All I Want for Christmas

I never had the pleasure of knowing my great-grandmother, Berthamae Howard, but if Gammy (my paternal grandmother) is to be believed, she was a very special lady. When Gam passed away last year, my dad came into possession of a book concerning our family history that was compiled by my Grandmother Howard, and it contains many anecdotes typed on this Smith Corona Electra 110. It's a big, dusty old thing, and it doesn't much please the eye, but it types beautifully in cursive.

It was purchased in the 1970s from a store that no longer exists--the Hannibal Typewriter Service at 277 Broadway. It didn't become mine until a few years ago, and I've been lugging it around ever since. The poor thing has endured all manner of dents and dings, but the motor still purrs like a sewing machine when you turn it on. That's not to say, however, that it couldn't use some love and attention. The space bar only works when it wants to, and the "u" hammer sticks, among other things...

After doing a little research, I found a handful of typewriter repair shops in the Chicago area, but typewriter repairmen seem to be a dying breed. It's important to me that we spend the money to get it fixed because the time is fast approaching when no one will know what to do with a vintage typewriter, and I'd hate for it to fall by the wayside (as these things often do). I can only hope the repairs will be affordable. The sentimental value far surpasses its monetary worth, so it will be difficult to decide how much is too much.

...I'm a bit of a romantic, if you haven't noticed. I can't imagine anything better than sitting in the window and typing letters to my friends and family on the very same typewriter my great-grandmother used to record what is now her legacy. I think the day will come, too, when it is my turn to do the same for my children and grandchildren. By then, though, my little Vaio laptop will likely be the relic...

Philosophos, "a lover of wisdom"

It's so weird that no one ever took any interest in ancient Egypt. A large portion of my day was spent reading all about it, and now that I'm an expert, I'm pretty sure people should start making movies and writing books on the subject. I would even suggest that it be taught in classrooms, and maybe I'm getting ahead of myself, but wouldn't it be cool if someone spent $44 million making a movie about Cleopatra?

Oh, wait a minute. Someone did.

Phil and I started watching Cleopatra (1963) last night. We decided to break it up into four one-hour segments because it's absurdly long, and due to an obnoxious compulsion to dissect every movie I watch, I couldn't fully enjoy it without a better understanding of Alexander the Great. So I started my morning off with too much coffee and a short documentary about Alexandria, Egypt...

A kindly British lady (whose name I didn't catch) informed me of Alexander's thirst for knowledge and how it set the stage for Alexandria to become the epicenter of intellectualism in the ancient world. The city's Great Library, established circa 300 BC, managed to amass a collection of 500,000 books in a time period when all of six or seven people knew how to write [citation needed]. But in spite of the massive effort by the Ptolemaic dynasty to gather all the world's knowledge within the walls of the Royal Library, it was eventually destroyed and everything was lost.

The only book present in both my "library" and the Ancient Library of Alexandria.

...which brings me to the point I've been dying to make for several paragraphs now. Even though the ancient library was destroyed, Alexandria maintains a library today that contains roughly 500,000 books. What's better still is that they house a supercomputer, and it's only purpose is to record the entirety of the worldwide web every couple of days. You know who that includes, don't you? 

YOURS TRULY. 

My inner narcissist did a cartwheel when she heard the news. If the modern Library of Alexandria sees fit to record my thoughts, then they must count for something, right? It's surely the end result Alexander desired! Now, here's hoping an alien race one day discovers my memoirs and bases their entire perception of humankind on my blog alone. Feel free to record your legacy in the comments section. 

Red, White & Blue

Dear Kirste,

11:46 a.m.

If you're reading this, it's likely 2016 already. I'm watching the news right now, much as it drives me crazy, and history is unfolding without us. President Obama is holed up in a shoebox of his own somewhere in the city, and he's awaiting the results of the election, just like me. He voted early, on October 25--and you, Kirste--YOU could have gone out and invalidated the President's vote had you registered in time. But you didn't, and shame on you for that...

I mean, you moved to Chicago way back in July! You had plenty of time to get registered. You even had time to send for an absentee ballot in Missouri, but you waited too long. You didn't realize you had to register 28 days before the election, or that you could only apply for an absentee ballot through a tedious process of snail mail communications with the Old Country...

Your first impression of Chicago politics was probably made when the Teacher's Union went on strike in September. You got a chuckle out of the circular firing squad formed by Mayor Emmanuel and the Union leaders, but it wasn't really funny. Earlier in the summer, you walked past picketers outside the Hyatt, too. You even read a proposed amendment to the Illinois constitution...but your voice wasn't heard, not this year. Sure, it's blue Chicago, and your red vote probably wouldn't have amounted to much, but that's not the point. You had Principles to uphold, and you failed to uphold them! Dead folks all over Illinois took the time to go out and vote today, and you--a living, breathing citizen of the United States of America--couldn't be bothered.

1:00 p.m.

"THOUSANDS OF VOTING CONTROVERSIES REPORTED NATIONWIDE ON ELECTION DAY," the news is telling me. Big surprise. You'll have to let me know whether the headlines have changed by 2016.

2:10 p.m.

"OHIO VOTE COULD BE PIVOTAL," they're telling me. Remember that? I bet it's true every election.

Meanwhile, in other states...

"EPA approves measure allowing biofuel providers to divert supplies to New Jersey to alleviate shortages caused by monster storm Sandy...barge bearing 17.6 million gallons of fuel is expected to arrive in New Jersey by Thursday...New Jersey senators Frank Lautenberg (D) and Robert Menendez (D) requested the move."

"Gay Marriage and marijuana legalization on the ballot in some states...Maine, Maryland, and Washington are voting on whether to legalize same-sex marriage, while Minnesota is voting on whether to ban gay marriage...Washington, Colorado, and Oregon could become the first states to legalize recreational use of marijuana."

As a staunch fiscal conservative, this is the first election I've felt I have an actual stake in. Same-sex marriage and the legalization of marijuana were things I had strong opinions about when I was a teenager, but in recent years, those subjects have found their way onto the back-burner. I'm still pretty moderate where social issues are concerned. Live and let live, that sort of thing. It'll be interesting to see if any Firsts occur today, though.

6:50 p.m.

Polls are closing from east to west. There are only ten minutes left to vote in Chicago. I've been checking the news intermittently, and it looks as though the electoral votes are 3 for Obama and 49 for Romney. Only 270 are needed to win, but I am not so naive as to get my hopes up. There's a long way to go yet. It's almost like a sporting event...

7:15 p.m.

Just 25 minutes later, the electoral votes are 78 for Obama and 82 for Romney. It looks like it's going to be a close race. Do you remember how exciting it all was?

8:31 p.m.

The candidates are tied up on electoral votes (153 each), and that's including Texas. You'll have to excuse my pessimism, but all hope just dried up. On a brighter note, I crocheted an infinity scarf and started a new painting while watching the news. So pat yourself on the back, Kirste. You did something productive today, after all.

I think I'll go ahead and accept the inevitable: Obama is going to be re-elected. It's not a terrible tragedy, but I can't help feeling a little disappointed. I certainly don't hate the man; in fact, I kind of like him. He's wily and charismatic. I just think he's wrong for my country.

Wherever you are when you read this, I hope you registered to vote already. Don't forget to write back.

Sincerely,

A younger, dumber self

P.S. Tell Phil he sucks too. For all the same reasons. :)

War and Winter

In case anyone failed to notice, let me tell you: November's here. It's a good thing people have lots of food and family-time to look forward to because I find myself a little underwhelmed by bare trees and gray skies, but in all fairness, October's a tough act to follow...

I've committed myself to a huge undertaking this month. Rather than continue to inflate my progress on the "List" by picking off the lighter, less challenging reads, I am going to dedicate November (and probably December, maybe even January) to getting through Leo Tolstoy's War and Peace. This is one of those books I bought because of its reputation as a novel that everyone should at least pretend to read before they die. I wanted to challenge myself, and I'm of the general opinion that they're classics for a reason. Few disappoint, and when I'm done with this one, I can feel as though I've redeemed myself in advance for seeing Breaking Dawn, Part II. Not that I would ever watch something so vapid and shallow...but yes...yes, I would.

So here's hoping Mr. Tolstoy keeps me warm this winter. Wish me luck, everybody!

On an unrelated note, I've been overloading my instant queue with WWII documentaries lately. Ever since Phil and I watched Schindler's List a few nights ago, the Hitler-centric documentaries Netflix is constantly inundating me with have seemed all the more intriguing. The one I watched this morning, called Imaginary Witness, examined Hollywood's portrayal of the Holocaust. It was an interesting approach to the subject, but what I think most struck me was the fact that there are so few survivors left in the world today.

As one man explained it, the window on that time period is closing, and it won't be long before there's no one left to ask about this turning-point in humanity. His statements, in context, were meant to emphasize the importance of accuracy in depicting such things as the Holocaust, but he opened my mind to a perspective of history that I hadn't previously considered. It may seem like a simple notion, but it really drove home for me the idea that history is happening all around us. Even today, I'm bearing witness to events that will one day be understood in a very limited way if they aren't forgotten altogether. It has increased my awe of (and respect for) the world around me.

A Blast from the Past

Phil and I got up bright and early yesterday so we could be at the Museum of Science and Industry by 7:30 a.m. We bought tickets last month for a tour of the German U-505, and first on our schedule was breakfast with a few volunteer navy vets from the '50s and '60s. These men were kind enough to come in on a Saturday morning and answer whatever questions we had about the submarine over coffee and donuts.

The U-505 at the Museum of Science and Industry.

I don't think I'll reiterate ALL the facts and tid-bits I picked up yesterday, just the few that left me reeling. I'll start with a picture I took of the sleeping quarters.

Now, I don't know how well you can see through the hatch, but there are a series of bunk beds lining the walls, and  between them is a 3,200 pound torpedo. It took roughly 60 men to operate the submarine, so it was two to a bed at any given time, and did I mention that water was in such short supply that showers were totally out of the question? Not only were these German sailors sleeping in four hour shifts, they were rooming with dozens of unwashed men, legions of lice, and several hundred pounds of explosives.

This image gives you a better idea of how big the cots were.  They're 67 inches in length and were likely a tight squeeze for the grown men expected to sleep there (and like it).

Moving on down the line, we pass by what can only loosely be described as a kitchen. Consisting of three hot-plates and an oven that is literally the size of a shoebox, I feel it necessary to remind you that these appliances were meant to accommodate no less than sixty men.

Because we were in such small confines, it was difficult for me to get a coherent photo of the control room that followed the galley. There were so many buttons, levers, and valves that it was difficult for me to believe that anyone could operate it, but operate it they did,  and oftentimes in the dark. The valves and cranks are of so many varying sizes and shapes for the express purpose of being recognizable with little to no visibility. It was of such necessity to conserve battery-life that only the most important instruments were dimly lit when submerged. Hopefully the photo below will give you some idea of what a perfect mess the whole thing was.

To give you an even better idea of how cramped we were, I've included a photo of Phil and I in the control room with five other people.

This is all the more space we could fit between us, and we were unable to move from this spot until someone else exited the control room.

As the tour moved on through the boat, we came next to the diesel engine room:

We were told that the temperature in this room would, at times, get upwards of 110 degrees. The extreme heat, coupled with the stench of unwashed bodies and cologne (which failed to compensate), made for harsh living conditions aboard the U-505.

In contrast, American submarines of the same time period came equipped not only with air conditioning, but with ice cream machines, and the differences didn't end there. American ships boasted not one, but two galleys, along with 70 beds (for 60 men). The most noteworthy difference, however, was that an on-board septic tank was provided for American sailors, while their German counterparts tended to relieve themselves in buckets that were emptied only when the submarine re-emerged...

I really didn't think it would be this hard to condense all the information we were given into a simple blog post, but I think I'll have to go ahead and take you outside the U-boat and talk about the weapons it carried before I develop arthritis.

The U-505 was armed with 22 acoustic torpedoes which responded to sounds characteristic of enemy ships in the water. They were guided by sonar to their intended targets at speeds of approximately 30-40 knots, and they could travel as far as six nautical miles once fired. And the price tag on one of these babies? A mere $10,000.

The ship was equipped, too, with an anti-aircraft machine gun on deck. Extra men were brought on-board the ship in anticipation of heavy losses when firing from the conning tower.

...and for all the information I've included here, there's even more I'll have to leave out! If I learned nothing at all yesterday, I did leave the museum with a better understanding of how much havoc was wrought by these machines on Allied forces in the Atlantic. It's sometimes difficult in a museum setting to bear in mind that these things were operated by real people and that they played a pivotal role in world history. Where I walked and snapped pictures, men once ate, slept, and administered war.

It blows my mind.