Sixteen Flags

 

I think we’ve all heard of Steve Jobs. The entrepreneur co-founded Apple in his parents’ garage in the 70’s and died from pancreatic cancer in 2011. He was known for a demanding, perfectionist approach, and for the custom-made black mock-neck shirts, Levis 501 jeans and New Balance sneakers he wore regardless of the occasion. Most people are familiar with his partner, Steve Wozniak. The “Other Steve” is seventy-five now. He still gets a $50-per-week salary from Apple, but he gave away most of his original Apple stock and his primary income is from speaking engagements. Far fewer of us have heard of the third co-founder, Ronald Wayne. Wayne was working for Atari when he met Jobs and Wozniak. Jobs suggested a partnership with 45% for each of the Steves, and 10% for Wayne, who would act as a tie-breaker. Wayne sold his share for $800 in 1976. Today, his 10% stake would be worth $400 billion.

Four Song Birds

 

It all began August 25, 1835. The New York Sun published a series of six articles – with pictures – reporting the discovery of life on the moon. They were attributed to a well-known astronomer, Sir John Herschel, and his fictitious collaborator, Dr. Andrew Grant. According to the articles, the pair had used a revolutionary new telescope – 24 feet in diameter – to observe the surface of the moon with more clarity and detail than ever before. They reported seeing lush vegetation and vast oceans on the moon, as well as many fantastic inhabitants: unicorns, large beavers that walked upright on their hind legs, and humanoids that flew about on bat-like wings. Many readers believed the articles, including several respected scientists. On September 16, the Sun revealed the whole thing was a hoax. In the meantime, they’d temporarily increased the newspaper’s circulation, and permanently damaged our collective respect for serious journalism.

Forty-Nine Echoes

 

History is weirder than you realize.

Abraham Lincoln was a twelve-year-old growing up in a cabin on the frontier when Napoleon Bonaparte died.

Joseph Stalin, Sigmund Freud, Josip Broz Tito, Leon Trotsky, and Adolf Hitler walked into a bar. Well, not really. But it could have happened, because they all lived in Vienna in 1913.

In 343 BCE, King Philip II of Macedon hired the ancient Greek philosopher Aristotle to educate his thirteen-year-old son. That son would grow up to be Alexander the Great.

The first Egyptian pharaoh ruled around 3150 BC. Woolly mammoths lived on Wrangel Island in the Arctic Ocean until about 4,000 years ago. So, there was a time when pharaohs and mammoths both lived on Earth.

Leonardo da Vinci was born in 1452; a year after the birth of Christopher Columbus.

Oxford University was founded in 1249; the Aztec Empire crumbled in 1545. So, both existed for 296 years.

Four Woven Hearts

 

We have Sunday dinner together as a family every week – all sixteen of us. We’ve been doing it for years. When one of us celebrates a birthday, for dessert we do the light-a-candle, sing-a-song, blow-it-out thing. For the past several months, I’ve let the one with the birthday select the dinner’s menu. I don’t know if everyone appreciates the opportunity to choose. But maybe it gives everyone a glimpse of the mental effort involved in a weekly family dinner. My own birthday is about a dozen weeks away. I’ve been thinking about what I want for Sunday dinner, and I keep leaning toward Brazilian churrascaria: grilled pineapple, pão de queijo, boiled quail eggs, fried bananas, etc. My grocer doesn’t carry quail eggs. I found several for sale online. But they’re not for eating; they’re for hatching. Hmm. If I buy the hatching kind, I might eventually get more quail eggs, right?

March Door Banner

 

“’Jesus saith to Simon Peter, Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me more than these? He saith unto him, Yea, Lord; thou knowest that I love thee.’ The key question in this inquiry by the Lord is “Lovest thou me more than these?” We show love to the Lord when we put Him above ‘these.’ ‘These’ can be anyone, any activity, or anything that displaces Him from being the most important influence in our lives. There will never be enough time in a day, a week, a month, or a year to get done all we want or need to accomplish. Part of the test of mortality is to use the precious resource of time for what is most important. President Russell M. Nelson said, ‘The question for all of us is the same: Are you willing to let God be the most important influence in your life?’” – Elder Steven C. Barlow

Maple Star Variation

 

When I think of Mary Steenburgen, I think of Time After Time (1979), One Magic Christmas (1985), Back to the Future III (1990), and Elf (2003). I’d seen some of her work since then, but none of it left as big an impression as those four movies. Last week I learned at age 54 the Oscar-winning actress had undergone what should have been an unremarkable surgery on her arm. When the general anesthesia wore off, she heard music in her head. They were tunes she’d never heard before, and they never stopped. At first, it was debilitating. She couldn’t focus. Acting was next to impossible. Mary called a musician friend and asked for help transcribing the music she was hearing. That summer she wrote hundreds of songs. In 2019, She won best original song for "Glasgow (No Place Like Home)" in the movie Wild Rose. Mary Steenburgen is living proof we’re never finished becoming who we are.

Nine Flags

 

Shortly after World War II, many places in the U.S. experienced a housing boom. McCall, Idaho was one of these places. The trouble was McCall was also dealing with a beaver boom. Beavers toppled newly planted orchards and built dams which flooded new basements. When beavers set up housekeeping in the wilerness, they improve the ecosystem. When they move into subdivisions, they can be terrible neighbors. So, Idaho Fish and Game decided to move 76 beavers to the back woods. By dropping them from a plane. They built special beaver parachute boxes designed to securely land the semi-aquatic rodents and burst open, so they'd essentially hit the ground running. Their test “pilot,” nicknamed Geronimo, was safely dropped so many times, he actually liked it and would waddle back to his beaver box for another ride. All but one of the 76 urban beavers were relocated without incident to the Chamberlain Basin, where their descendants are probably still redecorating.