Out and About

Last week Kendalites journeyed to The Hastings Center for Bioethics, whose recent presentation in the Gathering Room had sparked interest in their work on ethical issues in healthcare, science, and technology.  The scholars gave a tour of the center and presentations on their research work, followed by questions and discussion.  And we also had a lovely picnic with them on the Center’s porch.

Peculiar Facts From History

Introduction

For all of the somber and mundane events that have occurred throughout human history, others are absurd enough to make you laugh out loud. The history website historyfacts.com has published some of them. We start this series below:

Napoleon Was Attacked (and Defeated) by a Horde of Rabbits.

In one of history’s most shocking upsets, the emperor of the French was attacked by a horde of fluffy bunnies. The coup took place in July 1807 as Napoleon and his coterie celebrated a victory with a traditional rabbit hunt. Rather than run away, however, the bunnies began swarming Napoleon and his men. Though amusing at first, the situation quickly overwhelmed some of Europe’s foremost military strategists.

Andrew Jackson’s Parrot Was Kicked Out of Jackson’s Funeral for Swearing.

It’s odd enough that President Andrew Jackson had an African grey parrot named Poll, and stranger still that the bird was kicked out of Jackson’s funeral for foul language. As one attendee observed, “Before the sermon and while the crowd was gathering, a wicked parrot that was a household pet got excited and commenced swearing so loud and long as to disturb the people and had to be carried from the house.”

The First Woman in Space Forgot Her Toothbrush

The first woman in space, Valentina Tereshkova, went without a toothbrush during her three days aboard the Vostok-6 spacecraft in 1963. To be fair, it wasn’t her fault: Mission control was actually in charge of packing the essentials, as the pioneering cosmonaut had other, presumably more scientific, things to focus on.

French Waiters Once Went on Strike for the Right to Grow Mustaches

In 1907, one of the more unusual strikes in France’s history unfolded. Better wages and working conditions were at stake, but so was something unexpected: the right to grow a mustache. The facial hair was at its peak popularity, but servers were forced to be clean-shaven. After 16 days, the waiters returned to work. They did not get their desired one day off per week, but a fairer pay structure was in place—as were their mustaches.

To be continued . . .

Source: history facts.com

Contributed by Jane Hart

Picturing Refresh

A rather new type of worker began to appear on the terrace a couple of weeks ago. Short, stocky, and covered with fur, he lingered over the rail of a Skyjack—an instrument that provides a platform that can be raised and lowered—seeming to sleep an awful lot.

Photo by Harry Bloomfeld

Upon questioning, Project Supervisor Willie noted that he, the new guy, had been discovered lolling about in the pool area while it was being cleared. Some of his fellow workers had brought him outside and installed him on the Skyjack, thinking he might enjoy working in the open air, as he seemed to do little inside. He remained for the week, but mysteriously disappeared over the weekend. Having observed him over the week, we can only assume he was let go because he barely worked at all. Probably just crawled back into his cave.

I Never Knew That

John Steinbeck’s Dog Ate the First Draft of “Of Mice and Men”

By the spring of 1936, life was clearly on the upswing for John Steinbeck. As described in Jay Parini’s biography, the commercial success of his 1935 novel Tortilla Flat had produced newfound financial comfort for the author and his wife, Carol, and with it they were building a new home in an isolated stretch of wilderness outside Los Gatos, CA. Meanwhile, Steinbeck was knee-deep in another work, tentatively titled Something That Happened, that was originally meant as a children’s story but was turning into an experimental piece that could be absorbed from the page or performed on stage.

And then, a “minor tragedy stalked,” Steinbeck wrote in a letter to his literary agent on May 27, 1936. “My setter pup [Toby], left alone one night, made confetti of about half of my ms. [manuscript] book. Two months work to do over again . . . There was no other draft.”

Yet whatever anguish the author initially felt over seeing his months of hard work reduced to shreds had clearly tempered by the time he sat down to write the letter. “I was pretty mad but the poor little fellow may have been acting critically,” Steinbeck continued. “I didn’t want to ruin a good dog for a ms. I’m not sure is good at all. He only got an ordinary spanking with his punishment flyswatter. But there’s the work to do over from the start.”

Fortunately, Toby’s drastic edits proved but a temporary obstacle in the gestating story’s path to completion. Inspired by his new surroundings, which included a study crafted to his liking, Steinbeck restarted his tale of codependent migrant workers George and Lennie and furiously plowed through revisions until submitting what became Of Mice and Men to his editors in August. And while Steinbeck initially had modest hopes for his completed novella, Of Mice and Men became another critical and commercial hit upon publication in February 1937, ensuring that its now-famous author, his wife, and especially Toby could enjoy nothing but the finest dining options in the days to come.

Source: history facts.com

Contributed by Jane Hart

Art by Hart

Even after a bath, Primrose’s kitty smelled funny

Once the shy Ms. Slugg, Bernice retired--and became quite the party animal

It was Charlie’s bet that some kind of flying insect had bitten Woofy on the head

Aunt Missy practically invented overthinking

Eustis couldn’t sleep without a firm pillow

Art and photos by Jane Hart

In and Around Kendal

A Red-Carpet Day at Kendal

Photo by Edward Kasinec

A Perfect Kendal Summer Day

Photo by Philip Monteleoni

They’re All Around Us: Kendal’s Avid Nature Photographers

Photo by Philip Monteleoni

A Hero Among Us

Sharry Luckach to the rescue, by Jane Hart

And Inside Our Walls?

The Kendal Fiber Arts members learn about upcycling from Kirsten Harries

Photos by Marilyn Bottjer

Meanwhile, in Rockwood Park . . .

Early Morning Sky, by Carolyn Reiss

Young Man Out in the World, by Harry Bloomfeld

Birds of a feather: the Martins of Rockwood Park, by Carolyn Reiss

And to All, a Good Night . . .

A Magnificent Kendal Sunset, by Cathie Campbell

The Great Escape: Caprine Style

If you remember from last week’s Res Web, the Rockwood Park goats had been herded right next to Kendal Way. Then came the big rain storm. And down went the fence. The female goats seemed happy to stay. Plenty to eat. No hassle. Yeah, there’s a big, wide world out there, but—yawn—what the hey.

Then came the Billy—had handsome black fellow in the forefront of the ladies. Male with a mission—and that mission was wide open spaces. And that’s the point that Carolyn Reiss and her pup Allie came along.

The big white goats looked at little Allie. Little Allie looked at the big white goats. Carolyn took pictures—then decided it was time for her and Allie to take their leave. No doubt the horns had an influence in the decision. Once safely out of the escape route, Carolyn tried calling Stone Barns. Lots of recorded messages; no human beings. She then called the Rockefeller Preserve folks and they came a-running—and a-herding. A happy ending for everyone—except the Billy.

Photos by Carolyn Reiss

Bastille Day

They were at it again, those French-loving Kendalites. As always ahead of the times, all Kendal was invited to celebrate Bastille Day on Sunday, July 13—and Francophiles responded dramatically.

There was wild dancing in the aisles:

Very wild—Mon Dieu!

Photos from Simone (with help from Caroline Reiss)

I Never Knew That

The Popsicle: An Accidental Invention

In 1905, an 11-year-old boy named Frank Epperson absentmindedly left his cup of soda with a stirring stick in it on the porch overnight. Temperatures dipped below freezing that evening, which was a rarity where Epperson lived in Oakland, California. This unusual frigidity proved to be a blessing in disguise.

The next morning, Epperson discovered his drink had frozen over and transformed into a delicious icy concoction, which he dubbed the “Epsicle.” Epperson showed the creation to his classmates, who loved it, as well.

After becoming a parent, he introduced it to his own children. His kids referred to the refreshing treat as “Pop’s ’sicle,” and the name stuck. In 1923, he began selling the dessert at Neptune Beach near San Francisco, and the Popsicle went on to achieve popularity worldwide.

Source: historyfacts.com

Art by Hart

As usual, Dr. Moore-Grey’s underwater dentistry practice was booked solid

Junior was glad Uncle Stew had forgotten the details of the William Tell legend

Born a flying fish, Hackerman evolved into an amphibian, and spent much of each day counting his steps

The bad news: it was raining plastic The good news: it was only a drizzle

Carleton couldn’t resist pulling out one of Bossie’s whiskers

Art and photos by Jane Hart

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Photographs of life at Kendal on Hudson are by residents.