What Would Jimmy Do?

Summertime
And the living’ is easy,
Fish are jumping’, and the cotton is high
~ Ira Gershwin

A few days ago when discussing schools, I mentioned that a one-room school near Maysville always started school during the summer and then was dismissed for two or three weeks in the fall so the students could help on the farms — usually picking cotton. 

If you’ve read this blog over the years, you’ll remember that I’ve mentioned that Lindsay, Oklahoma, just a few miles from Maysville (and Story) billed itself as the broom-corn capital of the world. Broom-corn was, in fact, a very big crop in the area when I was growing up, but the other very big crop was cotton. A lot, if not most, farmers in the area around Maysville planted cotton. 

Actually, cotton has been a major agricultural commodity in Oklahoma since the five tribes arrived in what was then “Indian Territory, the Choctaws being the first to plant cotton. Cotton was very profitable until the Civil War came along bringing devastation to farms, large and small, along with general impoverishment and halted any significant cotton production.

After the Civil War, cotton production picked up — while tribal law forbade American Indian citizens to lease their lands to outsiders, many got around the law by “employing” noncitizens for tenants who eventually cultivated 80 percent of the cotton farms in Indian Territory. Indian Territory was “opened” in the late 1800s/early 1900s and called Oklahoma Territory — that led to an influx of even more cotton farmers. 

Cotton farmers began each season by tilling the soil and planting the crop in late April or early May. Once the plants sprouted, workers with hoes thinned the rows once to prevent overcrowding and again later to control weeds. You heard the term “hoeing cotton” a lot around Maysville when I was growing up. At harvest time, normally beginning in late September, family members and other workers put the hand picked cotton in cloth bags (or “sacks” as they were called in Oklahoma.) The sacks were weighed when full — workers got paid by “the pound.” The crop was dumped into a wagon and delivered to nearby gins. 

When I lived in Maysville, one of the major “industries” was the cotton gin. Most everyone knows that the cotton gin was invented by Eli Whitney — the term “gin” was derived from “engine.” Cotton is easily grown, and since it isn’t a “food” crop, its fibers can be stored for long periods of time. The problem is that cotton plants contain seeds that are difficult to separate from the soft fibers. Before the cotton gin was invented, the cotton had to be cleaned by hand. The average cotton picker could remove the seeds from only about a pound of cotton per day. The cotton gin can quickly and easily separate the cotton fibers from their seeds, increasing productivity dramatically. The fibers are are then processed into various cotton goods, usually textiles like clothing. The separated seed can be used to grow more cotton or to produce cottonseed oil. The cotton gin in Maysville turned out the cotton fibers in 500 pound bales and I think the seed was loaded into trucks. The bales from Maysville were sent to compressing plants in either Ardmore or Oklahoma City. I remember that at certain times of the year there was a lot of “dust” hanging over Maysville because of the cotton gin. 

When Oklahoma became a state in 1907, all but three Oklahoma counties raised cotton. At the time there were approximately three hundred cotton gins in the state — I don’t know how many there are today, but it’s nowhere near three hundred. Today, there isn’t all that much cotton grown around Maysville and none of it is “hand-picked.” Cotton picking is now done by machinery.

Anyone that’s picked cotton or is familiar with the process knows the difference between “pulling bolls” and “picking cotton.” For those that have never been in a cotton field… cotton picking means you reach around the cotton ball and pull the fiber from the cotton burr — pulling bolls means you cup your fingers around the cotton burr and pull the whole thing, burr and cotton ball, off together. Again, this operation has been automated. No one pocks cotton — or pulls bolls anymore. If school returns to normal, I wonder if Story will still get some time off in September/October….
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Today is July 4th — every year we celebrate American Independence Day on the Fourth of July. July 4, 1776 represents the Declaration of Independence and the birth of the United States of American as an independent nation. 

It’s a nice day for a party, but July 4, 1776 is not the day that the Continental Congress decided to declare independence — they did that on July 2, 1776.
July 4, 1776 isn’t the day we started the American Revolution — that happened back in April of 1775. 
July 4, 1776 isn’t the day Thomas Jefferson wrote the first draft of the Declaration of Independence — that was in June of 1776.
July 4th, 1776 isn’t the day the Declaration of Independence was delivered to Great Britain — that didn’t happen until November of 1776.
July 4th isn’t the day the Declaration of Independence was signed — that was August 2, 1776. 

So what happened on July 4th, 1776 that makes it worthy of such a grand celebration?
On July 4, 1776, the Continental Congress approved the final wording of the Declaration of Independence. They’d been working on it for a couple of days after the draft was submitted on July 2nd and finally, on July 4th, agreed on all the edits and changes. July 4, 1776 became the date that was included on the Declaration of Independence — the fancy handwritten copy, signed in August, is the one displayed at the National Archives in Washington, D.C. Printed copies of the Declaration (with the date July 4, 1776) were circulated throughout the new nation. So it turns out that when people thought of the Declaration of Independence, July 4, 1776 was the date they remembered. 

This may not come as a surprise, but it took Congress almost a hundred years, after the Declaration of Independence was written, to declare July 4 to be a national holiday. I guess based on the Washington of today, that would be considered pretty expedient action. But a national holiday it is — happy Independence Day to everyone.
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In the year 2020, things are not normal. Today, July 3, 2020 is the first July 3rd in many years that I haven’t had a terrific view of a porty-potty when I stepped out my front door. Apparently the annual gathering across the street that would have violated every “safety” rule ever release by our “leaders” is not going to happen. 

I know some of you will feel bad for me, knowing how I look forward to the porta-potty every year. It’ll be an adjustment, but I’ll do my best to make it through the holiday and try to enjoy myself.  We all have to make sacrifices in these trying times — hopefully, next year things will be back to normal. We’ll miss you porta-potty, but it’s still America’s birthday — happy 4th!!
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There’s been a lot in the news lately about schools — how they’re going to handle things when school resumes in the fall. Obviously, it’ll be very different. All the changes will make it hard on both the students and teachers — and parents. For now, the kids are in the midst of summer vacation, although even “summer vacation” ain’t what it used to be.

I got to thinking about what school was like when I went to school — or at least what I remember it being like. Maysville had two schools — Maysville Grade School — and, yep, you guessed it — Maysville High School. When you got to be six years old, you started school in the first grade — no kindergarten, pre-school or any organized activities to teach kids to “socialize” prior to going to school. I’m pretty sure that no one back then had ever even heard of “day-care.”

Everyone went to Maysville Grade School until they finished sixth grade. There weren’t two or three, or more, first grades, fourth grades, or any other grade. When you went to first grade, you went to the first grade classroom and were taught by the first grade teacher. The only time you left your classroom was for recess, lunch and to go home after school. School started at 9:00 in the morning and ended at 4:00 in the afternoon. We got vacation from school at Thanksgiving and Christmas and I think there was one Friday during the year that the teachers all attended a “teachers meeting” in Oklahoma City. There were not spring or fall breaks, and there was no time off between “semesters.” Actually, I’m not sure they even had semesters.

After finishing sixth grade, everyone went to Maysville High School. Even though the building housed seventh and eighth graders, they weren’t in high school — and they weren’t in junior high. When we finished the eighth grade, we graduated from “the Eighth Grade” or “Grade School.” 

High school consisted of the 9th, 10th, 11th and 12 grades. It was the first time we weren’t called 1st, 2nd, 3rd, etc. “graders” — the classes had names — Freshman, Sophomore, Junior and Senior. It was also the first time we didn’t have the same teacher for every subject — there were math teachers, english teachers, etc., and we didn’t stay in the same room all day. The teachers stayed in their rooms and the various classes went to them. Some of this isn’t probably that much different than schools (until now) operated recently. 

But a couple of miles down the road from Maysville, was a community called Story. Maysville schools educated those living within Maysville and a lot of the surrounding “farm kids” were bussed into Maysville. However those living a little further outside of town went to community schools like Story. 

Going to school in Story was different than attending Maysville schools — Story was a one-room schoolhouse. Everyone in the school shared only one teacher and one classroom. That single teacher taught students in the first through the eighth grades. The youngest students sat in the front , while the oldest students sat in the back. The curriculum probably only included reading, writing, arithmetic, history and geography. The Story school year started in August, at least a couple of weeks before schools in Maysville started. Then for about two weeks in September, the school was closed. This was because the children were needed on the farms — mostly to pick cotton.

I was only in the Story schoolhouse a couple of times, but it wasn’t much bigger that a large living room. The teacher’s desk was at the front on a slightly raised platform, and there was a “potbelly” stove. I’m not sure if they burned wood or coal. The bathroom was outside — an “outhouse.” ( I probably should have noted that the Maysville Grade School I attended didn’t have indoor bathrooms either — there were “girls” and “boys” facilities located ‘way’ out back.)

After the students finished the eighth grade at Story, they had to go Maysville for high school — or some other nearby town that had grades nine through twelve. 

Since we’re on the subject of schools and you’ve read this far, here’s an added bonus….
Originally (I’m not sure when, but a long time ago) schools and schoolhouses were established by the local church. They divided the town into school districts, built the schools and hired the teachers. The whole point of education was to teach reading so students could read the Bible. When the country was under English rule, there was only one official religion. But when that changed, a new system was needed to run the schools. Initially, groups of parents, called School Societies, took over, but those were soon dissolved and schools were run by the state governments. School districts were established and the parents paid tuition. In the early 1900s, the states had the towns take over schools and establish Boards of Education. 
This is an interesting subject, maybe we’ll visit it again in the fall….
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Well here we are approaching that great American Holiday, the 4th of July — America’s Independence Day and with it all the associated pageantry of parades, hot dogs, barbecues, picnics, fireworks and porta-potties. 

Both faithful readers know that I get excited every year about this time because a few days before America’s Birthday, a porta-potty arrives across the street for us to admire for a few days to a week or more. 

When I mention to friends that I’m looking forward to the arrival of the porta-potty, they usually just ignore me, or remind me that it was my choice to move to West Virginia. 

Obviously a lot of traditions have gone by the wayside in the past few months, so it could be that we will have no porta potty for the 4th. I know some Independence Day celebrations have been cancelled, but not to have the porta potty here on Field Crest Court just somehow seem un-American… stay tuned. The porta-potty watch is on.
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I just read an article that was a few days old, but it was no less disturbing….
“The Trump administration, in twin actions to curb environmental regulations, moved to temporarily speed the construction of energy projects and to permanently weaken federal authority to issue stringent clean air and climate change rules. 
President Trump signed an executive order that calls on agencies to waive required environmental reviews of infrastructure projects to be built during the pandemic-driven economic crisis. At the same time, the Environmental Protection Agency has proposed a new rule that changes the way the agency uses cost-benefit analyses to enact Clean Air Act regulations, effectively limiting the strength of future air pollution controls.
Together, the actions signal that Mr. Trump intends to speed up his efforts to dismantle environmental regulations as the nation battles the coronavirus and a wave of unrest protesting the deaths of black Americans in Georgia, Minnesota and Kentucky….”

I know I’ve quoted him before, but I’m liking Theodore Roosevelt more and more as time goes by — obviously he didn’t read the article, but if he had, he might have responded with one of his own quotes:
“Here is your country. Cherish the natural wonders, cherish the natural resources, cherish the history and romance as a sacred heritage, for your children and your children’s children. Do not let selfish men or greedy interests skin your country of its beauty, its riches or its romance.”
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A lot of things that the CIA does and has done in the past remain secret or even “unknown” and for good reason. Some of these “things” are pretty amazing — hopefully, a lot of them will never be revealed. 

Then again, some things are inadvertently exposed — to at least some extent. One of the truly remarkable stories that became “public” a few years ago is that of the Glomar Explorer — an “underseas mining” ship. You can check the Internet or old newspapers for more details, but briefly the story is this….

In 1968 a Russian Submarine sank due to some kind of on-board explosion. Since the Russians apparently didn’t know the location of the sunken sub, the CIA decided to recover the vessel. The problems that had to be overcome probably number in the hundreds, if not thousands. No one had ever attempted anything like this — considering the size and weight of the sub and the incredible depth where it came to rest made recovery seem impossible. A special ship had to be constructed to attempt the “impossible.”

It took several years to build such a ship and of course because of the size, it couldn’t be built in someone’s basement. So the agency needed a smokescreen, or “cover” and they pretended to be exploring the possibility of deep sea mining. A huge campaign was publicized that indicated the project was to recover manganese nodules from the ocean floor. Because this was obviously an expensive undertaking, CIA needed a frontman — someone rich (and eccentric) enough to make the story plausible. The reclusive billionaire inventor Howard Hughes agreed to play the role.

A unique ship was designed using his name — the Hughes Glomar Explorer. Publicly, it was fitted with everything needed to dig up the seabed. But covertly, the ship was also built with ingenious devices — think about things you might see in a James Bond film.

The undersea mining cover was so good that it prompted US universities to start courses in deep sea mining and it raised the share prices of the companies involved. The revelation that the deep sea mining project was a fake was a sudden shock to other mining companies — and — to diplomats at the UN who were in the middle of negotiating future rights to ocean minerals.

Now the sad part — After twenty years in mothballs, Global Marine (the term Glomar came from Global Marine) that has since been acquired by an offshore drilling corporation, Transoceanic, leased the Glomar Explorer and gave it a $180 million makeover to convert the Glomar into an oil drilling ship. From 1998 through 2013, the Explorer enjoyed a second career as a deep sea drilling ship. However, because of declining petroleum prices and competition from on-shore production, the ship was taken out of service. 

Transoceanic announced in 2015 that the Glomar Explorer would be scrapped. That’s a shame, if for no other reason than its amazing history. But additionally, the American Society of Mechanical Engineers had designated the technologically remarkable ship a historic mechanical engineering landmark. 

I guess all good things have to come to an end — it’s just too bad the old lady’s legacy had to end that way… may she Rest In Peace.
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Today is June 25 — the 176th day of 2020. Six months from today will be Christmas.
There’s a lot of reasons to remember and celebrate June 25th — some good, some not so good, some great!
In 1788, the state of Virginia ratified the U.S. Constitution on this date — that’s good.
In 1876, Lt. Col George A. Custer and his 7th Cavalry were wiped out by the Souix and Cheyenne in the Battle of the Little Bighorn — that’s bad
In 1910, President Williams Howard Taft signed the White-Slave Traffic Act (the Mann Act) which made it illegal to transport women across state lines for “immoral” purposes — that’s good.
In 1962, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that recitation of a sate-sponsored prayer in New York State public schools was unconstitutional — that’s bad, or maybe good, depending on your position… I vote bad.
In 1967, the Beatles performed and recorded their new song “All You Need is Love” during the closing segment of “Our World,” the first-ever live international telecast that was carried by satellite from 14 countries. — that’s good
In 1996, a truck bomb killed 19 Americans and injured hundreds at a U.S. military housing complex in Saudi Arabia — that’s bad
In 1998, the U.S. Supreme Court rejected a line-item veto law as unconstitutional, and ruled that HIV-infected people were protected by the Americans with Disabilities Act. — that’s good.
In 1950, war broke out in Korea as forces from the communist North invaded the South — that’s bad.
In 2009, death claimed Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett — that’s bad.

But what really makes this day special, of course is that it’s two of our kids’ birthdays. Yep — both Dave and Chassie share exactly the same birthday — one year apart, but the same day. I mentioned a couple of years ago that the term “Irish Twins” is a term used when two people are born on the same day and month but one year apart. So Happy Birthday to my Irish Twins — that’s great!!
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I got a kind of round about question concerning the term “blue blazes.” Apparently it came via Facebook — a part of the Internet that I don’t pay much attention to and only look at on occasion. But anyhow, the subject today is blue blazes.
When I heard the term, I immediately thought that I knew what it was… interestingly enough, I wouldn’t have known before we moved here to West Virginia.

You may, or may not, know that we live very near the Appalachian Trail. I’ve never “hiked” the trail, but I’ve been on it a number of times since we’ve moved here. The Appalachian Trail is marked by white “blazes” along the entire trail — from Georgia to Maine. You follow these blazes to make sure you stay on the trail and don’t get lost. 

Before I go any further, (one) definition of blaze comes from the Old Norse word “blesi,” which means a spot or patch of white on the face of a horse or other animal. To “blaze” a trail originally meant to strip a patch of bark from trees along a route, exposing the lighter wood underneath, and therefore marking the trail. Those white markers on the Appalachian Trail serve just that purpose and are referred to as blazes. 

Now back to “blue” blazes…. blue blazes are alternate Appalachian Trail route markers. There are many blue blazes along the Appalachian, most of which lead a short distance off the main trail to water sources, shelters, camping sites, or some spectacular view. I might note that there are other colors of blazes also located along the trail.

So to summarize, a blaze is a trail marker to help hikers follow a given path — the blazes are usually used to indicate the beginning or ending of the trail or a change of direction, or maybe an intersection.

That would be my response to what in blue blazes does blue blazes mean. However, the term blue blazes has fallen into the idiom category —  a phrase that isn’t meant to be taken literally. Idioms are are often used because someone can’t come up with a better, more descriptive or dramatic way of expressing himself. I’ve heard people say, “I haven’t seen you in blue blazes,” or “where in blue blazes have you been?” or “how in blue blazes am I supposed to do that?”

If you look it up, one definition of “blaze” pertains to fire. This use of blaze referring to fire comes from a very old German word, “blason” that means torch. The term blazes is used often as a slang expression referring to the flames of Hell. If you’re partial to this definition, and you say, “where in blue blazes have you been?” you’re really saying, “where the hell….”

As far as the “blue” part goes…. I’m not sure, but if you remember in chemistry or science class, the blue part of the flame of your bunsen burner was the hottest, so attaching blue to blazes might mean that you’re referring to the most intense part of the fire…

I remember hearing my dad use the term “blazes” occasionally and I don’t think he ever took a hike, but the fact that I traditionally think of blazes in connection with a trail just shows that we really are influenced by out environment… I guess I’ve become a real West Virginia Mountaineer.
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During the Civil War, West Virginia was admitted into the Union as the 35th state. When Virginia voted to secede after the outbreak of the Civil War, the majority of the people living in the western part of Virginia opposed the secession. Delegates met at  Wheeling, and on June 11, 1861, nullified the Virginian ordinance of secession and proclaimed “The Restored Government of Virginia,” headed by Francis Pierpont. West Virginian statehood was approved in a referendum and a state constitution drawn up.

In April 1863, U.S. President Abraham Lincoln proclaimed the admission of West Virginia into the Union effective June 20, 1863.

When Virginia decided to secede from the Union, West Virginia became the only state to declare its independence from the Confederacy and the only state to gain statehood by Presidential proclamation. 
Happy Birthday, West Virginia — “Mountaineers Are Alway Free.”
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