Well-Bred & Well-Brewed

The date is June 7th, Friday, and today is my second to last day in Buenos Aires!

Today is the birthday of Paul Gauguin, French artist. He was active in the second half of the 19th Century and painted in the post-Impressionist style, which was characterized by an experimental use of color and folk-art influences. (MoMA published a catalogue of Gauguin’s work, which you can see/get here.)

He did extensive traveling for an artist and caught the traveling bug at an early age. As a baby, his family voyaged to Peru. His father hoped to take advantage of his wife’s distant wealthy relations and restart his career as a journalist from afar. While on route, however, Gauguin’s father suddenly died of a heart attack, leaving his wife with almost nothing besides her infant son and toddler daughter. 

Fortunately, the Gauguins were welcomed into the arms of family, and ended up living a fairly luxurious lifestyle, attended by maids and servants, as their relations were politically powerful in Peru.

But it was not to last. Conflict in Peru broke out, and the family fell from power, the Gauguin family retreating to France, once again, nearly penniless. 

After attending school and joining the Navy, Gauguin worked as a stockbroker and became quite successful. He lived in an artsy neighborhood in Paris and would run into Impressionists painters at cafes and the many art galleries around. He purchased artwork by new artists and began painting in his spare time. He met Camile Pissarro and the two became friends, painting together in Pissarro’s garden on Sundays. Pissarro introduced Gauguin to other artists as well. 

In 1882, the stock market crashed and Gauguin and his wife and six children moved to Copenhagen to pursue business.  Gauguin was unsuccessful in his business ventures and decided to devote himself full-time to art. This was good for his painting career but ended up being terrible for his marriage. His wife had married a well-off stockbroker, not a struggling artist.  She became the main bread-winner as a tutor to diplomats and essentially kicked Paul out of the house.

The traveling began as Paul set off for Central America and the Caribbean. He spent time on the island of Martinique in a hut drawing inspiration for his paintings from the nature, native people, and beaches of the island. 

Returning to France for a short time, Gauguin befriended Van Gogh. Gauguin had a reputation as a pugnacious fellow, and although the letter correspondence between the two artists was friendly, in person the pair were volatile, Gauguin claiming that van Gogh once attempted to attack him with a razor. 

Gauguin would spend the rest of his days painting, quarreling with his wife via letters and traveling to and from Tahiti, which he considered an escape from European artificialities. Gauguin, who said “Art is either plagiarism or revolution” died in 1903 at the age of 54 in Tahiti. He achieved moderate success as an artist during his lifetime, and it wasn’t really until after his death that his work and his life achieved the notoriety it enjoys today. 

And today is the birthday of Gwendolyn Brooks, American writer and educator. She received the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1950 for her book of poetry Annie Allen. Brooks was the first African American to receive a Pulitzer. 

She wrote about life in urban Chicago in a way that readers admired. She did not attempt to hit anyone over the head with a deeper meaning or a moral, rather she wrote what she saw, passing no judgment, though sometimes she couldn’t resist making an ironic joke. On the origins of her work, Brooks said: "I lived in a small second-floor apartment at the corner, and I could look first on one side and then the other. There was my material."

Faults

Sara Teasdale

They came to tell your faults to me,

They named them over one by one;

I laughed aloud when they were done,

I knew them all so well before,—

Oh, they were blind, too blind to see

Your faults had made me love you more.

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

The date is June 6th, Thursday, and today I’m coming to you from Buenos Aires, Argentina.

Today is the birthday of Thomas Mann, German-born writer. Mann received the Nobel Prize in Literature at the age of 54 for his two epic novels Buddenbrooks and The Magic Mountain and his numerous short stories. It was Thomas Mann who said: “In books we never find anything but ourselves. Strangely enough, that always gives us great pleasure, and we say the author is a genius.”

In Mann’s fiction work, readers spend a lot of time in the character’s heads thinking, musing, and feeling. His epic novels are largely philosophical and psychological as opposed to action-packed journeys through foreign lands. 

Besides being a successful fiction writer, Mann was an essayist and critic. He and his family fled Germany when the Nazi party came to power in 1933, eventually settling in Los Angeles, California. Mann was outspoken when it came to politics. During WWII, Mann recorded anti-Nazi in German. He then sent the tapes to the BBC in England which transmitted them on a longwave band to German airwaves. 

Mann who said “War is only a cowardly escape from the problems of peace,” was greatly frustrated with the rise of McCarthyism. He openly supported the writers that had been blacklisted by Hollywood, and was outspoken at the outrageous firing of hundreds of school teachers suspected of having communism sympathies. Mann himself was also closely watched as a suspected communist due to his connection to a number of peace organizations. He was keenly aware of the similarities between the McCarthy tactics and Nazi party. He said publicly: “As an American citizen of German birth I finally testify that I am painfully familiar with certain political trends. Spiritual intolerance, political inquisitions, and declining legal security, and all this in the name of an alleged 'state of emergency.'...That is how it started in Germany.” 

Finally fed up with the state of affairs in the States, he and his wife moved back to Europe and settled in Switzerland.

Man wasn’t all crotchety though. From his work, The Magic Mountain, we get the line: “Laughter is a sunbeam of the soul.”

Today is the birthday of author V.C. Andrews. She specialized in the mystery-horror genre, but before being a writer, she made a living as an artist specializing in illustrations for advertisements and portraits. 

After the success of her novel Flowers in the Attic, Andrews wrote a book a year until her death in 1986. Of reading and writing she said: “When I read, if a book doesn't hold my interest about what's going to happen next, I put it down and don't finish it. So I'm not going to let anybody put one of my books down and not finish it.”

As a testament to the readability of her work, her books have been published in over 10 languages. 

Today’s poem is “Asking for Roses” by Robert Frost.

Asking for Roses

Robert Frost 

A house that lacks, seemingly, mistress and master,

     With doors that none but the wind ever closes,

Its floor all littered with glass and with plaster;

     It stands in a garden of old-fashioned roses.

I pass by that way in the gloaming with Mary;    

     ‘I wonder,’ I say, ‘who the owner of those is.

‘Oh, no one you know,’ she answers me airy,

     ‘But one we must ask if we want any roses.’

So we must join hands in the dew coming coldly

     There in the hush of the wood that reposes,

And turn and go up to the open door boldly,

     And knock to the echoes as beggars for roses.

‘Pray, are you within there, Mistress Who-were-you?’

     ’Tis Mary that speaks and our errand discloses.

‘Pray, are you within there? Bestir you, bestir you!

     ’Tis summer again; there’s two come for roses.

‘A word with you, that of the singer recalling—

     Old Herrick: a saying that every maid knows is 

A flower unplucked is but left to the falling,

     And nothing is gained by not gathering roses.’

We do not loosen our hands’ intertwining

     (Not caring so very much what she supposes),

There when she comes on us mistily shining

     And grants us by silence the boon of her roses.

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 June 5th, Wednesday, and today I’m coming to you from Buenos Aires, Argentina. 

On this day in 1851 the first two chapters of Uncle Tom's Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe appeared in The National Era.

Uncle Tom’s Cabin was set to run for just a few weeks in the abolitionist newspaper, but the story and its characters became so popular, that Harriet Beecher Stowe expanded the narrative. It ended up running for 40 weeks. On the weeks that Uncle Tom’s Cabin was not in print, The National Era would receive complaints from impatient readers. 

With the success of the serialized version, Stowe was persuaded by a publisher to make it into a book. The first edition of Uncle Tom’s Cabin was was published 9 months after its first serialized appearance in March 1852. It sold 3,000 copies in the first day and 300,000 in it’s first year. It was translated into several major languages and sold 200,000 copies in England in its first year. Uncle Tom’s Cabin would go on to become the best-selling book of the 19th century, second only to the Bible.

Besides being a major best-seller, Uncle Tom’s Cabin is credited for increasing sympathy for American slaves and therefore an impetus for the Civil War. Stowe did not sugar-coat the experience of slaves, drumming up the sympathy of many Americans who may have otherwise been on the fence over the “Question of Slavery.” 

Proponents of slavery claimed that the book was not accurate. In response, Stowe published a companion piece to the novel in 1853, defending the accuracy of her depiction of slavery and revealing sources and influences. 

The main source Stowe mentioned was the autobiography of Josiah Henson, which Henson would re-published as The Memoirs of Uncle Tom. [Josiah had published his life story as The Life of Josiah Henson, Formerly a Slave, Now an Inhabitant of Canada, as Narrated by Himself. After the success of Uncle Tom’s Cabin, Henson shortened the title of his book to: The Memoirs of Uncle Tom.]

Stowe also revealed she relied up the book American Slavery As It Is which was a compilation of testimonies from hundreds of former and escaped slaves of what slavery is truly like. 

Of course, the major theme of the book is the immorality of slavery. One aspect that Stowe focused to help make her point was the separation of families. She showed siblings, spouses, parents and newborns torn from each other’s arms and shipped hundreds of miles apart. This was especially impactful since the popular beliefs of the Victorian Era emphasized the sacredness of the family unit. 

Today’s poem is by Frances E. Watkins, titled “Eliza Harris” who is a main character in Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Eliza is a new mother who flees for Canada.

Eliza Harris

FRANCES E. WATKINS

Like a fawn from the arrow, startled and wild,

A woman swept by us, bearing a child;

In her eye was the night of a settled despair,

And her brow was o'ershaded with anguish and care.

She was nearing the river—in reaching the brink,

She heeded no danger, she paused not to think!

For she is a mother—her child is a slave—

And she'll give him his freedom, or find him a grave!…

Oh! how shall I speak of my proud country's shame?

Of the stains on her glory, how give them their name?

How say that her banner in mockery waves—

Her "star spangled banner"—o'er millions of slaves?

How say that the lawless may torture and chase

A woman whose crime is the hue of her face?

How the depths of the forest may echo around

With the shrieks of despair, and the bay of the hound?…

In agony close to her bosom she press'd

The life of her heart, the child of her breast:—

Oh! love from its tenderness gathering might,

Had strengthen'd her soul for the dangers of flight.

But she's free—yes, free from the land where the slave

From the hand of oppression must rest in the grave;

Where bondage and torture, where scourges and chains,

Have plac'd on our banner indelible stains. …

The bloodhounds have miss'd the scent of her way,

The hunter is rifled and foil'd of his prey;

Fierce jargon and cursing, with clanking of chains,

Make sounds of strange discord on Liberty's plains.

With the rapture love and fullness of bliss,

She plac'd on his brow a mother's fond kiss:—

Oh! poverty, danger and death she can brave,

For the child of her love is no longer a slave!

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 June 4th, Tuesday, and today I’m coming to you from Buenos Aires, Argentina. 

As weird as it might sound, on this day in 1855 Major Henry C. Wayne set sail on the USS Supply to procure a small herd of camels for the US military. 

He stopped in the Mediterranean making it to Greece, Turkey, Egypt (of course), and Tunisia, picking up 33 camels, two being pregnant. They also hired five expert camel drivers and bought a variety of gear including saddles and saddle packs that they wouldn’t be able to find anywhere in the United States for obvious reasons. 

After nearly a year of procuring camels and the necessary assets, the caravan headed back for the States. The crew were given very specific instructions on the care of the camels and it’s reported that they camels were in better shape upon their arrival in Indianola, Texas than when they had set sail.

So how did this all start? The idea was proposed as early as 1836 to use camels as beasts of burden. A select few military leaders had seen the use of camels in their world travels and regarded them as very heart animals, especially compared to the typical pack mule. 

The idea was originally shot down as the whole thing would be much more costly than using the mules and cavalry the military already had. But with the US military increasingly involved in the Southwestern territories, the use of camels in the dry and hot desert regions didn’t seem so ridiculous. In March 1955 Congress set aside $30,000 for the United States Camel Corps. 

The camels were used in several long survey expeditions in the Southwest, carrying load of up to 600 pounds and outperforming both the mules and horses. Unsurprisingly the camels did very well in the “badly-watered areas.” Leaders of the expeditions couldn’t deny the camel’s endurance. At the end of and 85-mile expedition, the horses and mules were exhausted, but the camels were perfectly content. In another instance, a rattlesnake bit a camel on the ankle. The party dressed the wound and were worried about the fate of the camel, but it simply carried on, no worse for wear. The head of the first expedition went so far as to say he’d prefer one camel to four mules.  

Not long after it had begun, the United States Camel Corps ran into a major bump in addition to the hard-nosed mule-lobbyists (yes, this was a thing): the American Civil War. In the midst of the national crisis, the Camel Corps fizzled out. 

Confederate forces overtook the ranch that was home to the camels in 1861. When Union forces recaptured the territory in 1865, there were an estimated 100 camels living on the ranch and roaming the wilderness. With the death of the main camel driver and no knowledge of how to care for and use camel to the best of their ability, the days of the camel were over. 

And today is the birthday of Winifred Emma May, also known by her pen name Patience Strong. May was a lyricist, poet, and writer. Her poetry appeared in The Daily Mirror, Women’s Own, and Good Housekeeping. She penned over 100 songs during her career and over 10 collections of poetry. Her most notable lyrics are for the song “Jealousy” which was performed beautifully by Kathryn Grayson in the 1945 musical film Anchors Away.

Woodland Cathedral

Winifred Emma May (Patience Strong)

Go into the woodland

if you seek peace of mind- 

As this time when Nature's mood

is gentle, quiet and kind,

When soft winds fan the trembling leaves

about the cloistered glade- 

And paths go winding deep into the green

and breathless shade.

Where nothing breaks the silence

of the warm and fragrant air- 

But snatches of sweet melody . . .

and wings that rend and tear- 

The stillness of the windless dells

where shallow brooklets flow- 

And shadows fleck the water

as the sunbeams come and go.

An unseen Presence walks the woods,

a sense of holy things- 

Haunts the dim Cathedral aisles;

and every bird that sings- 

Is like some morning chorister,

and every breath of air- 

Seems to bring the secret murmur

of a whispered prayer.

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 June 3rd, Monday, and today I’m coming to you from Buenos Aires, Argentina. 

Today is the birthday of Josephine Baker, African American dancer, entertainer, spy, and activist. 

Josephine was born in 1906 under suspicious circumstances. As noted by her son in Baker’s biography,  Josephine’s mother was taken in by a white hospital in St. Louis, Missouri, and given care unknown to African American women at the time. Most minorities gave birth at home with the help of a midwife or nurse. Josephine’s mother never revealed the identity of Josephine’s father, but Josephine suspected he was white and fairly wealthy which would account for her mother’s special treatment during the birth. 

Josephine was raised by her mother and stepfather in St. Louis. She had two half-sisters. There’s not much information about her early childhood, but she had quit school by 12 and was out on the streets at 13. Either home was an unwelcoming place or she really wanted her independence. She ended up living on the streets of St. Louis, waitressing, dumpster-diving, and dancing on corners for money. It was about that time that she joined the Jones Family Band as a dancer. 

At age 15, Josephine entered into a marriage with Willie Baker. Over the next few years, her dancing improved being a part of a vaudeville troupe and by 1925, the group had offers in New York City. Josephine left St. Louis and her marriage behind. 

In New York City, Josephine a well-known chorus girl, but wasn’t satisfied. She wanted more. Not long after landing in New York City, she took a boat to France to dance in a show in Paris. However, she quickly found fame dancing on her own in cabarets, scantily clad. She seemed to have a hold on the French people and embraced France and Europe for the freedoms it afforded her. Like many stars of her time, she found her civil liberties were far greater in Europe than America. 

Perhaps one of Josephine Baker’s most famous performances was “Danse Sauvage” in which she danced with a “banana” skirt, and either a bikini top, or topless. Very French. She also had a pet cheetah named “Chiquita” who would often escape and “play with” the band, much to the horror of the musicians and the delight of the audience. 

While she did not see the same success in America, her charm was undeniable. Ernest Hemingway said Josephine was “the most sensational woman anyone ever saw” and met her often while in Paris. 

At the outbreak of WWII, Josephine was clandestinely asked to be an “honorable correspondent” for the French. As an well-known entertainer throughout Europe and internationally, she was constantly hob-nobbing in high society which included politicians and generals. She hid notes on the inside of her underwear when traveling, hoping she’d be spared ‘strip searches’ as a prominent lady. New sheet music for her also included invisible ink with communicae.

After the war, Baker received the Croix de Guerre and the Rosette de la Résistance for her service.

After WWII she became increasingly involved in the Civil Rights Movement and the NAACP in America despite her long tenure in France. Her reputation as an entertainer finally growing in the states. She refused to perform to integrated crowds and her demands were met rather than lose the ticket sales. She spoke at the March on Washington alongside Martin Luther King, Jr, and to the crowd said “I have walked into the palaces of kings and queens and into the houses of presidents. And much more. But I could not walk into a hotel in America and get a cup of coffee, and that made me mad. And when I get mad, you know that I open my big mouth.”

[You mustn't swim till you're six weeks old]

Rudyard Kipling

You mustn't swim till you're six weeks old, 

Or your head will be sunk by your heels; 

And summer gales and Killer Whales 

   Are bad for baby seals. 

Are bad for baby seals, dear rat, 

   As bad as bad can be. 

But splash and grow strong, 

And you can't be wrong, 

   Child of the Open Sea!

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 May 31st, Friday, and today I’m coming to you from Buenos Aires, Argentina. 

Today is the birthday of American writer and poet Walt Whitman. Born in 1819 on Long Island, Walt considered his childhood relatively unhappy with an impecunious father leading the family. When Whitman was just four, the family moved to Brooklyn, his father seeking better employment.

Brooklyn is where Walt would grow up, the city and country still reveling in its young glory of being an independent nation. Whitman recalled that on July 4th, 1825, an aged Lafayette was in New York for American Independence Celebrations. Whitman, a small six-year-old, claims he was picked up and given a kiss on the cheek by none other than Lafayette, an important general in the fight for freedom. A joyful moment in an otherwise gray childhood. 

Whitman ended his school days at age 11 and promptly set out to find work to bring the family some much-needed, extra money. His first job was an errand boy for two lawyers and a similar role at the local newspaper. Walt jumped around to different newspapers for work during his teens, enjoying newfound independence from his family who had moved back to Long Island. 

Whitman bounced back and forth between newspaper positions and teaching positions from his 20s until his 40s. He did end up writing poetry and fluff pieces for some of the papers he worked at, but nothing caught the attention of publishers or critics. 

Walt took matters into his own hands in 1855 and self-published 795 copies of the first edition of his masterpiece, Leaves of Grass. It was unconventional in the free-verse form that Whitman favored and was noted as a unique perspective on American life. The fan base for the collection of long poems stemmed largely from a glowing review by Ralph Waldo Emerson, who was happy to promote the book nearly to anyone who would listen. 

Despite approval from Emerson and other writers, Leaves of Grass got Walt into trouble on more than one occasion. He was fired from several jobs because of the collection’s sometimes overt references to the sensual and sexual.  It is commonly accepted that Walt was gay or possibly bisexual. 

Walt was not a part of the military, but his brother George Washington Whitman was, and the two kept in touch by writing letters. Upon seeing, a death notice for GW Whitmore in the newspaper, Walt was terribly worried it might be his own brother George. Walt quickly headed south and eventually found his brother perfectly intact excepting a scratch on his cheek. Whitman however, was profoundly moved by the carnage left by the war. He produced several poems evoking the military that became quite popular. 

Today’s poem, is of course, by birthday, poet Walt Whitman and was written upon hearing the news of the assassination of President Abraham Lincoln.

O Captain! My Captain!

Walt Whitman

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,

The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,

The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,

While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;

                         But O heart! heart! heart!

                            O the bleeding drops of red,

                               Where on the deck my Captain lies,

                                  Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;

Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,

For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,

For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;

                         Here Captain! dear father!

                            This arm beneath your head!

                               It is some dream that on the deck,

                                 You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,

My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,

The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,

From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;

                         Exult O shores, and ring O bells!

                            But I with mournful tread,

                               Walk the deck my Captain lies,

                                  Fallen cold and dead.

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 May 30th, Thursday, and today I’m coming to you from Buenos Aires, Argentina. 

Today is the feast day of Joan of Arc, patron saint of soldiers and France. She was born around 1412 in rural France to a farmer with 50 acres and his wife. She never received any formal education and was illiterate. Her local church however was right around the corner from her home and it could be inferred that her ecclesiastical knowledge came from her close proximity to the church as well as her intense devotion. 

She was able to convince the heir presumptive of France to give her armor and ride into battle with his officers. Naturally the Dauphin was skeptical of the farm girl, but on the losing side of a French civil war, he was ready to try almost anything. When Joan correctly predicted the outcome of a battle several days before it was confirmed, the French Prince gave Joan a suit of armor and a horse and other supplies were donated by the town.  

Joan never led troops herself, instead she was the banner bearer, seeing but not participating in the action. She did however offer advice to military leaders, and as many of her earlier predictions had come true, they listened to her. 

She was a puzzle - for someone without a military background and who could not read or write, she was making startling predictions with accuracy and doling out battle tactics that worked. 

Her good fortune didn’t last long though. She and the troop she was traveling with were ambush and she was captured by English forces. (Just a quick side note, this was the Hundred Years War and Northern parts of France teamed up with England to defeat the southern parts of France.)

Joan was not a model prisoner, and tried to escape multiple times. She had become a fairly well known figure for having visions at the time so the English didn’t wish just kill her with no cause. Rather they intended to use her to humiliate the French. 

The English Church brought a case against Joan for heresy and cross-dressing. They knew they didn’t have much of a case and stacked the jury with pro-English clerics and refused to give Joan counsel.

The English Church members set up theological-philosophical puzzles and traps hoping to walk Joan into giving heretical answers. 

Their attempts were in vain. Joan’s managed to side-step and maneuver the word puzzles as if she herself was a theologian. The cross-dressing charge was the only hope for the crooked revenge-bent England clerics.

It was obvious to the court that Joan had only dressed in men’s clothing and armor because it was necessary. She testified that on two occasions, she needed to disguise herself and on the other cases the men’s armor protected her from rape and molestation as it was much more difficult for an assailant to take off. 

The pro-English jury sentenced Joan to death anyhow for the repeat offense of crossdressing. She was burned at the stake and then her body was burned two more times in the hopes that no relics would be made of her body. Joan was only 19. 

We have so many records of Joan because, twenty years after her death the Church investigated the trial at the request of Joan’s grief-stricken parents. Investigators discovered testimony and paperwork from the trial had been falsified and protocol was thrown to the wind. Joan was exonerated of any crime and the charismatic illiterate farm girl became a French icon.

Wild Honeysuckle

Philip Freneau

Fair flower, that dost so comely grow, 

Hid in this silent, dull retreat, 

Untouched thy honied blossoms blow, 

Unseen thy little branches greet: 

  No roving foot shall crush thee here, 

  No busy hand provoke a tear. 

By Nature's self in white arrayed, 

She bade thee shun the vulgar eye, 

And planted here the guardian shade, 

And sent soft waters murmuring by; 

  Thus quietly thy summer goes, 

  Thy days declining to repose. 

Smit with those charms, that must decay, 

I grieve to see your future doom; 

They died—nor were those flowers more gay, 

The flowers that did in Eden bloom; 

  Unpitying frosts and Autumn's power 

  Shall leave no vestige of this flower. 

From morning suns and evening dews 

At first thy little being came; 

If nothing once, you nothing lose, 

For when you die you are the same; 

  The space between is but an hour, 

  The frail duration of flower.

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 May 29th, Wednesday, and today I’m coming to you from Buenos Aires, Argentina. 

On this day in 1953, Tenzing Norgay and Edmund Hillary reached the top of Mount Everest. They were the first to conclusively reach the top and took plenty of pictures looking down to prove it. Hillary also took the now-iconic picture of Norgay on the summit, holding his ice axe overhead.  

Afterwards, Norgay, a Nepali-Indian Sherpa mountaineer, decided to take May 29th as his birthday. He knew he was born in late May, but not the specific day. 

The two were a team to the end. In an earlier expedition, Norgay saved Hillary from a fatal fall with some quick thinking and an ice axe. Hillary the considered Norgay a necessary asset for any expeditions from that point on. Neither one ever revealed who took the first step onto the summit, only ever insisting that it was a joint effort.

Today is the birthday Alfonsina Storni. Born in 1892 in Switzerland to Italian-Swiss parents, Alfonsina grew up in Argentina and spent most of her adult life as a writer and poet in Buenos Aires. She became a single mother at the age of nineteen and although faced financial difficulty, was able to continuously produce poetry and prose, influencing the next generation of Argentinian writers.

Today is the birthday of John F. Kennedy, 35th President of the United States. Born and raised in the Boston area, JFK graduated from Harvard in 1940 and served in the US Navy during WWII. He beat Richard Nixon in the 1960 Presidential Election and served from 1961 until his assassination in 1963. He is the second youngest person to be elected President of the United States, just behind Theodore Roosevelt. He remains the only Roman Catholic president. 

One of Kennedy’s first initiatives in office was establishing the Peace Corp. Well, technically Congress established it, but Kennedy spearheaded the effort. The Peace Corp today has over 200,000 members, volunteering in nearly 140 countries across the globe.  

Kennedy governed through a tricky time in our nation’s history. The Cold War was still going strong and the Civil Rights Movement was gaining momentum. Kennedy stayed fairly quiet on Civil Rights at the beginning of his presidency, hoping not to isolate the Southern states. But as he intervened in more and more integration efforts, it became clear he could not help but make a strong statement to the nation. 

On June 11th, 1963, Kennedy delivered his Report to the American People on Civil Rights on national television and radio. In the speech he said: “This nation was founded by men of many nations and backgrounds. It was founded on the principle that all men are created equal and that the rights of every man are diminished when the rights of one man are threatened.”

Many of the proposals from the speech, including voting rights and equal access to public institutions, would become part of the Civil Rights Act of 1964.

Kennedy, who said: “Conformity is the jailer of freedom and the enemy of growth.” has his Presidential Library in Boston, MA and is buried in Arlington Cemetery. During his life he co-wrote the Pulitzer Prize-winning Profiles in Courage. 

Today’s poem is “They’ve Come” by birthday poet Alfonsina Storni.

They’ve Come

Alfonsina Storni

Today my mother and sisters

came to see me.

I had been alone a long time

with my poems, my pride . . . almost nothing.

My sister---the oldest---is grown up,

is blondish. An elemental dream

goes through her eyes: I told the youngest

"Life is sweet. Everything bad comes to an end."

My mother smiled as those who understand souls

tend to do;

She placed two hands on my shoulders.

She's staring at me . . .

and tears spring from my eyes.

We ate together in the warmest room

of the house.

Spring sky . . . to see it

all the windows were opened.

And while we talked together quietly

of so much that is old and forgotten,

My sister---the youngest---interrupts:

"The swallows are flying by us."

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 May 28th, Tuesday, and today I’m coming to you from Buenos Aires, Argentina. 

On this day in 585 BCE the Battle of Halys (hey-lis) came to a quick end when a Solar Eclipse occurred over the battlefield. When the sunny skies suddenly turned dark, the two armies immediately dropped their weapons and came to a truce, ending a five-year-long war. The account was written down by the Greek philosopher and scientist Thales and remains the first ever noted solar eclipse. If you’ve ever witnessed a total solar eclipse in person, they are pretty astounding. If you didn’t know what was happening, you might change your ways also.

Today is the birthday of Irishman Thomas Moore. Today he’s remembered for his poetry, but Moore was a singer-songwriter, actor, and entertainer. Although he was Irish born, he acquired an English accent during his school years and maintained it throughout his life. 

He was not a fan of American politics. His views were validated during his Grand Tour of America and Canada. He toured around performing and had a chance encounter with then-President Thomas Jefferson. A 6’2” Jefferson accidentally mistook a the short-statured Moore for a pre-teen boy. Moore was outraged and glad to leave the capitol for Philadelphia where he was well-known for his melodies and poems. 

After his tour of America and Canada, Moore published Epistles, Odes, and Other Poems, in which he was critical of the American system of slavery. His mocking tone caused quite a stir. One British editor retaliated, giving Moore’s latest work a poor review. Moore was in turn outraged and challenged the editor to a duel.

The duel was halted at the last minute by the police who arrested both men. Out of the almost-duel arose a rumor that Moore’s opponent was given a gun with no ammo. The rumor became a pile on with writers all over England and Ireland taking jabs at Moore. Even Lord Byron took advantage of the moment to make a witty remark about Moore’s manhood. Moore was never able to fully escape the rumor, perhaps because it was an easy way to get him riled up. 

Moore’s most renowned work is certainly his Irish Melodies, which was a revival of many old Irish folk tunes with lyrics or new lyrics. His famous composition “Believe Me, If All Those Endearing Young Charms” was written for his young wife, as a way to assure her of his love and devotion.  Ireland generally considers Moore to be the national bard.  

Today is the birthday of Ruby Payne-Scott, Australian radio-physicist. After years of being denied jobs as a woman, she was hired by the Australian government during WWII. Her first assignment was to get the European and American radar systems working. At the time, the machine didn’t work like they were supposed to in Australia. Ruby correctly hypothesized that the South Pacific weather was interfering with the radar readings. Ruby helped tweaking the machines to get them functioning and they were successfully used to detect and track Japanese fighter planes. 

From 1944 until 1951 Ruby Payne-Scott investigated radio emissions from the sun, discovering sunspots and pioneering the field of radiophysics. All the while, she kept her marriage a secret. Married women were not allowed to work in public offices. When the department found out in 1951, Ruby was 5 months pregnant and was not too sore about leaving, excited to become a mother at age 39. 

The rest of Ruby’s life was quiet, though her daughter noted she never lost all the knowledge. Her daughter said that occasionally, as a kid, “you’d ask her a question, a classic childhood question like ‘Why does the sun come up in the morning?’ and my mum would always have a very complicated answer.”

The Origin Of The Harp

Thomas Moore

Tis believed that this Harp, which I wake now for thee 

Was a Siren of old, who sung under the sea; 

And who often, at eve, through the bright waters roved, 

To meet, on the green shore, a youth whom she loved. 

But she loved him in vain, for he left her to weep, 

And in tears, all the night, her gold tresses to steep, 

Till heaven look'd with pity on true-love so warm, 

And changed to this soft Harp the sea-maiden's form. 

Still her bosom rose fair -- still her cheeks smiled the same -- 

While her sea-beauties gracefully form'd the light 

And her hair, as, let loose, o'er her white arm it fell, 

Was changed to bright chords uttering melody's spell.

Hence it came, that this soft Harp so long hath been known 

To mingle love's language with sorrow's sad tone; 

Till thou didst divide them, and teach the fond lay 

To speak love when I'm near thee, and grief when away.

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 May 24th, Friday, and today I’m coming to you from Buenos Aires, Argentina. 

Today is the birthday of Lillian Moller Gilbreth, an industrial/organizational psychologist. The title sounds fancy, but it’s really quite practical. She, along with her husband Frank Gilbreth ran a consulting business, helping companies increase productivity and efficiency in their systems. They were particularly looking at things on the human level. 

[A lot of their early work was on how to increase worker efficiency. In one instance, they determined that changing the tone and brightness of the lighting in the workspace would decrease the employees’ eyestrain, thereby increasing productivity. In another, they recommended adjustments to machinery to fit the height of each worker would make for more comfortable and efficient movements. Today we recognize this as ergonomics.]

When Frank Gilbreth passed away unexpectedly of a heart attack, their business took a hit. Frank had struck most of the deals with executives and Lillian found the contacts unwilling to deal with a woman. Soldiering on, Lillian carved out a niche in household markets. She found that she could leverage her motherhood to her advantage. Household brands like Johnson & Johnson and General Electric became top customers for Lillian. 

She is credited for inventing, among other things, the wall switch and foot-pedal trash can, and for adding shelves to refrigerators. Gilbreth helped popularize kitchen layouts that included the “work triangle" which has the fridge, sink, and stove creating a triangle. 

The Gilbreth children said their mother’s own kitchen was a paragon of efficiency, though the only thing she could cook well was cake. 

The Gilbreths involved their 11 children in home efficiency experiments, often with hilarious results, many of which were chronicled in their son & daughter’s memoirs Cheaper by the Dozen and Belles on Their Toes. 

Come Monday, we will be celebrating Memorial Day. Memorial Day has evolved over the years to be the unofficial kick-off to summer in America, with parties, barbeques, and sometimes fireworks. 

The real reason for the holiday though is to remember the servicemen and -women who lost their lives fighting for the United States. The holiday has conflicting origins but is generally recognized as one that started after the civil war as a day to remember those lost in battle. 

Sometimes called ‘Decoration Day’ early Memorial Day celebrations often took place at cemeteries. Family members gathered to decorate the graves of loved ones, often sharing memories and a meal together on the scenic cemetery grounds. Perhaps this is where we get the notion that Memorial Day is a day to cook something on the grill and be outside, enjoying the first hints of summer.

The Charge of the Light Brigade

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Half a league, half a league,  

  Half a league onward,  

All in the valley of Death  

  Rode the six hundred.  

"Forward, the Light Brigade!  

Charge for the guns!" he said:  

Into the valley of Death  

  Rode the six hundred.  

"Forward, the Light Brigade!"  

Was there a man dismay’d?    

Not tho’ the soldier knew  

  Some one had blunder’d:  

Theirs not to make reply,  

Theirs not to reason why,  

Theirs but to do and die:     

Into the valley of Death  

  Rode the six hundred.  

Cannon to right of them,  

Cannon to left of them,  

Cannon in front of them    

  Volley’d and thunder’d;  

Storm’d at with shot and shell,  

Boldly they rode and well,  

Into the jaws of Death,  

Into the mouth of Hell    

  Rode the six hundred.  

Flash’d all their sabres bare,  

Flash’d as they turn’d in air  

Sabring the gunners there,  

Charging an army, while   

  All the world wonder’d:  

Plunged in the battery-smoke  

Right thro’ the line they broke;  

Cossack and Russian  

Reel’d from the sabre-stroke     

  Shatter’d and sunder’d.  

Then they rode back, but not  

  Not the six hundred.  

Cannon to right of them,  

Cannon to left of them,      

Cannon behind them  

  Volley’d and thunder’d;  

Storm’d at with shot and shell,  

While horse and hero fell,  

They that had fought so well    

Came thro’ the jaws of Death,  

Back from the mouth of Hell,  

All that was left of them,  

  Left of six hundred.  

When can their glory fade?     

O the wild charge they made!  

  All the world wonder’d.  

Honor the charge they made!  

Honor the Light Brigade,  

  Noble six hundred!

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