Ever since June of 2012, i have been helping publish a small newsletter for the Mare Island Museum at the former Mare Island Navy Shipyard. For something that started as an accident due to my mostly directionless sense of direction, the quarterly newsletter "Farragut's Press", has been something of a looked forward to enjoyment for me.
"Farragut's Press" is largely written by Mrs. Barbara Davis, a former Department of Defense educator who has, in her role as teacher on military bases, traveled the world and seen the vast diversity that so many of us find hard to grasp.
The setting of Mare Island provides Barbara with a treasure trove of stories and facts to populate "Farragut's Press". Take, for example, the name of the newsletter, "Farragut's Press". On the surface, it is not hard to deduce that the newsletter was named after the officer who was tasked with the founding of Mare Island Navy Shipyard, then Captain, David Farragut. However, digging deeper, one realizes the myriad of tales one could tell simply based on the life and career of Admiral (his final rank) David Farragut, for example, the fact that we are in his debt for the phrase "damn the torpedoes!" (uttered in the spurring of the ships under his command in the heated Battle of Mobile Bay) and the founding of the rank Admiral (well, the Congress really, but he was the first Rear Admiral, Vice Admiral and, finally, Admiral, of the US Navy. Previous to the creation of the rank of Admiral, the most senior rank in the US Navy was that of a Captain) in the US Navy.
Every three months of so, i look forward to the articles Barbara will send through. Each time i put together the newsletter, my knowledge base of the US Navy and of the US Submarine Service, especially (Mare Island was one of the shipyards responsible for populating the US WWII Submarine fleet and, later, the US Nuclear Submarine fleet), is thus increased.
So, if you are also a fan of US Navy history, especially the bits of it associated with the first Navy Shipyard founded in the US West, jog your mouse to the right of your screen and there, ye shall find, a link to "Farragut's Press".
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Death or Cheese? Cheese or Death?
Yet, in other news, the FDA is considering banning aged cheeses because they feel that the wooden cheese racks, racks that have been used by cheese makers for generations, could not be sufficiently decontaminated and therefore pose a threat to food safety.
The NRA has managed, with political donations, threats, fear-mongering, and propaganda, to fend off any serious gun regulation legislation even in the face of almost monthly reports of random violent gun crimes at institutions long thought to be a refuge. Their solution to prevention? Arm everyone, that way everyone can defend themselves. Much good that did the conceal carrying gentleman in Las Vegas who thought that he, alone, can stop the two anti-government extremists who invaded the Walmart after ambushing and - for the lack of better words - executing two Las Vegas police officers on a lunch break. Yes, the conceal carrying gentleman, confident and brave with his second amend rights, simply added to the body count before the pair finished their rampage themselves in a murder suicide pact.
Mr. conceal carry will be touted as a hero, no doubt (and he is brave... but take care, brave is a dangerous word and does not always mean what you think). The gun rights right will argue that "hey! at least he had an option to do something", and completely ignore the fact that the person who stopped the Seattle shooter was an unarmed bystander and that, perhaps, luck of the draw dictates much more than one'd like to give luck credit for.
Yet we are still facing a potential aged cheese ban. Oh, if only there was a National Aged Cheese Association... NACA...
Wednesday, June 04, 2014
Life in "Sub"urbia?
For me, there is a certain whimsy in the photo. The Chinese characters on the skiff/punt/floating platform that supports the "submarine" reads (character by character): Return (come back), Water, Dirty (waste), Oil. Yet there he is, a semi jolly man in just a pair of red and navy/black swim briefs, standing relaxed with his very own yellow (what a cheerful colour) inflatable flotation device, without a care in the world but looking fine for the camera pointed at him, eager to swim in... well... returned water (with?) dirty oil. The fact that this image belonged to an exhibit entitled "Flotsam/Jetsam" only adds to the subtle mirth that i enjoy.
Now, the stenciled number on the sail of the "Submarine" reads 589. SSN-589 was the hull number of the Skipjack class nuclear submarine USS Scorpion, lost with all hands on May 22, 1968 near the waters southwest of the Azores. Her wreck currently rests in 9,800 feet of water at 32°54.9′N33°08.89′W. The cause of the sinking has been theorized to a malfunction of one of the Scorpion's own torpedo, however, the malfunctioned torpedo is just one of many theories about the cause of the Scorpion's untimely demise. The Scorpion was ordered on January 31st, 1957, her keel laid down in Groton on August 20th, 1958. She was launched on December 29th, 1959 and commissioned on July 29th, 1960. As fate would have it, the Scorpion was sponsored by a Mrs. Elizabeth S. Morris, the daughter of the last commander of the World War II submarine Scorpion, lost, with all hands, in the Yellow Sea around January 5th, 1944.
i don't know if the history of SSN-589 suggests a certain expected outcome of the jolly asian fellow. Though one might well imagine it might. Ah well, i do wish him a long and healthy life.
He did make a darn good replica of SSN-589 though... pictured below is the real McCoy:
Monday, June 02, 2014
Start
i often wonder how early memories work and what is truly remembered versus what is "remembered" after stories are told and repeatedly retold.
My memories of my paternal grand parents are vague, but the feelings i have for them are warm and unchanging. After all, their faces, oddly picked out in different sized pearls on a red velvet background, has greeted me in my parent's home ever since i was very young. The earliest memories i have of my paternal grand parents were somber ones. My grand mother passed when i was quite young (so young i can't accurately remember or trust the memories there of) and my grand father passed when i was around four. All the memories associated with them were of dark rooms, incense, and somber serious adults. What i know of them are mostly passed down to me verbally through various stories told and retold.
What i know is that they raised five children, the oldest being a girl, followed by four boys, my father being the third of the children, the second of the boys. My grand father was a general practice doctor in the village near Tainan, Taiwan. My grand mother helped out in the clinic and chased after the kids. Though never wealthy, since they were often not paid in currency but in goods or a simple smile, they were respected in the community and always made sure that, in the afternoon, the chimney in the kitchen exhausted cooking smoke - regardless of whether or not any actually cookery was going on. It was told to us that the reason why this show of cooking was done was to assure those who couldn't afford medical service that Dr. Liang was comfortable and at ease even if he isn't always paid. It was told to us that many a meals in the Liang household consisted of a bit of veg, lots of rice, and a lot of soy sauce to make the rice go down easy.
All of my uncles and my father attended Taipei Medical School, then the second best possible medical institution in Taiwan (the best being the National University). My uncles were all surgeons, my father studied Pharmaceutical Sciences and became the Pharmacist in Chung-jen Orthopedics Hospital in Kaoshiung, Taiwan, a hospital founded and established by my grand father when he relocated the family from the village in Tainan to then (and still) second largest city in Taiwan. Once the practice at Chung-jen stabilized and thrived, and all my uncles, my father, and my aunt (she married a surgeon who is also on staff at Chung-jen) were comfortable and starting families (my aunt had two boys and two girls, my eldest uncle a boy and a girl, and my dad got married in an arranged marriage to my mom and had just had me), my grand parents went on a trip to see the world -- the dream they both had, which said something about the type of persons they were. Somewhere in Europe, my grand mother fell ill. Though my grand father was unwilling to leave his sick wife, he continued travelling on her insistence and urging while she traveled back to Taiwan and the care of her children.
Her condition never improved though she was installed in the best hospital of Taiwan at the time, at the National Taiwan University Medical School. Her children took turns traveling from Kaushiung to Taipei (4 hour journey by car in the modern condition, a 5-6 hour train ride back in the days) to look after her and take care of her on a weekly rotation. My grand mother faded into a coma as my grand father's journey brought him closer to home. As family tradition would have it, she came out of her coma when at last my grand father arrived to her bedside. She was able to see him and exchange brief greetings before she finally succumbed to her illness and died.
To this day, i still never got a straight answer as to what she died of.
My memories of my paternal grand parents are vague, but the feelings i have for them are warm and unchanging. After all, their faces, oddly picked out in different sized pearls on a red velvet background, has greeted me in my parent's home ever since i was very young. The earliest memories i have of my paternal grand parents were somber ones. My grand mother passed when i was quite young (so young i can't accurately remember or trust the memories there of) and my grand father passed when i was around four. All the memories associated with them were of dark rooms, incense, and somber serious adults. What i know of them are mostly passed down to me verbally through various stories told and retold.
What i know is that they raised five children, the oldest being a girl, followed by four boys, my father being the third of the children, the second of the boys. My grand father was a general practice doctor in the village near Tainan, Taiwan. My grand mother helped out in the clinic and chased after the kids. Though never wealthy, since they were often not paid in currency but in goods or a simple smile, they were respected in the community and always made sure that, in the afternoon, the chimney in the kitchen exhausted cooking smoke - regardless of whether or not any actually cookery was going on. It was told to us that the reason why this show of cooking was done was to assure those who couldn't afford medical service that Dr. Liang was comfortable and at ease even if he isn't always paid. It was told to us that many a meals in the Liang household consisted of a bit of veg, lots of rice, and a lot of soy sauce to make the rice go down easy.
All of my uncles and my father attended Taipei Medical School, then the second best possible medical institution in Taiwan (the best being the National University). My uncles were all surgeons, my father studied Pharmaceutical Sciences and became the Pharmacist in Chung-jen Orthopedics Hospital in Kaoshiung, Taiwan, a hospital founded and established by my grand father when he relocated the family from the village in Tainan to then (and still) second largest city in Taiwan. Once the practice at Chung-jen stabilized and thrived, and all my uncles, my father, and my aunt (she married a surgeon who is also on staff at Chung-jen) were comfortable and starting families (my aunt had two boys and two girls, my eldest uncle a boy and a girl, and my dad got married in an arranged marriage to my mom and had just had me), my grand parents went on a trip to see the world -- the dream they both had, which said something about the type of persons they were. Somewhere in Europe, my grand mother fell ill. Though my grand father was unwilling to leave his sick wife, he continued travelling on her insistence and urging while she traveled back to Taiwan and the care of her children.
Her condition never improved though she was installed in the best hospital of Taiwan at the time, at the National Taiwan University Medical School. Her children took turns traveling from Kaushiung to Taipei (4 hour journey by car in the modern condition, a 5-6 hour train ride back in the days) to look after her and take care of her on a weekly rotation. My grand mother faded into a coma as my grand father's journey brought him closer to home. As family tradition would have it, she came out of her coma when at last my grand father arrived to her bedside. She was able to see him and exchange brief greetings before she finally succumbed to her illness and died.
To this day, i still never got a straight answer as to what she died of.
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