Lydia Likes It

The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald

From the first time I heard Canadian Gordon Lightfoot sing this song about the strength of spirit, I loved it, and I love it still. Sing with me.

 

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they called Gitche Gumee
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
When the skies of November turn gloomy

With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more
Than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty
That good ship and true was a bone to be chewed
When the gales of November came early

 

The ship was the pride of the American side
Coming back from some mill in Wisconsin
As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most
With a crew and good captain well seasoned

Concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms
When they left fully loaded for Cleveland
And later that night when the ship's bell rang
Could it be the north wind they'd been feelin'?

 

The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
And a wave broke over the railing
And every man knew, as the captain did too
T'was the witch of November come stealin'
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
When the gales of November came slashin'
When afternoon came it was freezin' rain
In the face of a hurricane west wind

 

When suppertime came, the old cook came on deck sayin'
"Fellas, it's too rough to feed ya"
At seven PM, a main hatchway caved in, he said
"Fellas, it's been good to know ya"
The captain wired in he had water comin' in
And the good ship and crew was in peril
And later that night when his lights went outta sight
Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald

 

Does any one know where the love of God goes
When the waves turn the minutes to hours?
The searchers all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
If they'd put fifteen more miles behind her
They might have split up or they might have capsized
They may have broke deep and took water
And all that remains is the faces and the names
Of the wives and the sons and the daughters

 

Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings
In the rooms of her ice-water mansion
Old Michigan steams like a young man's dreams
The islands and bays are for sportsmen
And farther below Lake Ontario
Takes in what Lake Erie can send her
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
With the gales of November remembered

 

In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed
In the maritime sailors' cathedral
The church bell chimed 'til it rang twenty-nine times
For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they called Gitche Gumee
Superior, they said, never gives up her dead
When the gales of November come early

 

Source: LyricFind

 

The oldest public park in America

We don't always appreciate what's right under our noses, and Boston Common, the oldest public park in America, is literally right under my 23rd-floor-apartment nose. Founded in 1634, the Common is a 50-acre pentagon smack dab in the middle of the city, bordered by the Beacon Hill, Back Bay and Downtown neighborhoods. The park, maintained by the Friends of the Public Garden, hosts events as varied as the annual Duckling Day, celebrating the famous book Make Way for Ducklings, and protests like the Women's March in 2017, when an estimated 175,000 people packed the park. There are art exhibits, and softball games, and a hemp festival, and scavenger hunts for children, and history explorations, and a Pride party, and free Shakespeare every summer. And the new Embrace sculpture, honoring Martin Luther King and Coretta Scott King. And an historic cemetery where Gilbert Stuart (painter of the image of George Washington on the one dollar bill) resides. And a very popular designated free-range dog area. And a summer beer garden. And pickleball.

The volunteering life {something old and new}

For the first few years after retirement, my husband Ted spent most of his time volunteering in the bicycling community with a nonprofit organization called Bikes Not Bombs. BnB concentrated on two areas: bike programs for Boston youth; and international donation of used bikes and bike parts to countries in Central America and Africa.

With a change in leadership, BnB began to prioritize local activities over international projects, and Ted's interest waned. A serious bicycle accident forced him to take time off, and to think about what might come next for him.

For many years, Ted had been a member of The Boston Athenaeum, one of the oldest libraries in the United States, founded in 1807. Currently located on Beacon Hill, a short walk from our apartment, the Athenaeum houses a collection of more than half a million books (from the 1800s to contemporary publications), plus art, photography, rare books and special collections (Audubon prints, artist books and more). There's a children's library, reading rooms, and a full program of gallery talks by artists and authors.

And there are tours, open to the public. Art and architecture tours, and special-interest tours, attract visitors from all around the world. The tours are led by docents, well-trained guides who introduce visitors to the history and resources of this 200-year-old library. Last year Ted, a frequent library user and long-time member, was invited to become a docent.

After more than 30 hours of classes and training, Ted had to pass two tests in order to earn his docent name tag. One was a general art and architecture tour for some of the library staff, and the other was a short, in-depth talk about any one piece of art or sculpture of his choosing. Now he gives a couple of tours each month. The Athenaeum recently expanded into an adjacent building, so there has been additional training and exploration to adapt the art and architecture tour to the new space. 

Now that he's a docent, Ted has become interested in visiting other libraries and museums, and taking docent tours whenever available. Some docents are great storytellers. Some are terrible at sticking to a narrative. Some read notes from a tablet. Every docent is different, and Ted learns something from each of them.

Old library, new opportunity. It all happened at just the right time, and Ted -- a history major and trivia buff -- has settled into a great new volunteering life.

Chrono

Test your knowledge of history with Chrono, a free daily online puzzle in the model of Wordle. Six moments in history, three chances to put them in chronological order. Easy, fun, and sometimes surprising.

Joseph Palmer, bearded man

Atlas Obscura has introduced me to some surprising and wonderful people, places and things that I never would have discovered on my own. Recently, my husband and I made the acquaintance of Joseph Palmer, a 19th Century farmer who resides in Evergreen Cemetery in Leominster, Massachusetts. The Atlas Obscura write-up is so perfect that I'm sharing it with you here, word-for-exquisite-word: 

"Despite the conception that the past was a hairy wonderland of bearded outdoorsmen, bushy facial hair was long considered the mark of lunatics or worse, heretics. Today there is a Massachusetts gravestone that still remembers one man’s heroic fight against the forces of anti-hirsute vigilantes and a whole town’s persecution against his epic mane.   

"A veteran of the War of 1812, Joseph Palmer began wearing a beard in the 1820s. Beards had gone out of style in the 1720s, and Palmer was considered by most all in his small town to be slovenly and ungodly. He was even criticized by his local preacher for communing with the devil, famously responding to the accusation, “…if I remember correctly, Jesus wore a beard not unlike mine.”

"In May of 1830, Palmer was attacked by four men outside a hotel in Fitchburg, Massachusetts. Armed with razors and scissors, the men attempted to forcibly shave Palmer’s face, but the bewhiskered man stabbed two of his attackers with a pocketknife, and was subsequently arrested for assault. He could have avoided jail by paying a fine and court fees, but Palmer refused, maintaining his innocence, and more importantly his right to a glorious beard. He was subsequently jailed for 15 months, including time in solitary confinement.

"Upon leaving prison, Palmer joined the Fruitlands utopian community in nearby Harvard, Massachusetts after being influenced by his friendship with fellow Fruitlander, Louisa May Alcott. The character Moses White from Alcott’s Transcendental Wild Oats is later based on Palmer. Palmer died in 1865 and his tombstone displays a portrait of him with a long beard, and as a final act of rebellion, the inscription Persecuted for wearing the beard."