Tuesday

11 April 2017

— Gale-force winds rattling the window casements

1079: Bishop Stanislaus of Kraków is executed by order of Boleshaw II of Poland.

1727: Johann Sebastian’s Bach’s St. Matthew Passion premieres at the St. Thomas Church in Leipzig.

1876: The Benevolent and Protective Order of Elks is organized, but Rocky’s friend Bullwinkle is denied membership.

1888: The Concertgebouw in Amsterdam is inaugurated, although obviously spelled incorrectly.

1951: President Truman relieves General of the Army Douglas MacArthur of overall command in Korea; MacArthur swallows his corncob pipe, and Truman’s popularity falls to 22%, so far the lowest of any president ever, though one supposes the Trumpster has a good shot at it after he finishes screwing the working class.

1961: Trial of Adolf Eichmann begins in Jerusalem. 

1963: Pope John XXIII issues Pacem in terries, the first encyclical addressed to all people, not just Catholics.

1968: LBJ signs The Civil Rights Act of 1968.

1970: Apollo 13 is up, up, and away.

1979: Idi Amin deposed.

Good Morning All, 

The wind has blown over my wheelbarrow and sent a blue plastic bucket all the way to my neighbor’s fence. Today, what with all the unpredictable gusting, would definitely not be a good day to take a leak in my backyard, which I have not done yet more than three months since moving here, not in broad daylight, anyway, but which I am looking forward to once the trees and bushes are in fuller leaf. 

That was never a problem back at our old house. I hope I do not upset too many sensibilities by saying that seeing a man about a horse in the open air is always so much more satisfying than within the confines of the small room. Plus, it was a good way to keep the grass from proliferating between cement bricks of the walk down to the henhouse.

Britta was of the same opinion. When she was three or four, her father caught her twice peeing behind the bushes, and both times tanned her backside. As a result, taking an outdoor leak afforded her that defiant extra pleasure. I used to call her Princess Squatopea.

I am glad I lived for a time in Swaziland where the people were so close to the earth, where I learned that not everyone was so circumspect about bodily functions as were the members of my New England family. 

One of my favorite mental snapshots of Africa came when Britta and I, in her little white VW, the People’s Car, were passing a bus creeping up the mountain towards Hlatikulu.  A woman of around thirty, in a full length skirt, was hanging out the open door of the bus, one barefoot on the step, the other spread wide. She was taking a leak without mishap, and Britta was shouting, “Wow, I’m so envious, so envious!” I can still see that woman and hear Britta’s joyous laughter.

Go Well and Stay Well,

Bhekaron