When all else fails, dazzle 'em with science

In my previous post, I introduced the McClurken boys and some of you commented that you thought the tallest of these skinny young men was on the far left. So I decided to take a closer look. A much closer look.

I recalled from an now ancient mechanical drawing class I suffered through, something about "vanishing points". To refresh my memory, I asked my good friend Google about it. He told me, "a vanishing point is a point in a perspective drawing to which parallel lines not parallel to the image plane appear to converge." Engineering drawings usually show an item in three flat, 90-degree views (top, side, and front) but there is another type of engineering drawing, called the orthogonal or one point perspective.

Noticing that the old photograph had a "vanishing point off to the far right, it was obvious to me that the left most objects appear bigger than they actually are - that is, as compared with objects to the right... (My apologies to my g-uncle McClurken for calling his lower leg an object).


So, I printed out a copy of the photo and determined just where the vanishing point was located. You see it there, way off to the far right. So what this means, is that the traverse lines at any distance from the vanishing point are of the same length (or in this case, height).


Looking more closely at the photo, we see the orthogonal lines passing through the top of the fence behind the young men as well as beneath them along the curbing of the flower garden (I admit, I "assumed" that the curb was parallel to the fence).


Interesting - the two young men on the left, appear to be of nearly identical height, although the one in the middle has a "longer" face. Going by a rough estimate based on the height of a typical forehead - the man on the left is about 3 inches shorter than the other two - which, as they say, "agrees well with the data" given we think one man was 5'7" and the other two were about 5'10".

So what does all this prove?

Well, absolutely nothing other than demonstrating the author of this post will go to great lengths to attempt to solve a perplexing problem (if he wants to).

Looking at the photo, I'm not even convinced myself.

What helped some was to locate the Selective Service Act of 1917 and learn that all males aged 21 to 30 were required to register for military service. At the request of the War Department, Congress amended the law in August 1918 to expand the age range to include all men 18 to 45.

This means originally, young men born between 1886 and 1896 were required to register (and hence drafted). Knowing this gives me greater confidence that the older and younger brothers where not drafted. It still leaves me with the possibility of four of the seven brothers being in the photo with Howard being left questionable as he was "just barely younger" than draft age.

So - does this mean James, Edwin, and George are in the photo (and not Howard)? I guess it will require further research to be sure - and finding WWI records that I have no known access to...

More Old Photographs

A while back, I wrote about my paternal grandmother's paternal grandfather and his numerous offspring. I am still going through the piles of old family photographs I "inherited," I've been able to identify some of the people that are in them, but sadly, most of them are unlabeled. Here are two that I'd like to share.


Someone once wrote that the poor were cannon-fodder for the rich. My great-great-grandfather Samuel McClurken was a poor Irish immigrant that lived in the "factory district" of Philadelphia called Kensington. Most of his sons served during the various wars the USA has been involved in. In the photograph, you see three of his sons, clowning around a bit in his backyard, sitting without a chair.

I think the three brothers in the photograph are James, Howard, and Edwin, but I'm not 100% sure which of these fellows is whom. I've found WWII draft cards for 4 of the 5 living brothers. It's amazing what you can learn from them.

Thomas (1880-1958) (WWII draft card image not available)

William Spence (1884-1924) (died in train-truck accident) Did not serve during WWI. He was my great-grandfather.


The only brother I've been able to determine to be in the photograph "for sure" is Corporal James (1888-1958) Co. D, 34 Infantry, 7th Division WWI (never married). James was a Chemist and he went on to make ice cream for Abbott's Dairy. He is listed as 5' 10", 140 pounds and light haired. He lived with his brother Raymond for a time.


George Richardson (1892-1976) is shown living with wife Emma and working for the John B. Stetson hat factory. 5' 10 1/2", 190 pounds and blond haired. With him being blond and husky (at least he was by 1940), I don't think George is in the old photograph.


Edwin Winfield (1894-1983) listed as married to Anna and also working for the John B. Stetson hat factory. 5' 7", 166 pounds, and brown haired. I think Edwin is the "short" guy on the far left in the old photograph.


Howard Wilson (1897-1982) 5' 11", 150 pounds, and brown haired. Howard is shown married to Edna and working as a partner with Morgan and Co., in the "Pakard" building. Howard was a CPA. I've not been able to determine where this building actually was/is, nor who the Morgan and Co. owners were. I guess the mailman knew how to find the place and I'll leave it as a rainy day project. I think Howard is in the old photograph. Being the tallest (but not by much) I'm guessing he is the one in the center.

Raymond Wesley (1901-1958) No WWII draft record. I think Raymond was too young to have served with his older brothers in WWI.

So there you have it, an educated guess (at best) that, from left to right, we see Edwin, Howard, and James in the old photograph.


This old photograph illustrates far more than what appears in it. You see two young babies, perhaps less than a year old - one with the hair parted in the middle and one with hair parted elsewhere. These two are twins and are my paternal grandmother's older brother William (center part) and his twin sister Margaret. Sadly, Margaret died at the age of five from childhood illness.

What has been a challenge to me - are the names. My grandmother's parents names were William and Margaret. They had the twins and named them after themselves. Margaret (Jr.) died - but William (Jr.) went on to marry a Margaret. Confused yet? My great-grandfather, in addition to being married to a Margaret, had a sister named Margaret. There are twelve Margarets in three generations in this family tree.

I know I'll never have any children, but if I did, I don't think Margaret would be on my list of possible names. I hope my ancestors can forgive me for that.

Bock Buck Buck Booooooock!

Well, you can blame Parsley of Seasons of My Mind for this... She dared folks to show a picture of themselves... and then when I demurred, she called me a big chicken!


Here is a picture of me in the reading room with my groupies. I'm probably reading "Scientific American" although I should be reading something historical since I'm in (or very near) Valley Forge National Historic Park in this shot. The famous steel balls are out of view to the left (here, here and here).


Here is a more dignified shot - I think I was showing my coworker my new digital camera when they mistakenly took a picture. Oh well, accidents happen. The camera seemed okay afterwards, anyway.


I love being near water - ponds, lakes, creeks, oceans, it matters not what form it's in except frozen. Here I am standing in the Aegean (Mediteranean) Sea at the beach in Mykonos, Greece. I think I had a couple servings of Kataifi, Baklava and Amygdalopita too many and a couple Loukoumades thrown in to boot.


Here I am with my last dog Gypsy. She was a very smart Border Collie that I rescued from the SPCA when she was an older puppy. She was one wild maniac when I first got her - and being a Border Collie, she was meant to run around and around and around...

She often went to work with me - and went everywhere else too, once she learned that she could go, if and only if she "behaved" - being smart, this lesson didn't take her too long to absorb - but there were days when she just had to stretch her legs and "herd the wild rabbits." Those days were usually rainy ones, and usually just as we were leaving the house to go somewhere! The last time she ran off in the morning rain, I had to leave her run - she just wouldn't come - and I had a major client who wouldn't take "I'll be a little late" for an excuse.

I came home after a most anxious day - and found her sleeping quietly on welcome mat by the front door of the house. She looked up at me with her big brown eyes and said, "I'm sooo sooo sorry." and that was that, we never spoke of it again - and she never ran off again.

Alex's Lemonade Stand

Today, while walking through a local cemetery, I came across this gravestone**


You may know of her, she was the brave and rather remarkable little girl that sold lemonade to help raise money for cancer research - in her own words, "when I get out of the hospital I want to have a lemonade stand" - wanting to give the money to doctors to allow them to "help other kids, like they helped me."

I copy her courageous story from the Alex's Lemonade Stand website:

"Shortly before her first birthday, Alex was diagnosed with neuroblastoma, a type of childhood cancer. On her first birthday, the doctors informed Alex's parents that if she beat her cancer it was doubtful that she would ever walk again. Just two weeks later, Alex slightly moved her leg at her parents' request to kick. This was the first indication of who she would turn out to be - a determined, courageous, confident and inspiring child with big dreams and big accomplishments.

By her second birthday, Alex was crawling and able to stand up with leg braces. She worked hard to gain strength and to learn how to walk. She appeared to be beating the odds, until the shattering discovery within the next year that her tumors had started growing again. In the year 2000, the day after her fourth birthday, Alex received a stem cell transplant and informed her mother, "when I get out of the hospital I want to have a lemonade stand." She said she wanted to give the money to doctors to allow them to "help other kids, like they helped me." True to her word, she held her first lemonade stand later that year and raised an amazing $2,000 for "her hospital."

While bravely battling her own cancer, Alex continued to hold yearly lemonade stands in her front yard to benefit childhood cancer research. News spread of the remarkable sick child dedicated to helping other sick children. People from all over the world, moved by her story, held their own lemonade stands and donated the proceeds to Alex and her cause.

...

In August of 2004, Alex passed away at the age of 8, knowing that, with the help of others, she had raised over $1 million to help find a cure for the disease that took her life."

**to honor her memory and right to rest eternally in privacy - I won't say where she is buried but will share her story and a picture of her final resting place - she was triumphant in a way - with her terrible battle with cancer. She will never be forgotten. I urge you to help find a cure in whatever way you can.

BSA Time Warp

Jeannie of Jeannie's Happy World mentioned having to iron/sew patches on Bella's, her budding Brownie Scout's uniform. The very thought send me hurling back in time to the day when I sewed patches on my Boy Scout uniform. Jeannie suggested that I photograph the patches such as I still have, and write about them. So I did.

In my bedroom closet, in the center of my old backpack, is a paper bag that holds all of my remaining Boy Scout patches and awards. I spread them out on my unused bed and ...


... it wasn't long before my rusty memory recalled times long ago. The red "Voyager's waist sash" was an award for completing a lengthy canoe trip in the Canadian wilderness - a trip patterned after the trips made by the earliest explorers and trappers - The red sash reminds me of the voracious mosquitoes of Manitoba and how they made my arms bleed red in minutes. I learned quickly, that no matter how warm it was - to wear my long sleeve shirt and pants at all times.


I found my trusty pen knives, and the neckerchief slide I carved with them... and my fork and some brass "skill awards"... but the treasure in this photograph are the tent stakes and the bicentennial patch - the patch was awarded to campers that had the honor of sleeping on the hallowed grounds of Valley Forge... and these tent stakes held my tent that Spring weekend in 1976. Even after two hundred years, one could feel the presence of General George Washington and the men that made our country free.


Hmm...so that's where my can opener got to! In the picture below, the yellow "campers award" was given to the one boy that exemplified camping during one of the summer camps. Of the hundreds of campers - I came home with it.


My Scout hat, and the neckerchief that I treasured most of the 10 or so that I had. I wore this one while representing the Valley Forge Council on a 250 mile canoe trip in Ontario and Manitoba that led to me leading an "Outward Bound" group a few years later. This neckerchief was the my final one as a scout - as I graduated from High School that year -


I participated in a dozen "Mile Swims" - and several "Northern Expeditions" (canoe trips in Canada) - and earned the "century club" award - given to Scouts that hike 100 miles in less than a week (at the time). I love the brilliant blue and white polar bear patch. :)


Two "50 Miler" patches, and one of the three "High Adventure" patches I have. The treasure for me, though is the Southwest Michigan Council band and Canada map patch - I was made an honorary member of the SW Michigan Council after assisting one of their troops participate on a High Adventure trip in Maine. The map patch was given to me by a troop from Montreal - that we ran into in the Maine wilderness - and I was called upon to translate an English map for some French speaking boys.

"Cela signifie mauvaise eau prudent avec bateau ici."


Somehow, I have three merit badge sashes - I'm not sure why, but I have both of my brother's sashes. They too, were active scouters - and earned a good number of merit badges. I had to look closely to determine which one was mine. Any guesses?


Perhaps Jeannie will notice that one of the merit badges is sew on upside down. Do you see it? It is the one with the gold dollar sign on a background of green, on the leftmost sash.


My sash was the one in the middle. My oldest brother's is on the right, my younger brother's is on the left. I was the only of the three of us to earn the "Space Exploration" merit badge (near my thumb).

To be honest, the awards were incidental for me - I enjoyed the camping, hiking, swimming, and canoeing the most - going new places and not getting lost - knowing how to read a map and live off the land if my life depended on it. Learning how to handle dangerous tools such as axes safely, first aid and CPR as well as something intangible - self respect and leadership skills... the Boy Scouts helped make me a better person - and to be a better man.

The final award and highest rank - Eagle Scout.


I don't know who was most proud of me the day I was awarded this - my parents - my brothers - my scoutmaster - or the boys in my troop... I remember my older brother standing in front of the Church with his dress uniform on - and his Eagle scout badge gleaming, as he lit the ceremonial candles and recited the Boy Scout pledge... beaming at me as if to say, "you're alright, you know that punk?"


During college and afterwards, I led several high adventure trips - and one year, took a "special" troop to summer camp, serving as their Scoutmaster. The boys were life-challenged. Their handicaps were multitudious - they weren't very "sharp upstairs" but they sure knew how to smile and appreciate a good time outdoors. They were on their own, away from home and away from their parents for the first time - camping along one of the Finger Lakes in New York state. They surprised me - they made no excuses - they just kept trying until they got it done.

They inspired me to take on the Outward Bound challenge - the canoe trip of a life time - hundreds of miles through Ontario, Manitoba and into northern Saskatchewan.

I came back from that trip - confident that with the right team, I could do anything - and some of the young men that went with me - came back and went on to wonderful things.


My backpack, with yet another "50-Miler Award," sits against the closet wall, seemingly ready for the day its owner wants to put it on once more - and peel off another 50 miles, or even more...

Perhaps someday - I'll take it up on it.

Secret Penpal and the Weekend

Sometimes people amaze me with how they think and the cool ideas they have. Take my secret penpal, they sent me a really neat Halloween card and some bright colored candy. I would have never thought to do such a thing.


The card reads - Trick or Treat! Smell my feet! Give me CANDY or I'll BITE your SEAT!

My secret penpal even included some (early) Halloween treats! Sugar-free ones! How cool is that! Thank you Secret Penpal! The candy was yummy (I couldn't wait until Halloween).

P.s., No, I'm not smelling any one's feet!

This past weekend, I went to Chestertown late on Friday, looking forward to a long weekend (I had Columbus Day off!) and the weather was forecast to be super-incredible-fantastic.

Well... things didn't work out quite the way I expected. On Saturday afternoon, I did get a nice boat ride on the river and enjoyed the sights. The birds are beginning to clump up for migration - some of the Geese are already moving on by.







On Friday night, I got to the wharf, grabbed my bag and walked out the dock and nearly stepped into a big hole in the water. There was no boat in the slip. Due to a misunderstanding between the owner of the Wharf and my Dad, the houseboat had been pulled out for the season. I ended up spending the night in a strange room. The next day, I took the spoiled food out of the refrigerator and unloaded all the stuff that comes off the boat each year (the linens and anything bugs or other critters might eat or nest in). After that, I winterized it, taking all the water out of the lines so that they don't freeze up. The most tedious part of doing this is emptying the hot water heater - it is built in without a drain and the 10-15 gallons in it, have to be ladled into a bucket and the bucket hauled outside and dumped.


I took one last look at the boat after the ride on the river and headed home in disappointment and some sadness. For me, the summer is officially over.

Wednesday, November 29, 1944

Dear Edith, Harry and Robert,

Hello folks, how are things going in your part of the country? I have been a little lax in writing and I hope you will forgive me. So many people have written to me it has been almost impossible to get around to answering the letters. I am getting along, Edith, in fact, I am leaving this hospital today or tomorrow, I believe. I have been placed on the alert, which means you may be shipped at any time. Don't ask me where, for your guess is as good as mine. I went all through France, all the way to Metz and was blown out of three armoured cars while making the advance. We were doing spearhead reconnaissance for the Third Army (General George Patton) and it was quite rugged. I am very thankful to be alive and also lucky. Take my word for it, on the front line everyone prays, including the so called unbelievers. There are many things I will never forget, for quite a few of the boys I trained with are gone. I hope we win the peace intelligently so that the havoc of war will not be experienced by the coming generation. Tell Robert I think of him quite often. I suppose he is getting pretty big. I'll see him one of these days, I hope. Tell Harry I was asking for him, this is one letter that I can't say, "wish you were here." I'll let you know my new address as I arrive, military secret you know. Lots of luck, and a merry Christmas to you Edith and Harry and Robert. Sincerely Jack.

P.s., Here are a couple of Francs for Robert. This is invasion money. We were given it to use as we invaded France.
-------My dad was an avid collector of "foreign money" and in the boxes of papers from my grandfather's house, I found his old coin collection and a scrap book in which he pasted letters from the older boys from his neighborhood that were fighting during WWII. My dad, at the time this letter was written, would have been 8 years old. In the scrapbook are several other letters from young men overseas. They spanned the globe during that terrible conflict. One fought in the Philippines in the Army led by General Douglas MacArthur.

I'm still trying to determine who the other letter writers were - their names were Stan, Jim, and Paul.

I think this letter from Jack expresses something dearly bought...at the huge cost of youthful innocence and the lives of his friends, so much so, that I wanted to share it with you. While Jack returned home and "recovered," he was never the same again, and was plagued for many years by his war wounds and eventually succumbed to them. His soul-felt wish for an "intelligent peace," sadly never came to pass.

Went Away...

...for the weekend - just to get away. I didn't care if it rained, or if it was cold, I justed wanted to be somewhere else. So I went down to the houseboat even though it wasn't nice enough for swim or go boating.

On my way home, I saw this huge chicken in Galena, Maryland. It stands out front of an antique shop and is for sale. I thought about a friend who had chickens that I've not heard from in a while, Marmite Toasty. I pulled over and went inside the store to check out "Super Chicken".

The price? Well, you know that old saying, "If you have to ask...?"


When I downloaded the picture to share with you - I noticed another picture in the small lot that I had taken - and I instantly put the two pictures together and wondered...


...just how big those chicken necks* were!

*Chicken necks are used by the local blue claw crabbers to bait their traps.