

But, she planted those strawberries and watched them bloom.  She tended them, on her good days.  She tended them, on her not so good days.

And one day, she went out to her yard, and she picked a bowlful of strawberries.

Those strawberries are part of her faith that one day, life will be better for her and her husband.

I really don't care if I am the last one picked.  I was picked by the right people.   Thank you, friend, for the virtual strawberries.

Civil War Sunday - A Bridge Not Far

Since 1886, this bridge, the South Washington Street Bridge, has spanned the Susquehanna River from downtown Binghamton to the South Side of Binghamton.  It is no longer safe for vehicular traffic, but I have crossed it many times on foot - perhaps, the way a New York soldier training for his active service in the Civil War in the summer of 1862 might have.  Although the bridge was not yet built, there was a training camp, Camp Susquehanna, on the south side of where the bridge is now. Many people living in Binghamton are totally unaware of that history when they eat at the nearby Park Diner.

(South Washington Street Bridge, courtesy of AM)

A statue of a Spanish American war soldier stands guard on the downtown side of the bridge.

A local regiment, the 137th New York Infantry, was mustered into service September 25, 1862, right after the battle of Antietam. Their commanding officer was Colonel David Ireland and this regiment saw service in many important actions, including Chancellorsville, Lookout Mountain, Atlanta,  Bentonville, and, perhaps most important of all - Gettysburg, where their action at Culp's Hill helped to win the battle, and ultimately the war, for the Union.)

(Civil War Monument, downtown Binghamton, NY, honoring the 137th NY).

David Ireland never made it to the end of the war, dying in Atlanta, Georgia in 1864.  To the best of my knowledge, there is nothing named for Colonel Ireland in Binghamton, although it is possible his actions may have helped to win the Battle of Gettysburg.  That is about to change.

In time for the 150th anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg (July 1-3), the South Washington Street Bridge will be renamed the Colonel David Ireland/ 137th New York Voluntary Infantry Memorial Bridge.

Finally, some honor comes to David Ireland, a man almost unknown to many who live in Binghamton. His actions at Culp Hill, and those of our local regiment the night of July 2, 1863, may have won Gettysburg.

After Gettysburg, Ireland (who was born in Scotland) married a local Binghamton woman, Sara Phelps, but had to immediately go back to war.  They never had children.  But we in Binghamton consider him one of our own, and he is buried in a local cemetery with at least one other Civil War officer.

Sustainable Saturday -What About Bob

Today, in the Southern Tier of upstate New York, we were going to have a busy afternoon, so decided we would go to the Vestal Farmers Market.  We weren't going to have time for the New York Cheese Trail open house, but you can find our experiences on an earlier Trail here.

At the market, I bought Bob.

Bob is an heirloom tomato plant. The vendor explained that they don't know the name of the variety, but have been growing "Bob" for years.  It's a meaty orange paste tomato, but will get much bigger than normal paste tomatoes.  The plants she was selling were all grown by her, under lights.

(This sign at the vendor's booth made me feel old, though - I can remember when Rutger tomatoes were not "heirlooms".)  Bob appealed to me because, by saving seed, this grower has bred a tomato plant adapted to our area.  Let's hope this isn't a year where the late tomato blight hits.

The plant was strong and healthy.  Since it's a couple of weeks past when we would have normally planted tomatoes, we hope we will get a harvest from "Bob".  He cost $2.50 for the one plant.  I can't wait to learn more about "Bob" and, if he does well for us, I"ll let you know later this summer.

It must have been New York Tomato Day, because we stopped in our local supermarket to get a couple of items, and a woman was sampling fried green tomatoes.

You do not normally find fried green tomatoes being sampled in upstate New York.  That's more of a specialty in the southern United States.  When I lived in Florida, Texas and Arkansas, I definitely did not develop a taste for them (or okra, for that matter.)  But I tried the sample.  The batter was good.  The green tomatoes were - well, green tomatoes.

But the merchandising caught my eye.

Yes, the green tomatoes were being sold as a kit:  two green tomatoes, and the batter.  I didn't notice the price.

I turned the box over.  I was curious where these tomatoes originated from.

Canada.

OK, it's true that Canada is closer to us than most of the United States is.  These tomatoes, apparently, are grown in a greenhouse in Ontario. So, I did a little research online and found out about the large greenhouse tomato industry in Ontario.  I also found out they eat fried green tomatoes in Canada.  

But, I think I will pass on the kit.  Instead, I will wait for Bob.

Did you go to your local farmer's market this week?

What Must You Do Before Your Child With Autism Grows Up?

No one wants their child, ever, to become a ward of the state.  Aren't families supposed to take care of their own?  Well, things don't always happen the way we think they will.  You sometimes think you've done the right thing and it turns out-in a big way-that you didn't.

Do you have a child with autism? If so, have you thought - really thought about - that day when your child turns the magic age where adulthood legally begins where you live?

Maybe you aren't a parent.  You could be a concerned friend. Or a grandparent.  Or a grown sibling.  We are in an epidemic of autism, and if you are reading this, you've been touched by it.

You don't need to tell me that you're in the middle of a war zone. You already know that.   In the middle of the war, you may feel you only have the energy to think about today.  And here I am, a stranger to you, asking you to take some time anyway.  Because I've learned the importance of asking these questions the hard way.  Learn from my mistakes.

You, the caregiver of this child, MUST ask yourself these questions:

Will my child be able to live on his/her own as an adult?  (From here on in I will use "he" to mean "he or she".) 

If not, will he have a place to live?

Will he be able to drive or use mass transit?

Will he be able to pay bills?  

Will he be able to make decisions about his health?  His finances?

Or will he need help?  If so, how much help?  Some guidance?  Or someone doing all of the above for him?

Will he need a guardian? (In New York, where I live, it can be a lot easier to get guardianship for a minor, someone under 18, than if that person has already reached age 18). Will he need people in different legal roles to help him?  If so, who are you depending on?  And what do they think about you depending on them to do it?  Are they OK with it?  Will they respect your wishes?

Do you have other children you expect to step in and care for your adult child?  If so, are they the right people?  (Answer honesty.  This is not a quiz and there is no one right or wrong answer.)

Perhaps your child is young, and you've just gotten the diagnosis.  Please, put this on your calendar for a few years from now:  "Time to Plan".  Don't wait until your child is an adult to think about it.  You know that saying "they grow up so fast?"  Guess what.  

They grow up so fast.

So who elected me to ask you these questions?  Here are my qualifications: I am the sister in law of an adult with autism.  He's in his 50's. His parents raised him without supports, and no one guided them to make the decisions they needed to make.  So they never made them.  Now, he may be paying the price.  And we, his siblings and inlaws, have been left with planning his future because his ability to do so is impaired. (That isn't true for everyone wth autism, by the way.  It's what is called a "spectrum" disorder, and every person with autism is an individual functioning at a level specific to them.  This, though, is my brother in law's situation.) 

We've been helping with this for a few years, and the need is now becoming urgent.  I may blog about that more next week.

So, once again, I ask, if a child with autism depends on you:

Ask the hard questions. If you have already, bravo!  

The people in your child's future thank you.

The Five Best Apps That Don't Exist

(Thank you, Susan Wilson and the Word Count Blogathon, for the inspiration for this post.)

Yesterday was one of the Word Count Blogathon theme days - asking us to write about apps we use on our tablets or our smart phones - for writing or for other purposes.  After reading a couple of the posts, I got to thinking:

Do you have a feeling that the apps we really need just don't exist?  Maybe they never could exist.  But why not dream?

The apps I use are commonplace- just the usual Twitter, Facebook, Kindle, LinkedIn, Weather Channel, Trip Advisor, and the app for my local newspaper.  Also, Weight Watchers.  I no longer am a member, but I am still paying - for now - a monthly fee to keep the app.  And, GasBuddy.  I love it when we travel.

But, these are the apps I would snap up quickly, if they existed.  Would you?

1.  Chocolate app - aim your phone at any food, and it turns into chocolate.  You are given a choice of milk chocolate,  white chocolate, dark chocolate, or chocolate with nuts.

2.  Calorie removal tool - aim your phone at food.  Keeps the great taste, removes the calories.  Listen up, developers!  People would pay millions to buy this one!  Especially if used right after app #1 above.

3.  Name that tune app - sing a song to it and it immediately tells you what song it is, the artist, and the year (I think there may actually be something like that but it has to hear the actual recording?)

4. Memory app - when you have a senior moment it prods you into remembering what you were trying...uh, where was I?  and

5. The Flower Identifier App - you pass a flower or tree you love, and it tells you exactly what you are looking at.

I could think of a lot more. The "Cook Dinner Instantly for Me" app.  The "tell off your ex in a new and creative way" app.  The "how to find just the right words to say you're sorry with" app.

What apps do you wish the developers would REALLY develop?

Spring Things - On The Street Where Rod Serling Lived

Roses are blooming in upstate New York, and I think writer Rod Serling would approve.

Today I spent some time photographing roses and some other flowers on and near the street where Serling, best known for his TV Series "The Twilight Zone", grew up.

And now, I have fallen in love with a house on that street.  Better yet, it's for sale! (a little out of my price range, though, alas).  I can dream though, because dreaming is a lot less work than what the upkeep of this lovely perennial garden must take.

Enter through the trellis, and on both sides, you are greeted by hostas.  But there's enough to look at even without entering the grounds, which I would never do.

This is what greeted me on the outside fence.

Fragrant roses!  I am no expert - I "think" this is what is called a cabbage rose, but am not 100% sure.

Here's another rose.  It had some fragrance, too.

Here was a variegated plant - it reminded me of a euphobia and, indeed there are variegated euphobias with pink flowers.

Meanwhile, elsewhere on the street, what I think is a mock orange was in bloom. (I couldn't approach it for a sniff, however).

And finally, several blocks away, the first clematis of the season.

The house?  It's apparently listed as a 4 bedroom, 2 bath house, with lots of updates, built in 1920.  It has a huge wrap around porch.  It will be perfect for someone - a nice family, perhaps. Just not me, in this season of my life.

But, it's nice to dream, on the street where Rod Serling used to live.

The Truth About Motherless Daughters

If my mother was alive today, she would be celebrating her 95th birthday.

But she isn't celebrating.  She never made it to age 50. She never made it past 1965, for that matter.

My mother was born in the wrong era.  She had a major health problem, rheumatoid arthritis (RA), which had no treatment back then.  On top of that, she was a heavy smoker.  That helped kill her, I am convinced.

When Mom died (suddenly), weeks short of my 13th birthday, I was adrift.  It was like a bomb went off in my life. And there was little support for me.

Like so many others of that era, I "sucked it up" and went on with my life.

Years later, I read an amazing book called Motherless Daughters  by Hope Edelman, recommended by a wise woman who worked in the same building that I did.  I could swear she was in my life, this Hope Edelman, taking notes.  It seems that motherless daughters have a lot in common.  For the first time, I understood why I seemed to be almost obsessive about certain things.  I also learned why I felt I didn't have a complete template for mothering within me.

It took me a long time to realize that a part of me was stuck at age 12.  I thought I had grown up but, when I became a Mom, I discovered part of me was still stuck at age 12.  I'd like to think that has changed, but it was a sometimes painful process. But now, possibly thanks in part to that same Hope Edelman, teen girls today do not have to suffer the way I did.  There are support groups for girls and women like me.

So, what is the truth about motherless daughters?  The truth is, all my female readers will be motherless daughters one day. Perhaps you already are.  Perhaps your Mom was there when you grew up, but not really there.  Each of us has had her own experience.

What else is true about motherless daughters? Well, we rock.  We're strong. And we make pretty good (I hope) bloggers.

Happy 95th birthday in Heaven, Mom.  If your Mom has been there for you, be there for her today if she is still on this Earth.  Contact her today and tell her that you love her.

Nature's Creamsicle

A creamsicle -  combine orange and vanilla. Orange sherbert and vanilla ice cream was one of my favorite combinations as a child, and it still is.

In nature, we have a lot of color schemes.  Selective breeding has given us some additional ones.

So, let's see what type of creamsicle Nature has prepared for us over the past couple of weeks here in upstate New York.

For the white, nature and man has both provided.

Unknown flowering shrub, Otsiningo Park, Binghamton, New York. (I'd love to know what this is.  The leaves looked lilac like.)

Wild blackberry, Vestal Rail Trail, Vestal, New York.

A beautiful azalea or rhododendron shrub, smothered in white flowers (Westover, near Johnson City, New York).

For the orange, we have this poppy, towards the end of its bloom.

And finally, what is probably a Mollis azalea (west side of Binghamton, NY).  The sun angle was wrong, I tried to get rid of the glare with my Photoshop Express on my iPhone. The orange doesn't display well in this retouched photo but it was definitely orange.

What's blooming where you live?

Civil War Sunday -When the Civil War Saved Lives

Florida - May of 1863.

The Civil War was being fought in the United States.  Florida, a Confederate State, has been relatively untouched by the war (as compared to Confederate states Virginia and Tennessee, which bore the brunt of the fighting.

But Florida did play a role in the war, and a hurricane and a  Federal gunboat called the "USS Amanda" were about to play a role in weather history.

Because, in my Civil War posts, I like to concentrate on the "rest of the story" aspect of the war, I want to fast forward 150 years. 

A forgotten hurricane was recently discovered by historical research into the Civil War using aspects of a newish science called  "forensic meteorology". 

In 2013, we have weather satellites, weather computers, and various types of technology which allow us to track tropical storms from birth in the ocean, to landfall, to their eventual falling apart.  We take for granted that we have planes that can fly into these storms to take readings.  We name hurricanes, analyze their damage with precision and track their wind speeds at any given time.

But, in 1863, none of this technology existed.  The only way we knew about hurricanes in the ocean was if a ship ran across one. There was no communication device for such a ship's captain to relay this information to shore.  Weather savvy people could tell a hurricane (at least, a serious storm) was on its way, but there were no tools to know where the storm would make landfall or how strong the winds were. The main tool metereologists had, besides their eyes to observe clouds and their movements, was the barometer.  So, death tolls in hurricanes could be high.

The story of the Galveston hurricane of 1900, which killed around 6,000 people, is perhaps the most terrible example of good forecasting gone bad before the days of modern warning systems. (In those days, hurricanes were not named.)

Just imagine if such a hurricane had struck in the middle of a Civil War battle, siege, or troop movement.  This never happened, but a hurricane struck during the Union blockade in Florida.

This  hurricane, in May of 1863, has now been forensically studied.  We now believe this hurricane, named Amanda after the Union ship it grounded near Apalachicola, Florida, was the earliest hurricane on record to make landfall in the United States. Because of the turmoil surrounding the Civil War, it was basically lost from historical record until now.

"Amanda" (not to be confused with another Hurricane Amanda from about five years ago) made landfall on May 29, 1863.  It may have been considered a "Category three storm" (on a scale of one to five) and, during its land and sea lifetime, killed 110 people, making it the 27th most deadly hurricane in U.S. history.

Ironically, the Civil War probably caused the death toll to be less than it would have been during peacetime.  Many civilians had been evacuated out of the area due to the Union blockade of Confederate shipping.

But, in a war of over 620,000 casualties, this storm became a small forgotten incident.

And the Amanda?  It was grounded, and had to be destroyed so it wouldn't fall into Confederate hands.

Sustainable Saturday - Rethinking Tornado Survival

Welcome to my blog and the 2013 WordCount Blogathon.  If you are new to my blog, I'll quickly bring you up to speed.

This is my third WordCount Blogathon.  I enjoy writing on a variety of topics, and my blog's title reflects that.  Because I blog daily as an exercise in writing,  I organize my week by several weekly features.  You'll find a schedule at the end of this post.


As I wrote this post, I was watching live TV coverage of a tornado near Oklahoma City, Oklahoma.  The meteorologists on site covering the storm were caught in the tornado, tried to escape and and their car was tossed about 200 yards.  Everyone in the vehicle is OK - a bit bloodied, some broken bones but OK.   But five other motorists died.

With climate change, many places that felt themselves safe from tornadoes no longer are (such as upstate New York, where I live now), but tornadoes have been a fact of life in Oklahoma for a long, long, time.

Tornadoes are unpredictable.  You don't have much time to get away from one.  Modern technology has allowed meteorologists to predict where there is a high possibility of one forming, but if you are on the ground, you usually don't see one coming.  And, tornadoes can strike at night.


Sustainability includes living in some type of harmony with nature.  We can't stop tornadoes, so how can we survive these superstorms?

There is one way, and only one way, to survive a tornado, especially the F4 and F5 storms, the most deadly of tornadoes. 

You must get underground to survive.   You can have an underground tornado shelter but even they have issues.  In a recent Oklahoma tornado, the door ripped off of one and the people inside were lucky to survive.  You'd also be surprised to learn how many homes in Texas,  Arkansas and Kansas do not have basements.  I did not have a basement when I lived in any of those states.  And what about schools?  The many people who live in mobile home parks?  Shopping malls? 


When I lived in Kansas back in the late 1970's, I wondered "why aren't we building underground houses?"  I investigated the technology and was not satisfied by what I found.

When I moved to Arkansas, my spouse, with some help from me, built the structure we lived in.  But it wasn't truly green, and it wasn't underground housing.  Because of the nearly 10 years I lived in "Tornado Alley", I watch the weather war zone that Oklahoma has been in the past two weeks with special interest.  We must do better in providing safe shelter for residents of those states.

Today, as one example, it is possible to build tornado-resistant housing that is also green.

So, why don't we build this housing? There are a number of reasons, based on my experiences of the past. Contractors would have to relearn how to build houses.  Banks may not want to take a risk on a house that might not sell.  Homeowner's insurance companies might not want to write them, with little data to guide them on rates to charge.

When they think of underground housing, especially, people think "dark, damp and tomb-like".  If done right though, none of these are true.

Shelters, meantime, are expensive, and won't get built, I fear, without the force of law.

But, if we are to live in harmony with our changing weather, we may have no choice but to change the very way we build structures.  This applies whether you live on the coast or in a tornado prone area. 

Have you had experience with severe weather or earthquakes?  I did survive being near a small (F0) tornado and may blog about it later this month.

And now, if you liked what you read today, here's my normal schedule:

Saturdays I blog about "sustainable" living - farmers markets, community gardens, local food, local "green" businesses, and even "green" technology.
Sundays I blog about the United States Civil War. Why? Because it fascinates me.
Wednesdays is a seasonal feature, currently "Spring Things": anything to do with the season
The 15th of each month, I participate in Garden Bloggers Bloom Day, with pictures of whatever is blooming in my garden or in my house.

The rest of the week it's "potluck", sometimes accompanied by my flower or nature photos. 

Again, welcome!

WordCount Blogathon Housekeeping - I Go Green!

 Where did all the rain go?

That's what you may be saying after viewing my blog this morning.  I've done a bit of long-overdue freshening up of my blog, in preparation for the 2013 WordCount Blogathon, which starts tomorrow.

It's not too late to register but you must act today.  There are over 180 of us participating. Here's the experience of one alumnus. (You can still participate if you don't register today but you are not eligible for any of the prizes.)

But back to my housekeeping.  I've had the "rain on the window" template (symbolizing the terrible summer of 2011, with record rainfall, two tropical storms and one massive flood) for too long. Out with the rain and in with the green!

As so much of my blogging involves gardening/flower photography, I decided to go with Blogger's Dandelion template (it's not called that, but that is what it is.)


Let me know what you think.

The Moon Castle

If only this was fiction.

Famed fantasy and science fiction writer Jack Vance has died at the age of 96.

Vance wasn't just a science fiction/fantasy writer - he was also a mystery writer. If you have read the Ellery Queen mysteries, you may be aware that various authors were permitted to write under that name.  Jack Vance was one of them.

In the mid 1960's, I was given an Ace Double (a paperback series put out by Ace with two books.  You read one, then flipped the book over and read the other.)  One of the novels was "The Dragon Masters" by Jack Vance.  I was captivated, not even being aware that the novel had won a Hugo Award.  Jack Vance, along with Edgar Rice Burroughs, helped to feed my addiction to stories that transported me to strange worlds.

I don't remember when I first read the novella "The Moon Moth"  (another Hugo Award winner) but I consider it one of my personal favorites.  I am no musician, and I so identify with a man (trying to solve a murder mystery on another planet) struggling to survive in a music oriented culture where a poor choice could cause your death.  Or worse....

A novella I enjoyed, The Last Castle, won both Hugo and Nebula awards.   On a distant world, humans have enslaved various alien species, including one called the Meks. In their castles, humans live a decadent life.  But now the slave Meks have rebelled, and are winning.  Only one human castle is left....

Worldbuilding (creating a world that is believable, realistic, and consistent for your story) is difficult.  Perhaps because I was a cultural anthropology major, I tend to be very particular about worldbuilding in a fantasy or science fiction setting.  Jack Vance was a master of that art.

But perhaps the most amazing thing about Jack Vance wasn't his writing. It was the fact that, for the last 20 or so years of his life, he was legally blind.  Yet, he kept on writing, into his 90's.

Now, that's aging with grace.

Has a favorite author of yours survived into his or her 90's?

Spring Things - The Glow of Spring

The other day, an amazing thing happened here in upstate New York. 

The sun came out!

Seriously, this area is not noted for its 300 days of sunshine a year.  If anything, it's the opposite.  So when the sun comes out, we celebrate.  And some of us grab our iPhones.

If the sun peeks outout near sunset, things glow.  Like these irises....

Violas, almost looking like they are bathed in black light (UV-A)

...and a rhododendron flower caught in the act of opening.

Put some of these together and this is what you get.

Part of the fun of photography is playing with light.  If you are lucky, the sun performs for you.

I love sunset.

My Dream Coffin

If you had the chance to be buried in a custom made coffin that was designed to celebrate your life, what would you choose?

In Ghana, this philosophy has become an art form.  No, more than an art form.  A status symbol.

A fisherman buried in a giant fish coffin.  A grandmother who had never flown buried in an airplane coffin.  Businessmen are buried in Mercedes coffins.  People have been buried in cocoa bean coffins, in rooster coffins, even in Coca Cola bottle coffins.

In Ghana, this is a serious business.  A funeral celebrates the life of the deceased, and the rites must be "just so".  Families can go into serious debt to give a proper send off to a family member.  A coffin can easily run a year's salary.

So, what would be my dream coffin?  Well, some might consider the subject morbid, but, a comment left on my blog today reminded me of an important fact:  It's our mortal body that is being...well,  buried or cremated or whatever else.  As someone who majored in cultural anthropology, I had studied burial customs of peoples around the world. 

"It" will happen to all of us eventually, and wherever we go next, our shell will be left behind.  In many cultures, the body is treated with reverence, and ceremonies are held to comfort those left behind.


The tradition of my ancestors, which normally involves a plain wooden box with no metal hinges or nails, and no embalming of the body, has always appealed to me.

And, if you really want to be green, there is natural burial.  I wouldn't be surprise if that is a problem in New York State, though, and I do not want to become a burden to my family.

But - a chicken coffin? 

Just maybe....

"One More Garden For My Mom"

This is taking place today in a city in the United States.

All around his house, neighbors are having parties, having family over for a holiday whose purpose is to remember those who died in war, and all those who served in the military.  But he isn't home.

He's in the rehab wing of a nursing home.

By now, he should have been starting his garden. It's unimportant where the garden is.  It could be anywhere. 

He's gardened for many years, this man who is now in his late 60's.  He never married, never moved away from home.  He's lived in the same house all his life.

Now, his mother is 101 years old.  A year ago, when she turned 100, the local newspaper commemorated the milestone.  She's a feisty woman, his mother.  I've known her for over 40 years.  She's a gem, and when we say goodbye, we declare our love for each other.

At her 101st birthday party, people flocked to her.  The owner of the restaurant, one she has gone to for many years, came over to shake her hand.  By the time you are 101 years old, it doesn't matter what type of person you are.  You are instantly famous.  All you have to do is look at the person and say "she/he's 101 years old!".  And everyone stops, and ooohs and aaaahs.

The years, in some ways, were kinder to his mother than they have been to him.  A couple of years ago, he was in this rehab wing.  Now, it's his mother's turn.

For her first hundred years, she never took prescription medicine.  She kept house, cooked from scratch, picked wild greens and flowers, took care of her son.  Now, their roles have reversed.  He must take care of her.

She doesn't want help. She wants to be able to move, to cook, to clean, to keep up with current events.  She does not want to be in rehab.  But she was put there after her third hospitalization since October of last year.  She trains as an athlete might, but her goal is not competeting in the Olympics-it is of trying to find a new normal.  For her, it is being able to stretch, to move, to walk.  She takes therapy for hours every day.  She works the exercise machines.  She hopes to come home in another few days.

While she works out, her son keeps her company.

He dreams of putting his garden in.  "I want one more garden for my Mom", he tells my spouse.

I think we all fear she won't reach 102, this woman who was alive when the Titanic went down. When soldiers went off to war in World War I, she was there. When they returned with the "Spanish Flu" and millions died, she was there. When solders went off to war in World War II, she was there.

And now, they are dying. Their memories die.  Our connections with those events die.  But, maybe not just yet for the man's mother.

The man will plant his garden. And, life will go on.

Best of AM - Civil War Sunday-Memorial Day

Tomorrow, in the United States, it will be  Memorial Day.  This is a portion of a post I wrote for Memorial Day, 2012.  I feel it is appropriate for my Civil War Sunday feature.
 
This day, sadly, has evolved into a major shopping event for many people, missing the element of what it originally stood for.  I must admit, I will be participating in some of those sales.  It is also thought of as the "unofficial" beginning of summer.  In my area of Binghamton, NY, the area carousels we are famous for open for the season, as do the lakes, and some other recreation areas.

But in memory of my late father, a disabled (non-combat) veteran of World War II, I will also take some time to honor his memory and those of other veterans I know.   Which leads me to a discussion of how this holiday originated here in the United States.

This holiday, in my youth, was celebrated on May 30.  Today, it is the last Monday of May, to allow many to have a three day weekend.

There are several versions of the origin of Memorial Day.  Some of the stories depend on if you were from the Federal side, or the Confederate side, of the United States Civil War (1861-1865.).  What the stories have in common is that Memorial Day, once known as Decoration Day, originated in a desire to honor the sacrifice of those who died in our Civil War.  The Library of Congress lists several stories.  Here are what are perhaps the two main origin stories:

Waterloo, New York, considers itself the birthplace of Memorial Day, and has a federally recognized Memorial Day museum.  According to this story, Henry Wells, a local druggist, suggested a holiday in the fall of 1865 to honor the sacrifice of Civil War dead.  The idea gained traction, and the first Memorial Day was held on May 5, 1866.

But there are other stories. One takes place in Mississippi, a state late a member of the Confederate States of America.  As that story goes, many of the wounded of the bloody battle of Shiloh (1862) were taken to Columbus, Mississippi.  Columbus ended up with its Friendship Cemetery full of Civil War dead of both sides.  Eventually, the Federal dead were relocated to other area cemeteries.

According to Columbus, the first Memorial Day was held on April 5, 1866, as the women of Columbus decorated the graves of both Federal and Confederate soldiers buried in Columbus.

While I am speaking of cemetaries where Civil War dead are buried, I would be remiss (building on yesterday's theme of differences in how North and South refer to aspects of the Civil War) if I didn't mention the differences between Federal and Confederate gravestones.

Regardless of what the "true story" of Memorial Day is, I want to leave you with a modern, local story - the story of a family of a solider from Pennsylvania lost in the Vietnam War. 

May your Memorial Day be a meaningful one.

Best of AM Sustainable Saturday - Hybrids and Lifts

This post is from May of last year.  This New York Heritage Weekend did not seem to repeat this year but there will be something even better this June 1-2 and 8-9.  It involves beer and technology - old and new. (Binghamton itself never had a commercial brewing industry "way back", at least any that I know of, but other New York state cities did.)  Should be interesting.

Please enjoy this post about what happened in May of 2012 in the meantime.

Today, as part of the New York Heritage Weekend, venues all across New York State held open houses or festivals.  Since it was Sustainable Saturday, I visited a venue called the Center for Technology and Innovation.

This center is located just outside of downtown Binghamton, New York, in an industrial area.  They hold, I found out, several open houses each year.

One of the missions of this center is to preserve and restore technology that was developed in our local area.  (Did you know, for example, that innovative car companies operated in upstate New York during the early 20th century?) I will feature more about their mission in a future blog post.

Today, as part of Heritage NY, the Center was demonstrating the technology of tomorrow.  This included several types of hybrid or  vehicles and a hybrid lift that uses the downward motion of the lift to generate power back to the unit.

I have talked about BAE Systems, late of my neighborhood, and relocated in nearby Endicott (ironically, on the former IBM campus - IBM having originated in Binghamton, NY as a time machine manufacturer and then moved to Endicott and eventually the world) due to flooding caused by Tropical Storm Lee in September 2011 that destroyed their Westover facility.  This is one of the items that they manufacture - a hybrid truck

Another product they manufacture is hybrid buses - they used to test these in my neighborhood and I would see them sometimes on my way to work.

There were several electric cars on display:  a Chevy Volt (not made here but it was a local dealer displaying them) which is not a true hybrid; and an electric car that was once a regular "gas guzzler" 87 Dodge Daytona until modified by its owner, Jason Horak..  He explained the modification cost about $25,000. (not too cost effective, admittedly) but he can go 100 miles on a charge, which currently costs him about $2.00.  Here is an explanatory poster, and a picture of the back batteries.

Jason explained to us that although it appears that the batteries appear to take up most of the hatchback, in reality they are set pretty far down and he carries luggage, groceries, etc. in the back (with a cover, of course) easily.

This is a picture of the Chevy Volt, which, again, is not a true "hybrid" but does have a gasoline engine in addition to being able to run on electricity.

And finally, the lift, which is manufactured by local Raymond Corporation, a manufacturer of forklifts.

( here is a video demonstrating the lift in action).

Do you think a hybrid vehicle is in your future?  Does your home town use hybrid mass transit vehicles?  Or manufacture hybrid equipment?

Like Christmas in May

My spouse and I have cut way back on starting plants from seed for a number of reasons (time and energy being a major reason.  Perhaps, laziness is another.)  I suspect that when we retire, we will get back to starting plants from seed.

We generally purchase plants from a couple of local nurseries who grow their own plants, Nanticoke Gardens  and Tioga Gardens. We also buy (too much!) from the Ithaca area annual extension sale, which I will blog about in June.  Thankfully, my spouse and I are both working right now, and can afford this obsession.

But sometimes, we find ourselves mail ordering some types of plants we find hard to get locally.

It's fun when that package arrives - almost like Christmas in May, except (unless you are forgetful like me and forget what you ordered!) you know what you are getting.


This year, I decided to treat myself to some flowers from Burpees-an impatien that is a Burpees exclusive.  I also ordered a type of basil, Cardinal basil, that I've grown the last several years (except last year, when I skipped my annual Burpees order due to extreme disappointment- a rarity - with my order of 2011).

The plants arrived yesterday, in a plain cardboard box with some ventilation holes.  I've ordered plants from several mail order growers and it is my observation that Burpees provides the best shipping of them all.

 Impatiens are a gamble this year.  A nasty downy mildew threatens to imperil the commercial production of impatiens.  (Thank you, Kathy Purdy, for giving me a heads up about this condition earlier this year.) I decided to buy these plants, nevertheless, and will see what happens.  We have ideal impatien conditions in our yard, and impatiens are one of my favorite flower.

Impatiens tend to survive shipment in good shape, and these came in the box, protected mainly by some cardboard and some paper placed on top of the plants to make sure they stayed damp.

Here are my Salmon Splash plants, taken out of the box.  They look good now but the trip they take does stress them, and they need about 48 hours to recover before they can be planted.

The Cardinal basil is another matter.  The plants come encased in a protective green container (beneath the plants, in this picture).  I will give them their 48 hour rest and perhaps even wait until Memorial Day to plant them.

What is so great about Cardinal basil?  They have thick leaves, bush up nice, are slow to bolt, and when they do bolt, the flowers are red - yes, this is one of the most ornamental basils I've ever seen.

I am still, in a way, amazed that non-dormant plants can be sent in the mail.  Like Christmas in May, the gardener can't wait for the growing season, and the goodies that await.

Do you start your own plants?  Do you travel miles to buy them?

There's No Place Like Gnome

I truly wish I had this kind of imagination.

Near to where we parked our car for our exercise walk on the West Side of Binghamton, New York, we found this little scene close to the ground.

I couldn't get the whole picture framed in my iPhone, but this gives you a taste of what we saw.  I hope you can see the little sign on the little door built into this tree so perfectly.

This isn't in a garden but was rather in a street tree.

I'm still groaning!