This Han dynasty pot is approximately 2000 years old, give or take a century or so. It’s in remarkably good condition for its age, probably because it was buried for most of its life. I have two of these, almost a matched set, but the other is in the care of my best friend. I think this qualifies as more than 50 years old.
This is blizzard time in New England, when the biggest baddest storms hit.
Traffic was, as usual, heavy. Snow started falling at more than an inch per hour trapping more than 3,000 automobiles and 500 trucks in rapidly building snowdrifts. Route 128 (aka Route 95) became a giant snowdrift where 14 people died from carbon monoxide poisoning, huddled in their trapped cars.
There are so many scenes that remain clear in my memory from the Blizzard of ’78.
I was smack dab in the middle of it from the beginning. I lived just down the street and was able to slog through the snow to the newsroom. As one of the few reporters who could get to the station without a car, I found myself doing myriad live shots across Massachusetts and other parts of New England.
I would like to give a special shout out to my colleagues who ran the cameras, the trucks, set our cable and mike lines, found signals when it seemed impossible and worked nonstop under the most dire and difficult conditions. All I had to do was stand in front of the camera or interview people. I recall standing in the middle of the Mass Turnpike, the Southeast Expressway, Rt. 495 and other major arteries doing live shots. Nothing was moving.
There was no traffic. No people. Abandoned vehicles littered the landscape. It was surreal. Sometimes it felt like Rod Serling was calling the shots. The snow accumulation was beyond impressive. I am or was 5 foot 6 inches. I often had to stand on snow “mountains” to be seen. My creative camera crews used the reverse image to dwarf me (no snickering, please) to show the impressive snow piles. No trickery was needed. Mother Nature did it all.
Downtown Boston looked like something out of the cult movie “The World, The Flesh And The Devil”. The end of the world at hand. No motor traffic, very few people: just snow as high and as far as the eye could see.
Ironically, people who were usually indifferent to each other became friendly and caring. Acts of kindness and compassion were commonplace, at least for a few days. Those of us working in front or back of the camera logged long hours, minimal sleep, lots of coffee, lots of pizza and intermittently laughed and grumbled. There are some behind the scenes stories that will stay there for discretion’s sake.
The Blizzard of ’78 will always be among the top stories in my news career. It needs no embellishment. The facts and the pictures tell it all. It needs no hype or hysteria.
About Photographs of the Blizzard of ’78:
There aren’t many pictures of the blizzard available. You’ll see the same shots whenever the blizzard is remembered. In 1978, everyone didn’t have a digital camera and a cell phone. People didn’t have instant access to photographs the way we do now.
If you have pictures and can share them, I’d love to see different images. All of the photos I’ve included are archive news photos. I’m betting some of you out there have photographs and lots of us would find them very interesting! You would need to scan them, I guess. Hard to remember all the way back to pre-digital.
From Google, this is dedicated to Harriet Tubman, Activist, humanitarian, African-American abolitionist, humanitarian, and Union spy during the American Civil War. (See Wikipedia for more.)
She was born in 1820 in Dorchester County, MD and died on March 10, 1913, in Auburn, NY. Married to Nelson Davis (1869-1888) and John Tubman (1844-1851), she had one daughter, Gertie Davies. She was the child of Harriet Greene and Ben Ross.
There is a huge amount of information about Harriet Tubman available in libraries and across the Internet. Today is the first days of African-American History month. Google Harriet Tubman to find out wonderful things you will love to know.
Not all heroes wear uniforms.
Today is a quiet day…a co-o-o-old day so definitely a day to stay inside simply enjoying the warmth of hearth and home. Just finished reading The 12-ft Teepee by Marilyn Armstrong (featured below) and thought I would take some time to visit blogs I am following. How surprised I was upon coming across The Lost Spirits @A Misbehaved Woman.
What better topic to revisit than that of the American Indians?
Disturbing, however, is the fact this story is not totally past history…it is tied to history, yes, but it is also right here, right now, in America, in New York City.
So much good stuff to read in this post … including (blush) the best review I’ve ever gotten of my little book.
See on awakenings2012.blogspot.com
I always wondered about Galahad, why he showed up in some tales but not others and why sometimes Lancelot was called Galahad. Here are the answers!
Originally posted on Tallhwch:
The grail hero was originally Peredur/Perceval. He is present in the oldest extant “Arthurian” stories and is the most common grail hero in Arthurian literature. He also seems to have the older elements associated with him; the relationship to the Welsh Peredur and the grafting of the story from Phillip of Flanders’ life.
However, as the Arthurian corpus began to grow and develop, there were two problems with the continued use of Perceval in the grail story. For one, he was associated with an established tale involving a buffoon who persevered and gained wisdom through his own efforts. Such literature was simple and had roots deep in the legends of Europe, but did not appeal to the higher echelons of society that were reading grail stories.
The second problem was even greater than the first, that Perceval was not Lancelot. Lancelot grew in popularity from the moment he came off of Chretien’s pen in the late twelfth century, and was by 1250 perhaps the most popular hero in King Arthur’s court. However, because of his affair with the queen, one of the most popular topics in Arthurian literature, he was unforgiveably stained on a religious level. No writer dared to pen him as the pinnacle of religion necessary to achieve the grail. Instead, his inability in this one quest served to differentiate it from every other.