The Pink Room

Some of my earliest and best memories when I was a little girl was listening to old time radio. That may have been my first exposure to history. All before the age of 9, I had stayed at my grandparents house in Duluth, Minnesota many times over. It was they who gave me my first handheld white and silver transistor radio, complete with a carrying strap back in the 1970's.

My Aunt's old pink decor room was my quarter of choice, while my mother's vacant room was purple. I loved the pink room. It had a tiny balcony on the 2nd floor, overlooking the small backyard and the apples trees, complete with bird feeders and bird baths. My grandfather had a love for birds and squirrels, chipmunks and the like, so the backyard was always filled with small animal activity. One year a young black bear even found his way up one of the apple trees, just to satisfy his hunger smack dab in the middle of the city. The Duluth News Tribune showed up to take a photo of that event, proof that my grandparents back yard could turn into a zoo at any given day.

Here is my Grandmother, sitting in her back yard, 100% Irish, and 150% not happy her photo was taken. The pink room was always sunny and warm, and the chenille bedspread was a cozy escape at night to snuggle under with a flashlight while I searched the AM airwaves on that old transistor radio. The mystery theatre programs were always a welcome delight during the summer months. The windows would be slightly cracked open to let the heat escape as night fell. Lightning bugs could be spotted down below as I'd peak out the window, trying to catch a glimpse of the ship's lights as they floated across Lake Superior, echoing it's deep sounding horn to the Aerial Lift Bridge on Canal Park wanting the ok to come into port.

I'd turn that dial, ever so slowly, hidden under the chenille blanket with the flashlight shined on the radio. It was past my bedtime, and I didn't want to get caught, so I pressed the ear plug into the jack on the radio and stuck the one hearing end of it in my ear, while the other was alert for possible footsteps outside my door at any given moment. The sound of crackling static filled my head along with the sounds of commercials in the far off distance, baseball games being broadcast, even two programs intertwined into one, impossible to decipher. Until finally, it came in, after a few crackles of static and adjusting with my finger on the dial... clear as a bell I would hear the radio theatre mystery program. I'd turn on my side, the one with the plug in the ear, so it would stay put against the pillow while I listened, and I'd lift the covers and turn off the flashlight. Only the glow from the moon would enter the pink room now. It was all I needed to be transported back in time while my full attention was given to the latest nostalgic re-broadcast on the radio.

Sometimes, if the mystery was too creepy for my young mind, I'd often crawl back under the blanket with my teddy bear and flashlight. I'll bashfully admit, it was only about 5 years ago that I quit sleeping with a teddy bear, but it hasn't strayed too far as it's always on standby next to the bed. More often than not, I'd fall asleep toward the end of the broadcast and awake in the morning to the sun-filled pink room, earplug hung over the bedside. The smell of fresh brewed coffee percolating on my grandmother's stove wafting up the stairs, alerting my senses to breakfast. It is to them I can also attribute my present day coffee habit. I still have the tiny tea cup they gave me to sip my small portion of coffee they allowed me during breakfast with my eggs and toast and sausage. And then, my day would begin all over, exploring the backyard and the rest of the neighborhood, only waiting for night to fall in anticipation of another old radio mystery theatre broadcast.

Because October 30th marks the death of Jerome J. Collins in the Arctic, this link below will provide you with a nostalgic leap to the past thanks to Orson Welles' "Mercury Theatre On The Air" from 1938. He portrays George W. Melville, Chief Engineer on the Jeannette Arctic Expedition, based on the book by Cmmdr. Edward Ellsberg. Although mostly factual (especially the end of the broadcast where he reads off the diary entries), Jerome is portrayed in a very bad light which can only be attributed to the naval standpoint it was written with. As many of you know, Jerome was a civilian forced to sign on as a seaman, a fact which he was not aware of at the time he agreed to the Expedition. His purpose of meteorologist and journalist never allowed to fully be completed thanks to the 18 month arrest he was held under for a trivial charge. Nevertheless, this on air broadcast allows the mind to picture the events of the Expedition (with some exaggeration by Welles of course), and it gives you an idea of the toll it takes on a man in 1879 as he attempts to reach the North Pole.

From the Mercury Theatre On The Air it’s Hell On Ice. This version first aired October 9, 1938.

The Grand Finale

The last phase to restore Jerome J. Collins' grave happened just over a week ago.  While Ronnie was over here in the good 'ole US of A bumming around NYC for the first time with his family, things were coming together back home in Cork for the grave of Jerome J. Collins.

With the final addition of railings around the grave, it is now restored to it's former glory just as it was back in the early 1900's with exceptional detail.  Even the finials on the 4 corners were not overlooked.  I hope my family would be very proud and honoured.  It's a testament that the memory of Jerome Collins and what he died for is still remembered to this today.  

  

Thank you to Brendan Walsh of Cork, Ireland's  Walfab Engineering Ltd. for the excellent work, along with Mark Walsh of Cork, Ireland, and Wojciech Zabrocki of Wolczyn, Poland who returned home after completing this job.  All men seemed very proud to have had their hands on this work.  Brendan told me in his email, "I would like to say it is a great story to tell and well done for all the hard work involved".  Thank YOU Brendan, and also thank you to Mona Hallinan of Cork County Council for providing the funding for this project.  Also thank you to Ronnie for pushing the papers to get this done, as well as Catryn Power for her continual involvement and guidance.  

All photos courtesy of Brendan Walsh.  May not be used without written permission to Walfab Engineering LTD, Cork, Ireland.  

Good news and bad news

The bad news: I had an emergency appendectomy a week ago this Friday.

The good news: it was removed on the luckiest day of the year 8/8/08 and it did not burst, the Dr. got it out in time. Of course, any of you reading this will probably think I am unlucky for having such a surgery on the luckiest day of the year. I, however, view the glass half full and am thankful I listened to my intuition that "something was just not right" and made my husband haul my butt into the clinic where I was quickly diagnosed and admitted for surgery all in less than 4 hours time.

The bad news: I can't lift over 10lbs for the next 8 weeks nor can I go 4wheeling with my husband next week up the North Shore, which btw is one of my favorite places for sightseeing.

The good news: I don't have to mow the lawn for the next 8 weeks, nor do I have to lift heavy dishes, NOR do I have to lift heavy piles of laundry, OR take out the garbage, all courtesy of Dr's orders. Oh, did I forget to mention that I'm also getting out of vacuuming as well for the next 8 weeks? And my wonderful son who is going on 5 is my little cheerleader asking me if I'm feeling better every day, even though I have to kneel down to hug him instead of lifting him up.

The bad news: I got put on Levaquin per Dr's orders. A VERY bad drug to take after surgery with super scary side effects.

The good news: I refused to take the Levaquin and insisted to the Dr. he prescribe something with much less horrific side effects. Come to find out after googling "Levaquin" there are many class action lawsuits due to it's reputation to rip tendons, amongst many other problems the Dr. did not warn me about when he wrote out this script. What the heck, doc?!

The bad news: I was saying serious explicits every morning while trying to get out of bed for the first 4-5 days.

The good news: Everything is on the mend and each morning I am thankful for another day. I even lost 2lbs.

The bad news: I have 3 wounds that the Dr. gave me and about 5 stitches, not including the one in my belly button, which, btw, does not look like my cute little belly button anymore.

The good news: These 3 wounds are due to a laparoscopic surgery which is the new preferred method to remove an appendix. Had I had the traditional surgery with the huge traditional wound, well, I'd still be saying those morning explicits.

The bad news: Ronnie and his family came over to the US and had a great time in NYC and Boston. I never got to make it out there to see them.

The good news: If I made it out to NYC to see Ronnie and his family, I most certainly would have ended up having my appendectomy in NYC. Lucky thing I didn't make it out there.

The bad news: Just one week prior to my appendectomy, I happened to catch my Irish Claddagh ring on the ice maker at home. I had not taken off this ring for over 15 years and by now there was no way it could easily come off. When it caught, the seam split open catching my skin and hurting my finger like the dickens.

The good news: my handy~dandy husband used a couple of pliers to pry the ring off my hand. Whew, what a relief and no long term damage to my finger either. As for the ring, well, it hasn't gone back on my finger and it's not going to either. Do you know that if I hadn't of caught it on the ice maker, that the surgical team would have had to saw it off during my ER appendectomy on 8/8/08 because jewelry is a big no~no?

So this is why I have not posted as of late, because I have been too tired to do so. I do have more good news, but you will have to wait as I will post it this weekend sometime.

The Jeannette Tragedy

For those of you who have not read this article yet, or were unable to to view it online, you can now click on the pictures below and read the story full-size.  "The Jeannette Tragedy" was published in two parts in  The Irish Echo  on July 9th and July 16th, 2008.  This newspaper is the most widely read Irish-American Newspaper in the US.  I am honoured to have been interviewed for this story, and even happier that it turned out so well.  

I am still waiting to hear from another writer with The Daily Mail, a national newspaper in Ireland,  as to when my other interview will be published.   When that happens, I'll be sure to let everyone know. 

Tornados in Northeastern Minnesota

"Severe weather moved through Northern Minnesota Monday night. Northlanders got quite a sight.

A tornado was spotted in Buhl at 8:45 PM, while a funnel cloud was spotted in Grand Rapids and a tornado was spotted 13 miles NNW of Virginia at 9:05. Talmoon had .75 hail. Squaw Lake had .88 inch hail. Coleraine sported 1 inch hail, while a 14" diameter tree was down near Bowstring Lake at 10:20 PM."

I personally saw two funnel clouds right over my own house in Aurora, while listening to the sirens going off in the next town just 5 miles away. It's no doubt the good people of the Iron Range were either in their basements or glued to their windows to see an event that Mother Nature does not let us see but for a few rare times in our lives.

Thanks to some of those same good people in Grand Rapids and the surrounding area, the photo's below were featured on our local 10pm news tonight and gave everyone in the path of this storm a reality check of what threatened over our heads just a few hours ago. As I write this, another storm is rolling through but with the threat of severe winds and larger than golf ball sized hail. This one I can handle, but a tornado I can not.

When the tornado sirens were going off, I was vacuuming and our little son who is 4&1/2 was helping me pick up his toys before bedtime. I turned on the TV, the radio, and loaded up the latest satellite imagery on my computer. The technology that had been used to alert citizens of the potential for deadly and destructive weather had reached me in about 1 minute from it's issue by the trained meteorologists who know when to send out these life saving alerts. The latest satellite technology and radar imagery used today is the Mercedes-Benz compared to the now outdated telegraph that Jerome Collins used in the late 1870's to issue his very own weather warnings via the New York Herald Weather Bureau to the west coast of Europe, Britain, and Ireland. One thing that Jerome has in common with the meteorologists of today, they both saved lives. Their weather forecasts alerted people to the threat of severe weather, either in a minutes notice as in today's example where I live, or less than a week's time in Jerome's day. Seafarers would usually confirm upon their entry into port that yes, they did indeed navigate through the storm which Jerome would have predicted to travel across the Atlantic to the coast of Europe, and therefore the people in Europe would have received fair warning in advance of the weather to come. I don't think that the meteorologists of today, or yesterday for that matter, ever received a proper thank you or commendation for saving a life. Firefighters are heralded as heros, Policemen are honored when fallen in the line of duty, and the US Armed forces are national symbols of noble sacrifice. So where's the recognition for the Meteorologist? Despite all this technology, we sometimes take for granted the job of a Meteorologist which is easily aided by technology. What if that technology failed us? Then we are forced to think to a time long ago, when simply observing the weather by looking up to the sky was where it all started.