Let us begin by establishing that Marie-chan is the cutest cat ever. There is no escaping it. A little white ball of fluff with a face that suggests that she thinks she is much bigger and more fierce than she actually is, when you see her you want to look in back to find out if there is a key where you can wind her up.
Well, now I’ve done it. When a person mentions genealogy he becomes very popular all of a sudden, as if there’s some secret knowledge he possesses that if divulged will loose the keys to the kingdom. There really is no such knowledge, just a few tricks that anyone can employ. What prevents people who are interested from diving in may be the thought that it can’t be that easy.
Do all families have a deep corporate interest in genealogy? I hope so, because it is fascinating and satisfying. The subject swoops in unannounced and occupies my days every few years. Though I’m by no means an expert, I think I’m a relatively skilled dilettante and have a long, strangely constructed family tree to prove it.
It is coincidence, not design, that makes my small contributions so far this year into what seem like an endless reminiscence. Even so, I am forced by circumstance to write about water heaters then and now.
Saturday will mark 20 years since the chilly day I arrived at this peculiar little house on a peculiar little farm in the Appalachian foothills. When you meet people they always ask what brought you here, and in my case, there’s no particular answer. The currents of life, I suppose. It was a gamble, as life tends to be.
In the early part of this century there was an imaginative musical ensemble, the Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players.
In addition to its other attributes, winter is a time of low humidity. That gives static electricity opportunity to romp in its annoying way. It does dangerous things, too, such as making it easy for your city to burn down. We’ve joked for decades how January and February are the months of computer malfunctions, but it’s true: Static electricity caused by low humidity causes all kinds of otherwise inexplicable gremlins to invade our electronic devices.
We’re 12 days away from being rid of Bugout Joe Biden and his technocratic though dimwitted minions. As the coming months unfold and more and more institutions come to realize that backing the Biden organized crime family was not the smart play, we are likely to give thanks that Biden and his monkeys, well, bidened everything up. Their incompetence has been the country’s salvation.
There are things we can know about 2025 within a minuscule margin of error, and it’s worthwhile to know at least some of them ahead of time, for planning purposes. Many of them are things humans cannot change. Others are things that humans could change but probably won’t, for good or bad reasons.
In Austria, 206 years ago this Christmas Eve, one of the most enduring religious (as opposed to secular retail) Christmas songs was sung for the first time. In Athens, Ohio, 10 years ago, I did what I used to do every year after Christmas Eve midnight Mass (no longer held at midnight, I’m sad to say). Savoring, yes, the silence of the night, I would take a long walk through town, breathing it all in and thinking of a place now all buttoned up for (as Clement Moore put it in a poem published five years after the introduction of “Silent Night”) “a long winter’s nap.” Students mostly gone home, residents in their houses enjoying their own Christmas traditions, there were quiet and peace.