vermillion

Talked all night into the guts of the machine.

the Citadel, Charleston, SC

"What do Plebes(Knobs)Outrank? Sir/Ma'am, the President's cat, the Commandant's dog, and all the captains at VMI, Sir/Ma'am." (Source: Guidon, 1998-99, p.74.) [Although The Guidon, 1998-99 uses the term "Plebes." The fourth classmen at the U.S. Naval Academy and at the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy are called "plebes." "Knobs" has been a unique term for The Citadel's fourth classmen for at least 35 years. Why does The Guidon continue to use another college's vocabulary?--HN]
-from Knob Knowledge

day of rest

set aside earthly things

Citadel mess

KNOB KNOWLEDGE

Knobs--4th classmen--have always had to pop off at mess. Originally they could be asked any question. They would come over to the library to find the answer. Later, in the 1970's, the questions were limited to facts pertaining The Citadel in some way. Since the same questions were asked from year to year the librarians kept a box of 3 x 5 cards with the answers. This later was put in paper format and in 1976 it was put on the computer. It has expanded to include all sorts of Citadel lore and history. Tenatively, a question could be asked about any of the topics, but most of the information will never be asked by knobs. It will be asked by administrators and others. Alumni appear to read it thoroughly and even people who have no connection with The Citadel keep sending comments. At mess, the answering and asking of questions was at one time called, "stump the stars." Today, Knob Knowledge is restricted to what can be found under "M. Fourth Class Knowledge" in the The Fourth Class Knowledge Manual. The Knob Knowledge file on the Daniel Library Web site was originally created by LTC Herbert T. Nath.-
Daniel Library, the Citadel

the Citadel

uniform cloth made by the Charlottesville Woolen Mill until 1962

singular herb

Senator J Brandon Bell II breaks bad on the plant that founded Virginia

a lone man's companion
a hungry man's food
a sad man's cordial
a wakeful man's sleep, and a chilly man's fire,
there's no herb like unto it under the
canopy of heaven
(anon)

navel gazing

Vast relief.
Bloodwork back. Will be doing this intermittently for years.
No indication of metastatic cancer.
Snowed in the village this morning.
Reborn.
At least for awhile.
Vast happiness.

pieces

The porch from Sunday, pictured again, 60+ years later.

The Satellite Ballroom is having a film based photo contest. Deadline for entry is a week from today. Ink jet output allowable.

Missed posting yesterday, nervous about pending bloodwork, running in tight circles.

John and Mamie Baltimore-Woolen Mills Road

thanks to Roy Baltimore and CWT for saving this photo

When John Baltimore died, he was laid out downstairs in the northeast corner of the living room. His family put black crepe around the front door. People from the mill village came to visit, say goodbye.

Did John build this house? I am visiting the Circuit Court next week to piece together the chain of title. When a house is no longer owned by its constructing family the stories are forgotten.

I hate it when stories are forgotten.

a time to die

Woolen Mills Chapel built 1886

But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal:

Matthew 6:20

picture v 1000 words

38 01.433N 78 27.678W Intersection of Franklin and Market

Long ago a good man lived on the hill that stands over the Woolen Mills neighborhood. Post-war was a troubled time. People were hungry, there was little currency circulating, the local economy was in ruins.

The good man came to a realization which he stated formally February 11, 1881:

"The property of a manufacturing Company must ultimately rest on the efficiency and fidelity of its labor. It must be promoted by whatever promotes their self respect, elevates their character, and cultivates local attachments and the home feeling."

Mr. Marchant was a good man. He provided the people of the Mill Village with jobs, affordable housing and health care. He provided food and fuel at reasonable prices. He built a community.

Vestiges of the "local attachment and the home feeling" that Marchant imbued in this village are extant 96 years after his death.

Modern pressures are afoot as well. On the menu today, Traffic.

A neighborhood elder relates that it was once a notable event when a car came this far east on Market Street. The street dead-ends at the Rivanna River and the Mill. Alas, that was before Mapquest and traffic signals.

Today the Market-Franklin Street path offers a fabulous shortcut for traffic looking to transverse the southeast quadrant of Charlottesville without encountering pesky stoplights.

The Woolen Mills is a residential neighborhood. Narrow streets. Houses built up close to the road before the invention of the internal combustion engine.




Suck it up. When there is a shortcut, nothing else matters.

And so they come. Vegetable, animal, mineral. The feces haulers, cattle trailers, sixty-six thousand pound concrete trucks, construction workers, sewage authority folk, garage door installers, the auto parts jobbers, the breadmen, the Developer's men: without name, without number without end they shortcut through this neighborhood.

Once upon a time I collected signatures from residents on Market Street who endure the daily flow. Everyone signed.

Incessant cut-through traffic is destroying the fabric of this neighborhood.


Yesterday a hapless out of state truck driver attempted to navigate his 18 wheeler through the Mill Village. He was lost. Trying to pick up a load of scrap metal nearby. There are no signs posted on Franklin Street saying anything like:

TRUCKS LARGER THAN 2 AXLES- NO PASSAGE

or

NO COMMERCIAL VEHICLES

So, he came on.

He successfully threaded his way under the CSX tracks. He made a complete stop at the intersection of Franklin and Market, but he was unable to negotiate the turn. As he attempted to head west on Market the rear end of his trailer lodged against a utility pole, the front end of his truck got stuck in the ditch on the north side of Market.

With the neighborhood cut-through blocked, drivers made their way to points west via Carlton Avenue (a road whose frontage is largely zoned for manufacturing and business use).

Currently the City doesn't have a traffic engineer on payroll. It would be helpful to fill this position.

Are you a traffic engineer? Please contact the Charlottesville Department of Human Resources and apply now! Hiring Salary Range $37,606.40 to $55,053.19 per year.

Tell them you'd like to help save a historic neighborhood.

analog posting by hugenot bridge troglodyte

In the days before the Internet people would declare their love on tile, on swinging stall doors, in the personals of alternative weeklies.

arf

Memo to couples, nascent and established: tomorrow is Valentine's day. Ignore at your peril.

day of rest

weather

Momentarily touched by happiness. The happiness a fragment of childhood memory and awe.

pass with caution

I84 westbound, Newburgh, NY

the power to tax emanates from the barrel of a gun

Piscataway Creek

37 52.498N 76 54.295W

Moving by this point at 88 ft/sec there is the slightest hint of beauty. Parked a couple hundred yards up the road. Walked into the east wind generated by 18 wheeled vehicles. No where safe to stand.

Henry Clay Marchant

Listing conveys information, confers honor and heightens awareness.

Listing can help reinvigorate commercial and residential areas by preserving the spirit and character that make them special places.

Most of all, listing in the National Register of Historic Places informs the local, state and federal governments that a historic resource exists. (Virginia Department of Historic Resources)

There are people who think that chicken comes from the store. It's born that way. In shrink-wrap, upside down.

There are people living in the Woolen Mills neighborhood who think the "Mill" name was picked out of a hat, like a developer naming a subdivision "Avalon."

Pictured above, the mill owner's house. He lived in the mill village with his workers.

Pope's Creek

38 10 970N 76 55 154W

Visited Geo. Washington's natal home yesterday, about the time the geese woke up. No tourists around, too early, too cold.

The Park Service maintains the location as a National Monument, the only way to keep it free of pavement, crackers, MacMansions and private enterprise.

Washington's people lived at Pope's Creek for three generations before he was born.

The gentry had problems in the 1600 and 1700's. Lots of them died. In addition to owning hogs, geese, horses and cows they owned humans. Problematic.

The thing that seems sweet about that time was the ignorance. A person lived in and focused on their own patch of earth. Ambition and its effects were local. No global village. No images of the Prophet, no airplanes carrying gas lasers.

day of rest

eternal self promotion

Shutterbug Magazine asked the question:

How much does color add to - or take away from - a photograph?

Then proceeded to profile 4 black and white photo web sites.

NOTE: nothing untoward happened in the Hilton ballroom. Secret service contretemps occurred in Lafayette park.

car v dog

The SPCA adoption contract called for Lorraine to be neutered. Veterinarian did that surgery. Post-op leash walked Lorraine for two weeks. The incision healed well. Took her out to the country to celebrate. Let her off leash.

Lorraine took off, headed toward intriguing high-pitched sounds in the distance.

She ran through a field.

She ran through a pine woods.

She took up her post square in the middle of a high speed two lane road.

"I dare them to try and pass me."

leashed 24/7

Lorraine 2

Road to hell? Paved with good intentions.

Rescued Lorraine from the SPCA. Did everything right.

I asked the vet about the lifespan of Jack Russell terriers. It is hard losing dogs to mortality. They die way too soon. Wanted to be sure I was adopting a dog that could live a long time.

I said "how long do terriers live?"

She said "between 15 seconds and 15 years."