Well-Bred & Well-Brewed

 The date is November 20th, Wednesday, and today I’m coming to you from Port Vila, Vanuatu.

Today’s episode is brought to you by the generous, the warm-hearted, the green-thumbed Candy P. or Oregon.

Today is the birthday of Selma Lagerlöf, Swedish writer. 

Lagerlöf was the first woman to win a Nobel Prize in Literature, receiving the award in 1909 at the age of 51 “in appreciation of the lofty idealism, vivid imagination and spiritual perception that characterize her writings.”

Lagerlöf was quiet and contemplative as a child, busying herself with books in between private tutoring sessions with her siblings and listening enraptured by her grandmother's telling of fairy and folk tales.  She finished reading her first novel at age seven and by age ten had read the Bible cover to cover. 

She received an education to become a teacher and for a few years in the 1880s, she gladly regaled her students with stories during all possible lessons. She worked on her first novel in her spare time. 

Her first novel, Gösta Berling's Saga, slowly became a hit and it’s eventually status as a bestseller allowed her to quit teaching to write full time. 

Her next works were largely inspired by her travels to Israel, the East, and Italy. She was commissioned to write a children’s book with an emphasis on teaching geography. The final product was The Wonderful Adventures of Nils, the Swedish title I will not be attempting to pronounce. It became so popular as to be translated into 30 languages. The tale revolves around main character Nils who gets shrunk down to three or four inches and then flies around on the backs of geese trying to make his way home so he can be returned to his proper size. 

In addition to publishing prolifically over a 50-year career, Lagerlöf was deeply involved in the women’s suffrage movement in Sweden. In addition to being the first woman to win a Nobel Prize in Literature, she was also the first woman to be a member of the Swedish Academy and the first woman to be featured on Swedish currency. 

During WWII, Lagerlöf donated her gold Nobel Prize to neighboring Finland who was in the midst of fending off encroaching Soviet Forces. Reportedly, the Finnish government was so moved Lagerlöf’s donation, that they returned the prize after raising the equivalent monies themselves. 

The Copernican System

Thomas Chatterton

The Sun revolving on his axis turns,

And with creative fire intensely burns;

Impell'd by forcive air, our Earth supreme,

Rolls with the planets round the solar gleam.

First Mercury completes his transient year,

Glowing, refulgent, with reflected glare;

Bright Venus occupies a wider way,

The early harbinger of night and day;

More distant still our globe terraqueous turns,

Nor chills intense, nor fiercely heated burns;

Around her rolls the lunar orb of light,

Trailing her silver glories through the night:

On the Earth's orbit see the various signs,

Mark where the Sun our year completing shines;

First the bright Ram his languid ray improves;

Next glaring watry thro' the Bull he moves;

The am'rous Twins admit his genial ray;

Now burning thro' the Crab he takes his way;

The Lion flaming bears the solar power;

The Virgin faints beneath the sultry show'r,

Now the just Balance weighs his equal force,

The slimy Serpent swelters in his course;

The sabled Archer clouds his languid face;

The Goat, with tempests, urges on his race;

Now in the Wat'rer his faint beams appear,

And the cold Fishes end the circling year.

Beyond our globe the sanguine Mars displays

A strong reflection of primoeval rays;

Next belted Jupiter far distant gleams,

Scarcely enlighten'd with the solar beams,

With four unfix'd receptacles of light,

He tours majestic thro' the spacious height:

But farther yet the tardy Saturn lags,

And five attendant Luminaries drags,

Investing with a double ring his pace,

He circles thro' immensity of space.

These are thy wondrous works, first source of Good!

Now more admir'd in being understood.

Thank you for listening. I’m your host Virginia Combs, wishing you a good morning, a better day, and a lovely evening. 

The date is November 19th, Tuesday, and today I’m coming to you from Port Vila, Vanuatu.

Today is the birthday of Hiram Bingham III, American professor and explorer. 

Born in Hawaii to arguably successful missionaries, Hiram Bingham III would hold on to his father’s work ethic and adventurous spirit, though he would not be quite so pious or humble.

In fact, It was Hiram Bingham III who felt that, “If a man were going to work that hard, someone ought to know about it.”

Hiram left Hawaii for the mainland as a teen, bound for the East Coast where he completed his education among Ivy-league colleges. He studied Latin American history and married Alfreda Mitchell, an heiress to the Tiffany & Co fortune in 1900 at age 24. The Tiffany side of Alfreda’s family looked down on Bingham who they felt had yet to prove himself worthy . 

Bingham then spent his next few years as a professor, first at Harvard, then at Princeton under Woodrow Wilson, and finally landing back at his alma mater Yale in 1907. 

Bingham had his first taste of exploration after attending a conference in 1908 in Santiago, Chile. Crossing through Peru on his way back, he was convinced by a local to check out the nearby Incan ruins of Choquequirao. Bingham published an account of his travels when he returned back to the states, which threw him unofficially into the ring of the last age of discovery. 

Wanting to prove himself to the world and his wife’s family, and inspired by tales of the Lost Incan City, Bingham had the audacious idea to go find it. An amateur archaeologist and explorer, Bingham was able to get funding from Yale and pull together a crew for the trek into the Andes to find the “Lost City.” After rediscovering the Incan ruins of Vilcabamba and Vitcos, finally, in July 1911, Hiram Bingham was led by a local villager up to Machu Picchu. Armed with a camera and plenty of carry on space, so to speak, Bingham carefully documented his findings and photographed what he could, with the intent to submit an article on his discover to National Geographic magazine. 

Bingham’s party packed up items from the city covered in vines and plants of all kinds. It unclear just how many artifacts Bingham took, and the return of the artifacts to the Peruvian government has been a cause for consternation between Peru and Yale for decades now. 

Bingham published an account of his journey to Machu Picchu in 1948 titled Lost City of the Incas and it was an instant bestseller. 

If you are thinking that Hiram Bingham’s story sounds familiar, you’ll likely be able to recognize many of his characteristics in movie character Indiana Jones - though Bingham had a much more wiry build compared to the muscle-y Jones depicted by Harrison Ford.

Upon the Heights

Yone Noguchi

And victor of life and silence,

I stood upon the Heights; triumphant,

With upturned eyes, I stood,

And smiled unto the sun, and sang

A beautifully sad farewell unto the dying day.

And my thoughts and the eve gathered

Their serpentine mysteries around me,

My thoughts like alien breezes,

The eve like a fragrant legend.

My feeling was that I stood as one

Serenely poised for flight, as a muse

Of golden melody and lofty grace.

Yea, I stood as one scorning the swords

And wanton menace of the cities.

The sun had heavily sunk into the seas beyond,

And left me a tempting sweet and twilight.

The eve with trailing shadows westward

Swept on, and the lengthened shadows of trees

Disappeared: how silently the songs of silence

Steal into my soul! And still I stood

Among the crickets, in the beauteous profundity

Sung by stars; and I saw me

Softly melted into the eve. The moon

Slowly rose: my shadow on the ground

Dreamily began a dreamy roam,

And I upward smiled silent welcome.

Thank you for listening. I’m your host Virginia Combs, wishing you a good morning, a better day, and a lovely evening. 

The date is November 1st, Friday, and today I’m coming to you from Sydney, Australia. 

On this day in 1955, the Vietnam War began. It would last 19 years and be a massive stain in the history of American international affairs. It is also known in some parts of Vietnam as the War of American Aggression or simply the American War. History books may call it the Second Indochina War. 

The fight over Vietnam started earlier with the First Indochina War, also known as the Anti-French Resistance War. At the end of WWII, Vietnam was split into two with North Vietnam under the influence of China and South Vietnam under the influence of France. 

There was a desire for all of Vietnam to unite, however, with two nations of opposing forms of government vying for influence, war broke out. 

Fighting between French forces, supported by the USA, and Guerilla and Northern Vietnam forces, supported by China lasted for seven years. The Geneva Peace Conference of 1954 temporarily halted the conflict, again dividing Vietnam into two states, against the wishes of the majority of Vietnamese. 

The US was then even more heavy-handed in their behind the scenes meddling in Vietnamese affairs, using the “domino theory” to justify their early actions. The Domino Theory asserts that if one nation becomes communist, surrounding nations are more likely to also adopt communism. To mitigate the risk of Vietnam uniting as a communist country, American foreign policy leaders quietly assisted Ngô Đình Diệm in becoming President of South Vietnam. However, Diệm quickly took advantage of his power, in essence creating a dictatorship. The American CIA  then supported the generals in South Vietnam who lead the coup against Diệm.

The Vietnam War remains a difficult one to tease out. To many Americans, it seemed meddling in the affairs of another nation was in direct conflict with supporting a Democratic process. Young men were drafted in increasing numbers to fight for unclear purposes, except to not lose. The unauthorized release of the classified Pentagon Papers in June 1971 by The New York Times created a storm of outrage and calls to end American involvement in Vietnam reached a fever-pitch. 

The final US troops were withdrawn from Saigon, what is now Ho Chi Minh City, in April 1975. 

Repressions of War Experience

Siegfried Sassoon

Now light the candles; one; two; there's a moth;

What silly beggars they are to blunder in

And scorch their wings with glory, liquid flame—

No, no, not that,—it's bad to think of war,

When thoughts you've gagged all day come back to scare you;

And it's been proved that soldiers don't go mad

Unless they lose control of ugly thoughts

That drive them out to jabber among the trees. 

Now light your pipe; look, what a steady hand.

Draw a deep breath; stop thinking; count fifteen,

And you're as right as rain….

                                     Why won't it rain?…

I wish there'd be a thunder-storm to-night,

With bucketsful of water to sluice the dark,

And make the roses hang their dripping heads.

Books; what a jolly company they are,

Standing so quiet and patient on their shelves,

Dressed in dim brown, and black, and white, and green

And every kind of colour. Which will you read?

Come on; O do read something; they're so wise.

I tell you all the wisdom of the world

Is waiting for you on those shelves; and yet

You sit and gnaw your nails, and let your pipe out,

And listen to the silence: on the ceiling

There's one big, dizzy moth that bumps and flutters;

And in the breathless air outside the house

The garden waits for something that delays.

There must be crowds of ghosts among the trees,—

Not people killed in battle,—they're in France,—

But horrible shapes in shrouds—old men who died

Slow, natural deaths,—old men with ugly souls,

Who wore their bodies out with nasty sins.

* * *

You're quiet and peaceful, summering safe at home;

You'd never think there was a bloody war on!…

O yes, you would … why, you can hear the guns.

Hark! Thud, thud, thud,—quite soft … they never cease—

Those whispering guns—O Christ, I want to go out

And screech at them to stop—I'm going crazy;

I'm going stark, staring mad because of the guns.

Thank you for listening. I’m your host, Virginia Combs, wishing you a good morning, a better day, and a lovely weekend. 

The date is October 31st, Thursday, and today I’m traveling from Ho Chi Minh City/Saigon in Vietnam to Sydney, Australia. 

Today is Halloween for most of the globe. Halloween is typically celebrated with costume dressing, trick-or-treating, carving pumpkins, bobbing for apples and general mischief. 

Many people believe that Halloween traditions have sprouted out of a Christian festival, but its true roots are not that simple. 

Halloween is indeed a Christian name: it is a shortened version of “All Hallows’ Eve.” November 1st is celebrated as All Saints Day, or All Hallows’ Day and November 2nd is All Souls Day in the Christian tradition.  

Of course, All Saints Day and All Souls Day didn’t start out on Nov. 1st and 2nd - at first they were celebrated by Christian parishes at all different times, many occurring in April or May. 

When the church finally did decide on November 1st and 2nd, the Gaelic festival Samhain began to blend with the feast days. 

Samhain celebrated the end of the harvest season and kicked off the darker part of the year. It was a day of cleansing and so big bonfires were lit, offerings were made to the dead, and the barrier between worlds was supposedly at its thinnest. 

The spookiness surrounding Halloween likely stems from the clear ties to honoring those that have died but whose souls live on - and may try to come back to Earth. 

The trick-or-treating and costuming is theorized to mainly be a repeating of Christmas traditions, which included almsgiving to the poor, role swapping, and “mumming,” a silent play where actors wear costumes, similar to a nativity pageant. 

The practice of “trick or treating” is said to derive from the practice of working-class people visiting the homes of their employers asking for a handout or donation. If the upperclassmen did not comply, “tricks” were played, usually on the boss’s property. Again, this was originally part of Christmas celebrations, but it seems to have duplicated at Halloween. 

Candles and fires, part of the Gaelic Samhain, became integral parts of the new Halloween tradition. Candles helped offer the dead light to see by while mating their way out of the world. Jack O'Lanterns then served a dual purpose: to scare away evil spirits and offer light for the good ones. 

It’s a bit difficult to say just how much businesses have contributed to Halloween, but it’s safe to say the candy and confectionery industry have done their best to make and keep candy an integral part of Halloween. In 2018, Americans spent $2.6 billion on Halloween candy. 

After Halloween traditions spread to North America in the late 19th century, the holiday began its slow evolution into the spooky day we know now. Today countries all over the world celebrate Halloween - even here in Vietnam there are pumpkins and cobwebs decorating restaurants and homes. 

If you’re looking for the full story on Halloween, check out the book Halloween: From Pagan Ritual to Party Night by Nicholas Rogers.

A Little Ghost

Dame Mary Gilmore 

The moonlight flutters from the sky

To meet her at the door,

A little ghost, whose steps have passed

Across the creaking floor.

And rustling vines that lightly tap

Against the window-pane,

Throw shadows on the white-washed walls

To blot them out again.

The moonlight leads her as she goes

Across a narrow plain,

By all the old, familiar ways

That know her steps again.

And through the scrub it leads her on

And brings her to the creek,

But by the broken dam she stops

And seems as she would speak.

She moves her lips, but not a sound

Ripples the silent air;

She wrings her little hands, ah, me!

The sadness of despair!

While overhead the black-duck's wing

Cuts like a flash upon

The startled air, that scarcely shrinks

Ere he afar is gone.

And curlews wake, and wailing cry

Cur-lew! cur-lew! cur-lew!

Till all the Bush, with nameless dread

Is pulsing through and through.

The moonlight leads her back again

And leaves her at the door,

A little ghost whose steps have passed

Across the creaking floor.

Thank you for listening. I’m your host, Virginia Combs, wishing you a good morning, a better day, and a Happy Halloween. 

The date is Wednesday, October 30th, and today I’m coming to you from Ho Chi Minh City/Saigon in Vietnam. 

Today is the birthday of Elizabeth Madox Roberts, American writer. 

Elizabeth grew up in Springfield, Kentucky in the late 1800s. She attended the University of Kentucky briefly, dropping out on account of poor health. Roberts was gravely disappointed as she wholeheartedly enjoyed literature and philosophy. She moved back home, taking up a career in teaching. 

In 1910, Elizabeth had had enough of her hometown and moved to Colorado bear her sister. It seems the new environment was beneficial to her and she began writing more seriously, publishing a short book of poetry. After encouragement from a professor friend, Roberts, at age 36, found herself a college student once again, this time at the University of Chicago. She thrived in the academic community and achieving her lifelong dream of a college education seemed to bolster her can-do spirit. She returned back to Springfield, Kentucky and began writing novels. Her first novel The Time of Man (1926) was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, and Roberts went on to write ten more novels, all fairly successful during her lifetime. 

Elizabeth Maddox Roberts passes away at the age of 59 in 1941 from Hodgkin’s lymphoma. 

And today is the birthday of Georges Gilles de la Tourette, French physician. 

Although today Tourette is remembered for first recognizing maladie de tics, or Tourette’s Syndrome, he did quite a bit more than that. 

Gilles de la Tourette began medical studies at the age of 16. Instead of heading to premier academic institutions in Frances, his mother urged him to go to Poitiers. She was concerned that the “temptations” of Paris would distract and corrupt her son. 

However, he could not be kept from Paris forever. At age 20, Tourette enrolled in additional medical studies in Paris. He became a standout pupil of Dr Jean-Martin Charcot, a leading physician and neurologist. Charcot took Tourette on as an assistant when Tourette finished his studies. 

As Charcot’s assistant at Salpêtrière Hospital Tourette came in contact with a wide range of patients, which is where he began to make the connection between patient who all exhibited certain tics that they could not control. He wrote a scientific paper on his finding describing it as “maladies de tics,” but it was Charcot who re-named it after Tourette. 

Influenced by his mentor Charcot, Tourette took a keen interest in the infant field of neurology. He wrote and lectured extensively on hysteria, hypnosis, and later in life, on forensic science. It’s possible that Sigmund Freud attended some of Tourette’s lectures in Paris and was influenced by his work. 

Tourette, for all his smarts, was turned down for advancement in management - it was clear his passion lay in the research and treatment of patients, and not administration. Taking his career as a whole it’s clear Tourette loved the puzzles and mysteries neurology afforded him. Even after a deranged former patient shot at him in his office, Tourette continued to practice, lecture, and write. 

Autumn

Elizabeth Maddox Roberts

Dick and Will and Charles and I 

Were playing it was election day, 

And I was running for president, 

And Dick was a band that was going to play, 

And Charles and Will were a street parade, 

But Clarence came and said that he 

Was going to run for president, 

And I could run for school-trustee. 

He made some flags for Charles and Will 

And a badge to go on Dickie's coat. 

He stood some cornstalks by the fence 

And had them for the men that vote. 

Then he climbed on a box and made a speech 

To the cornstalk men that were in a row. 

It was all about the dem-o-crats, 

And 'I de-fy any man to show.' 

And 'I de-fy any man to say.' 

And all about 'It's a big disgrace.' 

He spoke his speech out very loud 

And shook his fist in a cornstalk's face.

Thank you for listening. I’m your host, Virginia Combs, wishing you a good morning, a better day, and a lovely evening. 

The biggest (most priceless) jewel heist happens at the American Museum of Natural History. It’s arguably also the easiest. Poem by Robert Frost.

The date is October 29th, Tuesday, and today I’m coming to you from Ho Chi Minh City/Saigon in Vietnam. 

On this day in 1964, the biggest jewelry heist in history took place at the American Museum of Natural History in New York City. Notable gems stolen included the 563-carat sapphire Star of India, the 100-carat DeLong Ruby, and the 16-carat Eagle Diamond.

Jack “Murf the Surf” Murphy and Alan Kuhn were the brains of the operation. In Miami they had reputations as party boys, not afraid to spend their profits from steady burglary jobs. They never used force, preferring to burgle and steal while wealthy hotel guests were out of their rooms. A few times hotel staff and insurers were even in on the jobs. 

Partially on a whim, Murf and Kuhn flew up to New York in October of 1964 with only a general plan to do some burgling. They explored New York, as tourists do, and Murphy noticed that some of the museums had surprisingly minimal security. He turned the group’s attention to the Natural History Museum which housed jewels of the J.P. Morgan collection. 

Murphy and Kuhn spent about a week casing the museum by day, and partying rather conspicuously by night. When it came time to do the job, things went incredibly smooth. 

Connecticuter Roger Clark played lookout and getaway driver, while Murphy and Kuhn were hands on. The two scaled the spiked fence around the Natural History Museum, climbed up the stone face of the museum building, and finally opened a fourth floor window, entering right into the gallery that housed the jewels. The pair waited in the quiet darkness to see if guards would come walking by - but not a single guard appeared. Murf and Kuhn were utterly alone in the gallery. They set to work silently cutting open the glass displays. As they lifted the gems out of their cases, they braced for a cacophony of alarms…but no alarms ever went off. 

Clark picked up Murf and Kuhn, and the three drove off into the night. Murf and Kuhn were on a flight back to Miami before the first guard noticed the jewels were missing. 

The burglars victory dances didn’t last long though - they were apprehended within 48 hours - much of their partying and flamboyant spending habits in New York making them stand out as suspicious to hotel staff and restaurateurs. 

The lead detective on the case managed to pick up Roger Clark by staking out the boys’ hotel room. Clark eventually flipped on the two masterminds, and Kuhn and Murf were picked up by police at their apartment in Miami and taken back to New York for processing. 

Despite their crimes, Murf and Kuhn became celebrities of sorts during the prosecution of their heist in New York City. As young tanned Florida men with mischievous smiles, it was easy to be charmed by the thieves. During the investigation it was obvious that the American Museum of Natural History had serious gaps in their security system and also had neglected to insure numerous precious stones. 

Click here to read a full article on the 50th anniversary of the heist.

A Dream Pang

Robert Frost

I had withdrawn in forest, and my song

Was swallowed up in leaves that blew away;

And to the forest edge you came one day

(This was my dream) and looked and pondered long,

But did not enter, though the wish was strong:

You shook your pensive head as who should say,

‘I dare not—too far in his footsteps stray—

He must seek me would he undo the wrong.’

Not far, but near, I stood and saw it all

Behind low boughs the trees let down outside;

And the sweet pang it cost me not to call

And tell you that I saw does still abide.

But ’tis not true that thus I dwelt aloof,

For the wood wakes, and you are here for proof.

Thank you for listening. I’m your host, Virginia Combs, wishing you a good morning, a better day, and a lovely evening. 

The date is Monday, October 28th, and today I’m traveling from Vung Tau to Ho Chi Minh City in Vietnam. 

Today is the birthday of Edith Head, American costume designer. Prolific from the 1940s through the 1970s, Edith was nominated for 35 Academy Awards, and won 8, a record that has yet to be topped. 

Costume design was actually Edith’s second career. She received a bachelor’s and a master’s degree in French from UC Berkeley and Stanford University, respectively. She taught French at the high school level in the 1920s in Los Angeles and offered to teach art as well in the hopes of increasing her salary. When given the position Edith scrambled to enroll in a few evening courses at two local design schools, including Otis College of Art and Design. 

Fully in love with drawing, Edith traded teaching for an entry level job as a costume sketch artist at Paramount Studios in 1924. By the 1930s, Edith Head had worked her way up through the ranks of costume design at Paramount. Her first big success which gained her public notoriety, was her “sarong” dress design for Dorothy Lamour in the 1937 film The Hurricane. 

Edith Head became popular among the Paramount Studio starlets of the 1940s and ‘50s and personally dressed a number of them. She would give special attention to the female stars, consulting with them on projects, making her a favorite as compared to her male counterparts. Paramount would sometimes “loan out” Edith to other studios at the request of various actresses. 

In addition to her work in Hollywood classics such as Carrie (1952), Roman Holiday (1953), The Ten Commandments (1956), Funny Face (1957), and TV series Bewitched, Edith Head continues to influence costume culture today. Perhaps the most recognizable tribute to Head is in the Incredibles series’ character Edna Mode. The characters thick rimmed glasses, straight bangs, and penchant for all-black ensembles are taken straight from Edith Head’s own personal “look.”

And today is the birthday of Eileen Shanahan, Irish poet. 

Born in 1901 in Dublin, Eileen never published a collection of poems. To date we only know of about 70 poems that she wrote. However, the 11 that were published during her lifetime have been published widely in periodicals and anthologies. Perhaps busy with raising a family and working for the League of Nations, Shanahan just didn’t have time. 

Her poetry is generally melancholic or dark, centering on themes of war, lost love, and childhood. 

And today is the birthday of Erasmus of Rotterdam, Dutch philosopher. 

Erasmus, who said, “When I get a little money I buy books; and if any is left, I buy food and clothes,” wrote prolifically during the Reformation Age in the 1500s. His allegorical essay In Praise of Folly was a runaway best-seller by today’s standards. Upon a “republication” of the work, German artist Hans Holbein, a favorite portraitist of Henry VIII and court, provided illustrations for the essay. 

He managed to become a favorite philosopher of both the Protestant and Catholic leaders, for his criticisms of abusive Catholic practices and his loyalty to the Pope in Rome.

The Three Children (near Clonmel)

Eileen Shanahan

I met three children on the road—

The hawthorn trees were sweet with rain,

The hills had drawn their white blinds down—

Three children on the road from town.

Their wealthy eyes in splendour mocked

Their faded rags and bare wet feet—

The King had sent his daughters out

To play at peasants in the street.

I could not see the palace walls,

The avenues were dumb with mist;

Perhaps a queen would watch and weep

For lips that she had borne and kissed.

And lost about the lonely world,

With treasury of hair and eye,

The tigers of the world will spring,

The merchants of the world will buy.

And one will sell her eyes for gold,

And one will barter them for bread,

And one will watch their glory fade

Beside the looking-glass, unwed.

A hundred years will softly pass

Yet on the Tipperary hills

The shadows of a king and queen

Will darken on the daffodils.

Thank you for listening. I’m your host, Virginia Combs, wishing you a good morning, a better day, and a lovely evening. 

The date is September 10th, Tuesday, and today I’m coming to you from Tejakula, Bali. Today is also our 100th episode!

On this day in 1960, Abebe Bikila became the first sub-Saharan African to win an Olympic gold medal, and the first Ethiopian gold medalist. 

It was the Summer Olympics in Rome and Abebe Bikila had just bought a new pair of shoes a week earlier for the marathon. The shoes, to his disappointment gave him awful blisters and so Bikila decided he would just run without shoes. 

That’s right, Abebe Bikila won a Gold Medal running barefoot. Luckily for Bikila the race started in the late-afternoon and finished after dark so the course was cooling down while he ran. 

Bikila was neck-and-neck with another competitor until the last 500 meters (nearly a third of a mile) when he took off in a sprint. Italian soldiers holding torches lit the rest of the way as Bikila zoomed past them. 

He finished in 2 hours, 15 minutes, 16.2 seconds, breaking the world record by eight tenths. As soon as he crossed the finish line, he began a calisthenics routine, touching his toes, jogging in place, and reported feeling quite well, later stating he felt he could have run another 10 to 15 km further. 

And today is the birthday of Hilda "H.D." Doolittle, American writer. 

Doolittle was born in 1886, the only girl in a family of 6 children. Education was important in the family: Doolittle’s father was an astronomy professor and her brothers were expected to get a proper education. 

At 15, Doolittle met 16-year-old Ezra Pound, a student at nearby University of Pennsylvania. They began a teenage romance that continued into their early twenties. Pound composed at least 25 poems inspired by Doolittle. 

When it came time for continued education Doolittle attended Bryn Mawr College, a short distance from her home and UPenn. Pound encouraged Doolittle in her writing and dubbed her “H.D.” the pen name which she would use all her life. The two were engaged, but Doolittle’s father rejected the match and their relationship cooled. 

In 1911, she boarded a ship to Europe for a vacation with her female lover Frances Gregg. However, upon arriving in London, Doolittle, a beauty with a sharp, creative mind, was eagerly welcomed by the intellectual community. She stayed in London, working at a literary magazine. In 1913 around age 26, H.D. married poet Richard Adlington. 

Her poetry took advantage of classic Greek mythology and modern psychoanalysis. H.D. was openly bisexual after her marriage failed in 1938 and worked with Sigmund Freud for a while as she explored her own sexuality. 

In addition to her multitude of poems, H.D. Also penned several novels, some of which were published posthumously. Of her poetry collections, her first Sea Gardens published in 1916 remains an important work in the Imagist movement in which H.D. played a key role. 

H.D. was not making any particularly big waves during her lifetime. It was really the feminist and pride movements of the 1970s that saw a revival of her work, reviewing H.D.’s dissection of gender roles and sexuality. 

Baia 

H.D.

I should have thought

in a dream you would have brought

some lovely, perilous thing,

orchids piled in a great sheath,

as who would say (in a dream),

"I send you this,

who left the blue veins

of your throat unkissed."

Why was it that your hands

(that never took mine),

your hands that I could see

drift over the orchid-heads

so carefully,

your hands, so fragile, sure to lift

so gently, the fragile flower-stuff--

ah, ah, how was it

You never sent (in a dream)

the very form, the very scent,

not heavy, not sensuous,

but perilous--perilous--

of orchids, piled in a great sheath,

and folded underneath on a bright scroll,

some word:

Flower sent to flower;

for white hands, the lesser white,

less lovely of flower-leaf,

or

Lover to lover, no kiss,

no touch, but forever and ever this.

Thank you for listening. I’m your host Virginia Combs, wishing you a good morning, a better day, and a lovely evening. 

The date is September 9th, Monday, and today I’m coming to you from Tejakula, Bali. 

Today is the birthday of Colonel Harland David Sanders, American businessman, founder of KFC.

Sanders was born in 1890 in southern Indiana, not far from the Indiana-Kentucky state line. His mother was a devout Christian and it was perhaps her warnings about the evils of drink that led Sanders to be vehemently against alcohol consumption his whole life. (Her preaching against cursing, however, did no good.)

Sanders’s father died when he was just five and as the oldest child, he was quickly made a helping hand in the home.  By age seven he was adept in the kitchen.

After bouncing around jobs in his teens and twenties and even his thirties, Sanders finally settled down a little bit around age 40 with his family in Kentucky. He already had experience in sales and business which helped served up success in his new restaurant venture. 

Sanders’s “Colonel” title is not from any military service - rather, it is a title bestowed on him by the state of Kentucky. In the mid-1930s Sanders received his first “Colonel” for good deeds in his Kentucky community. He donated food, helped in a few midwifing incidents, and volunteered to drive some of his fellow townsfolk to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. 

With the success of his local Kentucky restaurant, Kentucky again “Colonel’ed” Sanders and this time Sanders began using the title regularly, particularly as he began to promote his Kentucky Fried Chicken recipe. 

For a snarky, well-written article on the life of Colonel Sanders and KFC, see the link in today’s show notes. 

Today is the birthday of Mary Hunter Austin, American poet. 

She took a special interest in the Native American peoples living in the Mojave Desert. Her poetry generally reflects life in the California expanse and celebrates the wildlife and delicate ecosystem of the area. 

Mary Austin was active in the California Water Wars, particularly in Owens Valley where she lived. As Los Angeles extended its reach into surrounding counties for more water to meet its exploding population, the city preyed upon the watershed in Owens Valley. They effectively bullied their way to the water, disrupting the small communities and driving out farmers and residents who were left with few options but to move. 

When she found herself on the losing side of the California Water Wars….

Mary Austin relocated to Carmel-by-the-Sea in California, joining a community of writers and artists. She produced a fair amount of work there, however it was her home in Santa Fe where she would be the most inspired and productive. Two of her most well known works include a collaboration with Ansel Adams and her collection The Land of Little Rain.

The Gods of the Saxon 

Mary Hunter Austin 

We have set the White Christ forward, we have bid the old gods go, 

We be Christians, Christian peoples, singing psalm tunes staid and slow. 

We have strewn the graven idols, we are bounden to the Lord, 

In hoc signo it is written -- but we prove it with the sword. 

For the old gods played us hazards, and they tracked us in their wrath 

By the smoke of sacrifices that we made along our path; 

Saved us to outwit each other; broke us if they listed, then, 

And at best of all their saving they were gods, and we were men. 

But the White Christ he is lowly, he hath thorns about his brow, 

He hath sorrowed, he hath suffered, -- Lord, what boots thy sorrow now? 

Seeing that we give our brother to the kite-kind and the crow, 

And the shell-strewn bones to whiten where the shy wild cattle go. 

And the old gods gather, gather where the shrilling bugles break, 

For the hot blown breath of battle fans the elder gods awake, 

Calling high above the trumpets, saying, 'Thus the old rune runs, 

By the net that took the fathers ye shall surely snare the sons. 

'By the bitter lust of empire, by the fret of boasts withstood, 

By the itch of prideful peoples that must make their boastings good, 

In the fern damp, by the veldt-side, we have brought them stark and low, 

They that wake no more for mornings, nor for any winds that blow.' 

We be Christians, Christian peoples, thinking scorn of ruder days, 

But above the Pax Vobiscum, keener than the prayers we raise, 

Come the jeering gods of warfare from the ends of all the earth, 

By the White Christ, wan and wounded, and they mock him with their mirth.

Thank you for listening. I’m your host Virginia Combs, wishing you a good morning, a better day, and a lovely evening. 

The date is September 6th, Friday, and today I’m coming to you from Tejakula, Bali in Indonesia. 

Today is the birthday of Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette, French military leader and political influencer. Lafayette, as he is known in the States, was instrumental in the American Revolutionary War and the French Revolution both in the second half of the 1700s. 

The first part of Lafayette’s life was of true comfort. He was born to wealthy aristocratic parents in 1757. His upbringing and education were balanced and with a long line of military men before him, Lafayette developed a healthy taste for action. (His father died in battle when Lafayette was a month away from 2 years old.)

At 16 he was betrothed to 14-year-old Adrienne de Noailles and they married soon thereafter. 

Around age 18 Lafayette became a believer in the American Revolution. He came to see the cause as a noble one - the colonies were fighting for justice against a greedy Britain. As a French aristocrat, Lafayette likely already had a deeply entrenched sense of contempt for the British nation. 

Going against a royal decree, Lafayette traveled to America to join the fight against the British. His military training would prove invaluable for the Americans and he was present at a number of important Revolutionary battles including the final Battle of Yorktown. 

And today is the birthday of Zelia Nuttall, American anthropologist and archaeologist. 

Despite what may seem like a nerdy description, Nuttall was a force. She was born to an Irish father and Mexican-American mother in San Francisco in 1857. 

After a lengthy education in Europe, Nuttall discovered a fascination with MesoAmerica in a visit to Mexico in 1884. Her clear passion and excitement for the history of native peoples in Mexico shone through in a paper about a grouping of Mexican artifacts. The publication impressed the archaeology community so much that Nuttall was given a position at Harvard University as the Special Assistant of the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology.

Nuttall would come to love Mexico and its history so much that she moved there permanently. She continued archaeological and anthropological work even though she was rarely paid for it. She did find a benefactor in Phoebe Hearst, mother of William Randolph Hearst, who funded a number of her projects. 

Nuttall work on Mexico’s ancient history served to give a newfound pride to the nation and helped to dispel popular but negative narratives of MesoAmericans. 

To Fayette

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

As when far off the warbled strains are heard

That soar on Morning's wing the vales among,

Within his cage th' imprison'd matin bird

Swells the full chorus with a generous song:

He bathes no pinion in the dewy light,

No Father's joy, no Lover's bliss he shares,

Yet still the rising radiance cheers his sight—

His Fellows' freedom soothes the Captive's cares!

Thou, FAYETTE! who didst wake with startling voice

Life's better sun from that long wintry night,

Thus in thy Country's triumphs shalt rejoice

And mock with raptures high in the dungeon's might:

For lo! the morning struggles into day,

And Slavery's spectres shriek and vanish from the ray!

Thank you for listening. I’m your host Virginia Combs, wishing you a good morning, a better day, and a lovely weekend.

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