Back in the 1980s, Russia had swallowed up numerous “Eastern Bloc” nations. Stalin and succeeding Russian dictators used these nations (and the people in them) to slurp up their natural resources. The Ukraine, once the glorious breadbasket of Eastern Europe, was suffering from food shortages and economic disaster from Soviet policy. The Russians had built a huge nuclear power plant in Pripyat. The city there was much more prosperous than her rural neighbors, housing some of the best scientists and engineers of the country.

Russian leaders were very, very slow to report what happened that fateful day on April 26th. I think it took weeks before we in the United States learned of all the details. We later found out that a power surge within the nuclear reactor facility caused a reactor vessel to rupture, sending explosions and an enormous plume of radioactive smoke into the atmosphere. Russia sent firemen and emergency personnel into the reactor facility to put out the fire. According to some reports, nothing was said to these men about the radioactivity that now contaminated everything. Most of these workers died from radiation exposure or from horrible illnesses later.

The radioactive plume spread across the continent, with most of of the fallout contaminating Belarus, the Ukraine, and western Soviet Russia. My heart just breaks for those people.

They say that the nearby forests were so contaminated that they glowed red. This area is now called the Red Forest.

The Soviets were very, very quiet about the accident. It wasn’t until radiation alarms sounded in Sweden, 1000 kilometers away, that the Soviets admitted something had happened. Politicians in Moscow seemed very non-chalant about the Ukrainian people and their plight. Their stoically encryptic message was this:

There has been an accident at the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant. One of the nuclear reactors was damaged. The effects of the accident are being remedied. Assistance has been provided for any affected people. An investigative commission has been set up.

The countries that suffered the worst from the fallout are (in order): Belarus, the Ukraine, Russia, Sweden, Finland, Austria, Bulgaria, Norway, Switzerland, and Greece. The wind blew the radiation into the other countries; rain seeded with contaminants fell and adulerated the soil; the Pripyat River flowed into Europe’s waterways and contaminated the waters. And you know what’s really weird— the name Chernobyl means Wormwood. That name is in the Bible, in the book of Revelation:

And the third angel sounded, and there fell a great star from heaven, burning as it were a lamp, and it fell upon the third part of the rivers, and upon the fountains of waters;

And the name of the star is called Wormwood: and the third part of the waters became wormwood; and many men died of the waters, because they were made bitter. Rev. 8:10, 11

Today, the area surrounding Chernobyl is a ghost town. People dropped everything and fled. Everything they owned was contaminated, so they could take nothing with them.

Unfortunately, the people and other living creatures were not unaffected. Thyroid cancer is the leading cause of death among afflicted children. Birth defects threaten future generations. The creatures of the land are contaminated, too, some developing young with crippling abnormalities.

The area of the Ukraine was almost entirely abandoned. Some old timers refused to evacuate. And, believe it or not, the Soviets continued to use the other Chernobyl reactors during an energy crisis! Workers could only work for 5 days before evacuating for 15, otherwise they risked radiation poisoning. Who would even volunteer for such a job?! Oh, but wait, this is Soviet…. no volunteers necessary….

Today, the trees and plants are taking back the once neatly patterned fields and streets. The place is a veritable ghost town. Ukranian officials say that the place will be inhabitable for 20,000 years.

If you want to read more about Chernobyl — from the view of a Ukrainian — check out this fascinating site Kidd of Speed. It’s a little dated now, but it’s a good history lesson. Lord, may we learn from history.

Photo credits: skypy.

*snicker*

Enjoi. And Merry Christmas.

***

From the Email Bin:

I recently asked my friends’ little girl what she wanted to be when she grows up. She said she wanted to be President of the United States. Both of her parents, liberal Democrats, were standing there. So I asked her, “If you were President, what would be the first thing you would do?”

She replied, “I’d give food and houses to all the homeless people.” Her parents proudly beamed.

“Wow…what a worthy goal,” I told her. “But you don’t have to wait until you’re President to do that. Tell you what – you can come over to my house and mow the lawn, pull weeds, and sweep my driveway, and I’ll pay you $50. Then I’ll take you over to the grocery store where the homeless guy hangs out, and you can give him the $50 to use toward food and a new house. How about doing something wonderful like that?”

She thought that over for a few seconds, then she looked me straight in the eye and asked, “Why doesn’t the homeless guy come over and do the work, and you can just pay him the $50?”

I said, “Welcome to the Republican Conservative Tea Party.”

Her parents still aren’t speaking to me.

***

There seem to be a LOT of silent monks singing The Hallelujah Chorus lately, as I spotted at least a dozen on YouTube alone! LOL. Must be one of their favorite renditions. I watched some of them, and many of them were much more polished than the video I posted here… but I like mine because it’s done by kids and they make it very fun.

Then today, I visited Karen’s blog who had posted a video of The Hallelujah Chorus as done by students in Alaska. Wow! These kids are terrific and I laughed out loud a number of times.

What a great video!

I looked up the history of Handel’s Messiah and found it so intriguing that I thought I’d share it with you. Handel’s full name is George Frederic Handel, and he was born in Halle in 1685. He’d been a relatively successful composer, but had difficulties with his royal patrons (all music composers were supported by various royal houses of Europe at this time) and sometimes lost funding. Handel also became severely ill (so he said) from a stroke, and suffered debt, financial ruin, and severe depression. Handel retreated to a private life in London and stopped composing music.

George Handel with King George of England.

In his depressed state, Handel came across a piece of music written by Charles Jennens. The work was entirely Biblical verses put to music. Handel read the verses and was “deeply affected.” He plunged into creating a composition about the Messiah, Jesus Christ: the first part involved prophecies from the Old Testament (the book of Isaiah, specifically) that gave information about Christ’s coming to earth. The second part dealt with Christ’s birth, ministry, death, and resurrection. The third part centers on the New Testament book of The Revelation, and concerns Christ’s next coming. Handel’s work is SIMPLY AMAZING. When Handel wrote the Hallelujah Chorus, he said, “I did think I saw heaven open, and saw the very face of God.” That is exactly my response, too. It’s nothing short of inspiring.

Handel performed Messiah for King George of England, who was so overcome with awe and praise for the King of kings and Lord of lords that he stood up when the singers sang The Hallelujah Chorus of the composition. Back in those days, when the king or queen stood up, EVERYBODY stood up, so the entire audience stood with him for the entire performance. This has become a tradition whenever The Hallelujah Chorus is sung.

Me, I want to jump up and down. HALLELUJAH!!!!!!!!!

Olana is beautiful. It was the home of the late Frederick Church, one of my favorite painters. He was an apprentice of Thomas Cole, my most favorite painter ever. These painters were part of the Hudson River School, a group of artists that created a distinctive American romantic art movement called Luminism. I studied them in art school, and it was a real treat to see Church’s home and some of his paintings.

This is his home. It’s designed in Persian architectural style. After traveling through the Middle East, Church and his wife were smitten with the colorful designs of Persian and Arabic architecture. I love it.

At the top of the hill, the views were exquisite. This is the Rip Van Winkle Bridge over the Hudson River. We had to cross it to get to Olana. The view from the bridge was well worth the $1 toll charge.

I’ll have more photos and stuff about our trip on my travel blogs. We encountered some really quirky things in Catskill, NY, and had a blast! Stay tuned…. :D

On Easter Day, 1885, the Tsar Alexander III had a special 20th anniversary gift for his lovely wife, Tsarina Maria Fedorovna. Easter Day is the most celebrated holiday for the Russian Orthodox Church, and the Tsar’s anniversary made it a celebrated occasion. Through the palace doors walked a young and talented artisan, Peter Carl Faberge. He carried a tiny box to the Tsar, who set it on the table before his wife. The Tsarina gasped at the gift inside: it was an enameled egg with a golden yolk. Inside the yolk was a golden hen, and inside the hen was a tiny crown of diamonds and rubies. It became known as the first Faberge Egg.

Photos from Faberge Hen Egg.

Tsar Alexander commissioned Peter Carl Faberge to create a new and different egg every year, to give to his wife on Easter Day. Faberge himself set up a workshop in St. Petersburg, and commissioned a large group of skilled jewelers, craftsman, and artists. It took one who year to design, create, and complete the egg for the Easter celebration.

The Faberge Eggs always had a personal meaning to them. One egg given to the Tsarina Maria was a star sapphire egg with rose diamonds, emeralds, and gold leaves. Inside the egg is a tiny folding screen of minature paintings– duplicates of the paintings that hung in the places that the Tsarina had spent in Denmark as a child. Other eggs have portraits of ancestors and the royal family, scenes depicting momentuous events (such as a coronation), or eggs honoring the birth of a male child.

Photos from Faberge Eggs.

Tsar Alexander died unexpectedly in 1894. His eldest son, Nicolas, was terrified and completely unprepared to be Tsar. So he continued everything his father did, in politics and including the tradition of the Faberge Egg, for his mother the Empress Dowager and Nicolas’ new wife from Germany (Victoria’s granddaughter). The designs of the eggs just seemed to get more detailed and exquisite every year. All the world’s most prized materials were used– gold, silver, rubies, diamonds, abalone, purpurine, and pearl.

Photo from Wikipedia.

Photo from Wikipedia.

The eggs are breathtakingly beautiful. Some of the eggs had working parts and would spin or open. Some opened to reveal beautiful portraits or painted landscapes. One egg– my favorite– has a globe made of burnished steel and gold with the territory of Russia etched into it, and it spins. The egg sits on an elaborate stand of purpurine and enamel.

Photos from Faberge Egg.

Part of the mystique of the beautiful Faberge Egg is that it is steeped in tragedy. During the reign of Nicolas, Russia was starting to rumble with revolution. The people had gone through the distresses and starvations of World War I, and they were resentful of the wealth and decadence from the Imperial Palace. Lenin and Trotsky found their opportunity to stir up the people to revolt and seize Russia’s government and resources for itself. The people did not realize that they were merely exchanging a weak monarchy with a much worse communist regime of tyranny. The Imperial family was murdered on July 17, 1918. Their bodies and personal items were thrown into a hole dug in the forest and burned with hydrochloric acid. The location of their remains were not known for many years, and there was a legend that the youngest princess, Anastasia, had survived (not to be).

The Faberge Eggs are located all over the world, now. Many are in public museums (including in the Kremlin), and a few are in private collections. Some eggs are lost. I think the eggs are just so beautiful. The craftsmanship is artful and delicate. Just so beautiful.

If you’d like to see photos of more Faberge Eggs and read a little about their history, there’s a good site about them here, called Mieks Faberge Eggs. The photos are wonderful and they often show what is inside the eggs.

However, the accounts written by John and Susanna and Samuel Wesley (Samuel was the husband of Susanna and John’s father, and the minister of the small settlement) and all the rest of the family (8 girls and 3 boys!) are very compelling and make me wonder. The family said their house was disturbed by a spirit of some kind, from December 1716 to April 1717. They wrote letters with great details about the occurrences, all very credible. The family had no idea where it came from, what it was, why it happened. At first it was only the children who heard it, but then the parents, then visitors and even the trusty mastiff guard dog yelped in terror. It’s a very odd story.

The Wesleys lost their first rectory, in Epworth, Lincolnshire, to a terrible fire. They lost everything. Most of the family got out in the nick of time, some with bad burns; 5-year old John was trapped in an upstairs bedroom and was considered lost, when the men performed a daring escape and plucked him from the collapsing building. After the fire, a new rectory was built– it was larger and much more solid, made of stone and wood this time and not mud and straw. But a few months after the family moved into the house, the children reported strange sounds. One of the older daughters was the first to hear the sound– a moaning as if someone was dying a terrible death, walking across the floor with a heavy trailing nightgown, and then chains shaking the floor.

The sounds developed into knocking, footsteps and rattling, but were only heard on the children’s side of the large house at first, in the evening. The children became so accustomed to the presence of this entity that they named him “Old Jeffrey.” He would sometimes raise the beds they lay on. He stomped his feet on the wooden floorboards and followed the girls around the children’s section of the house. He slammed doors. He rattled invisible chains and smashed invisible pottery.

Susanna then started to hear the sounds. She thought perhaps it was a servant playing tricks, or one of the nasty neighbors trying to scare them. But as the family investigated into the issue, these reasons were discounted.

Samuel, the father, initially rebuked the family for being frightened by such nonsense. He commanded the ghost to visit him in his study if he wanted to make his presence known. “Thou deaf and dumb devil, why dost thou frighten these children? Come to me in my study, that am a man.”

Immediately, three on three poundings rocked the study door. Later, when Samuel was in bed, Old Jeffrey pressed on Samuel’s chest. Samuel was terrified. He purchased a dog– a mean old mastiff– to scare the intruder away. But as soon as the mastiff heard Jeffrey approaching, the dog whined and hid under the table.

Samuel wrote to one of the bishops about the occurrences, who decided to come check out this nonsense for himself. That evening while the men sat in the study, Jeffrey paid a visit. The bishop fled the property.

The house was fully inspected for riffraff and pranksters, but nothing was found. The sounds were too loud and close, the movements were too sudden and swift to have been a person skulking around the house. And both Susanna, one of the daughters, and one of the servant men all claimed they saw the creature– it looked like a badger with no head. It once crawled under the bed and once under Susanna’s voluminous skirts.

Jeffrey roamed the house freely, interrupting lessons and bedtime. The children would sometimes play games with him, like Follow the Leader. :egads:

Susanna was very concerned that Jeffrey would disturb her very important prayer time in the evening. As a minister’s wife and mother of 11 children, her alone time in prayer was extremely precious. She prayed to God that she would not be interrupted between 5pm to 6pm. She told Jeffrey that this was extremely important to her, and did not wish to be interrupted during that time. And she never was.

So all these stories really made me think. When John grew up, he wrote about the experience. He attributed the disturbance to a vow his father had taken in a fit of anger against his wife (they differed on politics and Samuel swore before God that he’d never be with his wife again, and left the family– but he came back about a year later). That was 16 years before Jeffrey, however. So some scholars think that John’s reasoning is not the true reason. Yet, Jeffrey was MOST active– making disturbing noises and groans– whenever Samuel prayed for the king. Hmmm.

If you do a search on Wesley, ghost, and Jeffrey on Google Books (try this link and this link), you will see for yourself how much information there is out there about this issue. John Wesley wrote of it numerous times, often twinged with a bit of wry humor. Tradition holds that, 100 years later, residents of the Lincolnshire rectory were driven away by the same noises and rattlings as Old Jeffrey.

:wha:

I was an art major in school. I took art history, art theory, art art art. Overwhelmingly, there was this strange fascination with Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa. The adoring attention always baffled me. It’s a very nice painting of an unknown lady who plucked her eyelashes for fashion (or so I’ve heard, in one of the gadzillion articles about the painting). WHO CARES. ??

What sparks this post is an article I read on the BBC: Mona Lisa Mystery Could Be Solved By Woman’s Remains. The story reports that an art historian thinks that Lisa Gherardini, wife of a wealthy Florence merchant, may be the lady behind the painting. He would like to exhume her body, extract DNA and rebuild her face. I like history an awful lot, but wow! That’s pretty intense.

Other reports I’ve heard state that there are “hidden symbols” embedded in the the Mona Lisa painting. I don’t know– I’m rather skeptical– hidden symbols?! Come on, is this just fodder for another wacky Dan Brown novel?

Maybe da Vinci was short on paper, and he used the canvas for a doodling pad before he painted the portrait. Or maybe he really did insert hidden symbols– maybe he inserted the following:

“Will you guys quit fussing over obscure details and enjoy the painting already!” Signed, The Little d

What do you think? Do you stay up late pondering the enigmatic mysteries of the Mona Lisa? Or do you nod your head, keep walking, and pass on to see the other stuff at the museum?

I used to wonder how on earth I’d ever make my travel plans, because I know absolutely no one and nothing about the area. But I have found a very nice bundle of companies that have some good deals and places to rent. I figure if I keep dreaming about it and planning for it, it will all happen. That’s what happened with my new kitchen, anyway! The cottage at Bowness and Windermere looks so beautiful. It’s not expensive at all, either. Isn’t it adorable?

My genealogy hails from Britain and Scotland (I’m actually a descendant of Eleanor of Aquitaine on my maternal grandfather’s side, and of William Wallace on my maternal grandmother’s side. How’s that for irony, huh?). In case you’re wondering, YES, I DO believe the Stone of Scone belongs in Edinburgh Castle. ;) I’ve read a lot of biographies of Queen Victoria and Elizabeth I, have studied a bit of the ancient Picts and Brits, too. The history is fascinating to me. I want to see Iona and Westminster Abbey and the Loch Ness monster!!

My dream is to see the United Kingdom, and I’d also like to see Greece and New Zealand some day. And Australia! I hope to do it all someday. Maybe we’ll be able to travel abroad, once I pay off this kitchen debt. If I save up, I just may be able to fulfill my dream.

If you could travel anywhere, where would it be? Do you think you’ll attain your dream someday?

Our dishwasher is our favorite kitchen appliance. I have never owned one before I made room for it in our kitchen renovation in 2010. We LOVE our dishwasher! Before the dishwasher, we (either me or my daughter) were washing dishes two or more times per day; when I used to babysit and cooked and cleaned for 10 people, I was washing mounds of dishes THREE times a day. All I did was cook and wash dishes, ugh!). So I thank Mrs. Cochrane for her invention, from the bottom of my little heart.

Josephine Cochrane was a Chicago socialite, married to a merchant and politician, William Cochran. Josephine was independent-minded. She didn’t share her husband’s political views, she didn’t particularly like being an empty-headed socialite, and she even added an “e” to the end of her married name to give it a little inventive style. From the beginning, she thought “out of the box.” I’ll betcha the neighbor kids and gossiping biddies called her “scandalous” and “crazy.”

Well, the whole story starts out rather tamely. Josephine was distressed to find chips on her chinaware. The china had been in her family since the 17th century, and by golly, she was going to make it last ANOTHER 200 years. She discovered that the servants were terribly careless with the dishes while washing them, so she took over the job. She soon realized how horribly laborious washing dishes really was (especially in an era where they used a billion dishes for their four-course meals). Josephine pondered the idea of an automatic washing device– streams of hot water blasting dishes that were secured in racks. She developed a proto-type design, but her husband became ill and died, leaving her with large debts. Josephine was even more motivated to work now.

Working in her shed behind the house, Josephine measured the cups and dishes, and created racks to securely hold the china. The racks filled a copper boiler. Streams of water shot out from a wheel that was powered by a motor. The first “Cochrane Dishwasher” was invented.

Sales were slow at first. This was the era before water heater tanks and hot running water. She made the machines for her friends, advertised in local newspapers, and called her new business the Cochrane’s Crescent Washing Machine Company. Josephine’s invention got a big break when she featured her machine in the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair, and won an award. Restaurants and hotels purchased her dishwashers, but few individual families could afford to run them. Josephine doggedly marketed her machine until 1913 when she died at the age of 74.

In the 1950′s, a new era of prosperity dawned for American families. Josephine’s invention got a second wind. Cochrane’s Crescent Washing Machine Company became Kitchen Aid (later to become part of Whirlpool, the world’s largest home appliance company). Improved dishwashing detergents were invented, and soon the dishwasher became as American as apple pie and Chevrolet.

Which leads me to… well, me. I am a proud owner of a dishwasher, now. I love that little thing. I may not have scads of precious china to preserve, but my time is very precious to me. I’d guess that my dishwasher saves me about 2 hours per day, and maybe saves us 6 gallons of water each load. Thank you, Josephine.

Sources:
MIT; Inventor of the Week; Dishwashing Machine
University of Houston’s College of Engineering; Inventing the Dishwasher; John H. Lienhard

P.S. I wonder if any of her descendants still have any of that old china that Josephine worked so hard to preserve?

Spoonerism: an error in speech or deliberate play on words in which corresponding consonants, vowels, or morphemes are switched.

The word “spoonerism” comes from the Reverend William Spooner, a late 19th century professor and clergyman from Oxford, England. Apparently, he was the typical absent-minded professor. Wikipedia says, “It is said Reverend Spooner not only mixed up words, but entire concepts upon occasion. Reportedly, he once spilled salt at a dinner and absent-mindedly poured some wine on it, a reversal of the usual procedure. According to sources, he once remarked of a widow that ‘her husband was eaten by missionaries.’”

Spooner rose to the annals of folklore when, according to the great legend, he announced the name of a hymn to sing in chapel. Intending to say Conquering Kings Their Titles Take, he instead blurted out Kinquering Kongs Their Titles Take.

(BWAHAHAHA!!!! By the way, is this where the “King Kong” idea came from?!)

Other moments of spooneristic glory were when Reverend Spooner severely scolded his class for “hissing my mystery lectures!” And another time, when calling for a huzzah during Queen Victoria’s Jubilee, he burst forth with “let us give three cheers for the queer old dean!”

Of course, college students being college students, they quickly latched on to Spooner’s oopsies and crafted a swath of their own mexed missages, pinning them all on the Reverend. Rev. Spooner seemed to warm to the attention, and before long he was submitting some of his previous gaffes for more laughs. Here are some of the funniest I found, some by Spooner, and some by others (spoonerists?):

• >I was hocked and shorrified!
• >He rode off on his well-boiled icicle.
• >We each had tee martoonies.
• >A blushing crow.
• >It is kisstomary to cuss the bride.
• >She joins this club over my bed doddy!
• >The old revival hymn, Shall We Rather at the Giver.
• >What a vast display cattleships and bruisers!
• >All the world was thrilled by the marriage of the Duck and Doochess of Windsor.
• >Yessir, we’ll have the hags flung out!
• >The Lord is our shoving leopard.
• >Farmers: the tons of soil.
• >May I sow you to another sheat?
• >Oh! That was a tip of the slung!

I don’t speak spoonerisms very often, but other folks I know do, and they are so funny! I’m going to have to take notes from now on! Bwahahaha! What spoonerisms do you know/do?