Swan song

Not mine, the swan’s.  I have been seeing and photographing a lot of these critters lately and the phrase ‘swan song’ came to mind.  What’s that all about?

So I dove into the internet to find out what I don’t know.  It was lots.  For one thing, the name ‘swan’ fits the phrase.  It comes from the Indo-European root swen (to sound, to sing).

IMG_4086cWe all know the term swan song means a final performance, or act, or gesture, upon dying or retirement or otherwise withdrawing from whatever it was we were doing.  It is used mostly for performers of all stripes, and public figures, but not exclusively.

So where does it come from:  It comes from the sound of a dying swan, according to legend and lore, and even a small bit of science.

The legend’s so old that the debunking came way back in AD 77  (way before Snopes, by the way).   In ancient Rome, Pliny the Elder wrote in Natural History:  “Observation shows that the story that the dying swan sings is false.”

But why ruin a good story with facts, right?  Playrights, poets and other authors continued to use the swan song imagery long after the Pliny pronouncement, right up to today.

Chaucer wrote: ‘The Ialous swan, ayens his deth that singeth’ [The jealous swan, sings before his death].  And Shakespeare tossed this into Merchant of Venice in 1596: ‘Portia: Let music sound while he doth make his choice; then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end, fading in music.’

The actual term ‘swan song’, with its current figurative meaning, doesn’t crop up in print until the 18th century. The Scottish cleric Jon Willison used the expression in 1767 when he referred to “King David’s swan-song.”

Having a bit of fun with it, the poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834) wrote:

Swans sing before they die; ’twere no bad thing

Did certain persons die before they sing.

 Farewell tours can aptly be called swan songs. And one must of course mention the apparent longest of those, that of Nellie Melba, whose swan song consisted of an eight year long string of ‘final concerts’ between 1920 and 1928. This led to the popular Australian phrase – ‘more farewells than Nellie Melba’.

She has some competition.  Cher started her farewell tour in 2002. It went on for more than two years and I am still not sure she’s done.  Then there’s Paul Stanley and Gene Simmons of Kiss, who changed their minds during their farewell tour and decided they liked the money and applause too much to quit.

But I digress.  There is some biological backing for the swan song legend. North America’s trumpeter, the eastern Mediterranean whooper and the Arctic tundra swans have an additional tracheal loop within the sternum, which causes a drawn-out series of notes as the lungs collapse upon death.   German zoologist and naturalist Peter Pallas proposed this in the late 1700s as the basis of the legend.

And, finally, there is this vivid anecdote: Zoologist D. G. Elliot reported in 1898 that a tundra swan he had shot and wounded in flight began a long glide down whilst issuing a series of “plaintive and musical” notes that “sounded at times like the soft running of the notes of an octave.”

Just try getting that image out of your brain.

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All photos by Ron Haines.

Posted in Nature, Offbeat | 3 Comments

All Aboard!

Sue, the grandkids and I took an hour-long ride on the Essex Steam Train the other day.  It runs up the  Connecticut River valley from Essex to East Haddam and most of the trip is right along the river.  With the steam whistle blowing and the bell ringing and the wind coming through the open windows of the vintage coaches, it is just the thing for a summer morning in the Northeast.

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There was plenty to see and do along the way.  Waving at the cars that had to stop at the crossings was fun, and we spotted a nesting osprey on a piling in the Deep River Marina.  A game played by the announcer, a sort of cross between a Scavenger Hunt and I Spy, was a hit with the kids, keeping them looking out the window for what the loudspeaker told them to spot along the tracks.

If you’ve lots of energy you can make a whole day of it by getting off at Ferry Road for the walk down to the Chester-Hadlyme ferry for transport across the river to tour Gillette Castle and disembarking at the Deep River Landing for a one-hour boat ride.

We kept it to just the train however, and it coincided nicely with the youngsters’ attention spans and our elderly energy levels. Free whistles for the girls for participating in the spotting game and lunch at Micky D’s on the way home capped things off nicely.

We were in a state park the whole way, as I found out later.  The story goes back to the 1870s, when The Valley Railroad Company started running passenger and freight service the 44 miles between Old Saybrook and Hartford.

Over the decades, problems common to short line railroads all over the country– economic depressions, mergers, buyouts, and the loss of passengers and freight to automobiles and trucks—took over.  The last passenger boarded in 1933 and the freight stopped in 1968.

Penn Central, which owned the line then, planned to tear up the tracks and dissolve the railroad, but fortunately preservation-minded folks got involved and by 1970 the State of Connecticut owned the right-of-way, calling it the Connecticut Valley Railroad State Park, a mostly linear, 136-acre property.

The modern-day Valley Railroad Company leases the park from the state and offers a nice 19th century railroad experience, including an 1892 railroad station, steam locomotives, and vintage trains of historic cars.  Just sitting in the shade at the station looking at the old Pullmans, dining cars, engines and cabooses is pleasant.

And a funny coincidence here:  Note that the number on the engine in the photo above is 3025.  I owned a Lionel train with a similar looking engine back in the 1950s.  The number of that engine was just one digit off: 2025

Posted in Grandchildren | Leave a comment

Contoocook for the Fourth once again

Made it to the Fourth of July parade in Contoocook, NH, again this year.  I missed it last year because the Fourth fell on a Saturday, and I go trash paddling on the first Saturday of the month.  I did make it in 2014 though.

The attraction?  My brother and his wife live in Contoocook, so I use that as home when I trash paddle in New Hampshire.  And if you’re there on the Fourth of July, you have to see the parade.

A 30-minute kids’ parade kicks off at 11:30.  For a kid with a decorated trike or scooter it’s a fun walk for a few blocks with cheering fans on both sides of the street and a motorcycle patrolman leading the way.

The main event starts after that.  It’s a short, fun parade, a row of veterans with flags, a band on a trailer, the Girl Scouts and Boy Scouts,  a few vintage Corvairs, some older cars, a local horse-drawn farm wagon, several fire engines and the public works’ dump truck.  It goes by in a flash, the kids along the route pick up the candy flung out to them, ears ring from the sirens, and then the road opens back up and traffic resumes.

It’s a frustrating half hour delay if you’re trying to get through town by car at the time, I am sure.

But it’s just a simple good time when sitting in the shade with family and friends along the parade route.

And trash paddling?  That’s the monthly on-the-water trash pickup sponsored by the flatwater paddling section of the Appalachian Mountain Club New Hampshire Chapter.

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The granddaughters get a chuckle out of a pre-parade selfie taken by their father.

 

Some other parade photos:

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Posted in Appalachian Moutain Club, Grandchildren, Photos mostly, Trash Patrol | 3 Comments

The mural of the story

I drove through Lakeland, Georgia, a while ago on my way to somewhere and spotted a large painting on the side of one of the buildings.

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This is the first one that caught my eye.

I turned off the main drag and came around the block to take another look and along the way spotted three more large murals, including one on an old gas station that has been recycled into a restaurant.

Turns out I’d landed myself smack in the middle of “Georgia’s Historic Mural City.”  I IMG_2797cspent an hour or so wandering about, reading the plaques and taking photos.  There are some 30 murals in all, spread over a five-block area.

The murals are there because of local matriarch Nell Patten Roquemore, whose grandfather, Bob Patten, and father, Lawson Patten, founded the Patten Seed Company, best known today as the producer of the popular Super-Sod.

A working mother of five, Roquemore served on the city council following her retirement from the U.S. Postal Service, where she was postmaster in Lanier County from 1955 to 1968.

On a visit to Orangeburg, S.C., she noticed what appeared to be some people standingIMG_2902c along the street. She didn’t give them a second thought until someone told her they were murals, the work of Ralph H. Waldrop, a Columbia, S.C. muralist.  The idea was born.

Armed with private donations and one $10,000 state grant, Roquemore commissioned Waldrop to begin work on the Lakeland murals in 1998.  All of the artwork depicts actual people and businesses around town in 1925, the year Lakeland shed its former name, Milltown.

As Roquemore, who was born in 1924, put it: “It gives me a good feeling to walk downtown and see people I knew.”

It all may seem old and dusty, but this town keeps its history IMG_2858cproject in tune with the times.  There was a major restoration of all the murals just this month and that most modern of items, the QR code, is plastered liberally around town for smart phone users to find out what it’s all about.

 

Many more photos below.  All by Ron Haines, all rights reserved.

 

 

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Posted in Offbeat, Photos mostly, Road trip | 9 Comments

Lights…Camera…Action!

I bought this piece of yard art last year on my way from Connecticut to Texas.  I found it in a shopyard next to the highway, lying out in the open with its brethren, all rusted and crummy looking.

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They put so much salt on the road in the winter, the shopowner explained, that there’s nearly a mist of it in the air all the time and it eats away at the metal pieces.  About like living at the seashore.  He hadn’t gotten around to cleaning them up and repainting them yet, so I got it cheap.

I put it on the bike rack along with the huge sheet metal blue heron I’d picked up somewhere else. And they all rode along with me for several thousand miles.  The inside of the car was my sleeping quarters on this trip, so there was no room in there for large pieces of yard art.

Back in Connecticut a few weeks later, some Rustoleum spray cans turned that ugly thing into this attractive eye catcher.  Whirlygigs I have, and I have seen but not purchased the balancing thingies out there, so this is by far the most unique piece of moveable yard art I own.  Not wind powered, it takes a gentle push on each of the three pieces to get things moving.  Gives the grandkids something to do when they drop by.  And once in motion it is mesmerizing. 

 

Oh, forgot to mention that I finally own a camera that takes video.  Move over Cecil B.

Posted in Grandchildren, Road trip, Yard art | 6 Comments

The best one yet

I take a lot of photos of blue herons.  They are huge, easy to spot and therefore an amateur nature photographer’s dream subject.

I have a 300-millimeter lens that helps overcome the distance they want between me and them and a good digital camera that give me lots of pixels when it comes to cropping.  And I have also learned patience; moving along slowly and waiting quietly for something to happen.

All that said, a canoe is not a very stable platform to shoot from, and it’s just darn hard to get the crisp focus that makes the difference between a great photo and an average one.

I finally got a photo this weekend that made even me happy.  It was on the Quabaug River in West Brookfield, MA.

Enjoy…I call it Lunch on the Fly.

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Posted in Nature, Paddling | 5 Comments

Found another one!

I recently stumbled across another great reuse of an old gas station.  This one, in Putnam, over in Connecticut’s Quiet Corner, is a CrossFit 860 (for the area code) fitness center.  You can see the entire collection of recycled gas stations here.

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Posted in Gas stations, Road trip | 2 Comments

The Oklahoma town that started as a lie and got bombed by the US in WWII

The way Boise City, Oklahoma, got started makes selling Florida swampland to northerners look downright ethical.

And then a US Army airplane dropped bombs on it!

Boise City, OK

It began in 1908, when a trio of Oklahoma developers, J. E. Stanley, A. J. Kline, and W. T. Douglas, distributed brochures promoting the town as an elegant, tree-lined city, complete with paved streets, numerous businesses, railroad service, and an artesian well.

Some 3,000 folks followed their dreams and bought lots, only to find that nothing in the brochures was true!  And it turned out that the developers didn’t even have title to the property they were ‘selling.’

All ended well, however. Stanley and Kline were found guilty of mail fraud and sent off to Leavenworth Penitentiary (Douglas died of TB too soon to be punished) and the duped settlers got to work and formed an actual town, which became incorporated in 1925 as Boise (rhymes with voice) City.

Set in the heart of dustbowl territory near the western tip of the state, it had a tough time in the 1930’s but survived.

And even an attack from a US warplane in WW II couldn’t kill it.  Yes, the crew of an Army Air Corps B-17 Flying Fortress on a training run mistook the lights at the Cimarron County courthouse for a practice target that was actually some 30 miles away and dropped five dummy bombs on the town in 1943, puncturing the roof of a garage and leaving craters in the town square, which fortunately was empty at the time.

Oddly enough, the crew declined to attend the town’s 50th anniversary of the event. A 790_572cplaque unveiled at the anniversary event proclaimed that the town is ‘Still Booming.’

Boise City today is a pleasantly small (population 1,200) farming and ranching hub and an interesting spot for an overnight visit.  Wild Bill’s RV Park  is right along the main drag, Cimarron Avenue, for a convenient evening camping out.  It’s not far from the Angel Café and just a short walk from the Cimarron Heritage Center Museum.

That museum attracted me like a magnet.  There’s no way I can drive past a huge statue of the Tin Man and a large iron dinosaur and not stop.Boise City, OK

The 13-foot, 750-pound replica of the Wizard of Oz character started life sometime before 1980 as an attraction for a restaurant in May, Oklahoma. It was later sold to a Pueblo, Colorado, resident, who stopped off at the Boise City museum while transporting it home.  The museum director told the purchaser he wished he’d known it was for sale and regretted not having had the chance to buy it.  Years later, the Colorado fellow, unable to keep the statue any longer, remembered that conversation and in 2012 the Tin Man moved to the Heritage Center Museum.

The dinosaur, nicknamed Cimmy, is a life-sized  model of an Apatosaurus, based upon bones that were excavated in 1931 about 30 miles northwest of town.  It is 65 feet long, 35 feet tall, and weighs 18,000 pounds.

A final note: Boise City is less than an hour’s drive to four other states, Colorado, Kansas, New Mexico, and Texas, but it took actress Vera Miles, who was born there, 20 years to get to Los Angeles.

Boise City, OK
Boise City, OK

Boise City, OK  (Photos by Ron Haines)

 

Posted in Offbeat, Road trip | 3 Comments

Oops!

Out in Oklahoma a while ago I was driving along a flat, two-lane road admiring the rows of gleaming  windmills as far as the eye could see when I spotted one that just didn’t look as sparkling white as the others.

So I found some dirt road detours and got close enough to see that yes, something was amiss.  The whole hub had been gutted and the blades charred by what must have been one spectacular fire.  That hub is the size of a city bus.

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This is what it is supposed to look like:

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Those blades look small in the distance, but up close and personal they are massive:

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Posted in Offbeat, Road trip | 2 Comments

Creepy Barbi

My 2016 trash paddling season has begun.  The first Trash Patrol in New Hampshire was last Saturday on the Nashua River, led by the project’s founder, Denise Hurt of the Appalachian Mountain Club.  They are monthly through October.

It was a modest haul by our standards, but the old tires and the two basketballs made the pile photogenic.

The Find-Of-The-Day was Denise’s creepy looking Barbi doll.  ‘Mud-Wrestling Deranged Barbi’ is my label for her.

The weather, as one can tell from the clothes we’re wearing, was chilly, with a heavy mist that verged on rain at times.

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Posted in Appalachian Moutain Club, Grumman canoe, Paddling, Trash Patrol | 1 Comment