Monday


9
Jan 23

The spring term begins, and here’s a lot of other stuff

A new semester began today. A new semester is underway. I am counting them on the access panel in my office. Each trident marks a semester. There’s a lot of memories and successful students in each. I wonder what sort of successes we’ll pack in the newest addition.

That’s a lot of semesters!

Had a nice bike ride on Saturday. One of our friends joined us on Zwift and that made us fast. Somehow I had 13 mile splits averaging 28+ mph. That’s just silly.

And while I was working hard trying to keep up, I had this idea …

Now I can capture videos of my virtual rides! Aren’t you thrilled?

Anyway, I got in 36 miles on Saturday. I didn’t ride yesterday, but I should have, so I did a quick 20 miles immediately after work, today.

More importantly, it is time for the most popular feature on the site. It’s time to check in with the kitties. (They had a busy day napping and cuddling yesterday, by the way.)

Here’s Phoebe, beating up one of her toys. Grab it in your front paws and kick it into submission by your back paws. Excellent strategy, for the most part. And it looks cute, but those little feet and claws will give you a beating!

It was a poor substitute for her favorite spring, which has been lost for a few days. I found it last night. She chased it around and under a chair. I rescued it for her. We started talking about mimicking it with other springs, maybe it has the right number of loops or something. While we wondering about that, she promptly lost it again. No idea where it is, as of this writing.

I know where it isn’t. Poseidon is, very helpfully, looking for it as well. He tells us it isn’t in the dryer.

Every day I open a thing — a closet, a cabinet, the refrigerator or some other appliance — and then close it. Then I open it and close it again, just to make sure that guy didn’t sneak in while I blinked.

It isn’t that I blink slow, but he moves fast.

I’m trying a new thing. I’m closing tabs. (I know! Crazy, right? Next you’ll find me cleaning out under sinks and vacuuming beneath bookcases … )

Anyway, there are a lot of tabs open in my browser(s). I bet you might have a similar problem. Some of them have been open for ages, and ages. Rather than lose them altogether, I am bookmarking some and closing them. (Novel!) And others should be shared, and then closed. So here we are. Today’s contenders.

The Deep Sea Is Filled with Treasure, but It Comes at a Price:

“We believe we see the world as it is,” she writes. “We don’t. We see the world as we need to see it to make our existence possible.”

The same goes for fish. Only the top layers of the oceans are illuminated. The “sunlight zone” extends down about seven hundred feet, the “twilight zone” down another twenty-six hundred feet. Below that — in the “midnight zone,” the “abyssal zone,” and the “hadal zone” — there’s only blackness, and the light created by life itself. In this vast darkness, so many species have mastered the art of bioluminescence that Widder estimates they constitute a “majority of the creatures on the planet.” The first time she descended into the deep in an armored diving suit called a wasp, she was overwhelmed by the display. “This was a light extravaganza unlike anything I could have imagined,” she writes. “Afterwards, when asked to describe what I had seen, I blurted, ‘It’s like the Fourth of July down there!'”

Bioluminescent creatures produce light via chemical reaction. They synthesize luciferins, compounds that, in the presence of certain enzymes, known as luciferases, oxidize and give off photons. The trick is useful enough that bioluminescence has evolved independently some fifty times. Eyes, too, have evolved independently about fifty times, in creatures as diverse as flies, flatworms, and frogs. But, Widder points out, “there is one remarkable distinction.” All animals’ eyes employ the same basic strategy to convert light to sensation, using proteins called opsins. In the case of bioluminescence, different groups of organisms produce very different luciferins, meaning that each has invented its own way to shine.

[…]

Scales, like Widder, worries that the bottom of the ocean will be wrecked before many of the most marvelous creatures living there are even identified. “The frontier story has always been one of destruction and loss,” she writes. “It is naïve to assume that the process would play out any differently in the deep.” Indeed, she argues, the depths are particularly ill-suited to disturbance because, owing to a scarcity of food, creatures tend to grow and reproduce extremely slowly. “Vital habitat is created by corals and sponges that live for millennia,” she writes.

And if we’re going to learn anything — we’re not, but if we were gonna — it ought to be that there’s an interconnectedness to all of this that is fragile, and important. Even among all of those different zones.

6 Ways to Keep Your Gmail Storage Free and Under 15GB:

Unlike some services (looking at you, iCloud), Gmail is pretty lenient with its free tier. You get 15GB of storage between Gmail and Google Drive, and for many people, it’s good enough. But a lot of people have been using Gmail for a decade or more now, and it’s not hard to accumulate 15GB of data over that kind of timespan.

Once you do hit the 15GB cap, you won’t be able to add files to Google Drive, and eventually, emails won’t hit your Gmail inbox. If you’ve been finding it harder and harder to avoid paying Google for more storage, here are some of the best ways to quickly free up space.

It is a slide show, but it is one of the more useful slideshows, if you’re in a space saving mode.

There. One of my phone browsers is now down to 43 tabs. It is good to make progress.

And we continue making progress in the Re-Listening project. I’m playing all of my CDs in my car. In order, that is. Not all at once. That’d be … noisy.

But some of it would sound good! That’s why I’m listening to them individually and, here, I’m just writing a few notes. These aren’t reviews, but just for fun and filler, he said 1,075 words into this post. Anyway, this installment is a greatest hits, and it seems weird, somehow, to go on and on about a record that was full of charting hits.

So let’s get to it quickly, then. Greatest Hits and their massive success aside, some of these Tears for Fears tracks were juuuuust a tiny bit before my time, initially. Oh, the big ones I know well, and you do too! But there was a sense of achievement in discovering new-to-me and thoughtful and quality Tears for Fears songs. “Woman in Chains” peaked at 36 on the Billboard Hot 100. Lovely song.

“Mad World” was not a hit in the 1980s, which was why I listened to it for the first time in 1996-or-so, but it did get some spins in 2004, reaching number 30 on the Billboard Modern Rock Tracks chart and topped the Adult Alternative Songs chart. Then it landed in a video game commercial, was the subject of a few successful covers and appeared on a game show. It’s become something of a standard filler, I guess?

“Laid So Low” was the single off the actual greatest hits. And, sure, it was released in 1992, but this is quintessential 1980s. It was a top 20 Euro hit, settled in the top 40 in Canada and elsewhere. The song was a top 20 hit in the UK, France, Italy and Poland; a top 40 hit in Canada, Germany and the Netherlands; and reached the top 10 on the US Modern Rock Tracks chart.

Curt Smith wasn’t in the band at the time, so that song was a Roland Orzabal special. He kept the band name active during the rest of the 1990s, but 30 million unit sales means you get back together, eventually. After nine years of silence, they started talking, playing and writing together again.

The Tipping Point” was a project that took seven years to produce, but it came out to good reviews in 2001 and made the top 10 in a lot of national charts, including the U.S. It also hit number one on the US Billboard’s Top Alternative Albums, Top Rock Albums and Top Album Sales charts.

Not bad for two guys climbing into their 60s, he said, hopefully, from halfway through his 40s.


2
Jan 23

The non-holiday, holiday Monday

OK, OK. Let’s get this place back to normal. We have to settle down, I know. There was all of that travel, and then the extra weirdness of New Year’s, compounded by the weirdness of that being on a Sunday, meaning the hangover for the amateurs were observed today — by both the amateurs and their employers. And then I published something here on Saturday, very strange indeed. And I had today off. (And tomorrow!) But we stayed in, with good reason.

For the life of me, I don’t know why anyone over the age of 24 goes out for New Year’s Eve, no matter the night of the week. And it makes zero sense during a pandemic. (Yes, that’s still on.) Unless you figure you’ve done all the ritual and obligatory family events you need to do for the next several months, so you went out to get contaminated, and contaminate others, willy nilly.

Which is thoughtful of you, really.

Funnily enough, the etymology of willy nilly goes back to about 1600. To the Internet! (Where you already are!) Willy-nilly:

c. 1600, contraction of will I, nill I, or will he, nill he, or will ye, nill ye, literally “with or without the will of the person concerned.”

And just one or two generations later, there was the Great Plague of London.

City records indicate that some 68,596 people died during the epidemic, though the actual number of deaths is suspected to have exceeded 100,000 out of a total population estimated at 460,000.

Precisely why we stayed in. And, also, because we are over 24.

The cats had a party, though. Check out their glasses. You’d be profoundly disappointed in me if you knew how long we’ve waited for that moment to appear, just for these photos, and for nothing else.

And that’s as good a transition as any to move us smoothly into the most popular feature on the website. (I look at the analytics (and thanks for your visit) so I know these things.) Phoebe is having a ball.

Poseidon has been very cuddly and lovey today.

It’s when he’s charming that he’s most dangerous, because it is all a ploy. But, my, how he can charm the unsuspecting.

As ever, it is creepy when they do the same thing at the same time.

Just darned unsettling.

The thing you’ve been skimming or just scroll past, the last six weeks or so: On New Year’s Eve I set a personal best for mileage on the year. As ever, I did it at the last minute.

I had a difficult time trying to decide how much to do that night. If I’d stopped at that point, four miles into that ride, I would have set a best by only a mile. It was obvious I didn’t have another metric century in me, but it seemed like there should be some meaning or importance to this number no one else will ever know. Shouldn’t there be? What should it be? I failed utterly in that regard, but settled in to simply enjoy a midnight ride, which is the real meaning and importance.

I fell in with a fast group and stayed with them for six miles or so. I sprinted out of that group at the finish line for no reason. I beat them all to a vague finish line no one agreed to in a race they didn’t know they were having with me. Victory, he said grimly, was mine.

And after 18 miles that evening, that was that.

But the best part of the night, The Yankee decided to ride a few miles with me. We rang in the new year pedaling away in the bike room, holding hands and being cute and all. Here are our Zwift avatars, together.

It was her second bike ride of the day. She went to the pool today, and is back to doing her many other workouts, as well. So, if you’re wondering, she’s recovering nicely from her September crash and subsequent surgery.

Which means I have to find some way to get in more miles this year than she does. This will take a concerted effort on my part. (Not to worry, I already have a spreadsheet and two new goals to help me with this.)

I have about 75 pages to go in Rick Atkinson’s The British Are Coming. It’s one part Tolstoy, one part Burns, and all of it a story in a style befitting the journalist taking a turn as a historian. Last night I got to that point where I began to hate that the book is ending.

It’s a feeling all the more pointed because this is the first book in a trilogy, and because it is good, and so is everything else of Atkinson’s that I have read. Problem is, he hasn’t published the other two installments yet. These things, no doubt, take time. This one, for instance, has 564 pages of text, 135 pages of endnotes, a 42-page bibliography and 24 full-page maps.

But, come on, Atkinson, this was published in April of 2020. Make with the goods!

Isn’t that last passage something? (Read this book.)

I think he’ll finish this book just before Washington crosses the Delaware on his Christmas attack. It had been a grim year, 1776, and that December, the privation of the winter quarters and the desperation late in that December would be a good place to put in a cliffhanger and set up the next book in the trilogy.

Nary a word has been published online about when the next book will be out. How am I supposed to find out what happens next?


26
Dec 22

Holiday Train Show at the New York Botanical Garden, part four

We visited the holiday train show, featuring 25 trains and almost 200 miniature buildings made of bark, leaves, and other materials. I took a lot of photos of the models of those historic and iconic places. Here are some of them. (Part one is here. Here is part two. See part three here.)

Radio City’s four-tiered auditorium was the world’s largest when it opened in 1932. But the model here might be one of the smallest in the world.

Right next to the entertainment venue is Saks Fifth Avenue, which is just around the corner and two-tenths of a mile away in real life.

Four miles uptown, you can catch a show at the center of American culture, the Apollo.

The neo-classical theater opened in 1913. Seventy years later it was added to the National Register of Historic Places. More than a million people visit the Apollo each year.

In between them, in real life, anyway, is The Metropolitan Museum of Art, one of the world’s largest art museums.

The actual museum, some quarter mile in length, is actually a combination of more than 20 pre-existing structures, but most aren’t visible from outside. I wonder if the model makers took that detail to heart when they built this version.

Here’s a model showing the Roosevelt Island lighthouse, which has been a site from the East River since 1872. It occupies the northernmost point of the island between Manhattan and Long Island.

Gothic lighthouses are some of the less aesthetically appealing lighthouses, but I’ll take the model. About 50 feet tall, the light was operated until about 1940. A restoration was completed in 1998. It was added to the the National Register of Historic Places in 1972 and, because, I guess, New York has a more exacting set of standards, it was named a city landmark in 1976.

The LuEsther T. Mertz Library is located at the New York Botanical Garden, which is where this exhibit is held. I didn’t realize this at the time, which is probably just as well. It would have made me dizzy. This model is about 1,300 feet, as the crow flies, from the building that inspired it.

Begging the question, where do they store all these models when they aren’t on display here? Begging a further question, why doesn’t every one of these have a “NO TOUCHING” sign nearby? Begging a still-further question, how are all of the visitors resisting the urge to touch all of these?

Anyway, the Renaissance Revival style building was designed in 1896 and finished in 1901. And the Mertz was the first museum in the nation with a collection focused exclusively on botany.

And now I’m dizzy. This is a miniature of the Enid A. Haupt Conservatory. We are standing in that building for that photograph.

That central dome is the big room where this model is displayed. Built between 1899 and 1922, it has been renovated four or five times over the last years. The conservatory is the botanical garden’s main draw, in particular for the palm and cacti exhibits, and also because it houses events like this.

Here’s the representation of the Ed Koch Queensboro Bridge. The real one, opened in 1909 connects Queens to Manhattan. For a few years, it was the longest cantilever in North America.

It was named for the former New York City mayor in 2011. This bridge, Wikipedia tells me, is the first entry point into Manhattan for runners of the New York City Marathon. It is the last exit off the island if you’re doing the Five Boro Bike Tour, which sounds fun.

Now we come to the Lorillard Snuff Mill, now known as the Lillian and Amy Goldman Stone Mill. Built in 1840, it is the country’s oldest existing tobacco manufacturing building. This is also a part of the botanical garden.

The Lorillards moved their business to New Jersey in 1870. The city bought the land and gave it to the New York Botanical Garden. It was renovated in the 1950s and was again restored in 2010, a $10.5 million affair. There are offices and catering there now. They also host weddings. In 2019, they were charging between $2,250 and $2,750 for “the newly refurbished, farm chic stone mill” offering “a paramount combination of historic charm and modern comforts.”

Finally, this is the first, and last, model you see. And it is giant. When Macy’s Herald Square opened at 34th Street and Broadway, in 1902, it was so far removed from the rest of the city’s shopping that they had a steam wagonette bringing customers 20 blocks uptown.

The real building is 2.5 million square feet, half of which is retail space, making it the largest department store in the United States. By the 1930s the global designation for the largest retail had moved to Australia, but this Macy’s is still among the largest in the world. Those numbers are abstractions, so I looked this up. The mall near where I grew up has 1.4 million square feet of retail, and there’s something like 150 stores in there. Or, put another way, the total square footage of that Macy’s is about 6 times larger than NASA’s Vehicle Assembly Building, you know, where they build the large pre-manufactured space vehicle components. The Willis Tower, in Chicago, is twice as large as the Herald Square store. Today’s largest retailer, Wikipedia assures me, is Shinsegae Centum City, in South Korea, is a mall more than twice as large.

The Magic of Macy’s is in this miniature, too. This is actually a giant planter.

And that’s a fitting for a botanical garden, and a fitting place for this series of posts to end. (Part one is here. Here is part two. See part three here.) I hope you’ve enjoyed them as much as I have, and almost as much as I enjoyed the visit.


26
Dec 22

Holiday Train Show at the New York Botanical Garden, part three

We visited the holiday train show. The trains — all 25 of them cruising around on a half-mile of of track — were … fine. What they are weaving around — almost 200 miniature buildings made of bark, leaves, and other materials — is the real attraction. I took a lot of photos of the models of these historic and iconic places. Here are some of them. (Part one is here and part two is here.)

This is Boscobel, which was built for a man named States Dyckman, a British loyalist who maintained and, perhaps, grew his wealth. He was said to be, perhaps, a bit unscrupulous. But the real version of this house was originally on 250 acres. Construction began in 1803, but Dyckman never saw it completed. He died in 1806, his wife and kid were able to move in a few years later.

The federal-style house, with its delicate front facade family and large amounts of glass, stayed in the family until 1920. By 1955 it was scheduled to be demolished. One contractor bid $35 for the job, but it was ultimately moved 15 miles away. One of the co-founders of the Reader’s Digest helped save the place. New York’s governor Nelson Rockefeller said Boscobel was “one of the most beautiful homes ever built in America” when it re-opened in 1961.

Washington Irving lived in the real Sunnyside. The Headless Horseman and Rip Van Winkle characters helped make this place possible in Tarrytown.

In 1835, having lived most of his adult life as a guest in other people’s homes, decided to buy this place. Over the years he expanded on the building, so his “little cottage” took on Dutch Colonial Revival, Scottish Gothic, Tudor Revival and Spanish monastic influences. With the exception of five years when he was ambassador to Spain, Irving lived there for a quarter of a century.

This one models Wave Hill House, home to William Lewis Morris. He was a lawyer, his father was the chief justice of the New York Supreme Court. A host of other notable people lived there. Theodore Roosevelt’s family rented Wave Hill; Mark Twain did, too, at the start of the 20th century.

A later resident was palentologist Bashford Dean, who lived there with his wife, Mary Alice Dyckman, herself a descendant of States Dyckman, above. Since 1960, Wave Hill has belonged to the City of New York. It was added to the roster of the National Register of Historic Places in 1983. Tens of thousands of people visit it annually. Most of them were at this train show, it seemed like.

The New York Public Library, originating from the basic design of library director John Shaw Billings. The reading room? It tops seven floors of stacks. Overall, it made for the largest marble structure ever attempted in the United States.

The cornerstone was laid in 1902. The columns were in place by 1902. Five years of work on the inside began in 1906. Some 75 miles worth of shelves were installed in 1910, and more than a million books were on hand when the place opened in 1911. President William Taft opened the library and an estimated 50,000 people came through the doors on opening day.

Who wants to drive over a Manhattan Bridge made of sticks?

Nearby, as in real life, is the Brooklyn Bridge’s representation. So we’re walking in the East River, I guess.

And a closer look at the Brooklyn Bridge’s iconic stone towers, here made of bark, and other ingredients.

Some years back I read David McCullough’s The Great Bridge about the building of this incredible bridge. It was the first fixed crossing of the East River and the longest suspension bridge in the world at the time of its opening. Truly a marvel of its day, and still today.

The model is something impressive, too. And there are G-scale trains running along up there, too.

The Central Park Dairy, built in 1870, this was the place where kids could get snacks and milk — which was then hard to find in New York.

Today it is an information center for Central Park, and, of course, a gift shop.

Finally, the Trans World Airlines Flight Center, circa 1962, if there was ever a look of the Jet Age, this was it.

Meant to combine the function of a jet terminal with the aesthetics showing the drama of flight, there aren’t many more mid-20th century buildings than this. Also, it became a hotel, fell into disuse, and then became a terminal for other airlines. So, yeah, the story of the second half of the 20th century, too. If you’ve ever wondered about the architectural style, Wikipedia lists it as futurist, neo-futurist and Googie.

Imagine if they’d used a leaf motif in the actual building.

That wraps up the third installment. (Part one is here. Part two is here.) Three posts and 30 photos down, 10 more photos to go.


26
Dec 22

Holiday Train Show at the New York Botanical Garden, part two

We visited the holiday train show, which is something we’ve been invited to by family friends for years. Finally, the timing worked out. The trains — all 25 of them cruising around on a half-mile of of track — were … fine. What they are weaving around — almost 200 scaled down buildings made of bark, leaves, and other materials — is the real attraction. I took a lot of photos of the miniaturized parts of the city. Here are some of them. (Part one is here.)

This is the Terminal Warehouse. See that arch on the bottom? That was the key to the whole operation. You could drive a train into that arch, into the center of the building, for loading and off-loading freight. The Hudson River was nearby, and the area around the warehouse was a bustling center of shipping.

Hundreds of people were killed around the site over the years. In the 80s and 90s it was a popular night club, until the surrounding neighbor started to blight. In the last two decades, the building has been home to food and beverage retailers.

Here’s New York’s City Hall. Built in 1812, Wikipedia tells me this building is the nation’s oldest city hall in the still containing its original governmental functions and is one of the largest government buildings in the world. Even then, 13 agencies answering to the mayor’s office are located elsewhere.

City Hall is listed as a National Historic Landmark and on the National Register of Historic Places.

The cornerstone was laid in 1803, but the project faced delays over complaints about extravagance. The plans were reduced, and browstone was used in the back to lower costs. In the 1950s, the brownstone and original Massachusetts marble was replaced by Alabama limestone.

You’re welcome.

The Washington Arch is a marble memorial arch in Greenwich Village. It marks the 100th anniversary of George Washington’s 1789 inauguration as president.

The real one exists because, in 1889, a large plaster and wood memorial arch was installed by a local business man. It was a hit, and so a new fundraising effort went to work. Three years later, the permanent stone arch was erected.

This is the Park Avenue Armory, built in 1881.

Another name for the building is the Seventh Regiment Armory. The building is known for detailed interior rooms, which seems like a given considering the exterior. This is a big venue, and is today a non-profit powered alternative arts space. Also inside is a small detachment of the New York Army National Guard, two different veterans groups and a local mental health shelter.

Right about here, in the sprawling tour, I had to catch my wording. These, of course, aren’t the actual buildings. That is a big model, but you could probably only fit a few of those things inside it. Of course.

Here is (a naturalist model of) William K. Vanderbilt’s mansion. This was built between 1878 and 1882 on Fifth Avenue. Across the street was William H. Vanderbilt’s much larger mansion. (William H. was the son of the tycoon. William K. was his grandson.)

The French Renaissance-style was razed in 1927. There’s an office building there today.

Here’s a beautiful representation of Saint Bartholomew’s Church, in Manhattan. They hoisted this third version of the church into the air between 1916 through 1919. The land was sold to them by William H. Vanerbilt. Next spring they’ll mark the 100th anniversary of the church’s consecration.

If you like organs, this page has a great breakdown of what’s inside the church.

Speaking of icons, left to right you can see the General Electric Building (1930), the Met Life Insurance Tower (1909), One World Trade Center (2013) and the Woolworth Building (1912).

It was right here where I said, “Ya know, they should lay all of this out as a full scale model of the city.” Our family friend, who was born in New York City, laughed and launched into a discussion about all of the accidental things that are built, somewhat haphazardly, in the city. It was a colorful lecture.

Here’s the Chrysler Building (1930), a little sliver of the Flatiron Building (1903), the Plaza Hotel (1907) and the beautiful St. Patrick’s Cathedral (1879).

I’ve had the good fortune to see St. Patrick’s from several perspectives.

This is the Hurst-Pierrepont Estate. The real one is up the Hudson River.

The two-story brick Gothic villa was built in 1867 and was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1982. It went on the market for $5 million in 2019. It was still for sale last year.

An hour-and-a-half up the Hudson, you’ll find the town of Newburgh, which was where Highland Gardens was located. It was built in the 1830s by an untrained, 20-something architect, Andrew Jackson Downing. This, then, is a model of his own home. He was also a landscape designer and a horticulturist, so the botanical gardens is a good place for this miniature.

And this is a good place to stop this installment. (Part one is here.) Two posts and 21 photos down, 20 more photos to go.