Hunnicutt, You're to Blame for This . . .

 For an earthquake in or near Bloomington, Illinois, to register on the seismographs at Fordham University in The Bronx, New York, the temblor would have to be at least a 6.3 on the Richter scale, according to #scienk

And this is the kind of thing you do when:

1. You’re a MASH fanatic

2. A friend comments on Facebook about the sadness that is Sam’s Club take ‘n’ bake pizza

3. You recall your own farty experiences with said pizza

4. You have Internet.

First, some of the basics.

In the MASH episode “Crisis,” one of my personal favorites, personnel at the 4077th are forced to share tents after the Chinese cut their supply lines and they run out of everything, including fuel oil, firewood, and shuttlecocks. Col. Blake, Radar, Klinger, and Father Mulchahy are forced to sleep in the Swamp, where Henry announces he snores, with the following exchange:

Henry Blake lives in Bloomington, Illinois. The Fordham he refers to is Fordham University in The Bronx, New York, home of the William Spain Seismic Observatory, one of the oldest such observatories in the United States.

Google Maps tells me that Bloomington, Illinois, and The Bronx are roughly 850 miles apart, as the crow flies. That’s a rough estimate, but good enough for the #scienk part of this idiocy.

The United States Geological Survey appears to be anti-#scienk, saying that it’s virtually impossible for earthquakes to travel long distances through the earth’s crust, given the crust isn’t as rigid as we might think (keep this in mind when we get to the Sam’s Club take ‘n’ bake pizza).

However, the folks at livescience.com tell me in what I’m sure is an exhaustively scientific article that this same USGS says earthquake tremors are known to travel much further east of the Rocky Mountains than they are in the mountains themselves or to the west. They cite as an example a 5.0-magnitude earthquake that struck near the Ontario-Quebec border in June of 2010, which was felt as far away as Ohio, Michigan, Pennsylvania, and Masssachusetts. A USGS expert quoted for the article says a 5.5-magnitude quake could likely be felt as far away as 300 miles east of the Rockies.

So using the USGS’s own “How Much Bigger” earthquake calculator, I figured that a 6.3-magnitude earthquake, which is 3.162 times bigger than a 5.5-magnitude earthquake, theoretically has the power to travel the 850-or-so miles between Bloomington, Illinois, and The Bronx.

So Henry Blake, by his own admission, snores as powerfully as a 6.3-magnitude earthquake, or stronger as the earthquakes felt in Utah and Idaho earlier this year. Utah’s was a 5.7, while Idaho’s was a 6.5.

That’s some snoring.

Now, moving on from snoring to farting and the aforementioned Sam’s Club take ‘n’ bake pizza.

We got a few such pizzas a few months ago. And as I recall, they gave me some pretty good gas. Or bad gas. Significant gas, at any rate.

Then a friend today posted on Facebook about his lamentable experience, taste-wise, with said pizza. Which helped me recall my own experiences. And the MASH quote.

So to conclude: A person in Bloomington, Illinois, would have to experience a magnitude 6.3 earthquake for it to be strong enough to be felt by seismographs in The Bronx.

I’ll leave the fart #scienk to someone else. Until then, this is going to peer review.

Book Trailer: The Hermit of Iapetus

In the darkness of space, we hear the opening bars of "San Antonio Rose" sung by Patsy Cline. The music wanders with us through the stars until we see a brighter point of light enter our field of vision. The point of light grows until we see an odd walnut-shaped moon, its leading edge almost black as charcoal, its trailing edge a snowy hue. We descend to the surface flying over massive craters and an equatorial mountain range which gives the odd little world its walnut shape. As we soar, Patsy Cline's voice and music is occasionally scattered with static, but the closer we get to the moon the louder and clearer the music comes. Below we see the unmistakable tracks if a wheeled vehicle that has carved a trail up the mountains. In the shadow of a peak we spy the vehicle and the music us louder yet. We see a door in the side of the mountain and it opens for us and after the airlock cycles an inner door opens and we hear Patsy even louder. Inside in the dim light we see the form of a man, asleep or senseless on a cot in the corner if a cluttered room.

His eyes open.

"It's about time you got here," he says. "There's macaroni and cheese in the fridge."

We go to the fridge and there is indeed macaroni and cheese therein. Patsy sings the closing lines as we settle in for a snack in the home of the Hermit of Iapetus.

Reading 'The Narrow Sea'

I knew this, but reading Peter Unwin’s “The Narrow Sea: Barrier, Bridge, and Gateway to the World. The History of the English Channel” reinforces it: England has a lot of history.

Blinding flash of the obvious, yes. But as I read Unwin’s book on the history of the English Channel, I kept getting lost in the history. There is a lot of it. Fortunately, I was familiar with some of it, notably the World War I and II years. But still. Lots of places and names to sort through. Thank heaven for Google Earth.

Unwin does a good job going to original sources, and a lot of obscure little sources as well, for his history. It’s when he delves into the One Man’s (or Woman’s) View that this book shines. The high as the clouds overview is kind of dull.

And dull might be a little harsh, because there were many fascinating little bits of history in this book that I wish I’d known when I was younger and studying my own country’s history.

For example, American history books make a big wash of “taxation without representation” in one of the reasons for the Revolutionary War. And yes, taxes did go up. But the books I read never really explained why, leaving the assumption that it was just greed as a motivator.

However, “at home” in England, they were fighting mightily to protect English industry from cheaper imports from the continent, notably France, so tariffs and such were incredibly high on a lot of goods. That, of course, led to smuggling, and this:

By the 1780s smugglers were estimated to be bringing in 5 million pounds of contraband a year, against legal imports worth only four times as much. The ‘Gentlemen’ organised themselves on a military scale, with a thousand men to protect some landings from the attention of the Revenue men, and 700 to escort the goods inland. “Will Washington take America,” asked a member of the House of Lords in the course of the American Revolution, “or the smugglers England first?”

So some of that history gets filled in my head via Disney:



So I’ll keep the book – as I do all my books – and maybe it’ll come in handy in the future when I need to fill my brain with other little bits of information. I’m glad I read it, and I’m glad I’m done with it. It was on the top of the “to-read” pile when the pandemic hit, and I thought, “Wow, I’ll get through a lot of these.” Got through just one so far. . .

[Takes Blinders Off]

I've seen quite a few posts on patriotism today, and a smaller number of posts of bits from patriotic movies.

I'll share mine: "A Bridge too Far," from 1977.

This movie tells the tale of Operation Market-Garden, a battle meant to catapult Allied armies across the Rhine in the Netherlands in preparation for their invasion of Germany.

The film, as the battles it tells, is filled with derring-do, bravery, and the kind of gritty, let's-get-this-done attitude common not only with entertainments based on World War II, but also with much of the war itself.

The screenplay is by William Goldman of "The Princess Bride" fame, based on the 1974 book by Cornelius Ryan. If the book is to be believed, the film is as honest an account as one could hope for. (I've seen the film and read the book, and for the most part, they appear to match.)

It is, at its base, an anti-war film. Because while there's derring-do and bravery, there's plenty of foolishness and hubris, as all wars and tales of war tend to have.

This film is patriotic to me because in it, we see people of many nations, inside armies and out, fighting and dying for a common cause -- a sentiment that's in short supply in our day.

One of the victims -- spoilers ahead -- is the son of one of the Underground leaders in Arnhem, a young boy thrilled at the thought of liberation and freedom at last.

If you're a patriot, if you wish to honor those who fought for the freedoms we enjoy, maybe choose today -- and from today forward -- to fight for a common cause, rather than bicker and complain or put on blinders because not everyone thinks the same thoughts you do.

"They Expect Results"

So I'm close to being back to full-time work at the full-time job.

Still working at home thanks to King Corona, but it's been busy. Most everyone else, if I'm not mistaken, is back at the office, leaving a few of us still on the outskirts. That means projects that were forsaken for a while are now hot commodities, and all at once.

I'm trying not to complain. After all, this is what I signed up for with that full-time job with good pay and benefits.

Still, it's like Dean Yeager has paid that visit and I'm being tossed out.



Or tossed back in, as it were.

And it's fine. I mean, I'm contributing. Doing valuable work and all that. Feeling better since the weekend. I think.

Michelle and Lexie spent the last 2 1/2 days at the council Trail to Eagle merit badge scramble at Krupp Scout Hollow. Lexie and Sam worked on Eagle-required merit badges while Michelle did whatever it is Scout leaders do at events like this when the Scouts are occupied. They worked on three merit badges, which is a good thing -- Personal Management, Personal Fitness, and something or other else. Emergency Preparedness and/or Citizenship in the Nation.

The boys and I stayed home. I may as well have stayed home alone, as the boys weren't worth the powder to blow them up. If any dishes got done this week, it was because I did them.

And oh my gosh I am laughing at the camping episode of Bob's Burgers:

"There it Is"

July approaches.

And I don't know what that means.

Any other year, it would mean the family at scout camp, me at home working and preparing for their weekend returns.

This year, an organized chaos. That's maybe a way to put it.

We're all home. Not really going anywhere. Trying to stay busy but at times getting on each others' nerves.

I've written about the bathroom. That project, I think, was a godsend. It kept me busy during a time when work really wasn't. It came at a good time, and it looks great.

Things are different now. Still at home, but busier. Two eight-hour days at work last week. And that felt really hard. I know it shouldn't, because I've been doing four ten-hour days a week up until the end of March. And maybe if I can get back to that, it'll feel like a break.

My prediction: One more week of working at home, then after the Fourth of July next Saturday, I'm back to work, out at the Site, full time. And that won't be bad. It'll be different.

I think we're all feeling a bit of stress.

Michelle and Lexie are going to a merit badge scramble at Krupp Scout Hollow starting Monday. Because of Covid, they're taking the camper so they don't have to use public toilets. But that's meant getting the camper ready. Again. Oh, I'd love to get rid of the thing. I have one house to maintain; I don't need two. But we're getting it ready and it'll be okay. That's what I have to remind myself.

Working at home isn't relaxing. Oh, it was at first. Not any longer.

Part of it is setting, I'm sure. I do get a fair amount of stress in my job from time to time. But by the time I'm done with the hour and a half commute, the stress has mostly dissolved and I'm home and things are easier. Now, there's no commute, and the stress is here where I am trying to de-stress. That's not a healthy combination. It's part of what chased me out of journalism. So as much as I have enjoyed the time at home, it's time for it to end.

I think part of the problem is that I haven't been able to move on to another summer project, which really relaxes me, or at least gives me focus for the time being. I did get the little bit of fence done, but I've stalled staining it  I have the stain to finish, but now it's been raining.

Part of this also is the typical Sunday Doldrums, where whatever weird little depression we Davidsons gets really settles in.

I need this virus to go away. It seems to be the background to everything that we do. Don't take any pandemic-free life for granted, that's my lesson now.

The thing is, nil desperandum.



which of course makes Doldrums Me laugh cynically.

I understand better now, Dad. I understand.

Checking In

It’s been a while since I wrote about life, the coronavirus, and that blasted bathroom remodel. So here goes.

BATHROOM: It is done. We have officially begun using it. Aside from one little glitch with a towel bar that fell down, it’s in great shape. We even like the oval mirror over the square one, and it’s big enough that we can both use it (the fear was with a smaller mirror, it would have to be hung in a way that would cut the top of my head off, but not so). It is a relief to have that project buttoned up officially.

That means, of course, moving on to another project. I had intended for the other project to be the siding, but the youngest son sidetracked us with taking the wainscot out of his bedroom and painting the walls. He had a yellow and orange motif going. Now it’s white and blood red. Can’t say they’re the colors I’d pick but it’s not my room.

This does mean more than painting – there’s been some drywall repair and plastering too, what with the removal of the wainscot. But that’s fine. It was just a strip of trim on the wall, drywall below and above. I think there used to be wallpaper below. Glad that’s gone.

CORONAVIRUS: Restrictions are lifting, but the virus, of course, is still here. We’ve seen a moderate spike in cases since restrictions started being lifted. So we’re being careful. We’re wearing masks, still not going to church, and avoiding large gatherings. Well, Isaac and Michelle did to go to an Order of the Arrow event a few weeks ago and one of the wingnuts there arrived with a fever but convinced the organizers she could stay. So we’ve got those types out there. So far, so good for us. We are meeting as a Scout troop again, but as we’re doing the Cycling merit badge, we’ve been able to do everything outdoors, which helps a lot.

I’m still working from home, and likely will be into July, or so I surmise from the last bit of information I’ve been given. With more people being brought back to work, though, the amount of work I’m doing at home is going up. Not complaining, just thinking it through. Part of me is ready to go back, but with the “masks all the time everywhere” protocols they’re asking us to follow out there, I’m not that anxious to go. Working from home has been nice, with lots more time free in the evenings, since I’m not doing that commute. I may see if they’ll let me telecommute on Mondays, so I can be home in time for our Scout meetings. I’ve been working in town on Mondays for that, so this wouldn’t be that big of a change for them.

LIFE: We’re into our second day of rainy weather. It should end today, but it has meant for a lot of gloom outside, and not much getting done with the garden or other outdoor projects.

I’ve been fighting more feelings of depression lately. Really came to a head a few weeks ago when I was feeling overwhelmed with the English class I’m teaching at BYUI. Had student conferences coming, and I just couldn’t do them. I really did try, but when it came to doing them, I just felt stressed and alone. So they didn’t happen, except via email. Not the way I want to do things, but something had to give that week, and that was it. I think part of it is that by this time of the year, I’m used to being home mostly alone, with everyone else at camp. With the virus this year, no summer camps. So there’s a lot more bodies mooning about the house and I’m out of my quiet routine. I seemed to have a lot of time when they were gone. Not so much with them here. Not that I don’t love them. It’s just that there are a lot more needs and requests and such when we’re all piled into the same house.

GOOD STUFF THAT HAS HAPPENED:

1. The DI reopened, so the pile of stuff we had in the garage is gone.
2. Speaking of stuff in the garage being gone:
a. Liam finally got his room clean enough we could move his filing cabinet up there. More than a year after it entered the garage.
b. A lot of camping gear has been labeled and stowed. More to do, but making progress.
3. Speaking of stuff in the garage being DISCOVERED. Months ago, I misplaced some pots and other camping gear. Figured it had stayed behind at one of our spots. But in shuffling things around, I found the box they were in.

Remember the Words

"First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a socialist.

Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out— because I was not a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me."

These are the words of Martin Niemoeller, a Protestant minister and vocal critic of Adolf Hitler and the Nazi Party.

I often hear his words used when a crisis arises and people are being called to action -- and it's aimed mostly at those who aren't making waves.

Strong sentiment in these words.

And I believe them.

But consider: Niemoeller wrote them in part to expiate for his own antisemitism.

Yes, Niemoeller had antisemitic feelings, by his own admittance.

No, he was not a perfect man.

Remember that when you want to erase the legacies of other imperfect people.

More importantly, remember his words.

And be careful where you draw lines. You may find yourself on the other side of those lines one of these days.

The Beginning of Something

When I was a much younger man, I could sit and stare at a fire for hours. When the wind is calm and the summer noises are almost gone so you can hear the crickets and bullfrogs. When the sun has set but still won't let but the brightest stars shine; when the moon still lies abed below the horizon.

Then I could watch the flames wrap and tickle and the sparks shoot and the damp wood hiss and the embers, the tender embers, flooding the underbelly of the flames with the promise of long, low, sustainable heat.

I can't sit and watch the flames now for more than a few minutes. The flames pall. The embers no longer dance. Damp wood aflame no longer smells like the promise of a new tomorrow. And the smoke, the smoke is always in my eyes.

For an ordinary man, a midlife crisis.

For a pyromaniac, maybe a sign to switch careers.

Fence

So you know last weekend we were getting buried in snow. This weekend, near record-high temperatures, and I got the little bit of fence between our house and Karl's house done. Looks good.