Basilique Notre-Dame de Montréal

(Montreal, QC) Pictured on your left is an image from the interior of the beautiful Basilique Notre-Dame de Montréal. We attended Mass at the basilica on Saturday evening, and then returned for a light and sound show entitled "And Then There Was Light" later that evening.

The priest delivered the Mass in French, and I was surprised at my low level of linguistic comprehension. I play around a bit with French, and I can usually discern the meaning of phrases and short passages based on my familiarity with other Latin languages, but of course spoken French takes a different set of skills and practice routines than written French. Still, I was at least able to figure out most of the times at which the congregation was expected to stand, sit, or kneel, and the "Amen" while receiving the Eucharist is pretty much a universal response.

Montreal Organ Grinder

(Montreal, QC) Though in some parts of the world an organ grinder might be vilified, I took a moment to listen to the music and singing of the street musician pictured on your left. I also found intriguing the musician's attempt at a period costume, resembling as he did the sort of busker one might find in fin de siècle Paris or London.

Unfortunately, before I walked back across the street to talk with the organ grinder, an annoying woman with a New York accent interrupted him. She insisted on a picture with the organ grinder, which her husband took, and then chatted with him before I grew weary of waiting for her to finish yakking.

Best part: she sucked up five minutes of his time and didn't even toss him a quarter: Gimme, gimme, gimme, then "see ya!"

And we wonder why Americans sometimes have a negative reputation around the world. Some of us can't even toss a humble hurdy-gurdy performer some change after making use of his services.

Unhappy Danielle Steel Reader

(Montreal, QC) While walking through Vieux-Montréal this morning, I spotted a copy of the 2008 Danielle Steel novel A Good Woman on the edge of a municipal trash can. Now, no offense to the readers of Danielle Steel's literary endeavors, but the placement of the novel in a trash can makes something of critical statement.

Yet closer inspection of the scene provided an additional of humor: the previous owner of the discarded novel crossed out the word "Good" in the title and replaced it with a hand-scrawled "DIRTY." Apparently the rather risque rhetorical stylings of Danielle Steel did not sit well with the reader.

I remember as a kid hearing that some Danielle Steel novel was "racy," and I of course surreptitiously sequestered a copy up to my bedroom. Unfortunately, my grandmother's definition of "racy" was a far cry from the steamy sex scenes I thought I was going to read.

However, the reader of A Good DIRTY Woman evidently thought Steel's fairly tame representations of human sexuality were too much for delicate eyes, and the book remains perched on the edge of oblivion as I type this short post.

Montreal Bound

I am driving to Cleveland to hop a flight to Montreal for the holiday weekend. This is the first time either my wife or I have been to La Belle Ville, and we are looking forward to exploring this beautiful Canadian city.

Feel free to leave suggestions about places to visit in the area, as we are traveling without a definite plan beyond "see a few interesting sites." On many vacations my wife doubles as tour planner, but this trip is a bit of a last-minute whim.

Traffic Enforcement Alert: Interstate 75 in Michigan on Memorial Weekend

A quick tip to anyone driving Interstate 75 through southern Michigan this Memorial Day weekend: Michigan State Police troopers are out in droves. I made a trip up to Detroit today, and on each leg of the journey I saw at least six state police vehicles on the freeway between the Ohio border and Telegraph Road, a span of about 35 miles.

This works out to a traffic-focused police vehicle every six miles or so (assuming I noticed every vehicle), and this does not count the local departments who are also likely gearing up to cash in on the increased traffic due to the holiday. Thus, if you are not desirous of a speeding ticket (the cheapest speeding fine in Michigan is $90 plus court costs) then I suggest you slow down.

In years past I would have chalked up this extra activity to concerns about safety, but in 30 years of driving on I-75 I have never seen so much concerted police enforcement activity. Methinks the state of Michigan will put a small dent in the ongoing budget deficit this weekend.

Quick Blog Note

I am having problems with an annoying and persistent link spammer from Korea, so to discourage said piece of human filth I am going to restrict comments for a short period of time. I just deleted over 40 spam comments derived from Korea Telecom IP address 222.122.255.255, and the idiot was very busy last night as well.

The spammer is linking tons of sites selling cheap fashion knockoffs, porn, and computer software. Crawl away and die, please: you are wasting your time, because no matter how many spam links you bomb this site with, I will delete them all. The only commercial promotion I permit on this site is that which I choose, like the excellent deals on used golf balls you can find on the Internet.

:-)

Even stranger with this spammer: I use the word verification feature on Blogger, and the twit had the persistence to manually type all those word verifications to spam-bomb me. That is a lot of effort for trying to siphon a bit of PageRank link value from a middle-of-the-pack blog like mine.

Rapid Rhetoric - ATTIC SALT

This is an irregular feature - both in frequency and oddness - dedicated to a word or phrase I came across that I have never previously used.

Attic salt (AH-tick sawlt) n. a pointed and graceful wit.

I came across the phrase "Attic salt" this morning while reading Leo Tolstoy's Anna Karenina:

Koznyshev, who knew better than anyone how at the end of a most abstract and serious dispute unexpectedly to administer a grain of Attic salt and thereby to change his interlocutor's frame of mind, did so now.

The phrase has its origins in the Greek region of Attica, which includes the traditional Greek capital city of Athens. Thus an Attic salt (sometimes expressed as an "Attic wit") conveys a sense of refinement associated with high society. Tolstoy used the phrase to describe the conversation occurring at a formal dinner party at the home of Prince Stepan Arkadyevitch Oblonsky, and I suspect that the topics of conversation likely included nineteenth century equivalents to products similar to those found on www.daycream.net.

Charlie Bit My Finger

I am surprised that - when I mention the world's most-watched YouTube clip to people - there are still quite a few folks who have not seen the "Charlie bit my finger" video:



If you have already viewed the video, please pardon the posting overkill. If you have yet to watch the clip, it is quite short in duration (56 seconds or so), and there are many worse ways to kill a minute on the Internet, at least unless you are the kind of person who regularly spends 20 hours a week trying to locate online reviews of diet pills that work.

Book Review: Tales From a Tin Can

Author: Olson, Michael Keith

Publisher: Zenith Press, 2010

336 pages

The USS Dale served important roles during the Second World War. Not only did the ship emerge unscathed during the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, but the USS Dale also managed to span the entire Pacific War without a single crewman lost to enemy fire. Olson's book, an oral history drawn largely from interviews with former crew members of the USS Dale, is a fascinating look at World War II as seen from the decks of a single naval vessel.

The USS Dale, originally commissioned in 1935, was a 1500-ton Farragut-class destroyer that at various times screened aircraft carriers, troop transports, and fire support ships in the Pacific theater. The vessel took part in a number of important campaigns during the war, including missions during the Guadalcanal, Aleutian Islands, Marianas, Philippines, and Okinawa campaigns.

Tales From a Tin Can follows a chronological approach in the narrative, and the major battles at which the vessel took part are peppered with quotes from its former sailors. The book also includes a lengthy section of previously unpublished photographs, many of which came from the personal collections of sailors who served on the USS Dale. One of the passages that caught my eye was from a sailor who described an innovative way to break the monotony while on the ship:

I had talked the mess gang into giving me the juice from some canned cherries. I poured a bunch of it into a five-gallon jerry can and then added some water and sugar. After it fermented into a tolerable cherry wine, I poured it into smaller containers, took it to the ship's movie, and passed it around.

Olson's book is highly recommended for scholars interested in the military history of the U.S. Navy in the Second World War. The book is also accessible enough for the general public provided readers have at least a working knowledge of the major events of the Pacific theater. The interviews with former crew members - coupled with entries from the ship's log and commentary from the author - make for a revealing look at the war from the perspective of the sailors who served on the USS Dale.

Making Pasta

My wife recently spotted a pasta maker at the local Goodwill store, and she decided to invest a few dollars in the appliance. The difficulty in making pasta, though, is in locating a stable supply of semolina around this city. We had to visit quite a few stores (and eventually use the Internet) to locate a purveyor, which ended up being Bassett's Health Foods on Secor.

There is no price advantage to making one's own pasta, as semolina sells for at least two dollars a pound around here, and homemade pasta is probably going to be at least double the cost of purchasing manufactured pasta. Yet the aroma of the fresh pasta quickly filled the house, and the delicious taste of homemade pasta is distinctive and worth the effort.

I was surprised at how doughy the pasta was coming out of the pasta maker. My wife was tempted to say "duh" when I shared this observation, as of course a flour-based product would achieve a doughy consistency when mixed with water and eggs, but always the good sport she refrained from piling on after my could-not-be-more-obvious statement suggested I needed to learn more about the process.

Add some homemade puttanesca sauce, and Buon appetite!

On Blue Iris and Family Heirlooms

Some folks salivate at the monetary or luxury items left for them in the wills of their elderly relatives. I suppose that is fine for some people, especially the greedy ones, but I am much more interested in recreating the horticultural collections of my family members. Pictured on your left is one of the stunning blue irises that my 93-year-old grandfather planted many years ago on his property, and I have to admit that these hold much more fascination to me than any worldly goods.

Over the past year I have been surreptitiously collecting samples of seeds, clippings, and bulbs from around his yard in an effort to "save" some of the efforts he put into his landscaping in the nearly seven decades he has lived in his house. The red poppy seeds I harvested last fall have sprouted like wildfire in the past two weeks, and several Rose of Sharon seeds I collected have also sprouted. I also dug up a few daffodil and lily bulbs in my quest to keep a living memory of this wonderful man, a tough character who still drives his own car and whose mind is still sharp enough to hold his own in a political debate, and a person who would never have much use for a product like Clinicallix.

My goal is to be able to look out at these flowers every year and know that there is still a connection to a person who has been such an important part of my life in more ways than I could ever recount or repay. This summer will be the first year in which my transplanted gleanings will blossom, and every time I walk around his half-acre of semi-rural paradise I find another hidden treasure that calls out my name.

Then in a few years I will have to complete the same task with my mom's gardens. She is another green-thumb type with an endless collection of botanical gems waiting to be harvested, split, and nourished.

The Quote Shelf

A frequent feature on this site; feel free to comment on the quote or to supply a competing quote.

Don't judge each day by the harvest you reap, but by the seeds you plant. -- Robert Louis Stevenson