Mike Schuh and the Jefferson Airplane: An ongoing investigation

Mike Schuh and the Jefferson Airplane: An ongoing investigation

The mystery remains – Schuh and the Jefferson Airplane: An ongoing investigation.

January 22, 2009 by Kevin Dayhoff

Mike Schuh, Jefferson Airplane and the Surrealistic Pillow album.

Although Mr. Schuh would have us believe that he graduated from Camel High School, in Illinois in 1979, our in-depth investigation reveals that he did, indeed, play with Jefferson Airplane in the 1960s.

(Coordinating and reconciling these disparate facts remains elusive. Of course, this could all be the manifestation of an over-imaginative writer on his one day off?)

Nevertheless, witness, proof-positive, that Mr. Schuh does appear on the album cover of the Jefferson Airplane February 1967 release of “Surrealistic Pillow.”

This was shortly after Grace Slick had joined the band in 1966. Numerous reports that Mr. Schuh was dating Ms. Slick at the time remain unconfirmed.

Yet, notice her smile as she stands beside Mr. Schuh on the album cover photo…

Perhaps, after all these years, Mr. Schuh, may finally want to comment?

Of course, another mystery that we may want Mr. Schuh to help us out with is whether it is true, or not, that Jerry Garcia played on the album?

Two of the more famous cuts off the album were “White Rabbit” and “Somebody to Love.”

However, three of the other cuts off the album, of which I have always liked; were “Embryonic Journey,” and Plastic Fantastic Lover,” and “How Do You Feel.”

It was always rumored that Marty Balin actually did not write “Plastic Fantastic Lover.” That it was actually written about Mr. Schuh and was indeed, written by Ms. Slick. Or at least inspired by a conversation with Ms. Slick in which she was elaborating on her alleged relationship with Mr. Schuh.

One can only wonder if that is true – or not. Only Mr. Schuh can help us out; and so far, he has remained silent. A point for which we can only admire Mr. Schuh – a man of integrity - he does not kiss and tell.

If I recall correctly, on a number of occasions, when Mr. Schuh interviewed me, in my all-too-distant-now, former life as an elected official; Mr. Schuh was humming “White Rabbit,” as he approached.

Could this be coincidence or yet another indication that Mr. Schuh does indeed, harbor a former secret life as a rock star, long before he became a star journalist with WJZ TV Channel 13, in Baltimore, Maryland.

Inquiring minds want to know.

January 22, 2009 by Kevin Dayhoff

1960000s Schuh and Jefferson Airplane Surrealistic Pillow

Kevin Dayhoff www.kevindayhoff.net http://kevindayhoff.blogspot.com/

20080807 “La Policía” © by Kevin Dayhoff

“La Policía”

August 7, 2008 © by Kevin Dayhoff

Picture caption: Carroll County Commissioners Dean Minnich, Julia Gouge, and Mike Zimmer on the barricades at the Carroll County Office Building, Westminster, Maryland by Delacroix and Kevin Dayhoff August 7th, 2008

Writer’s note: A shortened version of this appeared in the Sunday Carroll Eagle on August 17, 2008: “And now, for this week’s installment of ‘La Policia,’ in the Opinion section of the paper.
_____

Carroll County’s reputation for low crime and an aggressive approach to public safety is not a recent phenomenon.

Over 80 years ago on July 16, 1925, the editor of the American Sentinel newspaper in Westminster, Joseph D. Brooks wrote that many “years ago Carroll county was known to criminals all over the state as an ‘open door to the penitentiary,’ and many there were who entered by way of that door.”

However, as one can imagine when a community determines any public policy to be of paramount importance there are bound to be impassioned conflicts and dramas.

Writing for the Historical Society of Carroll County in 2001, Jay Graybeal noted in his introduction of the 1925 newspaper article, “Why the Listlessness of the Sheriffs of Carroll County?”; that it seems that Mr. Brooks had become unhappy with the Carroll County sheriff and state’s attorney and was letting them know that in no uncertain terms.

Carroll County history is replete with colorful conflicts, many of operatic proportions, between the Carroll County board of commissioners, the Carroll County delegation to Annapolis, the state’s attorney’s office, and the sheriff.

In the most recent act of this ongoing opera, on October 4, 2007 the Carroll County board of commissioners opted to move forward with a plan to form a county police department headed by an appointed chief of police.

Not willing to disappoint future historians, troubadours from far-flung regions of the Carroll County Empire then entered the stage and chaos ensued. I read several of the news accounts with the soundtrack of “Les Misérables” playing in the background.

The only disappointment is that Victor Hugo, the author of the classic 1862 novel, is not available to write about it.

Just as with any good storytelling, “La Policía” the current epic Carroll County constitutional conflict over the future of the police in Carroll County has many layers, story lines, strong personalities, and plot twists.

The frenzied operatic moments are reminiscent of what a collaboration between the famous 19th-century composer Richard Wagner and his father-in-law, Franz Liszt, would have looked like; with the emphasis of folks attempting to promote a plan for the future that cannot escape the past.

The very first act of La Policía is borrowed from Les Misérables. As the curtains rise, the scene before the bewildered citizen audience is the barricaded Carroll County office building.

It’s August 7, 2008 and the commissioners have just voted 2-1 to not move forward with the October 4, 2007 police plan.

As the smoke rises from the stage, there is a break in the action as members of the Carroll County Sheriff’s Department are storming the barricades.

Blinking red and blue police lights reflect back and forth in the fog of the smoke.

In the background, the delegation to Annapolis forms the chorus and is softly singing.

The three commissioners are standing on top of the barricades. Commissioners Mike Zimmer and Dean Minnich are on either side of Julia Gouge, holding her steady as she waves an oversized Carroll County flag.

Office building employees have broken out the windows and are showering the storming sheriff’s deputies with office furniture.

The stage is littered with burning newspapers as the local media has shelled all the participants with folded newspapers shot from makeshift artillery.

Off to the side, Channel 13 news reporter Mike Schuh is attempting to interview Westminster Police Chief Jeff Spaulding. The only thing is - the chief has the 1971 Led Zeppelin classic, “The Battle of Evermore,” coincidentally, the title of the first act of La Policía, cranked-up so loud on the car stereo, no one can hear a thing.

Inside the office building the receptionist, Kay Church, is serving cookies, answering the phones and has armed herself with a salad shooter and big bag of carrots.

Ted Zaleski, the director of management and budget is huddled off to the side with Vivian Laxton, the public information administrator as they try and figure out who is playing what character from Les Misérables.

All of the sudden there is silence on the stage as famed local historian; Jay Graybeal emerges from the fog as a narrator, smiles and begins to softly tell the story of the history of the sheriff’s department.

“When Carroll County was founded in 1837, one of the first tasks…” of the newly formed government was to elect a sheriff. As with many aspects of early American government, its origins date back to the history of mother England.

According to some undocumented notes, “1200 years ago, England was inhabited by Anglo-Saxons. Groups of a hundred would ban together and form communities known as a “tun,” from where we get the word, “town.”

Every group of a hundred, or “tun,” as led by a “reeve,” which was the forerunner of what we now know as a chief of police.

According to Mr. Brooks, the reeve was “charged with the execution of the laws … and the preservation of the peace, and, in some cases having judicial powers. He was the King’s reeve, or steward over a shire … — a distinctive royal officer, appointed by the king, dismissible at a moment’s notice…”

Groups of “tuns” banned together to form a larger form of government known as a ‘Shire’” – what we now know as a county; and my old notes reflect that in order to distinguish the leader of a “Shire,” from a leader of a tun, the more powerful official became known as a “Shire-Reeve.”

Which is where we get the modern word “sheriff.”

####

20080807 “La Policía” © by Kevin Dayhoff

Julia Child part of WWII era spy ring

Julia Child part of WWII era spy ring

Photo caption: It is not known as to whether or not Carrie Ann Knauer, pictured above interviewing Ms. Child in an undated photograph, followed in Ms. Child’s footsteps. She is indeed not only an excellent writer and cook - - but was she also once a secret agent? Kevin Dayhoff - File photo circa 2000.

Julia Child part of WWII era spy ring. Reports unsubstantiated that Carrie Ann Knauer was also once a secret agent

August 13, 2008

As many folks who follow the news are aware, it was recently revealed that Julia Child was part of a WWII-era spy ring

As you can read in the Associated Press story: “Other notables identified in the files include John Hemingway, son of author Ernest Hemingway; Quentin and Kermit Roosevelt, sons of President Theodore Roosevelt, and Miles Copeland, father of Stewart Copeland, drummer for the band The Police.”

However it has not been confirmed as to whether or not Carroll County’s very own “Rachael Ray” was ever a spy. We all know Carrie Ann Knauer’s work; she’s the prolific writer with the Carroll County Times who well known for her excellent coverage of Carroll County’s number one industry, agriculture, the environment and Carroll County’s number one love – food.

Did indeed, Ms. Knauer, pictured above interviewing Ms. Child in an undated photograph, follow in Ms. Child’s footsteps – and is indeed not only an excellent writer and cook - - but was also a secret agent.

Perhaps we’ll never know.

What is known is that Ms. Knauer first burst into the news media when she came to the Carroll County Times in February 2002. Of course this coincides well with fact that Ms. Childs moved to a retirement community in Santa Barbara, California, in 2001…

We are also aware that Ms. Knauer has been known to disappear for periods of time in which her locational whereabouts are not disclosed…

Hmmm, makes you wonder, now doesn’t it.

####

Documents: Julia Child part of WWII-era spy ring

Related Searches:
CIA Director William Casey
Office of Strategic Services
Kermit Roosevelt
military plans
Slideshow: International spy ring revealed

By BRETT J. BLACKLEDGE and RANDY HERSCHAFT, Associated Press Writers Wed Aug 13, 11:10 PM ET

WASHINGTON - Famed chef Julia Child shared a secret with Supreme Court Justice Arthur Goldberg and Chicago White Sox catcher Moe Berg at a time when the Nazis threatened the world.

They served in an international spy ring managed by the Office of Strategic Services, an early version of the CIA created in World War II by President Franklin Roosevelt.

The full secret comes out Thursday, all of the names and previously classified files identifying nearly 24,000 spies who formed the first centralized intelligence effort by the United States. The National Archives, which this week released a list of the names found in the records, will make available for the first time all 750,000 pages identifying the vast spy network of military and civilian operatives.

They were soldiers, actors, historians, lawyers, athletes, professors, reporters. But for several years during World War II, they were known simply as the OSS. They studied military plans, created propaganda, infiltrated enemy ranks and stirred resistance among foreign troops.

[…]

Other notables identified in the files include John Hemingway, son of author Ernest Hemingway; Quentin and Kermit Roosevelt, sons of President Theodore Roosevelt, and Miles Copeland, father of Stewart Copeland, drummer for the band The Police.

Read the entire article here: Julia Child part of WWII-era spy ring

20080813 Julia Child part of WWII era spy ring

20080702 The Knauer is missing again.

The Knauer is missing again.

July 2, 2008

I just tried to call her and ended up in voice mail. Anyone seen this news writer?

Maybe she is with Jamie?

20080702 The Knauer is missing again. 20080522_CAKmilkcartoon

http://kevindayhoff.blogspot.com/search/label/Journalists%20Knauer-Carrie%20Ann

http://kevindayhoff.blogspot.com/search/label/Journalists%20Kelly-Jamie%20Kelly

http://kevindayhoff.blogspot.com/2008/07/20080702-knauer-is-missing-again.html

http://tinyurl.com/c6q3ab

20080423 Tofu Dusk at the Mellow Mushroom

Tofu Dusk at the Mellow Mushroom

The story of the tofu sandwich at the “Mellow Mushroom” in six parts.

April 23, 2008 by Kevin Dayhoff

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5058mbS9zdc

Winston-Salem, North Carolina - - This is the story of Mrs. Owl and I having hummus with pita bread, a tofu sandwich and a calzone; at the “Mellow Mushroom,” 4^th and Marshall St., Winston-Salem, North Carolina. The story is told in six – or so parts…

Storyboard

1. Winston-Salem, North Carolina 04/23/2008 www.kevindayhoff.net

2. 4^th and Marshall St., Winston-Salem, North Carolina 04/23/2008 www.kevindayhoff.net

3. Mellow Mushroom, www.mellowmushroom.com Winston-Salem, North Carolina 04/23/2008 www.kevindayhoff.net

4. Ms. Salem Editing, Mellow Mushroom, 314 West 4^th St., Winston-Salem, North Carolina. 04/23/2008 www.kevindayhoff.net

5. Ms. Salem Editing et les amis, Mellow Mushroom, 314 West 4^th St., Winston-Salem, North Carolina. 04/23/2008 www.kevindayhoff.net

6. Mrs. Owl, the newspaper reader, Mellow Mushroom, 314 West 4^th St., Winston-Salem, North Carolina. 04/23/2008 www.kevindayhoff.net

7. And the band played on… Winston-Salem guitar player… Winston-Salem, North Carolina 04/23/2008 www.kevindayhoff.net

The end

Kevin Dayhoff writes from Westminster Maryland USA.

www.kevindayhoff.net

http://www.youtube.com/kevindayhoff

http://www.livejournal.com/

http://gizmosart.com/dayhoff.html

E-mail him at: kdayhoff AT carr.org or kevindayhoff AT gmail.com

His columns and articles appear in The Tentacle - www.thetentacle.com; Westminster Eagle Opinion; www.thewestminstereagle.com, Winchester Report and The Sunday Carroll Eagle – in the Sunday Carroll County section of the Baltimore Sun. Get Westminster Eagle RSS Feed

“When I stop working the rest of the day is posthumous. I'm only really alive when I'm writing.” Tennessee Williams

Accept differences, Be kind, Count your blessings, Dream, Express thanks, Forgive, Give freely, Harm no one, Imagine more, Jettison anger, Keep confidences, Love truly, Master something, Nurture hope, Open your mind, Pack lightly, Quell rumors, Reciprocate, Seek wisdom, Touch hearts, Understand, Value truth, Win graciously, Xeriscape, Yearn for peace, Zealously support a worthy cause. (Author; Renee Stewart)

20080422 The Happy Colors, Massive Attack, and Carly Simon

The Happy Colors, Massive Attack and Carly Simon

April 22, 2008

Massive Attack - Live With Me

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2LgrGHWSy6k

This song reminded me of:

Carly Simon- “That's the Way I Always Heard It Should Be” from 1971

http://youtube.com/watch?v=JdFjWZBRl6U

And it also reminded me of:

19960422 "The Happy Colors" The Dream of the Pink Zebras 04.22.1996 Binder # 15 v. #4.0095 07.1995 –

http://kevindayhoff.blogspot.com/1996/04/19960422-happy-colors-dream-of-pink.html

"The Happy Colors" The Dream of the Pink Zebras 04.22.1996 Binder # 15 v. #4.0095 07.1995 –

04/22/1996

"Life has a value only when it has something valuable as its object". HEGEL, Introduction to Philosophy of History (1852)

"We love life, not because we are used to living but because we are used to loving". NIETZSCHE, "On Reading and Writing" _ Thus spoke Zarathustra (1883-1892)

"Always develop solutions to challenges that can withstand testing conditions that closely approximate reality". GRANDPA DAYHOFF, "The Frozen Chicken Test" (11.1994)

...of which reminds me of a story that has been in my head for years... a love story called:

"The Happy Colors"

© Kevin Dayhoff April 22, 1996

A sultry August ocean breeze drooled over them as they stood poised at the railing on the balcony of the large art-deco condominium overlooking a vast ocean beyond. Far below little people and cars scurried about putting away the remains of another day at the beach. The cries of tired children, squeals of laughter and the banter of parental instructions all jumbled together with the calls of the sea gulls and an ocean's heartbeat pumped waves that crashed upon the shore. It was music written by the Great Composer in the sky. A piece called "The Happy Colors".

The colors were to be remembered so well. The breeze ruffling her long hair ever so delicately. The sparkle of her eyes as she gazed at the deep azure expanse of the ocean below. The deep maroon of the setting sun as it echoed off her glass of red wine held so deftly in her seasoned, thoughtful fingers. A warm smile sprung from her inviting crimson lips, brightening her face which reflected the flickering yellow candle light. A lone white candle stood sentry, melting on to a black tablecloth that maintained the remains of abandoned china and dessert for two. The cream of her graceful gown mimicked the creamy black russian captured in the solid glass grasped in his deeply creased and weathered hands. His graying hair contrasted with the dark black of his finely tailored black tuxedo.

Their conversation drifted from the previous discussion of how they had met, and parted, in their childhood years. Perhaps they had even been lovers in a previous life. The years had marched by. And although they had lived separately for all these years, they had never left each other. They hadn't regretted their lives apart, but, then again, they did. Neither had known the other was to be at this function. This meeting again, for the first time, all over again; it was of serendipitous happenstance. As wave upon wave crashed and pounded upon the shore below, their eyes remained transfixed upon one another, oblivious to the party's banter, as their hearts crashed and pounded in unison in their warm chests. A grandfather clock dutifully stood sentry and watched the crowd beyond, and kept them away, as it quietly announced the time, seemingly, only to them...Midnight.

A stimulating intellectual discourse ensued. Alice B. Toklas was instrumental to whatever it was, that Gertrude Stein became. F. Scott Fitzgerald needed the catharsis of Zelda's being in order to create. Nietzsche fleshed out the paragraphs of their life but Hegel defined their meaning and Sartre gave them the punctuation. They had built their lives, their own way, and though they had had their shortcomings here and there, they were happy with the lives they had lived, albeit apart. They had made the best choices that they could make, not that they always had the criteria necessary in order to make the choices. They had made their choices in life because they had to make the choices. They had soared in hostile air. In a life of no inherent meaning, they had created a meaning. Their meaning. Now, older and wiser, the works that they had created, the thoughts they had promoted, the decisions they had made; were all the foundation of the work that laid ahead, that needed to be done.

They continued on to a poem that had marked their decisions in life, by a sage author they had long since forgotten....Does one build a fence at the top of the chasm of life or provide for an ambulance below?

At that, the handsome young waiter tentatively inquired about their needs.... They had none. Then again. Maybe one more drink before they left the party and parted company once again. To again do what they had to do. Because it is what it is, this life of their's.

"Yes, I'll have another black russian for me and a glass of red wine for the lady. Thank you".

The jazz quartet played a soft number in the background as the party in her honor grew quiet, reflecting about their chance meeting. Many smiled, some mused philosophically, others miffed jealously. Meanwhile, on the balcony, the lovers discussed their latest endeavors as they entwined in dance to the soft caresses of the music, oblivious to the quiet banter beyond.

They danced so softly together. Her hand ran longingly through his graying hair. Her long hair blowing across his eyes. The sun dipping below a wanting horizon. The sea gulls sang their good night praises of yet another great day in a great life.

The wise grandfather clock called to them that it was, indeed, time to go. They wanted this moment to never end. As the waiter appeared at the door of the balcony, as they held each others hand so tightly and gazed into each others eyes, as they whispered how much they were in lover and how glad they were that they had found each other again.

They a paused at the railing of the 17th floor and gazed into the sun's remains of the day and promised that they'd never part again... At that;

they climbed upon the railing, and jumped.

Grandpa Dayhoff 04.22.1996

"The more absurd life is, the more insupportable death is". JEAN-PAUL SARTRE, The Words (1964)

"Man's 'progress' is but a gradual discovery that his questions have no meaning". SAINT-EXUPERY, The Wisdom of the Sands (1948)

"Life has to be given a meaning because of the obvious fact that it has no meaning". HENRY MILLER, "Creative Death", The Wisdom of the Heart (1941)

"Man is the only animal for whom his own existence is a problem which he has to solve". ERICH FROMM, Man for Himself (1947)

To be an artist is to jump...to jump from the comforts and confines...from behind the railing...then experience the free-for-all-fall of the intellectual, artistic unknown and document the meaning, your own meaning that which you and you alone, give this existence.

This piece has been in my head for years. I have not a clue as to what "the jump" is all about. Perhaps I should have left "the jump" in my head, but I had grown tired of the space it was taking up. Perhaps, "the jump" is an existential artistic exercise and can be interpreted as affirming. Anyway, I've always gotten a kick out of the incongruous, Hemingway-twist ending. I guess I'm a bit worried that many will find this piece disturbing. Well, it is what it is. I think perhaps the piece is allegorical. It's art. It's done. Now I have room for another piece.....Mr. Eaton would have liked this I'll bet....

Grandpa Dayhoff 04.22.1996

"The Happy Colors" The Dream of the Pink Zebras 04.22.1996 Binder # 15 v. #4.0095 07.1995 –

Kevin Dayhoff, a slave to the masters of the page - the little soldiers in my life – words

20080422 The Happy Colors, Massive Attack, and Carly Simon

20080102 Fragmentary patchworks

Fragmentary patchworks of autochthonous and foreign elements.

January 2^nd, 2008 by Kevin Dayhoff

Happy New Year Mr. Isaac Smith. Thanks for the mention - The List (No, Not the Washington Post's). [Free State Politics Maryland's online progressive community.]

Michael Swartz's list of local blogs to watch in 2008 is pretty good. It is missing a few good blogs of note, however…

As much as I agreed with most, but not all, of Mr. Swartz’s list, your list is right on the money. I also miss Stephanie Dray’s Jousting for Justice. And I am very happy that Crablaw's Maryland Weekly is back…

And thanks for calling to our attention the Washington Post’s list: Year in Review 2007 - “The List: What's In and Out for 2008” BY HANK STUEVER - WASHINGTON POST STAFF WRITER - – what a hoot. (And don’t miss giving The Year That Was 2007 by Brian Griffiths a good read. He obviously spent some time thinking about it…)

Your post could not have been timed better as it came shortly after a conversation with a dear colleague who said they like my blog – although I’m too liberal.

Ay caramba - whatever.

Along that thread, another colleague said “Dayhoff … your problem is that you like everybody.”

To that I plead guilty – life is way to short. Then again, maybe not – I don’t like mean people; and that personality defect occurs in folks from all political persuasions.

I simply do not allow politics to dictate my friends - - and I don’t like folks who do pick their friends based on politics. (I’ll be having lunch later in the week with a dear friend with whom I disagree about everything when it comes to politics.) I can disagree with folks about issues, but more often than not – I like the person…

As far as your observation: “… his actual blog hard to read -- its look is extremely busy and most of the posts are just link aggregations…” Hey, you oughta be in my head…

At least with the blog, there is an attempt at organization… I also find my blog “hard to read” and try as I might, after blogging for a number of years, it is still way too busy.

Perhaps my blog is a manifestation of being a hypergraphic attention deficit disorder hyperactive dyslexic. Maybe – just maybe, one day I’ll figure out what I’m doing. Being a technology geek – one would’ve thought blogging would be easy for me. It is not.

At this point, on the blog evolutionary scale, my blog is a monkey on roller skates. The monkey may or may not be wearing a pink tutu - this is for you to decide.

Years ago, I thought blogging would be easy for a columnist and short story writer. It has not been the case. And within the last number of months, I picked up a third (newspaper) column every week; which just proves the “Peter Principle” is real. I’m now way beyond my intellectual and cognitive abilities.

Heckfire – some days, I’m proud to have even found the time, much less the cognitive abilities - to post “link aggregations.”

Meanwhile, I am painstakingly determined to promote constant attention on current procedures of transacting business focusing emphasis on innovative ways to better, if not supercede, the expectations of quality. What I really need in order to navigate the treacherous waters that lie ahead is a list of specific unknown problems I will encounter.

Always remember, the purpose of my blog is to discuss fragmentary patchworks of autochthonous and foreign elements as juxtaposed by the undeniable command mortality of insignificant self-inflicted syntactic semiotic economics which sometimes may cause irreproducible results unless there is a pre-emptive digital fallibility matrix which would require an integrated third-generational triangulated refinement of indefinite managerial potential.

As I wax philosophic with metaphysical postulations, incomplete aphorisms and inconsistent sophism that allows me to conclude, more and more sure, that the only true thing about anything is nothing.

Now I know you believe you understand what you think I just said but I am sure that you realize that what you heard is not what I meant.

As always, your thoughtful consideration is appreciated regardless of the outcome on any particular issue. Whether we agree or disagree, always find my door open for friendly civil and constructive dialogue.

Pray for my wife.

Best wishes for a great 2008.

20080102 Fragmentary patchworks

20080102 Fragmentary patchworks

Kevin Dayhoff writes from Westminster Maryland USA.

www.kevindayhoff.net

E-mail him at: kdayhoff AT carr.org or kevindayhoff AT gmail.com

His columns and articles appear in The Tentacle - www.thetentacle.com; Westminster Eagle Opinion; www.thewestminstereagle.com, Winchester Report and The Sunday Carroll Eagle – in the Sunday Carroll County section of the Baltimore Sun. Get Westminster Eagle RSS Feed

20071101 Today Billy Joe MacAllister jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge

Today Billy Joe MacAllister jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge

November 1, 2007

My October 31, 2007 – Wednesday Westminster Eagle column is up on the Westminster Eagle web site and it pertains to one of my favorite forms of literature, Southern Gothic storytelling and one of my favorite songs from my teenage years, “Ode to Billie Joe” by Bobbie Gentry.

I lost most the following paragraphs to my word limit…

Ms. Gentry was born Roberta Streeter in nearby Chickasaw County, Mississippi, on July 27, 1944, where she grew up in severe poverty on her grandparents’ farm. Her grandmother facilitated her exploration of writing and music when she traded a family cow for a piano. At the age of seven, Ms. Streeter – Gentry wrote her first song, “My Dog Sergeant Is a Good Dog.”

When Ms. Gentry first released the song, it was the “B” side of a debut “forty-five” which featured a song, “Mississippi Delta.” Disk jockeys became more intrigued with “Ode to Billy Joe” and started giving it considerable airtime – and it crossed over from country music stations to “Top 40.” It topped the charts for four weeks in August 1967, sold three million copies, and won her three Grammy awards.

The narrator of the story is not identified in Ms. Gentry’s haunting and mysterious tale of a young man who commits suicide. The song comes to mind as Halloween is upon us and thoughts wonder to trick or treating or the community Halloween Parade - and ghost stories. Carroll County is awash in ghost stories for your enjoyment. That is of course, if you believe in ghosts. Do you believe in ghosts?

The column started out as an “evergreen,” an obligatory column for a particular seasonal event in the year.

Many of my colleagues who write for newspapers abhor “evergreens,” however I have always seen them as a challenge to come up with a different angle on a perennial topic, in this case, a piece on Halloween.

The piece started out very differently as when I neared deadline I jettisoned the customary tome on ghost stories in Carroll County with the standard fare on the origins of Halloween.

I got off on a tangent with a variation on the old “Crybaby Bridge” standard and quickly left quite a bit of work on the cutting room floor. To wit, most of the following, along with an additional 400 words were killed off:

As with many of our customs, observances and holidays, Halloween evolved over many centuries as a combination of several non-Christian ancient harvest celebrations and rituals combined with religious celebrations. The roots of Halloween go back as far as the 5^th century BC in Celtic Ireland, when October 31 was celebrated as “Samhain,” the Celtic New Year.

For the economic historian, it is widely accepted that Halloween came to America along with the significant Irish wave of immigrants as a result of the economic hardships brought on by the Irish potato famine from 1845 to 1851.

Halloween is upon and thoughts wonder to trick or treating or the community Halloween Parade.

And ghost stories. Carroll County is awash in ghost stories for your enjoyment. That is of course, if you believe in ghosts.

Do you believe in ghosts?

Among some of the old favorites in Carroll County are the Ghost of Furnace Hills; the Civil War soldier that roams around in Cockey’s Tavern; the ghost of the old Rebecca at the old jail, which now houses Junction, a drug abuse treatment center; and the headless apparition of Marshall Buell at the old Odd Fellows Hall in Westminster.

[…]

_____

Let’s go watch Billy Bob throw a public official off the Rt. 140 Bridge

October 31, 2007 by Kevin Dayhoff (706 words)

It was forty years ago in the late summer of 1967 that we first learned from “Mama” that the nice young preacher, Brother Taylor “said he saw a girl that looked a lot like you up on Choctaw Ridge. And she and Billy Joe was throwing somethin' off the Tallahatchie Bridge.”

I first heard the song, “Ode to Billy Joe,” by Bobbie Gentry that summer on WCAO on the AM dial of the car radio. It was also in this time period that I became firmly hooked on the existential - “Southern Gothic” genre of storytelling.

To refresh your memory, the song can be found on the web at www.youtube.com/watch?v=CZt5Q-u4crc.

Other examples of authors of the Southern gothic genre of writing include William Faulkner, Carson McCullers, Eudora Welty, Truman Capote, and Harper Lee. Tennessee Williams once described the genre as stories that reflect “an intuition of an underlying dreadfulness in modern experience.”

Who can forget: It was the third of June, another sleepy, dusty Delta day… And mama hollered at the back door "y'all remember to wipe your feet." And then she said she got some news this mornin' from Choctaw Ridge. Today Billy Joe MacAllister jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge.”

Of course another intriguing feature of the story is that it takes place in Carroll County: “And brother said he recollected when he and Tom and Billy Joe put a frog down my back at the Carroll County picture show.”

Ms. Gentry has to this day remained circumspect about the haunting and mysterious tale of Mr. MacAllister, but one thing we do know is that the “Carroll County” she is referring to in the song is “Carroll County Mississippi.” Come to find out, there are approximately 13 places in the United States called “Carroll County.”

The song comes to mind as Halloween is upon us and thoughts wonder to ghost stories. Carroll County is awash in ghost stories for your enjoyment.

Halloween ghost stories are fascinating as often they involve aspects of unexplained historical events, enigmatic dialogue, and inexplicable characters. However, over the years, I have become much more enamored with Southern gothic storytelling, which is frequently more creative – and often more disturbing in the manner it which it peels away the layers of a community or society; yet does not tell a reader ‘what to think,’ but nevertheless causes the reader ‘to think.’

Just like Halloween stories, the song’s plot makes known several themes. The first of which is obvious in that just like many popular Carroll County Halloween stories, it reveals a snapshot of life in a particular period in history.

But it is the other prominent theme that is particularly disturbing as it peels away the layers of indifference that contemporary society shows towards our fellow human beings – or in the case of “Ode to Billy Joe,” the loss of life.

In present day Carroll County, every other public hearing is “Halloween” as this theme often manifests itself in the cavalier manner in which folks will often engage in character assassination in the pursuit of a particular agenda.

In the song the family of the narrator nonchalantly mentions the gentleman’s death: “Billy Joe never had a lick of sense/ pass the biscuits, please.” Of course the narrator of the story cares: “Mama said to me "Child, what's happened to your appetite? I've been cookin' all morning and you haven't touched a single bite.” Other than that, they may as well been having a dinner conversation about the weather.

Happy Halloween. By all means, please enjoy some of the old favorites in Carroll County like the Ghost of Furnace Hills; the Civil War soldier that roams around in Cockey’s Tavern; the ghost of the old Rebecca at the old jail, and the headless apparition of Marshall Buell at the old Odd Fellows Hall in Westminster.

Better yet, the next chance you get, go to the Carroll County Public Library and re-read Harper Lee’s “To Kill a Mockingbird” or Truman Capote’s “In Cold Blood.”

Or, of course, you can attend a good ole’ Carroll County public hearing and really see a modern day horror story unfold in real time - “and watch she and Billy Bob throwing public officials off the Rt. 140 Bridge.”

Kevin Dayhoff writes from Westminster Maryland USA.

E-mail him at: kdayhoff AT carr AT org

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20071003 Living and loving in the age of asparagus

Living and loving in the age of asparagus

or

Mary Katherine Ham to Alicia Silverstone: Go Hunting

October 3^rd, 2007

Although I have spent a large portion of my life as a vegetarian; as I grew older and life got particularly hectic, I gave it up – for now anyway. Who knows, tomorrow, I may go back. Whatever.

A number of years ago, as I was attempting to reason with an unreasonable person and losing miserably, a colleague said to me:

“You know what your problem is?”

“Ugh.” I really did not need advice at that particular moment; however, I prized his friendship and sheepishly asked: “What?”

“It's a dog eat dog world out there, and you're a vegetarian!"

We solved that by going out to a sub shop where I gave up the anorexic bliss of salads and voraciously scarfed down a cheese-steak sandwich.

It was a road to Damascus experience

I still lose miserably with folks who accept narcissistic fiction as fact, however, I am bigger now and I figure that if I am to be eaten alive, I might as well give folks a flavorful super-sized meal.

Then again, to be candid, I was never good at being a vegetarian. I never stopped eating animal crackers and every once and awhile at Moms, I’d dive into a steak – and I can rarely remember missing turkey at Thanksgiving.

I have a number of colleagues and some family members who are, at the moment, practicing vegetarians - and I respect that choice. Besides, I really like vegetables. Then there are folks who don’t like vegetables or are otherwise broccoli intolerant. To them I say, ya really ought to “give peas a chance.”

A member of my family, who is an avid vegetarian, recently gave some seafood a try.

Bold.

Writing for the Washington Post, Joel Achenbach says:

“Certain kinds of seafood, such as lobster, clams and crabs, are honorary forms of meat, but a small filet of a low-fat white fish should be viewed as essentially a vegetable. Raw oysters are manfood, as is any fish served with the head on and the mouth gaping in horror.

Me, I could live off of Dr. Pepper, coffee and grits. Hey, don’t knock the cooking with Dr. Pepper book. There are some great recipes in there.

I never tried the “vegan” approach. I often wondered how the term came about. When I was quite young I had a great deal of confusion over the term “vegetarian.” If vegetarians eat vegetables, what do humanitarians eat?

Mr. Achenbach calls to our attention a savior for vegans, who every once in awhile, go Jonesing for a milkshake – “soy cows.”

In the column he was initially singing the praises of his new “Fabulator 5000.”

What is a “Fabulator 5000?” I am so glad you asked. I was fascinated about this development since I am still using the Fabulator model No. 1953.

I’ll let Mr. Achenbach ‘splain:

“I love my new food printer, the Fabulator 5000, which makes the previous food printers look not just clunky but positively medieval. There's no more click-and-point nonsense on the screen, no more waiting five or six interminable minutes for the food to print. You just tell the Fab 5 what you want. The food comes out in about three or four seconds, complete with garnish and a complementary wine.”

Oh, the “soy cows?” Apparently Mr. Achenbach recently “took the kids … to Homewood Farm to see a good old-fashioned agricultural enterprise…”

“I got a look at the new soy cows, grazing in the large field just north of the orchard. The USDA apparently felt that soy milk could be produced much more efficiently if it came from cows made of soy. These cows are so green they nearly blend into the landscape. They say the soy milk is a lot better tasting (not as beany, somehow) than the stuff derived from plants, and the soy burgers are more tender. But you've probably read about how the soy cows dry up badly in drought conditions -- they literally wilt -- and even catch fire. Bored teenagers have been blamed for setting some of the cow fires.”

There is much to be appreciated by the vegetarian lifestyle; nevertheless my goal was to not be evangelical about it all.

But – and ya know there was going to be a “but” in here soon – I’ve never been fond of PETA’s Strindbergian gloom and bleakness approach to advocacy.

When I was a practicing vegetarian, invariably, some folks would suggest some linkage to me, a vegetarian, with PETA’s in-your-face humorless lactose intolerant militancy. An approach which often seems more oriented to being obnoxious and annoying instead of being compelling and persuasive to what is otherwise, a perfectly fine lifestyle, vegetarianism, for which PETA routinely does an injustice....

At a local government - social event, a local elected official’s wife was horrified that I was a vegetarian. “How can a big strapping former Marine be a vegetarian,” she gasped.

I solved that in quick order. She was a dog lover and the owner of a huge dog. I mean huge – about the size of a water buffalo.

I asked her if she had ever eaten dog. When I was in the Marines, a South Vietnamese ranger once cooked-up a mess of dog.

It tasted like chicken.

I suggested to my scowling friend that her St. Bernard could feed an entire village… And one wonders why I lost my last election?

Recently Alicia Silverstone did an ad for PETA that has garnered a great deal of attention. I can’t believe that it is winning over any converts to vegetarianism, but it has attracted attention to PETA.

Whether it is really the sort of attention that an advocacy organization wants is a bigger issue for which there is not right or wrong, it just isn’t my cup of tea.

Nevertheless, in age of so much strife and discord, I yearn for a time when peas will rule the planets, and love won’t be such a fuss. I long for the dawn of the age of asparagus.

Enter stage right, Mary Katherine Ham. Ms. Ham has done a spoof on the Ms. Silverstone ad that is a real crack-up.

Please enjoy it:

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No animals were hurt in the writing of this column.

Kevin Dayhoff writes from Westminster Maryland USA.

www.kevindayhoff.net

E-mail him at: kdayhoff AT carr.org or kevindayhoff AT gmail.com

His columns and articles appear in The Tentacle - www.thetentacle.com; Westminster Eagle Opinion; www.thewestminstereagle.com and Winchester Report.

20070321 The secret life of baby spiders

The secret life of baby spiders

Photo caption: “Fired spiders and gum” from the web site, “Photography by Ewen Bell.” Neat site – check it out.

March 21, 2007

This post is for my wife. Read it quickly before it is prevailed upon me to amend it or take the post down.

Me: spiders gotta live somewhere. I just Zen them. As long as they don’t change the settings on my computer or eat my ice cream – I’m good. Whatever.

My wife: Spiders seem to make my normally unfazed, calm, and sedate wife go from zero to animated in a nanosecond. I know of nothing else that bothers my wife (except liberals… fortunately she doesn’t feel the need to squish them… .)

It is somewhat the source of amusement with me. Trust me, my amusement is not shared by my wife, and I have long since learned to adjust my approach. [Soccer Dad doesn’t wear paisley (My goodness that was an ugly tie.) - - I take spiders seriously – when they are the source of my wife’s undivided attention…]

Me to wife: Wife, I just saw on Nancy Grace that Anna Nicole Smith is still dead and the world is going to come to an end. Could ya please help me grab my computer before we go to the bomb shelter?

Wife: I don’t care - - There’s a spider in the house! Get it.

Over the years we have come to a sorta agreement. Found spiders in the house are not to be killed. They are to be invited to go outside… This seems to work as long as the spider is cooperative.

For the safety of spiders, I have posted a sign at the back door that our house is not safe for spiders. It seems to have worked.

Sooo, it was with some amusement that I saw that “Spiders Love to Snuggle.”

Perhaps Jeremy Bruno up at Voltage Gate (Besides, Mr. Bruno has not one article about spiders on his blog. What gives”) may have to interpret some of this for us, but according to Jeanna Bryner LiveScience Staff Writer LiveScience.com Wed Mar 21, 8:45 AM ET :

While not usually considered paragons of tender, familial love, some spiders do have a touchy-feely side. Scientists have discovered two arachnids that caress their young and snuggle together.

Social behavior is extremely rare in arachnids, a group of critters typically defined by their aggression, clever hunting methods and even predatory cannibalism.

"This was the best example I had ever seen of friendly behavior in an arachnid," said lead study author Linda Rayor, a Cornell University entomologist.

[…]

Video: Spider Baby Rub

Video: Spider Tickle

For (Phrynus) marginemaculatus, the stroking was mutual, with the three-week-olds also whip-caressing their moms and one another.

Video: Spider Siblings

[…]

Video: Spiders' Psychedelic Courtship Dance

Images: Creepy Spiders

Original Story: Creepy: Spiders Love to Snuggle

Since this is a family blog – we may wanna have Attila pick up the story here and here… . He goes places I can’t.

Read the rest of the article here: “Spiders Love to Snuggle.”

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