While walking in the woods today...

... along Paint Branch Creek, I came across this grouping of animal hair.  The find wasn't by accident because a neighbor had described the scene and location to me.  I've handled a lot of deer hair while tying flies for fishing, and I'm 90% certain that's what these are, probably from the rear section.

Sights like this make you wonder what happened to the deer.  If it was killed, what killed it and what happened to the rest of the remains?

Among the browns and grays of the winter woods, patches of green stand out, and I guess that's why this moss growing on a tree stump caught my eye:

 

 The camera I used today is a gift from daughter Rebecca and son-in-law Sean.  It's waterproof, so they correctly figured it would be handy for my fishing trips.

 

 

History of Architecture I

Enjoyed this class and plan to continue with the next two courses in the proper chronology.  This course began in prehistory, goes approximately up to 1000 AD, and covered a multitude of building types including Sumerian ziggurats, Egyptian pyramids, Greek and Roman temples,  Byzantine and other early Christian churches, mosques, and Buddhist temples in India, Sri Lanka, and China. 

We learned about various building materials such as wood, mud brick, stone, and concrete; lots about concrete.  Although residential building has historically been done with materials such as wood which will decompose over time, the instances where sufficient remains survived were of particular interest to me for the same reason that I like looking at paintings of the Dutch Renaissance- because we get a glimpse of how people lived their daily lives.

One very old example of an ancient village has been uncovered in Turkey, Catal Huyuk, which goes back 8-9,000 years:

As the above re-creation shows, these people lived in attached structures much like a modern apartment building except entrance to each unit was by ladders through the roofs.  The entire village is thought to have had a population of about 10,000.

The population of a village from centuries later, Herculaneum, were all killed by the same volcanic eruption that destroyed nearby Pompeii in 79 AD.  Although Pompeii is the better known of these two Roman towns, more residential material survived in Herculaneum because the super-heated pyroclastic flows preserved wooden objects like roof tops, beams, beds, and doors for reasons I don't understand because we weren't studying archeology.  The ash from these flows is as thick as 60 feet, so it is understandable that 75% of the town is still buried.

Atrium houses were among some of the remaining types of residences of Herculaneum.  The structures also contained the family business that was advertised on the wall facing the street.

Taking courses in architecture effects how I look at buildings and other structures,  especially as I walk or drive through cities.  It increases my understanding and appreciation.

The Potomac from Georgetown

These days I seem to visit Georgetown only when I drive Pam to her hairdresser's, and that was the case yesterday, a foggy winter's day.  While she was getting her hair done, I walked down to the river and took this picture of the Key Bridge crossing to the Virginia shore.  I could have browsed stores, but I guess I'm drawn to the water.  Astrologers might say it's because my sign is Pisces.

Outlaws

People seem to have an affection for fictional outlaws (and sometimes real ones) as long as they are portrayed in an acceptable manner.  For example, when the outlaws are shown to be loving husbands and fathers, they become humanized and sympathetic.  It also helps when they display loyalty and honor among themselves and also when their crimes are of a nature that doesn't seem too offensive.  Frank and Jesse James were bank-robbers, and for many of us it doesn't seem nearly as bad when the crime is against a financial institution as oppose robbing the common folk.  In many of the many films about the James Brothers, they are also shown with their families, so the movie-goer tends to identify more with the outlaws than with the lawmen pursuing them whose domestic life is never portrayed.  Family life among criminals is central to many Mafia movies such The Godfather, a movie which also softens somewhat their crime-life by displaying their refusal to deal in hard drugs.


All this brings me to The Sons of Anarchy, a TV series about an outlaw motorcycle gang which ended recently after seven seasons.  I watched most episodes for the first few seasons, but after that I missed many, including an entire season, I believe.  However, like a soap-opera, it wasn't too difficult to get caught up once you were familiar with the main characters, and I shrugged off not knowing all the complexities of the many subplots.  One early subplot involved a rivalry with a neo-Nazis gang, and I decided that another way to make a criminal gang sympathetic is to pit them against a more odious group like the Nazis.  Like the James gang and Godfather's Mafia gang, the motorcycle gang's members, or at least their leaders, were shown to be loving fathers and husbands, and their main methods of money-making seemed to be illegally selling guns (that alone would make them heroes to many Americans) and adult pornography which isn't really a crime.


I don't have any direct experience in the outlaw life, but when I was young I had friends who made money in an illegal activity.  I observed then that a big difference between a legal and an illegal business is that criminals could not go to the courts when cheated out of money in their dealings.  The willingness and the ability to use violence then becomes an important method of keeping those dealings straight.  (My friends were not violent people, and that hurt them in their business at times.)  Violence and criminal activity are generally linked then, in my opinion, so fictional portrayals of a criminal gang like the Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Gang are likely to be violent, and the series certainly was.


Some TV critics have compared The Sons of Anarchy to Hamlet.  While no one seriously puts this TV show in the same literary league as Shakespeare, I do think the series aimed high in its themes, and Shakespeare as well as the classic Greek dramatists were often pretty violent as well.  The storyline of The Sons of Anarchy built up to a bloody crescendo, and in the series finale the main character faced directly what he was, a criminal and a killer like his father, and wanted to break the cycle of violence for his own sons.   I found this last episode moving, and even days later it's still in my thoughts.

Basketball season is here

The Maryland team was undefeated until last night when we had to play one of the top ranked teams in the nation without our best player and one other starter.

 

Even though it was a loss to Virginia, the arena maintained a supportive and even festive atmosphere.

 

 

Ducks on the pond

 

Mallards are handsome birds, but it's nice to see something different.

 

Recently a pair of hooded mergansers have been visiting the pond.  They're a diving duck which makes them all the more interesting to watch.  They're also wild and skittish, so it's hard to get close enough for a decent picture with my modest equipment.

We are what we do

For some time I've thought that people should be judged morally on their actions, what they say and do because we don't really know what's in their hearts.  A person, for example, may have bigoted and prejudiced thoughts, but if they don't talk or act on those thoughts, to me they are not bigots.  I cannot look into souls.  I've come to believe that, in my case at least, self-identity is similarly determined by actions.  For the past forty years this identity has been as a husband, father, businessman, fisherman, etc. because most of my daily actions were in accordance with those categories.  While I have my political beliefs, taste in music, and other things important to me, those are subordinate to the more important categories above because there are less actions associated.

I'm thinking these thoughts because of a passage in a novel I just read, Richard Ford's Let Me Be Frank With You.  On his way to visit his ex-wife, the protagonist muses that she is an essentialist who believes we all have essential selves, a character we cannot do anything about.  This contrasts to his beliefs that "we have only what we did yesterday, what we do today, and what we might still do."  He is about my age and has come to act and view himself according to what he calls his "Default Self" although he concedes "it's not that different from a bedrock self, except it's our creation, rather than us being its."

This Default Self concept sounds similar to thoughts I've recently had about a certain freedom concerning the stage of life I share with Ford's character.  In the role of a manager in business and as a father, I felt I had to act at times in ways I would have preferred not to, to enforce rules and push people away from or in line with certain behaviors.  Now, my children are grown and I no longer work, so my actions are more consistent with what I want to do rather than what I feel I have to do.  Ford's protagonist would probably say that whatever I do now is consciously my creation of a Default Self whereas his wife would probably say I'm acting now more in line with my essential character.   Whichever the interpretation, it is one of the better aspects of growing old.

Big Ten Football

After 60 some years as a charter member of the Atlantic Coast Conference, the University of Maryland is now in the Big Ten which is a disturbance in the lives of long-time fans such as myself.

For some time, I've made it and point to attend at least one football game a season, but this year I waited too long.   Early in the season I could have basked in the sun very comfortably as opposed to shivering in a cold November evening which is what I did last night. 

Not surprisingly, my team lost to Michigan State.  I've always heard that those Midwestern teams "travel well", that is, many of the fans attend away games.  I've attended games in Byrd Stadium for half a century and never before have I seen so many fans from the visiting school.

The "N" word

Last night I attended an annual sports journalism symposium at University of Maryland that featured a panel discussion on racism in sports.  As part of the discussion, the question was posed on the acceptability of the "N" word in sports or in general society.  The Washington Post also recently printed a long article about the history and present usage of this loaded racial epithet.  Some of the panel participants felt that the word is acceptable for African-Americans to use among themselves but not generally acceptable coming from someone outside that group except, perhaps, among close friends.

The last point made me think of the three different occasions while working that I dealt with situations that a white employee aimed the word at a black co-worker.  The black workers in at least two of the instances didn't want the white employee fired or severely disciplined;  they just wanted me to make them stop.  Both times when I confronted the employee who had said the  "N" word their defense was that the blacks use the word with each other.  I remember once responding that I knew they did, but he still couldn't call them that, and the other time I believe I yelled out angrily that I didn't want the word said by anyone.

The subject makes me feel old.  Growing up in Maryland in the 1950's, I commonly heard the "N" word used.  I'm not proud to admit that I sometimes said it myself but not within earshot of my mother who forbade its use.  I'd also admit it having used it a few times in the late 60's when it was commonly thought among college students who viewed themselves as hip and above prejudice which somehow made it cool to say the word.  My decision to stop was vindicated when I heard the comedian Richard Pryor say that he was getting sick of hip white people using the word.  I also noted the reactions of close African-American friends to those situations.  They may have chosen not to make an issue of a white using the word around them, but I knew them well enough to determine that they didn't like it.

Yeah, I'm old and I guess I'm set in my ways, but I'm not going to ever resume using that word no matter how society may change in attitudes about it.  I'm comfortable with my choices.

Autumn in the Park

 This great blue heron has been hanging around the pond for a couple of weeks:

Autumn: front yard and back

Front Yard

                                                            

                                                   Back

 

Migratory Canada Geese are in...

Or at least they seem to be.  After months of not seeing more than 30 or so geese at a time, Saturday I counted 150.  I also noted some squabbling which I interpreted as territorial between the residents and the newcomers.  On the other hand, I believe in the past I have noticed that the migratory geese were spookier around humans than the residents who have lost all fear and barely get out of your way.  None of these were spooked by me, so I suppose it could have been a large gathering of residents.

Sunday, Pam went with me on my walk, and I brought my camera.

In the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens

These were taken in the Japanese garden section last Friday using Pam's iPhone because I had left my camera back in the apartment.  One reason I'm tempted to get one of these "smart phones" gadgets is the quality of the built-in camera.

Pam and Rebecca watching the koi swimming:

 

The pond:

 

Gotta listen to the songbirds

Like most people who like the outdoors, I notice birds.  The reason that many non-birders own bird books is that we want to identify and have some understanding of what we are seeing. While I am familiar with some bird sounds- the cranky screech of a disturbed great blue heron and the high pitched call of a hawk (inappropriate, I always felt, for such a fierce bird), I recently realized that I can't really identify any song birds by their calls.

It was Lyanda Lynn Haupt's The Urban Bestiary which called my attention to this deficiency in my nature appreciation.  Her book contains tons of information about a variety of animals which may be found in cities and close-in and far-out suburbs, and she writes with wit and eloquence.  Chapters are devoted to coyotes, moles, squirrels, bears and others, but her real love seems to be birds.  She wants others to share this love by tuning in to all aspects these creatures and advises the useful beginning point of  learning the robin's song.  "If you do this", she says, "you will be more familiar with birds than 98% of Americans."

Many of the song birds (or perching birds or passerines) have left the area for the season, but some will remain and I'm developing the habit of listening more closely while outdoors.  Using all our senses is a way of being in greater touch with the earth, a way of being more alive.

New York Weekend

Saturday, walking the High Line in Manhattan:

Sunday, in Brooklyn at the bakery that Rebecca's friend Anna just opened:

Left to right:  Anna, Pam, Sean, Rebecca. 

Saw the Tom Stoppard play Indian Ink on Saturday night.   Also visited the J.P. Morgan Library/Museum and the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens for a full and fun weekend.

Arts and Sciences

Writing about a recent TV debate on whether the nature of Islam conflicts with Western values of tolerance, Slate Magazine writer Andrew O'Hehir argues against the view of Islam critics TV host Bill Maher and especially his guest Sam Harris.  For O'Hehir, Harris' opinion is colored by his particular brand of atheism which views religion as "failed science."

This attack on Islam as opposed to those who take a more conciliatory attitude about the religion reflects, according to O'Hehir, the difference between science majors and liberal arts majors.  He writes, "When I say that one side is primarily concerned with facts and the other with narrative, or that one side understands the world primarily in subjective, experiential, and relativistic terms while the other focuses on objective and quantifiable phenomena and binary true-false questions, that may help us frame the profound mutual misunderstanding at work.  Harris' conception of religion as bad science, which seems like a ludicrous  misreading to those who understand religion as a mythic force that shapes community and collective meaning, is a classic example.  One side insists that the only important question is whether the truth claims of religion are actually true;  the other side says the question doesn't even matter, and then wonders what 'truth' is anyway.  It's the overly literal-minded versus the hopelessly vague."

Author Lyanda Haupt in The Urban Beastiary sees no conflict in incorporating both myth and science in her descriptions of animals.  Early in the book, she quotes Karen Armstrong's A Short History of Myth that "mythology and science both extend the scope of human beings."  Armstrong considers it "a mistake to regard myth as an inferior mode of thought which can be cast aside when humans have attained the age of reason.  Mythology is not an early attempt at history and does not claim that its tales are objective fact.  Like a novel, an opera, or a ballet, myth is make-believe;  it is a game that transfigures our fragmented, tragic world, and helps us to glimpse new possibilities."

My own view is closer to Haupt's and Armstrong's than to O'Hehir's.  My degree in history 44 years ago came from the University of Maryland's College of Arts and Sciences.  It is now the College of Arts and Humanities, but the old name better suits me.  As I wrote in this blog last December in a post titled "Between Poetry and Science", I'm comfortable in that position, respecting both the scientist systematically extending our knowledge and the artist inspiring us.

The Woodrow Wilson Bridge during the Moo Cup

 

Although I've driven over it many times, I've never given a thought to its looks.  From a fishing boat on the river below, it's actually attractive.

Yesterday was the annual Moo Cup Fishing Tournament, a tongue-in-cheek name for a gathering of guys who hang out at the internet site called the Moo Board for obscure reasons. A half day of fishing in the tidal Potomac is followed by drinking beer and eating some excellent barbeque chicken and ribs.  Eating barbeque with your hands is not unusual, but the side dishes, green beans and macaroni and cheese, had to be eaten in the same manner because the forks and spoons were forgotten.  With the food served off the bed of a pick-up truck, eight men dressed for fishing eating a meal with their hands must have been a somewhat primitive sight.

 After the food came the presentation of the Moo Cup which is awarded to the guy who caught the biggest fish.  Whiskey is poured into the cup for the winner while the losers drink straight from the bottle as it passes among them for a couple of rounds.

 

There isn't much fishing left as the weather grows cooler, so this event has come to be a fun ritual symbolizing the passing of the season for me.

Music and Dancing at the New Deal Cafe...

In Greenbelt, Maryland, last Saturday night.

Music provided by Little Red and the Renegades whose specialty is zydeco and New Orleans music.

Pam took the shot above with her new iPhone.  Susan's iPhone got a good focus on the lead singer, but not on Pam (in blue) and me while we danced.

Golden ID Luncheon

 The Golden ID program allows retired people to take courses at the University of Maryland for a reduced tuition rate.  I've been in the program for four years, and for the past year I've been the Chairman who organizes the twice monthly luncheons.  The format is informal, and the discussions are lively exchanges of information about courses and anything else.  Because the participants are intellectually curious people who are interested in continuous education, the level of conversation is often high.

Fishing the River, the Bay, then the River again

Fished the Potomac at Lock 8 on Friday, September 26, and caught a couple of smallmouth bass and a few bluegills in a couple of hours.

Tuesday the 30th, I took the kayak to a spot on the Bay.  Fished an out-going tide for a couple of hours and caught nothing, but it's a nice spot.  I've caught fish in the same waters on a friend's boat, so I plan to return sometime.  Met friend Joe in Deale for lunch, so it turned out to be a nice day despite the poor fishing.

Today, I went back to the river, this time to Pennyfield Lock which I hadn't fished in some time.  When the weather gets too cold to wade wet, I stop fishing for smallmouths on the Potomac, and I think I'm at that time because it was pretty chilly standing in waist deep water in a gusty wind.  Nevertheless, I did manage a couple of smallmouths during a short trip, and the second was a nice fish, about 12-14 inches, on a top water fly.

Below is a picture of the lock-keeper's house which can be booked for an overnight stay.

North shore of Triadelphia Lake

With the wind in my face, the waves were against me as I paddled across the reservoir yesterday afternoon.  I had a spinning rod with me and actually caught one small bluegill, but mostly I just drifted along the windward shoreline looking at the scenery.

That shoreline, the Howard County side, is much more interesting than the Montgomery County side in that part of the adjoining lands.  A geology professor I

took a course from a year ago lives nearby, and I'd like to have him along on a canoe cruise so he could point out why the rock formations look as they do.


The day wasn't what most people think of as a nice day, but the cloudy skies were good for pictures like these.  Getting back to the parking lot was easy with the wind at my back and leaving the fly rods home was a good decision in that wind.

Peace and Friendship Garden

At the University of Maryland.  I took some photos earlier in the year but had to go back for more after some seasonal changes.

  

 

 

 

 

Sculpture outside the Architecture Building

...at the University of Maryland.  I walk by it and couple of times a week, and every time I have to stop and stare.  I really like it.

Some of Sean's beach photos from last month

He just sent us these that were taken with his Iphone.
 

 

 

 

A hint of Autumn...

...in the air yesterday at Nolands Ferry.  In the air and in the water would be more accurate, but the weather's been beautiful this week, and it was only when the breeze blew that I felt a chill while wading the Potomac.  Some years I forget to adapt clothing as the season changes, and in October I find myself shivering because I dressed the same as I had in August.  Really wasn't a problem yesterday, but I'll keep that in mind over the next few weeks.

 

Fishing was unspectacular but certainly satisfactory with three smallmouth bass and a bluegill, some on a surface popper and some lower down on a bullet-head darter.  Water level was 1.13 at Point of Rocks.

Lower Upper Potomac

To me, the entire nontidal Potomac is the Upper Potomac because I'm generally fishing for smallmouth bass, but I guess I should distinguish between the waters near DC from the more western sections.  Today, I fished near Lock #8 on the C&O canal, and the above scene shows how scenic this section is even though it is anything but remote.   For example, facing upriver from the same location, the Beltway is clearly visible in the photo below, and that infamous road was in fact in view for almost the entire time I waded.

It was a beautiful day although the fishing was a little slow.  I did manage two smallmouths and a feisty bluegill in the three hours on the water.  Two were caught on a surface slider and one on a B&B.  Water level was 2.9 at Little Falls.

First Ravens game

Hadn't been to a pro football game in many years and in recent years have transferred my allegiance from Washington to Baltimore.  Got sunburned and the Ravens lost but still happy I went with Stan.

The Ocean and the Passage of Time

During my walk this morning, I thought about what I wrote Sunday about last week at the beach and speculated that there is something about the shore that is conducive to reminiscing. 

The two beach houses pictured were not the only ones that our family once vacationed in that I made a point of walking by, and when I did I thought back about those past visits.  Stores in Bethany Beach also bring back memories of the past 27 years of vacations there.  When I'm near Rhodes 5 and 10, for example, I find myself remembering being in that store when the kids were small and were allowed to pick out toys to play with at the beach.  During my normal routine at home I seldom have those kind of thoughts.

This reminiscing is not just the case of an old man looking back because there is more to his past than to his future.  On one of our first beach vacations, I walked through the town at night and thought back about the summer I spent on the Jersey Shore 20 years before, and I was barely 40 when I was doing that reminiscing.  No, I think there is something about the ocean that summons up such images.

Maybe it's the steady pounding of the surf like the ticking of a clock that make us think of the passage of time.  Also, there is the movement of the sun.  During a typical day at the beach, I set up the umbrella in mid-morning and find myself moving my beach chair to stay in its shade as it moves as the day goes on.  I'm like a human sundial.  In writing about the importance of rhythms last Fall (http://writings-djones.blogspot.com/2013/11/the-beat-goes-on.html), I mentioned that during beach visits I try to get into the rhythms of the tidal changes.  The pounding of the surf against the beach and the rise and fall of the tides- they both mark time.  Maybe these rhythms click in our minds and make us think of times past.

Bethany week

Early in the week my feet display a distinct tanning pattern brought about by wearing Teva sandals all summer.  During the week I wore flip-flops or went barefoot, so the pale parts of my feet got a little burned.

The City of Bethany Beach has made a park at the end of the loop canal.

About 25 years ago, we stayed at this house on the canal.  Although I enjoyed being able to crab from the dock and watch the wildlife on the canal, we were further from the beach than normal which made it a little inconvenient with small children.

This was our house this summer which we rented once before, about 12 years ago.

Out in the Bay

Took a break from smallmouth bass fishing on rivers to accept an invitation from my friend Greg to go out on his 17 foot Boston Whaler yesterday.  He caught a couple of small perch and a couple of small rockfish on light spinning tackle while I used an 8 weight fly rod and caught a small bluefish.  He was disappointed with our results, but I had a good time.  Though too small to keep, the bluefish fought well and jumped.  I love it when fish jump.

Back to the Upper Potomac

Good fishing yesterday at the Mouth of the Monocacy.  Waded along this gravel bar in the morning and caught three smallmouths on a green surface popper.

In the quiet water at the end of the bar, I caught four bream.  It took somewhat over an hour to cover that stretch of water, and I then walked back to the kayak, ate lunch, and took pictures.  It's a good summer for the hibiscus which grow along this shoreline:

 

After the break, I resumed fishing for a brief period and caught another smallmouth on a chartreuse bullet-head darter and then called it quits.  Had a nice talk at the boat ramp with a guy about my age who hunts ducks in these waters.  River level was 1.4 at Point of Rocks.