Living in the Country

 Well, Good Monday Morning campers.  Hope all you Sarge-like commuters made it safely to your place of employment today.  Hope all you juvat-like retirees rolled over and went back to sleep for a bit.

Ain't Life Grand?

Speaking of sleep, I'm a bit cranky this morning as there's been a significant impact on my sleeping routine.  As most of you know, we inherited my sister's dogs when she passed away a little of a year ago.  One Golden Retriever (dumber than a box of rocks), my sister was the fifth person to adopt him, we're #6.  Suffice it to say he's a bit nervous and wants a lot of attention.  We’ve also got two Great Pyrenees.  One's 5 and an excellent dog.  The other just turned 1, is full grown and has one bad habit.  He barks at anything/everything.

This makes it difficult to sleep.  We put them outside at night which reduces the noise somewhat, but he's discovered which end of the house we sleep at and decided to set up his sentry station there.  Mrs. J purchased some earplugs which help but I can still hear him.

Last night the barking got to the Golden Retriever.  He started whining and barking.  I had to get up three times at about 1, 2:30, and 4, to put him outside.  Then  just about each time I started to fall back to sleep corresponded with when he wanted me to retrieve him so he could to return to his bed.  

This is the young GP.  He will sleep during the day though sometimes.  Just not at night.

 

What's causing all this issue, juvat?

Well this....

So, our next "door" neighbor just sold his property (~200 acres) and the new owner wants to raise cattle.  We share a fence line.  The cattle were curious and checked out the horses.  I'm pretty sure, the horses told them to "sod off or we'll herd you till you drop" or something.  The young GP however, wanted to bark at them.  Didn't seem to faze the cattle which made Gryndll (the dog's name) bark at them more.  

Haven't figured out a solution to that problem yet.  No, inside is NOT the answer.  One can only hope he gets bored or laryngitis. 

Or both.

Did have a little bit of fun this past week though.  A few months ago, we helped The Rev and MBD renovate their house.  I had left a few tools and clamps that I don't use regularly with them.  Now Mrs Juvat has plans for Christmas gifts and woodworking, with those tools, is a big part of that project.  

So, we scheduled a day trip to College Station.  Left early to beat the Austin traffic, go there, loaded up the tools and stuff, and hung out with MBD and the Grands.

Managed to install a tree swing and have it checked out by an "Expert".

Had a great time, found a new burger place right across the street from A&M.  Yes, Beans, without a doubt, I was, at a minimum, twice as old as the next oldest, not member of my family, guest.  

Probably closer to three times.

It was a great time, but unfortunately, we had to get back to the 'Burg.  Horses and Dogs to be fed don'cha know?

Also, unfortunately, we managed to begin the Austin transit right about rush hour.  I did manage to demonstrate that my patience level has not changed for the better since the last time I was stuck in traffic.

Woke up the next morning and let the dogs out.  A bit later, Mrs J made them breakfast while I tried to round them up.  Went to get the youngest dog (AKA the least likely to come when called) and discovered one of the joys of living on property outside of city limits.

Your water supply is called a "Well".  Which means if the Well ain't working, you ain't got water.  Water is pretty high on the "Critical things" you need to have to live in the country.

The well is leaking water at a fairly high rate. There are very few places to stand without sinking into the mud to your ankles.  

Now, not having the faintest bit of knowledge about well functionality, I got on the phone with the folks that had installed it.

About an hour later, they arrived, figured out where the Well Circuit Breaker's are located.  (I didn't know we had two CB boxes and Well CB's were on both.). Popped them, found the PVC pipe from the well head to the pressure tank had cracked and water was pouring from it.  They replaced the pipe, reset the CB's and voila'.

Learned a few lessons.  First, that there are more than one set of CB's for the Well.  And, they're in different breaker boxes on the property. We had just the day before had the Water Softener guys come out and drain that (the Hard Water heater).  I only knew about the first set of CB's so they popped only them. The second set was still pumping water into the pressure tank and weakened the PVC.  

Haven't got the bill yet, so not exactly sure how much that lesson learned will cost me.

Ahh well, life is about learning.  I'm a tad smarter this week than I was last, but I'm sure the Big Guy upstairs has more lessons in store to further my education.  

Peace Out Y'all!

John Blackshoe Sends - Serendipity History

Got Beavers? The Fort Bridger, Wyoming, Labor Day Rendezvous

The Bible and the beaver were the two mainstays of the Plymouth Colony during its early years.

Quoted by Eric Jay Dolin- more about him at the end of this piece.

Out here on the former frontier, they have an annual "Rendezvous" at Fort Bridger, WY just over the mountains from Salt Lake. This was a trading post started by mountain man Jim Bridger in 1843 as a place where fur trappers of the mountain west would gather annually to sell their pelts and squander their earnings on necessities, luxuries or vices before returning to the wilderness to chase more critters.

A really quick history of Ft. Bridger.

On the direct route across the plains (now I-80) this was on the route for Johnston's Army in 1858 when they came out to ensure that the Mormons behaved, and spent the winter at Ft. Bridger. They subsequently crossed the mountains and by 1860 the vast majority of the U.S. Army was in Utah, and were recalled back east as tensions leading to the Civil War deteriorated. The Army built a “fort” near Bridger's trading post and it was a guardian of the Pony Express route, followed by the telegraph line, and the transcontinental railroad arrived in 1868. The fort was only a minor player in the various Indian War campaigns into the late 1880s. Then it was shut down, and merely a stopping point along the Lincoln Highway (U.S. Route 30) and the fort buildings converted to commercial uses or torn down. In the 1930s, the state of Wyoming took it over as a state historical site, and has done a great job preserving or reconstructing some of the structures and interpreting its history. Although the state owns the site, the Rendezvous is run by a small non-profit group of historians, reenactors and shooters.

This Rendezvous event is mostly historical, sometimes hysterical, a bit commercial and always interesting.

Two camping areas- one for traditional teepees and tents, the other for "tin teepee" campers.

Part of the campsite with teepees and tents.
Photo by author.

Participants (but not visitors) must be in costume circa 1840 or earlier. They are history nerds, like me, but not the same tribe.

A quick intro to the Rendezvous.

They have muzzle loading rifle matches, knife and tomahawk throwing, and also frying pan throwing for the women. Dutch oven cookery, blacksmithing, weaving, and other crafts. Native American dancers share their traditional dances in costume. I believe these are Shoshone (Sacajawea’s tribe), but several other tribes also participate. The dances tell a story, helping them preserve their history and pass it down to younger generations. Dancers include men and women from youngsters to mature adults, with different dances and drum beats and chants.

Crappy photo by author

About 100-150 vendors were set up in tents selling crafts, clothing, decorative items, jewelry, muzzle loading guns, hatchets, refreshments (non-alcoholic) and about a dozen food vendors like you find at carnivals and the like.

Editor's Note: JB had some very interesting photos of the following chap actually skinning a beaver. As it is my policy to not post photos which might put someone off their breakfast early in the morning, I didn't include all of them. I did include one with the gore pixelated out. Apologies to JB, but that's just the way I roll.

Beaver pelt removed and being cleaned.
Photo by author. (Edited by OAFS)

This year they had someone demonstrating how you get beaver skins to trade. Start by trapping a beaver, then skin it. Stretch the hide on a wooden stretcher and then sell dozens or hundreds to traders who sell them to hatters to make beaver felt hats. The hatters used mercury to loosen and shape the beaver hair into hats, and mercury poisoning caused many to be “mad as a hatter.”

This guy is a trapper, as well as a historical participant, and this was one of many beavers he trapped this year, a very small one. He froze it, and thawed out for the event. Trappers don’t have any use for the feet, so he cut those off, and gave them to kids who were delighted, although unsure what to do with a beaver foot. (Don't ask me!) He explained the process as he did all the cutting and skinning.

He explained that some cuts of beaver meat were pretty good such as the equivalent of tenderloin, but not a lot of meat on them. The tails are sort of leathery and can be used for wallets, shoe soles, and other purposes, and do not really have any commercial value. Selling price for small beaver pelts like this one from a 15 pound animal is about $10-15, while pelts from larger 30-40 pounder beavers bring more like $30-40.

Once the pelt is removed, any meat is scraped off the hide, and then it is stretched and dried. In the Plains Indian culture, the skinning and tanning of buffalo hides was usually done by the women.

He had a pretty good crowd and people were attentive to his presentation, either from curiosity, or aghast that some innocent woodland creature was being butchered before their sensitive eyes. Or, maybe just interested in learning essential frontier survival skills. Kids seemed really interested. Remember, many folks out here on the former frontier are ranchers or farmers who know where meat and fiber come from and how their forebears depended on frontier skills. They know meat does not grow in white plastic trays in the supermarket.

Other interesting sights included the folks in their fur trade costumes and lots of kids playing in the small stream that flows through the fort. Many of the original and restored buildings are open and very well done, worth exploring instead of the trade goods vendors.

A 1.65” Hotchkiss gun widely used during the Indian Wars

Photo by author.

Among the anomalies were a handful of bagpipers marching around delighting or annoying the visitors. I rather enjoy a serenade from the “ladies from Hell” occasionally. There used to be a very large contingent of Harley bikers who came out for this, but only a few in recent years. Most noteworthy oddball sights this year were (1) a burro in full Mexican regalia with saddle, etc; and (2) a large white poodle shaved in the customary way, with Barbie pink tail, foot tufts and ears. Some things you cannot unsee.

So, summer is drawing to a close. Soon the mountain west will be inundated with Kalifornia skiers, and we will long for the relatively normalcy of pink poodles and caparisoned burros.

Fort Bridger’s Rendezvous is a barely visible reminder of the extent and importance of the beaver (and other) fur trade which was pervasive in our country for several hundred years.

One of the most profoundly impactful books I have read (actually listened to while driving) was Eric Jay Dolin’s Fur, Fortune and Empire: The Epic History of the Fur Trade in America, published in 2010 with about 442 pages. Used copies are available under $10 from AbeBooks.com

Editor's Note: I was unable to embed the following video, so you'll have to chase that link.

Here is a great C-Span presentation by the author summarizing the book in 51 minutes.

Doing My Part

Seeing how I've been referenced a couple times over the past week here at the Chant, and our esteemed Chant CEO seems to be a bit worn out, I figured I would take a stab. 

First we had Juvat talking about how I am not quite elderly, although I really feel like it some days.  I wouldn't quite call myself an old soul, but I think I take on more than I should sometimes both in my family life and what I do with the Knights of Columbus.  There always seems to be something going on with the KofC or our parish, and either as a requirement of my position, or out of a sense of obligation, I often say yes and participate.  Fortunately my wife is all supportive, and it's not like I have kids at home that I would be taking time away from family, but it does seem to be a lot.  I only wish that more of our many many members would step up and take a bit off of my plate. 

For instance, we just held a youth activity at the parish school, a soccer challenge where students kick penalty shots into the corners of the goal for different scores. The 6th 7th and 8th graders participated and it took almost the entire afternoon.  I put it out to our membership, yet not a single man showed up. The PE teacher and principal were quite grateful, and the kids loved it, which is the reason we do it, but I get tired of the "we" being only "me."

It's not just the KofC, but at home I have a heavy load of the chores, seeing how my wife doesn't like to cook.  She also tends to get lost and overwhelmed in the grocery store so she hates shopping for food, which is my job, along with all the bills.  But, I also can't risk another expensive silk Tommy Bahama shirt going through the wash so I tend to do more of the laundry.  This gets to me sometimes, but it's not worth an argument so I put up with it.*

56, going on 66.

  Somebody here told me to bring back the 'stache so here you go.

I realize I'm airing a bit of dirty laundry there, but those tiny stressors do build up and you can see it on my face, which looks maybe 10 years older than it really is. Since getting a CPAP machine though I'm getting far better sleep than I was for many years. And that has reduced the sagginess under my eyes.  While I should have got that device years ago, I am definitely grateful for my Tricare and VA healthcare, probably the best benefit coming from being retired. I don't know how people afford their huge premiums and massive deductibles, barely able to afford their insurance, yet can't afford to use it either.

Speaking a bit of those struggling, let us pray for those victims of hurricane Helene, which is shaping up to be Katrina's bigger meaner younger sister. Not to get too political here but I have seen a few videos with people lamenting the amount of aid going to Ukraine, Israel, Taiwan, and others, while red blooded Americans there are getting $750.  I know it's far more complex than that, but when we have wiped out (or used any of ) our FEMA accounts to pay for all those illegal aliens that have been brought here or shown an open door, there's definitely something wrong.

Kadena AFB Burger King!   Source

Sarge referenced Okinawa a couple times recently, which is one of the things we have in common. While I wasn't stationed in that part of Japan, we operated in that region several times a year and Okinawa was always a favored divert.  Why you ask? Because it had a Burger King and a chicken place I can't remember, Popeyes maybe?  We didn't have that up in Atsugi, only a weird McDonald's that served some strange Japanese variants of U.S. fare.  I also spent some time in Okinawa at the Navy hospital, where my son and wife were after he was born premature.  Then at the end of my career, my Admiral was at White Beach on the southern end so I went there a couple times. 

Source

While I wouldn't trade my Naval Aviation career for anything, I do get a tad jealous of the Air Force guys, not just for their fast food, but the daily pleasures that they probably took for granted.  It's been many many years since the US Navy allowed drinking on board, so it wasn't like when we got off work we could throw one back.  But those beer days are fondly remembered, Steel Beach picnics after being at sea for 45 days straight without a port visit, three total in my career.  On that day the Chiefs would barbecue something, and each sailor and officer would get two beers each.  However, it never was just two beers each!  They really didn't want to keep leftovers down below at the end of the day, so that end of the day, if you stuck around, was quite a happy one.  Six I think was my total on one of those days. Fortunately, I had no duty or flights until the next day.  Ahh, to be young again!

I may have already written about this in the past, but if I had to do it over again I probably wouldn't have requested to go to Japan. I had just married my 23-year-old wife 6 months before, and she was quite close to her family. Taking her to Japan she had no one, save the other wives, so it was a bit tough on her.  This may have been a factor in my son being born so early.  During that time, my mother-in-law actually got a nice little letter and certificate from AT&T acknowledging her being in the top 5% of all residential customers!  This is because of the astronomic phone bills she racked up during that 3 years. 

Sarge also mentioned a video link I had shared regarding Honest Abe.  While it made for a good discussion on his post, that wasn't necessarily the type of attention I would normally want brought to myself on here.  The link was quite critical of President Lincoln and in hindsight I was rather embarrassed for sharing it.  Two lessons learned from that-  don't try to out-history a historian, and I need to not get sucked into some of these stupid videos on Tube-U.

Well, that's enough storytelling for today. Our big Mustangs By the Bay car show** is this weekend (today as you read this) and as the club president, yes I know I take on too much, I have some duties to attend to before during and after.  The opening photo is my favorite Mustang and I may have the opportunity to buy one just like it next year.  A friend of mine in Vegas is selling his, and is giving me first dibs.  We'll see if I can afford what will surely be a discounted price as he's promised, but I'm excited about the opportunity.  I thought against it at first, seeing how it's not really practical- no extra garage space, no mechanical know-how, and I already have a Mustang, but my wife said that at this point in our lives, we don't need to be practical.  Isn't she great?  Maybe I should change my tune on those household chores!

*In her defense, she does all the cleaning, some of the cooking, running errands, she's a fabulous baker (which she loves), and I have learned to keep my special shirts far away from her when it's laundry day.

** Did you notice the little easter egg in the sky on that poster?  One of the perks of being President, and having an F-4 / F-14 driver running the show.

Worn Down to a Nub ...

Winchendon, MA
Source

I grew up in New England, so I'm kinda partial to the place.

Now I've lived in Japan, Korea, Colorado, Nebraska, Mississippi, and Germany. I've also spent lots of time in Texas, California, Virginia, Louisiana, and Maryland.

Texas doesn't really count though, all my time there was spent in Air Force training. Didn't get out much but traveling through Texas I had some awesome BBQ at a roadside place in Junction City.

But I, being born and raised in New England, expect to spend my twilight years here as well. If I can pull that off and The Missus Herself doesn't veto that plan. Oh well.

Clyde, The Rocking Horse
Winchendon, MA
Source

That rocking horse above, yclept Clyde, no really, has been a fixture of Winchendon, Massachusetts since I were nobbut a wee lad. The original was getting kinda weathered, so rather than lose that singular attraction, the town fathers had a new one built, the spitting image of the original, which still exists in storage, somewhere.

Now I've been driving past that attraction for 25 years now, it's on the way to the Homeland of Vermont/New Hampshire. I hope I'll be seeing it for a few years to come.

We shall see.

Damn, that's all I've got? Yup, didn't sleep well this week, allergies are acting up, got a low grade sinus thing going on as well.

So sorry folks, short rations today. Anyone care to ID those two guns in the opening photo?

Anyone?

Bueller?

How the Week Goes ...

Source

I cannot begin to describe the dislike I have for being on my own with The Missus Herself out in California. I like having somebody around to talk with, or not talk with, as the mood strikes either of us. With no more felines on station, I don't even have that going for me.

I know, I know, I could get another cat or two, were it something not absolutely banned by my better half. Her reasoning is sound, it's tough to lose them and she'd rather spare herself having to go through that again. Together we've weathered the loss of four of our feline companions. While the first was particularly rough, as Tiger was so young, it did not get easier.

At my age I view it as similar to what would I do if, heaven forbid, something were to happen to The Missus Herself? I would not remarry, nothing could replace her. Absolutely nothing.

We had our last cat, Anya, for nearly twenty years. We got to know each other's idiosyncrasies, moods, likes and dislikes, and all manner of things. Some have mentioned adopting a senior cat, a feline who perhaps lost his/her humans and is stuck at the shelter. As much as the idea appeals to me, The Missus Herself has said, in no uncertain terms, "No more."

So yeah, it gets lonely at Chez Sarge, especially as the days grow short and the temperature begins to venture into those numbers which are somewhat uncomfortable. While it ain't cold yet, the late nights and early mornings are a bit brisk. I'm not ready for that, not quite yet.

But, she returns next week and all (hopefully) will be well.

I have grandchildren, eight in fact. They range in age from twenty-two months old to sixteen years old. Three boys, five girls, and yes, the granddaughters have me wrapped around their little fingers, they know grandpa is a sucker for a cute smile.

I get to talk with my grandson Roberto a lot. His Mom, The Nuke, likes to stay in touch and her boys like seeing and talking to their grandparents. Grandson Finnegan, the youngest of the grandsons (in fact the youngest of them all), is just starting to talk. So while he will chatter away, he's not really communicating yet. That is, when Grandpa tries to employ his subtle wit, Finnegan will just stare at me.

Hhmm, come to think of it, I get that from a lot of people, not just Finnegan.

Anyhoo, Roberto loves to roughhouse. If I'm not paying attention, he will try a flying body block on me, knocking me ass over teakettle if I'm not prepared for it. Of course, he finds that hysterical. As do I, as long as the fall wasn't too painful. (I am getting up there ya know.)

Now thing is, Roberto has two sets of grandparents, Tuttle's dad apparently is not a big fan of being tackled, abused, or beaten on by his four year old grandson. Something I "enjoy," to a certain extent. So guess who has to make up for that when he visits?

Yup, Your Humble Scribe. Not that I mind, much. But visits to Maryland are starting to remind me of my very brief involvement in college football ...

I went out for the team as a walk-on, practices were rather fun until we had tackling drill. I was a rather smallish linebacker. More of a speed bump really.

The running back was a rather big fellow, bit bigger than me as a matter of fact. When the coach blew his whistle, the big fella started running at me. My brain registered the size disparity and I realized that my chances of bringing him down with a standard tackle were rather akin to trying to stop a rhinoceros with a .22 short round.

But if you hit them in just the right place ...

I kinda threw myself at his feet, figured I'd get tangled up in his wheels, so to speak, and at least make him stumble.

Well, I managed to hit the rhino just right, he went down in a heap. He popped up and said, "Nice tackle!"

I sort of groaned, nodded, and hobbled off to the locker room to turn in my equipment.

Visits to Roberto's house can be kinda like that, leaving me bruised and battered. Fortunately, his parents will get him to stop beating me up from time to time. Allows me to recover a bit before heading back into the lists.

But man, do I love wrestling with my grandsons. Now that there are two of 'em down in Maryland, I think I need to start getting sneakier! Soon they will be able to coordinate their attacks (or be-tacks as Roberto calls them) and I won't stand a chance.

But it's better'n being alone, innit?

Battlefield Preservation, Revisited

Battle of Bunker Hill
Howard Pyle
Source

Depicted above is Howard Pyle's beautiful painting of the Battle of Bunker Hill. The battle was fought on the 17th June in 1775. The painting has apparently been lost as it was stolen from a Delaware art museum back in 2001. Perhaps it's fitting as the battlefield itself has vanished underneath the city of Charlestown, Massachusetts. (See the map below.)

Source

While it would be nice to preserve every single historic place there is, at some point it becomes impractical to do so. People need places to live, to work, and to otherwise enjoy their own lives without being intruded upon by the legacy of dead warriors.

Or do they?

I have written about battlefield preservation once before, the subject of the area around the Bunker Hill monument came up there as well. I mean, I get it, both sides. Ancient history, get over it, there's land going to waste right there, let's build something on it so the people in this day and age can enjoy it. Damn what went before, who cares?

Well ...

There are people who care, people who understand the history of a place, what it means, and how it may relate to modern times. Not preserving history seems to me a bit like destroying all the photographs of yourself as a kid because you don't look like that any more. Who cares? Your great-great-grandchildren might look at those pictures someday, pictures of someone they never met, of what relevance are those photos to them?

Why bother taking photographs at all?

I was very, very young, a babe in arms literally, in a photograph of my great-grandfather, Alexander Bain holding his newest great-grandson, Your Humble Scribe. By the time I could understand such things and perhaps appreciate who the man was, he was dead, long dead. I had never known him to talk to him or to understand what his existence meant to me.

Still, when I see that picture I think of his daughter, my paternal grandmother, and remember just how much she loved me, and I her. I can still hear her voice and smell her kitchen when I haven't heard her voice or been in that kitchen for over fifty years. Half a century for crying out loud.

I have talked to my kids about their great-grandparents, hoping to somehow keep their memories alive. But will they pass that on to their own children, and they to theirs? I don't know.

I've never visited the site of the Battle of Bunker Hill. While I'm a big believer in "walking the ground" to understand a battle, there is literally no ground to be walked in the environs of the Bunker Hill Monument (which I suppose is actually on Breed's Hill?) So what would be the point?

Of course, Boston is now a major American city, should the city fathers have left the land adjacent to Charlestown, upon which stood the two hills, alone and undeveloped? Without leaving Boston in the same state, much would have been lost in leaving Bunker and Breed's Hills as they were in 1775.

How about the battles on Long Island and in the vicinity of New York City? Leave those as they were? While, as an historian, I think that would have been great, it would be exceedingly impractical and unrealistic to expect such a thing. Boston and New York are important port cities it was inevitable that industry would arise there and people would flock there to make their livings.

Battles often happen around key bits of terrain, like cities, and expecting future generations to preserve things as they were is probably asking too much. And if there's money to be made, expect a politician to chime in, just to get their taste, of course.

Progress is inevitable and merciless in many cases. But surely some bits can be saved?

What say you?

Not Feeling It ...

Source

Just don't feel like being creative today. Suffered through an annoying stomach bug over the weekend, a short one mind you as I had to work Friday last, and Monday was, well, it was Monday, wasn't it?

I may have kicked off The Revolution series a bit early, thought I was ready, turns out I'm not. I really need to reread John Galvin's The Minute Men: The First Fight: Myths and Realities of the American Revolution before I get deeper into the events of 1768 up to 1775. Thought I had that still in local memory, turns out it isn't.

I might even read David Hackett Fischer's Paul Revere's Ride before I continue. I'm just not in the right frame of mind to really go crazy with this story yet. But I have sketched out a few characters to begin with. So I've got that going for me.

Ah well, enough of that ...

Something that often surprises me is the amount of hatred I see for President Abraham Lincoln out and about the world wide web. Tuna left a link to a YouTube video on Sunday which I only watched part way before turning it off in disgust.

Lot of hatred for Old Abe in that video. I get the fact that the man did a lot of things that a lot of people back then (and now) didn't (don't) like. Now the way I see it, he saw his job as preserving the Union. He did that job. Did he do it well? As I see it, the Nation is still a going concern although there are a great many (some holding office in DC) who would like to tear the place down. So in that light, he did his job and he did it well.

It was the aftermath that didn't go so well and you can't blame Abe for that. After all, he was assassinated just six days after Lee's surrender at Appomattox. So Reconstruction wasn't his fault, any number of malodorous politicians can take "credit" for that fiasco.

Lincoln wanted to "let 'em up easy," he knew that in order for the United States to recover in all its parts that the North couldn't be lording it over the South. Which is exactly what happened. The effects of which can still be seen and felt 159 years after Lincoln's death.

So why such hatred for the man?

Enlighten me. (Remember, be nice and have your sources available for examination.)