A Landing a Day

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Susanville, Standish and Honey Lake, California

Posted by graywacke on February 16, 2018

First timer?  In this formerly once-a-day blog (and now pretty much a once-every-four-or-five days blog), I use an app that provides a random latitude and longitude that puts me somewhere in the continental United States (the lower 48).  I call this “landing.”

I keep track of the watersheds I land in, as well as the town or towns I land near.  I do some internet research to hopefully find something of interest about my landing location. 

To find out more about A Landing A Day (like who “Dan” is) please see “About Landing” above.  To check out some recent changes in how I do things, check out “About Landing (Revisited).”

Landing number 2389; A Landing A Day blog post number 823.

Dan:  Today’s lat/long (40o 13.417’N, 120o 28.783’W) puts me in NE California:

Here’s my local landing map:

I won’t bother with a streams-only map, because guess what?  Water that flows into Honey Lake doesn’t go anywhere!  It either evaporates or sinks in . . .

Jumping right to Google Earth (GE), here’s a an oblique shot showing my landing in the hills above Honey Lake:

Here’s another GE shot that shows the Orange Dude standing where the unnamed “stream” that flows from my landing crosses under a road just before making its way into Honey Lake:

Here’s the downstream view:

The upstream view does double duty, giving us a landing shot as well:

I’ll start with a little (very little) about Susanville (pop 18,000).  It turns out that the main economic engine for the area are three prisons – two State, one Federal.  From Wiki:

The prisons and their effects on the community, including the provision of much needed jobs, were explored in the documentary, Prison Town, USA (2007), aired on PBS.  Nearly half the adult population of Susanville works at the three prisons in the area where 11,000 people are incarcerated.

I found a couple of back-in-the day shots.  First this, of Main Street Susanville in 1894:

And then this, also of Main Street, taken in the year of my birth (1950):

Boy, does that picture make me feel old . . .

Now I’ll move a few miles southeast for a quick look at Standish.  From Wiki:

Standish was established in the 1890s, as a development of the Associated Colonies of New York, whose job was to “create utopian communities in the West”.   As a part of this project, Standish was designed based on the beliefs of Myles Standish, and the economic structure was designed under the ideas promoted by Mormon leader Brigham Young.

The design of the town was supposed to model European communities which had the majority of residents leaving the village during the day in order to work in the nearby fields.

A 240-acre site was chosen to build the town in 1898, and the Colonial Irrigation Company of the Honey Lake Valley was incorporated in order to irrigate water for the crops.

However, legal problems with the system and water rights caused delay in its operation and the development of Standish; after several legal battles, the courts placed restraints on their irrigation rights.  In 1905, the courts ordered the auction of the Colonial Irrigation Company.

And that was that.

So, who was Myles Standish?  He was a career military man who joined up with the Pilgrims seeking religious freedom in America.  He took on a leadership role for the Pilgrims once they set up their colony in Plymouth MA.  He led negotiations with Indians, and also defended the colony from hostile Indian attacks. 

He helped negotiate the “Mayflower Compact,” which was necessary because about half of the 104 Mayflower passengers were religious (the “Saints”), and about half weren’t (the “Strangers”).  The Compact was their agreement about how to coexist and therefore survive.

He’s always pictured with this fru-fru collar:

But he was a tough guy, and was actually honored as “Badass of the Week,” by baddassoftheweek.com.

So what I really want to talk about is Honey Lake. It turns out that I landed near Honey Lake back in March 2009, so I’ll be borrowing some from that earlier post.

Anyway, Honey lake is dry most of the time (like when the GE aerial shot was taken).  Although, during a particularly rainy season, it has water.  From TIPurdy.org, this 1987 shot:

I’m sure local boaters are very excited when the lake fills up!

Way back around 13,000 years ago (during the height of the latest Ice Age), what is today Honey Lake was a part of a huge lake system known as Lake Lohontan:

Honey Lake is just above the word “Pyramid.”

The lake covered an area of 8,500 square miles, and had a maximum depth of 900 feet at Pyramid Lake.  The lake was nearly 400 feet deep at Honey Lake. 

The Maidu Indians lived on the shores of the Lake.  From the Honey Lake Maidu website:

The Northeastern Maidu, also known as the Mountain Maidu, lived (and still live) around a series of mountain valleys.

For subsistence, the Maidu depended primarily on acorns, seeds berries, and roots, as well as on deer, pronghorn, wild fowl, and fish.

At one time, the Maidu possessed a rich and complex oral tradition that began with the contest between Earthmaker (K’odojapem) and Coyote (Wepam wajsim) at creation and following the flood.

In his studies of Maidu oral tradition, one researcher found “a complete absence, apparently, of any sort of migration legend; all portions of the stock declaring emphatically that they originated precisely in their present homes.”

Here’s a picture of some Maidu folks back in the day:

Here’s the beginning of the oral Maidu creation story, as told by Leona Morales.  Leona told the story before she died in 1985:

I am Leona Morales and I want to tell you a story that my old people told me.

I was born in 1900 and I know a lot of my old people. My mother (Roxie Peconom) told me the story about a Maker who made this world. They called him Kodomyeponi. The Maidu called him that. My aunt told me stories about it as did my uncle. So I pieced the stories together and I think I got it just about down pat.

I’ll tell the story about the Maker, the man that made this world. He said one day – I don’t know what time it was – the birds and the flowers and even the brooks were singing. Even the little animals were so happy, dancing around. This is the story that was told to me. They were just singing, even the brooks were singing, trees were swaying, and the leaves were dancing in the trees. They were so happy. They saw a bright light in the west and said, “That’s what the old one told us. When we see the bright light in the west, he says, He’s coming. He’s coming. He’s going to make this world right.”

For his people, the old one told us that one day He would come. Now, I don’t know what the old one was, but that’s the way the story goes. Oh, he said, the birds were singing, everybody was just so happy because they had seen the light in the west. A real bright light, kept getting brighter and brighter. It seems like it started from Quincy way. Here was this man. He had a light over his head. He was walking.  He had a cane.

There’s much more, and it’s very cool.   Click HERE to read the rest of the creation story (and more about the Honey Lake Maidu).

A quick aside.  I signed the Honey Lake Maidu website guestbook back in 2009:

And I signed it again for this post:

I’m ready to close things down for this post, and would generally checkout the GE Panoramio shots.  As I noted in a recent post, Panoramio is no more, although the photo icons are still posted on GE (but with no photos).  Here’s a GE shot showing the small blue Pano icons, and the larger circle icons for the new photos:

Ouch. There’s maybe a hundred Pano shots, but just a handfull of new photos.  Oh, well.

I checked out the few photos around my landing, and found none post-worthy.  But I found this 1997 Honey Lake shot from the same site that posted the sail boat photo above (TIPurdy.org):

That’ll do it . . .




© 2018 A Landing A Day






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Blewett, Dabney and Brackettville, Texas

Posted by graywacke on February 8, 2018

First timer?  In this formerly once-a-day blog (and now pretty much a once-every-four-or-five days blog), I use an app that provides a random latitude and longitude that puts me somewhere in the continental United States (the lower 48).  I call this “landing.”

I keep track of the watersheds I land in, as well as the town or towns I land near.  I do some internet research to hopefully find something of interest about my landing location. 

To find out more about A Landing A Day (like who “Dan” is) please see “About Landing” above.  To check out some recent changes in how I do things, check out “About Landing (Revisited).”

Landing number 2388; A Landing A Day blog post number 822.

Dan:  Today’s lat/long (29o 11.258’N, 100o 2.347’W) puts me in SW Texas:

Here’s my local landing map:

My very local streams-only map shows that I landed in the watershed of Turkey Creek:

Zooming way back, trust me that Turkey Creek discharges to the Nueces River (14th hit):

I’ll start with Blewett & Dabney together, since their history and demise are closely tied together.  Both “towns” were founded due to the presence (and mining) of asphalt rock nearby.  The rock in question is actually a limestone, but it’s very rich in bitumen – a naturally-occurring asphalt.

There was a market for the stuff – it was used (not surprisingly) as a road-building material.  But the market dried up and/or the rock ran out.  Anyway, neither town exists now.  The population of each is zero.

TexasEscapes.com lumped the towns together.  Here’s an excerpt of their write-up (and some pictures):

Blewett and Dabney are easy to find – at least on the official highway Map. But finding them in person is another matter. We did see some surprisingly scenic asphalt rock pits, however:

We spoke to a Texas Department of Transportation cartographer, who said that once a city or town is incorporated – it stays incorporated until it’s officially unincorporated. Which means when a town is abandoned, the last person to leave should file un-incorporation papers with the appropriate governing body before turning out the lights.

Evidently, this didn’t happen for Blewett or Dabney.

Poor old Spofford (although it currently exists) is totally hookless.  So that leaves Brackettville – which sounds like college basketball fans should descend on the town every March.  If you don’t get my joke, don’t worry – just keep reading . . .

According to Wiki, Brackettville (pop 1900) claims to be the “drive-in movie capital of Texas.”  No hook there.  But Wiki also has this:

For many years, it was the base of the famous Buffalo Soldiers, made up of African Americans, who in the years after the Civil War, were recruited to fight in the Indian wars.

So, who were these Buffalo Soldiers?  From Wiki:

Buffalo Soldiers originally were members of the 10th Cavalry Regiment of the United States Army, formed in1866. This nickname was given to the Negro Cavalry by Native American tribes who fought in the Indian Wars.

Although not agreed upon by all scholars, it is likely that both the Apache and Comanche used the term “buffalo soldiers.”

“We called them ‘buffalo soldiers,’ because they had curly, kinky hair … like bisons.”

Some sources assert that the nickname was given out of respect for the fierce fighting ability of the 10th Cavalry.  Still other sources point to a combination of both legends.

Wiki actually presents this picture to show the kinky-haired bison:

The Buffalo Soldiers were highly-decorated, winning 23 medals of honor.

On September 6, 2005, Mark Matthews, the last living Buffalo Soldier, died at the age of 111. He was buried at Arlington National Cemetery.

Here’s an interesting aside about Brackettville, from Wiki:

Historically, Brackettville had a relatively large proportion of Black Seminoles (people of mixed African American and Seminole ancestry).  These people were recruited by the US to act as scouts for the Buffalo Soldiers and settled with their families in the town. Their language, Afro-Seminole Creole, is still spoken by some in Brackettville.

I’m certain that most of my regular readers will know what’s coming next.  Yes, Bob Marley will make an appearance!

The only unusual thing is that the video contains the lyrics, so I don’t have to copy and paste them into the post . . .


So.  It’s official.  After months of warnings, Google Earth has abandoned Panoramio photos.  Although the Panoramio icons still appear, the photos themselves are gone.  What is slowly replacing the Pano shots are photos that I’ll simply call Google Earth (GE) photos.  So . . .

I’ll close with a couple of GE photos of the Nueces River.  Obviously, children love to jump in the river.  First this, by Jason Hill:

And then this, by Matthew Ricks:


That’ll do it . . .




© 2018 A Landing A Day





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Millbrook, New York

Posted by graywacke on February 2, 2018

First timer?  In this formerly once-a-day blog (and now pretty much a once-every-four-or-five days blog), I use an app that provides a random latitude and longitude that puts me somewhere in the continental United States (the lower 48).  I call this “landing.”

I keep track of the watersheds I land in, as well as the town or towns I land near.  I do some internet research to hopefully find something of interest about my landing location. 

To find out more about A Landing A Day (like who “Dan” is) please see “About Landing” above.  To check out some recent changes in how I do things, check out “About Landing (Revisited).”

Landing number 2387; A Landing A Day blog post number 821.

Dan:  Today’s lat/long (41o 45.945’N, 73o 43.977’W) puts me in southern (but still “upstate”) New York:

Here’s my local landing map:

I had absolutely no Google Earth (GE) Street View coverage, so I’ll settle for this GE shot of my landing:

And this zoomed-back oblique shot, to give you a picture of the broader landscape around my landing:

Here’s my streams-only map, showing that I landed in the watershed of the East Branch of Wappinger Ck; on to Wappinger Ck; on to the Hudson River (17th hit):

And yes, water from the East Branch of the Wappinger was in the Hudson River on January 15, 2009, making its way past Midtown Manhattan (and Weehawken NJ).  Water molecules from my watershed (at least those near the surface) noted a sudden, unexpected disturbance:

Good job, Sully!!

So.  I landed near Millbrook.  All in all, a fairly unremarkable little town, although located in the lovely Hudson Valley.  Of course, I went to Wiki and checked out the “History” section for Millbrook.  Here’s what it says:

Millbrook is the site of the Hitchcock Estate, which Timothy Leary made a nexus of the psychedelic movement in the 1960s and where he conducted research and wrote “The Psychedelic Experience.”

Interesting.  “Hitchcock Estate” was Wiki-clickable, so, of course, I clicked:

The Hitchcock Estate in Millbrook, New York is a historic mansion and surrounding grounds, associated with Timothy Leary and the psychedelic movement.

The 2,300-acre estate (with its 68-room house built in 1912) was eventually owned by the Hitchcock family, heirs to the Mellon fortune.. Siblings William Mellon “Billy” Hitchcock, Tommy Hitchcock III, and Margaret Mellon “Peggy” Hitchcock, became familiar with Timothy Leary’s work with psychedelic drugs at Havard University and gave the estate over for use by Lear in 1963, after he was fired by Havard.

Leary and the group he gathered around him lived at the estate and performed research into psychedelics there. Leary wrote (with Ralph Metzner) the 1964 book “The Psychedelic Experience” at the mansion.

People who lived at the estate included Richard Alpert (later known as Ram Dass; more about him later) and Maynard Ferguson, while the numerous visitors and guests included R. D. Laing, Alan Watts, Allen Ginsberg, Charles Mingus, and Ivy League academics.

Nina Graboi described Millbrook as “a cross between a country club, a madhouse, a research institute, a monastery, and a Fellini movie set. When you entered you were greeted by a sign that asked you to ‘kindly check your esteemed ego at the door.’”

The Millbrook estate was described by Luc Sante of The New York Times as:

 …the headquarters of Leary and gang for the better part of five years, a period filled with endless parties, epiphanies and breakdowns, emotional dramas of all sizes, and numerous raids and arrests, many of them on flimsy charges concocted by the local assistant district attorney, G. Gordon Liddy.

Leary and his group were evicted in 1968; Leary moved to California.

So, who is this Leary guy?

From Wiki:

Timothy Francis Leary (October 22, 1920 – May 31, 1996) was an American psychologist and writer known for advocating the exploration of the therapeutic potential of psychedelic drugs under controlled conditions. Leary conducted experiments under the Harvard Psilocybin Project.

Leary’s colleague, Richard Alpert (Ram Dass), was fired from Harvard University on May 27, 1963 for giving psilocybin to an undergraduate student. Leary was also fired, for “failure to keep classroom appointments.”

Leary believed that LSD showed potential for therapeutic use in psychiatry. He used LSD himself and developed a philosophy of mind expansion and personal truth through LSD.

He popularized catchphrases that promoted his philosophy, such as “turn on, tune in, drop out,” and “think for yourself and question authority.”

During the 1960s and 1970s, he was arrested often enough to see the inside of 36 different prisons worldwide.  President Richard Nixon once described Leary as “the most dangerous man in America.”

Interesting aside:  My wife Jody started and ran a day-care center in San Francisco back in the 70s.  I mentioned Ram Dass, above, as Leary’s Harvard (and Millbrook) colleague.  Well, Ram ended up in San Francisco, and his son ended up in Jody’s day-care center.  And yes, this is his picture . . .

So, what is LSD?  From Wiki:

Lysergic acid diethylamide (LSD), also known as acid, is a psychedelic drug known for its psychological effects, which may include altered awareness of one’s surroundings, perceptions, and feelings as well as sensations and images that seem real though they are not.

It is used mainly as a recreational drug and for spiritual reasons. LSD is not usually addictive.  However, adverse psychiatric reactions such as anxiety, paranoia, and delusions are possible.

LSD is in the ergoline family and was first made by Albert Hofmann in Switzerland in 1938 from ergotamine, a chemical from the fungus ergot.

[AYKM?  Before a couple of weeks ago, I had never heard of ergot, and here I am featuring it in two of my last three posts!  More about my previous post in a bit.]

The CIA thought the drug might be useful for mind control and chemical warfare and tested the drug on young servicemen and students, and others without their knowledge. The subsequent recreational use by youth culture in the Western world as part of 1960s counterculture resulted in its prohibition.

LSD can cause intense spiritual experiences, during which users may feel they have come into contact with a greater spiritual or cosmic order. Users sometimes report out of body experiences.

Some sensory effects may include an experience of radiant colors, objects and surfaces appearing to ripple or “breathe,” colored patterns behind the closed eyelids, an altered sense of time (time seems to be stretching, repeating itself, changing speed or stopping), crawling geometric patterns overlaying walls and other objects, and morphing objects.

Disclaimer:  I never took LSD, although I once took psilocybin as a college student.  I really enjoyed it, but while under the influence, I thought that I should drop out of school and see America.  I decided I better not do it again . . .

Anyway, just a quick word about ergot and my recent Montana landing, which included the town of Martinsdale, home of poet Grace Stone Coates.  In her poem that I featured was the line:  “You are more bitter upon my lips than ergot.”  I took pains to explain that ergot was a fungus that shows up on ripe grain kernels, tastes awful and can make you seriously ill.

Moving right along.  I landed just over the ridge from Innisfree Garden, a private garden that charges for admission.  I suspect it’s well worth the price (especially on a beautiful spring day).  I’ll close with some pictures lifted from InnisfreeGarden.org:

That’ll do it . . .




© 2018 A Landing A Day





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Tecopa, California (Revisited)

Posted by graywacke on January 24, 2018

First timer?  In this formerly once-a-day blog (and now pretty much a once-every-four-or-five days blog), I use an app that provides a random latitude and longitude that puts me somewhere in the continental United States (the lower 48).  I call this “landing.”

I keep track of the watersheds I land in, as well as the town or towns I land near.  I do some internet research to hopefully find something of interest about my landing location. 

To find out more about A Landing A Day (like who “Dan” is) please see “About Landing” above.  To check out some recent changes in how I do things, check out “About Landing (Revisited).”

Landing number 2386; A Landing A Day blog post number 820.

Dan:  Today’s lat/long (35o 39.470’N, 116o 23.356’W) puts me in southeastern California:

Here’s my local landing map:

Not much around, eh?

It turns out that back in March of 2009, I also featured Tecopa (thus the “revisited”).  That post is very different from this post, but go ahead and check it out, if you’ve a mind to . . .

As was true for my March 2009 post, I landed in the Amargosa River watershed (4th hit).  Here’s a broad Google Earth (GE) shot:

The Amargosa heads south, and then loops to the west past my landing, and then heads north (and appropriately enough), dies in Death Valley (7th hit).

Here’s a closeup near my landing:

From Wiki:

Except during flash floods that occur after cloudbursts, most of the course of the Amargosa River is dry on the surface.  The flow is generally underground except for stretches near Beatty and just downstream from Tecopa, California, in the Amargosa Canyon.

GE gives me a Street View look at the (dry) Amargosa, and my landing location:

Here’s what the OD sees:

While I’m on the road (Route 127), here’s a GE Pano shot by Jim Nieland looking north across the Amargosa valley:

I have some photos of the river – with actual water.  Here’s one in the Amargosa Canyon (from chinaranch.com):

And here’s another Amargosa Canyon shot (GE Pano by WiseWater):

Here’s a rare shot of the Amargosa River actually looking like a river, taken a few miles downstream of my landing (GE Pano by Steve Gaskin):

Obviously, a very rainy period led to the above picture.  Speaking of wetter times, how about 200,000 years ago when there was a large lake – Lake Tecopa – that covered about 100 square miles just north of the town of Tecopa. 

It was formed in a tectonic basin – that is, a depression in the earth caused by tectonic forces and the resulting faulting (as is Death Valley).  The lake began to overflow at its southern end, resulting in the cutting of the Amargosa Canyon.  The water then flowed down to Death Valley, feeding another lake, Lake Manly. 

Here’s a map:

For all of you doubters out there, here’s a picture of evidence of Lake Manly shorelines:

Moving right along . . .

There’s a place called “China Ranch” south of Tecopa:

China Ranch is currently a fig farm, and has a website.  From ChinaRanch.com:

Little is known about activities or people here at China Ranch from 1850 until the turn of the century. According to available sources, a Chinese man named either Quon Sing or Ah Foo came to this canyon after many years of work in the Death Valley borax mines. He developed the water, planted fruits and vegetables, and raised meat for the local mining camps. It became known as Chinaman’s Ranch.

Sometime in 1900, a man named Morrison appeared, and, as the story goes, he ran the Chinese farmer off at gun point and claimed the Ranch for his own. Morrison eventually sold out, but the name had stuck.

Since then the canyon has had many owners and worn many different faces, including a fig farm, cattle ranch, hog farm, alfalfa farm, and others.

The date grove was planted from seed in the early 1920’s.  Approximately half of the trees are male and produce only pollen. The females bear in the fall, yielding from 100 to 300 pounds of dates in a season.

This is quite the oasis.  I found a number of GE Panoramio shots, including this, by David Cure-Hrycuik of date palms:

And this, also by David C-H:

And this incredible shot by Listratov:

Here’s a Wiki shot by Michael Baird of some badlands along the edge of China Ranch:

Very close to my landing are three natural features:  the Dumont Dunes, the Ibex Dunes and the Saratoga Springs.  It’s GE Pano time, starting with the Dumont Dunes:

First, this aerial shot by BikeCam:

And this wild shot by Fel35:

And this, by RobVZ:

(Yes, such vehicles are allowed on the dunes.)

OK, now for the Ibex Dunes:

First, this by Chris Cleveland:

From EarthRover:

And also from EarthRover:

My final stop is Saratoga Springs:

First this, by Danny Merkle:

I’ll close with this by Chris Cleveland:

That’ll do it . . .




© 2018 A Landing A Day





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Martinsdale, Lenepp, Two Dot, Sixteen and Ringling, Montana

Posted by graywacke on January 15, 2018

First timer?  In this formerly once-a-day blog (and now pretty much a once-every-four-or-five days blog), I use an app that provides a random latitude and longitude that puts me somewhere in the continental United States (the lower 48).  I call this “landing.”

I keep track of the watersheds I land in, as well as the town or towns I land near.  I do some internet research to hopefully find something of interest about my landing location. 

To find out more about A Landing A Day (like who “Dan” is) please see “About Landing” above.  To check out some recent changes in how I do things, check out “About Landing (Revisited).”

Landing number 2385; A Landing A Day blog post number 819.

Dan:  Today’s lat/long (46o 23.391’N, 110o 14.310’W) puts me in central Montana:

Here’s my local landing map:

And yes!  Every town on the map is titular!

My streams-only map shows that I landed in the watershed of that fan-favorite, Stream Perennial; to the Little Elk Creek; to the Musselshell River (16th hit):

Zooming back:

The Musselshell heads east to join up with the Missouri (424th hit); on, of course, to the MM (927th hit).

As always, I checked out Google Earth to see if I could get a look at my landing.  Well, I’m quite a ways away:

Here’s what the Orange Dude sees:

And I got a look at Little Elk Creek:

Here’s the downstream view:

The above shot caught my eye, as looking like impressionist art.  I zoomed in to get rid of the roadway:

I’m going to make a statement, here, early in the post, the likes of which I’ve never made before:  I really enjoyed researching & writing this post!  It’s laid-back, folksy, pertinent, fun and real.  Wow.  What a set-up.  Well, here goes:

I’ll start with Martinsdale, which was the long-time home of a poet, Grace Stone Coates (1881 – 1976).  She moved there with her husband when she was 28 years old, and didn’t begin writing poetry until she moved there.

She was well published, and became known in some literary circles. 

I didn’t investigate her writing to any depth, but one of the first poems I ran across was entitled “Mutterkorn.”

I believe you’ll enjoy the poem more with a little background up front.  “Mutterkorn” is (I think) a German word for either ergot or ergotism.  “Ergot” is a purple plant fungus that grows on harvested grain crops that, if eaten, can cause ergotism with symptoms like convulsions, nausea, diarrhea, and gangrene formation. 

Wiki says this about ergot:

Dark-purple or black grain kernels, known as ergot bodies, can be identifiable in the heads of cereal or grass just before harvest.

The poem also mentions Gehenna. From Wiki:

Gehenna is a small valley in Jerusalem. In the Hebrew Bible, Gehenna was where some of the kings of Judah sacrificed their children by fire. It was deemed to be cursed.  (Note that modern archeology has established child sacrifice.)

In Hebrew, Christian and Islamic scripture, Gehenna is a destination of the wicked.  The King James Version of the Bible usually translates the Greek/Hebrew “Gehenna” with the Anglo-Saxon word Hell.

The poem also mentions “unmatured [corn] kernels”  After a deep search, I found a quote from a 1900 magazine for hoteliers (The Hotel & Motor Hotel Monthly), speaking about serving corn in their restaurants.  This is about “unmatured” kernels, which apparently are corn kernels ripe for eating.  I can only assume that “mature” kernels have hardened.

The unmatured kernels when prepared and cooked in different ways form the excellent vegetable, which is dear to the heart of every true American.  In buying, select the freshly picked and closely-kerneled ears, which have a snowy-white appearance and in the milky state; the latter feature can be easily determined by slightly depressing one of the kernels with a thumbnail.  If a starchy milk oozes out, it is in the peak of condition.

And finally:  an alternate meaning of the word “bland” is “soothing.”

So, you are now prepared to read (and understand) this poem, which is a doozy.  Apparently, Grace fell hook line and sinker for some guy, and the relationship turned a little sour . . .

Anyway, here ‘tis:


You are more bitter upon my lips than ergot
Purple corruption on the nourishing kernel;
Bitterer to me than brackish desert water,
Bitter as tears in dreams that shame Gehenna.

Because you were sweeter upon my tongue than honey,
Blander than milk in unmaturing kernels;
Stronger than swooning breath of the sun-sucked berry,
You are now more bitter in my throat than death.


Don’t worry.  This post goes uphill from here.  Time to move to Lennep.  Like Martinsdale, it was a railroad stop on the old electric segment of the Milwaukee Railroad, but unlike Martinsdale, it is now a total ghost town with no inhabitants.  It still has a Lutheran church that is being meticulously maintained (although note the lake of sidewalks or roads):

Lennep is named after Lennep Germany (in western Germany, just north of Cologne), which has a historic and scenic center.  Here are three GE Panoramio shots by Ralf Es:

OK, so maybe Lennep wasn’t much better than Martinsdale.  How about Two Dot?

Wiki lets us know that the name of the town came from a local rancher’s brand, which was, unsurprisingly, simply two dots.

I managed to stumble on a blog post written by Dr. Gregory Frazier in MotorcycleUSA.com, entitled “Two Dot Adventure.” 

Here are some excerpts:

“You going to crash that motorcycle,” the bartender said as he poured a third double-shot of whiskey into the cowboy’s glass.

“Nah, this stuff just loosens me up, lets me ride better than when I’m sober,” was the retort from the already well-oiled cowboy leaning on the bar.

“That’s what you said last time you busted yourself up on that motorcycle. You could get killed one of these times.”

The cowboy emptied the glass in one toss-back, coughed once or twice, set the glass on the bar and growled his reply towards the bartender, “Yeah, well you know I’m from Two Dot and don’t give a damn, so give me another.”

[Remember the above quote.]

The next double he drank a bit slower, sipping it while looking in the mirror behind the bar. About halfway through his drink he turned to me and asked, “That your BMW [motorcycle] outside?”

I said it was, not sure if my reply was going to prompt a compliment or challenge. Instead I got neither.

“Where are you headed?” he asked.

I told him I was looking for a quiet camping spot for the night further north, somewhere along the Musselshell River.

He pondered this for a few seconds, and then said, “I’ve got a Honda 900 out front. If you want we can ride up there together. I know a couple of places you might like, real quiet like and right on the river.”

I thought, “Why not, he’s a local and should know the best places.”

. . . . .

It was while eating the big, two-handed burger and wiping grease from my chin with a shirt sleeve that the cowboy came into the bar, sat down three stools away and quickly knocked back the two double-shots of whiskey. Sipping my cola and dipping fries in the pool of ketchup on my plate, I knew well enough not to bother a man in Montana who was obviously a serious drinker, so kept my eyes averted and voice to myself.

The cowboy never introduced himself by name, just asked if I wanted to join him, an offer I accepted.

Before leaving the bar my new guide bought two six-packs of beer which he stored in the six-pack designed storage spaces of the Vetter Windjammer fairing on his Honda.

While we filled our gas tanks before leaving town he reduced the 12-pack supply to 11, frowning when I declined to help him “lighten the load.” He said, “Hell, guess I’ll have to drink them all myself before we hit the gravel road or they’ll explode from being shaken up.” As we drove out of Big Timber across the Yellowstone River I saw him toss another empty can over the bridge railing. . .

Here’s a picture of a similarly-decked out “Vetter Windjammer Honda:”

To read all of Dr. Frazier’s post, click HERE.

Here’s a GE Street View shot of the Two Dot bar:

Remember that I said to remember the quote:  “I’m from Two Dot and I don’t give a damn?”

Well, Hank Williams Jr. has something to say about that (be sure to follow along with the words below):


“Twodot Montana”

I bet you been wondering why you ain’t heard from me
And what kind of trouble I’ve gotten into
Well just kiss all the babies and feed all the horses
And oh hell I might as well tell it to you

I’m in Deerlock Montana in the territory prison
They’ve got me for something that I didn’t do
I’ve been framed for killin’ a dude down in Dillon
But babe don’t you worry cause I always come through

I’ve climbed up the Rockies and swam down the Snake
I spent winters trappin’ in the mosery breaks
This ain’t the first time I’ve been in a jam
I’m from Twodot Montana and I don’t give a damn

These walls are so old that it’s easy to go
Right through the tunnel and out in the yard
There’s just one more fence of the barbed wire and then
I’ll be a free man but there’s one more old guard

I see his gun and there’s no way to run
But I’ve got to try cause I can’t live locked up
I feel the fire from that colt .45 and this
High country cowboy just run out of luck

I’ve climbed up the Rockies and swam down the Snake
I spent winters trappin’ in the mosery* breaks
This ain’t the first time I’ve been in a jam
I’m from Twodot Montana and I don’t give a damn.

*I Googled “mosery” and only found references to this song.  Oh, well.

And now for Sixteen.  From Wiki, about the name:

The town took its name from Sixteen Mile Creek, which runs through the narrow valley containing the village.

But there’s a truly amazing story from Sixteen.  From LostAndFoundMontana.com:

In 2000, Sixteen had a handful of part-time residents and only two year-round residents, Bill McDonald and his mom Helen.  A few years later Bill’s mom passed, leaving Bill to tend to Sixteen. Many who knew Bill said he was born 100 years late. He carried a .44-caliber pistol in the back of his pants and bowie knife on his hip.

In 2009, the town’s population grew to three, when part-time Sixteen residents Michael and Ingrid Eckberg moved there full time. Michael Eckberg had fallen in love with Montana in 1961 when he traveled there on the railroad with his dad, a dining car chef on the Northern Pacific.   In 1993, they bought a place in Sixteen. Once Eckberg retired, they moved their full time in 2009 – the draw too great.

Here’s a video from the same website, featuring Michael Eckberg:

<p><a href=”https://vimeo.com/84234534″>Sixteen, Mont.</a> from <a href=”https://vimeo.com/user6898324″>Montana Journalism</a> on <a href=”https://vimeo.com”>Vimeo</a&gt;.</p>


Now, back to some website verbiage.  Here comes the amazing (and tragic) part of the story:

But in 2010, a tragic incident befell the town. Only the town residents know what happened that morning. It left Bill McDonald fatally shot and Michael Eckberg in the hospital with multiple stab wounds. Meagher County Attorney Kimberly Deschene said it was a case of self-defense. No charges were filed.

They were neighbors. They were friends. They were Sixteen. The Eckbergs and McDonalds often shared dinner together. When Bill left he’d always say, “thanks for the groceries.”

It’s the kind of tragedy played out on stage, but this was real. Now the town’s existence lies in the hands of the Eckberg family, the only year-round residents. When asked about the incident Michael Eckberg gazes toward the sky and wonders why did it have to happen? Yet, his love and passion for the town of Sixteen remains strong.

And here’s another video from the website:

<p><a href=”https://vimeo.com/46828886″>Sixteen</a&gt; from <a href=”https://vimeo.com/user6898324″>Montana Journalism</a> on <a href=”https://vimeo.com”>Vimeo</a&gt;.</p>



Moving along to Ringling.  From Wiki:

Ringling was originally called Leader, but was renamed for John Ringling of the Ringling Brothers Circus family.  John Ringling was a financier of the railroad through Ringling, as well as its president. He also owned a summer home & spa in the area.

Here’s a Wiki shot of town:

But more importantly, Jimmy Buffett wrote a song about Ringling!  I love the album cover.   As always, the words follow:


“Ringling, Ringling”

Ringling, Ringling
Slippin’ away
Only forty people, livin’ there today
Streets are dusty and the bank has been torn down
It’s a dyin’ little town

Church windows broken
That place ain’t been used in years
Jail don’t have a sheriff or a cell
And electric trains they run by maybe once or twice a month
Easin’ it on down to Musselshell

Ringling, Ringling
Slippin’ away
Only forty people livin’ there today
`Cause the streets are dusty and the bank had been torn down
It’s a dyin’ little town

And across from the bar there’s a pile of beer cans
Been there twenty-seven years
Imagine all the heart aches and tears
In twenty-seven years of beer

So we hopped back in the rental car
and we hit the cruise control
Pretty soon the town was out of sight
Though we left behind a fat barmaid, a cowboy and a dog
Racin’ for a Ringling Friday night

Ringling, Ringling
You’re just slippin’ away
I wonder how many people will be there a year from today
`Cause the streets are dusty and the bank has been torn down
It’s a dyin’ little town
It’s a dyin’ little town

I’ll close with a couple of GE pano shots, taken near my landing.  First this, by David Cure-Hrycluk:

And this, by Dann Cianca:

That’ll do it . . .




© 2018 A Landing A Day





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Hopkinsville and Cerulean, Kentucky

Posted by graywacke on January 10, 2018

First timer?  In this formerly once-a-day blog (and now pretty much a once-every-four-or-five days blog), I use an app that provides a random latitude and longitude that puts me somewhere in the continental United States (the lower 48).  I call this “landing.”

I keep track of the watersheds I land in, as well as the town or towns I land near.  I do some internet research to hopefully find something of interest about my landing location. 

To find out more about A Landing A Day (like who “Dan” is) please see “About Landing” above.  To check out some recent changes in how I do things, check out “About Landing (Revisited).”

Landing number 2384; A Landing A Day blog post number 818.

Dan:  Today’s lat/long (37o 9.258’N, 87o 29.930’W) puts me in west Kentucky:

Here’s my local landing map:

My streams-only map shows that I landed in the watershed of (and right next to) Craborchard Ck; on to Drakes Creek:

Zooming back, we can see that Drakes Ck makes its way to Pond River (2nd hit); on to the Green River (10th hit); on to the Ohio River (149th hit):

Although not shown, we’re in the mother-of-all watersheds (926th hit).

I have excellent Google Earth (GE) Street View coverage of my landing:

And here’s what the Orange Dude sees:

Even closer is Street View coverage of the Craborchard Creek:

And here ‘tis:

So.  As seems typical for many recent posts, I spent an inordinate amount of Google time looking at the VP* of towns in the general vicinity of my landing.  I managed to find a little to write about for my two titular towns.  I think I’ll start with Hopkinsville.

*veritable plethora

It turns out that Edgar Cayce (1877 – 1945) was born just south of Hopkinsville, and spent formative years in Hopkinsville.  I suspect that for most of my readers, the name Edgar Cayce is familiar, and it is likely that some of you actually know at least something about him. 

I’m somewhat familiar with him, primarily because my wife Jody’s mother (aka my mother in law) was quite taken with Cayce and his teachings (especially about reincarnation).  Jody is probably somewhat less taken with Cayce, but still knows more about him than I do. 

So who is this Edgar Cayce guy?  From Wiki:

Edgar Cayce was an American Christian mystic who answered questions on subjects as varied as healing, reincarnation, wars, Atlantis, and future events while in an apparent trance. A biographer gave him the nickname, “The Sleeping Prophet”. A nonprofit organization, the Association for Research and Enlightenment, was founded to facilitate the study of Cayce’s work.

Some consider him the true founder and a principal source of the most characteristic beliefs of the New Age movement.

Cayce lived in Hopkinsville KY, Selma AL and Virginia Beach VA.  The headquarters for the Association for Research and Enlightenment is in Virginia Beach, and includes a health center & spa, a library, a bookstore/gift shop and conference center.

From EdgarCayce.org:

Cayce’s psychic abilities began to appear early in his childhood. As an adult, Cayce would put himself into a state of meditation, connecting with the universal consciousness and from this state, came his “readings”. From holistic health and the treatment of illness to dream interpretation and reincarnation, Cayce’s readings and insights offer practical help and advice to individuals from all walks of life, even today.

Here’s a screen shot of a segment of their webpage:

Back to Wiki:

Cayce’s clients included a number of famous people such as Woodrow Wilson, Thomas Edison, Irving Berlin, and George Gershwin.

Gina Cerminara published books such as Many Mansions and The World Within [in our library]. Brian Weiss published a bestseller regarding clinical recollection of past lives, Many Lives, Many Masters. Thomas Sugrue wrote the “definitive” biography, There is a River [also in our library].  These books provide broad support for spiritualism and reincarnation.

As one would suspect, Cayce was subject to a wide range of skepticism and outright criticism. There’s no doubt that he gave prophecies that didn’t come true and performed healings that were unsuccessful.  But he must have had some successes . . .

There’s no doubt that he’s a fascinating character, worthy of further research and reading – if you’ve a mind to . . .

Time to move to Cerulean.  There’s not much, but here goes.  From Wiki:

The greatest extent of the Solar eclipse of August 21, 2017 was at Orchardale Farms, located near Cerulean.

I’m not sure of the accuracy of the above statement; the longest duration of totality was in the vicinity of 2 minutes and 41 seconds, and was generally located in Western Kentucky / Southern Illinois.  Here’s a graphic from GreatAmericanEclipse.com:

Back to Wiki:

The local 19th-century health resort Cerulean Springs earned a reputation throughout the Upper South. According to legend, the spring’s color changed to cerulean by the New Madrid earthquake of 1811.

So, cerulean is a color?  News to me (although I doubt the earthquake story).  Anyway, “cerulean” was the Miriam Webster “Word of the Day” back on 11/1/2011:



I’ll close with this GE Panoramio shot of the Apex Natural Bridge (by Woodland Trekker), located about 10 miles southeast of my landing:

That’ll do it . . .




© 2018 A Landing A Day




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Mormon Lake, Canyon Diablo and Meteor Crater, Arizona

Posted by graywacke on January 3, 2018

First timer?  In this formerly once-a-day blog (and now pretty much a once-every-four-or-five days blog), I use an app that provides a random latitude and longitude that puts me somewhere in the continental United States (the lower 48).  I call this “landing.”

I keep track of the watersheds I land in, as well as the town or towns I land near.  I do some internet research to hopefully find something of interest about my landing location. 

To find out more about A Landing A Day (like who “Dan” is) please see “About Landing” above.  To check out some recent changes in how I do things, check out “About Landing (Revisited).”

Landing number 2383; A Landing A Day blog post number 817.

Dan:  Today’s lat/long (34o 48.726’N, 111o 19.104’W) puts me in central Arizona:

Here’s my local landing map:

A StreetAtlas streams-only map shows nothing about my watershed, so I jumped over to Google Earth (GE) to track the drainage from my landing:

As you can see, I landed in the watershed of the Canyon Diablo, on to the Little Colorado R (22nd hit).   Although not shown, we all know that the Little Colorado discharges to the Big Colorado (181st hit) just north of here in the Grand Canyon.

I won’t even bother with attempting to use GE Street View to get a look at my landing spot. But near to my landing are two entirely different landscapes.  First this, just south of Mormon Lake:

This is a scenic region filled with Ponderosa Pines:

And then, a few miles to the east:

A much more arid, flat landscape:

But, I could get a Street View look at Canyon Diablo (which is an arroyo, or often-dry drainageway), where it ducks under I-40:

Here’s what the Orange Dude sees. 

By the way, I had no clue that the arroyo was named Canyon Diablo until I checked out this Street View shot . . . which motivated me to Google Canyon Diablo . . . where I learned that there’s a nearby Canyon Diablo ghost town (which is shown on my local landing map).

Here’s a GE shot showing the town, the crater, and the Orange Dude’s location on I-40 when he looked at the Canyon Diablo:

From Wiki:

Canyon Diablo is a ghost town on the edge of the arroyo Canyon Diablo. The community was settled in 1880 and died out in the early 20th century.

[Interesting aside:]

The town, which is about 12 miles northwest of Meteor Crater, was the closest community to the crater when portions of the meteorite were removed. Consequently, the meteorite that struck the crater is officially called the “Canyon Diablo Meteorite.”


The ramshackle community originated in 1880, due to construction delays caused by the fact that the Atlantic and Pacific Railroad ordered a bridge that was not long enough to span Canyon Diablo.  This unfortunate fact was only discovered when the bridge arrived on site from the manufacturer.

Consequently, for six months the transcontinental railroad ended at the lip of Canyon Diablo while another bridge was manufactured and shipped to the work site.

Although the railroad ended at the edge of the canyon, work on the railroad route still progressed.  A community sprung up at the edge of the Canyon, which quickly included numerous saloons, brothels, dance halls, and gambling houses, all of which remained open 24 hours a day.

No lawmen were employed by the community initially, so it quickly became a very dangerous place. Its population was mostly railroad workers, along with passing outlaws, gamblers, and prostitutes.

The town was designed with two lines of buildings facing one another across the main street. This center street, however, was not named Main Street, but “Hell Street”. Lining Hell Street were fourteen saloons, ten gambling houses, four brothels and two dance halls.

Within a short time the town had 2,000 residents. Within its first year, the town received its first marshal. He was sworn in at 3:00 pm, and was being buried at 8:00 pm that same night. Five more town marshals would follow, the longest lasting one month, and all were killed in the line of duty. A “Boot Hill” cemetery sprouted up at the end of town, which in less than a decade had 35 graves, all of whom had been killed by way of violent death.

When the railroad bridge was completed, the town quickly died.

Here’s a GE Panoramio shot by Archelaus of ruins of some of the railroad workers barracks along the Canyon:

And a Wiki shot of the original bridge:

And a GE Pano shot (by PhotographersNature) of today’s bridge:

I hate to say this, but the Canyon Diablo is way smaller just a few miles upstream, where it is crossed by I-40.  Couldn’t they have re-routed the rail line?  Oh, well . . .

In total contrast (I suspect) to the town of Canyon Diablo is the town of Mormon Lake.  Although it’s not a Mormon town per se, the area around the lake was settled in 1873 by numerous Mormon families who operated dairy farms.  Do you think that young men from the community in the late 1890s were warned not to venture the 20 miles northeast to Canyon Diablo? 

The town has always been a tourist / resort community, centered around Mormon Lake Lodge (built in 1924).  This about the Lake, from Wiki:

Mormon Lake is a shallow intermittent lake located in northern Arizona. With an average depth of only 10 ft, the surface area of the lake fluctuates seasonally. When full, the lake has a surface area of about 12 square miles, making it the largest natural lake in Arizona.

Here’s a GE Street View shot of the lake in October 2011, when there wasn’t much of a lake.  Note that the San Francisco peaks are about 30 miles away:

So, the elephant in the room is Meteor Crater.  Here’s a GE Pano aerial shot of the crater by Sergio Araujo:

From Wiki:

The crater is about 3,900 ft in diameter (three-quarters of a mile), some 560 ft deep, and is surrounded by a rim that rises 150 ft above the surrounding plains.

The crater was created about 50,000 years ago.  At that time, the area was an open grassland dotted with woodlands inhabited by woolly mammoths and giant ground sloths.

It is believed that about half of the meteor’s bulk was vaporized during its descent through the atmosphere, leaving few remains in the crater.

The object that excavated the crater was a nickel-iron meteorite about 150 feet across.

The crater came to the attention of scientists following its discovery by American settlers [Mormons?] in the 19th century. Dubbed the Canyon Diablo crater – from Canyon Diablo, Arizona, the closest community to the crater in the late 19th century (but now a ghost town).

It had initially been ascribed to the actions of a volcano – not an unreasonable assumption, as the San Francisco volcanic field lies only about 40 miles to the northwest.

In 1891, two theories were presented for the crater:  Albert Foote said that it was caused by a meteorite and Grove Karl Gilbert said it was volcanic.

In 1903, mining engineer and businessman Daniel Barringer supported the meteorite theory, and further bought mineral rights below the crater, supposing that an iron meteorite was buried there.

Barringer’s arguments were met with skepticism, as there was a reluctance at the time to consider the role of meteorites in terrestrial geology. He persisted and sought to bolster his theory by locating the remains of the meteorite.

At the time of discovery, the surrounding plains were covered with about 30 tons of large oxidized iron meteorite fragments. This led Barringer to believe that the bulk of the impactor could still be found under the crater floor.

Impact physics was poorly understood at the time and Barringer was unaware that a large portion of the meteorite vaporized on impact. He spent 27 years trying to locate a large deposit of meteoric iron, and drilled to a depth of 1,375 ft but no significant deposit was ever found.

It was not until 1960 that research by Gene Shoemaker confirmed Barringer’s hypothesis. The key discovery was the presence in the crater of the minerals coesite and stishovite, rare forms of silica found only where quartz-bearing rocks have been severely shocked by an instantaneous overpressure.

It cannot be created by volcanic action; the only known mechanisms of creating it is naturally through an impact event, or artificially through a nuclear explosion.  Shoemaker was uniquely aware of this as he had been researching the shocked mineral formations that were formed after the nuclear detonation testing in the Nevada desert (particularly the Sedan crater).

[See photos of the Sedan crater, below.]

Therefore, when similar minerals were seen at the Barringer Crater, he was certain that a similar kind of sudden shock compression was responsible for the crater, which effectively ruled out the then more mainstream view that the crater was the result of a comparatively less sudden volcanic eruption.

Shoemaker’s deduction is considered the first definitive proof of an extraterrestrial impact on the Earth’s surface. Since then, numerous impact craters have been identified around the world, though Meteor Crater remains one of the most visually impressive owing to its size, young age and lack of vegetative cover.

I featured the Sedan Crater in my July 4, 2017 Indian Springs and Mercury NV post.  From that post:

Here’s a Wiki shot of the Storax Sedan blast:

And the crater:

I’ll close with a couple of Mormon Lake GE Pano shots.  First this, by Brian More:

And this, by AZWestyMan:


That’ll do it . . .




© 2017 A Landing A Day



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Fallbrook, Escondido, Pala and Mount Palomar, California

Posted by graywacke on December 29, 2017

First timer?  In this formerly once-a-day blog (and now pretty much a once-every-four-or-five days blog), I use an app that provides a random latitude and longitude that puts me somewhere in the continental United States (the lower 48).  I call this “landing.”

I keep track of the watersheds I land in, as well as the town or towns I land near.  I do some internet research to hopefully find something of interest about my landing location. 

To find out more about A Landing A Day (like who “Dan” is) please see “About Landing” above.  To check out some recent changes in how I do things, check out “About Landing (Revisited).”

Landing number 2382; A Landing A Day blog post number 816.

Dan:  Today’s lat/long (33o 20.480’N, 116o 57.615’W) puts me in far SW California:

My local landing map:

I landed in the watershed of the Pauma Creek:

Which, as you can see, makes its way to the San Luis Rey River (1st hit ever!).

I’m going to knock over two beer cans with one stone, and look at my drainageway and my landing at the same time:

And here’s what the Orange Dude sees:

So, we’ll take quickie visits to each of my titular towns, as I found no singular, compelling hook.  Let’s start with Fallbrook, where Wiki notes that a Notable Person is Tony Hawk.

For some reason, I was actually aware that Tony Hawk is (was?) a world-class skate boarder.  After a little research, I discovered that he was the first person in the world to do a 900.

900?  Well, if you spin all the way around once, it’s a 360.  You spin twice, it’s a 720.  You spin two and a half times, and it’s a 900.  So, here’s a You Tube video featuring Tony Hawk’s first 900. 




And here’s his last.  Give the guy a break.  His first was when he 31 (in 1999) and the last, in 2016, when he was 48. 


And in between Hawk’s first and last, another 15 guys have successfully landed a 900. . .

And this, from Wiki:

The advent of the MegaRamp, invented in 2002, gives much higher vertical height which enabled even more revolutions and on March 26th, 2012, Tom Schaar (at age 12) landed a 1080 on his 5th attempt:


Just in case you’re a skateboard junkie, here’s a video of Tony’s son Riley.  The kid’s not bad . . .


Moving way down south to Escondido.  While pretty much hookless (like Fallbrook), I noticed that the town is home to the Deer Park Buddhist Monastery, one of three monasteries under the leadership of Vietnamese Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh.

As it turns out, I’m actually quite familiar with the writings of Thich Naht Hanh.  He has written over 100 books, and I’ve read maybe six or seven of them.  Although I can’t call myself a Buddhist, I do appreciate the wisdom of Buddhist teachings.

From his website (he’s the old guy):

Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh is a global spiritual leader, poet and peace activist, revered around the world for his powerful teachings and bestselling writings on mindfulness and peace. He is the man Martin Luther King called “An Apostle of peace and nonviolence.” His key teaching is that, through mindfulness, we can learn to live happily in the present moment—the only way to truly develop peace, both in one’s self and in the world.

His teachings center around mindfulness and how to achieve mindful peace.

From Wiki:

In 1961 Nhất Hạnh went to the US to teach comparative religion at Princeton University and was subsequently appointed lecturer in Buddhism at Columbia University.  By then he had gained fluency in French, Chinese, Sanskrit, Pali, Japanese and English, in addition to his native Vietnamese. In 1963, he returned to Vietnam to aid his fellow monks in their non-violent peace efforts.

Nhất Hạnh returned to the US in 1966 to lead a symposium in Vietnamese Buddhism at Cornell University, and to continue his work for peace. While in the US, Nhất Hạnh stopped at Gethsemani Abbey to speak with Thomas Merton [an interesting fellow; more about him in a bit]. When Vietnam threatened to block Nhất Hạnh’s re-entry to the country, Merton penned an essay of solidarity entitled “Nhat Hanh is my Brother.  Merton also wrote a letter to Martin Luther King, Jr. in 1965 entitled: “In Search of the Enemy of Man,” mentioning Nhất Hạnh.

It was during his 1966 stay in the US that Nhất Hạnh met with King and urged him to publicly denounce the Vietnam War.  In 1967, Dr. King gave a famous speech at the Riverside Church in New York City, his first to publicly question the U.S. involvement in Vietnam.

Later that year, Dr. King nominated Nhất Hạnh for the 1967 Nobel Peace Prize. In his nomination Dr. King said, “I do not personally know of anyone more worthy than this gentle monk from Vietnam. His ideas for peace, if applied, would build a monument to ecumenism, to world brotherhood, to humanity”.

The fact that King had revealed the candidate he had chosen to nominate and had made a “strong request” to the prize committee, was in sharp violation of the Nobel traditions and protocol.  The committee did not make an award that year.

From Wiki, about Thomas Merton:

Thomas Merton (1915 – 1968) was an American Catholic writer, theologian and mystic. A Trappist monk of the Abbey of Gethsemani, Kentucky, he was a poet, social activist, and student of comparative religion.

Merton wrote more than 70 books, mostly on spirituality, social justice and nonviolent pacifism, as well as scores of essays and reviews. Among Merton’s most enduring works is his bestselling autobiography The Seven Storey Mountain (1948), which sent scores of World War II veterans, students, and even teenagers flocking to monasteries across the US.  The book was featured in National Review’s list of the 100 best non-fiction books of the century.

Merton was a keen proponent of interfaith understanding. He pioneered dialogue with prominent Asian spiritual figures, including the Dalai Lama, the Japanese writer D.T. Suzuki, the Thai Buddhist monk Buddhadasa, and the Vietnamese monk Thich Nhat Hanh.

He remained Christian throughout his life, but he obviously embraced eastern philosophies. 

Time to move on to Pala. From Wiki:

Gem mines in the Pala District produce tourmaline, with the pink variety as the regional specialty.

China’s Dowager Empress Cixi (who effectively ruled China from 1861 until her death in 19098) highly prized the pink tourmaline mined in Pala. Under her influence, China’s demand for this gem created a boom in the California tourmaline industry beginning in the early 1900s.

Here’s a Wiki picture of “Green Cap” tourmaline from Pala:

My geologist wife Jody loves this type of tourmaline, which she calls “watermelon” tourmaline.  Here’s a picture of one of Jody’s earrings:

Yes, that’s me holding the earring . . .

I’ll now head up the road to Mount Palomar and its famous observatory:

And a closer look:

From the Observatory’s website:

Palomar Observatory is among the most iconic scientific facilities in the world, and a crown jewel in the research traditions of Caltech.

Conceived of nearly 100 years ago, the observatory has been in continuous scientific operation since the mid-30s, and remains productive and relevant today.

George Ellery Hale was the person most responsible for the building of Palomar Observatory. A graduate of MIT and a founder of Caltech, in 1928 he secured a grant of $6 million from the Rockefeller Foundation for the fabrication of a 200-inch reflecting telescope.

During the 1930s, he assembled a remarkable team of engineers and designers from academia and industry. Under his direction, these people set to work on the mirror, on the mounting, and on the dome and its support facilities on Palomar Mountain.

A triumph of innovation, insight, persistence, and precision the telescope was dedicated in June 1948 ten years after Hale’s death.  This is the Hale Telescope at Palomar Observatory, an instrument that after many decades of service continues to play a leading role in the advancement of astronomy and astrophysics.

Perhaps the most historic scientific discovery using the 200 inch Hale telescope involved understanding the nature of quasars.  Here’s a bulleted Greg-style list:

  • In the late 1950s, astronomical objects were noted that had a strong radio signature, but no light signature. They had no idea where these objects were located.  In our Milky Way Galaxy, or in other galaxies?
  • In 1963, a faint blue star was noted at one of these radio source location (not by the Hale telescope). The light was studied, and its spectra could not be identified.  But astronomer John Bolton claimed that it was a Hydrogen spectra (common coming from stars), but red shifted a lot.  No one believed him.
  • Note 1: the red shift is similar to the Doppler Effect, whereby sound waves are lengthened when the sound is moving away from us, resulting in a lower pitch.  With light, if the light source is moving away (at incredibly fast velocities), the wavelength of the light gets longer – i.e., shifted towards the red end of the light spectrum. 
  • Note 2: The magnitude of the red shift is proportional to the recessional velocity.  It turns out that the farther a galaxy is away from us, the faster it is moving away from us.  Remember this.
  • Another visual identification of a quasar radio source was made using the Hale telescope. It showed the same spectrum, but better optics and sensors at Palomar allowed astronomers to definitely determine that the red shift interpretation was correct!
  • This discovery revolutionized quasar observation and allowed other astronomers to find redshifts from the emission lines from other radio sources. As predicted earlier by Bolton, 3C 48 [the radio source he observed] was found to have a redshift of 37% of the speed of light.
  • The term “quasar” was coined by Chinese-born U.S. astrophysicist Hong-Yee Chiu in May 1964, in Physics Today, to describe these puzzling objects:
    • So far, the clumsily long name ‘quasi-stellar radio sources’ is used to describe these objects. Because the nature of these objects is entirely unknown, it is hard to prepare a short, appropriate nomenclature for them so that their essential properties are obvious from their name.
    • For convenience, the abbreviated form ‘quasar’ will be used throughout this paper.

So here’s the bottom line:  A quasar consists of a super massive black hole surrounded by an orbiting accretion disk of gas. As gas in the accretion disk falls toward the black hole, immense quantities of energy are released. The most powerful quasars have luminosities exceeding 1041 W, thousands of times greater than the luminosity of a large galaxy such as the Milky Way.

Oh my.  Did you catch that?  One quasar releases light (luminosity) thousands of times greater than the entire Milky Way (which consists of approximately 250 billion stars). 

Here’s some more from Wiki:

The peak epoch of quasar activity in the Universe corresponds to redshifts around 2, or approximately 10 billion years ago.  (The Big Bang created the Universe approximately 14.5 billion years ago.) 

As of 2017, the most distant known quasar is ULAS J1342+0928 at redshift = 7.54.  Light observed from this quasar was emitted when the Universe was only 690 million years old (a mere toddler). The super massive black hole in this quasar is the most distant black hole identified to date, and is estimated to have a mass that is 800 million times the mass of our Sun.

I love it!  I love the fact that the Universe is so immense; so old; so exquisitely complex.  It drives me crazy that people of traditional religions generally reject (or ignore) science.  If one believes God created the Universe, why did He give us the brains to study it?

Moving right along . . .

Here’s a quote from my August 14, 2017 Liberty Mills and North Manchester, Indiana post:

By the way, this Breaking News just in:  yesterday, I saw my first Googlemobile!  It was in Pennington NJ on Broemel Place, and I was driving in the opposite direction.  I’ll be checking Broemel Place Street View coverage to see if my 2012 black Camry made the big time . . .

And here’s the very exciting update.  Yes, I checked Street View on Broemel Place and there I am! 

Here’s my Camry on Route 31, getting ready to turn left on Broemel Place:

And here I am in the middle of the left turn.  And yes, that’s me driving:

I immediately pulled over to try and get another look at the GoogleMobile (he turned right and sped away, never to be seen again):

I’ll close with some Mt. Palomar shots.  Here’s the dome (Pano shot by Ian Merritt):

Here’s the actual telescope inside the dome (from the Observatory website):

And a picture of the telescope getting ready for the night’s observations (by P.K. Cheng):

Here’s another GE Pano shot of the dome, by Kyrk Barron:

That’ll do it . . .




© 2017 A Landing A Day



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Smithfield and Rocky Mount, North Carolina

Posted by graywacke on December 18, 2017

First timer?  In this formerly once-a-day blog (and now pretty much a once-every-four-or-five days blog), I use an app that provides a random latitude and longitude that puts me somewhere in the continental United States (the lower 48).  I call this “landing.”

I keep track of the watersheds I land in, as well as the town or towns I land near.  I do some internet research to hopefully find something of interest about my landing location. 

To find out more about A Landing A Day (like who “Dan” is) please see “About Landing” above.  To check out some recent changes in how I do things, check out “About Landing (Revisited).”

Landing number 2381; A Landing A Day blog post number 815.

Dan:  Today’s lat/long (35o 41.452’N, 77o 57.975’W) puts me in Cen-E North Carolina:

My local landing map shows many, many towns, with my two titular towns highlighted:

My streams-only map shows that I landed in the watershed of Contentnea Creek:

The creek discharges to the Neuse River (4th hit); as you can see, the Neuse makes it down to Pamlico Sound, behind the Outer Banks.

Google Earth (GE) gives me a good look at my landing location:

And here’s what the Orange Dude sees:

I also get a good look at Contentnea Creek (just downstream from the Reservoir):

And here ‘tis:

So, I had a really tough time looking for that illusive hook.  Check out all of those towns near my landing (especially Wilson), but no hooks.  I spent an inordinate amount of time in my search.  But I had to go further and further away, and ended up with two a little less-than-inspirational hooks.

So, I’ll start with Smithfield.  Wiki notes that Ava Gardner was born in nearby Grabtown.  I searched for Grabtown, but couldn’t find it anywhere, so I’ll just trust Wikipedia that it’s somewhere near Smithfield.

Here she is:

So, here’s a bulleted, all-about-Ava list (pretty much from Wiki):

  • Born in 1922 in the afore-mentioned Grabtown, wherever that is
  • Raised in near-poverty; spent one year in secretarial school in Wilson (very close to my landing)
  • While visiting a sister in New York City, Ava’s picture was taken by her brother-in-law, a professional photographer. The photograph was placed in the display window of the photographer’s studio.
  • Some dude who worked for Loews theater (and was connected with MGM studios) saw the picture, and said “somebody should send this picture to MGM.”
  • She was interviewed by Al Altman, head of MGM’s talent department, and, with cameras rolling, was instructed to walk towards the camera, turn and walk away, then rearrange some flowers in a vase.
  • There was no attempt to record her voice because her Southern accent made it almost impossible for New Yorkers to understand her.
  • After seeing the film clip, Louis B. Mayer, head of the studio, sent a telegram to Altman: “She can’t sing, she can’t act, she can’t talk. She’s terrific!”
  • MGM’s first order of business was to provide her with a speech coach, as her Carolina drawl was nearly incomprehensible to them.
  • After a slow start with minor movie roles in the 1940s, Ava began getting roles in major movies with leading men such as Charlton Heston, Burt Lancaster, Gregory Peck, Clark Gable and Kirk Douglas.
  • Her personal life was more interesting; she married:
    • Mickey Rooney in 1942, divorced one year later due to Rooney’s “serial adultery.”
    • Band leader Artie Shaw in 1945, divorced one year later.
    • Frank Sinatra in 1951. The marriage was “tumultuous,” and lasted only 5 years, although they remained close throughout her life.
  • Ava was also a good friend to Howard Hughes through the 40s and 50s.
  • After divorcing Sinatra, she also became good friends with Ernest Hemingway (she had starred in the movie “The Sun Also Rises,” an adoption of Hemingway’s novel of the same name.)
  • She died in 1986 at age 67, of complications from smoking her entire life.

Pretty much confirming the above, here’s a quick You Tube bio:


In the movie “Show Boat,” her voice was dubbed when she sang a song.  I don’t know why, based on this video of the original take, with her singing:


And here’s a You Tube video of her 1954 appearance on the TV show “What’s My Line?”.  This is great, must-see TV:


Now, we’ll move from well south of my landing to well north, and the town of Rocky Mount.  Wiki notes that Thelonious Monk was born in Rocky Mount.

As likely known by nearly all my readers, Thelonious was a well-known and very accomplished jazz pianist (he died in 1986).   As known by some of my readers, I am also a piano player, but (of course), of minor skill and accomplishment.

Try as I might, I’ve never been able to embrace jazz.  Not as a listener, let alone as a piano player.  I remember back when we boomers were moving into our 40s, it became de rigueur to haughtily say something like, “I’m not rejecting rock ‘n roll, but I’m migrating to jazz.”

Not me.  I will remain a back-beat rock ‘n roller for the rest of my life.  The only jazz I can enjoy is jazz played with a back-beat rhythm (which rarely happens). 

Bottom line:  I would normally not feature Thelonious Monk, but will in this post for two reasons:  First, I landed in an incredibly hookless area – in fact, I normally would not feature Ava Gardner.  Second, Thelonious Monk has such a cool name, made all the more cool by his awesome middle name:  Sphere.

That’s right.  His given name is Thelonious Sphere Monk.  From Wiki:

Thelonious Sphere Monk was born on October 10, 1917, in Rocky Mount, North Carolina, and was the son of Thelonious and Barbara Monk.  Although his birth certificate does not list his middle name, it is taken from his maternal grandfather, Sphere Batts.

Although I’m no jazz fan (and therefore not a Thelonious Monk fan), he was a compelling character.  Always troubled (and suffering from bipolar disorder), he was passionately stubborn about his music in spite of a lack of commercial success.

From The Guardian (a very recent Jazz Music blog post by Candace Allen, 11/7/17):

Countering those who found Monk’s percussive, splay-fingered playing style untutored and crude, Juilliard-trained composer Hall Overton was among those who understood Monk’s genius, explaining that he “adjusted his finger pressure on the keys the way baseball pitchers do to the ball to make its path bend, curve or dip in flight.”  Tenor player Johnny Griffin said Monk’s music “was like leaves on a tree. His music grew from nowhere else but inside of him.”

He was a dedicated family man who worried about providing for his wife and children, but couldn’t give an inch. When you understand the inside the outside will be just fine, he’d say. Get inside the music and listen. Meanwhile, gigs and recording cash passed him.

When wearied beyond his considerable limits by his misdiagnosed and ignorantly medicated bipolar condition, ceaseless financial woes, his recording company’s unrelenting demands and the deaths of too many friends, Monk, in 1975, embraced the comforting mysteries of permanent silence. Taking refuge in the Weehawken NJ home of long-time friend and patron Baroness Pannonica de Koenigswarter, he stopped playing the piano, emerging only for neighborhood walkabouts until he suffered a stroke in February 1982.  The stroke that would prove fatal, and he died in the loving arms of his wife Nellie, 12 days later.

From The Guardian article, here are three pictures.  In New York City in 1947:

Also in New York, in 1959:

What’s he smokin?

With the Baroness Pannonica in New York in 1964:

Here’s a You Tube video of  “Round Midnight:”


I’ll close with this lovely GE Panoramio shot of Lake Wilson – just north of Wilson – by Scott Thompson:

I love it when the reflection is a richer, deeper, version of reality . . .

That’ll do it . . .




© 2017 A Landing A Day



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Cottonton, Dawson, Cuthbert and Plains, Georgia

Posted by graywacke on December 11, 2017

First timer?  In this formerly once-a-day blog (and now pretty much a once-every-four-or-five days blog), I use an app that provides a random latitude and longitude that puts me somewhere in the continental United States (the lower 48).  I call this “landing.”

I keep track of the watersheds I land in, as well as the town or towns I land near.  I do some internet research to hopefully find something of interest about my landing location. 

To find out more about A Landing A Day (like who “Dan” is) please see “About Landing” above.  To check out some recent changes in how I do things, check out “About Landing (Revisited).”

Landing number 2380; A Landing A Day blog post number 814.

Dan:  Today’s lat/long (31o 57.222’N, 84o 50.817’W) puts me in southwest Georgia:

My local landing map shows the usual VP* of small towns:

*veritable plethora

Here’s my local streams-only map:

I landed in the watershed of good ol’ Stream Perennial; on to the Briar Branch; on to Pataula Creek.  Zooming back, Pataula Creek discharges into the dammed-up Chattahoochee River (3rd hit):

Zooming back even further, the Chattahoochee flows to the Apalachicola (10th hit) before making its way across the Florida Panhandle, into the gulf:

I’d like my readers to linger a bit on the preceding sentence, being sure to savor the poetic pronunciation of the two rivers:  “The Chattahoochee flows to the Apalachicola.”

And then, I’d like to head back to Pataula Creek.  Am I the only one who instantly thought of Petula Clark?  Probably.  But she takes me back in a rush to early 1965, with her hit song “Downtown.”  I was 14, and really getting into popular music.  I had been doodling around on the piano for years, including two years of lessons.  I had the ability to play simple tunes by ear (I remember playing the theme to the TV show Bonanza), but hadn’t yet figured out any Top 40 hits on the piano.  Until Downtown.

I loved the song, and began to pick out a halfway-decent arrangement on the piano.  I threw myself into it, and ended up with a version I liked (and play occasionally to this day).  I remember sitting in school (9th grade), aching for the day to end so I could rush home and play Downtown on the piano.  My poor mother heard the song dozens, if not hundreds, of times.

So, here’s Petula:


A quick side note:  Just now, as I listened, I realized that there’s a very distinctive piano introduction that I never played!  Of course, I sat right down and banged it out.

Even though I sounded a little arrogant in the preceding sentence, I am very aware of how lucky I am to have innate musical abilities.  As far as I’m concerned, it was jut something I was born with . . .

Let’s move right along to Google Earth (GE), and take a look at my landing:

Here’s what the Orange Dude sees:

And nearby, there’s a view of Briar Branch:

And here ‘tis:

I’ll be moving to my first featured town, but by way of introduction, I’ll start with a Bible story.  I can imagine that my regular readers are already thinking “Say what?  A Bible story??” 

So, class.  Today’s Bible story is about Nebuchadnezzar.  I’ll do it Greg-style (bulleted):

  • Nebuchadnezzar was King of Babylonia from 605 BC to 562 BC.  Babylonia was centered on what is today Iraq.  The City of Babylon was along the Euphrates River, south of today’s Baghdad.
  • He is considered the greatest ruler of Babylonia; creator of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon (more about them in a bit).
  • He is mentioned by name 90 times in the Bible, and is a main character in the book of Daniel.
  • In Daniel, the story is told of Nebuchadnezzar’s destruction of Judah (an ancient kingdom that includes the southern portion of today’s Israel; Judah’s capital was Jerusalem.)
  • Nebuchadnezzar had conquered Judah at the very beginning of his reign, but Judah had rebelled twice. Nebuchadnezzar wasn’t happy:  he destroyed the temple and most of Jerusalem in 597 BC, and deported most residents as slaves to Babylon.
  • According to the Bible, Nebuchadnezzar was God’s instrument of justice, punishing Judah for its idolatry, unfaithfulness and disobedience.
  • Daniel was an advisor to Nebuchadnezzar, held in high favor because of his ability to interpret one of Nebuchadnezzar’s dreams.
  • Nebuchadnezzar created a gold statue of himself, and required all of the people to bow down before it.
  • Three of Daniels friends – Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego – refused to bow down before the statue, citing their belief in the one true God; the King had them thrown into a blazing furnace.
  • Miraculously, God protected the three, and they walked out unharmed from the furnace.
  • This blew Nebuchadnezzar’s mind, and he quickly decided that the God of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego was, in fact, the one true God.

I’d like my readers to linger a bit on the preceding sentence, being sure to savor the poetic pronunciation of the three friends of Daniel.

There’s more, but the above is the central nugget of the story.  So what does this all have to do with southwest Georgia?  Well, check out Daniel 3:1:

Nebuchadnezzar the king made an image of gold, the height of which was sixty cubits [90 feet] and its width six cubits [9 feet]; he set it up on the plain of Dura in the province of Babylon.

It just so happens that about 2400 years after Nebuchadnezzar’s reign, a very small town in Georgia was named “Plains of Dura,” after the Babylonian region.  Why it became the plural “Plains” rather than the singular “plain” mentioned in the Bible is not known. 

After the Civil War, local Plains of Dura businesses began to thrive.  However, the business leaders felt the name was awkward; they successfully petitioned the State Legislature to change the name of the town to simply “Plains.”

None of us would have ever heard of Plains, Georgia, if it weren’t for a local peanut farmer from Plains who gained national prominence:

Before moving on, here’s a quick word about the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.  From Wiki:

The Hanging Gardens of Babylon were one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, a term given to it by ancient Hellenic culture. The Hanging Gardens were described as a remarkable feat of engineering with an ascending series of tiered gardens containing a wide variety of trees, shrubs, and vines. The gardens were said to have looked like a large green mountain constructed of mud bricks.

They were supposedly built by Nebuchadnezzar for one of his wives; however, there are no extemporaneous Babylonian texts describing the gardens, and no archeological evidence has been found – although it is possible that if remains of the gardens exist, they are buried under the Euphrates

From IslamiCity.org, here’s an artist’s rendition:

Time to move to Cuthbert.  Under Notable People, I saw that “Winfred Rembert, artist” was wiki-clickable.  So, wiki-click I did:

Winfred Rembert is an African-American artist who hand-tools and paints on leather canvases. Rembert grew up in Cuthbert, Georgia, where he spent much of his childhood laboring in the cotton fields. He was arrested during a 1960s civil rights march. As a prisoner, he learned to make tooled-leather wallets and design on leather.

Rembert stretches, stains, and etches on leather and creates scenes from the rural Southern town where he was born and raised.

An award-winning documentary film about his life, All Me: The Life and Times of Winfred Rembert, was released in 2011.

From the website for the movie:

With his intensely autobiographical paintings depicting the day-to-day existence of African Americans in the segregated South, Winfred Rembert has preserved an important, if often disturbing, chapter of American history.

His indelible images of toiling in the cotton fields, singing in church, dancing in juke joints, or working on a chain gang are especially powerful, not just because he lived every moment, but because he experienced so much of the injustice and bigotry that is apparent in hi work.

Now in his sixties, Rembert has developed a growing following among collectors and connoisseurs, and enjoyed a number of tributes and exhibitions of his work. In “ALL ME: The Life and Times of Winfred Rembert,” the artist relives his turbulent life, abundantly visualized by his extensive paintings and, in a series of intimate reminiscences, shows us how even the most painful memories can be transformed into something meaningful and beautiful.

Here’s the trailer for the movie:


Here are some of his works; I’ll start with “All Me,” whereby Rembert painted every garbed inmate as if it were him; i.e., all me:

Dye on carved and tooled leather, 21 1/2 x 24 1/2

And a few others:

Time to move on to Dawson.  Under Notable People was one Otis Redding.

For my generation, “Sittin’ on the Dock o’ the Bay” is one of our most memorable songs.  It was recorded just three days before Otis died in a plane crash, en route from Cleveland to Madison. 

He never knew the success of the song.  From Wiki:

In early December 1967 Redding was working on a new song,  “(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay,” which was written with guitarist and musical collaborator Steve Cropper.  At the time, they were staying with a friend on a houseboat in Sausalito [at the base of the Golden Gate bridge, across from San Francisco].

Redding was inspired by the Beatles album Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band and tried to create a similar sound, against the wishes of Stax [his label].  His wife Zelma disliked its atypical melody. The Stax crew were married to a more traditional R&B format, and were also dissatisfied with the new sound.  However, Redding wanted to expand his musical style and thought it was his best song, correctly believing it would top the charts.

The song reached #1 on Billboard’s Top 100 weekly charts, and was ranked #4 for the year of 1968.

Here ‘tis:


Here’s my favorite verse:

Looks like nothing’s gonna change
Everything still remains the same
I can’t do what ten people tell me to do
So I guess I’ll remain the same.

Of course, I noted that he “left home in Georgia, headed for the Frisco Bay,” and that he traveled two thousand miles.  That always sounded a little on the short side to me.  It’s time for an ALAD fact check!

Well, by car it’s a little over 2500 miles (and 38 hours).  So, Otis must have been talking about the shortest straight-line distance, which is a little less than 2200 miles . . .

One other thing.  Otis wrote “Respect,” which was a minor hit for him.  But it was a huge hit for Aretha Franklin, becoming a Motown anthem:


What you want
Baby, I got
What you need
Do you know I got it?
All I’m askin’
Is for a little respect when you come home (just a little bit)
Hey baby (just a little bit) when you get home
(just a little bit) mister (just a little bit)

I ain’t gonna do you wrong while you’re gone
Ain’t gonna do you wrong  ’cause I don’t wanna
All I’m askin’
Is for a little respect when you come home (just a little bit)
Baby (just a little bit) when you get home (just a little bit)
Yeah (just a little bit)

I’m about to give you all of my money
And all I’m askin’ in return, honey
Is to give me my propers
When you get home (just a, just a, just a, just a)
Yeah baby (just a, just a, just a, just a)
When you get home (just a little bit)
Yeah (just a little bit)

[instrumental break]

Ooo, your kisses
Sweeter than honey
And guess what?
So is my money
All I want you to do for me
Is give it to me when you get home (re, re, re ,re)
Yeah baby (re, re, re ,re)
Whip it to me (respect, just a little bit)
When you get home, now (just a little bit)

Find out what it means to me
Take care, TCB*

Oh (sock it to me, sock it to me,
sock it to me, sock it to me)
A little respect (sock it to me, sock it to me,
sock it to me, sock it to me)
Whoa, babe (just a little bit)
A little respect (just a little bit)
I get tired (just a little bit)
Keep on tryin’ (just a little bit)
You’re runnin’ out of foolin’ (just a little bit)
And I ain’t lyin’ (just a little bit)
(re, re, re, re) ‘spect
When you come home (re, re, re ,re)
Or you might walk in (respect, just a little bit)
And find out I’m gone (just a little bit)
I got to have (just a little bit)
A little respect (just a little bit)

*Taking Care of Busness

I’m going to close this post with a short visit to Cottonton.  Wiki has very little to say, but they did post a couple of back-in-the-day pictures.  First this, of a “well sweep:”

Here’s how it works.  The log with the chain on the end rocks up and down (teeter-totter style) on the fulcrum.  A bucket on the chain is lowered into the well, and then raised up using the sweep and emptied in the box.  The water then flows out of the box into the pipe at the bottom (headed towards the photographer). 

And the second Wiki picture is of an “old mule gin house,” which is a mule-powered cotton gin:

I found a working version of such a gin in North Carolina:

And here’s the mule doing his thing:

I’ll close with this Wiki shot (by Rivers Langley) from the town of Weston, about 14 miles east of my landing:


That’ll do it . . .




© 2017 A Landing A Day



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