The Accidental Tourist

Lufthansa Airbus A321 landing at London Heathrow

“The Accidental Tourist” is a wonderful book by Anne Tyler and an equally endearing film adaptation starring William Hurt, Geena Davis, and an obstreperous Corgi named Edward.  Macon Leary (played by Hurt) is a reluctant traveler and writer of guides for those who don’t like travel and want to maintain the highest degree of home-like comfort.  Macon can tell you, for instance, where to find a real American meal in London.

While this is a poor philosophy (foreign cultures are to be experienced and enjoyed) there is absolutely nothing wrong with traveling comfortably.  And in this last decade since we were attacked by pitiless terrorists, travel by air has become very frustrating.  In addition to running the gauntlet of TSA security, the airlines pack the very few available seats like sardines due to spiraling fuel costs.

In face of this, it is most important to maintain your equanimity, to be relaxed, and to enjoy the larger journey. Here are a few tips to make your passage more pleasant.

• When packing, remember that all liquids must stay at home unless in 3.4 oz. (100 ml) or smaller containers.  (Half-full larger containers are not allowed).  All such liquids must fit in a single, quart-size, zip-top, clear plastic bag.  There is no wiggle room.

• The definition of liquid is fluid (sorry).  For instance, stick deodorant is considered a solid and may be packed away in your luggage.  But gel or aerosol deodorants are considered liquids and must meet the 3.4 oz. limitation.  Toothpaste is a liquid – go figure.

•  Leave early for the airport.  Most have decent restaurants and facilities inside of security.  It is far more relaxing to wait for your flight inside of security rather than fretting outside.

• Have your current, unexpired ID ready.  Ensure sure that you have a boarding pass, not a ticket receipt.  Once the TSA-screener has initialed your boarding pass, put it away... you won't need it again until boarding the aircraft.  Your ID may be stowed completely - you won't need it until renting a car or checking into your hotel.

• You cannot bring bottled water through security if greater than 3.4 oz.  You may purchase water inside of security and carry it aboard, but here is a little known economical tip… you may pass through security with empty plastic bottles and fill them at a bubbler (water fountain to those who don’t speak Rhode Islandese). 

• While scissors longer than 4” and all knives are prohibited, you may carry aboard a fingernail clipper.  These come in very handy when opening that impervious bag of trail mix.

• Men, wear a sports coat. Ladies, a bush jacket.   They have lots of pockets and will get you through security with great aplomb.  Before entering the security line, empty all of your pants and shirt pockets into the sports coat.   Take off the sports coat and put it into a bin.  Remove any other articles of outer clothing and place in the bin.  Also, your 1 quart plastic zip-top baggie of liquids and your belt, all in the same bin. For you old-timers, this includes your handkerchief… all pockets must be empty.

• Put your laptop computer in a separate bin along with any large, cassette video cameras, full sized DVD players, or game consoles.  Bulky electronics must be screened separately.

• Wear shoes that are comfortable and easily removable.  Remove your shoes and place them on the conveyor with your bags (no need for a bin).  You are now ready to pass through the security gate, be it an old-fashioned metal detector or the new backscatter X-ray screening device.

• On the other side of screening, reclaim your belongings.  Simply don your sports coat; you can repopulate your pockets later.  Don’t forget your laptop.

• Once boarding has begun, keep an eye on the overhead bins ahead of you.  If it appears that bin space is running short, put your large bag in the nearest available bin (and remember which row).  DO NOT put both of your bags in the overhead – nothing will more quickly arouse the wrath of your fellow passengers.  Put the smaller bag under the seat in front of you.  Once the aircraft is aloft, you can pull the bag back under your knees and extend your legs into that space.

• Purchase an inflatable, U-shaped pillow.  This will keep you from dozing off and drooling on the shoulder of your seatmate.  She will appreciate your consideration.

 All of these simple suggestions are intended to get you through security the first time, without re-screening, stress, and delays.  Once inside find a Dunkin Donuts and have a nice latte.  Buy a healthy sandwich and carry it aboard as the snacks served in flight tend to be expensive, unhealthy, and unsatisfying. Since you are running early due to the aforementioned suggestions, you may relax, read a newspaper, and participate in that all-time favorite pastime, people watching.

Have a nice journey and be kind to your fellow passengers. After all, they are being treated like idiot cattle, too.

The Feast of the Seven Fishes

Madonna and Child, Raphael, c. 1503

It is confusing to be a kid today.  What is the holiday season all about?  Hanukkah, Christmas, and New Year all in quick succession.  It involves holiday trees in Rhode Island, the tiny state that also bans the menorah, terming it a holiday candelabra.  (Oh, they don’t?  Well, maybe they should).

The winter solstice is another event of the season.  Many cultures celebrate it as a rebirth – the promise of a new year and a new growing season to come.  It is proof that nature is well, that  another crop is forthcoming, marking the end of the sun’s southward journey and the beginning of its return to the succor of summer.

But there is no confusion in the Italian American community.  The season is all about Christmas (Christ’s Mass), the celebration of the birth of the baby Jesus.  The stories of the three wise men, the guiding star, and Joseph and Mary taking shelter in a manger are not inconsistent with Santa Claus, his reindeer, and their overnight visit to delight us with gifts.

One of the most pleasant (and delicious) traditions is the Feast of the Seven Fishes. Originating in southern Italy and Sicily, this Christmas Eve celebration, also known as La Vigilia (the vigil), marks the wait for the midnight birth of the divine infant.  For whatever reason, this wait is more easily borne by eating a large dinner containing seven different seafood dishes and accompanying coffees, desserts and pastries.  Who knew that a vigil could be so gustatorily agreeable?

But in the grand scheme of things, whether Christian, Jewish, Muslim, or Wiccan, we seem to agree that the season is about giving.  We find it pleasant to drop a buck into the Salvation Army bell-ringer’s bucket.  Some of us, anonymously, pay off strangers’ layaway accounts at K-Mart, and we all enjoy pleasing our loved ones with a thoughtful present.  Of all the season’s traditions, this is by far the best.

On Christmas morning, up early to solitarily contemplate the blessings of Santa’s visit, spend a few moments to remember and thank those who have made a significant difference in your life.  These are the gifts that truly matter. And then consider giving such a gift.  Your mentoring can literally change the life of a bright young mind that needs only some experienced direction and inspiration.

The little known battle of Wake Island

Wake Island - destroyed Marine F4F Wildcats, VMF211.  National Archives Photo 80-G-179006

Today we really love our Toyotas and Hondas.  Japan is a close friend and ally of the United states and a major trading partner. But seventy years ago, Emperor Hirohito’s forces attacked the United States at Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, and at tiny Wake Island on December 8^th.  (These attacks were nearly simultaneous, as Wake Island lies across the International Dateline some 2,000 miles to the west.)  It is difficult to appreciate the bleakness of those times, with war seeming a poor reward for a decade of economic depression.

The story of Pearl Harbor is well known; Wake Island, less so.  Annexed by the United States in 1899, Wake remained desolate for many years.  Pan American Airlines built a facility there in 1935 to accommodate their flying boats, the famous Clippers which plied the Pacific in the pre-war years.  As tensions with Japan mounted, the Navy established a garrison in 1941 and by December had staffed it with 449 United States Marines, twelve Grumman F4F-3 Wildcats, 68 Navy personnel, and a contingent of over 1,200 civilian construction workers. 

The garrison was incomplete, lacking revetments to protect parked aircraft from shells or bombs, and no radar was yet installed.  On the morning of December 8^th (the 7^th in Hawaii), the garrison received a radio warning from Pearl.  Navy Commander W.S. Cunningham ordered four of his Marine pilots to take to the air to establish an air screen, thereby saving them from destruction.  At noon, a large force of Japanese Mitsubishi bombers from the Marshal Islands attacked and decimated seven of the eight F4F Wildcats remaining on the ground.  The eighth was later disabled in a taxiing accident.

Pan American’s facilities, including a hotel, warehouse, and fuel tanks, were destroyed by the raid. A moored Pan American airship, the Philippine Clipper, was riddled with shot and shrapnel but remained airworthy.  Her civilian crew, passengers, and ground employees were able to jettison unnecessary baggage and equipment and escape to Midway Island in a fortunate side note to this grim battle.

In spite of daily air attacks, the Marines were able to keep their small fleet of four remaining Wildcats serviceable, and their intrepid pilots served both as early warning for incoming air raids and to claim their share of downed enemy bombers. 

On December 11^th, the Japanese attempted an assault from the sea.   A seaborne force consisting of three light cruisers, six destroyers, and two armed merchantmen approached during the night with the intent of landing 450 troops.  But the defenders were able to sting heavily with coastal artillery and their few remaining aircraft.  Four Japanese ships were destroyed and several more damaged, and they were forced to withdraw.  This was the first defeat for the Japanese, who had till now seemed invincible at Pearl, Guam, Singapore, Hong Kong, and the Philippines.  The home front rejoiced at the news. But there was great cost to the Marines; two of the surviving F4Fs were destroyed leaving only two of the original twelve operational. 

Knowing the fate of the Marines, sailors, and civilians on Wake was precarious, the Navy mounted a relief force from Hawaii led by the carrier USS Saratoga and three heavy cruisers, ten destroyers, and a number of support ships.   But the Japanese were approaching Wake with a large task force consisting of two fleet carriers, many attendant cruisers and destroyers,  and a landing party of 1,500 men.   On December 22, the last two Wildcats were lost to carrier-based Japanese Zeros, and on the 23^rd the invasion was in full swing.  Realizing the strength of the Japanese armada, Pearl ordered the American relief force to turn back as it was deemed essential to insure the defense of Hawaii. Thus was sealed the fate of Wake’s defenders. 

The Marines fought defiantly, valiantly, and courageously, but were overwhelmed.  (Marine Captain Henry T. Elrod was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor for bravely piloting his F4F Wildcat to down two Zeros and sink a destroyer.  He was later killed protecting his men as they carried ammunition to a gun emplacement).  The Japanese bombarded for hours and then landed over 1,000 men, overpowering the island’s defenses.  By afternoon, Commander Cunningham was forced to surrender the garrison.  There followed a dark time of incarceration, hard labor in POW camps, and atrocities better forgiven than avenged.

Dark times, indeed, but those on the home front rose to the challenge, not only in the Pacific but also in Europe and around the world where Allied forces were amassing.  Our spirit, spunk, and perseverance led the Allies to the post-war world we have all enjoyed for over six decades. (Even Japan and Germany, the world’s 3^rd and 4^th largest economies.  Oh, to be defeated by those steely but benevolent Americans).

The veterans who formed the sharp tip of our spear in those years are quickly disappearing.  They who served in the early war years are approaching 90 years and beyond.  The incidence of veteran obituaries from that era has long since peaked and dwindled – few of them remain.  If you are fortunate enough to know a World War II vet, or are kind enough to visit a veteran facility, take a moment to listen to their stories and give them great thanks.

Giving thanks for the harvest

Pieter Bruegel the Elder. The Harvest. 1565.

Northwestern Pennsylvania is farm country, and we know about the harvest.

Quite a few years ago, my young classmates and I were enthralled by the story of the first Thanksgiving.  Plymouth, Massachusetts, seemed remote and exotic; we envisioned Plymouth Rock as an enormous, looming protuberance, much like the Rock of Gibraltar. It turns out that the rock is actually quite small, but it remains a stirring monument to the intense faith and hard labors of the Mayflower Pilgrims.

The colonists had originally intended to depart Europe in early 1620 to give them at least a partial growing season in the New World.  But that was not to be. After many delays and false starts, the Mayflower finally left Plymouth, England, on September 6.  Inclement weather, unfavorable winds, and turbulent seas extended the grueling journey to over three and a half months. Finally, on December 21, the first landing party came ashore at New Plymouth, and several days later the construction of a common house was begun. 

Winter is not the easiest time to establish a colony.  In the harsh, frozen land they hoped to claim, nearly half of the original 102 Mayflower passengers perished by spring.  Husbanding the meager provisions remaining on the Mayflower, hunting in the surrounding lands, and fishing the sea, fifty three of the colonists managed to survive.  Now the challenge was to clear land, plant crops, and pray for a favorable harvest.

It turns out that they were lucky, or blessed, or both.  The soil was rich, weather gentle, and crops grew vigorously.  The harvest was plentiful and, with salted cod, smoked venison, and other provisions stored in plentitude, the odds of surviving the coming winter appeared good.  The Pilgrims celebrated a harvest festival along with a band of Massasoits with whom they had a treaty of peace.  It is quaint to think so today, and perhaps even illegal in our public schools, but they gave deep, heartfelt thanks to God for their good fortune.

We have become very disconnected from the sources of our food.  By and large, unlike the Pilgrims, we don’t have personal involvement in planting and harvesting the food that we eat.  Potatoes grow in hills of soil and were harvested with flat-tined pitchforks in the fall.  Corn and pumpkins were planted together because the pumpkin plants smothered weeds and helped to retain moisture for the corn.  All this the Pilgrims knew; we know how to drive to the grocery store.

So this Thanksgiving, while we are giving thanks for the Black Friday shopping binge to come, please give a thought to our blessings, the hard working farmers who labor for us, their bountiful harvest, and how very fortunate we are.

Courage and November the 10th

Corporal Jason Lee Dunham, USMC

“Sir, the age of the Corps is 236 years!”  This cry  will ring out on posts and ships around the world as  Marines celebrate the 236^th anniversary of the Corps’ origin on November 10, 1775.  The Marines were founded as a naval service and share many traditions with their nautical parent. When we fall out of our racks (not bunks), our boots hit the deck (not floor) and we scramble out the hatch (not door) and down the ladder (not stairs).  While the Marines have perfected the art of assault from the sea, they are also a formidable land-based expeditionary force, performing “such duties as the President may direct.”  Which explains why Marines were deployed in 2003 to bring order to landlocked Al Anbar province in Iraq.

The simply stated values of the Marine Corps – honor, courage, and commitment – attract young men and women from all over the country. Nautical familiarity is not a prerequisite, but honesty, fidelity, and a staunch nature are. Marines are relentlessly determined to serve country, Corps, and community. If you ask a Marine what motivates him, the most likely answer you’ll hear is to support and protect his fellow Marines.  But in the end, they support and protect all of us, and our Constitution, and our way of life.

Scio, New York (pronounced sigh-o), is a small farming community (pop. ~1900) in southwestern New York State.  Only two and a half hours from Ohio, Scio has far more in common with Midwestern values than the bustle and glamour of Manhattan.  One thing that Scio could produce, however, was a true American hero.  Jason Lee Dunham was born on November 10, 1981, the exact day of the Marine Corp’s 216^th birthday.  Too much of a coincidence, he was destined to become a Marine.  After playing basketball and graduating from Scio High, Dunham signed up in July 2000. Upon successful completion of boot camp, he was awarded the title of United States Marine. 

By 2004, Jason had been promoted to the rank of corporal and was a squad leader with the 7^th Marines in Al-Karābilah, Al Anbar province.  On April 14^th of that year, Jason’s platoon was dispatched to investigate an attack on the battalion commander’s convoy.  As his squad approached a suspicious vehicle, an enemy combatant tossed a live hand grenade at the Marines.  Jason, seeing the threat to his squad, shouted a warning and deliberately threw himself on the grenade. 

His squad survived, but Jason, grievously wounded, passed away several days later on April 22^nd.  Based on accounts of his valor, Corporal Dunham was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor, the first Marine to be so honored since Vietnam.  In 2007, the Navy announced that a new guided missile destroyer would be named the USS Jason Dunham.  That ship was commissioned on November 13, 2010.

On this November 10^th, Jason would have been 30 years old.  As the “Occupy” protestors decry their college loan debts, please remember those like Corporal Dunham who form the sharp tip of our spear and fight for our right to exist as a country.  I never knew Jason, but as a Marine, he is my brother and I honor him. Semper fidelis, Jason.

Our nautical heritage

"Breezing up" - Winslow Homer

Massachusetts has a long, proud, maritime tradition going back nearly four hundred years.  The early European settlers arriving on our shores were mariners extraordinaire and we have been a seagoing folk ever since.  We have utilized the bounty of the sea for sustenance and trade and to this day have some of the nation’s busiest fishery ports.  And it’s no wonder.  The coastline of Massachusetts is over 300 miles, thanks largely to the enormous proboscis of Cape Cod.  And when you include inlets, salt marshes, and islands, the overall tidal shoreline is in excess of 1,500 miles.

It is not surprising that we have contributed greatly to nautical terminology and continue to use it idiomatically in our vernacular. Words and phrases with nautical roots permeate our language.

Here is a quite realistic example – “The project had run afoul of local regulations and quickly lost headway.  It didn’t help that the chairman was acting groggy, seeming three sheets to the wind.  But after arguing to the bitter end, the committee voted to take a different tack.  Now we are running on an even keel.”

These phrases are familiar and we know their intended meanings, but it is interesting to understand their nautical origins.  Let’s explore a few of them.

“Run afoul” now means to contravene, or go against laws, regulations, or popular sentiment; to clash.  The original gist of “afoul” was for a ship to run aground or become entangled with lines or collide with another ship.  The sense of conflict is consistent in both definitions. 

“To lose headway” is to run out of steam, to fail to make forward progress.  In nautical usage, when a ship is making headway, it is making forward progress against a tide, current, or unfavorable winds.  When it loses headway, that progress is lost. Again, the definitions are congruent. 

Today, to be “groggy” is to be dazed, weak, or unsteady, most usually from lack of sleep.  Sailors in the olden days were issued a daily ration of grog (watered down rum) to maintain morale.  The effect of too much grog was to make one groggy, i.e., drunk.

To understand “three sheets to the wind,” we must first know that a sheet is a line connected to a sail and is used to control that sail.  A typical sloop has a headsail which needs two sheets, one for each tack. The main sail has a only single sheet, giving a total of three. When a sheet is “to the wind,” it is unattached and the sail flaps aimlessly.  So with three sheets to the wind, the boat has no motive force and simply heaves about in the waves, much like a wandering drunkard. 

“To the bitter end” colloquially means that one will continue to a conclusion irrespective of difficulties or obstacles.  This one takes some explaining.  On an old sailing vessel, there existed posts, called bitts, to which lines were tied off (most often the anchor bitts).  The loose end of the line, after being secured to a bitt, is the bitter end.  To pursue something to the bitter end is to continue to the very end.

To “take a different tack” is to try another fundamentally different course of action.  In sailing, a boat makes her way upwind by tacking alternately to port and starboard of the wind. Sometimes it is misstated as to “take a different tact” which is just plain nonsensical, as “tact” has to do with gentile social graces, not direction of action.  Taking a different tack implies trying a different course of action against some resistance, hopefully to result in making headway.

A ship floating on an “even keel” is properly level and not listing, remaining upright and stable.  If badly loaded, or laden with water from leaks, a ship may list to the side and be swamped by the waves.  In the vernacular, to “run on an even keel” is a very desirable state of affairs.

There are many more such phrases but we’ll save them for another time.  Perhaps in the dead of winter when dreams of sun and waves and wind and getting back on the water become acute, another dose of nautical phrases may prove animating. 

Harvesting the grapes

View from the escarpment.  Photo by Andrew Dufresne.

Of course, it’s all different now.

Fifty years ago, the 32,000 acres of grapes spread across Chautauqua County, NY, and Erie County, PA, were all harvested by hand.  Vineyards  stretched across the Lake Erie plain and undulated up the escarpment to the Allegheny Plateau.  By October, the grape leaves turned golden and deep purple clusters hung heavily, emitting the delicious scent of ripe, sweet grapes.  Crews of pickers worked their way down the rows, snipping off the ripe bunches and placing them in wooden crates emblazoned with “Welch’s” or “Bedford Fruit,” signifying their destination.

The crews were made up of entire farm families, some of the neighbors, and a few  townies as well.  We  kids helped out on the weekends and school holidays, earning the princely sum of 50 cents per hour and eating our ration of delectable grapes.   It was a community affair to get the harvest in before a killing frost, flocks of wild turkeys, or roaming herds of deer decimated the crop.  The adults made an astronomical dollar per hour, picking in all kinds of weather.  Sometimes sunny and warm, it was often grey, rainy, or even snowing at this time of year. After a full day spent working outdoors, one felt a deep sense of accomplishment and even deeper relief of getting back to the shelter, warmth, and conviviality of hearth and home.

The pickers slowly made their way down the long rows leaving a dotted stream of crates behind. The loading crew consisted of a tractor driver, a stacker on the trailer, and a loader walking behind.  The tractor and trailer were tall enough to pass over the crates and, while passing down the row, the loader would swing each 25 pound crate up onto the trailer where the stacker lifted it neatly into place.  Even a small ten acre vineyard could produce seventy tons of grapes, so the workout was significant, 140,000 pounds of lifting being nothing to sneeze at.  And even then the work was not done, as the crates were restacked onto trucks taking the harvest to be processed.

Today, mechanized harvesters rumble through the rows, frightening rabbits and depriving  school kids of their weekend jobs.  But by working quickly, day and night, the harvest is much more successful in avoiding the vicissitudes of killing frost and ravenous critters.  The grapes are trucked to plants which press them into juice, most arriving on supermarket shelves but some diverted to local winemakers.  The most common grape from this region is the Concord, not by accident sharing the name with Concord, Massachusetts.

Horticulturist and Boston native Ephraim Wales Bull, evaluating over 22,000 seedlings, worked to develop a sweet, tasty, hardy grape on his farm in Concord.  Finally after years of attempts, he succeeded in 1849.  The toponymous Concord grape quickly spread to New York, Pennsylvania, and beyond.

Then in 1893, Charles Bramwell Welch founded the company bearing his name in Westfield, NY.   Dr. Welch, a teetotalling physician and dentist from New Jersey, was looking for a wine replacement to use in communion services.  His “unfermented wine” pressed from Concord grapes turned out to be very successful, with demand extending well beyond the church.   It made sense to base his juice company in Chautauqua County, the heart of Concord grape country.  Completing the circle, Welch’s has in recent years moved its headquarters to Concord MA, though still sourcing many tons of grapes from the Lake Erie region.

As  October passes and November approaches, with the winds swinging down from Canada promising frosts to come, the machines toil in the vineyards, racing the coming of the snow.  Now, as I enjoy that fresh glass of sweet grape juice and savor a PBJ sandwich, I consider for a moment the arduously tended vineyards which yield these simple pleasures.