The Cemetery of the Books

On By scottpetersenIn Carlos Ruiz Zafon, Cemetery of the BooksLeave a comment

Years ago, in another life (and over the course of several years), I traveled to Spain and Portugal with some frequency.  I would normally come back with suitcases chock full of handwritten manuscripts. Many dating to the 1400’s. There were the Spanish garrison records for Gibraltar (from before the British occupation!), the thousand page manuscript history of the Church in Santiago de Compostela (1540-1822), the Jesuit diaries in Goa (India) dating to the early 1500’s and so on. 

As we all say when time marches on – “those were the days.”  In Lisbon, during one visit, I found it.  I found the cemetery of the books.  This was a term made popular by Carlos Ruiz Zafon in his must read book The Shadow of the Wind.  The cemetery of the books in Lisbon was a 3 or 4 story warehouse on a narrow street in the Bairo Alto.   It was chock full of manuscripts, rare books and manuscript books.   It was not a museum or archive.  It was literally a cemetery of rarities.  Which one could buy for a song.  Few people knew about this place.  And somehow I had stumbled upon it.  For those who are squeamish, stop reading here. 

The books and manuscripts I would pull off the shelves were literally crawling with dust mites and lice.  All manner of insects.  Vermin scooted in the corners and along the walls.  But oh my – the things that were there.  As good as the Rock Island Railroad warehouse (see May 15, 2014).  I would load up a suitcase or two with books and manuscripts – carefully wrapping them in plastic bags – and bring them home.  Once home, I would put the plastic bags in a large freezer for a month or two (a recommended Rx for dealing with the creepy crawlers) and later leaf through what I had found.  Create listings and sell them.  But on one sad trip to Lisbon, I went to the cemetery of the books and – it was no more.  It had burned to the ground a month or two before.  I still have an item or two or three left from these forays.  I am sad that the cemetery of books is no more.  If it was still there, I’d likely be flitting off to Lisbon every few months. . . . . 

Eloquence. . . .

On By scottpetersenIn Peggy NoonanLeave a comment

Peggy Noonan has a way with words. . . . . In the Wall Street Journal (May 4-5, 2019) she had some really salient comments.

The federal government will not become smaller or less expensive in our lifetimes. There is no political will for it among elected officials. . . .But beyond that fact is something bigger. America needs help right now and Americans know it. It has been enduring for many years a continuing cultural catastrophe — illegitimacy, the decline of faith, low family formation, child abuse and neglect, drugs, inadequate public education, etc. All this exists alongside an entertainment culture on which the poor and neglected are dependent and which is devoted to violence, sex and nihilism. As people, we are constantly, bitterly pitted against each other, and force-fed the ideas of America as an illegitimate, ugly, racist and misogynist nation. Even honest love of country isn’t allowed to hold us together anymore.”

If you don’t see the verity in her words, you may be part of America’s problem . . . .

Jesus in Islam

On By scottpetersenIn Islam, QuranLeave a comment

When the angel said: O Marium, surely Allah gives you good news with a Word from Him whose name is the Messiah, Isa son of Marium, worthy of regard in this world and the hereafter and of those who are made near to Allah. The Quran – Surra 3:45

His name is Isa Ibn Marium.  He was born of a virgin – Marium – who gave birth to Isa by the miraculous will of God.  It is believed by devout Muslims that Isa – Jesus – is a Messenger of God who was sent to guide the Children of Israel with the Holy Gospel.  Jesus – aka “Isa” –  is referenced in the Quran as being al-Masih (“The Messiah”).  Most Muslims accept that Jesus will return on the Day of Judgment to restore justice and to defeat the Antichrist (al-Masih ad-Dajjal).  I have written about religion in earlier posts.  I’ve discussed my journey through the Old and New Testaments and the Quran.  And I have occasionally commented on Islam (see 1/30/12; 3/26/12; 8/23/12; and 9/6/13).  Islam, Christianity and Judaism would seem have more in common than they do difference.  

The story of Jesus has recurring reference in the Quran.  Mary – his mother – is the only woman mentioned by name in the Quran.  She even has her own surra (chapter).   All of the Old Testament prophets play a prominent role in the Quran.  Religion – to me – is a fascinating topic which is relevant today.  One of the concerns – among Muslims – is that a great many cannot read.  S0 they get their information from imams, madrassahs and politicians.  Who often have a political agenda.  And you know what happens then. . . .  Witness the fires that burn across the Middle East.  Then again, I find it easier to discuss religion with Pakistani cab drivers (see post of 8/19/12) than I do politics . . . . .

Freshness Dates

On By scottpetersenIn Freshness datesLeave a comment

How did my generation (and those before) ever survive without freshness dates.  Those dates that counsel that food is “best by” or a store must “sell by” or you have to “use by” — a certain date.  How did I live?   I will tell you how . . . .

My father would take a sniff of the carton of milk that had been in the refrigerator since before I was born – and say “it’s okay. Drink it.” And I would.  I remember going to my grandmother’s apartment once.  She made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.   I took a bite and started chewing.  I looked at the sandwich and then at my grandmother.  Mouth open.  About to heave the whole thing onto the table.  She picked up the peanut butter.  Waved it under her nose.  And made a face.  “It’s rancid” she said [I swear those were her words].  “Okay – spit it out.”  And I did. My cousin Wayne came over to our house one day.  I was perhaps seven or eight.  He went into the frig and pulled out the orange juice.  Poured a glass.  “Ouch!” he said.  “This stuff is baaaadddd.”  My father took a whiff and said “it’s just a little over the hill.”  “Over the hill” as in enough botulism to wipe out the entire State of Pennsylvania.   I’d been drinking it sporadically for the last few weeks.  Or months. 

I’m sure my experience is not unlike many of those reading this post.  We’ve become a nation of wimps.  Allowing the “freshness date” to dictate whether a food is good.  Or not.   What about letting the old sniffer make that determination?  But for the fact that I have granddaughters (who will never know the meaning of the word “rancid” or “over the hill” except as it applies to me), I might be using the “sniff test” to determine what’s good.  And what is. . . . yuck.  Then again . . . .  

Death to the Infidels

On By scottpetersenIn Workout categories1 Comment

[A repeat from March 25, 2017] I go to the local fitness center a few times a week. When I come home, I get the question “how was your workout?” And my response – for the longest time – was “fine.” And that was it.

But my workouts vary. Sometimes it’s a quick in and out. Other times, I’ll be there for a while – punishing my body. Grunting, groaning, lumbering and lurching through all manner of cardio, weights, stretches and contortions. So one day when I got home and Donna asked “how was your workout?” – I responded “I did the puppy dog.” I got the look . . . . “What’s that?” Donna asked. “I was only able to work out for 45 minutes.” “Oh.” Later that week, I went home, got the question and responded “I did the Gorilla.” Nearly 90 minutes of exercise. And so it goes. I have now identified five distinct categories of workout:

The Puppy Dog — A workout of less than 45 minutes

The Regular — An hour

The Gorilla — An hour to an hour and a half

Death to the Infidels — Pushing two hours

“Death to the Infidel” workouts are rare but they happen. However, while on vacation a few weeks ago, I came up with a fifth category: “Death to the Infidels – al-Shahid [the martyr].” This is where I try to kill myself working out. But I don’t succeed . . . .

Why People are Late

On By scottpetersenIn Late, Why People are LateLeave a comment

Each morning I get up, check my email and lurch down the stairs.  I make the coffee, get the newspaper, make my breakfast and chow down my cereal and sip two cups of coffee while reading the paper and watching “Squawk Box.”   

All the while, I keep a weather eye on the clock.  Why?  Because I have to catch a train.  If I miss the train, I miss the train.   The train waits for no one.   I’m left standing.  And I’m late.   Therefore I always allot myself precisely 14 minutes to walk from my house to the train station.   And I catch my train.  I am on time.  Ta daaaahhhh. . . . .   

I don’t like waiting.  Drumming my fingers.  And I don’t want people waiting for me.  If I say I will be there at 5:45 pm, I will be there a few minutes early.  Sure – there’s a reasonable “fudge factor” but generally, I feel one should live up to time obligations.  I have a theory.  People who do not need to catch a train or a bus or an airplane for work (or link life to the clock on some other time-sensitive obligation) have less incentive to be on time.  Hence . . . . there may be a higher incidence of running late. Think about it.  Test my theory.   

The Slop Bucket

On By scottpetersenIn Composting, Conservation, Energy Conservation, Just Turn it Off, RecyclingLeave a comment

Years ago, I worked at a Boy Scout camp in Wild Rose, Wisconsin. Before being accepted for Staff, a young man would serve as a “trainee” for a month. Trainees would rotate through the various camp areas.  Doing the grunt work.   And spending a fair amount of time in the kitchen peeling potatoes, doing dishes and cleaning up.

After meals in the Mess Hall, Scouts and trainees would bus the tables. We would throw paper garbage into one garbage can. And we would put food waste into another.  The food barrel was called the “slop bucket.”  We were always careful about putting food scraps (no bones, no paper) in the slop bucket because we would give the slop bucket each day to a local farmer who would use it to feed his flock of pigs.  Uneaten food was used. . . . .

I have posted frequently on environmental issues.  And I have touted my registered trademark – JUST TURN IT OFF — a motto that applies to cars, lights, water and energy. 

When I read about how the earth is being inundated with waste, oceans are overflowing with garbage, rivers and lakes turning toxic and how many folks remain heedless of our environment, I get a wee bit steamed.   But then I simmer down — and start thinking about what we can do.  “Just turning off” your water, lights, car, energy – is one thing.  But there is also merit in reusing bags, bottles, containers.  And not polluting.  And then there is recycling. 

But there is also composting. Taking food waste and carefully mixing it with soil.  In the garden.  Or backyard.  You don’t need a slop bucket.  

We ALL really need to get on board with this idea of helping our limping planet along.  Pronto. We live here.  But we also have generations of souls who yet have no voice – who will have to live here too.  And they will have no choice but to take what we give them. . . . .   

Illegal Weapons

On By scottpetersenIn Switchblade KnivesLeave a comment

[A repeat from May 24, 2015]   I used to have an illegal weapon. And every once in a while I used it.  Know what it was?  It was a switchblade knife.   

Now mind you my switchblade knife was old and decrepit and had a blade that was maybe two inches long.  And it opened with the speed of a snoozing turtle (sh-sh-sh-sh-clunk).   And it was d-u-l-l. I used it when I was in the garage cutting up boxes for recycling (“take that box!”).   I never had any nefarious designs on anyone with my switchblade.  But technically it was illegal.  And if I still had it, it would still be illegal.  Even though my victims were cardboard boxes. 

I have my old Boy Scout knives which are so sharp that I can shave with them.  They seem to be far more dangerous.  But a switchblade?  Outrageous. Illinois remains one of the few states where it is a crime to have a switchblade knife.  As I recall one North Shore community outlaws steak knives over 2-1/2 inches in restaurants.  “Eeek!  A knife!”  Maybe Illinois should tax them!   Now that’s the spirit.   

A Hole In One. . . . Almost

On By scottpetersenIn Hole in One, TIger WoodsLeave a comment

Watching Tiger Woods at the Masters was amazing.  Yes – I told you so (see several posts – 9/27/18, the latest).   Tiger’s success gives me renewed hope that I – Mister 15 index – can one day achieve my dream.

Have you ever had a hole-in-one?  I have not.  But I’ve come close.  On August 7, 2011, I came the closest ever – about 8 inches from the cup.  Evanston Golf Club.  17th hole.  Playing about 215 yards.  A little wind against.  I pulled out my 3 wood and spanked my Pro V-1 just like Tiger.  The ball took off high and perfectly straight.  I watched.  It seemed like ages. The ball landed, bounced.  And disappeared.  “Wow!  Great shot” said the caddie.  “That could be in the hole,” said my friend Norm. 

The flagstick was obscured by a fairway bunker so we couldn’t see the result.   So we walked.  My heart racing.  As the pin came into view, I saw that the ball resting — inches from the hole.  An angry-looking divot splayed grass and turf where the ball had slammed into the green. I marked and cleaned my ball and thought briefly “gee what if I 3 putt?”    But I knocked down the putt for a 2.  Birdie.

A hole-in-one is rare and I almost had one.  But “almost” doesn’t count.  It either is or isn’t.  Suffice to say, I’m still looking for the elusive “ace.” One day.  Hey – if Tiger can do it . . . . 

Put Your Head on my Shoulder

On By scottpetersenIn Put your head on my shoulder1 Comment

[A repeat from September 19, 2015]  The first time I ever danced with a girl was in my 6th grade classroom. Our teacher, Mrs. Speerschneider, put on some music and drafted Marilyn W. to dance with me.  Poor girl.  To say I had two left feet would be a compliment.  They felt like two left flippers.  I was scared to death. And I remember stepping on this poor girl’s feet in my pathetic effort to “dance.” I’m sure the experience soured poor Marilyn on the male of the species.

By 7th grade, I had danced maybe three or four times.  So I was an old hand.  7th and 8th graders were invited to “Rec” as it was called on Friday nights.  At the park district.  It was a dance. . . .  Few of the guys I knew ever danced. They just stood on the sidelines. Joshing.  Joking. Snorting.  And acting like immature boys. That is until Sharon E. walked over to me during one “slow” dance and asked me out on the floor. My friends were stunned. They stared.  I was nearly apoplectic inside. But that was only a taste of what was to come. . . .We went out on the dance floor and began dancing.  And Sharon promptly pressed her head against my head.  I remember immediately beginning to perspire.   Heavily.  Notwithstanding her head remained glued to mine.  Sweat dripping down the both of us.  And the music ended and she walked back to the line of girls. And I sheepishly went back to the line of boys feeling like I’d just emerged from a swimming pool.  And got glares. And snickers. And when the slow music began again, I saw her moving in my direction. Uh oh.   And we danced.  Her head pressed against mine.    

I don’t think we exchanged a single word.  Ever.  But after a few times, dancing with Sharon wasn’t so bad . . . .