The Birth of the Cuisinart
Last night I was looking through a cookbook* and read this concise and interesting story of the birth of the Cuisinart food processor from the introduction to the book.
When the Cuisinart Food Processor was unveiled at the Chicago housewares show in January, 1973, it scarcely could have been called a hit. indeed, myopic department-store and kitchen-shop buyers failed to see the machine as anything more than a souped-up blender with an exorbitant price tag. In other words, a white elephant.
Some white elephant. In just six years, it has [she was writing in 1979] spawned a score of imitations and turned America into a food-processor society. No one knows (or to be more accurate, no one will say) how many millions of food processors have been sold across the country since Cuisinart's inauspicious debut, but what is known is that, in 1977, 500,000 of them were bought for Mother's Day in the New York City are alone.
All because Carl G. Sontheimer, a retired electronics engineer and dedicated amateur chef from Connecticut, haunted the French housewares show in Paris in 1971, looking for a project to occupy his spare time. That project turned out to be a powerful, compact French machine called Le Magi-Mix that could grind, chop, mince, slice, puree, pulverize, mix and blend with stunning speed. Sontheimer and his wife Shirley were fascinated. They tracked down the machine's inventor, Pierre Verdun, who had also invented its precursor, Le Robot-Coupe, a heavy-duty restaurant machine dubbed "the buffalo chopper" by American chefs.
Sontheimer secured distribution rights for Le Magi-Mix in the United States, then shipped one dozen back to Connecticut to tinker around with in his garage. He took them apart, reassembled them, kitchen-tested them, his wife kitchen-test them, and he tinkered some more. He refined the French processor's design, improved its slicing and shredding discs, incorporated safety features and rechristened it the Cuisinart.
[Jean Anderson, Jean Anderson's Processor Cooking, New York : William Morrow and Company, Inc., 1979, p. 15.]
President Search
I was reading this blog entry* about how the author thinks maybe we shouldn't elect another Clinton, because that would mean just too many years with the White House controlled either by a Bush or a Clinton. A good point. He also said this:
Surely, in a country of more than 300 million people we can find someone very qualified to be president who is not named Clinton or Bush.
It struck me, then, as blindingly obvious that the 21st century answer to this problem would be reality program called like America's President Search, 2008!
APS would scour the country with the help of celebrity hosts, setting practical problems to potential candidates and seeing who acquits herself or himself with the least (or most) humiliation. Viewers would exercise their democratic obligations by viewing a majority of episodes and phoning in their votes. Campaign spending would be eliminated, although candidates would likely pick up sponsors whose names would be embroidered on the candidates' red, white, and blue jumpsuits.
I think I'll stop there and leave it to my four readers to imagine for themselves the events and trails that the candidates would face. In fairness, though, I would think that each of the US' 50 states, plus Puerto Rico and Guam, would each get one week of each 52-week season to design and host an event to help week down the field of hopefuls.
———
*Robert Guttman, "Do We Really Want Another Clinton or Bush in the White House?", Huffington Post, 22 January 2007.
In: All, Eureka!, Laughing Matters
So Usable
This chilling vignette came to me from Maud Newton*, who went to see the movie Jesus Camp so that I don't have to:
Becky Fischer, the leader and mastermind of the actual Jesus Camp, believes in indoctrinating kids as early as possible — preferably starting before the age of seven. Palestinian children are ready to blow themselves up for Islam, she says, and American children should be prepared to make equivalent sacrifices.
“I can go into a playground of kids that don’t know anything about Christianity, lead them to the Lord in a matter of, just no time at all, and just moments later they can be seeing visions and hearing the voice of God, because they’re so open. They are so usable in Christianity,” she tells the filmmakers.
———
* Maud Newton, "On Jesus Camp (and going to one)", 17 January 2006.]
Lorraine Hunt Lieberson
A few nights ago* we were listening to the radio. Next up was a performance of Bach's solo Cantata Ich Habe Genug, to be sung by the late Lorraine Hunt Liebersen.
It was sometime last year — or was it two years ago? — that Isaac and I first came across Lorraine Hunt Liebersen, quite by accident. Some years previously we had been at some retail outlet that had some obscure videotapes at seriously reduced prices. Among them was one that attracted our attention: a recorded performance of Handel's opera Theodora, the title role sung by (soprano) Dawn Upshaw, assisted by (countertenor) David Daniels and (mezzo-soprano) Lorraine Hunt Liebersen, staged by Peter Sellars. Handel we liked. Sellars I usually find at least amusing. Dawn Upshaw and David Daniels we knew we liked, but we'd never heard of Lorraine Hunt Lieberson.
We finally watched the video sometime last year (I think) and enjoyed it immensely. The staging I thought fine, and the performances by Upshaw and Daniels matched our expectations. The startling performance, for us, was that of Lieberson in her role as "Irene". What a voice! What singing! What acting! She was mesmerizing. And so we embarked on slowly collecting recorded performance by Lieberson — all outstanding so far — just getting to know her voice.
We were, therefore, dismayed to hear her named as "the late Lorraine Hunt Lieberson". Late? Late! How could she be "late"? We were just getting started, alas. Of course, there are still her recorded performances to collect, but now there won't be any new ones. It's like we've missed our chance to know her really, really well.
Yes, it turns out she died early in July 2006, at the age of 52, of breast cancer. It makes me sad. Not only was her voice extraordinary and unique, it seems that she was too, as I now know from a bit of after-the-fact reading. Not least among the interesting facts of her life and career is that she didn't even really start singing until her late 20s, if you can imagine that.
I can point out two pieces that I read: a short one following her death (Christopher Lydon, "Lorraine Hunt Lieberson Remembered", Open Source, 12 July 2006), and a much longer but fascinating New Yorker Profile (Charles Michener, "The Soul Singer: A mezzo with the most potent voice since Callas", New Yorker, 29 December 2003).
———
* Actually, I can be quite specific: it was last Friday night, because we were listening to the "listeners' choice" program on WBJC radio (Baltimore) with its irritating host Reed Hessler.
Mandelbrot's Vegetable Stand
I can't say I expected to see fractals mentioned in an article about cauliflower — or a casual mention of "the Mandelbrot theory" by a cauliflower farmer — but I wasn't terribly surprised either. I've seen these Romanesco cauliflowers and they are visually astonishing, regardless of whether one is a "Caltech guy" or not. I'm not convinced that our author has a deep understanding of fractals, but she manages to capture the spirit and not do much violence to the idea of self-similarity (at all length scales), so Mrs. Scattergood gets the gold star in science communication for today.
But the Romanesco cauliflower is an heirloom and isn't to be confused with green cauliflower, or broccoflower, which is a cross between a broccoli and a cauliflower. Romanesco is astonishing in appearance, as much for its composition as for its color. Lime-green in hue, a head (or curd) of Romanesco is a near-perfect example of naturally occurring fractal: a fragmented geometric shape composed of smaller parts that are copies of the whole. The cauliflower resembles an M.C. Escher print more than something you'd find naturally occurring in your vegetable garden.
"The guys at Caltech come down and study them," says Alex Weiser of Weiser Family Farms, in whose farmers market stands you'll find all three varieties of cauliflower. "Something about the Mandelbrot theory." But you don't need a degree in mathematics to cook them. Whether they're fully grown or beautiful babies, Weiser prefers his cauliflower roasted, with just a little sea salt and olive oil splashed on before they're put in a hot oven.
[Amy Scattergood, "A Brilliant Comeback", Los Angeles Times via Baltimore Sun, undated, read on 19 January 2006.]
In: All, Food Stuff, It's Only Rocket Science
Earth from Saturn
This is a most unusual, beautiful, and evocative photograph — and it is an actual photographic image, albeit a composite. The photographer was the Cassini-Huygens spacecraft. On this occasion Saturn interposed itself between the Sun and the spacecraft, thus creating this beautifully backlit composition. Although it is hard to make out in this small version, the dot in the upper-left quadrant of the lower image, indicated by the text, is the Earth, seen through Saturn's rings.
This version of what is sure to become a famous image came to my attention through NASA's Earth Observatory website. Visit the original page ("A View of Earth from Saturn") for larger versions of the image, and lots of information about the image and the Cassini-Huygens mission.
Here is a short excerpt from that page:
This beautiful image of Saturn and its rings looks more like an artist’s creation than a real image, but in fact, the image is a composite (layered image) made from 165 images taken by the wide-angle camera on the Cassini spacecraft over nearly three hours on September 15, 2006. Scientists created the color in the image by digitally compositing ultraviolet, infrared, and clear-filter images and then adjusting the final image to resemble natural color. (A clear filter is one that allows in all the wavelengths of light the sensor is capable of detecting.) The bottom image is a closeup view of the upper left quadrant of the rings, through which Earth is visible in the far, far distance.
In: All, Curious Stuff, It's Only Rocket Science
Greyhound Tai Chi
The novel that I'm reading right now is Exiles in America, by Christopher Bram. It appears (from halfway through) to be a story about 2 couples composed of 3 men and 1 women, and how they all react when the two men who were not originally a couple have an affair with each other. Both are artists. The mixed-gender couple are Iranians in the US for a brief working period; the same-gender couple are a pair of white Americans.
This little bit of scene happened after Daniel and Abbas had sex together for the first time, in Abbas' art studio at the university where they both teach. Abbas paints large canvases, which he works on as they are lying on the floor, hence the image of Abbas hovering over his canvas:
He [Daniel] glanced over now and then to watch Abbas at work. The man looked quite beautiful stretched over his canvas, one leg extended back, half his weight resting on a locked arm–like a greyhound doing tai chi.
[Christopher Bram, Exiles in America, p. 98]
No doubt because we live with two greyhounds, I found this analogy funny and memorable and rich in associations. We've been trying all day to interest our boys in trying greyhound tai chi, but they show little interest.
So far, this is an excellent novel. I've enjoyed a couple of other of Bram's novels so far — notably Gods and Monsters* — and I have a couple left to read someday, plus whatever else he writes in the future.
Reading this book reminds me that I actually read rather few "plain" novels, usually choosing crime fiction / mystery novels for my fiction reading. I don't really know why that is, — I don't think I dislike non-mystery novels so much as I have a harder time finding reasons to choose to read one over another.
Regardless, Bram is one author I readily choose to read when I happen upon a new title at the library. I know that his stories will be engaging and nourishing and his language will be beautiful and satisfying.
———
*Corrected later: "Gods and Monsters" is the name of the movie written and directed by Bill Condon, from the book The Father of Frankenstein by Christopher Bram. Both are excellent.
In: All, Books, Such Language!, Writing
Spam & Corn Chowder
Recall that our holiday meal's theme was "Ham, Lamb, and Spam"; this recipe provided the Spam component, and it was remarkably tasty, not to mention easy. Isaac thought the texture of the Spam was not optimal — another person thought the idea of the Spam was not optimal! — but something else like firmer baked ham could easily be substituted. I suspect that the Spam is added late in this recipe to maintain its integrity; something like ham cubes or shredded chicken, say, could easily withstand longer cooking time and head into the pot earlier. Don't neglect to use the bell pepper, which really enhances the flavor of the finished soup.
Spam & Corn Chowder
1 cup chopped onion (use 1 small onion)
1 Tablespoon butter
1.1/2 cup diced, peeled potatoes (use about 2 small potatoes)
1/2 cup chopped green bell pepper (go ahead, use 1 entire pepper)
2, 17-ounce cans cream-style corn (with liquid)
2 cups milk
1, 12-ounce can Spam, cubed
- In 3-quart saucepan over medium heat, sauté onion in butter 5 or 10 minutes until golden.
- Add potatoes and bell pepper; cook and stir 5 minutes.
- Add corn (with liquid) and milk.
- Bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer 15 to 30 minutes (or longer), stirring occasionally, until potatoes are cooked.
- Stir in Spam; cook for 2 minutes more.
From Great-Tasting Recipes with Spam (no author attributed — and I know what you're thinking).
Cranberry-Raisin Pie
This recipe for "Cranberry-Raisin Pie" is keeper #2 from the holiday experiments. The mixture of cranberries and raisins seemed to me to have some of the dark, rich complexity of mince-meat, but with a brighter, more refined flavor. This pie could be a reason to stock up on seasonal bags of cranberries — they keep quite well in the freezer and can be used still frozen in this recipe.
Cranberry-Raisin Pie
1.1/3 cup raisins
1.1/3 cup cranberries
1 cup Splenda (of course, granulated sugar works fine)
1/4 teaspoon salt
1.1/3 cup water
1.1/2 Tablespoon cornstarch
1 unbaked 9-inch pie shell, with top crust
- In a saucepan combine raisins, cranberries, sweetener, salt, and 1 cup of water. Bring to boil.
- Dissolve cornstarch in remaining 1/3 cup of (cold) water and stir into boiling mixture.
- Stir boiling mixture constantly until it thickens — a few minutes.
- Remove mixture from heat; allow to cool.
- Pour into pie shell; add top crust.
- Bake in a preheated oven at 350°F for 1 hour.
from Potluck Plain and Fancy, by Susan and Gordon Perry.
Lots O' Books
It strikes me that I haven't quoted from many books in the past few months, which may give the impression that I haven't been reading much. Au contraire, however; I have been reading quite a bit, and there've been quite a few satisfying books among the lot. My excuse is that I've been catching up in writing about my reading elsewhere, so I thought I'd summarize a bit. As for the quotations: fear not! I've been taking notes.
I don't know that I've mentioned my "book of books" before. This is a bound book in which I write down the titles of books after I've read them. It started in 1982. For a number of years before that I had thought it would be cool if I had such a list but, alas, it seemed too late to start: there were already by then too many books under the bridge, in a manner of speaking. Then I convinced myself by pointing out that if I started then, in 20 years' time I'd have quite a good list. Well, it's now an incredible 24 years later and it is, indeed, quite a list, not to mention a convenient aid-to-memory when I try to recall whether I've read this or that mystery in X's series.
A few years ago, as an exercise but also for my own convenience, I put the entire Book of Books online in a database, which you can look at if you're curious. The point that I was going to make in mentioning all this is merely that I've just added all of my reading for 2006 — and that this is the earliest that I've managed to add a years' reading to the database. I list 102 titles for 2006, lower than in some years because I had other things keeping me busy.
Among those titles are a number of nonfiction books that I enjoyed reading — a whole string of really top-notch writing — and about which I have been writing Book Notes for the Science Besieged project. I managed to catch up this week with finishing notes for some titles that have been hanging around since last fall. Here are some of the titles; I invite you to read my notes about them:
- Richard Dawkins, The Blind Watchmaker
- Daniel C. Dennett, Darwin's Dangerous Idea
- David Quammen, The Reluctant Mr. Darwin
- Jared Diamond, Collapse
- Philip Ball, The Ingredients: A Guided Tour of the Elements
- Philip Ball, Stories of the Invisible: A Guided Tour of Molecules
Tyrian Purple
This excerpt is from my current reading, an excellent book by Philip Ball called Bright Earth (citation below). This bit struck me for two reasons: for filling in details about Tyrian purple (i.e., Roman Imperial Purple) and its manufacture, plus the sense it provides that the rich and powerful have always gone to considerable lengths with ridiculously visible consumption.
The manufacture of Tyrian purple was known in Asia Minor since the fifteenth century B.C. The Greeks learned the art from the Phoenicians; garments dyed with Tyrian purple are mentioned in Homer's Illiad and Virgil's Aeneid. The dye is extracted from two species of shellfish, known in Latin as the buccinum (Thais haemastroma) and the purpura (Murex brandaris), native to the Mediterranean Sea. According to George Field, Greek legend has it that Tyrian purple was discovered by Hercules, who, seeing the purple-stained mouth of his dog, attributed it to the shellfish the dog had just eaten. Others say the dog's master was the Phoenician god Melkarth.
The colorants are produced in a gland called the "flower" or "bloom," near the head of the mollusk, which contains a clear fluid. This liquid was extracted either by breaking open the shells or by squeezing them in a press. on exposure to sunlight and air, the fluid becomes transformed from a whitish color to pale yellow, green, blue, and finally purple. It is hard to imagine that the alchemical significance of this sequence would not have excited great interest.
Aristotle describes the extraction process in his Historia animalium: "The 'bloom' of the animal is situated between the quasi-liver and the neck, and the co-attachment of these is an intimate one. In color it looks like a white membrane, and this is what people extract; and if it be removed and squeezed it stains your hands with the color of the bloom . . . Small specimens they break in pieces, shells and all, for it is no easy matter to extract the organ; but in dealing with the larger ones they first strip off the shell and then abstract the bloom."
Each shellfish yielded just a drop of the dye, which was why the stuff was so fiendishly precious and why a significant proportion of the Phoenician population was employed in its manufacture. One ounce of the dye required the sacrifice of around 250,000 shellfish. The shell piles of the Phoenicians still litter the eastern shore of the Mediterranean.
[…]
But the centuries-old method of preparing the purple was lost to the Western world when Constantinople fell to the Turks in 1453. Despite the accounts of the classical scholars, the process remained a mystery for centuries thereafter until a French zoologist named Félix Henri de Lacaze-Duthiers rediscovered it in 1856 — an auspicious year for purple, as it turned out [referring to William Perkin's discovery of the dye mauve that year]. The Frenchman saw a Mediterranean fisherman mark his shirt with a yellow design using a Thais shellfish; the design subsequently turned purple-red in the sun. It was not until `909, however, that the Austrian chemist P. Friedlander deduced the full chemical nature of the colorant molecure and discovered that it was almost identical to blue indigo.Who would suspect that a pea plant native to India should have anything to do with shellfish in the Mediterranean? Yet the organic compound responsible for the Imperial purpura differs from the blue extract of the Indigofera plant only to the extent of having a couple of bromine atoms where hydrogens sit in indigo. Why shellfish should produce such a close variant (chemists would say derivative) of a complex substance found in a plant is not at all clear.
[from Philip Ball, Bright Earth: Art and the Invention of Color, New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2001, pp. 199–201.]
Posted on January 11, 2007 at 17.53 by jns · Permalink · 4 Comments
In: All, Common-Place Book, Naming ThingsFruitcake Metaphysics
I have never much cared for fruitcake. Regardless of the generally low esteem in which fruitcakes have generally been held for as long as I can remember, I was always willing to give them a try but never found them very satisfying. The reasons, I think, are several, among them that I don't much care for strongly flavored breads and cakes, and there are many candied fruits that are just not to my taste, in particular something green and minty tasting (much as I love mint flavors otherwise).
However, until I read this introduction to an article that seems to be trying to reinvent a good reputation for fruitcake — it included a recipe for a less-disgusting incarnation — I hadn't realized the consequences of such a tarnished reputations as fruitcakes have.
For more than 20 years now, it has been generally accepted that your typical holiday fruitcake is so horrible as to be inedible. In such an environment, it has become remarkably challenging to craft a decent joke about fruitcakes. They have all been told.
Fruitcakes, alas, are past the point of being merely hilarious and are perhaps now in grave danger of fading into irrelevancy. If we can't eat them and we can't laugh about them, what further purpose could they serve?
[from Jeremy Jackson, "Fruitcake Redux", Chicago Tribune via Baltimore Sun, undated but I read it c. 15 December 2006. I had a link here once, but it seems to have been transient and I haven't found a permanent link.]
Posted on January 9, 2007 at 15.38 by jns · Permalink · One Comment
In: All, Food Stuff, Laughing MattersDeviled Ham
There are several recipes that I tried out for Xmas eating this season, and a few turned out to be keepers. Topping the list is this ultra-simple, ultra-tasty recipe for deviled ham. These few simple ingredients make a sophisticated taste. It's a great alternative to the too expensive little-can stuff from the store, and it's a festive way to use up another pound of that huge, left-over ham. I made up some more today for a potluck and got asked for the recipe. Ta da!
* 1 pound baked ham (about 3 cups), chopped up
* 1/2 stick (4 tablespoons) butter, softened
* 1/4 cup Dijon mustard
* 1/4 cup Major Grey's chutneyPulse ham in food processor until finely chopped. Transfer to a bowl.
Put butter, mustard, and chutney in processor and blend until smooth. Stir into ham.
[from The Gourmet Cookbook, Ruth Reichl, editor.]
Beard of the Week XXV: Welcome 2007
Happy New Year from your hosts Jeff (above) and Isaac (below).
Our South Park doppelgängers come via this amusing divertissement for creating such. We do look tolerably like these guys, but not too much I hope. Pondering that makes me think that occasionally we see people who strike us as looking like they are cartoon characters, and it's rarely a flattering observation.
At lunch (Taco Bell, of course — we end the year as we propose to begin the next one) Isaac and I thought for a moment about the things we'd managed to get done in the past year, partly as an antidote to feeling like there are so many projects still left undone. Perhaps it's because I turned 50 this year and my memory turned ever more sieve like, or perhaps it's because I'm a neurotic overachiever, but it never seems like we've done much. Nevertheless, there were a few events worth noting:
- The leg that I broke in November 2005 nearly completed its healing
- Isaac finally realized his dream of leading a tour group to Rome; in June, we went for 10 days with 18 rowdy and motivated friends, and we all enjoyed ourselves
- I directed two one-act operas in October with our theatre troupe
- We finished decorating the guest room on the second floor of our house
- I published three short stories
- Isaac performed two organ recitals this year and did a Mozart mass with his choir this spring
- Ars Hermeneutica became a more serious company this year:
- I committed myself to working on it full time
- I gave a public presentation, a "portrait" to raise awareness, in February
- We assembled an outstanding board of directors in April
- We finally got tax-exempt recognition in November
- Our ninth annual December Open House was a success
- Some new friends moved into our circle, a few moved out, and one or two friends from former times reappeared
- Our extended family grew by a few, but we lost one to sudden, accidental death in September
There may well have been other things worth mentioning, but they unaccountably escape my mind at the moment. But then, you can always look back through the blog if you really want to be complete.
Today is not so much different from other days in some ways. It's a very sunny and mild day here in suburban Washington, DC, maybe a bit cloudier than it was earlier in the day. Isaac worked this morning (the usual two services, in contrast to last week's blowout of five services before the end of the day); this morning I read and wrote some, as I typically do After we had our lunch we assembled some Ikea furniture (a little bookcase and CD cabinet for the loft), moved some stuff about a bit, and Isaac has gone off to play organ for a wedding ceremony.
Tonight, in a tradition of several years' standing, we go to some friends' house for a lobster dinner, after which we all do our best to stay awake until midnight then quickly disperse for home and bed. At least one of my regular readers can tell you about this since he was with us this time a year ago for the same event; he also went with us to Rome this year. Bill, perhaps I should just keep you around so I can remember life's events with more acuity!
For all the rest of you who didn't go to Rome with us this year, let me know if you'd like to join the tour to Tuscany that Isaac will be leading in April 2007 and we can send details about the trip.
For all you, here are my best wishes for a fun and productive 2007.
Keeping Mixed Company
This is an excerpt from an interesting article about same-sex couples in Kansas — largely suburban Kansas City, Kansas, in fact, where I was born and raised. The article profiles several couples who were energized to come out by a referendum on the Kansas ballot to ban "gay marriage".
Ms. Jambrosic is part of a dramatic shift that has taken hold lately among gay and bisexual Kansans, many of them well into midlife and ensconced in long-term relationships. An energized culture of coming out has emerged, apparently in reaction to what many see as the anti-gay climate that led to the marriage ban.
Nowhere is this change more obvious than in a new analysis of census data by Gary J. Gates, a demographer at the Williams Institute on Sexual Orientation Law and Public Policy, a think tank at the University of California, Los Angeles. He found a 68 percent jump in Kansas households headed by same-sex partners between 2000 and 2005. In 2005, 11 out of every 1,000 couples living together in Kansas reported themselves as same-sex, according to Mr. Gates’s review of the Census Bureau’s annual American Community Survey data, a figure closer than one might expect to those recorded in New Jersey and New York, where 12 and 14 out of every 1,000 couples, respectively, are same-sex.
What the increase suggests, Mr. Gates said, is not so much that gay Americans are flocking to the state, but that the ones who live there have been galvanized to declare themselves to their neighbors and communities.
[…]
Ms. Jambrosic, too, became politically active around the time of the amendment campaign and decided to marry her partner of 22 years in Canada. “I was kind of like a black person in the ’30s, trying to pass,” Ms. Jambrosic said. “I never cared about getting married. I didn’t ask for the fight, but when the religious right drew a line in the sand, I felt the need to do something.”[excerpts from Ginia Bellafante, "In the Heartland and Out of the Closet", New York Times, 28 December 2006.]
As the story reports, the result of their coming out has made them and most of their friends feel much more comfortable.
The article mentions that Ms. Jambrosic has recently thrown her first party mixing gay and straight friends. As we know from experience, that can be a fun and worthwhile thing to do.
Our first mixed party, as it turns out, was a surprise birthday party that Isaac gave to me for my 40th birthday, in 1996.* He invited most of our friends, which largely consisted of two groups: gay male friends and friends, predominantly female, from his church. I was a bit apprehensive — but only a bit, really — when I saw them all together in the same room. However, they got along famously, I suspect because so many shared an interest in cats.
Anyway, that group became the core of the group of people who come annually to our Open House / Pot Luck party in early December, and they still get along famously, many claiming to look forward to it for months because it's the only place they get to see the people that they see only at this event. Next year will be our 10th anniversary for this party; I suppose I should start planning something special now.
Is it just me, or does it strike one as odd that this story in the NYTimes was in the "Home & Garden" section?
———-
*I'll leave it to Isaac to explain in detail sometime about how surprised I actually was despite all the clues inadvertently dropped in the week prior to the party, the fact that we were having dinner inexplicably at some casual friends' house, that I noticed lots of cars parked near their house and figured someone in the neighborhood must be having a party, etc. Even then I was a pretty absent-minded scientist.Posted on December 28, 2006 at 19.11 by jns · Permalink · One Comment
In: All, Faaabulosity, ReflectionsRIP Gerald Ford
I think they [same-sex couples] should be treated equally. Period.
–President Gerald Ford, in 2001 interview with Deb Price of the Detroit News
[quoted in Tom Musbach, "Gerald Ford supports federal gay rights", PlanetOut, 29 October 2001.]
Posted on December 27, 2006 at 23.45 by jns · Permalink · 2 Comments
In: All, Common-Place Book, Current EventsConceptio Immaculatis
Just in time for Xmas consideration, this entry from Bob Park's What's New:
1. IMMACULATE CONCEPTION: NATURE FINDS A WAY TO GET THE JOB DONE.
In the quaint euphemism of the Authorized Version of the Bible, no male had "known" Flora, a female Komodo dragon, before she laid her clutch of 8 eggs at the Chester Zoo in England. The genetics of self-fertilization in lizards dictates that the hatchlings will all be male. Claims of human parthenogenesis are frequently advanced at this time of year, but confirmation has been lacking. By some weird coincidence the eggs are expected to hatch about Christmas.Unfortunately he's committed the Protestant error of associating the idea of the Immaculate Conception with the conception of Jesus.* It was Mary, mother of Jesus, who was conceived without original sin, i.e., immaculately conceived, so that she was suitably prepared to give birth to Jesus after she had been impregnated by the Holy Spirit,# in what is properly known as the virgin birth of Jesus.**
And so the appropriately mocking tone that one adopts in talking about the parthenogenesis of these lizards should correctly refer to virgin birth and not immaculate conception. Tsk.
———-
*This is a remarkably widespread misconception, and I'm not the first person to correct someone else's error in the course of reporting about this selfsame lizard story.#In traditional iconography the Holy Spirit is usually represented by a dove and, in representations of the Annunciation (Mary's receiving the news that — voila! — she is about to be pregnant by God with the Son of God), there is usually a dove seen to be hovering near Mary's ear as she receives the news from the Angel Gabriel, giving rise to the odd idea that Mary was made pregnant through her ear by a dove. I'm not making this up.
While we're on the topic of images of the Annunciation, my favorite portrayal — indeed, one of my favorite paintings — is "The Annunciation" (c. 1434) by Jan van Eyck, which I try to visit whenever we are at the National Gallery of Art, in Washington, DC. Its beauty and virtuosity astound me every time.
However, the Annunciation that I see right now is a reproduction of a famous Annunciation by Fra Angelico, a fresco that he painted around 1450 in San Marco, Florence. My copy is mass produced but it's a lovely image nonetheless; I got it as a souvenir on our trip to Rome in 2001. It hangs above the doorway next to which my computer sits.
**I'm not really put out by this solecism, but you'd think that if I, a mere atheist, could get it right, then perhaps those who believe in this stuff (not necessarily including Bob Park, but there are plenty of religious miscreants) could perhaps put out a little effort to get it right.
Posted on December 23, 2006 at 20.11 by jns · Permalink · 4 Comments
In: All, Music & Art, Such Language!Beard of the Week XXIV: Jolly Ol' Tom Nast
This week's beard is a double-header, if you'll pardon the expression: Thomas Nast (1840-1902), German-born American political cartoonist, and Santa Clause (unknown), as drawn by Thomas Nast in 1881 for Harper's Weekly. (The latter link is an interesting essay about how St. Nicholas was transformed in America into the red-suited Santa Clause that is so familiar these days.)
The holiday season is an oddly peaceful yet busy time of year here at Björnslottet. Isaac always has to arrange the traditional three services for the Eve of the holiday itself, and since that falls on a Sunday he has a day filled with a total of 5 services, but only 4 different musical programs to coordinate for services. (Plus a fifth strictly musical program: a handbell intermezzo between evening services one and two — at which, by the way, I will be playing as a substitute for one of the regulars who recently had some surgery on her wrist. This time I will be ringing F and G above middle-C.*)
On Monday we're having a casual dinner with 5 friends attending. For several years it has been my habit to roast a couple of ducks (and make duck broth with the carcasses), but I was in the mood for something different this year so we're planning what we've taken to calling a Ham-Lamb-Spam menu, featuring all three in different guises. We'll also have some yams, but I didn't go as far as insisting clams and there are vegetables that don't rhyme, although cranberries kind of rhymes.
This morning we had an event of some import that was, nevertheless, remarkably low key: we signed a pile of papers and refinanced our home mortgage. It takes a lot less work than when one is actually buying or selling and settlement lawyers get involved, but I'm not sure any fewer signatures were required. Yes, we did manage to lower our interest rate and save some money in monthly payments. Anyway, the notary overseeing the process was nice, and it was a sunny, warmish morning. I played a recording of John Dowland's Lachrimæ or Seaven Teares (1604) to lend a peaceful atmosphere, and because the original Lachrimæ Antiquæ is "our song".
Then, in the week before the New Year, Isaac's office (The Fund for Peace) is closed, and we don't have much in the way of other social or church-music obligations, so we can actually relax some.
I hope that others, most especially my four regular readers, have the chance too for some peaceful relaxation.
———-
* F & G turn out to be remarkably noticeable in the program, given the number of tunes written in G, where F# is the leading tone, or C where G is the dominant. Also, we're playing at least one piece which, because of modulations and enharmonic spellings, calls on me to ring notes with 5 different names but only 4 physical bells.Posted on December 23, 2006 at 19.17 by jns · Permalink · Leave a comment
In: All, Beard of the Week, ReflectionsAvoid False Modesty
Back to back, they were:
The Associated Press noted the departure of Donald Rumsfeld with a curious retrospective, quoting a biographer who suggests that he is a "tragic figure" because of his wasted "talent and promise." But Nixon, who called him a "ruthless little bastard," had Rummy's number from the start. His "talent" was as a political hit man, a vicious insider who would do whatever his bosses wanted. He was and is a nasty person of shrewd but limited intellect, a bully and a braggart and a bullshit artist. Nobody will miss him.
[RJ Eskow, "Rumsfeld: You Go To Posterity With the Reputation You Have, Not The Reputation You Wish You Had", Huffington Post, 16 December 2006.]
(Fabulous title, there.) And then:
[Quoting]
"I believe the record speaks for itself — Don Rumsfeld is the finest secretary of defense this nation has ever had." — Dick Cheney, today[Tim Dickinson, "Cheney: Rummy 'Finest Ever' SecDef", Huffington Post, 16 December 2006.]
Posted on December 16, 2006 at 11.55 by jns · Permalink · 9 Comments
In: All, Common-Place Book, Current EventsMy First Year-End Appeal
Recently, with the news the Ars Hermeneutica, Limited is now a recognized 501(c)(3) tax-exempt corporation, I promised that I'd let my four regular readers know when I had an online option available for making tax-deductible [in the US] contributions.
We're there, finally, and I know y'all have been holding your breath.
I have a page of options, called "Support Ars Hermeneutica", just chock full of ideas for giving. Of course there's the expected "PayPal Donate" button, but there are also festive ideas for sending checks (don't forget matching gifts!), buying books for Ars' Library of the Hermeneutics of Science, or buying for yourself some lovely merchandise branded with the Ars logo (the mug and mouse pad are nice, but don't overlook the boxer shorts or the "classic thong").
There is an important part of this initial appeal beyond the obvious one of priming the money pump. To explain, here is part of a letter I wrote to some Friends of Ars:
One of our contributors asked whether we could use small contributions. By golly, yes! And I'll explain why.
We actually have two types of status to establish with the IRS: our status as tax-exempt and our status as a public charity. This latter is very important but doesn't get much public attention, because it's more important to the corporation: most of our company's tax benefits flow from our status as a public charity. For the next few years, our satus as a public charity is only provisional, and it will be visited by the IRS again in about 3 years.
Establishing ourselves as a public charity means showing that we have a broad base of public support, and the easiest way of showing that is by exhibiting a large and diverse list of individual contributors. Each contribution supports our claim as a public charity, regardless of how small or large.
So although I'm looking for ways of bringing in bigger financial chunks right now to bootstrap a staff into existence, there is a decidedly important place for even the smallest contribution that's more than just lip service.
I'm working on the brochures to help me explain why Ars Hermeneutica might be a nonprofit charity of choice for some people. I feel that my mental clarity on the topic is quite a bit better than my ability to explain the vision, largely because it seems extensive and difficult to grasp in only twenty-five words.
I could start with one version of our mission+vision statement:
Our mission is to advance science and increase the public's understanding of science. We envision a scientifically literate America.
I can also tell you about the corporation:
Ars Hermeneutica, Limited, is a nonprofit scientific research and science education corporation, registered in the state of Maryland. We are a 501(c)(3) tax-exempt organization, and all contributions to Ars Hermeneutica are tax deductible as allowed by law.
Functional, but still not very informative.
Setting aside the research for a moment, what I need to find is a way to capture is the spirit of our philosophy about casual science education:
to create projects that excite curiosity in the bounteous wonder of the natural world, and invite people of all ages to enjoy learning about science for themselves
but this will take a bit of time for us to sit down and talk about it. There's just so much more to tell.