A LUCKY LADY INDEED

A very big, fat book entitled "Architectural Excellence - 500 Iconic Buildings" appeared on the "new book" rack at the Corona Public Library last week and one peek inside was enough to cause me to lug it up to the circulation desk and take it home with me. It is fascinating, and I can already tell that two weeks isn't going to be nearly long enough to sort through it the way I want to.

The blurb on the inside cover says, "Architectural Excellence presents 500 iconic buildings from around the world that represent distinction in architectural design and significance to human history, through five millenia, in all cultures and on all continents....This comprehensive volume covers architectural styles throughout history, from Neolithic and Ancient Egyptian to High Tech and Eclectic Modern, and features works by the greatest architects - both known and lesser known - from our own times and from centuries past."

The first section concerns itself with the Ancient World to 500 CE. And what stunned me when I opened the book was that in the first section was a picture of Uchisar in Cappadoccia, Turkey, which is pictured above with Jerry and me standing in front of it. Now granted the rock itself is not architecture, but the substance of that outcropping is from "tufa," consolidated volcanic ash that over the millenia has been eroded by centuries of winds and rains. "Civilizations from the ancient to the medieval constantly wrestled for control. It was in the folds of these lunar dunes that the early Christians took refuge from a persecuting Roman war machine, and where a stand was made against the tides of Arab invaders encroaching upon Byzantine territory." They were able to carve living accomodations deep inside the tufa, where a good defense could be made.

When Jerry and I stood in front of Uchisar to have our picture taken, we knew its history, but it wasn't until I opened this book and saw its features as the very earliest structure of note that I got the full impact of what we had seen. (Now I have to tell you right here that we also got to stand on top of it, but I hasten to acknowledge that we did it from the back side, which is a plateau that enabled us to take merely a few steps up a walkway to appear at the top!)

As I turned to the second page, I saw Stonehenge, which we had visited in a month-long trip to England in 1985. Page Three was the Sphinx and Page Four was the Great Pyramid of Khufu. Page Five was the Temple at Karnak. The latter three we had seen when we were in Egypt in 1980.

As I went through the book page by page, I kept finding places where we had been. And I was really surprised. We are not world travelers. We have not been to Canada or China or Germany or Italy or Scotland or Australia, Samoa or Japan or so many other places. But we did take a tour to Egypt and Israel in 1980, a trip to England in 1985, and then we lived in Turkey (and never left the country) for two years in the early 1990s. By the time I thumbed through the book and got to the Medieval section, I already had come upon 15 structures or buildings that we had seen in the few travels we made. And of course I am not even mentioning all the things we saw in England during that month we were there - Westminster Abbey, Winchester Cathedral, Wren's Royal Crescent, the Roman baths at Bath and so forth that are pictured in this book.

All this reminds me of what a lucky person I have been. There is a church in Germany pictured in this book that I would dearly love to see before I die but I have truly seen enough to last me a lifetime. This book seemed to lay out before my eyes and my brain the magnitude of what I have been able to see in the last 30 years. Having this book at my fingertips truly brings it all back.

IT'S TRUE. I LOVE CEMETERIES.

Long before I ever began doing genealogical research I was fascinated by cemeteries - not only the look and feel of the cemetery but also the individual tombstones. Except for the flat-as-pancakes "Memorial Parks" that are in favor today and which have no ambience whatsoever, there is nothing I like more than a cemetery with character.

When I was five and my sister three, my dad used to take us for walks in the old pioneer cemetery in Whittier, California. My mother always threw a fit about us going; she felt walking on the graves was desecrating them. My dad held tightly to our hands as we crossed Beverly Boulevard to get to the cemetery, and I'm sure it was that closeness to him, as well as his interest in the tombstone inscriptions and his helping us to identify the letters of the alphabet on them, that gave both sis and me a similar feeling about cemeteries. We loved 'em.

Thank goodness cemeteries are not alike. My cousin photographs tombstones in rural North Carolina for Find-A-Grave, and those cemeteries do not look like California's cemeteries.

Nor does this Alabama cemetery, with a house built over some tombstones, look like anything I've seen before.


On the internet I found this charming picture of some grave markers found in a Guatemala cemetery. Oh, I could go for this kind of headstone, were I to be buried and not cremated.


And in a Moscow cemetery I found this really lovely artwork. I wonder about the life that it represents....something I will never know.


I was surprised to see the full-to-overflowing Jewish cemtery in Manchester, England where Jerry's mom's relatives are all buried. There's not a blade of grass to be found.

And the Internet provided this most dramatic marker! Again, what is the story behind this beautiful piece of art? I wonder.



But my most favorite cemetery is the one I did my research in when I lived in Istanbul. It was the Protestant Cemetery, and in it was an American section where burials of American Citizens who died in Istanbul as early as 1832 were held.


In the book I prepared for this work, I described the cemetery like this: If one likes old cemeteries and is not obsessively fussy, one will like this one. It is neither gloomy nor morbid, and its feel changes with the seasons. In winter it is muted and still, with perhaps a dusting of powdery snow. In spring the sunlight dapples its way through new growth and onto the wet tombstones, drying winter from their faces. The bustle of summer spills over into the cemetery from the street outside the cemetery walls, linking its stillness with the sounds of a living people who know best how to enjoy the hot sultry summer months. And with fall comes the glorious silk leaves of amber, crimson, copper and gold, weaving their way towards the ground, draping themselves like shawls over and around the hand-carved stones. I've been in the cemetery during each of these seasons, and I believe it is as fine a place of rest as one could want.

NOTHING SAYS LOVING LIKE MAKING A DUMPLING!

I imagine not too many people make chicken and dumplings anymore. But this old fashioned dish is perfect for cold winter evenings. Many years ago I found a recipe for a somewhat different dumpling, and it was so tasty that I've used it ever since. I'll pass it on to you all who still put meals on the table that aren't either frozen or "take-out." See what you think of it.

PARSLEY SCALLION DUMPLINGS

1 cup all-purpose flour
3 teaspoons double-acting baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
1 large egg, beaten lightly
1/3 cup plus 2 tablespoons milk
½ cup minced fresh parsley leaves
¼ cup minced scallion
parsley sprigs for garnish

Into a bowl sift together the flour, the baking powder,
and the salt. In a small bowl combine the egg, the milk,
the minced parsley, and the scallion, add the mixture
to the flour mixture, and stir the batter until it is just
combined. Drop tablespoons of the batter about 1-1/2
inches apart onto a buttered heatproof large plate, set the plate
on a rack over simmering water, and steam the dumplings,
covered, for 12 minutes. Transfer the dumplings to a heated
serving dish and garnish them with the parsley sprigs.
Serves 4.

Two items to note:

The first is that scallions are simply green onions with a fancy name.

The second is that instead of cooking my dumplings separately by steaming them, about 15 minutes before I am ready to serve dinner I crop the dough on top the chicken that is still cooking. The dough puffs up into nice dumplings - and you should taste how good the moist under-sides are!

Anyway, give it a try. It's really yummy.

GENEALOGISTS EXULT! HERE COMES THE CENSUS!

Except for the US government, I think probably genealogists are far more interested in the censuses than anyone else. In fact, we get downright excited about them.

Have you ever looked at a digitized copy of your family as they appeared on a census? The National Archives branches have microfilmed copies of all the censuses from the first, taken in 1790, to the most recently released census, taken in 1930. And there are a couple of places on the internet that enable you to see the digitized copies.

Here’s why we get excited: above is a copy of the 1920 Federal Census for Caldwell County, Kansas – not the whole page but a portion of the page where the family of my mother and grandmother are shown

You can see my whole family: My grandpa Byrd Ryland (the census taker wrote it down the way he heard it), my grandma Jessie, and all my aunts and uncles when they were little kids. Uncle Bob, Aunt Florence, my mother Virginia, Aunt Marie, and Uncle Bert. My Uncle Hugh and Aunt Margie were both born after 1920, so they don’t appear. It also shows my Great Grandfather, James A. Ryland, as well as the ages for all of them.

So we genealogists love censuses. It tells us thing about our families that perhaps we didn’t know. Censuses are kept private for 70 years, and then it takes about another two years for them to be readied for public viewing. The 1930 census was released for viewing in 2002. The 1940 census will appear about 2012. And there I will be able to see myself listed as a little 5 year old!

The US is gearing up for the 2010 census that will capture what our nation looks like at this point in time. Census takers are being trained, materials are being readied, and lots of publicity can be found in newspapers and TV stressing the importance of being counted. And it IS important to be counted. 310 million Americans will get their census questionnaires in the mail sometimes in mid-March. There will be some individual census takers following up personally when questionnaires aren’t mailed back to the government. And of course it is really important for each state to have an accurate count in order to get their fair share of federal dollars.


Yesterday, Robert Groves, director of the US Census Bureau, arrived by dog sled similar to the one above in the tiny town of Noorvik, Alaska, home of some 600 people and chosen as the place to kick off the 2010 census. By mid-March, the residents of Noorvik mostly will be scattered over the area in their yearly hunt for seal, moose and caribou, so an accurate count for the census then would be nigh impossible to take. So the Eskimos, Americans all, were counted yesterday, and counts of 200+ other remote villages will follow shortly.

And for genealogists in 2082 they will be the people who are most anxious for the results of this year’s census to be opened to the public. Hopefully this census will be as rich in information and as satisfying to them as all of them though 1930 have been to us.

WHEN TRENDY IS NOT BETTER

I have been trying to talk Jerry into carrying a stylish men’s purse – not a purse like I have, although mine is no longer called a purse but a satchel, but he’s not buying a word of my “talk” and certainly not of “style.”

Maybe 10 years or so ago one began seeing men carrying tidy little leather – well, what else is there to call them except “purses.” They were not at all like what a woman would carry. I’m assuming the men could carry in them their wallet, a note pad, a handkerchief, credit cards, a pen or pencil and whatever else men carry. I thought – and still think – that they look pretty nifty, and very masculine. In a nutshell, stylish but with great usefulness.

But Jerry is old school. Men do not carry purses. Men do not wear sandals. Men do not wear necklaces. Oh, so many things men do not do.

Lately I see that the smallish men’s purse is no longer de rigueur and now the “in” look is to carry a “messenger bag.” I’m thinking how to approach Jerry to make him receptive now to carrying one of these trendy “messenger bags,” though I honestly don’t see that he’s going to budge an inch on his “men don’t do….” list. It doesn’t have to be a designer bag, although there are plenty of those on the market. But a casual medium sized bag could stand in for the briefcase he always carried when he went off to work every morning, and now that he’s retired and active in the community he could find plenty of things to use it for.

When we go out anywhere, he often asks me to hold his little medical kit he must keep with him. He asks me if I have change because he doesn’t like to keep change in his pocket, and often he’s in need of some cough-drops that I carry in my purse. If he forgets his pen he knows that I always have an extra one in my purse, as well as a piece of paper for notes. I carry the checkbook because he really doesn’t like to be bothered and he knows that I have it. I think if he just would let himself try a messenger bag out for a while, he would probably never leave home without it.

The messenger bags have been around for a while now. Jerry is not one to be in the vanguard of any trend, so I should think that he would fit right in and not need to be embarrassed by carrying it . I think it would sharpen his image a bit and maybe let him even look younger than he already does. For a man of 80, he carries his age well, and I do think this would buff up his image even more. And as you all know, looking a bit trendy is a good thing.

But this is true: he is a man who does not like change. If it was good enough for his grandfather and his father, it is good enough for him. So I am not holding my breath over him acquiescing to my suggestion. He has already said “no” to the purse, and I can hear an echo coming.

So next best is: I think maybe I’ll get myself a messenger bag, but one with a little pizzazz to it.

THE REAL ME FOR POSTERITY

If I had to pick an inanimate object to represent my life, what would I pick? And why would I even think of doing this in the first place?

It’s all because of a feature article in this morning’s LA Times that talks about the evolving field of designing urns for one’s ashes. And just as I never am able to pass a survey by without taking it, neither can I not rise to the challenge of figuring out what urnable object best represents my understanding of my life.

The newspaper features some very interesting and actually quite beautiful urns. Even the urns that I laughed at were beautiful in their own way. And yes, I did laugh at some of them. One was the body of a fish that had two chicken-like legs holding the front end of the fish up, making a graceful swoop of the fish body, which of course is where the deceased’s ashes were contained. I can see that urn being used by one of two people – those who thought evolution was preposterous, such as a religious conservative, or those who thought otherwise, a scientist or a biologist, maybe. Anyway, it made me laugh and if I fell into one of those categories I would certainly want people to laugh at my ashes.

There was another “urn” that caught my eye. It is a birdfeeder – like a seed bell, but looked like a gourd birdhouse with a little hole in the side. Under the hole was a perch inscribed with the deceased’s statistics. Now the uniqueness of this urn is that it is made of bird seed, beeswax and the deceased’s ashes. It is meant to be hung outside and eaten up by finches or chickadees. Now this probably will be an off-putting idea to many people – but I find it a great idea to signify one’s understanding of the impermanency of human life. From ashes to ashes, dust to dust, you know.

Perhaps this one appeals to me because for the last five years Jerry and I have purchased dozens and dozens of birdseed bells and hung them on a wrought-iron staff outside our front window to watch the birds eat at the seeds. This year I told him that I was finished with the seed bells. The pile of seed husks had raised our lawn under the seed bell about 2 inches, had killed the grass, and would be blown all over the porch whenever we got a wind from the right direction. So even though this one has great appeal to me, I think having one’s ashes rain down on the lawn along with the husks (if the birds didn’t eat all the ashes at the same time) probably is a good reason for me not to choose that one. And my kids might object to its impermanency.

Before I tell you what object I have decided on (if I were to change my mind and give up “my property” at the Montecito Ash Garden, which isn’t likely), I’d like to encourage you to take a peek at these really amazing designs, either at the LA Times online, where you’ll find the whole article, I’m sure, or at Funeria.com, which is headquartered in Graton, California. Yes, Dorothy, there IS a Graton!

So now for the big moment. I have decided that the objet d’art for my ashes should be a computer mouse. I considered a monitor, a CPU, a legal-sized file cabinet, a ream of paper (this one came close to being at the top) and a stack of CDs. But I think that a mouse, complete with left- and right- click panels and a tail, is what would represent me quite nicely. And not to mention that even the shape of a mouse is similar to how I’ve morphed in my old age – kind of thick in the middle. It may not be as dramatic as a birdseed bell, but I’m thinking it is pretty much “me.”

KILIC ALI PASHA MOSQUE

In my time of researching both in Istanbul and the U.S. for information on the lives of people buried in the Protestant Cemetery in Ferikoy-Istanbul, I learned that many of those early people were missionaries connected to the American Board of Commissions for Foreign Missions. Many books were written by these missionaries and one that I found especially interesting was entitled CONSTANTINOPLE OLD AND NEW by H. B. Dwight, Chas. Scribner & Sons, N.Y., 1915. It is hard to find some of these books now and I was lucky to come across one in the Los Angeles Public Library. I took lots of notes from it and will share one with you, about the Mosque shown above.

Kilic Ali Pasha Mosque was built by an Italian who was born in Calabria. Captured by Algerian pirates, he turned Turk after 14 years in the galleys and changed his name of Ochiali to Oulouj Ali - Big Ali. He then became a commander of Galleys. At the battle of Lepanto he saved a shred of Turkish honor by capturing the flagship of the Knights of Malta, turning the squadron of Doria and bringing 40 galleys safely back to Constantinople. For this exploit he was made high admiral of the fleet, and his name was turned into Sword Ali - Kilij Ali.

An interesting sidelight is thrown on this picturesque character from so unexpected a source as the novel of "Don Quixote". In Chapter 32 of the first part of that book, in which the captive relates his life and adventures, Cervantes tells with very little deviation from the fact, how he himself lost his left hand at the battle of Lepanto, how 4 years later he was captured by pirates and then taken to Algiers, and how he lived there five years as the slave of a cruel Albanian master. Trying then to escape, he was caught and brought for trial before a personage whom he calls Uchali, but who was none other than our friend Kilij Ali. The upshot of the matter was that the builder of our beautiful mosque bought the author of our immortal novel, whom he treated with great kindness and presently accepted for him, in 1581, the very moderate ransom of 500 crowns. So might a half-forgotten building in Tophane be brought back to light as the mosque of Don Quixote.

Who knows whether or not this is true. But I suspect that Dwight did. Lots and lots of history in Istanbul, that's for sure.