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The Frisky Mole Boy of Groton

Norman Rogers recounts the summer he spent hiding from the stern love of his father and living as the world-famous “frisky mole boy” in the Groton, Connecticut sewer system.

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    Entries in Adventure (18)

    Monday
    11Jan2010

    Why Didn't Anyone Ask Me?

    I pride myself on having most, if not all, of the answers.

    The editors at the New York Times went to a select group of intellectuals and academics, and posed them a question about American society. Specifically, why are we such homebodies?

    The nation’s mobility rate fell last year to its lowest level since World War II, according to the latest census data. Growth is slowing in Sun Belt states and Northeastern states are holding on to more people. The current recession and lack of jobs are big factors, but the trend has been gaining force since the 1950s, when nearly one-fifth of all Americans moved every year.

    Why are Americans becoming less nomadic? Greater labor mobility helps the economy, but are there other kinds of effects — negative or positive — related to a more rooted population? Is there an upside to more Americans staying closer to their hometowns?

    Then they went on to receive such highbrow answers as:

    The mobility slowdown clearly hurts both individuals by limiting their ability to pursue economic opportunities and the economy as a whole by limiting its flexibility in matching workers to jobs. It has geographic implications as well, hitting hard at the once booming Sunbelt, especially states like Florida (which actually lost population), Nevada and Arizona, whose economies were largely fueled by the housing boom. And it overlays geography with socio-economic class.

    The class divide has meant a divergence of human capital across America’s cities and regions.

     

    Young, highly-educated, and highly-skilled people have the highest rates of mobility, according to the U.S. census. The mobility slowdown has accentuated what I have elsewhere dubbed the “means migration”— as these individuals have migrated to and become more concentrated in a relatively small number of city-regions like New York, Boston, Washington, D.C., Chicago, San Francisco, L.A., Chicago, Minneapolis, Atlanta, Denver, and Seattle among others. Harvard economist Edward Glaeser has documented the growing divergence of human capital across America’s cities and regions

    and:

    The slowing of population movement is a common response to powerful recessions and has many negative economic consequences, particularly for job hunters who need to be able to move in search of work. But the social impacts are more mixed.

    The benefits of more people staying put: lower crime rates, more help from grandma.

    One of the virtues of being stuck is that we can continue to rely on the friends and family nearby to help us get through hard times. “Social capital,” the stock of trust and support we draw on in daily life, is especially important when families are under stress. A child care emergency can be patched up if grandma is next door rather than 2,000 miles away. Borrowing $50 to get by is easier if you have someone close to turn to and much harder if you are a newcomer.

    Well, Norman Rogers has the answer:

    Dude, Americans are broke.

    Thank you. I’m glad we could share this moment of brilliant illumination.

    Tuesday
    01Dec2009

    Loving Old Europe For What it Was

    Source: New York Times

    You can forget about old Europe, but you cannot deny the existence of an old old Europe that predates pretty much everything we think we know.

    Before the glory that was Greece and Rome, even before the first cities of Mesopotamia or temples along the Nile, there lived in the Lower Danube Valley and the Balkan foothills people who were ahead of their time in art, technology and long-distance trade.

    For 1,500 years, starting earlier than 5000 B.C., they farmed and built sizable towns, a few with as many as 2,000 dwellings. They mastered large-scale copper smelting, the new technology of the age. Their graves held an impressive array of exquisite headdresses and necklaces and, in one cemetery, the earliest major assemblage of gold artifacts to be found anywhere in the world.

    The striking designs of their pottery speak of the refinement of the culture’s visual language. Until recent discoveries, the most intriguing artifacts were the ubiquitous terracotta “goddess” figurines, originally interpreted as evidence of the spiritual and political power of women in society.

    New research, archaeologists and historians say, has broadened understanding of this long overlooked culture, which seemed to have approached the threshold of “civilization” status. Writing had yet to be invented, and so no one knows what the people called themselves. To some scholars, the people and the region are simply Old Europe.

    The little-known culture is being rescued from obscurity in an exhibition, “The Lost World of Old Europe: the Danube Valley, 5000-3500 B.C.,” which opened last month at the Institute for the Study of the Ancient World at New York University. More than 250 artifacts from museums in Bulgaria, Moldova and Romania are on display for the first time in the United States. The show will run through April 25.

    At its peak, around 4500 B.C., said David W. Anthony, the exhibition’s guest curator, “Old Europe was among the most sophisticated and technologically advanced places in the world” and was developing “many of the political, technological and ideological signs of civilization.”

    Dr. Anthony is a professor of anthropology at Hartwick College in Oneonta, N.Y., and author of “The Horse, the Wheel, and Language: How Bronze-Age Riders from the Eurasian Steppes Shaped the Modern World.” Historians suggest that the arrival in southeastern Europe of people from the steppes may have contributed to the collapse of the Old Europe culture by 3500 B.C.

    At the exhibition preview, Roger S. Bagnall, director of the institute, confessed that until now “a great many archaeologists had not heard of these Old Europe cultures.” Admiring the colorful ceramics, Dr. Bagnall, a specialist in Egyptian archaeology, remarked that at the time “Egyptians were certainly not making pottery like this.”

    If you’re a hunter-gatherer with a little penchant for roaming about, running your weapons through farmers and making off with their womenfolk, a little civilization looks like easy pickings for you. What I find fascinating about these early people was their agricultural development and their animal husbandry. They were, apparently, not only living like a perfectly reasonable, civilized people, but they were also domesticating animals and burying their dead in gold ornaments and headdresses. These were highly organized people who liked to make things out of copper—they were not savages by any stretch of the imagination.

    We don’t know nearly enough about this world in which we live, and I seriously doubt if people comprehend that.

    Tuesday
    01Dec2009

    Caesar Has Been Sleeping With the Fishes

    There is still a debate raging as to whether or not they actually found a bust of Julius Caesar in the muck and the mud of the Arles river:

    Dredged up from the murky depths of the Rhône River, beneath a heap of wrecked cars, rotting tires and more than 20 centuries of silt, the statue’s white marble visage was plain as day.

    “My God, it’s Caesar!” Luc Long remembers shouting after his team of archaeologists and divers discovered the statue in 2007.

    The marble bust that is believed to be Julius Caesar

    The Roman appears with little hair, a wrinkled forehead, a prominent Adam’s apple and features that, for Mr. Long, “seem carved in human flesh.” But Mr. Long did not realize at the time that he had discovered what he said was “the first portrait made of Caesar when he was alive.” The bust, which France’s Culture Ministry now dates from 46 B.C., is thought to be the only known surviving statue of Julius Caesar carved during his lifetime.

    Historians say images of a contemporaneous Caesar are rare — they are generally idealized versions, produced after his assassination two years later, in 44 B.C. — so the sudden news of the bust’s emergence led some of them to question its authenticity.

    Christian Goudineau, a French historian who lectures on Julius Caesar at the prestigious Collège de France in Paris, was caught off guard when Mr. Long told him of the discovery. “I was bewildered,” he recalled.

    Some colleagues, he said, have suggested that the Caesar found in the Rhône does not resemble the Caesar usually shown, and that the statue might more likely portray a noble from Arles, a city founded by the Romans. One skeptic, Mary Beard, a classics professor at Cambridge, pointed out in her blog for Times Online, affiliated with The Times of London: “This style of portraiture lasted for centuries at Rome. There is nothing at all to suggest that it came from 49-46 B.C.”

    Checking the quality, you have to wonder if a noble would be so brilliantly depicted:

    Mr. Goudineau said that he thought the bust showed the same face as that of the Caesar on Roman coins; he dismissed the arguments presented by those who questioned the bust’s depiction. “Which noble from Arles would order a bust of himself made in the best, the most expensive and rare marble, and ship it by boat?” he asked.

    Now, that’s a bit of academic smackdown for you. The statue depicts a naked man—is he thus a God? A man equal to the Roman Gods? Idealized in some way?

    What struck me was the idea that, all over Europe, the course of rivers hasn’t changed that much. To think that there are such treasures in the water, waiting to be retrieved, is mind-boggling. All you have to do is match the old Roman military maps to the present maps of Europe, get a shovel and someone to work the air machine while you’re underwater, and voila. Instant notoriety and fame.

    Monday
    16Nov2009

    Screw the Treaty, Go Get That Whiskey

    I think it’s spelled “Mackinlay’s”

    Good God, man—we’re talking about whiskey here! And science! To hell with international treaties and Poindexters looking over our shoulders. Dig that whiskey out of the ground and see if it’s any good:

    A beverage company has asked a team to drill through Antarctica’s ice for a lost cache of some vintage Scotch whiskey that has been on the rocks since a century ago.

    The drillers will be trying to reach two crates of McKinlay and Co. whiskey that were shipped to the Antarctic by British polar explorer Sir Ernest Shackleton as part of his abandoned 1909 expedition.

    Whyte & Mackay, the drinks group that now owns McKinlay and Co., has asked for a sample of the 100-year-old scotch for a series of tests that could decide whether to relaunch the now-defunct Scotch.

    Workers from New Zealand’s Antarctic Heritage Trust will use special drills to reach the crates, frozen in Antarctic ice under the Nimrod Expedition hut near Cape Royds.

    Al Fastier, who will lead the expedition in January, said restoration workers found the crates of whiskey under the hut’s floorboards in 2006. At the time, the crates and bottles were too deeply embedded in ice to be dislodged.

    The New Zealanders have agreed to try to retrieve some bottles, although the rest must stay under conservation guidelines agreed by 12 Antarctic Treaty nations.

    Fastier said he did not want to sample the contents.

    “It’s better to imagine it than to taste it,” he said. “That way it keeps its mystery.”

    Richard Paterson, Whyte & Mackay’s master blender, said the Shackleton expedition’s whiskey could still be drinkable and taste exactly as it did 100 years ago.

    Now, President Norman Rogers would easily give orders to secretly break the treaty. I would make certain that the orders were delivered verbally. No paper trail, you see. Plus, I have heavily researched this subject, and this is what I have found:

    In 1907, Sir Earnest Schackleton, explorer, asked the Company to supply the official Scotch whisky for his Antarctic expedition to the South Pole. This momentous trip began aboard the S.S. ENDURANCE. Empty bottles of The Original Mackinlay were discovered by a later expedition, still standing on Schackleton’s base-camp desk.

    Okay, so that wasn’t much, but it does speak to the necessity of knowing whether or not that Scotch still tastes good. Science has already told us that if you leave beer in the ground, it will taste bad. Scotch? Scotch is better with age. Scotch does not go bad if the bottle stays sealed. If this old scotch tastes good, yes, definitely come out with more of it. If not, so be it. I’m thirsty just thinking about the possibilities. Here’s what I do when I’m confronted with something I need unfrozen: I use a hairdryer on it. I usually wreck the hair dryer, because I get bored and leave it on, but still.

    Monday
    09Nov2009

    Who Discarded a Spare Army of Desperate Persians?

     The Oracle Temple, Siwa Oasis, Egypt

    Things like this always catch my eye:

    The remains of a mighty Persian army said to have drowned in the sands of the western Egyptian desert 2,500 years ago might have been finally located, solving one of archaeology’s biggest outstanding mysteries, according to Italian archaeologists.

    Bronze weapons, a silver bracelet, an earring and hundreds of human bones found in the vast desolate wilderness of the Sahara desert have raised hopes of finally finding the lost army — 50,000 strong — of Persian King Cambyses II, buried by a cataclysmic sandstorm in 525 B.C.

    “We have found the first archaeological evidence of a story reported by the Greek historian Herodotus,” Dario Del Bufalo, a member of the expedition from the University of Lecce, told Discovery News.

    According to Herodotus (484-425 B.C.), Cambyses, the son of Cyrus the Great, sent 50,000 soldiers from Thebes to attack the Oasis of Siwa and destroy the oracle at the Temple of Amun. Alexander the Great had famously sought legitimization of his rule from the oracle of Amun in 332 B.C., but according to legend, the oracle would have predicted the death of Cambyses.

    Of course, people have long been trying to find this “lost” army:

    The owners of this hotel, who also run a hotel on the Red Sea, offer desert camping and exploring services that look professional from their web site [the link is now dead], but one shudders to read of their plan to convert tourists into “archaeologists” looking for the lost army of Cambyses.

    Some have tried to walk the route:

    Signor Miglietti, 38, who runs an electrical components business, was so fascinated by the king’s ill-fated journey that he decided to try it.

    Before setting off a week ago, pulling a 200lb cart loaded with supplies, he was warned by Tuareg desert nomads that his plan was madness.

    Five days, 23 hours later, with blistered feet and severe stomach cramps, he arrived at Siwa.

    A man of few words, he said simply: “I’m satisfied. I’m quite well and I went faster than I expected.”

    Needless to say, he found no trace of Cambyses’s army.

    The legend, as well as inspiring archaeologists to mount many fruitless searches in the desert, has come to symbolise the perils of the Great Sand Sea.

    The region in the western Sahara is a massive expanse of dunes, continually beaten by wind and sand storms.

    Even the Tuaregs avoid it because of the lack of water and its utter isolation.

    Whether or not the items found were planted there (a distinct possibility) or looted and moved (another possibility) or that of a different military detachment (some possibility there) is up to scientists and archaeologists to determine. A lot army of poor soldiers in the terrible desert conjures up all sorts of possibilities, so I hope what has been found puts the mystery to rest.

    Monday
    09Nov2009

    The Steady Calm of Mr. Peej

    I can scarcely recall how many times I have faced death. Not counting the seven times I have ingested antifreeze, and the five times I have broken up bum scuffles that involved pitchforks, shovels or knives, or the dozen or so times my brothers and I used short fuses with old dynamite, I think I have faced death at least twenty-five times, if not more. I am not indestructible. I am not easy to kill. In fact, I used to tell people, you can’t kill me—I’m a Republican.

    When you’ve faced death so many times, it becomes routine. I am accustomed to the rush of adrenaline. I know that hot sensation in my cheeks and in my elbows. I can feel my body begin to tense above the waist, and that’s when I know I’ll probably have a heart attack if I don’t take a few Bayer aspirin. My mind clears, the sounds in the background disappear, and everything becomes focused. Often, I am running when the sensation arrives, and my pace quickens, my knees ache but they carry me forward, obediently. My hands don’t sweat, but my forehead becomes moist fairly quickly. That’s what sleeves are for, I suppose. I know what it is like to hear the roar, to feel the rocks and the dirt rain down, and I know what it means to be alive. It’s second nature to me. What some call the Pucker Factor, I am not acquainted with. I have never felt any puckering, nor have I felt loose bowels come flying out at inopportune times. I feel nothing below the waist, actually. That’s why people can kick me in the nuts and not stop me.

    This is why I share the eternal bonds of brotherhood with men who are my equal:

    John Geiger has sifted through the survival stories of people like Sevigny for six years. Adventurers, sailors, prisoners of war and pilots, they all tell strikingly similar stories of being saved from death by a mysterious presence, he says.

    In the book “The Third Man Factor: Surviving the Impossible,” Geiger attempts to solve the mystery of that presence.

    Most of the people who’ve encountered the Third Man aren’t mystics, says Geiger, a senior fellow at the University of Toronto and governor of the Royal Canadian Geographical Society. They include a NASA astronaut, aviator Charles Lindbergh, polar explorer Ernest Shackleton (he coined the “Third Man” term) and atheists.

    Third Man encounters aren’t restricted to exotic locales, either, Geiger says: He experienced a Third Man-like encounter in the study of his home while writing his book.

    “When I give talks about the book, there are always a few people who will come up afterward to say they have similar stories,” Geiger said. “The debate around the book is not ‘are people actually encountering an unseen being’ but rather, ‘what is it?’ “

    I don’t know if there is a Third Man in my life. As I have said, everything goes silent when I am running from an exploding car or throwing evidence into an old rock quarry or launching myself into the air after a semi-nude Eastern European porn star who is balancing atop an out-of-control jet ski.

    Recently, we hired a delightful man named Peej who has become indispensable to me. Whenever I find myself about to dip my finger into a radiator and have a slurp, he is there, whispering in my ear, “no, Norman. That’s going to put you in hospital again.” Whenever I find myself challenging bikers to a game of tennis, he is there, whispering in my ear, “no, Norman—they have guns.” Whenever I’m about to take Father’s wheel chair and push it down nineteen flights of stairs, he is there to hold my arms, lock the brake with his right foot, and save Father’s life by using all of his weight to keep me from lifting my free arm and using the remote control to bring down the robotic arm that would hit Father’s wheelchair from the other side and send it flying.

    He’s a good man, this Mr. Peej. I’m hoping he works out.