Living History and Romance

The Dana-Thomas House as drawn by Marion Mahony

I haven't posted in a long time, but never fear, I'm still alive and kicking. Busyness and decreasing energy have combined to put me on the couch most afternoons, taking a refreshing nap. But I have acquired a cleaning lady (yessss!) and lost a writing client (hard to let go of that) so I now have more energy to do the things I truly enjoy, not the least of which is supporting Springfield's hidden treasure, the Frank Lloyd Wright-designed Dana-Thomas House.

Mahony and Kitty Wright

I had to give up leading tours of the house several years ago when my tour groups began worrying that I might fall down the stairs on top of them (and there are lots of stairs in that house). Even though I continued to edit the volunteer newsletter, I missed being inside the lovely, unusual home.

Moonchildren Fountain decorated for the holidays

Now, thanks to a trend at historic sites that allows a visitor to experience what living in the place must have been like, I have a chance to get back in the house. On the house's first "Living History" day, Saturday, December 10, I sat next to the Moonchildren Fountain and portrayed Marion Mahony, a woman architect who helped design the fountain and created many presentation drawings for Wright. Born in 1871 to progressive parents, Mahony was forward-thinking herself, earning a degree from MIT (then called Boston Tech) in 1894 and joining Wright in his studio the following year. In the 18 years she worked for Wright, Mahony contributed greatly to his thinking and became an integral part of his studio, growing close to his first wife Kitty.

Walter Burley Griffin Canberra But wait, the plot thickens! In 1901, handsome young architect Walter Burley Griffin joined Wright's studio and Mahony, a plain woman five years his senior, fell madly in love with him. Griffin's biggest fan and stalwart supporter, Mahony left Wright's studio after Wright absconded to Europe with Mamah Cheney.  She joined forces with Griffin and they collaborated on a number of projects including the Rock Crest Rock Glen in Mason City, Iowa, seen as their most dramatic American design development. The couple married in 1911, at the same time submitting the winning design for the Australian planned city and capital, Canberra.  Mahony became an outspoken critic of the flamboyant Wright, deriding him at every opportunity (not that he let it bother him).  The Griffins had no children and Mahony returned to the US when Griffin died in 1937. Susan Dana and friends at the first "Living History" event To have the opportunity to portray this talented and complex woman and get back inside the house is a wonderful Christmas gift! Visitors seem to enjoy talking with costumed characters representing Susan Lawrence Dana, Governor and Mrs. Charles Deneen, Forence Lawrence and Richard (Dickie) Boch, among others. Traditional tours will remain the mainstay at the newly reopened house, but "living history" tours will be offered on the second Saturday of each month. I love this new way to make history come alive!

Iowa: Nostalgia and a hint of strangeness

Mom studies the Knotty Pines' menu

The older I get the more fond I become of my birth state -- Iowa.  My husband and I spent the Labor Day holiday with my mother, sister and her family, and I actually enjoyed it.

The countryside around Creston is mostly rolling hills and woods, unsuitable for most crops but perfect pasture.  Black Angus cattle dot the hillsides and, fittingly, we went to the Knotty Pine steak house for dinner Saturday.  The steak there is unlike any I have ever eaten: complex, flavorful, and inexpensive. Even a funnel cloud dipping down from a storm bank, a regular Iowa phenomena, wasn't enough to get us to leave this repast.

Mt. Pisgah

The weather was unsurpassed, with highs in the 70s each day, and we took advantage of it to drive out to  Mount Pisgah Sunday. At its height in the early 1850s, Mt. Pisgah had 2,000 inhabitants and was where the Mormons stopped after leaving Nauvoo, Illinois. The Mormons left in 1852 to travel to Utah and pretty much all that is left is a monument to the emigrants who died there.

Green Valley Lake (CNA photo)

3 Mile Lake

While we were out, we took a drive around the man-made 3 Mile Lake, which has replaced dried-up Green Valley Lake as the fishing and camping hot spot in southwest Iowa. Interestingly, both 3 and 12-Mile Lakes were named for their distance from Mt. Pisgah.

To break up the trip, on the way home we decided to search out the "famous" pyramids located in Monroe County. We got some vague directions from a website and really didn't expect to locate the cemetery, but then, as we drove down a gravel road, there they were: three miniature pyramids at the back of a country graveyard.

Ron took a fun picture of me "holding" one of the pyramids.The pyramid story, as provided by the Iowa Gen Web Project, goes something like this:

"After reading more than 2,000 books, Axel Peterson, past 70 and the publisher since 1913 of a miniature paper called Boomer, began to realize his dream of building three pyramids in the Chisholm (better known as Hickory Grove or Convenator) Cemetery northwest of Avery during 1939.

 “One of his books told the story of the ancient pyramids in Egypt and contained diagramed details of their construction.  If there were pyramids in Egypt, Axel thought, he could build them here as well.

"Peterson’s neighbors built the pyramids of native sandstone and cement.  The largest of the three contains a crypt where Peterson planned for himself and a friend from Minnesota, Heymooler, to be entombed.

“An upside-down iron bed of a dump truck was used for the roof and upper side walls of the crypt.  Concrete benches and a table were planned so that Peterson and Heymooler might be encased in cement and seated facing each other.  These plans were never realized, however, and Axel was buried in the Cuba Cemetery east of Avery instead.

“Today, the pyramids stand as strange symbols to Axel Peterson’s faith.  They attract many sight-seers as well as providing a place for young people to gather.”

Men's dorm & the Tower of Invincibility

We decided to look for Maharishi University School of Management in Fairfield and were amazed to find a large and flourishing, if somewhat odd, campus. While I explored on my scooter, Ron talked with an aging long-haired man who had worked for the college as a janitor in the past. Ron asked how people find out about this college and the man said that in his case San Francisco just got too expensive. Makes sense somehow.

We're back on the flat plains of central Illinois now, but I kind of miss Iowa.

When did "feminist" become an insult?

"You're just a feminist!" It's become an insult directed at mostly us middle-aged women when we get intractable or independent or even say something that doesn't jibe quite right. But it wasn't always that way.




Back in the 70s, during the dark ages when I was in college, feminism was at its peak. There were women burning bras and Ms. magazine was going strong -- the whole movement was very chic. It was fashionable to be a feminist -- those students who weren't were considered a little backward.

Hunter S. Thompson

But in 1977, I graduated and entered the "real world." I landed a reporting job and had to immediately start working with men. Now, these men were, by and large, nice guys, but they were used to working with young women as secretaries, not professionals.They didn't know what to do with a dewy-eyed college grad who admired Tom Wolfe and Hunter S. Thompson.

The feminist movement aimed to change that attitude, either peacefully or, if that didn't work (and it seldom did), through radical actions. The radical feminists were out there doing the heavy work while the rest of us went to every day. Slowly, but surely, change happened.

Now, 30 years later, the word "feminist" conjures up visions of a strident old bat with no sense of humor. But I remember when the work world was much different (watch Mad Men if you want to see what it was like). Whether or not it is acknowledged, my two daughters are treated in a completely different manner and have much wider opportunities than we had in 1977.

Gloria Steinem

Women have definitely influenced the workplace. From my vantage point, having spent years in management, most workplaces have become much more accommodating to families. That's important when over half of your workforce is women. When they aren't worried about children sitting home alone or missing doctors appointments or being late to work because one of the kids missed the bus, they function much better. It helps when you have been there and done that. You know what it's like.

These changes wouldn't have happened without the feminist movement. In my experience, people don't change their behavior without some benefit to themselves and the 1960s male-dominated workforce was functioning quite well, thank you very much. What it didn't foresee was that women were tired of being forced into roles they weren't suited to play.

Activists like Betty Friedan, Gloria Steinem, and Simone de Beauvoir pointed that out again and again and again, until, in spite of ourselves, we changed the way we thought about women. As a result, the 2011 work world is a better place for women. It's not perfect, but it's a hell of a lot better.

Call me a feminist. I'm proud of it.

An Opening at Gallery II

PAA President Roland Folse and Ron

Last night we attended a gala event -- the opening of the Juried Associate Member Show at the Prairie Art Alliance's Gallery II.  Ron had two photos on display and we both were pretty excited about the evening.  And, even though Ron didn't sell any photos at the event, we had a great time.

When the show opened the two-room gallery was already packed with people -- a mixture of tattooed, long-haired artsy types; tourists with time on their hands after seeing the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum, folks who appeared to have come only for the free food and wine, and twenty-somethings with young children in tow. It was an eclectic group, but everyone was in a good mood -- after all it was Friday.

PAA member artwork (one of Ron's is horse in top row)

The member art was in one room and was a (surprisingly) high-quality show consisting of photos, paintings,
jewelry and sculpture, most of it priced reasonably. I've always liked the idea of patronizing local artists -- it's so much more satisfying to have a beautiful original from a local artist than a mass-produced print from Bed, Bath and Beyond. Plus the piece often has a local tie-in, showing a landmark or vista from the Springfield area.

Ron's whole family (with the exception of one sister and her husband who had just left town the day before)

Ron's sister takes his photo

showed up to support him -- amazing! I took a couple of "rest stops" on a bench on the street outside the gallery when it got too hot and crowded, then ventured back to talk with some of the local artists.  Many of these creative men and women have day jobs and who pursuing their dreams on nights and weekends.  They inspire and encourage.

As Bloody Mary sang in "South Pacific":

You got to have a dream,
If you don't have a dream,
How you gonna have a dream come true?

The Fascination of a Used Book Sale

Lincoln Library book sale ...

I've been going to the annual used book sale at Springfield's Lincoln Library for about 25 years. To say that it's an event I look forward to is an understatement: I didn't even miss it the wonderful day in 1988 that Ron and I got married -- I just hit the sale in the morning before the small ceremony across the street at First Pres. (It was a pretty good day)!

... and later that day.

The sale is always on a Friday and Saturday in June, but for some reason, I didn't make it to this year's sale till late Saturday morning, when most of the "good" paperbacks were gone. There were still a lot of hardbacks left though, and one of many that I snagged was Clyde Edgerton's novel Redeye: A Western.

I was intrigued by the cover, which showed a mean-looking dog with one red eye. I'd read one book by Edgerton years ago as part of the Rochester library reading group -- an immensely enjoyable book about an old lady and a young delinquent called Walking Across Egypt. Edgerton has a deadpan humor that can lighten even the most grave situation, so I prepared to be amused by the thin novel.

I wasn't disappointed. Not only was I entertained by the book's unique format -- it is told in short chapters from the points of view of many characters ranging from a mortician to an Indian to a dewy young maiden, but I also learned about a real historical incident: the The Mountain Meadows Massacre of 1857.

The Mountain Meadows Massacre

The Mountain Meadows Massacre took place in Utah in 1857 when 120 men, women, and children were killed by a group of Mormons with the help of local Paiute Indians. Traveling from Arkansas to California, the group had  been the subject of five days of attacks and had circled their wagons for safety. On September 11, militiamen waving a white flag entered camp and convinced the emigrants to surrender peacefully. The women and children were escorted out first, then the men and boys. After walking about a mile, the militiamen turned and fired on the men and boys while the Indians attacked the women and children. Seventeen children younger than seven survived.

Because the chapters are written in the first-person, you get a very clear idea of what each character is thinking, but the reader must piece together the plot. And, as if changing points of view weren't complicated enough, the book also hops among three time frames: 1857, 1892 and 1915. This kind of writing is harder to do than it looks but Edgerton accomplishes it seamlessly. Oddly enough, the way the story unfolds only adds interest to the already fascinating tale.

Redeye was a great read and some parts were laugh-out-loud funny. Used book sales are fantastic way to be exposed to fiction you might not normally read -- and at a fraction of the cost. And now I can "recycle" Redeye for another avid book lover to discover at next year's sale.

O frabjous day!

Alice Liddell

Today IS a frabjous day -- see Chelsea's status for more info. "Frabjous" is probably a blend of fair, fabulous, and joyous. Since that nonsense word comes from Lewis Carroll's classic children's story Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There, it's particularly appropriate that we saw Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland movie the other night.

Lewis Carroll (aka Charles Dodgson) patterned Alice after a friend's daughter, Alice Liddell. Although the Alice in Tim Burton's movie does not resemble Alice Liddell (most of the Alices in numerous other movie adaptations haven't either), the moviemaker seems particularly well-suited to interpret this fantastic material. Burton's earlier works like Edward Scissorhands and Beetlejuice to name two, were visually unique and perfectly expressed his sideways view of reality.

Suburbia in Edward Scissorhands

The movie showed Alice returning to Wonderland as a young woman and at its climax, Alice fights the Jabberwock, This fearful beast is featured in a poem in Through The Looking Glass, a perfect example of nonsense verse, where the words seemed to be familiar but really are made up.  

Burton's Alice

"'It seems very pretty,' she (Alice) said when she had finished it, 'but it's rather hard to understand!' (You see she didn't like to confess even to herself, that she couldn't make it out at all.)" I wasn't exactly sure what it meant either, but I was so delighted that I memorized the poem.

Lewis Carroll's work is perfect reading for a summer day and makes you realize that life is not as serious as you think!

JABBERWOCKY

Lewis Carroll

(from Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, 1872)

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

  Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

All mimsy were the borogoves,

  And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

  The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

  The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:

  Long time the manxome foe he sought --

So rested he by the Tumtum tree,

  And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,

  The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,

Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,

  And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through

  The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!

He left it dead, and with its head

  He went galumphing back.

"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?

  Come to my arms, my beamish boy!

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'

  He chortled in his joy.

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

  Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;

All mimsy were the borogoves,

  And the mome raths outgrabe.

CCSVI and the perfect storm

For about a week, I cautiously hoped that a new procedure might help my MS. A friend who does medical PR told me that a local vascular physician was following research on a theory that has turned the MS community on its head: CCSVI.

The CCSVI or chronic cerebrospinal venous insufficiency theory was developed by Italian doctor Paulo Zamboni a few years ago. It posits that people with MS have blockages in their neck veins that force blood back into the brain, leaving iron deposits which eventually become MS. Called the Liberation Procedure by MSers, a balloon angioplasty could open up the neck veins, "liberating" the individual from the scourge of MS.

That's the theory anyway and the wealth of unfiltered information on the internet set the online MS community on fire. Suddenly, there was hope for a better life, a different future than that envisioned by most of us -- a gradual loss of all our bodily functions.  That's the kind of scary thought that wakes you up at 3 a.m. and causes you to contemplate the options for nursing homes in the area. 

The impact of all this information on CCSVI was immediate.  Patients traveled to other countries to have the procedure done; before-and-after videos appeared on YouTube showing miraculous results; some unscrupulous doctors made piles of money off of desperate people. All this happened before the theory had a chance to be tested by the medical community.

Wheelchair Kamikaze

What little data that is available shows that some people have great results from the procedure, while others see no change. Marc, an MSer who writes a blog called Wheelchair Kamikaze, has followed all the research and written some extremely insightful posts on CCSVI.

In my case, an ultrasound showed a significant blockage in my left neck vein, so I immediately leapt to the conclusion that the vein could be unblocked by a balloon angioplasty and soon I too could be on YouTube, running downstairs with a smile on my face.

A candid talk with an extremely forthcoming surgeon Tuesday brought me back to reality. The surgeon was willing to perform the procedure, but, since it isn't covered by insurance, he said he would hate to see us spend an inordinate amount of money on a untested procedure (there are a few ethical physicians around). My further internet research confirmed what he said: CCSVI might have some credence but it's really too early to tell.

The Perfect Storm

To me, the mystery of MS seems to be caused by a perfect storm: a genetic flaw (such as misshapen neck veins that become blocked) combines with an environmental stigma (such as the shortage of the "sunlight vitamin" D) then the disease is triggered by a virus (such as herpes or Epstein Barr). New research findings are coming out almost daily and I believe we are not far from understanding what causes MS.

In the meantime, I remember that life is not about a miracle cure (even even though heaven knows I would like one). Instead joy comes from the things that God has blessed me with -- a loving husband, beautiful children, thoughtful friends, nature, ease. Even though I have a disease, He loves me, because I am his child. There is great comfort in that certainty.

Why we have no bunnies in our backyard

Last year we had a whole family of bunnies in our backyard. The babies hid among our lilies and assumed they couldn't be seen. They were so cute -- I hope they survived!

This year is  different. We haven't seen any babies (although our neighbor said he saw a bunch of dead ones), but an adult rabbit took up residence under our lilac bush during a rainstorm recently. He and his mate did some hopping around but I haven't even seen them lately (guess bunnies don't like cicadas).

The other day I spotted what may be the reason rabbits no longer frequent the McDonald backyard...

Our neighbor's cat

Oh no, not a minivan!

The Soccer Mom minivan

I swore I'd never have another minivan. I drove these vehicles for years when the kids were little and even I had to admit they were perfect for hauling around the girls and their friends.

Once the kids were grown up and out of the house with no more soccer games or sleepovers, I traded the minivan for a sleek black Volkswagen Passat, a cool-looking car that had so much pep I

A cool-looking car

ended up with 2 speeding tickets in 2 days (the last one in Iowa with my mom sitting bemusedly beside me wondering what that nice young man could possibly be doing).  The car was great, but was plagued with so many problems, not the least of which was it always looked dirty, that after a few years I traded it in.

I still loved Passats, but this time I was smarter about color choices, opting for a light blue station wagon. This turned out to be perfect, with a storage area big enough to haul my (disassembled) scooter and a left-foot accelerator so that I was able to drive, even though my right leg has become pretty useless.

So why would I want to get rid of this sporty little car? Well, first off, my balance has gotten so bad that I'm scared I'll fall each time I get up from the driver's seat to get my rollator out of the back. The picture I imagine of me sprawled in the middle of the Shop and Save parking lot is not a pretty one.

In addition, having a van would allow me to take a scooter in my vehicle without taking it apart. There's a wonderful animation here showing how it works. If I needed to go shopping, I'd simply ride my scooter to my van, hit the remote and voila the side door would open, then the ramp would fold down as the van "kneels" to get even lower to the ground.  After riding up the ramp, parking my scooter and transferring to the driver's seat, I would hit the remote again, folding up the ramp and closing the door.  Amazing -- yes -- but amazement with a pretty hefty price tag.

My freedom!

Unfortunately, a handicap conversion costs about $20,000 on top of the price of a vehicle, and sadly, only minivans and full-size vans can be converted.  For a long time I rejected the notion that after we shucked out over $30,000 all we'd have was a minivan. But in the end, I decided it was worth it.

Yes it's hard to make a change, but I'm optimistic that a van will make a huge difference in my independence and quality of life. I'm fortunate to live technological advances that make a disabled person's life easier. We pick out the van next Saturday and I can hardly wait!

Cicadas Part Deux

Cicadas on our house's foundation

The cicadas have now reached a new level of repulsiveness -- not only do their outgrown shells and living bodies litter the ground, the bugs fly slowly and clumsily through the air and their mating song overpowers the noise of air conditioners and rings through the summer nights and hot afternoons. 

The many squirrels in our subdivision think they're in heaven -- fat, juicy cicadas everywhere! Here's a short video of a squirrel munching on one in our front yard. Listen to the roar in the background -- cicadas. At least the squirrels and birds like them!

A Month of Cicadas

We knew they were coming -- they do every 13 years -- but somehow we hoped they wouldn't come here. No such luck.  The periodic cicadas are back with a vengeance. Not to be confused with regular cicadas that sing in the trees each summer, periodic cicadas are special insects -- 100 times more dense and 1000 times more obnoxious.

Our ramp is particularly appealing

My first encounter with these bugs (which can't survive the Iowa cold) was back in the spring of 1998 when Chelsea and I were out planting flowers in the front yard. Chelsea asked me what made the  2-inch holes in the ground. I didn't know then, but according to this article, the holes were dug by nymph cicadas that had been underground for 13 years, before emerging from the ground to shed their skins, mate and lay eggs.

The cicadas did indeed come up from below and a few weeks later, the big old pine tree in our front yard was writhing with layers of the inch-long bugs.  Ron took a shovel and scraped off the rancid-smelling insects, then stowed them in black trash bags.

Tree captured by cicadas

I had conveniently forgotten about the cicadas until this week, when I noticed that the robins were eating something off the ground and seemed inexplicably happy. The reason: they were feasting on cicadas. When Chelsea got home from work that day she ran inside, slammed the door and screamed  "Cicadas are everywhere!"

She wasn't exaggerating: these ugly bugs have crawled up tree trunks, cover house foundations, and seem partial to our wooden ramp and the deck. Everything in our subdivision is speckled with live cicadas or their skins.

So far the pine tree hasn't proven overly attractive to the bugs, so I'm hopeful we won't have a return to the horror movie of 13 years ago. It only takes a month or them to complete the cycle of mating and laying eggs, but what a month!

Blue Eyes

1953, Marion, Illinois. The young couple (the girl is 19 and the boy is 22) are agog with delight over their first child -- a baby boy with a winning smile and miraculous blue eyes that gaze luminously out of the black and white photos of the day. Like most first-time parents, they can't seems to take enough photos of their amazing child -- the beautiful offspring of a visually striking pair.

Blue-eyed people came from one common ancestor, a baby born with a gene mutation that gave him or her blue eyes in a world of brown-eyed humans. Imagine the surprise of the parents!

I admit, I'm fascinated  with people with blue eyes, an interest apparently shared by Elton John (and probably many others).

Blue eyes
Baby's got blue eyes
Like a deep blue sea
On a blue blue day


-- Elton John and Gary Osborne