What Would Jimmy Do?

Both the readers of this blog know that I’m old. I’m older than a lot of things. I’m not quite older than television, but pretty close. Television didn’t come to Oklahoma, the state I where I was born until I was about 7 or 8 years old. If you’re interested, you can check the archives of this blog for stories about the early days of television in Maysville, Oklahoma.

Television was an interest of mine from an early age and I was very interested how it worked. TV sets today are pretty big and very thin — almost like a big picture frame. But until fairly recently, a television set was very bulky and took up a large chunk of whatever room it was in. The basic reason for that was the screen was something called a cathode ray tube and in order for that to work, the TV set had to be almost as deep as the screen was wide. 

Anyhow, my subject today is a guy by the name of Philo T. Farnsworth. Philo invented something that pretty much changed the world.
But — his invention is something that most people have never heard of. And most people never even heard of Philo T. Farnsworth either. The invention? The dissection tube — it’s actually the thing that made televisions, until recently, work.

Phil was the son of a Mormon farmer. His family moved from Utah to Idaho in 1919 when he was 11 years old. He was surprised that their new home was wired for electricity (and on top of that, it had a flush toilet.) Phil became obsessed with all things electrical.
By the time he was 13, he was a self-taught electrical engineer. And he was invaluable around the farm. When a generator blew, Philo came to the rescue, and he built motors from spare parts. He devoured newspaper and magazine articles about new ideas in electricity — and thought of ways he could improve on those ideas himself.

What would turn out to be his life’s work was inspired by an article about Scottish inventor John Logie Baird and his work with cathode rays. Baird had been attempting to reproduce real images on a screen but so far hadn’t been able to produce anything but blurs of light. Right from the start, Philo was obsessed with the transmission of images onto a screen.

One day, while plowing a field, the thought came to him that electrons could scan an image line by line, just like his plow was working through a field. It took Philo another seven years to translate his idea into a working television system. On September 7, 1927, he successfully sent a single line from his camera — which he called an image dissector — to some friends that were looking at a glass receiver tube. That was the first-ever transmission of an electronic television picture. 

Within a few years, Philo was involved in a legal battle with the Radio Corporation of America (RCA.) The company didn’t want to pay Farnsworth royalties to produce television sets, so they instigated a legal battle over who was the rightful inventor of television — a Russian immigrant they’d hired (Valdmir Zworykin) — or Farnsworth. After a lot of analysis and testimony, the U.S. Patent Office awarded the invention to Farnsworth. 

In 1957 Philo appeared as a mystery guest on the quiz show, What’s My Line? He was introduced as someone with a unique claim to fame. A panel of four people were supposed to figure out exactly what that was. When asked if he was the inventor of something that could be painful when used, Philo said, “Yes. Sometimes it’s most painful.”

Philo believed that he had created a way for people to waste a large portion of their lives. He wouldn’t allow his own children to watch television because he thought it would ruin their “intellectual diet.”
Maybe he was right.
— 30 —

I was fortunate during my working years to have many good friends. One that I worked with in several locations around the world was a dear friend that I called The Bear. He didn’t look like a bear — he was a little on the stocky side, but something about the way he walked reminded me of a bear. So I always referred to him as The Bear.

Not too long after we had arrived in Manila, and were living in a temporary apartment, The Bear stopped to visit us for a few days on his way to Tokyo.
The temporary apartment wasn’t really set up much and Claire was hesitant to have “guests,” but since The Bear was a long-time good friend, she agreed we should have him for dinner. Since we weren’t settled, Claire decide to have I guess what would be considered maybe an Asian version of fondue. A neighbor in the apartment building loaned us a small electric hibachi that was placed in the center of the table. The idea was that everyone would cook their own beef that had been sliced into individual “servings.” 

When we got the hibachi, it turned out that it would only operate on 220 volts. Our apartment was wired for 120 volts. But not to worry — the neighbor gave us a small transformer to convert 120 to 220 to operate the hibachi. He also gave us a flimsy extension cord so we could get everything connected. Using the extension cord, we were able to set up the hibachi in the center of the table, by placing the transformer under one of the chairs and then running the extension cord from the transformer to the wall.

We had invited The Bear and another couple that knew him from a previous overseas tour. We had drinks — if I remember, out of some make-shift “glasses” from the kitchen. We sat down for dinner and it just happened that The Bear’s chair was the one with the transformer underneath. We were all having a good time and catching up on the latest from everyone. I began to smell something burning, but the conversation continued and The Bear was talking about when we were in Vietnam together. I noticed there were wisps of smoke that looked like it was coming out of The Bear’s head. Then there were billows of smoke seeming to come out of his head. Suddenly, The Bear jumped up as the seat of his chair became hot. The transformer (beneath The Bear’s chair) had become overloaded, and slowly caught fire. We quickly extinguished the small fire and we all had a good laugh.
It was hard after that night, not to refer to my friend as the “Burning Bear.”
— 30 —

A couple of months ago, I got a new keyboard for the computer in my office. I got a QWERTY keyboard. Today just about everyone knows what that is. If you read the title of this blog entry, you probably immediately knew that it is the top row of letters on a standard typewriter (if you know that that is) or computer keyboard. The QWERTY configuration has an interesting history.

Back in the 1870s one of the leading manufacturers of typewriters was a company by the name of Sholes & Co. They apparently received lots and lots of complaints from users about the typewriter keys sticking together if the operator went too fast. (If this doesn’t make sense to you, you’re too young to be reading this blog — go text someone, or something.) But anyhow, management asked their engineers to fix the problem. After some discussion, they suggested slowing the operator down. If they did that, the keys wouldn’t jam together nearly as much. Their solution was to have an inefficient keyboard configuration. For instance, the letters “O” and “I” are the third and sixth most frequently used letters in the English language. So the engineers positioned them on the keyboard so that the relatively weaker ring and little fingers had to depress them. Believe it or not, this brilliant idea solved the problem of keyboard jam-up. 

Of course, since then the state of the art in typewriter and computer/word processing technology has advanced majorly. Most modern keyboards can probably go much faster than any human operator can type. Today, there are other, faster configurations available, but the QWERTY continues to the most popular. 

I guess that just proves that it’s easy to get “set in our ways.” Once something becomes “standard,” it’s very difficult to change it even though the original reason for it has disappeared. So if you’re into creative thinking, you have to not only generate new ideas, but figure out how to escape the obsolete ones as well. 
— 30 —

Both the readers of this blog probably remember a previous discussion about fortune cookies. Well, I was out with some friends a few days ago and the subject came up again. Actually, the discussion started with someone referring to “American Chinese” food as opposed to “real” Chinese food. 

Probably most “American Chinese” dishes were inspired by their counterparts from China. But, due to different cultures, tastes, and other things, the American versions of Chinese foods are usually more meat-centered and less dependent on vegetables than dishes that originate in the far East.

A lot of popular dishes like General Tso’s chicken, Sesame, chicken, Chinese chicken salad, chop suey, chow mien, crab rangoon, fried rice and Mongolian beef, to name a few, are items at Chinese restaurants that are essentially American derivatives.

And then there is the fortune cookie — indisputably American, even though it was probably created by a a Chinese immigrant in the United States. 
Fortune cookies became synonymous with Chinese restaurants in the United States. The cookies were folded by hand and the fortunes were inserted using chopsticks until 1964.
Today fortune cookies are everywhere — even in….. China.
Fortune cookies only became available in Asia because American tourists kept asking for them…..
— 30 —

I wish it wasn’t true, but the fact is that “death” has occupied my mind a lot recently. I’m trying my best to deal with things, take a realistic view and try to accept that it’s inevitable and part of ‘life.”
I’ve read a lot about it lately and some sociologists believe that we create a lot of euphemisms for death because we’d rather avoid the subject all together — and — the substitute “labels” help mask our discomfort. According to the theory, people are apparently more comfortable “kicking the bucket” than just dying.

I found two possible origins of “kick the bucket” — as you might expect, both are kind of morbid.
One involves the slaughter of pigs. In the days of yore, a pig was hung by its heels from a wooden beam, after its throat was slit, allowing the blood to drain out. This beam was for some reason, called a “bucket.” Maybe because the pigs were hoisted by means of a pulley system similar to that on an old-fashioned well, but I’m not sure. In the throes of death, the pig’s heels would sometimes knock against the wood. Butchers of the time would often hear the sound of the hog kicking the “bucket.”

Another possibility comes from the act of suicide by hanging. In order to do that, a person must stand on something, secure the noose around their neck and either step down or kick the support away. The theory is that a bucket is something small and easy to stand on. That seems like a more logical explanation to me, except that “kicking the bucket” doesn’t only refer to suicide — it’s used to describe any kind of death.

Either way, death isn’t a pleasant experience, and so the use of euphemisms to describe it may be appropriate or at least easier to talk about — like, buying the farm, pushing up daisies, going into the fertilizer business, taking a dirt nap, etc….
— 30 —

If any of you have lived overseas, you know that something we take for granted — dependable and fairly stable electricity — isn’t the norm in a lot of places. A number of places we’ve been it was necessary to plan events around when you guessed the power would be on — at least “full on.” Brownouts were commonplace. 

One of the first experiences with dealing with these issues came shortly after we arrived at a new post. The first night in out new quarters, we were both tired from days of travel and “moving in” to the new place. We figured we’d just go to bed and get a fresh start the next morning. We went into the upstairs bedroom, but the lights wouldn’t come on — neither would the ceiling fan. I figured the fuse had blown and after searching — and finding — the “fuse box.” I couldn’t find anything wrong, so we just went to bed — leaving my expert troubleshooting for morning. 

About midnight, all the lights came on VERY bright and the ceiling fan was turning so fast it almost shook the room — sounded like a helicopter. There was also a very loud buzzing noise. I ran around turning off some of the lights and the ceiling fan. I had no idea what happened, but we certainly had (lots of) electricity upstairs

The next day, I had time to explore and discovered a few things about our house — and — the neighborhood. It turns out that the house was located only about half a block from a strip of, for lack of a better name, “bars.” Exploring the house, I found on top of the refrigerator (why there, of all locations, I don’t know) a step-down/step-up transformer. The transformer had a power surge alarm…. yep, a buzzer. 

So here’s the results of my troubleshooting and analysis of the problem: All the bars down the street turned on their air conditioners about 4:00 pm, just in time for happy hour I suppose. All those air conditioners used up just about all available electricity. There was a curfew when we were there that went into effect at midnight. So — the bars closed down at midnight and shut off their air conditioners. When that happened, all the electricity surged back in to the rest of the neighborhood. 
It turned out that wasn’t too bad — at least it was predictable — some places we lived you never knew when, or if, you’d have electricity.

We learned to step-up the transformer before 4:00 and turn on any lights or fans we thought we might need, and we also learned to step-down the transformer before we went to bed. That prevented the ceiling fan from trying to take off and the alarm buzzer from waking up the whole neighborhood. 
So, do I miss times like those? Actually, sometimes I do…..
— 30 —

9/11 was a reminder that the world is unpredictable, fragile and sometimes full of tragedy. Today, we remember the innocent lives lost, the heroes who stepped forward and the unity that carried us through.
We honor — we remember — and we vow to never forget.
Maybe Aesop said it best…. “United we stand, divided We fall.”
— 30 —

When we moved to Shepherdstown, St. Agnes was in the process of building a new church building. Shortly after the building was occupied, I was asked to build some Bluebird houses to be installed at various locations on the grounds. I didn’t know how to build a bird house with all the characteristics necessary to attract a specific type of bird — in this case, the particular type of Bluebird native to this area. I of course googled plans of how to build such a birdhouse.

I was cleaning out some old computer files the other day and ran across those plans and another interesting article about birds that I had saved for some reason. The article was about how birds sleep on tree limbs without falling off….

Nest building birds don’t sleep in nests — they just use them to raise their families. Some birds crouch down in the grass or in bushes to get their sleep. But there are many species of birds that sleep while perched on tree limbs. It seems pretty amazing that they could stay up in a tree while asleep because when people (and lots of animals) fall asleep, they usually go limp. But most of the birds in this area belong to an order known as passerines — birds with feet that are adapted for perching.

Most birds have four toes on each foot, and these toes can be arranged in different configurations  — depending on the type of bird. A passerine typically has three toes that face forward and a “big toe,” or hallux, that faces backward.These birds have an ingenious tendon-locking mechanism (TLM) that causes a special ligament in the back of the leg to tighten automatically when the bird sits on a limb.
The tendon locks the toes and secures the bird to the perch. Because of the TLM, the bird doesn’t have to keep its muscles actively engaged to maintain its grip — the bird stays on the limb until it retracts its toes. Other animals, like bats, have a similar mechanism that allows them to hang upside down without falling.

It’s interesting, and maybe a little morbid, that the TLM doesn’t disengage when a bird dies. Skeletons have been found still perched in trees — In fact I found one many years ago when I cut down a small tree…..
— 30 —

I don’t mean to imply anything to anyone with this — I just think it’s an interesting quote from Desmond Tutu…..
“When the missionaries first came to Africa, they had the Bible and we had the land. They said, “Let us pray.” We closed our eyes. When we opened them, we had the Bible and they had the land.”
— 30 —

I was helping my neighbor put new shutters on  his house and to get the old ones off, we used a small pry-bar that I’ve had for years. He said he should get one of those things and I asked him if he knew what it was called. He didn’t, and I told him that it was a jimmy. (if you look up jimmy in the dictionary, it says it’s a short crowbar used by burgers.)  He thought that was pretty funny. 

But people’s names are used to describe all sorts of things and situations.
I guess maybe of all the names in the English language, “John” might be used the most in unflattering ways. We’ve all heard of a “Dear John Letter, an unknown dead guy is referred to as “John Doe,” and even worse, we call a bathroom the “john.”

Well, I wondered what the heck John did to deserve so much disrespect. I figured extensive research was in order….
It seems like the most common or popular explanation for why we call the bathroom the john is that it retained an association with the first name of British nobleman Sir John Harrington, who invented the flush toilet in 1596. Well that sounds reasonable, but it didn’t satisfy my extensive research. Harrington is, in fact, usually credited with devising a prototype of the flush toilet — it was not conceived by Thomas Crapper (You’ve probably heard stories about that, too, but it’s a myth.) But anyhow, the “john” moniker for the bathroom almost certainly is not related to Harrington.  Here’s why (maybe.) When Harrington invented the toilet, he called it the “ajax” — a pun on the term “jakes,” that was slang for toilet at the time. And — the newfangled toilet idea never really caught on during Harrington’s lifetime. It didn’t come into widespread use until after 1775, when another British inventor, Alexander Cummings, got a patent for it. So it seems pretty unlikely that Harrington’s name would have been attached to the toilet nearly two centuries later. The term “john” as a term for the bathroom wasn’t recorded in print until the mid-18th century — nearly 150 years after Harrington’s moment of glory.
Now consider that “john” is a distinctly American term — people in Britain don’t call the bathroom the “john.” The usually call it the “W.C.” — short for “water closet.”
So even with all my extensive research, the origin of the term isn’t really clear. 

I found an interesting article that indicated that the first recorded use of the term “john” to refer to the bathroom dates back to 1738 and is found in — get this — the rules that governed the actions of incoming Harvard freshmen. The rules say, “No freshman shall mingo against the College wall or go into the fellows’ cuz john.” At that time, “cuz john” was short for “cousin John,” an 18th-century American slang term for the bathroom.

Cousin John’s actual identity isn’t known, but he probably wasn’t anybody in particular. Probably, “going to visit cousin John” was a euphemism for using the bathroom — kind of like “I’m going to see a man about a dog” has been used more recently. I wasn’t familiar with the word “mingo” — it was slang for urinating. I think it’s kind of funny that the college elders at Harvard thought it was necessary to enact a rule that prohibited students from peeing on the sides of college buildings.
But — I’m not sure that college kids have changed that much — maybe the  rule is needed even today…..
— 30 —