What's in a name?

Recently, I was browsing ship manifests looking for my ancestors who, I know, emigrated from Sweden in the 1850’s.  I was looking for the surname Gustafson (my great grandmother) and I noticed, amongst many Gustafsons, some Gustafsdotters.  Intrigued, I looked into the naming system in Sweden prior to 1800 and this is what I learned.  In Sweden, personal nomenclature was based on the use of patronymics wherein a person’s name would be that of the father with the addition of ‘son’ or ‘dotter’ affixed depending on whether the child was male or female.  Thus, the offspring of Pedre would become Pedresson or Pedresdotter.  In the case of ‘son,’ even the added ‘s’ was maintained and that is why you find so many double esses in Swedish names;  Petersson, Ericsson, Johnsson, etc.

With a little more poking around I found out that the old Norse name Endri, was fairly common through the 16^th, 17^th, and 18^th centuries and that Endrisson and Endrisdotter were also fairly common.  When Sweden finally adopted the surname system of naming children, sometime in the 18^th and 19^th centuries, Endrisson became Hendersson and finally Henderson.

One more thing, do we really need two words to describe the act of moving from one country to another?  If you are in Sweden talking about people leaving for another country, they are Emigrating, but if you are in the other country talking about those same people coming into your country, they are Immigrating.  Change the first letter and add an ‘M’?  Why bother?

Clear and Present Danger!!

Last week, a friend of ours visiting from Scotland, told us that his wife and son would be arriving for the Christmas holidays.  We were excited and looking forward to seeing them also, since it has been almost five years since we saw them last.  Yesterday, our friend told us that homeland security and the immigration department had detained them for several hours in New York, and then deported them back to Scotland!  Apparently, the wife’s crime was that she had overstayed her visa five years ago by two days!  Because of this heinous crime, she was banned from returning to the United States for ten years!  To make matters worse, there is no appeal; nowhere to go and nobody to reason with.  Is this really what we have come to?  Millions of illegals bleeding our country to death, and our government thinks it’s more important to perpetrate this kind of injustice on a visiting, hard working, self supporting, family of three.

How would you like to be subject to this kind of arbitrary injustice?  In case you haven’t been keeping up with the news, there is now a “bill” on President Obama’s desk that gives the justice department, homeland security, the military, or any law enforcement agency the right to hold American Citizens Indefinitely if they are suspected of being terrorists.  The scary part is that any low level bureaucrat could be making the decision about who is a threat.  Indefinitely, without the right of appeal, without legal defense and without due process!  What the hell is going on in this country?  Does this not frighten all of us?  This should be a wake-up call to anyone who values freedom and “The American Way.”

Do we really want the demagogue in the White House to have this kind of power?  This power grab is unprecedented in our history, and was last seen during the French Revolution and the “Reign of Terror” that followed.  Don’t let it happen here.  Speak now, or forever hold your peace, or you may end up being detained indefinitely.  Call your representatives, write to your newspapers, or just talk to your friends and neighbors.  There is a real danger here and awareness has to be raised!!!

I'm sorry Mike, that my country has treated you so poorly.

Our, too short, trip to Italy

In 1967, Gail and I had a chance to visit Rome, Italy for three days with a group of friends and associates.  We traveled from Germany through the Alps to Rome by train, a trip that passed through some of the most beautiful country in Europe.

Although the trip across the Alps was only about 100 miles, as the crow flies, that part of the journey took the most time because of the switchback nature of the path we had to follow to get over the mountains.

Once over the Alps, the train made a stop in Milan, Italy where vendors were waiting to sell cheese, bread, and wine to the travelers.  There was no need to leave the train since the vendors conducted business through the windows of the passenger cars.  The wine, I remember, came in those familiar round-bottomed bottles encased in a straw basket, called a “fiasco.”  Needless to say, we were all in good spirits by the time we reached our final destination.

Our first day in Rome was spent visiting the Coliseum and several fountains, including the Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi-Ganges, and the Trevi fountain (Three Coins in a Fountain). The Trevi Fountain is the largest and most spectacular of Rome's fountains, designed to glorify the three different Popes who created it.  It was built in 1730 at the terminus of the reconstructed Acqua Vergine aqueduct.

Trevi Fountain

 On our second day in Italy, we left the group we were with and took a train 130 miles south to visit the ancient ruins of Pompei.  We spent most of day day roaming the grounds and museum at Pompei and still didn’t see it all.  One unusual thing I remember about Pompei is the depth of the streets below the sidewalks.  If you stepped off the sidewalk, it was a two foot drop to the street!  At intervals and the intersections, there were three or four stepping stones, raised to sidewalk level, spaced just far enough apart to allow wheeled carts to pass through and over them while providing a convenient pathway for pedestrians.  I guess the entire street was used as a drainage system and, judging from the depth, they must have had lots of rain in Pompei.  We got back to the hotel late that evening, and did not see the group we were with.

Pompei Street

 The following morning, day three, we left the group yet again and took a train 170 miles to the north to visit the town of Pisa and the famous leaning tower.  In those days we were allowed to walk the spiral steps to the top of the tower, and we did.  After the obligatory photos, we hopped on a local bus and found our way to the nearby town of Torre del Lago, and their famous Marble factory.  I purchased a marble chess table with brass “catspaw” legs that I still have today.  We bought several other marble pieces and managed to lug it all back to our hotel room in Rome just before midnight that day.

Leaning Tower of Pisa

 Most of day three was spent in “recovery mode” from the first two days.  We had a late and casual lunch at a local bistro and visited Vatican City.  That evening, we met up again with the group we had come with, for the first time since day one.  We all met for a formal dinner at a very nice Italian Ristorante.  I remember the place being slightly below street level which leant an air of authenticity to the ambiance.  Again, we drank lots of wine and the live musicians played Arivederci Roma for us before we left to pack for the trip back to Germany.

Some Useless Trivia

It has been alleged by Mike M. that “nitty-gritty” is a derogatory reference to the English slave trade of the 18th century, but this is what I’ve discovered.

The phrase is usually used with the prefix “getting down to” and there is a sense that, whatever the nitty-gritty is, it is at the bottom of something. The suggestion is that it originated as a term for the unimportant debris left at the bottom of ships after the slaves had been removed and that the meaning was extended to include the slaves themselves.

The general touchiness over language that might have had a racist origin is enhanced by the ongoing guilt felt by some communities that were formerly involved with the slave trade, for example the English sea-ports of Bristol and Liverpool. In July 2006, Liverpool Council debated the proposal that Penny Lane in Liverpool should be renamed to remove the association with the slave-trader James Penny. This was dismissed as ludicrous by many in the city, but the very fact that the suggestion was made indicates a degree of ongoing unease.

There is no evidence to support the suggestion that 'nitty-gritty' has any connection with slave ships.  It isn't even recorded in print until the 1930s, long after slave ships had disappeared, and none of the early references make any link to slavery.

The first reference to be found of the phrase in print is from a 1937 catalog of song titles wherein a song with the title “That Nitty Gritty Dance” is listed.  The phrase isn't found in print again for some time and reappeared in several newspaper citations dating from 1956, for example, this line from Alice Childress' novel “Like One of Family”:

"You'll find nobody comes down to the nitty-gritty when it calls for namin' things for what they are."

Another is from the Texas newspaper The Daily Journal, in June 1956 and comes from a piece which gave examples of 'the language of 15-year old hepcats':

"She buys, with buffalo heads, ducks to the local flickers, but they prove to be corny and along comes a nitty-grittygator in a cattle train which she hops."

Unfortunately, the Journal didn't include a translation, but several former “Beatniks” who are "hep to the jive" confirm that, in that context, a 'nitty-gritty gator' was a 'lowlife hip dude' and a 'cattle train' was a Cadillac.

It has also been suggested that 'nitty-gritty' refers to head lice, a.k.a. 'nits', or that it refers to ground corn, a.k.a. 'grits', but again, neither of these theories is supported by any hard evidence.  Where it does come from isn't known. It is one of the many phrases that use rhyming reduplication, for example, namby-pamby, willy-nilly etc.  It is most likely that the rhyme was formed as a simple extension of the existing US adjective 'gritty', meaning determined or plucky.

Mind Your P's and Q's

In the world of the occult, there are many people out there who have special talents; Jean Dixon, Nostradamus, and Edgar Cayce, just to name a few of the most prominent.  I have always been fascinated by these people and the things they can do.  Are there really demons and ghosts?  Can some people actually foresee the future and talk to the dead?  I have never really bought into this stuff but, many years ago some friends and I fooled around with an Ouija board and after I learned that the boards may open a doorway to the underworld, I never played with one again, so maybe I do believe a little bit.

I once read a book titled “Bridey Murphy” that has since, been debunked and undebunked.  The book is about reincarnation and a Colorado housewife name Virginia Tighe who had recollections of a previous life in Ireland wherein her name was Bridey Murphy.  Virginia was able to remember many things about her life as Bridey that only Bridey would have known.  I have since, read many books on the subject of reincarnation and there are some fascinating stories out there.  Even if the facts are true, there is no way to tell whether the person in those stories actually lived a previous life or whether that person is tapping into an archive of “memory records” of some other, long deceased person.

A famous clairvoyant named Edgar Cayce told us that these “memory records” exist in the form of “Akashic Records” and that we all have the ability to tap into them.  He also said that the “Akashic Records” are an archive of everything that has ever happened and everything that ever will happen!  Of all the clairvoyants I have read about or seen on TV, Edgar Cayce is the most interesting.  His “readings” are very well documented and his abilities have been well proven.

Almost without exception, these clairvoyants and many other prominent people of our age such as Dale Carnegie (How to Win Friends and Influence People), James Allen (As a Man Thinketh), and Napoleon Hill (Think and Grow Rich) profess one thing, and that is the power of the mind.  It seems that if we could learn to control our minds we could tap into those Akashic records, summon spirits, talk to the dead, or even move mountains!

In the final analysis, we have to be very careful with our minds.  We have to be careful about what we think and believe, because that is what we will get.  The human mind is a wonderful gift and a powerful tool and it would be a shame to let others shape if for us.  Question everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, and keep an open mind.

What were those Indians up to?

Did you ever wonder what was in those “peace pipes” the Indians used to smoke?  The pipes were in use long before tobacco was introduced to the New World, so what were they smoking?  And, why was it a “peace” pipe.  Did it have any relation to the “peace” loving pot smoking hippie generation?  Hmmm’.

While we're on the subject, what do drugs have to do with “peace” in the first place?  When anyone speaks of drugs, the first thought that comes to mind is crime!  When prohibition (18^th Amendment) took effect in 1920, crime escalated to unheard of levels.  That was the era that saw the rise of Al Capone and his ilk.  When the 18^th Amendment was finally repealed, the associated criminal activity evaporated.  Why haven’t we learned anything from that?

Maybe its time to legalize drugs.  Give them all they want!  The associated crime and power of the Cartels would instantly evaporate and many of the heavy users would soon OD, removing that burden from society.  The mystique that probably lures a lot of young users would also vaporize.  We could establish institutions for chronic users and our schools could visit them on field trips to show the students what to expect if they start using.  I couldn’t think of a better deterrent; kind of like “scared straight.”

A 2008 study by Harvard economist has estimated that legalizing drugs would inject $76.8 billion a year into the U.S. economy — $44.1 billion from law enforcement savings, and at least $32.7 billion in tax revenue.  How long do we continue failed policies before we do what is intuitively right, even though it might seem a little harsh?  We should learn from the Swedes, whose legalized but controlled policy on drugs has produced a druggie population that is one fifth that of neighboring Great Britain and even less than that of the United States.

Euro Collapse

I fear the worst is about to happen.  British banks are now preparing for a total meltdown of the Euro and a financial Armageddon.  British investors are bailing on the currency and that will only exacerbate the problem.  They are expecting widespread riots across Europe!

The morons in control of our government have been trying to convince us that the recession ended in 2008 but they have not been fooling many of us.  The meltdown in Europe will not leave us unscathed and the recession we have been experiencing for the past few years is about to get a lot worse.

Thank you Barney Frank and the rest of you liberal Democratic idiots!  Your “no homeowner left behind” program has not only ruined this country, it has ruined the world financial markets!  George Bush and Newt Gingrich tried to warn you but you did not listen.  Now, the piper will get his reward and we are all going to pay for it.

This is going to be an interesting ride! 

Las Vegas and Back

Whew!  We made it, another fun stay in “Sin City.”  The drive to Vegas was uneventful except for the amazing discovery that dragons can’t sniff.  In one of those delirious conversations brought on by the constant hum of the tires on the pavement, we came to the realization that, if dragons sniffed, they would burn their lungs out!  I tell ya, just when you think you know it all, something like this crops up and you realize how little you really know.

Gail, Shea, Robert, Noah, Carey, James

We only spent one day in Las Vegas, just time enough to attend the wedding of my son and his new wife, but it was plenty of time to dump a week’s pay at the gambling tables, and another week’s pay at the dining tables!  I’m not a Vegas regular, but I am amazed at the cost meals at the big hotels.  I remember the days when hotel restaurants were almost free and were used as an attraction to draw the gamblers.  Now, it seems like the gambling is used as a lure to draw the diners.  Times have sure changed.

We stayed at the Luxor, which I have aptly renamed the Suxor.  Unique from the outside, it is an architectural abomination from the inside.  False walls, canvas shields, and other tricks were used everywhere, ostensibly to hide something that was even uglier than the shield used to hide it.  Hookers, with their cut-off jeans, short blouses showing four inches of midriff, and 6” platform stiletto heels were a constant fixture, standing out like lumps of coal in a snow bank.  I never noticed them so much before, maybe they all wore disguises or something.

Overall, we had a good time and the only real discomfort was the drive home.  From Vegas to Whiskey Pete’s, the traffic was stop and go.  Three lanes of traffic that looked like the 91 on a Friday afternoon!  We did have several areas where we achieved the speed limit but, basically, the roads were jammed all the way home and we actually came to a full stop many times.  I never thought I’d see the day!

Trouble on the way?

Three years ago I did a comparison of the 1929 stock market crash with what was going on at the time.  The similarities were amazing.  A 50% plunge that recovered to about 85% then, after about a year, a total collapse to about 10% of its high point.  Three years ago, we suffered a very similar drop and had a very similar recovery in about the same amount of time.  Where the two situations diverge is in the following year.  We never had the total collapse a year later like they had in 1929.  I began to wonder why and I think I have a good answer.

In 1929, the country was experiencing the “roaring twenties” and almost everybody was dabbling in the stock market.  When trouble emerged, everyone pulled their money out and that sent the market into a tailspin.  Today, it is not so easy for investors to pull their money out, most of it is in mutual funds which are part of many retirement programs and there are penalties for early withdrawal.  Therein we have the saving grace.  If there were no penalties, I’m sure many folks would have withdrawn their money long ago rather than having to sit back and watch account values dwindle to nothing.

 In the crash of October, 1929, the two day drop for the Dow Jones Industrial Average (DJIA) was 23.6%.  In comparison, the 2008 crash on Oct. 10, 2008 was 22.1%, eerily similar.  The total drop for the 1929 to 1932 bear market was 89.2%.  Stock accounts lost almost 90% of their value!  It remains to be seen how long the retirement accounts in mutual funds will buoy the market but sooner or later, the “Piper” will get his money and the outcome will be a similar decline; 90%.  I hope I’m wrong!

Even without this cloud hanging over the Market, most analyst today conservatively estimate that the value of the dollar is being eroded by 13% to 16% every year and eventually, that will translate into a similar level of inflation.  It seems that there is no safe haven for investors and they are all scrambling to salvage what they have left.  Insurance companies, the proverbial “cash cows,” are saving their assets by developing commercial real estate which is being built everywhere, even though many office and warehouse buildings are empty and tenants are dwindling.  Warren Buffet bought a railroad.  The “big boys” are investing in things that will always be there and things that will always be necessary, even in hard times.  Energy and commodities

I remember reading stories of pre-war Germany where prices doubled every two days and people rushed to the grocery stores to spend their paychecks before they lost value!  Can it happen again and can it happen here?  To use a popular catchphrase, “it’s not a matter of if, but when.”  I hope this doesn’t sound too “doomsday-ish,” it is only meant to provoke thought.  It doesn’t do any good to bury one’s head in the sand because the facts will not go away.  

Borderlands, a bit of history

I read a lot of history and the one theme that seems to permeate all of history is that of barbarism.  It seems that one group was always preying on another and that the main cause that shaped the evolution of civilization was self preservation.  People banded together, ran to the hinterlands and resorted to all manner of contrivances to protect themselves from each other including weapons, fortified walls, armor, etc.

There is an area referred to as the Borderlands between England and Scotland that suffered an unusually brutal history over an unusually long period of time.  Added to the almost continual wars between Scotland and England, were the roving bands of thugs that used the wars or almost any excuse to take what they wanted, sometimes exterminating entire families in the process.  Mistrust was rampant, assassination and brutal murder were commonplace and families tended to band together and form clans for self protection.  Only two types of dwellings could be found in the Borderlands.  Those that were made of stone had three floors with animals kept on the bottom, living quarters on the second floor, and defensive battlements on the top; almost like a mini-castle.  Dwellings made of wood were crude and designed to be abandoned in case of trouble and could be rebuilt in a day or so.

The atrocities, slaughter, and violence persisted in the Borderlands for hundreds of years until, as one writer put it “This endemic violence caused heavy loss of life on both side of the border and often did as much killing in relation to the local population as the plague did nearly everywhere else.”  The net effect was that the Borderlands were in a state of anarchy for many generations.

These are the people who formed the fourth great migration to the New World in the late 1600’s and early 1700’s and populated the American Backcountry.  These are the Moonshiners of the Ozarks, the folks who populated the Blue Ridge Mountains and the Appalachians.  Uneducated, crude, and backward, these people were shunned by the immigrants who preceded them and directed toward settlement in, what was then, the frontier.  Like their home turf, the Backcountry was also a dangerous and harsh place, being populated by many Indian tribes, but these folks were used to danger and violence and they proliferated.  They named places like Bloody Rock, Cutthroat Gap, Killquick, and Lynch Creek.  They brought, from their homeland, words like Whar for Where, and Thar for There.  They also brought fixin (getting ready to do something), cute, bumfuzzled, scoot and used the word honey as a term of endearment.

The Backcountry immigrants from the Borderlands were a rough and hearty people, they had to be to survive in the areas that were open to them.  The relative few families that lived in the Backcountry tended to inter-marry and became very clannish, just like their ancestors in the Borderlands.  Also, like their ancestors in the Borderlands, they carried on feuds that persisted for generations and is epitomized in the saga of the Hatfields and McCoys.  They also produced such notables as Andrew Jackson, James Knox Polk, and Zachary Taylor.

Looking for Aunt Ethel

On a recent trip to Reno we met up with cousin LuAnn who lives in a wonderful place on the banks of the Truckee River in downtown Reno.  On a day trip, LuAnn drove us to Dayton, Nevada to see our aunt Ethel.  Imagine our surprise when we drove up and found the remains of a burned out mobile home!

The place had been so badly burned that there was red caution tape everywhere and “do not enter” signs posted about.  We went in anyway and rummaged through what remained, being very careful about where we stepped.  We didn’t find much so we decided to rummage through the outbuildings, of which there were six or seven.  It seems that Uncle Paul never threw anything away, a habit of many people raised during the Great Depression era.  Aunt Ethel’s home site was about two acres in a very sparsely populated section of Dayton, itself a very small town and Uncle Paul had managed to fill all the buildings and most of the land with his collection of stuff.

After an hour or so of rummaging, we began to knock on the doors of neighboring homes to see if we could find out what happened to Aunt Ethel.  This, in itself, was a little unnerving since most of the neighboring homes were in a similar state of “junkdome” and I expected any moment to be confronted with an unshaven, toothless resident brandishing a shotgun.  We knocked on the doors of four adjacent homes and only one resident responded even though they all appeared to be home at the time.  The man who did answer his door would have fit right in with the cast of “Deliverance” and was so drunk he could hardly stand up, but he was friendly enough.  He told us that the fire had taken place “about a month ago” and that Aunt Ethel had been taken out by the firemen, through the bedroom window.  He did not know whether she was dead or alive.  I thanked him for the information and left him with my phone number in case the neighbors he knew could add something.

We then visited the local sheriff’s office but couldn’t find anyone there so we headed back to Reno.  The next day, I began calling the local hospitals to see if I could find Ethel.  On the third or fourth call, I found out that she had been admitted to the hospital right there in Reno, about five miles from where we were staying, but “rules” prevented them from telling me any more.  The following day I went to the hospital and spoke with people in the public relations department but all they could add was that Ethel had been admitted three months prior (The fact that Ethel’s neighbor missed the date of the fire by 200% will give you some clue as to his mental state!) and that she had been discharged to a long term care facility whose name they could not divulge.  As I was leaving, one of the employees who had overheard my conversation handed me a sheet of paper with a list of 6 long term care facilities that their hospital did business with.  How nice was that?

We left Reno the next morning so I did not have time to call the list until we got home.  I found Ethel on the very first call and informed cousin LuAnn who then went to visit with her.  She was alive, but not in very good shape.  She was on a respirator and did not respond to LuAnn's voice or touch.  Until just a few minutes ago, while I was writing this piece, that is all we knew about Ethel.  Then, I did a search of the Social Security files and discovered that Aunt Ethel passed away sometime after LuAnne’s visit.

My viewpoint!

I recently “unfriended” a person on Facebook who I never should have “friended” in the first place.  I thought, after so many years, this person might have changed but I was wrong.  In the aftermath of this “unfriending” I was set upon by several people (all liberals) in his defense, and accused of not wanting to listen to anyone who has a different viewpoint.  I was told that I needed to “agree to disagree.”  First of all, I will never “agree to disagree.”  That is a solution dreamed up by liberals who have run out of viable arguments.  When you can’t defend your position any longer, agree to disagree.  What a joke!

There are at least, two problems with the argument that I don’t like to hear differing viewpoints.  Firstly, the person who was “unfriended” never had a viewpoint, he was just a criticizer.  He never, to my knowledge, ever posted a viewpoint of his own, just negatively commented on the postings of others.  Secondly, and more importantly, these liberal “thinkers,” and I use the term loosely, have overlooked what their mindset has constantly overlooked for more years than I like to think about, and that is the law of reciprocal treatment.  If they have the right of “Free Speech” then I have the right of “Free Listening.”

This might seem comical at first, but it is the same liberal attitude that jumps to the defense of criminals but does not consider the rights of the victim.  It is this one-sided viewpoint that has confiscated the rights of citizens in the defense of endangered animals, the rights of property owners against abusive tenants, and the rights of ordinary citizens against the injustice of “minority quotas”;  The list goes on and on.

While we are at it, lets call a spade a spade.  Lets call liberalism what it really is, Communism at its finest.  In case you liberals out there haven’t heard, Communism died several years ago in the Soviet Union and if you don’t open your eyes soon, it will be reincarnated right here in the United States of America.  Do you really want to try it again?  There’s a “viewpoint” for ya.

"Two Years Before The Mast"

On a recent trip to San Diego we had the pleasure of visiting with Shirley who, in my opinion, is the best cook in the whole world and the person who motivated me to learn more about the craft.  Shirley’s son, cousin Charles, introduced me to a book that I had heard about for many years, but never had the opportunity to read.  The book is titled “Two Years Before The Mast” and was written in the late 1830’s by Richard Henry Dana Jr.  “Before The Mast” refers to the position on the ship where all new inexperienced sailors were required to berth.  It is in the forecastle, in front of the Foremast, in the bow.  “Two Years Before The Mast” is about Dana’s adventures sailing from Boston, around the "Horn" to the California Coast in 1836 and his experiences along the West Coast while he and his shipmates collected 40,000 cowhides from the local missions.  Cowhides were the medium of exchange between the Spanish Missions and the sailing ships that brought manufactured goods from the East.

Full Rigged Ship

While the tale is well written, with detailed descriptions of the ports Dana visited, San Diego, Capistrano, San Pedro, Monterey, San Francisco, etc. much of it is written in the jargon of the seafarer and can be difficult to follow.  Description of the daily chores aboard ship were especially difficult but I had the advantage of a large scale drawing of a “Full-rigged ship” at my disposal and made good use of it.  I learned the difference between a “Fore, Main, and Mizzen” Mast and the names of the 29 or more sails that can be “Clewed,” “Reefed,” or “Furled” upon them.  Other terms such as “Close hauled,” “Reeving,” and “Larboard” required some outside research, but sometimes I just used my imagination.  To try to understand all the terminology would have taken more time than I wanted to invest in a single book, and it really wasn’t necessary to benefit from the saga.

One of the best parts of the book is in the final chapters when Dana revisits the West Coast twenty four years later in 1860 and compares what he sees then with his previous visit.  He notes that San Pedro, a place that he and most of his shipmates detested, has doubled in size and now has two houses, that San Francisco has grown from a small Mission and a small Presidio to a city of over 100,000 inhabitants, and the islands in the bay that were once covered from top to shoreline with trees were all now devoid of vegetation!  What Dana describes as the most beautiful place on the coast, Monterey, has ceased to be a port of call and has not changed much, but in his melancholy description of San Diego he finds that much changed.  The storage warehouses are gone as cowhides are not a big business anymore and Steamers, not Sail Ships dot the harbor.

As a footnote to Dana’s adventures, his ship was captured by the Southern steamer “Alabama” on his return to the East Coast and he was a prisoner-of war for a short while.  Overall, “Two Years Before The Mast” is a fascinating window into a time of dramatic change in America and I thank Chuck for introducing me to the book.

My Family

I don’t think there is a man on earth who is more proud of his family than I am.  When I realize all the dangers and pitfalls that lie in the way of “growing up” I feel blessed that both of my children emerged on the “adult” side in such fine shape and even more blessed that my wife has kept me around long enough to appreciate it all.

My daughter has far exceeded my expectations and has grown into a wise and independent professional person, raising a family of her own that I am sure she is as proud of as I am of mine.  My son James is an entrepreneur extraordinaire and has accomplished more in his years than any other two people I know.  Sometimes I think there is nothing he can’t do, and do well.  Finally, my wife is like a fine wine that gets sweeter as the years go by and I realize, now, how perfectly matched for each other we are.  Like a movie producer behind the scenes, she knew just how to direct the action to produce the best results and I give her all the credit for the final results.

As for me;  I’m still wondering how I got here!

The Birthday Extravaganza

Every once in a while you get the opportunity to step out of your world and enter a new dimension, and the birthday party last night at AnQi’s in Costa Mesa was just such an occasion.  This wasn’t your average party where the host reserves a banquet room or a section of a high end restaurant, in this case the host reserved the entire restaurant!  Talent was brought in from Las Vegas, and professional renowned musicians were a part of the continual entertainment that took place before, during, and after dinner.  Everything was first class, from the food to the $60 a shot tequila that flowed like water.

Normally, at birthday parties, the guests bring gifts for the person whose birthday is the cause for celebration but in this case, gifts were handed out to the attendees, all 100+ of them!  Gift bags that were given to everyone included a bottle of Don Julio tequila, a very nice picture frame intended to hold a personalized photo of the event, and well over a hundred dollars worth of gift cards!

The hosts of this party have been family friends for many years, and this is not the first time they have put on such an extravaganza.  It is not unusual to meet Hollywood celebrities or famous sports figures at their parties and I feel honored to be continually included in their guest list.  My life has been enriched by my association with them and their circle of friends and without mentioning any names, I want to say;  Thank You!

Thinking about Bill

I was thinking about my friend Bill today, and all the things we got into during our junior and senior years in High School.  Thinking back, it seems like we managed to cram a lot of adventure into a relatively small window of time.

Bill                                                       Robert

 Bill and I were using my brother’s car one night and we ran out of gas and barely managed to coast the vehicle in the parking lot of an apartment complex.  Like a couple of idiots, we decided to siphon gas from another vehicle that was parked directly next to us and we got discovered.  After a two hour chase on foot by the vehicle’s owner and a police squad car, we managed to escape but the car was impounded.  The next morning I reported the car stolen but the whole episode still cost us $60.

Another time we were spraying weeds, as a summer job, for a UC Davis professor who had an experimental field of 40 acres in Dixon, CA.  It was hot and we were shirtless, carrying heavy spray tanks around that field when we thought it would be fun to take some honey from the nearby beehives.  We boldly walked up to the hives and removed a lid, and the bees seemed to be ok with it.  I pulled up one of the slats that held the honeycomb, while Bill gently scraped the bees off the comb with his knife.  All was going well until I dropped the slat!  The bees were instantly aroused and the noise from their buzzing increased tenfold.  I told Bill not to run and for a few moments he held out, but he eventually took off down the road at a full sprint.  Within a few more moments I was alone at the hives and all the bees had taken off after Bill.  He was stung many, many times that day while I escaped unharmed.

On another adventure at Lake Tahoe we hiked up the ski slopes above the lake when they were devoid of snow.  On the way down, there were long stretches of open, sandy terrain and I began to run slowly but, as anyone who has run downhill knows, you have to be very careful that your legs don’t start cartwheeling.  I learned that the hard way and after a short stretch at an easy canter, I was completely out of control and looking for the easiest and softest way to stop my forward progress.  It came in the form of a large rock and a tree!  Ouch!  I did not escape unharmed that time.

 Another time we were in the storage yard of a “war surplus” store after hours when we shouldn’t have been there.  At one point we rounded a corner and came face to face with the proverbial “junk yard dog.”  For a moment we all froze; Bill, me, and the dog all standing there staring at each other.  I don’t remember what triggered our flight, but all three of us broke at the same time.  Bill and I headed for the nearest fence with the dog hot on our heels.  We managed to make it to the chain link fence and launch ourselves onto it just in the nick of time, with the dog snapping at us all the while.  Another lesson learned.

On yet another adventure we decided to take my dad’s boat on the Sacramento River while they were out of town.  We hitched it up and hauled it to the ramp and, again like a couple of idiots, we pushed it out into the current before we tried to start the engine!  We tried in vain to get it started, but no luck.  There we were drifting helplessly down the river, in danger of being run over by the many barges on their way up.  It was only with the help of another boater that we avoided a complete catastrophe.  We were towed back to the ramp where we promptly loaded the boat a put it back where it belonged.  We sure learned a lot of things together, Bill and I.

The infamous Mr. Dugger

While growing up, I often heard the story of my father and all his brothers and sisters and how they all ended up in foster homes.  Of the six children, the three youngest, Eleanor, Ralph and William, went to live with the Carpenter family in Bassett, Nebraska while the older boys, Paul, King, and Mark went to farms in Eureka, South Dakota.  Paul lived with the Schrenk family while King and Mark went to two separate Straub families, Adam and Emaual Straub respectively.

As the story was handed down to me, the family breakup had something to do with my grandfather’s involvement with a “Mr. Dugger” and a religious group in Omaha, Nebraska that was consuming a lot of his time.  In continuance, the oral history mentions that all the children were taken in by “Saints” of the church.  For most of my life, this is all I knew about that saga and I never understood who Mr. Dugger was or how the children ended up going to these particular families in these particular towns.  That was all soon to end.

Mr. Andrew N. Dugger

 Recently, I Googled the name Dugger and discovered information that put everything in perspective.  I found out that Mr. Andrew F. Dugger and his son Andrew N. Dugger were early leaders in “The Church of God, Seventh Day,” an offshoot of the Seventh Day Adventists.  The Duggers lived in Bassett, NE, the home of Seely and Clara Carpenter, members of the church (“saints”), and the foster family of the three youngest children.  Furthermore, I discovered that a new church in Eureka, S.D. had recently been accepted into the General Conference and Andrew Dugger had been invited to hold services and council them.  Leaders of that church were none other than John and Peter Schrenk, the family that took in my uncle Paul, and brothers Adam and Emanual Straub, the families who took in my father, King, and my uncle Mark.

I know this will seem like “Ho-Hum” information to many, but in my effort to understand and know grandparents who I never met, it is a milestone discovery.

Understand the question!

Latest headline: “Skeptic finds he now agrees global warming is real.”  That is the latest assessment of a renowned scientist.

The problem with this headline is that there are very few people who would disagree with him and it has always been that way.  The disagreement is with the cause.  Is Global Warming caused by man’s activities or is it a natural cycle of events?  The liberals think man is causing the change while the realists (notice the choice of words) know that it is only a natural cycle that the earth has gone through many, many times.

The same kind of misunderstanding is in effect with the abortion issue.  The liberal “Pro-lifers” think that all those who don’t agree with them are “Pro-deathers” but the fact is they are only “Pro-choice.”  Like me, most “Pro-choicers” would never resort to abortion as a means of birth control but, unlike the “Pro-lifers,” neither would we presume to tell others how to believe.

There are Wars, Then there are Wars

The following study is the kind of thing you do when you have too much time on your hands.  You begin to ponder the most inane subjects until you are driven to the internet for answers.  In modern times, no question need be left unanswered if you have a computer.

I got to wondering about all the wars this country has engaged in since the Revolution in 1776, and the relative number of casualties compared to the population at the time.  In my era it was the Viet Nam conflict, and almost everyone knew someone who had lost their life in that war.  It seemed like almost every family in the United States was affected in one way or another.  In my father’s time, it was World War II, and in my grandfather’s time it was WWI.  I guess every generation has its war to deal with.

Anyway, to put things in perspective I will make some comparisons.  The Revolution and WWII were about even in their relative casualty rates with percentages of .21 and .24 respectively.  With the exception of the Civil War, those two wars had the highest casualty rates.  Likewise, the War of 1812 and the Mexican War were similar with rates of .062 and .057 respectively, less than one third of the WWII rate.  Generally, WWI had a high casualty rate, but the United States did not enter the fracas until late in the game and we still suffered a casualty rate of .11 percent of our population at the time, twice that of the War of 1812 and the Mexican War.  All the other wars, the Spanish/American War (.0032%), Korea (.0244%), Viet Nam (.038%), Persian Gulf (.0002%) and Iraq (.0004%) combined only add up to .0602%, about the same as the War of 1812!

Now, ponder if you would, the Civil War.  The Civil War had a casualty rate of 1.6363%, over twice the rate of all the other wars combined, including the Revolution and both World Wars!  Remembering my perception of things during the Viet Nam conflict, I find this number astounding.  I thought the Viet Nam numbers were high, but they are hardly a blip on the radar compared to the Civil War.  The Civil War numbers are 43 times as great!

The Easy Life?

As settlers pushed west from the original 13 colonies they inevitably followed two main corridors.  The northern route made use of the Ohio River and was through the Ohio Valley and the southern route followed the road through the Cumberland Gap pioneered by Daniel Boone.  Settlement of the vast area between the east coast and the Mississippi River progressed steadily for about two hundred years, but seemed to stall at the Mississippi River.  The reason for this was that it took a whole new set of techniques and talents to survive on the prairie, beyond the “tree line,” than had previously been necessary in the heavily wooded areas of the east.  History during this era is rife with stories of families who made the trek west only to return within a year or two completely disheartened.

Water was not as abundant, wood for building houses was almost non-existent in some areas, and even wood for fencing was not to be had.  Eventually, wells were dug to alleviate the water problems but early settlers were still dependent on the weather to supply enough water for crops, and rain on the plains, unlike Spain, did not fall on the plains.  Even in good years, the yearly annual rainfall on the plains only averaged about 17 inches, just about the same as the deserts of Southern California!

“Sod huts” provided crude shelter until lumber could be brought in from the east, but even these had their drawbacks.  One of my ancestors, Elias Frew brought his wife Fannie and their four children “out west” in a covered wagon and moved them into a sod hut.  Tragedy struck during an unusually wet rainstorm when the dirt roof collapsed, killing Fannie and two of her boy children.

Fencing might not seem like a pressing issue, but try to imagine being on a farm with an assortment of livestock without fencing.  Protecting gardens and water sources would be very difficult, and containing herds of horses or cattle would be impossible.  Some enterprising individuals went so far as to build fences out of mud, hence the term “uglier than a mud fence” but even that was labor intensive and only worked for small areas such as gardens. The fencing problem remained until the development of barbed wire.

For the few who were prepared to overcome these obstacles, a sizeable family farm could be established for a relatively low cost.  Now all they had to do was survive the tornados and the extended droughts that plagued the area every 30 years or so.

My Uncle Lou

Had lunch today with Uncle Lou at “Toucan Charley’s.” To say that he is an interesting character would be a gross understatement. He was born in December of 1919 in Idaho to a father who was an accountant at a sugar refinery and a mother who had broken away from the Mormon Church to escape their polygamist values. When Lou was just a baby, the family moved to California thinking the climate would be better for the arthritis that was afflicting Lou’s father. It didn’t help.


While Lou was in high school he took up the trumpet and learned to play it very well. By the time he graduated from High School, he was playing with local bands on weekends to supplement his income and was the proverbial “Cool Cat” dressed in his zoot suit complete with watch and chain, and a felt hat with feather. Zoot suiters usually replaced the usual watch fob with a watch chain that dangled from the belt to the knee or below, then back to a side pocket.

Lou holds the distinction of having marched in the bands for the grand openings of the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge on November 12th, 1936, and then again, six months later, the Golden Gate Bridge on May 27th, 1937. He was a teen idol before Rock & Roll and had more than his share of groupies who were mesmerized by his flamboyant charm.

At 92 years young, Lou still has all his hair and faculties, still drives his own car, and is in better shape than most of us who are half his age. How does he do it? I don’t know, but if that devilish twinkle in his eye and his penchant for enjoying life are any clues then we would all do well to follow his example.

Legends? or Truth?

There is much evidence around the world that advanced societies have existed before us.  If it’s true, and there have been advanced civilizations on this planet before and the legends we hear about them represent the highest technical achievements of those civilizations, then we are all in mortal danger.

Our DNA (the infamous double helix) is made up of four proteins, labled A, T, C, and G.  At first, genetic research was confined to just manipulating these letters to make modest changes to an organism.  Soon, they discovered that certain combinations of these letters made “words” and they could manipulate whole words to change things like eye color, or hair color.  Now, they have learned that these “words” make “sentences” and they are able to manipulate entire “sentences”!  Anyone who has seen the altered chickens with breast so large the chickens are not able to stand up can attest to the fact that genetic manipulation has reached an amazing level of sophistication.

How long do you think it will be before scientists can manipulate entire paragraphs?  Will this usher in the era of mixed breeds?  Is this where the legends of half man half beast such as Centaurs, Satyrs and Mermaids come from?

A television show recently told about a young scientist who, through gene splicing, managed to extend the lifespan of a yeast spore by ten times its normal duration.  He went on to say that it is only a matter of time before scientists can do the same with human cells!  Is this where the legends of eight and nine hundred year old biblical characters came from?

If these legends do, in fact, represent the highest level of achievement for those previous civilizations, then we have come full circle because we are at the threshold of those very same achievements.  It only follows that whatever they did to destroy themselves, we are about to do ourselves.

Aunt Bobbie

On July 2^nd, 2011,  the last surviving member of Gail’s parent’s generation passed away in Muskogee, Oklahoma at the age of 96.  “Aunt Bobbie,” the wife of Robert Owen Johnson, was born in Gideon, Oklahoma on January 1^st, 1915 and except for the past year or so, lived an active life.  Her real name was Katie Ballard Ross and she was the youngest of the five children born to Commodore Ross and Emma Still.  Commodore’s father, George Lowery Ross was the nephew of John Ross (1790-1866), Principal Chief of the Cherokee Nation from 1828 to 1866 and known as the “Cherokee Moses.”

Cherokee Chief, John Ross

Before marrying into the Johnson clan, Katie had been married to Charles M. Pitchlynn, a man whose ancestry is also linked to one of the five civilized tribes.  Charles’ great, great grandfather was John Pitchlynn, one of the earliest pioneers on the Mississippi frontier.  When John’s father Isaac died, John was raised by the Choctaw Indians and learned their language.  Later, John established a trading post on the Tombigbee River in Mississippi and acted as Indian Agent and interpreter for George Washington during his presidency. He served in the capacity of presidential advisor until at least 1820.

In 1804, John married Sophia Folsom, a woman of mixed heritage.  Her father was Ebenezer Folsom and her mother was a mixed Choctaw/Anglo woman named Natika.  Sophia has the distinction of having the oldest known grave in Oklahoma.  John and Sophia had a total of ten children, of whom Peter Perkins Pitchlynn is the most renowned.  Peter was the Principal Chief of the Choctaw Nation from 1860 to 1866.  As a side note, Peter’s younger maternal cousin, Frances Folsom (1864-1947) married Grover Cleveland in the White House.

Choctaw Chief, Peter Perkins Pitchlynn

A trip to Oklahoma always included a visit with Aunt Bobbie and she never ran out of interesting stories to tell.  I’m glad I had a chance to get to know her and hear those stories.

Water, water, everywhere, and not a drop to drink!

I have a plan to bring our country out of this “Depression”!  We need a national project on the same scale as the Transcontinental Railroad and I propose a transcontinental pipeline to bring water to the West.

After the Civil War, this country would have almost surely entered a depression period if it had not been for the Railroads and the jobs they provided for returning military men.  In this century, we have a need that is almost as pressing, and that is the need for water in the West.  The western states have always relied on the Ogallala Aquifer for its water needs, but over the past century, farmers have almost pumped it dry and water is becoming a crisis everywhere in the West.

I propose a national pipeline from Lake Michigan to solve this problem once and for all.  It would be a massive undertaking that would eliminate unemployment and give our country focus.  Currently, 130,000 acre feet of water pour over Niagara Falls every day on its way to the Atlantic Ocean via the Saint Lawrence Seaway.  That’s enough water to fill Diamond Valley Lake and Lake Havasu in just over 11 days.  By comparison, when Diamond Valley reservoir, alone, was filled from current sources it took well over two years!

Think of the benefits to be gained from irrigating Nevada, Arizona, Utah and New Mexico!  After the pipeline, we can then focus on another pipeline to bring Pacific Ocean water to Death Valley.  It would change the climate of the desert and make it a habitable, and maybe even desirable, place to live!

Tattoos

Every generation has its fads but I feel a special sympathy for the latest generation.  In the forties it was the Zoot Suit, in the fifties the Bobby Sox crowd had saddle oxfords and the Beatniks had their goatees, in the sixties the Hippies had long hair and flowers, but all these things had something in common, they were reversible.  The Zoot Suiters could shed their baggy dress, the Bobby Soxers could revert to street shoes, the beatniks could shave their goatees, and the Hippies could cut their hair.  I lived through one of those generations and if you saw me today you would have no way of knowing if I had been a long haired pot smoking dropout who had burned his draft card and lived in a Volkswagen bus or if I had been a Viet Nam warrior.  What do you do with a Tattoo?

Uncle Billy

January 1945, a few days before he shipped out

I have always been intrigued by the fate and short life of my Uncle Billy.  Born on December 5th, 1927, he was only 2 years old when he and his 4 year old brother and 7 year old sister were separated from their mother and sent to live as foster children with Clara and Sealey Carpenter in Bassett, Nebraska.

Uncle Billy had finished his junior year of High School in Bassett and was about to enter his senior year when the lure of fame and glory in the military got the better of him.  Since all of his brothers, and now his sister Eleanor had moved to the west coast to join the war effort, he was the only one of the siblings who still remained at the foster home in Bassett.  It must have seemed awfully lonely to him.

In July of 1944, he headed west to Sacramento, California, to be with the rest of his family.  On August 28^th of that year, in San Francisco, he lied about his age and enlisted in the U. S. Army.  He was 99 days short of his 17 birthday!  Billy had barely finished basic training when things heated up in France.  The Germans had just completed “Operation Northwind” at Colmar, France, wherein they split the forces of the U. S. 7^th Army and placed them in a grave situation.  The following is the speech given by Adolph Hitler to his troops on the eve of the offensive.

"This attack has a very clear objective, namely the destruction of the enemy forces. There is not a matter of prestige involved here. It is a matter of destroying and exterminating the enemy forces wherever we find them. The question of liberating all of Alsace at this time is not involved either. That would be very nice, the impression on the German people would be immeasurable, the impression on the world decisive, terrific psychologically, the impression on the French people would be depressing. But that is not important. It is more important, as I said before, to destroy his manpower."

General Eisenhower ordered reinforcements, a few of which came from the beleaguered troops who were still embroiled in the “Battle of the Bulge” just to the north in the Ardennes, and a contingent of fresh recruits from the United States.  Billy was one of those fresh recruits.

Billy’s unit, the XXI Corps was subordinate to the 3^rd division of the U.S. 7^th Army when they began combat operations in mid-January of 1945.  Their goal was to regain the ground lost to Germany’s New Years offensive, “Operation Northwind” into Alsace, France.  For this effort, Billy’s unit would be attached to the French 1^st Army, under the command of Jean de Lattre de Tassigny and they would be pitted against the command of none other than  Heinrich Himmler himself.  It was a fierce pitched battle in bitter winter cold that ultimately collapsed the “Colmar Pocket” and ended German resistance in France.  This is where William Raymond Henderson lost his life on February 2nd, 1945.  He had taken cover in a small farm building that was hit by tank fire.  The seasoned veterans knew better than to take cover in buildings that were inevitably the targets for artillery, but green recruits did not.  Billy is buried in the military cemetery in Epinal, France.

Happy Birthday USA!

 To paraphrase one of our greatest presidents, Eleven score and fifteen years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation…  We were a light to the world, and a departure and escape from the tyranny of old world forms of religion and government, the last, best hope for mankind.

Now, it appears as if our president is intent on bringing us down to the level of those very same institutions we fought to escape from; a giant leap backward for mankind.  So others would not feel left out, it seems like we have sacrificed the standards of our forefathers for the benefit of those who could not or would not live up to them.

We lowered the standards in our schools to accommodate the shiftless, unmotivated dropouts, we lowered the standards for citizenship to accommodate all the illegals who have all but bankrupted our social welfare systems,  and we, or should I say Barney Frank lowered the lending standards to accommodate all the social misfits who would not work to fit into the “American Dream.”  The net effect has been to destroy that “American Dream” for our children, and probably our grandchildren.

We lifted ourselves above the level of the third world because we were an industrious people unfettered by government regulation.  We should not feel guilty about what we have achieved.  If our “carbon footprint is ten times that of other countries it is because we worked and fought ten times as hard.  That is, and always will be, the way of the world.  We should not lower our standards to bring the rest of the world into the fold, it will not help them and will only damage us.

We need to abandon “Free Trade” and institute tariffs now, to protect ourselves from cheap, third world, labor.  Tariffs will bring manufacturing back to this country and we can, once again, measure our worth by our productivity.  That would be a great birthday present!

Scott Ancestors

Before our recent trip to Oklahoma I had learned that some of my ancestors, Dr. Solomon Johnson Scott and his son, Stacey Reeves Scott were buried in two cemeteries I would be passing near.  Dr. Solomon Johnson Scott, who was my great, great, great grandfather was buried in a rather large cemetery in Sherman, Texas, but because of directions given to me by a previous researcher, I was able to find his resting place without much trouble.

On the other hand, finding Stacey Reeves Scott and his family in the Old Town Cemetery in McAlester, Oklahoma was not quite as easy.

Gail volunteered to help me and we must have made quite a spectacle dashing from one monument to the next.  It reminded me of the final scenes in “The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly” when Lee Van Cleef and Eli Wallach were running through the battlefield cemetery looking for the grave with the gold in it.  After about half an hour or so, our efforts paid off and we found Stacey Reeves Scott and some of his family.

Only about 50 miles separated the final resting places of father and son.

Solomon’s other son William Addison Scott, stayed in Iowa and married my great, great grandmother, Martha C. Cooper.  William and Martha had three children, William Hamline, Martha Ann (my great grandmother), and Charles Wesley who only lived a few days.  I mention this because I found this interesting obituary for William Hamline Scott.

William Hamline Scott lived in Mt. Ayr, Iowa and was married to Florence Belle Glendenning but at some point he left her for a much younger, under age girl. He later wanted to come back and Florence wouldn't have him.

The Mount Ayr Record-News,  May 27, 1925

DESPONDENCY CAUSES SUICIDE

Lifeless Body of W. H. SCOTT Found by Neighbor Yesterday.

The lifeless body of W. H. SCOTT, for more than a third of a century a respected citizen of Ringgold county, was found yesterday afternoon about three o'clock in the woodshed at his home in the SWANK property in west Mount Ayr, where it had lain for several days. The body was first discovered by Mrs. Rachel OLNEY, the next door neighbor, who reported to J. E. WOOD, and Sheriff STEPHENS and Dr. Samuel BAILEY, county coroner, were called. A .38-calibre "Special" Smith & Wesson revolver, which lay beside the body with one hand still resting on the grip, showed that death had been self-inflicted and a note found on the table in the dining room left no doubt that despondency had led the man to take his own life. The note read as follows:

"May 26 - I have got to the place where life is a torment.  I am completely broken down in body and mind. I have not been right for the past month. I would far rather be dead than to be alive in the condition I am in. So don't worry. Think it for the best. Goodbye."

The note lay on the table in the dining room, in the open tablet where it had evidently been written by the light of a lamp which sat near by.  Relatives were notified and the body was taken to the Rhoades undertaking parlors, where it was prepared for burial. The funeral was held this afternoon at the undertaking parlors, conducted by Rev. Jay Kirkendall, pastor of the Methodist church, and the interment was in Rose Hill cemetery.

Mr. Scott was a man of quiet and unassuming disposition and although he had resided in Mount Ayr for two years had formed few acquaintanceships. Most of his time was spent at his home, where he had a good garden. He was industrious and to all appearances was content to live a quiet and secluded life.

Mr. Scott was born March 20, 1856, at Glenwood, Iowa, the son of Dr. W. A. Scott.  In childhood he moved with his parents to Marion county, Iowa, where he grew to manhood.  About forty years ago he came to Ringgold county, settling in the Redding vicinity, and thirty-two years ago was united in marriage with Miss Belle Glendenning.  For many years Mr. and Mrs. Scott lived in the vicinity of Redding and Delphos.

Nelson Mason, a nephew of Mr. Scott, now serving as secretary to Senator Frazier of North Dakota, was reared in their home and they became the foster parents of two daughters of Mr. Mason whose mother passed away several years ago. The daughters make their home with Mrs. Scott at Oskaloosa and last fall visited at the home of their foster father in this city.

A few days before his death Mr. Scott filed in the office of the clerk of the district court a will, which was today opened and read. The will leaves to Mrs. Scott the use of his property until her death when it goes to the daughters of Mr. Mason.